Samantha Honeycomb

by Scott Zarcinas

  Samantha craned her neck and got a second fright. Lizzie was dangling upside down from a branch of a pine tree, her rear legs bound with twine. Her overalls looked a little worse for wear and all her perfume bottles had fallen off. She was as high as the first set of branches, too high for her to reach.

  “What are you doing up there?” she asked.

  “What does it look like?” Lizzie said. “I’ve been snared!”

  Samantha followed the twine to the ground, where it was looped around a wooden peg. “I’ll have you down in a jiffy,” she said, walking to the peg.

  Just as she bent down to unravel the knot, she heard a snap! then a whoosh! Something whipped past her face, like a tautly bent branch flicking straight. Then a sinewy claw grabbed her legs and ripped her off her feet. She screamed, surprised and shocked at the same time, and within the flap of a wing she was dangling upside down next to Lizzie, a loop of twine around her feet.

  “That’s just great!” Lizzie said. “Now we’re both stuck. What’ll we do now?” She furiously scratched an itch on one of her legs. “We’re going to die,” she moaned, now scratching her cheek, “upside down, like a spider. Why did I ever agree to come with you? I had a good life before I met you.” Lizzie stopped scratching and glared at Samantha. “And don’t you dare tell me this has happened for a reason! The only reason is we’re going to die.”

  It was a moment before Samantha gathered her senses. She spied the sign on the tree she’d seen earlier. Though upside down, she was still able to read it: TRESPASSERS PROSECUTED. BY ORDER OF PRINCE ROBBEE (ON BEHALF OF QUEEN BEELINDA).

  Lizzie pointed to something she had seen on the shore. “Did you see that? The sand moved.” She reached for her belt, but there were no bottles. “I don’t like it,” she said. “Something’s coming, something big. It’s going to eat us. We’re going to die!”

  Samantha saw it instantly. A part of the shore collapsed into a small hole. From her position, it looked as though a hole had been poked into a golden sky. There was a spray of sandy rain before Mad Jack popped his head out, blinking in the sunshine.

  “Samantha, where are you?” he asked, looking this way and that. “Are we at the lake yet?”

  Lizzie stared down at him, momentarily stunned. “What’s he doing here?” she asked.

  Mad Jack craned his neck. He looked just as surprised to see Lizzie. “What are you doing up there?” he asked.

  “We’re trapped,” Samantha said. “Would you mind helping us down?”

  “Anything to help two maidens in distress,” he said, grinning. Using his spade to prop himself up, he clambered out of his hole. Then he bowed. “Your hero to the rescue!”

  “We don’t need a hero,” Lizzie said, scratching another facial itch. “Quit blabbering and get us down from these stupid traps.”

  Mad Jack said nothing. At the peg around which Samantha’s twine was wound, he reached down to untie the knot. They all heard a snap! and a whoosh! There was a blur of white, and before Samantha could yell out a warning, Mad Jack was dangling upside down next to her. His spade fell from his grip, clanging to the ground beneath him.

  “That’s just marvellous,” Lizzie said, gaping with disbelief. “Now we’ll never get down. What kind of hero are you?”

  Mad Jack stared despondently at the ground.

  “Now, now. Let’s not put the blame on anyone for our situation,” Samantha said. “Let’s think about what we can do.”

  Except for some grumbled mutterings from Lizzie, an awkward silence fell over the captives. It lasted for the rest of the evening. They watched the sun sink behind the waterfall, a huge orange ball that briefly set the sky on fire. Then the moon and stars came out, twinkling and reflecting off the dark, still waters of the lake; and as the night grew even darker, they heard whooping and howling coming from somewhere in the woods. It sent shivers down Samantha’s wings, but as the moon began to set the howls drifted away and there was nothing save the silence of the night.

  As sleep overcame her, Samantha again heard Lizzie muttering they were going to die. She didn’t reply, secretly dreading the very same thing. If hunger or thirst didn’t kill them, then who- or what-ever set these traps surely would.

  SAMANTHA HEARD A noise as she slept, the snapping of a twig. It was soon followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. She blinked awake to the new, upside down morning, and was surprised to see seven of the largest bees she had ever seen directly beneath. One stood apart from the rest, the one from whom the others seemed to be waiting orders. He was tall and handsome, and try as she might, Samantha couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  “Well, well, well,” he said, staring up. His smile was reminiscent of Gerald The Great, large and inviting. “What have our traps caught here?” He turned to one of his companions. “It looks like our little hunting party has caught three trespassers.”

  “Aye, Prince Robbee,” the other bee said, also smiling. “That it does.”

  Samantha’s jaw dropped open. Royalty! She suddenly became very self-conscious. Did she look all right? Were her antennae straight? It was just her luck to actually meet a prince when she had just woken up and looked a right mess. Worse, she was upside down! It couldn’t be more embarrassing.

  “And what should we do with them?” the prince asked, looking up again.

  Out of the corner of her eyes, Samantha saw Lizzie and Mad Jack stirring. She quickly found her voice. “Please, sir,” she said. “We didn’t know we were trespassing. If you’ll just let us down, we’ll be on our way.”

  “A fair deal for a fair maiden,” the prince said, still smiling. She kind of liked his unusual accent. “But let us not be hasty. Before I decide whether or not to let you go, I’d hear more of what you were doing on royal grounds without permission. It should make for interesting listening.”

  Chuckling, the hunting party set about lowering Samantha to the ground, then Lizzie and Mad Jack, and untied the twine from their feet. Free from her bonds, Samantha craned her neck to look into the prince’s face. It was only now, standing side-by-side, that she fully comprehended his and the others’ size. She was a little daunted. They were at least twice as big as she was, even bigger than a bumblebee. It was best to tell him the truth, which she did.

  The prince considered her story. “I know of no ants and no anthill upstream,” he said, glancing at the river. “But it does explain the bizarre clothes you’re wearing and the rope around your wings. Here, turn around. Let me untie you.”

  Samantha turned her back to Prince Robbee. She could feel his large claws unpicking the tight knots, liking the romantic idea of being rescued by a prince. Within a minute, she was free. She flapped her wings, slowly at first, then more vigorously as the stiffness worked its way out. Before she knew it, her feet were hovering above the ground. It felt good to buzz again. It had been too long.

  To her surprise, Samantha felt Prince Robbee grab her waist and pull her back down. “I’m afraid you can’t do that,” he said, suddenly serious, though Samantha detected a touch of sadness in his voice. “Flying’s forbidden in the queendom.”

  Samantha glanced at Lizzie, who just shrugged. Behind her, at the edge of the woods, Mad Jack had already picked up his spade and begun digging a hole. The rest of the hunting party were resetting the traps. “Why do you have laws that stop you from being a bee?” Samantha asked, remembering what Lizzie had once said about the laws in her hive. “How can you gather nectar? How does your hive survive? And forgive me for asking, but what kind of bee are you?”

  The smile returned to the prince’s handsome face. “So many questions,” he said. “But if you’re truly interested in finding the answers to them all, why don’t you and your companions accompany my hunting party back to the hive? We can give you shelter and food, and it’s only a day’s trek from here. If we leave now, we should arrive before sunset. Consider it a royal invitation.”

  “And where, exactly, is your hive?” Lizzie asked, scratching her side.

&nb
sp; The prince pointed westward. “Do you see the cliff and the waterfall?” he asked. “Our hive is there. My mother is the queen. Her name is Queen Beelinda. My father is King Bernard. We call the hive, Beebylon. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

  Samantha’s eyes blinked wide. She could barely believe it. Only last evening she had been hanging upside down in the trap, despairing of her fate. Now, in such a short space of time, her luck had completely reversed. She was filled with hope and anticipation that grew with every beat of her heart. Mad Jack had stopped digging and was winking at her.

  “I certainly have,” she said to the prince.

  WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, the prince led the way along the shore toward Beebylon. Samantha was at his side, something she found not too displeasing. As the sun lifted above the pine tops and began to shine directly down upon them, Lizzie and the hunting party fell someway back, chatting and laughing amongst themselves. Mad Jack though, Samantha noticed, had disappeared somewhere, presumably beneath the sand.

  As they walked, Samantha began to feel more at ease with the prince. Though their progress was too slow for her liking, her eagerness to get to Beebylon was almost forgotten in his presence. She plucked the courage to tell him more of herself. She spoke of her trial and expulsion from the hive, hoping he wouldn’t think too unkindly of her, and how she had met Lizzie and the quest they embarked upon, to find their destiny at the lake. By the time she had finished, the cliff loomed large, casting its shadow upon them.

  “You asked me before what kind of bees we are,” the prince said, pausing for a moment. The lake rippled in a gentle breeze. “Carpenter bees, masters of woodcraft. At least we were, in a time long forgotten. Our ancestors came from a land far, far away. It’s said from even beyond the rising sun. We’ve kind of kept the traditional way of life, making our nests in tunnels. But unlike our great ancestors, who generally liked the solitary way of life, we’ve chosen to live in community with other bees.” A heavy sadness now seemed to weigh down on him. “You’re probably wondering why it’s forbidden to fly in the queendom,” he said. “It’s a tragedy we rarely speak of. When my father was a young prince, he suffered a terrible accident. A great gust of wind, as often happens around Beebylon, threw him onto the rocks at the base of the cliff. It greatly disfigured his wings. He’s been unable to fly ever since.”

  Samantha felt for the king. It wasn’t natural to be permanently grounded. She had had glimpses of it during her time in Hive Prison and the anthill, but that had only been temporary. To never fly for the rest of her life would probably drive her crazy.

  “A great darkness fell over my father’s mind,” the prince continued. “My grandmother, who was the queen of the hive back then, passed a law forbidding all other bees to fly. She hoped he wouldn’t be reminded of his failings. Now, as the years have passed, only the most elderly can recall what it was like to buzz around the fields and the gardens.”

  As he finished speaking, Samantha noticed the sand rippling up ahead. It collapsed into a small hole and out popped Mad Jack’s head. He turned this way and that, then halted when he saw them approaching. “Are we there yet?” he asked.

  “Less than two more hours, I should say,” the prince said, somewhat bemused. Mad Jack nodded and disappeared in a spray of sand. The prince peered into the hole. “Why does he dig so much?”

  “He’s searching for honeyroot,” Samantha said. “He wants to turn stone into honey.”

  The prince suddenly burst out laughing, his claw on his belly. He laughed and laughed and laughed, and it was a while before he could even speak. By then, Lizzie and the hunting party had caught up with them. When Prince Robbee told them what Samantha had said, they all burst out laughing too. Samantha glared at him.

  “What is it?” the prince asked. “You don’t find it amusing? He’s searching for something that doesn’t exist.”

  “I was also told that Beebylon didn’t exist,” she said, and walked away, her claws clenched. At least Mad Jack was trying to find his destiny, she said to herself. Didn’t anyone believe in searching for a dream?

  Secretly, however, she was worried. If honeyroot didn’t exist in Beebylon, then it didn’t exist anywhere.

  SAMANTHA, LIZZIE, MAD JACK, the prince and his hunting party followed the steady rise of the shoreline, now rocky and slippery, until it abruptly ended at the cliff. Samantha guessed they had climbed less than a quarter up the face. Surprisingly, it was riddled with pockets no bigger than her parents’ hive-cell. There were thousands of them. The cliff seemed more air than rock.

  Left side, the waterfall rushed to the lake below, where a beautiful rainbow arched through the mist like a gateway to hive-heaven. Samantha followed the waterfall up the cliff. It climbed high above, way, way up toward the heavens, much higher than even the tallest trees in the woods. The very sky seemed to sit on it, a blue ceiling atop a brown wall. How she wished the law forbidding flight could be revoked. How she wished she could fly to the top and see the view from up there. She imagined it would be quite magnificent.

  “Welcome to Beebylon,” shouted Prince Robbee above the noise of the waterfall. “I’m sure you’ll just love it here.”

  It was the arrival Samantha had dreamed of. She was here. She was really here, at Beebylon, the magical hive where everyone was rich and where honey dripped from the walls. She looked over her wings. Lizzie was staring up at the top of the waterfall, scratching her cheek and seemingly in awe. Mad Jack, too, unable to dig in the rocks but still with his spade, was staring up. She could tell he was excited at finally arriving. It was just as she felt.

  The prince led them through the mist onto a slender ledge that took them into a large, hidden cavern behind the waterfall. It was darker and a lot quieter inside. The ledge they were on continued along the wall and disappeared into the darkness at the back of the cavern. Dozens more ledges above, and several below, were alive with movement, bees hurrying to and fro, somewhat reminiscent of the central bee-way in her old hive.

  “This ledge is called the Honey Way,” the prince said. “The main ledge above is called the Field of Lilies. It’s the main tourist route. It’s also where the palace is.”

  As they continued down the Honey Way, Samantha noticed that the cavern walls were pitted with thousands of smaller caves, just like the cliff face. So too the roof, which stretched high, high above. Sunlight streamed through the holes onto the floor, scattering white specks upon it like stars at night on the lake. Samantha was captivated. Beebylon was more magical than she had ever imagined. With each step she was more and more certain that this was the place where her dreams would come true.

  “Vermin!” someone shouted nearby. “No good vermin!”

  Up ahead, a bee staggered along the ledge clasping a lavender sac to his chest. He had exited from one of the many caves, above which was a sign: THE ROSE AND THORN. The bee lifted a clenched claw and shouted at them again. “Lock ‘em up!” he said, staggering back. He took a swig from the lavender sac and wiped his mouth with the back of his claw. “No good vermin!”

  “Damn lavender,” the prince muttered. “It makes them all drunk. Just ignore him.”

  Samantha tried her best, but the drunkard kept shouting. Her hive had its share of down-and-outs, too, but she never thought she would see bees like this in Beebylon.

  The drunkard then said something horrible about the prince’s father. “Be quiet!” the prince said. “Or you’ll find yourself behind bars.”

  “Ah, yar mother was a weevil!” the drunkard shouted in return, then staggered back and fell over. He didn’t get up.

  Samantha was shocked to hear the prince being spoken to like that. In her hive, the drunkard would have been sent to the dungeons and never seen again, but the prince didn’t want to waste his energy. He told Samantha and the others to continue along the ledge, where they passed another tavern smelling of stale lavender and vomit. From inside they could hear a kind of sick, tuneless hum and someone yelling abuse at the waiter. One of the drunkard
s threw an empty lavender sac through the door, striking Lizzie on the side of her head.

  “Just my luck!” she mumbled, rubbing the spot where it had hit.

  Samantha was stumped. What, in hive-heaven, was going on? This was supposed to be her Bee Dream, but every third or fourth cave was abandoned or rundown, the rest of them lavender taverns or places of ill repute. Moreover, almost every step of the way, bees pleaded for honey, even honeydew, some of them so desperate they threw themselves at the prince’s feet. Garbage, too, was piled in stinking heaps. It beggared belief. A darkness of spirit had descended on Beebylon like a curse. Nobody was rich. Nobody was happy. And honey certainly wasn’t dripping from the walls.

  Further on, the prince ushered them into a side tunnel with stairs chiselled into the rock face. They climbed several ledges to the Field of Lilies. “Please forgive the rudeness of some of my fellow bees,” he said, as Samantha exited onto the ledge. “Beebylon isn’t the hive it used to be.”

  Though in slightly better condition than below, the caves on the Field of Lilies were still rundown and in poor condition. She just nodded and kept her thoughts to herself.

  “As you can see,” Prince Robbee said, sighing, “the hive is struggling terribly. Beebylon was once beautiful, its riches the envy of every bee in the known world. They used to say that honey dripped from these very walls, that we’d discovered the secret to Infinite Richness. Alas, those days are now long gone. Beebylon is crumbling before our very eyes, for one simple reason – we’ve forgotten how to fly. We’ve forgotten how to be a bee. If it continues for much longer, I fear Beebylon will be abandoned.”

  Samantha was aghast at the very thought of it. For a hive, there could be no worse fate than abandonment, but if it should happen to Beebylon…

  “Perhaps I can be of some assistance,” she said, not dwelling on an outcome that hadn’t yet arrived. It was better to think positively, and not let the situation weigh her down. She had to help, that much she knew, in any way she could. “I was a pupil at aerobatic flying school. I can teach you how to buzz and fly. It’s not that difficult once you know how.”