Fate's Fables Special Edition: One Girl's Journey Through 8 Unfortunate Fairy Tales (Fate's Journey Book 1)

by T. Rae Mitchell

  The snake crossed the room, dragging his large pile of plays he’d bound together with twine. “Now, now, misss. We can’t ssstay in this missserable wasssteland forever. It’sss been ten daysss sssince you last sssaw him, and four sssince the fable changed into a wonderfully sssublime end.”

  He was right. She needed to accept that Finn was content with his new life. She had to stop hoping he’d suddenly remember who she was and come running back. Even if his memory did return, what made her think he’d want anything to do with her anyhow? Was she forgetting he hated her before the poisoning?

  The time had come to move on.

  She put her attention on the illustration of a winged, serpentine dragon entwined around the letter I. “Did you model for that?”

  Sithias gave her an indulgent, yet mildly annoyed smile. “Of courssse not. I’m much more handsssome,” he said, coiling his tail round her waist. “Now, read on.”

  Her heart screamed no. “It’s for the best,” she whispered to herself. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to speak the first word out loud when a sudden rumbling stopped her.

  As another quake shook the cabin, hope filled the crater in her chest. She ran to the window. Grysla’s large form crested the hill with Finn on one gnarled shoulder and Tove on the other. “He’s here!” she said. Grabbing her coat, she slipped into her boots and ran out the door.

  Finn jumped down, landing in front of her. He seemed nervous, unable to meet her eye. “I…uh…” He glanced back at the giant, who nudged her chin with encouragement, though Tove kept a cold, distant gaze on the horizon. “Could I have a moment with you inside?” he asked.

  “A moment?” Fate’s hopes sank. “Sure.”

  When they entered the cabin, he took one look at Sithias with undiluted loathing. “I hate snakes,” he said.

  “Oh not thisss again,” Sithias said, slithering off to the bathroom.

  “It’s okay. He’s a friend, believe it or not,” she explained.

  “Sorry, the snake threw me off.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “There’s something I need to say to you.”

  Whatever it was, he looked uncomfortable enough to make her think she’d better brace for the worst. “Okay.”

  He stared at the floor. “I know this is going to sound like I’m a full-on nutter, but I haven’t been able to get those bonnie browns of yours out of my head.” He raised his gaze, a faint smile touching his lips when he saw her obvious surprise. “I don’t know how or why, but I know you’re important to me in some way.” Relief smoothed his brow. “There, I said it. I’ve been working up the nerve for days.”

  “Oh.” She was in shock. “I guess we should talk,” she said at last. “My name’s Fate, by the way.”

  “I’m Finn.”

  She smiled. “I know. Sorry I lied when you first asked me if we knew each other.”

  “Why did you?”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks. “I was upset when you didn’t remember me.”

  He looked apologetic, but kept silent.

  They sat by the fire while she explained how they’d been traveling through the fables together after meeting at the bookstore, why a snake was with them, and how Sabirah had poisoned him. By that time, Sithias had come out of hiding. She could tell he was waiting for her to drop the bomb by letting Finn know he wasn’t real. But she didn’t. She shouldn’t have told him before. She wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

  “We were just about to move onto the next fable.” She forced down any thought of him joining her and stood up. “So I guess you’ll be wanting to get back to Tove and Grysla.”

  Finn shadowed her as she strode over to the Book of Fables. Catching her by the hand, he said, “No, I’ll be going with you, Fate.”

  She searched his face. “Are you sure?” She sensed resistance, but he nodded all the same.

  “Aye, I’m sure. I’ll just go say my goodbyes.”

  She moved to the window after he walked outside.

  Sithias joined her, where she stood in the shadows. “Isss it really wissse to watch thisss?”

  “I have to,” she said, squeezing her fists tight as the scene unfolded.

  Tove leaned close to Finn, staring into his eyes like someone who knew his very soul. Whispering something in his ear, she traced her finger over the runes on his temple. He looked thoroughly entranced.

  As the moment dragged on forever, Fate felt every torturous second.

  Then Tove drew back ever so slightly. Her face was but a hair’s width from Finn’s, until her lips brushed his for the briefest second before pulling away entirely.

  Fate stopped breathing when she saw him go rigid with a grief-stricken expression. Guilt gnawed at her. Was it wrong to want to take him away if leaving left him heartbroken?

  Tove stood stone-still and majestic as she whistled two eerie notes. The wind obeyed with sudden force, streaking her dark hair against the crisp blue sky. Fate had never seen anything more arresting than this otherworldly girl whose eyes blazed with a fierce yet tender love.

  An awful feeling of inferiority filled her constricted chest. Tove was everything she was not. Strong, confident, gorgeous and mysterious. Plainly she and Finn shared something profound, something Fate feared she would never have with him.

  The swirling snow thickened around Tove, engulfing her. Then the flurry swept into the hills with astounding speed, taking her in its wake.

  Finn looked lost without her.

  The tree troll leaned down toward him. He looked up at Grysla, his stricken gaze so severe Fate worried he would decide to stay after all. They signed to each other, a silent yet deeply connected exchange. At last Grysla made a farewell gesture. There was sadness in her affectionate smile. The giant strode away, her heavy steps shaking the ground until her lumbering form dipped below the hills and vanished from sight.

  “I can’t do this,” Fate said as she hurried over to the Book of Fables. Why had she tortured herself with watching their goodbye? Seeing Finn so lovestruck would forever torment her. Any musings she’d had of a future with him were gone now. He belonged here with Tove.

  Sithias slid up next to her. “What can’t you do?”

  “Take him with us,” she said, fixing her gaze on the next fable. Her heart was hammering so hard her legs wobbled beneath her. Grabbing hold of the snake for support, she forced back the little voice in her head urging her to stop and think before she acted.

  “Misss, you’re being rash,” Sithias chimed in with the voice of warning. “Don’t do sssomething you’ll regret.”

  Frigid air blew into the cabin as Finn entered. She kept her eyes on the page. If she looked at him, she’d weaken and change her mind.

  “Fate?” he said, the sound of his footsteps quickening across the room.

  Squaring her shoulders, she choked out the first word of the fable. The magnetic pull of the story as it burst into being was instantaneous, and so very merciful in the way it emptied her mind of the misery she felt at leaving Finn behind.

  The Dragon Empress

  IN THE DIM BEGINNING OF HISTORY there were unspeakable matings between humans and creatures of magic, which brought forbidden lives into the world. These abominations hid themselves and, more oft than not, bore disturbing evils in their tainted blood. They were to be feared if ever one was unfortunate enough to trespass into their domain, yet trespass is precisely where this story begins.

  King Balor was the first to encounter such a race. After his victory in the North Endlund country, he chose to cross the River Torle and cut through Mount Fargrum in his haste to return home to Asgar. It was whispered there was a hidden place within these mountains, where women bore the offspring of dragons, where a race unlike any other ruled with the cold, reptilian minds of serpents.

  King Balor dismissed this rumor as myth and forged ahead into uncharted territory. When his army reached what should have been an impassable ravine, there was instead a mysterious stone bridge, which crossed over into a road cut
deep within the mountain. While passing through darkness, the soldiers spoke fearfully of dragon-born savages, yet when they emerged once again into the light, they were surprised to find a valley, where the land flourished beneath the long shadow of a resplendent castle.

  The gates opened to them with an invitation to attend a grand feast. When Empress Moria stepped onto her balcony to welcome her guests, this fierce beauty whose eyes burned with a ruby flame transfixed King Balor.

  He married Empress Moria at once and delivered her to Asgar. When they reached the outskirts of his kingdom, she dropped acorns of a cursed oak onto the soil. The seeds took root unnaturally fast and grew into a widespread belt of virulent oaks, which snagged unfortunates who were left to rot in their branches as hideous warnings to turn back. Having sown these hateful seeds of enchantment, no one would enter or leave Asgar from that time on.

  Moria continued to unravel the kingdom’s strength. Her unholy union with the king produced a son, Tynan, born with the same pale, dark beauty and entrancing eyes as his mother. The empress kept her son jealously close while the besotted king relinquished his rule to her authority little by little. She groomed her son in the art of war and molded him into the perfect heir prince. His strengths became that of a warrior with the heart of a diplomat. Tynan was a gift she gave to Balor and his people, a gift she would one day take back.

  The kingdom fell into ruin and decay over the years, but Asgar’s subjects perceived only prosperity, where they believed no one grew sick or died. They were bound within Moria’s spell and did not see the crumbling castle or what ghastly fare filled their pantries and dinner tables. Splendor and bountiful harvests were all they could see. Moria’s web of illusion was truly powerful…to all but one.

  The king’s counselor, the old Druidh priest, O’Deldar, had intimate knowledge of those born of unclean blood, for unclean blood ran through his veins as well. It was this very sameness that spurred him to use his powerful magic to see through Moria’s spell. When he saw the horrors beneath her illusion, he made plans to liberate Asgar and hid them well from her. Now after seventeen years, the time was ripe to harvest the seeds he had sown from the day of her arrival.

  During the Beltane festival, the horns of Asgar sounded a warning of intruders. The glint of spears bristled along the rampart walls as the royal guard fell in line to watch a fleet of ships cutting through the water. Tynan raised his spyglass. The lead ship’s banner bore a gray falcon, and a young woman stood on the vessel’s bow. Moria snatched it from him. When she saw what sped toward her, she shattered the spyglass and vowed to make the interlopers pay for their trespass with their lives.

  O’Deldar greeted the fleet and announced to the furious queen that Princess Kaura of the Eldunough Islands had come to honor her betrothal to King Balor’s first son. No one knew, not even Kaura, that she was the priest’s very own daughter. When she stepped off the gangplank, the sun touched her hair with a red gold flame. Everyone stared in awe at this fair, mystical vision robed in a silvery cloak with eyes as gray as forest pools. Tynan lost his heart to her the moment they met. As well, Kaura felt the same deep love for him.

  During the festival, the people of Asgar warmed to the princess as flowers will turn toward the sun, leaving Moria to wither in her shadow. Later when the sun sank into the dark ocean and flames blazed high upon the great bonfire, Tynan announced to the people he would marry Kaura the very next day.

  Moria flew into a rage. The time had come to awaken her son’s ancient bloodline. Taking a shard of her Serpen ancestor’s dragon scale, she broke it and kept one half. The other, she slipped under Tynan’s skin while he slept. Then she stayed in his bedchamber, waiting for the inevitable change to take place.

  In the early morning a black dragon burst from the tower walls and flew away with Tynan’s spirit slumbering deep inside. Moria used her half of the shard to see through the dragon’s eyes and sent the beast to Kaura’s fleet. The attack was swift and brutal. The dragon’s venomous fire engulfed the ships and left no survivors.

  When she took the dragon on a killing rampage throughout the surrounding townships of Asgar, picking off children, the feeble and the elderly, O’Deldar rushed to rouse the latent power inside his daughter. It awoke with a terrible suddenness, and Kaura’s fragile form violently gave way to that of a giant falcon. The bird of prey launched into the sky and began the hunt for her mortal enemy. The falcon dove at the dragon’s neck.

  The serpent reared his horned head and roared as talons ripped through hard scales, cutting deep to the bone.

  The near-mortal blow woke Tynan. The dragon twisted, sweeping his spiked tail at the falcon’s heart. Tynan felt Kaura’s pain like it was his own and knew her dismay when she sensed she was battling her true love. The falcon released her grip as blood stained her soft breast.

  But Moria’s bloodlust was unquenchable. She wanted a battle to the death. The beasts circled each other, the falcon spreading her colossal wings and the dragon bearing his poisonous fangs while the trapped spirits of the two lovers cried out for each other. The dragon lunged and sank his fangs into the falcon’s neck. Helpless to save her, Tynan wept as Kaura’s life faded.

  The bird fell to the ground. The battle was over, leaving Moria triumphant but overly confident, because there was still a spark of life in the falcon. Rising one last time, she raked her talons through the serpent’s soft underbelly.

  The dragon’s dying roar could be heard from the lowest valley of Asgar to the highest peaks of Mount Fargrum. Moria never wept for her son. His birth and death had served her purpose. The Dragon Empress could return to her home at last. She had ruined the king who had trespassed into the hidden lands of her people. Moria left the people of Asgar to wake from her spell into an unimaginable nightmare, with a broken king and no heir to rebuild the kingdom.

  As for O’Deldar, he had sacrificed everything to save his king, but if a king does not wish to be saved, then even a wise old counselor is obliged to leave. Where he went, no one truly knows. Some say he left on the back of a giant falcon, while others say he vanished in a mist that rolled in from the sea. Whether it was by way of bird or magic, O’Deldar was never seen again.

  Chapter 18

  FATE'S RAGE TANGLED TOGETHER with Moria's. She could relate to her feelings of trespass. But even though Tove was the interloper in her own personal story, Finn’s betrayal hurt the most. She’d thought his heart belonged solely to her. After all, wasn’t there a “Made by Fate” tag stitched to it?

  The last images of the fable burst into a cloud of letters. As they swirled back onto the pages, becoming mere words on paper, O’Deldar’s name sparked bright at the base of her brain, fading slowly like a flashbulb’s afterimage.

  Struggling through layers of dizziness, she began to awaken to her new surroundings. The sounds of birds pierced the fog in her head. Just as she turned away from the book to see where she was, something knocked her to the ground. Winded and disoriented, she stared up at a sky filled with circling vultures and a host of screeching ravens and seagulls skimming the outlying treetops.

  Before she could grasp what had happened, beady eyes lost within a fleshy face crowded in on her, blocking her view. “What have we here?” the man rasped. “Not just a magical book worth a king’s ransom, but a soft young wench too.” His fetid breath made her gag as he raked a rough hand over her cheekbone and down her neck.

  Suddenly, he went hurtling sideways. She sat up, seeing that someone had tackled him to the ground. It was Finn!

  “Leave her be!” he growled. Leaping to his feet, he grabbed the man by the collar, punching his face with unbridled rage.

  Fate stared at him in shock. Was he really here or was she imagining him? As blood sprayed from the man’s mouth, she cringed, accepting his startling presence as real. Unsure about how she felt about that, she stood and started over to him, stopping when three other men pulled him backwards, each pummeling him from all sides.

  Afraid for him, she cried o
ut. But her fear was unwarranted. Finn’s returning blow sent one of the plunderers flying into a thick tree trunk.

  All of a sudden, the tree’s branches snaked down around the man, lifting him into its sprawling canopy. Fate staggered back in disbelief, unable to look away as the tree slowly and cruelly impaled him with hundreds of writhing branches.

  Stifling a scream, she absorbed the full horror of her surroundings. Stretching as far as the eye could see to either side, stood a dense belt of giant oaks. The rising sun glared at their backs, casting their twisted limbs in stark contrast. But it wasn’t the trees themselves that gripped her with terror––it was the countless number of rotting corpses dangling like torn rag dolls from their branches. A veritable banquet for the droves of winged scavengers swarming over the carcasses, pulling strings of meat off bones, picking at empty eye sockets.

  The wind changed, wafting the sickening stench of death over her. She dropped to her knees, retching.

  Hearing muffled screams at her back, she turned to see Sithias coiled round the fat man’s head and shoulders. The snake hauled him kicking and thrashing high into the air. Holding his position for a moment, he flapped in place above the trees as if he might save the man from an awful demise. But he let go, allowing him to fall into the grappling oaks, where countless branches skewered him alive.

  Shrinking from the sight, she turned the moment Finn plowed both fists into the chest of one of the attackers, sending him hurtling through the air. He slammed into another oak, back cracking and a look of paralyzed fright on his grizzled face as a branch pierced his chest, hoisting him into the ghastly graveyard in the sky.

  When Finn turned to the last surviving raider with a murderous glint in his black eyes and lips stretched in disgust, the man dropped to his knees, holding his hands in surrender. “P-please sir, s-spare me!”