The Tanglewood Witches Page 3

  “What? What’s happening?”

  Orpheus didn’t answer. He dragged her down the path at a run, still singing like his life depended on it. He didn’t stop running until they’d reached a bright green glade beside a winding stream. Not a hint of bones littered the ground here. He dropped his hold on her and ended his impromptu aria.

  Resting his hands on his knees, he gasped for breath. “Zeus, I am not a fan of singing while running at the same time. Let us not practice it again.”

  Alena placed her hands on her hips. “No. Let’s not. Next time listen to me and follow my instructions and you won’t have to.”

  “Hmm?” He glanced at her in confusion.

  “If you hadn’t been such an idiot and answered the riddle incorrectly, we wouldn’t have had to run.”

  “Incorrectly? I never answered at all.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You said it was impossible. That counted as your answer. Haven’t you studied anything about the sphinx? You only get one chance.”

  “Humph. We would never have figured it out anyway.”

  “The answer was a tree.” She crossed her arms and popped out a hip.

  “A tree?”

  “‘My death is never mourned.’ Trees in the northern parts of the world die in the winter. They are not mourned because they come back to life in the spring.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I read.” She shook her head. “‘My work, taken for granted.’ Trees provide living quarters for animals and lumber for homes and fires, but we never thank them. ‘My legacy is vast.’ Trees give off thousands of seeds. ‘For hundreds of years I’ve toiled beneath the sun, yet I have never done anything at all. I grow, I change, but I am always in the same place.’ This obviously refers to the tree being unable to move independently.”

  Orpheus’s mouth dropped open. “What about the part referring to a provider and a thief?”

  She sighed. “Trees provide lumber, shade, and fruit, but they steal water and nutrients from the earth. Honestly, Orpheus.” She closed her eyes and gave her head a disappointed shake.

  He leaned back and stared at the sky. “Hmm. A tree. Yes, of course it is. It’s so obvious now.”

  “Next time let me solve the riddles.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “The sphinx would have likely eaten us anyway.”

  She gave him a stern look. “Which brings me to my next question: How did you stop it from eating us at all? What sort of sorcery was that?”

  The man rolled his neck on his shoulders and shot her a serious look. “You don’t believe it was a simple barber’s trick?”

  “Not a chance. It was magic, as was the spell that kept you alive in the stone room.”

  “You kept me alive in the stone room,” he said seriously.

  “You owe me an explanation. How is it you can perform magic? I’m beginning to think you aren’t a common barber at all.”

  He sauntered closer to her, his gaze boring into hers. The smirk she thought might never leave his face morphed into a rare and serious expression. “I am beginning to think you are not so simple as to settle for a simple answer.”

  Chapter Four

  Orpheus rubbed his neck and glanced away, avoiding the weight of Alena’s rapt attention. He didn’t like sharing his secret. If it got out who he really was, he’d never hear the end of it. People would swarm him, maybe even hurt him, to get what they wanted. He’d traveled a long way, posed as someone he wasn’t, and chosen a frequently overlooked profession for the express purpose of avoiding attention. But what purpose did keeping his secret serve now, when the likelihood was he’d never make it out of here alive?

  “The reason the crew called me an archon is that they heard my father say I was abusing the power gifted to me by the gods. They misinterpreted that as legislative power.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What other interpretation is there?”

  “My father is a wealthy Athenian merchant with an uncanny gift for negotiation. One might even say he has a silver tongue. Power of voice runs in our family.”

  Alena took a seat on a boulder near the stream and leaned toward him. “Go on.”

  “This special ability runs in our family because he is the son of Theneus, who is the son of Kaleus, who is a descendant of Cimon, son of Medus.”

  “Medus. The Medus?”

  “The one of legend. Son of Medea and King Aegeus.”

  Her face paled. “Are you telling me that you are a descendant of the sorceress Medea and the goat-head king Aegeus?”

  “I inherited my magic from Medea. I’m a fair sorcerer, but my greatest strength is that I can influence living things with my voice. As for the sphinx, I was able to convince it through song that it couldn’t use its legs.”

  Alena pursed her lips.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “You spend your days delousing people. Why would you do that if you were powerful enough to control any beast? You could be wealthy beyond your wildest dreams.”

  “I was already rich when I left Athens. I’d worked for my father for years and made a fortune. Besides, there’s good money in delousing. I don’t think you realize how lucrative it is.”

  She stared at him incredulously.

  “Why don’t you tell everyone what you are?” he countered. “I know you raised that goat from the dead. You’re far more powerful than an ordinary healer.”

  For a long moment, Alena took an interest in the babbling brook winding through the glade. He thought she might not answer him, but then she said, “I’d never hear the end of it. I wouldn’t have any freedom if people knew what I could do. Every dying child would be at my door. The gods require balance. I can’t be toying with life and death at every whim.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Then you understand why I prefer to be known for a simpler calling.”

  Her expression turned impassive. Was she judging him now that she knew his secret? Being a barber wasn’t glamorous, but it was a needed and respectable profession. And what about her secrets?

  “So you can control all animals. You sing the vermin off your customers?”

  “I always hum while I work. They never ask why.”

  “Fascinating. And it works on all living creatures?”

  “The larger the animal, the more draining it is for me, but yes. Humans are the most difficult.”

  “But the spell you did in the stone room, that was not from singing but sorcery?”

  He snapped his fingers, and a spray of sparks lifted toward the sky.

  “Ooh!”

  “As impressive as it may seem, my abilities are rather limited without my voice. My song focuses my magic. Without it, I tend to make mistakes, like today when I vastly miscalculated the amount of air I would need inside my containment spell.”

  She pushed herself off the rock. “We should keep moving. Who knows what dangers lurk in the shadows here?”

  Orpheus balked. “Wait, aren’t you going to tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “I told you about my heritage. About my powers. Aren’t you going to divulge to me how you managed the healing and the mask?” He held out his open palms to her, beseeching her to be forthcoming.

  “Why? It sounds like you’ve got me all figured out already!” She snorted sarcastically.

  He rolled his head on his neck and groaned. “It is a wonder no man has snatched you up with that sweet and conformable personality.”

  “My personality is no better or worse than the company I keep.”

  He waved her off like a fly and headed for the water.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to enjoy a drink of this sweet water. All that singing has left my throat dry and my body weak.”

  The noise that came from Alena’s throat could only be interpreted as an unfavorable appraisal of his intelligence.

  “You don’t approve of my slaking my thirst?”

  “Are you an imbecile? Don’t you kno
w anything about the gods and their tests?” She dug in her bag and removed a crystal with a pale green tint.

  He squatted down beside the shore. The water was as clear as any he’d ever seen and felt cold against his fingers. He cupped his hand.

  “Don’t drink that!” She shook her head like he was an idiot.

  “Why not?”

  “Everyone knows you never eat or drink anything in the realm of the gods. It’s how they curse you. You drink that and you could be trapped here for all eternity, or… or—”

  “Or what?”

  “It is said the goddess Circe transformed a man into a pig with a cup of wine.”

  Alena was right. Orpheus remembered the stories from his childhood and the warnings about the gods. But as he tried to stand and turn away from the stream, the light played off the water and his mind turned as blank and empty as the silvery sky above. He lowered himself again to the stream’s shore.

  Cupping his palm, he scooped a handful of water and sniffed it. “It smells fresh and sweet.” He was so thirsty. Soothing whispers seemed to float off the waves. Drink. The water is pure. Drink.

  “Please! Don’t!” Alena called from behind him. She held up the stone in her hand and rushed to his side, then quite suddenly backed away. “Orpheus, the water is casting a spell on you. Come toward me. Turn away from it.”

  He shot her a flirtatious smirk, feeling light-headed and mischievous. “I’ll make you a deal, my lovely—you tell me the origins of your power, and I won’t drink this water.”

  Alena’s eyes widened and she gestured anxiously. “Come closer, away from the water, and I will tell you all you wish to know.”

  Orpheus again tried to move to her, but the water danced in his peripheral vision, singing to him. His throat burned as if he’d swallowed a hot stone. If he could first quench his thirst. One sip, that was all he needed. He squatted back down and dunked his fingers under the cool surface.

  “No, please wait!” Alena cried, holding out her hand to him.

  He ignored her and scooped a handful to his lips. Delicious, cool refreshment soothed his burning throat. It was the sweetest water he’d ever tasted. He cupped both hands together beneath the surface again and drank more, then splashed his face.

  “You must try this, Alena. It’s fresh. And perfectly good. Nothing is happening to me—”

  His breath hitched, cutting off his thought as the world began to spin.

  Chapter Five

  Men! Alena planted her hands on her hips and watched in horror as Orpheus’s nose stretched toward her like pulled clay. His arms followed, extending toward the ground even as his stomach swelled and his feet morphed into grotesque clubs. The process looked painful, but the transformation occurred quickly. When it was over, Orpheus had become a bristly gray donkey with particularly long ears and a woolly face.

  “Hades! By the gods, Orpheus, I told you not to drink it!” At least he’d finally moved away from the cursed water. She rushed to him and guided him safely away from its influence.

  Orpheus brayed woefully at her.

  “At least the gods have a sense of humor. You are officially an ass on the outside as well as in.” She grabbed the donkey by the cheeks and gave the brown-eyed beast a pitying look. “I warned you. The door promised challenges. The sphinx was one. This was another. The gods are full of trickery.”

  He stomped his hooves.

  Alena had no trouble deciphering what he was trying to express with his donkey tantrum. “Yes, I can fix you. We’re lucky in that regard. I was worried you’d drop dead.”

  Orpheus dipped his head and nosed under her elbow.

  “Oh no, I can’t do it now. The water you drank needs time to… uh… leave your system. Until then, well, we ought to move on.” She attempted to climb on his back, but he shied away. She spread her hands and shrugged. “It will be faster if I ride you.”

  The donkey smiled at her and gave her a furry wink.

  “Ugh. That is not what I meant, and you know it.”

  He bobbed his fuzzy eyebrows and wiggled his back.

  “Oh, you accept these circumstances now that you know you will be between my thighs?” She had to laugh. Only Orpheus would suffer transformation into a beast only to retain his lecherous attitude.

  The donkey neighed. Face burning, she approached him again and, with some effort, climbed onto his back. Orpheus bent his neck and gave her one last annoyed look with his long donkey face.

  “I told you not to drink it. You should have listened to me. I have a stone in my bag that tests for poisons and curses. I tried to use it, but you wouldn’t back away from the water. I was afraid you were enthralled by… water sprites or something even more dangerous.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t get close enough to help you without risking my own mind. Truly, you should thank me. Had I attempted to pull you away, we might have both fallen under the spell of the water, and then where would we be?”

  Orpheus gave a snort.

  “We have to keep moving.”

  He folded his ears back, clearly disgruntled, but nevertheless saw the wisdom in her words and started down the path again. For a long time, their surroundings were quite pleasant. Rolling hills, gold and silver flowers, silver sky. At first Alena expected the sphinx or another magical creature to attack around every bend, but eventually she allowed herself to relax and enjoy the journey. Only when their progress became monotonous did she speak again.

  “There’s another reason I was suspicious about the water. I mean besides the books I’ve read about the gods.”

  Orpheus didn’t stop walking, but his ears rotated back toward her.

  “I’m a descendant of Circe.”

  Orpheus paused on his donkey legs and craned his neck. She saw her reflection in one large brown eye.

  “Keep walking or I will not continue this story.”

  He started forward again.

  “My father told me when I was six years old. I’d accidentally turned an earthworm into a mouse. Transformation was sort of Circe’s claim to fame, and I was born with the skill as well as a talent for working with plants and herbs. My father told me that many generations before I was born, Circe’s son, Telegonus, had a certain indiscretion with a mountain nymph, which resulted in my ancestor’s birth. Honestly, it was so long ago. I wasn’t sure I should believe it, but it accounts for my abilities.”

  He bobbed his head and chuffed.

  “You know, I think I’m going to miss this quiet and introspective side of you. When I change you back, maybe I’ll forget to recover your voice.”

  This time when Orpheus stopped, he did not look back at her. His long ears twitched.

  “I was joking, Orpheus. You don’t have to stop.”

  He didn’t move but raised his donkey head and pointed with his fuzzy chin. A massive wall rose in the distance, thick fog swirling at its base.

  “That looks ominous.” She slid off his back and gave in to the irresistible urge to scratch him behind the ears. He didn’t seem to mind. “I think it’s time I turned you back, don’t you?” she said, cradling his nose. “Whatever is behind that wall might view an ass as their next meal. At least as a man you might stand half a chance of surviving.”

  She opened her satchel and began mixing herbs in her mortar, mashing them together with her pestle. Once they’d formed a thick paste, she held the mixture up to his muzzle. “Eat this.”

  He sniffed the concoction, sneezed, and turned his head away.

  “It’s not ambrosia, but certainly you can choke it down. I can’t turn you back without it.” She thrust it under his nose again.

  He brayed and showed his teeth but eventually found his courage and managed to swallow it. His gut and throat undulated, and she worried he might spit it out. That would be unfortunate. She didn’t have enough herbs with her to make another mash. Praise Zeus, he managed to eat it all.

  The change happened quickly. All the hair on the donkey’s back dropped off, and he stood straight up. His nose
receded into his face, the bottom of his legs transformed into sandals, and before Alena could thank or curse the gods that his clothing had transformed with him, Orpheus was again standing before her, fully human. He rubbed his back with both hands and fixed her with an accusatory stare. But when he opened his mouth, only a bleat came out.

  He gasped.

  “I promise you, that isn’t intentional. I was joking before. Give it a moment.” Alena laughed softly.

  After clearing his throat, Orpheus managed to say, “It’s about time!”

  “I was tempted not to change you back at all.” Alena stood from her spot next to the tree.

  “That’s not funny.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, his eyes narrowing on her face. “Tell me the truth. You didn’t need to wait, did you? That excuse about the water needing to move through my system was all a lie.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “No water has left me, woman. In fact, I rather need to void myself at this very moment.”

  She shrugged and pointed toward the wall. “But look how close we are to the next challenge. We could never have traveled that fast on foot.”

  He scoffed. “You used me!”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she rolled her eyes at him. “Gods, don’t I know what that feels like.”

  He grunted defensively. “I did not use you that night or ever. I rather cared for you. It was you who refused me after those harpies embarrassed you, remember?”

  “Because you lied to me. We kissed. We did… things. I told you stories I’d never told anyone.” She whispered the last part as if someone might hear her, her cheeks warming as she said the words.

  “I didn’t lie. I simply allowed you to believe a lie. There’s a difference.”