"He...here is the...the heart y...your majesty," stammered Michael. He cringed
when Faenach's white hand picked up the offered box. As soon as the box was
given he stepped back.
"Very good," purred Faenach as she stroked the casket to her bossom. "Run along now." Michael did not need a second invitation; he disappeared beyond the closest corner before Faenach finished her sentence.
As soon as he was gone Faenach lifted the lid. A squeal of delight escaped her when she saw the bloodied organ. She was about to close the lid, but was unable to resist another peak. After a few more lapses she snapped the box shut and dashed towards the kitchen.
When she entered the hot room the busy space went silent. Quickly Faenach spotted the head cook, a rotund man with a balding head. "Cook this now," she pushed the box at him. "I want to eat it for supper."
"Should I serve some to your husband as well Madam?" To the little man's horror Faenach hooted with mirth.
"Hmm...I'm not sure. It would certainly have a sort of ironic justice to it," she tapped her chin with one finger. "But then again, it may be trusting fate too much. No, I will take this meal alone. Bring it up to my chamber when it is done."
Before the stunned man could reply, she whirled out of the kitchen, leaving nothing to tell of her visit, but a scent of heavy perfume. Skipping up to her room she giggled with youthful enthusiasm.
Faenach flung herself onto her rumpled bed and grabbed for the mirror that lay on her bed-table. Although it was not as clear as her magical one, it still was of amazing quality. The face of a yellow haired blushing young woman stared back. Not a hideous old hag. With a cry of glee she hugged the mirror to her chest. She whipped it back out, gazing at her perfect reflection until there was a knock at the door.
In a single movement Faenach threw down the mirror and leaped toward the door. She grabbed the offered platter of food from the servant's hand then slammed the door in his face. She jumped back onto her bed and grabbed the fork and knight into fists. Faenach stabbed the cooked heart with her knife, and shoved the morsel into her mouth.
She moaned in delight as she fell back onto the pillows. The knife was pulled out from between her teeth, reluctant to leave even for a moment. Again Faenach pierced into the heart, and soon there was nothing left.
Finger by finger Faenach licked off the remaining juices. Once there was no remaining drop she fell back exhausted. She had never felt so drained. With her last remaining strength she threw her hand back onto the handle of the mirror and pull it to her face. She gave a lazy smile at her reflection. Covered with food juices, but never more content. "Who is the fairest now?" she murmured.
"You are my queen," Faenach heard the whispery breath of the mirror. "You are the fairest."
***
Brendan was beginning to worry. Gweneida had agreed to meet him at the stables an hour before, but still had not arrived. Even when she had been cold toward him, she had never been late. It was part of her honor code.
While he was waiting, Brendan began to brush his horse Sunshine's coat. Through his mind he was reviewing all the happenings that could have detained Gweneida. He came up a good number, but none appeased his sense of unease. When his horse grunted, Brendan looked down and realized that he had begun to brush the air beside her.
"Sorry girl," he whispered as he pat her neck. While he pulled the saddle off, the door was slammed behind him. He whipped his head around and found Michael rushing toward him.
"S...sir, I must tell you something v...very important," he stuttered between rasping breaths.
"What is it?" a sense of foreboding settled in Brendan's stomach.
Michael swallowed, and his already wide eyes crossed in fear. "T...the queen t...told me to kill the princess."
"What!" Brendan roared as he shook him until his teeth rattled, "How could you, she is..."
Michael whipped his head back and forth, sending his hair flying across his face. "I...I didn't hurt her. I n...never would hurt the princess."
Brendan stepped back as his numb arms flopped to his sides, too terrified to apologize for his rough behavior. His mind was blank, but he heard his voice say, "Then where is she?"
"I...I don't know. She t...told me to come get you.
"You left her in the forest?" Brendan came back to life. "That is no better than killing her outright you fool! Do you know what kind of creatures are out there?"
Michael through his head back and bawled. "I...I...just di...did what the princess t...told me to!"
"Of course you did," sighed Brendan, running a hand through his hair. He knew his anger was doing nothing to help either the lack-wit stable hand, or himself, get any closer to rescuing Gweneida. But he could not resist the need to vent his anger. Instead he paced the stables, kicking a bucket out of the way, sending it clunking to the other side of the room.
"She...she told me to tell y...you where she is, and what h...happened."
"Where did you last see her Michael?"
"B...by the big oak tree n...near the st...stream."
With out another word Brendan leapt up into the saddle and galloped toward the forest. The biting wind did not faze him, though it caused tears to run down his immobile face. His only thought was of find Gweneida.
The cold air dropped to a lower degree of freexing when he entered the forest. The huge trees blocked out most of the light, giving the snow no chance to melt. Brendan swerved Sunshine around countless times, in a seemingly meaningless pattern, but after an endless amount of searching he found traces of Gweneida's passage. Although he wanted to keep pounding through the woods, he forced Sunshine to a gentle trot, keeping his eye on the faded footprints in the ground.
Time was meaningless to him until the lack of light made it impossible to continue. He considered risking the attempt to keep going through the night, but the risk of loosing the tracks far outweighed the time saved.
Brendan slipped down from the saddle, and by the wane moonlight tied Sunshine's bridle to a nearby branch. He stumbled toward the stream, fell down by the bank, and gulped down the fresh water. Once his thirst was quenched, he realized the emptiness in his stomach, but forced himself to be content with satisfying one need.
He stared down into his reflection. Before his weary eyes his face melted into Gweneida's. With tears in his eyes he bent down and brushed his fingers across the surface.
Small ripples vibrated from his touch, erasing the illusion. However, instead of the reappearance of his own face, the image of a wizened old man appeared. Brendan was surprised, but not afraid. He sensed he was looking at an actual person, and not a trick of light. No wrinkle of water crossed over the face, nor did the pebbles from the bottom of the lake show through. The old man nodded, acknowledging his presence, then disappeared into the awakened movement of the stream.
When Brendan drew back he was weary to the bone. It took all of his willpower to force his limbs to move. And since walking was beyond his capability, he crawled up toward the trees and collapsed under their safety. Before his eyes closed, he was asleep.
***
"Who is she?" through the fuzziness of sleep Gweneida heard the lisp of a little voice.
"I don't know. But she sure is good looking," this time the comment came from a man, and Gweneida guessed he was young. Not much older than herself. Instead of opening her eyes to reveal her awakened state, she peered through her lowered lashes. She was able to see three pairs of feet standing around her bed.
"You consider everything that walks in a skirt good looking," the third voice was also a male, but it broke periodically. Gweneida smiled as she recognized the sullen tone of a person just entering adulthood. She had never had the opportunity to enter that state, but she had seen it often.
"Look, the pretty lady is smiling," said the first voice. Gweneida opened her eyes to find herself looking into the largest brown eyes that she had ever seen. The eyes were set in the angelic face of a little girl.
As Gweneida pulled herself into a sitting position, she observed the small crowd surrounding her. The first thing she noticed was all of them were shorter than average. She estimated the tallest to be an inch or so shorter than her own average height, and the smallest was no bigger than her thigh.
"What are you doing in my bed?" said the young man. He was the tallest of the bunch, and was the most beautiful man Gweneida had ever seen. His raven hair was fashioned into loose waves that framed the classical perfection of his face. "Not that I have any objection to you being there, but I think I have the right to know."
Gweneida could feel her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment "I fell asleep, I didn't mean to, honest, it was just that I was so tired and your bed was so soft..."
"Its quite alright sweetheart," the man said with a smile that broke hearts. Luckily for Gweneida, her heart had already been taken.
"I was lost in the woods. Well not lost precisely, because one can't lost when one was not headed anywhere in the first place. But I didn't have anywhere to go, and your home was open, so I was just going to get a bite to eat and rest for a while, but once I closed my eyes eye...I guess I fell asleep."
"Why were you in the woods? It was a very ill advised," said the boy as he pushed a pair of large round glasses up his nose.
"It wasn't as if I had a choice," Gweneida snapped, but softened her response with a smile. "It is a long story, I doubt you want to hear it."
"Certainly not while you are in bed!" came a new voice plowing through the others. A moment later the owner of the voice stepped out. She was shorter than all but the child, but demanded attention with her presence. Gray streaked her brown hair, and wrinkles extended from her warm gray eyes. She placed her hands on her round hips and frowned. "When was the last time you ate child?"
"I...I am not sure."
"Well than, let Mrs. Terow get you some thing to eat. Then you can tell us why you are here," with out hesitating for Gweneida to comply, she took her by the hand and into the kitchen. The rest of the dwarfs followed behind them in a single file. "Sit down now, you are much too thin."
Mrs. Terow bustled over a moment later with buttered bread in one hand, and a large cup of Milk in the other. "Here you are Dearie," she gave Gweneida the offerings and sat down on a stool beside her.
At first Gweneida squirmed and eat little under the curious stares. But soon the others resumed conversation amongst themselves, and she relaxed. She was amazed by the easiness they had in each others presence. Even when they argued, which was often, nothing was mean spirited. It did not take her long to wish that she too belonged to such a family.
While she was eating, two more dwarves wandered in. The first was a younger, but quieter, copy of Mrs. Terow. Her name was Isabelle. As well as being the daughter of Mrs. Terrow, she was a twin too the be- spectacled dwarf, who's name was Robert. Shortly after Isabelle started baking bread, Mr. Terrow burst in. He was even shorter than his wife, but stockier. His ruddy face sported a half-white half-blond beard. Robert took after him, just as his sister did their mother.
While she ate, Jason tried to flirt with her. Instead of annoying her, as all the other flirts did, she found him vastly amusing. "You have the most beautiful eyes," he said with a wide grin.
"So I have been told," Gweneida tried not to smile in return. "Many times. But usually it is said in poetry. I must say that I am disappointed in your lack of imagination."
"You wound me," he put a hand on his heart letting his head fall over the back of the chair.
Gweneida giggled. Soon the most enjoyable meal of her life ended. "Just a moment child," Mrs. Terrow whisked the plate and cup off the table. "Now tell us what brought you here."
"Well it really started when I was born," Gweneida began softly. But it did not take her long to find release in the telling of her tale. No one interrupted the long recital, their eyes stayed focused on her the entire time. "So when I found your lovely home I couldn't resist myself. I am terribly sorry for imposing on your hospitality. I will leave as soon as it is convenient for you."
"Nonsense," Gweneida turned to find her self looking into her own eyes. But those eyes belonged to a different face. "I didn't go through all the trouble of getting you here so you would leave as soon as you came," the speaker limped forward. He was the second smallest of all of them, but commanded the most respect. It could have been because he was ancient, with snow-white hair and lines that covered his face. Or it could have been his extreme lack of beauty. Never before had Gweneida seen such a horrifying vestige. But she suspected it was something more. It was the wisdom and pain that his eyes held, and the aura of power that his slight body contained.
"Why did you bring me here?"
"So I could teach you," he smiled. And although all of his teeth were black or missing, it still managed to transform his face into one much younger and happier.
"Teach me what?"
"To take my place."
"Take your place doing what Cianailill?" Jason asked. "You can't mean that she is to be the next Ice Mage."
"Oh, but I do," he answered, but his eyes stayed trained on Gweneida.
"What is an Ice Mage?"
"One of controls the cold and all of its elements."
Gweneida's gaped. She tried to talk, but nothing came out. Once she had gotten her self together she managed to choke out, "You mean I am a witch?"
"No...you most certainly are not! But when I am through with you, you will be a mage."
"But I am not magical!" she squealed.
"Yes you are. Come to my work room in an hours time," he wobbled out of the room. For several minutes after his departure, the room was silent. One by one six pairs of eyes drifted over to her.
"Well in that case I think I should make you up a bed," Mrs. Terrow said. All of the others made similar excuses, but seemed to accept her staying with out doubt.
"It will be nice to have such a pretty lady around," said Alice, the youngest of them all. "Will you share my room with me?"
"Of coarse she will little sister," Jason scooped her up. "All of you girls sleep in the same room. Unfortunately, I do not share that room." with a wink he left the room, leaving Gweneida alone.
"Very good," purred Faenach as she stroked the casket to her bossom. "Run along now." Michael did not need a second invitation; he disappeared beyond the closest corner before Faenach finished her sentence.
As soon as he was gone Faenach lifted the lid. A squeal of delight escaped her when she saw the bloodied organ. She was about to close the lid, but was unable to resist another peak. After a few more lapses she snapped the box shut and dashed towards the kitchen.
When she entered the hot room the busy space went silent. Quickly Faenach spotted the head cook, a rotund man with a balding head. "Cook this now," she pushed the box at him. "I want to eat it for supper."
"Should I serve some to your husband as well Madam?" To the little man's horror Faenach hooted with mirth.
"Hmm...I'm not sure. It would certainly have a sort of ironic justice to it," she tapped her chin with one finger. "But then again, it may be trusting fate too much. No, I will take this meal alone. Bring it up to my chamber when it is done."
Before the stunned man could reply, she whirled out of the kitchen, leaving nothing to tell of her visit, but a scent of heavy perfume. Skipping up to her room she giggled with youthful enthusiasm.
Faenach flung herself onto her rumpled bed and grabbed for the mirror that lay on her bed-table. Although it was not as clear as her magical one, it still was of amazing quality. The face of a yellow haired blushing young woman stared back. Not a hideous old hag. With a cry of glee she hugged the mirror to her chest. She whipped it back out, gazing at her perfect reflection until there was a knock at the door.
In a single movement Faenach threw down the mirror and leaped toward the door. She grabbed the offered platter of food from the servant's hand then slammed the door in his face. She jumped back onto her bed and grabbed the fork and knight into fists. Faenach stabbed the cooked heart with her knife, and shoved the morsel into her mouth.
She moaned in delight as she fell back onto the pillows. The knife was pulled out from between her teeth, reluctant to leave even for a moment. Again Faenach pierced into the heart, and soon there was nothing left.
Finger by finger Faenach licked off the remaining juices. Once there was no remaining drop she fell back exhausted. She had never felt so drained. With her last remaining strength she threw her hand back onto the handle of the mirror and pull it to her face. She gave a lazy smile at her reflection. Covered with food juices, but never more content. "Who is the fairest now?" she murmured.
"You are my queen," Faenach heard the whispery breath of the mirror. "You are the fairest."
***
Brendan was beginning to worry. Gweneida had agreed to meet him at the stables an hour before, but still had not arrived. Even when she had been cold toward him, she had never been late. It was part of her honor code.
While he was waiting, Brendan began to brush his horse Sunshine's coat. Through his mind he was reviewing all the happenings that could have detained Gweneida. He came up a good number, but none appeased his sense of unease. When his horse grunted, Brendan looked down and realized that he had begun to brush the air beside her.
"Sorry girl," he whispered as he pat her neck. While he pulled the saddle off, the door was slammed behind him. He whipped his head around and found Michael rushing toward him.
"S...sir, I must tell you something v...very important," he stuttered between rasping breaths.
"What is it?" a sense of foreboding settled in Brendan's stomach.
Michael swallowed, and his already wide eyes crossed in fear. "T...the queen t...told me to kill the princess."
"What!" Brendan roared as he shook him until his teeth rattled, "How could you, she is..."
Michael whipped his head back and forth, sending his hair flying across his face. "I...I didn't hurt her. I n...never would hurt the princess."
Brendan stepped back as his numb arms flopped to his sides, too terrified to apologize for his rough behavior. His mind was blank, but he heard his voice say, "Then where is she?"
"I...I don't know. She t...told me to come get you.
"You left her in the forest?" Brendan came back to life. "That is no better than killing her outright you fool! Do you know what kind of creatures are out there?"
Michael through his head back and bawled. "I...I...just di...did what the princess t...told me to!"
"Of course you did," sighed Brendan, running a hand through his hair. He knew his anger was doing nothing to help either the lack-wit stable hand, or himself, get any closer to rescuing Gweneida. But he could not resist the need to vent his anger. Instead he paced the stables, kicking a bucket out of the way, sending it clunking to the other side of the room.
"She...she told me to tell y...you where she is, and what h...happened."
"Where did you last see her Michael?"
"B...by the big oak tree n...near the st...stream."
With out another word Brendan leapt up into the saddle and galloped toward the forest. The biting wind did not faze him, though it caused tears to run down his immobile face. His only thought was of find Gweneida.
The cold air dropped to a lower degree of freexing when he entered the forest. The huge trees blocked out most of the light, giving the snow no chance to melt. Brendan swerved Sunshine around countless times, in a seemingly meaningless pattern, but after an endless amount of searching he found traces of Gweneida's passage. Although he wanted to keep pounding through the woods, he forced Sunshine to a gentle trot, keeping his eye on the faded footprints in the ground.
Time was meaningless to him until the lack of light made it impossible to continue. He considered risking the attempt to keep going through the night, but the risk of loosing the tracks far outweighed the time saved.
Brendan slipped down from the saddle, and by the wane moonlight tied Sunshine's bridle to a nearby branch. He stumbled toward the stream, fell down by the bank, and gulped down the fresh water. Once his thirst was quenched, he realized the emptiness in his stomach, but forced himself to be content with satisfying one need.
He stared down into his reflection. Before his weary eyes his face melted into Gweneida's. With tears in his eyes he bent down and brushed his fingers across the surface.
Small ripples vibrated from his touch, erasing the illusion. However, instead of the reappearance of his own face, the image of a wizened old man appeared. Brendan was surprised, but not afraid. He sensed he was looking at an actual person, and not a trick of light. No wrinkle of water crossed over the face, nor did the pebbles from the bottom of the lake show through. The old man nodded, acknowledging his presence, then disappeared into the awakened movement of the stream.
When Brendan drew back he was weary to the bone. It took all of his willpower to force his limbs to move. And since walking was beyond his capability, he crawled up toward the trees and collapsed under their safety. Before his eyes closed, he was asleep.
***
"Who is she?" through the fuzziness of sleep Gweneida heard the lisp of a little voice.
"I don't know. But she sure is good looking," this time the comment came from a man, and Gweneida guessed he was young. Not much older than herself. Instead of opening her eyes to reveal her awakened state, she peered through her lowered lashes. She was able to see three pairs of feet standing around her bed.
"You consider everything that walks in a skirt good looking," the third voice was also a male, but it broke periodically. Gweneida smiled as she recognized the sullen tone of a person just entering adulthood. She had never had the opportunity to enter that state, but she had seen it often.
"Look, the pretty lady is smiling," said the first voice. Gweneida opened her eyes to find herself looking into the largest brown eyes that she had ever seen. The eyes were set in the angelic face of a little girl.
As Gweneida pulled herself into a sitting position, she observed the small crowd surrounding her. The first thing she noticed was all of them were shorter than average. She estimated the tallest to be an inch or so shorter than her own average height, and the smallest was no bigger than her thigh.
"What are you doing in my bed?" said the young man. He was the tallest of the bunch, and was the most beautiful man Gweneida had ever seen. His raven hair was fashioned into loose waves that framed the classical perfection of his face. "Not that I have any objection to you being there, but I think I have the right to know."
Gweneida could feel her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment "I fell asleep, I didn't mean to, honest, it was just that I was so tired and your bed was so soft..."
"Its quite alright sweetheart," the man said with a smile that broke hearts. Luckily for Gweneida, her heart had already been taken.
"I was lost in the woods. Well not lost precisely, because one can't lost when one was not headed anywhere in the first place. But I didn't have anywhere to go, and your home was open, so I was just going to get a bite to eat and rest for a while, but once I closed my eyes eye...I guess I fell asleep."
"Why were you in the woods? It was a very ill advised," said the boy as he pushed a pair of large round glasses up his nose.
"It wasn't as if I had a choice," Gweneida snapped, but softened her response with a smile. "It is a long story, I doubt you want to hear it."
"Certainly not while you are in bed!" came a new voice plowing through the others. A moment later the owner of the voice stepped out. She was shorter than all but the child, but demanded attention with her presence. Gray streaked her brown hair, and wrinkles extended from her warm gray eyes. She placed her hands on her round hips and frowned. "When was the last time you ate child?"
"I...I am not sure."
"Well than, let Mrs. Terow get you some thing to eat. Then you can tell us why you are here," with out hesitating for Gweneida to comply, she took her by the hand and into the kitchen. The rest of the dwarfs followed behind them in a single file. "Sit down now, you are much too thin."
Mrs. Terow bustled over a moment later with buttered bread in one hand, and a large cup of Milk in the other. "Here you are Dearie," she gave Gweneida the offerings and sat down on a stool beside her.
At first Gweneida squirmed and eat little under the curious stares. But soon the others resumed conversation amongst themselves, and she relaxed. She was amazed by the easiness they had in each others presence. Even when they argued, which was often, nothing was mean spirited. It did not take her long to wish that she too belonged to such a family.
While she was eating, two more dwarves wandered in. The first was a younger, but quieter, copy of Mrs. Terow. Her name was Isabelle. As well as being the daughter of Mrs. Terrow, she was a twin too the be- spectacled dwarf, who's name was Robert. Shortly after Isabelle started baking bread, Mr. Terrow burst in. He was even shorter than his wife, but stockier. His ruddy face sported a half-white half-blond beard. Robert took after him, just as his sister did their mother.
While she ate, Jason tried to flirt with her. Instead of annoying her, as all the other flirts did, she found him vastly amusing. "You have the most beautiful eyes," he said with a wide grin.
"So I have been told," Gweneida tried not to smile in return. "Many times. But usually it is said in poetry. I must say that I am disappointed in your lack of imagination."
"You wound me," he put a hand on his heart letting his head fall over the back of the chair.
Gweneida giggled. Soon the most enjoyable meal of her life ended. "Just a moment child," Mrs. Terrow whisked the plate and cup off the table. "Now tell us what brought you here."
"Well it really started when I was born," Gweneida began softly. But it did not take her long to find release in the telling of her tale. No one interrupted the long recital, their eyes stayed focused on her the entire time. "So when I found your lovely home I couldn't resist myself. I am terribly sorry for imposing on your hospitality. I will leave as soon as it is convenient for you."
"Nonsense," Gweneida turned to find her self looking into her own eyes. But those eyes belonged to a different face. "I didn't go through all the trouble of getting you here so you would leave as soon as you came," the speaker limped forward. He was the second smallest of all of them, but commanded the most respect. It could have been because he was ancient, with snow-white hair and lines that covered his face. Or it could have been his extreme lack of beauty. Never before had Gweneida seen such a horrifying vestige. But she suspected it was something more. It was the wisdom and pain that his eyes held, and the aura of power that his slight body contained.
"Why did you bring me here?"
"So I could teach you," he smiled. And although all of his teeth were black or missing, it still managed to transform his face into one much younger and happier.
"Teach me what?"
"To take my place."
"Take your place doing what Cianailill?" Jason asked. "You can't mean that she is to be the next Ice Mage."
"Oh, but I do," he answered, but his eyes stayed trained on Gweneida.
"What is an Ice Mage?"
"One of controls the cold and all of its elements."
Gweneida's gaped. She tried to talk, but nothing came out. Once she had gotten her self together she managed to choke out, "You mean I am a witch?"
"No...you most certainly are not! But when I am through with you, you will be a mage."
"But I am not magical!" she squealed.
"Yes you are. Come to my work room in an hours time," he wobbled out of the room. For several minutes after his departure, the room was silent. One by one six pairs of eyes drifted over to her.
"Well in that case I think I should make you up a bed," Mrs. Terrow said. All of the others made similar excuses, but seemed to accept her staying with out doubt.
"It will be nice to have such a pretty lady around," said Alice, the youngest of them all. "Will you share my room with me?"
"Of coarse she will little sister," Jason scooped her up. "All of you girls sleep in the same room. Unfortunately, I do not share that room." with a wink he left the room, leaving Gweneida alone.