A story by D.K. Archer
Based from the Fairy Tale
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Chapter 1
Annabella and Alexandra sat both at the window shelf of the girl's shared bedroom, looking out listlessly. Out in the yard, nothing more than a swatch of green clover speckled with tiny pink flowers, their other sister, Beauty, was hanging the laundry out on the line. Beauty was not her real name, of course, but as a child she had been the family pet, and they had called her Little Beauty. Even in a colorless working dress with her hair pinned messily up on her head, she was pretty. It wasn't so much her face but her manner that made it so. Every movement was graceful, every word was gentle and caring. She caught Annabella's eye and smiled at her.
Annabella did not return it.
Far off in the fields, their three brothers and their father worked in the sun. The boys were quite useful now, now that the money was gone and this was all there was. Before, when their father had been a rich merchant, the boys had been just as wasteful and indulgent as the two sisters had been. They spent their money on new suits and entertainments, even when the trouble began. First, the warehouse containing half their goods burned to the ground. That alone did not ruin them, but then one of the dockside men that traded goods for them ran off with the profits. Their last hopes were on several ships coming back from India with cloth and spices. None returned to port, and were presumed wrecked or pirated.
Now, all their money gone, the merchant had to sell his fine house and costly things. Annabella and Alexandra took it the hardest, suddenly finding themselves without friend or suitor. Now that they lived as common peasants they still refused to work, sitting about in their room all day moaning their loss.
As for the merchant, in many ways he was better off poor. As a rich man he had stayed awake at night worrying about his assets and ships. Now, his work was honest and his own, and he slept soundly at night without trouble. Beauty, who had never been terribly comfortable with the money, didn't mind either. She liked working, cooking for the family, sewing their clothes and keeping them happy. She felt useful this way.
Beauty balanced the laundry basket on her hip and watched a horseman trot down the field path towards her father. Apparently her sisters noticed too, because in only a few moments they were out of the house, skirts in their fists.
"Who's that?" Alexandra asked. "Do you recognize him?"
"No. Perhaps we have a visitor!" Annabella said excitedly. It had seemed forever since anyone had come to see them.
"Well lets go see!" Beauty said, starting off towards the horseman. Unfortunately, he left as they got near. Annabella huffed.
"Oh, of course, I should have known better than to think anyone would come to visit me!"
"Oh, it's not as bad as all that." Beauty said, putting her free hand over Annabella's shoulder. "He might have been a messenger with good news!"
The girl moved away from her sister's touch. Their father and brothers ran up to meet them, faces split with wide grins.
"Girls, girls, wonderful news!" their father said happily.
"What is it, father?"
"One of the ships came back!" the youngest brother blurted, to excited to hold it in.
"Yes!" the merchant confirmed. "It came back to a port city in the kingdom south of here. I'm to go immediately to claim the cargo!"
Annabella and Alexandra squealed happily and danced together on the dirt path. Beauty, though not all that pleased by the return of wealth, was happy for them. She hugged her father and kissed his cheek, and hugged her brothers, too.
"Now, I'm going to buy you girls each a gift with the money from the cargo. Come now, tell me what you want, each of you." he said, putting his palms together.
"Dresses!" Alexandra said immediately "Beautiful dresses!"
"And jewels!" Annabella added. "and corsets and combs and fancy shoes..."
The merchant listened to their list with increasing dismay. The two daughters seemed to think the entire fortune had been returned, not just a fraction of it. But he nodded and said he would get these things for them if he could possibly obtain them.
Beauty was a clever girl, and knew that the cargo from even two ships couldn't pay for the things her sisters had asked. When her father turned to her, she smiled and shook her head.
"I don't want anything, father."
His face fell a bit, and Beauty quickly mended her words, putting her arms around his neck again.
"Yes! There is something you can get me. We don't have any flowers in our garden, though it's very nice. Bring me a rose, like the ones we used to have?"
"A rose?" Annabella said scornfully "All that wealth and you ask for a rose?"
But her father smiled. "If it's a rose you want, then a rose you shall have, my Beauty. Boys, ready the horse!"
Several weeks and much travel hardship later, the merchant arrived in the port city of the kingdom to the south. He was horrified by the poverty he saw there. Though the crops were good and the fishermen caught many fish, people still went hungry. They sold their food to pay their taxes. Unfortunately, that tax also applied to ship cargo. Collectors were waiting at the dock to take their choice of the items as tax to the crown. At first, he thought this would be no problem, but the collectors took nearly half the cargo. What remained he made very little profit from, and it wasn't even enough to pay the wages of the ship's crew.
He left the port far poorer than he arrived.
It would not have bothered him nearly so much if he had not promised all those fine things to his children. He was so distracted by his thoughts he forgot where he was going, and was hopelessly lost.
The horse walked of it's own accord, the clop of it's solid hooves muffled by the leaves on the path. Above, the broad green leaves that blocked the sun seemed somehow dark. It felt as though he were riding thru a tunnel, the path the only surface on the flat plane, the rest painted murals on the close pressed walls. Here and there something seemed to stare out at him from beyond the mural, something not bound by rules of dimension. Eyes the color of winter ice, and oil black feathers flashed in the mural. Closer. Further. An inch from his face.
The horse continued along comfortably and without note of the oddity that watched them. The merchant tried to turn the horse, pulling sharply on the reigns, wanting it to break the walls of Tunnel and return to the known path. It refused.
The small universe became filled with the sound of trickling water, something appealing even to him, as he had neglected his own dry throat in favor of darkened thoughts. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to find this stream before returning to the path? He urged the horse on. The animal sped it's pace a bit to oblige him. There seemed to be a continual watch now, something blue and oil black that lingered deep inside the mural, just beyond the corner of his eye that, if he turned his head quickly, he could get a glimpse of. He learned nothing he didn't already know.
The sound of trickling water led him to the sudden and abrupt death of Tunnel, at the very gates of a high stone enclosure.
With the illusion broken, the flat plane stretched to encompass the forest and the world. The murals shattered. He could now go anywhere he wished. The glint of oil black feathers returned sharply for a moment, the doors groaned painfully and swung open on misused hinges. Immediately within the entrance was a fountain, a stone creature with seven stone fish that forever poured water into the basin. He nearly fell from his mount in his eagerness to get down, and buried his head in the cold flow if the liquid.
A little sedated now, he glanced about the garden he had entered. Plants seemed to grow rampant in an oddly orderly fashion. Grey stone statues of all conceivable creatures filled the gaps, eagles and ocelots, lions and wolves. Here and there were animals that did not really exist. He found himself staring into the cold, blank eyes of a monster with a lion's mane and a goat's legs. It was looking right back at him, smirking with it's harelip mouth.
"Is anyone here?"
The scratched wooden door leading into the house itself pulled open in the flutter of invisible wings. The passage way it led into was twisted, lit by the eerie grins of stone creatures with candles in their mouths. Wax spilled over their chins like madmen drooling. It occurred upon the merchant's mind that this was not a normal place. Perhaps a kind fairy spirit had taken pity on his situation and wanted to shelter him for the night? A silly notion, really, but it is odd the things the mind does while in the darkly lit halls of a stranger's home.
Useless interior gargoyles and odd chained grotesques stared down at him from their scattered perches. One standing at the end of the hall, a huge lion with an elk's rack, was crouched down, ready to attack. It seemed all that held it back were the flimsy silver chains tieing it's feet to the base.
Here the corridor split in two directions. One was dark and foreboding, smelling oddly like a root cellar. Pale, flickering candle light made the right side seem inviting, as well as the familiar scent of bread and wine. He turned towards the light and saw a flash of winter ice blue that seemed approving somehow. The room it led to was lit softly by several white candles set into a twisted brass candelabra, which looked as if it were a vine growing from the center of the round table. The table itself was set with a surprising amount of food. Bread, meat, soup, fancy dishes he barely recalled from when he was rich, and warm red wine. It was set out on gold dishes with startling red rubies set into them. The dinnerware itself must have been worth a fortune of considerable size.
Beginning to understand, he sat down at the table and ate all he wished, knowing it was meant for him. He was comfortably full and becoming sleepy when the door opposite the one he had entered swung open of it's own will, showing a long corridor filled with leering stone creatures and candles set in odd places. Several of the beasties were arranged about a door, pointing at it with whatever arms their sculptor had blessed them with. The merchant gently pushed it open.
Revealed was an elaborate bed chamber running with blue silk.
He hastily changed into a nightgown laying on the bed and collapsed into
the soft cushions, asleep withing minutes.
Oil black feathers and eyes the color of winter ice flitted about
the edges of his vision. Trees of transparent ice rose before and
behind him, encircling him in a dangerous cage of spiked cold that would
impale him on frozen branches without a thought to the matter. Outside
the prison an old woman stood, long silvery hair falling down about her
waist and thinning on top. She wore a simple peasant's dress and
no shoes, though the crystal cold covering the ground must have been painful
to unprotected skin. Something about her seemed familiar almost,
like a phantom remembered vaugly from a dream long ago. The old woman
held in her arms a small child, a perfect child. His hair fell in
dark curls about his face, which was round and colored gaily as all children
should be. The woman smiled, and the child reached it's round young
arms into the cage.....
When he awoke, the first thing he was aware of, oddly enough, was the old oaken wardrobe in the corner of the room, which loomed into the edges of his somewhat hazy vision. It may sound odd to be panicked by such an object, but its position and shape were enough to make him realize that he was not in his own room and not in his own bed. No small amount of panic washed over him until the memories of the days past flooded back into his mind. The merchant gave a sigh of relief and leaned his head back into the pillow.
At length he rose slowly, stretching and yawning, having slept better than he did even at home. The dream had not been terribly unpleasant and it didn't trouble him, as he opened the wardrobe to find several suits of clothing that fitted him perfectly. He expected no less. After all, this place seemed to be enchanted, if not magical in origin itself. Why shouldn't clothing appear for him, like everything else? He dressed in what would be most practical for the journey ahead and pulled on his boots, which had been cleaned of the dirt of travel overnight.
As he left, his mind noted with some concern that the gargoyles and statues were not in the same positions they had held when he arrived. Some seemed to have moved to a different room altogether. He dismissed it to magic, and sat down at the round table again for a fine breakfast and a little more than healthy dose of rich red wine.
When that particular pleasure was over, he wandered a little reluctantly out to the garden where he had left his horse. To little surprise the animal had been well cared for. It had been groomed thoroughly, it's mane combed and lain almost artfully against it's neck. The worn saddle he had come with was replaced with a new and rather expensive one that still shined with oils from it's previous position as an animal's skin. The horse, a rather unspectacular mount by any means, stood with head cocked to regard a smallish black bird. The bird was perched on the back of a statue, a crouched leogriff with blank, vacant eyes. It seemed to be a raven or crow of some sort, to well feathered to be young and to small to be fully grown. Something must have stunted it. As he approached, both animals looked up from their silent communion and the bird hopped off, looking terribly much like any normal bird. The horse looked after it a moment, and resentfully went to it's owner.
The merchant patted it's neck affectionately and put a foot in the stirrup, meaning to mount, when something caught his eye. Something soft and red, nestled in dark green leaves. A rose. If he couldn't bring his other daughters their gifts, at least he could bring Beauty her rose. He left the horse, who looked curiously after him, and knelt before the rosebush. He was somewhat startled to see a statue of a bat-winged baboon leaning down on the other side in a nearly identical position. The merchant pressed the stem between his two fingers, bent it once, twice, and snapped it off the bush.
The reaction could not have been greater had he stabbed someone in the public square. The horse screamed and reared, eyes wide and terrified, bolting to the far side of the garden. The bird began to screech and it's oil black feathers slicked to it's sides. Above it all, the most horrible sound mortal ears can hope to hear, came the animal roar of something surely unholy, surely terrible. The scarred door leading out of the palace was thrown open by heavy hands. He screamed as something bounded out, hot and snarling and towering over him in only two leaps.
Were all the fearsome creatures of the forest thrown together it could not have been so frightening. With some effort it could have resembled a man, seeming to be a biped choosing to walk on four. It was covered all over in tangled, matted fur of a lion's color, a horrible mane in disarray surrounding the snarling jaws and glinting black eyes. It's legs ended in massive paws, it's hands in tearing claws that could rend the flesh from him with little effort. Hot animal breath covered the merchant's face as the monster curled down slowly to his level.
"Wretched creature! Ungrateful man!" the beast said thru growling fangs. "You are lost and helpless and I take you into my palace, give you shelter, feeding, clothing, and to repay this generosity you steal my roses?! Is this how men repay kindness? Is this how men show gratitude?!"
Voice high with terror the merchant stuttered a reply. "I d-didn't mean to be ungrateful! Y-you see--"
"Silence!"
The merchant snapped his jaw so suddenly his teeth ached. The beast leaned down even closer, the tangles of his mane nearly touching the merchant's face.
"Give me one good reason I should not kill you where you stand."
"This rose was a gift! I u-used to be a merchant, but went poor when all our vessels--"
"The rose, fool, the rose!"
"When one ship we thought was lost came in, I asked all my daughters what gifts they wanted from the money. Two of them asked for expensive gifts, but Beauty, my third daughter, asked only for a rose, a simple rose! The cargo was taken by tax and wages so I couldn't by the girls what they wanted, but I could get Beauty her rose!"
The beast pulled up a bit, his snarl lessening.
"How am I to know this story is true? How am I to know these daughters of yours are real?" The beast shifted, eyes like onyx set in bramble watching him from the side, like an animal. "I will give you one chance to live. You may have three days. If, by the end of those three days you can convince one of your daughters to come suffer in your place, you bring her and you may go free. If not, you must return and accept your sentence!"
The man pushed his tongue against the back of his teeth and swallowed. He couldn't ask one of his daughters to die for him. No decent, loving man could! Could he not use those days to say goodbye, then? But those three days...he couldn't possibly ride home and back in three days, even if his horse ran the whole way! Stuttering nervously, he said as much.
"It will be remedied." the beast said with a dismissing wave of his hand. "Do you accept these conditions?"
"Yes, I-I accept."
The beast leaned back, standing fully on his legs at eight feet, if not taller. Despite his horrific appearance the act of standing properly made him slightly human, and this did nothing to comfort the poor merchant's fear.
"Go back to your room. You'll find a trunk there. Fill it with whatever you like from the vaults and take it with you, a gift to your children, if such children exist. If they do not it will do you little good, as you will be dead in three days. Do not try to elude me. If you do not return I will find you, and your fate will be that much more unpleasant!"
The merchant swallowed, nodded furiously, and scrambled out of the beast's way.
-end chapter 1-