Author's Torment

by Thomas Atwood

  And while Sir Jacob had already secured his blindfold as sure and tight as a tourniquet, he could already hear the tiny blades being drawn by the Woodfolk around the king. They were larger than the soldiers outside in the trees, for sure, radiating magic and indignation at a mortal breaking its way into their inner sanctum. Wings and feathers and fur and tiny plates of silvered armour all shuffled and whispered along with the voices belonging to each of the folk.

  "Mortal!" the sovereign shrieked, standing from his throne. "You dare come into the King of the Wood's court without a summons? With war on your heels and my people's blood on your blades?"

  "I've come for the children," Sir Jacob announced loudly, silencing all the whispers growing in the air. "And if your magic cannot be made to be undone, I will leave with your lives!"

  With a smile not born of any form of joy, the king made show to bow graciously. "And what sovereign would deny such a challenger his demand?"

  Silently extending his will to the court, the Woodfolk obeyed their king and began to wave their arms and weave their magics. Their powers pooled together and formed illusions of the five children, each coming out of the coffins, seeing their heroic knight and running toward him with laughter and joy.

  Sir Jacob reacted with a sigh, raised his knife, and plunged it through the nearest fairy - one with hummingbird wings and silver eyes. The illusion shattered in the horrified scream of the others casting the spell, and the children all faded like fog in the light of the morning sun.

  The frog's cry was different, however, for he saw the truth: That the tiny body now sliding down from Sir Jacob's dagger wore a shock of bright yellow feather in her hair resembling a bow.

  "S-sir knight..." the Frog whispered. "What have you done?" But if the knight's keen ears heard the words, he did not react but to throw the blade and the half-hummingbird princess still attached to it to the middle of the court's floor.

  "Your lives, then!" the knight roared, rage ringing out louder than his blade being drawn.

  "Kill him!" the king squeaked, scrambling up the side of his throne like a terrified squirrel.

  Each of the fairies began summoning their magics: nightmares given form, beasts with a thousand teeth, and even blinding lights, fires and terrible shadows that would have turned even the tiniest doubt or fear in a mortal man's mind into a heart-shivering reality.

  Sir Jacob's sword found the source of each and every spell. Some of them, after the first slashes turned the guards into a broken pile, realized their magic had no effect and even tried to counter with their own blades. But the magic in them shattered against the coal-iron and half-dozen vows of vengeance carried by the mortal man.

  Dutifully, the tiny red tree-frog sat in the corner of the hall, never looking away, never flinching as they were slaughtered without so much as a sporting challenge.

  "You fools!" roared the tiny king as a rainbow of different blood colours splattered against his throne. "The blindfold! Remove his blindfold!"

  The last guard and two princes made a last stand in front of their sovereign. A tiny cry called out as the guard jumped then flapped gossamer wings to make up for the rest of the height, striking the cloth with uncanny precision and ripping it away from the knight's face. But for his brave, skillful act, the little sprite met an equally quick death upon landing where Jacob's blade jabbed down to pin those wings to the mossy floor.

  "Spells! Now, now, now!" the king cried, clutching his crown tightly to his head.

  The remaining princes complied as Jacob finished the pinned-down assailant off. Rippling with power, the very air slammed into the knight with real force, pushing him back as his open eyes bore witness to the full terrible imaginary assault of the king's greatest magic users.

  But as the flashing and clawing shadowy devils retreated back into their illusionary abysses, Sir Jacob gave no cry of madness, only a face of grim determination as he opened the throats of the two princes with his weapon.

  The king gasped and fell down onto the seat of his throne, taking in the grisly sight now revealed. Blood flowed freely from the mortal's eye-sockets as the remnants of his eyes lay pulped and split. The red frog felt a cold shiver as he relived the act from only a few minutes ago...of a man so driven by his vows he paid the final toll with his own two eyes. No matter how strong the spells, or how bright the light, Sir Jacob the Coward would never need to fear seeing the grim work of his sword again.

  "Wait!" the king announced as Jacob took a step forward. "The children!

  "As I said in the beginning," Sir Jacob huffed, spitting out some of the blood that had made its way around his mouth. "The children. If not –"

  "Yes, of course, our lives!" the king muttered, looking around at his devastated courtroom. At first, he feared he might be the only one left...then he saw the tiny, shivering tree frog and smiled.

  "Have you changed them? Have you changed...her?" Sir Jacob said, raising his sword.

  The King of the Wood demanded knowledge from the frog, and the frog could no more resist giving it to him than the moon could resist the coming of the sun. "No," he said at last, as the Story of Little Sally Kino was relived in his mind. "It takes many moons to give up the mortal body," he said kindly. "If you...vow...mercy upon me, I will give her back to you. Your little sunrise...the one who called you Hero instead of Coward."

  "How do you know of that?" Jacob growled, blade an inch away from the king's chest.

  "S-she told us, of course! O-of the knight in her village! That she knew would rescue her!" the king stammered, but he regained some composure as the advancing steel stopped.

  "Where is she? And the others?" Jacob demanded.

  The king pushed his will upon the frog. The frog resisted for a heartbeat until the king redoubled his control on the lowly field soldier. He made one last desperate croak in protest, eyes falling to the bloody yellow ribbon of feathers laying barely a footstep from the man who once thought the world of her.

  "The others...turned faster. They were not pure of heart. But it is true," the king said slowly, giving the frog time to slowly shift and grow. "The girl you call Sally is still mortal, and I give her to you in trade for my life."

  Sir Jacob heard the footsteps of another human, and it was that sudden dare to hope that made his blindness complete. The frog reached down and picked up a bright yellow feather. When she raised it in a silent sob, it became silken cloth that she tied upon her hair. The cold, silvered eyes of the princess that had once been the girl herself seemed to flicker in protest.

  But then the king's will came over the frog and forced it to continue.

  "Sir Jacob?" she gasped. "You're here! You've come to save me!"

  "Sally?" he asked, letting his sword clatter to the mossy floor as the girl jumped into his arms.

  "I was so scared! Oh, Sir Jacob! My hero! My dearest hero! Thank you thank you tha –"

  "Remember your vow, demon," he whispered into her ear.

  'Sally' froze in realization that the illusion hadn't been enough. The King of the Wood, however, had already loosed his own silvered blade. Before Jacob could move, the sword of the king pierced his chest.

  Just as the King of the Wood began to laugh, however, Jacob's knife, retrieved from the body that had once been the real Sally, met with the little fairy's throat. Coal-Iron ripped into his neck and boiled him alive as he tried to scream but found his voice on fire.

  Still holding on to the illusion of Sally, Sir Jacob slumped into her arms, bloody blade clattering to the ground as the king continued to boil and hiss.

  "I don't understand," The frog said. "How did you know?"

  "She...never...called me hero," Sir Jacob laughed wetly against her. "She liked calling me coward...said it was a funny joke. Always called me...coward."

  "Then, why didn't you kill me?" the frog asked as the king stopped struggling behind them and lay silent at last.

  "I vowed you would be unharmed," he said simply, weakly. His empty eyelids showed a sleepiness that
they both knew would be permanent.

  She lay him down as the poisoned wound continued to leech the life from him. "Ask anything of me, Sir Jacob the Coward. I will honour it as best as I can."

  He lay still for a moment, and she feared he might have already passed on. Finally, though, his eyelids fluttered and a smile came to his lips. "Go back to the village. Tell how I saved you...Little Sally...and help them have –" he coughed deeply and drew one final breath.

  "Yes?" the girl coaxed. "Anything, Coward."

  "Help them have the sunrise again," he breathed and was no more.

  On Little Sally's fourteenth birthday, the village finally stopped mourning. Babies were born and some men came back from the wars and the frontiers and from serving the king that did not live...or had not lived...in the Wood.

  There had been celebrations when she returned, of course, but they were small and somber and were really just an excuse for the town to gather around in the autumn air and listen to the tale of Sir Jacob the Knight, who had once been Cowardly, but now everyone had learned otherwise. It continued to be a joke; one peppered with regret and sadness, but a joke that made the whole dark affair a little easier to remember.

  Again, and again, the phrase they used: "Then you already have your answer, Coward." And whenever it was said, a sad smile or a purposeful grin would light the faces of those in witness.

  When travellers came through the town, relaxing in the hospitality of the village square, they'd often glance at the plaque adorning a simple, stone statue of a triumphant, blindfolded soldier, and wonder aloud why anyone would honour someone with the title "The Coward."

  Somehow, always nearby, a young woman with a bright yellow bow in her hair would appear and be happy to speak the harrowing tale of Sir Jacob's revenge against the King of the Wood and the rescue of not only herself but the village's future children for all time.

  Then, after the traveller left with a warmed heart from the tale and the farewell smile of such a pure soul, the girl would walk back to her home and would pass by her mother.

  In public, her mother smiled and played along, of course. It gave hope to the other families who lost their children that vengeance had truly been served. But here, alone, her smile never came and her gaze never left the window facing the Woodfolk's valley.

  "I'm home, Mother," Little Sally would announce, watching for signs of forgiveness, anger, rage, or joy. Nothing ever came, though. Nothing but a cold, iron gaze.

  "Welcome home," she said softly, never raising her voice or giving anything away that she knew otherwise that within the walking shadow of her daughter lay a terrified red tree-frog. One who had long since stopped wondering if it would have been better just to die with the Cowardly Knight.

  So she would walk the stairs of the farmhouse to her bedroom and close the door, eyeing the coal-iron cross-bar that decorated the wood.

  Of course, she had thought of it every day since resuming her life in the village, but tonight with the year fading and the air of mourning lifted out of some kind of communal sense of sanity preservation, it seemed as good a time as any.

  She pulled one end of the bar free with her yellow hair ribbon and bent it against the creaking wood until it stood out like a pike. Blunt, but strong, she needed only a running start to impale herself on the iron and boil away to a final rest.

  But as she ran at the spike, her knees failed, and she tumbled uselessly into a heap, sobbing silently into her borrowed, counterfeit arms.

  "Will I ever have rest from this?" she whispered to herself. "When will my vow be fulfilled, Sir Knight? Can it ever be fulfilled?"

  The door opened slowly, and her mother glanced between the bent iron and the heap of a girl on the floor. "You already have your answer," she said softly, deliberately, and closed the door.

  "Coward."

  Forest of Bones

  Angel Blackwood

  Angel Blackwood is primarily a fantasy author, but she does dabble in other genres when the mood strikes. She likes going on adventures with her family, rainy days, and all sorts of strange music from symphonic metal to steampunk. She's always got something in the works, usually several things all at once. You can check out her Facebook author page for updates on her latest projects, interesting articles, and all sorts of other things.

  Kito looked down at the street far below his dangling feet, watching as cars crept along through the rush hour traffic and bobbing his head to the music pounding through his headphones. He drummed his fingers against his thigh and mouthed along with the words.

  “Discord,” he mumbled along, off-key but not caring.

  A gentle nudge to his shoulder jerked him from his thoughts and had him gripping the edge of the buildings so tight his knuckles hurt. He pulled the headphones off his head to hang around his neck and looked up at his interrupter. Blaise stood juscont behind him, head tilted to the side, his strawberry blond hair spilling around his face. His amber eyes shined with suppressed laughter.

  “Scare you?” He grinned and moved back as Kito swung his legs back over the ledge and stood.

  “Hardly.” He scoffed and glanced back to his seat, letting out a hard breath. “I was getting up anyway.”

  “Of course you were.” Blaise took Kito’s hand and pulled him away from the edge, squeezing his fingers tight. “Man, I’m sorry I missed your birthday last weekend. Vaycay with Mom, you know?”

  “I know. Camping again?”

  “So boring.” Blaise rolled his eyes and tossed his head, sending strands of strawberry blond hair over his shoulder. “Same spot every year, same everything. I’d love to go somewhere new. Fiji maybe. I hear the girls are choice.” He grinned like a wolf, and Kito laughed.

  “Girls, yeah.” Kito stepped the last step separating them and pressed his cheek against Blaise’s.

  “Yeah. I hear it’s what most people like.” He squeezed Kito’s hand again and pulled back, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Can I make it up to you?”

  Kito pursed his lips and pushed his lips to the side, rolling his pink eyes up to look at the few clouds skirting across the sky. He pushed his hand through his short, platinum locks and sighed.

  “I suppose if you walk me home and stay for dinner, I’ll count it as made up.” He twisted his lips into a crooked smile and nudged Blaise with his shoulder on the way by.

  “Deal.” Blaise followed Kito back through the roof door and into the musty stairwell. As soon as the metal door clanged behind them, the heat pressed in and made breathing a chore. Blaise wrinkled his nose and tugged at his collar. Despite his short sleeves, he was already starting to sweat. “How are you in a hoodie in this heat?”

  “I would look like a cooked lobster if I weren’t.” Kito snorted as he jogged down the stairs. “My porcelain skin can’t take the sun.” He stuck his tongue out over his shoulder.

  They went the rest of the way in companionable silence. Kito fist bumped the doorman on his way out and offered him a two-fingered salute.

  The man offered his own salute back. “Till the end of summer. Stay out of trouble, boys.”

  Blaise turned to walk backward, waving enthusiastically. “Just robbing a bank on the way home, dude. No trouble.” He winked and turned back around.

  Kito rolled his eyes and tucked his hands in his hoodie pocket, fingering his headphone cord. “Do, camping. Nothing new at all? Haven’t you told your mom you’re tired of it? Sixteen years of the same trip is a little much.”

  “Yeah, it’s weird. We go out to the woods, pitch a tent, make a fire, Mom gets all mopey, and I spend the whole weekend being freakin’ bored out of my mind. When I try to talk about it, she changes the subject, walks away, whatever. I mean, I get there’s a significance or something to going there, but she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

  Kito nodded and leaned sideways so their arms brushed momentarily before stepping back to his side of the sidewalk. They stayed silent after that as they walked, Kito eying anyone he knew from school and Blaise
whistling a random tune. By the time they’d passed the third food truck, the smell of fish tacos and hot dogs and burgers had his stomach rumbling. He sped up as they finally made it out of the downtown and into the tree-lined streets of the residential streets. Another few blocks and his mom should have dinner waiting. With the sun so low on the horizon, it was getting hard to see.

  Blaise gave him a little push and darted by, grinning over his shoulder. “Race you to your place!”

  With a laugh, he took off down the sidewalk and then promptly barreled through someone’s side yard. Kito huffed and bolted after him, jumping the short fence and into the other person’s yard. He bit the corner of his lip as he watched Blaise’s back. Between the two of them, Blaise was the faster. He was six foot, and his long legs let him outpace anyone who came against him. He could have been in track if he didn’t think sports was a waste of time. Kito, though, was half a foot shorter and not in nearly as good a shape, and with his eyesight steadily getting worse and his own refusal to wear his glasses, it was no contest.