Chapter 6
The Hall of Ryders
In pursuit of Leoracle, Harmony stepped through the parted doors and entered the gargantuan-tree’s interior. Beyond the threshold she found herself in a heptagonal chamber. The hollow was gouged from the tree’s core with an aesthetic which focused on organic and ornate details. At the centre of the room a wide column was similarly hollowed-out to house a platform.
As Harmony ventured deeper into the cavity she noticed five of the seven walls, forming the perimeter, housed elaborate murals. Each picture was carved directly into the wall. She veered away from Leoracle’s side and ventured toward the closest frieze.
“Hold on,” she blurted. With a scrunched-up expression and a slathering of doubt in her voice she asked. “Is that supposed to be Red Riding Hood?”
Even to her the answer was obvious. She didn’t wait for Leoracle to respond before studying the artwork further. The picture exhibited a young woman dressed in a cloak. Only adding to the mystery, Harmony realised the cape was an exact replica of the one she was wearing. Behind the girl, nestled at the edge of a forest, Harmony could see a cottage. From the open door an old woman beckoned.
Somewhat bemused she focused on the character in the foreground. Harmony had never seen Red depicted as being quite so mature; or aggressive for that matter. This was not the picture of an innocent, altruistic girl merrily skipping to Granny’s house to deliver a basket of baked goods. The adolescent carved into the wood was ferocious and intimidating. In one hand she flourished an axe, and in the other she clutched the severed-head of a wolf. The skilled carpenter had even managed to give her a manically-triumphant expression; the kind of look Harmony associated with unhinged people. She found the feral-glint in Red’s eye to be quite unnerving if truth be told.
Harmony stepped away from Red’s relief and focused on the next picture in line. This carving was equally odd, though it lacked the menace Red’s radiated.
A boy and girl, neither older than twelve, stood hand in hand. Over his shoulder, the boy carried the axe. By his side the girl, clothed in the red cape, clutched a handful of gemstones. Their identity continued to be a head-scratcher until Harmony scanned the background. Tucked away in the distance she spotted a cottage which looked to be entirely edible. The tiny cottage was fashioned from cake, toffee and various other sugary-treats. It even had a red and white candy-cane fence surrounding it.
“This one has to be, Hansel and Gretel,” she mused. This was all very strange. Harmony contemplated the reason for honouring fairy-tales in such a grandiose manner. Perhaps The Rag Witch really loved bedtime stories? This seemed as good a reason as any though it failed to explain the repeated presence of the axe and cloak.
She shrugged off the judgements and moved on to the third wall. Much like the second, this image contained two people. However, this time the boy and girl were adults. On the left-hand side, the man held the familiar axe. He stared at a tall mountain in the distance; his face hidden beneath a mop of dark, shaggy hair.
On the right side of the mural the depicted woman smiled. Wrapped in the patchwork mantle she looked calm and serene. In her hands she carried a bouquet of wild flowers; each stem, petal and frond was whittled to perfection. Upon her head she wore a diadem; a woven and knotted crown of three metals.
Harmony stared at the couple and scoured her mind for their identity. Alas, try as she might the answer remained elusive. She just couldn’t think of a fairy tale containing this combination; a man, a woman and a mountain…?
“Ok. I give in. Who are they?”
“She was the third Red Ryder, Jill. Her companion was a man named, Jack,” Leoracle revealed. His voice resonated with pride and nostalgia.
Harmony nodded. “Oh, I see. Jack and Jill, I get it now. The mountain is the hill they went up. You should really put a pail of water in here somewhere. It would make the story a bit easier to see. Funny, I hadn’t considered nursery rhyme characters.”
Leoracle frowned. “I do not understand your meaning.”
“I thought these pictures were exclusively fairy-tales,” she explained, gesturing to the murals.
In all honesty she thought the answer was clear and didn’t really warrant such a detailed explanation. She walked away from the puzzled feline and approached the fourth carving. All she required was a cursory glance and the represented heroine was fathomed.
“This is an easy one. It’s Rapunzel. Here’s the tower, it’s got the axe and cloak at the bottom,” she motioned to the fine points. “And that’s Rapunzel’s long hair trailing-dangerously out of the window. Here’s the prince too. See that’s him climbing up the tower to indenture her into a lifetime of matrimonial-servitude. There’s no mistaking this story. It’s one of my mother’s favourite fairy tales.”
Leoracle watched her with a blank expression; he looked utterly flummoxed. Undeterred, Harmony moved onto the fifth and final panel. She scanned the girl. The female was of a similar age to her. She held a finger against her lips, encouraging the viewer to be silent. Atop her head, oodles of ringlets were gathered into two, perky bunches. Behind her three bears were ensnared in a thicket of brambles. Clearly this was Goldilocks. Harmony was just about to announce this realisation to Leoracle, when an aspect caught her eye.
Harmony’s gaze fixed onto Goldilocks’ other hand. The appendage was partially concealed beneath the cloak’s drapery but not enough to hide what she held. Harmony neared the carving and traced her fingertip over the etching. In her hand, Goldilocks grasped a small, golden ball. Written across the surface were two words. Latro Gradus…
“That can’t be?” Harmony refuted in a whisper. It was the same doorknob she found in Nova’s cottage. The one she used to gain access to the hidden room; the very same doorknob still inside her backpack.
“Is something wrong?” Leoracle inquired. “”You appear shaken.”
She looked at the lion and at once noticed the expectancy behind his gaze. Unable to foresee the truth leading to a positive outcome she opted to take the easy route.
“Wrong? No, nothing’s wrong,” she lied.
At the far side of the chamber a door creaked open. Leoracle warned in a whisper. “Do not remove the cloak, unless I signal to do so.”
“She may as well take it off,” countered a voice from the shadows. “Even if I couldn’t already see her, no one could miss the constant chatter.”
With a nod from the lion Harmony lowered her hood. As the cloak’s magic dissipated she was immediately and unexpectedly greeted by a small, bowing gentleman. She couldn't help but notice he had a distinctly insect-like appearance.
Harmony gasped as his leathery, green skin became transparent. The limpidity caused by the rays of sunlight streaming in through the rapidly closing door. He quickly scuttled to the side, immersing his reactive skin in the shadows once again.
“My apologies, fair-maiden. I did not intend to startle you,” the little insect-man replied in a delightfully chivalrous manner.
“Erm... No problem,” Harmony responded. Her eyes were transfixed on the interlocking plates of exoskeleton covering his pint-sized body. He looked like a tiny knight clad in shiny armour.
Harmony studied the creature for a moment. Though she did not profess to be an expert on critters, her guess was that he was a grasshopper; albeit a three foot high grasshopper wearing attire normally associated with gallant-men on horseback.
“If your name's, Jiminy I’m going home right now,” Harmony laughed, though she was seriously starting to question her sanity.
“I know not of this ‘Jiminy’ you speak of, my lady. I am, Sir Barnabas. Queen’s-guard to Belladonna,” he bellowed, bowing deeply once again.
“Are you a...a cricket?” she questioned.
“I beg your pardon!?” Sir Barnabas exclaimed. Clearly he had taken offence.
“Oh. I’m so sorry. I didn't mean to be rude.”
&
nbsp; Sir Barnabas exchanged a glance with the lion. Without a word he gestured for them to step onto the platform in the room’s centre. He muttered inaudible words as Harmony stepped onto the disk. Sir Barnabus pressed a switch and a barrier enclosed the dais. A second press and the platform began to rise. With folded arms the grasshopper watched the platform rise until it vanished into the ceiling.
“What was he?” Harmony asked as they ascended.
“I do not understand your question. Do you wish to know his origin?” Leoracle paused waiting for a response. Harmony nodded and he began again. “He is Arthro by kin. His kind was created by Queen Nova to protect her realm.”
“Well, without meaning to sound judgmental, he looks like a bug. He kind of gave me the creeps a little bit,” Harmony admitted.
“This word, bug, is unknown to me. Admittedly, I have missed much of the world. I waited many years for you to arrive.”
Harmony's stomach sank; she hated it when he spoke to her like that. Like he was expecting some miracle from her or perhaps he was demanding one? She had tried to tell him she wasn't ‘the one’ but he just wouldn't listen.
She hoped The Rag Witch would be able to convince him of her ordinariness. Then maybe she could start finding a way home. This was the longest she had spent away from Rose. Harmony knew Rose would be out of her mind with worry by now. She probably thought Harmony had run away, but that wouldn’t stop her from searching. Rose was many things, but not the kind to give up hope.
The elevator came to a halt before a pair of grand doors. More images were engraved into their solid, wooden surface. The picture depicted a beautifully elegant scene. The vista looked out over the forest canopy.
Leoracle walked forward and the doors cracked open. For a moment she was dazzled by the fiery, orange light from the setting sun. Her vision momentarily blinded as the sun’s glare replaced the relative darkness of the lift shaft. Harmony shielded her eyes and walked behind Leoracle. The unlikely duo exited the lift and entered into the room beyond.
The Darkfern Lexicon Book 2 - Sanctorium Page 7