Fractured Chronicles part 2 - Marrok

“Long live the King!” Marrok said,
throwing knife in hand. He stared at the wolf carved into the opposite wall.
The stained oak was heavily splintered from years of repeated target practice. In
the dim light of the tavern, the animal almost seemed to wink at him.
“Come on, Marrok.” Jack prompted. The
chance of losing a bet always made him anxious. Marrok ignored him, slowing
down his breathing as he focused in on the wolf’s eye. He flipped the blade so
the sharp tip balanced in between his fingertips.
“You never… rush…” Marrok took a
final deep breath before letting the knife fly. The sweet thud quieted the
entire room. “genius.”
Jack started to cheer.
“Not so fast,” Aiden Foster said. He
scowled his way over to the board, portly frame wobbling slightly as he moved.
“Well?” Humphrey Cole asked through
a mouthful of mince pie. “Did he do it?”
Julia, Jack’s younger sister,
scurried after the large man. She pushed against Aiden’s leg until he made room
for her.
“Dead center!” She had to stretch on her
tiptoes to reach the knife’s hilt. “He got the tip right in the pupil.” With a
sharp tug, the weapon wrenched free. She staggered back right into the
innkeeper. “Sorry, Master Peep.”
Julia ducked away, bringing Marrok back
his father’s knife. He tucked the dagger back into his belt. Taking his mother’s
gold scarf from the table, he wrapped it around Julia’s shoulders. She beamed.
“Can I use this to play Red Hood with
the others?” She pointed to a group of young children forming a ring around a
boy with a strip of cloth covering his eyes.
“It’s the wrong color.”
Her lower lip slid out in a pleading
pout.
Marrok chuckled. “Of course you can use
it. Just bring it back when you’re done.”
Julia wrapped her thin arms around his
waist before scampering off.
“Here’s your two-silver piece.” Jack
said. Behind him sat a very disgruntled Mr. Cole.
“I don’t see why we’re splitting this
evenly.” Marrok said, noting a silver coin in Jack’s hand. “I was the only one
risking anything.”
“If you’d lost, I would’ve stolen the
scarf back for you.”
The pair shared a grin.
Marrok glanced to the counter. A large
group of drunken townsmen hiccupped their way through an old shanty as their
wives gabbled throughout the room. Behind them, Beau Peep smoothly evaded their
grabbing hands, making sure each patron paid in full. She had beautiful long
blonde hair and warm brown eyes. Young and fresh, he happily watched her soft
frame swaying back and forth as she wiped the counter clean.
“If you ogle much longer,” Jack said,
“I’ll step in and take her off your hands.”
Marrok jabbed him in the side.
“Seriously though,” Jack continued,
“it’s like she’s turning you into her.” He grabbed a piece of Marrok’s black
hair. “You’ll have longer hair than her pretty soon. And the way you dress; a
man doesn’t need to wash his clothes every single day.”
Marrok rolled his eyes, “And you wonder
why you haven’t got a girl.” He slapped Jack’s hand away as he got to his feet.
“Don’t place any more bets without telling me first.”
“Aye, aye.” Jack gave a mock salute.
Marrok pushed past Aiden Foster when he
tried to protest for his money and strode right up to the bar. “I’ll have two
pints of your heavenly cider, Miss Peep.”
“What’s the second one for?”
“For you, of course.” Marrok took her
hand and kissed the back.
Beau flushed. She let her hand stay
in his for a moment before disappearing through the door to the kitchen. Marrok
grinned, looking back over to Jack and Julia. Julia stood at the center of the
children. His mother’s scarf was draped over her head and her eyes were
covered.
“Cloaked
in her crimson riding hood,” Jack said as he spun her around, “a girl skipped
carefree through the wood. And when she saw me standing near—” Jack jumped out
of the way as Julia ripped the cloth from her eyes.
“She
laughed and shot me in the rear.” The other children chimed in. Julia, wobbling
slightly on her feet, jumped the boy nearest her, tackling him to the ground.
“Not
fair!” Tom Avery protested as he squirmed under Julia’s hold. “I never last to
the end.” He was forced to the corner as the circle reformed without him and rhyme
began again.
“Marrok?”
He turned around. Beau held out a
tankard of fresh cider.
“A single copper for the two
ciders.” She said, leaning across the counter.
“Can I pay in kind?”
“With what?”
Marrok checked to ensure her father
wasn’t watching before he leaned in and kissed her. His hand moved up to the
back of her neck and she smiled against his lips.
“Now that’s how you kiss a girl.” One of the nearby men jeered to
another.
“Shut up, Angus.”
Marrok laughed and pulled away with
a wink. “Daniel’s got more kids than you do, Angus” he kept his eyes on Beau as
he spoke, “I’m sure he’s doing something right.”
The ensuing brag war between the two
men took the focus off of him and Beau.
“That was enough for one,” she said,
“but not both.”
He gave an exaggerated sigh as he
fished a half-copper from the pouch at his waist. Marrok took a deep drink from
the nutmeg infused cider.
“Sweet as always, Miss Peep.”
She looked pleased. “It’s all thanks
to the apples.”
“Indeed. I wonder where such
delicious apples came from. Surely, a very great and handsome man must’ve
hand-picked and inspected each and every one.”
“I hear he’s quite average,
actually.” Beau sipped her drink. “Homely, even, with hair like a girl. Hardly
ever leaves his uncle’s farm.”
Marrok wasn’t quite sure if he
should scowl or pout. His face must’ve been trapped halfway between the two
because she laughed.
“You always bring us the best
apples.” She kissed his cheek and his mood lightened. A door opened at the
front of the tavern, over Marrok’s left shoulder.
“I was thinking that tonight, we
could…” Marrok trailed off when Beau’s posture stiffened. All of the chattering
quieted to a simmer. Mothers gathered up the children from their game and from
the corner of his eye, Marrok saw Jack ushering Julia into a darker corner.
Marrok kept his back to the new
guests, hands wrapped tight enough around the tankard, he thought it might
break.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” Mr. Peep
said as he appraoched the newest guests. “Did you come here for a drink?”





(the first 1,000 words of Marrok's first chapter :) Long live the King!)

Crimson Order

Cloaked in her favorite riding hood

A girl skipped carefree through the wood

Coming with bright crimson flash

Trailed behind her paths of ash

And when she saw me standing near

She laughed and shot me in the rear

-- (upcoming) Fractured Chronicles, chapter 1

So, what do you think? ;)

Fractured Fairytale Part 1 (redone)

CASSANDRA

             Cassandra walked through the barren throne room. Her footsteps echoed against the stone walls as she approached the King’s seat; a grand chair carved from a single piece of white marble. The room shifted out of focus as the vision changed. Faceless guards filed in from the doors and another throne carved from ebony and lined with pale wolf fur appeared besides the King’s. Everything grew still. Cassandra weaved her way through the chain-mailed men. Only a raised pedestal separated her from the throne. 

            She turned back to look at them all and the room shifted back into sharp focus. Maliel rose up through the cracks of the stone like mercury, three swords strapped to his hips. Grey streaked through his black hair and his hunching shoulder betrayed his age. He took his place in the marble chair. Cassandra’s vision grew hazy for a moment as a woman entered the dream. Snow joined her father. Her blood red lips were split in a smile as she sat beside the King. She leaned in. Her wordless whispers filled the hall with noise.

            Even as Cassandra watched, Maliel greyed, his green eyes fading. Cassandra stumbled as the floor jumbled beneath her feet. Metal grew out of the armed men, encasing them into soldiers. Warriors carved from rocks out of the shattered cliffs lined the decorated walls. Maliel unsheathed two of his swords. Tapestries that bore the black wolf sigil of the king burst into flames. An angry snarling drowned out Snow’s whispers and for the first time, the princess looked up.

            At the opposite end of the hall, a shadowy wolf with piercing gold eyes prowled through the smoke of the burning fabric. The fire spread, licking its way up to the oaken beams of the roof. The King gave a sharp command and his soldiers rushed towards the creature. Flame engulfed the group, forcing Cassandra to look away from the brightness. When the fire began to die down, the wolf re-emerged. The tips of its fur smoldered as it stalked the King. More soldiers attacked but the fires claimed them all.

            The wolf stopped in front of the King, dropping down to his hind quarters as he waited. Cassandra moved to stand beside the animal as the rest of the hall burned to cinders. Maliel’s face continued to grow more gaunt until only his skeleton remained. Snow took the crown from her father’s head. The creature leapt up the pedestal but before he could reach the princess, she vanished, crown still in hand.

            Cassandra looked around at the hall. Stones cracked and walls crumbled. Tapestries turned to ash and the timbers supporting the roof gave way, falling down in massive chunks around her and the wolf. He shoved the skeleton Maliel out of the throne, climbing into the vacant seat to claim his prize. The crimson flames that tore through the throne room gave his fur a demonic glow.  Its gold eyes turned on her.

            Cassandra jolted out of the dream. The chains linking her to the wall rattled as she crawled over to her mirror. Her reflection blurred away as the vision replayed. She smiled when Maliel and Snow fell to the wolf.

“Long live the King.”

(this is my second draft of the story, it's going to be much better XD)

fairytale part 5

            Marrok’s hands clenched as the muffled shouts gnawed through his nerves. The breaking point of his frustration was nearing its limit when Pinocchio burst through the entrance, snow flurrying behind him. It was the first time that Marrok had ever seen any expression on the wooden man. Panic.

            “A woman in red is coming. Go!”

            Marrok floundered, unsure of where to turn. “Calith.” He gestured towards the door where the shouting abruptly came to a halt. Rumple’s bearded face poked out. Apparently he’d heard Pinocchio’s warning.

            “Rose get into the back,” he ordered, “take Marrok with you.”

            “Yes father.” Without hesitation, she grabbed him by the crook of his arm. Jerking Marrok away as though he were nothing but a rag doll, he could see Pinocchio returning to his post out in the cold.  

            “Where are we—“

            “Shh!” Rose yanked him into a miniaturized library, leaving the door just open enough so they could peek out and see the entrance. Marrok could see hems of a red cloak around black books. Pinocchio remained firmly in the way as Rumple rushed out to greet the unexpected guest.  Marrok shrunk further behind Rose. Would the wood man really be able to fight off an assassin of the king? All he ever did was sit out front.  

            “Let me in!” The woman’s voice made him shudder.

            Pinocchio didn’t respond but Rumple’s voice was pleasant and calm as he said, “My dear woman, I couldn’t imagine what we might have anything to offer you.”

            Marrok saw her boots trying to walk past the wood guard but Pinocchio didn’t budge an inch.

            “I won’t ask you again. Let me in!”

            Rumple must’ve gestured his welcome because the boots began stomping their way onto the stone floor. Clumps of half-melted snow fell to the ground.  

            “This way.” Rose said as she slipped over towards the bookshelves in the darkest corner of the room. As the sounds of the boots and the blonde’s shrill voice grew louder, Rose’s fingers scrambled to reach a book on the top shelf.

            “Which one?” Marrok asked. She pointed to a muted yellow volume slightly off center. A soft metallic click caught his attention when he shifted the book out of place. The entire wall moaned before cracking open the width of a hand. It was too dark for Marrok to see what was inside but he thought he saw something move.

“Hurry.”

            Marrok’s upper lip curled as he stepped into the dark passage. Something under his foot gave a loud squish. He made the mistake of reaching out for a nearby wall to give him something to hold to. Slime coated his hand. It smelled like rotten eggs and pus. Certain that he’d rather face a thousand assassins before remaining in that disgusting room, he tried to push his way out. Rose shoved him back.

            “Quiet!” She hissed. Marrok shook his hand to try and get the stuff off him, determined not to lose any of his lunch along the way.

Rose latched onto the handle on the back of the shelves, tugging it back into place. A mere sliver of light came in from the left side. She pressed herself up against the wall, eyes closed. Marrok could only just see her outline in the nearly black room. Unable to shake the sludge from his skin, he relented by wiping his hand off on his pant leg before joining Rose her at the door. The voices on the other side sounded like whispers.

            “If you tell me what you’re looking for,” Rumple said, “I might be able to help you find it.”

            The woman muttered something back that Marrok couldn’t hear but the tone held a threat. He glanced to Rose, wondering if she and her father would really protect him. He didn’t even think that he’d be able to blame them if they did turn him over. He was nothing but a stranger to them. A farmer boy. “Rose,” maybe he could convince them just to keep Calith safe, “Rose, I—”  

            “Shh!” she clamped a hand over his mouth.

            The voices grew louder and Marrok’s heartbeat pounded at his ears.

            When the woman spoke again, he could hear, “The king doesn’t like it when people leave his service, Stiltskin. Especially not when they take things from him.”

            “He threw Pinocchio away. I didn’t know it was a crime to clear out garbage.”

            “Are you sure that’s all you took when you left?”

            “Absolutely.”

            The floorboards creaked in the next room and Marrok could hear the click-tap of heeled boots. He stopped breathing altogether when he heard the boot falls stop. She was right in front of them. Her body blocked the last of the light making him blind.  

            Everything stopped.

            Marrok could hear the books on the other side of the wall being shuffled around. He felt his very heart begin to slow and Rose’s grip tightened so much he felt she’d pull his bottom jaw right off. Sweat dripped down his back and his head grew dizzy.

            “If you’re quite done looking through my things,” Rumple’s voice broke the void and Marrok felt his lungs fill again, “I need to get things ready before winter settles in. And I’m sure your King is missing your.”

            A scoff. “A pleasure as always, Stiltskin.”

            Rose’s grip on Marrok’s face loosened when the click-tap became too distant to hear. The tense muscles in his body all relaxed at once and he crumpled to the ground. He couldn’t even bring himself to care when something wet began to seep through his pants.

            “Is she gone?” Marrok asked.

            “I’m not sure. They’ll let us out when it’s safe again.”

            “Why did you come in with me?”

            “Someone had to make sure that you didn’t do anything stupid.” He thought he could see the outline of a smile.

            Rolling his eyes, Marrok got back on his feet, shaking off the rest of his nerves. A book shuffled the shelves before light flooded the small passage. Marrok sucked in the fresher air, eyes adjusting to the brightness.

fairy tale part 4

            Marrok rested his head on the oak table. The candles beside him sputtered. Even behind the thick oak door, he could hear Rumple and Calith shouting at each other. With an annoyed sigh, Marrok ran a finger along Ella’s soft pink ribbon. It was a plain strip of cloth. It even frayed around the edges and yet he felt a strong desire to keep it close. With a sigh, he tied in to the inside of his shirt.

            Marrok’s eyes wandered around the shop before stopping at the book shelves that were inlaid into the furthest stone walls. Taking the candle, he held it up to the titles of the leather bound volumes. Faded gold engravings barely stood out against the polished leather. His eyes narrowed as he leaned in closer, trying to read a few. Many of them bore symbols he couldn’t recognize so he picked the one that seemed the least aged.

            Pushing the trinkets aside on the nearby table, he flopped the book down. The pages were creased and worn around the edges but the text was sharp and clear. His fingers traced around the circular symbols and they reminded him of the patterned etchings in the lamp Ella had given them several days before. The symbols weaved into each other endlessly and Marrok moved in closer almost believing that he would be able to read it if he stared at it for long enough.

            A dull pain began to form in his forehead and he gave up, moving onto the elaborate drawings that filled the book. Pictures of men turning into animals, ghostly images of the dead, apples with the image of skulls and-

            Marrok stopped as he looked at the image of a lantern. It had to be the same one. Distracted from the book by the thoughts of the lantern, Marrok took his uncle’s bag and rifled through it. His hand brushed along the cool metal and glass before pulling it out. He blinked, unsure if it was the same lantern from before. Instead of the black glass and gold runes the metal framework was pure silver. The glass was clear as water and the now silver runes glowed, lighting up the dim room until it felt like shone like the sun on a harvesting day. Shaking his head, he stuck his hand back inside the bag to try and find the black lantern but his hand found nothing but clothing and old bread crumbs.

            Marrok turned the lantern over in his hands. It responded to his touch. The glow burned, forcing him to look away. He watched as the light spread as if it were a living being driving out the shadows.

            “Having fun?”

            Marrok jumped at the voice. The lantern slipped from his hands. It fell onto the stone floor with a soft thunk. He cringed at the sound, scooping it up to survey the damage. There was none. No cracks or dents or scrapes. The light dimmed to a jovial glow as Rose approached.

            “Do you approve? Father wanted to send the gold sword as a gift but I thought it would attract too much unwanted attention.”

            “It’s,” Marrok trailed off, looking for the right word, “interesting.”

            Rose took it from him, running her fingers along the symbols. “Would you like to know what it says?” she gestured to the opened page.

Marrok nodded, “Please.”

“It turns black when your enemies are nearby.” She sat down and tugged him over to sit beside her, “It helps to hide you. Silver means you’re safe.” She pointed to a specific line in the book, though it could’ve said anything, “The lantern will help shield you from unwanted eyes,” she laughed, “supposedly, anyways.”

            Enemies. The woman in the red cloak with golden hair. A woman he had never known or harmed. Crimson Order. The two words rang in his head like the bell toll summoning the dead. How far would he have to run before he was free of them?

 “Is everything here like this?” Marrok asked. A man made of wood, a sword that could slice through stone and now a magic lamp. “I mean, what is it that you do up here?”

            “My father’s training me to take his place as an alchemist. The things that you see here,” Rose said, gesturing around to the numerous shelves and tables. “are just part of his private collection.”

            Marrok blinked. “You make gold?” Traveling entertainers would often pass through his village, claiming to have magical abilities but their secrets were always mere tricks in the end.

             “My father does,” Rose looked away, seeming bothered by the question, “but not very often.”

            “Then why stay up here?” His thoughts began to drift back to the life of luxury he had once envisioned for himself. With women. Lots of women. His attention was called back when her slender fingers ran along a gold chain around her neck. A red stone dangled at the end. The light of the lantern didn’t reflect like it would with a ruby. If anything, the rock seemed to be dimming everything else around it as though taking in the light itself. Marrok wet his lips as he moved closer to the stone. A strong desire to take it boiled up within him.

            “We like our privacy.” Rose said. She stared at him before tucking the strange necklace down her shirt and shifting away. “Don’t you?”

             “Not really.” Marrok grinned. The desire broke as suddenly as it had come, “If I had an endless fortune, I’d be far, far away from here.”

            She rolled her eyes and glanced back to the other room where the two were still arguing like old widows who each declared their grandchild to be the best. Marrok couldn’t make out the words but the frustrated tone set his teeth on edge.

Fairy tale_ part 3 _edit

(I ended up changing a lot. But since I don't wnat to go back and edit the last document, here's simply the new version! Only the last 1,000 words of part three :) )

            Marrok shrugged off his uncle’s arm. He didn’t need protection. “Tell me what’s going on.” He stepped forward. Marrok could feel the eyes of everyone in the room glued to the back of his head but he didn’t care. “Well?”

The two men exchanged glances but remained silent. His uncle wouldn’t look him in the face and Rumple seemed to be waiting for someone else to speak first.

            “You’re—” Rumple started when Calith took a sudden step forward. Rumple sighed but continued anyways, “Your uncle and I had a pleasant chat earlier. About you, actually. What do you know about our most beloved king?”

            “Just the normal things.”

            “Enlighten me.”

            Marrok shifted under the man’s stare. It made him feel as though the very world itself would crack if he didn’t tell the truth.

            “He’s been on the throne for over twenty years. He has a daughter named Snow.” Marrok’s mind began to turn black under the man’s gaze and he struggled to piece together the scraps of news he’d heard over the years. “T-they say his wife’s mad and he keeps her locked in one of the dungeons.”

            “And?” Rumple’s voice was soft but Marrok felt an underlying threat that made his spine tingle.”

            Marrok glanced around the room, eyes falling on Ella. She was smirking. Her lips moved and he stared at the shapes they took. Border wars.

            “And he has treaties with two neighboring kingdoms but there are rumors he’s mounting an army to fight for more land to harvest food on.”

            Ella gave him a wink and Rumple gave an approving nod.

            “Not bad,” Rose said, “I didn’t think that news traveled to the farming province.”

            “We might not get a lot of information back at our farms,” Calith said, “but we’re still able to know what’s going on in the world around us.”

            Rose flinched at his harsh tone, “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

            “He knows,” Rumple patted his daughter’s shoulder, “He’s just a being sensitive. He always gets grumpy and defensive when he thinks someone is looking down their nose at him. He was the same way even as a young boy.”

            Calith flushed, grumbling as he hobbled away to peruse some of the trinkets on the nearby table. 

            “It’s my turn to ask a few questions.” Marrok looked between the four of them, wondering which one would be able to give him the information he wanted. Calith never gave him a straight answer to anything, Rose seemed consumed with her books and experiments and Rumple’s cracked tooth grin made his spine shudder. Marrok’s eyes fell on Ella. “The woman in red back at Grimm Tavern. I don’t understand why everyone seemed so afraid of her.”

            Rumple opened his mouth to answer but Ella cut him off, “She’s an assassin.”

            “What?”

            “One of the King’s personally trained Crimson Order girls. It’s rare to see one of them outside the Capital. And people generally don’t like to talk about them.”

            “Aren’t trained killers supposed to be all secretive and wear black?”

            Rumple opened his mouth again but Ella continued, “They don’t always wear the cloaks. The red serves as a warning sign so that others won’t get in the way.”

            “And this woman was after me?”

            “Yes.”

            “Why?”

            “Because you look too much like the King.” Rumple said.

            “That’s it?!”

            “Not quite.” Rumple’s smile made Marrok’s stomach clench with nerves, “Do you know what the King did to his own brothers when they tried to challenge his right to rule the entire kingdom alone?”

            “He killed them.” It was the reason why no one ever dared to fight back against him. A man who would slaughter his own family was not someone who you wanted to anger. “What does that have to do with me?”

            “Because the youngest child, the old King’s bastard, was still in the mother’s womb at the time of the massacre. Rumors say 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.” Rumple glanced over to Calith before his smile grew. “And the King thinks so too.

He’s had six children killed for the same reason over the years. At least, those are the ones that I’ve heard about.”

            An uneasy silence permeated through the room. Marrok moved over to sit beside his uncle, tucking his hands into his lap. “They’ll kill me if they find me.”

            “Or worse,” Ella said.

            Rumple waved his hand in the air as if to dispel the gloomy atmosphere. “There’s no need to look as though you’ve already died, Master Marrok. They haven’t caught you yet and they’re not going to. Your uncle and I were talking earlier about what we can do to keep you from being found. I’d like to send you to a group of people called the Hanaar. They could smuggle you out through Gimcrack city.”

            “No!” Calith slammed his fist against the table and the arranged bottles shuddered, “They’ll use him as a figurehead to try and gain more supporters. The only thing that those idiots are good for is getting themselves killed.”

            “You don’t know everything that they’ve been doing these past few years.” Rumple closed the two distance and the men began bickering like two old widows arguing over which grandchild was the best.

            Rose rolled her eyes, stomping off to join Pinocchio who was monitoring her foaming experiment.

            Marrok attempted to listen in on the conversation but the two men kept the debate to harsh whispers and table thumping.

            “Come on,” Ella took him by the arm and pulled him towards the entrance of the shop. “It can’t be an easy thing to hear, people wanting you dead when you’ve done nothing wrong.”

            There was such a sympathetic sadness in her eyes that Marrok wondered if she knew what it felt like to know that someone wanted you dead.

            “I know that Stiltskin can appear to be mad but he knows everything about everything. Trust him and he’ll make sure you get through this. Having him as my ally has saved my life more than once.”

            “I’ll try my best,” Marrok smiled. Something about her made his entire body relax. He frowned when she looked away. He followed her gaze outside where small flurries of snow began to blanket the entry way. “Is something wrong?”

            “I’ve already stayed too long. Soon, the snow will have you trapped up here. I have to leave before that happens.”

            Marrok noticed her bag was in the corner behind her and she still wore the frayed traveling cloak. Despite the great annoying factor of her personality, she’d been rather decent to talk to these past couple days. He didn’t want her to leave.

“Why did you help-” he stopped just short of saying ‘me’ “-my uncle? If what you said about the woman is true, you risked your life for two strangers.”

            “It was just your uncle I helped?” She smiled but made no comment as for the rest.

            “Of course. I knew exactly what I was doing. But, why?”

            “I told you. I owe Stiltskin my life. I was merely repaying my debts.” 

            Marrok knew she was lying by the way she looked away. 

“If Calith ever needs help again, send this to the capital city,” From the bag behind her, 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.

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.