"Father," Volla cried, falling through the front door. "Father?"
"That was unexpected," a man's voice came. An older man with a long grey beard stumbled into the foyer through a cloud of purple smoke. "My, gracious."
"Father, are you all right?" Volla looked him over, relieved to find him in one piece.
"I'm about ready to give up on this potion," he exclaimed, slamming a glass beaker to the ground.
"Haven't I heard that before," Volla said, a smile creeping onto her face.
"I mean it this time. The people are meant to be sick, then. The plague will come year after year, mutating as ever. I just won't be able to get this potion right."
"It will only take a little more time, then the potion will be complete and there will be a cure for the people. Don't let the dream die just because of a little mishap." Volla sniffled and stifled a cough. The smoke was quite pungent.
"I know you're right." The magician finally smiled in spite of himself. "I'm going to get back to the potions room. Come, come! I could use an assistant. Did you have a good time in town?"
Volla sighed. "I did. The apothecary keeper gave me a beautiful bowl, but Prince Thor was in town and knocked it out of my arms and it shattered. It's too bad. It was a beautiful gift." After a pause, she asked, "Father, do you think I'm odd?"
The magician laughed. "My family? Odd?" A sarcastic note rang in his voice.
Volla sighed.
"But Prince Thor is paying attention to you, huh? You really should pay attention to that chap. All a father wants is security for his children. He'll be king someday, you know."
Volla snorted. "Oh, father, he's positively medieval. I couldn't."
"Well, I'll get us some security once I perfect this potion and get us back into court." The magician wrung his hands together nervously. "I mean it. I'm going to do it! I've got to go to town for mint sprigs."
"Oh, they're out in town. You'll have to go on to the next one," Volla answered.
The magician nodded. "Certainly. I'm going to hitch up the carriage. It won't be too long of a trip." He disappeared into the barn.
***
"Phillipe," the magician growled at the horse as it pranced anxiously on the trail. "What are you doing?" The horse trotted toward a fork in the road and hesitated. It snorted and jerked at its reigns.
"No, this way." The magician pulled firmly back toward the left. "Besides, I think we should be there by now. Perhaps we've missed a turn, old boy? Let's take a shortcut."
Phillipe whickered and reluctantly turned to the left, toward a dark wood. For ten minutes they traveled along before the magician noticed the sun had gone. "Whoa, Phillipe. This certainly isn't the way. Come, let's turn. No, turn!" The magician's voice boomed through the trees and a swarm of bats burst from a hollow tree trunk.
Phillipe tore off through the forest, whinnying frantically as the magician clung to his back.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" The magician clung to the reigns with all of his might, but finally flew backward from the horse's back and landed with a thud in the snow. "Phillippe!" he called after the horse, but it was no use. The beast thundered away.
"Blasted creature," the magician swore. He stood scratching his head for a moment before sighing and starting the trek toward home.
The sounds in the woods were loud and terrifying. Branches crackled beneath the snow as he trod upon them. Limbs overhead creaked in the wind. A sudden growl made him stop dead in his tracks. A pack of wolves had sniffed him out and were ready to hunt. The magician fled from them, running blindly through the trees. His boot caught under a tree root and sent him flying, eventually tumbling down a hill and ending up at the gates of a giant castle. He grabbed the locked gate and tried to shake it open.
"Help! Is someone there?" he called desperately, throwing a glance back up the hill. The gate suddenly fell open under his weight. He slammed it shut just as the wolves reached him.
Eyeing the castle suspiciously, the magician made his way toward it and entered. "Hello?" he called, not knowing he was being watched.