The Dar Wood B. 01

Prologue

Night was falling outside the snug little cottage on the edge of the forest. It brought with it an icy gale. The winds began to howl. On their wings they bore little flurries of snowflakes.

"I must hurry home," said the man, pulling on his fur-lined leather boots. "I dislike the sound of that wind. A blizzard is coming, I'll wager." Although he still wore his dark hair long, it was shot through with streaks of gray.

"A blizzard!" exclaimed the young woman. Her pretty blonde hair was bound up in two braids which hung down her back. She wore a simple blue kirtle with puffy white sleeves. Despite her plain clothing she was very beautiful, and she had a fine, full figure. "Do not go! It is too dark already. If you leave, I will be frightened that you have gotten lost in the storm." She threw her arms around him. Their lips met for a brief kiss. Then he pulled her in tight against him and they kissed once more, passionately.

"Stay the night here," she begged him. "I will sleep so much better knowing that you are safe and warm."

"Stay the night?" His blue eyes twinkled. "I like the sound of that, my sweet. But what will the neighbors say?"

She gave his broad chest a gentle shove and pulled away from his embrace. "Don't get any ideas," she said with mock severity. "

You

shall sleep on the floor. I'll make you up a bed out of blankets. And besides, if the neighbors have any sense they're curled up warm and safe in their cottages, not spying on us in a snowstorm. Now make yourself useful and put more wood on the fire while I make your bed and get ready for my own."

She went into her room and shut the door. The man heard her bustling about. He removed his boots once more and set them by the door. Then he carefully took off his rich red cloak and hung it on a peg on the wall. Like his boots, it too was fur-lined, and it was emblazoned with his coat of arms in gold.

"Ready!" he heard the woman call out. "Come to bed."

He opened the door to her room. As she had promised there was a thick pile of blankets on the floor, topped with a few well-stuffed pillows. The woman herself lay on her own wooden bed. She had undone her braids, and her golden hair spilled across her pillow. She had pulled a gray wool blanket up to her shoulders, which were bare.

"What do you think?" she asked.

The man stepped over the blankets on the floor and laid down on her bed next to her. He pulled her lithe body tight against his and kissed her passionately. She responded with ardor.

"Are you wearing anything underneath this blanket?" he asked.

"A lady never tells," she said, sticking her tongue out at him.

The man kissed one of her bare shoulders. Then he grabbed the blanket and began to pull it down.

"Hey!" she exclaimed. "Stop that!" She clutched the blanket to her chest.

"Oh my love, why must you keep teasing me!" he said in exasperation. "Come, there are only the two of us here, and the night is cold. Let me warm you up in your bed. I will be gentle, I swear it!"

"I believe you!" she said with a smile. "But you are a noble-born lord and I am only a commoner. You must have fetching young ladies throwing themselves at you constantly. How am I to know that you won't use me and then cast me aside?"

"I wouldn't do that!" he protested. "You are lovelier to me than any foolish farm girl. I've never met anyone like you before. I love you. I would never betray that love, on my honor!"

"Those are fine words," she said. "But men will say anything to get a pretty girl out of her clothes."

"What must I do to convince you?" he asked.

"How about you tell me a story?" she asked. "When I was a girl, I could never fall asleep until my father had told me a story. Tell me your best bedtime story." She winked at him. "Perhaps if it is especially good I shall let you sleep up here instead of on the floor."

"You are a saucy wench, my love," said the man. "You know I cannot refuse you. Very well, I will tell you a tale, and it will be a tale like you have never heard in your life. Have you ever heard the story of the Dark Wood?"

"What's the Dark Wood?" the woman asked excitedly.

"Why it's right here in my trousers," he said teasingly. "If you wish I can show you."

"Boo!" she said and rolled over to face away from him.

"I was only teasing, my love," he said. "In truth, the Dark Wood is one of those strange, enchanted forests that looms on the borders of old wives' tales. The sort that heroic farm boys and beautiful maidens are constantly wandering into and having strange adventures in."

The woman rolled onto her back again. "Go on!" she said.

The man smiled and kissed her bare shoulder gently once more. Then he said, "Once upon a time, long ago, the Dark Wood lay on the borders of the Kingdom of Sukkonia."

"Mmm," said the woman, snuggling deeper into the blankets.

"The Dark Wood had a grim reputation throughout the land," he continued. "It was full of ancient, wizened trees with grasping roots and branches that twisted round each other to block out the sun. Beneath its branches, full noon appeared as if it were twilight. And it was vast, too. It was said that one might travel for days through the forest and still not reach the sunlit realms on the other side."

"It sounds very mysterious!" she exclaimed.

"But folk seldom traveled through it. Not unless they had no choice," he said.

"Why not?" she asked.

"In the olden times there were places in the world that still did not fully belong to mortal men," he said, "places that were the domain of dark, ancient, and magical beings. Mortals, if they had any sense, kept well clear. The Dark Wood was one such place. Folk whispered strange tales about what lurked deep within."

"What sort of tales?" she asked him.

"Oh, there were a great many. The forest was home, it was said, to werewolves, and unicorns, and wizards, and even dragons. But most of all, the Dark Wood was said to be full of Faeries. Deep in the heart of the Dark Wood was a secret Fae city. Titania, Queen of the Fae, dwelled there, along with the Court of the Fae. Because of this, the forest was crawling with dreadful Fae creatures. Now," said the man, "there once was a tiny cottage on the edge of the forest..."

"Why were the Fae so dreadful?" she interrupted. "I thought Faeries were beautiful and magical beings."

"Many

are

beautiful," said the man. "To the mortal eye they often appear as sweet and delightful as you, my love. But they are not kind like you. Their beauty hides great cruelty. They delight in tricking mortals and trapping them in webs of magic. Many a brave knight traveling through the Dark Wood has glimpsed some beautiful young maiden crying out for their aid. But woe to knights who ventured from the safe path. It is said that the Dark Wood was full of ancient mounds where such knights slept an enchanted, eternal slumber, cursed to never again walk the world of men."

The woman shivered delightfully. "Go on," she said.

"As I said, once upon a time there was a tiny cottage on the edge of the Dark Wood, and in it lived a woodcutter and his young bride. The young woodcutter's name was Galen, and his wife was named Mabel. They did not live next to the Dark Wood by choice. They were very poor. All they had to their name was a narrow plot of land, choked with roots and brambles and lying almost beneath the eaves of the forest itself.

"At least the close proximity of the Dark Wood allowed Galen to easily ply his trade as a woodcutter. He would chop the dead branches he collected into bundles of firewood and trade them to nearby cottages for cheese and barley.

"His wife, Mabel, cleaned their meager cottage and tried to make the thorny ground around it grow turnips and beans. She helped her husband cut and bundle firewood. It was not an easy life. Most seasons, they barely scraped by. But there was always food on the table. And the two of them loved each other dearly. They were happy.

"Until, that is, the accident happened: the accident that would lead to Mabel's encounter with the Duke of Rutland, and everything that came after that."

The woman made a wide 'O' with her red lips. "What accident?" she asked. The man leaned forward and kissed her on her open mouth. Their tongues met. The man felt her round bottom through the blanket and squeezed it tight.

"You are

definitely

naked under there," he said.

She swatted his hand away. "Are all lords as naughty as you?" she asked.

"Oh, you have no idea," he said.

"Quit trying to distract me," she said. "Tell me about the accident."

"Before I do, my love, we must jump back a little in time, to a cold, windy winter's night much like this one. A butcher was hurrying through the snow to his home in the village of Fanny-on-Poke when he stumbled across the naked body of a woman lying in a snowdrift. The poor woman was dead. In her frozen arms she clutched a little bundle to her chest. Within it, the butcher found a baby. By some miracle, it was still alive..."