Ride the Wind: A Flipped Fairy Tale (Flipped Fairy Tales Book 3)

by Starla Huchton

  “I know, Maeha.”

  “And be sure to clean and dress her wounds regularly.”

  “I will.”

  “And keep her warm so—”

  I took her hands to stop her fussing, chuckling a little. “Don’t worry. I’ll see it done right.”

  Her eyes brimming with tears, she wrapped her arms around my neck and held me close. “Take care of yourself, Lukas. Be the good man, the reliable man, I know you are.”

  I hugged her tight and eased her away. “I will. And I’ll see you soon.”

  After a brave sniffle, she finally released me. She walked around me, kneeling beside the sled to whisper to the elk, too quietly for me to hear. Her final words said, she straightened and gave me a quick nod. “Best hurry. You’ve only another hour or two of light left.”

  I tried to look confident as I took my first steps, waving goodbye when I’d gotten a little momentum built up. The moment I was out of sight, however, I let my shoulders sag. Not only the weight of the elk slowed my steps, but the gravity of what I was doing set in. No matter how much I trusted my mother, I might very well be marching to my own death.

  The climb was a slow one, and although I was fairly strong, it took immense willpower to continue after the first twenty minutes of dragging the extra weight. Still, I’d made a promise, and I intended to keep it, no matter how ridiculous it seemed to me.

  Two hours in, I desperately needed a rest. The snow was deeper and lighter the higher I went, the fresh powder not making my travels any easier. After parking the sled on the uphill side of a tree, I freed myself from the harness and decided to have a bite to eat before continuing.

  The elk lifted its pristine head and gazed at me as I removed a small pouch of dried meat from my belt. Again, I couldn’t help remarking on its striking blue eyes, not unlike the sky after a spring rain. They had an eerie, almost human quality to them.

  I shook myself, frowning that I’d entertain such a thought. The elk snuffled at me, then nosed the pack.

  “And so my nursemaid duties begin,” I said with sigh. Resigned, I opened the pack, still keeping an eye on the animal as I rifled around for the only thing I’d been certain to bring for that particular situation. A large, bright orange carrot emerged from the depths, and I weighed it in my hand, considering how best to proceed.

  The elk continued to gaze at me.

  “I don’t know if my mother’s suffering from a fever, or if you’re something other than an unusual animal,” I said, pointing the carrot at it. “What I do know is that I’ve made a promise to do what she thinks is important, and I’ll see it done.”

  I crouched down, at eye level with the beast. “Know that I’ll do my best to see you well again, but I can’t make promises about that. I’m not a healer beyond basic herbs and stitches, and I’ve no magic at all, if such a thing exists. That said, I’ll make you a deal. You agree not to bite me or kick me, and I’ll keep you fed and treat your injuries. Agreed?”

  I’d swear on my life that one of its brows lifted in a smirk.

  “I mean it.” I scowled and waved the carrot around, taunting it. “You die, and I wager your pelt would buy us food for the next year. I mean to keep you alive if I can, but I won’t be abused for the sake of my honor. Do we understand each other?”

  The elk’s nose twitched, and it, for lack of a better word, sighed. When no other response, aggressive or otherwise, seemed forthcoming, I relented, slowly easing the carrot towards its mouth.

  With a quick snap of teeth, the elk yanked the vegetable from my grasp, considerably closer to my fingertips than I was comfortable with, and I jerked backwards with a yelp.

  “You must be female,” I muttered under my breath as I stood and brushed the snow from my pants. “My father always says women enjoy being difficult.”

  The elk snorted.

  Leaving the animal to its small meal, I found a boulder to sit on while I ate my own food. Glancing at the sky, the light was fading fast. After a few short minutes, I readied myself to leave. Dragging a wounded animal through the snow at night was a recipe for calling wolves. My time was running out.

  * * * * *

  The moment I saw the entwined pines, my stomach knotted. I knew, beyond any doubt, that I’d been that way while hunting with my father, but never once in my nineteen years had I seen those trees.

  Across an open expanse no more than twenty yards wide, two pines grew in an arch, the tops of them twisted together in knots of branches, the snow on the boughs glistening in the light of the full moon. They were very old, very tall trees, and they’d clearly grown in tandem, yet how could I have never seen them before?

  Even more, it meant that my mother wasn’t wrong about her directions, at least, not entirely. It was possible she knew the mountain better than I did, having lived there longer. Perhaps her delusions were based in reality.

  I turned to my right, heading due west. “We’ve come this far, anyway,” I said, “though it would be nice to know how much farther it is to the gorge. More than an hour and I’m not sure my toes will survive.”

  The higher up we went, the rockier and tougher the terrain. My back and shoulders ached from pulling the sled for hours, but stopping to rest wasn’t an option. I’d caught a glimpse of wolf tracks along the way, and I grew more leery of every sound and movement the longer we were in the open. Thirty minutes after passing the entwined pines, I prayed to the spirits to somehow move the elusive gorge nearer to us, or, if not that, perhaps give me wings to see us there sooner.

  Another quarter hour passed when I heard a twig snap. The elk stirred in the sled, as uneasy as I was, and I knew it was time to make our stand. Shelter or no, the gleam of yellow eyes off in the trees demanded my attention.

  Another snap, and a snow-laden branch of an overburdened tree gave way. During the resulting avalanche, I dove for my ax, swinging it around as the first wolf snarled and leapt towards me. The blade connected with its neck, a crimson spray spewing through the air to color the ground. Another lunged for me as I pulled my weapon free, but I was barely able to put it between myself and the animal before it pinned me. It’s hot, hungry breath coated my face in moisture with every snap of its jaws. I rammed my knee into its ribcage and rolled, the handle of my ax crushing its windpipe as I reversed our positions. I scrambled to my feet, but only in time to see a third member of the pack flying through the air, straight for me.

  A brutal wind tore across the mountain. Blasted off of my feet, I could barely see through the wall of snow. Yelps and howls of pain propelled me back towards the sled, hoping against all logic that the wolves hadn’t yet touched the elk. I broke through to a calm center of the storm, stunned to find the elk sitting completely still, eyes closed despite the tempest whirling around us. Unsure of what else to do, I simply stared at it, transfixed by the serenity of its features. Its coat seemed to glow in the moonlight, unearthly beautiful. The elk opened her eyes and met my gaze. Without a word of explanation, I knew the wind was her doing. I nodded once, reattached the harness, and set out with more urgency. While we were protected for the moment, whatever magic the elk possessed could run out quickly given its injured state. I ignored the complaints of my body, refusing to acknowledge the sting of a gash above my right eye or the dangerous pain in my feet and hands. On nothing but sheer brute strength and force of will, I carried on.

  I couldn’t say how far we went that night. Inches stretched into miles and minutes lasted weeks. My mother had been right, the elk was no ordinary animal. Whatever I could do to see it well again, I was certain that was more important than my own small life.

  * * * * *

  The sudden disappearance of the wall of wind was all that kept me from plunging headlong over the side of the fjord. A chunk of hard-packed snow broke off the edge of the cliff as I stumbled backwards to keep from falling. I stood there for a moment, catching my breath after the close call.

  The gorge was easily a hundred feet across, the wide river a mile below frozen
over with jagged black rocks stabbing up into the night. A fall from there would be a sure way to die.

  Hopeful, I turned, searching for the promised shelter. I was still skeptical about its existence, but as everything else my mother told me seemed correct, I needed to trust her. Pine trees towered over me, their shadows obscuring everything after twenty feet, but at least there was no sign of the wolves returning. My body was dangerously cold, and what little energy I had left was rapidly disappearing.

  As my visual sweep turned up the mountain, I caught a glimpse of something ahead, butted up against the edge of the gorge, but not quite visible through the trees. With no other possibilities, I took up the slack on the sled and headed that direction.

  What awaited me was nothing short of stupefying. I stumbled through the tree line into a small clearing in front of a solid rock wall. There, inset in the gray stone, a pair of doors waited, the chiseled likeness of a winged serpent winding around the handles. A blue gem glimmered from the monster’s eye, a sure warning to trespassers to stay away.

  “Is this where we’re meant to go?” I asked the elk. “Not to seem ungrateful, but I’m not overly excited about the look of this place.”

  The elk didn’t reply, of course, instead resting its head on my pack and tiredly staring at the entrance.

  “You’re very helpful, thank you,” I grumbled and turned back to the wall. I was certain that if magic existed, that place contained much of it. Would I even be able to pass through? I momentarily wondered if something horrible would befall me even in touching the handles. Bursting into flames, changing to solid ice, being crushed by an overhanging boulder… All of those and more occurred to me in the span of a single breath.

  But despite my worst fears, the lack of feeling in my extremities was certain. We’d freeze to death if I couldn’t find shelter. As the serpent doors were the only choice, I shook off my trepidation and approached.

  When I reached for the handles, I would swear the blue eye moved, following me, but when I looked directly at it, I saw no change. With a last deep breath, I grabbed hold and braced.

  Nothing happened.

  Still cautious, I pulled the grips, cringing at the screech of stone on stone. The doors opened, and I was met with warmth and a soft golden light from within, temporarily blinding me in the darkness outside. The passageway open, I stepped back, peering into the interior as much as my eyes would allow as they adjusted. My mouth dropped open as details came clear. What awaited us was not some dank cave, but the entrance to what I could only describe as a grand manor. Bright, gleaming wood covered every wall, and tables of immensely fine craftsmanship lined the hall, each displaying vases of spring flowers or sculptures or various metal trinkets. Farther down, doors on either side led away, but I couldn’t say where they went.

  “What witchcraft makes this possible?” I said aloud. “How is this here?”

  Behind me, the elk huffed impatiently.

  “Sigh all you like,” I said over my shoulder. “Perhaps you’re accustomed to such things, but can you blame me for being incredulous? How can I be sure it’s not an illusion meant to trap me?”

  The elk snorted. I’d never thought an animal capable of sarcasm, but that one seemed to have mastered the art.

  With a last heave on the sled to get it moving, I relented. “I suppose it’s this or freeze to death, isn’t it?”

  Ever wary, I pulled my burden through the doorway. As the sled cleared the hearth, the stone doors closed of their own accord, sealing us inside. Wall sconces flared brighter, flames under glass illuminating the passageway in a cheery glow. I stopped when the sled bumped against the first table. The items wobbled precariously before I steadied them by hand, nervous I might break things that didn’t belong to me. Seeing that I’d only cause more damage if I persisted with the sled, I decided it was time for another tactic.

  The immediate relief I felt in freeing myself from the harness elicited a groan of satisfaction from me. The belts dropped to the floor, and I made my way down the hall.

  “Hello?” I called. “Is anyone here?”

  Silence answered me.

  Frowning, I stopped at the first door I came to. What if it was the home of a fairy, or worse, a troll? A human like me would be very unwelcome, were that the case. On the off chance the place was occupied, I knocked on the door, waited a moment, then cautiously pushed it open.

  A kitchen the size of my family’s home waited on the other side, the far end filled with shelves of jarred preserves and barrels of dried goods, if the mounds of flour in one were anything to judge by. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling, cabinets and counters stood ready to supply everything a person could wish for food, and a large oven crouched in one corner, its belly aglow with fire. Between the island in the center of the room and the sturdy table and chairs, a trapdoor led to what I could only assume was a cold cellar. My stomach rumbled as I wondered if it was as well-stocked as the pantry appeared to be. Clearly someone lived there, but where were they?

  Turning away from the temptation of food, I tried the next door down. That one revealed a great library, the fireplace crackling with heat. I stepped inside and cleared my throat, again announcing myself, but met with no more a response than before. A high-backed leather chair sat empty, though it looked like the perfect place to rest my weary body.

  Again I put aside my own desires and continued my explorations. I found three bedrooms, all lavish and as devoid of a living soul as the others were, a bathing room with a steaming sauna, a locked door beside one of the bedrooms, and a grand hall meant for banquets. When I reached the door at the end of the hallway, I was completely confused. If the place was meant to be a home, and one equipped for large gatherings at that, where were the occupants?

  The final portal opened to a place nothing short of stunning. It was not a room, but a garden in full summer greenery, every inch of it humming with life. The sun shone down from a bright blue sky. Birds whistled from trees both blooming and bearing fruit. I knelt and removed my mittens, eager to see if the lush green grass was real or imagined. Though sensation was only barely returning to my hands, I felt the blades as surely as I could my own face.

  “Hello?” I called out to the garden, my voice disappearing in the distance. “Is anyone there? I seek shelter and was told to come here. I’d speak with the master of the house, should he be home.”

  No reply. Were we alone?

  I explored a little farther into the garden, finding all manner of fruits and vegetables. There were definite signs of animal life, but not a single person, magical or otherwise.

  Returning to the hall, I approached the elk, considering it. “Well, it seems there’s no one home. What now? Someone lives here, but either they’re gone or in that locked room over there. I don’t suppose you know?”

  It stared at me a moment, and then, in a quite human way, rolled its eyes at me.

  “And what’s that supposed to mean? I’ve brought you here as I was asked, but I’m not about to stay if this place belongs to someone else who won’t be happy at our uninvited presence. I have every intention of keeping my word, but not if I’m going to be slaughtered in my sleep by a wizard or some such thing.” I crossed my arms after ripping off my hat, scowling in frustration. “You spoke to my mother, so why not me? I need more than aggravating non-answers if you expect me to—”

  “Home…” The word blew through my hair on a breeze as the elk pierced me with her stare.

  I stood there, gaping for the longest time. The voice I’d heard was unquestionably ethereal, perhaps slightly feminine. Home. What did that mean?

  “This is your home?” I asked, trying to come to grips with the strange communication.

  “Yes…” The edges of my coat fluttered at the response.

  I turned in the hallway, seeing everything in a new light. What use would an elk have for a house? Especially one designed for human living. Looking back at the door leading to the garden, I wondered if perhaps it didn’t mostl
y stay to the natural surroundings. With such greenery available year round, likely as not it didn’t need to go anywhere else. Maybe the other rooms were for… Guests?

  As my gaze settled on the animal once more, its eyes drooped heavily. That, at least, we had in common.

  “All right then,” I said, quieting the hundreds of questions I wanted to ask. “Where shall I take Her Highness to rest?”

  Her eyes widened at my question, but only for a second. She pointed her snout to a door on my left, one of the bedrooms.

  Skeptical that an elk had any use for a human bed, I brushed it off. Nothing else in the place made any sense, why should that? Upon opening the door, however, I realized there was a definite problem.

  “You realize I’ll have to carry you, don’t you?”

  A snort was my reply.

  Facing her, I grimaced. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but I can’t drag the sled through the door. Maybe tomorrow I can rig something up, but I’m near the end of my strength as it is.”

  She sniffed and lifted her chin, but made no further protests.

  Taking a deep breath, I studied every angle to determine the best way to handle her. My mother had helped me place her on the sled before, but I was without the extra set of hands in the elk’s home.

  “Hmm,” I murmured. “I only see one way to do this, but it might be painful. Can you stand it for a moment without trying to kill me?”

  She gave me a bland look.

  Locked away with a magical elk with an attitude for weeks, maybe months. If it weren’t for my promise, I’d have left for certain. I silently asked the spirits for patience before sliding my hands beneath the elk’s feather-soft belly, lifting it high enough to drape its forelegs over my shoulders. She whimpered at the movement of her injury, but didn’t buck or try to fight me off. As quickly as I could, I half-dragged her into the room and angled myself to lay her down on the bed, her broken leg resting on top of the good one. It took all of my effort, as she wasn’t the lightest of creatures, but within a few minutes she was comfortably resting on the large sleigh bed.