Le Fantôme et L'ange
Chapter 14
The Magic Flute
There was plenty of time before darkness would fall across the land. Christine knew that she wouldn't need much for their journey that night, yet she felt herself moving with great haste as she traveled back up the western path. Her heart raced with the information she had received from Raoul, yet soared now that she had explained her absence to him. She was relieved to have that weight off of her shoulders, although she was admittedly terrified to go back into the woods. She knew Raoul would be a trustworthy guide, but even he could not stop a ghoul on the prowl. Yet ghouls did not concern Christine any more, but the fantôme himself was who she feared.
Christine knew that she could easily fall into his sadness again. She knew that her pity for the creature would be her weakness in the end, but perhaps her weakness could result in her strength.
Just before turning the bend before her home, Christine heard a rustle beyond the tree line. She stopped immediately in her tracks, expecting to see a roe deer emerge into the clearing. It was the perfect time of the day for their scavenging for berries. After a few moments, Christine blamed it on the breeze and continued walking forward. Another rustle sounded, drawing Christine to walk toward the trees to investigate. She peered inside the wild, stepping just past the clear line of trees. The air did not stir within the forest and no fauna was to be seen. It was the perfect picture of serenity, yet deeper into the woods, another sound like a stone sliding from a cliffside kept Christine's gaze focused straight ahead. After a moment of hesitation, Christine peaked behind her, assuring that there was nobody nearby to see her, and then stepped into the shelter of the trees.
The music of the woods was now beginning to sound like actual music, drifting toward Christine like a stream. A soft padding against the dirt was like percussion while the hum of silence carried the tune in her ears. An instrument could be heard just beyond Christine's reach. The tone possessed a sound that was a mixture between a flute and a mandolin. It sounded nothing like the tunes her father played back in Knivsta, and certainly was not like the sad song of the fantôme in the woods. The melody she heard was from a foreign sounding tool, mischievous like a nymph. It teased her with a witty pace, dipping to and fro inside of her mind.
This all seemed to be a similar trick of the scenes as before, yet this melody sounded more real than the last time she traveled into the woods. This sound seemed more tangible. As Christine journeyed deeper into the woods and turned past the bend of a tree, she saw a cloaked figure turned sideways covered from head to toe in black playing a front facing flute.
The shade continued playing to its own harmony, seeming not to have seen Christine come from beside it.
The light tune was intriguing, as if it was challenging Christine to a duel. The musician played with great authority, ordering its instrument to sore a higher octave. The cloak seemed very much like a human shape, yet the song commanded from the flute seemed totally bewitched by magic. Christine had never heard anything so extraordinary before.
Christine watched without words, in complete awe, especially as the cloak turned to reveal the face of a woman. A stunned gasp escaped Christine's lips as she stepped backwards, pressing her back against the trunk of one of the trees. She saw the emerald eyes of the woman gleam, grinning a coy smile to her audience member.
She continued playing vigorously, allowing her curious melody to go on through the end, which she offered a curt bow afterward. Christine was so transfixed that she could not even offer a light applause. The woman pulled the hood of her cloak off from her head, revealing long, straight locks of black hair. Her eyes became softer once the shadow of the cloak was removed.
Manners were left aside as Christine stared at the beautiful woman. It had been some time since Christine had seen anybody stray from the neutral looks of brown eyes and hair. The woman was so extravagant in comparison to the humble villagers of Perros. She was stunning as her light skin was dappled by the sunlight from the trees' leaves, yet Christine knew that even the elegant spotted pattern of a horse eventually turned all to grey.
The woman seemed in her prime; the perfect age of grace and beauty, yet behind her cunning smile was a wisdom and an experienced desire for solitude. With a petite frame and fertile hips, this woman would have nothing to do with reliance on another, if her wandering alone through the woods had anything to say of it.
Christine thought pensively to herself, yet she could not take her eyes off of the woman standing before her.
"A lover of music, are we?"
Christine's eyes drew up to her woman's, astonished by the sound of her voice. She seemed too unparalleled to the rest of the world, yet now she was speaking to Christine in the sleekest of voices; a real living human. It was like water pouring from a spring, like the song of the siren who beckoned sea travelers. It was beautiful and melodic like her flute.
The woman smiled at Christine.
"I have always had a fondness for beautiful melodies," the woman said. "Especially from foreign lands."
She held the exotic flute out to Christine for her to observe. Without stepping forward, Christine examined the instrument from the safety of her tree.
"It is very beautiful," Christine said slowly.
Despite the woman's elegance, Christine suddenly felt uneasy by her speaking to her.
The woman smiled and slowly walked toward Christine, the folds of her cloak billowing out to her sides.
"It seems you are a lover of nature as well," the woman said, reaching her hand out to Christine.
Christine looked down at her long fingers, which curled up toward her in an extended greeting. They unfolded slowly, urging for Christine's acknowledgement. After a hesitant moment, Christine reached her hand out for the woman.
"My name is Christine," she said softly, meek to the woman's presence.
She placed her hand into the woman's and gave a steady bow of her head. The woman shook her hand slowly, remaining tall the entire time.
"There is nothing wrong with enjoying the world around you," the woman said.
"It could be very dangerous in these woods," Christine replied. "Especially for a woman."
"You are a woman alone in the woods," the cloaked woman said. "And such a young one, at that. How brave…"
The tone of the woman's voice mocked Christine, calling attention to the absurdity of her contradicting words. She suddenly felt defensive.
"I only wandered from the path because of your music," she said.
"Yet, here you remain," the stranger replied.
The woman sounded very serious in her last remark, as if she somehow knew the danger they faced; both from being vulnerable to the spirits and by the stigma the towns people would have against them. Yet, her appearance and her ways seemed so foreign to those of the village.
"You must not be familiar with the ways of Perros," Christine suggested.
"I have frequently traveled through Perros quite a number of times," the woman said.
"Oh," Christine said, now embarrassed. "Forgive me."
"Strange little village," the woman remarked.
The woman's eyes remained intense on Christine, awaiting a response which she was unwilling to offer.
"So quaint, yet such strong superstitions" she continued slow. "Such a strong fear for that which cannot be seen."
Christine turned her eyes to the ground. She could feel the cloaked woman moving around her, the cape billowing out and brushing over her boots. The flute twirled between her fingers, passing between her hands and toying with Christine. She felt uncomfortable around the woman, but there was also a certain allure as well.
"You are not from Perros yourself," the stranger said abruptly.
Christine remained silent. Even when she tried to be just like them, she could not find a way to blend in. Her head tipped down and her eyes remained downcast.
The woman laughed to herself.
"Your pretty yellow hair gives you away, dearie. And such lovely eyes of blue," she said.
"My great grandfather was from this village," Christine said. "My father inherited a home here."
"Yes," the woman said assuredly. "Yes, I am sure he did."
Christine wondered why she was so openly defensive with the woman. Perhaps it was because she was too was a stranger to this town still, just like the woman with the ebony hair.
"And how do you like the change?" she asked.
"It is very beautiful here," Christine said.
"That is why I have always come back. The land is intriguing, and quite mysterious too. Do you agree, Christine?"
"I suppose it is," Christine offered.
"Cursed, they say," the woman said, her eyes remaining intense on Christine.
Growing stiff with concern, Christine could feel her fingers curling into her palms and clutching together tightly.
"I have not heard of such a tale," Christine said.
"No?" the woman asked pressingly.
Christine looked over her shoulder to the stranger. Her blue eyes were very serious, while the mossy green eyes looking back to her were lively with knowledge.
"Merely another one of their stories, I am certain," the woman assured. "They are very intent on their folklore, after all."
"Yes…"
Christine felt light headed as the woman circled around her, moving in closer to her side. Her cloak offered her warmth, but the tone from her voice was icy.
For a moment, Christine felt a distantly familiar attraction to the conflicted feeling. It comforted her to think back to a time when she had nothing to fear. She was back in Knivsta, bundled beneath a blanket beside the campfire, telling stories and singing songs with her father. again, back in the land she knew as home. Then she thought of her most vulnerable moments, as she was in the forest beneath the cover of pelts with the chilled air of a spirit sitting beside her. The memories brought on by the woman's presence drew Christine's eyes closed, taking her back where she felt most at ease. Anywhere else but within the village of Perros.
"It is very difficult to gain the friendship of those here from Perros," the woman said abruptly. "Do you feel the same, Christine?"
Christine's eyes drew open again.
Yes. It is.
"I could not say…"
"Come now, we are both strangers here," the woman said. "I am sure you can agree."
"Perhaps," Christine said quietly.
The woman smiled to Christine again.
"There now," the woman said. "Being that we are both on the outside, we can certainly agree on many things."
Christine knew the woman was right. She would never truly belong in Perros. But now that she had already left her only home, it seemed she would never belong anywhere again. The woman seemed to understand Christine's trail of thought, because she reached out and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Fear not, Christine. Eventually, they will all get what is due for their unkindness."
Christine''s shoulders went tense. Her eyes slowly turned toward the stranger's and she looked wearily into her beautiful eyes of jade. A new coldness ran under Christine's skin, setting her motionless in a stare down. She began to tremble.
"…I am sorry, I do not believe I learned your name," Christine said.
"My dear," the cloaked woman said, wrapping an arm around Christine's shoulder. "I think you already know who I am."
Christine's hand drew to her lips, containing a gasp as she stepped backward into the tree behind her.
"My goodness," Nohra said. "I thought you were much brighter than this. I was sure you would have known sooner than this."
"I am of no importance to you or your curse," Christine said, bracing herself against the tree's trunk. Nohra's hand still rested against her shoulder.
"You are right. You mean nothing to the curse," Nohra said. "However, I cannot have you fueling the minds of the villagers with ideas."
"The rest of Perros will learn," Christine cried. "And they will break this spell!"
"With only three souls who know about it," Nohra coed, "there is not a chance. You are all easily disposed of."
Christine looked around the woods, hoping to find a way to escape the woman. Just to get close enough to the edge of the path and cry out to anybody who could hear. With a mighty shove from the tree's bark, Christine ran forward and pushed the sorceress backward, then turned to make her escape. She leapt over the root of the tree and began her sprint, praying to the Maker that she had given herself a fast enough start. Her legs carried her as fas as they could, pounding into the untouched soil for the briefest of moments. Her breathing was light and labored, for fear was catching in her throat with ever stride she made. From behind her, she could now hear laughter, mocking her attempts of escape and filling her head with the sound of Nohra's cruel voice.
And I thought you would be quite clever.
Christine's feet became tripped within a long chord, tightening around her ankles and winding up her legs. Another chord wrapped around her wrist, pulling her arm backwards and meeting the other arm behind her. Soon, Christine was falling to the ground, her legs bound in vines and her arms pinned behind her back in a similar fashion. She tripped to the floor, trying to loosen the hold the forest had on her, only to find that her struggle tightened the vines around her. Her head hit against the ground, drawing a stream of blood down her temple and down her cheek. The dirt and leaves mixed within her wound and her hair, but she didn't care. The pain throbbed, pounding against her head while the tie around her wrist was cutting the circulation of blood to her fingers. Christine curled her knees into her chest and closed her eyes, trying to maintain her focus.
The crunching of leaves beside her drew her eyes open again, revealing the boots of the sorceress standing over her.
"You foolish girl," Nohra said. "And here I thought you were a threat to the curse."
Christine groaned, trying to hold back her tears of pain. How could she be so naive to wander back into the woods again alone?
"Now," Nohra said, quite satisfied with herself. "Let us dispose of you in the most pertinent form for the trouble you have caused me."
Christine clenched her jaw and gave another attempt at breaking the vines confining her, but to no avail. The hold only grew tighter.
"You evil woman…"
Nohra laughed delightedly and waved her hand over Christine's body. Like the cold grasp of the fantôme of the woods, Christine was lifted off of the ground without more aid than the air around her. Her body turned upright and she was brought to look Nohra directly in the eye as her bound feet dangled above the ground and her concealed arms fell behind her back. Her head fell forward to her chin, but her eyes remained turned up and angry beneath her brow.
"Off to the woods we go, my dear."
In one last despairing effort, Christine turned and cried out toward the edge of the forest's carved path, begging for anybody to hear her. She continued to struggle against her hold, yet the vines containing her pulled her forward, floating her form behind its master as she began to head out deeper into the wood.
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