Sitnalta (Sitnalta Series Book 1) Read online

  Sitnalta peered inside and gasped with delight. It was gorgeous! The walls were imbedded with tiny crystals that pulled the light from the mouth of the cave and refracted it into tiny rainbows, which bounced off the walls. The cave was a wondrous kaleidoscope of colour. Sitnalta entered and set about exploring.

  Farther inside, the crystals petered out and the walls became plain stone, but here and there, flowers had been placed to give the air a subtle aroma. Sitnalta wondered who could have done this. The flowers obviously had not grown there, and they appeared to be arranged in bouquets. She wondered if someone actually lived in the cave, and if that made her presence unwelcome. For an instant, she contemplated turning back, but the mystery of the cave dweller soon consumed her imagination, and she continued.

  Najort was startled when he saw the girl enter his cave. At the first sound of her footsteps, he quickly ran back into the darker parts of his home and hid. He had no doubts in his mind that this girl was the singer from last night, and he refused to let her see him. He listened as she explored his home, and felt flattered as she delighted in the beauty of his walls. He blushed as she giggled over his flower arrangements. Her childlike enthusiasm was infectious. Najort laughed silently when she spoke aloud about the mystery of the “cave dweller.”

  “I wonder where he sleeps?” she was saying. “Could he have a secret bedroom, tucked away behind some rocks? Or perhaps he hangs upside-down and sleeps like a bat—no, that’s rubbish. Maybe he sleeps on the ground. I mean that’s not too farfetched. After all, I’ve been doing the same myself, for how many nights now?”

  She wandered quite close to Najort. He could see that her hair was blue, and quite long. It hung loose, with small braids scattered here and there. What wasn’t braided was tangled, though, with leaves and twigs stuck among the strands. He could see her eyes sparkling like amethysts as she worked out the mystery in her mind. Her dress was a few shades darker than her hair and hung in tatters. Most of it was splattered with mud and grass. She was tall and thin. Her face was dominated by a childish grin that spread from ear to ear. To Najort’s eyes, Sitnalta appeared a “fey” creature—untamed and wild—radiating energy and beauty.

  “What if the cave dweller is not a he at all?” spoke Sitnalta. “What if it’s a woman? Maybe she’s an Amazon, whose entire tribe was slaughtered by evil armies of men, and she’s come here to find safety. Oh! And if she catches me, I shall be doomed. At least until I explain my plight. She will sympathize and take me in. She will train me in the Amazon ways, and I shall be ever so grateful, and learn to commune with nature and become fearsome in battle, and be her right-hand man, er, woman, and . . .”

  Najort let out a loud laugh. It reverberated around the cave, echoing into the very heart of the stones around them. Sitnalta looked around sharply. She scowled.

  “I do not find myself so amusing. Nor do I appreciate being spied upon. Show yourself!” she demanded.

  Najort did not budge. Sitnalta looked around trying to ascertain where the laugh had come from. She settled for an area where the rocks stood up from the floor into an alcove big enough for a person to hide inside. It was, in fact, where Najort was hiding.

  “Perhaps it is the cave dweller,” Sitnalta whispered to herself. “I should not be so rude. I am, after all, trespassing.”

  Loudly she tried again. “I am sorry for being cross, but you just startled me. I mean you no harm. I promise. Please just let me know where you are. I’m all alone and quite harmless.” She mentally kicked herself for exposing her weakness.

  “Idiot!” she whispered. “Letting it be known you are helpless. What if the cave dweller is a highwayman on the run from the authorities? He will surely hang you from your toes and gobble you up for dinner!”

  She tried to rectify the situation. “I mean that I am harmless, if you do not try to harm me!” she said loudly, trying to sound braver than she actually felt. “If you do try to harm me, I shall beat you into submission. I am fully trained in seven types of wrestling.”

  Najort smiled in spite of himself. He decided to respond. The girl was close enough that she was sure to find him eventually. “I do not doubt your strength,” he said. “I have no desire to harm you. Just please leave me be. I do not associate with anyone. I am a solitary fellow and would like to remain one, thank you very much.”

  Sitnalta’s interest was piqued. “Why? Most everyone can do with some company sometimes. I have been alone for a while, and I would love to have someone to talk to. Come out so I can meet you.”

  “I cannot do that.”

  “Why not? Are you shy?” Sitnalta tried peering behind the rocks. She fancied that she could just barely make out a dark figure hiding there.

  “Yes. Very.”

  “I will not hurt you. I am so very kind and gentle. I have made friends with all the animals in the forest and the trees and the rocks. Okay, not the trees and rocks, but the animals like me all right, I suppose.”

  Najort smiled. He did not see a way out. “I’m not afraid you will hurt me. I just—well—you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Everyone says that about everything,” Sitnalta said, exasperated. “I’m not some stupid child. Try me. Try to explain it to me. I think I just might understand.”

  Najort decided to try. “I’m afraid I’ll frighten you.”

  “Frighten me! Why? Are you ugly?”

  In the shadows, Najort hung his head. “Yes,” he replied in a low voice. “Very.”

  Sitnalta smiled. “Oh. Is that all?”

  “What do you mean ‘is that all’? Is that not enough?”

  “No.”

  Najort sighed, and resolved himself for the confrontation and screaming he was sure would follow. He pulled himself to his feet and walked out of his hiding place to formally meet the girl. Sitnalta waited in the light expectantly, and watched as all five and a half feet of the cave dweller walked out to where she was standing. Her eyes took in the short squat figure, the powerful hands, and the misshapen face. She saw the unruly mop of hair and the tattered clothes. But when she saw his eyes—warm, caring, brown eyes—her already wide grin stretched to impossible lengths.

  “There!” Sitnalta exclaimed. “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

  Chapter Ten

  Supmylo sat in his study, leaning forward across his desk in what he felt was his most threatening manner. Even in the large room, he was an imposing presence. A fire crackled brightly behind him, and cast him in a hellish light. The room was lined with strict-looking stiff-backed books, and the walls were cherry red. Supmylo shifted in his seat and the leather creaked beneath him. He had been busy the past few days. The guards that had been chosen to stand outside Sitnalta’s door had been arrested and thrown into the castle dungeons, awaiting their sentences. Supmylo felt this was fair, considering their incompetence. He had to hire a new captain of the guards, he who had selected the two men for the post. The old captain had since been demoted to guarding the manure pile in the stables.

  Standing across from Supmylo on the other side of the desk was the new captain of the guards—a thin, reedy man named Ipsinki—and his second-in-command, Fred. They stood at attention waiting for their orders.

  “I think it quite obvious that someone has coerced the girl into running away,” started Supmylo. “I want every house, barn, hostel, inn, tavern, and farm searched top to bottom. I want everyone questioned. Anyone even remotely suspicious should be apprehended and held until the Princess is found. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Sire,” responded Ipsinki.

  Fred saluted.

  “Take as many men as you see fit to achieve your strategic goals and objectives. I do not want this to take too long. The Princess has—responsibilities—here that need to be carried out. If anything is required, let me know.”

  “Yes, Sire.” Ipsinki turned and left the room with Fred in tow.

  Supmylo leaned back in his chair once the door had closed. He crossed his arms in annoyance. His daughter was
causing him an infinite amount of aggravation. It was funny how someone could be even more of a pest once they were gone, than they were when they were actually present.

  Supmylo grunted and closed his eyes. He would deal with her when she was found. He would see to it that she never even remotely considered disobeying him ever again. She would beg to be allowed to marry King Gerald. He would make it seem like the greatest reward for her. Marriage would be Heaven on Earth to her, compared to staying single in his castle. Supmylo was jerked out of his reverie by a knock at his door.

  “Come in,” he grumbled.

  The door opened, admitting a worried looking King Gerald.

  “I do hope I am not disturbing you, my friend,” he said. “But I heard talk around the castle that the Princess has run off. Is this true? The servants are trying to be discreet, but I have ears, and they hear perfectly well.”

  Supmylo relaxed a bit. “I am afraid that the Princess has—gone missing,” he sidestepped. “It’s not clear at this point whether or not she has in fact run away. You know how servants talk. A runaway princess keeps them entertained. It gives them something to gossip about. They do not care if it’s the truth. It’s interesting. That’s all they care about. You know how it is.”

  King Gerald laughed, “I do. I remember one time my entire staff was talking about me. They were saying that I had invited a vampire to stay at the castle! It was a foreign diplomat, who had a garlic allergy, and had come all the way from the far North. They do not have much sun there so—but I digress. You say that she might not have run away. Then, where is she?”

  Supmylo sighed and put on his best “worried father” face. “I truly cannot say. No note was found, she clearly left from her window, and some clothes are missing. I can only imagine where she is. Gerald, she has never left the castle grounds before. I must find her.”

  “You do not think that . . .” King Gerald shifted uncomfortably. “You do not think that this had anything to do with . . .”

  “Our agreement? No. It’s complicated. There’s more to it than that, I’m sure. For all I know, she’s been kidnapped.”

  “Kidnapped!” exclaimed King Gerald.

  “Yes. The only possible exit is the window. It’s a long way down, and a difficult climb. Sitnalta is a princess. Monkeys climb. Princesses . . .”

  “Do not,” finished King Gerald. “I see. Well, I offer you all the help you may need. My resources are yours. We will find your daughter.”

  “And your fiancé,” added Supmylo. “I just may take you up on your offer.”

  The two Kings bid each other a good day, turned, and left the room. Supmylo leaned back, once again feeling very pleased with himself.

  Chapter Eleven

  Najort and Sitnalta sat outside on the grass. They both felt very peaceful. The sun warmed their bodies, and a light breeze prevented them from becoming too hot. Najort had never been so content. He still could not believe that this young girl had accepted him so easily. Everyone else he’d encountered had usually screamed, run away, or attempted to kill him. No, he corrected himself, one other had seen past his being a troll. Kralc had seen the good in him. Najort was still puzzled by that. The wizard had popped into his life, and just as speedily, left again. He frowned. Was this girl going to do the same? Was she going to befriend him, then leave him alone once more? He shook his head. He did not think he could handle that. She would have to go—now—before she did any more damage.

  Sitnalta turned towards Najort. She could see something was bothering him. He was frowning, and the furrows in his forehead were becoming quite deep. She pursed her lips and tried to figure out what could be bothering him. Perhaps he did not like her. After all, she did force herself into his life. She trespassed into his home, and poked through his personal space like she owned it. And to top it all off, she forced him to show himself to her, when he was clearly quite uncomfortable with the entire situation. She had been quite rude, she decided to herself.

  Sitnalta looked down at the ground and began picking blades of grass. She turned each one over in her fingers, than systematically shredded them. It would serve her right if Najort did not like her, she decided. If she had done to herself what she did to him, she would not like it very much either. Sitnalta pouted, then turned back to Najort. The pile of grass shreds in her lap had grown quite large.

  “Najort,” Sitnalta said, a bit too loudly. “I am sorry.”

  Najort was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of her voice. She sounded so upset. He was confused.

  “Sorry? For what?” he asked.

  Sitnalta could not believe that Najort didn’t know why she was apologizing! Maybe he was just trying to be nice, she wondered.

  “Why, for all I did to you,” she said. “I broke into your house, poked through all your things, forced you to come out to meet me, when you clearly did not want to. I was rude. I was pushy. I was—incorrigible. I was horrid. I was presumptuous—if I were you, I wouldn’t like me very much either. I shouldn’t want to be my friend, and I so much want you to be my friend, and now you shan’t, and I do not know what to do except apologize, and . . .”

  Najort was stunned. She wanted to be his friend, and that surely meant that she would stay! He was flabbergasted. He looked into her face. She looked so upset and afraid that he did not like her. The situation seemed so absurd, he thought. She thought he did not like her! And here he had been afraid it was he other way around. He burst out laughing.

  Sitnalta looked at him sharply. He was laughing at her distress, she thought. She scowled at him.

  “Stop laughing at me!” she cried. “I am being quite serious here! Do not laugh at me!”

  She threw up her arms and bits of shredded grass flew everywhere. Heaps of it landed in Najort’s face, causing him to laugh even harder. Soon Sitnalta was giggling along with him, and within seconds, she was shrieking with laughter.

  When the both of them had calmed down, Najort turned to Sitnalta.

  “I’m sorry I laughed at you,” he said. “I did not mean to insult you. It is just that you didn’t need to apologize. I was never angry. I was—afraid.”

  “Afraid? Afraid of what?” she asked.

  “Of you.”

  “Me?” Sitnalta could not believe it.

  “Afraid you might regret asking me to come out. Afraid you were just trying to be nice. Afraid you might leave.”

  “And where would I go?”

  “Anywhere, away from here, I suppose.”

  “That’s ridiculous! I have nowhere else to go. Even if I did, I see no reason for leaving this place. You’re a kind and gentle person, who has been nothing but kind to me,” Sitnalta told him.

  “But I am not a person.” Najort looked down at his hands. He clenched them into fists. Sitnalta reached over, and put one of her hands on top of his.

  “Sure you are,” she told him.

  He looked at her in surprise. “I am?”

  “You’re more of a person then some other people I know. You’re kind and gentle, and you like flowers, laughter, and everything good in the world. We shall be great friends. Right?”

  “Of course.” He smiled.

  Chapter Twelve

  Aud walked briskly down the corridor. She was worried about Sitnalta. She worried about what she was doing, who she was with, whether or not she was scared, and if she had enough to eat. She was continuously asking herself questions. Was Sitnalta lonely? Was she cold? But of all these fears and questions, none compared to her main, nagging concern—what was Supmylo going to do about his daughter running away? Aud had no doubt that he intended to find her. But she fervently hoped that this would not ever happen. Despite worrying about Sitnalta, she knew that the obstacles and dangers of the world outside the castle walls were nothing compared to King Supmylo’s wrath.

  Aud walked through the castle seeking anyone who could tell her what was happening. Thus far, her search was unsuccessful. No one she met was able to tell her anything concrete. Specul
ations were flying through the air like a plague of locusts. The servants were buzzing with gossip. A great number of them were of the notion that after the Princess had rejected King Gerald at the dinner, Supmylo had her murdered. All of this frenzy over her “alleged” disappearance was just a ruse to cover up her death. The entire kitchen staff was currently coming up with possible places the body had been hidden. The head chef was taking a pool and collecting money based on the odds per place. Currently it was ten to one she was in the hayloft. Twenty to one she was buried in the orchard.

  Aud had listened to all of this with quiet patience, and then had simply moved on.

  She realized hours into her search that she was getting nowhere. Even if she should stumble across the truth, she would not know it from the lies. She needed someone who really knew what was going on. Unfortunately, she had no idea who that could be.

  It was getting late in the day when Aud came to the doors of the library. Her feet hurt and her back ached from prowling around the castle non-stop. She desperately wanted to sit for a while in someplace quiet. She doubted anybody would be in the library this time of day. Aud opened one of the doors quietly and slipped inside. She had always loved this room. The colours here were warm, and the whole place was small and had a cozy feel to it. That day, much to Aud’s satisfaction, there was a large fire crackling merrily in the hearth. She picked out a comfortable looking wing-backed chair that was practically sitting in the fireplace, and she gratefully heaved herself into it with a low moan of relief. She had just popped her feet out of their shoes, when a low-throated chuckle reached her ears.

  The sound abruptly yanked her out of her tired reverie. Aud’s eyes darted around the room in fearful confusion. She had thought the room was empty! However, when she looked again, she spotted King Gerald sitting practically across from her in a massive leather armchair, brandy snifter in hand.