The Castle on the Hill, Ch. 5

Beneath the Misty Veil

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Katrine and Paul continued their slow canter through the Blackwood for some time. Exactly how many hours had passed since the two of them ventured into the shadowy forest, Katrine didn’t know. She guessed the time was somewhere close to midnight, but that was a very rough estimation, and made the rougher for the fact she’d started to doze.

Whatever the exact hour was, the night had been long for her. The clouded sky made the already dark forest appear even blacker than it would’ve even with the full moon’s shine. It gave her little to look at outside the small orange ring of light cast by the huntsman’s hip lantern. A brighter burning lamp would’ve illuminated more of their surroundings, but she doubted it would really give her anything more to see that wasn’t trees, rocks, nighttime insects, or the babbling stream nearby.

Conversation proved just as scarce a commodity as interesting sights, it seemed. After his many spats with the huntsman - who still had yet to give his name - ended with the older fellow curtly stating he had some sort of history with the Tarnesians, Paul went largely silent. Just as well, Katrine supposed. The huntsman hadn’t exactly been keen on conversation himself, and their earlier attempts to strike it up were mostly met with some form of derision or a chastisement for speaking when they should’ve kept quiet, at least according to him. Eventually they both gave up, with Paul turning his attention to steering Stelios along the path the huntsman led them, and Katrine turning hers towards the sounds and feelings of the surrounding forest.

Insects which buzzed and fluttered.

Winds hissing song through the boughs.

The clip and clop of Stelios’ steel shod hooves.

The stream’s gentle babbles as it trickled along its winding bed.

It was a bit surprising how easy it was for her to fall asleep, at least for a few minutes. Thanks to the huntsman’s cataplasm, the pain of the wolf bite on her ankle was reduced to a dull throb that only occasionally flared when the horse happened to take an awkward step or Paul had to halt him quickly. Rare instances, she was happy to say. The rest of the time, the relaxed canter that Paul had Stelios maintain had her gently bobbing and swaying as she sat side-saddle upon the horse’s powerful back. It was like being rocked to sleep in an old wooden chair, minus the creaking, and before long, Katrine’s eyes fluttered shut and she sagged in her seat.

Consciousness came and went for the next however-long. When it first crept back in, it did so with a feeling of dampness. She felt it on her face, a wet and cold pinpoint that tapped her high on the cheek, then slowly snaked its way down. Another came soon after, dotting her forehead, and a third after that one rolled down the bridge of her nose to the very dip. With a grumbling groan, she wiped them away with the palm of her hand and drew her hood low over her face to stop the others that started to land on her.

When it next crept in, it did so with warmth. The wetness that peppered her with tiny taps had stopped for a short while, allowing her to slip back into her sleepy daze. That wetness soon became an afterthought as she changed position slightly and felt warmth on her cheek and hand. But what was it that warmed her so? She didn’t know, nor did she dare open her eyes to see for fear it might run away from her. Slowly, with the lethargy of one standing on the precarious ledge between wakefulness and sleep, she shifted her legs to better lean against the warmth giving thing. Then it wrapped around her, draping itself over her waist and belly, jostling her just lightly enough to cause her hand to slip down against something soft on the surface, but firm underneath. Something that, from deep inside, pushed against her palm in rapid rhythmic procession.

Such a soothing rhythm it was, an added comfort to the firmness of that which held her and gave her warmth. Comfort enough that it slipped her right back into that hazy doze, where she rested comfortably for a while, until consciousness crept back in for the third time. However, this time it wasn’t touch which drew her out from her slumber, but sound. A soothing sound which had gone loud. The sound of the stream and its tittering waters had grown. No longer did it gibber and giggle as it flowed down its snaking lane, now it roared with strength and vigor. It sang a song of rush and woosh, of rapid flows and long, long falls.

And that’s when realization dawned, and Katrine opened her eyes.

“The falls!” she exclaimed as she looked out over the deep pond that the huntsman’s lantern illuminated. It was no longer the stream which they rode beside! It was the Misty River itself, and this was its mouth at the Blackwood Falls!

Even in the dark, the cascading waterfall was beautiful. Reflecting the flickering orange of the huntsman’s lantern, the falling water looked like liquid opal against the dark rocks behind it. Sitting upright, Katrine asked, “However did we get here so quickly?”

“Quickly?” Paul said with a teasing chuckle. “Quickly for a dozing Lady, perhaps. We’ve ridden for two hours at least.”

A flush of warmth bloomed across Katrine’s cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You could’ve wakened me, I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Better that you slept,” came the gruff voice of the huntsman. “You need rest after taking that injury.”

“Yes, of course,” she agreed meekly, quietly debating with herself whether she should ask the question which burned in her mind. After a moment, she decided she would.

“Why have you brought us to the falls?” she asked the huntsman. “Have you a cabin nearby?”

To her surprise, the huntsman scoffed and shook his head. “We’re only stopping to water the horse and ourselves before we move on.”

“Move on to where?” Paul asked sternly. “You never actually told us where you planned to take us.”

“Oh yes I did,” the huntsman stated with a huff. “It’s not my fault you two couldn’t be arsed to remember what I told you.”

Katrine glanced back at Paul, who eyed the huntsman with an annoyed frown as the older man knelt to fill his waterskin. Had the huntsman actually told them where he planned to take them? She didn’t recall him saying anything like that, just that they needed to follow the stream. Her assumption was that he’d be bringing them to whatever lodging he had out in the woods here. Well, whether he said it or not, it was clear he wasn’t about to tell them now. Not directly, in any case. Fortunately, Katrine had an idea that might just work to weasel the truth out of him.

“Could you at least tell us how much longer it will be, or the route we’ll be taking?” she asked in a gently pleading tone. “The wound’s starting to bother me again, and I’d like to properly rest it soon if I may.”

“It’s as I already said,” the huntsman barked, “following the creek as far as you did, there’s only one place you could’ve been going, and if that’s not enough for you to figure it out then you’ll see it when we ascend to the Overlook.”

The Overlook? Katrine wasn’t aware of a place nearby that bore such a name, and from the look on Paul’s face he didn’t know either. But the huntsman did give them some extra clue when he said they’d need to ascend to it. A climb was in their future, something which Katrine did honestly fear would agitate her wounded ankle. Looking out at the falls, she craned her neck back to look up to the cloudy sky above them. Alas, she couldn’t see anything. Close to the falls as they were, the flowing veil of mist that cascaded down from the base of the Castle in the Clouds left a thick fog hanging just above their heads. It was impossible to see through with the night as dark as it was, which was little surprise considering that even during the day, that veil made it all but impossible to see the…

Breath caught in her throat, Katrine gasped and clapped both hands over her open mouth! “The castle!” she whispered.

“What?” Paul asked, not out of shock but genuine curiosity for what she said.

She looked back at him, unable to hide the anticipation in her bright green eyes. “The castle, Paul!” she breathed in quiet excitement! “He’s taking us to the castle on the hill!”

“Only place you could possibly be going,” the huntsman grumbled, “though you’re damned fools for wanting to if you ask me.”

“What makes you say that?” Paul asked him.

After slurping some of the river’s water from his cupped hand, the huntsman wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and patted his hand dry against his red cloak. “Because there’s nothing there,” he said as he tied his waterskin back to his belt. “Nothing but old, dead bones, best left alone.”

Dagger sharp, a piercing pang of guilt stabbed and twisted in Katrine’s gut. Father had said something similar to her in the afternoon, when he came down to see her in the cellar. He sat with her, helped her prepare the spices for the mulled wines they’d be making together come winter. He talked with her, treated her kindly, asked after her wellbeing, and even helped her chase her dream of following in Grandfather’s footsteps, much to Mother’s great chagrin. All of that, done out of selfless love for his daughter.

A love that she may as well have thrown back in his face at this point. He fought to get her all that she asked, and how does she repay it? By chasing a fantasy with childish impertinence. She let her frustrations with Mother dig so deeply under her skin that she ran away like an angry little girl. Worse yet, she dragged Paul into this mess, too. Well, it was really his honor which led him to stay, but that wouldn’t have been a factor were it not for her insistence that they continue.

She leaned back against Paul and sighed wearily as she stared at the dark, churning clouds that obscured the falls and cliffs above them. Highfather’s holy name, how could she have been so stupid? Her frustrations with Mother still burned hot. Even after all that happened, Katrine still couldn’t bring herself to let go of the fact that despite the very reasonable alternative Father had found for her, Mother still insisted she fulfill her “duty” as a Riverran noblewoman. She still planned to marry her off to Paul, all so the Tarnesian and Bertoli-Dunajoux names could be tied. No thought given whatsoever to her own wants and desires, and she imagined the same was true of Paul and his family as well. As their youngest son, she was sure they wanted to marry him into her family for the sake of what was certain to be a sizable dowry. The thought of them both being pieces in this game of politics, influence, and resource twisted her stomach even more.

Yet, surely her own actions hurt Father in the same way? For as tiresome as he pretended to find that part of their life, though there must’ve been some truth to his exaggerations, he ultimately wanted what he felt would be best for his family and loved ones. By her estimation, he was excellent in his role as a provider, protector, and loving caretaker. He always strove to give his children the best opportunities he could because, as he often liked to remind them, Grandmother and Grandfather did the same for him. Couldn’t she have shown a little more patience in the face of Mother’s wants for the sake of that? Shouldn’t she have?

“Miss Katrine?”

She tilted her eyes up to meet Paul’s. He looked worried. “Is something the matter?” she asked.

“You were crying,” he said.

She gave the slightest frown at that, then brought a hand up to wipe at her eyes. The tips of her fingers came away wet, and she gave a bemused laugh. “I suppose I was. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m quite alright,” she lied. The pangs in her gut and thoughts in her head proved that she was, if not to Paul, than to herself.

Of course, Paul seemed to catch onto that fact. All throughout this dangerous little adventure of theirs, he’d proven himself to be clever and observant. Mature for his age, too, more than she felt about herself right now, at least. Looking down at her as she gazed into those churning, misty clouds that seemed so close she could reach out and touch them, he answered with a hum that said more than words could.

“You can tell me about it,” he said.

Katrine frowned again. “About what?”

“Whatever’s ailing you,” he answered.

At first, she sighed and shook her head, casting her gaze out at the waterfall as the huntsman led Stelios to the water’s edge. When the horse ducked his head down to drink, Katrine yelped as she nearly slipped off of him. Paul was quick to grab her, though, helping her slide back into a more stable position. She was doing it again, thoughtlessly mistreating someone by acting on emotional impulse. Paul hadn’t done anything to deserve her ire. From the moment he got himself wrapped up in this situation, he’d been nothing but gentlemanly towards her. What harm could telling him really do?

“I’m sorry, Paul,” she began in a low tone, “I’m not… That is to say, I’ve been rather ungracious, haven’t I?”

The huntsman’s cold chuckle stole their attention before Paul could answer. “Only just realizing it now, are we?”

“No one asked for your commentary on the matter, huntsman!” Paul retorted, placing a particularly venomous inflection on that final word.

The two men started bickering almost immediately. As he had earlier, the Huntsman would goad Paul on with snide remarks, causing the young men to grow red faced and hot under the collar. Unlike before, Paul’s rigorous defense wasn’t put up for sake of honoring his name, but Katrine, even though the insults the huntsman levied were directed at him. Katrine supposed she should’ve felt moved by this. That’s how it was supposed to work, wasn’t it? A young man defends the honor of a lady, and she swoons, taken by his chivalrous display.

Unfortunately, the reality of the matter was far less pleasant in this moment. Katrine didn’t feel a swoon coming on, she just felt annoyed at being stuck in yet another argument with this bitter man who saved their lives and became their guide. The ease with which he got under Paul’s skin didn’t help matters, either. The Tarnesians were known as a prideful family, but Paul had surprised her with his humility and good manners across most of the night. It seemed there were ways to wake the pridefulness of his line in him, though, and the huntsman unfortunately proved an expert at it.

Slumped sidesaddle on Stelios’ back and staring out over the water, Katrine rolled her eyes as the argument drew on. This had gotten ridiculous, and she no longer wished to entertain it. With a press of her palms against the horse’s back, she slid off and favored her good leg on landing. Pain still flared up the other one. She hissed and stumbled, teeth clenching as she tried to put even a little weight on her injured leg.

A hand fell upon her shoulder. It was Paul’s. “Wait, Miss, you’re still hurt,” he reminded her.

Scoffing, she jerked her shoulder free of his grip. “Don’t you think I know that?” she said as she started limping along the water’s edge. “I’m going for a walk.”

“I wouldn’t,” the huntsman said.

“Oh, is that so?” Katrine quipped. “Well do forgive me! I wouldn’t want to be seen as ungracious to the man who’s spent most of his words on us with beratement and insults!”

Paul, to his credit, was far gentler and tried to coax Katrine back onto Stelios, but she simply wouldn’t have it. Throwing a hand up to silence them both, she continued limping down the shoreline. “I’m taking a few minutes alone,” she said. “Feel free to keep arguing without me!”

“Miss Katrine, wait!” Paul cried. She heard the rocky dirt crunch beneath his doe skin boots as he dismounted and hurried over to her.

“I said alone, Paul,” she said to him sternly.

“Miss, it would be safer if I went with you,” he replied.

“No.”

“Miss Katrine, I really must insist-”

“No!” she barked. The heat was rising in her cheeks as she glared at Paul, but after a moment, her gaze started darting to the huntsman and she took a step closer to the young man. When she continued, she did so in a whisper.

“I need to be alone right now,” she said.

“But, Miss, I can’t in good conscience-”

“Paul!” she hissed between clenched teeth. He’d struggle to see it in the dim light, but Katrine could feel how red and hot her face had become, though it wasn’t from anger. He simply wasn’t getting the hint, so she leaned in a little closer. “I need…”

“Yes?” Paul urged after a long pause.

She glared at him again. The damn words were catching in her throat! Highfather’s name, why couldn’t he just put away the chivalry this one time? Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, she began again.

“I need to… Well, I have to ur…” Heat flared in her cheeks again, and once more the words caught. Paul waited patiently, mild confusion played across his features. “I need to uri… I have private business!”

“Private business?” he muttered, clearly not understanding until his eyes went wide a moment later.

“Oh. Oh. Highfather forgive me, I thought you were simply upset with me for the arguing and, well, forgive me,” he stammered, averting his gaze from her.

Unfortunately, he kept on stammering after that, desperate to apologize for the embarrassment he caused her. Katrine stared at him the whole while, waiting for him to notice and catch on. Admittedly, she found his display of youthful awkwardness a little bit endearing. He’d spent so much of the night trying to act the perfect gentleman that she’d almost forgotten Paul was actually a little younger than her. This was a cute reminder of that, though also a frustrating one. He soon caught on to the look she was giving him and, after clearing his throat and apologizing once more, he headed back to Stelios and the huntsman while she made her way along the shoreline toward the cliffs.

Her need to tend to “personal business” wasn’t a lie, but neither was Paul wrong about the reason for her leaving. She hadn’t wanted to sit there and listen to him and the huntsman argue again, mainly because she didn’t want to get wrapped up in it herself. This night had been difficult enough without the huntsman’s harshly acerbic comments, and while she appreciated Paul attempting to defend her, it was simply too much to deal with right now. That she also needed to relieve herself was convenient happenstance, a stroke of good luck that allowed her to force a few minutes of privacy.

Of course, that wasn’t to say she was exactly comfortable relieving herself in the woods like this. Once she drew close to the cliff, she found a suitably large tree to hide behind and, with great difficulty, managed to bunch up her dress and wriggle her leggings far enough down her thighs to crouch and go with relative ease, the throbbing pain in her injured calf notwithstanding. A few moments later, her bladder was blessedly empty and she once more wriggled, writhed, and winced as she tried to work her tight leggings back up.

An odd sound brought her pause as she pulled the waist of her leggings up over her backside. Musical chimes like tiny bells cut through the roar of the nearby waterfall. They were followed by more, and then more, like a tinkling orchestra being played in the clouds above her head. How very strange, Katrine had never heard anything of its like before. Certainly not out in the middle of the woods.

With her head craned back she looked up into the gray, misty mass that drifted and flowed above her. What could be making such a sound? Slowly, she scanned the colorless dark for signs of whatever it was as she adjusted the fit of her dress. The huntsman confirmed that the hillside castle was indeed nearby, and if this was the waterfall which flowed and fell from beneath its walls then it surely must have been above her somewhere, obscured in that fog. Was someone from the castle making music with bells? No, it couldn’t be that. She wouldn’t be able to hear it over the roar of the falls.

But what if she could? She’d always gotten the sense that there was something distinctly magical about that place. The pin of light she saw in the afternoon was proof of that. Bright and golden as a sunspot reflecting off a glass window, she would’ve written the phenomena off as exactly that if it wasn’t for the fact that the places where she saw it had no glass windows. Yet despite that, it shone bright against the sun’s light, letting her see that brilliant beacon even though it was still day. What else could explain that but magic?

Alchemy could.

She hadn’t considered it earlier, enraptured by the glow as she was, but it might’ve been the result of an alchemic concoction. There were formulae she’d read in Grandfather’s journals that detailed the creation of bottled light, though his descriptions of them didn’t seem to match the intense glow of what she saw in the tower and along the ramparts. No, it had to be some sort of magic, just as these chimes must’ve been. How else could she explain such tiny sounds being audible over the cacophonous cascade to her right?

“Where are you?” she muttered to herself. “Who are you?”

As if in answer, the chiming bells played a string of charming sound. Were they trying to speak to her somehow? Or was this a figment of her overactive imagination? Hells, what if she’d been imagining all of this? For all she knew, it could be a hallucination brought on by the pain of her wound and the herbs used in the huntsman’s healing cataplasm. For a long moment, she waited and listened for more, but just as sudden as they’d sounded, the bells went silent. Sagging her shoulders, Katrine shook her head. Foolish. It’d just been a trick of the mind.

Or so she thought, for as she turned and started to walk away, the bells chimed once more. Stopping in her tracks, she turned around, letting her ears guide where she should face.

Her eyes grew wide as tea saucers, and she brought both hands to her mouth as she gasped. Up in the clouds, made diffuse by their misty form, shone a ball of light almost as bright and beautiful as the sun itself. It painted the gray with its golden rays, cast shadows from the edge of a sloping trail, and chimed as it illuminated the silhouette of a figure who held it aloft. Who this figure was she had no way of guessing, but it knew her!

“Who are you?” she called out, her voice echoing off the cliffside.

The figure didn’t answer. For a moment, it held the light still, then turned away and started up the high path.

“Wait!” Katrine cried, “Please! There’s so much I want to ask you!”

Alas, it answered not, and before her plea was even finished the golden light vanished from her sight, leaving her staring into the churning gray once more. She stood there like that for what felt like a long time, until she heard Paul speak her name. She didn’t face him, though. She had to find the light and the bells again first.

“Katrine!” Paul said sharply. He’d placed a hand on her shoulder.

Now she did face him. She recognized his look of concern. It made her cheeks flush.

“I’m sorry, Paul,” she said. “I was just…”

“There was someone up there on the cliffs, wasn’t there?” he asked, pointing. She followed his arm, finally noticing he had his sword drawn.

She nodded. “Yes,” she said. “He came to find me.”

Paul frowned, an action she could only see because the much dimmer light of the huntsman’s hip lantern now illuminated them. He’d followed Paul with Stelios in tow.

“Who came to find you?” he asked.

His tone was still harsh, his expression still full of worry, yet Katrine smiled all the same. “The master of the castle,” she said.

Behind them, the huntsman’s expression darkened.