Authors: Natasja Hellenthal
‘They are hideous!’ Tirsa said. ‘I don’t understand what all these monsters have to do with the beauty of the rest of the cave.’
‘Maybe that’s the clue
,’ Artride said. ‘For everything in nature there is a counterpart; light and dark, day and night, spring and autumn, and so on. There has to be a balance. Kasching said she has been working against nature, but even she cannot completely outwit it. It seems to me for her magic to work, she has been hiding her own demons and monsters in the form of these pictures on these walls. Once drawn she is rid of them perhaps? A way of therapy. I bet she never comes in this part. So she won’t have to look at it and deal with them. This must be her darkness; maybe even her past or something.’
‘Hmm, you could be right. Something terrible must have happened to her. Just look at the shape and size of these terrible beings
. They all seem to shoot fire from their eyes, now why is that?’ and she touched the shapes lightly, wondering. They were almost like the huge red demon from before who could not fight his own inner demons.
‘Eyes
… fire,’ Artride said looking thoughtful. ‘I bet these are people from her past you know; bad people, staring at her with red fire in their eyes … Anger or lust, perhaps both.’ And she remembered with dread and fear the nightmares she had had in her prison.
The walls seemed redder too as they illuminated an angry sort of deep crimson.
‘I don’t like this,’ Tirsa announced, shattered.
The light grew and dimmed
, and grew and dimmed again; almost like a heartbeat and with it a deep low beat coming closer and vanishing, coming closer and vanishing.
Artride started pushing the solid wall with the paintings. No movement, no change.
‘I do not see any target for these beasts.’ she said, following the flames with her fingers, and just as she had said that, a huge ball of fire came flying out from behind towards them. Just in time they managed to jump aside as the fire crashed and burned into the wall with a loud booming sound. With a roar like thunder the wall collapsed and fell into pieces of broken stone, crumbling to the floor.
‘You got your target, now let’s go
,’ Tirsa said alarmed as they jumped over the rocks and continued on their way.
Behind the opened crushed wall were more paintings
, on either side of the walls of the passage; demons
and
angels this time, and prettier and so a little less frightening. There was also a huge marvellous angel with dark skin. His wings were closed and his face serene, but he looked a little sad as well.
‘He is beautiful.’ And Artride touched the cold stone to caress his face. Suddenly Tirsa pushed her to the wall saying, ‘Don’t Artride! Last time a fireball barely missed you!’ and both stumbled against the wall with the dark angel. And as they did the wall gave way too; slowly but stead
ily the wall moved inside!
Accompanied
by a low stone-on-stone sound it had only opened a little, so after exchanging an understanding determined look they pushed it further open.
A cold shudder ran
down Tirsa’s spine when they entered a big room with shelves all the way up to the ceiling, littered with books. Other than that the room contained round tables bearing unknown items.
Was this the chamber w
here Sempervirens held her spells? Looking at the books both women seemed to think the same as they at once walked over to the bookshelves. Artride began searching low while Tirsa stepped on the ladder leaning against the shelves to examine the higher placed books. Thumb-leafing through the first book; Tirsa noticed it was all in the old tongue, which she only understood a few words and phrases of. Looking at Artride she knew she was facing the same problem.
‘How are we going to find out which line refers to a spell, not to mention our wanted counter spell?’
Tirsa’s mouth thinned and her forehead wrinkled in thought. ‘I know a few words.’
Artride smiled at her feeling a little guilty; for she surely had wanted it to sound uplifting, but obviously had failed in accomplishing that. Tirsa must have her breaking point too.
‘Alright, that’s a start. I will get the books and take a first look. We should make a pile of ‘possible spell books’ and a pile of ‘definitely not’. I give them to you for further examination. If you come across any indication of a spell, put it on the ‘possible spell book’ pile.’
They swapped places and started their search. Almost every book Artride gave her she then had to throw on the ‘def
initely not’ pile. She roughly leafed through them and happened to notice that most of them were history and story books. Books about the Silent Folk were rare and if it weren’t for their lack of time Tirsa would want to read them, or even take one with her if she was allowed. The thought crossed her mind that if she stayed with Sempervirens she could read them all, and Sempervirens probably would give her eternal life so she would never have to worry again about lack of time or having more important things to do. That thought shocked her and she was horrified to discover this selfish trade in herself. Never, during their journey, had she had such a disturbing, selfish thought. What was she thinking! Was she getting egocentric? Maybe she was just enchanted by the self-indulged sorceress and her great power that she began to think like her.
Maybe she could come back after her task was over and her brother saved
…
Stop thinking like that!
‘Something wrong?’ Artride asked, worried about the absent-minded look on her partner’s face.
Tirsa shook her shoulders to get rid of her disturbing thoughts. ‘No, not at all.’ And she glanced at the remaining books on the shelves and at the small pile of ‘possible spell books’ which she had to examine further afterwards.
‘I just don’t happen to come across many spell books.’
‘Well, we only need one
,’ and she gave her another book with a hopeful expression.
She is so good. It is like she is dedicated to friendliness. After all the things Sempervirens put us through and d
id to us, to her …
But she remembered Artride had only one goal in mind; their task and she would not risk anything anymore to lose it now they had come so far. She would even endure humiliation.
Hours later the pile of spell books had grown to eight thick books and the shelves were empty now. The floor was scattered with the rest of the useless books, for the many piles had fallen over and the women sat on top of them to rest a bit while Tirsa was examining the eight books. They had the
look of spell books because they had long strange sentences, with lots of space between the lines.
‘A cree
… a cree a cooshla ma cree,’ Tirsa read.
‘What does that mean, Tirsa?’
‘My heart, my heart, my wounded heart,’ she translated.
‘It doesn’t sound like a spell, but then again what does? O, you wicked being change into a bug?’ Artride joked, but her face was screwed up ready to cry, not to laugh.
‘Perhaps. The Silent Folk never told me about spells and we only have those clichés of sentences you just mentioned out of the stories we know; but what is true? This here sounds more like poetry to me.’ And she read on.
‘Hmm, definitely poetry, beautiful mind you.’
‘Really? I would love to hear some, but no, we have little time. Now what about this one?’
Tirsa tried the next book, but after several pages she came to the conclusion it was a cooking book; for names of vegetables and ingredients were written on the pages.
‘No ingredients to create a spell?’ Artride tried.
‘These are normal herbs and vegetables, no secret ingredients and mixing them like this would create nothing magical.’
‘But what is magic exactly, Tirsa? I mean, how do you define magic?’
Tirsa stared at her for a moment, trying to read her intentions
, but they were pure as ever.
‘Well, magic is something special. To alter something in such a way that is different from anything else; it is change. To change the very element of something or someone into something else. And in order to do so, you need a very trained mind or a gifted mind like yours; who was born with the healing gift which is magic as well.’ And she looked down at her hands, looking away from Artride’s face and revealing body. ‘And perhaps certain magical items are required; ingredients and a certain combination of words? But it’s the person who does magic, or the intention so to speak, that matters. The Silent Folk divide magic in intentions; doing positive helpful things or tricky fun things to cause someone trouble; but never pain or lasting damage. I guess when magic falls into the wrong hands
, like that of ill-minded humans, magic turns into bad or even selfish intentions.’
Artride nodded pensively. ‘And I had thought a counter spell; to undo magic, would be so much harder to create. But Sempervirens makes it sound so easy. It doesn’t feel right somehow.’ And she stared at the books. ‘To find such a powerful spell amongst these cooking and poetry books?’ Tirsa agreed with her, but they searched on for they had no other option.
The rest of the books were either poetry or cookery books.
They both sighed
, beaten. Artride began looking around after a while to study the strange objects on the tables, while Tirsa still leafed through the books, searching. Glittering earrings, which when you picked them up or when they moved slightly, shot falling stars gently. ‘How lovely!’ and she had an urge to keep them, but put them back wisely. The tables were spread about with candles on top in pretty odd looking chandeliers, the green candles did not seem to burn up, but remained the same size all the time with a steady bright flame. ‘Well, that’s handy!’ and she suppressed the feeling of picking one of these up too.
She walked along the tables looking for another clue while Tirsa remained seated trying to concentrate and clear her head, hoping an answer would come. Doing so, she darted her eyes around the room and up
wards so that her eyes fell on a small corner of a book which they had not seen yet. She jumped to her feet and craned her neck to see it lay lonely on the top shelf in the far corner of the room. She called out for Artride.
When Tirsa had climbed the wooden ladder she reached out for the big black book; but her arms weren’t long enough to grab it. Artride held on to the ladder while the blond
e woman stepped on the highest step. The ladder was a little wobbly now, even though Artride did her best to hold it steady. But still she could not reach the book. She looked down and stepped a few steps lower and searched the room for a tool.
‘There!’ she pointed out happil
y. Artride saw the iron pole Tirsa was pointing at in one of the corners and walked away to get it. Carefully, Artride picked the cold, long metal pole up and found it surprisingly heavy to lift. ‘It weighs tons!’ and with a lot of effort she dragged it along the stone floor. The metal made a high scraping sound against the stone.
‘Would it be a weapon of sorts?’ Artride asked and checked its blunt point at both sides.
‘If that’s a weapon, I am a sorceress!’ she laughed and helped her lift it.
Together they managed to lift the heavy rod a few steps up the ladder with Tirsa climbing it.
But now came the most difficult part, lifting it up to hit the book so it would fall.
Artride had an idea and went to get another ladder and placed it beside that of her partner. Now she could help her lift it. ‘Now push!’ she ordered and together they pushed the pole to the left side of the book. The book moved a little.
‘Again!’ Artride instructed. And once more they pushed the book and again it shoved a little more to the side of the wooden shelf.
Three times more they had to push it before it finally lost its balance and dropped to the floor
; however, not only the book; but Artride’s ladder lost its balance as well! Her ladder fell to the right and she held on to it, but shouted a warning. She hit Tirsa’s ladder and both saw the floor coming towards them rapidly.
With a thud and a crack of the wooden ladders they landed on the floor. Tirsa took most of the blow, but landed surprisingly well on her thigh. Artride landed half on top of her ladder with a cry.
They gathered themselves, rearranging their veils, rubbing their limbs.
‘More bruises and cuts
,’ Tirsa said briskly, rubbing her thigh. She looked at the queen whose hands were bloody, cut on the broken ladder.
‘Let me have a look at them.’
‘I’ll be fine, no splinters, I think.’ And Artride licked the cuts to stop the bleeding. Her bodyguard ripped off a piece of her green veil and dressed Artride’s hands as best she could, trying no to look at the queen’s nearly exposed full breasts.
Looking down at Tirsa’s thigh where Tirsa had fallen a reddish mark was forming
, Artride noticed for the first time a long, white vertical scar.
‘A nasty scar you got there. How did you get that?’
She made a knot in the bandage and looked down at her own thigh, rubbing it in an attempt to cover it, shrugging her shoulders.
‘Some years ago. I just started out as a soldier. You take the first few blows and learn. A reminder of my foolish days.’ And she locked her eyes on the big black b
ook lying silently on the floor, so she wouldn’t have to look into Artride’s examining eyes on her.