Chapter 21 #2
“He is a good man.” I smiled at the portable table as I pulled in a lung full of fresh, crisp mountain air. Jacob hadn’t always been kind. He’d made a lot of mistakes, but it seemed his time in the land of the elves was fixing a part of him, too.
My heart soared as I took in the beautiful sight surrounding me.
Mountains loomed in the distance; their white peaks as jagged as a wolf’s teeth.
Enchanted trees covered in snow dripped with sparkling icicles.
A large fire crackled. A table stood out in the center of the clearing, laden with flour, buttermilk, eggs, and several other ingredients.
Despite the blight, the black dragging lines of darkness heading toward our hearts, this moment, this baking, well—this was going to be…fun.
I pulled out my cookbook and flipped to an early page.
I knew exactly what I wanted to make, my father’s famous buttermilk pancakes.
Tabitha had gifted us with a few extra ingredients for our journey, butter, eggs, and buttermilk, before I left the Spindlewood Inn.
I thanked her in my heart and followed my father’s handwritten notes, reveling in the familiarity of his writing. The studied beauty of his drawings.
Once the fire was roaring, Elden came over to help. I put him to work mixing the ingredients in my large bowl.
“Don’t stir too much. You don’t want to over mix. We stir the ingredients exactly forty-seven times.”
“Forty-seven,” Elden nodded as he concentrated on the mixture, furrowing his eyebrows together as if his whole world rested on getting the count right.
It was kind of cute how seriously he took my instructions.
A few overeager chipmunks scuttled closely, drawn by their hungry stomachs.
Several deer poked their heads around the trees.
I moved some hot coals over to encourage a slower heat, then melted some butter in the pan.
Once the mixture was stirred to perfection, I poured the batter into the pan.
It hit with a gratifying sizzle. I sprinkled some cinnamon, chopped green apples, and pecans into the pancake, dropping several handfuls of the filling on the ground for the hungry little chipmunks scurrying about curiously.
Intent. My intent was to cook food to fill our bodies, give us strength and…protection.
Yes, that was what we needed. Protection. I touched each ingredient as I made the food, all I needed now were words.
What had I said to the little boy, the king in disguise? What had I said to Aldaar as we’d made the mincemeat tarts? I couldn’t quite remember, but I needed to trust myself. Trust that I could do this. That I could bake magic.
After all, I’d done it before, hadn’t I?
“I hope this will protect us on our quest and help us find the cure to the blight.” I offered as I flipped the pancake over, cooking the other side to a golden brown.
Elden shot me a look as I said the words, his eyes wide.
I shrugged, “I figure if my magic worked, that’s what I’d want to have done.”
I’d spoken over my bakes before, wishing for things.
It’d always felt natural, right, and if Elden was to be believed, then I needed to trust in myself, follow my own promptings.
I allowed peace and contentment to flow through me, trying my best to banish the fear of what was to come–but the fear overwhelmed my heart; The pure panic of last night, the adrenaline of being hunted by those wolves.
Elden stared as the pancake rose. My stomach grumbled, but I felt nothing more than tortured anticipation. I had to get this right. Everything depended on it. On me.
I flipped the pancake over onto a plate and offered it to Elden. He tore it in two and gave me half. Here we go. I watched as Elden bit into the pancake, then took a bite myself.
Deliciousness filled my mouth. It was incredible. But did I feel the magic? The protection? Did I feel blessed to find the cure?
“So?” I searched Elden’s face intently.
Elden took bite after bite, chewing and swallowing. He shook his head with a forced smile. “It is delicious, Noelle, of course, but–”
“No magic.” I flopped down on a snow-covered log in disappointment. My heart dropped from beneath me.
“You will get it right, I believe that.” Elden walked over and sat beside me, bringing a waft of his pine and sage scent toward me. I closed my eyes and breathed him in, like the lovesick fool I was, hoping to banish the pain I felt.
We sat and ate the pancakes in silence, my stomach turning sour. I tossed some pieces absently to the chipmunks that had gathered by our feet. “What if I can’t figure this out in time? What if this is all too late?”
“You will master this.” Elden’s eyes met mine from where we sat side by side on the log before the crackling campfire. “Magic takes time, and our hearts can be ever so hard to control.”
“So you have learned to control the passions of your heart?” I asked with a true desire to understand.
A wistful smile spread across Elden’s face, the kind of smile that could cause nature itself to bend at his will. But he shook his head, the smile forgotten in a blink. “I endeavor to every day, but it is growing more and more difficult as our journey progresses.”
Silence speared in between us. I didn’t know what to say, how to respond. Could he now feel the same pull toward me as I was toward him?
“What do you mean?” I breathed. I stared down at the half-eaten pancake in my hand. I was too afraid to look him in the eyes. Too afraid that I would be pulled in too far—
But Elden had been quiet for far too long. I glanced up to meet his eyes when I noticed with alarm how his face had glazed over.
“Elden?” I pressed the back of my hand to his cheek, as if I would feel a fever there. But that was not how this dark magic worked. Elden’s face crumbled, and he dropped to his knees. My heart kicked up in alarm. “Elden! Are you alright?”
He held his hand over his coat, right where his heart should be and groaned. “The poison. It is spreading faster the closer we get to the mountain.”
I’d noticed my leg aching more. The black spreading like a venomous spider’s web, but I had no experience with the disease to compare it to.
Elden unclasped his coat, then lifted his shirt beneath. I helped him pull his tunic over his head as he hissed in pain. Hot steam rose in the air around Elden’s exposed form. I inspected the Elf King’s back with a poorly hidden grimace.
Puffy scars etched numerous trails down his back.
Black veiny poison fanned out from them like corroded spiderwebs.
The bite on his side was the worst of all.
This ran deep with black like a poisoned river.
Elden turned to face me and my hand flew to my mouth.
The black veins inched across his stomach, around his wide chest, toward his heart.
The blight was worse than before. Infinitely worse.
Elden hung his head, white braids swinging down past his shoulders. “It’s getting closer to my heart with every step toward the mountain. I fear I will not make it to Winter solstice. I may not even reach the mountain.”
I pulled Jel’s potion from my satchel and handed it to Elden. He took a swig, then proceeded to wrap back into his tunic and jacket.
“You will make it,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster.
“Here. Eat this.” I handed him the rest of my pancake, then proceeded to cook up the rest of the batter.
“We need to fill our bellies so that we’re ready for what is to come.
And then I will teach you everything I know about Christmas, and you will be so wildly excited by that that you will forget all about the solstice and want presents and stockings and maybe even hope for a visit from Father Christmas. ”
Anything to distract the king from his pain.
Elden chuckled as he winced. “What is so special about your human Christmas?”
“It’s not just for humans.” I noted, encouraged by the question. He was open to hearing about it and I was not about to let this moment go to waste. “It’s about peace, hope, and love. It’s about spreading good will to all.”
“To all?” Elden raised a white eyebrow.
“Yes.” I stared into his golden eyes for a breath. “I think we forgot that somewhere along the way.”
We ate our fill of apple and nut buttermilk pancakes, then broke camp and packed up for our big day of travel. I fed an apple to Sapphire, who I swore lowered her back for me as I attempted to saddle her enormous form. Even Elden raised an eyebrow of surprise.
Somehow, a small seed of hope lingered in my heart at the conviction in Elden’s words. “You will master this.” I fed that hope as we rode through the winding forest toward the looming mountain of Winterthorn trying to banish the image of Elden’s black chest from my mind. I would need it.