I sighed, chiding myself for my unfounded fears. “You’re a woman now, Ailynn,” I mouthed, careful not to speak aloud just in case my mother decided to come back out of the cave, “not a child.” But I could not shrug off the feeling of foreboding that coated my skin and seeped into my lungs like the cold air rising from the cave. Following my instincts, I turned back and left the cave. I would not discover anything if Mother was already down there, and I did not want to get caught. I would come back later when I knew that the cave was empty. I could conduct a proper search then.
…
Rapunzel’s sixteenth birthday came, and I had no idea what sort of present to give her. My mother gathered several pretty trinkets to bestow on her, but I was not taken with any of them, and I knew that she would not be, either. Although my mother liked to pretend that nothing was wrong, Rapunzel had noticed the change in her just as I had, although she did not comment on it except when we were alone. She had every reason to keep Mogra in a good mood. She was, after all, Rapunzel’s jailer.
But I wanted my present to be different, special. Of course, the best present I could give Rapunzel was her freedom, but I had searched Mother’s library from top to bottom with no success. An awareness was growing in me, a realization that I did not want to face because it meant leaving behind what I cared about most in the world. I knew that soon I would have to leave Mogra’s cottage and go out into the world in order to find the spell I needed. I stalled as long as I could, not wanting to leave Rapunzel alone with my mother, but I knew that the time was coming for me to leave. One of my reasons for waiting was also selfish. I did not want to leave the woman I loved.
And she was a woman now, as much as it frightened me to admit it. Her hair, despite its amazing length, was healthy and strong, the color of golden summer wheat, and very thick. It took hours of care, but the results were magnificent. Her thin, lanky child’s body had softened and curved, narrowing at the waist and flaring at the hips. The softness of childhood melted from her face, giving her a thinner, more adult appearance and wiser eyes.
While walking to the tower, inspiration struck me. I knew that what Rapunzel longed for most was to visit the world outside her prison. She missed the sights, the sounds, and the smells of the forest that she had experienced in her youth. I could not remove her from the tower, but perhaps I could bring a bit of the outside world to her. I hurried back to the cottage for supplies, grateful that I was only a few minutes in to my walk, and went out into my mother’s garden.
I quickly found what I was looking for: a small butterfly bush lined with soft pink flowers. A Tiger Stripe butterfly was perched on one of these flowers, but flew away when I approached. It would be perfect for Rapunzel’s balcony, and she could prune it when it became too large. Perhaps the birds and butterflies that visited the bush to drink its nectar would cheer her up.
As I took up the trowel I had brought from inside and began to loosen the earth around the bush’s roots, I wondered if Mother would be angry at me for disturbing the plants in her garden. I dismissed those thoughts. This garden was as much mine now as hers, anyway, since I was the one who used it to help the villagers when they came to me with their problems and I was the one who tended to it most these days.
Soon, part of the butterfly bush had been carefully removed from the earth and placed in a rectangular clay pot. I patted the dirt around it so that the plant would not shake loose, brushed my hands clean on my working skirt, and straightened up with the pot in my hands. Now, it was time to deliver my gift.
The walk to see Rapunzel was always shorter when I approached tower instead of leaving it. Perhaps this was because I was excited to see her. I must have been even more anxious to visit her on this particular day, because the journey seemed to take no time at all. Far sooner than I had expected, I was standing at the base of the tower, leaning against the slender trunk of an ash tree.
“Rapunzel! Let down your hair to me, please.” Although the ash tree might have been able to hold my weight, I decided not to risk it. Rapunzel could easily lift Mother Gothel, who was taller and heavier than me. Then I remembered the bush in my arms. “Wait, tie a basket on the end first!”
I smiled as a rope of golden hair spilled over the edge of the balcony, a basket firmly attached to the end of her braid. I had wanted to make the bush a surprise, but there was no way to hide something so large, and she would have to pull it up herself. Carefully, she began to raise the basket. “What did you put in here, Ailynn?” she shouted down at me, her voice sounding muffled because of the height difference. “It’s heavy!”
I smiled. “You’ll see when it gets to the top.”
I heard her gasp in surprise as she pulled the basket over the balcony railing, listening to the scrape of clay on stone as she removed the pot from the lifting basket and set it carefully on the ground. A few moments later, she flipped her braid back over the balcony so that I could climb up. My arms, strengthened by my frequent visits, carried me quickly up the side of the tower.
As soon as I found my footing on the balcony, Rapunzel threw her arms around my neck and wrapped me in a tight hug. I smiled over her shoulder, proud of myself for coming up with a present that she liked and secretly enjoying the way that her curves melted into mine. I sighed, savoring the intimate contact. We fit together perfectly.
Slowly, I forced myself to pull away, not wanting to make Rapunzel suspicious of me. Although I was deeply in love with her and secretly desired her, I would never dream of making her uncomfortable. I still had no idea whether my attention would be welcome. I knew that Rapunzel loved me as a childhood friend, but I had no idea if her feelings ran deeper.
“Thank you for my birthday present, Ailynn,” she whispered, keeping hold of my hand. I blushed, pleased and embarrassed.
“I thought you would like it,” I stuttered, stumbling over my words. “I wanted to get you something beautiful, since – since I think you’re beautiful. And I – I hoped you would like the butterflies…”
Rapunzel laughed, pressing her finger to my lips so that I would stop talking. The simple touch made my skin burn, and I could feel a fierce blush crawl all the way up my face and over my scalp. “Shh…” she whispered, leaning closer to me. “It’s perfect.”
And then she kissed me
It was not a kiss between friends or sisters, a simple, soft meeting of lips that lingered for a few seconds. Against my will, my eyes closed. Neither of us deepened the kiss, parting slowly instead and taking several moments to open our eyes and calm our racing hearts. I had suspected before, but now I was absolutely sure. Rapunzel was the other half of my soul, and I was lost to her for the rest of my life. We were Tuathe, two souls that are one, in the old language.
Nothing else happened between us that night, but Rapunzel’s hand did not let go of mine for the rest of the evening. We did not discuss the change between us, but I received a second magical kiss, just as sweet and innocent as the first, before I left her later that night. The last thing I remembered before I went to sleep was Rapunzel’s beautiful face hovering close to mine, leaning in to touch my lips with hers as a Tiger Stripe butterfly landed on the tiny pink flowers of the butterfly bush.
…
Chapter Nine:
Even as Rapunzel and I enjoyed the added depth to our relationship, my mother grew increasingly restless. She spent less and less time at the cottage, sometimes not coming home for days. Consumed by thoughts of love and happiness, I did not worry about her. Later, I regretted my lack of awareness, but by then it was too late.
I had all but forgotten the secret cave where my mother sequestered herself. In truth, my forgetfulness was deliberate. Whenever questions about my mother flared up in my mind, I stamped them out. Rapunzel proved to be a very pleasant distraction. It was much nicer to think about the new, shy love growing between us. I continued to ignore all signs of my mother’s instability until they became too pronounced to overlook.
I was walking home after a visit to Rapu
nzel’s tower when I nearly collided with another passerby, dodging to the right just in time to prevent an accident. “I’m sorry, did you need something?” I panted, wondering if a visitor seeking my help had found the cottage empty and gone searching for me. Only then did I realize that I was staring at my mother.
She was in the shape of an old crone again, but there was no recognition in her eyes as she gazed up at me. There was something else in her expression, however, something that I could not label. It frightened me. Pulling her black cape tighter around her shoulders, she hurried away from me without a word, leaving me behind with the crackling scent of her magic. Threads of the spell drifted off of her like loose strands of hair brushed from a shoulder.
I stood there for several moments, startled and confused by what I had seen. Why had my own mother not recognized me or spoken to me? Could whatever magical experiments she was working on be eroding her mind? I tried to remember the last time my mother had acted normally and realized that she had not been herself for over a year, although the past few weeks had clearly been the worst of all. Where had the time gone? Why had I not tried speaking to her earlier?
It did not take me long to reach a decision. I needed to find out what she was doing in that cave. Something was consuming her thoughts and poisoning her actions, and I had to find the cause. Perhaps there was a chance for things to return to normal.
Imitating Mogra and pulling my own cloak tighter about my shoulders, even though the trees sheltered me from most of the breeze, I followed the path she had taken to the cave. I realized that there was indeed a path to follow this time. She had traveled it so often that her feet had worn a thin impression into the ground. My feelings of unease grew stronger. The mother I had grown up with never would have been so careless. It was further evidence of her deterioration.
My thoughts grew increasingly frantic and I began jogging to release the excess energy, the sides of my skirt flapping behind me. I was grateful for my comfortable shoes. The closer I came to the secret entrance of several weeks ago, the quieter the forest became. There were no birdcalls, no rustling leaves, only the loud, crunching sound of my own footsteps on the forest floor. My heart began to beat faster.
I had never believed that mere thoughts and actions could taint a particular place, although I had read essays on the subject, but as I approached the woven mat that covered the gaping maw of the cave, I began to doubt my assumptions. Perhaps it was because the sun was sinking below the tops of the trees, but there was definitely an essence of… something… not magic, because I recognized the taste and scent of raw power, but something else, something dark, cold, and unpleasant.
Burying my feelings of foreboding, I gripped the edge of the mat in my hands and pulled it back. A puff of air came from inside the dark pit, rising up despite its cold temperature. For a moment, it seemed as though the cave was breathing. I released the breath that I had not known I was holding and started my descent.
The cave was very dark and cold, not a pit after all, but a steeply sloping tunnel that stretched down, down, down. It smelled of limestone and black places, and I realized that Mogra had created it with magic. Who ever heard of a limestone cave in the middle of a forest, even this close to the mountains? I moved forward carefully, not wanting to slip on the soft, damp stone under my feet and hit my head. No one would come to my rescue if I fell.
The entrance to the cave did not stretch as far as I had imagined, although it was uncomfortably steep. Soon, the light from the surface had vanished. I murmured a Word of Power, letting the taste of mint break and crackle on my tongue, enjoying the refreshing jolt to my skin and muscles. The release of magical energy also served to warm me, as did the small globe of light that appeared above my right shoulder to light my way. I smiled. The added warmth had been a nice touch.
Soon, the cave rounded out into a basin-like chamber. To my surprise, there were shelves of books against one wall. Not bothering to examine the rest of the room, I hurried over to the first shelf, pleased by the smell of wood and old leather. Perhaps, I thought excitedly, the spell that I needed to free Rapunzel was somewhere among these books? Had my mother been hiding it from me here all this time?
As I scanned the titles on the spines, some embossed in gold, some written with white chalk in my mother’s familiar scrawl, I realized that these books did not have what I was looking for. I recognized three of them: The Art of Transmogrification, Lir: A Biography, and A History of Magical Creatures and Their Creators. There were others, too – Men from Clay and Beasts and Their Gods. All of these books had one subject in common: the ancient practice of Shaping.
Shapers used magic to change, alter, or even create living beings. It was an old magic, very difficult to learn, and very powerful. Although some ancient Shapers had created the kind spirits of the forest and other good creatures, many of them were infamous for creating monsters. The Liarre, half-animal, half-human hybrids that lived past the western border, were the result of a magical accident that occurred while the Shaper Lir (or Lyr, in some texts) was experimenting. Some even said that Amendyr, which had originally been called Amen Thyr, was named partially for him.
What on earth was my mother doing with such books? I wondered. Although she had a great deal of power and magical skill, I had not known that Shaping was one of Mogra’s interests. Above all, why was she keeping her research a secret from me? Unless…
I turned away from the books, examining the rest of the underground chamber. A crowded square table stood in the middle of the room. Mixing bowls, cups, and measuring implements covered its surface. Ladles, knives, and other cutlery were scattered between the bigger items. There were herb pouches, grinding pestles, and several lumpy packages that I could not identify. Whatever Mogra was working on, she had certainly taken a long time to gather her materials.
Only after I had finished examining the table did I notice the other piece of furniture in the circular room. Tucked into a crevice, mostly hidden by shadow, was another square outline. I crept closer, the hovering ball of light guiding my way. In the darkness, something glinted.
Cages! That side of the room was lined with Cages! What could my mother be keeping in them? I took another cautious step forward. There were three of them, rusted, twisting things made of dull metal. Although there were chips in the bars, none had been bent and they looked strong. Each cage had only three sides, with the cave wall making up the fourth.
My stomach began sinking as though I had swallowed a handful of heavy stones. Although they were empty now, I could guess what my mother had been holding in those cages. The only question was: where were they now? What were they now?
The sound of footsteps echoing from the entrance to the underground chamber startled me. Instinctively, I ducked underneath the table and extinguished the globe of light with a frantic whisper. The tiny sphere winked out like a dying star, leaving me in total darkness.
From somewhere to my left, a soft humming began. A wordless, keyless tune stretched into the empty space between us. I recognized the timbre of the voice, the silhouette that I could just barely make out as she lit a scented candle on the other side of the room. The weight of dread settled over my shoulders as I accepted what I had been denying: my mother was completely insane now.
“I see you, Ailynn, my beautiful princess,” the old woman cooed, although she was not looking beneath the worktable. I shuddered, hardly recognizing my mother, but unable to deny that it was her. Her presence, her aura, was familiar. “Come out… stop hiding from me.”
Praying that my legs would continue to support my weight, I crawled out from under the table and stood to my full height, noticing with some surprise that I was taller than Mogra now. I was not a little girl anymore, and it was time for me to confront her. “Mother.” Mogra did not react. “Maman,” I tried again, hoping that the informal, childhood name would stir some feelings of love in her. There was no spark of recognition, no glint of warmth in her cold, metallic eyes.
“I
will have to punish you for coming here,” she said. Although her body was old, leathery and twisted like a knotted piece of sea rope, her voice was clear and strong, the voice of a much younger woman.
“Oh, Maman,” I murmured to myself, “what has happened to you?”
“I have been making things,” she said, staring at the empty cages with frosted eyes as though she had forgotten I was there. “Wonderful things. Terrible things! I have been making things for Her.”
I swallowed, trying to ease the dryness in my throat. Nevertheless, my voice cracked as I asked, “who?”
“Her,” Mogra repeated. “She needed an army, and paid me well to build it for her.
I interrupted her, sure that my mother was speaking nonsense. “Mother, whatever Shaping magic you have been doing, it needs to stop. It’s changing you…” A terrifying thought flitted through my head, forcing itself to the forefront of my mind. Fear’s frozen hand squeezed the warm blood from my heart. “Have you – have you… done anything to Rapunzel?” Although my question was only a whisper, the walls of the cave amplified the words to a shout.
“Rapunzel?” At first, she looked confused. Then, her eyes cleared for a moment and she almost smiled. “My treasure? No. Rapunzel… she must stay with me forever.”
‘Forever’, the ghostly, echoing voice of the cave whispered in my ear. ‘Forever’.
Mogra would not try to harm Rapunzel. She did not think of her as a person anymore. She was just a pretty toy, an ornament to be admired, a decoration. I could not decide whether to be frightened or relieved. In my mother’s eyes, Rapunzel was not even human, but at least she was not a potential experiment.
Tears needled my eyes, threatening to spill over the brim of my cheeks and roll down my face. There was little more I could do for my mother now. She had lost herself to whatever insane magical forces she had been experimenting with, or had this darkness been inside of her all along? I was not sure. I could not be sure of anything anymore.
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