The Stillness of the Sky: A Flipped Fairy Tale (Flipped Fairy Tales)

by Starla Huchton

  “No,” she sighed, “I never did, but I found something I thought was better.”

  It was hard for me to imagine finding something better than the truth about oneself, but she’d had the benefit of knowing basically where she came from, and no two people would ever want the same thing for the same exact reason. “What did you find?”

  Her eyes crinkled with her mischievous smile. “A legend.” From her pocket, she produced a small, gray pouch, carefully dumping the contents onto her palm. A single black thorn, larger than my thumbnail, tumbled out across her hand. “The story went that a handsome man, a king, was cursed into slumber, penned in by giant thorns and guarded by a hideous beast. So long had he slept, that most had forgotten the location of his castle and the details about him, but he was said to be one of the most powerful men who’d ever lived.” She held the thorn out to me. “At seventeen, you might imagine how impossible I found it to ignore. The sleeping king was my beanstalk, Jack.”

  Her gaze locked on to the thorn as I examined it, but her eyes were focused somewhere far, far away.

  “Did you find him, then?” I prompted.

  “Hmm?” My mother blinked, clearing the haze of reminiscence from her vision. “Oh, yes. I did, but… Well, some things are hidden away for good reason.”

  I handed back the thorn and she returned it to its pouch, standing and walking over to the balcony doors to stare out into the night. “We make many mistakes when we’re young, and most often where our hearts are concerned. Bard or not, I wasn’t immune to that more than anyone else ever is. What I awoke in that castle was not a man, but it took two years before I saw him for what he was. Men have hearts. Men are capable of caring for something outside of themselves and learning from their mistakes. No, what I awoke in that castle was not a man, but a monster.”

  She was silent for a moment, then released the softest sigh of longing I’d ever heard another human being utter before returning to her chair. “For two years I helped him in anything he asked of me. He taught me to use my gifts far better than any Bard might have done. His knowledge was vast and old, and his books… oh, his books. I’d never seen their like, and I absorbed them as a sponge in water. He’d teach and encourage, tempt me into doing things most would never entertain, but I was hungry. His books, his words, they fed me until I thought I’d burst, yet I’d still ache for more. He laced every foul request with sweet sentiments and promises. One morning, I awoke and couldn’t even recognize myself in the mirror anymore. The restlessness I’d felt in my bones since I was young was there, but as a chained, cowering beast, addicted to the scraps the master provided. After two years, I realized the endless fountain of knowledge was a mere trickle.”

  The sad smile she wore tore at my heart. The depth of pure pain within her seeped from her every pore. “When he bade me to sing for the newly widowed queen of Bern, that was when I knew. I saw his eyes for true that day, not as a mystery to be solved, but as the darkness that filled his soul. I stole away in the dead of night, scared out of my mind for what he’d do if he caught me. It took me weeks of skulking and creeping and trickery to find my way out of Bern. The mountains were the worst, but I was determined. A month free of him, and I relaxed for the first time in… Well, even now I can’t remember. It was a short-lived reprieve, however. Not long after that, maybe a week, an old woman stopped me on the road. She asked if I needed a place to go where we’d be safe.”

  Air caught in my lungs, though I felt as though I hadn’t taken a breath in hours my heart pounded so fast.

  My mother nodded. “She knew before I did, Jack. When she told me I was with child, I didn’t believe her at first. I think she saw plainly enough that I was alone in the world and desperate for help. She knew of a farmer, an infinitely kind soul. The man had a son with no prospects of his own. When the old woman left me with them, I used the tricks I’d learned to convince them I’d always been there, that the child I carried was that useless son’s. I hid us away from the world, Jack. If he’d known about you…” She shivered. “No. I couldn’t let that happen. I’d die first. That was why I stayed, Jack. Even for the drinking, the abuse, the torment of hiding my gift and remaining in one place so long, it was a far better fate for us than to let your true father set one finger on you.”

  Through all of the information whirling in my brain, a single question clawed its way out of my constricted throat. “Mother…” The word was hoarse and cracked when I spoke. “Who was he?”

  She pinched her eyes shut, as though refusing to look at the world would make the truth less real. “They know him now as King Alder Tillendale. He was killed trying to hold Sericea’s crown after taking Bern, though I’m not entirely sure of the story behind that. What most don’t know, however, is that many, many centuries ago, the world called him Liras, last king of the Dinnarian Empire.”

  Everyone erupted into shouts of disbelief, hurling unanswerable questions into the air between them. Her words spun around me, twirling so fast I felt dizzy. My father was not my father. My father was dead. My father had been a king. My father was a monster. I shut my eyes against the noise, willing them all to stop, trying to think past it. If I could get one moment of quiet, perhaps I could absorb it, understand it…

  “All of you stop!” Willem’s voice resounded above the others, silencing them at last. “Jack,” he said, his words soft, “are you—”

  “Please leave,” I whispered, struggling to find speech.

  “But—”

  I stood and held up my hands, turning my face from all of them. “Everyone. Just go. I need…” I pressed my fingers against my temples. “I need time to think. Please. Leave now.”

  Kela was the first to move, Jī-Shae directly behind her. Sudam glanced between me and my mother, but said nothing and followed the other Bards in retreat.

  “You, too,” I said, first looking at Will, and then my mother. “Both of you.”

  Her eyes pleaded with me. “Jack, I—”

  “I’m not angry,” I said to her. “I just need time.”

  She swallowed heavily, but nodded, reluctantly heading for the door. Only Willem remained behind. When I made to protest, he smiled at me.

  “If you think this changes anything for me, you should know that I won’t release you from your promise so easily. Enchantment or no, I can’t change my heart.”

  I was beyond the ability to form a reply, and he turned away before what he said fully registered.

  “If you need anything,” he said over his shoulder, “I’m two doors down to the right, same side as you.”

  With that, he was gone, leaving me to relive my mother’s story on my own.

  Chapter 18

  I wouldn’t say I slept much that night. My eyes refused to close, my mind insistent that I continue to endlessly mull over possibilities about who and what I was. True, I was a Bard, but what more than that? My father had been a man so evil that he’d turned my mother into a weapon, so reviled that he’d been sealed away in a hidden castle guarded by horrors of its own. He was a king thrice over, once lording over an empire that history painted as bloodthirsty and power-hungry, devastating any who stood in its path. What did that make me? What sort of evil might run through the blood in my veins?

  Morning arrived with no answers and dark circles under my eyes. When the chambermaid came at dawn, I startled her with my presence on the balcony. She combed my hair and helped me dress, but otherwise remained mute in a strange, awestruck trance.

  The morning meal was a dazed distraction for me. Three times the king addressed me, and I only answered because Sudam prodded me seconds before. After I’d eaten my fill, a servant came up beside me, presenting my lute.

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” King Ivor said with a patronizing smile, “would you play for us a little this morning?”

  After everything the day before, my thoughts were scattered, my concentration minimal at best, and my mood none too conducive to light entertainment. But, as it was the king’s request, there
was little choice for me in the matter. With a silent nod, I rose from my seat, catching looks of concern from Will and my mother both, and transplanted myself in a chair at the head of the room. There’d be no dancing from me.

  I closed my eyes and thought for a moment. Of all the things I’d encountered on my journey, a recurring theme echoed in every step. Wherever I went, regret touched all I saw and lined every face. Not even Willem was immune to it. My mother carried much of it with her. There was one amongst my audience that morning that should’ve perhaps had a little more. If it were within my power to do so, I would show him.

  Eerie notes in a minor key drifted from my lute, my voice joining it soon enough. My words spoke of chances not taken and opportunities for good squandered. I let the melody carry my wish for others to know the warmth of a heart filled with kindness. Humanity at its pinnacle were people who spent lives pursuing happiness not out of selfish need, but out of love for others, to give gifts of selfless acts that cost nothing, but were often the most difficult to bestow. I mourned for those who didn’t know such joy, and celebrated those who saw the worth in helping others. At the end, I left them with the hope that no matter what had passed, there was always a way to be better.

  I took a deep breath as I finished, the last reserves of my energy spent. Without a word, I excused myself from the meal and retreated to my room.

  An hour or so later, the knock I’d been expecting finally sounded on my door. I’d barely opened it when Will stalked in, my mother trailing behind him. The look on her face spoke volumes about what she thought of my performance.

  “You’re careless,” she said. “I played for thirty minutes to keep the king from flying into a rage. Honestly, Jack, what were you thinking?”

  My nostrils flared as I scowled at her. A number of harsh replies hovered on my tongue, but I bit them back. “I’m exhausted. The king’s opinion of me doesn’t—”

  Will stepped up to me, setting his hands on my shoulders. “It does matter. A great deal. I know my father, Jack, and I must warn you of his temper. If he’s willing to fight an impossible war to save his pride, what care would he have for disposing of a Bard who displeased him before lunch? If not for your sake, think of me.”

  “I’d hoped my song might soften him on that war issue,” I said, frowning. “What sort of man wouldn’t regret so many lives lost for no purpose?”

  “A man you’d do well not to cross,” my mother said, sinking into a chair. “Believe me, I’m well acquainted with his type.”

  “He isn’t as terrible as that,” Will argued. “He misses his son and would move the heavens to bring him home. I’m sure you understand such a parental impulse.”

  I sighed. “Oh, enough, the both of you. Honestly, if all you’ve come for is to lecture me, save your breath and go.” Crossing to the balcony, I opened the doors to let the air in. “But if you’ve come with something useful, please feel free to begin at your leisure.”

  When I sat, I waited for them to make up their minds. The first to drop it, my mother waved the matter aside. “Very well, but my warning still stands.” She pointed Willem to a chair.

  After he’d situated himself with more ceremony than was necessary, he plastered a serene smile on his face. “Your mother informs me that she has something that might be of use in solving our mutual problem.”

  I looked at her. “You do?”

  Reluctantly, she nodded. “It’s why I wasn’t able to come and find you the moment I learned of Alder’s death. I was actually searching for a means to…” She paused, frowning. “A means to make up for my mistakes when I heard the news. I’d been slowly making my way back to that castle, you see. It was where he hid his most dangerous weapons. I thought there’d be something there I could use.”

  “The castle where you found him?” I asked. “It still stands?”

  “Of course. It’s hidden between jungle and mountains, and with the spells lifted from it, nature is reclaiming it, but it’s there.” My mother produced a flat obsidian disc from her pocket, large enough to cover the palm of her hand. “He’d moved much of what I’d thought to look for, but I did find this.”

  I peered at it, hesitant to touch anything that belonged to such a person. “What is it?”

  She held it up to me, turning it this way and that. “It’s harmless in most cases. There are very few who would want to use it, and fewer of those who could do so. It can be either madness or salvation, depending on who commands it. You see, this is a Resonant Stone. Only the most powerful of Bards have the ability required for its magic.”

  I squinted at it, seeing nothing extraordinary about it. “Only Bards? What does it do?”

  “It amplifies our talents using the very earth itself. This stone is the purest mineral in the entire world. All manner of rocks and soil contain a bit of this, but the amount I hold in my hand right now is a greater concentration than you’ll find scattered over any given ten square miles combined. This mineral connects spirits with the land. With this, a Bard can send their magic out for miles in every direction, touching the hearts of every living creature. With this, a Bard could bend armies to their will.”

  Prince Willem sucked in a loud breath. “So much power in one person’s hands has horrifying potential.”

  My mother nodded. “Which is why only a Bard can command it. We’ve no use for thrones or empires. Our very nature prevents it. However, when our way of life is threatened, we have a means of correcting humanity’s course.”

  Sitting back in my chair, I tried to sort the sense of it. “You’ve a mind to stop this war?”

  “I have.”

  “Why?”

  She blinked at me as though I’d spoken another language. “What?”

  “Why do you want to stop it? Why now? Why wait so long? If you knew this thing existed, and you knew where to get it, why did it take you two years to do so?” After all I’d heard from her, I wasn’t about to assume selflessness on her part. As much as I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, I couldn’t ignore the hints of unspoken horrors she’d helped into being.

  She stared at her lap, her fingers gliding over the disc. “Because of you, Jack.”

  I crossed my arms. “Explain.”

  She sighed heavily. “I couldn’t risk a trip to the castle any earlier. It was too dangerous for me and might’ve put you in harm’s way. When I heard of the Sericean queen’s passing, I saw a window of opportunity. Liras… Alder, rather, would’ve been busy managing his kingdoms and dealing with Moran’s army at the border. With his attention occupied elsewhere, I finally had a chance. Shortly after I arrived, someone paid me a visit: a golden fairy by the name of Quistis. This war, it’s much more serious than a simple feud. What Ivor’s begun could turn giants against all of humanity, upsetting the very balance of the world. Giants are protectors by nature, guardians. This war has the potential to alter that forever. Quistis told me that maybe two of the Bards in this world could tap into the full potential of the Resonant Stone, but that only one had the purity of heart to find a peaceful resolution.”

  Her eyes lifted to me, shining with tears. “It’s you, Jack.”

  “Me?” I stared at her in disbelief. “Barely a month with my gifts and I could use such a thing?”

  I’d swear that she aged twenty years as I watched her. “It isn’t only your talents as a Bard that give you such power, Jack. Your father…” She swallowed heavily. “Your father was one of the greatest magi that ever was. A child with such parentage is unheard of in this world. I can only guess at the vast power you’re capable of controlling.”

  “But I don’t want that,” I said, shaking my head furiously. “I don’t want power. I don’t want to command armies or conquer nations. I don’t want to control anything or anyone.”

  Will’s hand slipped into mine, soothing my near panic back to a milder form of fear. “Which is why you’re perfect, Jack. Those who crave that sort of power would never have anything but ill intentions for the world.”
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  “There must be some mistake,” I insisted. “This fairy, Quistis, he mentioned one other that could use the stone. What of them?”

  My mother stared long and hard at the dark object in her grasp. After a minute or two, she stood and knelt before me, placing the disc in my free hand and wrapped my fingers around it.

  “After all I’ve done, all I’ve helped to be done, I’m wise enough to recognize my weaknesses. The shadow on my heart, my regrets and selfish desires, it would taint any good I’d think to do. Though my intentions are well-placed, the evil that’s touched my spirit might be more than I can fight against. I won’t risk forcing you into a position I was in long ago, a position where I wasn’t strong enough to make the right choice. If I dared to use this object, there’s a definite possibility you’d be forced to stop me permanently.”

  “You?” I whispered.

  “I’m the other who could wield it, Jack.” She pressed my hand against the stone. “He trained me well enough that I could likely do as you do, though that came through endless practice rather than raw talent. It comes from a dark place. If you refuse this mission, I’ll have no choice, but I fear the results of my doing so might be worse than the path ahead if I do nothing.”

  Her gaze bore into me with such pleading, such regret for her mistakes, the very air around me compressed, squeezing my chest. What she was giving me was the chance to commit the ultimate kindness.

  A chance to save the world.

  My voice was thin, exhausted and overcome by the task before me. “What must I do?”

  My mother’s relief was palpable, and she gathered me in a sudden, frantic embrace. “I swear on my life I’ll do all I can to help you in this, Jack. Whatever burden of it I can bear, I’ll not leave it all to you.”

  Breathing through the enormity of what lay before me, I relaxed in her arms. “Then I suppose I’ve work to do. Worlds don’t save themselves.”

  “How can I help?” Willem asked. “If there’s anything you need, I’ll do what I can.”