Princess Origen and Darkwood Lost
D. E. Powell
Princess Origen Tales Short
by
D. E. Powell
copyright 2011 David Powell
Princess Origen and Darkwood Lost
Darkwood was scurrying through the deep forest that made up a good part of the kingdom of Princess Origen. It was a mysterious land with towering moss-covered trees and gigantic aged boulders. There was no more desirable place for a hound to be on a mist-blanketed morning than in these woods hunting game. Darkwood took his escape there whenever opportunity came available.
Running from hiding place to hiding place looking for ground animals, Darkwood sniffed, sneezed and snarled his way through the brisk day. With rabbits, squirrels and woodchucks there was no lack of the chase for the frolicking mastiff. Yet, with such excitement came fatigue. And although Darkwood needed rest, the vast amount of prey he found made it impossible to stop. So it happened, while Darkwood was chasing a particularly fast and cunning hare, the long-eared creature bolted under a chestnut tree and sent Darkwood head first into its trunk.
“Bang!” reverberated the impact, echoing over the stillness of the forest.
“Owoooohhhh,” howled Darkwood, as he melted to the ground.
“Plop.” Went his belly as it landed.
“Pluwhew.” Sounded all the air that left him sprawled upon the damp forest floor.
“Coocaooue,” crowed a black bird, watching Darkwood from the safety of its perch. “Coocaooue.”
Then the forest went still.
Darkwood came to his senses quickly, yet his head hurt and spun from the crash. He shook it vigorously, tottering out the cobwebs. His eyes cleared. The ringing stopped. But Darkwood could not remember anything prior to the tree: not even who he was or who he belonged to.
Darkwood staggered about the forest for many hours, not knowing what to do or which direction to take. He stumbled at times, even having to lie down to stop the throbbing in his head. It was painful, but Darkwood knew he belonged somewhere. He continued wandering until finally he could go no farther.
Plopping down next to a winding roadway, Darkwood rested his head upon the soft grass. A pool of water lay just outside his reach in wagon wheel tracks that dug up the ground. He wished to drink, but could not even make the few feet between them. Dozing, with thoughts of the cool liquid touching his lips and trickling down his parched throat, his head felt like a bulging balloon when blown up a little bigger each time until it eventually popped. Darkwood hoped his head would not pop.
Suddenly, a two-wheeled rickety wagon with weathered horse and rider came down the road. The rider was a man dressed in tattered black clothing with a soaked black hat pulled firmly down, shadowing his face. The horse was black, as well, but mud-splattered and feeble. It appeared it could hardly carry the man’s weight. The man did not seem to care.
“Whoa,” said the rider, in garbled voice. “What have we here?”
The rider saw Darkwood lying unconscious next to the road. Being the scavenger he was, he did not pass opportunities by. However, he had special interest in Darkwood. The rider dismounted, leaving the horse standing in the muddy road with the small wagon harnessed to him. He walked up to Darkwood, lifting him by the hair on his swollen head. Darkwood hardly stirred with the mistreatment.
“I know this one,” said the man, looking intently. “He is the beast of that young princess who haunts me so. What places him in such a way?”
The man glanced for signs of others. There were none. He listened. There was nothing. It was clear Darkwood was alone.
“Shall we take him for ourselves?” he asked, cunningly, turning toward his battered horse. “He shall keep fine company and the princess will miss him so. Yes,” said the man, “I think we shall.”
He dragged Darkwood to the back of the wagon, his horse whinnying disapprovingly. The man ignored him, lifting Darkwood up and tossing him in. The wagon rocked under the mastiff’s great weight and the horse whinnied again. He was not equipped for such labors.
Off they rode carrying Darkwood deeper into the forest where no village or house stood, where men of a kinder nature did not venture, where decay hovered over every living thing. It was an evil land for an evil man, where deeds of despair were performed and misery reigned. There would be no comfort found for the injured Darkwood. Enslavement appeared his lot henceforth.
The rickety wagon rolled up to a single cottage encased in a towering wire fence. The fence was gnarled with climbing weeds that formed a wall of protection. The evil man dismounted his horse and walked to a particular spot in the fence, pulling forcefully and revealing an opening. He grabbed his horse’s bridle, drawing him in. The wagon carrying Darkwood followed. The man turned, yanking shut the weed-encrusted fence to close the opening he had created. His sanctuary was complete. One would be hard-pressed to attempt a rescue of Darkwood.
From under the rank hat the evil man smiled, considering the sorrow he was inflicting upon the princess of his disdain. An accident of fate sealed the despair of those who loved each other. Only the evil man felt pleasure at the twisted turn of events. His plan for Darkwood was cruelly laid.
The day grew dusk and a light rain began to fall. Princess Origen stood outside with Skyflyer and her cat, Cyrano, looking off into the forest from the castle grounds. They awaited Darkwood. He should have been home from his play long ago.
“If he does not return by morning,” said Princess Origen, “we are going to search for him. This just isn’t like Darkwood. He’s never been gone overnight.”
The Princess turned to go to bed. It would be a restless sleep.
Upon rising, Princess Origen ran to where Darkwood usually slept. The bed lay empty. She dressed, kissed Cyrano goodbye, readied Skyflyer for their ride, and then started off toward Clearwood Forest. She would find her mastiff.
Taking the established forest road, the two made good time. Princess Origen found where Darkwood enjoyed his romp chasing ground animals. She had been there before. Examining the tracks of the dog, Princess Origen saw how he had chased a rabbit about and then headed for the tree. She saw, too, the bark torn from the trunk, realizing Darkwood had been hurt. Following the trail left by the injured dog to where he fell by the roadside, she discovered where he laid down. Despair swept over her as she stood looking.
“Here’s where Darkwood was last, Skyflyer,” she said to her obedient horse. “But he is not here now. What has become of our friend?”
“Whunnneea!” snorted Skyflyer, bouncing his head up and down. “Whunnneea.” He nosed Princess Origen toward the road.
“What?” she asked. “Is there something I’ve missed?”
Princess Origen examined the roadway. What she had not noticed before made itself clear to her now. Fresh wagon tracks plowed through the mud like footprints leading away from a crime. Princess Origen realized what surely must have happened.
“Someone has taken him!” she said, excitedly. “Someone found him here and carried him away. We'll follow them, Skyflyer. We'll follow to retrieve Darkwood. He must be terribly afraid.”
Princess Origen mounted Skyflyer and off they galloped to pursue the wagon tracks. It was a simple trail. The wagon wheels dug into the soft roadway like plow lines made by a cross-eyed field ox. Darkwood’s captor would not escape.
Coming to the cottage where the wagon tracks ended, Princess Origen looked upon the mysterious dwelling. The fence was most ominous and she wondered how it might be conquered. Skyflyer answered that question by turning around and laying solid kicks from his back legs into the weed infested wire. It bent from the impact and then fell under the onslaught of the angry horse. There was no obstacle
left between Darkwood and his friends who had come to save him.
Inside the cottage, the evil man had mistreated Darkwood to the point of the huge mastiff cowering in a corner and wincing at the evil man’s every command. He was frightened and turning mean to approach. What remained of the gentle giant was masked with flaring teeth and snarling welcome. Darkwood was losing himself to the unkindness of a pitiless world.
The cottage door suddenly burst open with the powerful hoof strikes of Skyflyer. Wood splintered everywhere. The evil man jumped at the explosion while Darkwood curled deeper into his corner. It appeared an unjust end to his torturous existence.
Princess Origen flew into the room through the debris of the damaged doorway. She looked for her pet; seeing first the evil man eyeing her and next Darkwood in the corner. He was hardly recognizable for his mistreatment.
“You have come,” said the evil man. “As I predicted. But the lateness of your arrival has left your pet unknown to you and you to him. There is nothing to reclaim here, Princess. Only decadence and that is mine.”
“You can have your decadence, evil man, for too long have you cherished it. It is you as you are it. But Darkwood does not belong here and I am taking him home. You cannot stop that which you do not understand.”
“He has lost your memory, Princess. His corruption is complete. You cannot retrieve him now.”
"Yet, I will try," said Princess Origen, looking at her pet.
"Have him then, if he will go. I'll not forbid it. I do not desire another mouth to feed. Take all, if you can”
The evil man threw his arms into the air with outstretched hands, glaring menacingly at the princess and Skyflyer. His ravaged teeth glimmered a dull glow as the room grew dim and smoke-cast. It was as if an incantation was taking place, the air filling with the stench of it.
“Have you forgotten the shoes, evil man?” said Princess Origen, clicking her heels together. “Your wretchedness cannot compare to their power. Lay down your arms lest you tire with this foolish attempt. Your wicked day is done.”
The evil man threw his hands out in the direction of Princess Origen. She clicked her heels harder, sending a firestorm of enchantment at the evil doer. He, in return, sent a dark magic at her. It failed, as the enchantment knock the darkness back, sending the evil man crashing to the floor.
Before any could react, he jumped up and bolted out the back of the cottage, disappearing into the deepness of Clearwood Forest. He remained hidden for a long spell. Yet, from time to time his evil returned to despair the princess of his obsession. However, he could not conquer the power of the magic shoes. Their goodness would not allow such menace to endure.
Darkwood’s condition was another matter. The shoes had no influence over that. Princess Origen turned toward her pet, walking closer as Darkwood stood with hunched back and snarling snout. His fangs flashed with terror, not recognizing his compassionate mistress.
“Do you not know me, Darkwood?” she whispered, sweetly. “I have come for you, my dear. Forgive me that I have taken so long.”
Darkwood snapped at the outstretched hand of Princess Origen. She did not withdraw it, continuing to move closer toward her pet. She would not depart without him.
“Poor dear Darkwood.” She soothed. “Have you been through so much? We shall make it up to you, my pet. Skyflyer and Cyrano and me. We will not leave you in this depth of misery.”
Darkwood snarled with more intent. Princess Origen moved closer. Skyflyer stepped in farther through the doorway, fearing for his mistress, but wanting his friend, as well.
“Darkwood,” said Princess Origen, kneeling. “Darkwood.”
The Princess knelt down by the ferocious mastiff, reaching her arms around his neck. He jerked backwards, but Princess Origen held on tightly. Her gentle hand began to brush across Darkwood’s head as he quieted.
“Darkwood, come back to us now,” whispered the princess, brushing her dog softly. “We want you home. Come back to us now.”
Darkwood whined, laying on the floor and placing his head in his mistress’ lap. He had returned to her. The love of her caring overcame the hate of his mistreatment. The evil man had failed in his attempt.
Skyflyer wrecked havoc upon the cottage in the woods, leaving not a timber standing. The fence, too, was destroyed as remnants of the evil man lay shattered upon the forest floor. All returned to the castle that they cherished. In short days, Darkwood became his old self again. Dogs forget easily. But, Princess Origen did not forget. She knew the evil man was yet out there, awaiting only his chance to come again into the lives of a peaceful kingdom.
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About the Author
D. E. Powell was born in Pennsylvania, raised in Southern California, and learned to live in West Yellowstone, Montana. An avid history and nature buff, he weaves his tales around what is factual and what should be factual. Other titles by this author include:
The Tear Jar
David Kidboti and the Adventure of the Disappearing Tribe
The Butterfly Princess
Brittle's Rhymes for Kids' Bedtimes
The Bluestone
Princess Origen's Shoes
Princess Origen and the Tunnel
mailto:[email protected]
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Coming soon Princess Origen Tales four novel set:
The Evil Man
The Changing Land
Thy Kingdoms Come
The Reverent Queen
