Tales After Dus 05

"I say east, to Northhill. Apparently the town has a fabulous castle and a very beautiful Princess," Basil says. A sly, handsome smile crosses his clean shaven face. In the dimming light, his dirty blonde hair almost appears silver, amplifying his aristocratic demeanor. Though dressed in his plain traveling clothes the air of superiority that always surrounds him could still be mistaken for elevated peerage.

Aiken throws a stick at him, "I heard that she just married some farm boy for love. If that is the case your

charms

won't work, not without Kane's help." A brute of a man, he perches on a log though the massive amount of muscle surrounding his frame always makes him appear as if it is impossible to be comfortable. Unlike Basil, who is tall and proportionally figured, Aiken is a rather short stout man. His thick brown beard, unruly hair and beast like body give him a savage appearance when he doesn't take the time to groom himself.

"That's hurtful," Basil defends, sitting back down by their small fire. Leaning forward, he delicately tears a leg off of a quail roasting over it, "Perhaps if you lost a few pounds and learned some manners, women might find you attractive too."

"I just can't believe that they would shut down the entire town, just for one witch," her soft voice comes drifting from the shadows. Alecta sits a little back from the fire, resting against a tree. She runs her fingers through the newly grown grass, eyes ever scanning the dimming dusk just beyond their campfire, "We could have struck it rich there. Split into groups and played all of the fields." The silhouette of her figure is barely distinguishable from the trunk of the tree but her companions know her appearance well. She is deceivingly beautiful with soft porcelain skin, luscious red lips and deep brown eyes. As she, too, is dressed for travel, her ample golden brown hair has been hastily tied back to keep it out of the way.

"Going to Reddington was such a waste of time. Whose dumb idea was that anyways?" Aiken says.

"Yours, genius," Basil throws his bone at him.

"Well if you think that Reddington was a waste of time, I can't image what you think of this pathetic country. Whoever named it 'Haven' definitely had a sick sense of humor," Kane's deep voice says as he wanders back into their camp with an arm full of dead branches. Definitely the oldest of the group, his salt and pepper hair, slightly wrinkled face and wiry body make him seem weak in comparison to the others, however his talents lie in other areas.

"Did you leave the coins?" Basil questions him.

"I'm a thief, not a gullible farmer so no, I did not leave any coins for your

fairy people

," Kane mocks him.

"It is true, you know," Alecta says to him, "The fairies. The Queen of Haven is actually one of them. I saw her when all of you were getting supplies. She has antennas and everything." All three men laugh at her; she rolls her eyes, "I am dead serious. Those things will kill you where you stand if you aren't respectful."

"You're saying you want me to leave coins in the woods for some overgrown butterflies?" Kane says, looking at her like he doesn't know who she is.

"For an alchemist, you're an idiot," she says defensively. "You just can't be destructive of the forest or they will hurt you. It's just the small minded townsfolk that think a few gold coins will stave off death."

"Hell, maybe we should just hang out in the woods then—wait for some farmers to go hunting and take their payments," Aiken offers.

Everyone looks at him but it is Kane that speaks, "If I'm an idiot, it is a wonder that you can breathe and walk at the same time."

This time, everyone laughs.

As the sun begins to rest beyond the horizon, the missing member of their group returns. He is quiet but they still hear his arrival. Jasper walks to the fire, pushing back his hood before warming his hands over the flame. Though blessed with bright blue eyes and golden blonde hair, he isn't particularly attractive but in fact rather plain. In combination with his overall affect he can be rather forgettable, which is just as he likes it. "Well, good news or bad news?"

"Bad news," everyone responds together.

"Bad news is that the only thing south of us is a wasteland."

"Shit," Basil says, "my good looks won't help us there."

"And the good news? Assuming that you actually have some," Alecta rises from the shadows, coming closer to the fire to break up the second of the roasting quails. She offers Jasper a leg.

Thankfully, he takes it, "Good news is, I think I have found our golden ram, so to speak. But we have to hurry, it is kind of time sensitive."

"Well, out with it," Kane prods.

Between bites, Jasper fills them in, "While I was scouting, I stumbled across this overly wealthy entourage. Gorgeous carriage, fine horses, ample supplies...pretty lady."

"Since we don't have decent clothes, I'm guessing you are talking about an Up and Over and not By the Side," Basil says almost sadly.

"No, even better. I overheard them talking about a place called Brairtown, just beyond the deadlands."

Aiken groans, putting a few more logs onto the fire, "You can't be serious, that is just a myth."

Alecta, Basil and Kane look at each other curiously; it is she that speaks up, "Myth?"

"Yes, the sleeping Prince of Briartown, surely you've heard of it?" Aiken is met with silence; he turns to Jasper, "You tell it. I am not good with stories."

Jasper licks the grease from his fingers, folding his legs underneath him. Sharing in Aiken's surprise, he looks oddly at his friends as he tells the tale, "The story is old; it is from a time before the fairy people took over the forests, when there was another entity that they warred with to gain control over the trees: the wood nymphs. As far as anyone knows, the fairies were successful in their endeavors and no more nymphs exist. Does any of this sound familiar?"

The three shake their heads. Aiken grumbles as he pulls the last of the quail off of the spit; Jasper shrugs and continues, "The tale says that a long time ago, the King and Queen of Briartown had a son. They invited the Briarwood's four nymphs to the anointment. Until that point in time, the relationship between men and the nymphs wasn't exactly a benevolent one. Three of the nymphs, so excited at a chance for peace, came to the party and as a sign of their commitment towards a friendship, each bestowed a gift upon the newly born Prince. The first one gifted him with such physical beauty that all women—and men—would be in awe of his handsomeness. The second one gave him the ability to succeed at all endeavors that he chose, so that he might exhibit a wide range of understanding and come to spread peace with the neighboring countries.

But before the third one, a nymph called Mayweather, could offer her gift, a sudden chill was felt to all present. The sky grew dark even though it was mid-afternoon and the wind kicked up such a gust that it pushed open the windows blew out all of the candles, leaving a solitary silhouette illuminated. Apparently, though there were four invitations sent out, only three were received; since no one had heard mention of the fourth nymph—Carabosse—in ages, it was assumed that she had perished. She believed that they intentionally didn't invite her and was furious, so much so that no reassuring or apology could dissuade her. In her rage she chose to gift a curse to the boy. When the boy was to turn twenty-seven, he would prick his finger on the end of an arrow and fall into a deep, deathlike sleep from which he would never wake, yet never die. That way soon everyone would forget about him just as everyone forgot about her. Content with her gift, Carabosse left.

It was Mayweather, having not offered up her gift yet, who used hers to circumvent the curse. Her power wasn't as strong as Carabosse's but she offered this: when he pricked his finger on the arrow, not only he would fall asleep but so would the entire kingdom. She cast her spell so that Carabosse wouldn't be able to set foot in Briartown as long as all were asleep. Everyone would remain frozen until such a time that one pure of heart and intention could wake the Prince."

All of them are intrigued by Jasper's story; Basil, the indiscriminate whore that he is, gives him a curious smile, "And how would one go about that?"

"A single kiss, apparently."

"And what the hell does any of this have to do with us?" Aiken whines.

"Well, the entourage is headed there. The lady thinks herself this Prince's true love and is determined to claim a title and a kingdom for herself. From what I overheard, a few other well-to-do types that can afford to hire mercenaries and guides have tried and failed. My thought is, if this place truly does exist, then we will have free reign on a town completely frozen in time."

The idea starts to sink into the group. A whole town to themselves; they could clean out every pocket, every coffer, even the entire castle and get away with it. It wouldn't even involve any skill or cunning.

Kane flashes a wicked grin, "Briartown it is."

...

When the moon reaches its peak in the night sky they pack up their camp and set off, wanting to pass the sleeping entourage so that there is no knowledge of their party. They make a somewhat wide birth of the group, taking care to stay far enough away that their horses will not be heard through the trees. Once they have passed them, Alecta and Jasper dismount and while the others wait patiently, the pair creeps back towards the large group. They mean to ensure a delay of the entourage's progress as much as possible without seeming obvious, thereby giving them a good head start to find Briartown.

The entire group consists of almost two dozen people; aside from the lady, she has a few servants, a couple guards, a group of mercenaries, several trackers and other general labormen. By the looks of it, both the mercenaries and trackers are mediocre at best because all of them are content with leaving a single lone man to watch the camp. Jasper slinks over to the supply wagon while Alecta takes care of the lookout. Silently she watches the man from the shelter of the trees. In the moon light she can see that his eyelids are heavy and by the constant jerking of his head, that he is nearly asleep. She makes a circle, taking care to keep her movements hidden in the shadows so that she won't alert him. Coming up behind him, Alecta slips one hand over his mouth and her other arm around the man's neck, squeezing severely.

As they always do, he struggles out of fear, trying to fight off the invisible assailant but before long, his movements become labored until finally he stops fighting entirely. Alecta slowly releases the pressure on his throat just in time; if she held on a few moments longer, he would be a dead man. As it stands now he snores softly in an unconscious sleep. When he wakes, he will think that he fell asleep and had a terrible nightmare. Since he is the one responsible for being the lookout, even if he does realize that someone attacked him he will not say anything for fear of being reprimanded.

Gently she lets the man's body down onto the ground before she creeps through the camp to observe everything and everyone. It might seem like a bold thing to do but Alecta has been a master thief since she was young enough to want for things. Peeking into one of the supply carriages, she feels a pang of jealousy after laying eyes on the lady's chest of beautiful, costly dresses. As a smile grows on her face, she carefully thumbs through the pile, momentarily pretending that she is selecting one of her own gowns. When the thought fades, she feels slight irritation at the lady's undoubtedly easy life, so she finds a bottle of red wine and accidentally sets it on its side, letting the liquid seep into the expensive fabrics.

When she discovers a case of some lovely accessories, she takes a pair of diamond earrings and a matching brooch, a beautiful hair medallion and a soft, velvety pair of shoes. Selfishly keeping the hair medallion and shoes, she slips the earrings and brooch into one of the servant's bags. Smiling wickedly, she almost wishes she were around for the show that the missing items will cause.

At the next wagon she fills her satchel with food, careful to take a little from every type so that it won't be missed. By the time she meets up with Jasper, she has also lifted a bow and quiver full of arrows, a dagger, a sword, a bottle of rum and a nice pair of leather boots. Despite the full load she carries, she is still able to sneak up on the scout.

"Shit, Alecta, you scared me," he barely whispers, crawling out from under the main carriage, "Do you think you have enough?"

She ignores his sarcasm, "Are you finished yet? We need to get going."

He smiles in the moonlight, holding open a hand full of wooden pins, "This should delay them at least a day."

As quietly as they arrived, the pair disappears back into the shadows, none the wiser about their presence.

...

"I'm still not sure why you couldn't have found me a nice dinner jacket," Basil whines.

"Oh get over it all ready," Kane retorts for Alecta, "Look, if we stumble upon someone who is awake while in Briartown, it will be much easier to explain our presence if we are accompanying a Countess and not a Count."

"You can trade it in if you want but I am keeping the shoes," Alecta offers up, though she doesn't want to give away her prize. Even though they divided the loot, it wasn't very fair of her to grab a hair medallion when no one else would want it. Basil got the sword, Aiken the bow, Jasper the boots and Kane opted for the whole bottle of rum. Aside from the shoes and medallion, Alecta keeps the dagger for herself. Basil mopes in silence.

Each take turns sleeping atop their horse; it is an amazing talent that they have been unfortunate enough to evolve out of necessity but one that allows the entire party to keep moving while staving off exhaustion. By continuing this way, they arrive at the deadlands around midday. Unlike Haven, they are disappointed to discover that the deadlands were appropriately named as they are exactly as bleak as described. While at one time it might have been a great, wondrous forest it now lies dead and rotting as far as the eye can see. Alecta immediately suspects that the forest had long ago lost its caretakers, either fairies or nymphs. As if by some magic or complete lack thereof, the sun doesn't shine down on it and instead it remains in the shadows.

All of them are awake when they enter the skeleton like trees. While there is a small, narrow clearing that resembles a path they leave the task of leading the way to Kane, relying on his expert alchemist knowledge to avoid the hazards that lie ahead. As he carefully guides the way on foot, he occasionally stops and pulls out a vial from his saddle bag, taking small bits of a flower, mushroom or bark. While he is familiar with almost all of the things they come across, there are a few that he has no knowledge of so the group takes care to stay away.

It is hard to imagine finding any life in such a dead place, yet the group manages to come across a herd of confused, frightened deer and a few flocks of ravens during their travels. As they near the edge of the deadlands, Aiken points out the fleeting figures of a mother horse and her small, grey colt.

When the path finally ceases winding and straightens out, there is a break in the woods that opens up like a mouth to the world beyond the deadlands. Framed in the brittle branches of the last trees is a large castle encased in a great stone wall, shadowed by the setting sun beyond it.

The castle is built into the side of a large stone mountain, across a deep ravine that drops down into a river. There is but one entrance; a large, stone bridge spans the gap. It is wide enough for twenty men to walk across, shoulder to shoulder. The only problem is, that stretching as far as they can see, the cliff side is covered in a huge briar thicket. With some branches as wide as a leg, the thicket stands taller and deeper than two men.

For the better part of an hour they spend time whacking away pieces of the brush, taking care not to get cut by the long sharp thorns. After exerting themselves, they barely make it half way towards the bridge. Tired, the group sits down to rest.

"Shit," Aiken says, "look at those damn vines!"

Everyone turns towards the briar; slowly but visibly, the brush begins to grow back. In a matter of minutes, it appears as if they hadn't cut a single branch.

"This is hopeless," Kane slurs, after a swig of his rum.

"Now just wait a moment," Basil says, walking along the thicket a ways, "I once visited a town that had a bridge like this. They had a separate entrance for their militia, in case of war—it was a ways away but through a tunnel you could access another secret bridge that lay beneath it." Wandering along the edge, he walks quite a distance. When he is just about out of sight, he calls them over with a sharp whistle. The entrance is almost invisible, tucked in behind some boulders near the edge of the cliff. If one didn't know to look for it, it wouldn't be found.

"Well the good news is that the thicket is only an arm's length deep here," Jasper says.

"What's the bad news?" Aiken asks.

"It's almost dark."

"So?" Basil says. He looks around for a response, his eyes falling on Alecta.

She hasn't acted herself since they entered the deadlands. It was not a bad feeling but a certain one, a final one. She felt that she should turn around and flee, never daring to set foot in Briartown but also at the same time something pulling her closer, demanding that she make one last journey. Alecta draws in a deep breath and after having spent most of the afternoon in silence, she says, "So, we will enter an unfamiliar cursed town after dark. We won't be able to tell if anyone is actually moving or not."

"Right," Kane says, "I vote that we cut through the thicket and camp inside the hidden tunnel."

"Aye," the other men respond. They dismount and start towards the thicket, not realizing that Alecta has yet to agree or disagree with them.

With their tired bodies, it seems to take forever to break through to the tunnel. Alecta hangs back, though none of them fault her for it. While she is strong enough to help, none of them wish her damaged in case they find it necessary to fall back upon their cover story of accompanying her to wake the Prince. She remains holding the horses, resting her forehead against the earthy smelling fur of one, trying to clear her mind and calm her worries.

With the last branch cut, they have to make haste, tugging their reluctant steeds into the darkness before the vines grow back into place. Once they are all through, Alecta pulls a torch from her bag, lighting it with a flint. As if to dispel her self-doubt, she leads the way.

The tunnel is pitch black, smelling of musty dampness. The sounds of their horses' hooves echo down the stone corridor. She counts the paces, reaching the point half way to where she believes there to be a right turn towards the bridge. An eerie feeling creeps up her spine and she stops; the hair rises on the back of her neck. She gets the same feeling she dreads when she is robbing some place: the feeling that she is going to get caught.

"What's the hold up?" Aiken whispers.

Alecta instinctively turns her head towards his voice. When she sees his shadowed face just behind her, she forces herself to keep moving, "I just got an odd feeling, that's all. I'm sure it is nothing."

Before she can turn her attention back to the direction she is headed, she crashes into something, knocking it over while at the same time her torch falls from her hands and rolls a little ways away. She can feel her heart beating fast; hastily she hands Aiken the reins of her horse. Her silent feet take her to the torch. She kneels as she picks it up, slowly shining it on what she bumped into. As the light crosses the face of a man, Alecta gasps in fright, scurrying back a few steps. When there is no movement, she hesitantly crawls forward, holding her torch before her like a sword.