They arrived at the dining hall and took their places as they had the night before, on either end of the long table. This time, the chairs were slightly singed. Arwin kept a wary eye on the ever-present giant tarantula above the hearth. There was no fire burning this day; it was unnecessary in the warmth of the early evening.
The door to the kitchen opened, and out came two black gremlins dressed in crisp, white chef’s coats, with tall white mushroom-like hats on their heads. Between them, they carried a large, covered silver platter that sparkled in the room’s candlelight.
Orchid apologetically half-shrugged. “I knew we’d be busy this afternoon, so I asked for some help in the kitchen.” Her hand fidgeted slightly on the table, the only indication that she was nervous. They’d already had multiple food disasters; were they about to have another?
The smell of tonight’s meal hit Arwin’s nose. Astonished, he started salivating. “No. It couldn’t be!”
She sharply looked at him, worried. “Be what?”
The black gremlins lifted the platter and slid it onto the table, then reached as high as they could to remove the cover. Upon the platter sat the world’s most glorious food.
Not hiding any of his joy, Arwin exclaimed, “Lasagna! I love lasagna. It’s my favourite. How did you know?”
Her eyebrows rose. “You...you’re not disgusted?”
He deeply inhaled, the mouthwatering scent practically lifting him off his seat. “Are you kidding? I could eat this forever.” He gazed at the dish. Layer after layer of warm, savoury meat, rich tomato sauce, thick noodles and scrumptious melted cheeses. He could see flecks of green that probably hinted at spinach and other vegetables finely chopped up into the sauce. The mozzarella on top had been baked to a perfect golden brown. It was spectacular. His stomach rumbled.
One of the gremlins whipped out a knife as big as his own arm and handed it to Orchid. She rose and sliced a large cube of lasagna for Arwin and another for herself, then served them while the gremlins took their leave.
Savoury steam wafted up into Arwin’s nostrils. He had to hold back and wait for his hostess to start, but the instant her fork touched her food, he dove into his own. Hot pasta and meat touched his tongue, and he moaned. “Heaven!”
She smiled, pleased. “I’m glad you like it. Though I’m surprised that you know what lasagna soil is. I didn’t think they had that sort of thing in Drearia, it being magically derived and all.”
“Lasagna soil?” He swallowed and immediately stuffed his mouth full again. “Weird name. Why soil?”
She looked at him like he was crazy, as if the answer should be perfectly obvious to anyone. “Well, because it is. It’s part of the ground. I believe the technical name for the soil type is gar. There are whole fields of it.”
His mouth stopped. “Huh?”
“Lasagna soil is a naturally occurring substance that bubbles up and forms near magma hot spots along the Bleeding Rift. It’s formed in the soil. Farmers harvest the gar field, place the lasagna under stasis spells to keep it from spoiling and ship it all over Heartstone. How do they do it in Drearia?”
He glanced down at his food. “I’m eating dirt?”
“No, of course not. Not exactly. It’s pasta, ground meat, vegetables, cheeses, and other things. I don’t know exactly what else; I’m not a lasagna soil farmer. And I’ve certainly never studied food-bearing geology.” She laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s not dirt, per se. It’s food; it just comes from the soil. That kind of thing is normal in Heartstone, trust me.”
He stared at the food. Magic at work again. Lasagna soil. He was literally eating edible layers of the geological crust. That was strange.
She paused. “You...don’t like it now?”
“Does it have, like, worms and bugs and fungus and stuff growing in it, like regular soil?”
She laughed gaily. “No, of course not! Well, I don’t think so. It’s probably too hot in the ground. Besides, many magical foods generally seem to be immune to that sort of thing. They’re almost always good to eat. But, you know, if you come across something crunchy, perhaps it would be best not to think about it if you’re squeamish? Although, it is extra protein.”
He warily eyed the lasagna. But it had such divine flavour. Aw, hell. This was too delicious to pass up. A stray grub or something was no big deal. “I love it!” He filled his mouth with another bite. He cleaned his plate and pushed it toward her. “May I have more?”
Orchid looked well pleased.
After dinner, they took a bottle of wine and two glasses and retired to the large stone terrace off the dining hall. The terrace held a patio dining set on one side and an array of couches on the other. There was a small fire pit and standing torches for light.
The Dark Enchantress slipped away to take care of personal needs, so Arwin moved alone to the sculpted railing and looked out. The night was fine, and the air refreshing, still warm from the heat of day yet more comfortably so.
They must have been about six stories up, maybe more. In addition, the Dark Enchantress’s castle stood on a small hillock, so the terrace rose even above most of the elder, giant cedar trees in the surrounding area. The sunset view was beautiful, the waters of the swamp currently tinged in reds and oranges, fringed with the greens and browns of thick vegetation and mud. It may not have been the stereotypical beach or mountain view, but it had a unique charm.
The hardwood-coniferous swamp stretched for quite a ways in every direction. It was a mix of murky muck, mysterious waterways, and lumps of harder ground covered in twisted cypress, tamarack, dogwood, and gorgeous maple, amongst trees Arwin couldn’t identify, as well as vines, shrubs, all kinds of grasses and other vegetation. Specks of yellow light flickered and floated through the growing shadows: lightning bugs, perhaps, or things more ominous. Here and there, some distance away, brighter spots indicated ‘civilized’ habitation, probably very small villages or hunting shacks, perhaps for humans or, for all Arwin knew, for goblins or trolls or cantankerous, green ogres and their singing, donkey friends. A faint smell of rot in the air mixed with sweeter fragrances from many flowers.
No doubt, the eco-rich swamp was home to all kinds of magical and unique species that Arwin had never before seen, both beautiful and deadly. What monsters lurked within its watery, green embrace? Surely Heartstone possessed worse creatures than crocodiles and piranhas. They probably had pirocodiles! Or crocodanhas! He wasn’t sure which sounded worse. Escape through the swamp, even if there was a road, would doubtlessly be a dangerous expedition without the Dark Enchantress’s protection. If they could escape, could he and Yaz safely traverse these wilds?
Movement far below caught his eye. A large shape lumbered towards a bare patch in the swamp. It stepped onto a lighter section of ground. Quick as a blink, the lighter ground snapped shut, and whatever beast had been walking along now lay entirely ensconced in what looked to be leaves similar in shape to a venus fly trap. Except the plant had to be big enough to swallow an elephant. Maybe it had swallowed an elephant. Whatever was struggling in that plant’s grasp was weakening — fast. Arwin swallowed hard. Definitely not a good idea to chance the swamp on his own. Hopefully, Yaz would know a way through.
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On one horizon, the sun slipped down, a shrinking sliver of orange light. On the other, the sky was midnight blue, fading to black. An almost full moon slowly peeked above the dark horizon, heralding night. The moon here was several times larger than back home on Earth. Then Arwin noticed a second, smaller moon, this one red and smaller, some distance away on the horizon. Two moons! How cool! He definitely felt immersed in a fantasy setting now. Nothing felt more other-worldly than multiple moons. Good job, dungeon master in the sky or whoever was writing the story of his life.
He chuckled to himself. How ridiculous that he might just be some character in a story created by someone else, a pawn to their whims. Life was a product of chaos, there was no grand scheme, no destiny or fate, and no gods in control of us. The periodic, faint sounds of pen on paper or clicks on a computer keyboard that he thought he heard when things got really quiet were totally figments of an overactive imagination. He paused. Weren’t they? A feeling of unease came over him.
He stared at the moon and blinked. That was a real moon, right? He stared without blinking. Did he detect the shape of a bulb? Was he staring up into a giant lamp on the desk of some writer who existed in a slightly parallel universe scripting his every thought and action? Eyes stinging and watering, he blinked.
No, it was just a moon, the voice in his head insisted. His brain was just freaking out after being bombarded with so many new and incredible experiences. A kind of existential crisis, perhaps.
He sighed, relieved. He couldn’t handle being nothing more than a fictional character. That would be way too metafictional for him. Though, too bad there really wasn’t some imaginary writer in the sky in charge of his life. He’d ask that guy to write him and Yaz a way safely out of this castle. After some more hot sex, of course. He smiled at the thought. Then he wondered just what he should do about Orchid. Was it still too early to ask for his freedom? Or at least Yaz’s? She was temperamental and emotional. Things could easily go wrong.
If he were honest, he was enjoying her company. Part of him wanted to continue getting to know her. But he’d made a promise to Yaz. And neither wanted to be a prisoner.
Several large clouds slowly drifted by overhead, in no hurry to get where they were going. It was peaceful. Then a very large shape winged through the air between Arwin and the moon, casting its shape in silhouette. It had a distinctly draconian shape. And size. Kind of looked like the bat symbol against the moon. The beast was probably hunting. Or fighting for justice.
It might seem peaceful here at the moment, but danger did lurk in the darkness. Arwin looked overhead, fearing a dragon or other creature was about to pounce on him from above. Luckily, nothing was. There was only a handful of bats, voracious devourers of mosquitoes, fluttering erratically through the air, helpfully doing their part to reduce flying insect populations. Arwin forced himself to relax and continued to study his prison.
It was his first look at the castle exterior. It had been constructed of dark stone. Three different towers of three different styles and ages rose to three different heights above the bulk of the main body.
Looking over the balcony to the ground below, he saw old vines braiding themselves into thick ropes as they climbed the weather-worn walls. At various places, epiphytic black orchids bloomed, little explosions of green and black all about the castle, growing on the walls, their brown, aerial roots spread over the stone and often hanging for meters at a time below thick, broad green leaves.
Arwin spotted a winding dirt trail slinking away from the castle gate through the eerie swamp that was soon lost in the growing darkness. No lanterns lit the path nor the castle entrance. Did the Dark Enchantress have little interest in welcoming visitors? Or did she just not bother to light the path because there were no visitors in the first place? Perhaps because no one dared brave the monster-infested swamp. Or because no one wanted to brave the Dark Enchantress with her evil reputation? He wondered which was the truer reason.
Perhaps both perspectives were valid: a lack of visitors fed her sense of isolationism, and her sense of isolationism bred resentment and actions that discouraged visitors, a self-perpetuating, negative cycle that could be generating increasing loneliness and resentment.
Did her fearful reputation keep people away? Were other magicists competitive enemies? Did common folk feel unable to relate to her and avoid relationships? Were they jealous of her power and seek to vilify her out of their own insecurities? Did she resent others for her loneliness, or was it of her own making? Or was she lonely at all? Perhaps she was not the social type. She could be an introvert and prefer living here in her castle alone, with only spiders and gremlins for company.
Arwin absently shook his head. He wanted to take her at face value and not see her as a deeper person, thus making it easier to escape, but it wasn’t easy. Perhaps this was one of his problems: he analyzed things too much. Maybe overthinking things just confused him more than it made anything clearer. According to those he’d met before, including Yaz, Orchid was an evil witch. But, with him, she’d had definite moments where she seemed normal, even pretty cool. She was weird, but she was also interesting because of that strangeness. And yet, there was no denying her temper and that undercurrent of violence that always seemed just below the surface.
Grrr. It was complicated trying to understand other people. Perhaps that’s why so few of us try. We rely instead on stereotypes and superficial clues for easy classification, seeking to put simple labels on other people. And yet, mutual understanding is what lays the ground for respect, peace, love, and prosperity, all good things that improve relationships and society.
He wanted to confront her about Epheria and, if the princess wasn’t here, ask her to release him and Yaz so that they could continue their quest. But he also didn’t want to get turned into a toad or rot in a dungeon if he upset her.
He sighed.
On arriving at the castle, he’d been thoroughly creeped out by the spiders everywhere (and he still was), but now he could also see a practical purpose for them as well. Spiders were one of nature’s natural insect regulators. They kept the castle clean and free of infestation. This would keep pests out of food and beds and naturally hampered any diseases carried by mosquitoes or the like. All of that would be pretty helpful in a swamp that actively bred insects and other home-infesting critters.
Arwin felt his anti-spider feelings shrink a touch as his understanding grew. But only a touch. It was difficult to stop being terrified of any spider large enough to consider humans prey. Like Drathgar. Nasty. He shivered.
A light came on in the tower to Arwin’s right. He looked over. The light was a floor above a flying stone bridge connecting this tower to the main body of the castle.
Orchid appeared in a small, round window. She seemed to be in her dressing room, the little room next to a bedroom used for dressing, makeup, and other preparation. She came to stand before a full-length mirror, adjusting a new, sexy outfit she’d apparently just changed into. It was another dress, her work clothes put away.
Arwin watched as she took a brush and carefully combed her hair out. It was a distinctly feminine and ‘normal’ activity. He couldn’t help but be absorbed by her, unable to look away. He leaned against the balcony and rested his chin in his hand, gazing at Orchid in rapture. She was so naturally beautiful in this unguarded moment. There was nothing evil about brushing one’s hair. He felt an urge rise within, something more than sexual desire. Quickly he suppressed it and stood. He could not afford to let himself like her too much. He needed to reign in his emotions and remind himself that he was a prisoner and that she was a very dangerous woman. He couldn’t possibly date her. Especially when he still wasn’t over his last relationship. Also, his mission with Yaz.
The light went out in the dressing room.
He turned away, looking back over the railing. Ok. Escape. How to do it? He examined the railing, then looked down. Could he climb down from here? Or from a window, lower down? He examined the wall closely. It was a long way down to even the highest of the vines from up here. Could he climb the stones in the wall? He was athletic but no expert climber. Still, the wall appeared worn, the mortar eroded from crevices, sometimes deeply. But how to get from the edge of the overhanging terrace to the wall below? He leaned even further over the rail, half hanging in the air now, trying to get a look underneath.
There was something under the balcony, hidden in the shadows. What was it? So hard to see in the dim light. Were there flying buttresses he could hang from? He leaned out a little farther, only one foot touching the terrace floor now, his firm grip the only thing preventing him from falling six stories to the ground below.
A stone below him shifted.
Arwin froze and held his breath.
The stone moved again. Then more stones did. They moved in the familiar creeping way of spider legs. That wasn’t stone at all!
Arwin threw himself backwards, both feet on the terrace again.
Long arachnid legs crept up around the rim and onto the railing. The bulk of the monster’s body moved directly toward Arwin. It came into the light of the moon and torches. It chittered with menace, eyes murderously gleaming.
Drathgar!
Arwin hastily stepped away from the ledge. The monster was smart; it must have lain in wait for him, knowing that Arwin would be alone at some point. Or perhaps it was always around, in some corner or other, following him at all times. Ready to tear him to bloody pieces.
A very recognizable female voice asked from behind, “Contemplating escape?”
Caught! Arwin whirled, adrenalin shooting through his body.