Anna’s feet ached with each step on the rough mountain path.  She had seen the top of the castle, white and beckoning, just before this curve. Finding a flat-topped boulder, she sat down, kicked off a shabby shoe, and rubbed her foot.

Oh why had she come here?  The castle hadn’t called to others.   No one else in the village had been plagued with compelling wonder.  They were content to sit in their small pomen’s and work their gardens year after year, and survive until old, and worn, and dead.

But from Cabon’s Point, just outside the village, the castle gleamed like a tiny gem in the distance, tempting her.  Old Jable, the cobbler, had said it was a bad omen, her being so curious, when the tales warned of such behavior.  No one who’d set out for the castle had ever come back to tell the story.  So when Oma Olga, the baker, drew back at Anna’s inquisitiveness, it was years before she allowed herself to even glance at her temptation again.  After all, Oma Olga knew everything about anything, including the secrets of Adjin and the Universe.  She knew why He created and where He went afterward.  If she was afraid, then everyone was afraid.

Anna turned to look behind her through the mountain peaks to the  pasture where the village lay.  Shaking her head slightly, she twisted her lips sideways and continued rubbing the soreness from her sole.

A Nechomae vine hanging from a crag overhead, slapped the rock wall in the breeze.  They only grew in this mountainous region of Antillor and produced some of the most beautiful flowers in the land.  She imagined that during creation, the Nechomae had laid claim to the best view and that is why it hung so high above.

Watching the vine, seemed to comfort her. She had taken a grave risk coming here.  If the castle was a disappointment and she returned home, it would be late fall when she arrived in the village. There would be no chance of producing a garden and her over-winter survival would depend on the charity of family and friends. Their help would be grudgingly given, and their reprimands free flowing for a very long time.  In old age, she would be the object lesson for children to shun foolish curiosity.

Sliding the shabby shoe onto her foot, she stood to finish her quest, and once more hoist her need to know this castle.

A crow flew over head and landed on a dead branch jutting from the mountain wall. His reprimanding caw made her jump and caused a Tindaloo to scamper from his rocky home. Anna set her jaw and stood unyielding on the stony path staring up at him. Then defiantly she took a step forward and continued walking. Losing interest, as most bullies do, he flew away as she filled her lungs with crisp air.

Finally rounding the last curve, Anna stood before the gate to the castle.  It loomed nearly five times her height.  Rock moss had leeched onto the greenish metal bars except in the smooth, well-worn hand-hold.  Grape vines had intertwined and filled in thickly making it impossible to see anything more than shadows on the other side.  But there were sounds.  People talking, horses trotting and a flute accompanying smells of herbs, and spices, and bantille roasting.

Her tummy growled and she trembled, placing her hand on the bar.  What had she come to find?  What reception lay inside?

She closed her eyes for a moment in thankfulness to Adjin for the success of her quest.  Then she steadied her rushing heart, and pushed.

(to be continued)