Dream Trysts: A Sleeping Beauty Story (Passion-Filled FairyTales Book 4) (17 page)

The bird landed on the window sill, its little chest heaving from the exertion of the flight at such speed. He laid four stones on the sill and croaked. Maurelle croaked back a
thank you
and gently stroked Jansen’s feathery back. She picked up the stones and headed toward the healer. They would leave at once.

* * *

Someone was speaking, Maurelle knew, but she couldn’t hear what the person was saying over the cacophony created by her own wails of sorrow. His body was so cold, and the blue fairy blood that had pooled beneath him had started to congeal and thicken. Soon it would sparkle and glitter as the magic that had been his gift returned to the Sacred Pool.

She hated this. She hated that the birds had been right. She hated that he was gone. That he had died not loving her. That she wouldn’t be able to make him love her the way he used to. She didn’t have that chance now, and it was the boy’s fault. It had to be.

She lifted her tear-stained face from Eldred’s body. She cringed as she thought it, but it was true. This was simply Eldred’s body now. All that was him was gone. Gone forever. She looked up at the healer, Hadden, who offered her a weak smile. He was a plump, kind-faced fairy who seemed to usher in a feeling of ease and contentment when you saw him. He reminded her of Blissa a little, and with that thought, Maurelle recoiled. Blissa and her ilk had been the cause of all this. All of her problems had begun with her cousin, the woman who would ruin the fairy kingdom by taking up with humans. Anger coursed through her veins as she stared at the healer.

“My queen,” Hadden said, reaching out a hand, perhaps to help her up. “Might I offer you something to ease your pain?”

Maurelle stared at his hand, knowing she wouldn’t take it. As if taking his hand or anything else could ease her pain. She scoffed. Nothing would ease her pain, except the death of the boy who caused this. She shook her head. What if it wasn’t the boy, though? What if something else had happened? She had to know. She waved his hand away and said, “Tell me what happened here.”

Hadden, retracted his hand, widened his eyes and cocked his head. “I’m not sure what you mean, my queen.”

“You are a healer, yes?”

He nodded.

“That means your gift allows you to see how a wound was inflicted in order to help heal it.”

He shook his head. “Yes, healers can see that,” he said. “But only sometimes, my queen. And Eldred is dead. His life force is long gone. I can see only with the aid of his life force.”

Maurelle shook her head and looked down at the blood. “It hasn’t started to sparkle yet. Some of his force remains. Use it and tell me what happened.”

Hadden opened his mouth, and stuttered, “But that’s, that’s not right. That’s sacrilege to disturb his body in this way.”

Maurelle stared daggers at him. “I am your queen, and I must know who is responsible for Eldred’s death.”

“Perhaps, first,” Hadden said, his voice quaking, “I could persuade my queen to take a healing salve to ease your pain slightly.”

Maurelle stood, feeling completely empty as she moved away from the body that had been Eldred’s. “The only thing that will make me feel better is knowing how this happened. I am your queen and I order you to use his blood and to tell me how this happened.”

Hadden nodded, then knelt beside Eldred. He closed his eyes and dipped his fingers in the blue congealing blood.

The ride was harsh and punishing, and James found himself, despite his singularity in purpose, feeling distracted. Something in the back of his mind was pulling his attention from the road and watching out for obstacles.

“James!” He heard the words clear as day in his head. He pulled on the reins to slow the horse. He looked around, confused. He was sure it had been Rose’s voice, but there was nowhere she could be.

“James,” he heard the voice call again. He furrowed his brow and looked around. The sun shone down on the rolling hills and created glare. There was nothing.

“I’m still sleeping,” Rose’s voice said. “Something happened last night. I could see you. I could see through your eyes. I saw Eldred attack.”

“But how?” he said aloud.

“Are you alright?” Dwennon asked as he cantered toward him on his horse. James realized that Dwennon had ridden past him and circled back. The old fairy stared at him, and came closer, still astride the colt.  “Are you alright?”

“Answer him,” Rose said. “Tell him you can hear me.”

“It’s Rose,” James said, looking at Dwennon. “I can hear her now. She says she can see what I see, and I can hear her in my mind.”

Dwennon’s mouth popped open, and then his lips quirked into the slightest of a smile. “This is good,” he said. “We’ll ride slower, but still toward Rose, as we try to puzzle this out.”

* * *

They had actually had to stop riding to try out some of Dwennon’s theory. Chiefly being that James actually was a conduit, that Rose could see through him and he could hear her so that he could act as a conduit for her power. It would run through him if he let it.

They tested the theory, with Rose creating small maelstroms to move leaves, straw, and eventually rocks. It was, for James, the most exhilarating feeling he’d ever had. As Rose commanded the wind, he could feel it race through him. He wasn’t sure if it was literally the power of the wind, or something more figurative, a feeling of surging power, artfully controlled.

For once in this past three days, he felt confident. He felt sure that he would make it to Rose and that they would be together, forever.

* * *

Maurelle had taken care of the human. At least one of them. Her birds had tracked the man who had been with Eldred when he died. He was running home like the coward he was. For only a coward would leave a man to die alone in the woods.

The man had begged for mercy, but Maurelle had shown him the same amount of mercy that had been shown to Eldred: none. And like Eldred, this poor soul—he’d said his name was Bayard—had known it was coming. She’d told him to beg for his life, to beg for mercy. That’s when he’d told her his name and that he had a family. “Eldred was the only thing I had left,” Maurelle had said moments before she transformed into a lion and tore him to shreds. He’d deserved it. And so did Dwennon and James. She closed her eyes as she sat on a rock, in front of the wall of thorns that shrouded the princess Briar Rose and her mother.

She would kill James, and Dwennon, and she would mark the spot where she’d done it. A stone shrine she would inscribe: “Here lie Dwennon and Prince James, who murdered the innocent fairy Eldred.”

Maurelle looked up at the sky. The sun was getting low. They would be here soon. They had to be. They were coming to try to end her curse. Only, she wouldn’t let them. Not after what they’d done. Not after she’d sacrificed Eldred to them.

A tear trickled down Maurelle’s cheek, but she wiped it away and gritted her teeth. She needed to be strong for when they came. She needed to be strong to enjoy her vengeance.

Despite the surge of assurance he’d felt after learning he was a conduit for Rose and testing her power, James suddenly felt a prickle of fear. As they got closer to the castle, he felt anxious, the hairs on his body standing on edge. A chill ran down his spine as he looked westward at the purplish tint of the skyline as the sun gave its final gasps before nightfall.

His hands trembled despite knowing that he had the ability to fight Maurelle. The horses seemed to be slowing, too. Almost as if they wanted to turn and run.

“You feel it?” Dwennon asked.

James nodded, knowing exactly what Dwennon spoke of, but not exactly how to describe the trepidation that had overcome him. “What is it?”

“Fear,” Dwennon said succinctly.

James turned and looked at him. “I understand that. But why? How?”

“It’s old fairy magic,” he said. “Maurelle has dipped deep in the well for this. It is used to make people — human or fairy — turn back. It is generally used as a defense of sacred places in the fairy world. As people get near, their instincts kick in and tell them to turn around, to run away. It infects the area surrounding a place, and anyone who is foolish enough to continue will continue to feel it until they arrive at the spot it is guarding. When they finally get there, they will feel slightly better, but they’ll be on edge. Their nerves will already be stretched to the limit, and they will be weaker when fighting.”

“So the fear weakens you?” James asked.

Dwennon shook his head and his horse stopped. So did James’. The abrupt halt threw James forward slightly. He nudged the horse forward by patting its side, but it didn’t move. “We have to dismount,” Dwennon said. “These creatures will go no further. Maurelle wants us alone.”

“And weak.”

“We will not be weak,” Dwennon said. “The weakness is caused because our bodies are not meant to live in fear for extended periods. The fear is to help us run, to move away from the danger, or to fight, if necessary. It gives us short bursts of strength. The key is short burst. After prolonged fear, we become tired and weak. But you and I won’t.”

James left his horse, grabbed the hilt of the sword in his scabbard to reassure himself that it was there, and it would aid him. “We won’t get weak,” James repeated. But he didn’t feel it was true. The fear, the desire to turn back was pervasive and overwhelming. “Why won’t we get weak?”

“Because we have nothing to fear, James,” Dwennon said.

James turned to see Dwennon smiling at him. Was the man mad? They had a powerful fairy to fear.

“Tell yourself that you are going to rescue Rose and you have nothing to fear. Tell yourself and believe it,” Dwennon said. “You must believe it so you can push away the fear and face Maurelle at your full strength.”

James bit his lower lip and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “But I don’t feel that way.”

“Then have Rose tell you. She can see and hear, but she’s not going to feel this because she isn’t here. Let her anchor you. Let her help you.”

James took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could hear Rose’s voice, sweet and soft in his head. “You are not afraid, James. You are the bravest man I have ever met.”

And he believed it. He felt a surge of strength in him. He opened his eyes, and even though he could tell he should be scared, he wasn’t. Not really. “I am not afraid,” he said aloud.

“Good,” Dwennon said, his smile remaining strong. “Neither am I.”

The two men walked down the winding path, Dwennon in the lead. They were silent, each trying to maintain their grasp on their inner strength and push aside the fear attempting to invade them. Finally, James could tell they were close. Over the tops of the trees that lined the winding road, he could see the peaks of the castle’s towers in the distance. They walked for thirty minutes, the sun finally abandoning the world and giving way to darkness and a few twinkling stars. The moon shone bright in the sky when the road emptied out into the clearing.

There it was, closer than before, a majestic stone castle with turrets, towers and archways. All surrounded by a fence of brambles and thorns.

They had arrived. The fear that had sought to take hold of them had disappeared. It was gone. This was the place. James looked around, spinning in a full circle to get a view of everything. Only, he didn’t see what he was looking for. “Where is she?” James asked.

Dwennon looked around, too, then shrugged. “Perhaps in the castle, guarding Rose?”

Perhaps, but James didn’t trust it. He watched as Dwennon lifted his arms and looked at the thorn wall. Dwennon seemed to expect something to happen, but nothing did. The old fairy let out a tired cackle. “They can’t be moved by fairy magic. Just strength and hard work. I suppose she figures if you’re not weakened by the fear, you shall be weakened by hard work.”

Dwennon looked at the thorns once more. “It matters not if they can be moved. You will not fatigue yourself, for we will both levitate over the wall.”

James heard the scream, first and then turned and saw a woman step out of the shadow of the thorns. “You will do no such thing,” the woman spat. James had never seen her before, but he knew instantly it was Maurelle.

Her skin glistened white in the moonlight, and had he not known the depths of hatred in her heart, he might have thought she were beautiful. Silky black hair hung in waves cascading to her waist. Her eyes looked black in the night, her high cheekbones gave her an air of proudness. But the scowl on her lips made her look as angry as a lioness.

Maurelle was dressed in a long black cloak and she slinked toward them. Dwennon took a step forward and said, “My queen, please, this is not the way.”

She flicked her finger, and a bird swooped down and dropped something on Dwennon, a powdery mist. Dwennon coughed in surprise and toppled over.

James widened his eyes in alarm, and Maurelle glared at him. “You pretend to worry about him,” she said. “Well don’t. He’s simply immobilized for the moment. He’ll be fine until I finish with you. And you won’t get something as peaceful as sleeping powder. Your death will be painful and cruel, as you have made the death of others.”

James didn’t take his eyes off her, knowing she was as dangerous as they came. He tried not to let the fear threatening to bubble up take hold of him.

“Did Eldred beg for his life?” Maurelle asked, her red lips cruel and unrelenting in their speech.

James stared at her a moment. A pang of guilt shot through him. He hadn’t wanted to kill Eldred. The fairy had been kind to him until that point. “He told me he forgave me for what I had to do. He said it was you who killed him.”

Her eyes narrowed and she shouted, “Liar!”

James shook his head. “I had no quarrel with him,” he said, watching her closely. She seemed to want him to apologize, or explain, or perhaps ease her mind in knowing that Eldred had not suffered. Only James had no intention of doing so, which meant she would be riled. She might attack. He widened his stance, slid his hand to the hilt of his sword to be at the ready. “Eldred attacked me. I defended myself.  Your fairy said he had foreseen it, that he forgave me.”

James had been prepared for her to lunge, so he’d drawn his sword quickly, but he hadn’t been prepared for the transformation, for the huge lioness that leapt from her clothing straight at him. He’d barely raised his hands to shield himself from the attack, when a strong wind burst forth and knocked the lioness to the side.

Rose. He breathed a sigh of relief.  “Thank you,” he whispered.

“She will not stop you,” Rose’s voice said in his mind.

The lioness righted herself and then the animal head cocked to the side, and looked around with eyes that were wiser than that of a ferocious beast. They were the wise eyes of a sorceress.

The cat moved in sleek strides parallel to James, watching, surveying the air around him. James clutched the sword in his hands as he watched the large cat shift back and forth, cutting a path in the dirt. He stood firm, his fingers gripping the sword tightly. The cat stopped and took him in, as if taking a final look at her target before striking.

James steeled himself and spoke. “I am going to awaken Rose,” he said. “You’ve lost someone dear to you. And Dwennon told me he saw that you killed my guard, Bayard. If you leave now, we can simply say that we — you and I — are equal. We’ve each suffered a loss. But we each need not suffer more.”

The lioness started forward, and James raised his sword in front of him. But the beast transformed back into the fairy. “You think,” she said, her eyes cold and black, her hair, shining in the moonlight. “That you and I are equal.” She laughed mirthlessly. “You insult me by comparing yourself, a meager, weak, human, to me. You are nothing more than an irksome nuisance. An ant I can crush with my shoe.”

James shook his head. “Yet you haven’t crushed me. And perhaps if I were alone, you would be correct, Maurelle. But I am not alone. I have Rose and I have Dwennon to aide me. And even, I believe, I had Eldred’s support. I am not alone. But you,” he said, lifting one hand from his sword to wave around them. “You are quite alone here. This is a fool’s battle. I will get to Rose. Let me pass unhindered.”

Her eyes were colder, harder, blacker now than they’d been before. She tipped her head forward and transformed, lunging at him as a lioness. He dodged aside, forcing his sword out, hoping to scrape her as she sailed past him.

She was quicker than he expected. He just barely stepped aside in time, his hand banging into the beast’s thick, muscled side, so that he almost dropped his sword. He turned to see she’d landed gracefully.

He darted forward, his sword straight in front of him, hoping to strike first, before she could gain her bearing. But she was agile, and she pounced, landing on top of him with her massive, sharp paws. She raised one paw back to tear through him with her claws, when he heard Rose in his head, “Now” she said, and he felt a gust of wind flow through him. It blew Maurelle backward.

James stood, hoping to gain the advantage while Maurelle recovered, but her feline body seemed to have melded with her fairy mind, because she was back on her feet, coming at him again. Only this time, a vortex of wind descended on the cat, casting her backward, and then swirling midair, acting as a shield between them.

It was an odd sensation, being this conduit for Rose. He could feel the currents as they swirled, even though he wasn’t actually the one in control of them.

He watched the swirling wind, as the cat moved to the side, trying to find a way around the shield. Only, there wasn’t. As the cat moved, so did the maelstrom.

James realized that Rose didn’t want him to fight Maurelle. She just wanted to hold her off, to keep her from hurting him. Only, that strategy was bound to fail in the long run. Maurelle was out for blood. He could see it in her eyes. There was no way to simply hold her off. She would keep coming. But the strength of a lioness was too much. He couldn’t win when she was in that form. He was strong, but not strong enough to defend against her talons. He needed a shield, if he were to fight her. Or, something else.

“Rose,” he thought to her in his mind. “Use the wind to push her toward the castle.”

“The castle?” she asked, curiosity in her tone. “Why?”

“Please, just do it. It will take too long to explain.”

He saw the spinning vortex of wind move, closing in on the cat, who was backing away, moving toward the castle, which was surrounded by the wall of sharp, hard thorns. He followed the cat, standing tall as he walked, his back straight, his eyes cold, hoping to look imposing, hoping to look smug, hoping to look like he was her superior in every way.

And feeling the flow of the wind that Rose conducted through him, helped, as well. It added to his aura, and he hoped Maurelle felt the depth of his power. Still in lioness form, the queen growled at him as she was pushed back by Rose’s winds. Her obsidian eyes flashed of deep fury as he stood on the other side of the vortex, looking down upon her.  They approached the wall of thorns, and James slid his fingers over a protruding point. It was hard like metal, and the edges, he was sure would be sharp enough to pierce even the thickest hide.

“Rose,” he called to her in his mind. “Release the wind slowly.”

“But she’ll come at you,” she said.

“I know, but I want her to. I know I can defeat her,” he said to her silently.

He looked over to the edge of the clearing, where Dwennon lay unconscious from Maurelle’s attack. “Dwennon,” he called out, knowing the older man couldn’t hear him. “Something’s wrong. I’m losing my connection to Rose, to the wind.”

The wind died down slowly and he could see Maurelle walking toward it with more confidence, the golden furred cat shoulders raised, the head alert, eyes staring deeply at him. The paw tested the dying wind, and James let a shadow of the fear he’d felt earlier cross his face, enough for the fairy turned lioness to see. Enough for her confidence to surge.

He could feel the wind slowing, the vortex of protection dying down, and he heard Rose in his mind, ask him a final time if he was sure. Yes, he told her back, and the wind evaporated. No sooner had it happened that the muscles in the cat tensed, the hind legs pushed off, straight for James, who was standing right in front of the thorns. Her razor sharp claws were outstretched to spear him. He, too, moved, but forward, thrusting his whole body toward the ground, to slide under the leaping cat.