A True Princess Page 3

  “I know only what the song says,” Sir Erlend replied.

  The lord in blue interrupted him. I could see that his eyes, like mine, were violet, and I thought, He must be from my homeland! “There is danger on the road and in the forest,” he warned, “both human and elvish.”

  “Do you believe the stories, sir?” Karina asked, looking at him. He met her eyes and smiled. I saw her blush, but she smiled back at him.

  “I do, lady. I know that the Elf-King rules the forest, and I have heard the sound of the horn and the baying of the hounds in Odin’s Hunt.”

  “Odin’s Hunt? What is that?” I asked.

  The blue lord answered courteously, “The story differs depending on who tells it. Odin is a spirit, or a fairy, or a supernatural being of some sort—no one knows for certain. But he is an immortal. His Hunt is a sign of danger, or of bad times, or at least of change. If you witness the Hunt passing, they say, you will die within a fortnight. Even if you just hear the passing, your life will surely change.”

  “And you, sir,” I said hesitantly. “When you heard it, did your life change?”

  His face darkened, and I thought to apologize for my boldness, but again he replied.

  “It did, milady. I was just a child when I heard the Hunt pass. I knew the stories, so I covered my eyes and hid behind a tree. I did not see Odin and his eight-legged horse and his black dogs. But I heard him, and after—ah, then everything was changed.” His voice was so sad that I felt tears start in my eyes, and when I looked at Karina I could see that she too was moved.

  “I am sorry, sir,” I said softly. “I did not mean to pry.”

  “And the Elf-King,” Karina said, trying to change the course of the conversation. “Is he a danger only to children?”

  “Yes,” said the lord. “He is a terrible threat to infants and children alike, but they say he does not take anyone past the age of seven. We call those he has taken changelings, though he does not leave any of his own kind in their place. None is ever seen again.”

  Sir Erlend added, “But his daughter, milady! It is said that the Elf-King’s daughter is the most beautiful creature that has ever existed. For a man to look on her is to risk enchantment—and even death.”

  “But the elves will not go on the road, will they?” Karina asked fearfully.

  “No,” the blue lord replied. “They live deep, deep inside Bitra Forest. They will not travel on paths that humans have created. On the road you are safe—from elves, at any rate.” The lord reached into a saddlebag that rested on the floor beside him. He pulled out a blade—a short, straight sword, much smaller than the jeweled sword at his side but much larger than Kai’s stubby knife. Then he came over and held out the sword to Kai.

  “Sir,” he said to Kai, who seemed surprised at such an address. “Will you take this sword to protect your companions? Thieves travel the road, preying on the unwary; and many a tinker, trader, and traveler has lost his belongings, or even his life.” I glanced again at Karina and saw my own unease reflected in her face.

  Kai stood and bowed. “My lord,” he said, grasping the sword’s hilt, “I will take it, but only for our journey. I would return it to you after we have reached our destination.”

  “And what is your destination?” the lord asked.

  “The North Kingdoms,” Kai replied. He held the blade aloft and admired its shine.

  The lord smiled. “We are from the North Kingdom of Dalir and will be returning there within the month. Stop in Gilsa Town, which is not far after the road emerges from the forest, and ask for Sir Erlend. You can return the sword to him.”

  “I am grateful, my lord,” Kai said, bowing again, “and I am at your service.”

  “And I at yours,” the lord replied, bowing too. Karina and I rose and curtsied, I deeply and Karina with an awkward wobble. Then the lord paid Sigrid in shiny coppers and left the inn with his companions, though it was still raining outside. We stared after them openmouthed.

  “Well,” Kai said finally when the door had closed behind them. “That was strange.”

  “Indeed it was,” I agreed. “And now you have a sword!”

  “But no idea how to use it,” Kai said ruefully, and we laughed, the traders laughing with us. “We should sleep,” Kai said then. “We have a long journey yet.”

  “So you are headed to the kingdom of Dalir?” asked one of the older men.

  I nodded. I did not know Dalir, but something about it sounded right to me.

  “Ah, you shall have to try your hand at the contest!” he boomed, and the others laughed.

  “What contest? I asked.

  “The king and queen of Dalir have decided that their son, Prince Tycho, shall wed, so they have offered to interview prospective brides,” the trader told us. “But they will not accept just any lady, oh no!” The others nodded their heads in agreement. “They require a true princess, and there are not many of those in the North Kingdoms. So the ladies who come to call must pass a test.”

  “What test?” Karina asked, intrigued.

  The man shrugged. “Who knows? Archery, writing, singing, manners—whatever it is that princesses do that the rest of us do not. Thus far they have had no luck at all.”

  “No luck,” the men murmured.

  “But you, my beauty—you look royal enough for anyone!” The trader swept low in a bow before Karina, spilling his ale and almost losing his balance. The other men roared, and with that, Karina and I allowed Kai to hurry us away from the table and up the steep staircase.

  Our room was low-ceilinged and rather damp. The furnishings—a bed, a rickety table, a wobbly stool—were rough-hewn. There was a looking glass on the wall, though, and I stood before it as I sometimes had before the wavy glass of the mirror at the farm, wondering at the girl who looked back at me. She seemed such a stranger, with her odd-colored eyes and dark hair.

  The bed was lumpy as all beds seemed to be, and I knew I would not sleep; but I climbed in with Karina anyway. She sighed with pleasure, though I squirmed as the mattress bunched beneath me.

  “That lord was handsome, was he not?” she said dreamily, a smile on her face. I looked at her, surprised.

  “The one in the blue cloak? Handsome? Well . . . I suppose he was. If you like dark hair,” I said.

  “Your hair is dark, Lilia,” she retorted. “There is nothing wrong with dark hair. And what a kind face he had!”

  I smiled. It was unlike Karina to be so romantic, but then, when had she had the chance before? On the farm we saw no one, and in Hagi we knew all our neighbors too well. It was impossible to dream of fat Konur; or the cobbler’s son, Lars, with his lank hair and mottled skin; or Stig, the son of the butcher, who always smelled of fresh blood and sometimes sported streaks of it on his shirt as well.

  “But what do you think of this prince of Dalir?” I asked. “Should we go there and present you as a possible bride?”

  Karina laughed. “Me? A princess? I do not have any royal skills to help me pass the test. They’d throw me out on my ear!”

  “Well, you can cook a fine meal,” I pointed out. “And sew a small stitch, which is more than most princesses can do, I’m sure.”

  She made a face at me, and I warmed to my teasing. “But I guess that doesn’t matter since you love the blue lord!”

  “Oh!” she sputtered, and reached out to tickle me in revenge. I leaped out of bed to avoid her pinching hands and began to pull on my boots.

  “Don’t leave, Lilia,” she begged.

  “I’m going to make sure Ove is settled,” I said. “I’ll be back later.”

  “Oh, all right.” She sank back into the pillows with a sigh of contentment, and I went out. From the top of the staircase I could tell that all was silent below. I crept down and saw that the candles were blown out and the tables cleared and cleaned. The traders had retired for the night. By the fire, Ove lay coiled in a tight circle, and he raised his head and wagged his tail as I approached.

  “It’s nice to be
indoors out of the rain, isn’t it, boy?” I whispered, and his tail thumped, Yes, yes it is. I took my cloak, dry now, from the peg near the fireplace and covered myself with it. Then I curled up with my head pillowed on Ove’s flank and tried to sleep.

  In the morning Kai came down before the traders, who were sleeping off their ale. He looked tired.

  “They all snored, every last one,” he complained. “And there were only three beds for the ten of us. I’m half deafened and bruised all over—my bedmates kicked.”

  “Poor Kai!” I said with mock sympathy, and he grinned.

  “At least it was a real bed, and not a dog for a mattress,” he allowed. “I do think, though, that we should go right away. From what the gentlemen said last night, it sounds like we have more to fear at night than in the daytime. And people do not seem to take it amiss that we are traveling alone.”

  I knew he was right. “I’ll wake Karina,” I said, and hurried up the stairs. I found Karina fresh and rested, and we packed up quickly and gathered for a bowl of porridge.

  “I still have some money left,” Kai said when we had eaten. “I’ll buy some bread and cheese.” Sigrid was happy to sell him her leftovers, and she slipped in a little of the meat that had flavored our stew the night before. Then we started out, waving farewell to Sigrid as she stood in the doorway.

  We walked down the road, now dry, past ramshackle shops and houses that leaned or sagged on their supports. Shopkeepers were sweeping at the front of their stores and arranging their goods for the day’s customers, and we smiled at them as we went by. The townspeople were not as friendly as Sigrid and the traders, though. Most ignored us; some frowned or scowled because we were strangers, and we hurried our steps, relieved when we passed through the northern gate.

  “Lilia,” Karina asked me as we strode along, “where did you learn to curtsy like that?”

  “Like what? I have never curtsied before in my life,” I told her.

  “At the inn last night, when we curtsied to the lords. You dipped so low,” she said, trying it and wobbling so much that she nearly fell.

  “Like this?” I inquired, curtsying. “Why, ’tis my natural grace, of course.” Kai snorted with laughter and gave me a little push, and I fell over into the road and leaped up again to chase him, Ove barking behind us.

  We walked for a day, passing at last from the South to the North Kingdoms. A carved wooden map marked the border, and we stood before it. A large section labeled “Bitra Forest” was just above the painted dot that showed where we stood.

  “There is nothing there,” Karina said in a low voice, looking at the vast expanse of woodland on the map. “No town, not even a village. Just woods.”

  I traced the road on the map as it ran between the river on one side and the forest on the other. “But here is Gilsa, just north of the forest, right where the lord said it was,” I pointed out. “It is not so very far.” I said this to calm Karina, for I could see that it was quite far indeed. Still, it was good to have a destination in mind.

  The next morning a kindly trader gave us a ride on his wagon. We offered to share our food with him, but he waved our meager supplies aside, pulling out bread and meat enough for a dozen. “Sit and eat!” he invited us. We perched on rocks at the edge of the road and ate happily, tossing scraps to Ove, while the trader told us stories of his travels. His tales of encounters with bears in the North Kingdoms made Karina shudder, but it was another tale he told that unnerved me.

  “Have you ever heard of the Elf-King?” I asked him, and he nodded, his mouth full.

  “Indeed I have,” he said after swallowing, “but luckily I have never come across an elf, even on my many trips through the forest. All I know of elves is songs and stories.” He offered to sing the song we had heard at the inn, but we quickly declined. Then he told us, “There’s many a tale of the Elf-King. Had you heard he slew a falcon?”

  Our eyes big, we shook our heads. “Yes,” the trader continued, “he shot it with an arrow. He did it just for sport, I heard tell. Just to show he could. Ever since then, the falcons have hated the elves—and who could blame them?” That chilled me, the idea of killing one of those majestic birds for no reason at all.

  The trader turned west when a smaller road intersected the big one, telling us, “This is the last turnoff before Bitra Forest. Are you certain you want to keep going northward?” We nodded nervously and jumped off the wagon, and Ove leaped after us.

  Waving farewell, the trader called, “Be sure to stay on the road!”

  It stretched out ahead of us, and the river sparkled to our right. Far in the distance evergreen trees marked the edge of Bitra Forest. I remembered Sir Erlend’s song and took a deep breath, trying to push it to the back of my mind. There were no other travelers on the road now, and we passed none as we tramped onward. It was nice to walk in the sunshine; but when we finally reached the trees, they nearly met overhead, blocking the sun’s rays almost completely. Immediately the air seemed cooler.

  “We must stay on the road,” I reminded Kai, and he nodded. The evergreens rose up high above us. I had never seen such tall trees before. Our footsteps sounded loud on the dirt road. Fewer birds seemed to call; fewer squirrels chattered. Our conversation dwindled and then stopped entirely, and I caught myself looking right and left, before us and behind us—though I did not know why. I had the strange feeling that the forest had taken us captive.

  “I don’t like this,” Karina said anxiously.

  “Well, it’s where the road goes, so we must follow,” Kai replied. “And remember the map—on the other side is Gilsa.”

  The meager light from the sun filtered through the thick trees and did not warm us. As the hours passed, it lowered in the sky, but it did not set. I realized that Midsummer’s Eve was near—was it in three days? A week? I had lost track of time in the days since we had left the farm. We prepared to stop and were looking for a spot where we could rest when suddenly something in the forest made a noise. It was a howl, or a shriek—a terrible sound. Ove, who ordinarily was a most obedient dog, leaped off the road and into the underbrush.

  “Ove!” Kai shouted, and without thinking, he too dashed off the road. Karina and I stopped, unsure of what to do. I listened hard, but the forest had swallowed them as if they had never existed.

  “Kai!” I cried, hoping my voice would guide him back. “Ove! Here, boy! Ove, Kai, where are you?” There was no answering call.

  “Should we follow them?” Karina asked uncertainly. “Or should we wait?”

  “Wait,” I said decisively. I was not going into that wilderness if I had a choice. We perched on our packs at the road’s edge, but our uneasiness made us stand again and pace back and forth, trying to see Kai in the dimness beneath the thick trees.

  Suddenly, in the distance, we heard the sound of hoofbeats and the jangle of swords. I grasped Karina’s hand and pulled her off the road. My heart thumped wildly as we crouched behind a bush, watching to see who would appear. I bit my lip hard when I saw that the four riders who trotted toward us on horseback did not wear the fine clothing of gentlemen but the low-brimmed hats and dark cloaks of brigands. Trained to see enemies or victims at a distance, the men noticed us easily. From his tall mount their leader called, “Come out of hiding! It will be the worse for you if we have to bring you out by force!”

  We rose, hands still clasped tightly. I tried not to show my fear. Karina too stood as tall as she could, and she pressed her lips together to keep them from quivering. The men hooted when they saw us.

  “Ladies!” the leader said in a mocking voice. We were close enough now that I could see a ragged scar that crossed his cheek from the corner of his eye to his mouth. He dismounted, and behind him his men did the same. “Ladies traveling alone—how very unusual. Are you brave, my dears, or are you simply foolish?” His tone was light, but his eyes, beneath the brim of his felt hat, were dark and threatening.

  “We must run,” I whispered, squeezing Karina’s hand in mine. S
he nodded very slightly.

  The brigands drew near behind their leader, and I could see the pockmarks on the cheeks of one and the dust that streaked the cloak of another. As we readied ourselves to turn and flee into the forest, though, we heard a cry from behind us and then a wild barking. Kai, his borrowed sword drawn, ran onto the road, Ove beside him. The leader drew his own sword quickly, but he was distracted by Ove nipping at his legs; and Kai brought his blade down on the brigand’s forearm. The man howled in pain and dropped his weapon, grabbing at his wounded arm as the blood dripped down. He kicked at Ove, who danced around him, growling fiercely.

  “Get them!” the brigand cried, finding his voice again; and his men leaped forward, their own swords drawn.

  “Kai!” I screamed as the brigands bore down on him.

  “Run!” Kai called to us, and to Ove, “Herd, boy”— the command he used when sheep were straying. Immediately Ove dashed to us, pushing us into the forest as he would have pushed wayward lambs.

  Knowing his single sword and unpracticed arm were no match for the thieves, Kai turned and fled as well. The three of us and Ove crashed through the underbrush as fast as we could run, tripping over fallen logs and hidden rocks. We ran for what seemed like hours, though I am sure it was much less than that. At last we had to stop, and we bent over, gasping. We stood still until we could breathe more easily and tried to hear whether anyone had followed us.

  The silence was eerie. No bird called; no breeze disturbed the heavy air of the forest. It was quieter than any quiet I had ever experienced. I looked around in the dim light. Everywhere the trees closed in, and there was no path to be seen. I could not see the sky, so I could not judge our position from the sun. Was the road to our right? Or had we run south, placing it on our left? Perhaps we had gone straight into the forest and needed only to go straight back—but which way was back? I turned in a circle, looking for clues, but there was nothing to hint at where we were or where we should go.

  “No,” I whispered, my low voice sounding loud in that still place. “Oh no. We are lost in Bitra Forest.”