The Queen's Curse by Natasja Hellenthal Page B

,’ Artride continued, almost whispering. ‘Let us find the one person, please, who can undo the powerful curse on the Law Book of Ceartas. Let this being help us to help our land and its people be free of the curse. Guide us on our journey. Thank you.’
    Tirsa stood motionless staring at the queen who bowed her head in respect. She suddenly opened one eye and locked it onto hers. Quickly Tirsa shut hers. She could hear both their breathing; maybe if she listened closely enough she could hear her own heart beat, maybe even that of the queen!
    Artride breathed in deeply as if to catch the moment, it sounded very close. Her ears hurt from the silence; it was closing in on her mind in an increasingly unpleasant way.
    ‘We’d better go.’ Tirsa let go of her hand reluctantly.
    They mounted their horses , riding through the abnormally silent dense forest for a few more miles, before it got lighter again. They reached a mixed wood and heard a Nightingale sing his melodious song. They both smiled, relieved, and had to admit they had felt a little trapped; as if the tree trunks and their branches had been bars of a large prison with endless walls.
    ‘We have to keep the sun ahead of us. That looks like a small track we can follow, my Lady.’
    ‘Fair enough, let’s go,’ she enthusiastically announced.
    On one occasion they crossed a rocky valley surrounded by high cliffs and rode aside a large flock of small reindeer. They did not seem to care about the two horses with the two women at all, aside from a little curiosity and watchful eye.
    At nightfall, which was almost as dark blue as the cloak of Artride, they discovered the constant rush of water between the trees. ‘The river!’ Artride called out in pure joy, she jumped off her horse and began to run. Tirsa followed her with the horses at a slower pace.
    Ducks flew away , their wings flapping and together they watched them take wing and vanish from eyesight.
    ‘If only we could fly ,’ Artride sighed longingly.
    It appeared to be a broad , fast flowing river and Tirsa knew it was the Dunzel; the border river. She stared at the riverbank. ‘I hope the bridge is not too far away. It might be safer not to camp too close to it anyway.’ So they decided to stay overnight at the sheltered riverbank.
    Tirsa was busy unsaddling the horses and caring for them , and did not hear Artride’s humming. She noticed her drink the fresh, cold water and splash water in her face. Tirsa walked over to the river with the horses to let them also drink.
    Soon afterwards, Tirsa gathered branches, grass, moss and leaves to make some sort of shelter in case it rained during the night.
    Artride offered her help, but Tirsa shook her head.
    ‘Absolutely not. You rest while I do this, my Lady.’
    ‘Please, stop calling me that, Tirsa.’ She looked up from her work and asked in a calm, but slightly mocking voice, ‘Should I call you “Highness” then or “Majesty?” like Jaromir…
    Artride was stunned and twisted her mouth in agony, but did not remark. Her face had said enough. It had hurt her, clearly , and Tirsa flushed a little, turning her face away. She was sorry and promised herself she would not upset her again.
    As Tirsa was making camp , Artride cared for the horses, examining their hooves, cleaning them and feeding them with forage. When Tirsa had finished making their shelter, located between two trees, she started scavenging for firewood. She came back with an armload of old sticks, and with flint and steel from the pouch on her belt she made sparks that fell on the dry kindling. Preparing dinner on the campfire also went professionally and fast. Artride brought her some dried herbs to add to the broth she was making, to be of use. It was getting cold at the riverside, therefore Artride sat down on a blanket she had spread in front of the warm glow of the fire, staring around at the cosy shelter, and pots and pans.
    ‘The camp is perfect, Commander .’
    While they ate,