by K. M. Shea
For some reason I failed to see what art had to do with anything, but the poke hurt so I eyed the princess with trepidation. “A pleasure to meet you,” I said, resisting the urge to poke her back.
The last princess got right up in my face. “My name is neeta. tuneete. Tuneeta,” she finally got out. I suspected she was drunk, but her face was the same droopy eyed look as Caspian’s hounds back in the kennels. That’s not to say she wasn’t princess material! I’m sure she looked, and acted, darling when she wasn’t so sleep deprived. (Perhaps?) But her lack of personal space and apparent ineptness was most disconcerting.
“Uhh, hi,” I said leaning back, trying to get away from the freaky princesses. Suddenly there was a bellow and the scary, dark haired princess, Cinders if the first prince could be trusted, stomped out of the house.
She leaned in and gazed at me with beady eyes. She was built like an ox: solid. She was wearing a huge gold dress which vaguely looked like a plucked peacock. “So you finally decided to join the resistance,” she said suspiciously gazing around. “You may be my last hope, even though you aren’t much to look at.”
While the first three princesses were confusing (and stupid) Cinders was far more confusing (and even more stupid). I found myself wondering what kind of parents spawned such a child when a, blue dragon stuck his head out of the door. I vaguely recalled Azmaveth telling me I would be staying at Behemoth’s den. This blue dragon must be him.
“Excuse me, you there! Princesses, girls. Girls!” he yelled. “Please come back inside,” he ordered, pushing the door open a little wider.
The blonde princesses were apparently satisfied with their inspection of my person and turned on their heels to traipse back into the cave. Cinders gave me a meaningful glance, whispered “the resistance,” and scuttled back into the den like a rare species of crab. I found myself following them with great reluctance.
When I entered the cave the blue dragon smiled down at me. “Good morning to you, Ahira. I’m Behemoth, a friend of Azmaveth. He was over here the other day bragging about you,” he introduced himself as the other princesses marched past him.
I warmly smiled. “I’m pleased to meet you,” I said as he gave me a small but weary grin as we entered his sitting room.
The cave was spotless, even cleaner than my cave. I was a tiny bit jealous of its cleanliness. But it was a little puzzling: Cinders did not seem to be the cleaning type.
“Yay! Look at my pretty picture!” the princess named Malory yelled, holding up a big smeary mess. The paint was slowly dripping onto the table. If she was the best artist out of the three blondes I didn’t want to see Lesha’s or Tuneeta’s work.
Behemoth cried before reaching down to rub his table with a tiny bit of cloth he held between his claws. That solved the case of the clean cave: Behemoth himself was a neat freak.
Lesha and Tuneeta clapped, cooing over the… picture. “Your work is so pretty,” Lesha started. “It reminds me of a boy that liked me two years ago. He was rather ugly, but still I flirted with him. I think he became a hermit because I wouldn’t marry him.”
Tuneeta stared.
I glanced over at Behemoth, who was still rubbing the table and muttering under his breath. That made me wonder…where was Cinders?
“Attack!” Cinders bellowed from behind me. I turned around to face a broomstick wielding Cinders. I ducked and she sailed over me, landed on the floor, and got back up as if she had meant to do that.
“You must always be prepared for a fight,” she said, dropping her pearls of wisdom on me with great solemnity. They were all crazy here. I had no idea how Behemoth kept his sanity.
I glanced once more in his direction. He was still cleaning.
“Now it’s time for sewing!” Malory announced, abandoning her artwork on the table, face down. Behemoth shrieked and speared the painting on a claw tip.
The trio gathered up their sewing materials before pushing away from the table.
I was content to observe a sniffling Behemoth, but my gaze wandered when I heard a most efficient string of uttered curses. Tuneeta glared at her needlework. “I sewed my dress to the tapestry again,” she said.
“Let me help you, after all I am the smartest and the most artistically gifted,” Malory said, hopping out of her chair before walking over to Tuneeta.
“That reminds me of this tailor who fell in love with me,” Lesha began as Malory only managed to tangle Tuneeta’s thread. I rolled my eyes and rubbed my forehead, thinking it was strangely still as Lesha rattled on.
“Take that!” Cinders yelled, launching herself at Lesha. Lesha wasn’t expecting it and was knocked over in mid sentence. I couldn’t help but clap. Lesha’s incessant suitor related chatter is very much like the buzzing of a pesky mosquito.
Behemoth chastised his princess. “Cinders try not to hurt her too much,” he said as he sat down next to me, watching Cinders wail on Lesha. Throughthe whole ordeal Lesha still managed to sputter out some sentences. “He was a very good tailor, but he wasn’t worthy of me. To begin with I don’t think I could marry anyone named Rumpelstiltskin.”
It was about then that Tuneeta almost fell over. Malory had managed to spin a cocoon of thread around Tuneeta.
“This would be amusing…if they weren’t serious,” I grumbled, letting my head fall on the back of the red velvet chair.
“They aren’t just serious, they think it’s normal,” Behemoth grumbled next to me.
“Just kill me and get it over with,” I muttered.
“Only if you kill me first. They’ll ruin my home at this rate,” he sadly said as Cinders finally got up and crept off to go do some more creepy Cinderish things.
“Have any princes come for them yet?” I asked.
Behemoth sadly shook his head. “Yes. The princesses sent them off though. They weren’t handsome enough, or so they said. How many have come for you?”
I thought for a moment. “I’ve seen two, but Azmaveth installed a magical barrier around our home so I don’t really know. Azmaveth said it was up to five as of yesterday,” I supposed.
Behemoth looked impressed. “How delightful?”
“Not really,” I wryly replied. “They’re all after the reward my brother has put out for me.”
“How degrading,” the blue dragon observed before cocking his head. “I think I’m going to steal you from Azmaveth, you’re so much more logical than these other creatures,” he lamely finished as Cinders leaped out of the shadows and hit the bookshelf with a mop.
“Sorry,” I said with a rueful grin. “I’m happy where I am.”
“Yes, I figured as much,” Behemoth sighed and we watched Cinders start to wrestle with a rug, placing bets that the rug would win.
The flow of the day followed a disturbingly repetitious pattern. The trio would try to do artsy crafty stuff. Malory would make something ugly. Tuneeta would screw up. Malory would start to help her and only make it worse, and Lesha would be reminded of one of her suitors and start to tell dumb stories. Meanwhile Cinders attacked random objects, and Behemoth and I tried to keep our minds straight.
“What time is it?” I asked Behemoth for the millionth time that day.
“Noon,” he replied as we watched the trio try to make bread. Tuneeta had already given up, a small miracle Behemoths was thankful for. Her first attempt mysteriously and inexplicably exploded, making a flour storm swell up in Behemoth’s spotless kitchen. He had cried.
Just when I thought I would be doomed to watch Malory roll her disgusting bread dough forever, the doorbell rang. Both Behemoth and I bolted.
“Please be Azmaveth, please be Azmaveth,” I begged as I chased after Behemoth. The blue dragon threw the door open, revealing a haughty Kohath who was beaming his this-would-be-charming-if-I-didn’t-know-you smile.
“I’m here to pick up Ahira for Azmaveth,” he coolly announced, reaching out to snag my wrist before dragging me out of the cave.
Behemoth looked crestfallen and started to beg. “
No, please don’t leave me here all alone! I cannot stand this madness! They ruined my kitchen!”
Kohath slammed the door in his face and pulled me out to the road, still holding my wrist.
“Why did you come to pick me up?” I said, my upper lip curling up slightly.
“What, not glad to see me?” he asked with faked hurt.
“I don’t think there is a safe way to answer that,” I supposed. Either way he would twist my words to suit his bloated head.
Kohath grinned and puffed up. “It’s a well known human convention that girls pretend to ignore the men they find handsome.”
My case in point.
“Oh wow. I am so surprised. You saw straight through me,” I said, yanking my wrist free from his hand.
Kohath winked. “You can’t hide anything from me, Ahira,” he said as we continued to walk home. I grumbled and stomped around behind. “Was it really that bad?” he inquired.
“Yes. It was beyond the worst that I could imagine,” I mulishly replied.
“I would agree, but I also believe watching Behemoth freak about his den is rather amusing,” Kohath said with a wide grin.
“Maybe, but I was about to lose my mind in there!”
He rolled his eyes. “You exaggerate.”
I squawked and was about to tell Kohath that he was hardly one to point fingers with his illusions of grandeur, when a blue ball of light exploded into existence in front of Kohath. Voices buzzed out of it, as though it were a living thing.
“We need you at the council right now—”
“On my way,” Kohath snapped waving his hand through the ball of light. It evaporated as Kohath turned to me. “I apologize, Ahira. You’ll have to walk yourself home,” he said, sounding almost sorry.
He whirled away before I could cheer and/or object. I watched him depart, disappearing into the woods.
I shrugged and set down the road. After walking for several minutes I suspiciously checked over my shoulder. Seeing no one, I left the path and plowed into the forest.
Yes, I know it was a very dumb thing to do. Almost every fairytale has a stupid girl who leaves the path and enters the forest. Heeding fairytales no mind, I plunged off the main path and went into the forest, confident that I could find my way back home. That was a mistake.
It wasn’t until I had walked for about half a mile that I realized the forest seemed different. Everything was darker, colder, and dangerous.
I stumbled around for half an hour, scared and worried. I lost my way, like any good heroine, and was dreadfully frightened. (Mother would be so proud.)
It was then that the valkyrie stumbled upon me.
I was sitting on a mossy log when a cruel, high pitched voice spoke. “So this is the human that’s caught the eye of a duke.”
Fearing the worst, I looked up. Standing before me was a strange sort of warrior woman, a valkyrie.
I had heard about the valkyrie before. They were beautiful women who had enchanted voices. When they sang they were able to overtake your senses and manipulate you, essentially cursing you. They weren’t very modest creatures, and they hated humans with a passion that was only rivaled by their loathing for dragons.
As I stared at this valkyrie I felt some of my fear and respect for the enchanted beings drop. This valkyrie was wearing the shortest skirt I had ever seen paired with high-heeled blue boots and a short, blue blouse. Hardly the clothes of choice to be stomping around in a forest.
Her blond hair was coiled into a braid, which she flipped over her shoulder as her tapered ears twitched. The braid snagged on her black, beetle like wings, effectively yanking her head back. She howled and tugged on the hair until it released.
Really, I shouldn’t have been surprised. The stupid/beautiful unicorn should have been enough of a warning. But even as I watched the blonde valkyrie shriek as she accidentally pulled her own hair out, I felt cheated. Once again the stories had failed me.
“Who are you?” I asked, unimpressed. I fingered the folds of my skirt, trying to nonchalantly search for my dagger.
“I am Trila! I am the spy for the west valkyrie army,” she proudly replied.
Even though I was fearful I couldn’t stop my sharp retort. “You must not be a very good spy.”
Another mistake.
“Why do you say that girl?” she snarled, suddenly looking very scary in spite of the miniskirt.
I licked my lips and decided I should proceed with care. “If you go around telling everyone that you’re a spy how can you get any secret information?” I logically asked as I finally felt the hilt of the dagger deep in my pocket.
The valkyrie seethed. “Aren’t you afraid of me? Of my beauty, my voice, my intelligence, my power?” she spat, totally ignoring my point.
I decided a false bravado might be exactly what the situation called for. “Um, no.”
Trila looked crestfallen for a moment before she became totally enraged. “How dare you! I’ll make you pay!” she roared.
Her red face serving as the perfect target, I ripped my dagger out of my skirt and threw it at her. Sadly I had forgotten the legends I knew oh so well. Weapons don’t work against valkyrie.
Trila broke off her howl and sang a couple of high-pitched notes. My dagger dropped to the ground a few feet away from her.
There went that idea. I eyed the dagger, but my mind moved on to a new plan. Instead I discreetly searched my pocket for the unicorn flute.
“Killing you, pathetic human, will bring me so much pleasure!” Trila declared before launching into a song.
I grimaced when I heard the first few words. It was “The Ballad of Sir Frankfort,” a particularly long winded song that I hated with the burning passion of a dragon’s flame.
I could feel her voice dislodging my brain and fogging it up. It wasn’t as if her voice hauntingly beautiful or anything. In fact I’m pretty sure a dwarf could sing soprano better than Trila, but the cursing magic in her voice was what got me.
Even with my hazy mind, I had the good fortune of pulling the unicorn horn out of my skirts.
I knew I was in trouble, and not just because of Trila. I didn’t know if playing the horn flute would help or hinder me, and worse yet I didn’t know how to play any instrument, much less a flute. I silently cursed my lack of musical talents and my lesson skipping habits (Perhaps Mother did ban me from the stables for good reason) as I brought the flute to my lips. To my surprise my fingers danced across the flute, playing a sweet and beautiful tune.
As I played my mind cleared and I started to feel immensely better. I was the only one, however, with those sentiments.
To put it mildly, the valkyrie became infuriated and gave me a death glare as she sang louder.
As though to match her terrible voice the notes from the unicorn flute increased in volume as well, drowning out the effects of her bad singing.
Trila stopped and unsheathed her sword. Unfortunately, I was lost in my own word, continuing to play the flute.
“Be quiet! Stop it!” she yelled as she flew towards me, her sword poised to stab me.
I dropped my flute and froze in terror of the miniskirt and the sword. I clenched my eyes shut and prepared myself for a blow, which never came.
The clang of metal meeting metal echoed through the forest, and I slowly opened my eyes. Kohath was standing in front of me, his beautiful and regal sword locked in combat with Trila’s puny blade.
They both jumped backwards, Kohath landing scant inches in front of me. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave Princess Ahira alone,” Kohath rumbled, looking dangerous and dark.
“Possessive are we?” the valkyrie taunted. Kohath growled, and panic broke out on Trila’s dim looking face. “Well I’ll be back, you can be sure of it! Remember, valkyrie don’t retreat. We just disappear for the time being!” she taunted before a puff of smoke gathered around her. There was a popping sound and the smoke cleared. She was no where to be found.
Kohath, needing some way to
vent his frustration, turned on me. “What did you think you were doing?” he roared. “Why did you go off the path?” he yelled as he took my shoulders and pushed me into the trunk of a tree, his hands forcing my shoulders to stay still.
“I wanted to go into the forest!” I squirmed.
“The forest is dangerous now!” he yelled.
I opened my mouth to sharply reply when my gaze caught hold of his eyes. Even though Kohath looked furious beyond all belief his eyes were glazed with fear.
A part of me snidely thought he was probably afraid what Azmaveth would say if he lost me. But the pleasanter side of me chimed in that he was quite obviously worried about me.
“I’m sorry,” I said after a moment.
He shocked me out of my mind when he reached out and dragged me into a close embrace.
“Be more careful next time,” he whispered in my ear before releasing me and spinning around, stomping off into the woods. I assumed I was supposed to follow, which I did so after picking up my flute and dagger.
He silently led the way back to the road and we walked down the boring dirt path all the way back to Azmaveth’s den.
At the cave entrance I thoughtfully paused. “Kohath, why is the forest around our cave so nice, but around Behemoth’s place it is scary and dark?” I asked.
Kohath carefully considered his words. “The Keeper is missing.”
“The what?”
“The Keeper. He’s a unicorn that watches over the Endless Forest. He keeps everything pure and untainted. Now that he’s gone parts of the forest are misbehaving. Like this area. It’s too pure, too clean. The other day I saw a wolf let a squirrel ride around on his back,” Kohath marveled.
“Other parts are so dark even dragons have to travel in pairs for safety. We don’t know where he is, but we have to find him if we want to be able to fairly fight the valkyrie. He’s able to keep them out of the forest,” Kohath called to me as he started to walk away.
“Kohath?” I asked.
Kohath stopped walking and didn’t turn around. Clearly he hadn’t quite forgiven me yet.