Page 2 of The Frog Prince

Alwin left the carriage behind without a care, splashing through water and mud in his knee-high riding boots as he quickened the pace now they had a destination. Muck spotted his tan breeches, already hopelessly stained from many nights camping, his green tailcoat and high-collared white shirt suffering the same fate.

They came to a stop in a small clearing, the sound of trickling water a welcome change. Frogs and toads of varying sizes were dotted around while bugs darted in and out of view.

That wasn’t what made him pause in wonderment, however.

Towering around him, crumbling ruins hugged a small glen that seemed to have formed in their wake, eroding more of the foundations. There were scattered pieces of stone, broken stairsclimbing from pools of water to nowhere, and walls holding up nothing.

Running through it all was the branch of a river.

“Could it be the river Albi?” his coachman asked.

“Home?” the five others whispered, echoes of the same hope.

“I know of no other it could be,” Alwin murmured, his boots sinking into the wet earth. He paid it no mind as he walked closer, observing every inch of the ancient building. “I wonder what it could have been.”

He cast his mind back to his history lessons but could find no definitive answer.

“There’s even a well, Your Highness,” Farwin said proudly, as eager as a puppy for approval.

“A well?” Alwin turned and spotted it on the edge of the clearing.

It was squat, but perfectly round in shape, with no well arm or bucket in sight. Moss grew along its base but, it appeared pristine in every other way, not weathered by time or eroded by water like the rest of the stonework. Like something or someone had kept it protected. As if beckoned, he approached and ran a hand over the smooth stone surface.

Farwin nodded in excitement, red ringlets shifting over his forehead. “I happened upon this first. I saw it in the distance like a beacon. I could have sworn it was calling for me like those sirens sailors talk about. My eyes couldn’t leave it once they lit upon it. As I drew closer, I heard the sound of water and noticed the river and ruins.”

Alwin followed his pointing finger before his eyes drifted back to the well just as Farwin had described, as if drawn by a higher power. “You found no one nearby?”

“Not a soul or sign of life for at least a league, like the rest of this forest. Just this ruin and the river. Surely it is a good omen? A boon gifted to his Highness.” Farwin’s green eyes shonewith an optimism that hadn’t been shaken, even over these troublesome days.

Alwin was not so sure, but he was not about to deny that the appearance of it was fortuitous. And next to a glen as well. He could hardly believe such fortune existed.

“It’s a good place to rest the horses and bed down for the night. We can leave on the morning’s light now we have a direction,” Jurgen said, already ordering people around and instructing them to go back and remove the supplies from the coach.

Alwin could not look away from the well.

He was transfixed.

But behind his eyes, his mind was working over a riddle.

“Your Highness?” Farwin said.

“Something is wrong here.” Alwin managed to tear his eyes away finally, and he closed them for fear they would be caught again.

“Wrong?” Jurgen’s footsteps were heavy as he hurried over, splashing through the water.

“It feels like that well wants my very soul. Do you not feel it?”

He risked opening his eyes and met Farwin’s innocent gaze, which was swiftly turning fearful, then looked at Jurgen, who tensed, putting a hand to his sword hilt.

“How is it still in such good condition?” Alwin demanded. “It looks to have been newly constructed compared to the rest.”

“P-perhaps it was, my prince,” Farwin said.

“So far into the woods? Without a village or house nearby and a glen of fresh water ready to be taken? Its presence here feels unnatural.”

“Your Highness’s intellect is as sharp as they say.”

The mellifluous voice slid through the ruins, bouncing around like it originated from six or seven different points.