Chapter 1: Shelter from the Storm

Snow fell from the dark clouds above, blanketing the limbs of the dense trees as Sir Lawrence and his squire Jasper crossed the forest on horseback. Their teeth chattered as their hands gripped the reins. A gust of wind ripped through the trees. They ducked their heads behind the necks of their horses and shivered in their leather tunics. 

“We should find a place to camp,” said Jasper through his clenched jaw.

“Where do you suggest?” asked Sir Lawrence. “There is no cover from the storm here. It is better to keep moving. There should be a town on the other side of these woods.” Snowflakes collected in his coarse brown beard as he looked up to speak. 

Once they reached a clearing, they saw the ruins of an abandoned castle at the top of a hill. Its towers were riddled with holes and crumbling stone.

“That looks like it should work,” said Sir Lawrence, pointing to the ruins. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” asked Jasper. “It looks haunted.”

“Afraid of ghosts now are we? You were just saying we should find refuge from the storm.”

“Yes, but I don’t like the look of this place. We should continue on and search for the town.”

“What town?”

“You just said there’s a town on the other side of the woods.”

“Perhaps there is. Who’s to say? I just wanted you to shut up.” Jasper’s eyes narrowed. “Well, come on.” Sir Lawrence steered his horse towards the hill. Jasper, shaking his head, followed closely behind. 

The decay of the castle became more apparent as they drew closer. Ivy wove through the cracked stones. The towers on both sides had crumbled, leaving large piles of rocks lining the outer walls. As they approached the gate, they found its wood and iron door broken open. They stepped over snow-covered fragments as they entered the courtyard. 

“Do you think it was sacked?” asked Jasper. 

“Seems likely. It doesn’t look like whoever did this is still here.” They dismounted from their horses and led them to the stables. The doors hung loosely from their hinges as they entered the stalls. 

The two returned to the courtyard. An icicle fell from the battlement, crashing into the stone platform below and shattering. Jasper jumped. For a second, he thought he saw a shadow. 

“Did you see that?” asked Jasper. He grabbed Sir Lawrence by the shoulder. Sir Lawrence turned his head to find the ruinous tower empty. 

“See what?” he asked. “The icicle?”

“Something isn’t right about this place.”

“You’re tired. Your mind is playing tricks on you.”

“We must remain vigilant.”

“Let’s get inside.” Crossing the courtyard, they swung open the rotten wooden door that led to the keep. The whistling of the gusting wind quieted as they stepped inside. Using the steel and flint from their tinderboxes, they each lit a torch. The dim light revealed the empty hall with a table set for a feast. 

“Do you think there is food anywhere?” asked Jasper, bending over the table to examine the empty cups and plates.

“If there is,” said Sir Lawrence. “I imagine it's as rotten as the rest of this place.”

“You’ll have to excuse me, good sirs,” said a woman's voice that seemed to come from all directions. “I was not expecting company this evening.” Jasper and Sir Lawrence drew their swords and pressed their backs together.

“Who goes there?” asked Sir Lawrence.

“We mean you no harm,” chimed Jasper.

“That’s yet to be seen,” grumbled Sir Lawrence.

Suddenly torches that hung from the walls were lit in unison. The plates that were once empty on the table were now filled with enough food for a feast. The two, not lowering their blades, approached the table slowly. Jasper reached down and grabbed an apple. He raised it to his mouth to eat it, but was stopped by Sir Lawrence. 

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said, grabbing Jasper’s arm. Jasper placed it back on the table before returning his free hand to his sword. 

“What is the meaning of this?” asked Sir Lawrence. “Show yourself.”

A woman with raven hair stepped into the room from behind them. “Don’t be alarmed,” she said softly. They turned quickly, swords in hand, to face her. “Can you put those away so that we can eat?” 

“Who are you? What is this place?”

She approached calmly. “My name is Gwyneira. This is my home.”

“Are you a witch?” asked Jasper as his sword shook in his hands. Placing her finger onto the tip, she lowered it away from her.

“Would that frighten you?” she asked.

“In a word,” said Jasper. “Yes.”

“At least pretend to die brave,” said Sir Lawrence.

“I mean you no harm,” she said. “You are my guests. Please, put away your swords and sup with me.” 

The knight and his squire shared a glance before sheathing their blades and following her to the table. They watched as she cut into the pork before her and took a bite. 

“Go on.” She swallowed. “I know you’re hungry.”

After watching her eat and sip from her wine for a moment, they began to eat. Jasper, parched from the ride in, took three large gulps of wine from his cup. When he placed it back down on the table, he found it completely full. At first, Sir Lawrence chewed his food slowly before giving in to his hunger and stuffing his face.

After dinner, the food and drink disappeared from the dishes. The table appeared as it had before Gwyneira presented herself. She led them through the hall and up the winding stairs to the guest chambers, where the two would spend that night within the warm walls. After changing into fresh clothes that appeared on the bed, Jasper walked over to the window. Through the stained glass, he watched as a large tree branch, sagging beneath the weight of the snow, snapped from the trunk and crashed into the ground.