on her knees, her fingers digging into the earth. “By the time Mother and Father departed, it was nearing the end of the war. People were expecting the imminent surrender of the wizards, so everyone was a bit off guard.” Robin pulled his hands through his hair and continued. “Our parents had been sent to eliminate this powerful wizard who’d probably done the worst damage to our side. His name was Grimholdt.”
“Grimholdt. Sounds pretty villainous,” said Marianne.
“Well, right after our parents left us with Beatrice, Neville got word that he was going to be needed in battle the next day. Now, Neville had never seen service. His wealthy father threw him into the military because Neville was a failure at everything else, and also I suspect his father wouldn’t have minded if Neville came home on his shield.”
Marianne raised her eyebrows.
“Anyway, on that fateful day, Neville decided to make a break for it. He had us all pack and wait until nightfall. You were too young to remember, but I recall thinking what a fun game it would be to sneak past the soldiers. We were nearly a mile away when we saw the fire start at the camp. All around was the black night, but in this one part of my world, the colors of yellow and red flung their tendrils out, burning the fabric of the sky. At first I thought it was captivating. Then the echoes of unimaginable suffering started, and they grew louder as the fireball spread. The sweet smell of a cool night changed to this acrid odor of burning straw and wood—”
Nauseated at his recollection, Robin no longer stared at Marianne. He continued, in a bitter voice. “My first impulse was to run back . . . to help those whose pleadings had reached my ears. But Neville grabbed Edward and me, shook us, and growled, ‘You’ll never speak about this unless you want to end up like them.’ And he pointed to the doomed silhouettes against the orange blaze who were running about in the distance.”
Robin drew his legs up and locked his arms about them. “I never have told anyone about that night. Later I uncovered the fact that Grimholdt was responsible for the tragedy. Our parents had failed their mission. I don’t have any idea where Grimholdt is today because he was never caught, but I know what I’d do if I ever got to lay my hands on him.” Robin’s fingers pressed so tightly into his legs that they left indentations.
“The place in camp where we had been staying was totally destroyed, so Neville’s father got what he wanted when Neville received a hero’s funeral service, and by relocating, Neville titled himself into a new identity in another realm. So you see, Marianne, they were telling you the truth. If Neville hadn’t been a coward, I suppose we would be dead.”
Robin pulled himself together. “Time to leave. I want to be well on our way before nightfall.”
Marianne managed to stagger to her mare. Riding through the forest, Marianne nearly got swept off her horse by a low branch that left leaves dangling from her hair.
All she could think of was the night when their lives had changed. The weight of Robin’s revelations saddened her. Robin was glum, too, whistling a mindless tune until his throat went dry and he was forced to drink from his water flask. Marianne watched as he put the water to his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped. Marianne grabbed her stomach in pain. Robin turned around, a worried look on his face. “Marianne, are you all right?”
“Grimholdt killed them, Robin.” The thoughts and suspicions of her life welled up inside of her and overflowed. “It’s not the best feeling, but at least I know,” she said, blinking tears away.
“Marianne, I believed it would be better if I told you. You have to accept these things.”
“How can you not be more upset over this?” asked Marianne, wiping away the tears that had begun to spring forth. “We could have been reared by our parents. Our parents, Robin.” At these last words she reached to hug Robin’s shoulders as her horse moved beneath her.
“I did my crying a long time ago,” said Robin, catching her hands and placing them back in her lap. “Then I woke up one morning and knew I wouldn’t cry again. Of course our parents would have been better for us than the likes of Neville and Beatrice, which wouldn’t take much, but I try to turn that grief into something productive. I’m inspired by Mother and Father to do things they would have liked. Tears only go so far.” Robin sighed, angling his horse back along the path. Marianne lifted her eyes to the overhanging limbs. The swishing of the canopy above relaxed her breathing, and she pulled the leaves from her hair.
As the hours passed, Marianne and Robin sought solitude from each other’s company even though they rode together into the forest. Finally, Robin turned around in his saddle. “Marianne, there’s a fork in the road up here. I think we should dismount before we proceed.” Marianne nodded and slid off her horse with a small exclamation of soreness. Ahead of them, at the base of an enormous tree, the dirt road split into two distinct trails. The path to the right seemed inviting while the one to the left cut farther into the forbidding woods. Marianne looked down the left track, but was unable to see more than a few yards.
“Marianne, come look at this!” Robin called amusedly. “There’s a well here where the roads part. Wonder if it grants wishes.”
“So 9,990 pieces of gold isn’t enough for you?” asked Marianne with a smile as she ambled toward him. Robin gave a light laugh.
“That wouldn’t be what I’d wish for,” he said, staring down into the well. “Marianne, scout around here while I’m scaling this tree to see which road to choose.”
“Fine,” answered Marianne as Robin found a footing at the tree’s base and clambered up. Marianne looked down the well, whose crumbling stone sides seemed to angle into the center of the earth. Feeling a bit guilty at caving into her romantic sensibilities, Marianne drew forth a small piece of gold from her pocket and decided to make a practical wish. I wish for guidance in my choice of roads, she thought, tossing it down the well and waiting to hear the splash.
Instead—
“OW! What business have you throwing things into my home, you black-hearted scoundrel?” cried a creature from inside the well. An indignant frog pushed its head over the top of the well and glared at Marianne.
“Sorry, but I needed some help in choosing our route.” Marianne was totally unfazed by speaking amphibians.
“Excuse me, but do you see a crystal ball in front of me? Am I wearing a turban? Is there a snake oil doctor next to me?”
“No,” said Marianne.
“Then it’s obvious that I’m no fortune teller.”
At this remark, Marianne drew out her dragonfly ball and aimed it to the path on her right. “Thanks for the reminder,” she said lightly. Looking into the glass, Marianne said, “Robin has bought me an apple tart. He’s eating most of it. There are bright colors everywhere. A man is pulling his leg over his head. I’m in an area full of mirrors.”
“Not that you deserve my interpretation, but that could be the carnival that passed by a few hours ago,” revealed the frog smugly.
Before lifting the ball to the path on the left, Marianne checked to see that Robin couldn’t spy on her. Assured that he was a safe distance up, she peered into the globe and described another vision to the frog: “I’m in a brightly lit room. There is a man turning around. He’s smiling.” Marianne felt a creeping numbness run up her back, but she continued, “He’s very tall. He has lambent green eyes. He’s speaking. He makes me want to run.” Marianne’s breathing grew more erratic.
