The Twelve Dancing Princesses

by K. M. Shea

  His eyes bugged as he tried to focus and fight the curse. The luck I had to run into a human who then saved me so I can rightfully call her my friend? It’s spooky. That she’s an experienced soldier makes it unbelievably helpful.

  The curse pulled so hard he waddled several steps towards Brandy Crest before he managed to plop his mouse butt down hard.

  It was too painful to hope that Quinn of Midnight Lake would be able to fulfill all the stipulations of the curse, but it was a start. Just the fact that she was now his friend was more than Emerys had ever hoped to accomplish.

  I thought we would be forced to bide our time until someone freed Evariste, but maybe we really can beat this wretched curse…though there’s no telling what will happen if we do.

  The elves had been so weakened by the curse, it was likely they would be able to do little more than sit around and recover if they really did beat it. Which is why Quinn’s observation about the goblins tracking us is not good.

  The curse twisted so hard, his heart squeezed in his little mouse body, and he took a staggering step off the lip of the fountain and crashed to the ground.

  The pressure of the curse built to painful heights that made his body spasm. It was only the knowledge that his pained shouts would bring another round of weeping from his people that made him clench his teeth so hard he thought he might crack his jaw.

  Something popped, and Emerys felt his body stretch out to its normal proportions, dropping him back into his true elf form.

  Emerys grumbled—his heart still squeezed painfully in the clutch of the curse—and dusted off his robes and their ridiculous draping sleeves. He finally stood and took a grudging step towards Brandy Crest. The step eased much of the pain—but it would kick up again in a few minutes.

  Using pain to goad him forward, the curse would patiently drag him towards Brandy Crest every night, no matter how hard he fought it. He had once resisted the urge so long, he had passed out in pain…and then woken up on his stupid throne placed in the wretched pavilion positioned by the now much-hated Brandy Crest.

  Emerys took another halting step forward. There’s no point in trying to outlast the curse, but I don’t have to make things smooth for the blasted thing. He rolled his shoulders, flexing stiff muscles. Actually…I think I feel better than I did before I turned into a mouse. I can feel a flicker more of my magic…is it because of Quinn and her status as my friend?

  “Emerys. Where have you been all day?”

  Emerys turned and had to tug on his mask to adjust it—if there was anything he hated more than the curse itself, it was the festering mask and his inability to take it off—and spotted Alastryn, his cousin and advisor, meandering in his direction.

  “I’ve been around,” Emerys said evasively.

  Alastryn stopped when she reached his side, tipping her head back as she also tried to ignore the pull of the curse. “Stop being evasive. Where were you around? I tried to find you early this afternoon to make sure you weren’t contemplating throwing yourself in the fountain again to see if you could crack your mask. I was quite concerned when I could not locate you.”

  “I did not throw myself into the fountain. I landed in it while fighting the pull of the blasted curse,” Emerys snarled as he and Alastryn took a tiny step forward.

  Alastryn pursed her lips. “I understand you are frustrated, but please take care with your words. You’re starting to sound like a human guttersnipe again.”

  “I’m sorry we can’t all speak flawless royal elvish like you, dear cousin,” Emerys said.

  “Indeed. Someone must preserve the reputation of the royal family.” Alastryn sniffed, then glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

  She’s worried. Emerys sighed and resisted the urge to roll his neck as he forcefully adapted a stiffer stance and smoothed the expression of irritation off his face. “I’m fine, cousin,” he said in a much smoother tone.

  A slight frown twitched across Alastryn’s face. “You are not being stubborn and misleading me? You are our people’s king and their only hope, Emerys. This is a terrible and bitter burden you’ve been forced to bear.”

  “Yes,” Emerys said. “But bear it I will.”

  Alastryn placed a hand on his cheek. “The only reason we survive is because of your strength. I don’t know if any other elf ruler before you could have dragged us through this.”

  Emerys smiled coldly even though she could not see it. “It is to be hoped such brute strength will never be required again.”

  Alastryn tilted her head. “…Are you truly certain you are well?”

  “Positive,” Emerys said, pleased he wasn’t lying for once. “In fact, I’m doing better.”

  Alastryn blinked and perked in interest as they took a halting step again. “Really? Why so?”

  “I have made a friend…”

  Chapter 6

  Baiting Goblins

  By the time Gallant got off their city patrol, night had fallen, and they almost missed Kenneth waiting for them just outside the mess hall.

  “Since you didn’t come back for the entire patrol, you must have gotten an earful?” Leigh asked.

  Kenneth nodded.

  “Can you brief us inside?” Guy opened the door to the mess hall, releasing a slice of light into the thick darkness.

  “No.” Kenneth motioned for the band to follow him, leading them behind the hall where they would not be overheard.

  “That bad, is it?” Roy asked.

  “Sergeant Jennabeth has been informed of the situation,” Kenneth said. “She escalated our report to King Dirth himself, who wishes to speak with Roy tomorrow morning.”

  “Just Roy?” Leigh asked. “But Quinn was there with him.”

  “Quinn will meet with her elf contact and will be responsible for the elf side of the curse. Both of you are excused from active duty while you investigate these matters. Leigh, Guy, and myself will continue patrolling as usual.”

  “What? Why?” Guy frowned sharply. “We should be helping them.”

  “It is for appearance sake, so no one questions our actions,” Kenneth said.

  “Questions our actions?” Leigh asked. “If they do, we explain it to them!”

  Kenneth shook his head. “It was King Dirth’s direct order that we remain silent for now. He wants to collect as much information as possible and wait to move until we are certain we can free the elves and the princesses. The general worry is that if whoever placed the curse on the elves learns we are aware of their plight, they might return, and we will lose our chance to end this.”

  “Oh,” Guy said. “Yeah, that’s a pretty good reason for secrecy.”

  “Agreed,” Quinn said. “Anything powerful enough to curse all the elves would likely come back if they thought their plan was in jeopardy.”

  “Makes you wonder, though,” Leigh said. “If they had enough power to curse the elves…why didn’t they just kill them?”

  Roy bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “They must have felt they couldn’t. Either it wasn’t a part of their plan…or perhaps they still couldn’t manage such a feat.”

  Leigh shivered, then returned her attention to Kenneth. “Anything else we should know?”

  Kenneth adjusted his short sword. “I will make nightly reports to the king and queen to keep them informed of the situation. Tomorrow, Quinn is to come with me.”

  Quinn’s face threatened to twitch in a grimace, but she managed to keep her smile in place. “Yes, sir.” Meeting the king and queen would be an honor…but she didn’t like all of the confidence the king placed in her. It seems unwise to make me the only elf contact. They should send someone with me who knows more about their culture…or at least about the way they think.

  Kenneth didn’t seem to sense her doubts, for he nodded. “We have our orders, Gallant. Let us perform them to our best abilities.”

  As if Kenneth’s words were magic, everyone rolled their shoulders back and carried their heads a little higher.


  “For Gallant!”

  * * *

  Since Quinn was unwilling to ride Din out to the Alabaster Forest—she feared the mare might not be able to enter Sideralis and didn’t want to leave her in a potentially goblin-infested area—it took her the better part of an hour to reach the border where she had parted with Emerys.

  Frowning slightly, Quinn looked up and down the border, seeing no sign of the elf/mouse-transformer.

  Overhead, a black crow flapped, then swooped down. It would have collided with Quinn, but she ducked and swatted at it, smacking it in the belly.

  “Good day to you, too,” the crow snarked as it banked and circled back.

  “Emerys?” Quinn cautiously stood, recognizing his smooth and deep voice.

  Emerys landed on her shoulder, nearly smacking her in the face with his wings. “Yes.”

  “You can change into a crow, too?” Quinn asked as she tried not to squirm. It was slightly more alarming to have a bird on her shoulder than a mouse—particularly given Emerys probably was equally inexperienced at fighting crow instincts as he was mouse instincts.

  He better not leave any droppings on me…

  “An elf can turn into any animal they choose—should they have the power and the inclination,” Emerys said.

  Quinn slowly nodded. “And you’ve turned into a crow and not a raven or hawk because…?”

  “Maybe it’s because I want to be a crow.”

  His coy response cleared up the matter. “I see: it’s because you don’t have the power to turn into anything bigger,” Quinn said.

  “Normally I have the power!” Emerys stated emphatically.

  “Oh? But you are clearly a beginner in transformation—you’re always fighting your animal instincts.”

  “My mouse adventure yesterday was my first attempt at shape-changing, as normally such an art is unnecessary among my people,” Emerys said. “But I am quick to adapt. I have much better control this time.”

  “Do you?” Quinn asked, doubt lining her voice.

  “Yes.” Emerys jumped from her shoulder and flew a bit, cawing when he narrowly missed colliding with a tree trunk.

  “That is some impressive control,” Quinn said with a straight expression.

  “I’ll peck your eyes out,” Emerys grumbled as he once again perched on her shoulder. He folded his wings up and shifted a little. “You told your infamous Sergeant Jennabeth of me, I presume?”

  “My band leader did, yes. King Dirth is now aware of the situation, as well. I am to report to him tonight, though for now I am to be your sole contact. They are afraid if we make an obvious move, whoever cursed you will learn of it and seek to counteract us.”

  “Good,” Emerys said. “Good, good, good, good.” The last few goods came out as little more than caws.

  She gave him her best unflappable-soldier smile. “I have been instructed to help you in any way I can and to gather as much information as possible.”

  “There you go with that fake smile again,” Emerys grumbled. “Don’t know why you think it’s necessary.”

  Quinn ignored him and moved her braid so it spilled over her back when Emerys scooted a little farther up her shoulder. “We are going to Sideralis, yes?”

  “No,” Emerys said. “I changed my mind. You mentioned yesterday it was strange that the goblins were able to track you. I agree. So we’re going to see if it was you they were tracking, or me.”

  Quinn eyed him. “And that isn’t a task best left until it’s more than just you and me running around?”

  Emerys cawed and beat his wings. “Ruddy bird body,” he grumbled. “And no. If there’s a possibility we can be ransacked by goblins after….” He shook his head, unable to mention the curse. “Then I need to confirm it. Immediately.”

  “But you can withstand goblins,” Quinn said. “You’re elves! You have the best warriors on the continent!”

  Emerys shook his shiny black head again, cawing impatiently when the words wouldn’t come. “Weak,” was all he managed to get out around a caw.

  The curse has weakened them so he doesn’t believe they could fight off goblins? It was a grim thought.

  “But doesn’t Alabaster Forest itself keep out forces of darkness?” Quinn asked.

  “Yes, but only when it’s fed by our magic,” Emerys said. “When we’re…freed…we’ll be weak.” He flapped his wings again in irritation.

  She scratched her ear as she thought. “You mean to say that because you’ll be in a weakened state when the curse falls, no one will be strong enough to power the wall that would normally keep creatures like goblins out?”

  Emerys awkwardly nodded.

  King Dirth’s wisdom in being slow to move is greater than I thought, if that is so.

  Quinn squared her shoulders and nodded slightly. “I see. Very well. Then let’s find some goblins.”

  Emerys turned around on her shoulder so he could inspect her back. “I’m glad to see you have plenty of weapons,” he said—most likely eyeing her bow.

  “The woods aren’t safe anymore,” Quinn said.

  “You said yesterday that wraiths and trolls have been lumbering around…but was there a particular event that started it?” Emerys asked.

  “Yes,” Quinn said. “It began shortly after you elves disappeared.” She glanced at him, but it was hard to read a bird’s facial features. “It took time to ramp up, of course. But when you were all free, it was rare for anything dark or evil to enter Farset. As time passed, the sightings became more and more commonplace, and by the time we realized we were dealing with an infestation, too much time had passed to stop it completely. The goblins are new, though.”

  “Yes…I wonder why they’re suddenly poking around,” Emerys said.

  “I would rather try to bait a single goblin if possible,” Quinn said. “I can take a wraith or a troll alone, but I would prefer not to.”

  “You think you can isolate a single goblin when there are obviously packs running around?” Emerys asked.

  Quinn grinned. “At least I won’t be stupid enough to flee as a mouse instead of hiding.” She regretted the words the instant she spoke them—Emerys, for all his guff, was an elf after all! She stiffened and nearly slowed her stride, waiting for the inevitable tongue lashing.

  “Wasn’t my brightest moment.” Emerys groomed his chest feathers with his beak. “Wasn’t my worst, either,” he added.

  Quinn glanced at him again, not so much to gauge his reaction, but because he acted so unusual…for an elf, that was. I assumed his speech was because he is a warrior or something and is rougher around the edges…but he speaks so plainly and informally, I forgot I was speaking to an elf at all.

  When he turned his head to meet her gaze, Quinn smiled softly, then faced forward just in time to avoid colliding with a tree. “How much farther can you go? I assume—from yesterday—you can only go a certain distance from Alabaster Forest?”

  Emerys nodded.

  Quinn thoughtfully set a hand on the hilt of her sword. “You can’t write down what your curse is, can you? I guessed not but—ahh,” she trailed off when Emerys emphatically shook his head. “They really closed up all possible loopholes when they cursed your kind, didn’t they?”

  Emerys sighed. “You have no idea.”

  * * *

  It took Quinn and Emerys nearly two hours before they finally stumbled upon goblins. Unfortunately, the awful creatures were traveling together in a pack of twelve.

  “Alright. Let’s go,” Emerys whispered as they crouched in the shadow of a large maple.

  “Go where?” Quinn whispered.

  “Go attack them,” Emerys said.

  Quinn scowled at him and almost grabbed him off her shoulder. “Are you mad? There’re twelve of them!”

  “You can manage it. Probably.”

  “I’m not going to risk it.”

  “But you’ll have me helping you,” Emerys said.

  “And what will you do? Peck all of their eyes out in one swoop?
” She snarled.

  “It’s all because I believe in you.” Emerys piously rested his beak on top of Quinn’s head.

  “You are as bad as a moon-mad wolf,” Quinn grumbled as she peeked around the tree, wanting to confirm their quiet—but heated—conversation had not reached the goblins. They were standing far enough away, but Quinn wanted to be certain.

  When she was satisfied they had not been overheard, Quinn narrowed her eyes. “Since the point of this mission is to bait the goblins and see how they were able to follow us yesterday, we need to split up. I believe you should get their attention by flying overhead, which will also serve as the first test. If they realize you're not just a bird, then already we can ascertain that they are indeed searching for elves. As their main sense is hearing, technically they should not be able to tell any difference between you and a normal crow. Unless you insult them as you fly past, which I would not recommend.”

  Quinn pulled three arrows from her belt quiver and held them between her fingers. “If they give chase, and you are unable to hide from them, we can assume...” She paused, not knowing what to say. Is it polite to tell someone, “They obviously have been sent specifically to kill the elves or else you are terrible at forest tactics”?

  She shook her head and regrouped her thoughts. “If they follow you, I will shoot whatever stragglers I can. You should continue flying through the forest and lead them past me so I can continue to pick them off—as long as your flying skills hold up, that is. When we cut their numbers to a reasonable amount, we’ll try hiding you and see if they can find us or not. We should communicate with caws so you can tell where I am hidden. I would prefer not to whistle so the goblins remain oblivious to my existence. Do you agree to this plan?”

  Emerys bobbed his crow head and stretched his neck. “This sounds like a great deal of work for me. Are you sure we can't just charge in there?”