Lindorm Princess

Chapter 12

As the days grew shorter, and the leaves turned golden brown, my days were spent with ink-covered fingertips, and cramped wrists. I copied spells onto parchment, and gathered ingredients for potions. I hadn't had time to grab Björk and question him yet. He had also been busy, commanding the Landvættir, and scurrying around the castle. Together they had fixed up the last of the castle buildings, and returning the grand rooms to gleaming perfection. Now when I strode down the halls, the walls shone a proud copper color, and the freshly pressed tapestries and drapes gently caressed them.

"How do I know if this works?" I asked Slange. I grunted as I ground the last of the dried rosehips into a fine dust, before I sprinkled the concoction over the scribbles on the parchment before me.

"Simple," said Slange. "Try it on me."

"Are you sure?" I asked. As he dipped his head reassuringly, I blurted out, "what if I did it wrong?"

"Then I'll explode," Slange said drily. "Just try it. I've supervised you this far."

I sighed, and took a deep breath, praying internally that I wouldn't cause Slange to spontaneously combust.

Under my breath, I chanted, "Segðu sannleikann," before blowing the rosehip dust off the paper onto Slange's face. I watched as the inked text I had written illuminated with a soft glow, and vanished.

"Did it work?" I asked, anxiously. At least something had happened. The paper was now blank, and Slange blinked lazily at me.

"Yes." he said, eyes hazed over.

I clapped and squealed. Apart from a few potions for curing gout and healing colds, this was the first complex spell Slange had taught me. It was a truth serum, and according to Slange, if performed properly, the effect was like a tongue loosened after five draughts of strong ale.

To let me perform this spell on him was an extreme sign of trust, and not one I wanted to take advantage of. But I had one small question that burned with the need for answers.

"A while ago you said our encounter was not a chance one. Why did you pick me in the forest?" I asked.

"You were kind," Slange said slowly. "I watched you leave offerings for the Landvættir, and you would always smile and thank them for safe passage."

I inhaled. It felt like so long ago. Back then, I hadn't even known that beings like the Landvættir existed. I only knew of trolls, jotunn, and vaguely of fae.

"Is that why?" I asked. "You thought I would be nice enough to help you break the curse?"

I watched Slange's mouth move silently, as I now knew it did when he was prevented from speaking by the curse. He gurgled, then cleared his throat.

"Your blood."

"My blood?" I said, confused. I watched as his mouth mimed and his jaw heaved. Finally he shook his head. I watched as the haze left his eyes.

"Shame it didn't work the way I expected," he said, almost more to himself than to me. "I'd hoped a truth spell could overrule the curse, but clearly not."

"You knew then," I accused. "You planned this? Why didn't you just tell me what you were trying to do?"

"I didn't want to get your hopes up," Slange said defensively.

"You have to learn how to trust me more," I huffed. "I'm tired of you dragging me in a circle instead of telling me honestly what you want to try or do."

I decided to be honest about my intentions.

"I want to ask Björk about your curse, because you said he's known you since you were born."