Riddermarch by Ellen Quellery (top 10 motivational books .TXT) 📖

me!" the baroness said through her teeth. "Childless! For twenty-three years!"

Lord Riddermarch shook his head. "Don't be daft. I didn't figure out who you truly were until Cedalot was born. Since that time, I've been trying to figure out how it was done, and how to keep my wife alive just a little bit longer."

The baroness stared. "But she's - it's a doll!"

Glancing back remorsefully at the doll hanging lifeless in her children's arms, he replied, "She did her best, though. She devoted her life to me. All I want is for her to be alive and happy."

A hush had fallen on the party. Not that it hadn't before, but now everything was entirely still, including the bees and rooks.

"And I am going to take her home, with my children, and leave you to your choice."

All the Riddermarches turned, the eldest children now hefting the doll from off the ground, the youngest weeping at the state of her. The eldest sons remained stoic, though all their eyes were damp.

The crowd parted for them.

Everyone stole fearful looks at the lord baron and his lady.

"You created that doll?" murmured the prince with glances to nearest lords and his guards. "You are the sorcerer?"

A dark shadow settled on Lord Baron Rooke's face. His eyes narrowed with a turn in his countenance towards those watching him.

He muttered under his breath something most could not hear, though it change the quality of the air, not unlike the pressure before a thunderstorm. Everyone's short hairs stood on end.

"That will be enough out of you." Lord Riddermarch suddenly came in between the lord baron and the prince.

Lord Baron Rooke pushed him off. "You scoundrel. You come into my house - "

"You invited us."

" - and bring out lies against me!"

"Everyone can see that she is - " Lord Riddermarch stood back flabbergasted, waving an arm toward the baroness.

"She left with me as part of a test!" Lord Baron Rooke declared. "True love, she wanted. And you failed!"

"Please don't lie." Lord Riddermarch stared at him drily. "It will not help your cause any."

"You have turned this into a scandal!" And the lord baron pointed his sword at Lord Riddermarch. "I will have satisfaction!"

He lunged. But with it, he also threw a shock of magic at Lord Riddermarch for which the man was not prepared. The wind knocked out of him, his feet skidding on the tile, Lord Riddermarch barely had time to deflect the point of Lord Baron Rooke's blade. And the sorcerer threw more magic at him.

"Father!" His children screamed. They almost dropped their mother in the entry hall. She hung heavily in the arms of Cedalot, Azuesh and the youngest two. Grennanod barely set down their mother's legs. Jastalettel darted back into house. The oldest two were already there, watching the scene in panic.  

The lord baron had knocked their father off his feet. Their father had already been so weary from his journey, it had been clear to them he had been barely standing as it was. Triumphantly, Lord Baron Rooke stood over Lord Riddermarch. Then faster than they could take in, something rushed past them between the sparring men. Lord Baron Rooke thrust his blade down.

CRUNCH.

Blinking at the scene, everyone stared at the doll who had been Lady Riddermarch. Lord Baron Rooke's sword had impaled through her stomach, barely stabbing Lord Riddermarch underneath her. She moved her doll head and managed a smile.

"No!" Lord Riddermarch pulled back, ignoring where he was bleeding. "No! You can't die!"

Lord Baron Rooke yanked out his sword, swinging up to make a more effective fatal blow.

"No!" Erleon charged in, arm raised.

Enormous snake-like roots tore through the floor, dislodging marble tile and wrapping tightly around the lord baron. Branches from above ripped through the ceiling and yanked his sword from his fingers. Birds swooped down, dive-bombing the lord baron with their beaks and claws. And the bees returned, swarming him. The baroness yelped, chased and kicked at by the deer that had been lingering in the open part of the garden all this time.

"Father!" Grennanod rushed up to him, touching first their mother who seemed alive again, if only for a moment. Grennanod rested her hand on his stomach where he had been stabbed. In that moment, she treated his wound, mending it as best as she could.

"Mother?" Jastalettel rushed to the doll, attempting to mend the hole in her stomach, which, as it turned out, was filled with nothing more than ash and sawdust.

The doll turned its head and blinked its eyes at her children. And it spoke, her voice like a combination of all her daughters' as if she had learned to speak from them. "I wanted...to grant...your wishes."

Clinging to their mother's arm and skirts, the Riddermarch children sobbed. Their father cradled her, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Never...has anyone...been...so loved," the doll said. She looked to them all. "I wish...I could give...you more."

But her eyes went blank, and she stared woodenly into space - as the magic in her was entirely spent. For even a living human would not have survived a wound such as that.

Lady Riddermarch died.

Chapter Twelve: The Sorcerer

 

 

 

 

 

Someone found a sheet to use as a shroud. Someone else helped wrap the doll who had once been Lady Riddermarch, and reverently lay her on the dining room table where she would wait until a carriage arrived to take her back to Witsend Manor.

"What about him?" one of the lords at the party finally asked, gesturing to Lord Baron Rooke. The man was almost entirely cocooned in roots and tree branches now, the tree still moving and growing. Erleon and his brother stalked around him with venomous glares. Everyone else stayed far away, along the walls.

Prince Roswood, the topmost authority in the party, wrung his clammy hands while shaking his head. "How does one deal with a sorcerer?"

"You behead them," snapped back an earl. But he appeared equally anxious.  

"And how does a mere man behead a sorcerer?" the prince retorted, sweat beading on his brow. He gestured to the Riddermarches. "He nearly killed a man who was elf-born!"

"Partially elf-born," interjected Ernest Brokwood.

The prince regarded Ernest for the first time that night. He closed one eye. "You. I saw you standing with those Riddermarch boys. Are you friendly with them?"

Ernest shrugged, looking back to Ranoft who was pacing around the lord baron the same as his brother, only he was making sure the birds pecked at the sorcerer's hands to keep him distracted. "As one can be.... They're rather amiable, when you don't upset them."

"What do you mean by Lord Riddermarch being partially elf-born?" the prince asked.

"Oh!" Ernest brightened. "Only that he is a descendant of the Elfking - not his son. I daresay, his children are more magical than he is."

"More magical?" the prince stared at the sons, then the daughters who were caring for their mother's body.

"You saw for yourself..." Ernest broke off in wonder, seriously pondering over it. Then he shook his head and said, "I think they said it once before - their births are a miracle. For all I know, they are mostly conceived by magic."

"Their father breathed life into the doll." Nodded Alder who had inched in. "It could be that he had invoked a magic so ancient that they themselves are children of magic."

"...Who look a lot like their father," murmured another lord who was listening in.

"And he is not the sorcerer..." murmured the prince, nodding to himself.

All their eyes turned to Lord Baron Rooke again.

The Lord Baron had closed his eyes, breathing in and out within his living cage. As he struggled in the bonds of the tree and animal guards, a murky sort of fog had begun to swell and billow around the roots of the tree, swirling up into a mildewy stink around the branches. The shadows within the branches also grew darker and darker, like tar, pressing against the inside of the cage. But so far it did not budge.

But then the rooks came.

Dive-bombing, the rooks attacked the birds Ranoft had summoned, driving them away. Then they began to attack the branches and the brothers.

"No!" Jastalettel shouted out. She pointed at the rooks.

All the bees that had come with the younger children rustled up, zooming in after the birds - though it was not enough. The flock of rooks was enormous - so much so all the guests dived low towards the floor to get out of their path. The rooks swooped around in a whirl, their wings batting and knocking away all those who would interfere. The prince's guards covered him with their bodies while the gentlemen with him took shelter under the nearest table.

A burst of flame shot from inside the tree cage like a loud firework. It licked the walls and ceiling, yet did not catch fire. But all the floral decorations were cinder, as were drapes and tablecloths. As the smoke cleared, smaller things still crisping with fiery edges, Lord Baron Rooke stepped out from his shattered cell, dusting off the charred wood chips from his hair and shoulders. Though a little ash-smudged, he hardly seemed burned. But his hands were bloody, with bird marks. 

"You really thought you could challenge me?" he said, his eyes darkly resting on the Riddermarch children. "Elf-kin are nothing compared to what I can do."

But then he looked to the prince.

"Behead me, will you?" Advancing on Prince Roswood, Lord Baron Rooke shook his head. "I had hoped to take the kingdom more subtly..."

Azuesh jumped in front of him and pointed straight at the Lord Baron with her dark elf-eyes. "No. You will go back."

The Lord Baron raised his hand to strike a curse at her.

Yet that second, squirrels leapt upon him in droves, coming in through the roof and the garden like a furry river. It gave Azuesh just a second to jump back around and drag the prince out of sight, just behind the grand piano.

"Quiet," she said, hand over the prince's mouth.

He nodded, eyes wide on Riddermarch lady's face. Her curls askew, her butterfly skirt ravaged from burns, she never looked more beautiful.

Yet Lord Baron Rooke tore off the ones clawing his face and shot out the curse at them, sending the little furry critters flying to the walls like little shocked fleas. But his quarry was gone from view. Both of them. He whipped around to find them, retrieving his sword.

Ranoft stepped into his way, his father's sword in hand.

"Ha!" the Lord Baron shouted out. "I don't bother with vermin!"

He muttered up a curse which swelled with all the loathing he had toward the Riddermarch family, gesturing at Ranoft as if waving him away. The curse struck the eldest of the family like a backhanded slap. But Ranoft only took one step back as it hit him.

He turned with a smirk at the sorcerer.

"Don't you comprehend, Lord Baron, that we are heirs to the Elfking?" Ranoft said, watching the Lord Baron's eyes widen at the meager effect his spell had had, if only a moment. "And we have already encountered more powerful beings than you."

Infuriated, the lord baron shouted out another curse, gesturing with his sword while taking a cut of his own skin as he pronounced on Ranoft severe pain. The curse had a familiar smell and sound