The Penwyth Curse (Medieval Song 6)

“I wonder, does the wretched Penwyth curse travel around with the heiress?”

Dolan shook his head. “That is hard to accept.”

Fioral chewed that over, then paused a moment.

He laughed as he watched the mighty drawbridge being winched slowly down over the moat, which, he saw, had only three feet or so of water in it. The water didn’t look stagnant, green with rotted vegetation. It seemed fresh.

He’d heard about a drought plaguing Penwyth, and perhaps the plants and trees and crops he’d seen were a bit dry, but the air was fresh and there was water in the moat. No drought, just another wild tale, like that wretched Druid and witch curse. He thought he would perhaps kill one of the old warriors, just to show Lord Vellan that he was serious, that he was here to stay, that this was now his keep, and these were his animals and his old graybeard warriors, whose brains, he hoped, were not frozen back in time with the desperately foul King John.

He was smiling even as he spurred his destrier forward, hooves clattering on the thick wooden drawbridge. Mayhap he’d kill old Lord Vellan. Then everyone would know that any poison would bring death to all of them.

The Tintagel Cave

Bishop grabbed for the hand that had struck him. He caught only dead air.

This slap to his cheek caught him off balance and sent him onto his back on the floor of the cave. He sat there, angry and utterly confused.

He crawled back, leaned over the black hole, stretched his arm down its full length. That damned hand it couldn’t be all that far down. The hole couldn’t be deep at all. “Damn you, come out of that hole.”

He heard laughter, he knew it was laughter. It was growing fainter, as if whoever had struck him was climbing back down into the hole. That meant there must be a ladder of sorts.

Bishop leaned over the edge of the circular stones, and felt around for a ladder or a rope, something. He paused, listened. He could hear nothing now, could feel nothing, not even any movement in the air.

Then, suddenly, he heard soft breathing right beside his left ear. He jerked around, but no one was there, nothing was there—but then he knew, just knew. He looked down in the blackness. He didn’t want to, but he did. He even leaned down into it.

When two very strong hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into the hole, he wasn’t surprised, but he was terrified. Then he was free, no hands on him, and he was falling and falling.

And he made no sound at all.

Sometime Else

The prince awoke slowly, stretched. In that instant he knew he wasn’t alone. Someone else was drifting over him, through him, settling in, but he was still himself. He felt the other’s hunger, his aches from sleeping on the floor of the oak forest.

The prince of Balanth shook away all the nonsense and took stock. He knew he was still in her

oak forest, and he was alone. Yet again, he was alone.

He threw back his head and yelled, “Brecia! Come here, you damnable witch. Show yourself.”

There was a slight shifting of the air, making it shimmer, and she was suddenly standing there, right in front of him, her arms crossed over her breasts. She looked furious.

“Brecia,” he said, and stuck out his hand to take hers.

She looked at that hand, brown, strong, the blunt nails. “Your hand, prince? Why, were I stupid enough to touch your hand, you might just turn me into a toad. Where is your wand?”

“You, a toad? You would make a dangerous toad. You would gather all the toads together, overthrow the local toad government, and make yourself their queen toad. My wand? That is a good question. I don’t know where my wand is. It seemed to leave me, not long ago. Isn’t that odd? I don’t remember. I don’t know why I’m here, sleeping in your forest, either. Something strange has happened that I don’t understand. Did you put a spell on me, Brecia?”

When she didn’t take his hand, he finally drew it back.

She said slowly, “There is something different about you, prince. Mayhap the gods came to you, ordered you to curb your arrogance, your violence?”

He seemed, to her eyes, to take this seriously. “Why, no, I don’t think so. Do you believe I am too arrogant? Too violent?”

Something was strange here, he was right about that. She nodded slowly. “Aye, sometimes I have seen you so.”

“Why was I sleeping, Brecia? In your oak forest, away from your fortress?”

“It was night. It was good that you slept.”