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Authors: Danbert Nobacon
3 Dead Princes: An Anarchist Fairy Tale (9 page)
BOOK: 3 Dead Princes: An Anarchist Fairy Tale
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The Fool smiled at Stormy and she looked back. Her brown hair, now down to her shoulders where it had shaken free from its plaits, framed her brown eyes, light brown skin, and lips that cracked in a cheeky curve.
It was a strange thing, but The Fool, who knew next to nothing about helping someone deal with shock or guilt, or grief or anything like that, had managed to bring Stormy out of her seemingly impenetrable funk. There, in the glow of the tavern, The Fool had somehow got her feeling something like herself.
Stormy was exhausted beyond exhaustion, light-headed from the ale, and not a little exhilarated from the evening’s events. A half-eaten sandwich, some hot goat milk and honey later, the Tavernmizz led Stormy upstairs to bed. In the dim corridor, dark thoughts tried to woo Stormy. But she was able to hold them at bay long enough to get into bed, and collapse into a deep, deep sleep.
Chapter 10
DREAM DREAM DREAM
D
eep sleep only lasts so long. The brain, anxious to do its cleaning chores (or worse still, skiving off while its owner is sleeping), has ideas of its own. And thus when the deep sleep became, well, less deep, Stormy entered another world. Strange to say, though, it was the real world, too.
eep sleep only lasts so long. The brain, anxious to do its cleaning chores (or worse still, skiving off while its owner is sleeping), has ideas of its own. And thus when the deep sleep became, well, less deep, Stormy entered another world. Strange to say, though, it was the real world, too.
It was dark. She was in
the
cave. She thought that she must have already found the sunshine and pacified the Black Cat. She did not actually remember doing this, but was blinded to this fact by an eager expectation of seeing her father any minute.
the
cave. She thought that she must have already found the sunshine and pacified the Black Cat. She did not actually remember doing this, but was blinded to this fact by an eager expectation of seeing her father any minute.
There he was. He had his back to her. Her father’s body turned, but instead of the warm smile of Walterbald’s comforting face, was the anguished look of Mercurio as his head hit the bedpost. Stormy screamed out loud in the dream.
The Fool, who was only half asleep on the other bed, opened his eyes and looked over at the sleeping, dream possessed Princess. His gaze was empathetic, for he knew tragedy and death well. He also knew that even in sleep, escape from troubled thoughts was often only passing. He knew that dream shapes seemed to particularly enjoy feeding on the tormented. Whether they meant to help or hinder, The Fool had never been able to say.
In the dreamscape, Stormy screwed her eyes ever more tightly shut. She dared not open them, but then in dreamtime, the brain could not care less for the convention of seeing only with open eyes. The specters merely wriggled their way under her eyelids and began their dance anew.
Maybe you’ve had dreams like this.
Stormy was being chased, uphill. She had run up hills, but not like this. She couldn’t see what was pounding up the mountain trail behind her, but she could hear the clatter of hooves and the fierce breathing of animals long extinct. Then the tree line, and the lushness and the smells of the forest suddenly gave way. The grade lessened, and the sky opened up on a plateau of long golden grass so tall, Stormy could barely see above it.
The beasts on her trail forgotten, she now contemplated a new fear: that she was easy prey for the huge black raptor circling above.
A narrow gorge opened in front of Stormy and she stumbled to a halt, all but falling over. And there she beheld a gaggle of
monkeys
, involved in what looked like some well-practiced dance routine.
monkeys
, involved in what looked like some well-practiced dance routine.
Hearing her, the monkeys stopped what they were doing, all eyes at once turning towards the stricken girl. As if at some secret signal, the monkeys, seven of them in all, stood on their hind legs and bowed, doffing non-existent caps. Looking at Stormy intently, one over to the left said, “At last. The woebegotten Princess!” At which he and the other six burst into raucous laughter, fell over and rolled in the cleared grass stubble, guffackling incessantly.
“What’s the big joke?” she said, but the monkeys kept laughing. Looking at their twisted but unthreatening faces, something clicked in Stormy’s brain. She knew. She did not know how she knew, but she
knew
that these were the Giggle Monkeys. Dream logic told her it was of great significance that she’d stumbled upon them.
knew
that these were the Giggle Monkeys. Dream logic told her it was of great significance that she’d stumbled upon them.
She woke up in the dark, in a bed in the Grackle Tavern, breathing heavily and thinking desperately that she needed to get back to the dream. But, alas, deep sleep proved to be master this night, pulling Stormy back into dreamless proper rest.
Chapter 11
THE WITCH IN THE DITCH
S
tormy and The Fool climbed back into their saddles sometime in the midmorning. They were not as replenished and refreshed as outlaws on the run should have been. The Fool was worse for wear for having stayed up drinking. Stormy also had a mild headache from the beer, and even worse, waves of gut-wrenching stomach pains like she was missing home, missing her father even missing Gwynmerelda.
tormy and The Fool climbed back into their saddles sometime in the midmorning. They were not as replenished and refreshed as outlaws on the run should have been. The Fool was worse for wear for having stayed up drinking. Stormy also had a mild headache from the beer, and even worse, waves of gut-wrenching stomach pains like she was missing home, missing her father even missing Gwynmerelda.
The Fool led them onwards and north out of town, to a break in the forest where yet another mountain trail began to the west.
“So where are we headed now?” asked Stormy
“Why, the Black Cat Mountains, of course,” said The Fool.
“You are joking! It’s too early for jo-eeughrks …” Stormy’s voice trailed off
The Fool shook his head.
“But no one comes back from the Black Cat Mountains,” Stormy said.
The Fool replied, “Only if I’m a no one. Only if you believe the night tales. I’ve been back and forth, ooh a dozen times since I was a kid, I guess.”
“But how?”
“Because I know the way.”
“And the Black Cat of legend?”
“Never seen it.”
“Oh,” said Stormy. She didn’t mention that she had seen it. Even if it was only in a dream, Stormy knew it was really real. “How long will it take to get there?”
“Could be a day or two, depending on who we meet along the way.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It probably won’t be.”
They rode on in silence for some time, and Stormy’s thoughts began to wander. She tried not to think about what had happened at Bald Mountain Castle, but then Bald Mountain had been her home for thirteen summers. It was her whole life. Her stomach groaned again. The few times she had left Morainia on family trips, they had generally headed south, occasionally to Rockport and the ocean, to visit her Unkle Jude and her sort-of-cousins. Sometimes she went on business trips with her father to meet with the kings and queens of southern kingdoms. She had never really been any distance north, where they were headed now.
The north beyond Morainia was mainly mountainous, with occasional small and isolated communities. To the north of that was the legendary Ice Wall itself, a frozen wasteland going on forever to the top of the world, for all anybody knew. She shivered when she thought of it. And who wouldn’t?
A good passage of the sun later, The Fool announced, “Stream crossing up ahead. We should stop and rest, and eat.”
By the edge of a burbling crick, still flush with snowmelt, The Fool delved into his saddlebag. He passed Stormy a crust of not-too-stale bread and some goat cheese in wax paper.
“Whyrrewe?” said Stormy, her mouth too full to form the words”
“Come again?” said The Fool.
“I mean why are we going this way, and where are we headed? Are we just going to keep going forever? What’s the plan?”
“Ahh! I was wondering when you were going to ask that.”
“There is a plan. Isn’t there?”
“Well sort of,” said The Fool as he rummaged once more in the saddlebag.
“What do you mean sort of? We’re headed towards the ice sheet, where people die. We’re running away, but where to? What’s going to happen?”
“That last I can’t answer. But I can tell you why we are headed this way.”
“Well why?”
“We are looking for the Black Bird.”
“What?” Stormy said, startled. But before she could say anything else, a loud cracking voice stopped them in their tracks.
“Well pluck my boggerworts at crizeymas,” the voice exclaimed, “If it isn’t Dickemmy Fool! The Black Bird told me you was coming, but I didn’t half believe him.”
Stormy and The Fool both turned in the direction of the voice, toward a small rise in the woods, a little upstream from where they sat. The Fool smiled.
Stormy looked at him, perplexed, then back to where the voice had come from. There was a sound of cracking twigs underfoot. First one head, and then a second appeared over the rise as two women came towards them.
The older one whispered something to the younger as they approached, then stopped suddenly, the younger girl bumping into her. The crone stooped, stared through scrunched up eyes, and let out a loutish cackle.
The Fool laughed.
“Er do you all know each other?” asked Stormy, stunned.
“Well, we did. And more than once if I remember,” rasped the old woman, setting off another cackle. “Right good fun it was, too.”
The Fool, still grinning widely, bowed with a flourish. “Let me introduce you to The Witch in the Ditch.”
“A real witch?” said Stormy excitedly. She had always wanted to see one.
“You see a ditch don’t you?” scowled the old woman. “Well, my little chumpkin. Then that’s where you will find The Witch in the Ditch.” She spread her arms, as if indicating she owned everything around.
Stormy did not see a ditch, but didn’t think the woman would take kindly to her pointing this out.
BOOK: 3 Dead Princes: An Anarchist Fairy Tale
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