Little Red Cinderella and the Three Beanstalks

Despite the manor being practically a labyrinth of twisting hallways and corridors, Ezu and I somehow found our way back to the main hall. Our horses were anxiously waiting for us, standing close together and as near the flickering flames of the stuttering fire as possible.

I went up to them and stroked their noses, making reassuring noises at them while Ezu began to pack up our supplies.

“Do you want to try to find the basement just to take a look at the treasure chests?” Ezu suggested hopefully, as if he thought that I might change my mind once I saw the glittering piles of gold.

“Hell no,” I assured him. “You couldn’t drag me into the basement of a haunted house for all the gold in the world.” I went to windows, and saw that the glass, which had been shattered when the fleeing demonic cats and canines had leapt through them, had mysteriously reappeared, whole and undamaged. The sooty footprints made by the men who had fallen from the chimney were gone too, and so were all other signs that anything supernatural had happened in the hall that night. Looking out the windows, the storm clouds had finally retreated, and I could see the barest lightening of the sky, and I knew that somewhere below the tree line, the sun’s first rays had broken over the horizon. It was dawn.

“It stopped raining,” Ezu said, coming to stand beside me in front of the window. “That’s a relief, at least.”

I nodded, unable to find my voice. Then I abruptly turned to him and threw my arms around his neck, kissing him hard.

After a few minutes we disentangled ourselves, and he said, one eyebrow raised, “What was that for?”

I made a show of undoing my braid and plaiting it again neatly to capture all the stray hairs that had become loose during the long night, to hide the fact that I was blushing furiously. Despite having known Ezu for so long and having been through so much with him, it still somehow felt a little embarrassing to kiss him.

“I just… I’m glad we made it through the night in one piece is all.”

In truth, I was glad that I had made it through the night with him, specifically. Having to deal with Rapunzel on my own had been miserable and lonely. Meeting Prince Justin had distracted me from my loneliness, but hadn’t actually taken it away—I’d known that his companionship was temporary, that his future inevitably involved settling down with the first princess who crossed his path.

It still wasn’t quite right. Jack’s absence was like an elephant sized hole beside us all the time, and neither Ezu nor I had brought him up at all, maybe out of uncertainty of what to say, maybe because acknowledging his absence would make it seem worse somehow. I suspect Ezu had another motive for not wanting to talk about Jack: that it would be a reminder that Ezu too had chosen to abandon me that crappy day—though to his credit, he did come back eventually. Still, Ezu wasn’t the type to go out of his way to actively remind people of his past mistakes.

“Well, we should get going,” I said, changing the subject. “We hardly got any sleep, so we’ll probably end up having to stop for the night earlier than we usually do.”

I helped Ezu finished packing up our things in our horses’ saddle bags, and we left the manor.

With the storm past, the air felt cool and fresh. The smell of wet earth overpowered the other scents of the forest, but it was one of the few things about the Grimm Woods that seemed clean and right. The trees still loomed evilly, the sun still seemed somehow paler and weaker than normal, and the silence of the woods still seemed unnatural; but it was with somewhat lighter hearts that Ezu and I led our horses back into the forest without a backwards glance at the haunted manor.

Despite the general improvement in our moods, I remained unusually quiet, and Ezu noticed.

“Is something wrong?” he eventually asked, unable to bear the lifeless silence of the woods any longer.

“Not exactly…” I hedged. “It’s just… three tests.”

“What?”

“Three tests, three challenges, three encounters. Things often happen in threes in fairy tales. Last night, we had to face spirits three times before the storm ended and we were able to leave.”

“And we did, and we got out of it without any real damage—though I’ll admit I nearly had the wits scared out of me once or twice.”

“Yes, but…” I trailed off, trying to organize my thoughts. “Since coming into the Grimm Woods, we’ve had two challenges that I think could count as individual events. First that mess with the mermaids, and then last night, just happening to come to a haunted house during a terrible storm in the middle of an abandoned forest.”

“Well,” Ezu pointed out, “the house was along the route of this path we’ve been following, and it makes sense to build your house off of a path through the forest, so it’s not completely surprising that we’d come across it if we were to follow that path, which we did.”

I waved his reassurances away. “The point is, we’ve had two encounters now. I’m willing to bet that this has all been leading up to the third, the reason we’re here.”

“The sorceress,” Ezu said quietly. Even though he said it barely loud enough for me, who was standing right next to him, to hear, it seemed to carry in the silent woods, and even the light breeze that rustled the dark leaves of the trees seemed to fall utterly still for a moment, until the soundless echo of the word faded from the air.

“Yeah,” I agreed, a little hoarsely. “Do you think… are we ready to face her?”

Ezu seriously thought about it for a minute, and then shook his head. “Not in the slightest. We’ve faced other people who have used magic against us before, and to be perfectly honest, the only reason we’ve come out on top has been pure luck. Steel swords aren’t much use against magic. I think we’ll have to be clever to manage it, and as of right now, we don’t have a plan.”

“I have a plan,” I said slowly. Ezu looked surprised.

“Really?”

“Well… sort of. I have an idea for a potential trump card. Or maybe a distraction, or a complete waste of time. I guess we won’t really know until it comes down to it.”

“Well, in case your idea for a potential plan doesn’t pan out, do you think you maybe ought to take a look at that book of yours?”

I growled wordlessly.

The last time I had consulted the book was right after meeting Prince Justin, and it had had a bit too much attitude for an out-of-print hardcover for my tastes at the time. Although, if I was being totally honest with myself, I had really been avoiding referencing The Book because I was afraid of how the final story in my series of misadventures would begin.

Ezu was looking at me expectantly, and we were just standing motionless in the middle of the path, our horses nervously pawing the ground, eager to get moving again. I heaved an exasperated groan and took off my pack, digging inside it until I grabbed hold of The Book. Ezu moved in close, so he could peer over my shoulder. I let the heavy leather bound tome fall open to a page at random.

The Enchantress

Once upon a time, more than one hundred years ago, there lived a beautiful enchantress. She lived in a small village deep in the woods, and had the magic power to do many wonderful things. She was known for her kindness and goodness, for her generosity and compassion, as well as for her beauty.

The reputation of the enchantress spread far and wide from the little village until it reached the ears of a king. The king had been married, but his dear wife had recently died. The king had a little daughter, and did not want her to grow up without a mother, so upon hearing of the lovely and powerful enchantress, he thought he might travel to meet her and see if she would come away with him to his court and be his wife.

The enchantress, though famous in her own right, had always lived in the small village, and so was deeply honored by the king’s proposal, and was eager to live the life of a queen. She agreed to marry him, and to be step-mother to the little child.

Within a week’s time the enchantress and the king were duly married in a lavish ceremony, to which all the people of the land, commoners and nobles alike, were invited, and the wedding party lasted for several days.

The enchantress enjoyed being queen, and quickly took to her royal duties. Her subjects loved her for her goodness and beauty, and the courtiers respected her for her powerful talents and her natural grace. Her new husband cherished her for her sharp mind and her kind heart. All loved and adored the new queen—all except her step-daughter.

The enchantress found the child quiet and disagreeable. She thought at first that perhaps the girl was still grieving over her own mother’s death, or perhaps she feared that her new step-mother might treat her badly. The enchantress did everything in her power to show the girl kindness and gentleness. She tried to teach the child sewing and music, how to grow flowers in the garden, how to talk to little animals in their own languages and how to skip stones in the castle ponds. But the little girl only sneered and ran away, no matter what the enchantress did.

But then one day, the enchantress offered to teach the girl a little magic.

“Yes,” said the girl, “I would like to learn magic very much.”

So the enchantress took the girl into the gardens and taught her a little of what she knew. The step-daughter was delighted, and smiled and laughed for the first time since the enchantress’s arrival. Pleased by this, the enchantress told the girl that they would have lessons every day, and that she would teach her everything she knew.

For many weeks it continued like this, with magic lessons in the garden during which the girl showed her natural talent. But the enchantress couldn’t help but notice that her step-daughter only ever seemed interested in her lessons, in the things that the enchantress could teach her. She smiled when she mastered new spells, but never at her step-mother. And as more time passed, the enchantress began to learn that the child had a cruel streak in her. She sometimes caught the girl using her new abilities to frighten the children of the castle servants, or to hurt the little animals that lived in the gardens.

Afraid of the damage that she had already done, the enchantress stopped the lessons, feigning that she was too busy with her royal duties, or that she was too tired. She had, however, already taught the child quite a lot, enough for the girl to continue experimenting on her own.

The enchantress avoided her step-daughter whenever possible, and so did not realize how strong the girl’s own magic was growing. Years passed, and the little girl that the enchantress had first met grew into a young woman, as dark as the enchantress was fair, as cruel as the enchantress was kind, equally beautiful, and equally powerful.

The king was old, and had fallen ill. The enchantress’s magic helped sooth his pains, but could not heal him, for even magic can not prevent, only delay, the inevitable. Many times the enchantress, while sitting at his beside, saw his daughter from the shadows of the doorway, watching her father in his restless sleep.

And then, one day, the king died.

The kingdom went into mourning, and none more so than his dear wife. Without any male heirs, the monarchy fell to the enchantress, and her coronation as master of the realm was set for after the king’s funeral.

During her final vigil, while she sat by the dead king’s side all the long night before he was to be buried, the enchantress’s step-daughter came to confront her step-mother.

“Have you come to pay your respects?” asked the enchantress, though she knew it was not so.

“I come to tell you that you will not be queen,” said the step-daughter, tossing her head proudly.

“I am already queen,” said the enchantress. “I was your father’s wife, and after he is buried in the earth I shall rule in his stead, and offer many more prosperous years to this kingdom.”

“You were my father’s wife, but you are no queen,” said the step-daughter. “You are just a little village witch, made mistress to a king. This kingdom is rightfully mine, and I will have it. You do not belong here.”

“You are too young and inexperienced,” said the enchantress. “And worse than that, you have proven yourself to be cruel, and mean-spirited. Someday you may find the wisdom and gentleness to rule, but you must first give up your selfish and hurtful ways.”

“I will not be insulted by the likes of you! I told you, I will rule in my father’s place, and if you will not willingly step aside, then I shall make you.”

But the enchantress would not be cowed by her step-daughter’s angry words, and demanded she leave lest her wickedness bring pain to her dead father’s spirit, which may still be lingering by his body.

The step-daughter left, but her evil work was not finished.

During the king’s funeral, a whisper began to spread, first amongst the servant, and then to courtiers, and then to the common people who stood outside the castle gates. The king had not died a natural death; his illness had been brought on by black magic. It was well known that his wife the queen was a powerful witch, and she had stayed by his side the whole of his illness. No one else would have had more opportunity to encourage his sickness, and then he died and now she was going to be queen.

Within days the rumor had spread all across the kingdom, and people were whispering in every street about the murder of the king.

The day before the queen’s coronation, her step-daughter the princess demanded that she be arrested and tried for her crime.

The enchantress was taken prisoner, and made to stand trial. The people who had once loved her so dearly now jeered in the streets for her punishment, repelled that she could have done something so heinous with her magic. The nobles and courtiers that had once respected her so deeply judged her wickedness in the court, ashamed that they had been fooled by her charms and wiles. The enchantress pleaded for anyone to believe her innocence, but the rumor had rooted deeply in people’s minds, and dug its thorns in so that it could not be loosed. The enchantress was found guilty, and sentenced to death.

She did not cry or beg or plead when she stood on the gallows. She only raised her eyes to the heavens and offered a prayer for forgiveness, and for mercy. And then she looked into the crowd, where her step-daughter stood, and she spoke aloud a curse:

“For the wicked deed committed here today, all those who had not the better sense than to let evil words into their hearts and minds will be punished. All the goodness and love I and my husband gave this land shall vanish, and it will be filled with the evil and cruelty that you have welcomed in its place. My step-daughter, the princess, wanted a kingdom to rule, and she shall have it: but it will be a kingdom fit for a sorceress as black of heart as she, and its boundaries will be as prison walls to her.”

And then the enchantress was hung by the neck, until dead.

The princess was pleased by the cleverness of her trick, but worried by the curse spoken by her step-mother. The princess was vain, however, and did not let it trouble her long, assuring herself that her own magic was far stronger than the enchantress’s had been. She spent the summer and the autumn in ecstasy, ruling her kingdom on the passing whims of a child in a woman’s body. Her people quickly discovered that they had made a terrible mistake by handing the kingdom over to the princess, for she was hungry for wealth, for power, for pleasure, for pain. She hoarded gold and jewels to have beautiful treasures created for herself to line her royal coffers with symbols of her status. She waged bitter war on the neighboring kingdoms, sending droves of young men to their death, bombarding the other kingdom’s armies with waves upon waves of soldiers until they were crushed by sheer force of numbers of men who were willing to die—for any soldier of hers who returned from a lost battle was to be executed on the spot. While her people suffered, she lived a live of excess, indulging in every desire she had until the cost of her meals and her dresses and her lavish parties began to bankrupt the country. And most of all, she good pleasure in the suffering of others. Public executions became daily exhibitions, and prisoners of war were tortured for her amusement at court. The more she enjoyed herself, the more frightened her people grew.

But then the winter came, and it was colder and darker than any could remember that season having been before. The wolves came down from the mountains for the first time in decades, and they were huge and evil creatures who took the children that strayed too far from home as often as they did the sheep. The roads grew more and more dangerous, plagued by bandits and wicked fairies who accosted travelers, until no one dared leave their towns or villages anymore. The forest that bordered the kingdom seemed to swell, growing it seemed over night, until within the year it had swallowed half of the kingdom in its dark and dangerous depths.

With the people too afraid to leave their homes, all trade and production ceased, and the kingdom swiftly fell into poverty. Those who were desperate enough fled, some making it out of the kingdom alive, others vanishing forever on the roads or in the woods. When the queen caught word of the exodus of her people, she flew into a rage, and ordered anyone caught escaping the kingdom to be executed. Hundreds were taken by soldiers off the roads and hung, but risking death by hanging was often better than remaining where they were, and countless tried to escape. Those who chose to stay, praying that the bad times would pass, starved.

All the while, the princess—now the queen—remained in her castle. She had no choice, for whenever she tried to leave its walls, she saw the image of her step mother standing before her, blocking the way, and she shrank back in fear from the vengeful spirit. The people of the land begged for her wisdom, for her help, for her to do anything to save them, but the more her kingdom fell to ruin, the less was seen of her. She retreated deeper and deeper into the castle, until finally she had locked herself in the room in the tallest tower, letting no one in, and never coming out. It wasn’t long before the servants fled, and then the royal guard, until she was all alone, in a castle that was being swiftly overtaken by the hungry forest.

A year turned into two, then three, then a dozen, and a dozen more. The forest, dark and grim, became a hated and feared place, full of only the type of foul life that could call such a place home. The castle crumbled away to nothing, all except the tower in which the bitter sorceress resided. It stills stands, all alone, in the middle of the forest that swallowed her kingdom. She has spent one hundred years trapped within its walls, unable to escape the chains of her own wicked deeds, fueled on year after year by her hate and evil heart. But after a century, the guardian spirit of the Enchantress grows tired and weak, and she begins to lose her hold over the Sorceress. If the Sorceress breaks free from her prison, she will spread her wrath like a plague over all lands, and fill the world with all the misery and pain she feels in her own black heart.

I cleared my throat, and closed the book heavily. “Well,” I said, and then stopped. “Well. She doesn’t technically sound all that much worse than Regina, Snow White’s step-mother, right?”

“Did we actually have any part in finishing that woman off?” Ezu asked.

“We totally helped lead an assault against the castle. We were instrumental to-”

“Yeah, but the actual process of killing the evil queen. Did we do anything that directly led to her demise?”

I thought back about that horrible battle in the throne room. There was the duel with Jameson, the master of the guards, and then the Huntsman, and Ezu had been forced to eat the apple… and then the explosion, Jack and the dwarves blowing their way into the cell where Snow White was kept. The evil queen had thrown her tantrum, and then, while I sat sobbing over Ezu’s seemingly lifeless body, the mirror had come to life and swallowed her.

Soooo…

No. Nothing to do with us, at least not with Ezu and I.

“We… kept her distracted?” I suggested.

“And if the dwarves hadn’t been able to penetrate the dungeons?” Ezu asked.

“We… would probably have been horribly killed.”

“Yeah.”

“Why do you always have to be so negative?” I snapped at him. “You fought a freaking dragon all by yourself, and I defeated an evil fairy.”

“Didn’t you accidentally push her out of a window?”

“The book said the sorceress is in a tower, it could happen again!”

This wasn’t getting us anywhere. I waved away Ezu’s next argument, and tried to get us back on track. “Okay, okay. Apart from giving us a lot of probably useless background information on why exactly we should care about this crazy witch, the story did give us one helpful clue.”

“What?” asked Ezu, nonplussed.

“It said that the tower we’re looking for is right in the heart of this forest. I think we can pinpoint the direction we need to be heading when we check the map.” I pulled it out, and Ezu and I scrutinized it. To our surprise, and relief, the old haunted manor appeared to be marked on the map—it was labeled as the home of some nobleman or something—so we had a pretty convenient “you are here” reference. There was also the hint of the path we had been following so far, which appeared to cut through the forest clear to the other side. It wasn’t quiet centered however, and if we wanted to make our way the the heart of the forest, we would need to leave it and start heading North-East. It wouldn’t be easy to determine if we were in the exact center of the forest or not once we left the path, but we didn’t have any other options at this point. I rolled the map back up and put it in my pack, squaring my shoulders.

“I guess it’s time to test our luck again,” I said grimly. Honestly, after having to trust to luck to find both Rapunzel’s and Sleeping Beauty’s castles in the middle of uncharted forests, I was getting pretty sick of this bullcrap. But I figured that I could probably think of those previous experiences as practice, leading up to this all important one. Actually, I realized that I could think of all of the rescues Ezu, Jack and I had enacted before now as practice leading up to this crucial task. The Miller’s daughter had forced us to think on our feet in stressful situations, to climb up the sides of tall towers, to trust each other when we were stuck without a real plan. Cinderella had given us our first encounter with magic, had taught us the dangers we’d face from witchery, and about finding help in unexpected places—from Alfred the wolf, and the fairy godmother, and even the prince, after we’d gone and kidnapped him. Snow White had exposed us to the true power of black magic, had taught us how to earn the respect and help of people who didn’t trust us—the dwarves at first, and the Prince. That quest had made it clear that death was something we might have to face, and made us learn if we were willing to accept that chance for the greater good. Rapunzel had made me learn to rely on myself for the first time since I had come to this land, it had tested me on my own merits, my bravery and my intelligence and my determination to do what had to be done. And Sleeping Beauty had involved using our brains to figure out the location of a castle that had been missing for a hundred years, which pretty obviously related directly to what Ezu and I were attempting now.

Everything we had done, every adventure we had been on, had been molding us into the kind of people that actually, maybe, stood at chance at doing this thing. This was going to be the hardest part of our journey, the darkest part of the night when it seems like dawn will never come. But sunrise was just around the corner, because the sun always rose, no matter how dark and cold the night became, the light always returned. Morning was a force of nature, and dammit, so were we.