Fate's Fables Boxed Set (Fables 1 - 8): One Girl's Journey Through 8 Unfortunate Fairy Tales

by T. Rae Mitchell

  Its twisting paths of black bark were seeping blood like ill-healed scabs.

  “Ah, look who’s awake.”

  Fate tensed against her bonds as Rory sauntered into view. He wasn’t alone. The other villagers circled round, all holding pails and beaming with excitement like they were getting ready to watch a baseball game on a sunny afternoon. Thankfully, Gar wasn’t among them.

  Standing on tiptoe so he could look her in the eye, Rory hovered inches from her face.

  The strong smell of fish on his breath gagged her. Was there anyone on this island who owned a breath mint? Anger burned in her gut. She’d never hated anyone as much as she did these people, especially this adolescent worm for invading her privacy. If she could still shatter bones with a shriek, they’d be nothing more than mushy skin bags. Since she couldn’t do that, she settled for spitting in his face too.

  “Now, now. Ya don’t want another knock upside the head, do ya?” he said, wiping the spittle off his pink, freckled cheek.

  She didn’t feel nearly as satisfied as she had before. At least she’d gotten Gar’s goat. Rory’s calm infuriated her.

  The boy squinted at the setting sun blazing bright orange across the distant horizon, lighting the ocean with blinding sparks. He walked over to one of the standing stones and peered through the hole, which cast its dark shadow on the stone behind it. “Listen up now. When the sun moves just a little lower, its light’ll shine through the hole onto this part right here.” He ran his finger over a carved symbol of a circle where one half was made deeper than the other. “When that happens, the earth below yer feet’ll start rumblin,’ and somethin’ both terrible and glorious will come burstin’ out of the ground fer ya.”

  Icy fear crept up Fate’s spine, effectively dousing her anger.

  Rory saw it. “Now don’t fret,” he said, confusing her with a sudden tone of compassion in his voice. “You won’t suffer. Not as Finn’s creator. It’s already been decided you’ll die quickly.”

  “What do you mean?” she yelled, her confusion worsening. “What do you want with Finn?”

  Rory’s blue eyes rounded. “Are you really that daft?”

  She waited for him to elaborate but he’d become distracted. He was staring at the standing stones. The sun’s sinking light had descended enough to direct its rays through the hole in the stone. Her mouth went dry. The circular beam now touched the very top of the symbol on the stone behind it.

  Rory turned to his sister, motioning for her to come forward. With her pail in hand, she walked up to Fate wearing the same unsettling smirk on her face. The notepad hung round her neck by a string. The other children lined up behind her with their pails. Fate’s stomach tightened with dread. They looked at her like she was subhuman––something to be poked at. She knew children could be cruel but these creepy kids scared her.

  Rory’s sister thrust her pail at Fate, filling her vision with a blur of red. She clenched her eyes shut as lukewarm liquid smacked her in the face. Blinking, she looked down to see blood dripping onto her clothes. Unable to keep the blood from seeping through the barrier of her pressed lips, she retched from the bitter taste of iron.

  The other children joined in, giggling while they drenched her with the blood in their pails. Shocked and unable to escape the onslaught, Fate endured it with eyes closed and head down. When it was finally over, she lifted her gaze, glaring at them through the sting of blood in her eyes. The adults laughed hard, slapping their knees as if she had pie on her face when she must look as horrifying as bloodied Carrie at the prom.

  “You’re all insane!” she yelled, her whole body shaking with fear and rage.

  Rory was next to her, wiping the blood from her eyes––a kind gesture that shrank her anger and made her want to cry. “The blood blackening is a tradition of ours,” he explained.

  “Rory,” she said, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. “You must know you’re making a terrible mistake. I can save you and all the others from having to live like this. You know what I can do. If you just let me go, I promise, I can write all your problems away.”

  He held still and looked at her. “You would do that?”

  Hope sparked in her heart. “Yes, of course.”

  Glancing over his shoulder at the others, who’d moved about fifty feet away, he turned back with a furtive smile. “Why didn’t ya just say that before?”

  “I-I guess I didn’t really think of it ‘til now.”

  “Hmm,” he mused as his gaze turned toward the rickety village at the bottom of the barren hillside. “Would you conjure up a fancy new town and make our crops grow?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And free us from the tyranny we’re under?”

  “That kind of goes without saying. But yes, you’d no longer be forced to feed innocent people to this evil.”

  The smile left his eyes. “What makes you think we’re bein’ forced?”

  Her hopes sank into a sea of cold fear. “You’re not going to let me go, are you?”

  “Sorry,” he chuckled, “I couldn’t help messin’ with ya.”

  “You weasel! I hope you die!” she screamed at his back as he walked over to the other villagers.

  Tears blurred her vision. Why had she believed he would let her go? A sob welled in her chest. Where was Finn? He should’ve woken by now. Why wasn’t he swooping in like Superman and saving her already? The fact that he wasn’t, meant chances were good he’d gone dark. What a horrible mess. Everything had gone terribly wrong. She didn’t even want to think about what might be happening to Sithias and Gerdie.

  She glanced nervously at the standing stones. The shadow of the stone with the hole in it now overlaid the stone behind. The last of the sun’s rays beamed straight through, casting a perfect circle of light.

  Time had run out, and with it came a chilling roar from deep below.

  Chapter 33

  FATE TWISTED HER WRISTS, straining hard against her bindings as the ground quaked beneath her. Biting back the deep burn in her skin, she pulled with all her strength. As her blood seeped under the coarse twine, she wrenched her arms in a panicked frenzy, hoping to make the ropes slippery enough to slide free.

  The ground exploded in front of her. Clumps of dirt and rocks blasted into the air. Unable to raise her arms to shield herself from the falling debris, she bent her head, cringing. As the dust settled, thick crusts of earth cracked wider as something huge thrust upwards.

  Fate stared in horrified silence.

  An enormous monster formed entirely of gnarled roots snaked up out of the earth. Its misshapen head had no eyes or features of any kind except for a gaping mouth of deadly, bloodstained fangs. Arms of twisted roots extended from a dense, tangled torso, which spiraled downward and held fast to the base of the giant oak.

  Terror washed over her like a wave, her heart slamming in her ribcage so violently she thought she’d die. Adrenaline flooded her system, doubling her supernatural strength as she fought against the ropes. Her wrists slipped free at last and she started to run. Forgetting her ankles were bound, she tipped over, grabbing at the ropes as she looked up.

  The root monster loomed, swaying in place, its head twisting to one side as if to look at her. She struggled with renewed frenzy, her pulse pounding in her ears. A tentacle lashed out and coiled round her waist. She screamed––a violent rending that burned her throat. Its grip tightened, squeezing the breath from her lungs and stifling her cry. A forceful yank broke the ropes, bending her shins the wrong way. She heard the horrible popping sound of her bones breaking, felt the sickening snaps. As crippling pain exploded in her legs, the world tipped upside down and the earth swallowed her whole.

  •

  Finn woke with a start, gasping for air as fear stabbed into his heart. “Fate!” he cried, sitting up and clenching his chest.

  “Oh thank goodnesss,” Sithias said. “You’re finally awake. Where’s Fate? Why isn’t she with you?”

  Gerdie hunched down
next to Finn. “Is she okay? Did she get away?”

  “No, they got her too. I don’t know where she is exactly, but I know she’s in trouble,” he said, choking out the words as he stared straight ahead at the craggy, moss-covered walls surrounding them. Desperate to locate her, he frantically pushed his senses out over the island, but the grating ache near his brain stem locked him inside his body. An unbearable feeling of emptiness descended. He needed to find her right now. Jumping to his feet, he staggered from a dizzying bout of nausea. Every part of him hurt, especially his back. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear an elephant had danced on it.

  “Take care, sssir,” Sithias said. “You took a nasssty blow to the back of the head. Gerdie found a huge lump.”

  Finn waved him off. “It’s nothing. I’ll survive.” He looked around. “Where are we?”

  “This is their dungeon, I guess,” Gerdie grumbled.

  “Can you believe they caught usss in a net when we climbed down the hatch under the inn?” Sithias said. “Had I not been carrying Gerdie on my back, I could’ve put up a fight.”

  “Yeah, and we’ve been stuck in this stink-hole ever since.” Gerdie said, wrinkling her nose.

  “I wasss working up the courage to make myssself sssmall and essscape,” Sithias went on to say. “To come and help you of courssse. But then they threw you in with usss.”

  “I’ll get us out of here,” Finn said, glancing up at the layers of nets webbed across the pit opening. The walls were at least thirty feet high and too slick to climb. Not that he needed to worry about that. He flew up to the covering and pressed his face up into the nets, looking through the weave for any guards. The creep who’d touched Fate was the only one in sight.

  As soon as Finn laid eyes on him, blinding rage took over. Heaving on the nets until one end ripped from the stakes holding the covering in place, he shot through the narrow gap and crashed into the fisherman, landing him on his back. “Where is she?” Finn yelled.

  “Yer too late. The Tree’s got ‘er,” he said, coughing and gasping for air.

  “No.”

  A sneer formed on the man’s leathery features. “Don’t fret, I gave the she-devil what she deserved and sent ‘er off right.”

  Savage fury exploded at the front of Finn’s brain, burning away all reason. Hauling back his arm, he drove his knuckles into the man’s nose, wanting to mash his face into the back of his head. But he yanked back on the punch at the last second. Stumbling backward, he stared at the dazed fisherman’s bloodied face and broken nose. The sleazeball didn’t deserve any mercy. None of these people did, but with Fate’s life hanging in the balance, he couldn’t afford to go into a mindless rage and risk Mugloth taking over. The bastard had lucked out for the moment, but if anything happened to her, all bets were off. He’d be back to bury his fist in his skull.

  •

  The dank smell of soil closed in around Fate. She clawed at the dirt, grabbing frantically at whatever she could to keep from being pulled farther down. Her fingers hooked something solid. For a second she thought she had a firm handhold, but it came loose. In the dimming light, she discovered she was gripping

  a human skull.

  She instinctively let go and the grinning skull tumbled down, chasing after her with its promise of death as she was hauled through the crumbling earth. Dirt and rocks collapsed in. All light vanished as suffocating soil packed in around her.

  Close to passing out from the sharp stabbing pain of her broken shins, she gasped for air, certain the smothering earth would kill her before she lost consciousness. But she was suddenly pushed upward into an open space. As she let out a tortured groan and spit dirt from her mouth, the roots slowly uncoiled from her waist, leaving her alone in pitch-black darkness.

  Finally able to suck in air, she retched from the stench of blood and decay. In her panic, she groped blindly, recoiling when she touched cold slime. The space was small with only a tiny bit of elbowroom. Lifting her arms, she felt a curved ceiling right above her head and her hands squished into a thick layer of ooze. Putrid ichor dropped on her, trickling down over her face. Convulsing with nausea and a frightened sob, she feverishly wiped it off, remembering the blood she’d seen seeping from the bark of the oak.

  On the verge of completely losing it, she willed herself to remember her training and drew in deep, shaky breaths, in spite of the rank air. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the dark and the faint glow of her rapidly beating heart shed just enough light for her to see the blood-blackened secretions dripping from the walls.

  A view she could’ve done without, but at least now she knew the loose dirt beneath the little indentation she sat on was the only way in or out.

  Clenching her teeth against the excruciating ache of her broken bones grinding together, she slowly pulled her legs up out of the dirt and positioned them on either side of the soil. She ran her hands over her swollen shins, grateful no bones had punctured the skin. Eustace would freak out if he knew she was injured and in such dire straits. She’d never broken so much as a pinky before. “Dad,” she whimpered as tears flooded her eyes. Thinking of him only spiraled her further into despair.

  “No,” she said, swallowing back the huge lump in her throat. “You can feel sorry for yourself later. Time to dig your way out of this mess.”

  Driving both arms into the dirt, she started scooping mounds up behind her. She didn’t care how long it took. She’d dig herself out. But after several minutes of laborious digging, she found it harder and harder to get a lungful of air. Then the awful realization hit her. She was suffocating in her own exhalations. Weakened and light-headed, she slumped against the pile of dirt she’d made behind her.

  Something cold and wet squirmed under her left palm.

  Recognizing the sensation, she screamed and flattened herself against the opposite side of the hollow, the light of her heart flaring brighter as she looked down into the upturned soil. Undiluted panic flooded her nervous system when she saw the slithering multitudes of thinly wrapped tubes of viscous goo.

  Worms. They were everywhere, and there was no way out.

  •

  Having retrieved his flute from the inn, Finn shot through the air, slowing only when he reached the gigantic oak. He hovered high overhead, scanning the ground for Fate, afraid of what he would find but needing to know if his greatest fear had become a reality. She was nowhere to be seen, only a dreadful hole at the base of the massive trunk, which the villagers approached with slow caution.

  A sickening wave of fear welled up inside him as he descended.

  The startled villagers scattered when he landed out of nowhere. All but a red-haired boy and girl. She sidled next to the older boy and took his hand as Finn zeroed in on Fate’s notepad strung around her neck.

  “That’s Fate’s!” he growled. “Where is she?”

  “She’s fine. All’s well, Finn,” the boy said. “Or should I say, Emrys?”

  The aching knot at the back of his skull throbbed upon hearing his Druidic name. “Who told you that name?”

  The boy stepped forward, blocking the half submerged sun blazing on the horizon, plunging his face in shadow and lighting his carroty hair into a flaming halo. “I think ya know. I think you’ve always known.”

  In that moment Finn did know, the realization crashed in on him. Every twig, acorn and leaf that had ever come from the Bloodthirsty Oak was a direct conduit for Mugloth to slide through. Which meant when Sabirah broke his Ogham wards with the oak’s tainted branch, the land was poisoned, or to be more exact, infected by Mugloth. And because his Druidic name had been carved into Glenna’s hut, he’d been laid open to an invasion. His blood suddenly ran cold. He’d assumed none of these people were in communication with Mugloth. He’d thought they were prisoners of the oak. But this lad knew his spirit name. How stupid he’d been!

  His throat constricted with grief. Not only had he made a fatal error in coming here, his very presence put Fate, Sithias and Gerdie in direct danger. It’
s no wonder they’d been outsmarted. This whole time Mugloth had been seeing and hearing everything through him. He’d only been allowed to believe he’d mastered some control over his dark influence. When in actuality Mugloth had been toying with him, most likely manipulating every thought and action to make it seem like they originated with him. A sickening mixture of rage and sorrow thrashed in his chest.

  He had to destroy the oak.

  The moment he set his intention, a roaring blackness surged into his pounding head, fast blotting out his thoughts and memories. Mugloth had opened the floodgates and Finn was drowning in the gloom.

  •

  A malignant chuckle penetrated the silence. It seemed to come from nowhere in particular. The rumbling laugh simply filled the cramped space.

  Fate shrank back in alarm. Her heart light pulsed a rosy gleam within the dank hollow, illuminating a gnarled root pushing up through the worm-ridden soil. She wanted to pull her knees up to her chest but she already knew her broken limbs couldn’t bear the weight. Forced to leave her legs extended straight, she stared at the root swaying upright like a cobra between them.

  “Time to sample the offering,” said a deep, raspy voice.

  Whipping through the air snake-quick, the point of the root struck her. Gasping, she grabbed her lacerated arm, feeling the slickness of fresh blood.

  “Mmmm, tastes rich––full of fear and so much anger.”

  Terror stretched her nerves thin as another cruel swipe lashed out, this time cutting her cheek. The violent blow rattled her.

  “Delicious. Sadness always sweetens the broth,” the voice hissed. “And you have so much to be miserable about. Your true love stands above you, surrendering to his glorious destiny while you slowly die below, soon to have the worms working on your carcass.”