Touch of Gold: (Rumpelstiltskin) (Tangled Tales Series Book 4) (17 page)

Excerpt from
The Sword and the Sylph
, Book 3 – Air

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(Elemental Series)

Portia watched from the shadows of the great hall in her invisible form. She’d have much to report back to the Countess Odillia now. And if she was to make it back up the mountain in time to warn them of the attack, she had to leave anon.

She watched Sir Braden as he walked right past her, slowing down slightly, and if she wasn’t mistaken, sniffing the air and glancing from the corner of his eyes in her direction. Then he disappeared down the hall and was followed by Lord Solomon, the captain of the guard, and Lady Christabel as well.

She surveyed the lady of the castle as the woman glided past her down the corridor. She couldn’t stop thinking of the way Sir Braden had dropped to his knee and kissed her hand. He was so gallant and chivalrous and she would have welcomed the kind gesture. Instead, this woman all but shunned him. She didn’t deserve the likes of Sir Braden. She didn’t deserve anyone for that matter.

She hurried out to the courtyard and snuck through the gate, heading to where she’d left her horse tied to a tree and hidden in the forest. When she was sure no one was looking, she materialized and put her foot into the stirrup to climb atop her steed. A strong arm on her shoulder and a low voice from behind her made her stop in mid-motion.

“I thought I’d find you here. Now tell me, Portia-Maer, just what is it you think you’re doing?”

She turned to look directly into the blue eyes of Sir Braden. But this time his eyes were not dancing with excitement. Now they were clouded over and disappointment shadowed them as well.

“I demand you release me at once.”

“I cannot do that, my little fae one. As a matter of fact, I’m going to have to take you back to Lord Solomon.”

“How do you know I’m of fae blood? And why would you do such a thing as to take me to a man who would not think twice of hanging me at the crossroads to die as an example to others?”

“Oh, so it seems someone has overheard our private conversation. And you have just confirmed my suspicions that you are the spy that’s been giving information to the Earl of Calila as well.”

“The earl in my father,” she told him. “I would do anything at all to help him, even if it meant my death.”

“Your father?” His hand loosened his grip on her shoulder and he slowly brought it back to his waist. “You mean to tell me you live at Castle Calila? ‘Tis your family that is fighting Lord Solomon and his men?”

“‘Tis not that way, not really. Now tell me, how did you know I was here if you could not see me?”

“Your scent of lilacs gives you away every time, sweetheart. And I’d venture to guess that one of your fae powers is turning invisible is it not?”

“You’ve already seen the proof of that, so why do you need to ask?”

“What else can you do? And are you called a dryad like your friend Rae-Nyst? She can command the vines and trees to do her bidding. Can you do that as well?” He looked around cautiously, hand on his sword, as if he thought the vines of the forest were about to attack him.

“I am not a dryad, you simpleton, I am a sylph! A dryad is an elemental of the earth. I am an elemental of the air and everything that goes with it.”

“I see. A sylph. Interesting title I must say.” He nodded his head and swept his eyes over her from head to toe. She felt suddenly very insecure and lowered her gaze to the ground under his wanton perusal.

Braden drank in the beauty of the girl who’d just called herself a sylph. Such an odd title for an odd girl. But naught about her was common. Her hair was like spun cornsilk, long and flowing, lifting around her in the breeze. It was such a light honeyed color that it almost seemed to him as if it were silver. Her lips were full and pink, her eyes dark blue like mountain bilberries. And her skin looked soft and smooth, and so pale that the noblewomen would envy her for the appearance that they strived so hard to attain.

She wore a thin silken gown of white and light blue with tight fitting sleeves and long flowing tippets hanging down from her elbows. And around her head was a woven wreath of small dainty flowers of yellow and white making her look like a Queen of the Fae people. She smelled liked the fresh air after a spring rain mixed with the scent of lilacs that clung to her wherever she went. She said she was an elemental of the air, and to him that described her well. She was light and airy, breezy and fresh. Her essence called out to him whether she knew it or not, making him feel more alive than he’d felt in years.

“Now, let me go,” she said. Her clear, deep blue eyes begged though her words were calculated and cool. How could anyone be frightened of such a gentle girl? She looked as if she needed a strong man to protect her, and he couldn’t believe she’d do anyone harm.

“I will make a deal with you,” he said instead. “You get me into Castle Calila without anyone knowing why I’m there, and I won’t expose you to Lord Solomon as the spy he’s been trying to hunt down and kill.”

“But you mean to be a part of attacking my father’s castle,” she protested.

“Same as you meaning to be a part of attacking Banesmoor. So the way I see it, we are even.”

“I cannot allow Banesmoor to attack Calila.”

“And I cannot allow you to give information that would seal the doomed fate of Lord Solomon and his people either.”

“I won’t do what you ask.”

“Then I have no choice but to bring you before the lord of Banesmoor.”

He reached out for her but once again she disappeared from his sight. He groped at the air, but couldn’t find her. Then he saw her horse turn and ride off quickly, and he rushed to his own steed to follow.

“Sir Braden,” called out Sir Samuel, riding up to join him. “I saw you groping at mid-air in an odd fashion.” He cocked his head and studied him as if he thought he were addled. “What were you doing, if I may ask?”

“I am following someone,” he said, mounting his horse.

Sir Samuel looked in the distance at the lone horse riding away and then back to him. “You are chasing a horse without a rider?” he asked. “I hardly think Lord Solomon would find that courageous. Mayhap he was wrong in choosing you to marry his daughter after all. I am not sure you would be able to protect her as promised.”

Braden watched the horse disappear in the distance and knew he couldn’t follow without looking like a fool. He’d pledged his fealty to Lord Solomon now, as well as accepted the betrothal of his daughter. As a knight of his word, he would follow through with what he’d started.

“If you would be kind enough to tell Lord Solomon I will not be joining him back at the castle, I’d appreciate it.”

“Another horse to chase?” the man asked with a smile.

“Nay. A spy to catch,” he answered, taking off in the direction of Mount Calila to do the job that was now expected of him.

Excerpt from
The Oracle of Delphi

(Greek Myth Fantasy Series)

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Princess Andromeda approached the cave on horseback, able to see the huge stone statue of Apollo guarding the entrance to the cave even from the bottom of the mountain. She had come a long way from her father’s kingdom in Thessaly. She knew she should not be here alone, and especially not without requesting an audience, but her will and determination drove her forward, desperate to try to save her own life. Her villagers were being consumed in massive numbers at the jaws of the sea serpent sent upon them by Nereus, the sea god.

The proud boasting of her parents, Queen Cassiopeia and King Cepheus, saying her own beauty far surpassed that of the sea nymphs, is what brought the wrath of the god upon their heads. Nereus’s daughters numbered fifty, and to compare a human to fifty nymphs was indeed a hideous crime.

Thessaly in turmoil, her father had come to seek an answer from the Oracle of Delphi. But the answer he’d returned to Thessaly with, was one Andromeda did not want to hear. The oracle had suggested her life be sacrificed in order to sate the sea serpent and set their village free.

While her parents loved her dearly, they had never gone against the oracle’s words. She was indeed to be sacrificed to the sea serpent, and only because of the help of her father’s steward did she escape with her life. Klaus had seen to it she had secured a horse and ridden off without being detected. Had her father known, Klaus would have been sentenced to death for what he had done.

Andromeda needed to find a solution that would free Thessaly from the sea beast and at the same time spare her own life.

She dismounted lightly, pulling her cloak around herself to keep her identity hidden. One look over her shoulder led her to believe she had not been discovered. Tying her horse’s reins onto a limb of a tree, she scanned the entrance to the cave, expecting to see a warrior at the door. Luck was with her, as no one but the stone Apollo guarded the entrance.

The sky clouded over, and thunder split the air, forcing Andromeda to hurry. The waves crashed upon the cliffs in the distance, and she had no doubt Nereus had heard of her escape. She stopped just inside the cave while rain poured down. Steam came off the stones at the foot of the entrance. Lowering her hood, she shook the water from her soaked clothing and inched forward cautiously.

Her parents once told her she had spent time with the priestess of the oracle when she was nothing more than an infant. Her parents hoped she would be trained to someday take the oracle’s place. But her fate supposedly held a different route - a route not made known at the time by the oracle’s prophecies. Now she hoped her fate hadn’t been to die in the belly of a sea serpent. She had to know for sure. She had to hear it from the oracle herself or she would never believe it.

The smell of damp earth invaded her nostrils, mixed with the essence of burning herbs and rotting filth. It stirred a memory deep within her, a vague remembrance of sitting on the priestess’s lap as a baby while the woman contacted the oracle. Andromeda prayed not to remember more, as it frightened her so.

Torches lit the stone stairway, guiding the way to the pit. Flames leaped up to greet her from the platters of burning oil perched atop floor-stands lighting the space before her. She ran her hand along the stone cold wall, descending the stairs that would take her to the Oracle of Truth. Her breathing labored when she heard a hollow ringing sound, stirring memories of her infancy to life.

Then she saw it. A pit. A dark pit that she knew had no bottom. A tall golden chair with three legs stretched across the pit and traveled high into the air like a pyramid paying homage to the gods. Her eyes followed it upward, settling on the beautiful vision of a priestess - a queen atop her throne.

The woman wore a gown of pure white. Laurel and white wool, wrapped in a circlet around her golden hair. Andromeda felt a sense of kinship with this woman. Almost as if she had returned home. The eyes of the priestess were closed, and her head wobbled back and forth as if she were in a trance.

Five hooded priests walked out from behind a stone wall encircling the pit. Scrolls tucked under their arms, they also carried feather-tipped writing instruments in their hands. She stood silently in the shadows, watching.

They did not look at her, and she was not even aware her presence was evident until the priestess, eyes still closed, called out her name.

“Princess Andromeda. We’ve been expecting you.”

She felt a shiver run the course of her spine. Nobody knew her destination, yet the priestess spoke as if she’d requested an audience prior to her arrival. Truly, the oracle could foresee the future.

“I . . . come to ask a question.” She cleared her throat and waited for a response.

The priestess’s eyes opened and looked right through her.

“You want to know how to rid your village of the sea serpent.”

Andromeda nodded, the lump in her throat being in the way of her speech.

“I will consult the oracle,” she said, and closed her eyes again.

Andromeda waited, but nothing happened. The priests stood waiting also, anticipating an answer. She thought the priestess had fallen asleep and was about to ask a second time, when thunder boomed. It echoed off the cave walls, and caused the golden tripod fixture to vibrate and ring out once more.

A thick, putrid mist raised from the pit, surrounding the priestess to the point that Andromeda could barely see her. The woman atop the chair twisted and her head jerked. Her eyes remained closed, while the mist seemed to became one with her body.

Andromeda vibrated, closing her eyes, feeling the oracle’s presence strong and firm. It felt so familiar that she wondered if possibly she did have the gift of contacting the oracle also. Then the priestess spoke with quick, inaudible gibberish words. Andromeda watched as the priests scribbled fast across their scrolls. They may have understood, but she did not. Mayhap this was the reason she was not destined to follow in the oracle’s footsteps.

She stepped forward bravely, only inches from the stone circle around the pit.

“I do not understand,” she said, looking up at the priestess. “Can you please slow down your words?”

Through the priestess’s lips came a sibilant whisper, turning into an eerie, ugly voice that froze Andromeda to the spot.

“Only a demi-god such as Perseus can slay the sea serpent.” The voice was not of the priestess, but rather of the mist or whatever lived in the bottomless pit.

“But surely, there must be a way to stop it from consuming the people of my village.”

“Your parents have erred by angering the gods. Only a sacrifice will stop the serpent now.”

“A sacrifice,” she repeated. “Yes, that is a fine idea.” The oracle hadn’t mentioned Andromeda at all, and she felt a sense of relief wash over her. “A lamb or perhaps even a calf is good, I suppose. Or should it be a sacrifice of crops from the field, or mayhap some of the villagers’ possessions?”

She gave every suggestion she could think of, hoping the oracle liked her ideas of what to sacrifice to the sea serpent. But just as she thought she had swayed her decision, the oracle spoke again.

“You are that sacrifice, Andromeda,” said the voice. “If the serpent is to be stopped, you must give your life to sate its hunger.”

“No,” she cried. “Surely you are mistaken. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m the one who came here to save my people, but I will not give my life to do it.”

“Giving your life is suggested.”

“Suggested,” she repeated. “Now what does that mean? Are you saying my fate is already determined, or are you saying it can still be changed?”

The oracle hissed through the priestess, obviously challenged by Andromeda’s words. Andromeda was sure no one had ever spoken so boldly to the Oracle of Delphi.

The priestess jerked and twisted again, almost falling from the tall chair into the pit. Two of the priests tucked their scrolls into their robes quickly, scurrying up the gold ladder, taking the priestess into their arms and guiding her to the ground. The foul-smelling mist subsided, finally disappearing into the dark pit.

“The oracle has spoken,” was all she heard, no louder than a whisper.

She quickly followed the priests who were taking the weak priestess into a back room built into the cave.

“Wait!” she called, holding up a hand, but they did not pay her any attention. “You can’t leave yet. I need an answer.”

She found herself alone in the middle of the large, frightening cave. Fire still burned in the floor sconces and from the torches stuck into the cracks of the stone wall. She looked at the three entwined stone serpents carved into the short wall that circled the pit. Their gemstone eyes glowed with the reflection of the fire. She had heard that the mist from the pit was the spirit of the dead. The oracle spoke through this mist, entering the priestess’s body to give its answers. Mayhap she could do the same. She had felt its presence when the priestess joined with it just now. She decided to try to get a different answer from the oracle on her own.

The chair still vibrated, and she reached out her hand to touch it. It called to her, lured her closer, bringing back memories of her infancy sitting atop the priestess’s lap when the oracle was called forth. Before she knew it, she found herself climbing the gold steps that led up to the tripod chair.

Her body felt surprisingly calm, as if the chair itself caressed her. As she settled herself atop the high seat, she looked down into the deep, dark pit and felt it calling to her.

Was there really something down there that could see the future? The stench from the mist lingered and her head lightened. A chill ran up her spine causing her to shiver. Fear and anxiety consumed her and suddenly, she was not at all confident. She no longer knew if she could call forth the oracle - and survive. She had decided to crawl back down when a voice called to her from the place she had stood just moments before, waiting for her own answer from the Oracle of Delphi.

“Oh great priestess, I come unannounced, but I humbly seek your help. I need an answer from the oracle, please.”

She looked down at the man looking up at her. His tall, muscular frame stood rigid, like a warrior preparing for battle. Handsome was he, more handsome than any of the men in her own village. His hair had a slight curl to it, shining the color of acorns in the firelight. His regal face graced him as an Adonis in her eyes. His high cheekbones and long nose led to a thin mouth, accentuating the slight shadow of stubble on his jaw.

One hand rested on the sword at his waist. His feet were spread and planted in a warrior’s stance. His traveling clothes consisted of a long tunic with a bright red cape thrown carelessly over one shoulder. She wondered who he was, as she had never seen him before. Probably a traveler passing through on his way to sell his services to a king’s army.

“Who are you?” she found herself asking, mesmerized by the man’s hawk-like eyes. His brows dipped above his golden orbs as if he felt confusion.

“I am Perseus, dear priestess. I thought the oracle would know my identity without my confirmation.”

She suddenly realized he thought she was the Oracle of Delphi. She’d almost forgotten she’d climbed atop the priestess’s chair. She shifted and opened her mouth, meaning to correct him. But then his name, Perseus, resonated within her mind and she suddenly remembered the oracle saying he - a demi-god - would be the only one able to slay the sea serpent of Nereus.