A Dance with Destiny
Chapter Six: The Hunt
The king's procession left early, just before dawn. There was the king himself, Griff, the Captain-General of the Kingsguard, Sir Mandon Gergenson, and a few other household knights. They were on foot and carrying several pounds of equipment. The guards were carrying the weapons and travel equipment, Sir Mandon was holding the Mewni flag, and Griff was carrying several water skins and the food in a sac slung over his shoulder. The king was dressed in nothing but a white loincloth and his crown. He carried a large barbed spear in one hand. The day had started off so simple…
"Griff, wake up!" the king demanded, kicking open Griff's door.
Griff (regrettably) screamed like a girl and threw the covers over himself. "Your Grace, what is the meaning of this?" he demanded in a shrill voice.
"We're going monster hunting!" the king explained, pointing a finger dramatically at Griff's wall, his other hand on his hip.
"Bu-but I—"
"Excellent! I'll meet you outside in ten minutes. Tally-ho!" The king then left, hopping and bouncing off the walls with the grace and gusto of a man twenty years his junior.
So that was how Griff managed to find himself sloughing through the mud and grass of the Mewni forests at six-thirty in the morning, dressed in little more than a jerkin and some old boots.
Before they left, Higgs found him outside.
"Hey," she said quickly, "don't forget to ask the king to enroll you in the squire's tourney."
"I will, jeez," he said, raising his hands.
"Good," she said, walking off.
The forests of Mewni were beautiful, Griff couldn't argue that. The sound of birds chirping and squirrels running along the branches gave him a sort of nostalgic aching. He was reminded of his mother and how she used to make blood portage every two weeks; how his father used to put him on his shoulders so he could touch the tips of branches; how he used to run and play with his sisters, even though they were all older and faster than he was.
The king breathed in heavily. "Don't you just love the smell of fresh air in the morning?"
"I will admit," Griff confessed, "that it does give me some pleasure, Your Grace."
"Ha!" the king barked. "And you, Sir Mandon? How do you fare?"
"Well enough, Your Grace," the old knight said. He was old, Sir Mandon, with long white hair and a thin-cut beard. He wore the elaborate white armor of the Kingsguard, with a long sword on his back.
The other knights, Sir Royce, Dame Celestian, and Sir Patrick, were less thrilled. Sir Royce was young, with black hair and a handsome face, though Higgs said he had more in common with Baby Man than anybody else.
"Dumb as a stump," she would say. "Sir Lump is dumb as a stump."
Griff would laugh too, and so would Old Guy and Baby Man, and then they would mock the other knights. Griff missed them. They had already been traveling for several hours and the sun was beginning to set. Soon they would have nowhere to go but where they stood and make camp. I should have been training today, Griff thought. I swore I'd win my knighthood, and I won't fail.
"Your Grace," Griff said, walking faster to keep pace with the king's fast paces.
"Yes?" the king asked.
"I, um—well, uh—I was just wondering…"
"Wondering what?" the king said. "Out with it."
"Well, its just that there's a squire's tourney coming up, and I was hoping that you'd—"
"—enter you in the lists?"
Griff gave a sheepish nod. The king seemed to think it over for several minutes.
"Very well," he said at last. "I'll enter your name as soon as we get back."
"Really? Oh, thank you, Sire!"
The king laughed. "Don't mention it, son. I was young once too, and just as eager to gain my knighthood. I'm sure you'll do fine as a knight."
Sir Royce snickered. Griff shot him a glare.
"The sun is setting, Your Grace," Sir Mandon said. "Mayhaps we should make camp and try again tomorrow."
"Yes, yes," the king said. "I'm sure tomorrow we'll have better luck."
They didn't. For another day and a half they marched through the woods, but no monsters were about. Some warnicorns, yes, and maybe even a bear or two, but no monsters. By midday, most of the food was gone, and the knights were getting tired.
"Your Grace," Griff said, "perhaps we should turn back. If we continue any longer we'll likely run out of food and starve."
"Hear, hear!" Sir Royce said.
The king frowned and said, "No, we're not turning around until I have a carcass to put on my wall." His face softened. "Though, perhaps we should stop and get more food. Follow me, I know place that's perfect!"
-o-
That "perfect place" turned out to be the rutty old hut of a Skahl, one of the Mewmans who preferred to live out in the wilds. Griff had encountered a few before, and most tended to be friendly folk who just wanted to be left alone or trade decent things for other decent things.
Not this one.
This one was called Norester, a great bear of a man with long white hair, a scraggy beard and a cloak made of white bear hide. His home was small, with a brazier in the middle, a bedroom for him, and some stables for goats outside. There were also numerous women walking around, all with similar features to Norester. They must be his daughters.
Sir Royce looked around appreciably. "All these women and only one man? You don't recon he'd mind if I borrowed one, do you?"
The king shook his head. "Nobody touches Norester's daughters but Norester, you hear me?"
Sir Royce huffed but said, "Fine."
"Norester!" the king said when they entered, arms open wide.
Norester huffed. "River."
There was an awkward silence that was broken when River said, "Is it alright if we stay the evening? My party and I are running low on food."
The Skahl waved his hand. "Very well." The old man sat on a chair made from animal hides.
King River smiled and announced everyone. When he got to Griff, the old Skahl smirked and said, "You're prettier most'a my wives."
"Wives?" Griff said before he could stop himself. "Forgive me but, I thought they were your daughters."
The old man smiled, showing off his rotting teeth. "Same thing."
Suddenly Griff felt like vomiting. "You marry your own daughters?"
"Aye, you got a problem, boy?"
Be grateful I don't cut out your black heart now, crow. "No, though I am concerned how you've survived this long; surely there've been raids. Men and monsters are always hungry for food and women."
One of the wives was larger than the rest, with a swollen belly and large ankles. She must be pregnant, Griff thought. About to give birth to another abomination. Even among monsters, incest was a heavy crime.
Norester barked out a laugh. "The monsters know to stay away. The gods protect me."
Any gods that condone abominations are no gods I ever want to know.
The king cleared his throat. "Would you mind if we retreated for the night? My men and I are tired."
"Might as well stay for supper," Norester said. "My girl Nelly makes a mean turtle stew."
That night, as the party was changing for bed, Sir Royce scoffed. "Bloody monster, making children with his children."
Griff nodded. "I'm surprised our king allows it." If it had been him, he would've cut the old crow's neck and been done with it.
"Even if he does, it doesn't make it right."
When Sir Royce blew out the candle to their shared room, Griff had a sudden dark thought. "What about the boys."
"What?" came Sir Royce's voice.
"Did you notice any boys around, like, at all?"
"…No."
"Exactly. So if Norester marries his daughters, what does he do with his sons?"
-o-
They set out again the next morning, just before dawn. Good, Griff thought. I'd rather take my chances with the cold than bother with that pig any day.
The king was in good spirits, however. "Quickly now!" he declared, running ahead of the rest of the gaggle. "I can smell the monsters; they're close!"
Hopefully they're close enough to hear us coming, Griff thought, though he did stomp a little louder, just in case.
Sir Mandon grunted. "Your Grace, perhaps we should turn back. There isn't enough food to last much longer."
"Nonsense, Sir Mandon," the king scoffed. "There's a village that's just infested with monsters just over this next ridge."
Griff gulped. Please don't tell me the king intends to… "Your Grace, perhaps Sir Mandon is correct; it would be more prudent to turn back now."
One of the knights scoffed. "What, you chicken or somethin'?"
Another knight hit him on the shoulder. "Back off, Royce, leave the king's squire alone."
Sir Royce grumbled and massaged his sore spot. "Yeah, whatever," he grumbled.
"And here we are!" the king shouted triumphantly. When Griff joined him on the ridge, he saw a cozy little village built of straw and sticks and mud. A small lake that flooded from a waterfall was nestled into the earth near the village. Fields were growing, with an assortment of vegetables—tomatoes, cabbage, apples, and grapes.
"What's this?" the king demanded. "Where are all the monsters?"
Griff was puzzled too. There weren't any traces of…anyone. Even if all the men were hunting, the women should still be drying clothes, cooking, or watching over the little ones. And speaking of little ones, children should be chasing each other around the huts or playing in the water. Instead, there was nothing.
"What could've…"
"Sire, look," one of the knights said, pointing. Approaching the village was a horde of monsters; women, men, children, young, old, all marching silently. That wasn't right. Monsters were loud and boisterous, with shouting and screaming being considered part of a monster's "inside voice." A dark cloud seemed to be following the group, keeping just ahead of the front row of monsters, and Griff noticed that every monster's eye was milky white.
"What is that?" the king asked, pointing.
Griff looked. At the head of the horde was a horse with a hide as black as tar and crimson eyes. Its rider was similarly colored, though it had long dark hair and wore charcoal armor with crimson swirls swimming across its plate. In its hand was a long slender blade as dark as night.
A cold hand closed around Griff's heart.
"We have to go," he said, voice coming in a whimper.
"What?" the king asked. "But we can't just—"
The thing at the head of the horde looked up and saw them, its red eyes drinking in their images. It raised its sword and gave out a loud screech, like the cawing of a thousand crows speaking at once.
The horde began to advance.
"Run!" Griff shouted. "RUN!" He grabbed the king by the beard and began to pull him along, running as fast as he could. Only later would he realize that he hadn't spoken with the voice of Griff of Squalor's Hook, but of Cosmos Butterfly of Mewni.
"The Kingsguard does not flee," Sir Mandon said, drawing his sword.
You bloody fool! Griff wanted to scream, but he held his tongue. Let the old man die with a sword in his hand, holding off the enemy. The rest of the knights weren't so brave; they turned tail and ran after their king.
As they ran, the dark cloud seemed to overtake them, and Griff's skin turned as cold as ice. Out of the shadow of a tree, a figure stepped out. It looked just like the other one—skin black, hair long, red eyes, and dark armor. It drew a sword from a sheath on its back, long and terrible.
Sir Royce gave a loud shout and charged, but the beast was ready. It blocked the first strike, and the second, then when the swords collided on the third, Royce's blade shattered into a million tiny fragments, and the knight screamed, covering his bloody face in his hands. The thing's sword shot out, cutting through mail and flesh like they were nothing but silk. The brave fool died as he lived—without a head. His bowels released and he fell to the ground in a heap of blood and armor.
"Wha—" the king got out before Griff grabbed him again and began to pull. It seemed that not even the King of Mewni could understand what was happening. That was okay.
The prince did.
The other knights fell in on both sides of them, but their heavy armor and gear slowed them down. They began to lag, first a foot, then two, then three, until all Griff heard was the sound of pained shrieks and metal scrapping on metal.
"What's going on?" the king demanded.
"Shut up and run!" Griff shrieked.
To the right and left, Griff could see the horde of monsters closing in, hoping to box them in and kill them. They shrieked and cawed, awful noises that made Griff's blood go cold and his trousers to suddenly get wet.
Suddenly…
Norester's cabin came into view, with its rusted fence and old wooden walls. A few goats were milling about, but when they saw Griff and the king they gave frightened bleats and defecated before going to cower in their stables.
"Get inside!" Griff pushed the king through the rusted gate and up toward the cabin. He threw open the door, shoved the king inside, and took one last glance at the horde before shoving the door closed and pressing the bar over it.
There's no escape. He felt like sobbing and felt—for the first time—a dampness in his pants. Tears began to flow down his cheeks. We're all going to die.
Norester came shambling in, laughing. "You've no fear here, boy. The gods won't hurt you under my roof." Griff noticed his cloak was larger than before, and he stomach seemed a bit larger, and one of his arms was hidden within the folds.
"Gods? There are no gods here, you bloody bastard!"
Norester's smile faded. "You watch yourself, boy. Under my roof you'll speak with respect, or I'll cut your tongue out." A few of his wives were huddled in the corner, cooing to another of their kind. "I'll deal with the gods, boy."
"You—"
Before he could finish, Norester lifted the bar, opened the door, and stepped out into the darkness. The door remained open a crack; Griff looked out, though only his left eye could see.
Norester was walking toward the horde, inexorable. One of the demons strode forward, the horde parted before it. Norester reached within his white fur cloak and pulled something soft and pink—a baby. Suddenly Griff remembered the wife who had been in the corner.
Monsters know to stay away. The gods protect me.
What happens to his sons?
You've no fear, boy. The gods won't hurt you under my roof.
A lump formed in Griff's throat, and he felt a rock in his stomach. He sacrifices to the old ones, he realized with cold horror. Outside, the demon took the babe, which began to squeal and scream, and marched back into the darkness. The horde followed after it, leaving the shack in peace.
"What…What were those things?" River asked, face beaded with sweat.
Griff swallowed and pressed his back against the shack's wall. "The old ones," he said with the voice of Cosmos Butterfly. The king didn't notice, too shocked to say anything.
"They killed my knights."
"They would've killed us too," Griff said.
"You…You knew they were returning. How?"
Griff looked up, and for a moment he was tempted to tell the king everything; but given the king's position and demeanor, that would only make things worse.
"I used to live out here," he explained slowly. "We heard reports of things returning. Dead things. Ancient things. We didn't believe it until we saw them. My mother and I were hunting one day when we saw them; they were much farther north that here; they don't normally come this close to the kingdom."
Norester entered, his mouth wide. "See, I told you. You two can sleep down here tonight; I want you gone by sunrise tomorrow."
Griff didn't have the strength to argue.
-o-
They arrived back at Butterfly Castle three days later, their eyes droopy and legs stiff; they hadn't stopped marching once, not even to sleep. They couldn't risk it. Whenever Griff closed his eyes, he saw Sir Royce's bodiless head rolling on the ground. You couldn't stop them, he seemed to say.
The gates opened with a loud creaking, and the king and prince walked through. Knights rushed forward to help, but stopped when they noticed that only the king and his cupbearer had returned, and without any equipment.
"Sire," one of the knights said, "are you alright? Where are the others?"
"Griff," Higgs said, pushing through the crowd, "is everything alright?"
Griff shook his head, and the king dismissed them with a wave of his hand. The knights and squires went off silently, though some did sneak a few glances at the ragged king.
The king led him to the royal bedchamber and closed the door behind them. He sat down on the ground, and Griff slid down against a wall. The queen was nowhere in sight. Gone off to attend to her royal duties.
"That was…" the king began. but didn't seem to be able to finish.
"…awful," Griff finished.
The king nodded. "They aren't stories." His voice was soft, like a kitten's. "They're real."
Griff nodded. "We have to tell the queen."
"No!" the king exclaimed.
"What? Why not?"
"Because she'll never believe it! And she has enough to deal with already; between running a kingdom, dealing with the fritz, making sure our daughter is keeping up to date on her training—"
"Are you serious?" Griff asked, jumping to his feet. "You just saw an army of monsters kill half a dozen knights like it was nothing, that Skahl bastard sacrifice a baby to them, and you want to do nothing? Are you mad?"
The king looked like he was going to argue, but like a kicked dog, put his head down and said nothing.
"You have to do something," Griff said gently. "If the old ones truly come back…there's nothing anyone will be able to do to stop them. Monsters, Mewmans, Pony Heads, Pigeons, they'll all be killed."
The king nodded. "I'll get the librarians to start doing some research. I'll go on less hunting trips. I'll…try to be better. But the queen can't know. You have to promise." For a moment, the king wasn't a king, but a scared little man who didn't know what to do.
"I'll keep silent," he said, putting a hand on the king's shoulder, "until there's no other choice. I swear it. For you."
The king gave a weary smile. "Thank you, Griff. Sometimes…sometimes I wish I had a son like you."
A/N: Okay everyone, please leave a review because they help keep me motivated to continue this story. If you want to be alerted to when I update, then please follow and favorite. Okay then, I'll see you all next time.
Bye!