Let Slip The Princesses of War (11 page)

I caught her around the wrist and began to pull her close.  My whip tightened until she dropped the gun. “I’m his master.  Good dogs always watch their masters.”

“No your ASS! It’s like an obsession!”  My whip wrapped around her throat and began to tighten.

“Fuck Beauty, not this again!” Suddenly she jumped at me.  I don’t know where it came from but she had a knife at my throat. 

“It’s probably nothing, just something’s weird with your dog.” She croaked through her closing windpipe.  “What happens if I cut your throat?  Does the whip keep squeezing?”

“Hell Beauty!  I don’t know.  It’s never happened before and I doubt I’d know even if it had happened, what with my being dead and all.”

She dropped the knife and I relaxed my whip.  “Anyway.  Looks like you’re good enough to travel.”

“Fuck you Beauty!” Like I fucking needed her and her fucking warrior psychology tricks to help me.  “Looks like I am.  We’ll head out tomorrow.”

She nodded.  “Let’s take a few more days.  You could use the training.”

“No! I’ve wasted enough time.  We leave tomorrow!”

Beauty bowed low, “As you wish.  You’re the ringleader of this little circus, after all.” She said with a smile.

Sweet Pea whistled “That’s one big fucking wall of thorns!”

“I assure you that is a standard wall of thorns.” Beauty, of course, was our wall of thorns expert.

Well at any rate, the wall of thorns was taller than I expected, maybe 100 feet high.  Maybe more.  And thick. At least thick enough that you couldn’t see through it, and could imagine that it went on forever, a solid mass of thorns, rather than a wall. 

We began hacking away at the thorns but couldn’t make a dent.  For every piece we cut away two more grew in its place, just making the wall all the thicker.

“So,” I asked Beauty, “How do we get through it?”

“Well,” She replied, “Fire is traditional.”

“Did I hear my name?  Stand back kiddies.” Cinderella drew her flaming sword and thrust it as deep as she could into the thorns.  They instantly burst into flames. 

“OK, flaming thorns!  Now what?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, I’ve never been on this side of the process.  But I’d guess we wait for them to burn down and then I can just walk in.  That’s what my prince did when I was sleeping inside.”

“So, I guess we’re waiting.” I said.

“I guess we are.” Beauty answered.

“Let’s wait over there, in the tent. Shall we lets?”

“Do let’s”

So, we waited.  When we came out to check the progress of our fire some hours later it was a wall of flame a hundred feet high and stretching to the horizon on both sides.  But any sense that the thorns were turning to ash was distinctly absent.

“That’s not going to go unnoticed.” Said Pea, looking at the pillar of smoke that reached into the heavens.

“Fire-proof thorns.” Beauty warmed her hands by the cracking inferno. “You’ve got to give credit where credit is due.  Mallory really learns from past mistakes.”

“But how do we get through?” I asked.

“Let me check something.” Cinderella led us back into the tent.  She dug into the armory, tossing weapons aside looking for something. “It must be here somewhere!” She pulled a mouse out from under her gown and tapped him and he grew into a bald man with round glasses.  “Rolf, please check the cellars.  I’m looking for an unusual type of sword.  It’s got a fat handle, much larger than a regular sword’s handle and it’s orange or maybe yellow and the blade is short and wide and has some kind of sharp nubs on the edge.  I think it’s called a kat-tin. Or Kat-rin.”

The little man-mouse looked confused for a moment then, “Perhaps a Katrina?” He asked.

“Yes!  A Katrina!  Can you find it?”

He bowed, “Of course Princess.  Let me look.” He moved aside one of the rugs and lifted a hatch – just like the bolt-hole hatch but different, and disappeared below.  Immediately sounds of crashing and breaking and muffled explosions issued from the hatch.  Smoke began to billow out and then the little man climbed out and closed the hatch (which immediately faded away) and presented his prize to Cinderella.

It was the weirdest sword I’d ever seen.  Just like Cinderella had described it.  It didn’t even have a point but was just rounded and blunt.  Cindy took it and tapped the man and he scurried back under her gown in mouse form. “Ok,” She said, turning the weird sword over and examining it. “Let me see if I remember how to use this.”

“What’s to remember?” Asked Beauty making a grab for the Katrina as Cinderella danced away. “It’s a sword, right?  I think we know how to use a sword.”

“No, it’s got a special operating procedure.  I think you push this.” She pushed a little button-like thing. “And you twist this.” She twisted something.  “And then you hold it like this.” She rested the weirdly big hilt against her hip holding it with one hand.  “Then you pull this!” And she quickly pulled a small handle that was attached to some rope or something.  Suddenly the sword made a roar and a puff of smoke issued from the hilt!  The sound was so loud that I couldn’t hear anybody, even though everybody was suddenly talking.  Cindy winked and took the Katrina sword over to the magic table and, with a swipe and a whining roar, neatly chopped off a corner.  “I think this might do it!”  Then she twisted something or pushed something and it fell silent. 

“That thing stinks!” Said Emily, waving a hand under her nose.  And it did stink.  However, it looked like it might be strong enough magic to break through the wall of thorns, so we would just have to put up with the stink.

Packing up, we rode to a part of the wall away from the flames and Cinderella took out her Katrina sword.

“Remember, don’t go past the thorns.  One step into the other side and you’ll be caught in the spell.” Beauty gave Cinderella her warning.

Cindy worked her magic on the sword and it awoke with a roar.  She stepped up to the wall of thorns and thrust the sword inside.  As she chopped and hacked, thorns flew in all directions, but none grew back!  Soon she had a princess sized depression cut into the thorns and a half hour later she crawled back, scratched and bleeding, through the tunnel she had cut to announce that she had broken through!  Did I mention that I would like a fairy godmother?  If any fairies are out there looking for a goddaughter, I’m available.  I’m fully housebroken and I almost never bark at strangers!

“Ok,” Beauty said to me. “Rae, you come with me.”

“What? Ms. White said only you could enter the sleeping spell.  I like a good nap, but 100 years is longer than I had planned.”

“Well,” Beauty put her hands on her hips, “Ms. White, don’t know everything then.  You can come with me as long as we’re in direct contact.  I’m willing to bet if you tied your whip around both our waists, you’d be fine.”

I looked at her to see if she was joking. “You’re willing to bet?!  What happens if you’re wrong?”

Beauty shrugged.  “I’ll give you a kiss.  Maybe I’m your one true love.  Who knows?  Trust me Rae. I know sleeping spells.  This’ll work.”

“Well, since you said ‘trust me’ what choice do I have?” So, I tied my whip around my waist and the other end around Beauty’s waist and fitted myself out with a sword and a gun (although I’m pretty much a one-trick-pony and I doubted they would do any good) and I followed Beauty into the tunnel. 

There’s a reason why professional tunnel makers don’t generally use thorns as their material of choice.  We were both bleeding from a thousand small cuts when we finally emerged from the tunnel. 

The scene on the other side of the thorns was just like what you might have read in a story.  A castle completely asleep. There were people, and even some of Mallory’s monsters, all asleep right where they must have been at the exact moment she cast the spell.

“Come on.  The entrance is this way.”

Of course Beauty knew the way. This had been her home.  She’d grown up here as a child, and then slept here and then awaken here and finally lived here with her Prince until Mallory’s army came marching in.  I wondered what it was like for her.  Did she feel the same things I’d felt as I’d passed through my old home?  If she did, she didn’t betray it with either look or action.  Not a second of hesitation, no moment of unbearable nostalgia, not an instant of regret.  She just strode forward and I, having no choice, followed.

“I told you the whip would work.  Snow needs to get out in the field more.  She’s all theory and no experience.  I think it’s what makes her so timid.  Militarily.  Personally, I don’t find her timid at all.”

“Uh huh.” I nodded. 

“Look Rae, let me just put this on the line.  When we get back.”

“If we get back.” I interrupted.

“Ok, if we get back, but we’re going to get back.  Anyway, if we get back, I’m going to challenge Snow.  It’s nothing personal, I just don’t think she’s right to lead.”

“Can we focus on the mission and talk about this later?”

“I am focused on the mission.  The mission is going great.  Now, we’re just two old soldiers on a mission, killing some time and talking before we get to the exciting part.   Anyway, I just wanted to let you know.  And I want to know that, if I win,” She smiled at me, as if to say ‘and what other outcome could there be’, “If I win, I want to know that I’ll have your support.”

“Look Beauty, it’s like you said.  I’m just a soldier.  You challenge Ms. White and I’ll support the winner.  I don’t play politics.  Pea neither.  We just do our job as best we can.”

“See? That’s what I need.  That’s why the others respect you.  That’s why if you make it clear that you support me, the others will fall in line.  We can’t be fighting each other if we’re going to fight Mallory.”

“Well,” I told her, “I don’t know how much the others respect me or anything.  I don’t really have much contact with anybody except Pea, but I’ll make you a deal.  You challenge Ms. White and you agree to abide by the outcome, that means if she wins, you support her 100%, until the end, and if you win, I’ll do the same, I’ll go on a gad damned Beauty for queen campaign.”

She smiled, “That’s all I ask.” And she spit on her hand and held it out to me to seal the deal.

I looked at her hand “You don’t really expect me to shake your hand, now that you’ve spit on it and all, do you?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why they do that.  Sorry.” She wiped her palm on her chest.  “Your word is good enough for me. No slimy handshake needed.  And look!  Here we are at the entrance!  You ready for the exciting part?”

I nodded.  The castle gates were open.  We walked up to the entrance, troll guards asleep at their posts flanked us on either side.  I thought it was odd that she had enchanted her own people, but it made a kind of sick sense. Her guards would awaken when the spell was broken and they would be one more obstacle for us on the way out.  All you had to do was not care if your people slept for a hundred years while their friends and families lived and died (assuming trolls had friends and families –I’m no expert on their social organization).  Except, Beauty casually took off their heads as we walked past.

“Damn Beauty!”

“What?  If we leave them here they’ll just wake up and we’ll have to kill them on the way out.  This way is much easier.”

She was right of course.  It was funny (as in strange) how the blood just slowly seeped out of their necks, rather than the usual cascading spurts you get when you lop off a head.  I wonder if they take longer to die.

Beauty led me into the castle. “Let’s check the tower.  I was in the tower, you were in the tower.  The action is always in the tower.  Why do you think that is?”

I shrugged, “Probably something phallic.  Princes and their towers.  Kings and their towers. Men and their dicks.  That kind of thing.”

“Probably.  Anyway, this way to the tower.”

We climbed the stairs to the tower.  Beauty’s tower was pretty much the same as my tower.  Lots of stairs, small round room at the top, a couple of windows.  I guess there isn’t a lot of architectural innovation in the tower market.

The room, however, was empty. 

“This isn’t right!” shouted Beauty.

“Don’t get upset, so he’s not in the tower, we’ll look elsewhere.”

But she was already in motion. 

“Look at this! The bed doesn’t go here! The bed has to be against the window!  It’s all changed! All wrong!”

I guess she was pretty attached to her old room.  It was actually kind of surprising. I’d never seen her act so, I don’t know, human.  I could feel the smile stretching my face as I watched the most dangerous fighter in the eleven kingdoms, basically, clean her room.

She pulled the bed away from the inner wall and pushed it against the outer wall, under the window.  She moved a pair of chairs in front of the small fire grate.  She rearranged pillows, tied back the curtains and generally put things to her liking (including a careful arrangement of a veritable army of very unwarrior-like dolls).       

When she was done, she looked at the room with satisfaction.  “Now, that’s better.  Just because no one is living here right now, isn’t any reason to let things slide.  Anyway, there’s no mystery prince here.  Do you want to check the dungeons?”

I nodded absently.  “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” She asked.

I pointed where the bed had been, at a tiny door, no more than 3 inches high and 2 inches wide. 

“I don’t know.  It wasn’t there when I lived here.”

We bent down to get a better look.  It was a charming little door, painted yellow with red trim with a tiny silver knob. 

Beauty looked at me.  “I told you the action was always in the tower.”

She took my hand in hers and reached out for the little knob.  Instantly we found ourselves at the threshold of the little door, ourselves tiny.  A man sat at a table rapidly shuffling a deck of cards from hand to hand.  “Stop!” he held up a hand in the universal stop signal.  “Who would enter the hallway of death, must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see.  Er, of the threshold. I mean you can see it now, but you can’t cross it.”  He stood up, still shuffling the cards.

Beauty stepped forward. “Ask me your questions. I’m not afraid.”

The man made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Nah, I’m just fucking with you.  It’s really a card game.”

Beauty pulled her sword “I don’t have a lot of patience with jokey fuckers.” And she cut him clear through.  At least the sword passed clear through him, but it didn’t seem to cut him at all.  He just smiled.