Shards Of The Glass Slipper: Queen Alice

by Roy A. Mauritsen

  “I’m glad to hear you say that, Elizabeth,” Hamelin started to respond. “I feel the same way—”

  “Oh,” Elizabeth quickly got frustrated.” No, Hamelin this is the hard part,” she said. “Your broken flute that can only be heard by wolves? That means more to me than you know. I can hear that music, and maybe that should be telling us something. It should be telling you something,” she hinted, trying to tell him maybe without coming right out to say it.

  “Well, I have to admit. I like you too,” Hamelin said, sheepishly. “You have very good hearing? I’m not sure what you mean—”

  She looked at him. She felt disconnected as she slowly felt herself mouth the words and heard herself say those very important words. “I’m a werewolf,” she finally. “Oh, Hamelin, please,” she begged. “It doesn’t mean I’m a monster, I just... just turn into a wolf sometimes. I hope that doesn’t change your opinion of me. I’ve never had the courage to tell anyone that before; it’s the first time I’ve ever said it aloud myself.”

  Hamelin stared at her blankly, rubbing the hair on the back of his head as he let her words sink in, quietly contemplating the revelation. It felt like an uncomfortably long time for Elizabeth and as she pursed her lips to speak, to ask him to say something, Hamelin put the flute to his lips and played. To Elizabeth it was the most beautiful music she had heard.

  “And you can hear that?” Hamelin asked again.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s amazing!” He said as a grin washed over his face. “I‘ve never met anyone that can hear that part of my music. When I play it for animals, I know what I’m playing but I’ve never heard it myself.”

  “It sounds beautiful; you are a very talented piper,” Elizabeth replied as she could no longer hold back the large smile she had at Hamelin’s reaction. Elizabeth was quite relived.

  “So you’re a werewolf? That’s why you ran off before we got to Syrenka’s house. That’s why you were in Hansel and Gretel’s cage,” he asked trying to understand more. “I remember the first night we returned to the kingdom, Patience and I camped near the road, and I heard a wolf howling. It scared the willies out of me.”

  “That was probably me, caught in one of Hansel and Gretel’s traps,” Elizabeth admitted, suddenly embarrassed, she looked away and fidgeted with the edge of her cloak.

  Hamelin suddenly sensed Elizabeth was uncomfortable with his remarks. “Well, now that I have a face to go with the howling,” he said offering some consolation, “it doesn’t seem that bad now. But how did you get to be a werewolf?”

  “I’ve never told anyone, except for Goldenhair...” Elizabeth rolled up her sleeve, exposing her soft skin of her forearm. There was a faint U-shaped arc of puncture wound scars.

  “That’s the bite,” she said, excited to have a chance to talk about it with someone and happy that Hamelin didn’t scream or try to run away at the news, at least not yet. “I grew up in an isolated colony. As a child I didn’t know anything about it, but it was a werewolf colony, expansive enough to not notice the fences and as children we didn’t question our early bed time when the moon was full. As it turns out the werewolf change doesn’t take until children hit puberty. When I came of age as woman, my parents gave me this red cloak,” Elizabeth held up part of the cloak as she explained. “I think I was around thirteen at the time. For the first time I was allowed to travel to my Grandmother’s house on my own. I remember I was so happy that I was finally allowed to go on my own; that my parents trusted me to bring her a basket of food and herbs,” Elizabeth wistfully recalled. “I didn’t know it at the time but this cloak was ceremonial, a signal to my grandmother that I was ready to be bitten. She wasn’t my real grandmother— turns out she was every child’s grandmother in the colony; she was actually one of the tribal elders for the werewolves, and a Grand Carrier. To keep the colony under control, it was only her bite that transferred the lycanthropy, the werewolf disease. It doesn’t transfer subsequently from anyone that has been bitten. What I didn’t know was that the stuff in the basket were ingredients for a potion to create another Grand Carrier. Me. I had secretly been chosen to be the next Grand Carrier. Which I guess was a great honor for my parents. But seeing my grandmother transforming into a wolf for the first time, I freaked out and escaped. I got bitten in the process but I never completed the ceremony. I ran away from the colony that night, with only the clothes on my back and this red cloak, which I wear as a reminder. I’ve been wandering about for years, stealing what I could to survive, until Goldenhair found me. Because of her ability to commune with animals, like her bears, she’s been helping me to control the wolf aspect and started to help me understand my wolf side and to be better at controlling it. ”

  Hamelin had listened silently to Elizabeth’s story. A silence that proved difficult for Elizabeth to gauge.

  “Does it hurt when you change?” was the first thing he asked.

  Elizabeth suppressed a laugh despite herself. “No, I don’t really remember when it happens actually.”

  “And if you bite someone, they won’t turn into a werewolf?” he asked pointedly.

  “Hasn’t happened yet,” Elizabeth said confidently. “Only Grand Carriers can pass that along. I am not a carrier— never completed the ceremony… never took the potion,” she reassured him. “I’ve never told anyone else, until now. It’s a little frightening,” Elizabeth admitted. “Still, in a way it’s sort of liberating. Are you mad?” she asked.

  “Not at all,” he replied calmly and gave her a smile and a wink.

  “I’ll understand if that’s weird for you and you’d rather keep your distance. But I just thought you deserved to know.”

  “No, it’s not weird for me—” Hamelin started to say again.

  Elizabeth paused again. There was one other thing she had to tell Hamelin. “I’m leaving today, I can walk through the Bloodthorns, and they don’t bother me…”she said almost as an affirmation to herself. “I can’t stay, this isn’t my fight here. I’m going to Bremensport. Maybe if you can get out of here you will find me there.”

  There was a soft knock on the door. Elizabeth and Hamelin’s conversation abruptly ended as Patience pushed the door open.

  “I wanted to see how Hamelin was doing,” Patience said with a smile that hid her slight distraction by Elizabeth’s presence. “General White said the escape tunnel was ready. It’s in the cavern beneath the castle and anyone who wants to evacuate can go. But they are going to close it at sunset.”

  Elizabeth stood up to leave. “Even better—the tunnel,” she said. She leaned in and gave Hamelin a kiss on the cheek. Then Elizabeth whispered warmly in Hamelin’s ear, “If you want to go with me, I’ll wait for you at the tunnel. But I’m leaving tonight, with or without you. I’d prefer with you.”

  Patience gave the slightest scowl, looking at Elizabeth.

  “He’s doing better than I expected, Patience,” Elizabeth said as she slipped passed the young girl and into the hallway.

  Hamelin gave a smile and a reassuring wink at Patience. “How are you doin’, kiddo?” He asked.

  “Are you leaving the castle?” Patience bluntly questioned Hamelin as soon as Elizabeth had left.

  “I’m thinking about it,” he replied. “Wouldn’t you?”

  “I just got back home,” Patience tried to make herself sound happy about it, but the feeling quickly melted away. “It doesn’t really feel like the home I grew up in. I don’t know. It would be easier if you stayed.”

  “When I left Marchenton; when the Bloodthorns went up,” Hamelin began to explain. “I had saved one hundred and twenty-nine children, just using my music to keep them focused and calm. And then you showed up for the last wagon. You were different than the other children, I could tell. And it’s been about five years since that night. We’ve traveled outside of the kingdom finding new homes and places for all the children and finally now I’m down to the last one,” Hamelin looked at Patience. “And she’s the only one I was able to brin
g back home.”

  Patience’s eyes narrowed. “So I’m just another child to you?” She crossed her arms.

  Hamelin stood up slowly, gesturing with his hand as he steadied himself “Hold on, no,” he started. “But yes, sort of,” he winced as his headache seemed to magnify itself. “This isn’t my fight. I’m not even from Marchenton; just a musician passing through to the next gig. This is your castle and your home. You have a choice to stay here or to leave it.”

  “But it’s not my home, not anymore,” her voice rose in a frustrated volume.

  “But it’s not even a choice for me,” Hamelin countered. “I have to leave because this isn’t my home. I have to leave. But I will always remember you, Patience, and our time together, but I have to be on my way… on my own.”

  “You mean with Elizabeth?” Patience shot back curtly.

  Hamelin eyed the young girl silently; Patience’s accusing gaze did not break.

  “For the longest time while we were on the road,” Patience said, “I always thought it was my own idea to bring the shards back to Marchenton. And it made perfect sense to me to leave them at the grave of Queen Cinder’s mother. Then I learned that I was being magically manipulated by Fae Gaia to do that. I guess that makes me angry. Even though I thought I had control, I really didn’t. And now, I always thought that once I brought the glass slipper shards back, that everything would be better. That my life would go back to what it was. At least that’s what I hoped. But I still don’t have control over it. It’s not better. My mother is dead,” Patience said as her voice started to crack while she choked back tears. “The home here that I grew up in is not the same as it used to be and probably won’t be around much longer. I don’t feel anything. Except I feel like I should be more upset that my mother died. Or some form of anger, or an obligation to defend the castle. I just… don’t. Maybe it’s all bottled up too tightly,” tears sparkled in Patience’s eyes. “Is there anything that we truly do of our own will? Or is life just a series of reactions to a continual string of tragedies, and happiness is just a moment’s pause in between the next tragedy? I wish we could go back to when it was just the two of us traveling. That way, my mother would still be alive, and you would not have met Elizabeth. We wouldn’t have become involved in any of this... and it would be just you and I. Now, I don’t have anyone.”

  “That’s not true, you have new friends now. And you are the one who brought back the glass slipper shards,” Hamelin tried to reassure his young friend. “You’re more famous than I ever hoped to be playing my music. Look, you just can’t go back to the past. None of us can. Everything moves forward. A happily ever after is just another’s once upon a time. You have to hold on to the happy moments. They are what get you through the bad ones. It’s nice to remember the good times. But we can’t change what has happened; we can only change what can happen. There comes a time when a person has to stand on their own.”

  Hamelin gathered his jacket and his pipes. He dug about the pockets and pulled out a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “I’ve been writing our adventures down in a song. I finished this morning,” Hamelin said hoping to cheer the girl up. “Do you want to hear it?”

  “I’m not really in the mood to hear it,” Patience felt like crying.

  Hamelin folded the piece of paper up and handed it to her but Patience did not move to accept it. Hamelin suddenly felt hurt and stupid. Frustrated, he grabbed her small wrist in his hand and shoved the piece of paper into her grasp.

  “Maybe one day you will be,” His voice choked with frustration. Hamelin left the room, shoving past her, bristling and angry, leaving Patience alone by herself in the small guest room. Hamelin walked decisively down the hall. Throwing his coat on hastily, he ignored the pain from his injuries. He was too hurt and angry to see the broken-hearted young girl collapsing on the bed, still warm from his presence, sobbing uncontrollably.

  CHAPTER 36

  A CONSPIRACY OF ACES

  Marchenton, Present Day. En Route To Wonderland’s Army.

  Rabbit traveled quickly, much like he had done when he first arrived at the temple of An End World to make his way to the castle. Today the skies were clear and the sun was warm and he felt he was making good time. Rabbit had followed several horse tracks that had led away from the fire-ravaged farmhouse. The tracks were easy to follow. They had been shaped in the mud and hardened, indicating to an experienced tracker like Rabbit they were made at least a day earlier. By mid-afternoon, the White Rabbit had arrived at a clearing near the top of a forested ridge. His keen hearing and sense of smell had alerted him to the presence of two mounted riders approaching, but he recognized that these were from Wonderland’s army. Quietly, as only a rabbit could, he moved off the trail and hid unseen in the nearby tree line. Crouching down by a large mound of mossy dirt, he waited for them to appear. He noticed a small bowl and spoon on the ground nearby. Curious to find such things out here in the forest, he picked the bowl up, catching a faint but familiar scent, that of Patience Muffet.

  Ducking down, Rabbit positioned himself at a better vantage point and watched the riders approach. Even though they were obviously scouts from the Wonderland army, Rabbit did not want to be seen just yet.

  The scouts, dressed in typical riding armor with the designation of the Hearts Divisions, Seventh Rank cavalry, dismounted in the clearing. Their fast moving steeds settled quickly; the dodo mounts squatting down and resting on the cool dirt, offering each other soft coos and gurgles. These dodos were horse-sized, flightless birds, with long necks and thick heavy beaks covered in war paint. Their plumage brightly colored with a knot of white tail feathers, they were adorned with bright tacking and armor. Rabbit knew they were hardly the fat and clumsy birds one would normally think. Instead they were swift runners, with clawed feet that could disembowel an enemy on the battlefield, a bite could sever an arm and a heavy bulbous beak could break a man’s skull.

  Rabbit’s keen ears focused on the conversation the two scouts were having, as he slowly began to unwrap the bow and arrows he had taken from the rat guards earlier.

  “ … wagon tracks were also here,” said one of the scouts as he pointed to the dirt road. “There’s a pretty large, freshly broken branch there by the road, probably pulled down by horses. Look at these hoof prints. Looks like a lot of activity, judging by all the footwork.”

  The other scout approached the center of the clearing. “A bonfire here? Perhaps signaling to the castle there?” He pointed out over the ridge to the castle in the distance. The scout walked over to the edge of the ridge and looked down. “More Bloodthorns. This castle is surrounded by the thorny briar stuff. Looks like a scuffle here as well.”

  “Don’t get too close, Jenkins. I’m not saving you if you fall,” the other scout said, then gestured at the charred remains of the bonfire. “Maybe it was a cookout? Judging by the arrangement of logs... looks here, a bear skull? Did they cook a bear or something?”

  Jenkins stood by the ledge where the ridge dropped off and took a drink of water from a flask.

  “What do you make of this?”

  The other scout dragged a large charred husk from the bonfire’s ashen remains. A blackened form with gnarled, thick branches all curled tightly inward.

  “Tree stump with root system?” Jenkins offered.

  The first scout looked closer at the crispy shape. “What the snark? These aren’t roots; they’re legs. This is a spider! Big one too, quite cooked! What in Wonderland went on here?” He wondered.

  “Yeah, in Wonderland we are not. This place is terrible, who’d want to live here? Hey, what do you think we’re doing here anyway?” Jenkins asked.

  “At first I thought it was a training exercise, but after the queen’s speech the other night… Now I think we’ve mobilized as more of an occupying army to this place. Hey, if a Heart Rank Ten tells me to go scout, I go scout. Don’t sweat the orders, kid. This is one of the easier deployments I’ve been on.”

  “That was suc
h a great speech,” said Jenkins. “Queen Alice always does those awesome speeches, and everyone was so excited after it. And the way she flew in on that gryphon. Wow!”

  Then an arrow slammed hard into Jenkins chest, taking the wind from his lungs and sending him stumbling backward over the edge, falling down the embankment of loose rock and dirt, momentum sending the doomed scout rolling into the deadly entanglement of Bloodthorns.

  Rabbit shot up from behind his hiding spot, taking aim with the bow and firing a second arrow at the other scout. It dug deep into the scout’s thigh and he dropped to the ground with a yelp.

  Quickly Rabbit hopped the mound and made his way over to the felled scout, who was struggling to get back to his feet. But the White Rabbit was upon the man and with a swift, two-handed swing of the bow, knocked him back to the ground.

  Rabbit towered over him, breathing heavily and clutching the bloody bow.

  The scout cried out in pain as the White Rabbit shoved his metal foot on the man’s chest and kept it there, pinning him to the ground.

  “Th-the White Rabbit. Sir, what are you doing here?” asked the scout, recognizing Queen Alice’s White Rabbit. The scout tried to struggle in vain against the force of Rabbit’s foot. Without saying a word, Rabbit nocked another arrow into the bow and shot it full force through the man’s shoulder where it buried itself into the ground, pinning the man further.

  The scout cried out in agony.

  “I need you to send a message to the queen… ” Rabbit began.

  “Traitor!” the scout seethed through clenched teeth, his face turning red as veins in his neck bulged through his skin. The man understood what was transpiring; he recognized the betrayal and struggled harder against the overpowering strength of the White Rabbit.