In the Land of the Fire Fairies great happiness reigned. Only a little
while before Prince Radiance had brought the lovely Princess White Flame
safely home to her father, after many perilous and strange adventures,
and King Red Flame had rewarded the noble Prince with his daughter’s
hand. In the King’s marvelous palace, the Palace of Burning Coals, their
fairy wedding had been celebrated with outbursts of joy and exultation.
In the very heart of the King’s dominions stood the palace, perfect in
beauty, from its dazzling foundations to its topmost flaming turret.
Brightness unquenchable shone from its walls, warmth and the spirit of
friendliness streamed from its windows and wide-flung golden doors.
Beyond it, in the garden of the Princess, the exquisite flame-roses and
stately fire-lilies unfolded to a richer, fuller beauty. The huge
fire-oak, under which Prince Radiance had first beheld the enchanted
Princess as a fine white flame, rustled its ruddy leaves and glowed more
intensely from root to crown, almost as though it knew and rejoiced in
the part which it had played in the fortunes of this happy wedded pair.
Throughout the whole kingdom a gentle music filled the warm air and
charmed the ear—the music of fairy voices, the music of whispering
flames, the music of tripping feet—all the sweet sounds of the fire
gathered into one continuous strain of gladness, now high and clear, as
if it could not be restrained, now low and soft, as if even in quietness
all must still murmur the praise of the King and his beloved children.
Into this land of wondrous light and beauty came Creeping Shadow,
marveling at what she saw, awed by it, stirred by it, sure in her heart
that from a place so bright, so pure, so lovely, help must come for her
imprisoned mistress. The Elf of the Borderland had spoken truly: from
the moment she had entered the Land of the Fire Fairies, she had met
with nothing but kindness. The fairies had looked with wonder upon this
stranger with the sorrowful face and trailing robes of grey, but all had
helped her on her journey, and none had asked her more than she had
cared to tell.
Twilight had come when, foot-sore and weary, she reached the Palace of
Burning Coals. The palace gardens, lovely in the softened glow of
evening, were deserted; the fire-lilies stood tall and lonely by the
garden paths; but from every window of the palace streamed brilliant
lights, and from its doorway floated sounds of joy and laughter. It was
that pleasant hour of evening in which the fairies, their tasks in
fields and house and garden completed, came freely to the palace hall to
dance and sing and tell, in the King’s presence, tales of past adventure
and noble deeds.
Creeping Shadow stood timidly at the gate for a moment, longing yet
fearing to enter. How could she dare to hope that the Prince would turn
from a place so bright and joyous to come to the aid of her mistress in
a drear and dangerous land?
But the need of the Shadow Witch was too great to be set aside. Her
servant cast off her fears and stole silently through the garden and up
to the radiant door. Pausing on its threshold, her dark eyes traveled
straight down the palace hall to the vast room that opened beyond, and
there, upon a tall golden throne, King Red Flame sat. At his right hand
stood he whom she had come to seek. She remembered him well, that brave
and handsome Prince, whom her mistress had for a time deluded by her
magic in the Land of Shadows. His yellow locks fell as softly over his
shoulders, his noble countenance wore the same high look of courage and
good cheer as on that day. His scarlet velvet cloak and cap, his waving
feather, were the very same. Close beside him was the Princess, in
shining robes, with floating hair of the palest gold. Never before had
the Shadow seen her, but from her charming face, so tender and
beautiful, she knew that it could be none else, knew, also, that no cry
for help and pity could come to her in vain.
Gathering her grey robes closer about her, Creeping Shadow entered
boldly, and sped through the hall. Groups of gaily chattering
fire-fairies saw this strange visitant flit by them, but were too
startled and amazed to check her as she passed. So she came unhindered
into the presence of the royal company.
But before she had reached them, the Princess saw her. With a low cry of
terror, she caught the Prince’s hand. “See Radiance! See who comes!” she
whispered tremulously. “Is not this one from that grim land where we
once wandered so long?”
Then the Prince saw her also and knew her to be a servant of the Shadow
Witch, yet before he could answer, Creeping Shadow had reached them and
had thrown herself at King Red Flame’s feet.
“Hear me, oh, King,” she implored, “I am Creeping Shadow. I come not to
bring evil, but to beseech aid from Prince Radiance for my mistress, the
Shadow Witch, who is now in bitter trouble, and who not long since was a
true friend to him.”
Touched by the sorrow in her voice, King Red Flame gave gracious answer.
“Arise, Creeping Shadow, and speak without fear. I give my royal word
that whatever we can do to succor your mistress shall surely be done.”
Prince Radiance stooped down and himself raised the Shadow to her feet.
“Your mistress was indeed my friend,” he declared. “I can never forget
my debt to her. Tell us quickly, what is this trouble that has befallen
her?”
To their words the Princess White Flame added gently, “Yes, tell us, for
not my Prince alone, but my father and myself, also, are debtors to the
Shadow Witch.”
Thus cheered and encouraged, Creeping Shadow began her tale, surrounded
by the pitying fairies, all eager to show their sympathy for her and
their desire to befriend her.
When all was told, Prince Radiance, without waiting for the King to
speak, cried at once, “Your Majesty, my duty is plain. The Shadow Witch
must not be left to suffer punishment because of me. Let me go at once
to her rescue. With my Sword of Flames, by which I so lately conquered
the Wizard, I can again put him to naught.”
For a moment the King made no answer. At the generous words of the
Prince, a sob of joy broke from Creeping Shadow, but Princess White
Flame shuddered. In memory she saw again the dark cavern of the Wizard,
remembered its cruel master, and the evil spell by which he had
endeavored to destroy her Prince; and for a brief space she forgot the
sore trouble of the Shadow Witch, helpless and in that Wizard’s power.
It was but for an instant, however; then her voice, tender and full of
sympathy arose, quivering though it was with her fears for the safety of
her Prince. “Ah, no! We cannot let her suffer! You must go.”
“Come, come quickly then,” breathed Creeping Shadow. “Come, while there
is yet time.”
Before the Prince could make further answer to her plea, King Red Flame
interposed with firm, yet gentle, authority. “Stay, my son. In so grave
a matter we must take no step amiss. We must seek the best counsel that
our kingdom affords. The Wise One alone, out of his great store of
wisdom, will know how to give it.”
With lifted hand he summoned his swiftest messenger. “Go, Rushing
Flame,” he commanded. “Say to the Wise One that the King has need of
him.”
In haste Rushing Flame departed, and in a deep silence, broken only now
and then by the low whispering of the fire fairies, all awaited the
coming of the Wise One.
So ready was the Wise One to give counsel wherever it was required, that
much sooner than could have been expected from one of his age, he stood
before the King. Creeping Shadow, lifting her eyes eagerly, beheld a
very ancient fairy, clad in deep scarlet. His beard was white as snow.
His eyes were piercingly keen. Never had she seen anyone who looked at
once so ancient and so wise.
“Your Majesty,” said the Wise One gravely, making him a low obeisance,
“How can I serve you?”
“Give me of your good counsel,” King Red Flame besought him. “Far away
in the cave of her brother, the Wizard, the Shadow Witch lies
imprisoned, not for any fault of hers, but for her kindness to Prince
Radiance and my beloved daughter. Her servant Creeping Shadow, whom you
see yonder, has come to beg the Prince to haste to her deliverance. What
say you? If he goes, will he have power to deliver her? If he goes, will
he return in safety?”
Anxiously Princess White Flame fixed her eyes upon the Wise One’s face,
and awaited his answer to her father’s question. No less anxiously did
Creeping Shadow listen to hear the fate of her dear mistress.
“Nay, Your Majesty,” replied the Wise One, with great earnestness,
“deeply as the Prince is indebted to the Shadow Witch, brave though he
is and potent as is his Sword of Flames against the Wizard, it is not
given to him to deliver her.”
Hearing his words, tears rushed to the eyes of Creeping Shadow. “Alas!
alas! My poor mistress!” she sobbed. “If this be true, what is to become
of her in the dense darkness where she lies captive with all her magic
power gone?”
A low murmur of pity ran from one to the other of the kind-hearted fire
fairies, from the King himself, to the humblest fairy gathered there.
Princess White Flame laid a consoling hand upon Creeping Shadow’s
shoulder. “Wait but a moment,” she told her. “The Wise One has great
knowledge, great wisdom. No magic is hid from him. Somewhere there must
be one who can bring succor to your mistress. The Wise One will know of
him, and can tell us where he may be found.”
“You speak truly, my Princess,” the Wise One hastened to inform her. “It
is written in my Book of Wisdom that when this misfortune falls upon the
Shadow Witch, there is but one who can release her from that enchanted
chamber where the Wizard now holds her, but one who can bring her
unharmed through the perils which will afterward beset her.”
“His name?” cried the King, Prince Radiance and the Princess, in one
voice. “His name?” cried Creeping Shadow beseechingly.
“Sire, it is your nephew, Prince Ember,” declared the Wise One. “He it
is who is fated to set her free.”
From all those who had waited in breathless suspense for his answer,
there burst a murmur of intense relief. Creeping Shadow’s heart beat
quick with joy.
“And the perils of which you spoke,—shall my dear nephew, also, escape
them unscathed?” demanded King Red Flame anxiously.
“Ay, truly, Your Majesty,” the ancient one assured him. “All will be
well, if he but follows my advice. Send him to me, and I will instruct
him.”
His counsel given, the Wise One bade farewell to his master and returned
to his hut.
Once more Rushing Flame set out in haste on the King’s business, but
this time it was to summon Prince Ember, that he might learn from the
royal lips the task that was his to perform.
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