by Holly Hook
I shook my head so hard that my neck went into spasm and I had to grab it. And here was this story stuff again, the whole creepy idea that we were characters in the other world's collective imagination. Stories. Legends, almost. This woman must be in the believer camp.
Or maybe she was right.
“Those criminals that followed you? Are they?”
I shrugged.
“Do you even know who Alric is?” Mary wasn’t wasting her time. I could sense she was normally a nice woman, but stress had turned her inside out and brought out thorns. I knew how that felt, to have to bring out parts of yourself that you never wanted to. I’d had to show my brothers tough love many, many times.
I nodded. And frowned.
“Are you from Fable? That yarn you carry. It’s magical. I believe it’s in at least one story, though I can't remember it off the top of my head. There are so many."
I nodded and checked to make sure the bandits weren't coming through the forest at us. We remained hidden. At least she knew what questions to ask. Maybe Mary had seen people appear by her village before. I'd heard from Bernice that they tended to drop people in the same places.
"So you've gone to the other world and back," she said. "I see. Are you on the run from Alric? Have you figured out which story is yours?" She kept her voice low and asked me the question like it was the most important thing in the world. As if the world depended on it.
Somewhere, a bug buzzed.
I shook my head again.
Mary might know something about swan curses. About easier ways to remove them. Wise women knew things and Bernice had told me stories about Hilda, the wise woman from her village. Hilda used to predict the future and she always had magical artifacts around her hut.
And I had no way to ask her. I couldn’t mime out my story too well, let alone six flying swans and Annie herself. And if Irving was right, I couldn't even draw pictures.
Mary turned her head. “Check the field. I don’t see too well. Make sure those criminals aren’t out. If they’re not, just nod at me.”
She wasn’t asking me to speak, at least. Perhaps she knew something about this after all.
I checked the field. Flowers waved in the breeze and a few sheep grazed way across on the other side, but there was nothing else. I shook my head and Mary smiled.
"Then I will send someone over to deal with them. They will be lost forever in the maze. Let's walk back to my house."
We exited the forest and the village spread out in the distance. The grass came up to my knees. We stood near a huge clump of blossoms that were shaped like little white stars.
My heart rose.
Starwort.
So. Much. Starwort.
Fable’s lighter part was never short on flowers. I had made the right decision to come here and search. It would cut down the time needed to travel to wherever it was in the other world. I'd just need a sack.
And a way to weave flower stems into shirts.
And a touch of magic, wherever that was. Maybe this wise woman had some flowing through her.
And no bandits had emerged.
I gave Mary a thumbs up. She smiled, wrinkles crinkling together.
The two of us walked across the field as fast as we could. The old woman panted for breath again, careful not to break into a run. I couldn’t just leave her. I studied the field the whole time, waiting for the man’s face to pop up through the grass like some troll from the underworld. But it never came. We entered the village and passed several chickens pecking at some fresh seeds. An old man leaned against the house, glaring at me. The smells of fresh hay and packed dirt surrounded me. There weren't many people here at all. The sounds of children playing were absent. We passed two women working in a garden, but no one else.
Then I remembered.
The trapdoor in Mary's house.
She seemed to remember the same time I did. Mary stopped in front of her house and motioned for me to peek in. Her door hung open and the crossbeam lay broken on the floor in two pieces. No one had noticed yet. The bandits had knocked over the table and books lay strewn everywhere along with papers, some of which looked like drawn maps of the village and the surrounding forest. A clay pot lay broken on the floor along with dirt and a fallen lily. They had ransacked this place and probably taken some of Mary’s things.
If my father’s knights were here, they would find the bandits and finish them off.
I nodded to Mary. She swept into the house.
“Block the trapdoor,” she said.
She got on one side of the table, glanced at it, and back to me. I got on the other end and we stood the table back up and slid it across the planks to the trapdoor, which lay open. I closed it and with one lift, we set the heavy table over the door.
I felt a lot safer. I hoped the bandits wouldn’t expect us to come back here.
“Good,” Mary said. “We need to go get the huntsman. Come with me.”
It was obvious these people didn’t have knights. I didn’t know which kingdom this was. All of them had villages like this. I followed Mary between the houses. The old man leaned on his pitchfork and glared after me. I walked past him quickly in case he decided to stab me with it. It seemed like every village had a guy like that.
Some of the doors to the houses were open. Many of them were empty, but a few had people. I thought I saw a girl with very long hair curled up on her lap sitting in one along with another girl in yellow dress, but I couldn’t stop to stare at any of them. A freckled young man stood behind them and watched Mary like he wanted to speak to her, but she leaned close. “Shut your door, Henry. There are people with guns around here.”
“Guns?” Henry asked. “What are those?”
“Close your door,” Mary repeated.
Henry obeyed. I followed Mary through the town square, where chickens pecked at some seed another woman had just thrown on the ground. I’d seen lots of villages. Bernice had taken me to some markets back in the Swan Kingdom. This one was different, more empty, like many of the people had fled. And there were no children. I hadn’t seen anyone under my age yet.
Maybe the adults had sent them away.
A small hut waited on the other side of the village. Mary knocked on the door with three loud bangs. A young man in green answered.
“Macon, is your father here?” Mary asked, squinting at him.
“I’m afraid he’s not, ma’am,” Macon said. He had a long face and dark hair and the most serious expression I’d ever seen.
Mary sighed. She hadn’t been hoping for this. “Then you need to go and watch the north exit of the tunnels,” Mary ordered. “Take your bow. There are two bandits from the other world inside, trying to find their way out, and they might be carrying guns. You know, those death sticks from the other world? You will need to hide and shoot them when they come out.”
“Actually, it will be better to watch the exit from the hill directly behind it,” Macon explained, holding up a finger. “I’ve been shooting this bow for years. You need to have a clear shot. When you try to shoot through thick underbrush, your arrow might get stuck and—“
“Macon!” Mary shouted with so much force that I jumped. “Go and guard the exit. Now. This is an emergency!”
Macon jumped and his eyebrows rose as he stared at Mary in shock. But then he turned away, sighed, and picked up a bunch of arrows that he had scattered all over his table. He stuffed them into a quiver and slung it over his back. Grabbing a bow, he stormed past Mary and towards the other side of the village.
Mary faced me, her hands on her hips. “I cannot stand that young man. Come on. We can safely go back to the house. I need to check something.”
She sounded so afraid that I couldn’t help but follow her. Mary broke into a run the last several feet to her house as if she were rushing to put a fire out inside of it. But nothing was ablaze. I followed her in and let my eyes adjust to the darkness. Mary knelt down in the papers and sifted through the books, holding each one up to
her face and throwing them down one by one. Her movements got more desperate the longer she worked.
"Where is it?" she asked. "Where is the book?"
I couldn't answer her. I remembered something about a big leather one with gold lettering. And that one wasn't here among the maps and notes.
Mary felt around and I joined her because I wasn't sure what else to do. There was no book. The old woman sat up and frowned. She let out a breath and let her face fall to her hands.
I dropped the yarn, which rolled away and settled on the map of this village. It waited there and its glow seemed to die as if mourning the loss of the book.
What book? I thought, but of course Mary couldn't hear my thoughts. Only some of the animals in Fable could, especially those who had once been human like my brothers.
Mary took her face from her hands at last. She leveled her gaze at me and studied me for a long time, but I couldn't defend myself. What if she thought I had brought the bandits here to steal her book?
But at last she sighed and motioned for me to help her up. I gave her my hand and she pulled on my arm and came to standing with the pop of a joint.
"That book," Mary said, "Was Grimm's Complete Fairy Tales. It was written in the other world and it contains every story that has ever happened or will happen in Fable. Including yours, whatever it is. That volume contains your fate, and if we can't get it back, we will never have a chance at stopping Alric."
Chapter Five
I couldn't say anything.
Literally.
Mary stood, silent. The bandits had just taken off with something very, very valuable. Maybe they thought it was some kind of treasure with the gold leaf on it. Books were expensive in Fable, especially ones as well made as that. And I couldn't be sure that they weren't working for Alric. They were the type of people he would hire.
If it was true that Fable was a collection of stories told in the other world, and Mary was some keeper of those stories...then losing that book would be a disaster. I wondered if there was a written tale of a girl whose brothers became swans.
"The fate of Fable," Mary said, turning away. "It's all in that book. Those stories are the glue that hold this world together."
And now the answer was own in the passages. Lost.
Unless Macon could shoot the bandits, but I wasn't very confident in that.
But wait.
I had the yarn. Of course we could find it.
I tapped Mary on the arm. She turned and I held up the yarn ball. She stared at it, not comprehending, so I grabbed a book off the floor and pointed to it, then the yarn again.
Mary's eyes widened in understanding. "Your yarn. It can show us where the book is?"
I nodded. We were getting somewhere.
Mary smiled. "I knew there was something going on with that. Let me assemble a force and then we're going to go down after it."
* * * * *
I could only wait in Mary's house while she went out and gathered whoever was going to go down into the tunnels. I turned the ball of yarn over and over in my hands as I sat in a stiff wooden chair and waited. The table remained still on the trapdoor and no shouts came out. I thought of Macon out there, perched and waiting for them to emerge from the tunnels. It was the only way out, their only option. If he could shoot them dead, we could get the book back. The yarn might not even take anyone underground. That would be best.
I seemed to wait forever, even though it was only a few minutes. Mary came back into the cottage with the freckled guy named Henry and another young man in tow, one about my age or a little older. He had a broad chest and dark hair that spilled down the sides of his face and he had a sword hanging from his belt, one that had a jeweled handle. One of the orange gems shone in the light for a second. The young man glanced at me and back to Mary, confused. Heat rushed to my face.
“The book is missing,” Mary said like she was briefing them. “It is down in the tunnels. We need to get it back in case those thieves down there are allied with Alric. There are underground ponds down there they could even use to speak to him or hand him the book.”
A shudder raced across me. Henry stood there and frowned. I’d heard rumors that Alric could walk through mirrors and that he had a magic one at his castle. If Mary was right and the book really held our stories, and Alric could find a way to control them, then darkness could spread over all of Fable.
“Who’s she?” Henry asked.
“For some reason, she cannot speak,” Mary explained for me. “She just got here from the other world but she's been in Fable before. This girl has a magical ball of yarn that can show you how to get to whatever you want to get to. She will lead you to the thieves.”
I gulped and terror spread through me. The insults the man had shouted at me reverberated through my mind and I still had to gather the starwort and find another way back to the other world. I could do that, but the longer I waited, the longer my brothers had to remain swans.
And the longer Annie had to find me.
But I would do this. My story could very well be in that book--and so could the solution. I'd have to assume that Mary was right that Fable was born from the imaginations of the other world.
I nodded and the two young men moved the table from the trapdoor. There was no time for introductions. The second young man had a square shaped mole above his eye. He grimaced at me and then managed a smile. This is going to be fun, he was trying to say. I appreciated his sarcasm.
We might not come out of the tunnels alive.
The two guys went down the ladder first. I paused and followed. The earthy smell surrounded me again as I stood in the square of light, staring into infinite darkness. The bandits were in here somewhere.
Death was waiting.
The dark-haired guy leaned close. “I’m sorry you have to be down here with us. A lady shouldn’t have to do this.”
I agreed, but it was necessary. Who was this young man? He wore a leather tunic and leggings along with shiny, black boots. The gems on his sword reminded me of the color of the Sun Kingdom, which was two kingdoms away from ours.
He had a weapon and I had a yarn ball.
I held up the yarn as the two boys watched. Show us where Mary's book of stories is, I thought.
And the yarn spiraled apart and formed a line deeper into the tunnel.
It was down here. Great.
Henry faced the other guy. "Looks like we get to feel along the walls, Mica. I hope no one's relieved themselves recently right above us."
I wanted to laugh. He reminded me of Immanuel and Ike and their gross humor.
I motioned for them to follow. Once again I followed the purple line into darkness. Now that there was no one dangerous behind me, the dark was a lot scarier. I'd be spending some time down here now. The yarn floated beside us, hovering like the world's longest and thinnest snake, and every time my forearm brushed against it my skin tingled.
"This is some kind of light magic," Henry said. "It reminds me of Rae's hair."
"You're obsessed with Rae's hair," Mica said, his breath blowing on my neck. "That isn't normal for a man. We have better things to love."
"Don't mind my cousin," Henry told me. "He's a bit coarse sometimes."
I wanted to say that I'd grown up with six boys and was used to it, but I couldn't. I held my finger up to my mouth to shush them, but they couldn't see me. I could only feel a tiny draft blowing against me, born somewhere in the distance. We were sticking close together. The bandits could be anywhere down here and I was walking in the lead.
I listened. Every little drip of water and footstep of the guys stuck out to me. It was hard to continue walking where the yarn led, around every corner and through every narrow tunnel. My heart raced the deeper we went. The tunnel sloped down, then to the side, and then up again. We were heading in a different direction Mary and I had gone before. The bandits had gone very deep into the tunnel network.
The yarn wouldn't lead us into any traps--would it? If it was full o
f light magic, it might not.
But I didn't know that.
Just then, dirt crumbled at my feet and I stepped back, gasping.
"What's wrong?" Mica asked, catching me from behind.
I leaned into him, so glad he was there. His fingers curled into my upper arms. I couldn't answer him. All I could think about was the fall I had almost taken into some hidden pit and the fact that Mica was holding my arms. His chest was so broad, so strong. He'd make a good knight if he wasn't one already.
"She can't speak," Henry said. Another hand landed on my shoulder. "Shrug if it's a trap."
I shrugged so much that Henry let go of me and Mica whistled.
"Maybe we should have me walk in the lead," Mica said. "Can this yarn show us another way around and avoid killing us?"
I didn't even have to think anything. The yarn retracted, rolling into a ball next to me, and led us back in the other direction.
I went to cut ahead of the guys, to walk away from the pit, but Mica squeezed past me. "You don't have to do this," he said. "Let someone else take the lead for a while."
Sighing, I let him cut ahead. It was my fault the bandits were here and they had taken Mary's book. I should walk in the front and not let someone else get hurt or worse. But Mica wouldn't have it. His footsteps went ahead, following the new glowing trail that the yarn blazed through the dark. The longer I stayed down here, the brighter it seemed to get. Or maybe my eyes were adjusting.
The bandits would see this a mile away if they were anywhere close.
I reached out and scraped the back of someone's vest. "I'll walk behind you," Henry said. "You should stay in the middle."
I didn't understand why these two were so willing to get hurt for me. This was my responsibility. I'd brought the bandits here, but the three of us walked, single file, and Mica never screamed from a surprise fall down a pit. I made a note to myself to always tell the yarn to find a safe way to whatever I needed next.
