Chapter Six #2
Biting down on her lower lip, she filled a plate for herself, walked carefully to the table and sat down.
She felt terribly self-conscious, sitting there, eating in front of him.
It was one thing to eat with her parents.
There were times, however few and far between, when she spilled a cup of milk, or dropped food on the floor.
At home, such incidents were of little consequence, but here. ..
Trying to be extra careful only made her clumsy and uncertain. To her horror, she misjudged the placement of her cup and knocked it over. Her cheeks burned with humiliation as she heard it hit the floor.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” she said hastily. “I am not usually so clumsy.”
She started to stand up when she felt his hand on her arm, staying her.
“‘Tis nothing to fret over, Channa Leigh, tis only a bit of a spill.” Rising, he took a clean mug from the shelf and poured her another cup of tea. Then, very gently, he placed the cup in her hand.
“Thank ye, my lord,” she said.
He shrugged; then, realizing she could not see him, he sat down, muttering, “Yer welcome”.
It was the longest meal of her life. Once, he complimented her on her cooking.
She murmured her thanks, pleased and embarrassed by his praise.
She would have to take his word for the quality of the meal; she might have been eating dirt for all the notice she took of the food, so disconcerted was she by his nearness.
“Did ye sleep well?” he asked.
Channa Leigh nodded. “Tis a very fine chamber, my lord. The painting on the ceiling is...” As soon as she realized what she’d said, she clapped her hand over her mouth. She was blind. How could she explain that she had seen the ceiling?
“Go on,” he said quietly. “Tell me about the ceiling.”
“I...”
“Yes?”
Her fingers worried a fold in her skirt. What should she say? If she told him about the wolf, would be believe her? She could hardly believe it herself.
“I know about the wolf,” he said, his voice carefully neutral.
“Do ye? But how?”
“I am Darkfest,” he said, a touch of arrogance in his tone. “I know all.”
“‘Tis most amazing, my lord,” Channa Leigh said, her excitement momentarily chasing away her awe at being in his presence. “When I touch him, I can see. Oh, my lord, tis a miracle.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “A miracle.” And knew in that moment that he would not rest until he had found a way to cure Channa Leigh’s blindness.
~ * ~
Later, alone in his workshop, he poured through his books, looking for a spell that would restore Channa Leigh’s sight. Her lack of vision was not a sickness that he could absorb into himself or heal with a bit of magic, but the result of an accident sustained in childhood.
He spent hours searching through every book, every manuscript, every scroll, and then, at last, he found it.
From dark to light,
The trail is trod,
With faith, hope, and courage
And a dark dragon’s blood.
He stood up, stretching. A dark dragon’s blood.
There were no dragons in the mountains of Krendall, and few in the lands beyond.
Their numbers grew less with each passing century, for they were solitary beasts who had been hunted to near extinction.
But he knew of one. Far to the north, in an enchanted valley, lived an ancient dragon known as Blackencrill.
He was rumored to be a fearsome beast, friend to none and enemy to all.
A powerful beast, it was said he was subject to no magic but his own.
All who dared enter his valley did so at their own peril.
Going to the room’s single window, Darkfest stared at the gardens beyond. Tonight, at dinner, he would tell Channa Leigh of his discovery. The decision, of course, must be hers.
~ * ~
“Magic? Ye think ye can restore my sight through magic?” Hope exploded through Channa Leigh’s heart. To see again. It would be a dream come true, an answered prayer. “How soon can we leave?”
He glanced out the window. There were only a few weeks of winter left. “Soon. There are preparations I must make.”
“Thank ye, my lord.”
She held out her hand. It took him a moment to realize she wanted to touch him. He drew a deep breath, then took her hand in his. Opposites, he thought. Large and small. Dark and light. Her skin was warm, her palms lightly callused from years of hard work.
His gaze moved over her face.
She was so lovely, so innocent. It grieved him to think of her locked in darkness, unable to see the people she loved, the beauty of a summer’s day, the glory of autumn’s changing leaves, the flowers that bloomed in rainbow colors on the hillsides in the spring, winter’s first snowfall.
Before he quite knew what he was doing, he changed into the wolf and laid his head in her lap.
“Magick!” she exclaimed softly. “You’re here.” She cocked her head to one side. “Lord Darkfest? My Lord, are ye here?” She stroked the wolf’s head, her brow furrowed. “Where do ye suppose he’s gone?”
Rising, one hand firmly grasping the wolf’s ruff, she left the kitchen and walked through the castle, looking for Darkfest, but he was nowhere to be found.
Strange, she thought, how quickly he had disappeared.
But perhaps not. He was a wizard, after all.
Those in the village said he could appear and disappear at will, that he could fly, or dissolve into mist. T’was foolishness, of course.
No man could do those things. And, wizard or not, he was still a man.
“I wish I could find him,” she said. “I should very much like to see if he is as fearsome to look upon as everyone says. Ah, well,” she said with a sigh, “another time, perhaps.”
Turning back toward the kitchen, she filled a pan with water, put it on the stove to heat. The wolf stood pressed against her side as she washed and dried the dishes. She found, to her delight, that as long as he was touching her, or she was touching him, she was able to see.
Washing the dishes, usually a chore, was now a delight.
With the wolf standing beside her, she lifted her hand and watched the water drip from her fingers.
She studied the soap suds, noticed the way the lamplight made the bubbles sparkle and shimmer with all the colors of the rainbow.
She picked up a goblet made of red glass and held it in front of her eyes, laughing as the world turned a rosy red.
How much easier to wash and dry the dishes when she could see what she was doing! She rearranged the shelves, putting the items used most frequently within easy reach.
She set the table for the morning meal, then, one hand tangled in the wolf’s fur, she left the kitchen and went into the great hall.
There was a large curved settee before the huge stone fireplace. Channa stared at it, wondering where it had come from. It hadn’t been there before.
Crossing the room, she sat down, her fingers caressing the velvet cloth. A furry robe was folded over the back of the settee, and she drew it over her, then settled back, her gaze drawn to the flames dancing in the hearth, one hand lightly stroking the wolf.
“I love this room,” she remarked. “Tis so big. So majestic. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She looked at the wolf, lying on the sofa beside her, and grinned. “But then, I’ve never seen much of anything.”
The wolf seemed to be smiling at her, she thought, but of course, it was just her imagination.
Warmed by the fire, she closed her eyes, a soft sigh of pleasure escaping her lips as the wolf licked her hand.
A moment later, she was asleep.