Cinderella's Tale

Chapter Four

I kick and scream, but nothing helps. A dirty rag is placed in my mouth, gagging me. I can’t see a thing, nor can I call out for help. I do hear Matthew fighting our kidnappers. I can’t see, so I don’t know if he’s watching me, but that means I can’t be sure if it’s safe to use magic. However, that’s a risk I have to take.

“Let me see,” I whisper through the gag. The blindfold appears translucent, and I look out at the fight. Matthew is fighting for what seems like his life, and my hands are being held by some man. I feel him behind me, and I do what my father had always said to do to a man who gives me no choice. I bring my heel up and kick him where it hurts. He lets go of my hands, and I quickly yank off the blindfold and the gag, and kick the man again. I steal his sword and his dagger, and go to help Matthew.  My father at least did teach me well before he died in the art of the sword, as well as magic.

I bring down an attacker, getting to Matthew. He looks at me in astonishment, and I smile.

“Duck!” I say, and he doesn’t hesitate. I swing my sword above him, and slash where a man would have run him through and killed him instantly. Matthew  nods his thanks, and I turn around, where the men seem to have lost their wits at a girl who could fight. However, they quickly recover, and start attacking both of us. I cut and slash, and eventually, we injure almost all. I’m fighting one of the last men, and finally, he collapses to the ground.  Matthew looks at me, smiling.

“I must say, I’ve never seen a woman fight like that!” Matthew complements. I smile, and over his shoulder, I can see a man running silently at him.

“Look out!” I yell, and I push Matthew to the side right as the attacker slashes. He cuts my shoulder, and I cry out at the pain as I bring my sword up and throw the dagger, burying it in his heart. The man gasps in pain, and falls to the ground, dead. Matthew gets up from the ground, and looks at my shoulder, which is being coated in blood.

“You're hurt!” He says, and he runs towards his horse, and pulls out a first aid kit. He runs to me, and I’m trying to tear off some of the cloth from my dress.

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious,” I glare at him as he runs back to me.

“Stop that,” Matthew demands, and he starts dabbing my wound with something that stings.

“You don’t have to do this, I will be fine!” I tell him, gritting my teeth. I have a much faster, painless way to treat wounds.  A little doctor called magic.

“I think it needs stitches,” Matthew says after he’s cleaned the wound. I push him back with my uninjured arm. He stumbles back, mostly from shock than actual strength. I turn back to the horses and climb on, ignoring the pain shooting through my arm. Once I get away, I’ll heal it anyways. Besides, Helena and the twins will be back today.

I ride away on Sky, paying no attention to Matthew’s cries to stop. I just ride home, where I run to the cellar. The door slams shut, and I put a hand to my bloodied shoulder.

“Heal,” I whisper. I feel my muscles pulling back together, and the skin forming again. I sigh when the pain stops, and get up again, changing into the other dress I have that’s not bloodied, and run to complete my chores for the day. I completely forgot about them, spending the day with Matthew.

Prince Matthew, I can’t call him without his title. I am simply a servant girl, not important, I am expendable.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Helena and the twins arrive right before dinner, and I have to quickly set the table. I had wished they would wait so the servants could actually eat, but my mind is actually very preoccupied. I'm still thinking about my day with the Prince.

"I trust your trip went well, my ladies?" I ask as I'm pouring wine for Helena. She smiles.

"Oh, very well, Briana. If I'm right, and I'm usually right, the Prince will be falling all over himself when he glimpses Cassandra," Helena says happily. I look over at Cassandra, who is grinning and thrusting her chest out like she needs to prove why. I fight the urge to roll my eyes as I pour water in Cassandra’s and Alexandra’s glasses. Then, I retreat back to my little corner.  

I do my usual routine. I eat the scraps off Cassandra’s and Alexandra’s glasses, and clean their plates once I get Helena’s plate. I scrub the dining room again, and head back to my little cellar.

This time, I take out my spell book and flip to a section I’ve never gone to. My father’s. He told me he wrote down so many spells he did not teach me, ones that could be useful someday. I skim the spells until I get to one circled in red paint. Illusions. I stroke the page as I study the familiar handwriting.

Illusions are a dangerous, and yet powerful spell area. Done correctly, your true self could be somewhere else, say, at a party, while an illusion is shut up in your room. However, if done incorrectly, illusions have the power to tear you in half, as the illusion uses yourself to make the image.

To do an illusion correctly, you must do the following steps.

Imagine the place you want your illusion to be

Be close to the illusion. It fade with distance

Block all thoughts of anything other than the illusion. It requires absolute concentration.

Say the following words, EXACTLY

“Make another of me, exactly like me.”

If you do these steps, with practice, you will be able to make a human illusion. If you want to make an illusion with an object, which I suggest you do for practice, you replace the ‘me’ in the spell with the object’s name. For example, and apple would be, “make another apple, exactly like the apple.”

WARNING:

All illusions have a spot, a small spot where it reveals the fact that that is an illusion. It is always well hidden though.

I wish you goodluck.

I look around for any small objects in the cellar, and my eyes fall on a blanket from my ‘bed.’ I pick up the blanket, and spread it out on the ground. I take a deep breath, thinking about the floorboard next to the blanket. That’s where I want the illusion to be.  I figure I’m close enough anyways. I take another deep breath.

“Make another blanket, exactly like the blanket,” I whisper, closing my eyes in concentration. I wait for a few seconds, before opening my eyes and looking next to the original blanket.

There is no illusion.

I take another breath, thinking about the same spot, and I try again, closing my eyes again.

“Make another blanket, exactly like the blanket,” I say. I open my eyes, and look next to the original blanket again.

There is no illusion.

I sigh again, and try one more time before going to bed. Nothing happens of course. So, I grab the blanket and return my family spellbook back to it’s original place behind the loose stone. I curl up on the floorboards, and fall asleep.