The Mirror's Tale

by P. W. Catanese

  The beasts had returned to guard the mirror after the face disappeared. As they slept around it in a circle, they whined and chuffed. Groaning, stretching sounds issued from under their hides. Some of them had sprouted sharp horns above their eyes or beside their snouts. And the spikes of bone along their spines looked longer than even. They’re still growing, Bert realized.

  He inched toward where he thought the drops of water were falling, using his elbows and shoulder blades to wriggle along as quietly as possible« The chain clinked softly as it stretched out in his wake. Bert heard another splat not far away. He slid forward some more, and his head touched a low mound of rock. The next drop of water landed on his forehead, and he gasped aloud. He edged forward a little more, propped the back of his head on the stone mound, and opened his mouth. And waited.

  And waited.

  And then a fat drop of cool water exploded on his tongue and trickled down his throat. The taste was clean and sharp. As he waited for more drops and the slow relief of his thirst, he thought about Will and hoped his brother had gotten away safely. But how could Will ever really escape as long as the mirror could reveal to Uncle Hugh where he’d gone? There was only one way that Bert could imagine. It was what he would do if he ever managed to get away.

  Run, Will Keep running. Never stop running.

  CHAPTER 40

  “You must put this on,” said Kholl. He held up a thick chain with two hands, so Will could slip it over his neck. Hanging from the chain was a silver disk studded with glittering red and green stones around the edge. It was large enough to cover Will’s palm as he looked at the strange writing engraved in a spiral on its surface.

  Will’s head spun from everything he learned these past few hours. Now he wondered why it was so important to wear this thing. He looked at Kholl with one eye squinting.

  “This amulet once belonged to a mighty Dwergh sorcerer,” the old Dwergh said, answering the unspoken question. “We have kept it with us all this time, in case of need. It will shield you, and those who stay near you, from the sight of the mirror. And since it is you the mirror has already tried to destroy, you must be the one to wear it.”

  Will ducked his head through the chain. He was still getting accustomed to the idea of this Ulgonog: a demon trapped inside a mirror, who could see him wherever he went. A demon that turned his own brother against him. A demon that existed only to breed misery, and feast on the souls it corrupted. And he’d learned another astounding thing: Years ago Aunt Elaine encountered the Dwergh while searching for rare plants in the mountains behind The Crags, She’d befriended them, and even helped them with her medicines.

  And besides all those uncanny developments, there was also the little stone creature with bulging diamond eyes that followed the Dwergh wherever they went, handled many of their chores, and was fed a steady diet of red-hot coals to keep it animated.

  Will would have been more confounded by all this if he wasn’t so worried, “What do we do now?” he said to the silver-bearded Dwergh, the only one there who shared his language.

  “We wait, until Par Lee and Harth return. To tell us if your father will help us.”

  CHAPTER 41

  It was a dim sensation at first, not enough to rouse him from the cold pit of sleep into which he’d tumbled. But Bert finally became conscious of icy stone pressed against the side of his face, and a whispery voice that called his name. He fought awareness. Even the terrible dreams that stalked his sleep were better than the real nightmare that awaited.

  The voice of the mirror pried into his skull.

  Bertram. Turn your eyes to me, it said.

  “No,” he mumbled, knowing it didn’t matter. There was no resisting the voice’s command. He hated the mirror for what he’d done under its spell. And he hated himself because, in his heart, he wanted the mirror back. He longed for its magic to be his again. And so he was powerless against it. He lifted his head. When he saw the appalling face again, sour bile erupted in his throat and stung the back of his tongue.

  The face hovered on the end of that long, segmented neck. The mass of worms bulged here and there, and the lidless eyes bobbed up and stared at him, quivering. Bert’s stomach lurched at the awful wet sounds. Slither. Squish. Slurp.

  Do you know what I feed on, Bertram? Do you know what sustains me? the mirror asked.

  “Leave me alone,” Bert said. He squeezed his eyes closed. “Please”

  Souls, replied the mirror. Souls are my nectar. Bert’s eyes opened against his will. The mouth was back, a gaping funnel The throat was infested with more of the wormy things, and they stretched and crooked like a thousand beckoning fingers. Bert felt a strange sensation as if something tugged at things beneath his skin. Prickly pain erupted on his forehead, his chest, the palms of his hands—everywhere. He gasped, and he would have screamed, but for the moment he couldn’t breathe. His vision darkened, his ears filled with a windy roar, and his fingers went numb. The only thing he felt keenly was stinging pain on his hands and chest. He saw sparkling mist come out of his skin, like vapor off a warm pond on a cool morning. Tendrils of mist drifted across the chamber. They touched the surface of the mirror, passed through it as if the glass wasn’t there, and swirled down the horrible throat.

  Very good, the mirror said when it was done. I will feed again soon. Yes, once more may do. The mouth closed, the fat eyes sank into the wriggling mass, and the face vanished into the depths of the mirror. The beasts had retreated to the far corners of the chamber, and they began to slink back.

  Bert looked at his palms and saw tiny beads of red where the mist had emerged. He pulled the collar of his shirt out and saw the same dots on his pale chest. He knew the mirror had taken part of him away—devoured him, feasted on him. Like it must have done to others before him, the myriad ghosts he’d seen deep in the thing’s throat. He moaned and crawled as far from the mirror as the chain would allow. His head dropped to the floor, and the last thought he had was for his brother.

  Run, Will Keep running.

  Bert woke again to the sound of Uncle Hugh cursing and the beasts growling. Someone else was in the chamber now too, besides his uncle—there were muffled, inarticulate cries. His mind was muddled, and he pinched his cheek to try to clear it. He could barely feel the skin clamped between his fingers and thumb. He opened his eyes, but nothing was in focus. Blinking helped.

  Uncle Hugh had a woman with him. He had one hand on her arm and the other across her mouth. Bert stared. He knew her. It was Aunt Elaine.

  His uncle took his hand off her mouth. “Scream again, and the dogs will have you,” he said.

  Aunt Elaine staggered back when she saw the pack of beasts licking their teeth at the sight of her. Then her glance fell on Bert.

  “Bert … is that you? Or is it Will?” she said. Her voice trembled when she spoke. Bert was too dizzy to reply. He lifted a hand, and it fell limply back onto the stone.

  “That’s your little friend Bert,” Uncle Hugh said, mocking her. “I’ll have the other whelp soon enough, though. But first I have a special place just for you.”

  Aunt Elaine tried to shrug out of his grip. “Hugh—there’s something wrong with you. Can’t you feel it? It’s not too late to make things right. You have to let Bert go—look at him, he isn’t well. He could be dying. He’s your nephew, he shares your blood!”

  Uncle Hugh just snorted. “Actually, once I’m sure I don’t need him, I think my dogs will share his blood!” A savage look was on his face: a broad toothy smile and scowling eyes. He pulled Elaine toward the inner chamber. She leaned back and pushed with her feet, trying to stop him.

  “Why, Hugh? Why would you want to hurt us?”

  Uncle Hugh laughed. “Never fret, my dear. I won’t harm you. I need your herb lore to find the ingredients for my spells. But I’ll make a potion for you first—then you’ll happily do whatever I tell you.” He dragged her across the floor, toward one of the tall boxes that stood on end. He threw the latch and pulled the lid open.
A pile of yellow-white bones clattered onto the floor, and a skull tumbled out last. Uncle Hugh swept the bones away with the side of his foot. He shoved Aunt Elaine into the box, slammed the door, and latched it again.

  “There now!” he said. He wiped his hand across three red lines on the side of his face, where Aunt Elaine must have scratched him before her hands were tied. “So you won’t tell me where that pest escaped to and who helped him? I’ll find out anyway, Wife.”

  Bert watched his uncle walk to the mirror. It felt as if he was watching someone else’s nightmare.

  “Mirror!” Uncle Hugh shouted. “Where has my nephew Will gone? And who is with them—men or Dwergh?” A familiar ringing rose from the depths of the shining glass. The mirror took a long time before it answered. I cannot answer. I cannot see.

  Uncle Hugh’s mouth hung open. “What do you mean you cannot see? I thought you could see everything!”

  I cannot see this. There is a cloak across the boy. Something hides him from my sight.

  Bert looked at the mirror. Dark ripples spread across its face. Its voice had always been so cool and silky, so confident. But just then, he thought he’d heard something different. Was it … fear?

  Uncle Hugh raised his hands. His fingers curled up like a dying flower. His fists shook, and his breath hissed in and out through his teeth. The beasts lifted their horned heads and stared at him.

  “If you can’t find the boy, then tell me what my brother is doing!” Uncle Hugh said. He pressed a palm over one eye and clutched his head as if it was aching.

  The dark ripples vanished, and the mirror shimmered and rang. The answer came swiftly. The baron gathers his men in the courtyard of Ambercrest. They prepare to ride to battle. A hundred riders will come to The Crags; hundreds of men on foot will follow.

  Bert wanted to exult at this news. Somehow his father found out what was happening and was riding to the rescue. But Bert felt nothing. His heart and mind were cold and dead. Nothing mattered anymore. The mirror had taken the best of him, drawn it right out of his skin and devoured it. All he could truly feel was sorrow and regret. And one more thing, the last thing he wanted to feel: He was craving—still craving—the mirror.

  He watched his uncle practically dance his way out of the chamber and up the stairs, “Oh, dear brother, if you only knew that I can see every move you make. What a trap I’ll set for you … what a lovely trap …”

  Uncle Hugh’s voice had just faded away when Bert heard his aunt’s tremulous call, “Bert! Tell me what’s happened. What is this place? What was that voice?”

  Bert saw her fingers poke through the eye hole. One of the beasts charged at the box, snarling. She pulled her fingers back as the hideous thing reared up, clawed at the hole, and barked savagely: “Death! Death!”

  Aunt Elaine didn’t make a sound again. Nor did Bert.

  CHAPTER 42

  Will and the Dwergh huddled in the dim light of the caves, near the protection of the amulet.

  It would be another day before the baron arrived, if he agreed to help and didn’t simply toss Harth into the dungeon. Knowing his father, Will feared he might do just that. Still, just before he left Ambercrest, Will caught a glimpse of something he’d never noticed before: his father’s wiser, more understanding nature. Had he seen the true man beneath that belligerent crust?

  For now all Will could do was wait. And rest. And talk—with Kholl, anyway. While the rest of the band conversed in their own tongue, dozed, sharpened their axes or mended their armor, Will and the eldest Dwergh spoke about their people, their homes, their families, and their lives.

  The more Will learned, the more he felt his hostility and distrust melt away like ice in spring. Kholl showed him how the hair of his ancestors and dearest friends was woven into his own beard, which, it turned out, was why the Dwergh were so touchy about having their beards pulled. He told Will about the great castles of the Dwergh lords and kings on the far side of the mountains, castles that were half under the ground and half above. He talked about vast, dark lakes under the earth that teemed with blind, glassy fish (the world’s most delicious meal, the old Dwergh insisted).

  The revelations seemed never-ending. Perhaps the most amazing thing was that Kholl knew Snow White, He was among the seven who saved her! And the rest of that brave band was entombed not far away, in a place Kholl promised to show Will one day. “If it all ends well.”

  Will scraped his bowl clean. He’d never been fond of mushrooms—hated the way they squished between his teeth—but he was so famished that his stomach persuaded his tongue. “I hope we can help Bert,” he said. “And I hope Aunt Elaine will be all right.”

  “If it is the will of the earth, they will survive,” Kholl said.

  Will dropped his spoon into the bowl. “How much longer will it be, do you think? I can’t tell how much time is passing without seeing the sun.”

  Kholl dug into his thick beard to scratch his chin. “If your friend Par Lee is right, and their horses are swift, it will be soon.”

  Will’s spirits lifted at the thought of seeing Parley again. The old rascal was alive after all He was still thinking about the courier when a loud ringing echoed through the tunnels. There was a series of clangs: two, then five, then four, then two. Will’s head craned up. “That’s not the same bell, is it?” he said.

  “You have good ears, young Will. That is another entrance. Harth has returned. And your Par Lee with him, I presume. Come—we must all go, and stay close together.”

  The six Dwergh and Will moved swiftly through the tunnels. The passage turned gradually up until they met a wall of rock with a round, iron door in the middle. Another one of those flower-shaped bells was embedded in the center of the door. The Dwergh hefted their axes and stood at the ready. One of the Dwergh pulled on a lever, and the door swung open. Three lamp-lit figures stood in a cave on the other side—one short and wide, and two much taller.

  Will shouted. “Andreas!” He dashed through the opening and threw himself at the knight. Andreas dropped his sword, so he wouldn’t injure the boy. He caught Will and staggered back, laughing in disbelief. “Will! My boy! You’re alive!”

  Parley crossed his arms, tapped a foot on the ground, and cleared his throat loudly. “What? No greeting for your old friend, Parley?”

  Will pried himself from Andreas and embraced the courier. “Oh, Parley, I expected to see you. But I’m just as happy, believe me!”

  Parley sniffed. His bottom lip trembled and tears gushed forth, even from his eyeless socket. “We were sure we’d lost you,” he wailed. “I nearly died myself when I heard” He leaned over Will’s shoulder and blew his nose ferociously on his own sleeve.

  Kholl smiled, but when he spoke to the Dwergh that just arrived, his expression turned grave.

  “Well, Harth?” Kholl said. Everyone fell still and waited for the answer.

  “The baron and his men ride to The Crags as we hoped,” Harth said. “This man is Andreas, a knight of their kingdom. He insisted on coming here.”

  “To keep an eye on us, I suppose,” said Kholl.

  “The baron trusts you in this matter, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Andreas said. “But I must inform you that he considers this a temporary truce. He will follow the plan as you suggested. Then, whether we fail or succeed, you must return to your mountains immediately, or face the consequences.”

  “Is that so,” said Kholl. His eyes flickered darkly as he stared at Andreas.

  Parley raised his hands and patted the air. “Now, those were the baron’s words, not this good fellow’s. The important thing is, we have a plan….”

  Kholl snorted. “So why did you insist on coming, Knight? We didn’t ask for another man.”

  “I came to help save the baron’s other son, because I failed to protect this one.” Andreas laid a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Will, your father wanted to be here himself. But Harth talked him out of it.”

  “It would have spoiled the plan,” said Harth. �
�The mirror will certainly have its eye on the baron. In fact, we are counting on it.”

  Will tugged at the knight’s sleeve. “Is my father in danger, Andreas?”

  “From an enemy that sees every move you make from afar? Of course he is. We all are, Will. We can only hope that your father follows the plan we made—that, in his zeal, he doesn’t try to do too much.” Andreas noticed the amulet around Will’s neck. He reached and held it between his thumb and forefinger. “Harth, is this the charm you told me about?”

  “It is,” said Harth.

  Andreas frowned. “Well. As for us, Will, we can only hope that this trinket you wear is as powerful as our new friends say.”

  “It had better be. Now enough talk,” said Harth. He said something in the Dwerghish tongue to the rest who stood watching and waiting. Their brows came down fiercely, and their fists tightened around the handles of their weapons. “It is time to act,” Harth said. “Let us go!”

  They left through the same cave, which opened to a dense wood. It was dark outside—the middle of the night, Parley informed Will. Harth took the lead, and they moved swiftly through the trees. A bright moon, more than half full, was overhead, and they could make their way without lanterns or torches. Will counted ten in the party now—eleven, including Mokh.

  “Andreas, what is the plan?” Will asked. “What is my father doing?”

  “Leading a small force to The Crags,” Andreas said.

  “But if the mirror knows …” Will’s voice trailed off.

  “We want the mirror to know,” Andreas said. “Remember the advice of the general of the east, Will: keep your enemy confused and off balance. We know a direct assault on The Crags with only a hundred men would be suicide. But your father’s attack will be a feint. Before sunrise he will charge at the main gate, but break off at the last moment. While he draws the attention of the mirror—and the soldiers of The Crags, for that matter—we will run to the ledge at the north end of the wall. It won’t be easy to get there unseen. We have to cross open ground between The Crags and the swamp. But in a way we’re lucky. There used to be a village at the foot of the ledge, but your uncle burned it down not long ago. So at least no villagers will raise the alarm.”