Ride the Wind: A Flipped Fairy Tale (Flipped Fairy Tales Book 3)

by Starla Huchton

  She gave no reply.

  I sighed. “Very well. I’ll see to my next task, shall I?”

  Shuffling into the hall, I found the kitchen door ajar. As before, new items awaited me: written instructions for a tea I was to drink on an empty stomach and follow with a visit to the sauna and a bath.

  A bath? Apparently the scent I carried after days of elk-transport and care, topped with fever sweats, was off-putting to whoever took care of things as I slept. However, I did agree such a thing would likely do wonders for helping me feel normal again. And as the elk had directed me there, I assumed my first task was to take care of myself.

  The tea was a bitter brew of seven different herbs and flowers, with the juice of a carrion berry added for extra disgust. Carrion berries were notoriously foul-smelling, but incredibly purifying for those touched by poisons and toxins. My sister Hanna had terrible reactions to poison ivy, and my mother always kept carrion berries on hand for creating poultices and teas for her. Regardless of its efficacy, little outside of actual rotting flesh smelled worse.

  After enduring the stench as it brewed and chugging the mug’s contents as quickly as I could, I made my way to the sauna. The steam set to work the moment I poured a ladle of water over the hot coals, the poison from the salutaris rose seeping from my skin with a heady, floral scent. After a quarter hour, I stepped into the adjoining room. A space carved from solid stone awaited me on the other side of the door. A crystal clear pool fed by a slow spring comprised the entire far side, making it the only place that felt contained by a mountain. The water splashed in gentle swirls around my ankles as I took the steps into the pool. With a deep breath, I plunged into the chilly water, letting it wash away the impurities. As I settled to the bottom, I jerked. Something brushed against the back of my leg. I searched the clear water for any sign of movement, but found nothing to warrant my fears. Still, it was unsettling enough to drive me back to the stone steps. A small shelf provided me with soap to cleanse myself, but I hurried through the ablutions. Perhaps the contact had been my imagination, a lingering hallucination from the salutaris poison, but I had no desire to risk it. I took a towel from the wall and wrapped it around myself, intending to use my spare clothes as I washed the others, but found them gone when I returned to the sauna. Even searching under the benches produced nothing. Not so much as a sock remained of what I’d come in with.

  Irate over the theft, I stormed out of the sauna and down the hall to confront the elk.

  “What’s happened to my clothes?” I demanded when her head lifted in surprise.

  Her eyes went wide, blinking at me.

  I crossed my arms and stared her down. “Unless you intend for me to walk the halls this way, which might make getting you back on your feet near to impossible, I need my clothes back.”

  She tilted her head to one side, an almost mischievous gleam in her eye. For a moment, it looked like she might be considering my threat as a viable option, which did nothing to ease my irritation. But she blew a breath out of the side of her mouth, opening my bedroom door. With a frown, I tromped away to see what new ridiculousness I’d encounter in the confounding house.

  Directly across from the door, the wardrobe sat open. Numerous items of clothing hung inside, none of it anything like what I was used to wearing. The trousers were all of a thin material, shockingly soft, with a watery, iridescent sheen to it. I did find one pair that was made of familiar linen, but I grumbled about their impractical nature. Such things might be meant for kings or lords, but wouldn’t stand up to the harsh mountain winter. Nevertheless, I put them on and pulled out a tunic as well, though the deep cut of the front was uncomfortably revealing for my tastes. Dressed, I turned from the wardrobe back towards the doorway.

  Stunned, I found myself staring back at me, a reflection from the mirror in the other room. More than a little embarrassed, I ducked out of sight to sit on the bed. It was strange I should feel that way. After all, what were the eyes of an animal to me? Even more, what care would a spirit have over seeing me undressed? After mulling it over a moment or two, I decided it was all to do with the elk’s eyes. They held intelligence, and her personality was undeniable. I reasoned it was that and nothing more that caused my concern.

  My last additions to my clothing were comfortable socks and a new pair of boots. Though I was still worn down from my battle with the salutaris poison, there were many things I needed to do.

  The first thing on my list was checking on the progress of the elk’s wounds. I returned to the animal, intending to ask about it, but the creature looked to be asleep, her eyes shut tight.

  Perhaps a little too tight.

  Worried, I knelt beside the bed to get a closer look. The bandages looked clean and freshly changed, and there was no smell to indicate an infection. The elk’s breathing was a bit faster than I thought it should be, which could’ve been because of any pain it endured.

  Deciding to risk it, I smoothed the hair atop its head, back behind its ears. She instantly stilled, her breath held.

  “If I’m to be of any help to you, perhaps it’s time we make peace, don’t you think?”

  Her eyes remained firmly closed.

  “If you’re in pain, let me do what I can to ease that.”

  She shifted slightly, though not to indicate her feelings on it one way or the other.

  “I think it might be best if I avoid the roses for a while, but a menras grass paste would still help some.” I pulled my hand away and stood. “I’ve not eaten yet, but I’ll see to that quickly enough. I’ll return with the paste and bandages in a bit, and we can discuss a few other things I’d like to do to make your recovery easier on both of us. Should I bring water and food for you as well?”

  At last, I was graced with a reply. A soft “no” whispered across my cheek. I found it curious she’d not even be thirsty, but at least we were moving beyond simple grunts and slamming doors. As it didn’t seem that any more was forthcoming, I nodded and saw myself out. The moment I was clear of the doorway, however, I heard the quietest giggling from her room. Really, it was the only way to describe the short, squeaky barks. Did elks know how to laugh? As she seemed to have sarcasm mastered, it probably wasn’t out of the question. Sighing to myself, I shook it off and went about my business. There was much to do.

  * * * * *

  Tray in hand, I paused when I left the kitchen. As I entered the hallway, I caught sight of the library, the book I’d been reading still sitting on the little table beside the leather chair. It occurred to me that if I honestly intended to earn the elk’s good graces, rather than endure her constant scorn, I should make an attempt to be less harsh with her, also. She might not find the source material interesting, but I was certainly curious about the pages I’d found the other night. With that in mind, I collected the book and returned to the elk’s bedside.

  “Here we are then,” I said as I set everything down on the nightstand. “May I?”

  The elk leaned away from me, bandaged leg extended in front of her. Gently, I untied the wrapping to inspect what was left of her injuries. What I found stunned me. The damaged flesh was completely healed, white fur already sprouting from the bare patches. What little bruising remained was barely visible.

  “Spirits, how long was I unconscious?”

  “Three days…” came the breezy answer.

  I stared at her in disbelief. “Three days? This much healed in so short a time?”

  “Flesh only…”

  Her wispy replies weren’t as shocking as they’d first been, though I’d had so little of them it sounded strange to say I was getting used to them. “This is the power of the salutaris rose, then? It quickly mends the soft tissue, but has no effect on bone?”

  Her head dipped slightly in a nod.

  I crossed my arms and considered it. “Well, that solves one problem. I should be able to splint it without risking infection. I’m not sure the menras grass paste will be of much use in its current form. You’d be better off
chewing it or, if you were human, I’d suggest a tea. There’s more in the garden, and I could fetch it if you like.”

  She huffed a little and laid her head down, looking cross.

  “So that’s a no, then?”

  The silence continued.

  Studying her, I realized that, were I in her position, without so much as hands to write with or hold a book or occupy me in any way, I’d likely have been as irritable and bored as she was. I eased onto the bed and tried to smile in empathy, but a single raised brow was my only response.

  “I have plans, you know, to get you out of bed.”

  She looked away.

  Disregarding her foul mood, I continued. “First, I’ll have a look around for any tools that might come in handy. Once I have the materials, I can make a brace for your leg. When that’s done, I’ve got another idea that might take more time, but it’ll get you mobile again while you heal.”

  She sighed.

  “Not even a little curious about what that might be?” I paused, but got no response. “I’ll surprise you with it then.”

  Leaning over, I grabbed the book from the nightstand. “I found this the other night. I’d started reading it, but the poison got the better of me before I got very far.” Turning the cover out to her, I looked for any sign of recognition, but she barely glanced at it. “I was reminded of the dragon on the door and thought I’d take a look at it. I found one like it in the pages. Would you like me to read to you for a while? Perhaps we’ll both learn something by it.”

  As she neither argued nor expressed enthusiasm, I proceeded as planned. I pulled a chair out from by the wall and sat, removed my boots, and propped my feet on the lower half of the bed.

  “I skimmed the beginning…” I began.

  “Looking for pictures?”

  I grimaced at her. “Very funny. I do read, you know. My mother insisted on teaching me. It’s a good thing for you, or I’d not have been able to read the instructions for the remedies left in the kitchen. Are you finished interrupting?”

  She snorted.

  “Good,” I said. “Now, I skimmed the beginning to get a feel for the text, but what caught my interest…” I flipped through to the page I remembered and stopped at the illustration of the green-eyed, serpent-like dragon. “Was this one.”

  Turning the pages to face her, I watched her expression for any change. Her eyes roamed the picture, taking in every detail.

  “You recognize it as well, then?”

  Her eyes lifted to me, possible interest in her gaze.

  “This was what I was going to read before I fell sick. Would you like me to read aloud? It would at least be a way for you to pass the time.” I smirked. “Unless you’d rather sulk in endless silence. I’m happy to accommodate either way.”

  Along with her sigh, a gentle wind flipped the page to the text.

  After clearing my throat, I started to read.

  “Section Five, Dragons of Qilong and the Southeastern Isles. By far the most intelligent of the draconis species, dragons from these regions are less physically imposing, but potentially more deadly. Their cousins in the west are larger and more prone to violence, but the cunning and wit and considerable magical talents of eastern dragons make them especially dangerous to humans. Dragons of this nature must be treated with the utmost respect. Temples and shrines have been erected all over the massive kingdom of Qilong to provide places for sacrificial offerings, worship, and to seek council from the wiser, more peaceful of these beings. Be advised, even the kindest of eastern dragons will attempt trickery if the supplicant has something which they greatly desire. One trait that carries through all draconis types is greed, though their particulars vary in what they seek most of all. In eastern dragons, unlike the gold-hoarding western types, magical items with great power are immensely treasured. Thus, if one intends to seek a favor from an eastern dragon, an offering of a magical item is most likely to earn a return reward. The dragonborn that have confided in outsiders about their parentage report great treasure troves of…”

  I stopped and reread the last sentence. “Dragonborn? Is that something other than draconis?”

  “Half human…” she breathed in my ear.

  Staring at her, I could hardly believe such a thing existed. “Half human, half… dragon?”

  The elk nodded.

  Rubbing a hand across my mouth, I considered the idea. “Then, somewhere along the line, humans and dragons have had children together? How is such a thing… that is, why would either…” My face heated, embarrassed by both the subject matter and my ignorance. “Why would either species choose such a pairing?”

  “Dragons change…”

  “You mean, they can take a human form?” I shook my head to clear it. “That must be a very powerful love, to drive one creature to change its very shape for another. I can’t fathom such a thing.”

  With a great gust, the book blew from my hands, flying out into the hall. Startled, I toppled backwards onto the floor, my head hitting with a painful thunk.

  “Spirits take you,” I growled as I got to my feet. “What was that for?”

  Rather than answer, she only glared at me.

  Picking up the chair, I all but threw it up against the wall. “Then I’ll leave Her Highness to her silence again. Perhaps a nap will improve your mood.”

  Storming out, I slammed the door behind me. So much for kindness. Perhaps it was better if I stuck to healing duties and left the rest to whatever companions lurked in the house at night.

  Chapter 5

  After an hour or two of gathering materials and cobbling together a splint to prevent movement in the elk’s broken foreleg, I returned to her bedside. I tightened the leather thongs around the four thick braces on each side of her leg, then stepped back to admire my handiwork.

  “That should do it,” I said and started to go. “If Her Majesty has any other needs—”

  The door to the hall slammed shut in my face before I reached the exit. After a few calming breaths, I turned around to face her.

  “Was there something I missed?” I crossed my arms and scowled at her. I wanted to do more reading before I slept, and had no desire to spend more time with an ungrateful, moody beast.

  “A different book. No dragons…”

  “And face another round of your abuse? You’ll excuse me if I’d rather not.”

  She laid her head down and stared at the floor. “Not my wish to hurt you…”

  “Where I come from, my people aren’t much for forgiveness or second chances,” I said. “We depend on one another to survive. Trust lost is not easily regained.”

  “Please…”

  The one word carried the strain of a desperate plea. The elk’s eyes were pinched so tight, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for it. Her deep need for forgiveness surprised me. What care did a spirit have for the opinion of a human?

  I wrestled with myself for several moments. I’d not tolerate mistreatment, but there were more mysteries surrounding the creature than I could guess at. It wasn’t out of the question that there was more to her temper than a simple dislike for me.

  “If my lady doesn’t care for my last choice, what would you rather have?”

  She released a long-held breath and glanced up at me. “An adventure…”

  The door swung open behind me, and I headed for the library without further discussion. There were so many books, it took me a long while before I settled on one. The title Torrin and the Kingdom of Mer seemed obvious enough to be fiction. I scanned the first few pages to be sure, then returned to the elk. Hand resting on the chair I’d used before, I debated the wisdom in sitting there a second time. Not willing to risk another fall, I sat with my back to the wall and settled in to read.

  The tale started as many I’d heard before. A young man, born and raised at the edges of the sea, daydreamed about someday traveling the world. Every day, he watched the boats go in and out of the harbor, carrying passengers or cargo to kingdoms far away. Torrin swa
m whenever the weather allowed, each time pushing out a little farther, reaching that much closer to the lands he dreamt about. He listened to sailors spin tales of adventure on the high seas, of monsters, and pirates, and treasures, but his parents refused him any requests to set so much as a toe upon a boat.

  “You must stay to the shore,” I read, “for too many of our family have met their end at the hand of angry waves.”

  Torrin would sigh and resign himself to staying put, but his dreams remained with him. They nagged at him, teasing his imagination every day. One evening, as he watched the sun dip below the horizon, an old man found him at the docks. They spoke for a while, the old man learning of Torrin’s desire to set sail, and he offered the younger one a choice.

  “Lad, life will not wait for men to live it,” I read in a deep, scratchy voice. “A world you cannot guess at in your fantasies awaits. Only we have the power to take those first steps.”

  When the old man offered Torrin passage aboard his ship, to work as a deck hand, Torrin could refuse his dreams no longer. Before dawn’s first light, he crept from bed and into the streets, reporting to the old man aboard the largest fishing boat he’d ever seen. The anchor was raised, the sails unfurled, and off he went with the salty wind in his hair.

  A week from home, Torrin began to doubt the tall tales he’d been told all those years. Ship life had been little more than mopping and scullery duty and days of nausea before he got used to the constant motion of the vessel. One sleepless night, as he lay awake rethinking his decision to leave home, a sudden squall stirred up the seas, tossing all aboard into a flurry of activity. Torrin rushed topside to aid the captain, but froze when he saw the way the old man looked at him.

  “Welcome home, traitor,” I growled. “Your kin await you!”

  The captain grabbed Torrin by the shirt, flinging him over the side into the ragged waves below. Torrin flailed, struggling to keep his head above the water, but the wind and choppy brine overcame him, and he sunk below the surface.