Rescuing the Prince

by Meghann McVey

  “Ivenbury has taken the queen’s side, fortunately,” Tolliver said. “But they are only one. Who are these others you mention?”

  When I told them of King Pharris’s support, Tolliver’s face lit up. Faxon, however, looked thoughtful. “It is not like the queen to ask for help. Suppose she believes we are truly in danger?”

  “Just think, Faxon! A chance to fight alongside capital-trained warriors!” Tolliver grinned, his dark eyes dancing with visions of glorious battle.

  “Yes. We shall see if the stories of their magnificence hold any truth.”

  “Why wouldn’t they tell the truth? Don’t you believe that one capital trained soldier can best ten ordinary men?” Tolliver demanded.

  “That must be exaggeration.” Faxon rolled his eyes.

  “Wait a minute!” My voice trembled. “You and Tolliver are going to fight in this war? As soldiers? Against Latule’s men?”

  “Well of course we are!” Faxon sounded offended. “We are both of age and have the proper training.”

  “But you could be hurt! Or…” I couldn’t bear to say it.

  “Leah…” Tolliver’s voice went low and tender.

  “We will guard one another’s backs. That I can promise you,” Faxon said. “And we will not take unnecessary risks.”

  “Still…” I sat back down heavily. “There’s no guarantee.”

  “No one is guaranteed the morrow,” Faxon said. “I offer you this comfort: our chances are better than most.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because it is our choice to take up the sword,” Faxon said.

  Confused, I looked to Tolliver, who was nodding his agreement.

  “All young men in Latule are required to serve, whether it suits them or not,” Tolliver explained. “I fight to help feed my family, but in doing so, I am protecting them. By standing against Latule, I continue to protect them. It is well-known that a strong will wins battles. I must survive to defend my family and see them again. And the other important people in my life: Faxon…and you…”

  Suddenly, despite the winter cold, my face felt hot. “Don’t you worry about losing your comrades?” I asked in a small voice.

  “It is a specter that trails every soldier. If you heed its poison words, it will paralyze you,” Faxon declared. “In times like these, it is hard for everyone. We can only do our best and live our lives to the fullest.”

  His eloquence nearly moved me to tears. Who had he been before he pledged his life to his country? I wondered briefly.

  The shrieks of children put an end to our conversation. Black-haired, clad in a rainbow of rags, they darted past, ducking and hurling snowballs.

  I found myself looking at Tolliver and smiling. Years ago, before I had looked into the mirror of self-consciousness and been unable to tear my gaze away, I had lived with such abandon. Could I ever return to such innocent, happy times?

  “Wagoners,” Faxon said in a low voice.

  “Their hair’s not red,” I said.

  “There are many groups of Wagoners, known as ‘Families,’” Faxon was happy to explain. “Though generally they are not all related. The dark-haired Families are often called Wilders to distinguish them from the red-haired Wagoners. Unlike the Wagoners, who will venture into villages and cities to entertain, the Wilders refuse to set foot there, even to buy supplies. They live off the land and trade with Wagoners only in the most desperate times.”

  Heavy silence fell as the three children stopped playing to stare at us. Their dark eyes radiated intensity. Faxon and Tolliver both got up, their hands on their swords. “Can we help you?” Faxon said in a voice that really meant What the hell do you want?

  “You look like a lady of letters,” the oldest Wagoner said in a belabored accent, pointing at me. “Would you like to buy a page from a tiny, perfect book?” He held out something that sent a jolt of recognition through me: a plastic I.D. card. There was no way such an item could be of this world. And speaking of plastic…

  The middle Wagoner wore a plastic crown, slightly too large, on his nest of curls. The plastic golden crown I’d stared at for hundreds of parades.

  Bow and curtsy. Turn around. Wave to the crowd. Smile. Bow and curtsy. Do it again. And again. Four parades a night, every summer night.

  “Where did you get these?” I said in what my acting coach would call a “terrible voice.” When the kids didn’t answer, I snatched the crown from the middle one’s head and flipped it over. Sure enough, the back read Portalis Park. The kid held his head - I guess I’d gotten some of his hair — and began to cry, which made a saner part of me feel awful.

  “The dead have no need of possessions,” the oldest boys said. “Belongings are for the living.”

  “Give me that card!” I screamed, surprising myself. The oldest boy looked at his siblings as if unsure what to do. “Hand it over!” I held out my hand. He obeyed. I clutched it and the crown to me. “Where did you take this from? Where is the body?”

  “The birds and wolves have probably devoured the remains by now,” the eldest said in a monotone.

  “Leah? What are you talking about?” Faxon said.

  But I couldn’t speak.

  I’d always told Gerry it was stupid to put his wallet in his costume pants. They didn’t have wallets when Prince Charming lived, and if they did, he probably had servants to carry it. Gerry always argued that if something happened to him while he was in costume, they’d be able to identify him fast.

  Holding his I.D. card, stained from the blood the dragon’s talons had slashed out of him, I slumped to the forest floor as though I were the wounded one. Nothing could have parted Gerry from his hideous camo bifold. He’d said more than once when people made fun of it that they’d have to pry it out of his cold dead hands.

  Gerry’s face, which I hadn’t been able to see in my mind since Valeriya, suddenly came to mind with a clarity that rivaled the reality in front of me: his chestnut hair in its Caesar cut, his light brown eyes, his smooth-shaven cheeks (at least once a day, as I’d found out).

  The first day we’d met, Gerry had smiled at me. His small mouth might have looked hard or stingy at first glance, until his smile brought his face to life, making his eyes sparkle and lines appear in his cheeks. In my opinion, that smile, more than anything else, was how he’d gotten the role of Prince Charming.

  “Lady.” Tolliver had taken my hands in his. His skin was as cold as mine, and the touch brought no comfort. “Tell me the cause of your grief.”

  “These are Gerry’s things,” I said, each word an elephant stomping on my chest.

  “I see,” Tolliver said. Just from looking at him, I knew that he had not forgotten Gerry and what he meant to me.

  “Tolliver,” I whispered. “Can you stop these Wilder children for questioning? I have to know more about how they came by Gerry's stuff and whether he really…” I couldn't make myself say the word.

  “We can't do that,” Faxon answered first. “You never know how many Wilders are out in the forest at a given time. Do you want to bring them down on our camp?”

  My usual modus, yielding when someone else said no, hardened to resistance. “We're not going to hurt them! If the other Wilders don't like it, we can explain it to them!”

  “You won't have time! Wilders hate everything about the civilized world, especially us! Their way is to attack first if threatened. Most of the time, they don't even ask questions afterwards.”

  “I never asked you!” I hissed. Faxon might not help me, but perhaps Tolliver would. I turned to him, but the desperate plea in my eyes was for nothing.

  During our brief argument, the children had vanished as completely as white rabbits into the snow and brush. How unlike kids from my world, who generally bounded, shouted, and bumped their way through life.

  “Who was this man for whom you'd consider such reckless action?” Faxon said.

  “I will explain later, Faxon,” Tolliver said. “Is there anything we can do for you, La
dy?”

  “No, there is nothing,” I heard myself say. Much like when the dragon had descended on Portalis Park, I didn’t entirely believe what had happened. How could this be?

  Feeling as though I watched someone else, I let Tolliver help me back to the carriage. Faxon brought furs and blankets, which they arranged around me. Outside, men shouted orders, kicked snow onto campfires, mounted their horses. The carriage moved at a speed that would be considered meandering in a cul-de-sac. With some effort, I freed my arms from their cocoon. In one hand, I still clung to Gerry’s driver’s license and crown. I stared at them for miles, and lost myself in memories of him, of us.

  The first thing I’d noticed about Gerry was how he always made it a point to talk to everyone. At the start of our shifts, I’d see him making the rounds. He didn’t leave me out, though I was so shy I could barely mumble out my name the first time we spoke.

  I had joined Portalis Park as Cinderella early in the summer, right after graduation. By day I did face character work and at night, I danced in the Parade of Lights. Gerry was just a backup dancer at that point. My first late summer night, he offered to walk me to my car. I said yes, despite already having pepper spray, a sonic alarm, and my cell phone in hand with Mom and Portalis Park security on speed dial. Those walks under the false starlight of streetlamps became a routine, our routine.

  Gerry made me feel safer than I ever had in my life. He was so take-charge and knew exactly what he wanted. In a matter of months, my boyfriend went from backup dancer to Prince Charming, but these were just stepping stones for him. He wanted to be a supervisor before age 30 and never let anyone forget.

  I’d always hoped some of that decisiveness and worldly wisdom would rub off on me. Though I was probably as hopeless a case as Gerry’d ever found, he never stopped trying to motivate me and make me a better person.

  I buried my head in the musty furs, muffling my crying as I remembered holding hands through entire movies, attending cast member dinners as a couple, going to various college campuses to hear lectures about Raw Food or attend Management Workshops.

  Most fondly, I remembered our walk on the beach. Admittedly, I had to convince Gerry to take it, and we did cut it short because “it was just more of the same.” But the sunset had turned the sea, sky, and sand violet. I’d gotten a shave ice, delicious and sweet, despite the cold it added to the winter day. Gerry had put his arm around me and kissed me when we walked to the edge of the pier.

  I had come into this world to rescue him, my prince. Now he was gone. How would I ever do it all by myself? I’d barely made it through high school. I didn’t know if I’d have survived Portalis Park as long as I had without Gerry by my side.

  None of that mattered right now. I didn’t know how to get home. And even if I did, it wouldn’t bring Gerry back. I unwound one of my blankets and wrapped Gerry’s crown and license in it, to be considered later, like my thoughts.

  Outside the carriage window, I glimpsed Faxon and Tolliver.

  After learning the worst might have happened to Gerry, I was seeing everyone I knew in a new, mortal light. People were surprisingly fragile, the end of their lives sudden and unexpected.

  The jarring change in perspective reminded me of my parents' divorce. I'd never seen it coming, possibly because my parents were so busy with Project Management for the first fifteen years of my life. It had just seemed…normal for them to spend more time involved with work than with me or each other.

  When the smoke cleared from terse discussions with lawyers, Mom took custody of me. Dad ranted and raved about her being after his promotion, but the fact was, working as a Project Manager in California left very little time to be a dad, so how would he do it in Saudi Arabia (where his latest promotion was leading him)? One of the reasons Mom wanted a divorce was because Dad wasn't on-board with embracing a simpler life, both work and spending-wise.

  I wished I could see Mom again and tell her all that had happened to me. I wished I’d had more of a relationship with Dad. It was always good, the times we got together. We didn't fight the way my California roommates and their dads did. With that said, if Dad went too long without taking a phone call or answering emails in mid-conversation, we ran out of things to talk about. And I always hated it when he tried to fix me. No matter how much Mom said he cared a lot about me in his own way, it still hurt. It felt like I wasn't good enough. I kept hoping the day would come when I felt good enough for him the way I was.

  I missed them both. I wished I could see them and know they were okay.

  {****}

  To my surprise, the carriages stopped shortly after nightfall. In such an urgent matter as war, I had expected us to ride through the night, at least until I stepped outside the carriage and experienced the absolute darkness of night in the wintry woods. Though the trees grew close together, I could not make them out. The light of fires kindling to life was nearly blinding, and the riders’ lanterns seemed to hover in midair like ghosts.

  I could see why we had stopped. In these conditions, we were certain to get lost or injure a horse. Still, even hushed voices boomed through the silence and made me cringe. I didn’t know how near Latule’s lands we were. But if they were watching, if they had any scouts on the road, our bright fires and the noise of all these gathered people would be a dead giveaway.

  A lantern floated over in my direction. Its bearer was nearly on top of me before I realized it was Faxon, with Tolliver at his side.

  “We won’t let you spend the night alone,” Tolliver said.

  The lantern blurred; their faces swam. I wiped at my misty eyes and managed a soggy thank you.

  Faxon and Tolliver gathered sticks and branches, placing them close enough to the carriage so I could sleep inside and still benefit from some of the warmth. When the fire was crackling, they spread blankets on the ground.

  “You’re going to sleep in the snow?” I said.

  “It’s only for a few hours,” Faxon said, his upturned nose and cheeks ruddy from the cold. “We’ll set out again at first light. One of us will have to stand watch, so it’s better not to get too comfortable.”

  “I see,” I said, impressed with his casual attitude toward the most extreme weather conditions I’d ever experienced. “I guess you two are used to snow.”

  “It is a yearly occurrence, Lady,” Tolliver said, his dark eyes as serious as ever.

  “In my home, people would consider it a miracle if any snow fell. They travel high into the mountains to see it. I’ve always wanted to go. I never thought I’d experience my first snowfall and lose someone so important to me at the same time.”

  The pain of my grief had gone numb for a time with the repetitive motion of the carriage, the illusion of unchanging scenery. Now it returned, the hurt as fresh as though it were new.

  I hadn’t been able to save him. I had tried my best, gone beyond everything I thought I was capable of. And it still hadn’t been enough. Gerry was forever beyond my reach.

  When I returned to the moment, I saw my agony mirrored in my companions’ eyes.

  “Lady, if I could bear this anguish for you, I would,” Tolliver whispered.

  “Thank you, Tolliver.” I found myself thinking how different his face was from Gerry’s. Light brown eyes and dark. Thin lips and thicker. Gerry’s smile, where one side lifted higher than the other. Tolliver, serious and pensive much of the time. But when he did smile, it was like a long-awaited sunrise spilling over the waiting land. “Will your family be all right in Tarra?”

  “Ah, I did not tell you. All the people of Ivenbury, the nobles included, are evacuating to Castle Autumnstead. Their homes were not built with defense in mind. And so they come where Autumnstead’s soldiers and Ivenbury’s can protect them.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Has there been any luck finding the princess?” I doubted it since the queen had personally turned up in Ceredwyn to get me. Nonetheless, I hoped that focusing to present problems would distract me from Gerry.

  �
��There were several leads while you were away, but they all came to naught,” Faxon said. “Were the princess found tonight, it wouldn’t change things. It is too late. The war has begun.”

  Tolliver took first watch. I dozed off watching the play of shadows and light on his face, the glimmer of firelight on snow falling and fallen.

  My dreams brought me back to the wishing well at Portalis Park, the last place I’d seen before mysteriously arriving in the Other World. Again I attempted to fight the dragon with that Leviathan of a hose that slept next to the well. Dodging my wild arcs of water, the dragon came in closer, Gerry dangling from its talons. The rider, rather than ordering its mount to attack me, spoke a word of command that caused the beast to hover in the air, a black-scaled helicopter.

  “Kill,” the rider said in a voice like rocks being crushed. The dragon sliced through Gerry’s fragile body. Blood rained down as I screamed and screamed until I had no more voice.

  Gasping, I sank to my knees, only to find I could not look away from the rider. Through the ornate horned helmet, eyes burned, trapping me. The chain mail over the rider’s hands flashed in the sun as the murderer reached up to undo their helmet. From the prison of iron and horn, blonde hair rushed out, fell to the rider’s shoulders. Still her eyes would not release me. I gave a low, despairing moan as I looked on her face, identical to mine. In the distance, drums boomed and cymbals clashed…

  And continued their thunderous call as I awoke in woodsy darkness broken only by the light of low fires. Men shouted, cursed, and steel rang out on steel. I sprang to my feet and leaned groggily against the carriage door. What was going on?

  A group of soldiers with blazing torches jogged into our little campground. By their light, I recognized the red tunics and brown cloaks of Latule. As I’d feared, we’d been found.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ambush and Aftermath

  I darted back into the carriage and grabbed the blanket where I’d wrapped my mementos of Gerry.

  “Leah! Lady!” I heard Faxon and Tolliver calling between grunts and the clash of weapons.