by Cameron Jace
Finally, the two girls sat on the floor with their backs against the wall, staring at the cottage’s door. Cerené cleaned her blowpipe, but Shew didn’t bother cleaning her sword.
After some time had passed they assumed Loki wasn’t coming for them. Either the glass dragon had killed him or Loki had no idea they were in the cottage. Anticipating silence surrounded the two girls, accompanied by their own breathing.
“Do you think I will able to create fire one day?” Cerené asked in the dark.
“I would like to think so,” Shew said. “You’re still young. Maybe you’ll acquire the talent later.”
“And maybe the Creators are worried I’d use it the wrong way,” Cerené said.
“If I were one of the Creators, I’d gift you with every power available,” Shew said.
“Don’t try to glasscoat your words, Joy,” Cerené said. Shew supposed the phrase meant something like ‘sugar coat.’ Glass was as precious as gold and sweet as sugar to the people of Sorrow—and probably Murano at the time. “I know how weird I am. I’m not a fool,” Cerené confessed.
“You’re not—”
“Stop it, please,” Cerené said. “I am fine with who I am. I don’t care if others think I’m an outcast. It might be hard to believe, but I believe in myself. I deserve a happy ending, a prince and a ball where everybody looks up to me. But frankly, sometimes I also feel like the Creators are doing the world a favor by not gifting me with the ability to create fire, or—” she shrugged.
“Or?”
“Or maybe I’d burn them all,” Cerené said. “I’d burn the Queen of Sorrow for what she does to the children and me; I’d burn my stepfamily for hurting me, Loki the Huntsmen, Baba Yaga. It’s an endless list, really. The world is full of evil.”
The girl who thought the world was full of evil was the same girl who held a clue to it all.
“Then you’d have missed the whole purpose of why the Creators gifted you with fire—if they ever did that,” Shew said. “Why burn the world if, with fire, you could create almost every living thing; the dragons, the sea horses, and the butterflies.”
“Good idea, Joy,” Cerené said. “I’d like to create plenty of those … after I burn the others. Let’s start all over again. The world needs a new beginning.”
Shew shrugged; glad it was dark. She did not want to see Cerené’s expression now, because she didn’t want to know if she wasn’t joking.
“Moutza,” Cerené whispered in the dark.
Shew laughed, “Did it work?”
“Of course not. You see any fire?” Cerené said. “Wouldn’t it be nice if I could light a candle with my mind now?”
“Keep trying, Cerené,” Shew said. “Who knows? One day, it might work. Tell me something by the way,” she fidgeted in her place. “Did your mother or Charmwill tell you anything else?”
“Bianca tells me a lot of things. I forget half of it most of the time,” Cerené said. “I usually remember when something in my real life reminds me of her words.”
“I meant did she tell you anything else about me?” Shew said.
Cerené’s voice disappeared in the dark for a while, and Shew felt like a blind girl looking for answers.
“Cerené? I asked you—”
“I know. You asked me a question,” Cerené cut her off. “Well, not everything Bianca says is always true.”
“Did she tell you anything about a ‘clue’?” She scooted nearer.
“A clue? What do you mean?”
“Remember when she told you were like a Pandora’s Box, did she elaborate?” She said.
“If she did I don’t remember,” Cerené sighed. “She did tell me something else about you,” she sounded reluctant.
“Please tell me,” Shew said eagerly.
“She told me that I would be doing a great service by saving you repeatedly.”
“That’s about you. What did she tell you about me that you’re trying to keep from me?” Shew insisted.
“She told me that on the other hand, you won’t be capable of taking care of me,” Cerené said. “But that’s just Bianca. Like I said, not everything she tells me is true.”
“Did she explain why I wouldn’t be able to take care of you?” Shew didn’t like Bianca at all now.
“She said you will have a lot on your mind in the beginning of your journey,” Cerené said. “She basically said that you’ll be focused on your love life so much that you won’t do many things you are supposed to do.”
Shew didn’t like what she’d just heard. She was going to take care of Cerené and she wasn’t going to fail. She leaned back, thinking about it.
“Really, don’t listen to Bianca,” Cerené broke the silence. “She talks all the time. Once, she joked that in order for Chosen Ones to become Chosen Ones, they had to be saved repeatedly by unchosen ones,” Cerené laughed. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
“It’s very true,” Shew said. “In fact, I know a mentor who died to save a Chosen One before. Do you know that the old man you met here is dead?” Shew thought she could try to explain to Cerené what was going on. Maybe she could believe her.
“What man?” Cerené sounded upset in the dark. “Charmwill? You know him? Is he dead? How do you know that?” her breath puffed against Shew’s face.
“It’s a complicated story,” Shew said. “I could tell you all about it.”
Unexpectedly, Cerené grabbed Shew from her dress, “Tell me, how did he die? That can’t be,” she said.
“Calm down, I can explain.” Shew didn’t realize Cerené liked the man she had only met once that much. She was over-reacting.
“Where is he? Take me to him,” Cerené insisted. “I know how to save him.”
“He is dead, Cerené,” Shew said.
“I know how to save him,” Cerené repeated, and it sounded as if she were crying. “He told me how.”
“Oh,” Shew said. “You mean you could resurrect him with the blowpipe? How’s that? Carmilla chopped off his head. That cake didn’t kill him—“
“Not with the blowpipe, Joy. Take me to him, Shew,” Cerené went crazy. “Now!”
“That’s impossible. I can’t really explain right now,” Shew was going to tell her that this was a dream and that she had to wake up from it first. “How can you save him, then?”
“I know his True Name,” Cerené whispered. “He told me that I could stay in the cottage and be safe if I kept his true name a secret in me.”
“Charmwill’s name isn’t Charmwill?” Shew wondered.
“His real name is one of three elements needed for his own Art!” Cerené said. “And his Art can resurrect him.”
“You mean we can resurrect Charmwill Glimmer? That’s great news,” Shew said as the sound of an axe banging against the door horrified her.
The two girls plastered their backs against the wall, flashing their weapons in the dark, no words escaping their mouths.
The same axe came slicing through the cottage’s door again, the crack making way for a thin moonbeam into the room.
“What should we do now?” Cerené held Shew’s hand.
“Don’t worry,” Shew said. “I will take care of you,” she squeezed Cerené’s hand tighter. The hell with Bianca. I will take care of you.
A third hit sliced through the door, enough for Loki’s eyes and nose to show through the crack. He sneered at them, his hair dangling down his eyes.
“Piggy, Piggy!” His voice oozed all kinds of evil. “Come to papa!”
“Moutza!” Cerené took a step forward and waved her hand with an open palm and five stretched fingers at Loki.
Nothing happened. Loki mocked her back with glaring eyes, “Moutza Moutza!” He wiggled his eyebrows.
It seemed like he was spiraling down into madness with each passing moment as Carmilla continued to control his veins with the Fleece.
“What’s happened to you, Loki?” Shew screamed. “You were such a kind young boy!”
“I ate a frog for br
eakfast,” Loki raised his axe and slammed the door, spitting a frog’s legs from his mouth. “He kept telling me he was a prince, but I didn’t care. Could that be the Loki you want, piggy piggy?”
“You hate frogs!” Shew protested.
“I hate you too, princess,” Loki hit the axe. “Doesn’t mean I don’t wan to eat you alive, piggy.”
“Stop calling us piggies!” Cerené protested, ready to swing with her blowpipe.
“But why? I’m hungry as a wolf,” he yanked a big part of the door away, and stuck his whole head inside the cottage, wiggling his tongue. “If you don’t let me come in, piggies,” he impersonated the wolf in the famous fairy tale, “I’ll huff and puff and blow your house down.”
Cerené giggled all of a sudden. Loki’s madness amused her.
“Shut up Cerené,” Shew pulled her back.
“Who’s your little piggy friend?” Loki titled his head, flashing his fakest smile, his hair dangling down his forehead.
“She’s the one who created the dragon that kicked your little butt,” Shew answered.
“Is that so?” he said. “Two hearts and livers are always better than one.”
Shew raised her sword and swung hard at his neck. It was time to chop this annoying version of him off.
Loki pulled back immediately, and Shew ended up slicing the air, her eyes finding Cerené’s, who seemed disappointed with her.
“What?” Shew yelled.
“You know what, Joy,” Cerené frowned. “You didn’t swing hard enough at him. You could have chopped his head off if you wanted to.
“Is this what Bianca told you about? Are you in love with the Huntsman?”
“Of course, not,” Shew snapped, pulling Cerené by the hand. “Come here, I’ll prove it to you,” she ran back to one of the windows and pulled out all the logs as she listened to Loki breaking down the cottage’s door.
Shew and Cerené jumped out and ran toward Shew’s unicorn. As they mounted it, Loki had entered and already reached the window.
“Huntsmen!” he screamed from the top of his lungs, summoning them.
Shew didn’t see the dark cloaked Huntsmen with their three eyed unicorns nearby, but she could hear them approaching, shaking the earth underneath her and Cerené. She whipped at her unicorn with her hand and rode away.
37
Soulbound
“Axel,” Fable opened her eyes slowly. Her brother had been feeding her water and Bram Jam—a special and limited Belly and the Beast offer: one Bram Jam, simply a jam and butter sandwich, and a Dracola, the worst fizzy drink in Sorrow because it tasted like blood. You could get a large or medium Dracola. Hell, you can even get it blood-free, but it tastes awful.
“Are you feeling better, sis?” Axel said.
“Yes,” she held his hand to help her stand up. “Much better, thank you for slapping me,” she mocked him.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Axel said, “you were going crazy because of that stupid spell.”
“I think its effect is gone,” she said. “Thank you again, bro,” she kissed him on the cheek.
Axel was stoked. It was the second time she kissed him on the cheek in two days. The first was when he’d pushed Snow White’s coffin into the Schloss yesterday. He swore he’d not rub his cheek for some time, afraid the kiss’s effect would wear off.
“What are you reading?” she asked him.
“Nothing new,” he said. “All kinds of gibberish mentioned in this J.G. diary. I am on weird part which says that there is glass urn that holds the Chosen One’s redemption.”
“Whatever that means,” Fable commented. "Listen, bro. I really need you to do one more thing for me,” Fable said, her smile blossoming. She adjusted her glasses and looked nerdy, just the way Axel liked.
“Shoot, sis,” Axel said proudly. “I’m willing to do whatever you want.”
“I want you not to be mad at me,” Fable said, taking a step back.
“I could never be mad at you,” Axel said.
“Believe me, this time you might be,” Fable said.
“I could never—” suddenly, it was clear to Axel. He saw Fable run back to the purple light and walk through it.
“I am sorry, bro. I won’t be long. I’m going to save Loki, and come back,” was the last thing she said before she disappeared inside the Dream Temple.
38
A Girl with no Hands
Shew panted, her heart racing and kicking in the top of her chest as she rode away.
Cerené clung to her silently from behind, embracing her with two small arms. Shew could feel Cerené’s cheek on her back.
How could Bianca say I would not take care of her?
Shew rode through the Juniper spying eyes, the tree that wanted to shake hands, and the owls watching with wide eyes from the trees. Unlike Loki, she didn’t talk to animals. She had no Charmwill to save her. She didn’t even have supportive quirky friends like Axel and Fable. All she had was Cerené, but Cerené had saved her too many times already. It was time for her to make a stand, and protect Cerené.
She whipped her unicorn with the palm of her hand again, riding away and heading nowhere.
The Huntsmen followed, breathing heavily, hungry for her. Even their three-eyed unicorns were hungry for her.
Shew slashed at the curving tree branches and penetrated her way through. She came upon the lake of frogs again and didn’t hesitate riding through it. The first time she saw it, she thought the lake should have slowed Loki down because he would have to find a way around it. Now that she had seen him eat a frog, she knew the lake was useless. This wasn’t the old frog-fearing Loki anymore.
The lake wasn’t deep and the frogs sang to her in their croaking voice, ‘Happy birthday to you.’
Happy bloody birthday to me, Shew thought.
Suddenly they arrived at the foot of a hill and there was no way back. The only way to go was up.
“Hang on, Cerené,” she patted her hands clinging to her waist. “I’ll take care of you.”
The road up the hill wasn’t easy. Her unicorn struggled, but Shew begged it to keep on going.
“You can do it,” she whispered in its ear. “You’re no loser.”
Fear, in its most imminent manifestation, chained Shew’s soul. The worst thing about fear was the thinking. The more she thought about what could happen to her and Cerené if they were caught, the more the fear spread over her body like a crawling tattoo of Goosebumps.
“Be optimistic, Shew,” she told herself. “You can do it. Pretend you believe in the Chanta.”
No one’s helping you here, Chosen One. Her damn voice nagged her. Everyone looks up to you. They expect you to set an example, to be an idol, and an inspiration.
Shew fought the steepness of the hill, cursing the gravity that tried to pull her back down. She begged the sky to help her and pull her up the hill. Shouldn’t things like that happen in fairy tales?
“Damn all fairy tales for making me think living a real life was going to be a walk in the park,” she mumbled.
“Can you ask the moon to help you?” Shew said to Cerené, fighting her way through.
“She doesn’t want to,” Cerené said. “She says this is your moment to shine brighter than the moon!”
“Easy for you to say, hanging up there like a plate dangling happily from the sky,” she spat her words up at the moon. It seemed she’d offended someone up there because at that moment it started to rain heavily.
“Want to me to get off the unicorn and stall them?” Cerené spat rain at her.
“No!” Shew pulled Cerené’s arms tighter around her. “You don’t leave my sight. Understand?”
“I’m sure if I try harder, I can breathe fire like dragons at them,” Cerené said.
“Please, no,” she patted her hands again. When was Cerené going to realize that she wasn’t capable of creating fire like her mother? “Just stay with me, or they will eat you alive,” she told Cerené.
Shew u
rged the unicorn to fight its way up, “I can’t be the Chosen One. It surely is a mistake,” she mumbled. “How can I be when I’m always running away from something?” She had to run away, save herself and Cerené.
The unicorn struggled even more. The rain and snow complicated everything. The poor unicorn didn’t know whether to trot through or be cautious of slipping.
“Rain, snow, and bad weather,” Shew grunted. “Next I’m going to get a damn tsunami in my face…”
Shew’s unicorn stopped atop of the hill. Speaking of tsunamis, there was nothing on the other side but the endless Missing Mile ocean, and it was a straight shot downwards to reach it. A large wave crashed against the rocks at the bottom as Shew sat paralyzed, looking at the endless water ahead.
“This can’t be,” she said, fear taking over her completely. Cerené’s eyes bulged out, speechless as her friend. They gazed back at the waving hordes of black cloaks and unicorns closing in, and then back at the ocean.
“What are we going to do now?” Cerené asked. “You think we should just jump in the ocean?”
“We could,” Shew said. “But that doesn’t guarantee we’ll live.”
“My mother said, you’d be immortal when you turn sixteen,” Cerené said.
“I’m not sure I’m immortal yet,” Shew said. “I don’t feel immortal. Maybe I have to split my heart first or something,” she said under her breath. “Even if I were immortal, you could die, Cerené,” she said.
“It was going to happen sooner or later,” Cerené said. “I’m glad I met you before I died.”
Shew squeezed Cerené’s hand tighter, “I’m glad I met you. You taught me how to live—in a very weird way, I suppose,” she turned her unicorn around, facing her approaching killers.
“What are you doing, Joy?”
The Huntsmen were in her face, only a hundred strides away. The Huntsmen were like time, and time was the greatest serial killer in history, it always arrived, never tick too soon, or a tock to late.
Shew took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and imagined the future. She imagined passing through this moment. She imagined surpassing all the pain, crossing over to a land of lilies and singing birds where she and Cerené were playing in the field. She imagined all the beautiful things that could happen later. It helped her lift some of the moment’s weight off her shoulders.