A True Princess (6 page)
“You are free,” he said in a musing tone, “and yet you remain. How very strange.”
I gathered my courage and spoke. “We will not leave without Kai.”
“The boy?” the Elf-King asked. “But my daughter wants him.” He smiled indulgently at her.
“Is there . . .” I paused, thinking hard. “Is there nothing she wants more?”
The Elf-King’s eyes widened, and I could see that the question interested him.
“After all,” I continued rashly, “he is human. He will grow old and die. Then she will have nothing.”
The Elf-King’s daughter, listening, pouted. “Father, can we not keep him young, like the changelings?”
“No, daughter,” the Elf-King said in his silken voice. “He is already too old. He must wither and die.”
The Elf-King’s daughter stamped her foot petulantly. “But I want him to stay young, Father!”
“Is there anything you want more, my dear?” the Elf-King asked, echoing my words.
She thought, and I saw again the passage of time play across her face. Then her expression cleared, and she smiled happily.
“There is one thing,” she said to me. “There is a jewel.”
“A jewel?” I repeated stupidly.
“Oh, it is not just any jewel,” she told me. “It is old, older even than our people, I have heard. It has great power. It is Odin’s own cloak clasp, dropped as the Hunt passed by.”
“But how do I get it?” I asked in a faltering tone. “Where is it?”
“It is in a palace not far from here,” she said. “I can feel that it is there. When Odin dropped it, long ago, I looked for it; but it was already gone from the forest. A boy had found it, and he hid it in the palace. I think of it there often. It calls to me, but of course we cannot leave here to get it. That is what I want. If you can bring the jewel to me, you can have this boy back.” She motioned to Kai, who stood unmoving.
I looked at Karina, and she nodded.
“I shall bring it to you,” I said. Then I added recklessly, “But I want the changelings as well.”
I saw the Elf-King’s lips narrow, and Karina’s nails dug into my palm.
“You ask too much, girl,” the Elf-King said in a deceptively mild tone. “Who would serve us then? And most of the families of those children are long gone. They were taken decades, centuries ago. To whom would they go?”
“I don’t care!” I exclaimed. “I want Kai, and the changelings too.”
“And I want the clasp,” the Elf-King’s daughter insisted. “Father, with it I could call Odin to me. He would have to come when I called! Wouldn’t you like that?” Her tone was coaxing. “You would have that power over him then. And it is very pretty and would look well on my own cloak.”
The Elf-King thought for a moment. Then he smiled tenderly at his daughter. “Beloved child,” he said, “you know I can deny you nothing. It shall be as you desire.” To me he said, “Bring me Odin’s clasp from the palace of Dalir, and you shall have your friend, and the changelings as well.”
“Do you swear it?” I persisted. “Do you swear on . . . on Odin himself?”
The Elf-King’s brows drew together in anger, and I stepped back, suddenly terrified. I was sure that I would be struck down by some terrible elvish magic. Whatever had made me ask him to swear?
But the Elf-King’s daughter said, “Oh, swear it, Father! You know the clasp is worth it. Why, we will be stronger than Odin himself with it! Or so the stories say. It will be amusing to find out, will it not?” She laid a soft hand on her father’s arm, and I could see him growing calm again.
“Very well,” he said at last. “On Odin himself I swear it. The clasp for the boy and the changelings. However, I will grant you only a fortnight to bring the clasp here—a fortnight in human time. And the boy must stay with us until you bring it.”
“Oh!” Karina cried in dismay. I knew she wanted to protest, but I also knew we had no choice. We had to leave Kai there, and we had only two weeks to find Odin’s clasp. We had pushed the Elf-King as far as we could—much further than I would have thought possible, had I dared to consider it beforehand. We had a chance now, and we must take it.
“Come,” I said to Ove. But he did not follow. Instead, he cocked his head, looking from me to Kai and back again.
“Very well,” I said gently. “You can stay and protect Kai.” I petted him, hoping that this was the right thing to do.
I began backing away, pulling Karina with me. Before we had gone far, I stopped and spoke again.
“From whom did you take me, sir?” I asked the Elf-King.
He turned once more to us, and I could see the question play across his face as he searched his ancient memory for the answer. But he did not reply. Instead he began to laugh; and his courtiers, his daughter, and her ladies laughed with him as they disappeared into the trees, gone in an instant, as if they had never existed.
K
arina and I turned then and fled. We both wept as we ran, aghast that we’d had to leave Kai and Ove in the thrall of the Elf-King’s daughter. Before long, though, we had to slow to catch our breath, and finally we halted, unsure of what direction to take. I looked around wildly and spied a flash of scarlet that I was certain was not a redbird—for when had we seen or heard any bird but the falcon in that dreadful place? I was sure it was our nisse.
We started out again, trying to catch up with the nisse, but he hurried on ahead of us. When we slowed, he slowed too; and when we stopped to drink at a stream, he stopped as well. We tried walking in another direction, and he just stood where he was, waiting for us to turn back.
At last I lost patience. “Go around to the left,” I instructed Karina, “and I will go to the right.” As the nisse tried to follow our movements, we circled him and turned back, then stood before him, hands on hips.
“Well,” I said. “What are you doing here? Why haven’t you returned to the farm?”
The nisse adjusted his cap and smoothed his long beard. Then he shrugged. “The farm, the people—who’s to say which needed me more? And you have given me treats. I like treats.”
I smiled, remembering the scraps of food I had left out for him. “So you’ve decided to guard us?”
“To guide you,” the nisse corrected me irritably. “Out of the forest. You humans are too stupid to get through on your own. Wolves, elves—it’s hard to believe you’ve come this far.”
“But what if the Elf-King catches you?” I asked. “Does he know you freed us?”
The nisse shrugged again, but I could see that he looked a little uneasy. “He’ll probably have forgotten that by now. He’s lived so long that he remembers only the most important things. And you are my people. It’s my duty to keep you safe, much as I’d rather not.”
“Well, thank you,” I told him. “We are very grateful for your help. . . . Wait, do you have a name?” No one I knew had ever found out a nisse’s name.
The nisse scowled. “Of course I have a name. What a ridiculous question.”
“Well, what is it?” I asked.
The nisse gave me a scornful look. “That, missy, is none of your business. Now, are we going to walk, or would you like to stand here until the wolves come to eat you?”
We quickly gathered up our belongings and set out again. After a short while, the nisse held up his hand and said, “Listen.”
We listened. Faintly, far in the distance, I could hear hoofbeats. Excited, I asked, “Is it the road? Are we near the end of the forest?”
“Stupid girl!” the nisse snorted. “Listen.”
We listened again. The hoofbeats were closer, and we could hear the baying of hounds. Nearer and nearer, louder and louder the hoofbeats rang, and now sounded a horn so deep and loud that it seemed to rattle the trees and shake the very ground we stood upon.
Swiftly the nisse turned and ran until he found a copse of trees standing close together, and we followed him. He urged us into the center of the thicket. “Sit, cover your ears and eyes, and do not look, no matter what,” he warned us. We crouched together and pulled our cloaks over our eyes.
“But what is it?” I whispered before I put my hands over my ears.
“It is Odin’s Hunt, of course,” the nisse replied shortly. “Now be quiet—and do not look!”
I fought the overpowering urge to look. I do not know whether it was the magic of the Hunt that tugged at me, or whether it was simply being told we could not look that made me long to uncover my eyes. As the Hunt came ever closer, the sound of the horn called to me, even through my hands pressed hard against my ears.
Join us!
it seemed to sing, and the hounds bayed,
Join us! Join us!
as the riders thundered past. I squeezed my eyes shut and huddled against Karina as the ground beneath us shook. On and on it went, and I tried to guess how many riders, how many horses and hounds made up the Hunt. Dozens, scores, a hundred?
At last the sounds faded into the distance, and we dared to uncover our ears and push back our hoods. I opened my eyes to see the nisse sitting cross-legged beside us, puffing on his long-stemmed pipe.
“Odin’s Hunt,” I said with apprehension, remembering what we had heard from the lords we had met at the inn. “Does this mean we are going to die?”
“You didn’t look, did you?” the nisse asked. We shook our heads. “Then you’ll live, most likely. But there will be a change.”
I remembered the blue lord’s words—
ah, then everything was changed
—and the terrible sadness in his voice. “What kind of change?” I asked uneasily.
“Oh, stop your chattering,” the nisse snapped, his moment of patience over. He tapped out his pipe and rose. “Come along. We’re almost there.”
Almost there! The words galvanized us, and we jumped up as well, eager to find the end of Bitra Forest. I looked around as we left the thicket and saw that there were no hoofprints, no disturbance in the dirt, no sign at all that Odin’s Hunt had passed by.
We followed the nisse, and as we did the trees gradually began to thin. At first it was barely noticeable, but then the air became a little brighter, a little fresher. I saw a shaft of sunlight fall to the ground and we moved faster, pushing through underbrush. Finally, we saw an end to it. The trees simply stopped. Beyond them stretched a green field sprinkled with flowers, and far in the distance were snow-tipped peaks: the Hamarr Mountains that I had heard marked the far edge of the North Kingdoms.
We stood at the edge of the wood, oddly reluctant to move from the trees and onto the field. After having been so long sheltered under the giant evergreens, we felt we would be unprotected, too visible, without them. As we paused, unwilling to start across the field, the nisse bowed extravagantly and tipped his red cap to us. Then he turned and walked back into the forest. We stared after him in consternation.
“Wait!” I called at last. “Where are you going?”
The nisse turned back, rolling his eyes at the question. “Home,” he replied curtly.
“But . . . where do we go next?” Karina pleaded.
“That depends. Where do you want to go?”
“To the palace of Dalir,” I replied.
The nisse pointed straight ahead, across the field. “That way,” he said. “It’s in Gilsa Town.”
“Well,” Karina said, “we are very grateful to you for your aid. Are you sure you won’t go on with us?”
“Now, why would I do that?” the nisse snapped. “You’re safely out of the forest, and I’m needed at the farm. Who’s to know what damage has been done since I left?”
Karina nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I am sure they need you there. Do take care of Father. And the baby, when it comes. And . . .” I wondered if she was going to ask the nisse to care for Ylva, but even Karina could not be that forgiving. “And thank you,” she finished. She took a step forward and seemed about to hug him, and the look of utter panic on his face was too much for me. I snorted with laughter. The nisse glared at me, and before I knew it—
thump!
—I was flat on my back in the pine needles, the wind knocked out of me. By the time I could breathe again and had struggled to my feet, the nisse was long gone. Karina could not help laughing.
“At least he didn’t set me on my head,” I grumbled, brushing pine needles from my sleeves. “Good riddance!”
“Oh,” Karina said, “he wasn’t really that bad. A bit short-tempered, but really very generous.”
Despite myself, I had to agree. “And,” she added, looking rather pleased, “while you were lying in the dirt, he told me his name.”
“Oh, what is it? Tell!” I begged. But Karina shook her head, mischief flashing in her eyes.
“I’ll never tell, never!” she vowed. “I promised him I wouldn’t.”
“If I guess, will you tell?” I beseeched her, and she nodded.
“Is it Rumpelstiltskin?” I joked, and she laughed again, though I could see the shadow of her brother’s absence in her face. To amuse her then, I guessed every strange or silly name I could as we left the gloom of Bitra Forest and walked out into the sun-warmed light of day.
On the far side of the field, we could see the road, and on it were travelers. We reached it quickly and strode along, glad for its even surface. I soon noticed that the people we passed looked at us rather doubtfully. I had not set eyes on a mirror for ages, but I saw Karina’s face and knew that mine must be just as grimy, my hair just as tangled.
“We must look a fright,” I said to Karina, and she nodded, trying to comb her fingers through her knotted blond curls. It was a wonder that the travelers did not run from us in alarm.
The road branched and branched again, gathering more travelers with each split, but we kept straight on. I saw traders go by with laden carts, and merchants riding fine horses, so I knew we were near Gilsa. At last we stepped through the oaken gates and onto the cobblestones of the bustling, well-ordered town. The houses were stone and strongly built to withstand the long, harsh winters, and there were shops selling wares of all sorts. We saw tailors and cobblers, fishmongers and butchers, furriers and barrel makers. There was even a sign maker’s shop, to provide brightly painted signs for all the other shops.
When we passed a bathhouse, I said to Karina, “Before we go to the palace, we must clean ourselves up. They will not let us in looking as we do.”
“But what shall we do when we get to the palace?” Karina asked anxiously. “We can’t just go in and start looking in drawers and cupboards for a jeweled clasp.”
“Nor can we ask about it,” I agreed. “I have been thinking that we should try to get work there. As servants, we’ll be able to look about freely.”
“And what if the clasp is with the royal jewels?” Karina moaned. “Whatever will we do then?”
“We shall steal it,” I said firmly, and her eyes widened at the thought; but then she nodded.
“For Kai,” she reminded herself, pushing open the bathhouse door.
Once inside, we peeled off our filthy dresses; then we scrubbed and scrubbed until our skin glowed, and washed each other’s hair until it squeaked. We washed our clothes and put on the one clean dress each of us had left in our packs. I felt like a new creature entirely when I was dressed, and I could tell Karina felt the same.
Bathed and refreshed, we set out for the castle. We had not gone far before we saw two of the lords we had met at the inn coming toward us. Karina nudged me in surprise as they approached.
“Ladies,” Sir Erlend said, and we curtsied. He extended a hand to help me rise as the taller knight did the same for Karina. “We are glad to see you in Gilsa, out of harm’s way. Often on our journey we spoke of you and worried about your safety.”
Karina seemed quite tongue-tied, so I replied. “We arrived safely, sir, in part because of your friend’s generosity. Without his sword, we all might have been lost.”
“So the sword was used!” Sir Erlend said with great interest, and I proceeded to tell the story of our encounter with the brigands. The lords praised Kai thoroughly for his courage, but then Sir Erlend asked, “And where
is
your brave companion?”
“We have had to leave him in Bitra Forest,” I said unhappily. “He looked on the Elf-King’s daughter; and as you warned, the elves have taken him.”
Karina bent her head as tears began to fall. The knights grew very anxious then, one offering an embroidered kerchief, the other moving uneasily from foot to foot. Like the men I knew—Jorgen and Kai—these two could not bear to see a woman cry.
Sir Erlend said at last, “I am very sorry. Sir Ivar and I would put our swords at your service on Kai’s behalf, but it would do no good. The swords of humans have no strength against the elves there.”
“That is why,” the tall knight, Sir Ivar, told us, “the changelings taken from Gilsa are never recovered.”
“So there have been many taken,” I said, thinking of the children at the elvish feast.
“Many indeed,” Sir Ivar agreed sadly. “They wander into the forest—for the elves cannot come out, you see. They have as little power here as we have there. Even the royal family has lost a child, though that was long ago.”
“How terrible,” I breathed. Then, because I knew Karina would not ask it herself, I said, “And your other friend—the owner of the sword—is he in Gilsa as well?”
The lords exchanged a glance. “Ah,” said Sir Ivar, “he has . . . other responsibilities. But I am sure he will regret missing the opportunity to see you ladies again.” He nodded to Karina as he said this, and she blushed deeply, lowering her eyes.
“Please give him our regards,” I said, to cover Karina’s embarrassment. “And thank him for the sword. We are greatly in his debt, the more so because we can’t return his weapon. The elves have it now.”
“Our friend will understand,” Sir Ivar assured me.
I gave him a grateful look and said, “If you’ll excuse us, we are on our way to the castle to find work.”
“Ask for Agna there, and tell her I have sent you,” Sir Erlend said. “She will not deny you employment.”
With that, Karina and I thanked him and took our leave.
We walked through the winding streets up a hill to the palace, which perched atop the town like an extravagant hat. Made of blue-tinted stone, its ornate turrets flew deep blue flags. As the breeze unfurled the flags, I saw they were decorated with stars and moons, and I thought suddenly of the blue lord’s cloak. Could he be a courtier in the palace?