Author: Chaos

Note: This is Beauty and the Beast with my own twist to it. Please let me know what you think.

Branches whipped at Aeslynn�s face and arms as she ran effortlessly through the deep forest, a fair sized deer slung over her shoulders. She was not breathing hard, despite having been running for the past three hours straight. In point of fact, she was not breathing at all. That particular life function had become unnecessary along with eating and drinking and most other essentials to proper bodily operation the night the curse had been brought down upon their heads. The full moon hung just overhead, spilling silvery light across everything under it, gilding the leaves and branches of the trees with false finery. The village was just ahead and the night was only half over. The hunt this day had gone swiftly and she had more time than usual. The Huntress would have time to scout around before leaving the gift. She preferred it that way.

Once a month, for several centuries now, she had left a gift of meat at the doorstep of the headman in one of the villages that huddled at the outskirts of the forest. Aeslynn always made her gifts on the night of the full moon. It had almost become a game for her to deliver the meat and leave without being spotted by the village children who invariably tried to stay up to watch for her despite their parents� warnings. Some had even glimpsed her as she moved through the shadows that lay thick between the huts and houses. They were local heros to the other children.

She stopped at the terminus of the forest, a line drawn hard and fast across the land beyond which the trees simply refused to grow, instead turning back on themselves and making the old forest ever thicker and deeper. The Huntress looked down on the village in the little glen below her and absently brushed a lock of onyx hair away from her face. The moonlight brightly illuminated the cluster of buildings and she could see every house, hut and shack within its boundaries. She lifted the doe from her shoulders and laid it carefully on the ground. She shivered once and shook her head against the pain she had endured since early evening. It was ever thus when she left the castle grounds behind.

Carefully, she surveyed the village of Glenwood. Her eyes peered into the shadows and darkened windows and doorways. It was not so much the children she wished to avoid as it was a young woman she wanted to attract. His Lordship needed a young woman, specifically a person of lower estate than he, to help break the curse and since none who still remained to serve him could really be considered human now, their only recourse was to try and entice one from one of the villages. It was not an easy thing to accomplish.

Rumors moved from village to village faster than a hart through the forest. All knew the story of the Duke and the disastrous night when everything had changed. The forest had become wild and impenetrable overnight, so thick that none had dared venture farther than a few yards into it for fear of being lost forever. Most of the Duke�s servants had come fleeing down from Castle Stonehaven in a panic, but their words had been wild and confusing, the story incomplete and mysterious.

No matter.

The duke had all the time in the world and, with the help of his Mistress of the Hunt, he continued to try and win over the villagers with a new-found kindness and generosity. Oh, it hadn�t started right away, that was for sure. The people had wondered and speculated and gossiped, but there had been no word from the castle. No, he had been too upset, too overwrought by the curse and the sorceress�s deception to think coherently, let alone to learn the lesson she had come to teach.

Now though, the ritual was long established and expected. She made her rounds of the villages as the months passed by and they knew when to expect her. They knew they had delved too deeply into the forest or offended the Duke in some way when they were passed by for the next village in line. It had almost become normal.

There was no sense in waiting longer. She thrust her spear point first into the ground and reshouldered her burden before trotting down the gentle slope towards the village. At first she had needed to be wary, for the village�s men had oft-times laid in wait to ambush her, thinking her some monster or demon come to persecute them. Now she only dodged eyes, not arrows or spears, and then only to play the game the children so seemed to delight in.

The ground was soft beneath her silent tread, leaving deep footprints in her wake for the people to find in the morning along with the offering of meat. Aeslynn could have moved without trace if she had wanted to expend the effort. She had learned over the innumerable years to compensate for her greatly increased weight, but she wanted the villagers to see the tracks and know she had been there again.

The Mistress of the Hunt paused a moment at the first line of huts at the edge of town. No faces peered at her from dark windows, and there was no furtive movement at doorways or building corners. She moved on through the quiet streets, knowing her way very well indeed after all the years and despite all the changes wrought by the expanding population.

She crouched at the corner of the Headman�s house and then slipped around it to lay her burden at the threshold. She paused theatrically for a moment, for the benefit of any possible watchers and fought to keep a smile off her dark features. She rose to her feet slowly, majestically and struck a dramatic pose, the gleaming moonlight limning her black contours with silver fire. She let the moment linger for the space of a long breath, then slid back into the shadows from which, rumor had it, she had sprung and began to weave her way back toward the forest�s shelter.

Halfway through the village Aeslynn was startled when someone stepped out of a doorway right in front of her. Her hand clutched reflexively at the spear she had left behind at the forest terminus and her whole body tensed for combat. She had not been attacked for over three centuries now, but was mentally castigating herself for being so careless. The figure remained motionless, making no threatening moves and the Huntress began to relax. She became aware of the details of the person before her. It was a young woman in a soft, grey woolen night dress, her skin bleached white by the moon. Her hair was unbound and fell in shining waves that glinted golden even in Luna�s argent light. Aeslynn rose to her full height and stood still as stone in the street, silently regarding the woman before her. It was a strange tableau. Two women, one dark and one fair, neither moved.

It was the peasant woman who broke the silence first and she spoke but two words.

�Thank you.� Her voice was low and melodious and there was neither fear nor awe in her tone. The Huntress paced closer to the woman, testing her resolve, but she did not give ground before the legend come to life. When Aeslynn stood less than an arm�s length from the woman, she stopped.

�I but serve Duke Stonehaven. He sends his regards to your village.� The Hunt Mistress stretched out her hand and placed it gently on the young woman�s shoulder. The two searched each other�s eyes and then, before the peasant could draw breath to bid her stay, the Mistress of the Hunt was past her and loping toward the forest.

Behind her, she left one last memento of her visit, another side effect of the sorcerous curse. The duke�s crest, a sinister spear aslant a spreading oak, was indelibly stained into the grey wool of the night dress where her hand had rested.

*******

When Aeslynn reached the castle gate her faithful hounds greeted her joyfully. The rising sun caused them to scintillate a bright cheery rose, the sun�s own hues sparkling off the mica chips that flecked their granite hides. She patted them fondly, relaxing fully as the pain caused by leaving fell away from her body, and let the two canines play a few moments before calling them to heel and proceeding on her way.

She moved down the flagstone walkway that arrowed through the front gardens from the outer gate to the great main doors of the castle itself. Side paths branched out at irregular intervals to wind meandering paths through the once spectacular gardens, but she ignored them, prowling toward her destination with all the grace of a hunting cat.

At the door waited two sentinels, their stony expressions impassive, their impressively large bodies only vaguely human in shape. At her approach they swung open the massive doors and she nodded at them as she passed through. Most of the few remaining retainers were still sleeping, if you could call it that, so the hallways and vaulting rooms were empty and silent. The only sound was her own soft tread and the slight echoes of her hounds beside her.

Empty, so very empty. One would think it dead and abandoned at first glance, for cobwebs hung in the corners and draped the walls. Dust lay thick over any surface above arm�s reach. Many of the floor tiles were cracked and broken, for none that remained had the knowledge or skill to replace them. Only patience would show it to be a poorly kept up husk maintained by living statues.

At the door to the throne room she paused. To one side, standing stiffly at attention, was the Duke�s page, Colin. His flesh had been replaced with smooth white marble just as hers had been redone in the blackest of obsidian and he fairly glowed in the faint light that filtered in through the cracked and broken windows set high in the walls.

�His Grace is expecting you, Mistress. Please, go right in.� Colin, no more than a boy though he had existed for more than six centuries, still took his duties very seriously and carried them out with the overly solemn mein of young, responsible boys the world over. He pulled on the latch and opened the door for her just as the sentries at the main door had done and she passed through into the presence of the Duke of Stonehaven.

Aeslynn heard the door close behind her as she moved silently through the shadows that wreathed the room. An idle gesture sent the dogs to flank the throne and sit quietly till called again. The windows had been covered over some four hundred years back at the duke�s command. The room had been a rather dark and forbidding place ever since, with shadows gripping the corners and walls like the claws of some fell beast.

The Mistress of the Hunt moved farther into the room where a single torch burned in a wall sconce, throwing flickering flashes of light from behind the duke�s throne. From her perspective the silhouette of his profile retained its human aspect. The restive stirring of his shoulders, the idle tapping of his fingers, all these looked quite normal in the low light. They did not reveal that he, too, was made entirely of stone. From his golden circlet to the soles of his boots he was made wholly of black diamond. As hard as his heart the Sorceress had said.

�Come, Aeslynn.� The voice from the darkness was deep and resonant and echoed from the fluted columns and bare walls. �Tell me of what transpired this night. How did the hunt progress?�

�My Lord.� The Huntress dropped to one knee before the dais on which the throne sat, head bowed, her spear at her side. �So formal still, after all these years, my Huntress?� His voice held a soft, almost mocking laughter. �Have we not progressed beyond that?�

She rose again with fluid grace despite the sudden flutter in her breast, unusual in light of the fact that her heart no longer beat. He could not know that she longed desperately to put aside the formality between them, to speak openly and frankly to him, but now was not the time and it was not her place to initiate it. After all these years it was only a small struggle to keep her voice normal. �The hunt went well and quickly. The gift this night was for the village of Glenwood. I delivered it and was on my way out when I met a young woman on the street.�

The duke leaned forward eagerly, though there was no motion from his legs or feet. Those were as solidly anchored to the throne as a mountain is to the earth and just as still. �A woman? In the streets on the night of a full moon?�

�Aye, my lord. She was neither fearful nor arrogant.� Aeslynn tilted her head to one side, indicating clearly her confusion at this sort of behavior. �She thanked me.� Her tone made it more of a question than a statement. Darius of Stonehaven slumped back in his throne and remained silent, his chin resting on his chest. His face was pensive and his fingers drummed the arm of the throne. Women had long avoided the streets during the full moon for fear of being carried off into the night. Aeslynn closed her eyes at the memory of that disastrous time. She had abducted more than a dozen women before the duke realized that he could not force someone to fall in love with him and that keeping a girl locked up away from her family was the last way he should go about wooing her. That command had almost pained her as much as seeing him this way did.

The drumming continued for many minutes, the only sound in an otherwise silent room. �Take her a gift, some bauble or other. I�m sure you�d know better than I what would catch such a woman�s fancy.� He regarded her a moment, his gaze unreadable before speaking again. �And rest yourself. I know you do not need it physically, but everyone should be able to turn off their minds for a few hours a day.�

Aeslynn�s heart would have thudded dully in her chest were it actually still beating. The duke could not �sleep� as those who had chosen to remain with him could, turning themselves off for a few hours every night. She and the others tried hard not to remind him of that, there were many things they tried to avoid reminding him of.

�Yes, my lord. If you need me for anything at all, send Colin to fetch me.� She turned and padded back out of the room, leaving the hounds behind to keep his Grace company. The door opened at her approach and closed smoothly behind her.

Colin�s youthful voice called her back when she would have continued down the hallway. �Mistress, is it true? A woman in the streets?�

�Yes, lad. She was very beautiful, too.� There was something strange, a sort of longing, in her tone.

�And you are not, Mistress?� The simple honesty of his question brought her up short. She had never considered herself to be beautiful. She was too tall and too muscular to be beautiful, at least that�s what she had always thought.

�I am a living statue, Collin. She is flesh and blood.�

�He will send for her.�

She turned her head away so the perceptive page would not see her expression. �I know.�

�Why do you not tell him?�

�Tell him what, lad? There is nothing to tell.� Her voice held a note of pleading. Please do not pursue this. He ignored it.

�Nothing? And what of you, Mistress?� His tone was blunt, almost harsh.

�I am not the one who was cursed, Colin,� she looked at him now, pleading with her face and posture as well as her voice. �If she can free him, make him happy, what more could I wish for? We all need for his pain to end.�

�Yes, we need his pain to end, but what of your pain, Mistress?� The soft words were more than she could cope with now. She did not respond, only shook her head and strode away.

*******

Rowena Larkspur walked leisurely down the street, her shopping basket, covered by a towel, over one arm. She smiled and tossed her long, sunny gold hair so that those she passed could admire it. She returned the greetings of those she felt worthy of her attention and ignored the others as beneath her notice.

This fine morning she was on her way to the house of Laurel Miller. Edith Weaver and Ursula Tiller were probably already there since Rowena was taking her time as she walked. Around her the village of Glenwood had woken up and was already well into its daily routine. Most of the men were out in the fields, the few with other crafts were hard at work as well.

Rowena sniffed in disdain at the thought of working. He father was a simple farmer, but she would be more; she would be rich. Every thought that passed through her pretty, empty looking, head was aimed at getting her out of Glenwood. Even stepping out into the street during a full moon had been to further her designs.

Everyone knew the stories, the rumors that flew in the wake of each full moon. A Duke, the story went, under a spell. If she could break it, if she could catch his attention, that, then, would be her way out of here. Her way out of a life of dull drudgery and pointless work.

Anyone could see that she was not meant to work. Her hair was soft and silken. It floated behind her on the light breeze as she walk down the packed dirt street. Her figure was small and slim, her movements graceful. Her hands on the basket were delicate, her skin pale. She was not meant to work in the fields or anywhere else for that matter, possibly marring that skin or over taxing that body. Yes, she was meant for leisure and refinement, not for the likes of these simple peasants that surrounded her. She was meant for grander things.

The proof of that was in the basket to show to her admirers the truth of her words. The proof was in the black stain on the shoulder of her night dress. She had been noticed. She was sure that the rest would not be long in coming.

*******

A ring, a bracelet, a necklace? A golden chalice? A casket of jewels? What could she take to the young peasant woman? The Duke had been wrong about that, she had no clue what such a one would want. Aeslynn had never moved in those circles, had never associated much with the other women in the castle. Her world had been the hounds, the hawks, the hunt, providing his Grace with entertainment, his table with food. Gifts of meat she could manage with ease, but anything else, anything that a normal woman would want, was beyond her ken.

The Mistress of the Hunt prowled through the abandoned rooms of the castle, rummaging through the cupboards and trunks for anything that might make a suitable gift. If the woman was a peasant, wouldn�t it be better to give her something she or her family could actually use? A plow share, a bag of seed, a bolt of fine cloth? A horse? But all the horses were long since dead or released back to freedom on the plains south of the Duke�s lands. There was no seed or farming tools to be found in the castle; none of the inhabitants ate and most of the cloth was long since moth eaten and destroyed.

Aeslynn shook her head in frustration. She could not think of what would make a suitable gift. She was not a woman who thought of such things. The black face brightened. But there were women in the castle who did. She jogged down the hallways, back to the occupied sections of the castle to seek out the head cook. She would know what to give to the peasant woman and she would have the time to talk to Aeslynn, there being no need to prepare any food.

Cookie, as she had insisted on being called for as long as anybody could remember, was almost laughing by the time the Huntress finished the explanation of her need.

�Aeslynn, dear. You have to think like a pretty young girl.� The sky blue face smiled up at her in amusement. �But, I don�t think that you were ever a young girl like everyone else, were you?� The short, round, turquoise woman bustled around the kitchen, dusting this and that. �She�ll want something that calls attention to herself, makes her stand out from everyone else, but not so extravagant as to inspire theft. The less practical it is the better, m�dear. Pick her out a pretty set of hair pins, or a jeweled comb. Something that she can wear in town without an excuse to dress up.� At Aeslynn�s look of confusion the motherly woman took her by the hand and toddled off to aid in the search.

�You�ll not get it right without some help, I can see that plain as day, young lady. You just leave it up to me and things will turn out just fine.�

*******

The Larkspur household was in an uproar and soon the whole village was abuzz with the news. Rowena had received a gift from the Duke. And not just any gift, but a beautiful golden comb set with black pearls. That single piece of jewelry represented more wealth than the entire village could earn in a lifetime.

Aeslynn, from her quiet perch on the hill over looking Glenwood, could see all the people hurrying to and fro in their search of still more speculation on what this could mean. Even from where she sat, the stone woman could hear the shrill exclamations of the village women and the shouted greetings of the men.

It was all very tiresome, but the Duke had wanted her to stay and watch. He was so eager for word of a positive reaction that Aeslynn could hardly argue. She simply sat and ignored the throbbing pain that echoed through every part of her body and wished that the girl would get it over with and make an appearance so that she could return to the castle and her lord.

As if merely wishing could make it so, Rowena stepped from her house and a new flurry of shouts and exclamations went up from the village. Glinting in the bright morning light, the woman�s long golden hair was piled atop her head and held proudly in place with the jeweled comb.

Aeslynn arose from her place and strode swiftly towards the cool depths of the forest. Positive indeed was the reception she could report to his Grace. Spear in hand, the occasional ray of sun splashing off her onyx skin, the Mistress of the Hunt raced off through the trees and if there was a stiffness in her manner, an angry frown creasing her brow, there was no one anywhere nearby to take note of it.

*******

Rowena wandered through the dusty, dirty rooms of the castle. She searched through all the chests and trunks, all the cupboards and closets, in much the same manner as Aeslynn had not long ago. She looked for things of value, small portable things that she could take away with her should things here not work out according to her plan. Through it all there was a nagging sensation of being watched.

That damn black-skinned witch, the Huntress, was probably following her again. She�s always following me, always speaking slightingly of me, Rowena thought. Or setting her ugly dogs to watch me. Well, I�ll fix her just as soon as I am mistress of this place. She�ll be out in the cold faster than she can blink those blasted witch black eyes of hers. Already I�ve got the Duke listening to me more than to her. Oh yes, things were working out perfectly. Duke Darius listened to her spin tales of her home all evening long and had one of the gardeners setting out roses for her every morning. The stupid hounds no longer so much as pricked an ear at her as she passed, unless that wretched huntress was with them. The cook was overjoyed at having someone to do for again, and had fretted and wailed over the neglected state the kitchen garden had fallen into.

The only one the high minded peasant hadn�t won over besides that viper in woman�s guise was the little page boy, Colin. He kept his face carefully neutral when she looked at him, but Rowena could feel his eyes boring into her back. He watched her as carefully as she did, damn them both. Well, the boy would learn better and the woman would leave. That is all there is to it, she thought. All this is mine now.

*******

If this was the only way to do it, Aeslynn was going to see that stone hearted little temptress tossed out of the castle. She should have followed her initial instincts, but the hope, the very thought that maybe this little peasant girl could break the curse was worth the aggravation. It had even been worth spending days hacking a trail through the forest so that she could lead Rowena, while carrying the girl�s luggage, to the castle. Or so the Huntress had thought at the time. Now she knew differently.

Rowena was not as sweet and innocent as she pretended to be. The Duke was eating it up and she had him right in the palm of her hand. He would hear nothing bad about her and Aeslynn�s arguments all fell on deaf ears. The Huntress knew that the Duke wouldn�t marry the girl. Couldn�t, in point of fact. There could be no wedding if the curse wasn�t broken, and the curse could not be broken without love. Unfortunately, Rowena could twist the Duke�s heart and wring every last drop of hope and love from it before she left if Aeslynn didn�t do something first.

Colin nodded to the Huntress when she arrived at the door. He slipped inside and announced her to Darius, then pulled the door wide to admit her when the Duke absently waved his permission. Aeslynn strode the distance from door to dais smoothly and quickly, as was her wont. She knelt, head bowed as protocol dictated and was rewarded with a familiar sigh of frustration.

�One of these days, Mistress Aeslynn, I will break you of this ridiculous formality.�

�I very much doubt that, my Lord,� she replied quietly, but with conviction.

�Rise then, and speak. What brings you before me on this fine morning?� Aeslynn raised her head as she stood and the sight of that soft smile Darius habitually wore now tugged at her emotions. Sternly she pushed them aside and pressed on with her plan.

�Lord, the maid Rowena,� she couldn�t stomach calling the wretch �lady�, �has been with us for some time now. I have seen her, of late, staring out the windows towards Glenwood. I think that it would be good for her to visit home and see her family. I know that she speaks to you of them often. This would indicate much love and longing on her part. Perhaps you could also send with her some gifts for her parents?�

The Duke�s dark face again broke forth in a radiant smile and his eyes seemed to twinkle. �What a wonderful idea, Aeslynn. Would you see to arranging for the gifts? When you have them ready, I will have Colin fetch Rowena from the gardens and we can break the news to her together.� He extended a hand to her and Aeslynn could not have ignored it had all of hell�s demons barred the way. She placed her hand in his and he gave it a thankful squeeze. �Thank you. I know that this will please her.�

The Mistress of the Hunt bowed her head to hide from him the pain her deception brought to her. This was necessary, and though she knew that Rowena would badly misconstrue this as a dismissal, it would at least reveal to Darius what the woman truly was.

*******

When Colin ushered Rowena through the doors and shut them silently behind her, she thought nothing of it. The Duke had sent for her often in the weeks she had now been there. It was the sight of that conniving, jealous witch at his side that gave her the first inkling that something might be wrong, though the Duke�s bright smile belied that. His arms were wide to welcome her and the peasant girl held faith that he was firmly in her grasp.

�Rowena, darling, it occurs to me that you have been here for nearly three months,� he began.

�And the time has flown by, my Lord Darius, so quickly that it has seemed but hours,� was her quickly reply. A tiny niggle of doubt tickled at her mind as she tried to anticipate where this conversation might be going.

�But your family must miss you terribly. What must they think?� When Rowena tried to assure him that her family would not be the least worried for her safety in the mighty Duke�s castle, Darius waved her to silence as he continued. �No, no, Aeslynn has rightly reminded me that you should visit your parents, that they might be reassured of your health and happiness.�

Inwardly, Rowena seethed and her eyes narrowed at the very mention of the Huntress� name. So, she is behind this after all. �But your Grace, I would rather not be away from you for the time such a visit would take,� she protested. All that black-skinned harpy needs is a few days of my absence to undo all the strands that I have woven to bind you to me.

Again Darius waved her arguments away. He was in too good a mood to hear any naysaying. �I will send gifts with you for you parents. Proof of how fond I am of you.�

�But Sire, don�t send me away. I wish to remain here.�

�Rowena, I and the castle are not going to go anywhere while you are gone. We have been here for centuries and will still be here when you return. And you will not be gone so long. Ten days at most. During that time I will have rooms prepared for your parents so that they may stay here with us. We can bring in more game and plant more vegetables in the garden, or even trade from some at the nearest village, so that we can have a grand feast to celebrate your return.� Beside and slightly behind the throne, Aeslynn listened to all this and gritted her teeth. She prayed that she was wrong about the girl, wrong about her motives, wrong about the whole thing, but her gut, her instincts told her that she was not. She bit her tongue and waited, praying that the pernicious woman hiding behind the mask of the golden girl before the throne would reveal herself soon.

Her patience and planning were rewarded.

Rowena could see everything unraveling in front of her. That stone witch behind the throne had managed to find a way. When words of warning had not done the trick, where tales of thievery and mischief had been turned away by a deaf ear, a facade of helpfulness and a cunning plan of trickery had undone all of her hard work.

�How can you turn me away like this?� she shrieked. �I�ve sat with you in your depressing room and told you stories. I�ve left my home and friends and family to keep you company and relieve your boredom. I�ve put up with your creepy servants and pathetic attempts at romance. And this is how you repay me?!�

Darius gaped like a landed fish, confused and uncertain of how to proceed. His most loyal servant immediately came to his rescue, leaning over and whispering in his ear. �Lord, she is overwrought. It must be her time of month.�

�Yes, I see that it must be,� though his tone contained more than a little doubt. When he�d truly been alive he�d witnessed flares of womanly temper, but this wasn�t quite the same. �I shall lead her home, my Lord. In a few days time she will be her old self and will realize the wisdom of the course you have chosen.�

�Yes, please, see her safely home. And hurry back, we have preparations to make.� Aeslynn nodded, but secretly hoped that a few days out of this wretch�s influence would change his mind. She stepped forward, spear at her side as the Duke spoke again to the blond woman. �Aeslynn will see you home now, Darling Rowena. I bid you a safe journey.�

The Huntress gently took Rowena by the arm and pulled her from the room, still shrieking and shouting at the top of her lungs about the Duke�s ungrateful attitude and that it was all the vile, black witch�s fault that he was discarding her. As soon as the doors were closed behind them, Aeslynn drew back her hand in readiness for a slap and Rowena�s mouth snapped shut mid-tirade. Colin fought hard to keep a smirk off his face as he hefted their guest�s bags and handed them to Aeslynn.

�Mistress, here are her bags, all packed as you requested.�

�So,� Rowena hissed, �you are behind all this.�

�Yes. You are obviously upset and homesick, so it is my duty to see that you visit your family and familiar surroundings to better relax.� Aeslynn replied, unruffled. She accepted the bags, slinging them over her shoulder, and tilted her head toward their furiously speechless ex-guest. �Shall we go?�

�Oh, I�ll go,� Rowena spit at her, �but I�ll be back. You won�t take him from me, you stone hearted hag.�

�This way, please.� The Mistress of the Hunt raised her spear and pointed down the hallway in a clearly menacing manner and Rowena, face contorted into an expression of supreme loathing and hatred, turned smartly on her heel and stalked in the indicated direction. This is going to be a long trip, Aeslynn thought to herself.

*******

The pale moonlight that filtered weakly through the gathering clouds gilded the weird figures that stood as silent sentinels along the length of the flagstone walkway through the heart of the front garden in contrast to the flickering torch light that made them seem to waver and lean over the walkway. Some were human, some came straight from only the worst of nightmares, their limbs twisted and their features a mask of agony. All, however, were armed in some manner and all had an aspect of battle readiness.

The garden reflected the fearsome attitude of the statuary. The bare branches and withered stalks of the neglected shrubs and trees clawed at the sky and the pathway and each other. All the grounds were eerily silent. Not a cricket or nightbird was to be heard, and even the wind was momentarily still.

Rowena strode at the head of the inflamed mob and fought to remember the details of the front garden. Had these figures always been here? She hadn�t spent much time in the front garden, having wandered the more extensive and better kept main garden or exploring the castle itself. She could feel the men at her back wavering, her power over them fading before the overhanging menace of the grounds and the statuary. She must do something quickly or all would be lost.

A low moan of fear rumbled out of her lovely throat and quickly modulated into a scream of outrage. Her head thrown back, her arms outflung, she knew she made an impressive sight there in the middle of the path. �You will trouble me and my village no more, evil beast!� She roared her defiance and it echoed hollowly off the ancient walls of the castle. Behind her the mob began to surge forward past her, the angry cries that had sped it on its way from little Glenwood rising once again. The men stalked past her up the pathway toward the Great Doors, doors that stood invitingly and deceptively open.

Alternately pushed and pulled along by her army, Rowena advanced up the pathway. A flash of lightning threw everything into stark relief and in its wake the men paused a moment to get their sight back, before moving on. There, just to her right. Yes, that figure looked familiar. Wasn�t that the cook? And that one, just beyond her, wasn�t that one of the doormen? Then another flash, almost right behind the castle, seared the imposing form of the Mistress of the Hunt into her eyes. She stood immobile, her body tense, her visage stern, but her spear was missing. It was almost too much to hope that she and the others were asleep.

Rowena felt a trickle of fear run down her spine. For the first time she wondered at the wisdom of this course. These men that had come forth to champion her were not trained warriors. Neither was the cook, or the gardener, or the page boy, she reminded herself savagely. You are in the right. He was wrong to spurn you in that manner, to let that cold hearted bitch talk about you that way! Can�t he see that? Can�t he see that he had brought all this down upon himself? Her story to her fellow villagers might not have been wholly correct, but that did not change the rightness of her cause.

The last of the mob behind her had caught up and they were all surging along the path, those at the forefront were only a few strides away from the Great Doors. That was when she realized that Aeslynn had not been sleeping, but waiting.

The Huntress moved.

Rowena cried out, but her call only inflamed the mob more and they missed the warning entirely. Aeslynn raised the long hunting knife she carried and swung it once about her head before jumping down to block the forward path of the pack.

At the signal, all the other statues lunged to life and jumped into the midst of the villagers. Rowena screamed and pulled her scarf up to cover her bright blond hair. It marked her like a lit torch and could only draw violence. All around her the men were in a panic, pushing and shoving at each other in an attempt to get away from the stone figures, despite out numbering them more than five to one. She had never mentioned that the Duke�s servants moved like real people, that they had the same kind of reflexes. She knew that the men of her village had assumed that they would lumber and swing and be clumsy. They dodged and ducked, they thrust and parried, the ones that knew how, anyway. They were few, but so were the number of villagers that knew the ways of fighting. And then there was the flashing lightning, showing them all more than they wanted to see and then blinding them for that critical moment that the servants did not need, being creatures of magic. And at the front of it all was the Mistress of the Hunt, her knife flickering and darting, and where it touched there was death.

All around her men were falling. Eldritch fire flickered from bodies of quartz and feldspar, of turquoise and hematite, as they moved through the fray. It was only a matter of time, now. Rowena knew that in an instant. The moans of pain and screams of fear from the men who had followed her here filled her ears and the flagstones were becoming slick with their blood.

There would be no better time.

She ducked through the first opening she saw and fled into the garden. The path branched and wandered through the sadly neglected gardens. Branches and twigs snagged at her from all sides and lighting lanced from the sky, the brilliant flashes searing images of the dying and twisted shapes of the once beautiful hedges and plants into her mind.

It was all too much. It was all falling apart. She�d lost the Duke. She�d lost her familiar place in the village. And now she had lost her chance for revenge. It was all gone and there was no way to get it back. And all because of that black-skinned harlot. The Huntress had taken it all away from her, but Rowena would not let her get away with it. No, she knew what Aeslynn loved, knew who. Before she left, Rowena intended to give that conniving, heartless guttersnipe a little of her own medicine. It took a moment for her to orient herself when she finally stopped running in blind panic, but there was the pathway to the kitchen entrance before her. She took it at a run and gripped tightly at the ax she had thought to grab up from a fallen man.

*******

Aeslynn swallowed a cry of dismay as she watched the second doorman pulled down. The villagers had managed to organize around the few fighters in their midst after the first disorienting moments of confusion. Yes, her warriors, if one used the term loosely, were made of stone, but stone chipped and crumbled and broke and when enough was gone, so was life. She had a few significant gouges and chips herself, but nothing that wouldn�t heal given time for the magic to work its will.

Outnumbered, she and her fellows had been pushed back into the Great Hall. She knew that the sounds would be carrying back to the throne room and little Colin at his post before the door. She prayed to any god that would listen that the boy would stay at his post, away from the fighting, that he would survive. She ducked the wild swing of the man to her right without conscious thought and reversed her grip on her hunting knife, backhanding the blade right into the man�s chest. His breath hissed out through a punctured lung when she withdrew it and parried a clumsy thrust from ahead.

She had taught the other servants as much as time had allowed, but a plump little cook was not a match for a field hardened, enraged farmhand, even if she was fighting for the lives of her friends and her Lord. The cheery woman had fallen to the mob almost five minutes ago. It was hard to believe that it had only been that short a time. They seemed to her to have been fighting for an eternity. Outside, the storm had arrived and was lashing at the castle with a fury to match the conflict that now embroiled the inhabitants.

Distantly, Aeslynn heard a cry from within, from the throne room. Colin! Who could have gotten past us? She could not leave this fight to help him. She had spent the most time with the young boy and her immobile lord. She had prepared them as best she could and now they had to do their utmost until she could break away from the present fight. She ducked another wild swing and hamstrung the man, leaving a cleaning maid to finish the kill. She had to end this.

The surest way to disorganize the villagers was to remove their leadership. Aeslynn waded deep into the fray, straight toward the small knot of true fighters near the middle who were coordinating the efforts of those around them. A startled shout was all there was time for, then she was among them. The Huntress chopped left and right with her blade, a swing, a thrust, anything to injure, slow or kill the core of the resistence. A blow to her left flank gave her pause only for a moment. She pushed the pain away as she would have had she been out hunting, and not for the first time this night, she blessed the nature of their curse. Had she been flesh and blood she would have been quite dead by this time.

�Mistress!� Colin�s desperate cry could be heard even over the tumult around her and her attacks became even more frenzied. The Duke, I must protect the Duke! Then, suddenly the last of the real fighters were gone and the men around her were shouting in confusion once again. Her rag-tag crew could clean up what was left. She rushed toward the throne room, heedless of who she shoved out of her way as she charged out of the general melee and raced down the short hall.

When she arrived there was little left of the Duke�s page but pale, white rubble. Whoever had managed to circle around had not been content to simply kill the boy, but had pounded on, long after the deed was done. A muffled whimper brought her back to the concern at hand and the Mistress of the Hunt lunged through the doorway. One of the hounds was already down, her head cloven. The other writhed with what was left of his mangled body beneath the blows of the slim, pale girl that had so caught their lordship�s heart.

She was no longer an angelic beauty, her hair blown and tangled by the storm winds, her dress torn and dirty. But that was not what made her almost unrecognizable. Her face had been transformed by hatred and fury to a mask of ugly rage, twisted and unreasoning.

Darius sat on his throne. Where else would he be, Aeslynn asked herself. He held across his lap her spear, as yet unused. His face was unreadable in the dim lighting, but she thought she could see something, some emotion that gave life, unknown for years, to his black eyes.

The Huntress stalked silently toward her prey. The faithful hounds were lost, there was nothing she could do for them now, but she could finish what they had started. She could protect their Duke. Her arm drew back for the killing blow and Rowena was unaware of her danger in her incoherent wrath.

�No!� The Duke was leaning forward, his arm outstretched. �Aeslynn, don�t,� he pleaded. Her eyes closed briefly and she gritted her stone teeth in frustration. He still thought that he loved her, that she might love him. Couldn�t he see the girl was at least half mad? Aeslynn turned toward him, one hand reaching, seeking understanding. �My Lord, can�t you see?�

She did not get any farther than that. Rowena had seen her opportunity to remove her last opponent for the Duke�s affection. Her ax swung with all her might and cracked with a sickeningly brittle sound against Aeslynn�s ribs. The Huntress flopped gracelessly to the floor, her knife flying from her hand to clatter against a pillar. She weakly tried to pull herself away from the blows that rained down upon her from above. I have failed. Rowena would pound her into dust with that battered ax and then she would kill the Duke and all of this, all the years of suffering, would have been for nothing. Nothing.

�Rowena, stop! Please, stop!� The Duke�s voice was hoarse and broken with emotion. �Rowena!� He frantically ran his hands up and down the length of the spear in his lap. He was frozen for a moment with indecision. �Aeslynn!�

Her response was weak, mostly whisper. �My Lord?�

His reactions crystalized in that second and he hefted the spear just as he had seen his most loyal servant do and heaved it with all the strength he could muster. It flew, straight and true, and pierced Rowena�s chest dead center. The woman stared in disbelief at the red stain that was spreading across the front of her dress even as she collapsed.

�Aeslynn? Aeslynn!� The Duke called urgently to her, willing her to move, to be alive. �Aeslynn!�

�Yes, my Lord?� He knew what she said only from countless years of repetition. Her voice was ragged and soft, the words hopelessly slurred. Her ebon body heaved as she struggled to get her hands beneath herself. His Mistress of the Hunt slowly, laboriously, drug her badly damaged body across the floor to the dais and scarcely managed to climb that small obstacle by grabbing onto one of Darius� legs and pulling with all her waning might. All that he could think was that if she could move she would eventually heal. She will heal, she will heal, shewillhealshewillheal. The magic was powerful and he had seen many of his servants heal from grievous wounds.

Aeslynn propped her body against the side of the throne and rested her head on her lord�s cold, hard knee. �What would you, my Duke?� she whispered brokenly.

�Nothing, Mistress, only rest by me and heal.� He laid a gentle hand on her head and stroked at her hair. �Only, do nothing like this again. I could not bear to lose you, Aeslynn. What if she had killed you?� His Huntress moved as if to speak. �No, listen to me. Aeslynn, I�ve been a fool, such a terrible fool and only now do I see what that sorceress must have seen those centuries ago.� He paused to collect his thoughts, to summon up the least part of the courage this woman had shown that night. �Do you love me, Aeslynn?�

�My Lord, . . . it is not . . . my place-�

�That is no answer,� he interrupted her. �Aeslynn, do you love me?�

�More than breath . . . � her voice came in gasping spurts, broken by pain. �More than life, my Lord. . . . I would never hunt again, . . .for you.�

Darius let his chin sink forward onto his chest, but his shining black eyes remained locked, staring at the top of her head where it rested against his knee. �Oh, Aeslynn, how could I have not seen? How is it that I had to be waited on hand and foot by you for uncounted years to reciprocate that noble sentiment? Aeslynn, I love you.� Silent tears began to slip down his cheeks. �Aeslynn, do you hear me? I return to you your steadfast love and can only hope that I am worthy.�

�I . . . hear you . . ., my Lord.� Her breath hissed across his knees and he suddenly realized that he could feel! That she could and did breathe. He moved to stand, but centuries of stillness had not prepared him for that. He slumped next to her in an undignified manner and pulled his love into his arms. He rocked her slowly. �Oh, Aeslynn, you�ve done it. We are free.�

�Yes,� her utterance hissed weakly, �Free.� He glanced down at her, sudden alarm pushing through the euphoria, and saw in the flickering torchlight that his hands, his clothes, her body were awash with dark blood. Her breath bubbled from her lips and Aeslynn shook uncontrollably. She smiled up into his eyes, a serene expression shining from her face. �At the last, I did not fail, did I, my Lord?�

Tears fell afresh and he struggled not to sob aloud. No, he had just found her, this could not be happening! �Yes, Aeslynn dearest. You have succeeded admirably in all your tasks. I give you one last duty, stay with me.�

Her head moved slowly from side to side and for the first time in her life the Huntress refused a command, his last command. �Live well, my Duke.� The light in her blue eyes dimmed and went out and Darius of Stonehaven cradled her broken body to him and wept like a lost child.