Briar Blackwood's Grimmest of Fairytales

by Roderick, Timothy

  Or, perhaps it was done intentionally, and considered kindness to give someone a swift death, rather than see them suffer. Briar knew as well as they that few could survive Sherman’s deep wounds. But she pushed such thoughts from her mind as soon as they entered.

  There was nothing to do, except try to stay warm and sleep. But it wasn’t exactly relaxing to have Dax behind her, holding as tightly as he did. She wanted to see how Tarfeather and Leon had kept themselves warm, but she didn’t want to wake either Sherman or Dax, so she just laid there with little bursts of shivering in the dusty draughts of icy desert air. Still, given enough hours and fatigue, Briar finally drifted off into a black dreamless state.

  She was awakened by sharp morning light streaming through the door slats and striking her eyes. She no longer felt Dax behind her, so she luxuriated in a well-needed stretch and she turned her body. The den was cold and stale.

  The fireplace smoldered and sputtered. Its root bundles had fallen into soft ash heaps around the tiny grating. Then Briar realized how still the place had become. Last night was all snorts and wheezing, and now it was as silent as an undiscovered pond. Except for the clicks of morning scatter bugs, which rhythmically crescendoed and fell in unison, as though a master insect directed their choir, the whole place had fallen to stillness.

  She pushed herself up so that she could see what was happening. Everyone was gone. She felt a spasm of uneasiness, and she swallowed hard. Was Orpion just outside, waiting for her to exit—to assure a dramatic and grand finale? Had the Boss and his posse done away with everyone, leaving her as a bargaining tool? Myrtle did say that she would fetch a price at market. She felt her blood coursing, warming her face. Her mind began to race.

  The door opened and sunlight flooded in, suddenly blinding her. She squinted until she could finally see the outline of a man. He stepped closer and then she could see him clearly.

  It was Leon. He was transformed back. He stood there naked, though she could see no more than the silhouette of his musculature and his handsome smile. She blushed. It surprised her that, despite everything, she still felt an undeniable force of attraction to him. She tried not to look at his physique too closely. It felt immodest, but her eyes seemed to act of their own accord. He squatted down on brawny thighs and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

  She spoke in a whisper, scarcely able to mask her complicated feelings. “What happened?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Gelid died. Maybe when you killed her, you erased her magic,” he replied. Then he drew his face close to hers. “It doesn’t matter how it happened.” She felt his warm breath on her. Then his nose touched her throat and lightly tickled the length of her neck.

  Her heart quickened and swirled with a storm of emotion.

  “Where are the others?” she asked.

  He smiled and touched his nose to hers. “Away,” he said. Then very gently, like the wing of a moth, his lips touched hers. Her heart responded so fiercely that she thought he might feel it through her skin. She closed her eyes and he pressed his lips to her again.

  When she opened her eyes, the room was filled with a gray gritty light that filtered through the door planks. Leon was not crouching beside her. She was kissing nothing more than the foul morning stench of cinders and stale breath that filled the den.

  Her heart ached and she clutched at her chest. It took her a few minutes before she could accept that it was only a dream. That was when she realized that Sherman was missing from his resting place. Dax hadn’t moved a single muscle all night and was still gripping Briar from behind. Briar raised her head a bit and peered around the den.

  The Boss and his posse were missing too. Then it occurred to her that Sherman might not have made it through the night, and that the Boss removed him to avoid Briar’s upset, not to mention the stench of death.

  Beginning to feel a strand of desperation arising within, she lifted up further and whispered to Dax. With a snort, he awakened. “Huh? What happened?” he asked.

  Briar put a finger to her lips and pointed to where they had last seen Sherman. Dax made a face of disbelief and shrugged as if to say where’d he go? Then it clicked and he realized what Briar had thought: that Sherman had died and the forest creatures had taken him away. He tried not to show it on his face, not now.

  But Dax’s silence said it all. Briar drew herself into a ball, grabbing her knees tightly to her chest. Her eyes felt the sting of gathering tears and she wept silently.

  Dax placed an arm around Briar’s shoulders and scanned the room. He saw Tarfeather asleep near the fireplace, cradling Leon in his arms like a baby. Sherman was definitely gone.

  The shabby little entrance opened. Briar and Dax looked up to see the silhouette of the Boss.

  “You’re finally awake,” he said. “It’s well past half of the day.” Then he noticed Briar’s distress. “Did Blessfang come in here already? I’m going to kill that idiot.”

  Briar wiped her tears. “No one told us. You don’t have to explain,” she said. She tightened her lips to put on a brave face. “It would only feel worse if you did.”

  By now, Tarfeather and Leon had awakened. “What’s going on?” Leon asked.

  “He’s gone, he’s gone,” Briar said, shaking her head, unable to refrain from a flood of tears.

  “You shouldn’t cry,” the Boss said. “We didn’t want you to see him how he was. So we took him to the watering hole to clean his body first.”

  “You told me that the Dire Liquid might not work,” Briar nodded. She wanted to sound like she understood and blamed no one.

  “That’s true,” he said. The Boss nodded, but had a look of confusion.

  Tarfeather skittered over to Briar and hopped up on her shoulder. He petted her hair. “No worrily, Briar Blackwood. Tarfeather lead you to book. Tarfeather help you home.”

  A second figure approached the doorway from behind the Boss and spoke. “Why is everyone crying?”

  It was Sherman.

  Briar jumped up and ran to the door. She hugged him tightly. Sherman winced and Briar noticed that he still wore a bandage around his mid-section. Dax joined Briar and they both hugged the fox.

  “My goodness,” Sherman said. “Why all the fuss?”

  Then Briar turned to the Boss angrily. “You said you took him to clean him up. I thought he was dead!”

  “Now why would you think that?” the Boss asked. “I took him to the only watering hole in this stinkin’ place so he could wash the blood off his coat. We can’t have him travelin’ with Briar of the Black Woods lookin’ tattered and all.”

  “Dry your tears, child,” Sherman said. “We have great lengths to travel, and our tasks are unfinished. Once you turn sixteen— well, I don’t suppose I need to remind you…”

  Sherman put a paw lightly on the key at Briar’s throat. “But we still have time on our side,” he said. Despite his surface optimism, darkness and worry filled his eyes. “Well then,” he announced, seeming to change the subject. “There’s one more surprise.”

  He limped outside holding a paw to his wounds. Then he turned back, gesturing for them all to follow. Once they stepped outside, Briar felt engulfed by the glare and the heat of the Black Waste at mid-day. It took some time for Briar’s eyes to adjust, but once they did, she noticed Sherman gesturing toward the king’s carriage. The tumbleweeds had been cleared away, and the coachman was seated in his usual place, whip at the ready. The shimmering black horses, now coated with dulling ashes, scuffed at the ground and snorted, ready to ride. The driver tipped his hat to Briar with a short smile.

  Dax, Tarfeather, and Leon all crowded around Briar, trying to see why Sherman gestured to the carriage. Then, on the ridge above them, another horse reared back and landed. Then it galloped down to meet the group below, with a cloaked rider on its back. The rider stepped off and flung back his hood. It was Valrune.

  Briar ran to him and flung her arms around his neck. The prince gave a wide smile and then wrapped his ar
ms around her in return. “You couldn’t very well leave with my boots,” he said.

  Leon rolled his amphibious eyes. “Oh please,” he said.

  “How did you find us?” Briar asked, flustered. This was truly a morning of surprises.

  “Vilesight and Thrash spotted me riding horseback along the high road about a thousand-leg from here,” he said.

  “What about your father? Is he safe?” Briar asked.

  “I sent him to the Westwolf Wall at the far side of the palace,” Valrune said. “It was built to withstand intruders. He took all of his horses and all of his men. He shall be safe for now.”

  “Thanks for the update chief,” Leon croaked. “We can take it from here.”

  Valrune ignored him and spoke. “We have far to go yet, and half a day has gone. It is best that we ride now while the sun is high and the wicketts to their dwellings.”

  The Boss and his posse helped Briar and the others into the carriage. Valrune mounted his black horse and he rode it beside the coachman. He gave Briar provisions of flat brown mud-bread and full bladders of water that he had drawn from the emberfilled watering hole. “To serve the great Briar Blackwood was to serve the Three Omens and the Realms,” he said. Then he hopped away and stood with his friends, watching with eyes of approval.

  To Briar he looked so bleak standing there: his white fur contrasted against the dunes of coal black dust stretching endlessly to the horizon. She couldn’t bear the thought of the Boss and his friends living in the filth and chars of the Black Waste. It was because of her that it happened in the first place and she wanted to set things straight, if she could.

  “Can’t you come with us?” she asked him.

  “What? And leave this paradise?” He laughed a bit. “No, this is our home.”

  “You could go where it was safer, to where there were better provisions.”

  Now Blessfang, Thrash, and Vilesight joined in the laughter. “And where would you have us go, Briar of the Black Woods?” Vilesight said.

  “Well, for one thing, you could go to the Westwolf Wall at Murbra Faire and watch over King Cole,” Briar replied.

  Valrune nodded, realizing the wisdom of Briar’s plan. “She’s right. You could send Thrash or Vilesight to warn us at the Towery Flowery Hill should any harm come to the king or to Westwolf.”

  The Boss just stared with his head cocked to one side, watching from only one of his eyes.

  “In the meantime,” Valrune continued, “food and drink and warm beds await you there. They are simple means, but you will be safe from the coming darkness that looms from Scarlocke.”

  The Boss tilted his head some more and he twitched his nose.

  Blessfang began to chew at the tips of his hooves. “I don’t like darkness, Boss,” he said.

  Valrune took off his royal ring and held it out to the Boss. “Take this as proof of our alliance. Give it to my father and he will honor my wishes. Take my horse as well.” The Boss looked at each member of his posse, and then he hopped to Valrune. With one leap he mounted the horse and swiped the ring from the prince’s leather-gloved hand.

  Sitting behind Valrune, the Boss examined the ring’s pale gold sparkle in the sun. He nibbled it a bit. “I never say no to royal gold.”

  Chapter 25

  The coach rambled along through the heat of the Black Waste for hours. They journeyed for some lengths to the east amid the bleak forest remains. Briar ruminated miserably over the landscape. Orpion’s job of incineration was more thorough in some places than in others. Occasionally, instead of far-reaching stretches of charred gray, Briar saw evidence of bones poking up through mounds of soot. She felt a quiet fury building in the heat of her stomach. Finally she could take her self-torment no more, and she decided to close her eyes.

  The sway of the carriage eventually rocked the others to sleep. The prince had long ago given the Boss and his posse directions on how they might enter the Westwolf Wall from a secret passage. And Briar thought that they would be safe now. Only she and Sherman remained awake. Finally, Briar broke the silence. “Why didn’t you use magic before?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Sherman replied.

  “You used magic to stop Gelid. Why didn’t you use it any sooner?” Briar asked. “You could have changed—well everything.”

  Sherman looked away, an old pain lingering in his eyes. He gave a soft sigh as he cast his gaze out the window. “Magic is rarely the answer we seek,” he replied. “It can lead to terrible things.” Briar heard a whisper of choked emotion in what he said.

  “The Black Woods were your home too,” she guessed. She looked out again at the sickening terrain, imagining how Sherman must feel traveling through it.

  Sherman nodded. “My Mara and my cub—both gone.”

  Sometimes there are no words, Briar realized. So instead of trying to say something of comfort, she sat and watched Sherman until he was able speak again without such a terrible stomach-wrenching warble.

  “But sometimes—just sometimes—magic can make a difference,” he said. He sniffed and wiped his eyes with a paw. “That’s why I learned it. And that’s why I hoped one day I would help the girl-child of the Omens to end the Orpion’s reign.” He gave Briar a short smile and an encouraging nod.

  “You hated me when we met,” she said. She gave Sherman a sly look.

  “I didn’t believe that you were the one,” he admitted.

  “But Poplar followed me since I was a baby. Ash came to rescue me—” she replied. She gave a little laugh.

  “Ash has made his mistakes,” Sherman said. Then he looked far away to the horizon with a bitterness she hadn’t seen before. She wasn’t sure what Sherman meant, but she knew that this wasn’t the time to drag him through more unhappiness, no matter the cause of it.

  She tried to change the subject. “Well, good news: I might be getting the hang of how to use these Dragon Powers.”

  Sherman sat upright in his seat, his ears stood on end. “Impossible,” he said. “Magic, and especially that of the Dragon Powers, takes years, even lifetimes to master. You would be lucky to learn just a few simple enchantments to keep you alive should you ever go toe to toe with Orpion.”

  “I stopped Gelid, you know,” she said.

  “You have learned a simple transformation,” Sherman replied. “And you were given rudimentary instructions about your Dragon Powers. But do not mistake these simple conjurations for the deeper mysteries. You will need more than a couple of tricks if you are to leave this place alive. It is time you learned, and in earnest.”

  He placed a paw on her hand and he closed his eyes. Briar watched as he squeezed his fuzzy eyelids shut in concentration and leveled his tufted ears. Her hands started to tingle, and it felt like there were bubbles in her fingers. Then Sherman’s paw glowed with such intensity that it seemed to fill the entire carriage.

  In a flash, within that dazzling moment of brightness, Briar saw a vision. Thousands of geometric patterns appeared before her, one after another in what seemed to be an intentional sequence: intricate spider’s webs jeweled by morning’s dew, each droplet reflecting the others, the delicate flourished structures of snowflakes branching elaborately, the connections between stars emblazoned across the deep night sky, and those of shadows as they elongated across the landscape. Briar was shown patterns seen everywhere in nature: in the budding flowers, the tides of shimmering oceans, the hives of bees, and even laughter. No matter what she was shown, she could see the design. It felt to Briar that she already knew these things, but now that Sherman was showing her, she was somehow awakened to their memory.

  As unexpectedly as the visions arose, they faded away. Briar sat with her heart pounding from exhaustion. Sherman opened his eyes and nodded without saying more. After catching her breath Briar eventually spoke up. “What was all that?” She knew what they were. In her bones, she knew. But she couldn’t put what she knew into words just yet.

  “These are the structures of magic—the Grand Design,” Sher
man explained. With that, he spent a good deal of time describing to Briar the history of magic and the long, intricate theories that governed it. He drew complex patterns in the air with his paws, and now that Briar had seen the vision Sherman had given her, his designs looked like fine Irish lace, which hovered in front of him as patterns of light and shadow. And while this served to intrigue Briar at the start, the initial excitement of learning magic was sucked dry as Sherman’s lengthy lectures continued for hours. Briar felt like she was back in school learning some convoluted trigonometry formulas. But not wanting to insult Sherman, she tried to give a few interested nods throughout his lengthy dissertations.

  Finally, he began to teach her about the Dragon Powers, their rarity, and how the ancients harnessed their strength. He taught many complex magical passes, each of them a reflection of the Grand Design. These were only a handful of the thousand-and-one that a dillywig must know to master the art of enchantment. Since they all seemed alike to Briar, she found them confusing; a slight angle of the hand up or down could make worlds of difference in the magical outcome.

  Nevertheless, while the others in the cab dozed to the rhythmic clip clop of hoof beats, Sherman continued to school his student. Then Briar drilled many of the most important passes, again and again, until Sherman felt that she had gained some precision and a few secrets of the art. But he would not teach her how she might summon the Dragon Powers at her will. “For now, these enchantments must only be used in your defense,” he argued. He would say nothing more about it, no matter how much Briar tried to convince him otherwise.

  “But I will tell you about the curses,” Sherman said. Then he gazed distractedly out the window, as though deliberating if she should know what he was about to tell her.

  Briar stopped her practice. “You mean, what happened to Poplar, Myrtle and Ash?” But it took a good long time before Sherman was able to respond. He faced the small cab window and surveyed the blackened landscape.