The Grimm Chronicles, Vol. 4

by Isabella Fontaine

  She saw me and smiled.

  “Well! The princess finally wakes!” Flick said with a grumpy frown. “I thought we’d have to find your Prince Charming to give you a kiss.”

  “Oh, leave her alone,” Snow White said. She patted the seat next to her. “Come. Talk to me while your friends entertain themselves with the map. How did you sleep?”

  “Good. Wonderful.” I sat down. A woman walked into the room holding a silver tray with a steaming pitcher and cup, along with a plate of fruit. After she set down the plate and left, I dug in on the fruit. “That woman …”

  “A paid helper,” Snow White said. “Not a servant. Like I said, we try to take the best of earth. That is why we’ve built some modern conveniences.”

  “I appreciate the toilets,” Flick said with a grunt. “Don’t see much point in going back to crapping in ditches.”

  “You probably enjoyed it more than you let on,” Snow White said, laughing. I was surprised—Snow White with a less-than-sanitary sense of humor … who’d have guessed? She turned back to me; her face grew concerned. “Alice, what is it? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “In the bathroom. The mirror.” I swallowed a chunk of apple, watching her pour me a cup of coffee. “My reflection changed.”

  “Into what?”

  I didn’t want to tell her my suspicions. She seemed to guess easily enough, though, judging by the way her good humor melted away.

  “Uh-oh,” Seth said. “Something tells me we’re not gonna eat another big, wonderful dinner here.”

  “Something is coming here,” I said. “Either Agnim or his army or something else.”

  The queen took a deep breath and stared into her cup of coffee, taking a slow sip. “I must alert the other kingdoms. They must prepare.”

  “No.”

  We turned. Sam Grayle was standing in the doorway. He had a cloth pack of supplies slung over his shoulders and was sweating heavily, his dark hair clinging to his forehead. His chest rose and fell.

  “Dude, what are you doing?” Seth asked. “Building a barn or something?”

  Sam ignored him. He tossed the pack on the wooden floor. It made a heavy wumph noise; whatever was inside the pack was heavy. “Agnim’s army will distract us by attacking this castle, but his main goal will be to force his way into the valley so he can attack the neighboring kingdoms. They have to send their forces here to make a stand.”

  “How do you know he’ll do this?” Snow White asked.

  “Because that’s what I would do.”

  “I will send a scout,” she said, “so that the other kingdoms may be warned. We will make a stand here on our own in the hopes of … of somehow defeating Agnim’s army. If we fall, then at least the other kingdoms will have time to prepare.”

  “If you fall, you and your people become Agnim’s pawns,” Sam said. “Corrupted soldiers for his army. At least with reinforcements from the other kingdoms we’ll stand a chance.”

  “Send for help,” I said. “Trust Sam.”

  “If I send for help, the kingdoms will provide.” Snow White slumped in her chair. “They’ll enter this valley between the rolling hills to the east. The north’s mountains are too treacherous and there are only a few roads. The terrain is too rough to the south. If Agnim’s forces slip around the reinforcements, it would only take a hundred monsters to trap us all in the valley. I cannot let that happen.”

  Sam grabbed one of the spare cups from the silver tray and poured himself a cup of coffee, downing it in two quick gulps.

  Seth gagged. “Oh crap, I bet you just burned your throat, dude.”

  Sam set down the cup. “Only a bit. And I’m in no danger, am I? That’s the wonder of this place. But it’s also a curse, if Agnim has his way. If the Corruption spreads to us all, there’ll be no reprieve. We will be monsters until the end of time, cursed just as we were on earth.”

  “So what would you have me do?” the queen asked. Her pale cheeks reddened.

  “Send for help.”

  “But we’ll all be trapped!”

  “It doesn’t matter, Snow!” Sam shouted. “If you don’t ask for help, you’ll be overrun. Agnim’s army will grow. Who will stop him then? No one! There’s only one hope.” He looked at me.

  “Oh?” Flick said. “The girl with no plan? Hmph. Perhaps it’d be better to sit in the local pub and enjoy our last few beers, brother.”

  “What will you do?” Snow White asked me. “How will you stop him when you don’t even know where he is?”

  I licked my lips, thinking. Briar didn’t prepare me for this … did he? “Those flying monsters come from the west, right?”

  “Yes. Every night, like clockwork.”

  “Then we go west.”

  “And then what?” Seth asked. His face looked positively green, like he might puke right on the beautifully embroidered white tablecloth.

  I took a deep breath. “Then we see what we’re up against.”

  Chapter 8

  “So we don’t know what’s west,” Seth said, heaving a cloth sack over his shoulder, “except that there’s some flying monsters.”

  “Yup.” I tied my new pair of shoes, donated courtesy of Snow White’s personal collection. They were no running shoes, but at least they were a little better than cloth with a string tied at the top. Some clever little shoe expert in town had managed to design a pretty soft insole out of some kind of cork. The bottom was made of rubber, with grooves to give its wearer a little traction. The rest was leather. Ugly bright brown leather. Middle Ages meets K-Mart, in other words.

  “And Agnim or some wicked witch talked to you through a mirror and told you Agnim’s army was on its way.”

  “Yup.”

  “And somewhere, there’s probably a giant lizard and a mannish hedgehog and shapeshifters and a smoke monster and lions who are probably going to be not-too-happy about seeing us again.”

  I stood up, momentarily forgetting about the awful laces on my shoes. “You’re right. They’re probably all here, somewhere.”

  Seth nodded. He turned to Flick. “That sounds about right.”

  Flick grunted, squeezing the handle of his pickaxe with calloused fingers. He hadn’t let go of it since Snow White returned it to him this morning. Its metal glowed just a hint of blue, a reminder of the magic enchantment cast upon it by one of Snow White’s subjects, a fairy who was a bit too obsessed with pink for my tastes. Pink shoes, pink skirt, pink fingernails. And while Seth thought her exposed midriff was totally awesome, she probably could have used a little fashion advice.

  But who’s brave enough to give fashion advice to a fairy?

  “I hope we find good luck on this journey,” Flick said as we weaved our way around a horse cart full of delicious-smelling fruits. Plums, apples and berries—more evidence of a diverse climate that didn’t exactly follow earth’s harvest rules. We were on one of the cobblestone roads that wound its way through the western end of the village, leading us to our destination: the river. More specifically, the docks by the river, where a ship was waiting to take us northwest.

  “Why do we need luck?” Seth asked. “We’re awesome.”

  “Everyone here’s quite nice, that’s all. It’d be a shame for them to turn into monsters.”

  “Oh come now, brother.” Sam grinned. “Are you telling me you never once enjoyed killing any of the fools who disrupted our business?”

  I turned to Sam’s brother, expecting a smile. But Flick’s face was solemn, his lips tugging on a few stray beard hairs dangling from under his nose. “It’s hard to remember those times. And I’d rather forget what I do remember.”

  “You’re a little instigator,” I told Sam, stepping aside so two of the queen’s soldiers could pass on their horses. There was a nervous anticipation hanging in the air. Each of the tall wooden homes we passed, the curtains were drawn behind the glass windows. People moved quickly across the street. Five kids were playing between a couple smaller houses, drawing things into the
dirt with a stick. They stopped when we passed, watching us through bright blue eyes full of curiosity.

  Had Juliette killed them? Would they run away in fear if they knew who I was, or were they “new” children? I imagined stories about the hero probably weren’t too popular among the parents of the town. The last thing any of the new generations needed was to worry about some creepy murderer who stalks them in the shadows.

  Oh gawd. I’m Dracula.

  “I’m an older brother,” Sam said, breaking my wandering thought process. “It’s my job to be a pain in the ass.”

  “I guess not being Corrupted didn’t change your personality too much.”

  He laughed. “Touché. Still.” He hefted his heavy pack, which was nearly as big as him. His enchanted pickaxe hung from a metal loop sewn into the dark blue fabric, bouncing against a metal skillet. “I feel so different here. It’s hard to explain. There’s no ache deep inside my bones. There’s no intense pain in my back. I feel as if I could carry this pack to the end of the earth.”

  “You feel less like an earthly dwarf,” Seth said, “and more like a Lord of the Rings dwarf.”

  Sam pondered it. “I wouldn’t have put it that way, but you’re right.”

  “You should wear breeches,” Seth offered.

  The dwarf shook his head. “My attire is fine.”

  Hardly. He was still wearing his gray slacks and his white collar shirt, tucked in as if anyone in this crazy place cared about that type of thing. He’d even put his suit coat back on, despite the warm weather. Old habits die hard. The thought stuck with me a little bit longer than it needed to, enough to not qualify as “fleeting.” What other habits did Sam Grayle still have?

  You have to trust him, Alice.

  We reached the bottom of the hill, passing the last of the modern-looking brick houses. The cobblestone road ran all the way to the dock, flanked on both sides by empty wooden market stalls. No people. Just a ship. A big ship with three tall masts, each one with tons of rope hanging from it, the white sails tied tightly down. And a name painted in red on the hull.

  The Leviathan II.

  Seth pointed. “Alice, that looks like the ship you told me about!”

  “Yeah.”

  “More former associates?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yeah.”

  Flick grunted. “Given your track record, girl, I’m surprised my brother lasted as long as he did.”

  We approached the docks cautiously. I kept looking around, hoping to see some other merchants or boats or anything to calm my nerves. I didn’t like that the docks had emptied out. But then again, why would it be full? No one wanted to trade with Agnim running amok. Heck, for all I knew there were all sorts of river monsters waiting to make this journey just a little more difficult.

  A wooden plank ran from the dock to the deck of the ship. Seth stepped onto it without a second thought, and I nearly stopped him before I remembered: this was arranged by Snow White. There was nothing to worry about.

  But that didn’t stop me from going first. Hero’s instinct and all.

  I held my breath, walking carefully up the plank. It bobbed slowly up and down as the slow current of the river pushed on the ship. The ropes anchoring the ship to the docks tightened and groaned, the only sound except for the calls of a few birds flying overhead. No doubt expecting a fresh shipment of fish. No fish here, birdies. But if the sea captain is anything like the Corrupted monster I faced in Milwaukee, there might be a few barnacles you could peck from his beard …

  I reached the top of the deck, glancing toward the front of the ship where a handful of sailors were moving from mast to mast, untying and tying the thick ropes in a complicated, controlled chaos. Where the untrained eye saw a spider’s web of ropes and lines, the sailor saw a beautiful, organized process.

  A hand seemed to jut out of nowhere, extending toward me. I spun, dropping my sack and whacking the hand out of the way.

  “Woah!” Seth said. “You almost killed our captain, dudette!”

  “Oh. I. Um.” I looked up at the man standing beside me. It was definitely Ahab, only not the grotesque sea-stained monster who’d been warped by Corruption. Instead of a faded sewn-together outfit that looked a hundred years old, he wore a blue button-down suit with tarnished brass buttons and long sleeves. Heavy black boots covered his feet. Instead of a barnacle-covered beard, he had a neatly trimmed black beard. His long black hair hung over his shoulders—OK, it was a little greasy, but overall he looked a thousand times better than his earthly version. He could have even passed for mildly studly, in a “pirate movie” sort of way.

  Not that I was going to tell him that.

  “Well now,” snapped the captain. He rubbed his beard. “Ain’t this a surprise? The queen said nothing of a hero.”

  “You clean up well,” I told him.

  His smile curled underneath his mustache hairs. “I do.”

  “Still go by the name Ahab?”

  The captain grunted. “Better than Hans!” At this, three of his two dozen crew turned and glanced in our direction. The captain’s bulbous green eyes spotted them and he burst into laughter.

  “Ugh,” Seth said, staring at the old ship’s rotted railing. “Can we upgrade to first-class or something?”

  “Sorry, boy. But I’m the only one crazy enough to sail west.” He slapped the railing and Seth flinched, probably expecting it to break it half. The wood held its own, though. “You’ll be glad to be sailing on this ship when it’s all said and done, I guarantee you that.”

  “I’ll believe that when I see it,” Seth told Flick in a low voice. The dwarf laughed, setting down his bag of supplies on the deck.

  Ahab leered at them as they made their way to the hatch leading down into the hold. The two of them comically struggled over who should go down the ladder first—once Flick finally won the argument, Seth tossed the bag down with him before following. “Not the most upbeat of passengers.”

  I shrugged. “Not bad, under the circumstances.”

  “And another dwarf,” Ahab announced.

  Sam stepped from the ramp onto the ship. The captain reattached the piece of railing after him and shouted to the sailors at the front of the ship. “Unfurl the sails, boys and gals!”

  “Where will this river lead us?” Sam asked, setting his pack on the deck. A sailor came by and snatched it, tossing it down the open hatch that Seth and Flick had just gone down.

  “This ship goes to your destination,” the captain answered. He was watching his sailors as they unfurled the massive white sails. Some pulled on thick ropes; another climbed the foremast and then balanced along the yard, which was the horizontal part of the T-shaped mast. One sailor sat at the edge, tying off a rope and then tying her long blonde hair back into a ponytail with a piece of string. I felt dizzy just watching. The crazy girl couldn’t have been older than eighteen—falling may not be able to kill her, but it would probably hurt. That was the thing that stood out the most from our conversation with the fox: people couldn’t die, but they could feel pain. They could get hurt.

  But me? I had the worst of both worlds. I could die and I could feel pain.

  “A map would be useful,” Sam said.

  The captain turned back to him, looking down. “Nay. Our destination is not down in any map; true places never are, dwarf.”

  Sam frowned. “Wonderful.”

  “Bring up the anchor!” Ahab shouted. He walked toward the center of the deck and looked strange doing it—I realized suddenly what was off: he wasn’t missing any limbs. No scary hook anymore; just a hand that clenched reflexively into a fist every few seconds, as if even the captain wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. As if he wasn’t quite used to it yet.

  The floorboards vibrated, tickling the tips of my toes; somewhere near the rear section of the ship—the stern—the anchor was being pulled up, its heavy chains rolling loudly on the winch.

  Seth and Flick returned from below minus their packs, although bot
h had brought their weapons. Seth’s quiver of enchanted arrows bounced against his back as he walked. He and Flick and I were all wearing leather armor over our torsos, held up by uncomfortable shoulder straps that pressed painfully on the straps of my sports bra. We also had uncomfortable leather knee pads and slightly less comfortable leather wrist guards that ran up our forearms.

  Sam’s business suit, by comparison, didn’t protect him worth squat. But at least he looked comfy, and it made me a little jealous.

  “At least we’re not flying,” Sam remarked. He pointed to the front of the ship. “Look. What are they doing there?”

  Two men and one woman had maneuvered their way onto the bowspirit, the long pointy piece of wood jutting out from the front of the ship. Each was balancing precipitously while unfurling another triangular white piece of cloth. The tip of each piece of cloth was connected to the yard of the foremast.

  “The fore staysail,” the captain answered with a touch of pride. “The middle one’s the jib. The one in front is the flying jib. That’s where Leviathan II gets her speed. That’s what makes my ship so special.”

  “There’s some girls on the crew,” Seth said with a frown. “But they’re not dressed very sexy. I thought pirate chicks always dressed sexy.”

  I crossed my arms. “I’m sure they feel very bad about not living up to your adolescent fantasies, pal.”

  The three sailors tiptoed back down the bowspirit, doing their best to balance without grabbing the sails. There was precious little room, requiring each of them to tiptoe single-file. The girl was most adept, moving quickly and only lowering her eyes once to make sure her bare toes were still in line with a thin rope that curled around the bowspirit. She hopped over the railing, landing on the deck with an enviable amount of grace. The second man kept his arms held out as much as possible, running his fingers across the jib but careful not to grab it.

  The last man lost his balance, falling right into the water. The sailors laughed. The captain roared with approval and clutching the railing, calling out to the man as the ship passed him: “We’ll see you when we return, sweet Hans! Have a keg of beer tapped for us!”