Sleeping Beauty's Daughters

by Diane Zahler

  When the moon rose, three-quarters full, it cast a silver trail on the water that lighted our way like a beacon. To pass the time, Symon taught us the words to the poem he’d recited to us the day before, and the tune that the fisherman of Vittray had set it to:

  Like an eagle caged, I pine,

  On this dull, unchanging shore:

  Oh! give me the flashing brine,

  The spray and the tempest’s roar!

  A life on the ocean wave,

  A home on the rolling deep,

  Where the scattered waters rave,

  And the winds their revels keep!

  We sang as loudly as we could, and all at once, I saw pale shapes leaping through the gentle swells. Drawn by our voices, dolphins arced through the air, one after another. Luna cried out in delight as they came almost close enough to touch. I reached out my hand, and one swam right to me and raised its long nose to my palm. I stroked its warm, smooth skin, and its bright eye winked at me before it dove deep again.

  “So beautiful!” I said to Symon.

  “Aye, they always look to me as if they’re smiling,” he replied.

  The water was clear enough and the moonlight bright enough that I could see them as they plunged, and it seemed to me that another figure swam with them for a time, not dolphin but not quite human, either. It reminded me of the shape we’d seen in the air when we’d first met Symon. I recalled what he’d said about lutins: They can fly through the air without wings and swim through the water without gills. The figure wove among the sleek white dolphins in a graceful sea dance. I was about to call the others’ attention to it, but suddenly the swimmers all veered off and were gone, and I decided to keep it to myself.

  After that the hours seemed to blend together. The only sign of time passing was the changing position of the stars as they wheeled through the heavens, and the sinking of the moon. We were silent, and I began once more my struggle with Sleep as the boat sped rhythmically over the waves. I pinched my arms, counted stars, and bit my lips so hard it hurt. I splashed cold water on my cheeks, but it didn’t rouse me as when Luna had done it.

  Suddenly Luna called out, “Land ho!”

  I peered through the ocean darkness and made out a shape that was darker still. “Is it truly land?” I asked.

  “Aye, it is!” Symon replied. He used the tiller to aim the Cateline toward the low-lying mass. I ducked as the boom swung around.

  Symon’s plan was to approach the island between the points of the sickle’s curve, where there might be a natural bay. “We should wait for daylight,” I advised nervously. If there were treacherous rocks, they would be hidden by the night.

  “I have no anchor line long enough to hold us here,” Symon replied. “This water is far deeper than the places where I fish, and I didn’t think to bring extra rope. We’ll have to try to land.”

  He set Luna to watch off the port side and me off the starboard side, ready to call out if we saw rocks or any other danger. But there was nothing to fear. Tacking against the wind now, we zigzagged between the crescent’s arms and sailed into the protected bay, sliding to a halt on sand so pearl white that it glowed in the starlight.

  We clambered out of the Cateline and struggled to pull it up onto the beach so it would not wash back out to sea. We could see little beyond the strand; dunes rose up, and behind them a line of trees faded into darkness.

  “I’ll build a fire,” Symon said. I heard no sound at all besides the noise we made searching for dried driftwood, no call of owl or night animal. Even the wind had died completely. The silence seemed eerie, but I said nothing, not wanting to share my uneasiness with the others.

  We built a small pile of driftwood, and Symon struck a spark with flint. In a moment a fire blazed and crackled with a comforting noise. I made my tea while the others drank the fresh water we carried, and we ate and warmed our chilled hands gratefully.

  “I slept a bit on the boat,” Luna told Symon. “You rest now; I’ll stay awake with Aurora.”

  Symon curled up beside the fire and was asleep in minutes. How I envied him! I sat beside Luna as close to the flames as I dared. I didn’t want to think about what could be lurking beyond the small light cast by the fire.

  Try as she might to stay alert, Luna too dozed off before long. I didn’t wake her, for I didn’t feel the usual pull of Sleep. Something about this lonely place made me anxious and drove away the tiredness. I was learning to trust my feelings. I would not relax my vigil.

  As the fire died and the horizon began, ever so slightly, to lighten, I heard a scratching sound. I swiveled from left to right, peering into the dark to see what approached. The noise came closer, and my heart began to beat faster. Then, at the top of one of the dunes, a dark shape appeared, and then another, and another. As the sun slowly rose, I could finally make out their forms, and I recoiled in horror. Four-legged and taller than dogs, their eyes glowed orange, and they stared straight at me.

  “Wake up!” I screamed, shocking the others out of their sleep. “There are wolves on the dunes!”

  Symon was up in an instant, Luna close behind him. Symon pulled a short knife from his boot and swung it wildly about in a circle, but the animals kept their distance. As the light strengthened, I could see them more clearly, and I began to tremble in earnest.

  They were not wolves after all, as frightening as that would have been. I had never seen, nor even imagined, creatures such as these. They were as big as donkeys or small horses, though most of their size was muscled body atop short, stubby legs. Their fur, like their eyes, was reddish-orange. Their heads resembled boars’ heads, with tiny piglike ears and long curved tusks, but their mouths gaped open and were crowded with sharp, crooked teeth. Their tails, long and thick and tipped with white, swung slowly from side to side.

  “Oh, what are they?” Luna whispered shakily.

  “We must flee, or we’ll be torn limb from limb,” Symon said in a low voice. “They are the Beasts of Gevadan.”

  11

  Of Beasts and Bravery

  The look on Symon’s face alarmed me almost as much as the creatures themselves. “What are the Beasts of Gevadan?” I gasped.

  “Later!” Symon urged. “Come, slowly. Quietly.” He took my hand and Luna’s, and we began backing toward the boat. As we inched along, the beasts pressed forward. My heart was beating so hard that I could feel it quiver inside my chest.

  “Will they eat us?” I whispered.

  “The stories say—,” Symon began, but then he stopped. I was glad. I didn’t really want to know the answer.

  As we tried to move toward the place where the Cateline rested on the sand, the beasts advanced craftily with their snouts to the ground. Before we knew it, they had circled around and were between us and the boat. We had no choice but to retreat slowly inland over the beach grass, herded by the creatures as if they were sheepdogs and we their flock. We stumbled backward, up over the dunes, into a stretch of scrub that ended at a forest’s edge.

  “If we reach the woods, we could climb a tree,” I said, low. “Surely with those legs, they can’t climb.”

  “We would be treed prey then,” Symon replied. “I think that’s what they want. They could wait until we weakened and starved and dropped like ripe fruit.”

  “Have you no weapon? You ought to have a weapon!” Luna said, and Symon shook his head.

  “Only my fishing knife. It’s too short, and they are too many.” He paused, then said, “Do you see that stretch of sand along the edge of the forest? The woods meet the sea just past it. If we can get to the water there, we can wade out to where it would be over their heads. Then we can try to get back to the boat before they figure out what we’re doing.”

  I could see that there was a sweep of bright, clean sand off to our right, and that, as Symon had said, it met the trees as they curved around to the water’s edge. Luna was a very fast runner, I knew. She always bested me in footraces and could escape from me when I tried to catch and punish her fo
r her wrongdoings. I had no doubt that Symon was quick too. If the beasts were slowed by their stubby legs, perhaps the two of them could reach the water in time. But I was not speedy. And I was further hampered by my long skirts. Suddenly I envied Luna her boys’ clothing. We had no choice, though, and I readied myself as Symon said, “On my count, then. One . . . two . . . three!”

  Together, we spun and sprinted with all our might. Surprised, the beasts stood stupidly for a moment, and then they sprang after us. As I’d suspected, though, they were not fast, and their pig noses made breathing difficult. We could hear them rasping and snorting behind us. In a moment Luna was ahead of me, and she reached the stretch of sand quickly, even before Symon.

  But within a stride or two, it was clear that this was not ordinary sand. Her boots sank in to their tops and then over, and she seemed unable to pull her legs out. She thrashed wildly, and in a moment, she was up to her thighs in the sand.

  “Quicksand!” Symon shouted. “Aurora, leap onto it. Land on your knees, and spread yourself so you lie flat!”

  Without thinking, I jumped when he did, and we landed with a splat on hands and knees and quickly lay down, our arms and legs outstretched to spread our weight more evenly. My face was pressed against the wet sand, which surged under me almost as if it were water.

  “Don’t struggle,” Symon called to Luna. “Don’t try to pull your feet out, or you’ll be sucked under.”

  I raised my head and saw that Luna had stopped moving, and that stopped her descent. The beasts did not fare as well. They plunged into the sand after us and at once began to sink, yelping and writhing in their brutish panic as the sand drew them lower and lower. One of them had leaped almost close enough to me to touch, and I gazed into its dreadful piggy eyes as they rolled back in terror. It flung itself back and forth in desperation as first its stubby limbs, then its thick torso, and finally its vile toothy face were covered by the sucking sands. Three of the beasts died like this, with the others left pacing at the edge of the quicksand, their white-tipped tails flicking back and forth. When their companions had disappeared entirely, they opened their mouths and howled, an eerie, horrid sound that made goose bumps rise on my skin. Then they turned and lumbered back into the forest, leaving us to our fates.

  “Luna,” I cried, “are you all right?”

  “I’m still alive,” she called back, “but this monstrous sand won’t let me go!”

  “Stay still,” Symon ordered. “Aurora, you and I must swim to the other side and find a long branch. Then we can use it to pull Luna out.”

  “Swim?” I protested. “But it’s sand!”

  “Sand and water, both,” Symon replied. “If you keep your weight evenly atop it, it can’t pull you down. Wriggle as if you were paddling in the sea.”

  I had never paddled in the sea in my life, but I began to squirm across the sand. To my astonishment, it worked. Symon and I moved like snakes with wretched slowness to the far side of the lake of quicksand.

  When I turned my head to check on Luna, I realized that she was sinking again, ever so slowly, though she was as still as a statue. The sand was now up to her hips, and her face was twisted with fear. “We must hurry!” I cried. “The sand is dragging her down!”

  Symon got to solid land and scrambled out, hauling me the last few feet. He ran for the trees, searching for a branch that we could use to reach Luna.

  Unwilling to let my sister out of my sight, I stood in agony on the shore. Luna held her hands above her head as she sank steadily to her waist. Her frantic eyes met mine across the sand.

  “What if it should cover my nose?” she gasped.

  “Hurry!” I shrieked.

  Symon sprinted from the forest’s edge, carrying a long, sturdy branch. He stopped at the verge of the quicksand and said to me, “Slide back onto the sand.”

  I took a deep breath and flung myself full length on the shifting lake of sand and water. Symon passed me the branch, and I held it out to Luna.

  She could not reach it.

  She stretched her arms out as far as she could, but the end of the branch was inches away from her clutching fingers. Her efforts caused the sand to grasp at her, and she sank still further.

  Symon quickly saw the problem. He spread himself on the quicksand, with just his feet on the shore to anchor him, and took hold of my ankles. I moved forward. Then, as the sand covered Luna’s shoulders and crept up her neck, she reached again for the branch. Her fingers closed on wood.

  Symon wriggled backward, dragging me as I held the branch that Luna also gripped. When he got to solid ground, he began pulling in earnest. I thought my arms would leave their sockets. I was sure that I could not keep hold of the branch, but somehow I did. Slowly, slowly, up Luna rose as the sands tried their best to keep her: Shoulders emerged, then waist, legs, then at last, with a gurgle, her bare feet. The hungry sand had eaten her boots.

  It was quick work after that. We slithered to the far side of the quicksand, and in a moment I found myself sprawled on the hard ground with Luna in my arms. We were both sobbing, covered from head to toe in wet, sticky sand.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again and again, hugging my sister as tightly as I could. “Oh, Luna, I’m so sorry!”

  “But you saved me, Aurora!” she protested, her face smeared with tears and muck.

  “It was my fault you were in danger at all. It’s my job to keep you safe!”

  “We can’t stay,” Symon urged. “The beasts may return.”

  Unsteadily, Luna and I rose to our feet. Symon put his arm around me, helping me to stay upright.

  “I believe I’ve grown a few inches,” I remarked shakily.

  Symon managed a grin, his teeth white against his filthy face, and Luna said, “I’ll miss my boots. I’d just broken them in!”

  I laughed weakly. Then we stumbled the few yards to the shore, testing every step on sand to be sure it held us and glancing back often to check for the beasts. At the water we tried to wash off the sand, but it clung. Finally I just sat in the sea and let the little waves lap over me. My clothes were heavy with grit, and my hair was thick with it. There was even sand in my eyebrows. I dunked my head and rinsed and rinsed, and the others did the same. At last we stood, dripping but clean, and waded back toward the strand where the Cateline rested, Symon and I carrying our shoes.

  The sun was warm and began to dry us as we walked along the curved shoreline, and I felt my strength returning. “Tell me, Captain,” I said, “what are the Beasts of Gevadan?”

  “Well, I didn’t think there was any proof that they still existed—or rather, there was no proof before today,” Symon said. “But long ago, creatures that were thought to be part wolf and part wild boar attacked the town of Gevadan, a hundred leagues or more to the south of Vittray. I’d heard they killed dozens of people. It’s a tale told round the fire on a winter’s eve now.”

  “Killed them how?” I asked in a small voice.

  “Some say the victims were torn to bits. Other reports have the beasts sucking out their preys’ blood and livers.” I shivered, and even Luna faltered a little. I changed the subject quickly.

  “And how did you know that was quicksand?” I asked Symon.

  “I’ve seen it before,” he replied. “The marshes to the north are full of it.”

  “Quicksand, the Beasts of Gevadan—we hardly need a tutor with you here!” Luna teased him.

  Symon smiled, but I suddenly thought of Master Julien, perhaps locked in the castle dungeon. I hoped that Madame Mathilde had sent word to Papa and Mama that he was not to blame for our disappearance.

  We reached the boat and the cold campfire and found our belongings undisturbed. “The beasts didn’t even take our food,” Luna said, pleased.

  “That doesn’t mean they won’t be back,” Symon pointed out. “Let’s go, quickly.” We picked up our things, piled everything into the batteau, and pushed it into the water. When we were all on board, I drew a deep breath and looked back at the island.
It looked peaceful enough—sun and dappled sand and forest.

  “The Island of Beasts,” I said with a shudder.

  “Luna, mark it on the map,” Symon instructed. “Now you are a cartographer, and this is your first discovery.”

  Luna started to laugh, a little hysterically. “A cartographer—what’s that?” she gasped. “Someone who builds carts?”

  Symon raised an eyebrow. “A cartographer is a mapmaker.”

  “You should know that, Luna,” I added. “It’s from the Latin carta, meaning . . .” I paused, waiting for her to finish.

  But by then Luna was laughing too hard to give the definition, even if she had known it, and I started to laugh too. Symon joined in as much with relief as amusement, and still laughing, he raised the sail as we glided over the waves away from the Island of Beasts.

  12

  Of a Siren and Her Song

  The Cateline seemed a haven of safety after the Island of Beasts. When our wild laughter had died away, we sat awhile in silence, regaining our strength. Soon, though, I began to yawn, feeling the familiar pull of Sleep. I leaned over the side to splash water on my face, and was stopped by my own reflection. I looked nothing at all like a princess—exhausted and pale, my hair tangled, my kerchief lost to the quicksand.

  Then I glimpsed again a shape swimming below us. Had the dolphins returned? The reflection of the sun on the water made it hard to see into the depths. The figure twisted beneath us. I squinted, and for an instant I saw the lutin clearly.

  He did not move like a man. His legs swung up and down like a dolphin’s tail, speeding him along as quickly as we sailed. He turned his head upward. His face was beautiful, like a statue’s, and his eyes, the exact greenish-blue color of the sea, met mine as I stared from above. He winked, and I gasped, pulling back quickly.

  “What is it?” Symon asked. “Are there sharks?”

  I leaned over and looked down again. The lutin was gone. Why was he following us? Was he in Manon’s employ?