Is this my fate? I simply wanted to help, to be useful. Oh, Stellan!
One of the creatures landed on her back. She tried to dislodge it, but collapsed under its weight. The rough ground scraped her cheek. Tiny paws tore at her dress. Then something hard, pointy and cold pierced her, like an icicle plunging into her shoulder blade.
Clarysa groaned, writhing with pain so sharp it threatened unconsciousness. Wetness coated her back–blood! Acute dread filled her. She would never see her family–or Prince Stellan–again. I failed you all. Please forgive me!
A canine growl pierced the air. Was she to be torn apart by demons and finished off by wolves? The malevolent snarls grew alarmingly closer. Paralyzed by fear, Clarysa squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the end.
Chapter 10
As the wolf neared, Clarysa braced herself. The fangs would sink into her flesh any moment now. No, no, no! Have mercy!
Then she heard an unmistakably human voice, though the words sounded incoherent. Is someone really there, or am I hallucinating? A wave of demonic squeals pierced the night air and faded abruptly away. The weight lifted from her back.
Strong hands gripped her waist. Someone had found her. A man. Clarysa was too weak to resist as the stranger lifted her onto a nearby horse. He mounted behind her. Once astride, he flicked the reins sharply and the horse galloped away.
The man covered her with his cloak. The heat of his body did little to mitigate her frigid state. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. Exhausted and dizzy, she leaned back against her rescuer.
On and on they rode. Eventually, they emerged from the dark canopy of the forest. Moonlight shimmered across large hills of snow. The night was clear and the air brisk. The horse’s strong muscles rippled up and down as it plowed through the wintry mix with seemingly little effort. Beside them, a great white wolf kept pace.
After they cleared the last hill, a castle broke into view. Clarysa studied it from beneath heavy eyelids. The nighttime dressed most of the fortress in shadow, but it was moderate in size and had seven or eight pointed towers. The horse and wolf raced across a bridge that led to the front gate. As they approached, someone opened it from within.
As soon as the doors clanged shut, the horse stopped. Her rescuer dismounted. Clarysa looked down. A rush of relief coursed through her upon discovering Stellan’s face. She smiled weakly as he eased her from the saddle. Put the weight on your good foot! came the bleary thought. Once on solid ground, she gazed up at him.
Stellan gripped her shoulders with pincer like hands. “Foolish woman!” he barked. “That was incredibly stupid of you! Incredibly stupid! I told you never to take that road, and I meant it!”
Clarysa clutched a fistful of his cloak to steady herself. It seemed a monumental effort to speak. “I…I came to warn you. Villagers attacked us as we returned. They were… Their eyes…so bloody. I think they’re infected! We need your help.”
Stellan’s furious gaze thawed, but only a touch.
“There was no one else to spare…only I escaped.” She tried to squelch the odd discomfort building in her chest and lowered her gaze. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Please…forgive me. I remembered your warning too late. I meant no disrespect.” Loosening her grip, she stepped back. Her hand reached behind, seeking out a wall to lean against. Finding none, she slumped against Midnight. “What…what other choice did I have?”
Stellan turned aside. “Patrulha!” he bellowed. In the dimly lit entry hall, Clarysa spotted a number of dark-clad figures approaching. One of them took the lead.
“Right here,” said a woman. She stepped into the light of the nearest torch.
Clarysa gazed at her with intense curiosity. For one thing, the newcomer towered above her. Patrulha had dark features and unkempt hair. Thigh-high boots along with a thick leather tunic adorned her body–a warrior’s garb. A black patch was slung across her right eye. Her left one lingered, giving Clarysa a brief appraisal before locking onto Stellan.
Stellan began to issue orders. “Assemble twenty of our men and saddle up. We ride to Aldebaran.”
Patrulha cocked a brow.
“Pestilence attack,” Stellan responded. “Humans, this time.”
Patrulha nodded and darted off.
Clarysa’s breathing became more labored. Nevertheless, she forced out her question. “Who is she?”
“Captain of my guard–such as it is.” He turned away to consult with one of the men.
Clarysa didn’t want to bother him, but then her chest constricted in an alarming manner. Gasping and wheezing, she collapsed on the floor. She heard an older woman’s voice cry out.
“Heavens above! The Lady!”
Stellan rushed to her side. “Clarysa? What’s wrong?”
Groans of pain spilled from her lips. “I feel so cold.”
He picked her up effortlessly. “Quickly,” Stellan shouted. “Draw her a bath by the fire!”
He carried her sluggish form across the entry hall. A cool draft made her shiver. Her gazed fixated on a piece of her torn and tattered dress as it dragged along the stone floor.
Next to a roaring hearth, he placed her in a big wooden tub. Warm water flooded into it, reviving her slightly. Clarysa opened her eyes.
A woman with an expression of unabashed curiosity stared at her. She wore a smudged apron over a patterned red frock. Clearly a servant. A rat’s nest of curly, brown hair streaked with gray crowned blunt features. Creases lined her mouth and eyes; here was a woman in her late forties, at least.
Clarysa wet her cracked lips. “Hello. I’m Clarysa.”
The woman propped a hand on her hip. “And I’m Gretchen.” Her warm, earthy voice was infused with a heavy accent. She smiled, the act revealing a wide gap between her two top teeth. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Stellan appeared at her side with a fresh bucket. “And I’ll be pleased if you’ll stop talking. Keep the water coming.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Gretchen winked before slipping from Clarysa’s view.
Stellan dumped the water into the tub. Clarysa could see the steam
