“Yes, but we have worse trouble.”
Edmond looked back at Martin then followed his gaze downriver. The dragon hung there, silhouetted against the sky, its body arching up to charge forward as it caught sight of them. Its battle-torn wings spanned the whole width of the river, and its sleek body was taller than any warhorse, with a huge tail doubling its length. The ridge of spines crowning its head and the claws on each of its feet chilled Edmond’s blood. As it came closer, the sunlight glinted off a heavy gold chain encircling its neck.
With the predator tearing toward them, there was no time to wonder about the chain. Edmond let go of the rope and slid down the tree, crouching low to keep his balance. His weight kept him on course nearly to the bottom, where he fell off and plunged into the river.
Keeping his eyes tightly shut, he felt by the rush of water and bubbles next to him that Martin had fallen in beside him. Deciding it was safer to stay underwater, he swam as far as he could and surfaced only when his lungs screamed for air. Through the water streaming over his eyes, he could just see the enormous black dragon mounting the sky, preparing to plunge down in another attack. He dove again as deep as he could go, kicking furiously. Because dragons preferred the rocky desert lands on the borders of his own kingdom, he hoped the dragon couldn’t swim, but a splash in the water spurred him to keep kicking downwards.
Death awaited him on the surface, yet he had no choice but to come up for breath. The current dragged at his aching legs, but he kicked hard. His boots and sword were a hindrance, but he was glad not to have lost them.
When he finally broke the surface, his head banged into something and he reached up, groping for a handhold. He managed to grab a limb and pull himself up. Shaking his head to clear the dripping hair from his eyes, he saw that he had surfaced beneath a tangle of limbs and broken trees.
While pulling himself further into their shelter, he looked around for Martin and saw him upstream, clinging to a root on the bank. The dragon was swooping down toward him.
“Martin. Here!” Edmond cried out.
Martin turned sharply and saw him. He dove, but not deep enough. The dragon hit the water, claws extended, and caught him by one leg. It pulled Martin out of the river, streaming water behind as it flapped its wings hard, trying to gain altitude.
As Edmond’s heart lurched, Martin took a knife from his arm sheath and pulled his body forward with incredible strength to stab at the dragon’s leg, piercing between scales. With a scream of pain the dragon released him, and Martin fell into the water, landing on his back. He drew breath and dove again quickly.
Martin was underwater long enough to worry Edmond, but at last Martin’s head quietly broke the surface beside him under the branches. Neither spoke as they searched for the dragon. It shrieked and emerged from over the ridge that towered over the riverbank, then dove and skimmed the water, searching for them. It passed directly overhead and swooped into the sky again.
“It’s seen us,” Edmond said.
“Some of these branches extend beneath the water,” Martin said. “Use them to pull yourself down and stay submerged.”
With their lungs full of air, they held themselves under as the branches shook around them, churning the water into a whirl of bubbles and debris. Edmond feared their shelter would soon break apart.
When they were forced to come up to breathe, flames burned above them. Only the dampness of the wood saved them from emerging into an inferno.
Martin coughed in the smoky air, his chest heaving. “Where’s the dragon?”
Ducking underwater again, Edmond pulled himself through the tangle and emerged on the other side, ready to dive back under. But though he looked in all directions, he saw no sign of the dragon.
“It’s gone. Let’s move before it comes back.”
Martin joined him, and they maneuvered around the pile of debris until they could climb up the bank. Martin led the way along the base of the ridge, and soon they heard shouts and screams ahead. Running, they burst through a stand of trees and saw, across a narrow open field, the thorn-covered walls of the castle.
On the far side of the field, Prince Nicol and his men engaged in deadly battle against the dragon, their backs to the thorns, which burned with dark orange flames belching columns of smoke.
As Edmond and Martin took in the scene before them, the dragon swooped down and grabbed a man off his horse, crushing him in its terrible teeth. Having claimed its prize, the dragon flew away directly over their heads, so close that they dropped to the ground to avoid the spikes on its whipping tail and, looking up, they could see the sheen of the purple scales on its underbelly.
They stayed down until the dragon disappeared over the tree line, then stood up and faced five swords brandished by men with hard faces and steady hands.
Bleeding, wet, and exhausted, Edmond and Martin weighed this new threat.
“On the bright side, Your Highness,” Martin said, “we’ve found the castle.”
Chapter 5
NEVER HAD ARABELLA SO keenly felt the chains of her curse. Watching from the dream world, she was powerless to offer aid of any kind to the prince who had faced so many dangers on his way to her castle. His escape in the early dawn from White Thorn castle had taken her by surprise—not that he’d been able to evade the castle guards, but that Rhoswen had tried to hold him there.
As he travelled the forest and crossed the fens, anxiety had been her constant companion. He had fought his way past many dangers, but Arabella had seen several others which he managed to evade by sheer good fortune.
Now another prince had come as well, one she had often seen visiting Rhoswen of late. He had never come to Briar Fen before, and she wondered why he chose to now. But her attention was always drawn back to the first prince.
With all her heart Arabella wished that she could hear in the visions, for she burned with curiosity about the discussion he’d had with Lady Rhoswen. Her cousin’s attraction to him had been clear, but he had remained aloof, though he displayed the manners of court with perfection. He was young, but she saw the way the courtiers had eyed him with respect, as if drawn to his confidence. Even the thieves in the wood had shown him deference.
Now he was so very near, standing in the small field beyond the fortress of thorns. A gash on his head bled, the bright red blood diluted by the water streaming from his wet hair. He held himself with courage, but no man could go through what he had endured and not be exhausted. And he faced a foe of five with only one to stand beside him.
Lona, who had joined her in the dream, tried to comfort her with a touch, but her hand passed through Arabella’s arm. Nothing was real here. “Princess, have courage. He seems a valiant man. All is not lost.”
“Go to him. Save him.”
“I will stand ready should he need me.” Lona turned, and her figure shimmered until it disappeared.
Arabella watched the scene below. The five men moved steadily to form a circle around the two, four of them on foot, the prince remaining on his horse. Words were exchanged between them, and she longed to hear what they were saying. It could not have been anything peaceful, for in the next instant the battle commenced.
With sword and knife at the ready, Edmond stood with Martin, their backs together as their foes advanced. From their years of training, Edmond and Martin fought well together, but they were outnumbered. Before Edmond swung his sword to counter a heavy blow aimed at him, there was a guttural cry a short distance behind as one of Martin’s throwing knives found its mark.
Martin would need room to avoid his next opponent, so Edmond advanced on his own foe, forcing him to fall back under a rapid series of thrusts and cuts. Wary of exposing his back to one of the two other men, Edmond darted to the left and turned so that his back was to the wall of thorns. Then, as his opponent thrust toward him, Edmond swung his own weapon. Their blades met, vibrating with the force of the clash. Edmond’s timing and angle gave him the upper hand, and he drove his opponent’s sword to the groun
d. He stepped on the blade and stabbed his knife into the man’s shoulder, rendering his arm useless. The man dropped to his knees but staggered up again to run away.
Edmond looked for Martin and saw that he had the third man on the ground beneath him. Martin would finish that one off soon, but they still had two men to defeat. Expecting to face them both in a joint attack, Edmond was surprised when only one advanced on him.
Prince Nicol stayed well back on his horse, awaiting the outcome of the battle.
“Run away and live,” Edmond offered his new opponent.
“Heed your own advice. You are nearly spent, and I am fresh.”
The man mocked him, but Edmond did not answer. Instead, he swung his sword and, edge striking edge, the steel sparked. Edmond slid his sword forward, keeping pressure on the other weapon until the hilts touched. At this close range, Edmond hooked a foot sharply into the man’s ankle, throwing his balance backwards. In that second, knowing his opponent’s weight to be on the wrong foot, Edmond lifted his sword and drew back for power. He cut down, slicing into the man’s arm and severing the flesh to the bone.
With a rapid step, Edmond withdrew. “I offer again to let you run away.”
The man roared and charged at Edmond, who spun away and twisted his blade so that the broad side of it hit the man in the back and sent him crashing to the ground. A simple rotation of his grip on the hilt, and Edmond drove the point of his sword into the back of the man’s shoulder, between the neck and shoulder blade.
“Run before I cut off your legs and leave you for the dragon.”
Sure that the prince would be upon him or Martin at any moment, Edmond left the wounded man on the ground and turned to face his last adversary. However, he caught only a glimpse of the other prince as his horse disappeared into the trees.
Martin ran up beside him, breathing hard but perfectly well. He waved at the thorns and said, “We need to find a way through here.”
They walked along the thorn wall in search of a place where the thorns might be less dense, but there was none. Even where the thorns had been charred black by the dragon’s fire, new branches sprouted before the men’s eyes.
With Martin standing guard, Edmond took out his sword and hacked at the briars. Though his sharp blade cut through the branches, they were so dense and interwoven that making any opening was difficult. Even with his hard leather gauntlets it was dangerous to push them out of the way.
After cutting at them until his face gleamed with sweat and he could barely swing his arm, he’d managed to push deep into the thorns. Just as he clenched his teeth and raised his sword again, Martin shouted a warning. “Run, Prince Edmond! They are cutting you off.”
Edmond turned and saw that the vines were indeed growing quickly, closing together behind him. He would soon be trapped and likely killed by barbs as long as his hand. With room enough still to swing his sword, he cut his way through; but by the time Martin helped to drag him out, there were dozens of thorns embedded in his leather jerkin and a long gash crossed his cheek.
“It’s impossible,” Martin said.
But Edmond was set on completing his quest. He had fought too hard to walk away now.
A shriek that had become all too familiar pierced the sky high above them. Shading their eyes, they looked up to see the dragon, its massive wings spread, gliding across the blue expanse.
“Is it possible that thing knows to guard the castle?” Edmond asked with imperturbable calm.
“Likely, I’d say, though it must be compelled to do so through magic,” Martin replied. “Whatever its aim, we are at its mercy. There’s nowhere to hide.”
The crackle and rustle of scraping branches sounded behind them, and they turned to see the thorns curling back on themselves, creating a clear path.
“Come on,” Edmond said without hesitation. It might be a trap, but it was their only chance. He grabbed Martin’s arm and pulled him into the opening. Seeing the way clear before them, they ran.
The thorns closed in behind them and wove more tightly together overhead, shielding them from the sky but keeping well clear of their bodies. Edmond realized they were running over the rotten wood of a drawbridge, and then their path opened into a courtyard. Their feet skidded on loose rubble as they halted abruptly and looked around.
In front of them stood a young woman with masses of curly brown hair as tangled and wild as the thorns around them. She wore a tattered gown and a triumphant expression. Her eyes were slanted and her cheekbones sharp and thin, betraying her fey origins, as did the knobby white wand in her hand.
Still staring at her, Edmond and Martin failed to see that the thorns were closing in behind them until they felt points as sharp as needles dig into their backs. They jerked away and ran forward.
“Stop!” the woman cried.
They could not stop, however, or they would be impaled.
“Oh, you vexatious things,” the woman said in a roar of anger. With a wave of her arm she sent an arc of blue light toward the thorns. The light buzzed briefly, and then the thorns drooped.
Martin checked the wounds in his side and back as best he could, but Edmond stared steadily at the fairy before him. “Thank you for saving us,” he said. He bowed, unsure what the protocol was for meeting a fairy but not wanting to be disrespectful.
“Thank Arabella. She told me to save you.”
“The princess?”
“Of course, you slug-footed luggard. Who else?”
“Pardon my ignorance. I didn’t know she was awake.”
“Of course she’s not, you blithering fool. Do you think I would have brought you in here if she was?”
On these words, the fairy turned and strode forward without an invitation to follow her. Edmond hesitated to go through the dark arch of a doorway nearby, but a shriek overhead reminded him that he was standing in the open.
“Hurry, Martin.”
“But she’s raving mad.”
“Clearly, but I do not think she means us harm.”
“Come along,” the fairy called back, motioning with her hand. The two men fell into step behind her. “You must see the beauty you seek.”
With a heavy thud of his heart, Edmond realized that the moment he’d been waiting for his whole life now lay before him.
Chapter 6
THE FAIRY WOMAN LED the way up a dark and twisted stairway to the top of a tower. The men followed, and though Edmond’s legs felt heavy and his wounds throbbed, his heart pounded with anticipation. He knew it was an odd reaction, considering his years of resentment and cynicism, and yet there was magic here. He could feel it.
Realizing that the woman was mumbling, he tried to catch her words but failed. Then, as they passed through another arched doorway into a dim chamber, he forgot about her entirely.
Thorns grew through the window and through cracks in the walls and holes in the roof, winding around the room. Though the thorns outside had been bare, here they were covered in bright green leaves and blooming roses of every color. A shaft of light from a small window stretched across the floor and up onto a velvet-covered bed, illuminating two dainty, slipper-covered feet and a royal blue gown. Two white hands clasped at the waist of a bodice embroidered with gold, and there, just at the trailing, dimming edge of light, was the most entrancing face Edmond had ever beheld or dreamed of.
Her skin was fair but tinged with a healthy, vibrant flush. Dark, curling lashes rested upon her pink cheeks, and her bosom rose and fell with gentle breaths. She looked as if the slightest noise would disturb her. Her eyes were poised to flutter open, and the curve of her lips promised a waiting smile. Framing her face, long golden curls were carefully arranged over her shoulders, glinting in the light.
“Good heavens,” Edmond breathed. Unconsciously he stepped forward to study her more closely.
“If you kiss her, I’ll ram you down that dragon’s throat myself.”
Made aware of his companions again, Edmond straightened and stepped back but did not look
away. “I thought kissing her was rather necessary.”
“Not until you fall in love.”
“Love?” Edmond asked, turning now to face the fairy woman. “What are the chances of true love between any two people? And to make it more unlikely still, she is asleep.”
The woman just looked at him.
“What if the legend is wrong?” he asked.
“It isn’t wrong. I did the spell myself.”
“Really?” Edmond asked, raising an eyebrow. “And you called me a blithering fool.”
Her face soured. Her lips moved as she ground her teeth, and her wand shook at her side. “Of course it was foolish!” she burst out. “If that silly, romantic blossom-eater with a mouth wider than her ears hadn’t been talking behind me, it never would have come out that way.”
Wanting more and more to know the whole story, Edmond said, “I think it is time for some introductions. Then perhaps we can figure the rest of this out. I am Prince Edmond of Stone Haven, second son of King Osden. And this is Martin.”
The fairy curtsied. “Prince Edmond, may I present Her Royal Highness and future Queen of Timber Vale, Princess Arabella. Princess, may I present Prince Edmond.” This was all done with a courtly grace that belied the fact that he was being introduced to an unconscious body. Then, leaning toward him, Lona whispered. “She cannot see you when you are in this room with her, but she can hear you.”
Try as he might, Edmond could make no sense of this, but he responded politely though awkwardly, “I am pleased to meet you, Your Highness. This is Martin, a man of your own country. I apologize for our intrusion here.”
“You don’t need to apologize. She told me you were coming days ago.”
Edmond glanced between the fairy’s scowling face and the still face below them. “So you talk to her?”
The fairy huffed. “Arabella, I think he might be dimwitted. He’s handsome as a devil and seems a good man in a fight, but he’s as dim as the night is long.” She faced the princess as she spoke then turned back to Edmond. “Of course I do. And you’ll have to talk to her as well. Her life depends on you, doesn’t it?”
Five Magic Spindles: A Collection of Sleeping Beauty Stories Page 27
