She reread the warning several times, certain there must be another meaning. “No, there’s no way we’re supposed to take this literally.”
He turned and looked at her. “Look at where we are. How else can we take it?”
Panic prickled beneath her skin, threatening to erupt into a full-blown nervous breakdown. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the anxiety down. “Okay, so we have to change the endings. Big whoop. It shouldn’t be too difficult,” she said, an out-and-out lie. But somehow pretending she wasn’t flipping out on the inside helped––a little. “How hard can it be to rescue a princess, slay a dragon or two, find the Holy Grail along the way and play cupid here and there?”
Finn looked both surprised and impressed. “Aye, how hard can it be?”
“So how many fables are we talking about?”
He parted each page just enough to see the text, counting silently as he went. At last he said, “Eight in total.”
Eight? Fate gulped. She’d hoped for four at the very most. So much for putting on a brave face. Her thoughts returned to Alice and her trusting, playful attitude toward the wacky characters she’d encountered in Wonderland. That was the outlook she needed to adopt if she was going to get through this with her sanity intact. Fate found herself smiling as a spark of excitement ignited in her. She’d have fun with this, make it a game. Like a big chessboard in which she had to make it to the eighth square, first as a pawn before she was made a queen, the way Alice had been.
But then it hit her like a punch in the gut. What if that’s exactly what she was…a pawn in a sick, twisted game of chess?
Chapter 5
THE TOWERING CLIFFS LOCKED IN THE COVE, leaving no way out except by sea. Finn persisted in looking for a way out long after Fate gave up. Her brief spark of enthusiasm had been snuffed out by a growing sense of dread. But she wasn’t letting on. She had gone back to pretending she was dauntless, feigning excitement when he discovered some stairs cut into the rock hidden behind a thick stand of bushes.
Forcing a smile, she helped him gather driftwood, kelp and palm fronds to camouflage the book before making the steep climb. He bounded past her like she was standing still, proving just how out of shape she was. Halfway up, her lungs and legs were burning so badly she had to sit down and rest. At least the exhaustion provided a little distraction from worrying whether she was Brune’s puppet.
When at last she reached the final step, Finn was lying on his back staring up at the sky and whistling a tune. “Oh, you made it. I was beginning to think I’d have to carry you––” he chuckled, “––or perform CPR.”
“Your confidence…in me…is overwhelming,” she gasped. She staggered up next to him, taking in the landscape. The peaks of Elsina’s palace crested above some distant hills near the center of the small island. There was also a clear path leading into the woods, most likely the way to the sorceress.
Finn jumped to his feet, gesturing to the path with a princely sweep of his arm. “After you. Unless you need to rest a while longer.”
“I can handle it.” She was shocked by how shaky her legs were. She’d been ruthless with her characters, putting them through much worse than hoofing it up a mile of stairs. There was no longer any question she preferred writing about strenuous activities to actually doing them.
They had walked a fair distance and were strolling through a dense patch of forest when Finn slowed his step to listen intently.
“What’s up?”
He put a finger to his lips. “It’s the trees. They’ve begun to notice us.”
Speechless, she stared at him. “What?”
“The trees,” he whispered. “They’re waking up to our presence.”
He grabbed her hand and didn’t seem to notice that she was staring at him like he’d just sprouted a hairy mole on his face. That was the second disconcerting thing he’d said. She’d let the last crazy remark go by as a joke, but he seemed so serious at the moment. Dry humor wasn’t really her thing. But what if he wasn’t actually playing around? Ew, she didn’t want to think about what that might mean.
“We should keep moving before they let Elsina know we’re here,” he said, pulling her resistant weight behind him.
Maybe he was treating this insane situation like a game, the same as she was trying to do, or applying some sort of twisted logic to it because he didn’t know what else to do. Fate picked up the pace. She could play the game just as well. “Maybe it’s best the trees announce us,” she said, fighting the urge to smirk. “It’s pretty rude to show up without calling first.”
He stopped to look at her. “She’s a sorceress. From what I’ve been told, they’re enormously territorial. She’ll most likely turn us into frogs first and ask questions later.”
He was really getting into this. “Uh…right,” Fate agreed, matching his serious gaze.
Finn dragged her along at a fast jog. After the climb, she tired quickly and was about to say game over when the narrow path ended abruptly. They had reached an impasse where a high ridge overlooked a gleaming palace of pale yellow stone extending high into the deepening sky.
Five slender towers curved around a turret-shaped castle. Terraces overflowing with blossoming gardens linked each tower together. Further down, two gigantic stone lions with grim human faces sat on either side of the main entrance.
Finn pulled a small spyglass from one of the pockets of his army pants and aimed it at the terraces.
“Where’d you get that?” Fate asked.
“Found it on the beach.”
“Beats the rusty nail I found,” she said. “Can I have a look?”
He handed her the spyglass. She stared at the oddly mixed creatures in awe, realizing with a cold chill that the fable had actually become a real place and she was standing right in the middle of it. Disbelief tried to assert itself again. But she could no longer deny the truth when she saw the tall, pale woman who strolled out onto the balcony toward a large table laden with food. Dressed in a shimmery crimson robe, she glided past an exotic array of flowers with an open hand, drawing their fragrance to her nose to breathe in their scent. Her serene features were unnaturally beautiful, like the carven image of a stone masterpiece. And her hair, black as midnight, hung in silky plaits to her ankles.
“Elsina…” Fate said under her breath.
“Oh, let’s have a look.” He took the spyglass back and whistled softly.
As he continued to stare, Fate grew impatient, her thoughts turning to the delicious banquet she’d seen. Her stomach growled. “Do you think there’s any chance we can get our hands on some of that food? There’s enough to feed an army.”
He didn’t answer.
She waited a few more seconds for him to look away, but the longer he gaped at the sorceress, the more agitated she became. “Hey. Answer me!”
When her voice echoed out against the stone palace, she clapped her hand over her mouth. Birds scattered from the surrounding trees, sounding calls of alarm from the sky. Grabbing her arm, Finn pulled her away from the path into the shadows of the trees. They ran long and far until she tripped and fell, scraping her knee.
Holding her bleeding leg, she bit her lip to keep from crying.
Finn shook his head and kneeled down next to her. “What got into you back there?”
Her knee throbbed. Actually, everything hurt. “Other than being stuck here with you?”
His eyes widened with surprise. “Did I do something wrong? Or is hunger bringing out the grizzly in you?”
Fate dropped her gaze, too overwhelmed to keep up with his overzealous game playing. She needed him grounded in reality, or she was going to lose her own mind, if she hadn’t already.
He pulled out a small tin and dabbed some thick brown salve on her bleeding knee. “There. It’s an old family remedy I like to have on hand. You’ll be good as new in a few days.”
The touch of his fingers sliding over her skin caught her off guard, a confusing distraction from the pain and anger.
/> He rested his elbow on his knee, studying her with amusement. “I think it’s time you drummed up something for us to eat, missy. I fear I won’t survive that blistering temper if we don’t calm those nerves with some food in short order.”
Irritation rushed back in. Clearly, he wasn’t going to stop messing with her. “Oh sure, no problem.” She feigned a perky grin. “I’ll just run down to the corner berry bush. Then stop by the convenience stream and spear us a fish. And after we’re done pigging out on too many berries and parasite-ridden sashimi, we can look forward to one of those super-fun gastronomical hangovers.”
“We could do that, but I thought maybe you’d try writing up our dinner on that wee notepad. Maybe that’s why it came with you.” With a patient smile and a curious glint in his eyes, he pointed at it dangling from her waist.
Her jaw dropped. “You think if I write up some sort of description, it’ll just appear out of thin air?”
“I suspect that’s how it might work. But we won’t know unless you try. Will we?”
“The verdict is in. You are completely certifiable.”
“Why else would that smelly old woman have pinned it on you if you weren’t supposed to write ‘Words of Making’ in it?” he said, making air quotes.
Fate’s stampeding anger skidded to a halt when she realized he was referring to the warning in the Book of Fables. And then Brune’s words came back to her: You’ll know what it’s for when you read the warning at the beginning of the book. She unhooked the notepad from the chain and pulled out the tiny pencil.
Finn sat down amongst the moss and fern beside her. “Now, what mouth-watering grub are you going to write up?”
“Pizza?”
“Aye, perfect. A lass after me own heart,” he said, throwing the Scottish brogue on thick.
Fate couldn’t resist smiling; that Scottish accent made her feel all warm and fuzzy. She scribbled out a hasty description. “Okay, here goes nothing. From out of nowhere, I am ordering a freshly made, hot pepperoni pizza with Parmesan.”
When nothing happened that very instant, she felt stupid for letting him make her think she could magically conjure food. But then the air distorted visibly, wavering like heat waves in front of them as the smell of freshly baked dough and spicy pepperoni met her nose. Seconds later, a pizza on a platter came spinning into view. Finn caught it with both hands.
She jumped to her feet, amazed. For the first time since she’d been thrown into this mess, she felt excited. Confident even. “Do you realize what this means? Getting out of here’s going to be a snap! I can literally write all our problems––” she looked at Finn, “––away.”
Still holding the pizza, he was frozen, his eyes filled with awe.
Grinning, she bounced up and down. “I know, pretty mind-blowing, huh?”
He set the pizza down with an air of reverence. “We have to be very careful with this, Fate.”
“With the pizza? No way I plan to destroy it with much chewing.” She grabbed a piece and took a bite. “Mmm. Have some. It’s pure cheese heaven!”
“No, I mean the Words of Making,” Finn said, his expression grave. “To be honest, I’m gob smacked they can be used this simply. I was sure we’d have to combine them with magic of some sort to get them working. But this…this is straight from the source. This is true power.”
“Explains why the pizza’s so good.”
He shook his head. “Is any of this sticking in that head of yours?”
“Yes, I understand, Uncle Ben. With great power comes great responsibility.”
“Aye. As well as great danger,” he added, still giving her a serious stare.
“Would you relax?” She handed him a wedge dripping with cheese. “This is the best piece of news we’ve gotten since we first landed in this big steaming cow pie.”
“Maybe,” Finn said.
“Maybe? This makes me the dungeon master.” She frowned when she saw he didn’t understand. “That means I get to call the shots now.”
“Don’t confuse overconfidence with blind certainty.”
“Killjoy.”
He bit into the pizza, a blissful smile melting away the tension on his face. “You’re right. This is wicked good.” He paused, his expression turning thoughtful before tapping the brass-covered notepad. “We’ll make it all work.”
She settled down on the ground next to him, relieved and happy. They both ate hungrily, hardly talking until the pizza was gone. Then she ordered up a chocolate milkshake for herself and a root beer float for him, in as few words as possible. She’d counted forty-two sheets in the notepad, figuring she’d better save the majority for more vital matters.
They were both overly full and lying on the ground staring up at the gray swollen clouds when it started to rain. The promise of an impending storm came from a sudden flash of lightning and thunder rumbling in the distance.
“I’ll write up a nice cozy cabin,” Fate offered.
Finn jumped to his feet. “I like your line of thinking, but something much smaller would be better.”
“Ew, you mean a tent?”
“A tent’s perfect,” he said, too busy filling his palm with pebbly white dust from a pouch the size of his fist to see how displeased she was. She watched him place the powder on the ground, followed by three more handfuls around where she stood. Using a lighter, he lit the piles on fire, muttering something under his breath.
She watched the peculiar ritual with increasing horror. “What did you just do?”
“I made this patch of ground around us invisible to unwanted eyes. Now nothing can see us or the tent as long these protective wards are in place.” Flashing a satisfied smile, he wiped the dust from his palms. But his smile faltered when he saw her obvious dismay as she spoke her written description of the dreaded tent. “Sorry about the cabin,” he said. “I’ve tried larger objects before, but anything over a couple of meters won’t work.”
“That’s great. I feel safer already,” she said, her tone flat as she watched the quivering air solidify into a camouflage-colored tent. Why was he still playing make-believe when they had the real deal? Where was the invisibility he was talking about? She could see him and the tent quite clearly, not to mention herself.
Frowning, she went back to writing down all the camping gear they’d need.
“The wards are tried and true,” he said, trying to convince her of their worth. “I should know. I used them when the wolf wraiths were after me in Black Spout Woods. They ran right past me.”
She jerked her head up. “What did you just say?”
“I said the wards worked on the wolf wraiths.”
The rush of blood pounding in her ears muffled his voice. Her heart was in her throat, making it impossible to speak. She stared at him, helpless to look away as her vision magnified on every perfect detail of his face.
He’d gone quiet as well, his eyes locked with hers as a certain knowing passed between them.
Flustered, she tore her gaze away, pressing the pencil so hard against the paper, the lead tip broke. “Damn. I wasn’t finished.”
He kneeled down, pulled a Buck knife from his thigh pocket and sharpened the tiny pencil. She watched in silence, remembering all the peculiar things he’d taken from the multitude of pockets in his army pants. A rash of goose bumps ran down her arms as each item took on new meaning, the sum total adding up to a conclusion so far-fetched it made being tossed into a world of make-believe seem normal.
•
As the storm raged around them, the lantern’s soft light filled the tent while they each sat wrapped in the warmth of their respective sleeping bags, staring at the blustering fabric walls in awkward silence.
Finn was the first to speak. “Since we’ll be spending a lot of time together ‘til we get out of here, I thought maybe we might get to know one another a bit better.”
Fate wriggled inside her sleeping bag until she was lying down and tightened the drawstring along the top. “Sorry, my tank’s
empty,” she said, hiding within her nylon cocoon. “Not only have I been bamboozled into a magic book by some stinky old crone I’ve never met, but my legs are pretty miffed about all that hiking. There’s a strong possibility they’ll go on strike.”
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed.
She sighed and peeked through the small opening of her sleeping bag. “What do you want to know? But only one question,” she warned. “Something tells me we’ll have plenty of time to hear each other’s life story later.”
He nodded. “I’ve been wondering what you were doing before you came to the bookstore. You already know I was sleeping in the buff before I got there.”
She loosened the drawstring and pushed her face out. “Just so we’re clear, there’ll be no sleeping in the buff while I’m around. Not that I’m against buff, because I’m not. It’s just that you need to keep your buffness to yourself.”
He laughed. “Not to worry. The clothes are on.”
She receded back into the folds of her sleeping bag.
“So?” he asked. “What were you doing?”
“Signing books in Seattle.”
“Were you now? And what kind of books would these be?”
“That’s two questions.”
“Please?”
The playful glint in his eyes stopped her breath for a split second. She couldn’t refuse and briefly described Magic Brew. When he said he hadn’t heard of it because he didn’t read those types of books, she was surprised. And confused. If he wasn’t a fantasy geek like she’d initially thought, why all the make-believe nonsense?
A jittery sort of hopefulness bubbled to the surface. Could he really be who she’d begun to suspect he might be? She could ask a few key questions. But what would happen if she confirmed her suspicions? That could open up a whole new can of worms she really didn’t have the energy to deal with at the moment. Her body was bent on sinking into a comatose sleep.
His mouth curled into a devastating grin. “So, you’re a famous author.”
She closed her eyes to the thrill his smile provoked in her. Upon opening them, she avoided his gaze. She didn’t want the humiliation of getting caught staring again. “That’s what they tell me. But don’t go getting all impressed. I didn’t write some literary masterpiece. I’m just a mediocre writer with an overactive imagination.”
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