Puss in Boots (Timeless Fairy Tales Book 6)

by K. M. Shea

  “I’ll get it, Elise. Where are your men, Steffen?” Rune asked. He dismounted and dug through his saddlebags.

  “With the refugees. Hopefully they are halfway to Jagst by now.”

  “Ahh, that explains your brash attack against the forest goblins,” Rune said. “Well done holding them back.”

  Steffen said nothing to correct the mistaken assumption. His eyesight wavered, and he tipped back against a tree. “You were late,” he added. “The hero is supposed to arrive and save the helpless well before they almost bleed out.”

  Rune laughed. “I don’t think anyone would call you helpless,” he said, pulling out a small bundle secured with twine. “Let’s get your wounds wrapped, and you and Elise can ride back to Jagst.”

  “Here,” Elise said, kneeling at Steffen’s side. “Help me move him. While Rune patches you up, Steffen, I’ll fetch you some water.”

  Steffen closed his eyes and felt his brother gingerly move his limbs. “If you insist,” he said. Good luck, Gabrielle.

  Chapter 11

  Carabas

  “Even if this is last minute, we must plan. Approaching a foe as powerful as the ogre without a strategy in place is foolish,” Puss said as they walked through the forest—invisibility still cast on them.

  “Yes. So what do you think we should do?” Gabrielle asked as she stepped over a log. “Put him in a charmed sleep and then take him out?”

  “Good idea, but it won’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  “As I have told you previously, that particular spell only works on the weak-minded and the non-magical.” Puss’s claws pricked Gabrielle’s shoulder.

  “So the ogre is strong-minded?”

  “No. He has magic.”

  “He what?” Gabrielle hissed. She stepped wrong and almost sent them tumbling, but she caught herself on a sturdy sapling.

  “He doesn’t have much. He is limited to shape shifting, but it’s still magic,” Puss was quick to say.

  “Shape shifting, is that all? No worries, then. He can just turn into a lion and eat us,” Gabrielle said, plodding on.

  “Indeed. As he is immune to my sleep charm, I believe our best chance is to wait until he is sleeping and attack him then.”

  “You think we’ll reach Carabas, and it will still be dark? It has to be mid-afternoon by now,” Gabrielle said.

  “Worry not. We will reach Carabas before dusk.”

  “What? How?” Gabrielle asked. She was somewhat distracted—she thought she could see the last bit of the forest up ahead.

  “We’re not far from it. When we get out of these wretchedly dark woods, you will see the farmland that surrounds the ogre’s castle.”

  “How can we be that close?”

  “I have been steadily leading us eastward.” Puss purred in smug satisfaction.

  “I knew that, but I thought we still had some distance between us and Carabas,” Gabrielle said.

  “Jagst isn’t far from the ocean, and Carabas Castle has a harbor. You should have put it together,” Puss scolded.

  Gabrielle stepped out of the trees and into the rolling farmland. “Or I shouldn’t have blindly trusted you.”

  While adventuring their way through Arcainia, Gabrielle got to see all kinds of land. She had walked through more deep, rich forests than she thought Arcainia possessed; loped across rolling hills cultivated with neat rows of golden wheat, green shoots that held the promise of corn, and more; and climbed her way across open plains spattered with rock formations. All of these places boasted lush greenery and fat birds, and the cities all held chubby-cheeked, red-faced villagers.

  The Carabas farmland was a stark contrast. The overcast sky seemed to hang low—like a layer of smoke from a great fire. The fields were spotted with dark patches where no seeds sprouted, and the plants were sparse and small. A hayfield that stretched across a magnificent hill was the dull green—almost a crusty tan—of thirsty plants.

  “You weren’t exaggerating...the land is languishing,” Gabrielle said.

  “No,” Puss said, his voice devoid of the usual smugness.

  Together, the pair ambled through the unfertile fields and the dry plains. The demanding call of seagulls and the salty scent of the ocean tickled Gabrielle’s nose before the castle broke through the fog that veiled the coast.

  The castle of Carabas was a gloomy sight. The walls were dark gray and streaked with black moss that made it look like dark slime was consuming the place. The rooftops were tar black, and the torches cast eerie shadows, making the castle a giant, glowing grimace.

  It rested on top of a hill like an oval-shaped crown. The outer walls and buildings encompassed inner structures built on the crest of the hill and poking above the outer ring as if they were the second tier of a cake. One tall tower—a massive structure at the center of the castle—stabbed the sky with its needle-like roof and bell tower.

  The city surrounding the castle fared a little better. Half of the homes were unlit—abandoned and vacated—but some of them glimmered white, royal blue roofs visible in the fading light. The city crowded the base of the hill on which the castle was built, extending around it like a horse shoe.

  The harbor that used to be the pride and joy of Carabas was broken. Gabrielle didn’t know what it used to look like, but now there were only tumbled ruins and skeletons of piers and decks.

  “If you squint, you can almost see the glory that it used to be,” Puss said.

  “It’s lost,” Gabrielle said.

  “No, not yet,” Puss said. “I saw it in books. The castle used to shine white even at night, and its rooftops were shingled with the brilliant blue that is often reserved for royalty. The architecture is still intact. It’s covered by the darkness of its occupant—like a canvas a painter has started repainting.”

  “And we’re here to defeat this ogre that is so twisted he has turned a beautiful castle into a leering image of what it used to be?” Gabrielle asked.

  “Yes.”

  Gabrielle exhaled and squared her shoulders, upsetting Puss from his perch. “Well then. We better get started.”

  The night was halfway over by the time Gabrielle and Puss left their hiding place to search out the ogre. The pair spent most of the evening wandering the castle invisibly, learning its layouts and avoiding the few human residents the ogre kept on as servants.

  Now—with everyone asleep—they crept down the hallway, making their way to the ogre’s rooms. They hesitated at the great door of his chambers—which were previously used as a feasting hall.

  “As he is sleeping, it is to be hoped that he will lack weapons and armor, but I fear I do not know if he will have kept his belted loincloth on,” Puss whispered into her ear.

  “We’re about to attack a fearsome creature who has ruined Carabas and is responsible for the sudden outpouring of cooperation found in the goblins, and the placement of the candy cottage witch, and your foremost concern is that he keeps his drawers on?” Gabrielle hissed.

  “You haven’t seen a naked ogre, or you wouldn’t be judging me for my worry.”

  Gabrielle sighed and rested a hand on the giant door. “Are you sure about this, Puss?”

  “Positive. We will finish this, Gabi.”

  “For the refugees.”

  “For the land.”

  “For Arcainia,” Gabrielle agreed. Their whispered exchange put strength in her limbs, so she reached forward and yanked, pulling the door open; amazingly, it did not creak.

  She slipped inside, Puss riding on her aching shoulder—he’d been there all day. The room was empty, except for the ogre—who slept on a pile of what looked like ship sails.

  Broken and splintered furniture littered the room—as did the bones of animals. Gabrielle tip-toed to avoid stepping on anything as she approached the sleeping ogre.

  She and Puss had sighted the ogre early in the evening (from the safety of an outer wall) as he stomped his way into the inner buildings of the castle. Sleep hadn’t done anything
to beautify the creature.

  The ogre was huge—easily two or three times the height of Steffen or even Moritz, his tallest guard. His limbs were thick and massive; his six-fingered hands were each the size of a small shield. His skin was the color of curdled cream—although he had finger-painted swipes of red on his face and arms. His face was concave, as if someone had punched him square in his snub nose and his face never regained its shape. The skin of his square jaw and cheeks were drawn up, and the skin of his brow bones and forehead was wrinkled down, so his eyes were tiny pinpricks—made to look even smaller by their contrast to his massive teeth that stuck out from his underbite.

  Puss exhaled in relief, seeing that the ogre’s dirty loincloth and wrist guards were in place, even though the monster had removed his shoulder and chest armor.

  A few sputtering torches and the moonlight—which fought its way through the hazy clouds and peered in through a skylight—dimly lit the chamber.

  Gabrielle measured her breathing as she drew closer to the ogre, her sword already out of its scabbard and gleaming in the dull light. The plan was simple. She would hack at the ogre’s throat. If he woke up before he bled out, Puss would use a blinding spell on him, and they would avoid him until he dropped. It was no use trying to fight him once he was on his feet—Puss’s magic wasn’t strong enough for him to counter a frontal attack, and Gabrielle wouldn’t be able to reach any vital points.

  Her boots were quiet on the stone floor as she ghosted up to the ogre’s makeshift bed, her eyes watering at the rancid stench of the creature’s breath. She took up a position between his massive shoulders and his egg-shaped head, intimidated by his sheer size. The ogre moved, and Gabrielle held her breath, even though Puss had cast invisibility on them.

  The ogre stilled, and she breathed again. Her palms were moist as she clamped both her hands around the pommel of her sword and lifted it high above her head. Puss sank his claws into her clothes to keep himself anchored. Her heart wrenched in her chest, and she swung down on the ogre’s throat.

  The ogre moved like lightning, rolling to his side so Gabrielle’s strike grazed his shoulder. He flopped back down on the bed, pinning her sword beneath his shoulder. Gabrielle had to let go of it to avoid her arm getting squashed—and broken—by the ogre’s frame.

  She backed up, almost falling on her rump—when the ogre fished a hand behind his shoulder and plucked out the sword, casually tossing it away like a toothpick before he laughed. “I thought I smelled flesh and magic. Lucky for me, it’s just a human rat and her pet cat,” the ogre said—opening his eyes. They were tiny pinpricks of red, buried in a sea of wrinkled skin.

  “Run!” Puss shouted, leaping at the ogre as he started to heft his head and shoulders off his bed. The magic cat landed on the ogre’s face with an angry yowl and scratched at him. A blob of light no bigger than Gabrielle’s fist exploded in the ogre’s face.

  The ogre roared. He squashed Puss to his face with one giant fist—his thick fingers curling around the cat and squeezing before he threw him.

  Puss hit the wall with a crunch and flopped to the ground, unresponsive.

  Gabrielle screamed. “PUSS!”

  The ogre lumbered to its feet, scrubbing at its eyes. Its roar shook the ground beneath her feet, but it fell quiet long enough to sniff the air.

  “Reeking man-flesh. I will grind your bones!” the ogre snarled, lunging in Gabrielle’s direction.

  Gabrielle jumped the splintered remains of a chair and sprinted across the room. She reached Puss and picked him up just in time to dodge a mangled table flying at her. It hit the wall, exploding into wooden fragments—some of which pelted and scratched her.

  She tucked Puss—eyes closed, limp in her grasp—against her chest and ran, bursting from the feasting hall like a fox with hounds on its trail.

  “Stop scurrying!” the ogre bellowed, breaking the doors down when he plowed straight into them.

  Puss’s blinding charm must have worked, for the ogre ran into pillars and rickety furniture as he chased Gabrielle down the hallway.

  She dove to a side of the hallway and squirmed her way through an open window. Barely avoiding the ogre’s grasping fist, Gabrielle lunged from the windowsill and darted to the side. The ogre slammed his fist through the glass pane of the neighboring window, showering her with glass. One of his fingers brushed her leg, but she jumped out of reach before he could hook her.

  “I have your scent—human rat!” the ogre howled into the night air. “I will chase you until I mash you with my fists.”

  A cold sweat trickled down Gabrielle’s back as she sprinted across the dirt expanse between the inner and outer castle. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see the ogre pulling his tree-trunk arms back in.

  Gabrielle hefted Puss against her shoulder, freeing a hand so she could throw open a door that led into the outer buildings and walls of the castle. She hurtled down the hallway, following the escape path she and Puss had devised in case of…this.

  Her breath came in tortured sobs, and the muscles of her legs burned when she burst through another door, flying free of the castle. A non-descript, bay-colored horse they had swiped from a nearly collapsed stable whinnied and danced, but he was unable to pull himself free of his picket.

  “Thanks, Puss, for making me learn how to ride a horse in Lech,” Gabrielle breathed, unhitching the horse. Mounting it was difficult—the horse was wide-eyed and snorting from Gabrielle’s fright and hurried movements, and she needed one hand to keep hold of Puss.

  When she thought she heard the ominous thundering of ogre steps, Gabrielle had the strength of ten soldiers, and threw herself onboard.

  She heeled the horse so it took off down the dirt path in spite of being nearly blind in the darkness. Gabrielle clung to the saddle and Puss with the reins improperly clenched in one fist. When they reached the base of the hill, she pulled the horse to a stop long enough to check over her shoulder.

  She could still hear the ogre roaring over her heavy breathing and the horse’s snorts and squeals, but his voice seemed to echo from behind the walls, and Gabrielle couldn’t see him thundering after her in the murky darkness.

  Gabrielle took a moment to slide Puss’s limp body into a saddle pack. Her mind stilled, and her ears rang with shock when Puss didn’t wake up to complain about the treatment. Is he…? She held her shaking hand to him and choked in relief when she felt his small chest heave, taking in air.

  Gabrielle slid the saddlebag off the horse and rested it on the saddle in front of her, tying it to her body with fumbling fingers so Puss would not be bounced and rattled. She then directed the horse through the village—where people were starting to rouse—and trotted from the city limits after several windswept moments. When they reached the city road that led west, the horizon behind them—covered in water and ocean—started to turn dusty orange with the promise of dawn.

  It was then that Gabrielle saw the giant, rust-colored golden eagle circling overhead.

  The ogre!

  Gabrielle clutched Puss’s saddlebag close and leaned down. She kicked her horse, urging it into a canter.

  The golden eagle released a shrill hiss and folded its wings, dropping from the sky in a steep dive. It was fixed upon Gabrielle with pin-point precision, its dagger-like talons extended.

  She waited until it was so close she could feel the wind it raised before she pulled on her horse’s reins. The underfed animal twitched to the side, squealing in fright when the transformed ogre-eagle hit the ground and rolled.

  While the eagle tried to right itself, Gabrielle spurred her horse on, still holding tight to Puss’s bag.

  They had covered a field length when the eerie howl of a wolf sliced the air. Gabrielle clung to the saddle and peered over her shoulder. The ogre—in the body of a red wolf—sniffed the air, snarling when it caught her scent.

  “Faster,” she gasped, pushing on her horse—which was already slick with sweat.

  The wolf chased Gabrielle th
rough the pitiful fields, snarling as it closed in on her. Fear ripped through her like a scythe, and her horse shrieked; its nostrils wide from the exertion and terror. Once the ogre-wolf loped close enough, it launched itself at Gabrielle, ravaging the stirrup leather with a savage growl.

  Grateful the ogre hadn’t gone for her horse, she kicked it several times in the gut as it tried to scrabble upwards. It started to slip and was thrown clear when the horse bucked—nearly dislodging Gabrielle and Puss.

  When the sun crept all the way out of the ocean, Gabrielle and her tiring mount fled the dying farmland, entering the forest.

  The ogre howled before transforming into a war elephant and trumpeting, but it did not enter the forest. The deeper Gabrielle’s horse ventured, the fainter the ogre’s bellows grew.

  Gabrielle risked looking back several times, confirming the ogre wasn’t there, before she slowed her horse to a trot—which the animal could keep for a much more significant length of time without tiring. Even with the slower pace, branches ripped at her clothes and skin, but she didn’t feel the pain as she held Puss close.

  Her mind a gaping void, Gabrielle directed her horse southwest, barely noting when she almost trampled a goblin. Time stretched into forever as the image of Puss being tossed into the wall like a rag replayed in her mind again and again.

  She was crying, and every muscle of her body ached when they picked up the road that ran from the coast to Jagst. At the edge of the village, Gabrielle pulled her horse to a halt, narrowly avoiding a fancy carriage that was probably more expensive than King Henrik’s with its snow white horses and deep purple walls. “Is there an apothecary or a healer?” Gabrielle shouted. She tried to dismount, but her weak limbs gave out, and she crashed to the ground, rolling midair so Puss landed on top of her instead of the reverse.

  “Lady Gabrielle?” The woodcutter took the reins of her horse, stroking his neck and trying to calm the creature.

  “What happened?” One of Michi’s daughters asked, crouching next to her. “Are you hurt?”