Fantasy For Good: A Charitable Anthology

by George R. R. Martin

Not for the first time, Lilia secretly cursed her ancestress for tying the Enchantment, and with it the kingdom’s fate, so closely to the queen’s life. The guards marched her up the stairs to her room, and urged her to lock the door. One of the men stood guard outside.

  Once she was alone, excitement surged. She was going to find out who the mysterious intruder was. She felt more connected to life than she had in months. For the second time this week, Lilia changed into her old trousers and climbed down the briar rose to the store room. She changed back into the gown she had carried in a bag on her back and made her way through empty corridors to the Throne Room. Where was everyone? Just a few minutes ago, the place had teemed with guards, and now there was nobody in sight.

  The answer to that question became clear when she entered the Throne Room, where she found her courtiers and guards assembled. All stared spell-bound at a figure clad entirely in stark, uncompromising white. What an unthinkable breach of etiquette in her rose-colored kingdom.

  Lilia stopped in the doorway and joined her courtiers in staring at the intruder. He turned his head to look at her, and her heart did a somersault. For a moment her surroundings faded, swallowed in the warm glow of his dark brown eyes. Was there a twinkle in those eyes? She couldn’t tell.

  “Theiran? What… why… how did you get into the castle?”

  Now the courtiers stared at her instead of the intruder.

  “My Queen.” He made her an elaborate bow. “It seems the kiss you gave me three years ago still has some effect.”

  Her gaze rose to the spot on his forehead that she had kissed that day. The first and only kiss she had ever given him. He smiled.

  “Lilia, do you know this man?” Aunt Bryonia asked. Her voice sounded weak, as if she was forcing the words out against an obstruction in her throat.

  “Yes, Aunt. This is Theiran. He was condemned to death three years ago, for composing a maleficent song for my birthday. He escaped from the dungeons the night before the burning was scheduled.”

  Now there definitely was a twinkle in Theiran’s eyes. A mischievous one. Curse the man, he was going to betray just who it had been who had helped him escape.

  “What did you do to my court?” she asked hastily. She had thought at first that her people were just stiff with surprise, but they were all still frozen in place after several minutes–silent and unmoving save for their heads.

  “That evil sorcerer put a curse on us,” her aunt said. “Don’t stand there and make chitchat with the villain, Lilia!” Bryonia’s face was red with the effort of speaking. Even so, her voice barely rose above a whisper.

  Theiran spoke over Aunt Bryonia’s protest. “I took temporary control of the spell your ancestress put on the kingdom. I condensed that spell in the castle and used it to paralyze your people.”

  “What are you talking about? The only spell any ancestress of mine put on the kingdom is the Enchantment of Eternal Peace.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. The Enchantment, as you call it, is a diffused Curse of Stagnation–blood magic at its worst.”

  “Blood magic? Don’t be ridiculous. Queen Rose sacrificed her Great Love to power the Enchantment. She was no blood magician.”

  Theiran grimaced. “Queen Rose didn’t sacrifice her love, she sacrificed her lover. Got herself pregnant by him, and then killed him in a ritual to bind the curse to the unborn child, your great-grandmother Rose II.”

  Lilia swallowed against the sudden tightness in her throat. “That can’t be true.”

  “Just look what the curse has done to your kingdom. You have no art to speak of, and there haven’t been any technical inventions in a hundred years. Lilia, you burn people who dare to think for themselves!”

  “There hasn’t been a burning in years.” Her protest sounded feeble in her own ears.

  “I know,” Theiran replied, face sardonic. “Your aunt was not exactly happy with you for that, was she?”

  Aunt Bryonia made a strangled sound, but Theiran ignored her. “In fact, that lack of burnings is one of the reasons the spell has weakened enough for me to make my way here. The curse feeds on the old and feeble, of course, but that is not enough to keep it strong without the burnings.”

  No. Please, no! “Are you telling me the Enchantment kills people?”

  He lifted his brows at her. “That’s how the kingdom pays for the extraordinary amount of good fortune its people have had. Not to mention the little luxuries Queen Rose built into the castle.”

  Lilia blinked furiously. She did not have time for tears. “What can I do to stop that?”

  “Lilia!” Aunt Bryonia managed to take a single step towards them. “You cannot mean to let that–person–trick you into destroying the kingdom’s protections.”

  “But Aunt, what if it’s true that the Enchantment kills people?”

  “Of course that’s true, silly girl. The old and decrepit would only be a burden on the rest of us. Who’d want to live like that? The Enchantment does these people a favor, giving them a peaceful death before they can become useless parasites.”

  Lilia stared at her aunt, speechless. So did the rest of her court, including her uncle, she noted. At least she hadn’t been the only one who was naive enough not to have known.

  Turning back to Theiran, Lilia repeated: “What can I do to keep the Enchantment from killing people?”

  “As long as the spell remains in place, there’s nothing you can do. You need to break it. That means your kingdom will lose its unnatural good fortune. Your people will once again have to deal with the vagaries of life.”

  There’d be storms, and sickness, and other calamities large and small. Calamities her people had never known. Lilia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Looking up at Theiran, she said, “Tell me how to break it.”

  Theiran studied her. “Are you sure you want to break the Enchantment?”

  Lilia met his eyes and nodded.

  He walked up, folded her into his arms, and kissed her. For a moment, she was too startled to react. But the kiss felt right, just as if he had never left her. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back.

  Lightning flashed outside the windows, followed instantly by a deafening thunderclap. Lilia took a step back. “What was that? Did we just break the Enchantment? Was that why you kissed me?”

  “A kiss was the fastest way to break the Enchantment.” The mischievous smile was back, laced with tenderness. “Besides, I’ve dreamed of kissing you for the last three years.”

  Warmth suffused her. She, too, had dreamed of kissing him. She walked back into his arms. Behind her, murmurs rose as the paralysis fell away from her courtiers.

  “Guards!” Her aunt’s voice had regained its strength. “Arrest this intruder!”

  Lilia sighed, and turned to face Bryonia.

  “Aunt…”

  “Your Majesty, this man obviously is a black sorcerer. He has enchanted you. Step away from him, please.” Waving for two guards to follow her, Aunt Bryonia strode towards them.

  Lilia shrank back, then caught herself. The enchantment was gone, that much was obvious from the storm that raged outside–the first one to touch the castle in a hundred years. For the first time in her life, Lilia was free to oppose her aunt without fear of the consequences.

  She took a step forward and raised her hand. “No,” she said.

  Her aunt stopped to stare at her, as did the guards.

  A panicked cry interrupted the tense scenario. “My queen, the castle is on fire!”

  Lilia looked up to see flames licking at the window frames. Now that she was paying attention, she caught a whiff of rose-scented smoke. Running over to a window, Lilia saw that the briar rose was burning, flames blazing brightly against a gloomy sky.

  She took a deep breath and turned to face the room. “I declare emergency rule,” she said. Rose I had decreed that in an emergency, the queen would have absolute control over the court for two weeks, no questions asked.

  The courtier
s all snapped to attention. Thankfully, nobody seemed to realize that the author of that rule had just been exposed as a black sorceress and a fraud. She must not give them time to think.

  “Uncle Ikan, please organize the courtiers into groups and have them find out what damage the breaking of the spell did to the castle. Guards, Lady Bryonia is under house arrest. Please escort her to one of the guest chambers and place her under guard.”

  She turned to face the majordomo, who looked back and forth between her and the flames outside the windows, hands wringing. “Rolvo, please have the servants form bucket lines to the windows and douse the walls so they do not catch fire. Theiran, please follow me.”

  She turned and walked out of the room, Theiran at her heels. They checked the windows on every side of the castle and found that the fire encircled the walls completely, though it did not touch them. Only the briar rose burned.

  It took all day for the flames to die down. Theiran stayed at her side, placating upset courtiers, talking to distraught servants, and helping in other small but significant ways. Whenever there was a brief spell of calm in the chaos, he told Lilia about the wonders of the world outside the kingdom’s borders.

  By the time she made it to her bed, Lilia was exhausted. Even so, sleep was a long time in coming.

  *~*~*~*

  Lilia woke in her four-poster-bed and stared up at a faded and lusterless canopy. No leafy shadows played on the bed curtains. The air reeked of smoke.

  She walked over to her window and looked out at a gray, cloudy sky. Rain fell, the raindrops creating little rivulets down the soot-stained wall. The briar rose was gone–burned down to the roots.

  Turning away from the window, Lilia pulled the string that would ring the servants’ bell in the kitchen. A few minutes later her maid appeared, out of breath and looking dismayed to find her queen already out of bed. The usual cup of hot chocolate was conspicuously absent.

  Half an hour later, Lilia stepped into the Fuchsia Parlor clad in a threadbare dress. The formerly splendid parlor looked run-down and faded, as well. Her uncle waited for her, without his wife, his face drawn and unhappy. Lilia’s throat constricted. What was she going to do about Aunt Bryonia?

  And she had destroyed the protections her people had come to depend on.

  For a moment, she almost wished yesterday’s events undone. But then she membered old Wartir, who might still be alive but for the Enchantment. Her resolve returned. She would find a way to steer her kingdom through the troubled times to come.

  A second person waited in the Parlor. He rose from his seat, smiling at her. Lilia walked into Theiran’s open arms and hugged him. He kissed the top of her head. When they let go of each other, Lilia caught her uncle watching them. A small smile lit his care-worn face.

  ALAN DEAN FOSTER’s career spans over forty years, during which time he has novelized a host of movies from Star Trek to Transformers to Terminator. George Lucas may have his name on the 1976 novelization Star Wars: From the Adventures of Luke Skywalker, but it was Foster who wrote the book. He’s also well known for the Humanx Commonwealth series of SF novels, dozens of standalone books, anthologies and collections, various trilogies and the fantasy series, Spellsinger.

  Visit his official page: www.alandeanfoster.com

  Green They Were, and Golden-Eyed

  Alan Dean Foster

  The moon was near to full, the rain was falling unheavy and warm, and Weipo thought it an altogether fine night when he heard the crash.

  At first he thought it was a tree falling, because falling trees were generally what made crashing noises in the forest. But the more he considered it, the less it reminded him of a tree falling and the more it suggested something else. Since he could not think of anything else that could cause such a loud crashing noise, he decided to set off and see for himself. This he did by vacating the branch he had chosen for his evening perch with a most prodigious leap.

  As he neared the origin of the sound he began to advance more cautiously, every sense alert to the natural noises of the forest around him and the possible presence of food. Once, he struck at a dragonfly, but missed. Disappointed, he continued on, until he came to a place where there was a hole in the canopy. Palm fronds and vines were strewn about the ground, forming a damp green halo in the moonlight around the object which had brought them crashing down from the heights.

  It was a twice-peculiar sight. Attached to a large boxy object, obviously man-made, were eight… no, nine… of the strangest creatures Weipo had ever seen. They resembled nothing so much as skinny-legged wallabies with horns. Each was attached in harness to the boxy affair.

  A very large, very rotund human was going from one creature to the next and disengaging each in turn from its harness. As he did so, the animal would stagger and stumble a little ways into the forest, where it would pause, collapse, and be violently ill. Being a naturally sympathetic sort of fellow, Weipo felt sorry for them. He also felt sorry for the man, who clearly was more than a little tired and frustrated.

  Something told him that it would be safe to approach. If he was wrong, he was certain he could dodge any human so large.

  The man was seriously overdressed in a heavy red suit with black belt and white trim. As Weipo drew near the tall figure was exchanging a white-trimmed red cap for a rich red, wide-brimmed rain cap. He observed silently as the human drew a matching red slicker over his plush red suit. At about that time the man noticed him.

  “Well, hello there. What are you grinning at?”

  “I am a golden-eyed green tree frog,” Weipo replied evenly, more than a little surprised at the man’s ability to converse. “We’re always smiling.”

  “I see.” The large human pursed his lips, which were nearly hidden by a vast, flowing white beard. “And I suppose it’s always raining here?”

  Weipo blinked. “That’s why they call it a rain forest.”

  “I know, I know.” The man sighed. “You don’t have to state the obvious.”

  Weipo nodded in the direction of the nine horned wallabies, who were busy being sick all over the place. “You seem to have a problem.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” The man consulted his wristwatch. It was a very unusual watch. Most watches are based on Greenwich Mean Time. This one was calibrated according to Christmas Mean Time. It ran slow, oh so very slow, but it still ran.

  “My busiest night of the year,” he said, “and look at this.” He indicated the horned wallabies, who if anything were certainly more unhappy than their driver.

  “What happened?” asked Weipo solicitously.

  “Some kind of food poisoning, I think.” The man flicked a drop from his bulbous nose. “They have a very special diet, but no matter how careful you are this sort of thing is going to happen from time to time. It’s just that it’s never before happened on this particular day.” He glanced down at Weipo. “I am badly in need of some temporary assistance.” He hastened to explain.

  So warm and needful was his expression that Weipo felt compelled to do what he could. As he confessed, that wasn’t likely to be much.

  “I’m sorry. I’d like to be of assistance, but as you can see, I’m small enough to fit in the palm of your hand.”

  The man nodded resignedly. He was sitting on the lower part of the boxy vehicle, his hands on his knees. “No harm in asking. There aren’t likely to be any reindeer within several thousand miles of here, either.”

  “Is that what those things are?” Weipo regarded the unhappy horned creatures with interest. “I’m afraid not. I have, however, been giving the matter some thought, and there is one who might be able to help.”

  The man raised his head, a hopeful look on his face. “If you can do anything, anything at all, I promise you all the flies you can eat for life.”

  “That’s all right.” Weipo’s smile grew even wider than usual. “I can manage. I’d just like to help someone who’s in trouble. You stay here and I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

 
; The man sighed and gestured toward the dripping Alexandra palms, from which rangiferian retching noises continued to come. “As you can see, I’m not going anywhere soon.”

  Weipo took off back through the forest, trying to remember where he’d last seen Mullgarra. The king of the tree-frogs moved around a lot, checking on his kingdom, but Weipo had encountered him not two days earlier, exploring the billabong which had formed from a branch of the big creek.

  Conscious of the sense of urgency inherent in the human’s plight, he traveled as fast as he dared. Once, an amethystine python nearly got him, its sharp teeth nicking the webbing of his right foot. Another time an insomniacal emu tried to catch him by the head, but he darted left just in time and left the huge flightless bird spitting out a beakful of moist dirt.

  The billabong was beautiful in the moonlight. Above the soft patter of the rain striking the glassy water the sounds of night-birds and insects could be heard, as well as the deeper-throated calls of his relations.

  He found Mullgarra sitting on a flat brown rock that protruded only an inch or so above the surface. There was nothing about him to indicate that he was the king of the tree-frogs, provided one discounted his slightly larger size and the small jeweled gold crown that occasionally winked into existence out of the Dreamtime and onto his head.

  “Bother this thing,” Mullgarra groused as he reached up to straighten the crown. “I wish it would stay or go as destiny sees fit. This coming and going is downright frustrating.” Gold eyes regarded Weipo, who floated patiently nearby. “Well don’t just lie there; get up here on this rock and state your business.”

  “Yes, your Greenness.” Weipo crawled out on the cool wet stone and settled his legs beneath him. “It’s about…”

  “Excuse me.” Mullgarra had spotted a juvenile salt water crocodile approaching. It was about three feet long and at the anxious frog-hunting stage. The king performed some quick calculations and parted his mouth. His tongue struck the startled croc square in its left eye, a not unimpressive feat considering that they were still some twenty-six feet apart. The croc paused, its dim reptilian mind attempting to make some sense of this impossibility, and then turned and with steady sweeps of its muscular, armored tail, swam away, squinting.