The Salamander Spell (19 page)

Grassina studied the forest around her; she was surrounded with no place to go and no one who could help. Looking for a weapon of some sort, she snatched a stick off the ground and held it out in front of her. “I wish I had a real weapon,” she said. “Something that would work against werewolves!”

She nearly dropped the stick when it began to shiver in her hand, but she held on, as mesmerized by the light that came from it as were the men who slowed down to watch. The stick grew until it was the length of a spear, its tip becoming thick and pointed. When it stopped quivering, the glow burst into a silvery radiance that banished the half-light of the forest.

In the full light of day, the men rushed at Grassina, brandishing knives and daggers. Holding the spear as she’d seen her father’s soldiers do, she hurled it as hard as she could at the man in the lead. Although her aim was off, the spear righted itself and flew directly at him. It struck, the tip slicing deep, the shaft quivering as the man fell. Grassina was defenseless now, but only for a moment as the spear slid back out of the motionless figure, rose into the air, and returned to her hand. She glanced at the fallen man, half dreading, half hoping to see that she had killed him. To her surprise, he had been infused with a silvery glow, not unlike that of the spear.

As Grassina watched, the man shuddered, and when he lay still again, all signs that he had ever been a werewolf were gone. His long incisors had grown smaller, his bushy brow had shrunk, and even his demeanor had changed. The werewolf part of him was gone, yet when he stirred and sat up, Grassina could see that his human aspect still lived.

A twig snapped behind her, and Grassina spun around. The remaining men were circling her, made wary by the spear. Grassina hefted it and took aim, throwing the spear when a man launched himself at her. It struck as truly as if she’d been a seasoned fighter, taking him out of the fray. Then, just as before, the spear flew back to her hand while the injured werewolf became fully human.

Poised for another attack, Grassina turned and drew back her spear. Having seen what had happened to their comrades, the men who were still on their feet seemed to have lost all interest in her. Even as they slunk away, Grassina hurried to find Haywood and discovered him lying sprawled on the ground, bleeding badly and barely alive.

“No!” she said, kneeling down beside him. “You can’t die! Haywood, I need you!”

“He doesn’t have to die,” said a voice. Grassina looked up and saw the Vila.

“Can you save him?” Grassina asked. “Surely there is something you can do. . . .”

“You don’t need me,” said the Vila. “You have magic of your own.”

“What are you talking about?”

“How do you think you got the weapon you needed when you needed it the most?” the Vila asked.

“You mean you didn’t send me the spear?” Grassina glanced down at the gleaming pole she still clutched in her hand.

The Vila shook her head. “You did that all on your own. Try a healing spell. It should work.”

“But I don’t know how!” wailed Grassina.

“Just as I doubt you knew how to throw a spear. Try it and see. The magic will do the hard part for you.”

“I don’t know any healing spells.”

“You must. Haven’t you ever seen an injury healed through magic?”

“I did fall out of a tree once; my mother healed my broken arm.”

“Good. Then think back,” said the Vila, laying her cool, dry palm on Grassina’s forehead.

“I don’t really remember. . . . Wait. Yes, I think that’s it. I’ll have to change it a little, but I think it went something like this.”

Bones may break and flesh may tear.
Neither one’s beyond repair.
Bones and flesh and sinew, too.
With this spell make them like new.
Mend the one I love so well.
Use my love to aid this spell.

Haywood groaned and moved his head ever so slightly, but otherwise nothing happened. “It didn’t work!” cried Grassina. “Now what am I going to do?”

“It didn’t work because you don’t love him enough,” said the Vila.

“But you said yourself that I love him!”

The Vila sighed. “I’m not saying you don’t, just not enough to make that spell work. However, I can assist with that if you’d like. You helped me when I needed it, and I have yet to repay you. I don’t like feeling obligated to anyone, even someone who rejected the offer of sisterhood.”

“I’d appreciate anything you can do if it will help Haywood.”

The Vila nodded. Waving her hands over Grassina and Haywood, she said something in a language Grassina didn’t understand.

“What was that?”

“A love enhancement spell. It works only when two people are learning to love each other. Your healing spell should work now.”

“Thank you,” breathed Grassina. Turning back to Haywood, she was surprised to see that he didn’t look exactly the same as he had before. She thought he was handsomer now and so appealing that her heart ached at how helpless he looked. Eager to see the healing spell’s effect, she repeated it all in one breath, then held her next breath as she waited to see if it would work.

The forest seemed unnaturally quiet, as if every creature wanted to see what would happen. Haywood took a ragged breath and then another. As color flushed his pale cheeks and his wounds began to heal before her eyes, Grassina took his hand in hers and squeezed it.

Haywood opened his eyes in response, smiling up at her when he saw her bending close. At first delighted by his smile, Grassina drew back when his incisors began to grow and a feral light filled his eyes.

“I was afraid of that,” said the Vila. “It looks as if he’s turning into a werewolf now that he isn’t going to die. You don’t have any choice. You’ll have to take your spear and stab him.”

Grassina was horrified. “I can’t do that!”

“Of course you can. Think about what happened to those werewolves you struck with the spear. The spell didn’t kill their human side, just the werewolf in them. It will do the same for your young man if you let it.”

“What are you talking about?” Haywood asked, propping himself on his elbows.

“Nothing,” said the Vila. “Now hold still while she pokes you. It won’t hurt . . . much. No worse than a thorn prick.”

Haywood jumped to his feet. “No one’s stabbing me with a spear! You have to be crazy if you think . . .”

“Will it really work?” Grassina asked the Vila.

“I’m certain it will,” said the Vila.

“I’m sorry, love of my life, but I must do this,” Grassina told Haywood.

Haywood began backing away. “Oh no, you don’t! Whatever she’s told you, my darling, whatever I’ve done, I’m sure we can work this out.”

“We’ll talk all about it,” said Grassina, “as soon as you’re no longer a werewolf.”

“I’m not a werewolf,” Haywood growled.

“Yes, you are. Feel how long your teeth have grown. Your eyebrows meet in the middle now, although they didn’t before. And you’re beginning to smell like a dog.”

Haywood continued to back away. “I admit I haven’t bathed recently, but that’s no reason to . . .”

“Now!” shouted the Vila as Haywood tripped over her outstretched foot.

Grassina stabbed him in the leg as gently as she could. Haywood gasped and began to struggle upright, but the light infused him just as the spear sprang back into Grassina’s hand, and he collapsed again.

“That should do it,” said the Vila.

“I thought you were certain it would!”

“I am . . . fairly certain,” the Vila said as Haywood continued to lie motionless at their feet.

“Haywood!” Grassina cried, falling on her knees beside him. “My sweet, sweet darling! Light of my life, what have I done?” Bending over him, Grassina kissed him full on the lips.

“That was very nice, precious love,” Haywood muttered against her mouth, “but can you please get up? You’re kneeling on my hand.”

Grassina sat back on her heels and clasped her hands together. “Oh, Haywood, you’re all right!”

“Uh, yes,” he said, flexing his fingers. “Thanks to you, my darling doodlebug.”

Grassina frowned and turned to the Vila. “We’ve never called each other silly names before. What have you done to us?”

“Nothing that wouldn’t have happened anyway, given a little time. You were already in love. I just made your love stronger. No spell can create love if there is none to begin with, but because of my spell, you will love each other for the rest of your days as long as you remain in the form you have now. However, if you ever get tired of it, just come see me. I can always turn you into a tree nymph, and then you’d forget all about him.”

“I’ll never tire of my dearest Haywood,” said Grassina.

“Then in that case there’s no need to thank me!”

Fifteen

T
hey were sitting by the fire in front of Haywood’s half-built hut when Grassina told him about her family. “And so Chartreuse said that she hated me and never wanted to see me again,” she continued. “I left the next morning and don’t ever want to go back.” The last log cracked in two, showering sparks into the night air. A sleepy bird protested from its nest in one of the plum trees. Grassina leaned against Haywood’s leg. “I could stay here with you, heart’s delight. Between your magic and mine, we could be safe and very comfortable. There’s no need for either of us to leave.”

“That would be a dream come true, my treasure,” Haywood said, caressing her fingers where they lay across his palm. “But I don’t think it’s possible. I need you, and I want you here with me, but I think Greater Greensward needs you more right now.”

“You’d send me away?” she asked.

“Not because I want to. I love you, dearest darling. I have ever since you built that terrible hut and were too proud to ask for help. You’re the bravest girl I’ve ever met and the most understanding. Nothing would make me happier than to have you here with me for the rest of my life. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be able to say these things to you— you being a princess and me the younger son of a minor noble—but I think you love me as much as I love you—”

“Oh, I do, light of my life,” breathed Grassina. “I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. I’ll stay with you and we can use our magic to build a bigger home, by the river perhaps, or—”

“As much as I want that, it wouldn’t be right. The kingdom needs you, precious one. Go back to your castle and see if your sister has her magic yet and if it’s enough to return things to the way they were. Whatever happens, come back to me. I’ll be waiting for you here.”

Grassina sighed heavily. “I suppose I have to go. I thought when I ran away that my duty to Greater Greensward was over, but I guess that’s never going to happen. I’ll be responsible to the kingdom forever.”

“All princesses are born into responsibility. There’s no getting around that.”

“Then stay safe while I’m gone, light of my life. I’ll leave in the morning and be back as soon as I can. If you need me for any reason . . .”

“I’ll send a little bird,” said Haywood. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine. The werewolves aren’t likely to follow us here. It’s you I’m worried about. Your mother will still be the same.”

“Yes, but now she won’t be the only one with magic. Somehow the thought of seeing her isn’t quite so daunting. I just wish I felt the same about seeing Chartreuse.”

Going home felt odd, mostly because nothing seemed to have changed since the morning she’d left. The same men were standing guard at the drawbridge, looking bored and only half awake. The same cats were scrapping with bristled backs and puffed tails in front of the stable doors. The Great Hall still smelled of the old herbs that needed to be replaced, the hounds sleeping in front of the cold hearth, and the unwashed bodies of the people who passed through. Grassina almost felt as if she’d never left, yet too many things had happened to her, changing her in ways she never would have expected.

She was trying to decide if she should go look for her mother or her sister first when she heard Olivene’s unmistakable screech. “I don’t know why you had to show up! I was just getting used to you being gone! My life was nice and peaceful without you. Why did you have to spoil it by coming back?”

At first Grassina thought her mother was talking to her, but the queen was nowhere in sight. Following the sound of Olivene’s voice, Grassina found her by the stairs leading into the dungeon. A pile of her father’s belongings had been heaped beside the door, shrinking steadily as Olivene snatched one object after another and chucked it down the stairs. “Here, take this!” screamed the queen. “No one else wants your trash!”

“Mother?” said Grassina. “What are you doing?”

Olivene’s head whipped around. “Oh, it’s you. So you decided to come back from wherever you’ve been hiding. I don’t know why you bothered. We don’t need you here.”

Grassina shrugged. “In that case, I’ll be going,” she said, glancing toward the door to the courtyard.

“You most certainly will not!” said Olivene. “Here, take this. See how hard you can throw it. If you do it right, it should bounce all the way down the stairs.”

Grassina took the sword from her mother’s gnarled hands. It was her father’s best sword, the one he’d worn during every important ceremony. She glanced at the pile. His armor was there, as were his books, his clothes, and even the dishes he’d used in the Great Hall. “What’s going on, Mother?” asked Grassina.