The Daughters Daring (The Daughters Daring & The Enchanted Forest Book 1) (6 page)

Chapter 9

     Duchess Daring was enjoying the sunlight while working in her garden. If the duke was known for his collection of weapons and his adventures, the duchess was most certainly known for her amazing garden. It stretched easily over a third of their estate, with tall hedges creating paths much like the maze outside the king's castle. There were flowers of all shapes and colors and sizes, but her garden's value came from more than just its beauty.

     The duchess had learned from her mother the importance of growing herbs with medicinal and even magical effects. She had simple herbs like basil and rosemary out in plain sight, while the more mystical—even dangerous—plants were kept hidden deeper within the hedges. The untrained eye would not know what they were, anyway.

     The day she met the Duke, in the Enchanted Forest, she had been gathering a particularly rare herb known for its powerful healing effects against the worst of poisons. She had carefully collected both the petals and seeds so that she could grow it in her own garden, should its need ever arise.

     Her thoughts drifted back to that day with the duke. Then, as though summoned, she heard his hearty laughter as he showed off a fresh sweetberry pie as if it were some kind of baked trophy. Joseph clapped with joy and followed his father into the house. After weeks of going without, her husband had finally acquired his favorite treat from the guards at the city gate. She could hear him rambling on about how gnomes weren't such bad little people, after all.

     The duchess smiled. The duke loved a good sweetberry pie and would waste no time serving himself a generous slice. She wondered if he would give a piece to Joseph first, or just start in before sharing his spoils. She could picture them both grinning from ear to ear with sweetberry all over their faces.

     She put away her gardening tools and made her way inside. She had just entered the hall when she heard a loud thump in the next room, followed by Joseph crying for help. She rushed in to find the duke slumped over on the floor, snoring loudly. On the table were two pieces of sweetberry pie, one with a large bite taken out of it. Joseph hadn't eaten any.

     “What happened?” she asked Joseph, checking her husband to make sure he wasn't choking.

     “Papa was going to give me the first piece, but then he took a bite of it!”

      Her mind raced as she comforted Joseph and tried to wake the duke, to no avail. She checked the pie on his plate but couldn't see anything strange. Then she saw something in the pie plate. There, just in the middle of the pie, was a rolled piece of paper that had somehow been stuffed inside. She unrolled the paper to see the word POISON. It was written in a small handwriting that she knew all too well.

     How did a note in Elizabeth’s handwriting get into a pie delivered by gnomes? She wondered.

     Knowing, now, that the pie was the source of the duke's condition, she dipped her finger in and smelled, then took the tiniest taste. She had to know what the ingredient was in order to cure it. Even the small sample made her feel lightheaded, and she feared she’d fall asleep, as well. But as she fought off the sensation her risk paid off. She knew what ingredient had been used.

     “Valerian Root!” She exclaimed. “Joseph, stay here with your father.”

     Valerian root wasn’t actually a poison, but it did aid in bringing on sleep. Mixing it with sweetberries and a bit of magic had made a powerful concoction. Who could have cast such magic? She didn’t have time to ponder this. She took her Book of Remedies from the shelf and leafed through its pages, soon finding the recipe she was seeking. The sleep spell could be broken and she had the proper herbs. But would there be enough for the duke, and anyone else who had eaten the pies?

     Grabbing her garden shears, the duchess hurried out into the garden. She was searching for a particular plant, a flower that had great healing properties. It wouldn't be hidden like some of her more dangerous varieties, but in her alarmed state, she couldn’t be sure where it was planted.

     “There!” she exclaimed, as she came upon a beautiful row of chrysanthemums. They looked like simple flowers, but they were precisely the antidote she needed. She counted her blessings as there were at least a dozen in bloom, and collected enough to test her cure on the duke.

     She rushed back into the kitchen, where she found her mortar and pestle to crush the herbs. She had the rest of the ingredients she needed and set to work grinding them all together into a powder, being careful to exactly follow the instructions in her book. Finally, she carefully measured out a dose of the powder and stirred it into a cup of water. With potion in hand, she rushed to the duke, lifted his head, and poured a small amount into his mouth.

     Duchess Daring held her husband, praying for a quick result. At first, the Duke's eyes fluttered, then he choked and coughed as he awakened. Her potion worked.

     “Aryanna?” He asked. “What happened?”

     “You’re unharmed, my dear," she answered. “You were under a sleeping spell, but I have revived you.”

     “Sleeping spell?” he asked.

     “Yes, it was in the pie.”

     “In the pie,” the Duke said, still collecting his thoughts. “Those mischievous gnomes! I knew they couldn't be trusted!”

     “I don't think the gnomes would do this; it's not like them,” she said, “and I found this.” She handed him the berry-stained paper.

     “A note?”

     “It was in the pie, and it's in Elizabeth's handwriting!” She exclaimed.

     “How could that be?  Where are the girls?” he said, his mind was racing.

     “Where did you get the pie?” she asked.

     “Gnomes brought the pies to the city gate, a gift for the guards and...the KING!”

     Fully revived, the duke stood up and ran to the closet for his armor and sword.

     “If the girls are in the Enchanted Forest, I will search for them as soon as I warn the guards!”

     “Wait!” she said, “warn them about what—the pies?”

     The Duke was already running out the door as he yelled over his shoulder, “The kingdom is under attack!”



     Elizabeth woke, her head hurting from the witch's blast. She tried to move, but not even her toes could wiggle. Examining herself, she realized she was bound in the strange, gooey cobwebs that filled the witch's lair.

     “You're awake!” the witch said.

     “Yes, and I'm covered in nasty webs!” Elizabeth snarled.

     “Oh relax,” the witch said. “They're perfectly clean, and much softer than rope”

     “So now you care about my comfort?" Elizabeth said. Her sarcasm was not lost on the witch.

     “Oh, what a joy you are!” the witch said, laughing. “Such a sharp tongue in one so young!”

     “Give me back my bow, and I'll show you my sharp arrows, too!”

     “Ah yes, your bow,” the witch said. “I noticed the crest it bears, the crest of the House of Daring. I think you've been withholding your identity from me.”

     “Maybe it was a gift from the Darings,” Elizabeth replied, “or I simply stole it.”

     The witch laughed again. “I like you, child. Tell me, why did you taunt me into hurling a ball of energy at you? You realize I could have killed you?”

     “I just wanted to see if you are as powerful as you said.” Elizabeth shrugged.

     “Perhaps,” the witch said, “or perhaps you are fascinated by my magic? I saw the look in your eyes. I know the hunger I saw there."

     “Hunger for what?” Elizabeth asked.

     “For power!” The witch exclaimed. “Let men have their muscles and their swords. Magic is the one thing that gives a woman power over all; it empowers the weak over the strong!"

     As the witch spoke energy again crackled at her fingertips. Her excitement was clearly energizing her, and Elizabeth couldn't keep herself from staring. The witch was right, she was fascinated! She imagined what it must be like to harness such energy, such power. No one, not her parents, or the King’s Guards, or even her sister, could tell her what to do if she possessed such power.

     Elizabeth banished the thought. The magic beckoned to her, but she resisted it. She had to concentrate on the pressing matter of discovering the witch’s plan.

     “I admit, you're powerful,” Elizabeth said. “But why attack Highcynder? What did they do?”

     “They have done plenty!” The witch yelled, as anger flashed in her eyes. “Your kingdom is not as righteous as you might think, your precious “king” not so just.”

     “Really?” Elizabeth prodded. “Please, do tell.”

     “He abandoned us, but, you're changing the subject again, aren't you? You're good at that, but now I know your weakness. You crave the knowledge and power that I wield.”

     “Maybe, but what does it matter? I doubt you would teach me.”

     “You're wrong, young one,” the witch said. “Life among the goblins can be lonely, and I need an apprentice to help with my cause. Hold out your hand.”

     The webs around Elizabeth’s arm receded, allowing her to extend her open hand. The witch harnessed the energy in her hand into a ball, dancing like a blue flame, and placed it into Elizabeth’s palm. Elizabeth’s eyes lit up. The sensation in her fingers wasn’t painful at all, but rather amazing. As she focused, she made it dance around in her hand, bending it to her will.  Elizabeth smiled at this, not noticing that the witch smiled with her.

     “You have the gift for magic, Elizabeth.” The witch said. “Just like your mother.”

     Elizabeth’s concentration snapped back and the ball of energy faded away.

     “But I haven’t told you who my mother is.” Elizabeth answered.

     “Haven’t you?” The witch toyed with her. “Oh, no of course not.”

     “You mentioned your cause. What is it you really want?”

     “You really wish to know?" The witch answered. “Then I will tell you, plainly. Your kingdom is weak. King Lamont gives your people too much freedom, and a free people are given to the evils of excess. It all seems like great fun, until they find themselves wallowing in misery and chaos. I would bring them order and control. I would harness their selfish energies to be utilized for the greater good.”

     “But would you just tell everyone what to do?” Elizabeth asked.

     “What good is freedom Elizabeth? Does it feed the hungry? Does it provide shelter? Freedom allows some to prosper while others do not. I would take a measure of their freedom, but in return give them all security and equality!” The witch exclaimed.

     “And what if they refuse?” Elizabeth asked.

     The witch looked at her, a wicked half-grin forming on her lips.

     Elizabeth was old enough to know that other kingdoms did not give their people freedom, and that without freedom people lived in slavery. Her parents had taught her the value of freedom, and the wickedness of slavery.

     Elizabeth drew a breath, ready to reply, but the witch silenced her. She waved a hand in front of Elizabeth’s face, making her feel sleepy. As she drifted off, she heard the witch whisper to her, “We have company.”



     Emily lowered herself into the darkness. Azalea had shown her the way into the witch's lair through a small tunnel in the woods. It had the appearance of a big badger hole, and was just as creepy. Emily would never have guessed that this might lead down into the caverns below, but the faeries knew the forest well, and Azalea had assured her this was the way.

     As she worked her way farther down, the tunnel opened up a bit, to where she no longer had to shinny along and could actually crawl. But as the tunnel widened it also seemed to be filled with more and more spider webs, which Emily could have happily done without! It was dark and she couldn't see any spiders, but just the thought of them skittering around made her skin crawl. She pushed her staff and her pack ahead of her to break through, and kept going. Spiders or not she was going to rescue her sister!

     The tunnel was fairly straight, allowing her to see a faint light up ahead. She also thought she heard a voice. She would need to be careful now, and quiet. She inched forward until she came to a wall of webbing. The light was coming from the other side.