The woman wore a white gown of silk, embroidered in a metallic thread that shone like molten silver in the thin slithers of moonlight that broke through the canopy of the trees above. Her pale, porcelain complexion was as smooth as alabaster, her lips full and pink in contrast. Long dark hair as black as jet hung around delicate shoulders in soft curls, and a necklace of silver and pearl hung around a slender neck. Her calm composure and regal stance confounded Marrok as she stood before him.
"'Seren you say," said the woman, contemplating his response. "She must be powerful to caste such an enchantment upon you."
"She has no power I know of," Marrok replied shaking his head. "Her name . . . The thought of her came to me."
"She is the one you have somehow wronged?" concluded the woman.
"Yes," Marrok bowed his head and closed his eyes.
The woman stepped confidently forward and knelt down on the ground before Marrok. He could hear and sense her movement, smell the intensity of her scent as she drew near. He opened his eyes and backed away.
She held out her hand towards him. "You won't harm me," she assured him. "You are connected to this woodland in some way, I can sense it."
"I don't know I won't hurt you, so how can you be so sure?" Marrok snarled.
"You're my protector, you saved me. Remember?"
Her words seemed to sing to him and Marrok backed away, fearing he had stumbled upon a witch. "Maifynn," he snarled, baring his teeth. "Stay away or I will kill you too."
The woman rose from the ground but stood firm and still showed no sign of fear. "Maifynn?" she mused. "Now I see."
Marrok became consumed with rage and pounded towards the woman, intent on ripping out her throat but he thudded into the chestnut tree causing it to shake violently, its leaves falling to the ground.
Marrok was confounded as he came to his senses. The woman had vanished from sight, yet he could still smell her essence; hawthorn blossom and freshly fallen snow. Confused he looked up and saw a snow-white owl hovering just below the uppermost branches of the trees. Her keen vivid yellow eyes watching his every moment.
"I said you would not harm me," said the owl in the same voice of calmness. "It is Maifynn you will seek, and I shall help you."
"If you're not Maifynn, who are you?"
The owl soared up above the trees and then dived towards the ground where Marrok stood and the woman reappeared in human-like form. Soft white feathers lay scattered at her feet. "I am Winter, queen of the woodland nymphs."
"How do you know of Maifynn?" asked Marrok.
"She too was once a nymph, many moons ago. Her tree spirit still has roots in this ancient woodland."
"So you are some kind of witches?" Marrok gave out a low growl.
"No, not witches. As nymphs, we possess the spirit of the woodland which gifts us with the power of enchantments. Maifynn was once a powerful nymph, but she forgoed that to be with a man of mortal flesh."
"If she lost her power, how did she enchant me into this?" Marrok demanded with a snarl.
"Her powers may not have faded completely, you are testament to that."
Marrok tried to calm himself. "Can you undo the curse she has put upon me?"
"I can try," Winter replied.
Marrok looked into her glass-like blue eyes. Her delicate and perfect features portrayed the image of a goddess and he started to wonder if she was just a figment of his imagination. 'Could this all be just a nightmare?' he wondered. When he broke from his thoughts he had expected her to have vanished again, but she stood watching him with interest.
YOU ARE READING
Marrok
FantasyMarrok's story is that of a knight who returns home after battling in a bloody crusade for his king. Although expected by his father, the Lord of White Haven, to find a wife in readiness to to provide an heir, marriage is the last thing Marrok is lo...