Princesses Are Never Lost

by Maikel Yarimizu

  The moon princess shrugged and looked around for more friends to help. She didn't notice anyone in dire need, but she could see one thing for sure: rippling spots in the hedge surrounding the grove, where leafy green lupine forms slipped in.

  "More monsters!?" Shelby was going cross-eyed at this point, trying to send death-stares at Uncle. He just laughed.

  "The children of the brush, what quiet sounds they make," he said, sure that after all the other missed references, none of the girls would get this one.

  "Ooh, is that s'posed to be a Dracula joke?" Cynthia asked. "So, is Rosalind like a vampire or somethin'?"

  "...or something," he admitted. The villain of the piece had been quilted out of bits and pieces, but some elements of the vampire template had been included. "Good guess."

  The pony-tailed animal lover preened at the compliment. "Okay, got a question for ya," she asked, pulling out her spell cards. "Got a level-2 magic here that changes the size of animals, but it just says they get smaller. Can I make something bigger?"

  "Afraid not," he said. "That's a different spell entirely. A level-5 one."

  "So Flora can use it pretty soon?" Cynthia asked hopefully.

  "Nope. She won't have fifth-level spells until level nine." That got him a full set of deadpan stares from around the table. "Hey, don't blame me for how the game's set up. I'll freely admit that it can be a bit confusing, but that's the way it is, and the spell to make animals bigger is way above Flora's ability."

  "But she could do it to people!" Cynthia cried, pointing at Katelyn. "She did it last week!"

  "...the staff did it..."

  "Yeah, but I bet Bianca could learn how to do it herself, right?" Cynthia had her game face on now, all pouting lip and glaring eyes. "What level of spell is it, to make people bigger?"

  Uncle hated to concede the point, but... "For wizards and witches, it's a level-1 spell," he admitted through clenched teeth.

  "How does that even make sense!?" Cynthia shouted. "People are just animals with more clothes on! And the clothing changes size too, I bet. That's gotta be harder than making Fido and his collar bigger! Why do wizards and witches get one set of rules, and druids another? What's fair about that?"

  On the far side of the table, Helen and Shelby had procured a large piece of scratch paper and a marker, and quick as a wink they'd made their own protest sign: EQUAL RITES FOR DRUIDS! Soon enough, the entire table was chanting "Equal rites! Equal rites!" Even Katelyn managed to be heard.

  Uncle felt a headache coming on, and he didn't have any aspirin. He did have dice, though. "Alright, alright. One roll, no bonuses, difficulty check of 15. You want it, this is your only chance."

  Cynthia narrowed her eyes and grabbed her twenty-sided, the goldenrod one. She blew on it twice for luck, rolled, and sent it clattering across the table. -gatta, gatta, gatta- it went, bumping and jumping until it stopped at... 17. There was cheering all around.

  "Okay," Uncle said with a sigh. "Your level-2 size-changing spell now works in either direction. At the time of casting, you can choose to make the target bigger or smaller, but you still only get to use it once a day and it won't last too long. Dare I ask what you plan to do with it?"

  Two of the hedge-wolves had split off from the pack to stalk Flora, but they didn't immediately attack. They circled her, wary of the oversized club she was waving their direction, looking for a weak spot. They'd find it soon, she figgered. That was the way of the wild; there was always something that could eat you, no matter how strong you were. But what would eat a wolf made of foliage...

  "Mr. Chitters?" she called. The squirrel bounded up her shoulder. "Do you trust me?" There was an affirmative squeak in her ear. "Okay..."

  The magic words were short and simple. Druidic wasn't a very complicated language, for those who could speak it. In fact, all she had to do was change one accent point from down to up, and then--

  There was a swirl of green light from her shoulder, and a sudden weight that got bigger even as it leapt from her to the space in front of the approaching wolves. Mr. Chitters let out one long chirp that got louder and deeper as it dragged on: Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkkkk! And suddenly the hedge-wolves had a new problem: an angry, bushy beast larger than they, with very sharp front teeth and a taste for greenery. Mr. Chitters pounced, going straight for the nuts and berries as only a true squirrel could.

  Bianca wooshed around the battle, trying hard to keep track of everything. On her left, Selvi was chopping at hedge-wolves with wild abandon, while on her right Gwen was defending Cassie from the pink-haired Sweetbriar, now all prickly and mean. Beyond them, she could see Flora as the druid commanded her squirrel to attack, and then joined the battle herself in the form of a small bear.

  The little witch was impressed, and somewhat disheartened. Much as she hated it, she was still two sizes too small to do anything more than annoy people. But... she grinned as she pulled the broom around. The purple-haired Thistle and a gang of leafy beasts had rallied to make a rush at Selvi, and so gleefully did Bianca sweep over their heads. Jinkies hissed loud, nasty things from his perch, in those tones which cats reserve for cussing. And of all the languages of the beasts, feline really was the best for that sort of thing.

  It certainly got their attention. Bianca kept the broom to about head-height, going slowly enough for the hedge-wolves to keep up, but swift enough that they'd never catch her.

  "Not so fast, my dear." And suddenly Princess Rosalind was there, rising up from the nearest rosebush like a particularly tattered flower. Rows of thorns lined her mouth instead of teeth, now that the magic of her glamour was off, and trickles of reddish sap leaked from the petals around her eyes. Bianca had to spin and twirl to avoid running into the rose princess's prickly embrace.

  "Let us leave this forest, or you'll be sorry," she warned in her most imperious and princess-like tones. The effect was marred by the high-pitched squeakiness of her voice, but she thought she did pretty well.

  "I think not." A long, twisted tendril sprouted from Rosalind's arm, and with a flick of the wrist she snapped it at the flying broomstick. Bianca cried out as the thorns scraped across her leg. "It has been so long since I have entertained guests, and yet Alvatra's curse still holds me. None who enter this grove may leave alive." A green tongue ran over those thorny fangs. "And I admit, I could do with a bit of... watering. Do not worry; it will only hurt for a moment, and then thou may'st join Thistle and Sweetbriar as my newest handmaiden. And then we shall enjoy all our days here so greatly. Soundest that not like heaven?"

  "Um, let me think... no. In fact, let me answer that emphatically." She palmed one of her three remaining bombs from the inside pocket of her gown. "Hells no!" she shouted, throwing the miniature incendiary straight at the rose princess's feet.

  Rosalind vanished with a shriek, but the bush wasn't so lucky. It burst into flames reminiscent of the candles on Gran'Mama's last birthday cake, only no one was handy with a spell of extinguishment to put this one out.

  "Thou art a little beast..." Rosalind sputtered, stepping out of a rosebush some ten feet away. "Princesses should not behave in such a manner!"

  "Oh, shouldn't we?" Bianca asked slyly as she glanced around the grove. "Get with the times, Rosie. We're princesses, and we do whatever we want." She pegged the next rosebush with a bomb, and then one more for good measure. Rosalind was screaming bloody murder, but the little witch was just getting started.

  With her free hand, she drew a small but complicated sigil on her throat. A second later, the spell was active, and her next few words exploded out with enough force to strip the leaves off the nearest hedge-wolf: "AIM FOR THE ROSE BUSHES, EVERYONE!" To her amazement, everyone actually listened. Selvi and Gwen turned their swords on the plants, severing them at the base with powerful chops. The bear that was Flora ripped a few more out of the ground, while her oversized squirrel put its oversized incisors to good use. Cassandrella, lacking in the sharp implements department,
stood back and cheered the others on.

  "No!" cried Rosalind, jumping from bush to bush. "Not... not the... must be protected..." The rose princess's voice faltered and weakened with each bush lost.

  Bianca was regretting that she'd wasted those two bombs earlier in the day, and that she'd neglected to prepare more than the single fire spell either. But who needed that, when you had a magic rod of... whatever it was it did? The Rod of Random, she'd decided to name it, though at the moment it was practically a staff as far as she was concerned. Bianca took aim at Rosalind, invoked the rod's power, and waited to see what happened next.

  A bright flash burned through the space between them, accompanied by a crack of thunder so strong it knocked her from the broom. A single bolt of lightning cut through the air, leaving a bright black scar in its wake. Rosalind caught the worse end of it by far. At her feet, the large rose bush burst into flames, and this time the flower princess was too stunned to jump away. Hot, red fingers burned their way up her body, scorching through the thin, petal-like material of her garments with a flash, leaving only bare skin now blackened and charred.

  The strength of her screams lasted for many long moments, pushing all other sound out of the grove, and in their wake was a dull, heavy silence. The remaining hedge-wolves fled as quietly as they'd arrived, while the girls Thistle and Sweetbriar knelt sobbing on the grass.

  It was a long moment before any noise dared break that silence, and when that twig snapped under the purposeful step of a boot, everyone turned to look. The knight in wooden armor, Sir Ulmus, approached with no other sound to herald him. Leaving his mace on the trampled grass, he knelt by the scorched and ruined body of Rosalind.

  "Where..." The words were hardly there, light as a forest breeze. "Where wert... thou... madest... a vow..."

  "Yes, my dearest, my fairest Rose. I promised to protect thee, all those years ago, longer than the witch's curse could let thee remember. And yet, never could I protect thee from thine own actions." He held her body close for another long moment, until it hung limp and lifeless in his arms. Then he laid her back upon the ashes. "Perhaps now thou shalt know peace."

  "We... we're sorry, sir knight," Gwen said. "We never intended..."

  "Well do I know the truth of thine words, elf-maiden. Ye ladies were victims of this place and its glamours, and Rose, dearest Rose... She had no choice, ye must understand. Once ye were here in the garden, it was certain that she would attack eventually. Such was the nature of her bindings."

  "Sir Ulmus! Sir Ulmus!" Thistle and Sweetbriar cried, rushing to the knight. "What is going on? Our heads hurt so..." Clear sap was running from their eyes.

  "The roots of the lady's influence have left your minds," he explained, "and ye are as free as ye have ever been. Would that I could restore to you your lives of old, but alas, I fear those are centuries lost." He patted the girls tenderly on their heads. "Let me be a father to you, at the least, that ye might know better in your new lives."

  "I'm sorry!" It had just hit home to Bianca that there was a body, smoldering on the ground, and that she'd put it there. "I... I shouldn't have... could have..." She ran up and hugged the two green girls, ignoring the slight prickles that still covered them.

  "Um, if we ain't a-fighting now," said Selvi, "could we get an explanation or something?"

  "Ah, yes." The knight nodded. Reaching up, he twisted and pulled at his helmet until it was free in his arms. The face beneath it was remarkably human, if one overlooked the greenish pallor and the mossy beard. "Glad am I that thou didst not require the token of my aid, maiden elf. If thou hadst called me, I know not how my loyalties would lie. We are all victims here, though none as tragic as poor Rose herself." He sighed. "Let us move away from here a ways and discuss."

  The princesses followed him back towards the pillars. Gwen pulled a spare cloak from her bag, still propped against one stone, and returned to Rosalind's side to drape it over the body. Everyone pretended not to notice how she double-checked the fatal circumstances of the deceased before joining them.

  "I presume that Rose did tell you the story of how she came here?" The princesses nodded. "And I am sure she did not start it proper, for it began not at the wedding, as she so often claims. Perhaps she remembered not, but it was in fact three days before that event, during the celebrations of betrothal. As per our custom, she and I traveled the lands around Carpazha, handing out small coins to all whom we met. On her journey back to the castle, she met an old crone who asked for a scrap of food or other such kindness. Rose was always too clever for her own good, and played the old woman, presenting her with a piece of gold, only to exchange it for a brass disk by sleight of hand."

  "Um, was she stupid?" Selvi blurted out. "I mean, that's the kinda story they teach in basic princessing class. No way that old lady wasn't some witch or fairy or something."

  "Certes, we realized that soon enough, but witches were new and strange things to us, to be found only in far-off lands. Alvatra Hag's-daughter was the first to come this far north."

  "Hag... this must have been almost seven-hundred years ago!" Bianca cried from within Thistle and Sweetbriar's sniffly snuggles. "None of the original hag-daughters are still alive!"

  "I cannot vouch for thy words, young miss, though I doubt them not. Rose would claim that time flowed oddly here, but in truth I believe that was merely another sign of the malaise of her mind. She never stopped waiting for her prince to come and rescue her, though it was long ago that I led an army against Alvatra," the knight continued, "up to the castle which once stood at the heart of this wood. It was my sword which slew the witch, and I found my dearest Rose in this very garden..."

  "And she killed you," Flora guessed.

  "She did what was now her nature," the knight replied. "Dark magics were worked upon her, and Rose was no longer the same, and would not regain her senses for many years after. She never knew that her Marti died that day, to be replaced with Sir Ulmus, her trusted defender. Occasionally others would happen upon this place, to be devoured and perhaps converted into her slaves." He nodded at Thistle and Sweetbriar, huddled into a sobbing clump around the diminutive Bianca. The little witch had the most conflicted and perplexed look on her face.

  "Okay, this answers the what and the why," said Gwen. "Now for the how. As in, how do we get out of here?"

  "That I can answer," said Sir Ulmus. "At the far end of this garden is a gate of stone. Through it one can go many ways, but I only know of certainty the one which leads to Carpazha. Would that suit you ladies?"

  Selvi and Gwen shared a look. "If it gets us out of this forest..." the half-elf began.

  "And farther from school!" the half-orc added.

  "...then I think that shall suffice," Gwen finished.

  "And so," Uncle concluded, "after some more talk with Sir Ulmus and some consolation to the two flower children, you make your way out of the Lost Woods once and for all. Hopefully we figure out where you are by next week."

  "Finally!" shouted Shelby. "Worst shortcut ever!"

  "Well, pay attention to the map next time," he teased back. "Time to tidy up, ladies. Remember to mail me back with your plot ideas for upcoming adventures..." He scooped up the small pile of sticky notes that was gathered at Katelyn's place at the table. "I've been giving you prompts; now it's time for you all to return the favor."

  "Roger that, Uncle Gamer-Dude!"

  He was all ready to impugn Claire some more, just on general principle, when Uncle realized that they now had an audience. The evening crowds had slowly rolled in, and not far from their table a family had been seated. A raven-haired girl in a blue one-piece was staring at them.

  "Claire? Is that you over there?" the girl called. "And Helen! Shelby! Hello!" Now she was waving.

  "Hello, Natalie..." his girls sighed in chorus.

  "Ooh, is this what you were talking about doing on the weekends, Claire?" The alleged Natalie hopped on over. "Can I try?"

  "Didn't think it'd be your thing," Shelb
y said. "It gets really complicated."

  "Oh, if Cynthia can do it, I'm sure I can manage. How hard can it be?"

  The pony-tailed girl held her tongue, though Uncle couldn't miss how Helen and Katelyn both had their arms locked around hers. "Excuse me," he interrupted. "How do you know everyone?"

  "Oh, I'm Claire's cousin Natalie. We're all in the same class at school. Hey, can I play next week too, please?"

  "Honey," Natalie's dad said, coming up behind her. "Let's not bother people..."

  "It's not like they're strangers, daddy. It's Claire! And the others are my friends from school! Right?" Natalie said, to be answered by noncommittal nods and grunts. "See! So is there room for one more?"

  "I don't know," said Uncle. "What do you ladies say?"

  Cynthia and Shelby looked like they'd been sucking lemons, but of the five only Claire spoke up: "Sure, we can give it a try." She gulped at the end, skewered by four other sets of eyes. "I mean, it's all about playing around and working together, right? The more the merrier?"

  "Perfect!" said Natalie, grabbing Claire's hand and giving it a shake. "Oh, this is going to be awesome!"

  "You'll still need to draw up a character," said Uncle. "Do you know how, or should I arrange something?"

  "Oh, I'll just get my big brother to help. He plays this kind of game all the time. Hey, Kyle!" she shouted to the young man at her table, who'd been studiously focused on his pizza. "Can you make me something this week?"

  "Mmrphlhmf?"

  Uncle jotted down his email and passed it to Natalie's father. "Have him get in touch with me, and we'll hammer something out."

  "Sorry to impose like this," her father replied.

  That got a shrug. "Two things this game is good for," said Uncle. "Making friends and making enemies. Hopefully this will be a good experience all around. Right, ladies?"

  "Yeah." "Maybe." "Sure it will!" "...hope so..." Cynthia abstained from the chorus and quietly fumed in her corner.

  He tried not to sigh. This idea reeked like an Easter egg at Thanksgiving, but then again, he'd made friends around the gaming table after far less auspicious introductions. Maybe Helen could give him some insights into the situation later, but for now, as the girls gathered their things and went home with the parental units, all he could do was try and figure out how to best fit this newcomer into the story...