Sleeping Beauty (Faerie Tale Collection) (12 page)

As it was, she did not have much time to dwell upon the stark reality around her, once they had made it to the entrance Ezralon and the other men were already gathered and the unicorn was talking.

“I can sense great movement with Villeria, we have perhaps just under an hour or so to prepare ourselves for her attack.”

“Are you certain she will attack?” Michael asked as he strapped his sword to his waist.

“I am certain she will come for the queen.” Ezralon shook his mane in obvious disgust. “Though the only one of us who can remove the queen is the one who broke the enchantment.”

All four of them turned toward Darién and Aleyna as they entered further into the room.

“Then why do I not do just that? Take her away before Villeria gets here.”

Ezralon shook his head. “And do what? Face the sorceress away from the castle? Away from protection? You are mad if you think you can hide such a light as she possesses from the dark power-hungry souls the sorceress maintains.”

Darién ran his hand through his hair. “Then what are our options? If we cannot run, if she cannot take her, then what are we to do?”

“What is the point of this?” asked George. “Why does she come and attempt something she cannot win at anyway?”

“Because she is bound to. It was part of the curse she accepted to slay all those who defy her attempt to have the gel.”

Humphrey rolled his eyes. “This is madness. So you are saying we all wait here like sitting ducks for this witch to come and kill us, attempting to remove something that cannot be removed?”

“Precisely,” Ezralon stated. “It is why we—”

“But we will all die!” shouted George. “There must be a better way to go about doing this.”

“Will she destroy everyone?” Darién asked as he collected his sword from a pile George had set by the door. He began to strap the belt around his waist.

“In the past, that is precisely what she did.” Ezralon briskly kicked at a pile of leaves near his hoof to clear the floor. “In her rage at being thwarted she slaughtered everyone.”

Quietly, Humphrey slid his sword and belt into place and announced softly, “So, we are next. We stand in front of the queen and die protecting her while facing Villeria’s rage—a rage so fierce not one of this kingdom’s army lived to speak of it.” He looked up, squarely into Darién’s eyes and said, “Then so be it. I will perish as well, but I will perish with honor.”

“No.” Aleyna’s voice cracked. She moved forward and found the strength to speak, her hand shaking slightly. “No. This is madness. I will face her and I will face her alone.”

“Aleyna, no.” Darién stepped toward her. “I do not even want the witch to see you—you will remain hidden until—”

“Until what, my prince?” She looked at him and then the other men. “Until I lose you? Until I lose you all too?” Shaking her head, she crossed over to the wall and pulled down the ancient sword. “No. It is me she wants—I am the only one she left alive. Therefore I am the only one who can face her.”

“This is madness.” Michael crossed his arms. “It is suicide to be so brave.”

“Is it?” Aleyna’s whole frame began to shake, Darién went to place his arm around her, but she held her hand out to halt him. “I have never been more terrified of anything in my life. This is not bravery speaking, King Alemade—at least I do not believe so—this, this is desperation. This is to avenge all the wrongs—all the blood that has been spilt in my name previously—this is my right, my duty, to defend my kingdom, and so I shall.”

“Just a moment.” Humphrey placed his hand up to his mouth, before slowly pointing it at Ezralon. “Is there any way to defeat the sorceress? Does she have any weakness at all, that you know of?”

Ezralon shook his head. “None.”

The room fell silent.

“Beauty,” the prince whispered.

“Yes, beauty!” Aleyna bit her lip. “Isn’t that why she wished to have me for her own? Is not that the legend? Because she thought me beautiful?”

“How do we use that to our advantage?” Michael asked, stepping forward.

Darién glanced down at Aleyna’s dress and asked, “We make the queen beautiful?”

All eyes turned toward her and she flushed as she looked down. At least her gown did not age and wither like the rest of the castle, but still it was quite old and had stains and the like upon it. It was the same one she had worn for her birthday ball all those years ago.

“Is there anything you know of—any trunks stashed away that might have something suitable and still worth wearing?” asked Ezralon as he stepped around her. “Something ethereal and enchanting—perhaps fairy-like.”

Aleyna thought for a moment and then said slowly, “I believe there was an old set of trunks in the servants’ quarters we would use for our masques—but that was years ago. I cannot guarantee they are still there. Are you expecting me to change my attire right now?”

“It would not hurt to do so. To hopefully gain us a few moments of peace while she admires your inner light and beauty.”

“Goodness!” She flushed.

“Do we have time for this nonsense?” George threw his hands in the air. “To go scampering about the attics for some sort of mystical gown that will blind the witch for a moment before we all die?”

Darién threw him a look of daggers, his tone threatening the man to disagree. “I feel it is the perfect thing to do in this situation. To allow the queen to refresh herself and change into something more suitable will be just the thing.” If they could get Aleyna out of the way, then they could begin to speak about her safety while she was gone. “Humphrey, will you be so kind as to help her search through the trunks and find something that might dazzle Villeria?”

Aleyna worried at her lip again. “Darién, perhaps Lord Hadden is right, perhaps it would be silly for me to look for a gown while our lives are at stake.”

“It may be what saves us all, my queen.” Ezralon nudged her on the shoulder. “Go now, and hurry back as hastily as you can.”

“If it will save you, I will go.”

“But you must hurry—time is short.”

Without another thought Aleyna set her father’s sword against the wall and she and Humphrey sped from the room.

“Do not look too closely at any bodies!” Darién shouted after them. There was no reply, other than the pounding of their feet as they ascended the stairs.

“Right. That helps us a bit more then,” Ezralon snorted as he nodded to the prince. “Well, thought of lad. Now, which room do you all feel is the most secure and least likely the witch would look?”

“Would not the kitchens be the most logical spot?” asked George. “Not only are they servants’ domain, but also well equipped with stone walls and closets and the like.”

Darién grinned. “As well as an outdoor escape if one became trapped. Good thinking!”

“So that is where we place the queen.” Ezralon nodded. “Now who is the most skilled at arm-to-arm combat?”

“I am the best warrior here,” Darién spoke with no bravado, just simple fact. “I am beyond skilled to handle anyone she sends my way. But will she not use sorcery and magical power to destroy rather than the sword?”

“The only way to defeat her is to kill her. We need someone who can get close enough to lunge a sword into her shoulder from above. This type of sorceress will only die if the blade pierces through her left shoulder downward into her heart and then left kidney. It is a swift move and I have only ever seen it perfectly executed once. If you falter or slip at all, then all the advantage will be given to her and she will annihilate you.”

Darién expelled a breath and uttered, “This is why she needed me, is it not?”

“It is.” The unicorn was grave. “We have been waiting years for you, your Highness.”

“What if I fail?”

“You cannot.”

“But what if I do?”

Ezralon raised his brows. “Then you do.”

Darién matched his stare. “And…?”

“Yes?”

“And what does that mean?” He walked over to the grimy end table, turning his back to them all.

Ezralon’s deep voice vibrated through the great room. “I do not know. Perhaps it means if you die, then it breaks the enchantment and she is Villeria’s forever. Perhaps it means the queen goes back to sleep again. Perhaps it means all of us die. Perhaps it means—”

“Perhaps it means you fail,” Michael interrupted. “But you will not, Darién. I know you will not. I have faith in you. I have faith in your abilities. I have seen you on the field these many years and have never met nor seen your match. You are the man for this situation—you are the only one.”

Darién turned back around and faced his friend. They stared long and hard at one another across the room for some time, before the prince nodded his head once. “Thank you.”

Michael snapped to awareness. “We must sort the rest of this out before she gets here. I for one would like to go home to my dear wife and children when this is all over—and I’m certain George here would love to eat at least one more meal before he perishes.”

“Hey.” He grinned. “Quite true, I would.”

“So, young man,” Ezralon glanced at the prince, “our lives are within your capable hands it would seem. I suggest we devise a plan to get you as close to her as soon as possible and end this without any more damage than necessary.”

“Or die trying,” mumbled Darién.

“Or die trying.”

“Marvelous. Then let us get to work.” Michael rubbed his hands together and smiled. “I believe we have got ourselves a sorceress to out master.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ALEYNA SLIPPED THE PEARLESCENT shimmery gown over her head and examined the wistful folds through the dusty looking glass in the old servants’ quarters. Humphrey had removed himself, like a true gentleman, when they had found the garment and now waited patiently for her on the other side of the door. “It is so beautiful,” she whispered out loud.

It was the gown her mother had worn to dress as an angel all those many years ago. She sighed as she swayed back and forth letting it dance about her ankles in delicate waves. The gown was slim fitting, long sleeves and shot through with an intricate weaving of silver thread. It was simply breathtaking and the perfect foil for a defense against Villeria.

Quickly tucking her hair around the silver and sapphire circlet she had collected from her mother’s ravaged bedroom, she secured the crown upon her head and gasped at the image before her. For a split second there, it was as if she were looking at her own mother gazing back at her.

Aleyna stared at the image of herself for some time, allowing herself to feel the intensity of all the evil Villeria had caused her family, her life, her future. The horrid pain her people suffered on her behalf was too much to bear. She touched the faint image of her mother, her fingers caressing the looking glass briefly as one small tear trailed down her cheek.

The horror, the blazing screeches, the searing pain, it was all there for her to witness in the back of her memory, but she held fast to this image—to the beloved mother who once was, and is no longer. To see her beautiful, tall, stately…she could almost make out her melodious voice whispering to her to be strong, to be valiant, to be fearless.

Suddenly, a small wisp of white and bluish smoke swirled around her wrist and connected the touching fingers through the looking glass, it was mesmerizing and captivating to watch it interlace and dance its way about her soft hand. It created a strange tickling sensation as it began to lace itself up and around her arm. Woven sparkles and spellbinding smoke worked its way around her shoulders and down the other arm as well.

So stunning, so magical. Aleyna had never seen anything quite so mystical and perfect before. There was such joy surrounding the intertwining threads of smoke and it enhanced the dress perfectly, as if leaving a plaited spell upon her. Was it some kind of protection enchantment her mother was sending her? Would this guarantee safety for them all?

Enthralled, Aleyna watched as the smoke skipped its way down her dress and caressed the dainty slippers beneath, then skittered and hopped its way upon the floor marking a path to pursue deeper into the attics. Collecting her skirts she quickly followed the delightful trail through a primeval doorway and proceeded to climb up an old rickety staircase she had never been before—it looked to be the ancient bell tower her father refused to use.

The enchanting white wisps shone brightly against the faded and worn staircase and lit the way quite nicely. Curiosity loomed as she stepped into the departing sunshine of the sunset as it poured into the little cozy room. Here it was glorious, it was clean—it was as if the room had stayed miraculously untouched as all the castle withered around it.

“Mother?” she asked, turning and scanning the space about her.

In the corner the white smoke began to weave and change and transform in front of her, its delicate wisps forming something quite tangible, quite solid and intricate. It took a few moments to realize it was her mother’s spindle coming to life. The dear spindle her father had finally tossed into the fire all those years ago—it had belonged to her great-grandmother, but had decayed to such a point, infested with termites, they had to get rid of the thing. Yet, here it was—with the identical patterned floral designs upon the shaft!

“Mother? Is it you?”

She stepped forward, her fingers lovingly tracing the gold painted leaves across the wood. “I cannot believe this is here. How you would love to see this right now. Oh, Mother, where are you?”

The wisps of smoke appeared again and encircled her fingers as they caressed the wood. It dancing and skittered its way up the spindle drawing and pulling her hand along. Weaved within its magic Aleyna smiled as the sparkly wisps played and tugged against her fingertips urging them onward right to the very tip of the needle—all shiny and new—within its wooden clasp. Brightness filled the room as her hand obeyed the insistent enchantment, her fingers tracing the needle all the way to the tip.

“Ouch.” She pulled back, the smoke dissipating instantly and she swayed as she watched the crimson bead form upon her fingertip. It enlarged and spilled down to splatter against the pristine woven carpet upon the floor beneath her. Watching the droplet of blood fall, the room began to spin slightly. She felt ill and a little bit woozy.