The more Alastriona thought, the more certain she was. “We should go to the library.”
Seumas frowned. “But if the scrolls are in a cave—”
“How would Gormflaith learn that information?” Alastriona countered. “If we want to save the settlement, we need to stop her long before she reaches that level of desperation. Already I worry about what her magic will do to the people. We must stop her before she does worse.”
“The cave is well hidden,” Eithne said, “but the others who know aside from me are aged. If Gormflaith finds them, she may be able to extract the information from them.”
“Did you see anyone, anyone at all, moving around when you snuck inside the walls?” Alastriona asked.
Eithne shook her head. “I heard the wails of a few babes, but the only person I saw who still moved was Gormflaith.”
“Not even guards?” Seumas asked with a scoff. He stretched his arms out in front of him and tried to crack his knuckles, like the warriors of the settlement often did. Instead of any sound from his knuckles, he let out a soft gasp. “That hurts more than you’d think,” he admitted.
“Remember, Gormflaith struck down those who believed themselves strong. We need to use our minds in order to defeat her,” Alastriona said. “My family may be the strong, but we are the clever.”
“We are the clever,” Eithne and Seumas repeated together, laughing as they did.
“Clever will save us,” Alastriona assured them.
~*~
Eithne slipped through the doors of the library but came back almost immediately. “She’s in there, pulling all the books off the shelves.”
Princess Alastriona frowned. The library was one of her favorite places, and to hear Gormflaith was treating the books badly was horrid. “We’re going to have to stop her. The sooner, the better.”
“What can we do to a witch?” Seumas asked.
Princess Alastriona smiled. “What can you do to a witch? Bind her up with iron bars and peony flowers red and orange,” she sang. “Like the old rhyme!”
Seumas’s jaw dropped. “Yes, I remember that one. Okay, where do we find iron bars and peony flowers?”
“Iron bars are easy,” Alastriona said. “We’ve got plenty of unused swords at the moment.”
“And I know where peonies grow,” Eithne said.
A shattering sound came from within the library, followed by a fierce sounding wind.
“She’s broken a window now,” Alastriona said, a note of desperation seeping into her voice as she thought about the damage this witch could do to the precious books. “Who knows what else she might break? I’ve got to stop her.”
“But how?” Seumas asked.
Alastriona took a deep breath. “I’m going to go in there and talk to her.”
“What?” the other two children exclaimed in unison.
“I’m going to need to borrow your scarf, Eithne, so she doesn’t realize who I am. I’ll offer to help, but I’ll really just be a nuisance—not enough of one that she’ll be cross with me, but just enough to keep her from breaking anything else.”
“Then I’ll go look for peonies,” Eithne said as she unwound her scarf from her hair and shoulders, helping Alastriona to cover up her straight golden-blonde hair that matched that of her parents.
Seumas nodded. “Then I suppose I need to collect swords.”
Alastriona nodded. “There’s a ring of light colored wood on the floor. I’ll keep Gormflaith distracted and within that circle. Lay out all of the swords and flowers in a nine-pointed star. And then she’ll be trapped!”
Seumas and Eithne nodded and scurried off, leaving Princess Alastriona to take a deep breath and plunge directly into the belly of the beast.
“Hello?” she called out as she pushed on the heavy library door. “Who’s there?” She opened the door all the way, latching it open to make it easier for Seumas and Eithne to sneak in once they’d found the things they needed to trap Gormflaith.
“Who’s there?” Gormflaith replied from somewhere in the distance. “I might ask the same of you!” The witch came around a tall bookshelf and peered down at Alastriona. “Oh, I see. I wasn’t expecting the strong to keep their weak ones around.” She drew out the word “strong” and made it sound mocking.
Princess Alastriona nodded, keeping her eyes down. “I’m just one of the librarian’s assistants.”
“Excellent. I’m looking for something in particular. Care to help me?”
“What is it you’re looking for, my lady?”
“My lady, eh?” Gormflaith laughed. “Well, flattery will get you everywhere, child. I’m looking for an old scroll.” The witch held out her hands. “About this long, just a little oath of loyalty.”
“Follow me, please,” Alastriona said. She kept her gaze on the floor of the library, locating the pale inlaid ring near the center of the library. Within it, several tall cases bearing rolled maps and other tubes stood sentinel, creating a ring of their own within the inlaid ring. If she could keep Gormflaith occupied here until her friends were able to lay out the iron bars and peonies, they’d be able to trap her and find a way to break her spell.
“I don’t know which scroll it might be—” Alastriona began.
“Blast,” Gormflaith said. “Well, dear, would you be so kind as to help me find the one I’m looking for?”
“I can try,” Alastriona said. “Though perhaps you can tell me more about it to help me look for it?”
“You do know how to read, don’t you? Being a librarian’s assistant and all?”
“Of course, my lady. But can’t you tell me anything more at all? As you said, there are so many scrolls here.”
Gormflaith muttered something beneath her breath, and the contents of one shelf flew into the air beside one of the bookcases.
Alastriona gasped loudly as the scrolls and maps clattered to the ground. “Oh, my lady, you mustn’t just throw these things around. They’re all quite old and delicate!”
“What do I care for them? Soon enough, they’ll all belong to me anyway, and I can do whatever I like with them then. I think I’ll use them for kindling. This settlement needs a good burning to clear the way for my keep.”
“But what if you accidentally destroy the very scroll you’re looking for?” Alastriona asked.
Gormflaith shrugged, though a look of discomfort flitted across her face. “I’m certain it will be of no consequence.”
Alastriona stopped and placed her hands on her hips. “Then why must we find it?”
Gormflaith arched one eyebrow. “Well, you’re a spirited one, aren’t you?” She frowned, peering more closely at Alastriona. “You look rather familiar.”
As Gormflaith reached out a hand toward Alastriona’s borrowed scarf, Alastriona stumbled past her, falling to the library floor, but retrieving a scroll from the lowest shelf as she did. It was a much larger scroll than the one Gormflaith had indicated, but Alastriona held it up nonetheless. “Something like this one, perhaps?”
“No, shorter,” Gormflaith said. “Though I’ll have a look at that one, if you don’t mind.”
Alastriona clambered up from the floor and brought Gormflaith the scroll.
When the witch unrolled it, she frowned. “Just a map. Keep looking.”
Alastriona nodded and glanced past Gormflaith. Seumas tiptoed across the library floor, arms laden with swords. Princess Alastriona wanted to shake her head, to somehow tell him he needn’t bring so many swords all at once. As one of the swords began to slip from Seumas’s grasp, Alastriona slumped heavily into the bookcase, causing a clatter of scroll and map tubes.
Gormflaith shook her head, scoffing at Alastriona. “And you tell me to be careful with these old things.”
Alastriona picked herself up and dusted herself off. “I am ever so clumsy, I fear.”
“What’s that one there, then?” Gormflaith asked, pointed a slender finger at one of the scrolls that had fallen just out of Alastriona’s reach.
&n
bsp; Alastriona froze before she recalled that the scroll Gormflaith wanted was not here. She could let the witch look at any scroll she liked, but Gormflaith would never find the scroll to force loyalty from the people of the settlement. Alastriona reached out and handed the scroll to Gormflaith. “This might be it.”
Gormflaith took the scroll case from Alastriona and unrolled it carefully, then shook her head. “No, none of these scrolls seem to contain any spells. Where would the ones with the spells be, girl?”
“I can’t rightly say, my lady,” Alastriona said. The more she considered it, the more certain she was that no scrolls containing magic were kept within the library walls. They likely all resided in the cave. But she needed to keep Gormflaith here and busy for long enough for her friends to complete the warding circle. “I think perhaps the highest shelves might be where the spells would be kept. At least, that’s where I think I would keep them if I were the librarian.”
“Hmm,” Gormflaith said, gesturing toward one of the highest shelves. Several more scrolls flew from the shelf.
“One at a time, my lady!” Alastriona said. “Remember, they are fragile.”
“Just like the people here,” Gormflaith said, smiling broadly. But she lowered the scrolls she had snatched with her magic slowly into her hands, rather than allowing them to clatter onto the floor.
Alastriona made her way around the circle of bookshelves, pretending to look at the scrolls, but truly checking on the progress of the ward. Seven points of the star were in place, and Eithne was just now hurrying through the door with a basket filled with peony blossoms. Alastriona caught Eithne’s gaze and smiled at her friend, and Eithne returned the expression.
As soon as Eithne had finished placing the flowers, she returned to the door to the library and looked out. A frown crossed her features, and then her eyes grew wide.
“Pardon me, my lady,” Alastriona said, holding up a finger out of Gormflaith’s sight to signal Eithne to wait. “I may have seen another scroll in another part of the library. Please wait here, and I will bring it to you.”
“Why can’t you just tell me where it is? You move too slowly.”
Alastriona took a deep breath. “Well, you’d need to go up the stairs near the stained-glass windows, then turn left at the last ash bookcase, and squeeze through the gap between the bookcases in that aisle to get to the other staircase—” She paused to take another breath and to give herself a chance to make up additional instructions.
“Very well,” Gormflaith said, waving her hand at Alastriona. “Hurry back, then.”
Alastriona hobbled out of the circle of shelves and met Eithne halfway between there and the door.
“I can’t see Seumas,” Eithne said. “I don’t hear him either.”
“Where would he have gone?” Alastriona asked. She glanced back at the swords. “We only need four more to finish the ward.”
“Could we make do with a smaller star?” Eithne suggested.
“I can’t be certain it would trap her as well as a nine-pointed star,” Alastriona said. “I need to go and find a scroll to bring her. You should wait in the hallway. Hopefully Seumas just had to go a bit farther to find more swords. Or perhaps he needed to stop for water.”
Eithne nodded and moved out of the library, out of sight of the doors, and Alastriona moved into the portions of the library that were normally the province of the librarian. She found a small scroll easily enough, but beside it were four lengths of iron, of the sort that were used to weight down the edges of a large map. Grinning, Alastriona snatched them up as well, leaving behind her walking stick and bundling the iron rods together to help her make her way back to Gormflaith.
She paused at the edge of the star that Seumas had made, still lacking two of its points, and she let the iron rods clatter to the floor amongst the red and orange peonies. She sat down to arrange the rods just as Gormflaith looked out from the center of the bookcases.
“What are you doing?” Gormflaith shrieked.
Alastriona pushed the tips of two rods together, forming the eighth point of the star.
Gormflaith rushed from within the circle, directly toward Alastriona.
Princess Alastriona’s throat tightened with fear. The witch was a terrifying woman. Her anger contorted her face into something even more frightening. Alastriona’s withered leg slid across the floor, rigid with fear, and made contact with one of the iron rods.
The rod clattered across the floor and rolled to a stop in just the right position to complete the warding circle.
Gormflaith reached the ring of iron and peonies and fell back as though she had run headlong into a wall. “What? What is this?”
“What can you do to a witch? Bind her up with iron bars and peony flowers red and orange,” Alastriona sang, her voice barely escaping her throat.
A moment later, the same words rang out from the hallway, in two voices—Eithne and Seumas. Alastriona’s friends appeared in the doorway, each of them carrying a sword in each hand. Eithne’s two swords were nearly as tall as she was, but she carried them all the same.
A loud thump drew Alastriona’s attention back to Gormflaith. The witch had collapsed onto the floor of the library, atop the scrolls and maps she had pulled out of their shelves. Carefully, Alastriona righted herself as best as she could without her walking stick.
Eithne and Seumas dropped their swords in a clatter and rushed to Alastriona’s side.
“What’s happened?” Eithne asked, wrapping one of her small arms around Alastriona’s waist and draping Alastriona’s arm across her shoulders.
“Perhaps the ward put her to sleep?” Seumas asked, supporting Alastriona on the other side in a similar fashion to Eithne.
“I think she got so angry that she tried to defeat the ward and knocked herself out,” Alastriona said, as the three children made their way toward Gormflaith.
Footsteps pounded outside of the library, and Alastriona looked up to see Darienne and Nessa rushing past.
The two girls slowed, both of their heads cocked to one side as they spotted the other children standing over Gormflaith. “Alastriona?” Darienne asked.
Alastriona grinned broadly. “The spell is broken, then?”
Darienne nodded slowly, eyes wide.
“Did you stop it?” Nessa asked.
A slower stride outside the library drew the attention of all of the children. Queen Treasa stopped behind Darienne and Nesssa, her head cocked to one side as she spotted her daughter and the other two children standing over Gormflaith. “Alastriona?” the queen asked.
“Hello, Mother! We’ve warded this part of the library against the witch,” Alastriona said.
“You know magic?” Darienne whispered.
Alastriona looked at Seumas and Eithne. “We know stories. And sometimes knowledge is strength.”
“Quite right, daughter,” Queen Treasa said. She touched Darienne and Nessa on their shoulders, gently parting them so she could step into the library. She paused, looking down at the witch, a gasp escaping her lips. “Gormflaith?”
Alastriona nodded. “She cast a spell to make the settlement trapped by its own strength. Except for us,” she said, glancing at her friends.
Queen Treasa smiled at Princess Alastriona, and then at Eithne and Seumas. “Well done, all three of you. It shows wisdom to know when one must rely on one’s wits rather than one’s physical strength.” She glanced back at Darienne and Nessa. “Perhaps there is something to be said for a leader who can make that decision when times are difficult.”
Alastriona blushed under her mother’s praise, but she also reveled in it, particularly as Darienne and Nessa considered the queen’s words.
Nessa glanced at Darienne, then back toward Alastriona. “Will you tell us how you trapped the witch at dinner tonight?”
Princess Alastriona smiled at her old friends, then at Eithne and Seumas. “I’m not a teller of tales, but I think Seumas would gladly share our story with the settlement.”
&n
bsp; ~***~
Dawn Vogel’s academic background is in history, so it’s not surprising that much of her fiction is set in earlier times. By day, she edits reports for historians and archaeologists. In her alleged spare time, she runs a craft business, co-edits Mad Scientist Journal, and tries to find time for writing. She is a member of Broad Universe, SFWA, and Codex Writers. Her steampunk series, Brass and Glass, is being published by Razorgirl Press. She lives in Seattle with her husband, author Jeremy Zimmerman, and their herd of cats. Visit her at http://historythatneverwas.com or on Twitter @historyneverwas.
YENDY LOVES RATTLESCALE
ELMDEA ADAMS
I’m a failure as a dragon. I’m not big enough. I can’t flame. I’m not even scary. Tinvo sobbed. She cried so hard her scales and wings rattled, the sound echoing off the walls and small hollows of her cavern. After one huge, gulping wail, a glistening stalactite snapped and crashed on the floor, which was already littered with bits of bone, hide, and shiny treasures she had found.
And I cry. REAL dragons don’t cry. It’s not my fault I’m small. So here I am, exiled to a cavern in the hinterlands. Tinvo whimpered. Her head was full of acrid snot. Her exhale was pitiful. Not even a flicker of flame, only dripping slime.
Grandmother tried so hard to teach me how to work up a strong, searing flame. She made me sleep on gold, and nibble on it, enough that it turned my teeth gold. Nothing worked. Grandmother never said she was ashamed of me, but I think she was. She despaired of me. I’ve never worked up a proper blue and white fire-breath. All I’ve ever managed are measly trickles of yellow and orange flame. Nowhere near hot enough.
If I were a proper dragon, I’d be raiding the countryside for all the gold, silver, and jewels. They’re mine by right, after all, even if humans try to hide them. Only we dragons know that treasure’s proper use is fueling fire breath to keep the world warm.
Tinvo did raid, but not the way she was supposed to. Sheep, cows, horses, pigs, deer, dogs, cats—those she could easily kill. They were there to be eaten. Just snap their necks and tuck right in. She preferred the larger ones, though. More food, less effort, and much tastier. Cats were vile, only to be eaten in dire circumstances.
Swords, Sorcery, & Self-Rescuing Damsels Page 15
