Shards Of The Glass Slipper: Queen Alice

by Roy A. Mauritsen

  Contents

  Title Page

  Acknowledgements

  Hamelin’s Song

  INTERLOGUE Part I: A Witch's Prophecy

  Chapter 27 Snow White

  Chapter 28 Matakin, The Fairyland

  INTERLOGUE Part II: Jack Meets Cinderella

  In Three Days

  Day One

  Chapter 29 What Tunnel?

  Chapter 30 My Name Is The White Rabbit If You Please

  Chapter 31 Maldame Arives In Wonderland

  Chapter 32 The Seduction Of Rapunzel

  Chapter 33 We Will Stay

  Chapter 34 Mirror Mirror On The Wall

  Chapter 35 Just Another's Once Upon A Time

  Chapter 36 A Conspiracy Of Aces

  Chapter 37 Jack In Wonderland

  Chapter 38 In A fiery Chariot Drawn By Dragons

  Chapter 39 Tears Of Healing

  Chapter 40 Tomorrow We Die

  INTERLOGUE Part III: On The Eve Of The Beanstalk War

  Day Two

  Chapter 41 The Siege Begins

  Chapter 42 A White Queen In Sheep's Clothing

  Chapter 43 The Names Of Things

  Chapter 44 A Cloak, Belt, Sword, Cap And Some Shoes

  Chapter 45 The Caterpillar

  Chapter 46 I Dreamt, I…Was An Emperor

  Chapter 47 Charge Of Goldenhair

  INTERLOGUE Part IV: Rise Of Cenderillion

  Day Three

  Chapter 48 To Save Happily Ever After

  Chapter 49 True Love's Kiss

  Chapter 50 Jack Arrives

  Chapter 51 Alice & The White Rabbit

  Chapter 52 Patience

  Chapter 53 The Warrior Queen Of Marchenton

  Epilogue: Ella

  The End

  About The Author

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  Back Matter

  Shards Of The Glass Slipper:

  Queen Alice

  by Roy A. Mauritsen

  E-Book Edition

  This novel directly continues the events from Shards Of The Glass Slipper: Queen Cinder.

  Praise for Book I of Roy Mauritsen’s Fairy Tale Epic,

  Shards Of The Glass Slipper Queen Cinder:

  “SHARDS OF THE GLASS SLIPPER is fantastic! I loved seeing beloved characters used in new ways in this magnificent epic.” -Sarah Beth Durst, author of Into The Wild and Drink, Slay, Love

  “Roy Mauritsen is a worthy writer with real talent AND a unique vision,

  a combination rare and important.” -Janet Morris, Hugo nominated author of Beyond Sanctuary & The Sacred Band

  “Don't miss this groundbreaking work!

  Roy Mauritsen's Shards Of The Glass Slipper is a fun, unique, and entertaining twist on fairy tales you've come to love. Mauritsen breathes new life into the classic fairy tales, and provides an extraordinary and invigorating take on fables which is sure to be enjoyed by young and old for years to come." -Edward J. McFadden III, author of Deconstructing Tolkien and The Black Death of Babylon

  “The Brothers Grim meet The Lord Of The Rings in Roy Mauritsen's fairy tale epic SHARDS OF THE GLASS SLIPPER” - Patrick Thomas, author of the Murphy's Lore series

  “...clearly a love letter to The Brothers Grimm and Lewis Carroll.

  The characters are simultaneously new and familiar, and many will enjoy that.” -Darin Kennedy, author of Pawn’s Gambit

  “Shards is a dark, lush, full-throttle fantasy epic that presents a bold re-imagining of classic characters.” -David Wade, creator of 319 Dark Street

  Acknowledgements

  For my Mom,

  who put a village under her child’s feet

  and built beanstalks so her son can climb

  into the sky and reach impossible dreams.

  -Roy Mauritsen, February 2014

  Hamelin’s song

  We traveled back to the kingdom,

  With Miss Muffet and those broken glass shoes.

  We knew not where they came from

  But met a strange gold haired woman who talked to bears

  And a girl with a red cloak too.

  She said that my little miss was a legend,

  As we headed to meet General White.

  We met Bertha Goosefoot and her children.

  The Kingdom, she said had seen better days,

  But the glass slippers would put everything right.

  We went to the beach, met a prince, met a mute.

  Rapunzel's mom was a witch to boot,

  We met several dwarves as well.

  Snow White hatched a plan, to save our land

  But then everything went to hell.

  The mute was a mermaid,

  And here my song does stray.

  For I was captured by Queen Cinder

  And put under a spell, And I don't remember, still.

  But I'll sing of what others did say.

  To keep from harm they hid on a farm,

  And there they met a man named Jack.

  They thought they had a magic mirror on hand,

  But it turned out to be something else…

  Twas the looking glass of Wonderland.

  And Queen Alice wants it back.

  To Hubbard's ridge they rode

  To see the prince’s abode,

  The castle the Bloodthorns all clogs.

  Giant spiders attacked, they valiantly fought back,

  But were captured by the Prince of Frogs

  Then Miss Muffet got off her duff and

  It caused her to drop her curds n whey.

  She picked up a sword, then a spider she slew

  And saved the shards by running away.

  In a dungeon, they despaired, met a rabbit of white “hare”.

  The Maldame they learned was quite mean.

  But Dendroba showed care, and they got out of there,

  But not before Prince Phillip was sent to the queen

  To save the prince they escaped

  Hoping they were not too late,

  But lo and behold (or so I am told)

  A godmother fairy got irate.

  A glass coffin was made from the glass slippers

  And in it Queen Cinder now lies.

  As the castle workers celebrated this most frapjous day!

  The Prince of Frogs was the most handsome of guys.

  Then a creature so ugly from Wonderland landed

  And attacked the castle barehanded.

  But this monster of nightmare was stopped dead,

  Because General Dendroba chopped off its head.

  And now we are trapped in the castle,

  As an army marches to our gates.

  Can General Snow White save us?

  What will become our fate?

  Will it be a true love’s kiss to a happily ever after?

  Or will three days be too late?

  A WITCH’S PROPHECY

  (INTERLOGUE PART I OF IV)

  Marchenton Castle, 10 Years Prior.

  “Father,” pleaded Prince Phillip. “You would bring a witch into our hall, while we are still mourning the loss of our queen?”

  “Mind your tongue, Phillip,” said King Marchen, “I need to know why my kingdom has been with a grey sky for well over two weeks, nothing but clouded sky and fog. With no sun for the crops, it will bring famine and despair upon our land. What god has cursed us that we are denied the sun and the moon and must endure such in the end of summer?”

  The king turned away from his son. “With the que
en gone, the kingdom, all of us, are saddened—none more than I. I need a sky of blue and a warm sun to at least offer some comfort. Am I to be denied even that? If it might offer some solace for me and the kingdom, then I will consult with a witch to see what I must do.”

  Phillip began to protest, but his father held up his hand, he would not discuss it further. The king settled on to his throne in the receiving hall.

  “Show in Hansel and Gretel!” commanded the king.

  The large doors swept open quietly with little more than a click. Three figures were beckoned to enter to hold audience with the king of Marchenton. Phillip stood behind his father’s throne, standing stiffly with a judging scowl on his face.

  Hansel and Gretel strode confidently towards the king. Gretel walked ahead of the other two, a purple cloak of velvet billowing prominently behind her. Hansel wore breastplate armor and spaulders on his shoulders, exposing his thick, bronze-toned muscular arms; arms that held fast a third figure at the end of a thick metal pole. At the end of the pole was a chained collar fastened around the figure’s neck. The figure walked with heavy chains around its feet, its shackled arms cinched tightly to its side with a thick leather strap belted around its bosom. Large iron circlets on the belt secured the arm and leg shackles. A thick canvas hood covered the figure’s head with a single eye hole and a slit near the mouth to breathe. The figure itself was small and frail.

  Gretel presented herself as she approached the king, spreading her arms she lowered her head and politely knelt briefly to one knee before standing again.

  Using the pole Hansel forced the figure to the floor behind Gretel, giving the king a polite nod.

  “Forgive me for not kneeling, your majesty,” said Hansel.

  “Quite all right Hansel, good to see you again, my boy. And Gretel, excellent work, both of you,” proclaimed the king. “Payment will be prompt, a coffer of jewels for the capture of a witch—once we conclude our business.”

  “Very generous, my King, as always, we most humbly accept,” Gretel said. “If we may begin, Sire?”

  “Here’s the wand or what’s left of it,” Hansel said. “She won’t be casting spells any time soon,” Hansel pulled a stick that had been snapped in two from his back pocket and tossed it at the feet of the king.

  “And you might say we beat the magic out of her as well,” Gretel offered with a satisfying smile.

  The king gestured for the two witch hunters to continue.

  Gretel spun around; placing a high heeled boot on the shoulder of the figure then pulled the canvas bag off the head to revel the witch.

  Her face bloodied and bruised, the witch nevertheless smiled crookedly, her pale, leathery, old skin wrinkling as she did, her cracked lips parting to reveled cracked teeth yellowed and misaligned. Then, matted and wet with sweat as it was from being under the hot, canvass hood, the witch flicked her dull grey hair from her face with a toss of her head. Phillip looked on in disgust of the old witch,

  “Spare some water?” The witch wheezed.

  Hansel pushed her down to the floor twisting the pole so the collar chocked tightly around the neck. “Quiet, hag! You speak when spoken to.”

  The king held up his hand motioning to silence Hansel. “Water for our guest,” he ordered.

  Hansel eased off the pole and the witch struggled back to her knees. A servant nervously brought a pitcher of water and a cup towards them. With controlled annoyance, Gretel stepped in front of the servant, snatching up the pitch and quickly poured a few drops of water into the cup.

  She shoved the cup into the shackled hands of the old witch. “You’ll get more if you answer the king’s questions.”

  Desperately the witch swallowed the few gulps of water.

  “Give her the water, Gretel,” the king ordered. “Let the woman drink her fill.”

  Gretel smiled politely. “Of course, King Marchen,” she handed the pitcher to the witch and stepped back.

  The woman struggled with the pitcher and her chains. Managing to raise the pitcher of water to her mouth, she drank, gulping loudly as water spilled down her whiskered chin and soaked into her grimy dress.

  The king spoke as she drank thirstily.

  “Witch, we are well aware of the divinations of your coven. I am sure your kind has asked the question we too have asked. Why the sky has been overcast, why has there been no sun for so long and how long will it last? Divine this for me and you shall go free.”

  The woman stopped drinking and looked up at the king from behind the pitcher. The witch knew the king was lying.

  Hansel kicked her with his boot. “Answer the king, you hag.”

  The witch turned and scowled at Hansel. She placed the pitcher in front of her carefully and patted it. “Thank you, King, for the kindness you have shown upon this old woman. But no witch captured by Hansel and Gretel has ever gone free. Yes, the witches have noticed the weather.”

  “Do you know what has brought this upon us? This affects both us and your coven.”

  “A beanstalk grows, good king. The witches have foreseen this as a sign of your end.”

  The king laughed. “Did you say a beanstalk, old crone? A beanstalk has summoned the clouds to cover up the sun?” King Marchen laughed at the absurdity. “Which beanstalk, then, I shall go out to the garden and personally snip it to make a salad of it.”

  The whole court broke out into laughter at the king’s joke.

  “It is a beanstalk like no other in this world. It will summon more than the clouds. The beanstalk will crush your kingdom. Towards the east, in the southern lands of the kingdom, there grows tall a very unnatural beanstalk. Shrouded in cloud and mist, it has pierced the heart of another world. Its presence there has angered the inhabitants of that world. Invaders from another land will bring about war! Go see for yourself if you do not believe me,” the witch’s words were heavy and grim. “This is what our coven has divined,” she answered, then she hissed with a sudden burst of anger. “This is why your kingdom is cursed without sun! The beanstalk is the harbinger of an invasion.”

  At this revelation, others of the royal staff murmured nervously. Even the King paused to consider the witch’s words. War? He thought, Invasion? These were indeed serious matters, yet witches were not to be trusted.

  Abruptly, her tone became more measured and with malignant sweetness, the witch continued, “The coven has another prophecy, King Marchen. A foretelling of the time when you will not rule the kingdom. Your lineage will be broken and the throne will be ruled by witches.”

  “Blasphemy, witch!” the prince yelled and started forth. The king held out his arm and stopped him.

  “These witches work to affect your mind,” King Marchen said. “Even shackled, they can still strike—their words are poison if you are not steeled in defense. Don’t give in to them.”

  The witch pressed forth with spit and cackle in her words. “Poor little prince. HE will never sit upon his daddy’s throne.”

  The King nodded to Hansel and Gretel. “Time to earn your bounty,” he said to the witch hunters even as the witch continued.

  “Your time wanes, King! Our prophecy will come true. It is already in play!” As the witch cackled loudly Hansel stepped closer to the old hag, unslinging a large double bladed ax from behind his shoulder. With a withered, boney hand and a finger that resembled a broken twig from a dead tree, the witch pointed. “She will bring forth our rule! Pretty princess!” she spat.

  Phillip whirled around, surprised to find Princess Ella standing off to the side of the room quietly mortified, watching the events.

  “Pretty princess, the Cinderwench!” the witch laughed wickedly.

  Then Hansel swung the axe and cleaved the witch’s head from her shoulders. The body slumped down as the head landed on the stone floor with a sickening thud, even as the witch’s laugh still echoed in the chamber.

  The king motioned to have the coffer brought to Hansel and Gretel, as other servants worked at removing the decapitated remains o
f the witch.

  “Keep up the hunting,” The king said as he rose from the throne and he and Phillip began to walk away. To Phillip the King said, “Ready an escort. You and I will go visit the area the witch spoke of. We leave at once. If she is telling the truth we’ve a great threat to the kingdom.”

  “And if she is lying?” asked Phillip as they stepped towards the exit way.

  “If she was lying about this beanstalk, well, we’ve an excuse to get out of the castle for a bit—there’s good hunting in those parts.”

  Phillip did not see his wife come towards him, her hands trembling, eyes wet with tears. “Phillip, I…”

  “You should have not been here for these matters, Ella,” he scolded. “That was not for you to see.”

  “I’m sorry, husband” Ella replied. “While you were busy with the king, there was a matter brought to my attention, I wanted to consult with you—”

  “It will have to wait until Father and I return. We are to depart immediately,” Phillip’s tone softened realizing Ella was upset. “You should seek out your handmaidens, take a nice long bath. That will relax you. The king and I return in a week’s time, no more. I promise.”

  CHAPTER 27

  SNOW WHITE

  Kingdom of Marchenton, Present Day.

  There came a time, toward the late night, when General Snow White was completely alone and had a moment for herself. It made her uncomfortable and she fretted with it internally. Here she was back in the castle, the place where she grew up and from which she had run away; now she was in the private chambers of Queen Cendrillon, who was vanquished and now must sleep in a magical glass coffin. Snow had no army of dwarves to command. They were cut off from her when she was brought to the castle as a prisoner; the Bloodthorn wall was now fully impassible.

  “I never realized how much I’d miss a bunch of dwarves,” she said absently as she regarded the fine silken drapes and tapestries of the queen’s room. For years she had lived in dwarven caves and tunnels or in forest safe houses on the run from the queen’s army. Now she was surrounded by the luxury, indeed extravagance, of royalty again. It was more claustrophobic to her than the smallest of dwarven tunnels. Carousing with dwarves, sleeping under the stars— that was living, she thought. Being an outlaw and hero, working towards a greater good; that to Snow White was truly being alive. She gazed around the opulent room of the Queen; it reminded her as to why she left this place many years ago. The thought of beaded gowns, crystal chandeliers and porcelain fingerbowls made her cringe. So caught up in her disdained recollections, Snow did not even hear the polite knock on the chamber door. However, the intentionally loud clearing of the throat, startled the General from her thoughts.