Ellie and the Prince (Faraway Castle Book 1) Page 15

  When her tale ended, she sensed that the Gamekeeper was pondering her tale, but she could not guess which aspect of it caught his attention. He spoke slowly, choosing each word with care. “Your magical gifts have expanded significantly in the past week, I believe.”

  Ellie considered this idea and realized he spoke the truth. “I think you’re right, but I don’t know how or why this is so.”

  “Although I believe contact with the lake serpent and sirens contributed to your growth, most likely your interactions with the unicorn are the main catalyst. The desire to communicate with Ulrica motivated you to exercise and expand your inherent abilities. I wonder if you might use this newly discovered insight to explore your own memory and emotions. Tell me what you know about your childhood, about whatever brought you to Arabella.”

  “Do you know her?” Ellie asked in surprise.

  “We have met.” She could sense no emotion in his voice or manner.

  “I was a child when I came to her house,” she began. “Arabella told me I simply appeared one day on her doorstep. I was traumatized, she believed, and fear had erased or blocked out memory of my entire past. She quickly discovered I had magical ability so trained me extensively in herb lore and the basic use of my voice to soothe creatures. Always she emphasized the importance of kindness, of using my limited powers for the good of other creatures.”

  “Why do you describe your powers as limited?”

  “Many creatures are able to block them.”

  “Your powers are greater than you believe them to be,” the Gamekeeper responded in a rumbling tone. Ellie blinked in surprise. Could it be amusement she heard in his voice?

  “You were not left on Arabella’s doorstep by chance or error,” he continued. “The flashback you experienced yesterday revealed important facts.” He paused, then said, “I know someone who might shed light on your past. But we have other things to accomplish first today.”

  As soon as the Gamekeeper spoke, the van passed through huge iron gates set in a stone wall. Ellie sat forward and gaped, aware at last of her surroundings. The wheels of the van seemed to skim the ground rather than roll, for it traveled with impossible speed and smoothness. Wild forestland swept past, then broad green meadows, then hillsides, lakes, and chattering streams. Ahead, perched on the side of the mountain, with the sweeps of meadow and forest before it and a cliff at its back, she saw a magnificent castle. Not a fortress of war or practical manor house, but a fantastical golden palace of spires and pinnacles and balconies and sparkling windows, all drawing closer at a dizzying rate.

  The van swept around a circular drive and stopped smoothly before a broad stone staircase leading to tall double doors. Ellie gripped the bench seat with both hands and stared, still open-mouthed, as the doors opened wide . . . and no one emerged.

  “If you will help release the unicorns, my servants will then care for your needs and wishes. I shall join you for luncheon in a few hours.” The Gamekeeper offered her a huge gloved hand, and Ellie allowed him to help her down. He then swept her an elegant bow and stepped out of sight. Where and how, she could not tell. Just as she could not perceive the pookas, though evidence of their existence was undeniable, so she could not understand how the Gamekeeper could walk away invisibly.

  But she had a job to do. Giving her head a little shake, she took control of her rubbery legs and walked to the rear of the van. Quickly she lowered the ramp and saw the unicorns standing ready.

  Ulrica sucked in deep draughts of clear mountain air, and Ellie clearly heard the unicorn’s heart sing for joy: This is our true home! Ulfr tried to hide behind his mother’s legs, but curiosity compelled him to stare out at this enormous new world. Soon his little legs straightened, and his head lifted high, nostrils quivering.

  Ulrica filled her lungs and gave a bugling call, clearer than the purest notes ever produced by a trumpet. And Ellie heard a veritable concert in response. She turned to behold a company of unicorns ascending the slope of meadow, their bodies glistening in the sunlight, nearly too bright for Ellie’s eyes to bear. Ulrica and Ulfr trotted forward to meet their kin, and cries of rejoicing and reunion both silent and audible filled Ellie’s heart with joy. For Ulrica’s mate was there, a tall unicorn with a blue beard and glistening horn. He greeted his wife and son with joy and pride that sent tears streaming over Ellie’s cheeks.

  Until she noticed, with some annoyance, that fingers were plucking at her sleeves. The servants! Curiosity turned her around to see . . . nothing. Sprite cages wafted across the courtyard, and her backpack floated up the stairs and through the open doorway.

  She heaved a little sigh. Invisible and inaudible, no doubt. But perhaps she could sense their thoughts or emotions if she focused hard enough. Obeying the direction of those plucking hands, she followed her pack up the steps and into a hall so resplendent with gold, carvings, moldings, and works of art that her mind simply blended it all into one word: magnificent. The escort servants—she thought there were two, both female—led her through equally magnificent hallways and drawing rooms on the way to a much smaller yet comfortably luxurious suite of rooms, including a private bath with running water, hot and cold, and a huge canopied bed.

  Bemused and tired, Ellie submitted to her invisible helpers with gratitude and fascination, even allowing them to undress and bathe her, wash and arrange her hair, and dress her in lace-and-silk undergarments and a lavender-scented morning gown in the style of a previous century. She spoke to them occasionally but mostly soaked in the luxury of being pampered like a princess. What manner of creature was the Gamekeeper, she wondered, that he would dwell in such a castle?

  But she was reluctant to explore possibilities lest they disturb her enjoyment of the moment. After all, he had done nothing to deserve distrust and everything to earn her respect. She slept on the bed for what seemed like hours but could not have been long, for the clock on the mantel chimed noon just as the door opened and her servants returned.

  Ellie slipped on her glass shoes, which seemed clunky with her frilly gown, and followed her attendants downstairs to a hall in which a great table had been set for luncheon. The Gamekeeper waited for her, standing behind a chair at the table’s far end. “You may choose any seat,” he said quietly. Since no other guests were in view, Ellie walked along the table and pulled out a chair a few settings away from him. She no longer feared her supervisor, yet she was more comfortable with some space between them.

  Ellie did justice to the meal, talking all the while about her room and the servants and her impressions of the castle. The Gamekeeper asked leading questions, and she found herself telling more about her life at Faraway Castle, including her questions about Rosa’s secret ways, the director’s attitudes, and Briar’s confusing behavior. Afterward she could not recall whether the Gamekeeper had eaten anything.

  Strange, how she felt so alive yet so immersed in unreality!

  When she laid her fork on her plate and declared herself stuffed, the Gamekeeper said in his quiet way, “Would you like to see where your cinder sprites live?”

  “Yes, very much!” A servant pulled out her chair as she rose, and her host politely offered his arm. She hesitated only an instant before laying her hand on his sleeve. “Thank you.” He now wore a cloak of deep blue velvet edged in ermine, and his large feet were clad in equally fine boots.

  They passed through an outer door into the fresh summer day, then across a courtyard, past an ornate fountain, and into an outbuilding. “The sprites have indoor shelter as well as open land, but their habitat is entirely fenced to keep out predators. They do not multiply as rapidly as non-magical beasts of their size do, since they are sentient and mate for life. Most females birth only one or two litters.”

  Ellie gazed in wonder at the low yet extensive shelters inhabited by dozens, even hundreds, of chirping, puffing, squeaking sprites. “Did all of these sprites come from Faraway Castle?”

  “Most of them. A few traveled here and requested to be allowed in t
o join their families.”

  “Do any ever wish to leave?”

  “Not so far. Perhaps, in time, a new generation will wish to see more of the world. I will not keep them captive.”

  Several of the little creatures looked familiar to Ellie, including the mother and family she had captured in Omar’s room. With them she saw a large male who’d arrived with them that day. The family was happily united.

  “All structures are flame-proof,” the Gamekeeper continued, “and their enclosure is well watered in all seasons. Occasionally one will become angry or panic and burst into flame, but their relative safety and commodious accommodations limit such events.”

  “They seem happy,” Ellie said, sensing waves of tiny emotion throughout the enclosure. “I wonder if any of them remember me.”

  “Two of them do.” The Gamekeeper pointed with a long finger (claw?) at the ground near her feet. Two cinder sprites sat nearly upright, their front paws pressed against the tempered-glass wall of their enclosure. Their working mouths, bobbing horns, and twitching ears indicated squeaks that had been lost in the clamor of the busy colony. Only now did Ellie distinguish their little voices.

  “Sparki and Frosti,” she cried in delight, and knelt to touch the glass opposite their paws. “My special babies.” Two other sprites approached, one solid black with messy-looking fur and horns like spirals of obsidian, the other solid brown with a whorl of white on his forehead, sleek fur, and bronze-colored horns. They strutted and posed, much like teenaged boys, and her two girls evidently liked them. Ellie looked up at the Gamekeeper in surprise. “The girls are so young! Do they have boyfriends already? After one morning?”

  She sensed his amusement. “They are old enough to choose mates. These two are not only the youngest daughters of Royal Elder Sprite Starfire and his mate, Dusk, but also enjoy the distinction of being named. Cinder sprites do not name themselves. It sets them apart. Yet these two males are confident enough to enjoy having celebrity mates.”

  Ellie boggled. “I had no idea!” She looked back over the colony in wonder. Those little creatures scurrying here and there, eating, chirping, fighting, playing—they shared community and had social structures. “I have so much to learn about magic beasts!”

  “Time is passing in your world, however, and we have much to do.” He again offered his arm, and Ellie, after blowing kisses to her sprite friends, again accepted his escort.

  This time he paused in an open area. “I intend to transport us by magic to the home of a creature that may be able to shed light on certain events in your past. You need not fear; I will allow no harm to come to you. Do not let go of my arm.”

  Before Ellie could think to ask a question, he stretched out his free arm and seemed to push against the air. They stepped forward as if through a doorway, and everything went dark. It felt dry and cold and infinitely black. Without realizing, she lowered her chin and closed her eyes. Then she felt a jolt, as if she’d been jerked sideways, and a fresh, cold breeze struck her face.

  “We’re here,” the Gamekeeper said. “Vlad should arrive shortly. I sent a message.”

  When Ellie hesitantly opened her eyes, her chin still tucked, the first thing she saw was a terrible emptiness before her feet, as if the ground had been cut off and dropped away. She shrieked, squeezed her eyes shut again, clung to the Gamekeeper’s arm, and moaned, “Where have you taken us?”

  “I’m terrified of heights!” Ellie scarcely recognized that shrill voice as hers.

  The Gamekeeper stepped away from the precipice, bringing Ellie with him. “I apologize. I hadn’t thought how the altitude might affect you. Come. I brought us here to the entrance rather than invade the family’s privacy, but we can move further into the cave.” As they turned, she glanced back and realized they stood at the entrance of a cave near the top of a sheer mountain surrounded by other peaks. Despite the glaciers all around and a brisk wind, she did not feel cold, yet terror sent tremors through her body and her teeth chattered.

  At the Gamekeeper’s urging, her feet moved even as her brain felt immobile. Not until solid walls surrounded her and the cave opening was a bright spot in her peripheral vision did she begin to relax.

  “What is this place? It smells strange.”

  “We are at the home of a magical creature who may be able to shed light on your history,” the Gamekeeper replied. He spoke quietly, yet his voice always made her soul shiver. “I sent a message and expect him to arrive shortly. I will allow no harm to come to you, Miss Calmer.” He sounded genuinely regretful.

  But then she heard a cry that turned her blood to ice. Slowly she looked up and saw her nightmare alight at the cave’s entrance. Burning yellow eyes, feathers, talons reaching to grab her, an open beak . . . Ellie screamed . . .

  She saw spinning mountain peaks beneath her, felt the rush of wind that blocked all other sound, including her own screams. Then something grasped her arms, jerking her body forward and up instead of down. Her head snapped back, and she stared up at the underside of a strange birdlike creature.

  “You are safe, Ellie. He will not harm you.” The voice seemed to speak into her thoughts, into her memory.

  Ellie opened her eyes but saw only the Gamekeeper’s hooded profile. She still stood upright, clinging to his arm. Briefly she considered the fact that she was at the mercy of not one but two monsters. Yet his presence was comforting after all.

  For he stood between her and the creature now silhouetted against the cave’s entrance: an enormous griffin.

  Cruel yellow eyes stared at her, a huge beak snapped in irritation, and long talons clicked on the stone floor as it approached, folding its wings. “Why have you come?” It spoke clearly, its tone regal and resentful.

  “Greetings, Vlad.”

  The griffin lowered its head in response. “Your Eminence.”

  Only then did the Gamekeeper answer, “I wish to know if you once captured a human girl-child and left it at Arabella’s door.”

  The creature’s golden neck feathers ruffled. “What if I did?”

  “The child survived. I merely wish to know your side of the story.”

  The griffin sat down, and the tufted tip of its tail twitched. “I didn’t know the foolish thing was magical until it persuaded me to let it go! Fortunately, I dropped it from high altitude and was able to catch it before it hit the rocks. I apologized and took it to Arabella because she was nearby.”

  “Where did you first find the child?”

  “In a high meadow near Grim’s Peak. The humans looked ordinary enough. It was an honest mistake.” The griffin studied Ellie briefly. “You were that child,” it said. “I recognize your magic. It is stronger now. And weaker. You don’t trust it.”

  “Wh-why did you take me?” Ellie asked.

  The griffin’s ears flattened against his feathered head. “Human girls make good servants. In my homeland, every nesting couple keeps one in the den to clean and to watch over the young.” He snarled a strange combination of an eagle’s scream and a lion’s roar. “It’s not as if we kill and eat them.”

  Ellie felt a weight lift from her heart. “I am glad to know that you didn’t intend to kill me,” she said.

  Vlad’s tail lashed from side to side. “Kill you? I went to the trouble of catching you again after you blasted me with magic and made me drop you, even though I knew I could not take you home with me. And I left you with Arabella, the best place for any human child that could force me to drop it.”

  “Why did you not explain to Arabella?”

  Vlad preened a few chest feathers. “I figured you would tell her. I had to go in search of a more suitable candidate. My mate was near her time.” His feathered shoulders shrugged.

  “I hope your family is well,” Ellie said.

  The griffin shrugged. “That clutch is grown now and spread across the continent, but they all four send us messages occasionally.”

  “What became of the replacement servant girl?” Ellie asked in some concern. />
  “She was free to go once our brood had flown. Being a sturdy creature, she walked down the mountain with a satchel full of gold and found her way home, none the worse and much the richer for the experience.”

  Ellie decided not to comment on the girl’s lost months with her family and the worry caused to all concerned. Instead, she looked at the Gamekeeper. “Did you know about the slave girl?”

  “I did not.”

  The griffin’s neck feathers fluffed out. “Human girls always tend young griffins. It is a time-honored tradition and beneficial to all concerned. We pay generously.”

  “I should defend the tradition myself if only the girls chose to accept the position,” Ellie said. “To steal them away is inexcusable. Why not ask for volunteers? I should think the Gamekeeper could help you locate promising candidates.”

  Vlad growled softly. “It is our business, not his. Bad enough that he owns a key to our home.”

  “You chose the den with full knowledge that it lay partly inside my domain,” the Gamekeeper said in his quiet yet emphatic way, and the griffin lowered himself into a crouch.

  “It is the Gamekeeper’s business to protect magical creatures from humans and humans from magical creatures,” Ellie said in her best persuasive tone.

  “Only those within his borders. But I’ll think on it. Not because you’re using your magic on me, mind you, human!”

  “My name is Ellie,” she said. “Can you tell me anything about my family?”

  Vlad’s yellow eyes fixed on her. “I seem to recall several humans standing near a vehicle, a few seated on the ground on a piece of cloth, and smaller ones running about. I snatched the small female.” He looked Ellie up and down. “You are large now.”

  “That was eleven years ago,” Ellie said sadly. “And I remember nothing about my family.” Tears burned the back of her eyes, but she refused to give in to a wave of sorrow.

  For the first time, the griffin looked slightly regretful. “I was unaware that humans cared about family, there are so many swarming about. But perhaps they can recognize differences among themselves.”