Lindorm Princess

Chapter 9

The promise of a cellar excited me, and I bounded down the moss and stone-covered hallways as Slange guided me. The entire castle had clearly been built with a serpent in mind, as there was not a single stair in sight. Instead, Slange lead me to another sloped, spiral ramp in the west corner of the castle, that lead to the bowels of the castle. The cellar entrance was clad in another old, insect-eaten door, with a motif of braided serpents rotting at the sides. It swung off of its hinges the moment Slange nudged it with his spiny snout, and I gasped at the sight. The entire cellar was covered in thick, white mold, cobwebs, and spider webs.

I groaned. It would be a lot of work to clean and prepare this room. Worse, I realized, we had no food for the incoming winter, and summer was almost ready to give way to autumn. Slange was quiet. Almost chagrined, he admitted,

"Two hundred years is clearly longer than I thought."

I felt the first seeds of discontent rise in my throat, and I gave a little huff of frustration.

"What are we to do for winter, Slange? I can't summon food, can I?"

Slange answered awkwardly,

"No, unfortunately you can't."

I exhaled angrily.

"Why not? I can summon water!"

Slange sighed.

"Elements like water or fire are easy to summon, especially water, when the air is saturated with moisture. You can grow simple things with your power, like flowers or branches, but fruits and vegetables require pollination, a lot of time, and so much magic that it is simply not worth it."

He added, "Under no circumstances do I recommend summoning bees to help things, either. I saw one poor soul attempt it once, and he was covered in stings. It took a lot to try and heal him."

I wanted to scream. The cellar was, at the moment, useless, and Slange was huge and could eat an ox each week in this form, if he wished.

"We need to rethink our strategy," I said. "We can clean all winter if we wish, but if we die of starvation, there will be no cleaning necessary."

"I won't die," added Slange unhelpfully. "I'll just go find some deer and snack on them for a while."

"I'll die," I said glumly.

"What if I share?" asked Slange, his black eyes twinkling in the dim light of the cellar.

I threw my hands up in the air. He was jesting with me, and I was not in the mood to play along.

"I can't eat game meat for an entire winter, there's not enough fat or nutrients. Let's get started, by cleaning this place out, and salvaging what empty jars or barrels we find," I sighed.

That was how we spent the first day, banishing mold thick as lard, steaming vats of water on the stove, and sanitizing ancient jars and oak barrels.

At night, when we tumbled into bed, exhausted from the day's work, fear seeped into my dreams, and gave me recurring nightmares. Slange would cry for help, scales dripping from his body, begging me to figure out his curse. The scene would change, and I was back home in my room, shivering in the cold winter, with hunger gnawing at my belly. The second nightmare reminded me of past harvests in my childhood that went wrong. I awoke early, covered in sweat, and turned in bed until dawn came.

I didn't know if we could stock enough stores to get us through winter. Each day stress tinged my work, as I rushed to complete as much as I could, daylight no longer on my side or an advantage. The lack of cows meant no butter, milk or cheese. No hens meant we had no eggs. The lack of domesticated animals in general, meant that we were up to the mercy of the forest and what we could find. Well, what Slange could find at least. He came home with game each day, clutched in his talons and mouth. Dead boar, deer and goats peppered the courtyard, and even some geese that he had managed not to swallow whole.