“You’re not scared of me so why should they be?” the Peritwinkle questioned.
“I’m not scared because I have this,” Damselfly said, brandishing her broken sword. The Peritwinkle lowered his ginormous head to get a closer look at the weapon.
“It looks rather small to me and the end is broken,” he commented.
“Don’t believe your first impression. This is the most powerful sword in all of Fable; it stopped a pillaging giant and cut down a mountain, all in one blow,”
Damselfly exaggerated.
“That tiny sword did all of that?” the Peritwinkle questioned. “I don’t believe it.”
“Well, there is a song about this sword that everyone knows,” Damselfly invented.
“I don’t know any song. Why don’t you sing it?” the Peritwinkle suggested.
“Oh, of course,” the princess stuttered.
“What is this song called?”
“Well, it is called…” Damselfly hesitated.
“Don’t you know?” the Peritwinkle enquired.
“It is called Big Jack.”
“Well, let’s hear it.” The Peritwinkle rested easily on his forelegs with a suspicious look in his eye.
Damselfly cleared her throat, all the while wracking her brains for ideas from all the stories Old Nana had told her through the years.
Big Jack
A good many years ago,
There was a place men feared to venture,
The boundary was marked by a dry river that ran shallow,
Beyond those waters lay danger.
This was a land of abandon,
So let me tell you about the Giantgarden.
Everyone in the Giantgarden was at least twelve feet tall,
They looked like hills while lying on their back,
Neighbouring disputes would often turn into a brawl,
By far the largest of the giants was Big Jack.
He was so large that he would use trees as toothpicks,
His house was built of boulders instead of bricks.
A secret about giants is they are very lazy,
Not one of them was a fisherman or a farmer,
They relied on stealing and thievery,
From the local gardens who were defenceless against this large intruder.
For years the people cursed the giants’ greed,
Each day they prayed for a saviour in their hour of need.
One day Big Jack was extremely hungry,
He went to a nearby garden looking for sustenance,
There, he espied a young woman picking fruit from a tree,
Feeling brazen, Big Jack stole the fruit and the girl, not knowing the consequence.
For this young lady was actually a princess,
Adored by her people for her gaiety and happiness.
Her father the king offered a reward,
Though no one came forward as it seemed the task was impossible,
They searched for a hero until all avenues had been explored,
Anyone willing to stand up against a Giant would have to be unstable.
Then a stranger arrived from out of town,
He guaranteed they would have no more worries with giants coming around.
The traveller promised to return the princess if everything went as planned,
The king was a desperate man so he agreed to the man’s offer,
He would hunt a Giant in exchange for the princess’s hand,
Three cheers for the Giant slayer.
Yet this stranger was selling the court a lie,
For he was no hero, they were in short supply.
This wanderer had heard tell of a powerful weapon,
That had fallen from the skies,
So his quest now begun,
It led him to an unexpected surprise.
He was not alone in his ambition,
There was another who sought the same prize and he was the first magician.
The sorcerer’s name was Albion,
He was upon his own quest,
An extremely important mission,
That was stuck out of reach in an eagle’s nest.
The traveller offered to make the climb,
So the sorcerer could save his energy and precious time.
Albion tasked the man to retrieve the item along with a feather,
In return he would craft him a magical blade,
That would make him a warrior,
It would enable him to complete his escapade.
The traveller eventually reached the trees’ pinnacle,
Only to be attacked by an angry eagle.
Desperately, the wanderer grabbed a feather along with the stone,
Before heading back down towards the ground,
Eagles are very territorial it is well known,
This particular bird was aggressive as could be found.
The traveller was thrown from the branches to land upon his head,
There he lay in a shallow grave for the dead.
Albion collected his items from the fallen body,
The feather would grant him greater vision,
As for the stone he would craft it into a sword that would become legendary,
Along with a bell that would fulfil his ambition.
For the alloy had fallen from the Evening Star during a meteor shower,
It had already begun to twist Albion’s mind towards murder.
.
The sorcerer created a sword which he buried with the traveler,
He then created a bell which was named Sereth,
For anyone who heard the bells timbre,
Would hear the Voice of Death.
Albion destroyed Big Jack’s fortress,
Before claiming the reward of the beautiful princess.
The couple had a child,
A son who inherited his father’s gift with magic,
By now Albion’s mind was becoming wild,
He was suffering a malady beyond any medic.
Protected by the love for his son, Albion returned for the sword,
Striking Sereth with the unique blade, his ties were severed.
Unfortunately, the princess had not been deaf,
The bell called out to her too,
In her sleep she heard the Voice of Sereth,
Demanding she come to its rescue.
So with the new moon she began her search,
Finding the damaged bell, she sacrificed all to her new church.
When Albion woke, he discovered his wife missing,
He abandoned magic except to help his son practice,
Together, they continued his training,
Until the son became a magician’s apprentice.
The child’s name was Genesis,
His tale is one of great happiness.
His greatest feat of the supernatural,
Was to create his own bell,
That was nothing short of a miracle,
For it balanced his mother’s spell.
Without life there cannot be death.
This was how Genesis restrained Sereth.
As Damselfly’s voice ended, the Peritwinkle was looking at the rusty blade in her hand. It seemed the song had worked in impressing the weapon’s history on their audience.
“That tiny sword did all that?” the Peritwinkle spoke in an awed voice.
“You shouldn’t judge things by how they look,” Damselfly lectured.
“Like you, this sword is more than it looks.”
“Perhaps I could allow some of the villagers into the wood,” the Peritwinkle accepted. “Would they be happy to share with me after I scared them?”
“I am sure they could be persuaded,” Damselfly smiled, believing herself to be closer to reaching their goal.
Buttontail, who had remained quiet during the altercation, allowed Damselfly to carry him as they walked beside the tamed Peritwinkle back towards the village.
“Your voice is enchanting indeed if it can
assuage such a beast,” the rabbit whispered.
Damselfly felt very happy. She had achieved her task of convincing the Peritwinkle to share with the villagers, and now Morris would have no excuse to withhold the token they needed to travel across to the Magicgarden. The Peritwinkle began humming Damselfly’s poem as they exited the woods’ shadow. Almost immediately they were greeted by a series of howls and bright lights on the horizon.
“I smell smoke,” the Peritwinkle grunted.
“It’s coming from the village,” Damselfly warned.
“Quick, climb on my back,” the Peritwinkle reacted.
“I don’t think—” Buttontail’s argument was cut short as both he and Damselfly were lifted onto the Peritwinkle’s back moments before he took off towards the village.
Upon their approach they could make out a handful of fires lighting up the village against the night. Howls from the Baywolves and high shouts from the besieging Sprites littered the air. Smoke drifted high into the sky, blocking out the moon and stars. Damselfly was worried about the villagers who had little defence against such an assault. Fortunately, the Peritwinkle was equally enraged by the despicable attack, and he charged down the vale like a beast possessed. Buttontail could not decide if he was more terrified of the Peritwinkle or the vindictive Sprites.
“We should have stayed at home,” he cursed fearfully.
As they plunged headfirst into the carnage, everyone stopped, the villagers just as frightened by the Peritwinkle’s arrival as the Sprites.
“Get them,” Damselfly cried, pointing her fractured sword at the invaders.
The Peritwinkle needed no further instruction. He barreled down the lane, scattering any Baywolf or Sprite that was unfortunate enough to stand in his path. Before they could regroup, the Peritwinkle turned in a fit of rage and any remaining resistance disappeared. The Sprites had barely ordered the retreat before their mounts were running for their lives with Jinx leading the way. The villagers slowly emerged from their homes, shocked by the swift turn of events. Damselfly, with Buttontail in her arms, descended from the Peritwinkle’s back and dropped neatly onto the cobbled street.
“Damselfly, you came back!” Beatrix burst out of the Woodcutters Inn.
Morris called after his daughter as he caught sight of the terrifying Peritwinkle standing guard; however, Beatrix ignored the danger and hugged the princess who had saved their village from the Sprite attack.
“I knew you would come back,” the innkeeper’s daughter said.
“Yes, thank you,” Morris congratulated with the remaining villagers following close on his heels.
“It isn’t me who deserves your gratitude,” Damselfly explained. “The Peritwinkle is the one who frightened the invaders away.”
“How did you get him to do that?” Beatrix exclaimed.
Damselfly tilted her head in consideration, having never really thought about how great her accomplishment was.
“I listened to him and tried to show him that the villagers never meant him any harm,” the princess revealed.
“Is that true?” Morris asked. “Can we enter the woods again?”
Everyone looked at the Peritwinkle for an answer, even Damselfly.
“Yes, you may enter the wood, though you may not start a fire or take more than you need to survive,” the Peritwinkle granted.
The villagers cheered with delight at the announcement, which saved their village every bit as much as frightening off the Sprites had done.
“Everyone is invited to the inn for a celebratory meal,” Morris announced.
“Being brave makes one very hungry,” Buttontail told Beatrix as the villagers made their way back to the inn.
Damselfly remained behind with the Peritwinkle who, after all the excitement, seemed sad again.
“I wish I could find a companion for you,” the princess stated.
“At least I won’t be alone in the wood any longer,” the Peritwinkle replied.
“Come on,” Beatrix beckoned them from the inn.
“Before we go, just tell me one thing: did that sword really cut down a mountain?” the Peritwinkle enquired.
“Yes,” Damselfly answered, leading the way.
Chapter 8
The Most Confusing of Times
After a modest feast with much celebrating, Damselfly and Buttontail prepared to say farewell to the people of Wintergarden. The Peritwinkle was escorting a small party of villagers to the wood where they would seek to gather supplies; Damselfly hugged the enormous boar whose fur was surprisingly soft. While they headed towards the wood, Damselfly headed in the opposite direction with Buttontail, Beatrix and Morris leading the way.
“Few people use the gate these days,” the innkeeper informed.
“I wish you could stay,” Beatrix whispered.
Damselfly did not feel confident in responding. She had grown rather fond of the villagers and of Wintergarden. Despite the constant night and cold, it held a beautiful serenity.
“I will not forget you,” Damselfly promised.
The gate was partially buried in snow. It was not as impressive as the Garden Gate though it did appear to be made from the same material.
“Remember to wait until the Magicgarden is in sight before entering the gate,” Morris warned.
Damselfly, who certainly did not want a repeat of their previous encounter with the gate, focused on stepping through at the right time as Morris dropped the token into the slot. With Buttontail holding her hand, the princess moved forward into the gate, though she did not travel unnoticed. The Sprite Red Eye was watching from a nearby rise. The scout had been abused by Jinx after his information about the burning girl had brought them such a humiliating defeat. Red Eye though was certain this child was important and now he knew where she was heading.
The Magicgarden was the complete opposite to the Wintergarden; a bright sun shone high in the blue sky, giving off warmth that felt especially foreign after the snowy conditions of their previous visit. Equally disconcerting, the air seemed thinner, creating extremely vivid colours as though a strange shroud lay across everything.
“It feels like you can almost reach out and teach magic here,” Damselfly smiled.
“I hope they have something nice to eat,” Buttontail added.
Exiting the gate, they had been greeted by green fields in all directions. With no map or guide, they walked forward in search of assistance. Damselfly was feeling heartened after finally arriving in the Magicgarden where she hoped to learn how she might save her mother. Buttontail was strangely inquisitive, bounding around the fields and investigating anything that appeared even remotely edible.
“These fresh shoots are all right as a starter but I need something more filling,” Buttons muttered between mouthfuls.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t eat that without invitation,” Damselfly warned.
Buttontail was not listening as his sharp eyes had espied a large blue flower growing low to the ground that looked delicious. Taking a delicate bite, the rabbit’s face lit up at the exquisite taste.
“A little acidic though really rather tasty,” he declared.
“Do not eat too much. We still have a long way to travel.” Damselfly could see only fields stretching to the horizon in all directions.
“I will save plenty of room for dessert,” Buttontail munched.
“I have never known such a greedy rabbit,” Damselfly criticised.
“I am not greedy,” Buttontail remarked.
“I am simply a connoisseur of delectables.”
The princess could not find a single landmark or person in sight to help guide them. She supposed few people made use of the gate and preferred to remain in the Magicgarden. Buttontail was feeling a little unwell though he still ate sparingly, blaming too many greens.
“It is very poor form to offer guests such sparse fare,” he muttered.
“Please hurry up or we will never find the Matriarch,” Damselfly whined.
Buttontail attemp
ted to catch up though with every step he began to feel sicker until he could barely stand.
“I have been poisoned,” he cried.
“It serves you right for eating everything you see,” Damselfly accused despite her concern.
“It’s going dark. Is this the end?” Buttontail wailed dramatically. “Killed by a piece of grass and a nibble of blue flower.”
Damselfly was forced to suffer a stream of self-pity as she carried the ailing rabbit across the fields until her feet ached, and she decided to have a rest underneath an old maple tree. Buttontail was starting to feel better although he decided to keep complaining as he did not want to walk.
“I still cannot see anything except fields,” Damselfly sighed.
“Then you’re not looking hard enough,” a voice screeched.
Buttontail’s ears shot up as they attempted to discover who the voice belonged to. Damselfly finally caught sight of a bird high up in one of the trees and a familiar feeling as though she had witnessed this scene before came over her.
“Hello, my name is Princess Damselfly and this is my friend, Buttons. We’re lost and would really like some help.”
The bird flapped desperately before almost falling onto a lower branch where both parties could view each other. Damselfly smiled up at a mottled owl with large yellow eyes and russet feathers.
“What’s your name?” Damselfly asked.
“My name,” the bird squawked. “I know my name.”
“What is it?” the princess repeated.
“Who wants to know?” the owl demanded haughtily. “You should introduce yourself before enquiring about others.”
“I did introduce myself,” Damselfly argued.
“I think I would remember if you had done so.”
“My name is Damselfly and this is Buttons.”
“Do you have anything to eat,” the hungry rabbit ventured.
“Yes, no, maybe,” the bird replied unhelpfully.
“Do you know the way to the Magicgarden?” Damselfly asked.
“You’re standing in it.”
Thronegarden Page 11