Page 21

Spellbound

“ ’Tis very quiet,” whispered Jack.

“Too quiet,” said Jory, who was limping but insisted he was fine.

We were a miserable trio—wet, cold, and exhausted—as we trudged into further unknown dangers. But no one challenged us as we crossed a stone courtyard, hastening to reach the shadow of the walls, for we felt exposed in the open air.

There were no guards in the inner courtyard. There was only the sound of my wet shoes and Jack’s boots slapping on the stone floors. It was an eerie quiet.

“Got goosebumps on my goosebumps,” whispered Jack as we halted before a set of stone archways, wondering which way to take.

I perceived a gleam beyond the middle archway, so we agreed to see where the light was coming from.

“Bet the poor lady Rose is in a dark dungeon,” mourned Jack. “Hold on, my lady. We’re coming.”

The dim light came from the slit windows of a long building, like that of a banqueting hall.

I was surprised to find the stout, studded entrance door unlocked.

If it were not for the soft light I would have concluded that the whole place was empty or abandoned.

I saw flickering movements and shapes out of the corners of my eye, but when I turned to look, there was nothing there.

Or at least, nothing visible. Jack glanced furtively about, as though he too saw shadowy things.

“Where’s the guards?” said Jack, echoing my thoughts.

“Could be a trap,” said Jory. “Let me go first. I’m the only one armed.” He put his hand on the hilt of Sir Oswain’s sword.

“I think that monster in the moat is the only trap and guardian,” I said. “I don’t sense an enchantment out here.” I did not speak of the shadows I half saw.

“Well, we’re about to find out,” said Jory, pushing open the door. The creak of the hinges sounded dreadful in the still of the night. We all winced.

A dark hallway of panelled wood stretched before us. We tiptoed along, Jory in front with his sword unsheathed, and Jack and I close together, still shivering from cold, and uncertainty.

“Shall I get the lamp out?” I whispered.

Jory did not answer. He was listening hard at another door.

“You hear something?” whispered Jack.

Jory nodded.

“The enchantress?” whispered Jack.

Jory nodded again.

“Is she speaking curses?” said Jack.

Jory shook his head. “Singing.”

“Chanting spells?”

“No. Singing.” He listened hard for a moment, his face puzzled .

“Singing what?” I asked.

“Sounds like... a ballad.”

“Be careful,” I said. “It may be a siren song. Let me listen. You had no resistance to mermaids.”

I pressed my ear to the door. He was right. A woman’s voice was singing a sentimental song about a beautiful girl and her princely true love. I knew that song. And I knew that voice. I reached for the bolt on the door.

“What are you doing?” hissed Jory. “There’s a sorceress in there!”

“It’s Rose!”

I drew back the bolt, but the door would not open.

“Wait,” said Jory, and he stretched his arm over my head to reach another bolt higher up. He hesitated. “Are you sure it’s her?”

“Quite sure.”

“I hope so,” he murmured. He drew back the bolt, and the door opened. “Let me go first,” he said, trying to hold me back, but I would not wait. No one in the world knew that song except Rose and me, for she had made it up when we were children.

“It might be a trap!” warned Jory, grabbing my arm. “The sorceress might be with her, waiting for us.”

“I’ll peep in,” I said, and slipped inside.

It was a lengthy hall with wood-panelled walls, a long table, and many chairs.

The table was spread with bowls and platters of food.

The walls were draped with woven hangings, and a vast fireplace housed a brazier with a burning log the size of a small tree.

A branch of candles at either end of the table provided the only other light.

Silhouetted against the orange firelight moved a slender figure with long, dark hair.

She was turning in circles, her arms lifted as she sang .

“Rose!” I called, so relieved to see her. “Rose!”

She saw me and continued turning, making dance steps. “Lily. Is that you? Come and join the ball. Is this not delightful?”

“Ball?” said Jack, appearing at my side. “My lady Rose! We’ve come to rescue you!”

She twirled up the length of the table, her steps light and graceful. “Rescue?” she said laughingly, though her laugh was shrill and unnatural. “From what? Come and dance.”

Jack stared as she continued her dance around the table.

“She’s gone mad,” said Jory, watching her.

“She’s enchanted,” I said. I took the wreaths from my head, disentangling my hair from the stems until I had worked the wreath of red roses free.

“Come and eat,” called Rose, who had reached the top of the table and was now spinning round, moving nearer.

“I’m famished,” groaned Jack, noticing the platters and bowls for the first time.

“Don’t touch anything , Jack,” I said quickly. “Unless you want to dance yourself to death.”

As Rose drew near, I could see the bespelled glitter of her eyes and the dark hollows beneath them.

“Oh, Rose!” I said. “How long has that witch had you dancing in circles?”

She smiled, but it was the smile of a marionette. I grasped her arm as she twirled past me, but she was unable to keep from moving.

“Dancing is delightful,” she said. “Why would I ever want to stop?”

“Hold her!” I called to Jack and Jory. They lunged after her, taking hold of her arms, Jack apologising profusely for daring to lay hands upon her.

“It’s impossible!” said Jory, his face showing the strain of trying to still an enchanted dancer.

I darted between them, jamming the wreath on Rose’s hair. The effect was instantaneous. Rose staggered backward, crumpling like a ragdoll into my arms as I caught her to break her fall.

“Oh, Lily,” she said confusedly. “What happened? Where am I?”

“There’s no time to explain. We must leave.”

“I feel so sick,” moaned Rose, sinking onto the floorboards. “Everything hurts so.”

“No wonder. You’ve been dancing like a demented faerie.”

“My throat hurts,” she rasped. “There was a woman,” she said confusedly.

“A witch. I’m sure she was a witch.” She held her head as though trying to regain her memory.

“She had the most horrible carriage, such hideous horse-creatures.” Rose shivered.

“You are sopping wet,” she said, lifting her head from the wet sleeve of my gown.

“Did she hurt you, my lady?” said Jack, full of concern. “Can I do aught for you?”

Rose blinked up at him as though noticing him for the first time. “Jack. What happened to your face?”

Jack put a hand to the welts on his cheek and winced. “ ’Tis nothing, my lady. Only a graze.”

At the far end of the hall, Jory found a door hidden under a tapestry, but it would not open. “Must be bolted on the other side,” he called.

“Then we’ll have to go out the way we came,” I said.

“How will we get over the moat?” said Jack .

“We can’t,” I said, stating the obvious. “We must find the underground tunnel.”

My eye fell on something in the shadows. “What is that?”

Rose looked over. “I never noticed it before.”

It was a cage. And inside blinked a strange-looking creature, something like a small dragon, the size of a male fox, with a narrow head on a long neck. I could see nothing more of it in the dark corner.

“Careful, Miss Lily,” advised Jack. “Might be a fire-breather or something nasty.”

“It would have burned its way out of its cage if it were fire-breathing,” I said. Rose was sitting up now, and I left her a moment, feeling drawn to the strange creature. I knelt down to peer through the wooden bars. “It looks sad,” I murmured.

A pair of orange, glowing eyes looked back at me, and it made a raspy noise, like a sigh. A little puff of red smoke came out with the sigh, but there was no sulphurous smell or heat. I felt sorry for the creature, ugly though it was.

“What was that?” said Jory, alarmed.

I had heard the noise too—a clanging sound.

“It’s the drawbridge!” said Rose. “It’s her. She’s come back!”

“The sorceress?” said Jack, his face paling, causing the red welts on his cheek to look even more garish.

There was a shout of alarm from Jory as the door he had been unable to unbolt now flew wide, forcibly flung open by someone on the other side. Jory staggered back but recovered himself, shouting to us—“ Run !”—before he rushed at the dark doorway with his sword raised.

“I don’t think I can run,” said Rose, struggling to rise.

Jack and I flew to assist her, though I knew it was likely a hopeless flight for all of us if the sorceress had arrived. Jory’s short sword was no match for dark magic.

Jory yelled out a shrill, warlike cry. A responding shout came from his assailant, followed by a great thump. Jack cried out—“ Jory !”—thrust Rose at me, and ran to the aid of his brother.

But the second shout I heard had not been a woman’s voice—unless the sorceress had a very deep voice, like a man’s.

I turned to look, but the far side of the hall lay in shadow.

One figure lay sprawled on the floor, another bent over it, while Jack hurtled himself across the room, shouting, “ Leave him alone !”

And then the bent figure straightened, and Jack skidded to a halt, crying out, “ You !”

Suddenly I understood, and I whirled Rose about, hurrying her to the end of the hall, saying, “It’s Sir Oswain!”

Jack was trying unsuccessfully to pull his brother up from where he lay, for Sir Oswain had dealt him a blow to the face.

“My apologies,” said Sir Oswain, not sounding terribly sorry. “I thought you a henchman flying at me with a sword— my sword! And where are my boots ?”

“In the belly of a monster,” said Jory. He groaned. “You pulled my cork.” He gingerly felt his bloodied nose.

“My lady!” cried Sir Oswain, spying Rose and me. “How glad I am to see you unscathed!”

“ Oh !” was all Rose could say in a soft gasp, before she swooned into Sir Oswain’s arms.

“How did you get here?” I cried.

“Through the tunnel,” said Sir Oswain. “How else?” He glanced around at us. “You are dripping wet. How did you get here? ”

“Through the tunnel,” said Jack. “Didn’t you go through the mermaids’ cave?”

“Mermaids?” Sir Oswain looked incredulous. “Did you fall down the well?”

“The well?” Jory groaned.

“You mean,” said Jack, “we went through all that for naught?”

“Never mind,” I said impatiently. “The sorceress is coming, and we must leave now . Sir Oswain, lead the way!”

“She’ll follow us,” cried Jack.

“Run ahead,” urged Jory, clambering to his feet with another groan and wiping his nose on his wet sleeve. “I’ll slow the witch down.”

“How will you do that?” I asked. But I could soon see what his plan was. He picked up the nearest candlestick and held it to a tapestry.

“Help your sister,” urged Jory. “Jack—light the tapestry at the other end. Quick!”

I turned to follow Sir Oswain and Rose, but halted at the door, looking back.

The tapestries were kindled. Jory threw a wooden chair on the fireplace so it would catch alight, and strewed chairs in a line to the table. The whole room, with its hangings and wood panelling and furniture, would be ablaze in no time.

“Miss Lily!” called Sir Oswain as I darted away from him, back across the room to the cage.

“What are you doing?” called Jory. “Leave it! It’s some foul creature!”

But I looked into the eyes of the creature, and I knew I could not leave it to perish in the fire .

“You don’t know what you’re unleashing!” warned Jory, panting from the exertion of throwing chairs.

I pulled out the lynchpin on the cage door. The creature rushed forward, unfurling a pair of wings, flapping them, and flying out of the door after Sir Oswain and Rose.

“Run, Miss Lily!” begged Jack, and I ran. We left the room, Jack bolting the door behind us.