With what happiness Prince Ember and the Shadow Witch resumed their
journey! All the way before them seemed a way of brightness, though it
led across a Plain as grey and desolate as it had been before; but they
knew that no perils lay in wait for them, and that every step led them
safely on.
While the Shadow Witch talked gaily with the Prince, she turned to him a
face as radiant as though a light shone through it from within. Ever and
again her laughter rang out low and clear, not the echoing, mocking
laughter, known so well to the evil fairies of that land, but a laugh of
rippling music, as if all sweet sounds, all gentle whisperings of the
fire were caught up and gathered into it. The Prince listened to it with
keen delight. Of all the notes of gladness that he had ever heard, it
was to him the loveliest; and she herself, gliding tall and beautiful
beside him, he could never tire of gazing upon.
They came at last to the Land of Shadows. Its pale trees and gardens lay
before them, and in the distance they saw the Palace of Shadows lifting
its grey towers against the sky.
They had spoken less and less frequently as they drew near it, and the
laughter of the Shadow Witch had ceased, for her heart had grown heavy,
and her mind was filled with troubled thoughts. Soon Prince Ember would
leave her to return to his own home in that fair land which she so much
longed to behold. He had left it to come to her deliverance, and at
first sight of him she had known that her heart’s love could never be
given to anyone but him. That he loved her in return, she did not doubt.
His eyes had said it, the tones of his voice had revealed it a hundred
times. Had he not called her more than once his “dear Shadow Witch,” and
given himself to danger for her sake again and again?
Yet he said no word of taking her home with him—of making her his bride;
and so her eyes were sad, and her heart was full of pain at the thought
of the parting which was now so near at hand. She did not dare to speak,
lest her grief should break forth uncontrolled.
Who was she, she told herself, the mischievous Shadow Witch, a creature
of grey magic, to be the bride of such a one as this bright, this
glorious Prince, whose magic was all noble, whose land was all joy and
brightness? In her mind she had no picture of that land. She had seen
only Prince Radiance and his White Flame and this Prince Ember, yet she
could guess from these, its bright inhabitants, how marvelous the Land
of Fire must be.
She bowed her head humbly as she thought of it. Its greatest glory, its
noblest Prince could never be for her but she was determined that when
he had gone from her, she would forsake her own home and would seek the
confines at least of the Land of Fire, and there live in a little of its
brightness—there learn what she could of its good magic. This much she
must do, for her old life, her old ways, were now more than ever
intolerable to her.
Prince Ember, seeing her silent, guessed nothing of her thoughts. To him
she was most dear and beautiful, the only one whom he could ever wish to
win.
They had reached the foot of her garden, and the Prince stood still. The
Shadow Witch paused also, and waited in silence.
Prince Ember took her hand and kissed it. “Lady of the Shadows,” he
said, “we have come at last to your domain in safety.”
The Shadow Witch caught her breath painfully, for she felt that the
moment of farewell had come. It was as if she could not bear it.
The Prince drew yet nearer. “Dear Shadow Witch,” he whispered, “I
cannot leave you, so do I love you, yet I cannot stay with you here in
this grey land. Go with me, then, to my own bright country. Go with me,
there to be my bride and princess.”
No answering words rose to the lips of the Shadow Witch. Her face was
turned away, and her eyes hidden. But a moment since she had been silent
because of overmastering sadness. Now, for very joy, she was dumb. In
her humility she dared not grasp at once at the happiness held out to
her.
The Prince leaned to her in fear, lest he should have been mistaken,
lest perhaps she did not love him as he had hoped and believed. “Speak,”
he besought her. “Ah, speak, my dearest. How can I go without you? How
can I leave you in this land—a land too sad and grey for such a one as
you? All the brightness of my own country is without meaning for me
henceforth, if I have not you to share it with me as my heart’s true
love.”
Wooed thus, the Shadow Witch hesitated no longer. She turned to him in a
flood of love and longing. She stretched her hands to him, trembling
with the fulness of her joy, and her voice came again. “Prince of my
heart,” she murmured softly. “Most dear and glorious Prince, where could
my home be ever, if not with you?”
Prince Ember caught her to his heart, and silence fell once more between
them.
For a little while they tarried in the borders of the garden, clinging
to each other in their first great joy, and the dim alleys and dusky
trees took on a brightness till now unknown to them from these two
figures radiant with a pure and innocent love.
At last the Shadow Witch remembered all that she must leave behind.
“Listen,” she said, and her voice was very gentle, “I have been long
gone, and my servants still wait for their mistress. They love me and
are faithful. They will mourn for me when I have left them—Creeping
Shadow most of all. I must bid them farewell and tell them why it is
that I depart from them to return no more.”
So they left the confines of the garden and turned their steps toward
the Palace of Shadows. They had not yet reached it, when its mistress
saw a pale figure approaching through the tall shrubs that lined their
way.
It was Creeping Shadow, stealing sadly along the paths once dear to her
mistress, thinking of Prince Ember who had promised succor, a promise
which she had begun to fear he had not been able to keep. “Alas! what
hope could there be after all?” she thought, “that this Prince should be
able, single-handed, to meet and conquer such powerful enemies as the
Wizard, and his many evil friends?” She shook her head doubtfully, yet
even as she did so she lifted her eyes to look once more along the
familiar path by which she had hoped her mistress might return.
“See,” exclaimed the Shadow Witch to her lover. “She comes, my good and
faithful servant, still seeking, still hoping!”
At that moment Creeping Shadow saw her and gave a loud cry that rang
through the spaces and reached even to the palace halls. She rushed to
throw herself at the feet of her mistress, to clasp her knees in an
ecstasy of thankfulness and rejoicing. “Mistress, dear mistress!” she
exclaimed, “At last, at last, you are here!”
And now from the palace doors and from everywhere, the Shadows came
gliding swiftly, to burst into exclamations of joy when they saw, in
their turn, who it was that had come.
Among them came the traitor, Black Shadow, hastening to learn whether
what she had believed to be impossible, had, in spite of her treachery,
been brought to pass. She saw Prince Ember and her mistress surrounded
by the welcoming Shadows, saw that her plots had been in vain.
She would have turned at once to flee to the Wizard, to make known to
him what had happened, had she not been arrested by the voice of her
mistress speaking strange words, words such as she had never thought to
hear.
“I have come to show you that I am set free,” said the Shadow Witch,
“have come, also, to bid you, my loyal servants, farewell.”
A murmur of astonishment went up from the listening Shadows. What could
such words mean?
The Shadow Witch continued. “I have found light and joy and true
happiness by the side of this good Prince, and I can no longer pass my
days in this grey land of mine with its grey magic.” She would have
spoken further, but a burst of sorrow interrupted her. With one accord
her servants swayed mournfully, and with sobs and cries, cast themselves
at her feet.
She looked upon them with love and compassion. What could she do for
them, these faithful friends and servants, whom she must leave if she
followed her dear Prince? Go she must, but what could she say to comfort
them? A thrill of pain went through her heart, tempering her exceeding
joy in her new-found happiness.
Prince Ember came to her help. “The light and gladness of the Land of
Fire is forbidden to none who are true and faithful,” he proclaimed.
“Let all, then, who love their mistress, follow her to her new home, if
it is their wish.”
At these words, so comfort-bringing, the Shadow Witch turned upon her
Prince a glance of tenderest gratitude. The Shadows, hearing them, were
lifted at once from deep grief to boundless rejoicing. They rose to
their feet, their grey robes all a-flutter. “Ah, generous Prince,” they
cried, “we follow, follow—happy indeed to be her faithful servants
still.”
All but Black Shadow. She alone had given no cry of grief, she alone had
shown no sign of joy. She had prostrated herself with the rest at the
feet of the Shadow Witch, and had bowed her head, but merely to conceal
the anger which she felt at the sight of her mistress safe returned. No
sound passed her lips now. She was glad to hear of the coming departure,
but that gladness, also, she would restrain. Until her mistress had
gone, she would keep her own counsel, hide her own purposes, so that she
might fulfil them in her own time and in her own way.
She had not long to wait, for Prince Ember’s voice, clear and gracious,
rose once more. “Let us not tarry. My bright kingdom awaits its Prince,
who has been long absent. Its good fairies will rejoice to welcome not
him alone, but his bride and her devoted followers.”
So saying he took the hand of the Shadow Witch, and together they left
the Garden of Shadows, and set out for the Land of Fire. Behind them
trooped the Shadows, eager to behold for themselves that beauteous
fairyland which was henceforth to be their home. But Black Shadow was
not among them. As soon as Prince Ember had ceased to speak, she had
slipped quietly away.
The Shadow Witch had noticed her absence and presently, turning to see
what had become of her, saw a dark figure hurrying toward the Wizard’s
Cave. It was Black Shadow. A smile of understanding dawned upon the face
of the Shadow Witch. She said no word, but she guessed the treacherous
part that her servant had already played, and what she now meant to do.
“Let her go her way,” she thought. “She can harm us no more.”
Meanwhile Prince Ember was thinking of his great debt to the Elf. It was
in his mind to stop at his dwelling, as they passed through the
Borderland, and thank him for the service which the Cloak of Ash had
rendered. But he had no need, for the Elf, espying the travelers from
afar, came to meet them. He gave them warm greeting and listened
intently while Prince Ember told him all that had befallen them and
whither they now were bound.
“Alas, for your marvelous Cloak!” the Prince said regretfully in
closing. “When the Wind tore it from me he resolved it to ashes and
scattered it far and wide.”
The Elf smiled. “That does not surprise me. You know that I told you
something of what might come to pass. Forget not, however, that the
secret of its weaving still dwells with the elves of the Borderland, who
will never refuse to provide another if need arises.”
He stretched his pudgy hand to the Shadow Witch, who caught it
gratefully in both her own. “Ah, good and kind friend!” she cried, “What
do I not owe to your faithful friendship!”
“As to that,” responded the Elf heartily, looking into her lovely face,
“I am already well rewarded by seeing you restored to liberty, and in
knowing of the happiness which is to be yours.”
Then their farewells were spoken, and the Elf stood watching them till
they vanished from his sight.
In the meantime, Black Shadow had reached the Cave of Darkness, and
there she found the Imps still at the entrance. They had awakened and
were now rubbing their eyes confusedly and whispering to each other
their fears concerning what might have happened while they had slept.
“Little need have you now to guard this Cave mouth,” Black Shadow flung
at them as she passed. “The Prince, whose entrance it was your duty to
prevent, has long since come and gone, taking with him the Shadow
Witch.”
She did not stay to reply to their frightened and excited questions, but
sped straight to the Cave Hall.
There she found the Wizard sitting upright in his chair, though he
looked pale and exhausted. He was surrounded by the Imps who had been
imprisoned in the vaulted chamber, and who, when the Shadow Witch had
reached her own land and the spell of the Sword of Fire had been lifted,
had heard their master’s voice calling to them for help. They had come
in trembling haste, and found him limp and prostrate on the floor, but
with their help, he had at last been enabled to rise slowly and go to
his accustomed seat.
“Sir Wizard!” cried Black Shadow, addressing him without ceremony, “the
stranger prince has everywhere prevailed! Curling Smoke is scattered!
The Ash Goblin is defeated! The Wind in the Chimney has been put to
naught! And now, Prince Ember has departed to the Land of Fire, taking
with him your sister to make her his bride. With her went all her
servants, the Shadows.”
“Let them go,” snarled the Wizard, scowling fiercely upon her. “I care
not what becomes of them, so that they return no more to trouble me.”
“And I,” continued Black Shadow, “have come to say that I mean to take
your sister’s domain for myself, and choose companions to occupy it with
me who will obey my commands.”
“Do what you will,” he retorted impatiently, “so that you, too, go from
me, and leave me in peace.”
Black Shadow needed no second bidding, but left the Wizard there, with
his Imps clustered about him, while she departed in haste to carry out
her long cherished plans.
[Illustration]