A Grimm Legacy

by Janna Jennings

  “You’re a capable guy. Don’t you have anything better to do than take orders from that mess of crazy?” Dylan asked, nodding up to the deck of the ship.

  The frightened feeling in his stomach dropped another notch as the smooth skin Dylan was pressed against slid into the water. He realized what was happening at the same time as Aurel, who released him and paddled back to the yacht so fast it might have been comical under different circumstances.

  “Lower a rope!” Aurel screamed.

  “Hey!” Dylan pounded on the solid side of the whale. “This isn’t exactly what I meant. You’ll drown us!”

  The immense whale didn’t answer, and as he sank, a whirlpool formed, threatening to take Dylan, Aurel, and the entire ship with it. Dylan floundered after Aurel toward the rope flopped over the side of the yacht. He grabbed on to it as it was pulled up, hand over hand.

  Dylan was pressed uncomfortably close to Aurel as they bumped their way up the side of the ship that was turning and bucking out of control from the whale’s sudden dive.

  Flipping over the railing, Dylan collapsed on the deck next to Aurel in a growing puddle of seawater. Picking his head up from the deck, a nightmare greeted Dylan.

  Ilsabill, in the garments of a queen, reeked of power. Her face was manic, staring at Dylan and Aurel as though they were no more than two flounder fished from the ocean.

  “You’ve done well, Grandson,” she said, her voice strange and echoing. Dylan didn’t bother answering, he was too busy staring at the small leather case rolling by Ilsabill’s feet, clutching at the deck as the ship spun faster and faster. Lightening forked overhead, accompanied by the crack and crash of thunder. They were listing to the side as the whirlpool pulled at the yacht. Ilsabill, utterly unconcerned with all of this, turned her face to the stormy sky and smiled serenely.

  Dylan pressed his face into the deck, convinced he wasn’t getting out of this alive. He felt his body slide as the ship tilted at an angle it wouldn’t recover from.

  The compass shot past him on its way over the side, but Dylan scrambled on all fours and pounced on it just before it tumbled over the side. He clutched it to his chest with one hand as the pull of the whirlpool stopped, releasing the ship so it rocked back so far the opposite direction, it almost swamped under anyway. Dylan crawled across the slick deck to the rail and peered down into the waves. The sea still raged and the storm continued to beat at them, but the whale was gone.

  “Is that the best you’ve got?” Dylan screamed, egging her on. She had to burn herself out at some point. “A little rain?”

  A manic laugh worked its way out of Ilsabill. There was nothing happy or sane about the sound she made as she stretched her arms to the heavens. A great funnel cloud descended from the sky and combined with the ocean. It was large enough to suck the great fish into the column of seawater and create hurricane force winds.

  Dylan buried his head in the deck and wondered what he’d done.

  The twisting mass of water shifted, and the yacht was caught on the edge of the swirling winds. The ship lurched and spun faster and faster as the drag of the funnel cloud sucked it in.

  Ilsabill finally looked over, concerned as the yacht tilted and dragged toward the center of the waterspout. It didn’t appear that this had been a part of her plan. She’d lost control.

  Dylan lost his grip on the deck and slid toward the side, snagging a rail as his body pitched over the side. He dangled by one hand and had a front row seat to what happened next.

  His grandmother screeched and clawed and her face. Her skin flared and burned with power as her robes melted away. The crown and scepter disappeared. She grabbed her head in alarm as the funnel cloud rocked and faltered.

  The yacht bucked and rolled, undergoing its own change. It shrank, the multiple levels of decks melting into one and tumbling toward the heaving sea. Paint peeled and railings disappeared.

  Everyone aboard pitched toward their former queen as the yacht shriveled to a fraction of its size.

  Already barely clinging on, Dylan lost his grip. As his body wheeled in an uncontrolled summersault, the sea flashing by beneath him, he considered how unfair it was that this happened to him twice in the same week.

  The transformed yacht plunked down into a tranquil sea, smooth as glass. It reflected the blue of the sky, clear except for the occasional high cloud drifting overhead. The waterspout was nowhere to be seen.

  Ilsabill was crammed into a decrepit, gray fishing boat with her former attendants and crew. Her hair was lank and greasy, her face dirty and lined. Nowhere to be found were the powerful clothes of royalty; they had been replaced with a mud-colored dress, little better than a rag. A pungent odor, smelling distinctly like a pigsty, drifted over the water toward Dylan.

  Aurel was sardined into the boat next to his former queen, trying vainly to get distance between himself and the eye-watering aroma.

  "Your Highness, what happened?" Aurel asked.

  Ilsabill ignored Aurel and stared at her dirt-crusted nails and then over to Dylan, who was coughing and spewing salt water as he tried to stay afloat. He still clutched the compass in its leather case.

  "It may have been better to be a sentimental old fool," he called, his voice carrying easily over the water.

  The waves under Dylan erupted, creating a massive hole in the ocean he was powerless to escape. Water rushed at him from all sides, strangling his scream as his body fell down the trench straight into the whale’s mouth. He bumped into the baleen and clutched at it, stopping his fall. The whale shook his massive head, freeing Dylan before closing its mouth with a snap, cutting off the light.

  The whale’s tongue was muscled and spongy, and Dylan clutched at it in the dark, gagging on the stench of rotting seafood as the great fish leveled out. His slimy seat flexed and pushed Dylan, along with thousands of gallons of seawater, back to the opening of the whale’s mouth. Squashed between the baleen and the tongue, the water rushed past him into the ocean, and the whale filtered Dylan, along with a few tons of fish that flopped in his hair and down the collar of his shirt.

  He was enveloped in a darkness so complete, Dylan couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed. He sat as still as he could, not wanting to accidentally down the whale’s throat. He still wasn’t entirely sure the whale hadn’t intended to eat him. He shook tiny fish out of his clothing and tried to breathe only through his mouth. When he’d asked the whale for a ride he’d pictured being on the outside. Preferably above the water line.

  There was surprising little movement as the whale swam, just the smooth lurch with each dip of his powerful tail, carrying him farther away from Queen Ilsabill. She’d been returned to the position she’d had before his grandfather had ever freed an enchanted prince. Being a pig farmer for eternity was a fitting punishment.

  The others could be anywhere, but a few more pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together for Dylan. Each of them must have had a grandparent who escaped from this world, leaving stories incomplete. Without those characters, the stories halted, caught in limbo for more than 50 years. That is, until Dylan, Fredrick, Andi, and Quinn were ripped from their world to fill their places, to finish their tales.

  His and Andi's grandparents’ origins were obvious at this point. From the crazy way Quinn's hair grew and the comment she made about Cynthia's best friend, he could make an educated guess about her grandmother as well. He didn't have a clue who Fredrick's grandfather was, though. His problem now was how to find the others. He asked the whale for one last favor, a ride to as close as he could get to Prince Wilhelm’s castle. He could at least start there.

  The whale rose through the water and Dylan pressed back against the tongue he was sitting on as the pressure increased. A rumble, followed by a bursting noise, had Dylan gripping his seat in alarm until he realized the whale was just spouting.

  A crack of light appeared, making Dylan’s eyes water and blur, forcing him to shade his face. Without pausing to second guess himself, he leapt
off of the whale’s tongue and swam for the opening, negotiating the baleen blocking his way.

  He was never traveling that way again.

  He treaded water several yards from a small beach extending into the pine trees of the forest. Turning toward the whale, he found himself at the mouth of a substantial river emptying into the sea.

  "Thanks.” Dylan watched his reflection in one of the enormous dark eyes. “Even though you almost drowned me back there.”

  The eye blinked and the humming voice of the whale made the air vibrate. "You were never in danger,” he said, unconcerned.

  Dylan supposed a whirlpool was nothing to someone his size.

  “You’ll find the castle up river. My debt to the fisherman is paid in full."

  "Hey!" Dylan called before he could swim away.

  "Yes?" the whale asked.

  "Is it true you’re an enchanted prince?" Dylan rushed on before he could regret his offer. "Because if you are, maybe there's something I can do to, ummm... disenchant you?"

  But if it involved kissing, Dylan was out.

  The humming intensified and bounced around. It took Dylan a moment to realize the whale was laughing.

  "Your offer is appreciated, but it is not your role to play. Good luck, Fisherman's Grandson."

  Dylan swam toward the strip of beach, a sense of déjà vu washing over him. He was waist deep in the water when the whale dove again. Behind him, the calm surface of the water surged, flipping him end over end until he lay retching on the sand.

  He caught his breath and wondered how long his throat was going to burn from swallowing salt water.

  Shaking water out of his hair, he wrung his wet clothes out the best he could. He patted his pocket to make sure he hadn’t lost his compass, and jogged up river.

  Mud sucked at his bare feet and he ran a circuitous route, dodging low-lying bushes and dips and holes in the uneven bank of the river. His raw throat rasped and he eyed the fresh water of the river, wondering if he dared to drink it. Did untreated water contain giardia bacteria in fairy tale land? He slowed to a walk to catch his breath. A flash of movement caught his eye on his right, the side of the forest. He came to a complete stop and tried to find the source of the movement.

  He scanned the outlying trees and tried to peer deeper into the shadows. Nothing moved. Even the birds were silent. He looked up and down the deserted bank. The moving river at his back trapped him on the strip of land. Scratching the back of his neck to try and rid himself of the uneasy feeling, he started jogging again, tracking the forest in his peripheral vision.

  He didn't even see what landed between his shoulder blades as he was struck violently from behind.

  Dylan lost his footing and hit the dirt, hard. Something gave way in his wrist as he tried to catch himself. He muffled a scream of the pain, moaning into the grit and grime of the riverbank instead. The weight on his back didn't let up. Whoever knocked him over was now sitting on him, making it difficult for him to breathe. Dylan turned his head sideways, trying to quell his panic and catch sight of his attacker.

  A wolf entered his field of vision—massive and muscled, it looked directly into Dylan's eyes and then up to whoever was sitting on his back.

  "The master was right, they do eventually come looking for each other." He watched Dylan—whose heart seized in his chest several seconds ago—with black, depthless eyes. "They're not even of the same pack. What spurs this loyalty?"

  The weight on his back lifted and Dylan took in a greedy breath, sucking in more dirt than air, which sent him into a coughing fit. Another wolf, this one smaller and darker than the first, stood so close that Dylan could see the individual hairs of its fur trailing down its leg to a massive paw.

  "Did I damage him?" a female voice asked. "Herrchen asked he not be damaged."

  Dylan held very still as the male wolf sniffed him, ruffling his salt stiffened hair. "He's alive, that's all that matters. Come, they're waiting.”

  Part VI

  Grimm Conclusions

  “He took her in his arms; and she kissed him, and said, ‘Now you have indeed set me free, and tomorrow we will celebrate our marriage.’”

  Chapter 33

  "The only thing worse than hiking through the forest in wet clothes is having to put wet clothes on, then go hiking through the forest."

  "Wake up!"

  Fredrick’s eyes snapped open. Disoriented, he sat up, smashing his head into the low ceiling. He struggled to focus as Andi yanked him from the top bunk.

  "What? What?" he asked sliding the rest of the way out of bed.

  "I can see the pier.”

  Fredrick pressed his face against the window. The pilings of stone thrusting out like fingers from the river were all that was left of what was once probably a massive pier. The steamship was approaching it quickly. "Why aren't we stopping?"

  "That thing’s in ruins. The ship must not make a stop here,” Andi said.

  "We'll have to jump. Let’s go."

  Fredrick left the room and hurried down the hall to the lounge area, now occupied by several passengers and crewmembers. Keeping his head down, he crossed the room as unobtrusively as possible with Andi beside him.

  Slipping out to the open deck, they began to sprint. Fredrick rounded a corner and collided with someone who bounced on to the deck with a loud, “Ooff!”

  Andi gave Fredrick a hand and he got a good look at the person he’d bowled over.

  “Salina?” he gasped.

  She considered him through the tangle of dark hair that made him think she was Quinn when he first disenchanted her as a bird. Recognition lit in Salina’s eyes. She took in Andi beside him and grinned coyly.

  “Found your lost love, have you?” she cooed at him.

  “Fredrick,” Andi said urgently, as the dock drifted farther away.

  “Be a dear,” Salina said, holding out her hand.

  In a daze, Fredrick helped her up. It was only after he pulled her to her feet that he became aware of her uniform. The navy skirt and jacket with gold anchor buttons and name tag clearly marked her as one of the crew.

  Salina appraised him, the wolfish look back in her eyes.

  “I know a few people who’re looking for you,” she said, tossing her hair out of her eyes.

  “You owe me,” Fredrick snarled.

  She pulled a boatswain’s whistle from the collar of her jacket. “Sorry, love, you’ve already been repaid.” She placed the whistle to her lips and blew.

  Fredrick lurched for her, but the sharp pitch of the whistle filled the deck.

  The three of them paused, Andi looking like she wanted to slap the smug grin off Salina’s face. Shouts broke the silence behind them.

  Fredrick’s jaw clinched. He was infuriated. "This way."

  They thundered along the deck between the railing and an occasional face pressed against the window of a cabin. He risked a glance back to find two crewmembers in pursuit.

  "Fredrick!" Andi warned.

  He didn’t pause. "We've got to get past the paddle!”

  Two more crewmembers materialized from a side passage, blocking their way.

  "Don't stop!" Fredrick yelled back at her before lowering his head and charging the two men.

  The sailors didn't have time to move, even if they’d wanted to, before Fredrick lowered his shoulder and hit one of them hard. The first man knocked into the other and all three went flying down the deck. Fredrick staggered to his feet again, leaving a tangle of men in his wake.

  He passed the enormous spokes of the paddle wheel slightly ahead of Andi. Water whipped past on the flat blades before being carried back down to the river. Bracing himself against the railing, Fredrick held out his arms to Andi who was desperately trying to keep ahead of the crew.

  "Jump!” he yelled over the noise of the churning wheel.

  Andi launched herself at him and Fredrick used her momentum to fling them both over the railing. In the span of a heartbeat, he twisted Andi on top of him, trying
to use his body to shield her from the impending impact.

  They hit the water with a flop, Andi’s body knocking what little breath he had left in his lungs from his body as he went under and current tore them apart. The muddy water swirled and his head broke the surface. He spit the nasty tasting river out of his mouth and found he couldn't move his right arm at all.

  What had happened to Andi?

  Kicking frantically in his waterlogged boots, he swam in an awkward sideways crawl toward the bank. His progress was agonizingly slow and he found himself drifting farther downstream than he did toward the bank. The river was wide and lazy here, but he couldn’t find the strength to make his way to shore.

  "Fredrick!" Andi's voice echoed over the moving water. Trying to keep his head above water, he caught sight of her across the wide expanse of water. She was jogging along the bank, trying to keep up with him. Her hair was plastered to her head and water streamed behind her as she ran. Andi put on a burst of speed and disappear out of sight down the riverbank.

  He had doubts he was going to make it. With his right side immobilized by his re-broken ribs, he couldn’t breathe deeply and was forced to use only his left arm, which was getting tired at an alarming rate. He was going to suffocate right here in the middle of the river before he even had a chance to drown. Something splashed in the water down river and caught his attention. Were there alligators?

  "Andi!" he gasped as she cut through the water straight for him. She grabbed his good arm and pulled him to her.

  "Roll on your back. Relax!"

  Fredrick tried to do what she asked, but it was difficult to give up control.

  Andi hooked one arm around his chest and slowly swam toward the shore. She wasn't moving very fast towing Fredrick, but she was a good swimmer. As familiar as Fredrick was with her obstinate streak, he had to wonder if her strength would give out before her resolve.

  Several yards from the bank, Andi found her footing in the shallow water and Fredrick dragged himself upright too. They staggered the last few feet and flopped in the mud on the bank. For several minutes, he just lay panting in the dirt, trying to resist the urge to take great gulps of air.