The spirit flying through the clouds above Corona was silent. The currents he sailed upon drew thin, and every once in a while he would drop a few feet from the air. Cool sweat dripped off his brow. The sun was now high and still he had not reached the tower. As deciduous forests of red and orange flung past, the towering turrets of a massive water dwelling kingdom loomed in the distance, built upon strong supports dug deep into the bay floor. The green and red conical roofs making up the main castle twinkled, and as the spirit passed he shielded his eyes from their glow. The whole city was alive and violet with the oncoming Festival of Light, hanging purple streamers with the print of little orange and yellow suns, tying ribbons in its children's' hair; even roofs were being repainted for the occasion. From his height the spirit could see the clear outline of brilliant spiraling chalk drawings and smell the warmth of cooking, all to commemorate the birthday of the princess of Corona, a pale, sullen girl of eighteen. Often times he had spied upon her in her room when she was sure no one was watching. She would sweep her jet-black hair before her eyes as she read or drew or sewed. When the spirit was feeling in a particularly mischievous mood he would creep past her windowpane and rustle the books on her shelves, making them fall upon the floor to frighten her. Yet as he passed her bedroom window now- its sill carved into the highest tower of the castle- he could not look within. He was far behind schedule.
If the spirit had had time to wring his hands he would have. But the wind he drifted upon would not cooperate. Soon he feared his current would disappear completely and hurl him towards the bay floor beneath. But as its twinkling waves absorbed the waning summer heat, the water provided a wonderful frictionless surface for the wind to drift upon. The spirit found himself flying much faster than before. That was, until the great stone bridge extending from the water kingdom to the mainland came to an end. With that a steep hilled forest swallowed the shore and the wind with it, causing the spirit to drop from the sky with a yelp. As he descended he grabbed an outstretched branch and swung around and from its form, landing haphazardly on his two bare feet. Then, with a sigh, he righted himself and hovered from the ground, deeper into the forest's depths.
They were lovely, the forests of Corona. One of its proudest landmarks was its sprawling, fluffy canopied riparian that peeked in amongst the alder and pine for miles like mischievous, curly headed children. As the hovering spirit tried shielding his brow to look upon their shimmering golden leaves, he felt an affinity for them that made him smile. But instead of stopping to place his hand upon their back and to speak with them he continued on. The sky above the trees had no current; there was not a single cloud to rest upon, even. It would make the spirit's journey to the tower much longer. Betwixt grumbles he slunk onwards until the hot yellow sun that seared through the canopy holes against his ghost white skin had waned to a crackling red haze deep at the edge of the sky. When he glanced towards the sight the spirit gulped. But when his eyes drew forward again, familiar stones and mossy tufts dotted his path.
As the spirit flew with more strength the trees closed in at his sides until they formed a wall that he could not pass through on foot. With gritted teeth he hopped along their branches until he had reached the canopy. Then, catching the last of the north wind's breath, he was swept up and onwards until his toes tipped upon the cliff edge of Corona Canyon, the sprawling rifted mountain range that sloped through the region's woods towards the sea. The grass pealed back from the stone like coarse, receding hair on smooth dead scalp. Beyond this was the basin.
Navigable only by a tunnel hidden deep within the rock wall surrounding, the basin held a lush oasis of rare flora and fauna. Feeding all of these brilliant flashes of color and life was a winding river drawing down from a waterfall high in the sky. Jack stood fifty paces from the waterfall's dip, and as he closed in on it he could hear the oppressive roar of its passage into the gorge. Hidden in its depths were tiny fish drawing their way back to the ocean, the reds and blues of their backs glimmering in the waning sunlight. As the moon drew up, the water in the gorge took on an unearthly quality. The strange creatures within the clearing began disappearing, the bovina teetering as they lurched up the cliffs of the canyon walls, the rodents scampering into the holes lounging beneath the alders, and the birds with wildly colored feathers fluttering through the air until only the owls and the glowing yellow eyes of foxes remained, hidden in dense green. As Jack glanced towards the remaining, they met eyes with him. Then, to the sound of rustling within the bush behind them, the nocturnes left as well. Jack was all that remained, the moon behind him glowing through his bluish skin. As he held his hand up to the sky, he could see a haze of twinkling stars behind his knuckles. Without expression he flexed his palm towards them.
In the clearing beneath there were voices. Relinquishing his hand from the night breeze, Jack hugged his elbows to his ribs and scampered towards them until he hung over the cliff edge with his feet dangling in the air and his tailbone curved above his shoulders. One by one glowing orange lights like those of a candle came into being from inside the tunnel, whose passage was concealed by twining ivy that fell like a curtain over the entrance to the valley. As the tendrils pulled back they revealed the faces of several men dressed in regal attire. Once all had stepped past the ivy curtain covering the tunnel they walked in a group towards the clearing center. Here, its conical peak reaching two-thirds the height of the rock wall surrounding, lied the tower.
The roof was purple as the looming spires of the city in the middle of Corona Sea, with a massive hexagonal head and wooden panels running down its vertices. Moss and ivy sloped up its white bricked, cylindrical leg until the vines clung to the wide window peeking out of the hexagonal upper room. On one side of the tower rushed the river with red and blue fish. On the other side laid the pathway from the ivy curtain cut into the side of the right canyon ledge. It was from here that the men trudged, and Jack forgot for a moment what he had come for as he watched them.
Their uniform consisted of stiff red jackets and straight-legged trousers of pristine white, ending at the knee. Here, a pair of shiny black boot cuffs circled the break between the calf and the thigh. Jet-black leather, shiny as the river bed under the night, extended to the tips of their toes. The boot heels clacked as the gentlemen walked. Jack shook his head as he watched one with medals strewn across his breast tap against the lower most portion of the tower and then step back. As the man's arms flew out at his sides and the magic words fell from his lips, Jack gasped and dropped from the cliff he hovered over, flinging through the air between the tower and the moss laden foreheads of the canyon walls with an unsteady gate. The gusts of wind he leapt upon were scarce, and because of this he would drop and yelp every few moments, further and further until he could barely cling to the ivy curling up the white bricks of the tower without falling into the churning water at its side. Once he got a handful of the vines, he scampered up the white brick until he could hop his way to the window on the other side. When he reached it, he took hold of the soft ledge well worn smooth by delicate elbows and hands and swung back and forth until his right leg flung into the tower headroom. Then, half hovering, he lifted his other half inside as well, skittering into room corner that was darkest. From these gentle shadows he glanced about for faces. All that stumbled past was the gentle mutter of voices from above.
Making himself invisible, Jack crept into the room's center and looked around. The whole chamber was obscenely bright even without sun, lined with murals of brilliant blue sky and yellow stars and sunshine and purple and gold. Fields of fresco bound with egg tempera lathered the walls of green plains, cities of orange, creatures like foxes and bears of lush red fur, and oceans and fish of the deepest blue humans had yet reproduced. One glance could meet eyes with a hackled bear with beady brown eyes, another a green stag, another a wide brimmed forest lit by lanterns. An aquamarine dresser sat on the wall opposite the window, whose corner housed a mannequin with clothing plans strewn across its frame. Further on there was a kitchen, a sewing closet, and a staircase leading to a mysterious other floor. Three other doors hid like treasures throughout the chamber, each bolted shut by strong black iron bars. As Jack looked upon them he shivered and slunk back. Without thought he set his hand against a two dimensional yellow beaver with red tail, noticing just as it was too late that the steepest part of its back curved out from the wall in a little scaly bump.
Gasping, Jack drew his hand back and held it close to his chest, examining it to see if it was still all there. When he looked back, one huge eye with a yellow ringed black center stared up at him through narrowed lids. A chameleon. In confusion Jack picked the creature up by the tail and watched it as it tried to right itself. "How did you get all the way here?" he murmured. Chameleons lived far past Archadia deep in the wildest reaches of the earth, places that Jack had only heard whispers of on the wind. With uneasiness the spirit returned the creature to the wall and wandered up the stairs in the direction of the muttering voices. But before he could make himself know, the iron-clad door flew open and two women came forth, one in her prime, and the other young with wide green eyes.
"Rustle up your sisters, Punzel," the elder one commanded to her young companion, who nodded and cupped her hands in front of her in expressionless expectation. In reply, the woman procured for her a set of black keys on a crooked chain from the small of her long, drooping sleeve and dropped it into the girl's hands. With a short bow, the young woman bound for the other three doors. One by one, she picked out the correct key and fitted it in its hole, turning and freeing the lock from the curve of the wall in which it lay bound. Then, with a cry of joy she flung open each of the doors and rushed about as her sunshine-headed siblings peeked from their rooms one by one in puzzlement. Slowly they rubbed their eyes and stumbled to the chamber's nucleus, until all of them stood like golden fleeced lambs around their shepherd, the woman in her prime with soft curls of black running down her back, and drooping red velvet sleeves that cascaded as she moved her arms on either side of the skirt that clung to her form.
"Come now, my little blossoms," the dark woman sang, her long nails glinting under the lantern light overhead. "We have visitors."
"Do they need to see all of us?" one of the golden headed girls called in a flat tone, but the dark woman only laughed and swept to the window, draping her sleeves over her shoulders so that she could lean over the smooth wood without them catching. With a mischievous grin Jack fluttered towards her and held his breath so that he could glance over her shoulder. The gentleman far down on the green grass surrounding the tower grew weary of calling. Now they croaked hoarse pleadings every few moments and sighed whenever they got the chance, like lovers with fresh broken hearts. As the dark woman looked upon them she snorted and called out a high, singsong "yoo-hoo", slipping a handkerchief from her breast and fluttering it like the wings of a bird. As the gentlemen on the green snapped up to look at her, she waved the red lace towards their outstretched jaws and grinned impossibly big. One by one, her golden lambs crept behind her, curious. She shooed them away with a chuckle. "We must surprise them, my darlings!"
With a nod the girls flew to the top of the stairs and gathered in the uppermost room of the castle. As they huddled they twittered, asking each other if they had made their beds and if all was prepared. The tallest of them gathered clean silken sheets from the closet and distributed pairs to each girl, who rushed back to their respective rooms and prepared them quickly, shutting the doors behind them as they distributed their dirty laundry to a whicker basket near the sewing closet. When this was done, they all reconvened behind the door to the upstairs room and changed within together. They did not come out. Jack half thought of poking his head through the wall to see what it was that made them giggle, but the nervousness budding in his chest held him back. Instead he stayed at the dark woman's side.
"Wherefore do you tread these woods tonight, my friends?" called the dark haired woman, and in return the men answered in muddled turns that they were from Corona and the Southern Isles.
"Any royal blood?" snapped the dark woman in return, but the men shook their head with a chuckle. "Only the armed guard, madam, with many a secret to tell." Though the dark woman's expression did not change, Jack could see a cold glint in her eyes as they narrowed. A peal of laughter escaped her pale throat, and her black curls slipped lower down her back as she threw back her head. When she returned to meet their eyes her sleeves were at her sides and her arms were stretched to encompass the moon and all the heavens. "Well why do you wait? The door has opened already!" Without flinching the woman snapped the fingers of her right arm and one of the girls from the upper room charged to the staircase side and heaved down a golden threaded rope hanging from the ceiling. Within the bowels of the white-bricked tower there rose a deep, monosyllabic growl that ached and churned for what seemed like forever. When the grinding death passed, the men below cheered and a bright light shone from within the stones of the tower's foot. Then, they drew inside and the light was gone. The sound of footsteps began to reverberate off of the walls, and the girl who had pulled the rope near the staircase yelped and flew back within the room beside, shutting the door tight behind her. In excitement Jack hovered to the top of the aquamarine wardrobe and sat with crossed legs so that his shins pressed against the raised wooden crown. When he peered over, he gasped as the eight triangular bricks in the room's center disappeared and revealed a deep hole. Slowly, orange light glowed within until it was so strong Jack winced in delight. Eight men stepped from within its depths, the sounds of their voices booming off every wall of the cavernous hall. As they looked about them they howled in excited laughter.
"The five flowers of Corona live in a palace fit for faerie queens," gushed one, staring from fresco to fresco in awe. As Jack looked upon his unctuous smile he rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue. Even invisible, he could spot the chameleon on the other wall. It was good at hiding. But still, its yellow ringed black pupils glowered up at Jack so that the boy could hardly concentrate on the exchange between the men.
"Four, flowers, now," sighed the dark woman with a tone of lamentation. Her right hand traveled to her heart and beat her ribcage with soft clumps. "Our eldest blossomed from flower to fruit, and was gifted to a good friend."
"If I had have known you were giving them away!" cried a young, curly headed one, unable to finish the sentence for his shock. But the dark woman shushed him and grinned, extending her arms again. "All are welcome to be picked, as long as a gift of equal value is given in return." With a scowl the man folded his arms in front of him and took a seat in one of the room's chairs. There he sulked while his companions moved forward.
"Will they dance for us tonight?"
"So we will have to pair off? Shall we get them all at once or take turns?"
"All shall be fed," cooed the dark woman in return, her teeth grinding inside her grinning mouth. "So long as the secret is worthy." With this, she clapped her hands, and the magic began.
As if by command, a quiet passed over the men, and if they uttered anything, it turned quickly into boyish giggles. When they looked upon the dark woman she bowed and winked at each of them. Then the lanterns on the walls surrounding dimmed, until the only light in the room shone from the moon outside or the eerie orb of blue light that appeared and floated as if in water over the room's center. It transfixed the men until the dark woman snapped her fingers again. Gasps rung through the chamber as pots, pans, and brushes, rose from the ground and bound together midair in transformation.
"What you are about to witness can only be related in riddles," whispered the dark woman in warning. "Never speak of where you saw these wondrous imaginings, never mention the names of these beautiful flowers, but only the curve of their backs, the softness of their hands, the warmth of their cheeks, and the golden shine of their hair." The chairs forming from the odds and ends throughout the room were of stunning golden carved legs and red velvet cushions interlaced with deep green embroidery. As each lowered to the ground, they pushed beneath the legs of the men until all were seated comfortably. Jack could not help but clap at the fantastical display. Then, the blue orb at the room's apex turned to gold and shone brighter than ever. A high trill resounded from within the room at the top of the stairs like the call of a flight of tiny birds, and as the trill reverberated against Jack's eardrums, the iron clad door at the top of the stairs flew open, and out sailed four beautiful maidens draped in purple. In their arms they carried pink transparent ribbons and tambourines, which they flung around them in wide arches as they ran down the stairs and into the chamber's heart.
Bursting with energy that Jack had only seen in dreams, the maids ran around the chairs until they collected in the circle between. Their long golden hair dipped and twirled behind them with a life of its own as the women danced, and they kicked their legs far ahead of them as they tapped their tambourines to their purple clad sides. All eyes in the audience, including Jack's, could not glance away. The women dancing raced faster and faster in a ring until one could not be distinguished from another. Only a haze of purple and gold remained, whooping and shouting in frenzy, without knowledge of where it was heading or how it had gotten there. Then, in the darkness behind, the high wail of a pipe resounded. When Jack glanced back he saw that the dark woman had procured a wooden flute. She held it out on her left side as she played, dipping her head this way and that in beat with the music. The four flowers regained rhythm and began to dance in time to the flute, forming a line with two facing forward and two facing back as they jigged. Every fourth beat they would clap and call for the men to pummel their feet into the ground. With fervor the gentlemen did, growing louder with each stanza. As the flute trilled faster, the women called for the men to stand and abandoned their ribbons, instead tapping their tambourines as they danced with two men each. The youngest, a pale girl with deep blue eyes, was quick and bright, her pink cheeks wide with a grin as she challenged two tall creatures of the southern isles. Another like her, with blue eyes and pale skin, giggled as she danced. The third was quieter, with brilliant green eyes and sun kissed cheeks. She danced as leaves in the wind, tipping two and fro with sharp, energetic movements rife with excitement.
But the fourth could not be explained through words. She danced out of love for a world that was open only to her. Time had changed, evident in the breaths of the men who could barely keep at her side. Few save her sisters matched her ability, and even less possessed her imagination. She could hardly keep her eyes open for happiness. The men surrounding her looked upon her with hunger, and as the dark woman glanced upon them her eyes shone with that same metallic glare Jack had noticed long before. Soon the pipe died down, until the men and women danced without music, falling against each other as they reached out to achieve touch. When a broad boned palm reached low down one of the girls' backs, a sharp cry flew from the dark woman's flute and the harsh lantern lights of the chamber returned. The chairs crashed apart as they returned to their previous forms, and soon pans, brooms, and every other trinket lined the floor. With laughter the four flowers picked them up. Then they served the men their choice of drinks. Once they were done they were gone, back within the room at the top of the stairs. Jack sat on his hands to keep from clapping.
Incapable of movement, the men sat on the floor with mouths agape. The one who had bemoaned the loss of the fifth flower earlier seemed as if in a dream, unperturbed by any worry. As the dark woman looked upon him she laughed, and he grew embarrassed, blushing like a child.
"Ah, the innocence of men," sang the woman in return as she moved to the room's center. Drawing up a chair as a mother would to her listening children, she leaned to her men, keeping their eyes locked on her form as she seated herself. With the click of her fingers, flames burst forth in the fireplace at the other end of the hall. All grew warm. As the men removed their jackets damp from sweat and emptied their drinks into their throats, they grinned to one another in excitement.
"How long has it been that I have been swept into heaven?" sighed one, adding, "I shall never leave."
With a snort the dark woman responded that he would by the light of day the next morning, on pain of death. For a moment the air of the room turned cold. But soon the fire and liquor returned a hearty glow, and the men exchanged shouts of exhilaration once more.
"I must have the last one!" cried the biggest man. Another wanted the tallest. Each called for one or the other. But when they overlapped each other and became combative, the dark woman dismissed the men's voices and commanded silence.
"We shall see who has which by the quality of your gift. One by one you shall present your secret. And I shall decide what that secret merits." To this, Jack listened with rapt attention. With a nod, the men decided who would go first. Then, each stood.
"Drago Bludvist marches one the Błędów desert with a new apprentice, one that fights with a rapier and dagger," said one with pride. The dark haired woman only nodded. Then the second stepped forward.
"The first black bear since Mor'du has been sighted roaming the hills of DunBroch. No one has been able to capture her, but she cries out in the night as a mother who has lost her children," the second bellowed. The dark haired woman rolled her eyes and moved him on.
"The son of Stoick the Vast has run away from home on the back of a winged beast," murmured the third. The dark haired woman's eyes glinted, and she smiled. Then the fourth stood.
"Fergus of Dunbroch was butchered on the road to the mainland. He was to catch a boat passing the Southern Isles, but he never made his appointment."
"The whole world knows that by now," murmured the dark woman in a flat tone. The man stepped back to afford the fifth a space to speak.
"The emperor of Archadia is a degenerate. He propositioned several of his servants, one of whom came to work under my household."
The dark haired woman beckoned for the sixth. "The Princess of Corona is ill with visions," he announced. "The private letter was handed to me yesterday. She has spoken of a poltergeist, and in addition she has had dark dreams and cuts the soft of her arms and legs."
"Very good," cooed the dark woman without helping herself. As the seventh stepped up, Jack bit his lip in discomfort, feeling the eyes of the chameleon boring into his back.
"There is speech of revolution in Corona," he said simply.
"Where?" replied the dark woman, and the man returned that it had been spoken of in the lowest quarter. The dark woman scoffed, and responded that that was always true of the lowest quarter. "Give me evidence that it is happening and I shall reward you." Then she beckoned for the last.
"A man from the Golden City claims to have found a way to speak with the man in the moon," he tried. Then, he stepped back. With a sigh the dark woman got up and clapped her hands. Then, she pointed to each of the men and beckoned for them to come close. When they did, she whispered to them.
"Two each shall pick a door, of which there are four," murmured she. "You shall walk through one at a time. Then, you shall find the girl I have chosen for you."
Giddy with excitement, the men trundled towards each respective door, pairing up and crossing arms, even, in jovial song as their anxiety reached new bounds. Then, as the doors opened and shut again and again, each disappeared until all were gone, and that was when Jack and the dark woman were finally alone.