Читать книгу The Shadow Witch - Gertrude Crownfield - Страница 4

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One morning at early dawn, the Shadow Witch stole down her palace steps and out into her Garden of Shadows, to walk there alone.

Not many days before, a stranger prince, seeking to deliver a beautiful flame princess whom he loved, had passed through the Land of the Evil Fairies that lies far away from the heart of the Fire. The Shadow Witch had seen him, and at first, half in mischief, and half because she was lonely, had tried, by her magic, to lure him away from his quest into her own land. But soon, moved by his courage and goodness, yet most of all by his faithful love to his princess, she had given him aid in his undertaking, and had saved him from destruction by her brother, the Wizard of the Cave of Darkness.

No such bright visitant had ever before come into the strange country where she dwelt, and when he departed, her dim palace, her misty woods and gardens, even her own magic, no longer gave her pleasure as they once had done.

Far from her dominions lay that lovely land from whence the prince had come, the land of the good and happy Fire Fairies. Of the bright spells, the noble magic, the joyous life of these fairies she knew nothing.

Through her dusky land she moved, attended by her servants, the Shadows, working with them her curious, and sometimes mischievous, spells. Her brother, the Wizard, gave her no cheer, spent no love upon her, taught her nothing good, and she, for her own part, seldom sought his presence.

As she walked this morning in her garden, her dark eyes were troubled, and she let her grey garments sweep the ground unheeded, while in fancy she followed Prince Radiance, who had come for one brief hour into her dull life. She could not but wonder whether she must be always lonely as she now was, whether she must always wish in vain for such happiness as his land could give. Up and down the alleys of the garden she went, and for a long time no one came to disturb her, but at length a voice broke in upon her musings.

“Mistress of the Shadows,” it said, “a messenger from your brother, the Wizard, desires to speak to you.”

The Shadow Witch lifted her eyes. Before her stood her most faithful servant, Creeping Shadow.

“What is his message?” the Shadow Witch demanded.

“He declares that it is for your ear alone,” the Shadow answered.

Her mistress frowned impatiently. She was in no mood to talk with him.

“He waits at the palace door,” continued Creeping Shadow, “and says that he will remain there until you are pleased to receive him.”

“Go, then, and bring him hither,” was the reluctant answer. “I will hear what he has to say.”

Creeping Shadow hastened to obey, and presently returned accompanied by a dwarfed creature, black as the blackest soot and clad in raiment as dusky as himself. It was the Chief Imp, a trusted messenger of the Wizard.

The Shadow Witch especially disliked him. He was at times impertinent when he came on her brother’s errands, therefore she held herself haughtily and folded her robes closer about her when he drew near.

But the Chief Imp bore himself humbly today and his disagreeable face wore an air of deep distress. He bowed himself to the earth, and waited permission to speak.

“What says your master?” demanded the Shadow Witch imperiously. “Speak.”

“Alas!” groaned the Imp, as if in profound grief, “My master lies in his cavern sick unto death. He begs that you will come to him, and, by your magic, restore him to himself.”

The Shadow Witch regarded him unmoved. “Has so great a magician as my brother no magic of his own that will be potent to restore him, that he must ask aid of mine?” she inquired.

“Nay, madam,” replied the Chief Imp, rolling up his eyes, “He has tried every means within his power and grows no better. He turns to you, therefore, in his extremity and beseeches you not to refuse him.”

Knowing, as she did, the craftiness of her brother, the Shadow Witch heard his message with distrust. She knew that if he had discovered that it was by her help that the prince had escaped him and that evil had been brought upon himself, it would go hard with her once she was in his power. Therefore, she determined, before she yielded to his request, to learn from his servant whether or not he suspected her of what she had done. So she bent a searching gaze upon the Chief Imp and began to question him.

“Tell me,” she commanded, “what is this sickness from which your master suffers, and what is its cause?”

The Imp hastened to inform her. “A strange prince penetrated the Cave of Darkness, a short time since. For reasons of his own, the Wizard sought to overpower him with the spell of his Urn of Vapors, but the prince, who had come upon him without warning, suddenly flashed about him a magic weapon, the Sword of Flames, that instantly took from my master all power to protect himself. He cried aloud to us, and at once we hurried him away to an inner chamber, far from its dreadful sway. There he lay for a time insensible, and we feared for his life, but at length, tended by his servants, he became able to move a little, and, at last, even to speak. But that is all.”

“What has become of this prince and his magic sword?” demanded the Shadow Witch, watching him yet more closely. “Have you permitted him to escape with it unharmed?”

“Ah, madam,” the Chief Imp replied, “When we came to seek him, to wreak vengeance upon him, he had vanished and had left no trace.”

“Had this prince no servants, no companions?” insisted she. “None who guided him to my brother’s cavern?”

“Nay,” he assured her, “the prince was quite alone.”

The Shadow Witch asked him no further questions, but stood silent, pondering deeply whether or no she should grant the Wizard’s request. She herself had seen him overcome by the fairy sword, had seen the prince depart in safety, but that her brother trusted to any magic of her own to restore him, she greatly doubted. Still, she believed that there could be no grave danger to herself in going to him. Never, even in the fulness of his power, had he been able to really injure her. Why should she fear him now, when he was helpless. Besides, from what the Imp had said, it was not known that she had guided and protected the prince. Therefore she had no cause for uneasiness.

She turned to where the Chief Imp waited, regarding her with his crafty eyes. “Go back to your master,” she bade him. “Say to him that I will come shortly to render him what aid I can.”

Well pleased at the result of his errand, the Chief Imp departed.

As soon as he was out of sight the Shadow Witch beckoned Creeping Shadow to her side and instructed her with lifted finger. “I go alone to visit my brother, the Wizard, who lies ill, and has sent for me. If, however, much time passes, and I have not returned, you may be sure that some evil has befallen me. Seek me then, instantly, in the Cave of Darkness, for I shall have need of you.”

Creeping Shadow swore to obey what she had been told, and her mistress, gathering her trailing robes over her arm, took her way to the Wizard’s Cave.

Gloomy and forbidding was the Cave of Darkness. Its outer walls rose high and cliff-like from the great Plain of Ash, and a yawning opening led off to its dark corridors and many dusky chambers.

The Shadow Witch had no sooner reached the Cave mouth and entered it than the Chief Imp, with a spark lantern in his hand, met her to conduct her to his master. They passed swiftly down the narrow passage and came presently to that vast black chamber called the Cave Hall, where the Wizard was wont to sit.

The Cave Hall was filled with Imps, some clustered in groups, whispering together; some lolling idly upon the soot cushions that lay about the floor; some peeping stealthily from behind the heavy curtains of soot with which the walls were hung. But their master was nowhere to be seen.

The Chief Imp went directly to the farther wall and struck upon it with his wand. Instantly it yawned apart, and an inner corridor was revealed.

This part of the cave was strange to the Shadow Witch, but she entered boldly and followed her guide without fear through many winding ways and secret chambers, until at last he paused before a second wall. He struck upon it, as he had upon the other. It opened, in its turn, and she saw before her a room more profoundly dark than any that they had yet passed through. Its charcoal walls were set about with faintly glowing lanterns, but so heavy were the soot curtains that surrounded them that their light was almost quenched.

Here, too, were Imps, one beside each spark lantern, but in the centre of the room the Shadow Witch saw that which caused her to turn pale with misgiving, for the Wizard of the Cave was there—not weak or ill, as she had been led to believe, but recovered and standing in the fulness of his strength.

Beholding him thus, she knew that he intended mischief against her; knew, also, that for her safety she must show no sign of fear. “After all,” she thought, “my own magic will protect me. Never has it been less potent than his. It will not fail me now.”

She lifted herself to her full height and stood tall and beautiful before him, her rich black hair falling like a mantle over her shoulders, her eyes gleaming like stars through the dusk. “So, you have deceived me, brother,” she said coldly. “I might have known that it would be so.”

“Even as you have deceived me,” retorted the Wizard, bending a look of malice upon her. “But you have been clever once too often, my sister. Did you think that I could not guess that it was you who made it possible for the stranger prince to steal upon me unawares with his Sword of Flames? Do I not know your trick of the moving curtain of shadow? It was that which screened him from my eyes until it was too late for me to destroy him. It was yourself who told him when to unsheath his sword. It was you, then, who made me suffer. But now my time has come to repay you—to make you feel the wrath of the Wizard of the Cave.”

The Shadow Witch laughed scornfully. “I fear you not,” she cried. “Have I not magic of my own, ay, as great even as yours, that will serve to protect me against your enchantments. I defy you, then, magician though you are. You cannot harm me.”

Her words were bold, but fear clutched at her heart in spite of them. Here in this deepest part of the Wizard’s Cave, surrounded by his servants, and distant from her own, what would become of her if her magic failed before his? She knew that it would be folly to stay and test it. She determined to escape while there was yet time.

With a rush she attempted to dart past him, but in vain. He stretched his long arms and caught her to him, and though she struggled desperately against him, he held her fast.

“Away with the lights,” shouted the Wizard hoarsely.

Obediently the Imps snatched the lanterns from the walls and vanished with them in haste, leaving the Shadow Witch alone with her brother, wrapped in deepest darkness. By what means he wrought upon her there she could not tell, for she could neither see his face, nor hear his words. She only knew that suddenly all her magic powers departed from her, leaving her completely helpless.

In her ears the harsh voice of the Wizard sounded triumphing over her. “Thus you are repaid in part, my sister, for giving aid to my enemies. It will be long before you trick me again, for, lest you should try to give me some fresh proof of your cleverness, I have prepared for you the darkness of this prison chamber. In it no Shadow can have power, can work magic. Here you shall remain, until I choose to set you free.”

He released her hands, and she sank weakly down to the floor of the cavern. She heard his footsteps departing through the darkness and presently she knew that she was quite alone.

Lying where she had fallen, she waited until a little strength came back to her. Then she crept from side to side of her prison, groping her way with her hands, for she could see nothing. She felt the heavy soot curtains sway beneath her fingers; she felt the walls of charcoal, hard and unyielding, behind them. It was as if the room were sealed. Thus she learned that there was no faintest hope for her of escape—that she was, as the Wizard had said, completely in his power.

Yet she did not give way to despair, for she knew that her servants were many and faithful. “I will wait patiently,” she whispered to herself. “It cannot be long, for Creeping Shadow will not forget what I told her—will not fail to come to my help.”