Chapter 2 Ivy
Ivy
Papa told me to ride north, so that’s what I do, using the stars as a visual aid as he taught me.
At the first light of dawn, we stop by a brook for a much-needed rest. My muscles are stiff from riding through the night, so I take the opportunity to stretch my limbs.
The wolf never reappeared, so hopefully we've managed to outrun it.
I kneel by the brook and fill my waterskin. The horse laps up water beside me, and that’s how we stay for some time—two lost souls on the run.
My face is reflected in the brook, rippling along the glittering surface. It’s hard to believe I was still sleeping in my bed a mere eight hours ago.
Memories of last night rush to the front of my mind, and I inhale a shaky breath, the cool morning air piercing my lungs like knives.
Did Papa get the better of those soldiers? Did they manage to escape?
I squeeze my eyes shut, bringing my knees to my chin. They will be all right. Mama and Papa will have escaped…
I just don’t understand. Why did those soldiers come to our cottage?
We are not criminals; we have never broken the law. So, why did I have to rush away like a thief in the night?
Despite my best efforts, a sob wracks my body, and no matter how hard I press my face against my skirt, the tears won’t stop.
I’m alone, lost, and frightened, and the woods here are strange. The trees seem to grow differently, their clawed limbs stark black against a grey, merciless sky.
No. This is wrong.
I must go back; I must find my parents. I can’t leave them behind.
I will rescue them.
A memory of the ghostly woman returns, and I stop crying at once.
“The spell has broken…they’re coming…”
Who was she? And what spell? Maybe she was talking about the legendary spell that protects the town. I always thought it was just an old folktale.
According to legend, a witch once cast a spell around Charstown to protect its inhabitants from evil spirits, yet despite her altruistic efforts, they still burned her at the stake.
I flinch when something wet nudges my cheek, and I look up at Belle. My horse wants me to take a drink from the brook. Glistening droplets fall from her snout, and she’s already had her fill.
I dip my hands into the brook, bringing the water to my lips. It’s cool and fresh, and just what I need.
I take another sip and splash my face to wash away the grit from my eyes. It's best we move on, but another five minutes won’t hurt.
We’re alone out here. Only the birds keep us company, trilling in the branches above.
I smile at Belle, petting her cheek. “You were a good girl last night, getting us away so swiftly. Thank you.”
I give her snout a kiss, and she nickers softly, closing her eyes.
I’m lucky to have her. She was a gift from my parents, and I couldn’t imagine where I'd be without her. She saved my life.
My stomach growls. It’s time for breakfast.
Grabbing an apple from my bag, I offer it to Belle, smiling when she bites into it eagerly. Then I dip my hand inside for another, stopping short when my fingers graze a smooth, hard surface.
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I tug out the object, surprised when I spy a rosewood box. A filigree pattern of gilded flowers decorates the outer edges, and it’s one of the most beautiful boxes I have ever seen.
I don’t even remember Mama sneaking it inside the bag, but she was always good at tricks.
Sleight of hand, she always called it.
I lift the ornate lid, gasping when I spy a dancing ballerina inside.
It’s a music box.
Winding the lever, I place the box onto the grass, smiling when it plays a sweet melody. Such a lovely sound. It chases away the shadows of the forest, bringing a grin to my face.
I find a framed oil painting of a beautiful woman inside the box. She has raven hair, sapphire eyes, and full red lips, but her face doesn’t ring a bell.
Who is she?
As I set the portrait aside, I notice a scroll of parchment at the bottom of the box. I unroll it quickly. My hands shake as I see my mother’s scrawl, and now I read her words through glistening tears.
Dear Ivy,
Hopefully, by the time you read this, you are far from Charstown. Whatever you do, do not come back. Go beyond the lion’s neck and keep riding north. That way, the king’s men won’t find you.
When you reach the mountains, find the Veil. There, you will find Aunt Elly.
Your father and I love you. We regret every moment of letting you go, but one day, we hope you'll understand.
Remember, you are our child and always will be. No couple could ask for a greater daughter.
P.S. Your father left you a gift.
A gift?
I gasp when I spy the pommel of a sword sticking out of the bag. Pulling it by the handle, I find myself holding a narrow blade with a pointed tip.
My sword…
But… how?
I swear I’d left it inside Papa’s forge. Could it be another of Mama’s tricks again?
I twist the blade in my hand, smiling through tears when I study my father’s beautiful metalwork.
The knuckle guard is a gilded sea serpent that curves around the crossbar, and I think back to all our lessons.
Papa had been teaching me swordplay for the past few years, mostly in the art of self-defence, but I sure hope I never have to use it.
For now, I will hold on to that na?ve thought.
There’s a scabbard and belt inside the bag too, and I tie them around my waist, slipping the sword inside.
Well, no point in crying any longer. There’s only one direction to go.
North.
I’m not sure if the Veil is a town or a city, and I’ve never even met my Aunt Elly before. I don't even know what she looks like, but I will find her.
And then, I’ll find my parents.
I unroll my map onto a dry patch of grass, using rocks and twigs as paperweights. The kingdom of Liona spreads out before me, named for its resemblance to the mighty lion. The north makes up his head, and the south his foot and tail.
My eyes skim over the many towns and cities that I have only ever read about in books, but never had the privilege of visiting.
Charstown is situated to the east just below the lion’s neck, and I still have a long way to go before I reach it.
Across the lion’s head, I see a semicircle marking a vast stretch of mountains. The word 'Veil' is written there in dark ink. Again, I recognise my mother’s handwriting.
I count my money: ten gold lions, five silver stallions, and several copper bits.
After gathering my things, I climb onto Belle’s back and pat her mane. The path before us is unfamiliar, but we must go on.
There’s no turning back now.
A new beginning awaits us.
“It’s time to go, Belle.”
A cold wind whispers through the trees, rustling the leaves of the forest, before brushing across my skin like icy fingers.
I'm being watched.
I turn to a nearby tree, where a glossy raven perches, its silver eye fixed on me. Dread sweeps through my veins. The raven at the cottage had silver eyes, too.
It arrived at the same time as the king’s men. Could the two be connected? I doubt it. It's most likely just an ordinary raven… with eerie, human-like eyes.
Belle stamps her hoof, and a tremor ripples through the earth, rattling my bones. The trees shake, and the raven spreads its wings, disappearing into the grey sky.
One of its coal-black feathers drifts to the ground, and I shiver as a cold breeze wraps its talons around me. Ravens are omens of death, and unease twists in my gut.
But it’s probably nothing to worry about. Maybe it's all just in my head.
And it’s time to ride north.