Fabled

by Vanessa K. Eccles

  After bathing, I went straight to the guest room and shut the door. I didn’t want to do anything but be alone with my desperate thoughts, and Chester obviously wasn’t going to answer any of my questions about this place. After about an hour of tears, my thoughts trailed into a dream.

  Chapter 3

  I awoke to the same cool darkness I went to sleep to. I heard rustling in the kitchen and smelled something cooking. I saw my costume neatly hanging on the doorknob. I got dressed and made my way to the front of the house.

  “Morning to you,” Chester said with a much more chipper demeanor than the night before.

  “Good morning,” I responded.

  “Porridge and joe, okay?”

  “Sure.” I had never tried porridge, had not even known that real people actually ate porridge, only Goldilocks and a couple of bears. I was starving, so it didn’t much matter. I took the only chair at the small wooden table while he served the slop to me in a hand-carved bowl and poured me a large cup of black coffee.

  Chester ate his breakfast over the sink. Noticing me stare, he slung his light brown hair out of his dark eyes. He had soft features, tan skin, and was a muscular build. He looked different somehow in the morning’s light — less intimidating.

  Neither of us said anything to each other until we were done.

  I cleared my plate and began to wash dishes — a reflex from home. It was nearly impossible to get Lil to do anything; it had always been easier to just do it myself.

  “Leave it,” he said.

  I hesitated but didn’t object. He motioned for me to follow him into the living room; I did. I sat in the rocking chair, and he in front of me sat in a tufted wing-backed chair.

  “I understand you have questions?” he asked.

  “I have so many. I hardly know where to begin.”

  “Start with one.” He grinned.

  “Okay. How did I get here?” I fixed my eyes on him, hoping not to miss a word.

  “There are chasm portals located strategically throughout the world, only a few exist anymore. Many, many years ago the chasms were locked, and the two worlds were separated. Now, only few people know of the portals and even they aren’t necessarily allowed through. I have long suspected that the portals are programed to only accept certain people. They’re encoded, if you will.”

  “What do you mean ‘certain people’? Why would it choose me?”

  “I haven’t any idea.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t expect you would. It’s complicated. Look at it as two nations divided by land (the ground). Mezzanine was damned to inhabit the underbelly of earth, and the other nation, we call Terra (where you came from) has simply forgotten about us over time and reduced us to myth.”

  “When did the boarding up happen?”

  “I believe it was the Middle Ages of Terra’s time?”

  “Terra’s time? What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, we don’t live in the realm of time. There is no time here. People here neither age nor die. There is no birth. Most people have always been here, and the only way their lives change is through the occasional shift in feudal power.”

  “Feudal power?”

  “Yes. Mezzanine serves under a feudal system. The royals are the absolute power, and everyone else serves their desires.”

  “Wait. How old are you?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  He laughed, and for the first time, I realized he was sort of handsome when he smiled. “We’re ageless, remember?”

  “That’s… amazing. I just can’t believe it.” I glared out the window that was to my right. The dim light shined through the rippled panes. “If we’re underground, how does the weather work? I mean, do you have a sun?”

  “Something of the sorts,” he explained. “We have a star that shines during what you would consider daytime, and we have two moons at night.” I remembered noticing the moons last night, but due to the shock, I hardly noted them.

  “This is really a whole other world, isn’t it?” Somewhere deep down in the pit of my stomach, I knew that everything he was saying was true, which absolutely terrified me.

  “Yes, and there are a few important things you’ll need to know to survive in it.” His voice turned serious, and he began to appear anxious.

  “Tell me.”

  “Magic exists here. I’m sure you’ve heard of it and probably have some distorted idealistic view of what it is, but it’s dangerous. Everyone in Mezzanine has a gift, a somewhat protection from magic, but only the royals have the gift of magic.”

  “How can magic be dangerous if there is no way to be hurt here?”

  “I didn’t say that one couldn’t be hurt. I said that one couldn’t die. There’s a difference. People can be turned into trees, beasts, and inanimate objects. Each of them bound in the curse of magic. The only people who have remained are the ones who conform to the laws of whichever royal family is in charge at the time, or the ones who have learned to use their giftings well.”

  I sat back and rocked for a moment trying to make sense of this new world that I found myself in. My eyes darted around the room as a slight sense of panic rose up inside me.

  “And you’re sure that no one can pass back over the portal?”

  His eyes darted to the floor, as if he felt sad for me. “I’ve never seen it done. Many people have tried, but they’ve all failed.”

  “How have they tried?”

  “Mostly through magic, but because the portals are seemingly selective, magic never works.”

  My heart sank again. I longed for my family and for Dashielle.

  “I have to get back. Please take me to the mirror I came through last night.”

  He reluctantly agreed, and within minutes, we were walking silently down the same path we took the night before. The sun, or whatever they called it, hung lower than ours, but it did not give off very much light. Everything felt gloomy. The fog weaved in and out of the ancient trees, which made me momentarily lose sight of my guide.

  We passed a fox on the side of the road, and it eyed me. It didn’t run, like I’d expect a fox would in our world. Instead it looked like it was wondering what we were doing and who we were.

  “Alive, remember?” he whispered, obviously reading my expression.

  My heart fluttered at the thought. I sped up and tried not to look around, too much amazement for one day.

  I saw our misty images as we approached the end of the path. It caught me off guard, at first. The path and the forest’s reflection in the glass made it appear endless, but it was only an optical allusion caused by the mirrors.

  “This is the one,” he said, pointing at our images.

  I inspected it again. I walked from side to side, trying to figure out any way to open it. That’s when I noticed that there were mirrors on each side of it.

  “The entire forest is skirted in mirrors,” he remarked to my confusion.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “It’s like we’re being bounced off the other world — rejected.”

  I tried pulling its beveled edges to swing it like a door or remove it from its place, but nothing happened. The infinitely tall but three foot wide section of mirror was going nowhere. I kicked it in frustration.

  “Don’t do that!” Chester screamed.

  “I’ve got to get home!” Tears started to flow from my eyes at the thought of possibly never getting out.

  “Chester?” I called while sobbing. It took me a minute to clear my eyes before I realized he was gone.

  I called him again and again and remembered his gift of invisibility. “It’s not funny! I’m scared,” I finally admitted.

  “Aww… she’s scared,” an unfamiliar voice mocked. I heard multiple chuckles, and looked over my right shoulder to see two kids standing side-by-side grinning.

  “Who are you?” I questioned.

  “Who are you?” They mocked.

  I said nothing. Often silence is the best thing to say. They
glared at me. The children, probably ten or so, had the same identical bowl haircut. But one of them was a girl and the other a boy. They were dressed alike in what looked to me like traditional Scandinavian dress complete with wooden shoes.

  “Come along,” the girl’s squeaky voice said as she started down a trail opposite of where Chester and I came.

  I, of course, had no intention of following her. Something about them creeped me out. They were tiny, yes, but their eyes pierced the soul. The boy must have sensed my reluctance because he rushed towards me and clamped something down on my wrist. He yanked my other arm around, and before I could think to resist, I was bound tightly. My arms lay in front of me with something black holding them together. It didn’t take but a moment to realize that whatever that was binding me was also moving. I screamed.

  “Don’t you worry, Miss. He won’t bite unless instructed, and I won’t have him harm you unless you give us trouble. You won’t do that, will you? You’ll be a good girl, eh?” he said with a squeaky, eerily innocent voice. He gave me a quick nod of his head and led me down the trail after his sister. I saw that the “him” he was referring to was a snake. His head rested threateningly on the inside of my wrist.

  Where did Chester go? Was he watching out there somewhere? What is happening? Confusion swept over me, and I began to silently panic. My heart and mind raced. How am I going to get away? What are they going to do with me?

  We soon turned down a path that led to what reminded me of a gingerbread house. It looked vastly different than Chester’s home. It had a rounded door with a small crescent window in the middle. The children opened the door to a charming cottage with doily-ridden furniture, woven rugs, and a cozy fire that cast a warm glow amongst the room.

  The girl sat me gently on the couch. The boy closed the door behind us. I was surprised to see the three heavy-duty locks that graced the inside of the door. He pulled out a large skeleton key and locked each of them, then returned the key to his pocket, but I realized that neither of them had unlocked the door when we came in. The locks were to keep people in not out. The familiar butterfly that dwelled in my stomach scurried at the thought.

  The girl returned and tapped the snake, which instantly released its hold. It slithered to the boy and found its way back into his pocket. I sat there in silence with the gut feeling that something really bad was about to happen.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  I didn’t answer.

  “Oh my! Where are our manners?” she said while glancing back at the boy. He shrugged.

  “I’m Greta, and this is Hans. It’s nice to meet you.” She smiled and sat down next to me.

  The strangeness of being abducted and now being treated as their guest struck me as borderline psychotic, but playing nice had always worked for me. Besides, it wasn’t like I had any other options.

  “I’m Rowena,” I said in almost a whisper, afraid to unbalance the already unstable atmosphere of our capturer/prisoner relationship.

  “Well, that’s a right jolly name. Isn’t it, Hans?”

  He shrugged.

  Boy of few words, huh?

  “Thank you.” The already small room was starting to feel more confining. They looked like children, but they spoke and carried themselves as adults. Chester had said that people here were ageless, I reasoned.

  “We have muffins baking in the kitchen. I’ll bring you one and some tea in a moment. Make yourself comfortable.” She scurried out of the room and left me with Hans. He stared at me like I was about to attack. His muscles flinched. He tried to give off a stern demeanor, but his ten-year-old features crippled his style.

  I stared at the fire watching every flicker while trying to avoid the wincing of Hans’ preadolescent muscles. The embers glowed and the flames danced among the brick fireplace encasing. Within moments, Greta returned with a muffin the size of the entire plate. She sat it in my lap and placed the tea on a doily coaster on the coffee table.

  I ate. That was something that my mother always harped on. My sister and I were to eat anything that was set before us when we were company at someone else’s home. “Good manners,” she’d say. Luckily for me, though, it was amazing. Best banana nut muffin I had ever tasted; although, that was admittedly few since I didn’t normally like banana nut. I nervously drank my tea and scarfed down the muffin within minutes. It was strange watching Greta and Hans sip their tea like grown-ups.

  “Your home is lovely,” I said after drinking the Chamomile tea.

  Hans chuckled, and Greta gave him a fierce glance. He straightened his back, cleared his throat, and resumed his previously dull face.

  “Thank you. It’s really a wonder that two small children can keep it up,” she said while looking around, as if mentally cataloging everything they had done in the past to the place.

  “But I thought that people here didn’t really age, so even though the two of you look young, you’re not really young.” The statement was more of a question.

  “Who told you that?” She sent a suspicious look my way but then decidedly dismissed it. “No. You’re right, but our physical abilities will never be equivalent to that of an adult.”

  I took note of this and considered my options of overpowering them. There were problems with that plan, though. What if Hans had the snake bite me, or what if I couldn’t get ahold of the keys to get out? I decided to continue to play nice.

  “Not like that has ever stopped us before.” Hans snickered. He pulled out a pocketknife from his back pocket and began to sharpen it with an instrument that sat on the end table.

  “Hush,” she instructed. “More tea?” she asked me politely. I nodded, and she returned to the kitchen.

  “She just doesn’t want you to know that this isn’t our house,” Hans whispered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, she feels lonely sometimes because we don’t get visitors like some folks, and uses the short time we have guests,” he cleared his throat, “to play house, so to speak.”

  “Whose house is this if it isn’t yours?”

  “It’s the old lady’s. Haven’t you heard the story?” He must have read my blank expression. “For heaven’s sake, where the hell have you been?”

  I again thought it best to say nothing.

  “The old lady is in the yard. Come here. I’ll show you.” We walked towards the window, and he pointed. “See her there?”

  All I saw was green grass, a sad-looking willow tree, the trail, and forest beyond that.

  “I don’t see anyone.”

  “That’s her. There,” he said pointing.

  “All I see is a tree.”

  He nodded his head.

  I looked at him. Our faces were close enough that I could feel his warm, steady breath. He wasn’t lying.

  “She’s the tree?” I managed to get out, remembering what Chester had said earlier.

  “Well, she was a mean old bat, for one. And for two, she abducted us and meant to turn us into food. But little did she know what tiny devils we were.” His grin curled on the edges of his lips, which sent a shiver of fear down my spine.

  I returned to the couch just as Greta joined us again with an ornate teapot. They reminded me of a children’s story, but it most definitely did not end the same. Greta must have sensed the tension in the air because she asked, “Is everything okay?”

  “Hans told me about the old lady.” My voice trailed to a whisper again, feeling more and more unsure about my abductors.

  “Hans, why do you insist on ruining all my fun?” Her bottom lip poked out, and she began to pout. Not that it bothered Hans, who seemed perfectly pleased with himself and her reaction. She reminded me of Lil when she was younger. She was the world’s worst pouter, still suffering bouts of it now.

  “Well, I suppose play time is over. I guess we might as well get on with it,” she mumbled in defeat.

  “Agreed,” said Hans.

  “Are y’all going to turn me into a tree too?”


  They laughed.

  “No, of course not, silly,” she said still giggling.

  “Are y’all royals?”

  “Well, well…haven’t you been doing your studies! It’s amazing how much someone can learn in one night. But no, we’re not royals. We’re soldiers. Contract kidnappers. They share just enough magic with us to get the job done,” she answered.

  “We fish ‘em; they scale ‘em.” Hans laughed.

  “Don’t be so grim, Hans. You’ll scare her,” she snapped and glanced back at me. “There’s no need to be afraid. We’re only taking you to Mr. and Mrs. Tresels. They’re good enough folk, better than most we deal with.”

  “What do they want with me?” My stomach fluttered.

  “They heard about your appearance in the forest last night from a little bird, and they have been searching for a maid for quite some time now and figured they’d better snatch you up before someone else did,” she answered.

  “I’m going to be their maid?” I shuddered.

  “Maid… servant, whatever,” Hans replied.

  Before I could ask another question, I began to feel incredibly tired. My limbs became as heavy as boulders, until I couldn’t hold them up anymore. I slouched onto the couch and struggled to keep eyes on my two captors.

  “Don’t fight it, Rowena. It’s going to be just fine. When you wake up, you’ll be at the Tresels’ home. I enjoyed our chat,” Greta’s voice trailed. The last thing I saw was Greta’s innocent-looking smile.

  Chapter 4

  I awoke to the smell of alcohol.

  “Wake up!” a young girl obnoxiously screamed.

  “Leave her alone. She’ll wake up when she’s good and ready,” another said.

  “Girls, quit it. Go on to your rooms,” an older woman’s voice commanded.

  I heard their footsteps trailing further and further away, but I still couldn’t focus my eyes on anything. The room spun; I spun. Drugged, I concluded. That overly-delicious muffin was poison, as all too good things are.

  When I finally convinced my eyes to settle on one object, I saw her. Her raven hair tied neatly into a high bun. Her royal blue dress looked like something out of the middle ages. This must be Mrs. Tresels.