Black Forest: Kingdoms Fall (Black Forest Trilogy)

by LaShea, Riley

  When the shaking settled, the queen clawed her way back up to the mountain path, the feel of cold death at her back, and sunk down in the frozen terrain, watching the trail to Snow White blink and vanish, magic undone by the unexpected force of nature.

  It was a sign, she thought. She should go back, return to the castle, leave Snow White to her existence, for, despite the huntsman's assurances, she knew the girl still existed, had known it, and her magic had proven it as fact.

  Winds kicking up, the queen could sense her ancestors amongst the spirits that swirled amidst the falling snow. Where she left them was not far. These were the very mountains she had fled, vowing never to return, never to be one of them. That desire lingering, she did not know which way to go.

  At the castle, as she painted her face into that of an old peasant, as she gave her blood to find Snow White's whereabouts, the way looked clear and true. Now, the path solid beneath her, looked increasingly hazy.

  Trust the blood, she heard the wind whisper, and Queen Ino rose to her feet.

  Hand flipping back her cloak, she pulled the dagger from beneath her skirts and pricked her finger with its tip, watching two drops fall onto the air and streak outward to guide her, not backward to the castle, but onward to Snow White.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The Dwarves

  Snow White had not had a proper night's sleep since her first night in the little cottage.

  An hour after her mother left the world again, there had been no tears left to cry. Pushing her weary body from the dirt floor, Snow White had searched for something to restore her strength, finding nuts and a hard drink that burned her throat with other foodstuffs in a chest by the stove, and sat down at the long oak table in the center of the room to eat.

  The first sign that things were not as she was used to them was the long fall into the chair that left her knees nearly as high as her chin. Glancing around from her awkward position, Snow White noted the place was no more than a single room, but quite generous of both length and width, making up for that which it lacked in height. Where the roof came down to meet the walls at the edges, she would not be able to stand without a hunch, and, at the middle, the ceiling sat only inches from her head. Reaching up, she would be able to put her hand flat against it.

  A loft split the taller back wall into an upper and lower half, and Snow White had only to stand to see that the space above overflowed with tools and fresh pieces of wood and piles of objects she could not quite make out. Below, the fire had gone untended in the hearth for several hours and was close to sputtering out, so, as she had finished her meal, she had risen to stoke it, filling the room with gentle warmth, before turning to the row of beds along one wall. Seven, she counted, equally spaced.

  It was a charming little cottage, if a bit modest, and she thought it would serve her well for a night's rest. Giving way to her exhaustion, she crawled into the bed nearest the fire, pulling her knees up to fit, and drifted into restless slumber.

  When she had awoken hours later, it was to the sound of sharp voices and a hand trying to slip up her dress. Sitting abruptly, Snow White pushed the fabric back down her legs and looked about in shock at the half-size men surrounding her. If she had given thought to it, she might have recognized the place as belonging to dwarves, but having never seen a dwarf in person, she had felt as if she was still lost in dream. At least, until a large wooden spoon poked her sharply in the stomach, and then again a second time, as if the little man who held it was checking her contents.

  "Stop that," she had scolded the man, watching the lot of them rear back, the one with the spoon darting behind the back of another.

  Taking some solace in the fact that they seemed more frightened of her than she was of them, and that, sitting up in the bed, she was taller than the dwarves were standing, Snow White gave a tentative smile as she looked around at their adorably cranky faces for the first time.

  "Who are you?" the one who wore the testiest expression of all had asked.

  Not used to going unrecognized, Snow White did not know that she liked it. "Who are you?" she countered.

  "Who are we?" Another dwarf stepped forward with a scowl. "This is our house. Our house!"

  Remembering she was no longer in the village, where she was well-regarded and treated with deference, it occurred to Snow White she was, in fact, a trespasser upon them. "I am sorry," she said sincerely. "My name is Snow White."

  The announcement of her name, able to bow the entire populace within the Aulis walls, had no effect on the dwarves.

  "All right then," the scowling dwarf returned. "Now get out."

  "Please," Snow White uttered at once, looking toward the window where night was still deep. "I do not have anywhere else to go. I was lost in the forest. A ghoul was after me."

  The dwarves moving closer as she spoke, Snow White felt the soft poke of the spoon against her foot once more.

  "Not our problem!" one shouted from amongst them.

  "I do not mean any harm. Please." She felt a poke against her knee. "My stepmother wants me dead." A poke against her thigh. "I cannot go back." The spoon poked hard into her hip, and Snow White yelped. "Would you please stop that?" she snapped, snatching the spoon from the dwarf's hand, and the others backed away again.

  "No, no," the dwarf who looked the oldest had given a sharp shake of his head, his long white beard sweeping from side to side. "You cannot stay here."

  "Please," Snow White begged.

  "The tall folk have not been kind to us," he stated. "You cannot be trusted."

  "I will not hurt you," Snow White assured him. "Please, I have no one else."

  "When you find others like you, you will betray us if need be," the old dwarf declared.

  "No," Snow White promised, wondering what cause he had to think such a thing. "I have been betrayed. I would never..."

  "You cannot be trusted," the old dwarf had put an abrupt end to her plea, motioning for the dwarves to part, and they had made a path for Snow White to the door.

  Throat raw and sore from cold and crying, Snow White's emotions welled again, and the dwarves looked upon her as if she was the ghoul from the forest.

  "Aww, she's gonna burst all over," one declared.

  "Not in here," the old one demanded. "You take your lady-cries right out in the snow."

  "No lady-cries!" the dwarves shouted over each other. "No lady-cries!"

  Blurry eyes going to the spoon in her hand, Snow White grasped it with all her might. "I can cook," she thought to say, withholding the tears.

  "Cook, you say?" The old one turned back to her with sudden interest. "Clean?"

  Snow white nodded.

  "Sew?"

  She nodded again.

  Though he glanced to the others, and a few heads shook aggressively in response, Snow White got the distinct impression the decision was up to the old one, and sighed with relief when he at last gave a nod.

  "I suppose we can make a space for you," he said, and the dwarves had dispersed without further discussion, one grumbling about the evil power of lady-cries as they climbed into their beds along the wall, the sound of their combined snoring an instant ruckus.

  "You picked the right bed, Cutie." The dwarf left behind had jumped right into the bed with her, and Snow White flew up from the mattress as he fell into the mess of covers and snortled off to sleep.

  It had not been such a terrible arrangement really. In exchange for cooking and cleaning and mending their pants, which at least one of them managed to rip at the seams each day that she had been at the cabin, the dwarves allowed Snow White to take shelter with them. Big Papa, the old one, even ordered the other dwarves to clean out the loft, which became Snow White's own space, and was where she slept when she could, often during the day while the dwarves were out.

  Though Snow White had been taught the basic principles of all three of her new jobs, she owed a great deal to the dwarves even poorer skills that they did not notice the crookedness in her stitching or th
at their food was badly-flavored. Snow White noticed, though, as she noticed the dwarves unfortunate manners and cabin-shaking snores. Nights, as she sat unable to sleep for their racket, she found herself longing for something different, even as she began to appreciate each of her new friends for his particular quirks.

  Sponk, he was the clumsy one, and the most likely amongst them to rip his pants.

  Mo was the conceited one, who bragged nightly about his take in each day's mining, which Snow White had started to question as the dwarves actual vocation, for, though they did have mining equipment in the cabin, they never took it with them when they left, and they regularly returned with spoils that came from no mine.

  Tater was the hungry one, and the reason Snow White always cooked enough food for nine instead of eight.

  Chauncy was the annoyed one, whom Snow White had learned to ignore, for he was bothered by anything she or any of the other dwarves did, and had been the one who held the spoon the night they met.

  Baby G was the youngest and most adventurous, and, as for Esteban, he was a bit inappropriate with his touches and his stares, so Snow White kept away from his hands and eyes when she could.

  Given other options, the seven dwarves may not have been her first choice of friends, but they had been good to her. Loud and obscene as they were, she did like it best when they were there, for when they were not there, Snow White was alone, and, completely unfamiliar with the state prior to her escape into the woods, she found it was one she never would have liked to know.

  Dropping chopped leaves of thyme and marjoram into the pot, Snow White gave it a stir and laid down by the fire, pulling a large piece of parchment before her, the array of coals shaking atop it.

  A few days into her time with them, the dwarves asked if there was anything she wanted, and Snow White smiled widely when they brought the supplies to her, hugging even Esteban, though she did regret it when he clung to her leg and had to be pulled off by the others.

  Happy as she had been to receive the drawing tools, though, she had yet to make use of them. Every time she settled down to commence a sketch, Snow White's thoughts would evaporate, or she would become so deeply lost in them she would not shake free until the dwarves came back and called her name.

  As had been her curse in previous days, as soon as she got quite situated and made an effort to lift the first coal, Snow White's mind went as blank as the parchment before her, and she let the charcoal fall from her fingers, dropping her head in frustration until a knock at the door drew her eyes toward it.

  Going still, Snow White could not tell if the sound was real or imagined. Darkness having not yet fallen on the far edge of the kingdom, she knew it could not be a specter, and the dwarves always strolled right in without a knock since it was their home.

  The thrumming sounding again, Snow White pushed herself up, approaching the door hesitantly.

  "Who is there?" she called.

  "Open up, open up," a benign voice requested from the other side of the door. "I am the old peddler woman with good wares for sale."

  The dwarves had never spoken of a peddler woman coming around bearing goods, but they had warned her of the cheats of the forest, and Snow White trusted they knew them well, since they were amongst their number.

  Hand rising to the door, she surprised herself when it settled on the metal bar lock and slid it silently into place. Not prone to trepidation or distrust prior to her excursion with Gurr in the woods, she found herself a touch more cautious in the days since.

  "Come to the window," Snow White commanded, moving to meet the peddler and pulling the shutter slowly ajar.

  The woman appearing suddenly before her, Snow White could not withhold her gasp. Straggly white hair hung past the old peddler's shoulders, and her face and eyes were nearly as colorless. Skin drooping on her cheeks, it looked as if she came across few sufficient meals, and the robe that covered her was threadbare and torn.

  "Forgive my appearance, Deary." The old woman gave a soft chuckle that sounded like a dying crow. "A hard life does steal the face."

  With as much of a smile as she could manage in return, Snow White nodded, knowing such a woman would be cast to the outskirts of the village where she would not have to be looked upon, and wondered if that was how the peddler ended up in the depths of the forest and at her window. The notion that it might be her own fate, to end up alone and unaccepted by the villagers, Snow White felt a rush of compassion for the old woman.

  "What do you have?" she asked.

  Whatever the peddler had to offer, Snow White would trade something of value from the dwarves' loot, for the woman needed it and the dwarves would never notice it missing. If they loved their work, as it seemed, their love was for the trade itself, not for its rewards, for the things they took simply piled about the cabin, little use put to any of it.

  As luck would have it, the old purveyor did have something Snow White desired. In her hand, she held up a pair of bodice laces, the likes of which Snow White had never seen. Braided with silks of yellow, blue, and brightest pink, trimmed in gold along their edges, they were the most beautiful bodice laces ever crafted, of that she was certain.

  "Would you like these?" the peddler tempted.

  "Oh, yes," Snow White replied without delay, mesmerized by the flourish of color.

  "Well, then," the peddler returned, "may I come in?"

  "Yes, of course." Snow White ran to open the door at once, and the old woman hobbled inside, her scrunched frame looking quite fitted to the dwarves' chair as she took a seat, and Snow White turned to the piles of goods in the corner, hoping she was not inviting too much curiosity as to where the goods were obtained.

  "I can give you..." she started, before putting the silver bowl back in place, feeling it of inadequate worth. "Or maybe..." she began again, before deciding even the gold-plated hairbrush was not valuable enough.

  Turning to the woman to ask her preference, Snow White saw a face most familiar and stumbled backward, nearly falling over the pile.

  "Are you all right, Deary?" the peddler asked, and, hand going to her heart, Snow White did not feel all right at all. For a moment, she would have sworn it was the queen sitting at her table, but, upon second glance, there was only the old lady, bewildered and concerned.

  "I am quite fine," Snow White returned with a weak smile. "What would you like for the laces?" She gestured to the pile.

  "A bowl of that soup would be most rewarding," the woman said, and Snow White nodded, shamed that she had not thought to offer a meal to the woman.

  "Of course," she said. "There is plenty."

  Fetching a bowl for the peddler, Snow White pushed it across the table to her and watched the woman slip her hood back as she leaned over to take a bite.

  "What else would you like?" Snow White asked, pretending not to notice how the old face scrunched in distaste. Even to the starving, it seemed, her cooking was barely palatable.

  "Nothing else," the old woman said, forcing another bite.

  "That is not a fair trade," Snow White said.

  "Mmm," the old woman hummed. "What I offer provides you only adornment. What you offer provides me life. If the trade is unfair, it is unfair in my favor." The old woman's near-white eyes dropping to the bowl, Snow White was surprised to see them fill with tears as she raised them again. "Now," the woman said quickly, grabbing the laces from the table. "Let us finish this deal. Come, let me lace you up."

  Nodding, Snow White tugged the old laces of her bodice free, and went to the old lady. Running her fingers over the tip of a lace as the old woman thread the other end through the first slit on the bodice with some skill, Snow White sighed at the silken feel. "I have never known finer," she murmured.

  "And you never shall," the old woman responded quietly, managing to align the laces perfectly across Snow White's middle. Then, taking both ends, she gave the laces a painful jerk.

  "It is too tight," Snow White said, hands alighting on the peddler's arms as she strugg
led to breathe.

  "No." The old woman stood suddenly, looking nothing of the feeble creature she had been. "I should say it is not tight enough."

  Failing to draw further breath, hands pressing weakly at the peddler's arms, Snow White did not hear, nor see. Weakness of heart moving up to her head, her eyes fluttered, and she produced a single feeble sigh, before she saw nothing more.

  · · ·

  Dropping to her knees on the cabin's dirt floor, Queen Ino pushed Snow White gently to her back, and, for a moment, lingered over her, captivated by oil black hair, ivory skin paler than ever, and cherry lips quickly turning blue. The mirror did not lie, she admitted to herself. Snow White's beauty was true.

  "I wish I had pure love within me," the queen quietly whispered, the admittance as near as she would ever come to apology or confession. "We could have had peace. Peace is imminent now. For both of us. Rest in it, Love."

  Lowering her head, Queen Ino kissed the purple lips, quickly going cold, feeling the blood return to them for a moment, warm and alive, before she pulled away and watched the life drain from them once more. Raising herself to full height, she cast a final glance in Snow White's direction and left her work to finish itself as she set off into the coming darkness.

  The queen did not get far from the cabin before she heard voices. Stepping into the cover of the brush, she watched two maidens pass, clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it. As they were dressed, Queen Ino suspected they very well might.

  It was not the unseasonal attire or their tremulous voices, though, that held the queen's attention rapt, but the way in which they huddled, hands joined, heads close, as if their dependence on each other was not due solely to the cold.

  Moving forward, Queen Ino clutched the branches around her, feeling their thorns poke through her skin, and had the sudden urge to rush back, to rescue Snow White from the death slowly coming upon her.

  Then, as quickly as the feeling came, it subsided, leaving the queen chilled and burdened in its wake. When she looked up again, the girls were gone.