Sacred Mountain

Chapter 18: Poppy's Plan Stage One

Everything was in slow motion.

Poppy was falling sideways, plummeting earthwards. The dogs' heads were turning towards the source of the scream, their ears pricked up. Larnick's bow was dropping, his profile rotating to face her. In the moment's distraction, she saw the stag leap over the nearest hounds and make a break for safety. The dogs made to follow it but a shouted command from Larnick, 'Stay!' stopped them in their tracks.

And then her shoulder made contact with the ground, the snow crunching beneath it, sharp pain seared through her body and everything went black.

Next thing she knew she was back in the castle's front courtyard. Larnick's big hands were under her armpits, lifting her down from his horse, into the waiting arms of Ivy and Petros, as easily as if she'd been a rag doll. Pain tore through her shoulder. She screwed her face up, trying to suppress the scream that rose in her throat, fighting to stay conscious.

'Pop . . . Ann . . . Princess!' Petros' face was etched with worry, 'Are you alright?'

'Look! She's opening her eyes.' Ivy's voice was higher than usual, concern giving it a metallic ring. 'Don't worry, Princess. It's going to be alright.'

The rest of the hunting party were riding into the courtyard now. Larnick must have galloped ahead with her unconscious body propped up in front of him on his horse.

'I had the stag in my sights,' she heard him mutter darkly to one of his friends. 'If she hadn't screamed and fainted, I'd have got it.' He snorted derisively. 'And this is the woman my father expects me to marry!' He gave his horse an angry kick and trotted off to the stables.

With her good arm draped around Petros' shoulder and her injured one around Ivy, Poppy staggered back towards the castle, teeth gritted against the pain. Gradually she became aware that the arm around Ivy was tingling. She closed her eyes and focussed on the sensation. The tingling intensified into a kind of buzzing and soon it felt as if fireworks were going off beneath her skin. She gasped as jolts of white hot healing energy, more intense than anything she'd ever felt before charged through her body like an electrical storm. It was as if every nerve, muscle and sinew inside her was on fire. Power coursed through her body and then once again everything went black.

*****

Poppy cracked open an eye. In front of her a terrifying creature snarled, claws raised in attack position, white fur stained with blood. For a brief moment, she recoiled in horror before realising she was in her bed in the White Bear Room. She sighed with relief. Ivy sat by her bedside, a pewter goblet in her hand, her pale face pinched.

'Here, Princess, drink this,' she held the goblet to Poppy's lips. 'How are you feeling?' Poppy sipped and closed her eyes, scanning her body for signs of damage. Remarkably, there was no pain, in her shoulder, her head, her arm or the hip that had hit the ground.

'Actually, Ivy, I think I might be fine.' She rolled up the sleeve of her riding dress to reveal a healthy pinkish white arm, no bruising at all.

'Goodness!' Ivy said running a finger over the skin of Poppy's arm. 'You certainly don't bruise easily.' Poppy suppressed a grin.

'Now, Ivy, we've got work to do. Take me to the kitchens, then I want you to go to the king's private garden and do something for me.'

*****

They met half an hour later in front of the portraits in the Royal Apartments. Poppy, her features fixed in a resolute expression, carrying a tray, loaded with mug, kettle and strainer, the brew's bitter smell assaulting their nostrils.

'Have you done it, Ivy?'

'Yes, Princess.'

'Good. Now show me which room belongs to Larnick,' Ivy led her to the first of the Royal Apartment's three rooms, smirking to herself at how the princess's one-pointed focus and fervent determination seemed to have transformed her from a soft, slightly dippy girl into a military commander.

Poppy balanced the tray expertly in one hand and rapped on the door with the other.

There was some crashing within and then it flew open – a bad-tempered Larnick, complete with disheveled hair, heavy brow and sullen expression, on the other side. Two spots of colour appeared on Poppy's cheeks. The look he was giving her was far from encouraging and her courage faltered momentarily. She swallowed, gripped the tray more tightly and launched into her speech.

'Larnick, I have a remedy for your father. It's a Wise Woman's remedy for Lung Fever but it works much better if it's administered by a . . . loved one.' Larnick's face clouded, she knew the love between father and son was buried deep beneath layers of grief and resentment.

Undeterred, she ploughed on, 'You need to give him the remedy and then take him for a walk around the gardens to get fresh air in his lungs. Come on.' He stood, his arm leant against the door jamb, his jaw stubbornly clenched. 'You do want your father to get better, don't you?' she asked, surprised and a little pleased at how much like her mother she sounded. Larnick sucked his teeth, peeled himself away from the door frame and followed her.

The guard's eyebrows rose when he saw the unexpected trio seeking admission to the king's rooms, but he let them in without question.

'Ah! Annifer,' the king spoke, his voice gravelly. 'Back with my second dose of your vile medi. . . Larnick!' His eyes widened. Poppy got the impression his son was the last person he expected to see enter his room voluntarily. Larnick's gaze had settled on the stuffed white stag in the middle of the room and his face had tightened into a scowl. Poppy marched quickly to the king's bedside,

'The Wise Women say this remedy works best if it's given by someone who loves you so here's your son. Larnick, sit here,' she nodded to a seat on one side of the king's bed. 'And Ivy, you sit on the other side.' Everything she knew about bossing people around, she'd learnt from Annifer. She'd have to remember to thank her one day.

'Ivy, you'll help His Majesty sit upright. Just keep your hand on his back to support him. Larnick, you'll pour the remedy and help His Majesty drink it.' She placed the tray on the king's lap.

Shocked into obedience by Poppy's dictatorial tone, Larnick poured, his enormous hands fumbling with the strainer. Gingerly, he raised the mug to his father's lips. The silence between them was raw and wounded. The king tentatively sipped its contents until a bout of coughing forced him to stop. Larnick gently placed a hand on his father's shoulder. A look of intense sadness mingled with a newborn hope passed between them and Poppy wondered how long it had been since they last touched. Ivy propped up the king's back as he took a second and third sip. From where Poppy was standing, she and no one else could see the maid's hand glow white as streams of healing energy transferred into the king's body.

Unnoticed, Poppy slid her hand behind the bedstead, lifted the bear-handled key from its hook and slipped it into her pocket.

Soon the mug was empty and father and son sat, neither looking at the other but neither moving away. The atmosphere was charged with emotion.

'Marvellous!' Poppy declared, clapping her hands. 'Now I think I'll go and lie down and rest my shoulder. Toodlepip!'

Toodlepip? Where did that come from? She thought to herself as she hurried out of the king's room and into her own.

A short while later she heard a door close and the sound of shuffling footsteps as Ivy and Larnick helped the king down the stairs. In a few minutes' time, the sound of male laughter from the garden below brought her to her bedroom window. She looked out to see the king holding a bow in shooting position. Larnick was standing behind him, helping him notch an arrow to it.

'Now pull back, Father,' he was saying, 'and release!' The arrow went flying straight to the middle of the target which Ivy had set up against the courtyard wall.

'Hooray!' both men threw their arms in the air and cheered. Ivy looked up at Poppy's window and gave her a wink and a thumbs up.

Poppy's Plan Stage One is underway, Poppy thought to herself.

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