Spindle

by Shonna Slayton

  “It’s enchanted. We’re only making it worse,” Henry said. He dropped his ax and looked at Briar with sorrowful eyes. “I don’t know what else to do. When my elder grandfather broke through to the castle, the briars almost let him through, like they were allowing him to pass.”

  “That’s because I put those briars there,” Miss Olive said. “To protect Aurora until her prince came. But I didn’t make these. These are meant to keep you out.”

  Briar did a double take. “You, too?” she asked. She had been surrounded by fairies and didn’t know it. “Is there anyone else I need to know about?”

  “No, dearie, just us three. Prudence is back now, is she?”

  Briar nodded, searching her memory for anything in Miss Olive’s behavior that could have tipped her off. After all Briar’s mother had told her of fairies, had she known they were real?

  The trio paced in front of the impenetrable wall. Henry hacked all along the gate, but found no weakness. “There’s no way in,” Henry concluded, wiping the sweat off his brow.

  “But they might let someone in,” said Briar. “The person who Isodora wants to come in.” Briar tentatively pulled a vine, being careful to avoid the thorns. As soon as she touched it, the plant parted, leaving a small gap. “Me.”

  “That’s it, Briar,” exclaimed Miss Olive. “Keep going.”

  “I’m going with you,” Henry said.

  Briar nodded and reached out her hand. Together. They would go together.

  “I’ll be right behind you,” said Miss Olive.

  Briar reached out again and touched the thorny vine. It trembled under her fingertips, as if it knew it was supposed to do something for her. She tugged. She pulled. But the vine remained fast. She let go of Henry’s hand to get a better grip, and when she did, she found she could easily move the branches. “It’s working,” she called out in excitement as she pushed her way into the thick of the hedge. “Stay with me, Henry.”

  “Briar!” came his frantic call. He sounded so far away. “Briar, stop!”

  She looked back, but all she saw was thorns and dark, twisted vines. She began to panic. “Henry? Where are you? I don’t see you.”

  “The briars won’t let me in,” he said. “They only want you.”

  Her breath came in little gasps. Briars. They know my name.

  They only want me.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  It was so dark. Darker than the night sky. Briar took a deep breath and tried to push away the claustrophobic feeling of the briars and thorns pressing in on her. Since she couldn’t see anything, anyway, she closed her eyes tight to protect her sight. With arms out in front, she felt her way through the thorns and prickles.

  Ouch. They jabbed at her, drawing blood. Their attack felt personal, vindictive. Her heart raced as she battled the thorns. They were letting her in, but reluctantly. Like stinging scorpions, they’d jab then back away and let her move forward one more step. After surviving the spindle, she knew she could tolerate a new level of pain so she steeled herself and slowly pressed on.

  Henry’s voice had long ago dimmed, and she was truly on her own now. She pictured him fighting the hedge with his ax, frustrated and getting nowhere. His family was the protector of the spindle, but now the spindle was back in Isodora’s control. She would not be satisfied until she got her revenge and she’d come closer with Briar than at any other time. Her will was strong. Briar would have to be stronger if she were to find a way out of this alive.

  The branches creaked and groaned in an eerie rhythm as they grew. The hedge towered over her head, and the way in front of her seemed endless. How thick and tall would the briars get? She fought against rising panic. Her head throbbed, and her competing instincts to flee and to save the boys pulled her in two directions. The boys. She needed to keep her mind focused on the boys. Those poor, scared boys. They were what mattered right now.

  The narrow passage was like a tiny hallway that continuously closed in on her from behind, directing her forward. The thorns scratched at her arms as if disappointed they couldn’t hold on to her. But as she moved away from Henry and Miss Olive and inched closer to the mill and Isodora, the branches parted more easily.

  “Briar.” A voice called above the rising howl of wind.

  She peered through the darkness trying to see the dark form caught in the briars. “Nanny? Are you hurt?” Briar asked.

  “No, but I can’t move. Isodora is stronger than we think. Don’t be fooled. I’ve never seen her so determined.”

  Briar swallowed nervously. “I’ll do my best.” She redoubled her efforts to get through the briars.

  Finally, they let her go completely and she found herself alone in the darkened mill yard. The air here was still, despite the wind roaring around the briar hedge.

  A flickering light shone in the window of the third-floor spinning room. The light drew Briar to it, the way the lightning bugs called the boys. Up the stairs she went. Trade her life for the boys’.

  Thinking about it now, she wished she would have had a chance to say good-bye to Henry. He was going to carry the weight of guilt unnecessarily. Briar was making the choice, fully aware of the consequences.

  She was just glad Isodora hadn’t taken Pansy. The other mill girls didn’t die because they were too old, and Maribelle had the protection of the cloth helping her. Briar patted her pocket and was relieved to feel the cloth. Could it do anything else to help her? The curse was for a girl before her seventeenth birthday. Pansy would have fit that description, too. But Isodora wanted Briar Rose.

  At the door, Briar pressed her ear to the wood, straining to hear if the boys were unharmed. There was a noise, but she couldn’t make out what it was. She turned the handle and opened the door a crack. The hinges were blessedly silent.

  Candlelight shone from the back of the room. Briar couldn’t see her frames from this angle but knew the light was coming from her area. She scanned the shadowed frames closest to her, looking for two messy-mop-haired boys, but all she saw was thread-laden spindles stacked like tiny soldiers in their frames, waiting to begin the day.

  She slipped in, then quietly closed the door behind her, thankful that the wind was making enough noise to cover any rustling of her skirts. Taking a lesson from the children, she clung to the wall to quietly work her way around the room instead of taking the straight path to her frame. The shadowed plants along the windowsills made it feel like she was in a jungle, hunting down a tigress. A tigress who hadn’t heard Briar come in. Or one who was so secure in her trap that she needn’t lie in wait.

  There. Isodora’s silhouette bobbed around the frame. What is she doing?

  Briar searched her memories for anything her mother might have told her about fairies, even if the stories were mere legend and tale. But her thoughts came up empty. All she could remember was her mother’s singleness of purpose, to protect her family as best she could. To keep Briar out of the mills as long as she could. To be grateful for all they had, the sun, the rain, the forest. She gave Briar a childhood.

  Next Briar thought of Ethel. Her desperate attempts to create a new life, no matter how hard she had to work. She was brave in the same way Mam was. Briar drew courage from the women who set the example in her life. Protecting the home. Not exactly what Frances Willard taught, but that’s what Briar was doing.

  She might see Mam and Da soon, if Isodora had her way. Briar would be able to tell them all about Pansy and the boys. Oh, how pleased Mam would be to know her children were growing so well. How responsible Pansy was becoming. How much fun the boys were to have around.

  A loud snore broke the silence. Briar froze. The boys were sleeping. Was it a natural sleep or did Isodora do something to them? With renewed purpose, she ducked down onto her knees and crept forward to the row before her frame. A little foot stuck out into the aisle. If she could just grab it. And pull. As long as he didn’t cry out. There. She had Jack.

  Isodora was still preoccupied with the frame. Maybe she couldn’t
get the spindle off, either.

  Jack stirred, and Briar held her breath. He blinked, then opened his mouth, but Briar quickly placed her finger to her lips to indicate silence. He nodded then mouthed: Benny.

  Briar indicated Jack should sneak out the door, but he shook his head. “Benny.” This time he whispered it. Briar knew not to push him, or he would speak it out loud and Isodora would hear. Instead, she nodded, and peeked around the corner.

  She couldn’t see Benny. He must be farther up the row. There was no way for her to crawl over to him without risking being seen. She scooted back to regroup. Jack pointed and waved his arms like he was trying to communicate. Benny might have understood, but she certainly didn’t. Oh, wait. He was telling her to go around the opposite way. Sure. It might work. She could hide behind Annie’s frame and pull Benny to her that way. But she had to be quick, before Isodora noticed Jack was missing.

  She mouthed, Wait by the door.

  He agreed to that, and the two backtracked silently to the door where Briar left Jack to go get Benny. She prayed Jack would stay put. If there was trouble he could open the door and run. Hide somewhere on the mill grounds until it was all over. The boys were so good at tucking themselves into tight spaces.

  Briar crept around the row of frames from the other direction. A mass of thread and roving had been spilled into the aisle. Obviously, the boys had been playing around frame number four. Briar would have laughed if the situation wasn’t so serious. She imagined Isodora trying to make the boys sit still while they waited, but the boys having none of that. They’d pulled off all the bobbins and Isodora had let them unwind the cops. Thread lay like a cobweb pinned from frame to frame, around the spindles, and the fairy was poised like a deadly spider waiting for Briar.

  With no time to think, Briar began crawling her way to Benny. He was curled up in a ball, sound asleep in the dim candlelight, and had rolled halfway under one of the frames. Her heart beat so loudly she was surprised Isodora couldn’t hear it. If only Briar could get to Benny, wake him up, and make him run, he and Jack would be safe. He was too close to Isodora for Briar to hope she could crawl all that distance and not be caught. As long as she got him moving before Isodora captured her, the boys had a chance.

  Briar knew the moment she crawled into Isodora’s line of sight. There was the clang-clang-clang of a tool falling through the metal frame and a flurry of activity. Briar lunged for Benny.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “Benny! Wake up!” Briar yelled as she ran.

  Too late. Isodora got to him first and locked him in her arms. A deep sleeper, he lolled against her unaware.

  “Thank you for coming so promptly, Briar. You were so slow at deciding about the spindle the first time we met, I hoped these creatures would provide some added incentive.”

  Benny stirred, trying to turn and cuddle up against Isodora. She stiffened, pushing him away from her. He blinked his eyes open, and yawned as he woke up, groggy, but compliant. She made him stand, keeping her arm around his waist.

  “Let him go, I’m here. You don’t need the boys.”

  Benny looked up when Briar spoke. He started to smile, but another yawn broke in.

  “Oh, but I do.” She patted Benny’s head, and looked around. “Where did the other one go?” Isodora muttered under her breath as she scanned the darkened spinning room. She took some of the thicker roving strands and tied Benny to the spinning frame.

  Briar edged forward, closer to Benny. “Why do you need the boys?” She kept her movements slow and steady, hoping to distract Isodora with talk.

  Isodora stepped back. “You want me to believe you’ll kindly prick your finger again if I let the boy go first? I don’t believe you. But if you are willing to touch the end of the spindle, by all means.” She waved an arm at frame number four. “It’s getting late and your birthday is fast approaching.” She pinched Benny’s ear, causing him to cry out in pain.

  “No!” screamed Jack from across the room. He started running to save Benny. But instead of running for his brother, he ran for Briar. “That’s like Sleepin’ Beauty, Bri!” He stopped between Briar and Isodora, blocking the spindle, his hands out. “Don’t do it.”

  “Stay back,” Briar yelled.

  But Jack was determined to help. “Miss Fanny told us all about Sleepin’ Beauty. Pansy cried herself to sleep worried that you would touch one of these spindles and die, until Miss Fanny told her it wasn’t the same kind of spindles in your machines.” He paused to take a breath. “But that spindle there looks different. She’s been working on it since we got here.” Jack pointed to the wooden spindle. “Don’t touch it.”

  The frame had been pulled apart so that the row of spindles was tilted out. Briar didn’t know the frame could bend like that.

  While Briar glanced away to the frame, Isodora grabbed Jack. He put up a fuss, kicking and squirming. “Let me go. Let me go!”

  “I’ll do it,” Briar said, her voice sounding calm despite her racing heart. “Just release the boys. As soon as they are out of the building, I’ll prick my finger. I don’t want them to see.”

  “No. You’ll do it now.” Isodora dragged the kicking Jack over to the spindle and held his finger over the point.

  Briar ran forward. “He can’t break the curse, don’t hurt him.”

  Isodora shot her an annoyed look. “I know how my curse works.”

  “But she doesn’t know how mine works,” said a voice near the door. Fanny, hair out of sorts and filled with pieces of broken vine, her face and arms scratched and bleeding, stepped out of the shadows and into the flickering candlelight. Her connection to Isodora must have let her break through the briars.

  “That is, I call it a blessing, not a curse. It’s a protection I put over the frame to keep these silly girls from accidentally hurting themselves again.”

  “You.” Isodora narrowed her eyes. “I can’t get rid of you. What did you do to this contraption?”

  “Miss Fanny,” called Benny. He was now fully awake, his mouth trembling as he tried to squirm out of his bindings.

  Fanny put her hands on her hips. “Tying up children? Really, Isodora?” She made a move to rescue Benny.

  Isodora called out in a loud voice, “You are forbidden to let that child go!” The spinning frame began to tremble and Benny reached out for his brother.

  Jack, who enjoyed exciting adventures, looked to Briar for help, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. Obviously scared, he was being so brave.

  Briar’s instincts took over and she lunged for Jack. Briar pulled on the boy, trying to get him out of Isodora’s grip, but then saw that was only hurting him. She tugged at Isodora’s bony fingers one by one, and Jack assisted with a bite to the fairy’s forearm.

  Isodora screamed while loosening her grip on Jack. He went limp, slid out from her grasp, and then wiggled away on the floor. He ran to help Fanny loose Benny.

  Isodora clawed for Briar.

  “No, you can’t have them.” Briar pushed her away with all her strength and ran for the twins.

  As she fell backward, Isodora tripped on the tangle of thread left over from the boys’ play and fell against the frame. The ends of the exposed spindles piercing Isodora’s flesh, she cried out in pain and rage. She tried to lift her body forward, but stuck fast.

  Briar covered the boys’ eyes, watching in horror as Isodora writhed on the spikes. “Fanny, what do we do?”

  Fanny twisted her hands. “I-I don’t know. Try to get her off, I suppose.”

  Briar held her hand out to stop Fanny. “First, undo the curse,” Briar said to Isodora. Her voice came out strong, even though she was trembling inside.

  Isodora panted through the pain. “I can’t, you fool. It must be carried out.”

  Fanny nodded. “That is the problem that got us here in the first place.”

  Briar didn’t want to be cruel, but she couldn’t let Isodora go free only to hurt someone else. “You must be able to do something. Release the Prince family
. Seal up the spindle where no one can get to it.”

  “But then I’ll forever be like this,” Isodora seethed, glaring at Fanny.

  “You’ll be alive,” Briar said.

  Isodora made another move to save herself, and gasped as the spindle pierced deeper. Her eyes took on a wild look and she began to wave her arms. In her struggle, she slapped her arm against the candle, which had been balanced on the frame. It fell, quickly setting fire to some cotton fluff along the way that then fell to the floor. It burned bright, fueled by grease that had dripped from the frame.

  “No!” screamed Isodora in anguish as a sickly green cloud rose up from the poisoned spindle and surrounded her. Her own magic was working against her. The spindle must have gone deep enough to pierce her heart. The green cloud grew large and dense as it swirled around Isodora, until they could no longer see her. When her screams faded away, so did the cloud.

  The fairy was gone.

  But now the fire was spreading along the oil-soaked wooden floor.

  “Run!” yelled Briar.

  “Benny!” called Jack. His twin was still tied to the second frame.

  “Go with Miss Fanny. I’ll get Benny,” Briar said. Before Jack could argue, Fanny had his little hand firmly in her grip and they were racing to the single door.

  The smoke filled the room ahead of the flame. “Hold your breath,” she said to Benny. “You’re almost loose. When I say go, duck down to take a breath, then run with me.” Her fingers worked quickly to break the rushing, thankful Isodora had used the loose cotton, which was easier to break apart. The smoke burned her eyes and throat, but she broke the bonds. “Go!”

  The two ducked below the thick smoke for a quick breath, and they ran. Briar led the way, knowing the shortest path through the spinning frames. Fanny was waiting with the door open. Jack was already at the bottom of the stairs, immobile, watching for the rest of his family to emerge.

  In the distance, the briar hedge was shrinking and snapping and disappearing with loud, angry cracks and pops. Miss Olive stood at an opening near the gate, holding Pansy’s hand and waiting. Henry was trapped in one corner where the briars were still the thickest. Only his head and arm were visible. Prudence was to the right of Henry, and as the branches surrounding her collapsed to her feet she stood still, waiting. Observing. Observing what?