Fairy Tales Revisited on Silvery Earth

by Barbara G. Tarn

  "Will you kill me in my nightgown?" Nerian protested. "Please, allow me at least to wear boots!"

  "What do you care if your feet bleed? What part of I'm supposed to kill you didn't you get?" the man snapped.

  Nerian gaped and stopped resisting. The huntsman dragged him downstairs and outside the castle. He helped him to climb onto a saddle and mounted behind him before spurring the horse to a trot and leaving the courtyard and the castle walls.

  Nerian sat quietly, his wrists now tied to the pommel as well as together. The sun was barely up and the forest welcomed them with its enticing smells and mysterious sounds. Nerian realized how much he'd missed the trees – birches, maples, mulberry trees – and the wildlife.

  The morning air made him shiver since he was wearing almost nothing and the huntsman's arm wrapped around him wasn't enough to keep him warm.

  "What's your name?" he dared to ask.

  "Roddyn."

  "Will you let me live, Roddyn? I promise I'll never come back to the castle to threaten the Sorcerer King!"

  "I can't. I have family," the huntsman answered gloomily. "The king wants proof of your death."

  "What proof?" Nerian asked, puzzled.

  "Your heart and your liver."

  "Oh." Nerian wondered what he'd done to deserve to die. First Kariel ignored him for ten years, then he stormed into his room – no, his prison – and decided to kill him. "I'm the most unfortunate prince that ever lived," he muttered, frowning. "Not even twenty summers on my shoulders and I'm already dead."

  "You should be thankful," Roddyn said. "You could have ended up in his bed."

  "What?" Nerian turned his head, trying to see the huntsman's face, stunned.

  "He likes young men," Roddyn said mournfully. "He abused my teen son until he preferred death."

  "Why do you still serve him, then?" Nerian asked, puzzled.

  "Do we have a choice?" Roddyn answered. "Like I told you, I have a family. And none of us has magic powers. Resisting only makes things worse. Now that his best friend is dead, he can only become more cruel. Streilan was the only one who could keep him from hurting more people."

  "Streilan is dead?" That was probably why Kariel had visited him, then.

  Roddyn nodded, serious.

  Nerian sighed. "So you're saying that my death is timely and would spare me much grief?"

  "Exactly. You can't beat him and recover your father's throne, so I'll kill you swiftly to spare you what my son had to go through."

  They were deep enough into the woods now. Roddyn stopped the horse and dismounted. He helped Nerian down and made him kneel on the leaf-covered ground.

  "You won't suffer," he promised gravely, unsheathing his dagger.

  Nerian looked at him with pleading eyes. He raised hands with entwined fingers as in prayer. "Spare me," he whispered. "And you won't hear from me ever again!"

  Roddyn hesitated. When his dagger went down, it cut Nerian's bonds, freeing him.

  "Don't ever come back to the castle," he grumbled averting his eyes.

  "Thank you!" Nerian jumped to his feet. "Will you be all right?"

  "I'll find an alternative. My brother-in-law is supposed to kill a pig today. I'll stop by his farm before going back to the castle." Roddyn gruffly pushed Nerian back. "Good luck, Prince Nerian."

  Nerian watched him mount and spur the horse again. He waited until the huntsman had vanished in the undergrowth, then remembered to move. The cold was biting at his bare feet and his body covered only by the cotton nightgown. He'd better find a shelter if he didn't want to freeze to death.

  ***

  Riander saw the towers of Ker Daragon long before he emerged from the forest and reached the castle walls. Five narrow, round towers were set firm and strong for a great defensive line and were connected by tall, vast walls made of gray stone. Wide windows were scattered generously across the walls in a seemingly random pattern, along with symmetric holes for archers. A moderate gate with massive wooden doors, a drawbridge and hot oil pots offered a safe home to all those in need on that side of the mountains that loomed over the castle.

  "They probably have an even better view of the winged beings from their windows than I have in Ker Garenn," Riander said, impressed.

  "They probably are as doomed as Ker Eziel," Danhin muttered gloomily.

  Riander rolled his eyes. His servant's fears were probably justified, but Danhin hadn't been trained to fight. I've been taught that a sword can kill a sorcerer if used correctly. I can defend myself. I'm not afraid of the Sorcerer King.

  The guards at the drawbridge asked him his business and he told them who he was, showing his medallion and signet ring. He left his horse at the castle stables and met the chamberlain at the main door of the castle, where he asked for food before heading back for his own castle.

  "I believe his majesty would love to meet you," the plump man answered pompously. "He's just about to start his meal, please come and join him in the great hall." And with a stiff bow he turned on his heels to guide Riander and Danhin through the castle's ground floor.

  Ker Daragon's great hall was very similar to Ker Garenn, except for the stained glass on the windows. The neighboring kingdom must have a master glass-worker to be able to have such works on all the window panes.

  The Sorcerer King sat alone at the table on the dais. There was another plate to his right, but nobody sat there.

  "Sir Streilan died yesterday," the chamberlain whispered before pointing Riander to the stairs that led to the dais. That explained the somber expression on King Kariel's face, although he brightened at the sight of the guest, loudly announced by the chamberlain who stayed where he was, blocking Danhin from following.

  "King Riander?" The Sorcerer King rose and smiled to welcome his peer. "I'm honored by your visit."

  "I got carried away in hunting a stag and found myself too far from home," Riander said with a nod as the chamberlain led Danhin to a table of lower dignitaries on the left side of the dais. "I haven't eaten and I slept under the stars. I'd be grateful for some food before I head back to Ker Garenn with my faithful Danhin."

  "Please, sit with me," King Kariel said, pointing at the empty seat next to him. "We should have met a long time ago."

  Riander wasn't sure he liked the king's smiles. The brown eyes seemed filled with lust at the sight of him. So that was the secret of not getting married and eternal youth – loving other men? There must be more, Riander thought.

  As he tasted stuffed pheasant and boiled cabbage coming from the kitchens, he observed his neighbor who couldn't be much older than him. He remembered vaguely that King Kariel had come into power ten years earlier, but rumors said that he hadn't changed since.

  Riander had heard of his magic and his powers, but wasn't shown any of it during the meal. Just pleasant conversation about both kingdoms, the hunts in the forest that touched both castles, some expeditions up in the mountains that King Kariel had made – to which Riander asked if he'd encountered the nests of the winged beings, receiving a sharp "No" – and other idle talk with no mention of getting married or needing to produce an heir to the kingdom.

  King Kariel obviously felt immortal, or at least very long-lived, since he didn't care about succession. Or maybe it was because he wasn't really of royal blood. He even mentioned that eventually he would move away from Ker Daragon, getting lost in thoughts for a moment, probably thinking about the real heir that he kept imprisoned in a tower.

  "Will you stay the night?" he offered as they rose from the table. "I'd love to show you the castle and talk more with you. We seem to have lots of things in common..."

  Riander nodded. He was more and more curious about his host now. And he could finally ask all the questions. If not about the winged beings on the mountains, about everything else. Even though Kariel hadn't been king for much longer than him, he seemed much wiser.

  And very charming. By the time the tour of Ker Daragon was done and a messenger had been sent to Ker Garenn, Riander had f
orgotten he was dealing with a Sorcerer King who had usurped a throne and mysteriously didn't age.

  2. Black as Ebony

  Nerian huffed and sat on the stone, trying to ease his feet. He had gone as far from the castle as he could without shoes and had reached the mountainside. Walking up a steep path had been easier than the forest, since stepping on big rocks hurt less than the uneven ground covered with fallen leaves that hid holes, twigs and other traps.

  He lay against the rocky wall as he caught his breath. It must be midday now, and his stomach was rumbling. The sun warmed him, but he wasn't sure how he was going to survive, half-naked and weaponless, in the wilderness.

  He shifted his back against the rock, trying to find a more comfortable position, and something clicked. An opening appeared near the stone where he sat, making him jump back to his feet, ignoring the pain.

  A tunnel! Closed by a secret mechanism! Maybe he'd found some magical creature's home! As far as he knew magical creatures weren't as dangerous as the Sorcerer King who wanted him dead, so he'd better use whatever shelter he found.

  Nerian hesitated, then entered the dark tunnel. It looked man-made and was very short. And very low. He had to stoop to walk through it. The opening sent light up to the end of it and he found a lamp next to the tunnel end. He barely had time to light it when the mechanism closed the entrance again.

  Now I'm stuck underground, Nerian thought, looking around at the feeble light of the lamp. The ground was smooth and cold, and the cave didn't feel damp. He tried to listen for running water, but it was quiet. The cave wasn't big, but his lamp didn't show much of it.

  He carefully moved forward, trying to figure out if the cave was lived-in. Since it had some kind of door, it must have more. The ceiling was high, and he could walk erect. The light didn't reach the top or the walls, so he assumed whatever furniture must be closer to the perimeter.

  As he looked up and around, his toe hit something. Cursing under his breath, Nerian lowered the lamp. He'd almost tripped over a short cot, first of a series of neatly aligned cots. Was this a dormitory for children?

  Moving around a little more, he found a sort of hearth with kitchen implements and some food. He managed to light a fire and cook some potatoes without burning them. The lit fireplace showed little more of the cave. There were two more tunnels ending there, but Nerian didn't dare explore. Not with just a little lamp that wouldn't last much longer, probably.

  He ate the potatoes and found some dried meat to go with them. Better than nothing. He saw a chest of clothes, but they looked too small to fit him. He pushed the cots together so they would make one long bed and he lay across them, using a number of blankets to cover himself. Not as comfortable as the bed in the tower, but better than the cold floor.

  He wondered who lived in the cave and when they'd come back. He shivered under the short blankets, eyes wide open in the semi-darkness of the cave. Now he could hear a drop trickling somewhere. The silence was overwhelming. Which was good – he would hear the cave's inhabitants come back.

  Each living being made its own set of noises, and it seemed the tiniest sound echoed in the tunnels and cave. Shadows of bats fluttered by at the corner of his eye and he tried to calm his panting breath.

  Eventually Nerian dozed off, tired by the walk and the stress of staying alert when he never really had to before.

  ***

  "What the hell does he think he's doing?"

  "Why would a Human wander in the forest half-naked and barefoot anyway?"

  "This is an intrusion, we should kick him out!"

  "I think he's cute, and very young..."

  The male bickering jerked Nerian out of his slumber. He slowly opened his eyes that widened at the sight of the seven faces leaning over him. Some had black beards and tangled hair, one had a graying beard and sparse hair coming from a skullcap, one had completely shaven his head and one was clean-shaven with short black locks. One of the bearded ones also had very blue eyes.

  Dwarves! Not children. That was why the cots were so short. Adult dwarves fully armed. They had lit lamps and put torches throughout the cave, allowing him to see the big room in its entirety – the beds on one side, the kitchen on the other, the fireplace and the two other tunnels, still dark, leading inside the mountain. The entrance tunnel was also lit, but closed.

  Nerian scrambled to his feet. The dwarves barely reached his waist, but their frowns were still quite intimidating. They were armed, and he wasn't.

  "I-I'm sorry, I was looking for shelter and I-I..." he stammered, ready to panic.

  "How did you find the entrance?" one of the bearded dwarves demanded.

  "I bet he opened it by mistake," the clean-shaven one added, amused.

  Nerian nodded, speechless, then his knees gave way and he crumbled to the floor, his head finally at the right height to look the dwarves in the eyes.

  "I mean no harm." His voice shook and temporarily went back to a childish tone.

  "Who are you?" the eldest dwarf asked, almost nose to nose with him.

  "Nerian..."

  The dwarves pulled back with gasps and sounds of surprise.

  "Nerian of Ker Daragon?" the eldest asked again, narrowing his eyes. "Nerian Raven Seeker?"

  "Can't you see he has hair as black as ebony, skin as pale as snow and lips as red as blood?" the bald one mocked.

  "And transparent sky-blue eyes," one of the bearded ones said gruffly. "That's him, no doubts."

  "Yes, that's me..." Nerian's fear didn't subside at the dwarves' reaction. They seemed to know an awful lot about him. And they still held their weapons. And he was one against seven. Maybe he should have let Roddyn kill him swiftly. "Kariel ordered me killed, but I managed to convince the huntsman to let me go..."

  The bald dwarf groaned, slapping his face with his palm. "That wicked half-blood!"

  The eldest signaled all the others to shut up, since they were all muttering comments in a language Nerian didn't understand. The leader stepped forward and looked the young prince in the eyes.

  "You were lucky," he said gravely. "We were wondering why Kariel left you alive ten years ago. You are welcome to stay here, but do not enter the other tunnels." He pointed at the two dark holes gaping at them.

  Nerian nodded, eyes still wide in wonder.

  "Welcome to our cave!" The clean-shaven dwarf patted his shoulder so hard, he almost sent him flat on his back. "We'll find you clothes and shoes, you can't live in a nightgown forever!"

  "And we'll make you a bed your size," another added, white teeth shining through the black beard.

  "Oh, sure, sorry I moved your furniture, I should have slept on the floor," Nerian answered eagerly.

  "Nonsense, the floor is cold," the eldest said. "We better find a blanket and a cloak your size as well. I'm Alech, and this is my team. We guard this entrance to our kingdom."

  "I'm honored to meet you." Nerian bowed his head. "How come you know so much about me and the Sorcerer King?"

  "Humans chased us underground with the Genn, but this doesn't mean we never go out!"

  "We avoid the crowded Human places these days, though, they stink!"

  "We hunt in the forest and know all the castles' whereabouts."

  "And we know who Kariel is and where he comes from."

  "And we knew your mother and heard her wish!"

  "Pity your sister took her with her a couple of years later..."

  Nerian remembered to close his mouth and waved to make them shut up, now that each of them had given his opinion.

  He gulped. "And do you know anything of the winged beings who live up in the mountains?"

  "They are Sila, members of a Magical Race Humans seldom see," the clean-shaven one answered cheerfully. "They're very shy... so no, you can't meet them, even though you have Sila blood."

  "I do?" Nerian marveled.

  "Why do you think you can talk to birds?" the bald one said with a scoff.

  "I don't know, I thought..."

  "Human
s don't have magic, unless they have some Magical Races' blood in them," Alech said, serious. "Some short-sighted Sila might have met a nice Human and had a child or two... without wings, so they stuck to earth and married and eventually you were born."

  "Oh!" Nerian thought wonders never ceased. Then a thought struck him. "So Kariel has Magical Races' blood? Is that why he has magic powers?"

  "He's a wicked half-blood," the bald one repeated with a smirk.

  "His father is a member of a Magical Race," Alech added. "But Kariel doesn't know it. He thinks he's the son of a court magician, and he's entitled to some magic. That's why he studied magic, and became good – because of his father's blood."

  Nerian nodded, thoughtful. Might be the reason why Kariel didn't age as well. But he didn't know enough about the Magical Races to figure out his captor.

  "I'm Xhael." The clean-shaven one offered his hand with a grin. The bald one was Temai, and the other four were called Soss – the blue-eyed one – and Yeni, Ikeli and Losik. The last two were identical twins, and even Alech said he couldn't tell them apart. The others weren't related, but they all obeyed Alech, the captain of that little team.

  Yeni went to one of the tunnels to see if the dwarves' town had anything for a Human while the twins went out to gather wood to make Nerian's bed. Nerian gladly helped the other four to rearrange the furniture to make room for him.

  ***

  "I don't think it's a good idea to sleep here," Danhin said, scrubbing Riander's back. "What if King Kariel holds you prisoner?"

  "He doesn't sound hostile and seems quite content with Ker Daragon," Riander answered with a shrug.

  The Sorcerer King had given them a guest room with a big bath chamber. The wooden tub held both of them easily, and the smell of soap filled the room. After washing themselves, they'd shave and wear the clothes the host had provided for them while the washerwomen took care of their own forest-smelling garments.

  "He's putting a spell on you," Danhin warned.

  "I don't think so. Why would he? He's just charming, that's all."

  Danhin moved in the water to face him and raised his eyebrows. "Charming? Let me tell you what I heard at that table, then. King Kariel likes men, and by the way he looked at you everybody in the room knew he'd come to your bed tonight."