I stepped forward through the impenetrable darkness. I could
hear distant dripping. I bent down and felt the ground beneath me: stone, mud,
and a few puddles. Not a ship anymore, I concluded; it must be a cave of some
sort, but where? There were a lot of contexts for a cave. I would need to get
out of this cave and have a look around, but which way was out? I heard some
kind of constant, indistinct noises coming from my left. As my eyes adjusted to
the darkness, I could see that the rock wall behind me did not extend completely
on that side, signifying a tunnel.
As
I followed the tunnel, the noise increased; in addition, I felt a slight breeze
wafting through the rocks, and I saw a spot of light. Encouraged, I pressed
forward, thanking Charlie in my mind for the sturdy pirate boots he gave me,
which protected my feet over the invisible terrain.
The
light turned out to be the mouth of a small tunnel, one that I had to duck to
exit, grown over like a secret passageway. I could hear the noises better now;
a lot of clanging metal, and shouting, the noise of horses. I carefully poked
my head aboveground. That moment, I witnessed my first castle siege.
An
army in dark armor, waving red flags with the black silhouette of a fox
emblazoned on it, set ferociously upon a tall castle topped with a blue flag
bearing the symbol of a gold crown over a medieval crest. I knew I would rather
make it to the castle and get in trouble with the king as my entrance into this
narrative, than make a wrong move and get captured by the Black Fox army—but
how was I going to make it through the battlefield separating me from the gate?
I
ducked back into the tunnel to think. Could I risk sneaking through the war
zone, or should I wait till the fighting died down—if it ever would? I
remembered the gunfight in Phantom Gulch, how I had been impervious to the
bullets, but not invisible to the enemy. Perhaps I could not be pierced or
killed—but could I be wounded?
“But
the story wouldn’t be able to continue without me,” I observed aloud, “after
all, I am the writer.”
The
minute those words left my mouth, I had the strange sensation of being
completely aware of everything taking place above me, even things I hadn’t
noticed when I stuck my head out of the tunnel. The sounds I heard were no
longer ambiguous noise. I knew which soldiers stepped when, or what horses
fell, who clashed sword. I knew the position of every pike and lance, “saw” the
discharge of every arrow. I was no longer stuck “within” (or as the case may
be, below) the action, but, as I had on the HMS Phantom, I could observe and direct the action above at will.
I was, quite literally, the writer of this story, and could manipulate the
characters and even time, if I wanted to, and none of the characters involved
had any notion that their lives and actions were under the control of one
person.
Forthwith,
I applied the necessary literary technique to slow down the action happening
above. I heard the clamor actually slacken its pace, and I peeked out to see
the effect of my “narration.” Sure enough, the expressions and the movements
were exactly such as if the battle proceeded at normal speed, but to me,
everything appeared slow motion. I could actually come out of hiding and
maneuver my way between spears and soldiers, and I doubted, at this speed, that
I would register as anything more than a rogue wind. Just to be on the safe
side, I added that to my descriptive narration.
“As
she wove her way between soldiers and horses, lances, pikes, and swords,” I
murmured, dodging a bloody body here while ducking under a rearing horse there,
“no one spotted her, so deft were her movements. It only seemed to them that a
strange and miraculous wind blew through the battlefield, gone as quickly as it
had come.”
With
the veritable universe in my favor, it took very little time to reach the base
of the castle walls. There was no way I would make it to the bridge and through
the courtyard, not with all the people I would have to run through. My only
option was to climb through the window, and there happened to be one directly
above me. By now, I knew what was needed, and I had thoroughly warmed up to my
subject.
“Just
then,” I announced under my breath (and the action behind me resumed normal
speed), “a servant-girl leaned out the window, praying for a savior to appear
who would be the means of ending this wretched bloodbath.” I watched the window
as I spoke, and saw a pair of hands at the window and heard a barely-audible
voice no doubt saying just that. I went on, “So great was her faith that she
let down a rope ladder from that same window, so that the savior may ascend.” I
don’t know where she could have gotten it from, but down came the rope ladder,
only seconds after I finished speaking. I wasn’t finished yet, though. As an
added precaution, I concluded, “As soon as she had done this, the maid resumed
her duties as faithfully as ever, thinking of the coming savior and purposing
to tell no one of what she had done.” With that, I took hold of the thick,
knotted rope ladder and began to climb.
It
was much slower going than I had anticipated. The battle still raged beneath
me, but no one even glanced in my direction. At last, I reached the window and
gripped the wide stone ledge, hauling myself over and into the room. I was
lucky that it wasn’t a window over a stairwell because I had picked up too much
forward momentum and ended up flipping myself over the ledge in a somersault. I
hit something with my backside that shattered, and I sprawled on the floor
beneath the window as someone screamed.
When
I could see straight, I found myself staring down the long, bright blade of a
sword, held by a young woman in regal dress. She did not appear, by the way she
held the weapon, particularly skilled in its use, but I figured since she held
it at my throat she at least knew enough to inflict serious damage at the
slightest provocation. And I had just scared the living daylights out of her.
“Villain!”
she shrieked, “What are you doing here?” A few of the maids still bustling
about the room froze in horror at my presence. Even as she tried to sound harsh
and imperious, I detected a tremor in the princess’ voice. I decided that the
best course would be to have the humble response, as it had worked so well on
the pirate ship.
“Please,
your Highness,” I begged, spreading my hands wide to show that I was unarmed,
“I apologize for my sudden intrusion. I mean no harm. I’ve just come through
the battlefield, I am the one sent to save you!”
The
princess almost dropped her sword in surprise. “Merciful saints!” she cried, “A
lady, and a corsair? Thy clothes
proclaimed the a man, yet I perceive by your speech that thou art a woman, and
thou canst not be my elder by more than a year!”
I
clapped my hand on my head; in the rush of the moment I had forgotten that I
was not dressed for the times; I still wore eighteenth-century pirate clothing
in a fifteenth-century castle. I leaned forward to stand back on my feet and
took a moment to gather my bearings.
I
was certainly in the princess’ bedchamber. There was the gigantic, gilded
four-poster, the rich hangings, the thick rugs, and the ornate armoire and
linen trunks. Upon my entrance, I had landed on a small table by the window
with a vase full of flowers upon it. The flowers now lay scattered and crushed
in a pool of water amid shards of the vase. The princess herself did indeed
looked about my age, with strawberry-blonde hair cascading down her back, and a
simple circlet around her forehead. Her features and her delicate, porcelain
complexion gave her the appearance of being quite a bit younger than I did not
doubt she really was. I wondered if she was the sort of princess whom everyone
underestimated.
The
princess, as I observed her, lowered her sword and plopped down on the
luxurious lounge behind her. “Oh, this dreadful war!” she moaned, “You say
you’ve come to save us, but I fear that any effort will be in vain. The Black
Fox’s army is strong, and they have already drawn near the castle gates and the
walls.” With a jerk, the princess sat up and gazed at me with keen interest.
“You say you were sent to save us, but who could have known we were in danger?
Where did you come from? Who sent you?”
“Please,
ma’am,” a small voice spoke behind me. I turned and beheld a young
servant-girl, whom I recognized as the same one who had let the rope ladder
down when I needed it. She stepped forward.
“It
was a mysterious cavern, was it not?” she looked to me for confirmation. “A
vast passageway, crafted by magic, beyond the comprehension of man, and by this
progress, concealed from all eyes, the savior did traverse the entire breadth
of the field of blood, and did come to the castle wall, where I—“ she blushed
at the withering gaze of her mistress at the maid’s involvement in the story,
“where one simple prayer brought the savior to the window and aided her advance
into the castle of the king.”
The
princess stared at her maid in silence for several minutes. When she spoke, her
voice was hushed and full of awe. “The Savior of Phantasia,” she looked from
her servant to me. “As in the stories; the one in all the land who could drive
away our enemies and bring peace to our kingdom.” She jumped forward and
grabbed my hand in her marvelously strong grip. “I must bring you to my
father!”
Her
father… the king? I barely had time to
grasp this realization before she dragged me through a pair of huge oaken doors
that thundered as we entered.
“Father!”
“Gaelynn!”
Several
men sat around a table, but only one sat on a golden throne at the head of it.
He was a tall, strong man, with kind, blue eyes. Looking at him, I was reminded
of gazing into the face of the Dragon Maarkiss—the same determination, the
sense of authority, and the commitment to justice. He willingly held up his
hand to still the protests of the men we’d interrupted as he welcomed his
daughter.
“Gaelynn,
my child, what is the meaning of this?” the king glanced at me, but most of his
attention remained with his daughter. The men—presumably the royal council—were
not so diverted, and I very much wanted to melt under their withering stares.
Gaelynn
lifted her chin staunchly, like the royal she was. “Father, you must continue
to repel the Black Fox! See, I have brought the savior with me! She has
arrived!”
“She?” one of the councilors burst out, “Poppycock! What
could a woman do against an army? If there is any savior for Phantasia, it must
be a man. Your Majesty,” he beseeched the king, “how is it that such a stranger
has arrived so suddenly, slipping past the royal guard? Obviously this is the
apprentice of some sorcerer, and she has bewitched your daughter; who knows
what evil she might do in the minds of your most trusted subjects?”
“He minds your mind, you mine
his mine, what’s his is yours, his mind, your mine!” A singsong voice erupted from the corner of the room. A wide-eyed
jester with mottled clothing—full of patches, pockets, tassels, and
buttons—stepped into view. He shook his bauble at the group.
“The witch has switched which
mind you mind, the switch of mine, this witch of yours, the switch of the mind,
his mine you mind—which is the witch? Mind your mine, you stitch of switches,
mine your mind, and dare not switch mine witch!”
The man danced away, his spinning
steps an apt demonstration of my spinning thoughts, as I vainly tried to
understand the bundle of nonsensical wordplay he had just thrust at me. The
king, however, smiled with delight.
“Chilly,” he said, “speak plainly:
what is it you want to say?”
Chilly the court fool crept from
chair to chair, making his way from the foot of the table to the king at its
head.
“The king desires his fool to speak
plain, while his plain men speak foolishly over the king’s meat. The stuffed
pig is no less stuffed than the king, stuffed with piecemeal news and finely
minced suggestions, braised with tasteless lies!” He gently plucked a pork loin off the gilded plate of the
councilor nearest the king, sniffing it exuberantly. “The leg, torn off, sits
before the man.” He flew to the king’s side with a wail. “Oh! Chilly sees the
king on a gilded platter, and when the king arises, lo! He does not know his
legs are torn off till he has need of them, and they have been eaten!”
I could see a few of the councilors
turning purple, but it was more at how aggravatingly cryptic the fool was than
the fact that they understood his meaning. I had the feeling none of them
wanted to understand.
The king looked at me, taking in my
pirate outfit in obvious confusion. “I am King Marcus; what is your name?”
I bowed, and as an added
precaution, removed my kerchief as I replied, “My name is Laura, Your Majesty.”
“And how did you end up in the
bedchambers of my dear daughter?”
I did not know what else to say. “I
came to the foot of the wall,” I answered, “and I climbed.”
The
clown ceased his capering and began inspecting me closely, his eyes taking in
every detail of my appearance as he pranced round and round me. The king
watched Chilly with evident juvenile delight, forgetting any attempts at
conversation. The clown muttered words—sensible words—that only I could hear.
“Strange
clothes…a sudden appearance…not the savior! Certainly not; there is only one
person in the world who can save Phantasia, and it won’t be her! But perhaps…”
he finished pacing circles around me and ended up right in front of my face,
staring at me with wide eyes. For the first time, I sensed some level of wisdom
behind the crazy demeanor. “Perhaps she can help us find him,” he murmured
meaningfully.
I
furrowed my brow, “Find whom?” I whispered back, but Chilly turned away and
began dancing for the king again.
“This
girl is not the savior!” he announced, “She cannot save us…but,” he continued,
as a few of the councilors began muttering death wishes toward me, “she is the
one we have been waiting for!”
“Well
then, why is she here?” The king asked, addressing the whole room. He shook his
head, “I cannot lose more men!”
“Aye,
your Majesty,” one councilor found safety in agreeing with his king, “surrender
seems the only option. We have been fighting far too long. Any more would be
insensible.”
“Oh,
Father!” Gaelynn fell on her knees before the throne. “There must be something else we can do!”
“No,
daughter,” King Marcus lifted her to her feet. “No other nation can give us
aid, and we can do nothing else against the enemy. It is finished. The Black
Fox rules the world now.”
“Your
Majesty,” for once, Chilly dropped his antics and sprawled in desperate
seriousness at the king’s feet. “There is one man in Phantasia who has the
means to drive away the Black Fox and ensure peace in Phantasia.”
King
Marcus frowned at his fool, “Who would that be, Chilly?”
“His
name is Jerald, if you remember, Sire.”
“The
forester?” one of the councilors erupted, “But I am certain he disappeared long
ago! Besides, he could never really be trusted.”
The
king nodded to his councilor, “This is true; and even if he were alive, my
faithful Chilly, why has he not come before now? Why would Jerald come to aid a
lost cause?”
Chilly
turned a wide, hopeful grin on me.
“That
is why we have been waiting for her, for the Laura. She will find him, and she will bring him back.”
I
could feel my gut twisting; I had no idea who Jerald was, much less how to find
him. Heck, I did not even know what the world beyond the battlefield looked
like! But when the king looked at me, a new strength of hope on his face, I
knew I could not refuse him.
I
didn’t have to; the expression faded as soon as he met my gaze.
“No,”
he stated, “I will not send a girl out into the battlefield; I will send no
more people to be slaughtered! How you mock me, fool!” His look was one of deep
concern.
“What
you say is wise, O king,” one councilor nodded sagely, “it is truly a waste of
men to continue holding out hope for much longer. Hope fell long ago, and we
must all accept our fates.” The other councilors murmured in assent.
I
knew I had to get things going fast; I could not believe for one moment that
this story was going to end up at the mercy of the Black Fox.
“There
is a way, sire,” I spoke up, “not over the battlefield, but under it.”
King
Marcus leaned forward eagerly. “Under? What is this you speak of? Are you truly
a witch, that you can make passages through the heart of the earth?”
I
shook my head, “No, I am not a witch! The passage already exists. By this I
came near your castle undetected and unscathed. By it, also, I can come out to
the edge of yonder forest, and so begin my search for the forester unmolested.”
Everyone
looked in silence at the map where I traced out the path of the tunnel. One of
the councilors burst out, “Unmolested? Everyone knows the Deep Forest is a
death trap to all who enter! Even the Queen, God rest her soul—“
“No!”
King Marcus thundered, cutting the man off. His face contorted in pain at the
mention of his wife. Had she met her demise in this Deep Forest? Suddenly, my
quest was not going to be as glorious as I thought it would be. “Be silent; I
will ponder this matter. Gaelynn, conduct Laura back to your chambers. I will
summon you when I have reached a decision.”
Gaelynn
nodded, “Yes, Father.” She beckoned me to follow her as she left the great
hall.
Back
in her bedroom, Gaelynn went straight to her armoire and drew out a deep-blue
dress similar in style to her own.
“Here,”
she said, “You had better put this on; people will more likely listen to you if
they are not put off by your strange clothing.” She chuckled as she plucked at
the hem of my jerkin. “It looks so much like underclothes of leather!”
I
understood the wisdom of what she said, but I was not about to give up the
boots and leggings for dainty slippers and frilly petticoats. I merely removed
the jerkin and slipped the dress on over my outfit. That way, I at least
appeared at first glance to belong in the Phantasian castle. Gaelynn directed
me to a little stool in front of a mirror, where she gently took my hair in her
hands and began brushing it.
“Do
you think you can do it?”
I
blinked at the sudden question. “What?”
Gaelynn
made a small noise and continued in a rush, “I mean, find the forester, and
all. You’ve only just arrived, of course, and you couldn’t possibly consider
venturing out there on your own.”
I
looked at her face in the mirror and saw that it was a deep red, and she
breathed as if her pulse was racing. I responded calmly, “There doesn’t seem
anyone in this castle who would want to go with me. You all have your duties
and your places here; I am the only one who can leave the castle.”
Gaelynn
finished braiding my hair, and stood silently behind me. I could see that she
was thinking about something, and a little voice inside me told me what it was.
“You’re
not thinking of asking your father to let you go with me, are you?” I turned
around and confronted her.
Gaelynn
bit her lip, as tears welled in her sapphire eyes. “No, father would never let
me go. He’s always forbidden me to enter the forest without a large number of
soldiers guarding me. Ever since mother—“ her voice caught, and her chin trembled.
But she lifted her face and stood resolute.
“Laura,
it must be you and I; the forester is
our only hope of salvation, and I fear—“ she lowered her voice and glanced
suspiciously to the door, “I fear his councilors will convince him to surrender
to the Black Fox.”
“They
certainly don’t seem to be encouraging any show of force,” I agreed.
Gaelynn
was already digging through various trunks and cabinets in her room. She
buckled her sword around her waist, and handed me a bow and quiver.
“We
must act now, Laura, and find the
forester before it is too late!”
I
watched the princess; she seemed to mature speedily, the more she talked about
it. I could see, however, that there seemed to be a phantom hovering over her
shoulder.
“Gaelynn,”
I called to her, setting the bow on the bed beside me. “Are you sure you want
to venture into the Deep Forest? What if you die there, as your mother did?
What do you suppose that would do to your father?”
Gaelynn
wouldn’t meet my gaze. When she did, I saw tears and a ferocious scowl. “Well,
I don’t suppose there’s any talk of you
dying, now, is there?” She sighed hotly. “I must do this, and I mean to survive; we will help each
other live. I do not doubt my mother got…lost,” she avoided acknowledging death as everyone else
did, “because she was not determined to live through it.” She finally lifted
her eyes and looked at me somberly.
The
princess was beginning to frighten me. “What are you saying,” I asked quickly,
“are you saying that your mother ran away from your father?”
Gaelynn
pressed her lips, and I knew she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Come,”
she said, getting to her feet. She threw a cloak about her shoulders, and
handed me a second one. “We’ll go out the back ways. You can show me where your
tunnel is.”
I
knew for certain that two armed, cloaked girls running through a castle in the
middle of a war would not go unnoticed; it is one of the most unbelievable
things that seem to always happen in literature. Hence, I decided to craft my
own set of precautions.
“Moving
warily through the shadows,” I murmured behind Gaelynn’s back, “the two girls
traveled safely through the halls, past oblivious servants and worried lords,
and soon arrived at the castle entrance to the tunnel they sought.”
The
floor of the castle seemed to take a steep decline, and Gaelynn and I found
ourselves presently running slap against a locked door. I could see the crags
behind it, through a tiny window, and knew that this was the tunnel.
“Oh!”
the princess gasped, laying her hand on the rough wood. “This is it! This is
how you made it through the battlefield!” she glanced up toward the ceiling.
“My room must be straight up there, above our heads. I wonder how no one in the
castle ever noticed this!”
“Two
little birds, kept in a stone cage,
Two
little birds, trying to fly away!
Poor
little dark birds, can’t you see?
You
couldn’t face the forest without someone like me!”
We
both jumped in fright at the sound of the song. Gaelynn and I turned to see
Chilly the fool, also cloaked as we were, coming up behind us as if he had
followed us the whole way.
“What
might you two little birds be doing?” he grinned at us.
He pushed his cloak back, and the light of the last torch at the end of the
hall glinted off of the hilt of a knife in his belt.
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