Fate's Fables Boxed Set (Fables 1 - 8): One Girl's Journey Through 8 Unfortunate Fairy Tales

by T. Rae Mitchell

  Fate tried to keep her gaze from moving to the open pages of the giant book. She screamed silently against the action, but curiosity weakened her resolve as soon as she laid eyes on the ancient text.

  “Don’t know about this one, but hang onto him if he proves useful,” Brune said as she studied Finn.

  But Fate had no further thoughts regarding Finn, or anything else for that matter. The veil of forgetfulness had closed back in around her as she spoke the first fable’s title, “The Lonely Sorceress.”

  The Lonely Sorceress

  IN THE MORNING OF THE WORLD when the very air swelled with magic, an enchanted island floated against the currents of the ocean. Its captain was Elsina, a sorceress whose beauty was as cold and remote as a marble statue. She was capable of charming the winds and seas to her every whim, and there was no place she could not go by water. The island was not only her home, but the source of her power. Therefore, she could not leave her precious isle even once, or she would lose her powers of enchantment forever.

  To protect her secret, she lived alone. Because of this, Elsina grew lonely and missed the companionship of others. She turned to the island’s animals, rocks and trees to fulfill this need. Under her magical touch, the animals were formed with human-like qualities. She also gave them the gift of speech and clothed them like people. She delighted in how outlandish they looked, especially when it suited her to mix a bee with a lizard, or a fish with a bird. She brought boulders to life and shaped them into giant bulls, elephants and lions. The plants and trees were granted the ability to move so they could gather close to her, offering both beauty and protection. She even infused the water of her fountains and pools with song and music.

  One day while the sorceress basked in the hot sun, Hatho, her closest and most trusted aide drifted down out of the sky and landed on the terrace. The soldier hawk told her the previous night’s storm had caused a fishing boat to crash on the rocks of the cove. Now a young man lay unconscious on the beach.

  Elsina had her winged granite ox fetch the storm’s survivor. For three days and three nights he slept. While the sorceress watched over him, she could not help admiring the gentle curve of his lips and the coppery sheen of his wavy locks. When at last he opened his eyes and smiled at her, Elsina’s closed heart opened like a flower opens to the sun.

  Torrin was his name and From one full moon to the next, he shared in the wonders of her island. Elsina grew to believe that he loved her. In truth, Torrin was grateful to her for giving him food, shelter and good company. But his first love was the sea, and as time passed, his gaze turned away from Elsina, back to the ocean. By and by, the time came when Torrin spent his days walking the beach and staring at the swirling tides as a prisoner might gaze past the iron bars of his window.

  One evening he did not return to the palace. Fearing for his safety, Elsina sent her owl to search for him. The long wait seemed like days to her before the silent winged creature glided into her bedchamber. Torrin was quite well, the owl told her. He was in the cove, but not alone. A golden haired sea nymph with eyes as stormy as the sea had him wrapped in love’s embrace.

  The sudden piercing in Elsina’s heart was so painful she thought she might die. Her anguished scream resounded throughout the island. Every creature, tree and plant trembled. Before she could take her next breath, Hatho was by her side, holding her in his strong arms. Yet Torrin never heard the heartbroken cry that shook the island. He had fallen under the siren’s spell.

  Elsina was determined to reveal the sea nymph’s monstrous nature to Torrin. So she entered the tower where she stored her darkest magics. For seven days and seven nights, she gathered the vilest ingredients of the sea and added them to a boiling, hissing broth of hatred and vengeance. On the seventh day, the sorceress poured her bitter concoction into an urn carved from the branch of a cursed oak tree, the most menacing instrument used in the spell.

  Carried on the back of her winged lion, Elsina landed in the cove before sunrise. Robed in black like a specter of death, she crept under the cover of darkness to where the sleeping lovers lay entwined. She stole to the water’s edge, waiting for the twilight hour. When the moment hit and the air pulsed with magic, she poured the thick ooze into the water. Once the potion spread through the cove, she left.

  Soon afterwards, the sun rose, warming the two lovers. The sea nymph, who was ready to relinquish all gifts of the sea to live as a mortal with Torrin, was anxious to reunite with the ocean one last time. She dove into the waves while he waited on the beach. But the waters started to churn. Something huge thrashed in the roiling froth. A spiked fin sliced the briny foam, followed by gnashing fangs and a giant tentacle snaking skyward. Torrin raced to the shoreline. Unarmed as he was, he was ready to battle with the beast that he believed had devoured his true love. He did not know Elsina’s potion had turned his beautiful sea nymph into a mindless monster. The creature’s bulging eye fixed on Torrin, lunged with staggering suddenness and dragged him into the deepest hollow of his beloved ocean.

  When Hatho reported the tragic news, Elsina’s heart burned as hot as a thousand candles. Her sorrowful wail penetrated the island. The cliffs crumbled, the stone palace cracked and all her creatures fled, leaving the sorceress alone and bereft. Try as he might, Hatho could not console his mistress. Her guilt and sadness ran too deep. All the same, he stayed by her side.

  Days stretched into years, and years became decades. The loyal soldier hawk kept his silent vigil, always perched somewhere nearby, until the time when he grew so old and feeble, Elsina took pity and turned him to stone. And so it was that the sorceress found herself lonelier than ever before. All because she could not see whom her most loving companions truly were.

  Chapter 4

  FROM THE SECOND FATE SPOKE THE FABLE aloud, the inked words lifted off the book’s ancient pages and a flurry of letters swirled around her. Then, like tiny pixels, the letters combined into a scene formed by her imagination, bursting into life all at once in a symphony of sights and sounds. The fable flowed through her. She became its voice without knowing the words, each sentence generating more and more of the living, breathing story. She was part of it, yet each time she reached out to touch the rich reality encircling her, the images rippled like a drop of water disturbing the reflective surface of a still pond. When at last the tale came to an end, the fantastical characters and enchanting scenery splintered into a storm of letters, the release so abrupt she thought she was falling from a frightening height.

  Her knees hit something soft, moist and gritty. Dizzy and nauseated, she kept her eyes shut, the sound of the ocean still lingering in her mind. Though now she smelled the brine blowing off the waves.

  There was something so wrong about that.

  Finn touched her arm, his fingers squeezing lightly. “Are you all right?”

  She focused on the warmth of his hand, her mind trying desperately to reject what felt like sand beneath her. “Please tell me we’re still in the bookstore,” she said, before turning her head in the direction of his voice, opening one eye and then the other.

  “Uh, sorry. I’d venture to say, we’re far from it,” he said, his tone uncomfortable.

  He looked pale. Was he as frightened as she was? She kept her eyes glued to his face, refusing to look elsewhere, willing the setting behind him to change back into the dim interior of the bookstore. The backdrop remained stubbornly bright and sunny as he stood and tilted his head to the sky.

  “I’m guessing this is Elsina’s drifting island,” he said. “At least I think so. Those gulls look normal enough. Course they could’ve hitched a ride from some other port, but I’m surprised we’re not being greeted by her circus animals.”

  Curiosity got the best of Fate. She glanced up at the seagulls circling overhead. When she saw they were ordinary, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed they hadn’t been feathery freaks. But now she’d gone and looked. Giving up, she dropped her gaze to where the Book of Fables leaned against wet sha
le stretching high into towering black cliffs. She broke out in a rash of anxiety as she turned, her knees digging an arc in the sand as she stared open-mouthed at a breathtaking beach of white sand set within a sheltered cove. Beyond the breaking shoreline, the ocean stretched away from them into an endless, empty horizon.

  She wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

  “How’s this possible?” she muttered, her breath coming in shallow bursts. “This just doesn’t happen in real life. It has to be a dream.”

  “Then we’re sharing the same one.”

  “No, you’re in my dream,” she said, frowning at him.

  His lips curved with mischief. “Or you’re in mine.”

  Her heart reacted to his smile with a surprising thud despite the added jolt of fear his remark had caused her. The very idea of being only a figment in his dream, or anyone else’s, scared her. No wonder Alice had cried when Tweedledum told her if the Red King woke from dreaming about her, she’d go out like a candle. What a terrifying thought! Out of all the baffling reasons for why she was there, that one was the least desirable.

  She closed her eyes, reaffirming in her mind: I am real, damn it! I exist!

  “Fate? What is it?” Finn asked. “Are you in pain?”

  She felt embarrassed. Here she was totally losing it while he remained calm. He certainly wasn’t questioning if he was real or not. What was wrong with her? She had a whole life back home filled with solid evidence proving her existence. Even if she didn’t know how she’d ended up in a freaking fable, she could count on one reliable fact: She was a real flesh and blood person.

  Phhh…silly!

  Smoothing the panic from her face, she peeked at Finn through cracked lids. A look of genuine concern had replaced his smile. She opened her eyes fully, scrambling for something to tell him, other than confessing her insane thoughts. “Uh…for a couple of hairy seconds during the ride here, when my stomach turned inside out and dropped to my feet before sloshing up into my head…I…uh…I thought I was dying.”

  He nodded in agreement. “I recall feeling something along that line.”

  Annoyed that he didn’t appear traumatized by his near death-like experience, she frowned, groping for more. “Right…but you know what I was thinking?”

  “What?”

  “I…kept wishing I was at home having a staring contest with my cat. Now that’s upsetting. What kind of person thinks about something like that when they’re about to die?”

  “Someone who’d rather be at home having a staring contest with her cat, instead of dying?”

  “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Thanks for restoring my self-respect.” She attempted a smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “Speaking of out-of-place felines, the last thing I remember was telling you about the overachieving mouser in the bookstore.”

  “Aye, I remember saying it wasn’t a cat.”

  “Oh yeah,” she agreed, but try as she might, her memory blanked beyond that. Except of course, the vivid reading experience of the fable. But why couldn’t she recall the circumstances just before? She was missing time just like alien abductees.

  Or maybe she didn’t want to remember. Uh-oh. Was she to blame somehow? After all, she was the one who’d read the fable. Had her insatiable curiosity caused them to slip through the Looking Glass?

  She had the sudden need to hide her guilt behind some fresh lipstick. A glossy mouth might distract him from seeing the guilt in her eyes. Of course she probably needed more help than color on her lips. Her clothes were still damp and she didn’t even want to think about what her hair was doing. She shoved the sudden image of Troll dolls from her mind.

  Twisting in all directions, she looked for her purse. “Do you see my handbag anywhere? It’s red plaid with black piping.”

  “No.”

  Doubt pricked at her mind, stinging it with renewed paranoia. That purse contained proof of her life. Her wallet was in there, the sparkly notebook she jotted ideas in, her phone. Oh no, Eustace. She was close to tears now. “Finn, I really have to find it. I need to call Eustace! Tell him I’m…okay?”

  “Who’s Eustace?”

  “My dad.” She was on all fours, glancing around, scouring the white stretch of sand for a spot of red.

  Kneeling, Finn pulled gently on her arm, putting an end to her frenzied activity. She looked at him. His color had returned…nicely. “You’re scared,” he said. “That’s only natural. But you won’t fare well if you keep panicking. Understand?”

  She gulped, nodding like a bobble head. He was right. She really needed to get a grip.

  He gave her an encouraging smile as he rose, offering his hand to help her up. “Let’s take a look inside the big book. It’s the only other thing that’s come with us.”

  He pulled her up so quickly she collided against his chest. They created an instant gap, her jumping back, him sidestepping, nearly tripping. Regaining his balance, he cleared his throat and pulled the book’s cover back. She gave one of those laughs, the kind that sounds so stilted she wished she’d been born mute. Hiding her red face, she made a big show of brushing away the sand sticking to her legs.

  Her composure regained, she joined him in front of the book. But the moment she looked at the pages, her vision blurred and everything around her tilted. Or so she thought. Finn caught her before she fell flat on her back. “Thanks,” she mumbled, going blank for a second as a piece of information slotted itself into her brain. She acted upon it by turning the title page to a passage written on the other side.

  “I don’t remember seeing this.” He looked at her, his eyes clouding with uncertainty. “How’d you know it was there?”

  Hearing the edge in his tone, she took a step back. “I don’t know, I just did.”

  She could see him wondering about her, but he kept his thoughts to himself and turned his attention to reading the passage instead. She peered around him, eager to know what it said.

  ~ Reader Beware ~

  If these Words of Making are spoken into the air, these 8 fables could become your world forever. Your fate may very well be pressed between these pages like last summer’s rose, unless you can unmake each fable into its mirror opposite with new Words of Making.

  Finn pointed at the peculiar mark within the text. “Do you think that’s intended to be an infinity symbol?”

  “If it is, I’m really not liking the spooky emphasis on forever.”

  “No, me either. But at least this warning explains why we were pulled into the story. It happened when you read the title of the first fable out loud.”

  So it was true. She was responsible for this. Guilt erupted, flushing her face with a telling heat. “I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t know that would happen. In fact, I don’t even remember reading the fable. I mean, I remember reading it, but I don’t know why I read it.”

  “There’s no blame, lass. It’s obvious there are hidden forces at work here.”

  She dropped her gaze, staring at her shaking hands, fighting back the tears. The sun glinted on something shiny clasped on the waistband of her skirt. She grabbed at it, an antique clip linked by a chain to a fancy locket dimmed by the patina of age. Most of the silver plating had worn away from the original brass underneath the raised parts of the design.

  “How’d this get here?” She unhooked it, seeing paper pressed between the metal coverings. It appeared to be some sort of vintage notepad.

  “It’s not yours?” he asked, looking puzzled.

  “No. I’ve never seen it before.”

  “Oh, I noticed it.” He shrugged. “Just thought it was some sort of fashion bauble.”

  “Uh, not exactly my style. Someone clipped this on me. Hey, maybe there’s a message inside.”

  “In that case, open it,” he said, stepping close.

  She pulled a little red pencil from the slot holding the notepad closed. The lid sprang open, revealing a thin stack of tiny pale-green pages about half the size of a business card. The top sheet was blank. Fate thumbed throu
gh them, ripping loose several pages in her hurry to find something, anything that would explain what she was doing there, and why.

  Finn cupped his hands over hers. “Whoa, lass. Careful there.”

  She watched the squares of paper fluttering on the wind through rising tears of anger and frustration. “The stupid thing’s useless.” Pulling her hands free, she slammed the notepad against the ground so hard it stood upright in the sand. She stormed off down the beach, but not before grinding it into the ground with her boot.

  She stopped at the water’s edge, staring at the ocean without seeing it. Why was this happening? Surely there was some reason. Or was it ridiculous to expect an explanation? No one ever spelled it out for Alice or any other fairy tale or comic book character that had ever tumbled, slipped or phased into some other world. They just accepted their lot and did what needed to be done, sometimes even having fun with it. So why wasn’t she welcoming this like an adventure in Wonderland? Why was she reacting as if she’d been dumped in Dante’s Inferno?

  Before she could answer the question, Finn walked up to her. She kept her gaze fixed on the seagulls diving into the water and coming up with silvery rewards.

  “Sorry for the big baby tantrum,” she murmured.

  “No harm done.”

  She turned to him, the warm wind whipping her unruly locks across her face. He reached out, slowly brushing her hair back. The sparkling ocean reflected in his eyes as his mouth parted with something unspoken. She waited, but he held her gaze without saying a word.

  Hot spots burned into her cheekbones. “I’m ready to behave now,” she blurted, when she caught herself leaning in toward his lips. “No need to worry about diving for cover every time we get bad news.”

  He smiled. “Best not to make promises you can’t keep. I’ve never known a fiery temper to go on holiday.”

  She stared at him open-mouthed.

  Laughing, he ducked away from her fist flying at his arm. By the time she’d chased him back over to the Book of Fables, she was laughing too. She rested her hands on her knees, catching her breath. When she straightened, he was holding the ornate notepad out to her.