Briar Blackwood's Grimmest of Fairytales (19 page)

Chapter 23

The Boss' den consisted of little more than a short, weathered door stuck into the side of a hidden rise in the terrain. Briar noticed some puffs of smoke wafting from a hole at the top of the ridge. Two nearby boulders obscured anything from view until they were all well on top of it.

There was some worried chatter about the carriage giving away their location, so they camouflaged it with some of the giant black tumbleweeds that rolled across the plains.

Once they were all safely inside and the door shut, the Boss showed them around, though his den proved to be uncomfortably snug for them all. The ceilings hung quite low, so that Briar and Dax had to bend in half to fit. The coachman decided it was better to spend the night in the relative roominess of the carriage than to sleep with his limbs cramped. This left additional space for everyone else, for which Briar was grateful.

The den was a crudely hewn dugout. Dead black roots, left by whatever grew there before, decorated the unevenly formed walls. An ornately carved table with filigree touches and matching chairs, a few masterful works of art hanging on the crude walls, and a glittering gold candelabra, all the glorious remnants of previous heists, sat at one end of the room. The Boss and his posse seated themselves around the table, allowing Briar and the others to cozy up to the smallest fireplace Briar had ever seen, which had a miniature fire burning bundles of black offcuts and loose root fragments. On the floor before the fire was an embellished rug, plush, with fancy images woven into it, upon which they laid Sherman.

The Boss offered Briar and the others some flat brown bread that looked to Briar and Dax like pressed dirt. But they hadn't eaten since they left Myrtle, Poplar, and Ash at the birdhouse and they were starving. Leon unfortunately had, on instinct, snapped
up another insect that looked like a small black pellet that the Boss called a scatter bug. So now he was full—and nauseous all at once. Tarfeather was happy to scratch out a few choice stones from the walls and crunch on them.

They all sat in the dim flicker of the fire for a long time before the Boss spoke. “We didn't always live like this.” Briar had been looking down at Sherman, who shivered and twitched, and she was surprised when the Boss spoke. She did not respond, except to look up at him.

“No tellery this to Briar Blackwood,” Tarfeather said. He sounded cross. “Now why would you go and say such a terrible thing?” he asked in the voice of a black-and-white film ingénue.

The Boss then pulled one of several brown bottles from the roughly made shelves set in the wall just above the table. He uncorked it with his prominent buckteeth and spat it out onto the floor. “You gotta be kiddin' me. She doesn't already know?” he asked.

He took a big swig. He passed the bottle to Blessfang, who tried his best to imitate the Boss' manly swagger but couldn't hold on to the bottle with his hooves. Most of the distilled drink ended up soaking and staining his matted pelt.

“What don't I know?” Briar asked. The faces of the animal gang were somber and their eyes, full of old wounds.

“We once lived in a great wood that went from the Ice Cap Mountains to the Ink Sea. It was the greatest forest of the Realms,” the Boss said. He grabbed for the bottle and drank again. Dax looked at Leon who sat on the rug nearby Briar and he shrugged.

“Then why are you here in the Black Waste?” Briar asked.

“The woods were burned to the ground,” he said. He directed the statement to Tarfeather and squinted his pink rabbit eyes. “Only ashes and memories remain.” The room fell silent, save the spark and sputter of the burning roots. Transfixed by the thought, he gazed into the fireplace for some time before
continuing. “Orpion, of course.”

“That's…terrible,” Briar said.

“It was terrible,” the Boss shot back. It almost seemed like an accusation. But Briar couldn't understand it. He reached for a charred child's toy made of wood and metal that he kept near the bottles. “Everyone gone.” He wiped a tear away. “That is except for these mooks here.” He laughed bitterly and took another swig from the bottle.

“I'm so sorry,” Briar said. It was unfathomable, senseless really, that Orpion would burn her own world.

“Yeah, me too,” the Boss said. He looked down with his ears drooping.

Briar felt a surge of anger at the injustice. “Why would Orpion do such a thing?”

“That's the funny thing,” he said.

Tarfeather sprang up and landed in one bound on the table. “I say enoughery! No tellery more!”

Briar spoke to Tarfeather calmly. “I want to know.”

The dwaref hopped down from the table and lighted across the floor. Once he faced Briar, his eyeholes began to shed tears. Then he spoke in one of his television voices. “There's no one to blame, darling. There's just no one good to blame.”

“Go on,” Briar said to the Boss.

“Orpion came to burn down Blackwood Hall, which was hidden by charms in the deepest recesses of the forest,” he said. An uncomfortable silence filled the room. “But the story is that she couldn't find what she came lookin' for. So instead, she decided to scorch everything else.”

“You mean the Black Waste is what's left of the Black Woods?” Briar asked. She was hardly able to speak.

“My home,” the Boss said. “And theirs, too.” The bluebirds and the deer all looked down at the table; one of the birds spat upon the floor, hoping to avert further evil.

“She wants the twin kingdoms to herself. The Lady Orpion—
the selfish old cod,” Vilesight said. He held up one of his small talons. “I'd like a turn at her eyes.”

“That will be a pretty day,” Thrash replied.

“What two kingdoms? I thought Murbra Faire was the only kingdom of the Realms,” Briar said.

“Scarlocke, the Lady's palace, is its twin,” the Boss said. “Once, the two lived in peace. But a wickett who saw no use for the Grand Design, rose to power. Her magic was so great—her force was so dark that none could stop it, neither by magic nor by might. That was when once good Realmsmen abandoned their homes, as if under a spell, and went to serve the Dark Lady.”

“Wicketts?” Briar asked.

“They're bad. Real bad,” Blessfang said.

“And the Black Woods?” Briar asked. “Why would she destroy them if all she wanted was one hidden thing?”

“It is almost sixteen years to the day that she went looking for the hiding place of three dillywigs and a baby—the girl-child whom the Omens foretold would end her reign and destroy her.”

Briar couldn't swallow or breathe for a moment. It was she who had brought pain, horror and death to the Realms, not only for Thrash, Vilesight, and Blessfang, but for countless others whom she would never know.

“That's horrible. I…I don't know what to say,” Briar mumbled.

The Boss took several more swallows and then slammed the finished bottle on the table. He stared into its emptiness for a moment, looking for something that might make things right. “There's only one thing left for us to do,” he said. “Blessfang, bolt the door.”

The deer stood up with an angry scowl, knocking over his chair. He muscled his way past Briar and the others and put a wooden bar across the door. As he stomped past, Briar backed away and huddled with Dax and Tarfeather.

Leon hopped forward, forgetting his size. “Now wait a minute,” he said to the Boss. Trying his best to assert the tough-
guy demeanor that worked so well for him on the school campus wasn't working out so well in his present condition. “This is Briar, you guys. The girl from the Omens. You said so yourselves.”

The Boss sat in his chair and fixed his gaze upon the group of travelers. Briar couldn't read his rabbit face to understand what he might have planned. Then the Boss spoke. “That's why we're locking you in for your safety.”

“Huh?” Dax blurted out.

“Get a good night's sleep. And in the morning,” the Boss continued, “we will do whatever we can to help you.”

Briar let go of the breath she found herself holding. “Thank you,” she said.

“Nothing would please me more than to see the Lady Orpion's head stuck to the end of a sword,” said the Boss.

Chapter 24

Freezing winds howled across the great lonely plains all night, kicking up ashes, blowing them through all the crevices. The tiny fire had long since blown out. Briar huddled for warmth next to Sherman, who shuddered under the effects of the Dire Liquid. At times he shook with such violence that Briar wondered if maybe, by accident, Thrash and Vilesight had brought something poisonous to drip into his wounds.

Or, perhaps it was done intentionally, and considered kindness to give someone a swift death, rather than see them suffer. Briar knew as well as they that few could survive Sherman's deep wounds. But she pushed such thoughts from her mind as soon as they entered.

There was nothing to do, except try to stay warm and sleep. But it wasn't exactly relaxing to have Dax behind her, holding as tightly as he did. She wanted to see how Tarfeather and Leon had kept themselves warm, but she didn't want to wake either Sherman or Dax, so she just laid there with little bursts of shivering in the dusty draughts of icy desert air. Still, given enough hours and fatigue, Briar finally drifted off into a black dreamless state.

She was awakened by sharp morning light streaming through the door slats and striking her eyes. She no longer felt Dax behind her, so she luxuriated in a well-needed stretch and she turned her body. The den was cold and stale.

The fireplace smoldered and sputtered. Its root bundles had fallen into soft ash heaps around the tiny grating. Then Briar realized how still the place had become. Last night was all snorts and wheezing, and now it was as silent as an undiscovered pond. Except for the clicks of morning scatter bugs, which rhythmically crescendoed and fell in unison, as though a master insect directed their choir, the whole place had fallen to stillness.

She pushed herself up so that she could see what was happening. Everyone was gone. She felt a spasm of uneasiness, and she swallowed hard. Was Orpion just outside, waiting for her to exit—to assure a dramatic and grand finale? Had the Boss and his posse done away with everyone, leaving her as a bargaining tool? Myrtle did say that she would fetch a price at market. She felt her blood coursing, warming her face. Her mind began to race.

The door opened and sunlight flooded in, suddenly blinding her. She squinted until she could finally see the outline of a man. He stepped closer and then she could see him clearly.

It was Leon. He was transformed back. He stood there naked, though she could see no more than the silhouette of his musculature and his handsome smile. She blushed. It surprised her that, despite everything, she still felt an undeniable force of attraction to him. She tried not to look at his physique too closely. It felt immodest, but her eyes seemed to act of their own accord. He squatted down on brawny thighs and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

She spoke in a whisper, scarcely able to mask her complicated feelings. “What happened?” she asked.

“I don't know. Gelid died. Maybe when you killed her, you erased her magic,” he replied. Then he drew his face close to hers. “It doesn't matter how it happened.” She felt his warm breath on her. Then his nose touched her throat and lightly tickled the length of her neck.

Her heart quickened and swirled with a storm of emotion.

“Where are the others?” she asked.

He smiled and touched his nose to hers. “Away,” he said. Then very gently, like the wing of a moth, his lips touched hers. Her heart responded so fiercely that she thought he might feel it through her skin. She closed her eyes and he pressed his lips to her again.

When she opened her eyes, the room was filled with a gray
gritty light that filtered through the door planks. Leon was not crouching beside her. She was kissing nothing more than the foul morning stench of cinders and stale breath that filled the den.

Her heart ached and she clutched at her chest. It took her a few minutes before she could accept that it was only a dream. That was when she realized that Sherman was missing from his resting place. Dax hadn't moved a single muscle all night and was still gripping Briar from behind. Briar raised her head a bit and peered around the den.

The Boss and his posse were missing too. Then it occurred to her that Sherman might not have made it through the night, and that the Boss removed him to avoid Briar's upset, not to mention the stench of death.

Beginning to feel a strand of desperation arising within, she lifted up further and whispered to Dax. With a snort, he awakened. “Huh? What happened?” he asked.

Briar put a finger to her lips and pointed to where they had last seen Sherman. Dax made a face of disbelief and shrugged as if to say
where'd he go?
Then it clicked and he realized what Briar had thought: that Sherman had died and the forest creatures had taken him away. He tried not to show it on his face, not now.

But Dax's silence said it all. Briar drew herself into a ball, grabbing her knees tightly to her chest. Her eyes felt the sting of gathering tears and she wept silently.

Dax placed an arm around Briar's shoulders and scanned the room. He saw Tarfeather asleep near the fireplace, cradling Leon in his arms like a baby. Sherman was definitely gone.

The shabby little entrance opened. Briar and Dax looked up to see the silhouette of the Boss.

“You're finally awake,” he said. “It's well past half of the day.” Then he noticed Briar's distress. “Did Blessfang come in here already? I'm going to kill that idiot.”

Briar wiped her tears. “No one told us. You don't have to explain,” she said. She tightened her lips to put on a brave face.
“It would only feel worse if you did.”

By now, Tarfeather and Leon had awakened. “What's going on?” Leon asked.

“He's gone, he's gone,” Briar said, shaking her head, unable to refrain from a flood of tears.

“You shouldn't cry,” the Boss said. “We didn't want you to see him how he was. So we took him to the watering hole to clean his body first.”

“You told me that the Dire Liquid might not work,” Briar nodded. She wanted to sound like she understood and blamed no one.

“That's true,” he said. The Boss nodded, but had a look of confusion.

Tarfeather skittered over to Briar and hopped up on her shoulder. He petted her hair. “No worrily, Briar Blackwood. Tarfeather lead you to book. Tarfeather help you home.”

A second figure approached the doorway from behind the Boss and spoke. “Why is everyone crying?”

It was Sherman.

Briar jumped up and ran to the door. She hugged him tightly. Sherman winced and Briar noticed that he still wore a bandage around his mid-section. Dax joined Briar and they both hugged the fox.

“My goodness,” Sherman said. “Why all the fuss?”

Then Briar turned to the Boss angrily. “You said you took him to clean him up. I thought he was dead!”

“Now why would you think that?” the Boss asked. “I took him to the only watering hole in this stinkin' place so he could wash the blood off his coat. We can't have him travelin' with Briar of the Black Woods lookin' tattered and all.”

“Dry your tears, child,” Sherman said. “We have great lengths to travel, and our tasks are unfinished. Once you turn sixteen— well, I don't suppose I need to remind you…”

Sherman put a paw lightly on the key at Briar's throat. “But
we still have time on our side,” he said. Despite his surface optimism, darkness and worry filled his eyes. “Well then,” he announced, seeming to change the subject. “There's one more surprise.”

He limped outside holding a paw to his wounds. Then he turned back, gesturing for them all to follow. Once they stepped outside, Briar felt engulfed by the glare and the heat of the Black Waste at mid-day. It took some time for Briar's eyes to adjust, but once they did, she noticed Sherman gesturing toward the king's carriage. The tumbleweeds had been cleared away, and the coachman was seated in his usual place, whip at the ready. The shimmering black horses, now coated with dulling ashes, scuffed at the ground and snorted, ready to ride. The driver tipped his hat to Briar with a short smile.

Dax, Tarfeather, and Leon all crowded around Briar, trying to see why Sherman gestured to the carriage. Then, on the ridge above them, another horse reared back and landed. Then it galloped down to meet the group below, with a cloaked rider on its back. The rider stepped off and flung back his hood. It was Valrune.

Briar ran to him and flung her arms around his neck. The prince gave a wide smile and then wrapped his arms around her in return. “You couldn't very well leave with my boots,” he said.

Leon rolled his amphibious eyes. “Oh please,” he said.

“How did you find us?” Briar asked, flustered. This was truly a morning of surprises.

“Vilesight and Thrash spotted me riding horseback along the high road about a thousand-leg from here,” he said.

“What about your father? Is he safe?” Briar asked.

“I sent him to the Westwolf Wall at the far side of the palace,” Valrune said. “It was built to withstand intruders. He took all of his horses and all of his men. He shall be safe for now.”

“Thanks for the update chief,” Leon croaked. “We can take it from here.”

Valrune ignored him and spoke. “We have far to go yet, and half a day has gone. It is best that we ride now while the sun is high and the wicketts to their dwellings.”

The Boss and his posse helped Briar and the others into the carriage. Valrune mounted his black horse and he rode it beside the coachman. He gave Briar provisions of flat brown mud-bread and full bladders of water that he had drawn from the emberfilled watering hole. “To serve the great Briar Blackwood was to serve the Three Omens and the Realms,” he said. Then he hopped away and stood with his friends, watching with eyes of approval.

To Briar he looked so bleak standing there: his white fur contrasted against the dunes of coal black dust stretching endlessly to the horizon. She couldn't bear the thought of the Boss and his friends living in the filth and chars of the Black Waste. It was because of her that it happened in the first place and she wanted to set things straight, if she could.

“Can't you come with us?” she asked him.

“What? And leave this paradise?” He laughed a bit. “No, this is our home.”

“You could go where it was safer, to where there were better provisions.”

Now Blessfang, Thrash, and Vilesight joined in the laughter. “And where would you have us go, Briar of the Black Woods?” Vilesight said.

“Well, for one thing, you
could
go to the Westwolf Wall at Murbra Faire and watch over King Cole,” Briar replied.

Valrune nodded, realizing the wisdom of Briar's plan. “She's right. You could send Thrash or Vilesight to warn us at the Towery Flowery Hill should any harm come to the king or to Westwolf.”

The Boss just stared with his head cocked to one side, watching from only one of his eyes.

“In the meantime,” Valrune continued, “food and drink and
warm beds await you there. They are simple means, but you will be safe from the coming darkness that looms from Scarlocke.”

The Boss tilted his head some more and he twitched his nose.

Blessfang began to chew at the tips of his hooves. “I don't like darkness, Boss,” he said.

Valrune took off his royal ring and held it out to the Boss. “Take this as proof of our alliance. Give it to my father and he will honor my wishes. Take my horse as well.” The Boss looked at each member of his posse, and then he hopped to Valrune. With one leap he mounted the horse and swiped the ring from the prince's leather-gloved hand.

Sitting behind Valrune, the Boss examined the ring's pale gold sparkle in the sun. He nibbled it a bit. “I never say no to royal gold.”