Travels With a Fairytale Monster

by Elizabeth Gannon

  Taylor had no personal experience with the Grizzwoodians, but by all accounts, they weren’t good people. The nice ones were thieves and murderers. The rest of them were really dangerous.

  “No, just stay with me here.” She tried to explain again. “They have this plant called the ‘Death Poppy’.”

  “Always thought that was a catchy name.” He told no one in particular. “My sister once tried to make it into a cake,” he turned in his chair, “have I ever told you that story, Dove? That ghastly thing tasted like…” He trailed off, realizing his companion was upstairs and not in her customary position beside him. “Oh.” He nodded, his smile gone and his tone now somber and ashamed once again. “Of course.”

  “And this flower,” Taylor continued, “it’s covered with these horrible thorns eleven months out of the year. You even touch it and you’re unconscious for a couple days. But it isn’t always like that. One month a year, the flower blooms in a cornucopia of colors. It’s prettier than any other flower in the woods. So the people put up with its thorns, because some of the time, it’s just the most beautiful thing you could possibly imagine. So they just only look at the flower when it’s in bloom, and they let it be the rest of the time. Because the flower is an utter delight… except for the thorns.”

  “Pretend it’s something it’s not and hope that it changes.” He summarized as if that was an astonishing breakthrough, then nodded condescendingly. “Yeah, good thinking.” He snorted in dismissal. “Pfft! No wonder they’re going to lose this silly war.” He grabbed the bottle of rum off the table again. “The simpler option for the people who supposedly ‘love’ the flower?” He downed the rest of the alcohol without stopping for air, then got up from the table. “Learn to delight in its thorns.”

  “Just give her space.” She soothed. “She needs time. You’re kind of…”

  “I’m what?” He demanded, cutting her off. His eyes narrowing in irritation. “And what do you know about it, anyway?” He snapped. “Nothing. You don’t know me and you don’t know her, so it’s none of your goddamn business.” He motioned at her with a dismissive hand. “Just another brightlighter from one of the ‘civilized’ kingdoms trying to tell the savage from the Grizzwood how to live.” He stormed from the table, hurling his bottle against the wall as he walked. “Go back to feeling up the ogre and leave us the fuck alone.”

  Unfortunately for him, he picked the absolute worst time to vent his frustrations, since Dom had arrived just in time to hear him yelling at her.

  The ogre’s face blazed in absolute fury and he stalked after the man.

  Taylor swore and quickly raced after him before he could murder the pirate. “Wait!” She called, trying to get ahead of him and block his path. “No, please don’t.” She grabbed Dom’s arm, stopping him. “That wasn’t about me.”

  “If he doesn’t watch what he says to you, I’m gonna make it about him.” Dom warned, his entire body tense with rage.

  “Super.” She flopped down into one of the chairs. “More jealous violence.”

  He sank into the chair across from her. “Did I miss something?” He pointed at the blood on the floor. “Have we lost one of our guides, I hope?”

  Taylor shrugged, feeling tired. “One of the crewman called Ransom a bitch, and…”

  Dom whistled. “That’s not going to end well.” He summarized. “Uriah kill him?”

  “Almost.”

  Dom snorted in dismissal, apparently expecting something more extreme from the pirate. “Pansy.”

  “It didn’t solve anything.”

  “It solved the problem of some asshole opening his mouth when he should have kept it shut.” Dom argued. “Even in human society, no man should allow his mate to be insulted.” His eyes narrowed at the door the pirate had walked through, obviously still thinking about chasing after him and beating him into the ground for yelling at Taylor.

  “Aw, thank you for wanting to defend me. That’s sweet. Kinda sexist, but sweet.” She rested her face in her hand. “It’s really nothing though. If it upset me at all, I would have broken his nose myself.”

  Dom made an unconvinced sound. “The Brother said you wanted to talk to me about something?”

  She frowned. “No.”

  “Well, why else did he flit around me, asking me how I was doing?” Dom sounded confused.

  “Because I asked him to, I guess.”

  “You asked your brother to annoy me?” He frowned. “Do you do that often? Like every day? Because it would explain a lot.”

  She straightened in her chair, feeling like she needed to tell him something important. “I want you to know… that I appreciate your thorns.”

  “Oh. I’m… glad.” He paused. “I’m sorry… I’m… I’m afraid I don’t understand that human euphemism.” He admitted, sounding embarrassed. “Can you please tell me which part of me that ‘thorns’ refers to? Because I will start trying to accentuate them more for your enjoyment.”

  “Your flaws.” She clarified. “The parts of you that keep others away and the parts of you you’re not proud of.” She met his eyes. “They don’t scare me. I think they’re beautiful.”

  He was silent for a moment. “They’re not beautiful.” He softly corrected. “My flaws are very real and very dangerous.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” She pursed her lips in thought. “Would you like to go for a walk with me?”

  “Haven’t we already done enough walking?” He asked seriously.

  She continued staring at him.

  “I would love to go for a walk with you.” He tried again. “I can think of nothing I’d like more.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  After spending twenty minutes walking aimlessly through the wasteland these people called a village, Taylor had come to suspect that Dom had been right about the whole “walk” idea.

  She had intended it to be a nice break from the drunken pirates and the blood soaked floor of the tavern, and a nice chance to be alone with her giant. In practice though, it just allowed her to see more of the devastation this war was causing. It seemed like all of civilization was crashing down around them.

  Most of the buildings had been smashed to rubble, like a tornado had hit them or something. What remained was a jumble of structures, all of which looked like they needed to be condemned. Even the ground had craters in it, like some kind of explosion happened every ten yards or so.

  It was very odd and very off-putting.

  Finally she just couldn’t take the depressing monotony of the ruins, and had suggested that they find somewhere else to sleep. Not that she didn’t feel entirely comfortable sleeping in the same tavern as a dozen drunken pirates… but she didn’t.

  So, after checking out several different options, she was currently sitting cross-legged on the floor of a home on the outskirts of town. It was the most structurally sound— and hopefully rat free— of the buildings available.

  “Do you think anyone lives here?” She wondered aloud, absently looking around the space, trying to spot any sign of an owner. “Because we could be trespassing or something.”

  “If we are, I will speak with the owner and I’m sure I can make him see reason.” Dom told her, leaning against the wall.

  “I don’t want to steal someone’s house.” She shook her head. “The Baselander’s stole mine, and it… It hurt.”

  “All of the current residents live on the other side of town.” He said softly after a moment. “This house is deserted.”

  She frowned. “How do you know that?”

  “Because I asked them.”

  “You spoke with the angry mob of people who are dedicated to killing you?” Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Why?”

  “Because I wanted to hear why they were dedicated to killing me.” He explained, sitting down on the floor across from her. He gestured out the window towards the rest of the destroyed buildings. “I know that I did not do this. But someone did. I’d like to know who or what.”

  “Did th
ey tell you anything?”

  “Just that I’m a soulless abomination.” He sighed wearily. “Which I guess I knew already.”

  “They’re wrong.”

  “They’re humans.” He shrugged, as if that explained everything. “They usually are.”

  “Any theories?”

  “I think it’s probably their upbringing.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Their parents should have taught them better.”

  She snorted in amusement. “No, I mean any theories about what happened here?”

  He thought about it for a moment. “I think things were bad here. Then something arrived which made it worse. Then we came and were the perfect scapegoat for all of their problems.” He paused. “But… but this place just doesn’t smell right.”

  “Do you have enhanced senses or something?” She asked, rather interested in the idea of him possessing other powers.

  “Not that I’m aware of, no.” He shrugged. “Of course, they wouldn’t exactly be ‘enhanced’ to me, and since I don’t routinely spend a lot of time discussing the matter with humans, I really have no idea what the limits of your senses even are.” He turned to look out the window again. “But whatever it is, this place smells wrong.” He refocused on her. “Like we’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Should I go find Ryle?” She felt the stirrings of fear now. “Should we get out of here?”

  He thought about it for a moment. “No… It’s not…” He paused. “It feels like this place belongs to something else, if that makes sense. Like we’ve wandered into something else’s territory.” He shook his head. “But whatever it is, it’s not home at the moment. Your brother will be fine until the morning.” He looked out the window again. “But I don’t want to stay here any longer than that.”

  “You sure?” She arched an eyebrow sarcastically. “You mean you’re not having fun here?” She wandered over to the remains of a table which was sitting next to him, and absently began shuffling through the assorted papers and refuse that the home’s previous owners had left behind in their haste to leave, and which the town’s various looters hadn’t thought valuable enough to steal. “Look,” she held up small painting someone had done of a snow scene, “Lapland.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I hate Lapland.”

  “Me too.” She nodded in agreement. “I don’t like the cold.”

  “Or the snow.”

  “And their queen is a bitch.” Taylor flipped through more papers. “She didn’t even get invited to The Feast of Burning Kings.”

  “Which turned out to be good luck for her.”

  “Yeah.” She pulled a pad of paper from the pile. “But it’s still unfair. A maniac like that gets to live up there all secure and happy with her idiot husband and kids, not doing anything for anyone, while our royals got burned alive. Just because they wanted to be nice and pay their respects to a baby.”

  “But we don’t have to put up with the snow.” He tried, attempting to show there were downsides to life there.

  She nodded, granting him that point. “True.” She opened a drawer. “There is that I suppose.”

  He frowned as he watched her search for another minute. “I’m sure all of the human valuables have already been taken from this place.” He told her, as if breaking hard news. “So your quest will be in vain.”

  “I’m not looking for gold.” She opened another drawer. “I’m looking for medicine.” She pointed at him. “For your burns.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine.” She shook her head. “You’re obviously in pain and it gets worse every time you do your fire thing.”

  “I have very little control over that.”

  “No one would deliberately set themselves on fire.” She agreed. “But that doesn’t make your burns any less severe.”

  “I require no medication.” He shifted slightly. “It will not do any good anyway.” He pointed at her. “I think we should be focusing on you.”

  “Me?” She scoffed. “What about me. I’m fine.”

  “At the moment.”

  “And you’re expecting that to change?”

  “I think every moment you ignore The Pyra, you are asking for trouble.”

  She frowned. “I don’t know what that is.”

  He looked down at his arm. “It is the reason that I am burned.”

  Taylor’s stomach dropped at the thought of him being in pain because of her. She needed to figure out what his problem was and stop it. Medicine. Magic. Anything.

  “Well, I’m trying to fix it!” She argued, pulling open another drawer. “Relax, I know what I’m doing.” She pursed her lips in thought. “You know… my arm got burned too.”

  “Yes.” He nodded in agreement. “My point exactly.”

  “No, I mean my arm was burned, but then we were in the river together and it got better.” She turned to look at him. “Do you think that might help you?”

  “Yes.” He agreed immediately. “That is the only way to stop this.”

  She thought about it for a moment. “Okay then.” She pursed her lips in thought again. “All we need to do is find a good cold river…”

  “That’s not…”

  “I’ll find one, don’t worry.” She interrupted quickly. “Are you going to be okay until the morning or did you want to go look for one now? Because it’s dark, but if the water would help, we could…”

  He let out a tired sigh. “No, tomorrow will be fine.”

  “Good.” She relaxed a little, now that a possible solution to his problem had been found. “I just hope the rivers down this far will be cold enough.” Her eyes narrowed in irritation. “Now I really hate Lapland. If we were there we could find you a nice cold river to bathe in and sooth your wounds.”

  “Yes.” He deadpanned. “That sounds so… nice.”

  She looked around for a pencil, and not finding one, simply broke off a piece of charred wood from the wall. “Of course, that means that we’d have to actually go up there, which would suck. I hate those people.” She began doodling on the page with her makeshift art tools. “It’s just… It’s just that sometimes life seems so unfair, you know? I mean, we’re down here suffering, and… Baseland isn’t trying to take them over. They’re historically allies, even if they’re sitting this war out. Until a few years ago, they were a vacation spot.” She made a face. “What do the Laplanders have to worry about while we suffer and die?”

  “The fact that their queen is an evil bitch with magic powers?” He guessed. “That’s probably a concern.”

  Taylor made another face. “Everyone has magic powers but me.”

  He frowned. “Huh?”

  “Nothing.” She turned the page in her sketchbook. “Just thinking out loud, that’s all.” A new idea occurred to her. “Hey, wait a second… I know what we can do to pass the time,” she pointed at him, “I was supposed to create you a nice new suit!”

  “You... you still wish to clothe me in human fabrics?” His voice was devoid of all emotion. “I think that would be making a dangerous situation even worse, Tay-Lore.” There was a note of caution in his tone. “There are forces here which you and I are helpless to fight against.”

  She waved off the concern. “Oh, nonsense. We’ll deal with the Baselanders. It’ll all work out.” She began to sketch a quick model of him, trying to decide which cut would make him look the best. “You worry too much, that’s your problem.”

  “I think being concerned about burning alive is a legitimate fear. One which should trouble you as well. I realize you are enjoying playing this game, but you have to realize that it needs to end soon.”

  “Well, we’re almost at the capital, aren’t we?” She added a hat to his proposed ensemble, then erased it with a snort of laughter because it looked ridiculous with his captivatingly rough features. So primal and powerful… “Once we get to the capital, all of this will sort itself out.” She turned the paper around to show him. “What do you think?”

  “My… look at
all the clothes I’m in.” He stared at it for a moment. “I look just like a human.”

  “Hmmm…” She turned the sketch back around to look at it. “That’s not going to be a problem is it? I know you don’t especially like humans.”

  “No, it’s fine.” He shook his head. “I like humans. They’re delicious.”

  “Yep.” She nodded, too focused on her work to process his words. Then she frowned slightly and looked up at him in confusion.

  His mouth crooked at the corner.

  She snorted in laughter.

  “I should again warn you though that doing this is a mistake.” He pointed back and forth between them. “We should not be sitting here like this.”

  She nodded. “I know.” She suddenly felt guilty. “But I’m fighting it, don’t worry.”

  “Why are you fighting it?” He asked, his voice sounding incredulous. “Why would you do that to us?”

  “Because you said yourself: it’s right.” She let out a breath. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m certain we can deal with it like adults.”

  “I want to deal with it like an adult, you are the one who insists that we fight it.”

  “I know what I’m doing, alright?” She rolled her eyes. “Can’t you just trust me?”

  He was silent for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well.” He looked physically pained. “I will trust that you know what you’re doing.”

  “All we have to do is control ourselves until the capital and then this will be fine.”

  “I have never met anyone so stubborn, Tay-Lore.” He looked amazed. “I can only imagine how obstinately you defend positions which aren’t foolishly denying the holy gifts from the Mountain. If this is how you deal with joyous things, your reaction to bad things must be truly incredible.”