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

by Starla Huchton

  “Sleep now, and rest as much as you’re able,” he said. “I do not know if we’ll speak again, little man, but if it’s the will of the spirits for you to follow this path, I wish you luck.”

  Hurrying to the shelter of the cave, I crouched inside and craned my neck up to look at him once more. “Thank you for your help. If it’s within me to save her, I will do so, even at the cost of my life.”

  He left me with a hint of a smirk and turned to go. “And so it might, but that is often the price the righteous pay.”

  * * * * *

  I awoke in a sweat, my skin so hot at first I thought I was ill. Sitting up with a start, I immediately got to my feet, as even the sand beneath me felt like the embers of a fire. When I’d closed my eyes, I was falling asleep to the sound of rain, but morning found me in a place that had likely not seen such weather in decades.

  As far as I could see from my position, mighty hills of sand rippled out from where I stood to far past the horizon. The only colors for miles were the dusty beige of a desert and the faded, dry blue of a sky without so much as a cloud to break the endless expanse. The moisture left my skin without a drop of sweat to roll down my face. Fine dust already coated my every pore, grit lodged in any place it could get through my clothing. What terrible fate awaited me in such a place?

  Buried in my pack, I found a thin shirt Erata had shoved hastily inside. The sun was fairly low in the sky, but it was likely only morning. While my last trek had only been half a day’s walk, I had the distinct impression the task before me would be far more difficult, if not impossible. There was no shade there, nowhere to escape. My choice was either to walk, or to die.

  I tied the spare shirt around my head, hoping it would provide a small measure of protection from the unforgiving sun. I waited a short while to see the direction it traveled, then headed straight for it, opposing its path.

  With little else to distract me, I counted each dune as I crested it. I tried to turn my mind to other things, to stories I’d shared with Erata, trying to remember every detail of the places she described, but the unrelenting heat scrambled my thoughts, as though my brain boiled inside my skull.

  I refused to stop, however. I’d made a promise, and if I gave up, it wouldn’t be only my body’s death, but the death of everything I’d sworn to be. Each step was a battle within myself. My feet burned, my legs protested every movement, and my mouth was too dry to work my tongue. When night finally fell, I collapsed near a sand-blasted rock, welcoming the sudden cold with a prayer of thanks to the spirits for the reprieve. An unfortunate snake served as my dinner, though it was only eaten out of desperation. With nothing to burn for a fire, I was left with little choice but to eat it raw. What blood it contained was all the liquid I’d had since I’d soaked in the jungle rain the night before.

  After shivering through the night, I started my walk as soon as the sun showed itself again. My steps were slower, my legs not as cooperative as I knew they should be. By midday, my eyes started to deceive me as well. In the distance I would see shimmering pools of water, but no matter how I hurried, the illusions remained out of my reach. More than once I forgot where I was going, correcting my course to follow the sun.

  The wild man told me to keep hope in miracles, but as the light started to fade, it occurred to me that it would only be a miracle that would save me from the scorched sands.

  That night, I caught both a snake and a small rat. As I stripped the latter of its fur, I knew that one day more would likely see me dead.

  “Until my last breath, Erata,” I whispered as I drifted into parched blackness. “If that is all I can give you, it is yours.”

  Only sheer strength of will had forced my cramping legs to get going that morning, and it was with small promises to myself that I continued on. My blistered lips matched my raw, burnt hands as I clawed my way up the dunes, determined to keep moving forward.

  One more dune, and I’d allow myself to rest at the top.

  If I reached the top, I could roll down the other side, my legs would not have to hold me.

  Another foot. Another inch. My victories became smaller and smaller as the sun rose over me. The illusions of the previous day were no longer restricted to far-off sources of water, but full-blown visions of places straight out of my dreams. Cascading waterfalls pounded in my ears. The scent of pines teased me onwards, tempting me with cool shade if I could only reach it. In the distance was a small village, a lone feminine figure waving, welcoming me. Her dress shimmered with a familiar silver glow, and I stretched an arm out to her, whispering Erata’s name as I strained to find the strength to keep going.

  Reaching the top of another dune, I looked out at what new torture awaited me. My vision blurred, but I could still make out the shape of an enormous tree. It burst from the ground, its branches snaking over the sand in undulating tentacles, the greenery of it an impossibility that left me certain I was crazed beyond hope. I stared at the sight for the longest time, waiting for it to disappear, but when I shifted my weight atop the hill, the sand below me gave way, and I tumbled down the side, rolling helplessly towards the thing I knew could not be. But even though I knew it to be a product of my heat-maddened imagination, I still held out the tiniest hope it could be real.

  As my momentum slowed, I came to a rest, laying on my side and staring at a branch not ten feet from me. Strange leaves populated every twig of the tree, similar to the length and thickness of the evergreens I knew well, yet flatter and more uniform in their sprays. My hand crept along the ground, as though the strength of my fingers alone could pull me closer, but my body refused to follow. When my head rested on the searing pillow beneath it, I knew I was at my last. Perhaps after I died, I would become dust, and Erata’s beloved wind would carry me to her.

  My sight darkened, and I went numb. Not even the heat of the sun could steal my hope that, even in death, I would find her. I would keep my promise.

  As my eyes closed, something overhead stirred, and the light seeping through my eyelids dimmed. In my delusional state, I swore I heard music. Five short notes reached me before the world was nothing but darkness.

  Chapter 15

  The soft ding of wind chimes stirred me from sleep, but I dared not move. Even laying still, a deep ache in my muscles insisted breathing was the most it would allow. A tiny breeze cooled the moisture along the edges of my scalp, though I couldn’t fathom how I’d been sweating at all. Upon further introspection, however, I became aware of a gentle weight on my forehead, the edges of fabric brushing my ears. Gone was the inferno I’d remembered from my last moments, replaced by shade and the vague scent of vegetables roasting. Had the desert desolation finally claimed the last bits of my rational mind?

  While that was entirely possible, I opened my eyes and preemptively squinted, expecting to be blinded by the sun. Instead, I found myself staring at the ceiling of some sort of hut built of bundled sticks. I managed to turn my head, locating the only source of light: a loosely draped cloth hanging over the doorway. Beneath me, a raised pallet of furs kept me comfortable, and a small table filled with bottles and bowls sat beside me. If it was an illusion, it was certainly a strange one I had no reference for.

  The curtain shifted, and light flooded in, blinding me to the figure that stood in the doorway. They entered, humming to themselves, and it took a moment before my sight adjusted to see who attended me. Something in the melody tickled my memory. It was a complex tune, but no more than five distinct notes.

  “You’re awake,” a neutral voice spoke to me, and I blinked rapidly to clear my eyes. Hovering over me, a young man smiled down, his bright eyes visible even through his long, dark hair. “I’d begun to question your dedication to her, but three days is a very long time to walk the summer desert. I think you’ll need a day or two more yet, but you’ll be fine.”

  “Who…” My voice cracked out the single word before painful coughing wracked my lungs.

  He set a single finger against my lips, his golden s
kin as soft as goose down. “Words are not for you yet. The fire takes its toll, so you must ease back into the world.” Kneeling, he lifted a jug with a long, thin reed protruding from the opening and angled the hollow tube into my mouth. “Drink, and you will be better soon. Remember your cause. You do her no good if you are dust.”

  He had a kind smile, and while outwardly he looked no older than me, something in his eyes spoke of age beyond measure. As I drank little by little, his dark irises pulled me in, leading me to a place of shadows where a tiny flame flickered. It danced before me, waving and undulating, and I fell into a trance-like sleep, blissfully unaware of the world beyond me.

  * * * * *

  I woke in fits and starts, each time greeted and tended by the young man until I rested once more. As much as I could tell by the angle of light from the doorway, two full days passed before I sat up and found my legs. For the first time since my desert ordeal began, I felt refreshed.

  Stretching, I banished the remaining aches from my body before approaching the curtained doorway. The fabric blocking the entrance wasn’t fabric at all, as I discovered upon touching it, but instead made of deep red feathers sewn so tightly together they blocked the light. Large though they were, each feather was as soft as those of newly hatched birds and nearly weightless. The delicate tingle of magic crept up my fingers, again reminding me what a stranger I was to the larger world. Were fantastical things really so common?

  Pushing the curtain aside, I tentatively wandered out of the hut, squinting even in the low light of dusk. The heat was markedly more than inside, but not so blistering as I’d recently experienced. A small fire bathed everything in a yellow-orange glow, complimenting the sunset and lending the few scrubby trees and plants around the sandy clearing a gilded highlight on their pale shapes. Over the fire, a clay pot hung from a frame, something wonderfully aromatic bubbling inside and causing my stomach to rumble in response. Four stumpy seats ringed the cooking pit, but my host was nowhere to be seen.

  At a loss of what else to do, I sat on one of the logs and took stock of myself as I waited. The places on my skin the sun had scorched felt rougher than I remembered, but they didn’t hurt. I was weak from days of only drinking the liquid the man provided me with, but as I hadn’t starved, the concoction was likely more than water. I didn’t have any recollection of a flavor, but it was entirely possible my mind was on other things at the time.

  The longer I sat there, the more my impatience grew. I’d already lost a week in traveling from place to place for simple directions, and I had no idea if I was any closer to finding Erata than I was when I set out. Who knew what she’d been forced to endure at the whims of a dragon? Getting to my feet, I was overcome with the need to be away, to press on. There was no time to be sitting around hoping for the best.

  “You should stay for dinner at least.”

  His voice behind me made me jump. “I… You’ve already done much for me. I wouldn’t want to—”

  He waved me back to my seat and came around to the log beside me. “Your journey is long, and you must follow the path. All obstacles must be overcome in order, and no sooner or later than you meet them. Eat, and I will tell you of the next one.”

  Resigned to wait, I sat quietly as the man ladled stew into a wooden bowl and handed it to me along with a spoon. “This will help you get back your strength.”

  “Thank you,” I said, accepting it gratefully, “but I’m not even sure who you are. Why would you go to so much trouble for a stranger?”

  “You’ve met my brothers already. My name is unimportant. I help those who need it most, and no others. Your quest being what it is, there are few who need my help quite as much as you do.”

  Spooning up a bite of the stew, I blew on it to cool it some. “Do you know how to find the palace east of the sun and west of the moon?”

  He smiled enigmatically and shook his head. “No, not as such, but there are those who might. My help alone won’t see you to the end, but I can point you towards it.”

  As he stood, I opened my mouth to ask more questions, but he silenced me with a wave of his palm, his red-feathered robes swaying around him. “Eat now, rest tonight, and in the morning I’ll have a task for you. No sooner, and no later. The food here is yours, but take only what you can eat. There are new clothes upon the bed. I would suggest you make use of them.”

  At that, the man disappeared around the side of the hut. I set the bowl down and hurried after him, but found no trace of where he’d gone. As I wandered back to my meal, my head rang with unanswered questions. Each brother I met only seemed to inspire more confusion in me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing much of my own story. With no choices left to me, I returned to my stump and ate my fill. The last mouthful I managed left me exhausted and wanting nothing more than sleep.

  * * * * *

  Again waking to wind chimes, I didn’t waste a moment before hurrying out of the hut, and my only delay was in draping myself in the foreign robes he’d left me the night before. The young man was seated by the fire when I emerged, his smile halting my impatient questions before I could speak.

  He pointed to a small pack sitting beside the doorway. “Food and water for your trip, but only enough for you to be back by sundown.”

  I stared at the pack for a moment before asking the obvious. “Where am I going?”

  Standing, he approached me, the feathers of his robe shining in the morning sunlight. He stopped beside me and pointed south. “An hour’s walk from here, you’ll find a city. Speak to whom you wish, see as much as you like, but you must bring something back with you.”

  “I’ve no money to buy anything, though.”

  For the first time since I’d known him, the young man’s smile faded. “A carpet was borrowed from me, and I wish it returned. She who borrowed it has refused my request. Every month on this day, a man takes it from the palace at the center of the city and cleans it in the walled garden behind the main courtyard. A tree grows behind this garden, and will grant you passage over the wall. Bring me the carpet, and I will show you to your next obstacle. If you are caught, I cannot help you. Seek out a woman by name of Alida. Find her by the white pony in the main market and tell her who sent you. She will show you the way.”

  Confused beyond words, but knowing questions would get me nowhere anyway, I sighed and retrieved the pack. “And I must be back by sunset?”

  He nodded, silent.

  While I had no desire to become a thief, I had little other recourse but to do as he asked. Trees I knew and could climb easily enough, but with a carpet? I didn’t like the situation at all. I saw too much room for disaster in tempting fate. “Can I not simply ask the borrower to return it?”

  “She will not. The last who inquired after it has not seen daylight in two years. I’d not risk the direct approach if I were you.”

  Shouldering the pack, I relented. “Then I’ll do as you ask. If this is the only way you’ll help me find Erata, then I’ll try. By the time the sun goes down, I’ll either be back here, or in a prison.”

  With nothing more to say, I set off south, surprised at the strength in my legs given all I’d endured in that week. It was not the rolling sand dunes I’d traversed to get there, but dry, parched dirt I walked, paler than the hair on my head. Sparse patches of tall grasses clung to life in small clumps along the side of the worn path, but little else beside the hot wind stirred as far as the eye could see. Flat plains gave way to hills with a bit more greenery to keep me entertained. As I neared the city, the occasional tree cropped up, with more appearing the closer I came to the settlement. Completely unsure of what to expect, my forward progress stopped the second I beheld my destination.

  It began with small, leaning hovels on the outskirts, but as my eye traveled across the rooftops, the buildings grew in size, baked mud structures giving way to taller stone buildings. From the crest of a hill, I made out the ringed streets of the main city as they wound around town, all leading to a massi
ve central structure that could only be the palace the man spoke of. I couldn’t say how long I stood there, gaping, as never in my life had I seen such a large city, to say nothing of the looming, bulbous towers of the white stone citadel at its heart.

  The sounds of animal hooves on the road jarred me out of my haze, and I jumped to the side to barely escape being run down by a man on the back of what I thought was a horse. On second glance, however, it was not a horse at all, but a similar animal with a bulging hump on its back. It loped past me at a gallop, its colorful rider hunched over and leaning into the run. His robes of blue and green streamed out behind him as he raced towards the city, and soon all I could see of him was the tiny yellow speck of the fabric wrapped around his head.

  Of course I knew I’d traveled far from Valmyr in a very short time, but where in the world was I?

  The heat was getting the better of me, and I needed to keep my wits given the task I had to complete. Fishing around in the pack, I pulled out a skein of water, instantly refreshed by a single sip from it. Strange that so little liquid could have such a large effect. Not wanting to waste any more time, I closed the skein and stowed it away, setting my feet back on the road once more.

  The packed path wound through the crooked hovels of the outer parts of the city, and I tried not to stare at the filthy waifs huddled in the shadows. My quick peek inside the pack revealed a loaf of bread, some fruit, and dried meat of some kind, and when I came across a group of children digging through a rubbish pile, I handed over my bread without thought. Perhaps I only had enough food for one day, but I still had more than they likely saw in a week. The three children were so distracted by my gift they couldn’t manage a word of thanks before they tore into it. Leaving them to their small meal, I continued on, feeling lighter for sharing what I had.