Thread and Spool

by Holly Hook

  Stilt said nothing. We kept walking, and once the light got bright enough for me to make out the floor and walls of the tunnel, I broke away from Stilt. "Where's the exit?" I asked. "We need to get you out of here. Show us the exit."

  Stilt remained silent. I didn't like this. The elf should be following my orders. He had before. I walked faster, into the golden light up ahead, and the room opened up into a vast brick chamber that smelled of thick night air and metal all in one.

  The light came from everywhere at once. There were no shadows. The air crackled with power and made my hair stand on end. Sylvia appeared next to me and turned in a circle, taking it all in. So did Lavine and the cook.

  Gold filled the whole room. It was the size of a football stadium and all enclosed underground. Mountains of a golden thread--most of it spun by Stilt in his past lives--lay heaped everywhere, and they dwarfed what I had created in my prison. Coins from the mountain lay in messy piles at the base of the thread hills along with the scary fiddle, which sat propped against one pile as someone had just finished playing it. I could see no light hanging overhead. Henrik's power had grown so much that this gold was illuminating itself. We stood in a cul-de-sac, and I could spot no trail heading off from this. Not anywhere. But at least the golden horse and goose weren't here. They seemed to have escaped.

  Lavine screamed.

  I turned. The servant backed away from a ball of hair on a pike.

  No. It was a head. A man's bearded head. It looked like the head of a pirate, just without the eye patch, and blood stained the stone floor underneath it. There were two more heads like it behind it. These were fresh. Dead within the last two days or so, but there was no stench here.

  The cook held her, and his mouth dropped open. "Who's that?" he asked.

  "Maybe it was the bandits who stole his gold," I said.

  "I think it is," Stilt said. "Alric must have found them. It looks like they got punished." Was that glee in his voice?

  We had to get him out of here, and now.

  Stilt faced me, waiting for something.

  "Now what?" I asked. My heart leaped into my chest. "Where's the exit to this room? You said this was supposed to go up to the stables. And why aren't you doing what I say?"

  Stilt smiled. His teeth had grown. I had to keep myself from looking away.

  "You have to promise me something if I show you the exit," he said. "And you cannot break your promise."

  I took a step back, searching the room again. There didn't seem to be a way out. Stilt waited. His vile nature had risen back to the surface.

  "What do I promise you, then?" I knew that elves could never break their deals, either. Stilt hadn't been able to break his one with King Franz, who was now shrunken and imprisoned somewhere. "What do I have to promise you?"

  "Don't do it," Sylvia said. "Stilt's not himself right now."

  "I am!" he shouted at her. "You know I am. I was like this when you helped me escape from here for the second time."

  "You weren't," Sylvia told him. She stepped forward. "Not quite like this. There's something not right about you, even if you are going dark."

  Stilt rounded on her. The elf balled his fists like he was trying to hold himself back from doing something horrible.

  Something in his gaze made Sylvia back away. She bumped into a pile of gold coins--probably from the mountain--and fell back. Stilt turned back to me. He smiled, but it wasn't warm.

  I thought of the apple still in my dress pocket. I might need to use it.

  "For me to show you where the exit is," Stilt said, "you must promise me your hand in marriage."

  Everything jumped inside.

  Marry Stilt?

  This elf was the same guy who said I should be able to make my own choices. But he was also the same guy who warned me that my story always followed me. The lighter Stilt would never have done this.

  "Stilt...I...."

  "I need your promise," he said. He softened his voice. "Morning is coming. Every life in here except for ours is in danger. You don't want your friends to die, do you?"

  I glanced at the cook. Lavine and Sylvia. They were so young and hadn't done anything wrong. Well, Lavine and the cook. But Sylvia didn't deserve death for treating her stepsister like crap. She'd learned her lesson, and besides, we were friends.

  And they didn't even care that I could spin gold.

  Stilt took a step towards me. His dark eyes locked onto my own. A flash of toxic green tried to hide. I could spot something smoldering deep inside of them. Something burning. His tattered sleeve fell back, revealing smooth, perfect elf skin.

  My stomach turned over.

  My heart leaped into my chest.

  This Stilt didn't have his scars.

  And he was right about one other thing, too. I hadn't guessed his correct name.

  "I promise you nothing," I said. "And I know your true name. It's King Henrik. Now, where is the real Stilt?"

  Chapter Thirteen

  I searched the room around me for anything I could use as a weapon, but there was nothing but treasure. Then I remembered the golden ax still in my hand. I had to use it. It was going to be gross, but I needed to.

  Stilt--the fake Stilt--backed away from me and growled in rage. His face turned red, and he reached up, grabbing his scalp. Sylvia screamed and backed away. Lavine turned her features into a grimace and watched in horror while the cook tried to stand in front of her.

  The fake Stilt ripped his scalp right open.

  Instead of blood, a golden crown encrusted with red jewels emerged. The air charged with sharp magic as Henrik ripped the disguise off. The two leathery halves fell to the floor and turned to dust as Henrik stood up at his full height, green eyes toxic with fury.

  "Brie," he shouted. "You will give me your vow, or else your elf and everyone else in this room will die in front of you. I will have their heads displayed in the courtyard for you to look at for the rest of your life."

  I swung the ax at him, but Henrik raised one hand. A force slammed into my arm before the weapon hit and it went flying out of my hand. It landed somewhere in the treasure, causing a gold avalanche that stopped at Henrik's feet.

  The cook roared and swung his sword, but the same happened. A force smacked into him, and he toppled back into a tangle of golden thread. It wrapped around him, squeezing tighter and tighter until the cook gasped for breath. Henrik was controlling it.

  "Now, Brie," he said, calmer than ever. It was dangerous. "Offer me your hand, and I will loosen the binds on this man."

  He extended his hand. I had no weapons. If I took it, people would die. If I didn't, people would die. I had no right choices here.

  I only had the knife and the apple in my pocket.

  I pulled it out, holding it to my mouth. I curled my teeth around its flesh. Its smell invaded my nostrils, begging me to take a bite.

  "No!" Henrik shouted, taking a step closer to me. His eyes widened, and he stood there, hand reaching for me. Terror crept up into his features.

  I was dealing with Hardy all over again.

  "I'll bite," I said, muffled as I was. "I'll bite, and you'll never see me again. My ability will go right down a hundred leagues into the ground with me. It looks like you've already gathered all the gold in Fable. You only need a little bit more, don't you?" My teeth hurt with the effort of talking around the apple. I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to fall hundreds of miles. I'd leave the others to their death. But I wouldn't let all of Fable fall.

  "Release the apple," Henrik said. Behind him, Sylvia crept closer to the fiddle. What good was that going to do us? "Please, Brie. You will live a far worse life in Fable's underworld than you ever would here, with me. I will shower you with riches. I will give you a life of comfort, and I will even spare your friends. I will make them nobles, even. Grant them land."

  "That's not what I want," I managed. "I want my freedom."

  Sylvia picked up the fiddle and the blade. "Henrik!" he shouted.

&nb
sp; He turned to her. Even from the side, I could see him screwing his face up in horror. He raised his hands at her, but before he could throw her back, she played.

  Bright fiddle music filled the space and echoed off the walls. Sylvia faced the king as she played.

  And Henrik's feet started to move.

  He fought back, trying to keep them planted on the ground, but it was no use.

  King Henrik started to dance.

  "No!" he shouted. "Stop this, at once!"

  His boots clicked against the stone as Sylvia played louder and louder. She faced him only, but I could feel my legs wanting to dance. Behind the King, the cook untangled himself from the golden thread. His face regained some color.

  "We need to do something," Lavine told me. "She can't keep that up forever."

  Henrik shouted curses at Sylvia. His feet danced harder and harder, unable to stop. He waved his arms to throw her back, but he was dancing so hard that he only managed to target a pile of gold, which flew into a mountain of the thread. Sooner or later, he'd hit Sylvia. We'd all be goners then.

  I eyed the apple on the floor, the one that the fake Stilt had carried around. I picked it up and took the knife out of my pocket.

  "What are you doing?" the cook asked. The music kept playing, and I struggled to keep my legs still. Lavine and the cook looked like they needed to use the bathroom.

  Stilt had done this with a bird.

  An apple would be easier--right?

  I sliced my palm. The pain seared and I bit in a scream. Blood rose. Then I sliced a line right down the apple. Juice flowed out and stopped. I eyed my palm and thought about weaving. Thought about spinning. The heat flared into my hands, and I focused it all on the right one. Into the line of blood growing there. My blood glowed with a faint golden luster.

  I had friends. I didn't need to impress anyone with my gold anymore.

  And I never would again.

  I pushed my palm to the apple. Blood mixed in with the red color, matching it exactly. The heat and the tingling flowed right out of my hand. Sylvia continued to play. Another pile of treasure flew past us and landed somewhere.

  And at last, gold spread over the skin of the apple itself. It shimmered in the light and crackled with energy. All the heat and tingling vanished from my hand. I felt as if a hole had opened inside of me and left a void--but it was like a pressure being relieved, like a nose that wasn't stuffy anymore.

  I was free of my curse. I could feel it.

  "Dance him to exhaustion!" I shouted at Sylvia. She played and played, and her arm trembled with the effort. "Dance him into the thread!"

  She changed her angle, and another pile of treasure flew as Henrik waved his hands. He gasped for breath and toppled, limbs thrashing, then got to his feet and continued dancing. One of the heads on a pike knocked over. Henrik tripped on it and went headfirst into some golden thread. It tangled around him, and he still danced, unable to control himself. Sylvia drew closer and closer and loomed right over Henrik, who thrashed helplessly. I sliced a piece off the golden apple.

  "You want more gold?" I asked. "You can spin it in the underworld!"

  And then Sylvia stopped playing.

  Henrik thrashed against the golden thread. The cook jumped on and held down one arm. Lavine held down the other.

  "You can't," he said. He closed his eyes. "I'll die first."

  The room began to quake. Gold toppled. Landslides of coins raced down, partially burying the entrance to the room. He was going to seal all of us in here. I had to do it.

  I took the apple slice and crammed it against Henrik's mouth.

  He resisted at first, but then I held his nose shut and at last, he opened his mouth to breathe.

  I stuffed the apple slice in.

  The trembling increased and more treasure fell. Coins buried my legs. I fell forward. The ground under us was shifting. It was ready to claim Henrik and the rest of us if we didn't move.

  Henrik was falling. Coins toppled in with him. He reached out to grab me, to take me with him, but a steady hand grasped the back of my dress and yanked me back. A black hole appeared around the King and widened, just wide enough to fit his shape, and he plummeted in a black void as dark as his eyes. I felt one last wave of cold, sharp magic pulling at me before he vanished and the ground closed, leaving nothing but thread and coins in its place.

  "Are you okay?" the cook asked.

  I couldn't stop hyperventilating. "I'm okay," I managed. I felt so...clean inside. "I'm okay." Henrik was gone. He'd never terrorize Fable again, would he?

  I stood. The cul-de-sac of emptiness was gone, leaving only gold and thread and coins on the floor. I had to stand on a bunch, and I struggled to keep my footing. Sylvia still held the cursed fiddle, which radiated its energy. She panted with exhaustion. Lavine had a gash on her forehead from where something had hit her. The whole room was a mess. It looked more like that room of money Scrooge would swim in than an organized hold for treasure. I couldn't see the stone floor anywhere. Which way was out?

  There. I could barely see the top of the entrance now. And no exit. Maybe it hadn't been here after all. Of course. Henrik wasn't an elf. He was free to lie. And even if there had been one, Henrik would have shown it to me, but he would never have let me use it.

  I took a step and about went down in all the coins. None of this was stable. We had to get out of here and back to the main castle.

  I locked arms with Sylvia, and we made our way to the exit. "We need to leave this place as soon as we can," the cook said. "As soon as Alric figures out that Henrik is gone, he's going to claim all of this as his own. Alric never really liked Henrik. I think this is going to make him happy."

  Terror squeezed at my heart. Alric would do it. He'd put himself on the throne. Henrik had no heir here. His only child had gone down into the underworld. Maybe, if she was still alive, he might try to help her.

  Or maybe not.

  "Where's the real Stilt?" I asked. "I know I saw the real Stilt the first two nights I was here."

  "You did," Lavine agreed. "I'm glad we're not leaving with that other one."

  Then I remembered him calling for me when we were passing through the nasty dungeons on the way to the treasure trove. The fake one pushed me past there. He was in there. Henrik had thrown him in there to rot.

  "We have to dig away these coins," I said, reaching where the entrance was supposed to be. I leaned down and shoveled them away with my hands. Sylvia leaned down and helped, and so did Lavine and the cook.

  And then the entire pile slid down into the hallway, taking us with it.

  Coins ran down my back, and I landed on my arms. More treasure washed over me, and it took all I had to crawl out of the way before I got buried. The cook stumbled out of the mess beside me, and we turned and had to help Lavine out. She gasped for breath and stood up all the way. Sylvia joined us as the treasure stopped flowing downward. Had Henrik kept up his magic much longer, this wealth would have been our grave.

  "Stilt," I said. "We need him. Then we need that magic mirror so we can get out of here." It was my only thought. We needed to leave before Alric figured out that we'd gotten rid of Henrik. He sure wasn't going to reward us.

  I bolted back down the dark hallway, foot hitting an occasional coin on the floor. They thinned and vanished as we left all the treasure behind. At last, the faint light returned, and we got back to the area with all the cells.

  "Stilt!" I shouted.

  "Brie?"

  He was alive. Stilt was still alive. I stood on my toes and peeked into the first door, then the next.

  And I found him.

  He was lying on his back on a disgusting floor way worse than my dungeon. Stilt panted, and his shirt had spots of blood. He managed to lift his head. "Brie."

  "I'm sorry," I said. "We're going to get you out. Henrik is gone. He's never going to come back. He's in the underworld now."

  "Hurry," he begged. "I think the magic mirror could be in Henrik's throne roo
m now, but if Alric figures this out, we'll never get there. You have to get me out. Henrik threw me in here and told me all about his plan to make you think he was me. He said he was going to leave me in here to rot."

  "Can you use magic to get out?" We had nothing to break him out.

  "I'm too weak. Find something."

  I had dropped the ax. That would have worked. There had to be something.

  "Let me go and look," the cook said and ran back towards the treasure room.

  While he was gone, I talked to Stilt. Told him this would all be okay and we could use the mirror to at least go back to the lighter region. I couldn't stop the tears from blurring my vision. Stilt couldn't even sit up. We needed to get him help. Water, at least. At last, the cook returned with the ax. It had taken him a while to find it, and it was a miracle he'd been able to pick it out in all the gold of the room.

  The cook cut the door down and sweat beaded on his forehead by the time he finished. We carried Stilt out, and he managed to stand after a minute or so. His shirt had torn, and fresh whip marks formed angry lines on his skin. He needed something for that. I wondered if elves could take medicine.

  Should I even go back to the other world?

  What did I have there?

  I let Stilt wrap his arm around me, and the other around Sylvia. "You don't need to do anything for me," I told him. "We have this covered."

  "That's good," Stilt said. "I don't like doing that to you." He glanced at me. His eyes were still dark, but there was nothing smoldering inside of them. Nothing red and evil. His fingernails were a bit longer, but not as bad as the fake Stilt's. We could reverse this. We only needed to go back to the lighter region and get him a healer, or something.

  I asked Sylvia where the throne room was. We headed back upstairs and down another couple of halls, each one more extensive and ornate than the last. Finally, we came to a set of double doors. One was cracked.

  I opened it.

  And stepped into the most lavish throne room I could imagine.

  The carpet was blood red. Huge torches blazed on the walls, and two burned on either side of a golden throne, one large enough for five people. An empty dinner platter sat in front of the throne, with crumbs waiting to be cleaned up. Henrik had been eating right before he'd planted himself in that cell to trick me. He thought he would win my vows. Maybe he even allowed Stilt and I to meet the first two nights, all to build up to the moment.