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The bird flew over what seemed like miles of woodsland before alighting on a stone wall. Lianah, her eyes tightly shut, carefully unlidded them as her feet touched the cold grey stone. The height made her breath quicken for a moment before the bird pushed her off with a negligant sniff.
Staring up at the cruel creature, Lianah tried to ease her throbbing head. The bird preened, its feathers more brilliant than before. Looking up the path, Lianah gulped. A deep grey stone castle loomed in front of her, casting shadows through the soft green grass. Taking a timid step, the girl tried to control her shaking hands.
Ever so slowly, she approached the heavy wooden door. "Is anyone there?" Placing her slender palms on the polished wood, Lianah gave a gentle nudge.
It didn't move. Slapping the shining hard surface, she swore under her breath.
"Well," she grumbled to the doorway, trying to keep her quivering voice steady, "if you're going to play it that way..." Backing up a step, she heaved herself at the stuck door. As she collided painfully with the ancient wood, it creaked open just enough to allow her slender body to pass.
The inky dark absorbed Lianah like a blanket. She could not see her hands, nor her dress or body. Standing still, absolutely nothing was visible.
A strike of a match, and a single candle flared and was held aloft. The flickering flame was lifted up two illuminated two brown eyes. "Who's there?" a boyish voice called out, angry. Lianah jumped back as the light was thrust in her face. Once the holder, a boy around her age, had seen the sight of her face, he gasped and stepped back jerkily.
"The Byrd?" he whispered, his face turning deathly pale as he furtively glanced around. A lantern was brought out, and hastily lit. The room brightened instantly, showing the two figures standing in the center of a grand ballroom.
She stared at the person in front of her. Quite young, but yet...seemingly old. Golden brown hair kicked long strands into his lean face, drifting its fine strands into his dark eyes. His cinnemon eyes were sad, filled with grief and disappointment, she noticed, as he stared wonderingly.
The bird appeared behind her, to the astonishment and anger of the boy. Grabbing her arm and pushing her onto the ground, he yelled "Get away from her, you demon!" before throwing a heavy vase at the hovering bird. It easily avoided the blow, sniffing distainfully as it shattered. It left the room, leaving the two alone.
Lianah stood up. "Are you okay?" she offered a hand to the supine boy. He took it and unfolded his body. In all, he was at least a head taller than her.
"Are you alright?" he asked, an unreadable expression on his face. "I'm Terrin," he added quickly.
"Lianah," she replied, hastily curtsying to the well dressed young man. Uncomfortable, for she was all too aware of his weathy abode and her humble peasants garmets, she truly wished to return to her village. "Where am I, good sir, and how can I get back to Willowsfield?"
He bit at his lip. "You cannot leave." He sat down hard on a velvet couch and buried his face in his hands. "You're stuck here for the rest of your mortal life. However long that be."
"What?" she cried, shock opening her eyes wide. Shaking the thought out of her head, Lia's mind stubbornly refused to accept that fate. She ran to open the door, to the now closed gates. Pulling hard at the silver metal, it didn't budge.
"No!" she shrieked. Throwing her skirts over her arm, she attempted climbing, but the bars were too slippery smooth. Terrin stood behind her, tugging on her skirt, pleading with her to stop.
Panicking, she ran unfruitfully around the entire perimeter of the Castle, which was quite big. The boy, following faithfully the whole time, begged "It's true, i have been trying for so long, Lianah. Don't hurt yourself!" She had turned her green eyes, both hopeful and hopeless at the same time, to his face and adknowledged the advice, but continued to run and attempt climbing.
It was several hours since they had met in the Great Ballroom, and she trudged wearily back to the circle of couches. "I told you," he muttered. Lianah shook her head wildly, afraid to believe the truth that loomed before her very eyes. Breathing hard, she turned and ran.
"Please, Master," she gasped. "It isn't true!"
His sorrowful tenor drifted after her. "If you want, the second door on the left of the hall is lovely."
She didn't answer.
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copyright sorka robinton 2001