Shards Of The Glass Slipper: Queen Alice

by Roy A. Mauritsen

  As soon as they were off the platform, Jack could feel the lift swaying and bumping against the beanstalk. The beanstalk itself was scraped and worn from the lifts constantly going up and down. The horses kept stepping and shifting about to keep balance, occasionally bumping into Jack and pushing him dangerously close to the side of the lift. He could see lights from the other lifts, traveling at different rates. The lift to his right was the highest, near the cloud layer. Jack could see the prince’s lift, on his left side, was the next highest. They would arrive at the top before him, to be sure. Jack was the lowest due to the weight of the two horses, he figured.

  For a few moments they traveled up, with the creaking of the lift rope and the deep groaning of the beanstalk as it rocked in the wind as the only sound. Then came another loud crack of thunder and Jack had to look away as the bright flash of strange lightning spread across the clouds. Suddenly there were other sounds— screams of terror and the crack of wood as the lift further above on Jack’s right dropped quickly. Free-falling uncontrollably, it smacked against the swaying beanstalk and tumbled, spilling a dozen helpless soldiers into the sky. As they fell past Jack he could see them flailing about desperately trying to grab hold of any part of the beanstalk’s scaffolding as they tumbled hundreds of feet to their death. The broken lift plummeted, broken hoists and slack rope trailing behind. Jack watched as the falling lift slammed into the loading platform far below, instantly smashing the structure and part of the ramp as it spiraled downward to the ground, nearly five hundred feet below.

  “There’s no turning back now,” Jack said, as his heart pounded loudly in his ears. He feared his lift would meet the same fate as it continued upwards. Perhaps it was the lightning that doomed the other lift, his worries fluttered in his thoughts. Every sound and movement was now exaggerated in Jack’s mind as he held on nervously. This was far more dangerous than the climb, Jack thought.

  The lift finally ascended into the cloud layer. Wisps of clouds became more frequent as the lift continued up, and soon he could no longer see the lights below him. Inside the clouds it was cold, dark and grey. Mist constantly moved past him, a fog that made it nearly impossible to see more than two or three feet. Jack noticed that once they had entered the clouds it was suddenly still – no more wind, no more storm. There was no definitive crossing point, from their world to the giant world. No glowing portal to step through, no sign that said “NOW ENTERING GIANT WORLD,” the clouds were uniformly grey all around; the only measure of movement was watching the lift continue to go up the beanstalk.

  Soon the clouds began to brighten, though the fog was constant, and in a few moments the lift had reached the top and the unloading platform.

  Jack was at the top of the beanstalk again.

  ***

  Down below, at the base of the beanstalk, the small group of soldiers that had been left on the ground watched as the doomed lift dropped, breaking up as it smashed against the great stalk and slammed into the ramp and platform. Large sections of wood tumbled down to the ground, raising a cloud of dirt and dust. The screams and yells of the men on the lifts could be heard until they were suddenly silenced as their fall, and their lives, ended abruptly. The ascending ramp was rendered totally impassible; three levels were crushed and left with gouged holes of shattered planks and beams where the lift had crashed through. Fires from broken lanterns and untended torches from the doomed lift began to catch and spread along the wooden structures.

  Everyone in the camp ran toward the destruction and the debris. The soldiers on the ground were focused on the crash; they did not notice the large angry crowd of townspeople and farmers that had made their way to the campsite to confront them.

  The guards, distracted from the storm and the destruction from the fallen lift, were quick to the defensive and on edge when they notice a large crowd had gathered in the area beneath the great stalk. The tone of the crowd was not peaceful; they were frightened by the beanstalk that had dominated the kingdom's horizon for months. The crowd shouted angrily that the beanstalk was a bad omen, that it was evil and should be destroyed. Others shouted that their crops had withered and died from lack of sunlight and the constant cold. Famine was inevitable at this rate.

  The relatively small number of the soldiers that were left on the ground was vastly outnumbered by the hundreds in the crowd, but they tried their best to turn the crowd away. The mob, with torches and pitchforks, pushed back and soon the soldiers were struggling with the farmers and townspeople. From somewhere deep within the crowd, a rock was thrown that struck a soldier in the head and sent him bleeding and unconscious to the ground, Nervous and stressed, another guard let a crossbow bolt loose into the crowd. A man grabbed his stomach and fell to the ground. The others around him were suddenly enraged by the killing. The peasant crowd pushed closer to the beanstalk and the soldiers could do little but fall back. The mob shouted, demanding to destroy the beanstalk. Their crops were dying from the constant overcast the beanstalk had caused, and the army should destroy it instead of climbing it. The soldiers tried to warn off the approaching mob, ordering them to disband, and saying that the king is assessing the beanstalk and that they would defend themselves.

  But assurances and warnings were not a satisfactory response. The crowd was close to the stalk now and from somewhere near the front of the angered crowd several clay containers of oil were lighted aflame and thrown high over the heads of villager and soldier alike. The soldiers watched helplessly as the bottles struck the wooden framework of the beanstalk ramp, the fire and oil splashed about and set the whole structure on fire. There were great cheers from the mob and soon, more bottles and torches were thrown, striking all over the base of the beanstalk.

  The remaining soldiers watched for a moment and then charged into the crowd with a barrage of arrows and flashes of steel. The crowd fought back against the armored and heavily trained soldiers.

  The fire fully engulfed the wooden ramp construction and now the beanstalk itself was in flames, the wooden structure serving as kindling and fuel for the fire. As the beanstalk blackened and charred from the fire, it began to pop and hiss loudly as the crowd began to cheer. Dormant bean pods swelled and whistled from the heat of the fires and then burst with a loud booming pop. Shooting outwards at high speed, the large fiery beans were absent of enchantment but solid and as deadly as a catapult stone, instantly killing anyone unlucky enough to be struck – soldier or villager.

  Panic broke out and escalated into even more violence as the two sides continued to clash and fight. Billowing black smoke fanned into the sky as strong wind spread the licking flames, smoke and embers and fueled them into an uncontrollable, roiling inferno. Fires began to erupt in other areas. Canvas tents and dry brush caught fire. An intense heat, with loud popping and groaning emanated from within the inferno. The fire spread quickly up and engulfing the entire beanstalk in a matter of hours, the strong winds whipping the fire into frenzy.

  The quickness of the spreading fire was surprising, the dark, choking smoke and burning embers that flew about in the night wind with such ferocity that it overpowered the crowd’s angry zeal. The crowd backed away from the intense, growing heat generated by the towering fire, and watched the burning stalk from a distance. Soon, as the popping and groaning became more frequent, deeper, louder cracks could be heard over the roar of the flames. By the early hours of the morning, the fire had weakened the base of the great stalk so much that it began to buckle slightly. The towering stalk began to falter and peasant and soldier began to shout and spread out. The beanstalk leaned and began to topple toward the crowd. The flaming scaffolding of the ramp and platform exploded outwards under the crushing weight of the giant falling stalk. A tremendous pillar of fire came roaring down upon the scattering mob in terrible fashion, crushing and burning those that could not get away in time.

  The beanstalk had collapsed in fiery devastation, destroying the ramp and the soldiers’ outpost, the farm where it stood, and setting off great wi
ldfires in the surrounding fields and forests.

  Then, almost as soon as the flame-engulfed stalk fell, the great wind that had blown with such ferocity that night suddenly stopped as the lightning and thunder ceased. And even though the beanstalk, the feared apocalyptic harbinger had fallen, the clouds remained.

  Having suffered fear, famine and now fire, the terrified villagers turned their panic into aggression. They had reached a breaking point and loudly demanded that the king take action. They demanded it with violence, turning on any royal soldier they could find. Frustrated the villagers of the kingdom revolted and in angry mobs they marched to the castle walls.

  But the king and most of the higher court were gone. They had traveled up the beanstalk and disappeared. In confusion and fear, those that were left in the royal courts closed the gates against the revolting villagers. Castle guards tried to maintain order, firing into the crowds as the kingdom of Marchenton began to tear itself apart, villager and farmer fighting against any soldier or guard they could find.

  In the days that followed, amid a backdrop of overcast days and a hellish fiery glow at night; the dark times known as the Beanstalk War unfolded.

  With no sign of the army returning, it was obvious that someone had to take the throne quickly in an attempt to bring order. As it was, the next in line of succession was Princess Ella. With hopes that the beloved commoner princess from Cornish would help appease the enraged mobs, Princess Ella was crowned Queen.

  It worked. As queen, Ella tried her best to assuage the anger and fear of the kingdom. Luckily, in the days and weeks that followed Ella taking the throne, rain finally fell from the clouds and eventually the raging wildfires were extinguished.

  The damage was done though, with crops and fields blackened, homes and towns burned to the ground, winter would bring a terrible time. The charred remains of the giant beanstalk, as it lay silently across the land like a great scar, served as a dark reminder of the time.

  CHAPTER 41

  THE SIEGE BEGINS

  marchenton, present day.

  It was just past the pink glow of dawn when the tower horns sounded alarm. A hollow sound came with urgency and dread. This time it was to the north tower spotters, where it was expected Wonderland's army would march from.

  As Snow White raced up the steps, she heard the soldiers on the wall, whispering, “They’re here.” They stood about, looking to the north, nervously murmuring, and pointing out towards the field. When Snow White reached the top of the wall she saw a dark line and shape on the distant north hills; flanked on either side by woodlands, a massive crowd that stretched across the entire field. The northern fields that had been bare at dusk yesterday were filled with Wonderland's army overnight. A sea of soldiers stood in the distance. The unmistakable silhouettes of siege towers and trebuchets stood tall above the army.

  Snow White's stomach tightened at the sight. Too distant in the dim glow of morning to see any details beyond the stretch of bloodthorns, Snow White could see enough and it raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

  “It’s happening,” she whispered aloud.

  She broke away from the wall, running underneath one of the newly constructed wooden hourding structures that would provide a wooden roof of sorts and protection for the men on the wall. Snow continued through along the castle battlements past and up to one of the castle’s older stone bastions. Phillip and General Dendroba were already there arriving from the other side.

  “That’s a big army,” admitted Phillip. “Honestly, and I hate to say it, but Cinderella had the right idea. These bloodthorns will at least keep them at distance for the while and prevent them from surrounding us. It will buy time.”

  “Buy time for what? So we can be trapped here longer?” said Snow White. “A slower death for us?”

  Dendroba interrupted, speaking a single word, instantly quieting their discussions.

  “Trebuchets.”

  Still gazing out at the ever brightening sky, Dendroba reached to his belt, unclipping a small stiff, black leather tube, he brought it up to his face and peered through it, twisting and adjusting the ends.

  “Six of them. They're built like a giant chess piece, like a knight,” he relayed all he saw as looked through his tube.

  “What is that? “ Snow White asked, curious about the tube.

  Dendroba chuckled. “Seeing tube,” he answered. “Something I invented in my time with the coven; working with crystal balls. Two crystal lenses on each end, it magnifies the distance. Twisting the ends will adjust how close or how far something is in focus.” He handed it to her. “Take a look,” he said. “It was invaluable against your dwarves.”

  Snow White scowled at Dendroba’s last remark. “We didn't need these toys,” she said defensively. She took the tube and looked through it. Even through the tube they were still some distance away. She could make out the trebuchets. “Clubs division,” she recalled the Rabbit telling her, “heavy artillery.”

  The trebuchets stood some thirty feet high, looking like giant knight chess pieces. The snout section of the knight was the large trebuchet counter weight that would drop and swing to send its ammo hurling. The rest of the structure was covered in metal plates to protect it from damage. Snow White could see men hurrying about, securing the large siege machines. She panned quickly, seeing soldiers mounted on large birds, ground cavalry she guessed, as these birds with their bulbous beaks had wings too small for flying. She saw small catapults shaped like chess pawns, about the size of a typical horse-drawn cart. And there were siege towers shaped like rooks that rose about the field a hundred feet high.

  “What’s with all of the chess-themed siege weapons?” Snow asked absently.

  Dendroba was thinking, studying the formations of the opposing army, as Snow White looked on with despair at how outmatched their forces were.” Where are they getting their ammunition for those things?” Dendroba mulled aloud.

  “That field was cleared of any large rocks a long time ago,” the prince replied. “But for an army that massive, it wouldn't be that hard to bring stone in from elsewhere.”

  “No, they are definitely doing something there,” Snow White interjected. She twisted the tube end, and instantly she could see closer on one of the other trebuchets. “There’s a man next to one, looking on the ground... he's reaching down, picked something up. Whatever it was he just put it on the sling arm. He's doing something else now; he's pouring something on it…” She paused with her mouth agape. Snow White was silent for a moment then slowly she lowered the seeing tube from her eyes.

  “What happened, Snow?” asked Prince Phillip. “What are they doing?”

  “They picked up a rock from the ground and poured some liquid on it. And, and it grew into a boulder. They have all they ammunition they need, if they can grow boulders from pebbles,” she said grimly. Snow White handed the seeing tube back to Dendroba. “Magic. I've seen enough.”

  Dendroba looked out again with the seeing tube again, and then suddenly, he ripped the tube away from his face. Dendroba’s action was so unexpected it caught Phillip and Snow White by surprise.

  “Incoming!” Dendroba bellowed loudly to the soldiers on the wall. “Get down!” he ordered.

  The Wonderland army attacked at dawn. All six trebuchets launched their stone boulders powerfully into the air, flinging them effortlessly with great force. The huge stones sailed high into the clear morning sky as Snow White and the others looked on with a feeling of helplessness. The rocks tumbled in midair, looming larger with as they approached, and with a menacing trajectory began to arc downwards. Snow White waited to hear the booming crash of stone against stone but the boom never came.

  “It's falling short!” Dendroba exclaimed. “They can't reach us!” All six boulders launched from the wonderland trebuchets had crashed down with heavy thuds, disappearing within the bloodthorns nearly a hundred yards from the base of the castle wall. A cloud of dust billowed forth from where the boulder struck the tangled thorny co
ver ground and shattered.

  Snow White was more skeptical. “Either that or they're just calibrating those things. They day has barely started, by dusk, it will be a more dire time.”

  Cheers went up across the castle walls when the Marchenton soldiers realized the enemy trebuchets had missed their target. It was more than an hour later as Dendroba and the others watched, earnestly studying the army’s movements through the seeing tube. Wonderland’s trebuchets rocked with force and launched another volley of deadly crushing stones high over the blood thorns.

  Again, Wonderlands' trebuchets fell short of their mark. And the cheers, whoops and hollers from around Castle Marchenton grew louder. Dendroba smiled at first, but as they began to yell and cheer, his calls for silence went unheeded. On the walls, soldiers banged their weapons on shields or on the cold stone ramparts along the castle; further taunting their unsuccessful attackers.

  “Okay,” Snow White admitted. “These bloodthorns will buy us time.”

  Fletchers continued to churn out arrows. Blacksmiths hammered and forged, finishing and repairing weapons and armor. Structures and battlements were reinforced and shored up. Runners darted around the castle bringing supplies as the castle soldiers settled in. There was a sense of urgency, as everyone prepared for the worst yet to come. High confidence from the mornings failed attacks led to worry about what would be next and if the invaders’ next attempt would work. For everyone in the castle it was a simple question of when; just a matter of time.

  Wonderland’s army did not attack again until the late afternoon. “The trebuchets are active again,” General White pointed to the fields glowing yellow with the light of the dropping sun. “Maybe they've figured something out. This won't be good.”

  “They can’t reach us,” Phillip said, “and we can’t reach them.”

  Phillip meant that the single trebuchet that the Marchenton castle had dismantled for storage over sixty years ago would have a similar result. It was pulled out and now sat in the courtyard, being rebuilt by Snow White’s dwarves who worked feverishly through the night to get it operational. Phillip feared that the bloodthorns would prevent them from effective attacks as well. It was the only trebuchet the Marchenton castle had.