The Witch's Tower by Tamara Grantham (uplifting novels .txt) đź“–
- Author: Tamara Grantham
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“I suppose I could use a spell to put her to sleep, but we’ll still have the problem of the high sorcerer. Once he finds out I’ve left the tower, he’ll send a squadron after me.”
“What if he doesn’t find out?”
“He will. Sometimes he sends squadrons to check on me. Other times he uses a spell to appear inside the tower at random times, just to make sure I’m here. He’ll know soon enough that I’ve left.”
“Then we’ll outrun them, or we’ll hide, or we’ll fight them if we must. I’ve had my fair share of experience with the high sorcerer’s squadrons.”
“You’ve fought them?”
“Yes, many times.”
“How?”
“With my sword, of course.”
I scrutinized him. Most who challenged the high sorcerer’s elite squadrons didn’t live to tell about it. “Are you being truthful?”
“I am. I give you my oath that I will protect you. You’ve no need to fear squadrons, Spirit Woods, Ice Mountains, or anything else of the sort. If you agree to help me find the shears and free Rapunzel and the prince, I will protect you with my last breath. That I swear.”
I stared at him, shocked at his admission. No one had ever sworn to protect me, and though I’d only just met him, somehow, I knew he meant it.
“Very well,” I said. “I will help you find the shears, but under one condition. I want Rapunzel to choose whether she’ll marry the prince. She doesn’t need to be forced into a marriage, or it might very well break her. I know you might not understand, but I won’t go on this quest unless you agree to it.”
“Then I agree. I wouldn’t want the marriage forced on her either.”
“Are you saying that to appease me?”
“No. I’m saying it because I agree. It’s not my wish to force a marriage on Rapunzel.”
“But… you’re an Outlander...”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Don’t your people arrange marriages?”
“We do.”
“And still you believe Rapunzel should choose?”
“Yes. Arranged marriages are an outdated notion anyway.”
Well, since we’d gotten that out of the way. “Fine. If that’s the case, I suppose I should pack up before we leave, but first, I’ll have to make a sleeping potion for Rapunzel.”
I eyed the princess, who laid propped on the pillows, staring out into space, as if she’d been oblivious that Raj and I were discussing her future marriage. Had she understood a word we’d said? How long had she’d gone without sleep?
“Rapunzel,” I said, “I’m going to make you a potion. It will make you sleep.”
Rapunzel frowned at me, her eyes narrowed.
“You need the rest anyway. You haven’t slept in a week.”
“I don’t want to sleep!”
“But you need to,” I said. “I have to go away for a little while, and I won’t be able to take care of you. It’s for the best.”
“No, no, no,” she screamed, pounding the mattress with her fists.
I went to her, careful not to trip on the hair, and sat beside her. Gently, I patted her shoulder. At my touch, she stopped screaming, and looked at me.
“No, no, no,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.
I hugged her. Something inside me broke as I held her close, feeling her frail frame through her nightgown. She hadn’t always lived a life of isolation and insanity. If I went on this quest, I would be doing more than stopping a war. I would be returning a life to a friend.
“Be brave, Rapunzel. When you wake up, I’ll have the golden shears, and then we’ll cut your hair, and you’ll be free to move around again. How would you like to sit on the river bank with our feet buried in the sand like we used to do?”
She only shook her head as she sobbed into my shoulder.
Raj approached us. He moved a clump of hair off the bed and took a seat near Rapunzel’s feet. She glanced at him, then buried her head on my shoulder again.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, his voice calm, soothing, yet strong—the kind of voice that made you feel safe. “If we succeed, you’ll have your life back again. Would you like that?”
She only stared at him, then nodded once.
“Will you let me put you to sleep?” I asked.
She closed her eyes tight, tears making her lashes wet. She nodded.
Nerves pinched my insides. I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing. Was I being too hasty by agreeing to go on this quest with Raj—a stranger? I could easily be killed, and then what would happen to Rapunzel? She’d be stuck sleeping for the rest of her life.
But I’d told Rapunzel to be brave. Perhaps I should take my own advice.
“I’m going to prepare the potion,” I said. “It will take some time.”
I stood and made my way to the massive bookshelf cluttered with journals, jars, and potions. Most of them had belonged to my mother. She’d collected every possible spellcasting item on the planet.
I searched the leather-bound journals lining the stacks until I found the one I needed. Pulling out my mother’s chronicle of spells, I carried the thin book to the table and placed it on the wooden top. After opening it, I leafed through the inked pages. The smell of the well-worn paper brought back memories of my mother, who’d written on these pages as I’d stood clutching her skirts, listening to the scratching of the quilled pen.
When I found the spell I needed, I perused the ingredients. Water from a Nymph’s pool, dried thyme and rosemary, ground bones from a viper, dragon eye, the gallbladder of a horned mountain frog, oil of lilac, and a drop of the potion maker’s blood. A scrawled note stood out at the bottom of the page, but the ink had blurred, and reading it was impossible. Despite that, the ingredients were common enough, and I was fairly certain I had them all. Scanning the shelves, I searched for the items. Glass jars clinked as I rifled through them, then placed the bottles and jars on the table.
Grabbing my mortar and pestle, I began adding the dried herbs.
Raj sat on Rapunzel’s bed, telling her a story of the Outerlands, which included a starving dog, a skinny boy—which I assumed was himself—and a leg of lamb. Rapunzel actually laughed as he got to the punchline, surprising me. I hadn’t heard her genuinely laugh in ages.
I crushed dried thyme and rosemary, then poured it into a beaker filled with ground bones. After adding a pinch of lilac, I grabbed the jar of dragon eyes.
Behind me, Raj unsheathed his sword and let Rapunzel hold it. Her eyes lit up as she touched the blade.
“Careful,” I called over my shoulder.
“She won’t stab me,” Raj called. “Will you, Rapunzel?”
“It’s a real sword?” she asked
“Very real. I’ve vanquished many foes with it.”
“You killed people?”
“Only the ones who tried to kill me first.”
“Killing is bad,” she said.
“Yes. It’s very bad.” His voice held a hint of sadness, almost undetectable, but I heard it. How many people had died in his life? It dawned on me that it must have been a lot—there weren’t many Outlanders left in the world. How had he managed to survive? I was curious to know how he’d left his lands to become the prince’s squire, but those were questions I didn’t feel comfortable asking.
I didn’t feel comfortable with a lot of things around him. He made me feel self-conscious, and made my stomach feel flighty. It wasn’t a bad feeling—I rather liked it—but how would I feel questing with him—sleeping, eating, and changing clothes. Bathing.
Bother. This was going to be a difficult quest.
Turning back to my potions, I concentrated on adding the last ingredient—my blood. I pricked my finger with a needle, squeezed it, then allowed a drop of blood to drip into the concoction.
The liquid fizzed as my blood interacted with it, causing a cloud of blue magic to emanate from the potion. Lavender, iron, and less pleasant smells wafted from the bowl. I would have worried about the taste, but this was Rapunzel drinking it. Couldn’t be worse than eating rats. I grabbed a wooden tumbler from the cabinet and poured the potion inside.
Carefully, I lifted the tumbler and walked toward the bed. When I reached her side, she took it from me, sniffed it, and wrinkled her nose.
“You’re sure that won’t kill her?” Raj asked.
“Positive.” I hoped.
She took a small sip.
“Bleh,” she whispered, then drained it. She sat looking at me and Raj, her eyes wide and dark. I was reminded of the girl she used to be, intelligent and beautiful, so much potential.
“When I wake,” she whispered, “I will be fixed? My mind…” She blinked slowly. “My mind will be well?”
“Yes.” I took the tumbler from her, then squeezed her hand. “You will be well. Once you wake up, you’ll be yourself again.”
Magic gathered around her as the spell worked through her veins. Her eyes closed.
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