Thursday, February 16, 2012

Twisted fairytale part 3

Chapter 6

            Marrok’s eyes were fixed on the sleeping woman. She became another piece in the bizarre puzzle that was his life. Inching closer, he leaned in to study her. The scars he’d noticed in the bar were old and faded. She was probably only eight years old when her hands had been burned. He moved closer. A fresher set of marks traveled up her right arm and disappeared beneath her clothes. Everything else about her was soft and polished; clean fingernails, clear skin, her clothing was sturdy and too perfectly tailored. She was a woman of wealth and means. So why was she here helping them?

            He sniffed. She smelled like fire and cinnamon. Only a few inches away now, he reached out and brushed some of her auburn hair from her face. There was a thin, white scar across her forehead. He ran a finger along the mark before something pressed up against his thigh. She held him at knifepoint.

            “I wonder what you would sound like as a soprano.” Ella said. Her eyes were still closed.

            “Won’t do it again!” Marrok jumped back, scrambling around until the smoldering remains of the Ella’s night fire became a barrier between them.  

            She tucked the knife away, finally sitting up to face him. Her eyes narrowed and he felt as though she were trying to find some great meaning in his face.

            “What is it?” Marrok asked.

            Ella remained silent for a more before saying, “You really do look a lot like him. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost think…” her voice trailed off.

            Marrok glanced about to make sure that Calith wouldn’t be able to swoop in and interrupt the conversation again. “Almost think what?”

            “Nothing.” Ella’s jaw gave an audible snap when it closed, “I only know what Rumple told me.” She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes wouldn’t meet his own. She was lying.

            “Fine.” Marrok said, kicking dirt into the dying fire. He kicked a little too hard and a fine mist of ash and dust sprayed on her. With a mumbled apology, he snatched up his bag. “We should leave now. If you’ve had enough beauty rest, that is.”

            Ella said nothing as she dusted herself off. “How could anyone rest with you snoring in their ear the whole night through?”

            “I do not snore!”

            “Sounded like a cat choking on a hairball.”

            “I did not!”

            “Thought my ears were going to start bleeding.”

            “Enough.” Calith said when Marrok opened his mouth to retort. The old man appeared thoroughly annoyed as he hobbled towards the pair with his walking stick. “Ella, would you kindly show us which direction to go next?”

            “Of course.” She came over to his side with a smile “We’re only a couple hours’ hike from the entrance.”

            Marrok muttered the foulest curses he knew upon Ella as she and Calith laughed their way up the up the winding path.


vvv
 

            “This is it?!” Marrok could feel his eye twitch as he took in the sight of the ‘shop’ set into the mountain. Calling it a hovel would’ve been an insult to hovels everywhere. The thatch roof was caving in under its own weight and it seemed to be held together with nothing more than string. In front, a lopsided figure wrapped in musty rags sat with a small bowl in its lap.

            Ella smiled. “Don’t worry.” She said, pulling out Calith’s sash. Marrok felt a lingering sense of loss to see the once beautiful gold cloth reduced to its charcoal black state. Approaching the beggar, she placed the silk within his bowl.

            The figure jerked into an upright position. “We did not expect you to return so soon.” It looked up and Marrok could see it was a man—or rather, it was shaped like a man. His right arm was missing and the brown skin of his face held an unnatural shine. Marrok blinked and the man was on his feet, walking into the shack. Ella wrapped her arm around Calith as she helped him inside, Marrok trailing behind the others.

            His jaw dropped at the great cavern inside. The dirt floor quickly turned to stone as the majority of the shop had been carved right from the rock face. Tables scattered throughout the room were filled with bubbling liquids and bottled herbs. It smelled like fruit just about to spoil.

            “Calith? How are you still alive?” A tall man with shaggy brown hair and a cracked front tooth rushed forward, embracing him. “It’s good to see you, old friend.” They clasped each other on the shoulders like two men would after facing hell together. “Make yourselves at home.” He said to Marrok and Ella before leading Calith off to a more private corner.

            Marrok moved to follow but was held back by the man in rags. “Rumple has been waiting a very long time for this. We will not interrupt.”

            “Fine.” Marrok said, loosening himself from the man’s grip. His eyes narrowed when he saw a glint of metal beneath the soiled clothes. “Do you always wear that?”

            “Rumple says they make for a good disguise.”

            “Uh huh.” Marrok said. “If you say so.”

            “I do not. Rumple does.”

            Marrok opened his mouth to explain but Ella came over before he could.

            “Trust me,” she told Marrok as she pulled him away, “You’re going to regret it later if you get into a debate with him.”

            “Why is he like that?” He watched the strange man, looking for clues as to his odd behavior. He stood unnaturally straight and his movements were sharp and sudden. The man reminded Marrok of wooden puppets he used to see in the village festivals. The texture of his skin, the way he moved and even his smell was… inhuman.

            Ella laughed. “He can’t help it,” she said as she ran her fingers through all the trinkets and ribbons that dropped down from the ceiling, “He’s made of wood. Well, except for the bits that Rumple had to replace.”

            Marrok frowned, leaning against the nearest table. He remembered the stories Calith used to tell him as a boy about the old days when magic roamed free. Creatures full of power, sorcerers and enchanted forests had built Shalaren  into existence. According to his uncle, magic grew tired of being used and fled beyond the great sea and shattered cliffs. Only faint traces were left behind. But to have a man that moved and talked be made of wood—that couldn’t be real.

            “How does it work?” Marrok turned to Ella but she was already at the other end of the room.

            “How does what work?”       

            Marrok’s neck craned around to the stranger’s voice. A young woman’s face was framed with jet black hair that draped all the way down to the small of her back. Rosy cheeks were set against the most amazing eyes he’d ever seen. They were pink. All of his thoughts about the wooden man leaked out the back of his head as he stared. “Huh?”

            “You asked, ‘how does that work’?” She smiled and Marrok’s knees buckled. He used the table behind him for support.

            “I- well- umm.” He shook his head. She dressed in brown leathers that flattered her curves to a highly noticeable degree. “I don’t remember.” His eyes darted her over, trying to understand how someone like her could end up tucked away in the mountains. First Ella with her knives and fire and now this leathered beauty with impossibly pink eyes. Were all women so interesting? Marrok blinked, remembering part of what Ella had said back at Grimm Tavern. “You’re Rumple Stiltskin’s daughter? Really?”

            “Is it really so surprising?” She laughed and took a step closer to him. She smelled like roses. “Rose.” She said, holding out her hand to him.

            “Sorry?” He mumbled out.

            “My name.” Rose laughed and reached out to take his hand herself. She shook it twice like a man. “I hope Pinocchio was polite.”

            “You mean the wooden man?”

            Rose laughed again. “Yes, him.”

            “How does he move about? And speak?”

            She shrugged, moving over to one of the bubbling brews. She poured in powder and the green liquid turned to yellow foam. “I’ve never met Pin’s creator. Father says that he called back a soul from beyond the grave and sealed it into the wooden body.” She shook her head. “I think Pin’s soul comes from the tree he was carved out of. The forests used to be full of magic.”

            Marrok frowned, suddenly longing to return home to his green fields where the most perplexing thing was the girls. He tried to ask another question but Rose was already captivated by her tinkering. Leaving her be, he drifted further into the ‘shop’. The further back he went, the experiments were replaced by ancient looking objects stacked neatly in rows. Swords, jewels, lamps, carpets and what seemed to be a giant’s eye floating in a jar. Marrok’s stomach churned when he thought he saw it move.

            “Have you found anything you like?”

            Marrok turned around, surprised to see the scraggly man again. “I thought that you were speaking with Calith.”

            Rumple waved his hand as he approached. “I’m afraid that we’re already come to a disagreement on what our next move should make. We decided to have a short break before we throttled one another.” He laughed softly as he came up to Marrok’s side.

            “How do you know my uncle?”

            “I knew him when he was very young.” His smile grew when Marrok frowned. “I’m much older than I appear to be, Master Marrok.” He sat down on one of the tables, picking up a golden sword. He held it out.

            Marrok ran his fingers along the smooth edge of the blade. No nicks or imperfections marred the surface. It even seemed to glow when he touched it.

            “Go on.” Rumple encouraged.

            Marrok hesitated for a second longer before curling his fingers around the hilt. He could barely feel the weight of the blade in his hand. Bringing it up to the light of the nearest lantern, he admired the engraved horses that ran along the length of the metal.

            “Wait a moment.” Rumple said as he cleared the nearest table, “Try it out.”

            Marrok brandished the golden blade several times before swinging it down like an ax. The table splintered in half and the sword embedded itself several inches into the rock floor.

            Rumple laughed when Marrok jumped back. With a sharp tug, he pulled the sword out, setting it place onto the shelf. “Have you ever held a sword before, Master Marrok?”

            “No.” He swallowed hard, trying to get the erratic beating of his heart to calm. “But I’ve seen men use them and swords are not supposed to be able to do that.” He moved away from the gold weapon, eyes narrowing. Gold was soft and malleable but it had cut through solid rock. He rubbed at his temples as a sharp pain blazed across his forehead. All the rules that he governed how the world worked; all the things he knew and believed were being rewritten. “Why do you keep things like that around? What if Pino-choke started swinging it about? He could kill your daughter.”

            Rumple only smiled as he shoved what was left of the table up against the wall. “Pinocchio wouldn’t need a sword to do that. And as you pointed out, swords aren’t supposed to be able to do that.” He picked up the weapon and held it back out to Marrok, “Take it as a gift. It’ll be come in handy more often than you think.”

            “Stop trying to give him things he doesn’t need.” Calith said. His movements were smoother than before and he appeared ten years younger than when they first arrived. “It’s not like you to be so giving.”

            “Maybe I’m just becoming generous in my old age.” Rumple’s grin showed off his cracked tooth and Marrok frowned. He doubted the shaggy man had reached forty.

            Calith gave a short bark of a laugh. “The mountains would crumbled and the seas would dry up long before I believed that.” He wrapped his arm around Marrok’s shoulders. “We already talked about this.”

            “And you were wrong.” Rumple said with a pleasant smile. “It wouldn’t be the first time that you chose the wrong side and it certainly won’t be the last.”

            Marrok shrugged off his uncle’s arm. “Tell me what’s going on.” He stood between the two men. They exchanged glances but said nothing. “Well?” He demanded. His uncle wouldn’t look him in the face. Marrok couldn’t understand what he had to hide.

            “You’re—” Rumple started when Calith took a sudden step forward. Rumple sighed, crossing his arms over his chest before he continued, “Your uncle and I had a pleasant chat earlier. About you, actually. The thing is, Master Marrok, you look alarmingly similar to our most hated and detested King. Do you know what he did to his family before taking the throne?”

            “He killed them.” It was the reason the other kingdoms had left Maliel unchallenged as his hold spread beyond his domain. A King who could kill his own family so easily was not a man you wanted to anger.

            “Good lad.” Rumple smiled. “Well, you see, the youngest child, the old King’s bastard was still in the mother’s womb. Rumors have always said that she fled the castle with several members of the royal guard. None of them were ever heard of again. Some say that she died before giving birth. I think she lived.” He glanced over to Calith before letting out a deep sigh.

            Marrok shook his head. “You’re wrong.” He had to be. “My father was a farmer and his father was a farmer. My family has always lived there.”

            Rumple laughed. “I didn’t say the child was you.” His arms wrapped around his stomach and tears leaked from his eyes as he laughed.

            “Pull it together, man.” Calith muttered as he walked around to face Marrok. “If anyone thinks it’s you, then the King will do everything he can to get rid of you.”

            “Which is exactly why he should join the Hanaar[SAB2] . They can protect him.”

            “I won’t have him live the rest of his life as a figurehead. The only thing those rebel fools are good at is getting themselves killed!”

            Marrok didn’t wait for them to finish the argument. Slipping out, he headed back towards the front of the strange cave shop. “Ella!” He caught up to the redhead at the shack entrance “Are you leaving?” Despite the great annoying factor of her personality, she was rather decent to talk to.

            “I’ve already stayed too long.” Ella paused at the door, “I heard the two of them going at each other earlier. I know that Stiltskin seems mad but he knows everything about everything. If he gives you anything or sends you anywhere, follow him without question.” Her tense stance suddenly relaxed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to order you around. I’m sure that you’ve had enough of that to fill a lifetime already. But having him as my ally has saved my life more than once.”

            Marrok nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”  He grabbed her arm when she stepped out the door. “I— thanks. For, you know, saving Calith’s life back at the tavern.”

            “Not yours?”

            “No. I knew exactly what I was doing.”

            Ella chuckled, “Of course.” She pealed his hand off one finger at a time. The brief softness in her eyes died. “If Calith ever needs help again, send this to the capital city,” From the satchel at her hip, she drew out a small strip of pink silk. Her fingers caressed along the fabric before she held it out, “I’ll find you. No matter what.”

            He frowned, looking it over in his fingers. It smelled like cinnamon. Tying it to the inside of his shirt so he wouldn’t lose it, he looked up to thank her. She was already gone.