Grounded: The Adventures of Rapunzel

by Megan Morrison

  She looked up at the window. She could no longer see Witch clearly, but the tail of her severed braid was being hauled up the side of the tower. She would have to call out for it when she returned, just as Witch had always done.

  Rapunzel waved at the window as the tail of her braid vanished through it. “I’m all right!” she shouted. “See you in a minute!”

  And then she turned and ran — ran like she had never before run — westward across the beautiful red ground on which the tower stood and headlong into the Redwoods.

  She had never felt such freedom. No braid, no wheel, no wagon … She ran and jumped over stones and streams — she laughed, and tears coursed down her face. When she tripped and fell, she dropped down among the wild blueberry bushes and onto the beautiful dirt. She rolled over and looked up at the distant treetops, her lungs burning, her legs buzzing, her heart as light as her hair — lighter, even. She thought it would rise straight out of her and fly.

  “Rapunzel!”

  She gasped with joy and scrambled to her feet.

  “Jack!”

  She raced toward him. He was running too, leaping over things, looking safe and sound except for the bandage wrapped around his head.

  They met in a crash and hugged tightly, panting. Neither seemed willing to let go. Rapunzel pulled back at last to look at him, but held on to his hands.

  “Tess,” she said immediately. “Did you get to see Glyph? Did she give you what the giantess wants?”

  But Jack only stared at her.

  “Rapunzel,” he said. He looked stupefied. “Your hair.”

  She looked down to see waves of it winding around her waist, brushing the tops of her legs, getting caught on all the pouches of her belt and in the fastening of her cloak. She pulled her hands from Jack’s, gathered her hair at the nape of her neck, and swung it back behind herself. It was like nothing. She grinned.

  “You were right,” she said. “I should have cut it off. When are you going to the Peaks to save Tess?”

  Jack gave a dazed laugh. “Now sounds good,” he said.

  “And where’s Prince Frog?”

  “He’s safe, he’s fine — we’ll go and get him.”

  “What about your head?” she asked. “Who bandaged it?”

  “Rune,” said Jack, and he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s coming. We were all coming to … uh. Save you, I guess.” He laughed again. “Guess you were right too. You climbed down just fine.” His expression grew serious. “But Rapunzel, how did you get free? The witch — did you kill her?”

  “She’s alive,” said Rapunzel. “She let me go.”

  “Let you go?”

  “Yes, and I need to go back. She’s hungry, and I —”

  “Go back?” Jack said in dismay. “Rapunzel, that witch almost killed me.”

  “I know.”

  “And you want to go back.” He looked furious. “There’s nothing that’ll teach you, is there?”

  “Jack.” Rapunzel put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s finished. She’s alive, but it’s finished.”

  “She tricked you.”

  “Not this time, I promise. If you’d been there, you’d know.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “It’s a long story,” said Rapunzel, who wasn’t sure she ever wanted to tell it. Not even to him. “I’m asking you to believe me. Can you do that? Witch is so weak, Jack. If I don’t take care of her, I’m afraid she’ll die and go to Geguul, and I don’t want her to go there.”

  Jack seemed to be debating his reply when the woods were suddenly full of shimmering red trails of light and the noise of many wings.

  “Where is Envearia?”

  The voice was Rune’s. He flew straight to Rapunzel, while the many fairies who were with him hung back, hovering among the trees.

  “She’s alive,” said Jack. “She let Rapunzel go.”

  “Is this true, prisoner child?” Rune’s voice was desperate with hope.

  “My name is Rapunzel.”

  “Then answer me now, Rapunzel — Did she set you free?”

  “Yes.”

  Rune exhaled. “Thank the clay beneath us,” he murmured. “We can finish it.” He turned in the air and addressed the other fairies. “Go! Now, while she is weak! Kill her!”

  “NO!” Rapunzel shouted, and she turned back toward the tower. “WITCH! THE FAIRIES ARE COMING! WITCH, CLIMB DOWN! GET OUT!”

  But though she had not run for long, the tower was too far away for Witch to hear her, and the fairies were already gone, speeding toward the tower, leaving nothing behind them but trails of angry red light. Rapunzel took off running after them. “Witch!” she shouted. “Witch!”

  Jack called her name, but she could not wait for him. Rune flew rapidly alongside her. She ran faster until she came to the trees at the edge of the forest. In a flash, Rune stood before Rapunzel, human-size. She slammed into him, and he seized her and pinned her arms to her sides. She fought, kicking to get free.

  “LET ME GO!”

  “I cannot.”

  “You don’t understand! She won’t hurt you — you’re safe, I swear —”

  “We will be safe when she is dead.”

  Rapunzel tried to bite him, but Rune got one of his arms around her neck.

  “You do not understand what is at stake.”

  “Yes I do, and she won’t hurt the Redlands anymore. Please don’t kill her!”

  Rune’s grip tightened. “It will be over soon,” he said.

  “Please —”

  A white light, brighter than the sun, burst through the morning sky above the tower. Rapunzel winced, and Rune threw up his hands to shield himself, letting her go. Though she could barely see the ground in front of her, she ran toward her tower, its stones glaring beneath the terrible white light.

  “WITCH!”

  “Do not go to her, Rapunzel!” Rune caught her again and dragged her back. “It is the White — it is Geguul.”

  “But I can’t let the White Fairy take Witch away! She’s so frightened —”

  “Envearia knew what she bargained for,” said Rune. “And she knew what it meant to let you go. Once she surrendered you, she knew very well that she would age beyond human limits. Severing her bond with you has drained her of all remaining power and brought her quickly to the point of death. But witches cannot die. They can only be collected by the White.”

  I will not die. That I can promise you. Rapunzel realized that Witch had tricked her one last time. She had made Rapunzel leave the tower so she could be collected. Rapunzel still fought Rune, squinting against the light.

  In the center of the clearing, the tower glowed like white fire. At the top, from the circling balcony, something was rising into the air — something dark and cloaked and limp, rising toward the hole of white light that broke the sky.

  “Witch,” Rapunzel whispered, her hands jerking toward the light as though there were something she could do to pull Witch down, to make it stop.

  Thunder cracked. The ground shook beneath Rapunzel’s feet. Dark lightning erupted from the ground at the center of the clearing, shattering the tower like glass and striking Witch’s limp body where it had almost disappeared into the light.

  The white light vanished with a piercing howl, and the sky closed behind it. The tower crumbled in a cloud of smoke. Witch’s body fell like a stone into the rubble.

  “NO!” Rapunzel screamed, and she tore herself free from Rune. She ran toward the wreckage, where Witch lay askew atop a heap of jagged and broken stones. Rapunzel struggled to climb up the heap, but it was high and treacherous, and it shifted where she stepped. Among the broken stones, she saw fragments of her old mirror. The glint of her silver bell. The torn sleeve of an old gown. Everything smashed and gone. Everything.

  Witch.

  “Envearia is dead.” Rune’s voice was dazed behind her. Uncertain. “Dead,” he repeated. “Like any human. The White did not take her — her remains are here in Tyme. So she has passed int
o the Beyond, but how?”

  The Red fairies gathered around Rune’s shoulders in a mass of small, shimmering wings.

  “A witch has passed into the Beyond,” said one.

  “It is unprecedented,” said another.

  “It is finished!” cried a third. “She is gone!” The fairies burst into a frenzy of triumphant cheers.

  “But what happened?” said Jack. “What was that black lightning?”

  Rune shook his head. “Envearia is not in Geguul,” he said. “That is all I can tell you. Perhaps Eldest Glyph can explain it…. Perhaps no one can.”

  Rapunzel crumpled against the heap of rubble that had once been her tower, and she wept there, not caring that the rocks cut into her, not caring that the fairies were jubilant. Witch was gone. She was not in Geguul with the White Fairy, but that was cold comfort. She was dead and gone forever, in the Beyond, where Rapunzel could not reach her.

  RAPUNZEL looked into the mirror.

  It was a large mirror, framed in wood that had been intricately carved to look like flowers, leaves, and branches. It reflected a low-ceilinged room that was furnished with more carved wooden fixtures. The bed frame appeared to be made of twisting roots; the bureau looked as though it were covered all over in tree bark. Everything Rapunzel had seen so far in the Fortress of Bole gave her the impression that many hands had built the place, and with much care.

  “You poor dear thing,” said Nan for the hundredth time, tucking a wisp of hair into the braided crown she had fashioned on Rapunzel’s head. She was an aged woman, but stout and healthy, with skin that was faintly lavender in color. “Up there in that tower for so long, with no one to help you. What a brave girl you are.”

  Rapunzel studied herself to keep her mind off the woman’s words. She hadn’t looked in a mirror for so long that it hadn’t occurred to her how much the journey might have changed her. She was thinner now. Browner. Freckles stood out on her nose and cheeks. And of course, there was her hair.

  But her eyes had changed the most. They went deeper, when Rapunzel looked into them. They knew things.

  “When I think of what that witch did to our poor warriors,” Nan said, “killed them where they stood with a stroke of her magic, and left Chieftain Fleet there in the wreckage. Heartless beast. She deserved a worse death, if you ask me.”

  Rapunzel flinched.

  Nan unpinned a golden curl. It fell over Rapunzel’s shoulder and touched the waist of her red gown. Nan had found the gown for her, for the feast that Chieftain Fleet was giving tonight in her honor. It used to be his mother’s, Nan had said, and she had taken down the hem to make it long enough. She had been very kind.

  She didn’t know how much it hurt Rapunzel to hear her rejoice in Witch’s death. And she had good reasons to rejoice, so Rapunzel stayed quiet and let her. She alone grieved Witch, so she would have to do it within herself.

  A ceramic vase stood at one side of the mirror. Out of it bloomed a rose, red and perfect. Rapunzel reached out a fingertip and gently touched the edge of one velvet petal.

  “I do grow a nice garden,” said Nan. “Fleet always likes my roses.”

  “I like roses too.”

  “Then I’ll pin it in your hair,” said Nan, and she clipped the rose short and tucked it into the back of the braided crown on Rapunzel’s head. “There now!” she said. “Stand up and let me see.”

  Rapunzel stood.

  “Aren’t you a picture!” said Nan, and she gathered up her workbag. She paused in the doorway and gave Rapunzel a look of mingled pity and gratitude. “Brave girl,” she said again.

  She left the room, and Rapunzel sank onto the bed in silence, trying to brace herself for the evening ahead. Rune had delivered her and Jack to the Fortress last night, and she had stayed alone in this room ever since, too exhausted in body and heart to want even Jack’s company. In a moment, she would be downstairs among many people who wanted to celebrate that Witch was dead, and, worse, who wanted to give her the credit for it. When the door opened, Rapunzel thought about telling whoever it was that she wasn’t ready to go down yet. But when she saw her visitor, she was too surprised to protest.

  “Glyph!”

  Glyph smiled. She was human-size, and she walked with a limp toward Rapunzel. Her face was a brighter, healthier-looking red than it had been the last time Rapunzel had seen her, and she looked beautiful in her pale blue shift, with her good wing shining behind her. The broken wing was gone.

  “Where is your wing?” Rapunzel asked, afraid of the answer.

  Glyph’s one wing fluttered gently. “I will not fly,” she said, “but I will live. The Redlands is safe, Rapunzel, so do not grieve my wing. I gave it willingly and would have given more.”

  “I’m sorry.” Rapunzel wished there were something more useful to say.

  Glyph smiled at her. “I wished to see you and thank you privately.”

  “Don’t thank me,” said Rapunzel. “Please don’t. Everyone’s thanking me, but I wish they wouldn’t. I didn’t kill Witch.”

  “No. You did something more.”

  “What, finding the Woodmother?”

  “You passed the Woodmother’s gift to Envearia,” said Glyph. “You taught her to see the past and present clearly. It is a deed no one, not even myself, thought possible — and it saved Envearia’s life.”

  “But I didn’t save her life,” said Rapunzel. “She’s dead. I saw her bones.”

  It had been so strange. The sand-colored, dry, brittle objects had been all that was left of Witch. Rapunzel had wrapped them in her severed hair and buried them where the tower once stood.

  “Her mortal life,” said Glyph. “The White was unable to claim her for Geguul.”

  “What is the White?”

  Glyph sat beside her on the bed. “Have you never heard the story of the Shattering, or, as scholars call it, the Dissolution?”

  “No.”

  “It is the story of how all of us were born. There were fourteen Great Fairies, each one a keeper of life. They agreed to shatter, becoming the fairies, the beasts, the trees, the very countries of Tyme.”

  “Fourteen Great Fairies — but there are only thirteen countries, aren’t there?”

  “The Black has no country. The Black shattered first and became humanity, giving shape to Tyme and bringing the spark of mortality to all its lands.”

  Rapunzel thought of the black lightning that had struck Witch’s body, sending the White light howling back.

  “The others shattered afterward, one by one,” said Glyph. “First the Great Red Fairy, then all the rest. Even Violet, in the end. Only the White refused to shatter. She is still All, and she sits in Geguul alone.”

  “Is that why she makes giants? To keep her company?”

  “In part, perhaps.”

  “Does she ever come down from the sky?”

  “She cannot. Those who wish for a piece of the White Fairy’s power, or who are lured by the promise of immortality, must travel to Geguul and make the terrible bargain that Envearia did.”

  “Immortality — living forever?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then Witch could have lived forever?”

  “She gave up her power when she set you free. Without that power, she could not survive — she should have been long dead. That is why all you found of her were bones.”

  Rapunzel was quiet as she processed these ideas.

  “Do fairies live forever, then?” she asked.

  “Yes and no,” said Glyph. “We fade, but we return. And we live long lives, many of us, before we fade. I am nearly five hundred years old.”

  Rapunzel’s eyebrows went up. Five hundred. It made Witch sound suddenly young.

  “Why,” she asked, “did the Black want to become mortality? Why make humans who die if you can make fairies? What’s the point?”

  Glyph smiled a little. “You have joined the great search,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “The answer.”

 
Rapunzel didn’t know what to say to this, so she looked down at her hands. On her finger, the Woodmother’s bronze ring flowed endlessly. She rubbed it with her thumb.

  “Do you know what that is?” asked Glyph. “Did the Woodmother tell you?”

  “What, the ring?” Rapunzel looked up at her. “It’s a ring.”

  “It marks you as a daughter of the First Wood,” said Glyph. “A sister to the very trees of Tyme themselves.”

  Rapunzel was flummoxed. “Sister to the trees?” she repeated. “I don’t understand.”

  “Every fairywood in Tyme has been opened to you,” said Glyph. “And to those who travel with you.”

  “What? Really?” She looked at the ring in awe. “I can travel fairywoods?” she asked. “I can go wherever I want — as fast as I want?”

  “As fast as the trees can take you,” said Glyph. “You will have to learn where all the fairywoods begin and how to find them. The trees will teach you.”

  “Then I can take Jack back to Dearth, instead of Rune doing it?”

  “Rune will accompany you this once to show you the way so that no time is lost.”

  “Oh,” said Rapunzel, who still found Rune’s company unpleasant. But Jack could not afford to be late, or Tess was the one who would suffer. “Did you give Jack what the giantess asked for?” she asked.

  “I cannot make her mortal,” said Glyph with a shake of her head. “No one has the power to interfere in Geguul. But I gave Jack a gift that I believe will satisfy her — a magic mirror. It will allow her to glimpse Tyme again while she waits to be free.”

  “Free?” asked Rapunzel. “I thought the giants had to stay in Geguul forever.”

  “Nothing stays the same forever,” said Glyph quietly. “Not even Geguul.”

  Rapunzel was relieved. The suffering of the giants had bothered her from the moment she had heard about it. Even if they had done terrible things, it was wrong to torment them forever. Forever was too long. Some witches were sorry. Some witches deserved to be set free.

  She curbed these thoughts at once when she felt tears beginning to threaten. If she started to cry, she thought she might not stop for a long time, and she wanted to be alone to cry like that. She wished she could hide in her tower just for that purpose.