A White So Red

by Krystle Jones

  Natalia felt it in her hands first, the widening vibrations pulsing from the ribbons, which stretched and shimmered before her eyes, as if fighting to take another form. Her mouth gaped open as she watched the strands of silk elongate, their smooth texture turning hard with scales as two heads emerged, followed by bottomless black eyes and large jaws from which hung two sets of fangs dripping with venom.

  She stared up at the pair of serpents – which easily rose twelve feet in the air – as they writhed about, hissing.

  Gripping the sword tighter, Natalia leveled it in front of her, trying to control her erratic breathing.

  “Snow?” someone said dazedly.

  Her head snapped around. Tristan was swaying, clutching at his head and squinting in her direction. “Snow, is that you?”

  One of the snakes hissed, turning with lightning-quick precision and spotting Tristan.

  “Look out!” Natalia screamed, throwing her hand out. A burst of red light shot from her palm, knocking Tristan out of the way as the serpent lunged, snapping its massive jaws where Tristan’s head had been only seconds before.

  Something flashed from the corner of her eye, and she dove to the side as the other serpent charged her. Scrambling to her feet, she whirled to find the second snake already sliding toward Tristan. He looked wide-awake now as he scrambled backward, eyes round and mouth open in horror.

  “Hey!” Natalia yelled, flailing her arms. “Over here!”

  The snake stopped its assault, wheeling its bulbous head about. She broke its gaze long enough to quickly dart her head from side to side, trying to decide if she should attempt to grab Tristan and run, but the snake didn’t give her long enough to think it through. Following the lead of its comrade, it reared and launched itself at her, its gaping jaws aimed for her head. In a blur of movement, she brought the sword up, its blade ringing with an echoing clang as it met the snake’s fangs, each of which easily ran the length of her entire arm.

  “Snow!” she heard Tristan scream.

  Grunting, she pushed against the snake as it fought to overcome her, wriggling its oversized body. A fierce cry exploded from her throat as she gathered her strength and swung as hard as she could at the snake’s head, slicing a bloody gash across its eyes. The snake reared with a pained yowl, and she raised the blade, fully intending to slice straight through the beast’s exposed gut, when something struck her hard from behind her knees and she pitched forward.

  The sword went flying as she splayed her arms out to catch herself, landing hard on her side and banging her head against a tree root. Her vision blurred, and she turned her head enough to catch the end of a whip-like tail slithering away.

  Gritting her teeth, she fumbled for her footing when a second blow to her back pinned her to the ground. Her cheek pressed against the sharp edges of leaves and pine needles as the serpent coiled above her. It slowly rose into the air, seeming to smile at her as its forked tongue licked the air next to her face.

  Her heart was beating so hard she thought it would crack her ribcage. As she laid there with her arms tangled beneath the bulk of the serpent, all she could see from the corner of her eye was the opening mouth of Death as it descended for the kill.

  For some reason, it wasn’t her mother or father who came to mind.

  It was Rose and Caspar.

  “Rose… Caspar…” she whispered, her voice hoarse from the tight knot in her throat. When she tried to move her arms, all she could manage to do was wriggle around a bit. Her eyes darted in front of her, where the sword rested less than an arms-length away.

  A twig snapped beside her, and Tristan flew out of the brush, a glowing green dagger of energy grasped in his hand. He landed on the snake, driving the dagger into its skin. It went straight through, and the serpent reared, releasing some of the pressure on her chest and arms. Gasping, she tried to sit up and then was immediately pushed back down as the serpent leaned forward and rammed its head into Tristan’s. The dagger vanished in wisps of green sparkles, and Tristan was thrown off, landing hard on his side. He cried out, grabbing his shoulder while his eyes squeezed shut. The second serpent moved in.

  Everything played out in slow motion. Tristan whimpered, making gasping and choking noises as the other serpent twined its lengthy body around him, crushing his bones.

  Natalia grunted, feeling helpless and weak. Her lungs were beginning to burn from lack of air. Unable to close her eyes and just accept death, she swiveled her sights back on the serpent that would be the end of her, its jaws slowly opening wider as its jaw dislodged. She could see straight down its long neck; the murky light glistened off its pink innards.

  Fear turned to terror, paralyzing her as she took what would inevitably be her last breath. The sound seemed to echo around her, frozen in time, right before there was a flash of silver, followed by a spray of hot red liquid against her face. Immediately, the snake’s weight shifted and she could feel her arms again.

  A volley of arrows sailed through the air, embedding in the other snake. One went straight into its eye, exploding in a spray of green goo upon impact. It hissed in pain, its body falling limp around a now unconscious Tristan, who sagged over its side.

  Confused and more than relieved, she coughed, her throat rattling with an awful grating sound as air rushed into her lungs. She reached up with a trembling hand and wiped away the ooze, blinking a few times while her vision cleared.

  Her mouth hung open.

  The snake – or rather, what was left of it – was wriggling and twitching on its own. The body seemed unsure how to keep on living without the head, which lay a few feet away, its eyes still wide with surprise.

  A scuffed black boot stepped into her line of vision as someone took her by the arms and hauled her up. “Are you all right?”

  Her heart stuttered. “Caspar,” she rasped, coughing as her lungs figured out how to work again.

  Caspar turned her to face him, quickly scanning her for any trace of injury. He closed his eyes and sighed hard, the tension in his features easing. Voices shouted around them as more figures came into view.

  “She’s over here!” Caspar called. “The boy’s with her!”

  Her eyes flickered to Tristan, who lay sprawled on his stomach.

  Immediately, her brow knit. Where was the other snake? She was so caught up looking for it she almost missed the soft hiss behind her.

  “Look out!” Caspar shouted, throwing her to one side while he darted to the other. The serpent charged through the brush, landing between them.

  Natalia rolled over, already finding Caspar on his feet, his handsome face menacing as he faced off with the blinded serpent. It tasted the air, tracking his scent before snapping at him, quick as a shadow. He ducked and stabbed upward, narrowly missing the snake as it swung its head out of range of the rapier and lashed out with its tail. Caspar only had enough time to turn his head before the tail struck him hard in the stomach, knocking him off his feet. As he fell, he latched onto the serpent, wrapping his arms around its tail as he was lifted into the air.

  “Caspar!” Natalia yelled, watching as he fought to keep hold of the serpent as it flailed its tail.

  “My Lady!”

  She turned, finding Malachite running toward her with Tristan in his arms. Malachite looked pale as he stopped before her, panting.

  “Caspar,” Natalia said, breathless. “He’s fighting that –”

  A shadow fell over them, and they both ducked as the snake swung its tail – and consequently Caspar – over their heads.

  Malachite watched, an odd expression somewhere between amusement and fear on his face. “That fool’s in way over his head,” he said. “Here, take the boy.”

  He tried handing Tristan off to her, but she spotted the sword at his belt and grabbed the hilt, pulling it free.

  “Natalia, no!” Malachite tried grabbing for her, but she was already rushing over to the snake. She was unsure exactly what she was going to do, but she wasn’t about to stand around and wait
for someone to help.

  Natalia gulped down a breath of cool air and gave her fiercest warrior cry, raising the blade above her head, when shouts erupted from the woods behind her. She drew up short as the dwarves came barreling through the brush and cut her off, pickaxes and chisels swinging above their heads as they assaulted the snake.

  Its attention diverted from Caspar, the snake whirled and began concentrating on the dwarves, snapping at them whenever one managed to poke it. The dwarves were surprisingly brutal to be so small, and she was once again reminded of their true nature as she watched them stab and slice the snake’s scales to shreds, their glee lighting up their faces in smiles of sharp teeth. Avalanche dropped his ax altogether and began gnawing at an open wound in the snake’s belly.

  Natalia turned her head, tasting vomit. The snake made a strange, pained noise deep within its gut before it began thrashing. Dwarves were flung to the side, and Caspar, who was halfway up the snake’s back, managed to clamp down on the snake before it bucked him off completely. He cursed as he lost his grip on the rapier, and it fell to the ground, sticking straight up.

  The scene before her was a complete turnaround from the victory she was sure they would have only seconds before. Arrows flew from the marauders, narrowly missing Caspar.

  “Stop!” Natalia screamed, running to them and waving her free hand. “Stop or you’ll hit him!”

  “Hold your fire!” Malachite commanded, and the men reluctantly lowered their weapons.

  Through the chaos, she saw the tiny black form of Midnight as he hacked at the beast, green ooze splattering on his face. As if sensing her watching him, he turned his head, locking eyes with her. They stared at each other for what seemed like a fraction of eternity before she saw the snake’s jaws wrap around his torso. Surprised, Midnight cried out in pain as the snake clamped down, lifting him in the air while he squealed in terror.

  “No!” Natalia screamed, rushing forward.

  She tried gouging at the snake but couldn’t land a single blow. The serpent was feral, moving quick as lightning in its desperate struggle to survive. It mercilessly shook the dwarf, sending blood splattering across the small clearing.

  Her arms rose, but try as she might her magic wouldn’t come. Too many things – terror, rage, despair – were grappling for her attention.

  A roar from behind sent a chill through her. She whirled, expecting to find a bear, but it was Wormwart, black eyes murderous as he charged the snake, an animalistic wail tearing from his lungs. He swung his pickax hard at the beast’s belly, firmly embedding the point deep within the underlying tissue. The snake reared with a pained hiss, and the mutilated body of the small dwarf dropped to the ground in a bloody heap of torn rags and shredded flesh.

  Natalia instantly started to run to him when Caspar yelled, “Snow, your sword! Give it to me!”

  Spinning on her heel, she spied him clinging to the snake’s head. Without thinking, she flipped the blade so the hilt was in her hand and flung it at Caspar. The blade spun through the air, tip over sheath, flying in a straight line toward Caspar’s outstretched hand. He snatched the blade from the air and plunged it straight down into the snake’s head, right between its eyes.

  The snake froze and then shuddered as Caspar ripped the blade out, straddling the massive head. As its life drained away, the serpent began to fall, and Caspar jumped right before it hit the ground, landing on his feet a short distance away.

  For a moment, they all stood there, panting and shocked. Her knees trembled, threatening to give out. She turned back toward the small dwarf a little too quickly and fell. She crawled the rest of the way to his still body, not caring that her knees and palms were being cut to pieces by the sharp foliage.

  Natalia pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back a sob. Midnight was barely recognizable, no more than a pile of broken limbs and chewed up flesh. He sputtered, white foam bubbling from his mouth, and she spied two fang-sized punctures on either side of his torso.

  She looked back to his face, at the foam gathering beside his head. The venom, she thought. Then he’s really going to…

  Desperate, she cupped his face, willing her magic to come.

  “Come on,” she hissed under her breath. “Work!”

  Her fingertips began glowing red, and she felt the first strands of life flow into Midnight. He shivered, convulsing slightly.

  Hope filled her up. It was working. He was going to live. But the floodgate of magic refused to fully open because her body was shaking so badly. She could feel his life slipping further away by the second.

  “No,” she said, shaking him slightly. “No, don’t you dare die on me.”

  A hand rested on her shoulder. “It’s too late,” Malachite said. “The poison’s already in his heart.”

  “No!” she shouted, but she knew he was right.

  Her bottom lip trembled as tears stung her eyes. Feeling a heavy weight in her heart, she gently lifted his head and cradled his body on her lap. She pressed her sweat-soaked forehead against his, feeling the ice-cold sheen along his skin.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m so sorry I brought this upon you.”

  Midnight shuddered and his eyes fluttered open. She could see the pain collected in his pupils, which were widened to large black ovals.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered again.

  He reached up and placed his small hand over hers, smiling slightly.

  A sob slipped from her lips. His little hand was cold, like he was already dead. A small shudder rolled through him, and he sighed softly, his head lolling to one side as his hand slipped from hers, falling to the ground limp.

  The clearing was quiet as the other dwarves gathered around, their faces lowered and their eyes hidden as they mourned. Caspar stood in the distance, arms crossed and a dark expression on his face as he stared at the ground.

  Malachite squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

  None of the men moved. They all wore the same melancholy expression, keeping their eyes averted downward and trying not to stare.

  Unable to hold back the overwhelming wave of sorrow, she crushed the dwarf’s body to her chest, trying so desperately to listen to the heartbeat that was no longer there.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Soul of the Earth

  No one spoke as the dwarves hoisted Midnight’s body up and carried him back to the cottage.

  The air felt heavier somehow. Natalia sat there for a while, her arms trembling as she stared blankly ahead. It bubbled up inside her, a festering infection of rage, despair, and sorrow. Tilting her head back, she let loose a scream that cut through the forest, the sound of her broken heart echoing all around them like a banshee’s cry.

  Caspar finally came over and gently hauled her up, leading her away.

  She didn’t look at anyone as they passed, though she saw Malachite had an arm draped around his limping son. He gave a hand signal, and the men followed them as they walked past. She tripped and stumbled, feeling numb. All the while she kept warring with herself: Were those really Rose’s ribbons, or just another one of the Queen’s tricks?

  Caspar bumped shoulders with her, but he didn’t say anything. That was good, because she didn’t feel like talking.

  The cottage looked more solemn in the settling shadows of the deep night. When they arrived, Midnight’s body was laying on the dining room table. Someone had already lit the candles and torches. Caspar and Natalia helped Wormwart clean the body, while Goldentongue and Leaf retrieved Midnight’s best tunic. Avalanche and Twix were outside with Malachite and his men, who had retrieved more shovels and were helping dig a grave. No one spoke, and the air filled with the sobs and whimpers of the dwarves.

  Natalia’s eyes flashed to Wormwart once, and what she saw mirrored her own grief. His face was crumpled; his will, broken. Never in her life had she seen someone look so sad. Goldentongue and Leaf returned with the tunic and
slipped it over their little brother’s body. Wormwart’s fingers slipped up several times while trying to tie it closed, fumbling with the strings as if he had never tied a knot before.

  Silently, Natalia reached over and finished up his work for him, though it took a while because her own fingers were shaking. Wormwart stood there, staring blankly ahead, an empty shell compared to the fiery dwarf she knew.

  The night seemed endless, and it was black as pitch outside. The cloud cover had thickened; not even the moon or stars deemed to show, as if they too were sharing in the dwarves’ collective grief.

  When the body was clean and dressed, Natalia stepped back so Midnight’s brothers could wrap him in a single length of black silk, like a cocoon. Together, they carried the body outside, where a hole had been dug in the cold earth. She looked on as they gently lowered him into the ground, bowing their heads in remembrance. In gentle, soft words, Malachite began reciting a prayer, the same one he had given the king and queen at their services. Natalia’s face burned as she fought to forget her memories of those days. She hadn’t realized she had been hugging herself, digging her nails in so tightly they left red half-moon circles on her skin, until Caspar reached up and took her hand. He pried her arms apart, squeezing her hand tightly, and she squeezed back.

  Malachite finished the prayer and the only sound was the dwarves’ wails and the hiss of the torches the men held. Natalia’s chest hurt from the effort of trying to contain her emotions.

  After several long minutes, Malachite looked at his men and nodded. They retrieved the shovels, scooping piles of dirt from the mound next to the grave. The silence was heavy as they began covering the figure with dirt, the scrape of their shovels the only sound in the abysmal atmosphere.

  Caspar and Natalia looked on in silence. Every time a bit of dirt fell into the grave, her heart cracked that much deeper. It registered with her that this was truly good-bye, that she would never speak to the little dwarf again or feel the touch of his hand upon hers. When the hole was almost full, Malachite went over and spoke with two of the men, who nodded. They laid down their shovels, grabbed their swords and crossbows, and disappeared into the woods. By the time the grave was completely covered, they had returned with a rabbit and a pheasant in their arms. The bird’s feathers were outlined in silver, and parts of the rabbit were completely metallic.