The Thicket by LilyRose (feel good books .TXT) 📕

path through the briars. But the very nature of the hedge was to confound the senses. The passageway they traveled was invisible to him even as they walked it. Gyllain wondered how Meridian was able to negotiate it with such elegant grace. The trail was a labyrinth, looping and curving in on itself, before righting and heading deeper toward the center. The center of the circle where waited the enchanted castle, within which lived the enchanted Princess; a truly worthy partner for one Heroic enough to win her.

He had no idea how long they had been in the thorns; he only knew that the gloom around them was deepening with every passing minute. He looked up, wondering if the sky had gone dark. Instead, he saw that the briars reached high above their heads and wove together into a canopy. It was as though they were moving through a tunnel made of branches and leaves. For a moment he nearly forgot himself, and opened his mouth to say something: what, he wasn't even sure; he was so used to barking commands that he might have been ready to order her to pick up the pace. But even as his vocal chords tightened, he remembered her admonishment to silence, and he choked whatever he was going to say back into his chest.

After that, Prince Gyllain surrendered himself to keeping hold of Meridian's sash, and following her into the gloom.

All of a sudden they passed through a stone archway and instantly the foliage was gone. Gyllain turned to see that the archway was the gate in the outer wall of the castle, and that the great wooden doors had fallen from their hinges, wrapped in the spiky vines of the briars. Elsewhere, the briars grew with uniform thickness directly up to the stone wall, and clung to it like some kind of malevolent ivy.

We got through! Cried Prince Gyllain in wonder. Meridian gazed at him with a bemused smile.

Of course we did, she said.

Gyllain looked at the place of his journey's end for the first time. A road, overgrown and in disrepair, ran straight through open fields growing wild with long grass. He saw derelict huts with thatched roofs falling in on themselves. He saw an abandoned plow made nearly invisible by weeds. The distant dark inner walls of the castle, and the seemingly empty courtyard beyond them, felt bleak and uninviting. Twin crenelated towers topped by ragged banners rose against the last light of day; blistered clouds burned like a fever in the sky.

And Princess Briar Rose resides behind those walls, he said, uttering the words as though they were a prayer. What dark enchantment would keep her in a place such as this?

I know not, said Meridian, looking up at the changing sky. It is not my place to ask. Neither is it yours.

The Prince bristled, though at the same time he felt a certain admiration for her boldness. You are impertinent, he said. I daresay you're on the edge of deserving a good thrashing.

I hope I haven't offended you, Good Sir, said Meridian, lowering her eyes again.

Now you tease, retorted the Prince. You have the advantage of me, knowing I've put myself in your hands.

Aye, that you have, said Meridian, looking up. Do you now regret the decision?

Gyllain thought of many things to say, then thought better of all of them. Instead, he stared across the abandoned field again. The castle was dark, with no lights burning in any of the windows. No torches lit the gate. No guards could be seen patrolling the walls; no farmers could be seen in the field.

Does no one live here, but you and the Princess? He asked. What do you do for provisions?

I know not, said Meridian, a note of wonderment in her voice. That's rather strange, isn't it? It must be a consequence of the enchantment.

You don't know where it comes from?

I don't know if we need any. I can't quite remember the last time I had a meal.

Well, I'm not enchanted, so I hope you at least have some bread and meat for me. And some ale or wine would be nice. Please tell me you have that?

I can tell you that you will never want for anything here, said Meridian. That is, unless you choose to want for it. Shall we go to the castle now?

Will you take me to the Princess?, asked Gyllain.

Not tonight, said Meridian. But you will be made comfortable. Not to worry.

Gyllain was going to protest, but again he thought better of it. He had agreed to submit to her rules; that is what he would do. This girl was a means to an end. A glorious end. He could wait.

Prince Gyllain believed, you see, that the only reason the Princess might refuse to leave this place, would be because of the enchantment that was laid upon her. He also believed that the breaking of such spells and enchantments could always be achieved. Achieved by a truly heroic effort, made by a pure and sincere spirit, to rescue the victim from the dark magic that holds her in thrall. It was this heroic effort that Gyllain intended to accomplish. This was what he had come here for. For the first time in his life, he thought he might actually be catching a whiff of the smoky fragrance of Destiny. A heady scent it was; one he thought he could get used to.

And so, he kept his silence as he followed the servant girl Meridian across the empty field blowing with dry grass, toward the home and prison of her Mistress. The sky, which he had thought clear outside the thicket, was quite cloudy now. With the last of the sun gone out of sight, those clouds had turned the color of weather-stained pewter, lowering and dark. As they approached the inner gate, he saw that there was a light: the doors to the castle stood open, and a fire burned in a large hearth inside the front hall.

Inside, the flagstone floor was covered with various rugs placed about. Clustered around the hearth was a semi-circle of sofas, and large stuffed seats, but there were no tables in the room, and no sideboards where one might expect to find food and drink. The Prince walked over to the sofa that faced the hearth, and sank down onto it. It was exquisitely soft and welcoming, and in the warmth of the fire, he immediately felt his eyes grow heavy.

Fighting his fatigue, he lifted his head to say something to Meridian, but when he looked about, she was not in the room. There was the open front door, and there were two open archways on either side of the hearth, but he had not seen nor heard her leave.

Meridian?, he called out, but even that felt like too much of an effort. Meridian, are you there?

Meridian didn't answer, and so Prince Gyllain leaned his head back against the plush upholstery of the sofa, closed his eyes, and sank into a deep, and dreamless, sleep.

Part Two

Gyllain awoke leaning back on the sofa, his legs splayed before him, his boots kicked off sometime in the night and left where they had hit the floor. Grey light spilled in through the open doorway, and in the hearth, the fire continued to burn. It appeared as though someone had fed it fresh wood during the night. He looked around sleepily, and noted that he was alone.

He sat up, struggled to reach his boots and then pull them on, and stood, first urinating copiously into a chamberpot, and then stretching and unknotting unusually cramped muscles. He stepped over to the open door and looked out. The courtyard had once been paved with cut stones, but most of them had become dislodged by the roots of trees that grew up through the cracks. In the center of the courtyard was the well; a wide, circular stone wall about waist-high, and set around it were wooden buckets attached to long chains that were bolted to stone basins on pedestals.

Gyllain descended the uneven stone steps and crossed to the well. He picked up a bucket and dropped it down to the water, then pulled it up on its chain and filled the stone basin with water. He washed his face, rubbing it briskly, trying to stimulate some wakefulness into himself. He felt dull, and lethargic. The air was warm, heavy and still, and the sky was a ragged quilt of low dark clouds, as it had been every morning since he had arrived here.

That thought took him by surprise, and he stood there, blinking stupidly in the gauzy light, staring without understanding at everything around him. How many mornings, had he awoken here, performing these same rituals, thinking these same thoughts? It seemed to him that it must be many. How many mornings? In his mind's eye, bright and dark slices of days and nights riffled through his memory like a magician's deck of cards. How many mornings? He might have been here for weeks, months – years, even, for all he knew.

He heard a sound behind him and turned to see Meridian coming down the same stone steps from the open castle doors. He watched as she approached, deftly sidestepping the broken stones of the courtyard and slipping up to the well, where she, too, picked up a bucket and dipped it for water.

Good morning, she said to him, pulling the bucket up and pouring it into another stone basin. She put down the bucket and, using a cloth that she wet with water, leaned over the basin and gently cleaned her face, ears and neck. Gyllain stood there watching her, still trying to make sense of the broken-mirror bits of memory that lay scattered inside of his head.

Meridian, he said thickly. How long have I been here?

I don't keep track of the days here, she said to him. I've found it to be a rather futile pursuit. The days come, and then they go. Like water in a stream. Would you try and count the drops?

I don't know what that means, said Gyllain. Why hasn't the Princess seen me yet? Does she even know that I am here?

Of course she knows. She knows everything that happens here. As to why she hasn't seen you; only she can answer that question.

Such impudence, said Gyllain. You speak like that in front of your Lady, do you?

I serve her to the best of my ability, said Meridian. If there have been complaints, they have not come from her.

Well, you can take a message to her from me, that I request – no; that I demand – either audience with her, or reason as to why I won't be granted one.

I thought you abhorred impertinence, Sir, she said. It would be unseemly for me to pass such on from you, would it not?

You sassy little wench, snarled the Prince. I'll take a hickory stick to you yet before this is all over. Just wait till I report on you to your Mistress.

You find me repulsive, said Meridian, her frown making her face hard, her eyes harder still. A repulsive servant girl whom you can despise.

I do not, said Gyllain. When you aren't working so hard