Red (13 page)

Rubald and I sat in silence for a while as Rumelda went about readying herself for bed. Eventually he spoke in a thoughtful voice.

“Death can be a hard thing, even for dwarves,” said Rubald. “When a young dwarf dies, even at a hundred years, we mourn greatly.” He looked at Borlen as he spoke, and sighed. “I suppose I can empathize with your quest, though we dwarves have a saying: ‘Let the rocks fall where they may.' It means sometimes we must allow things to happen as they will.”

“And sometimes we have to fix things,” I said. “Sometimes we have to stop bad things from happening.”

“We are both right,” said Rubald. “The true wisdom lies in knowing what we can fix and when we must let go.”

I didn't have the energy to respond. All I knew was that I couldn't give up. Granny wasn't a rock that I could toss aside. She was a precious gem to me, like a ruby to a dwarf, one that I needed very badly.

I lay down next to Wolf and curled my head in the crook of his stomach. He placed a paw on my shoulder.

“Good night, Wolf,” I whispered.

Wolf's ears twitched a little, and I felt his contentment. It washed through me, loosened all the knots inside my head, and I fell into a soft, restful slumber.

Hours later, I was kicked awake by Borlen. “It's time to go,” he growled.

I yawned and stretched and so did Wolf. Goldie was still asleep and snoring in Borlen's bed, something that seemed to be causing him no small amount of distress. He poked and prodded her and even yanked her curls, then finally tugged at her shawl until she tumbled to the floor.

Goldie's eyes fluttered open. She sat up and stretched. “I've never slept so well in all my life,” she declared.

Borlen grumbled and crunched on a few emeralds. Rumelda had prepared more strolg for the rest of us. I drank it down quickly and thanked her and Rubald for their kindness.

“You are welcome here,” said Rumelda. “Even if you don't take Borlen by the beard—though it serves him right, always going to the surface.”

Borlen took us back through the cave tunnels with a fresh lantern, and in less than an hour we had emerged aboveground. The sun was just rising, and after spending so many hours in the dim caves, I had to shield my eyes against the brightness.

“We're not far from the castle,” said Borlen. “It's just down this stream and past those hills.”

As we walked along the stream, Goldie and I washed the dust and grime off ourselves as best we could. Wolf rolled around in the water until he was black again, then shook his fur so it splattered all over Borlen.

“Filthy mongrel!” grunted Borlen, though I secretly suspected he'd grown fond of Wolf.

We came to a steep hill. The stream disappeared into a tunnel, and we walked up the hill. We reached the top and saw that a valley lay below. The stream trickled out into a shining lake, and on the other side of the lake was a castle. The morning mist hung thick in the little valley below, with the castle towers and turrets peeping through like they were rising out of a cloud.

“There is your enchanted castle,” said Borlen.

“Oh, how glorious!” said Goldie. “Wouldn't you like to live there, Red? We could be queens!”

“Thank you, Borlen,” I said. “You've been very kind.” Borlen raised an eyebrow and turned to leave.

“Wait,” I said.

“Another demand?” he asked coolly.

I pulled out my ring and yanked it from the chain about my neck. I instantly felt a weight being lifted.

“Here.” I placed the ruby ring in Borlen's hand. “This is for you.”

He stared at it. His beard twitched. “But…this is very valuable to you.”

“It's a silly thing…humans wearing rocks when there are those who could eat them.”

“Yes, very foolish.” Borlen gave me a smile, one that was warm and kind instead of sharp and sinister. He tucked the ring inside his pocket, not his pouch. I had a feeling he wouldn't eat it.

“Good luck with your enchanted castle and roses,” said Borlen.

“Take care of your beard,” I said.

Borlen bowed respectfully to us, and then he went back down the hill while Goldie, Wolf, and I went down the opposite side, toward the enchanted castle.

The mist surrounding the castle was so thick I could barely see Wolf walking in front of me, but I could smell the roses. The air was drenched with their perfume. You could taste it when you breathed.

The castle was surrounded by a stone wall with heavy iron gates overgrown with thorny vines. They opened as we approached.

“That's friendly,” said Goldie.

“Creepy, more like,” I said.

Wolf growled. He felt threatened.

We walked through the gates and entered a garden smothered in roses. Drowning in roses. Creamy white, butter yellow, perfect pink, and dusky lavender. They grew around statues and stone benches, cascaded over bridges and trellises, and climbed the castle walls.

Goldie sniffed each blossom she passed. “Such lovely roses! I could take a bouquet of these to Mummy and she'd be overcome with love.” Goldie sniffed and sniffed until I was certain she was intoxicated.

I saw no Red Roses, but that wasn't surprising. Magic roses wouldn't be sitting in plain sight, and they'd likely be protected. Granny protected her garden from pests with a repellent spell. She called it a respellent.

Respellent

Crawly critters of The Woods

Keep out of my garden goods

Do not try to nosh and nibble

Lest we have a little quibble

If any creature did try to nosh or nibble, the magic prevented them from eating for at least a full day. A squirrel's teeth would grow too big for its mouth. If a worm or caterpillar managed to creep into an apple, the bug would swell up so big it couldn't get out, and if a beetle landed on a cabbage or tomato, its head would pop into its body like a turtle's.

I pulled the hood of my cloak over my head, hoping I'd never have to find out what it feels like to have your head pop outside in.

I left Goldie to her sniffing and walked toward the center of the garden, closer to the castle. It was a grand and imposing thing, bigger than the castle in The Kingdom, and hewn out of smooth stone. The towers and ledges were adorned with ruby-eyed gargoyles. Wolf growled.
Danger.

“They're stone,” I said, but I gathered my cloak tighter still, trying to shield myself from a sudden chill.

We went through a maze of roses. Pale peach, deep violet, white with pink tips, and yellow with orange tips. There were even blue roses, but no red ones.

After a time, we came to a tall hedge that grew in a circular fashion, the vines and branches so closely knit you couldn't see a single thing beyond them. We walked all around it. There was no opening. I got down on my hands and knees and wiggled between the thorny branches just enough to see a flash of red. My heart leapt.

“They're here,” I whispered. “Wolf, help me dig a hole to get through.”

Wolf whimpered, backing away. He didn't like thorns.

“Don't be a 'fraidy wolf,” I said, but he wouldn't help me. “Fine, I'll do it myself.” I steeled my nerves and went to war with the roses. They put up a good fight, scratching my face and hands, snagging my cloak, but I fought back. I tore my way through until I tumbled out the other side of the bushes and landed on all fours. Wolf cleared the hedge with one spectacular leap. He landed next to me with an expression that could only be described as smug.

“Show-off,” I muttered.

I stood, brushing the dirt and leaves from my clothes, then stilled as I took in the view before me.

Roses. Red Roses. The reddest I'd ever seen.

At first glance, they looked like ordinary flowers, but as I drew closer, I detected a soft glow around the edges that pulsed like a beating heart. They hummed with life and smelled of transformation.

I reached out to pick one, then paused. Something rustled close by.

Snap!

“Who's there?” I asked.

“Ooh! Ouch! You nasty roses!”

“Goldie?” I called. Her voice sounded near.

“Ooooouuch! Red! The roses have captured my curls and they won't let go!”

I chuckled softly. “Hang on!” I called to her. “I'll be there in a minute.”

I turned back to The Red Roses.

I wrapped my hand in my cloak, feeling I was not supposed to touch the rose myself. It could upset the magic, and I wanted it to be perfect for Granny.

I reached for the rose again. There was more rustling, noticeably closer this time.

Wolf started to whimper and paw at the ground.

Danger.

“Hush,” I whispered. “It's just a bird or something.” But my heart was beating fast now. Time to take what I needed and leave. I took hold of one of the thorny stems and snapped it off the bush. I'd done it! I had a Red Rose!

“Let's go,” I said.

Something crashed to the ground before me. Dirt sprayed up in my face. I turned and shielded myself when another boulder-like object came down to my right, falling from the sky. Another crashed down, and another, and another, until Wolf and I were surrounded by…gargoyles!

The stone demons were alive. They had curled horns, flared nostrils, and pointed, bony wings. Their ruby eyes glowed as they flapped their wings and gnashed their stone teeth. They crawled on hands and feet, closing in on Wolf and me. Wolf growled and snapped at them, baring his fangs. I clutched the fur at his neck, trying to swallow the fear crawling up my throat.

“It's all right,” I said. “They can't hurt us. My cloak will protect us.”

One gargoyle pounced on Wolf, and they snarled and wrestled on the ground while the others continued to crawl toward me on all sides. I whipped my cloak at the monsters. It had protected us before. It had stung the water sprites, and shielded us from the falling rocks, but it seemed to have no effect on the gargoyles. They crept closer, stone tongues licking their curled lips.

Wolf was still fighting, biting and clawing at the gargoyle, but it didn't so much as flinch. How could he harm a stone gargoyle? They're not made of flesh and bone and blood.

If Granny were here, she'd perform a charm that would turn the gargoyles back to rigid stone, but I feared I'd turn myself to stone if I tried the same thing.

The gargoyles were inches from me. One tore the Red Rose from my hand and flung it to the ground. Two more lifted me up by the arms and flew me over the hedge.

“Stop!” said a voice, and the gargoyles halted midflight, dropping me to the ground. I turned to see a tall figure in a black hood walking toward me. It seemed to be a man, but his gait was strange, like he was lame or injured. Still, whoever it was clearly had command of the gargoyles. Here was someone who could free us.

But then he removed his hood, and the blood drained from my face. The man was not a man at all. His face was covered in matted fur. His long nose blended with his forehead like a cat's. His lips were black, and fangs curled down over his chin more grotesquely than the gargoyles'.

“What are you doing in my garden?” he said in a deep, growling voice.

“I need a rose. For my granny. She's sick.”

“And so you thought you'd steal from me?”

Wolf came bounding across the garden. He attacked the beast, clawing and biting him, but the beast flung him off. The gargoyles pounced on Wolf like feral cats.

“Wolf!” I struggled against the gargoyles, but the beast knocked me to the ground and held me down with one paw. His claws dug into me like daggers.

“Leave him alone!” I shouted.

“No one touches my roses!” the beast roared.

“He didn't touch them! I did! You have so many I didn't think it would matter.”

“My roses matter a great deal,” said the beast, and I knew he was talking about their magic. He knew the power they had, and he wanted to keep it all to himself.

“Please!” I begged. “My granny is dying!”

“Then go home and say your goodbyes,” said the beast. “That's what humans do. Take her away!”

A gargoyle snatched me up once again and started to carry me away. Away from The Red Roses. Now I was certain these roses would save Granny. I was so close.

“But her name is Rose!” I shouted. “Rose Red! The Red Roses are her destiny! Please!”

“Stop!” said the beast, and the gargoyle obeyed. “Put her down.” The gargoyle released me instantly, so I fell hard to the ground. “What did you just say?” the beast demanded.

“My granny,” I said. “She's sick.”

“No. Her name. What was the name you just said?”

I swallowed. This was the crucial moment. It would either tip things in my favor or against me. “Rose,” I said. “Sometimes she is called Rose Red, and sometimes she is called The Witch of The Woods.”

The beast was still, as were the gargoyles, as though the name had cast some kind of spell. “You are…her grandchild, this Rose Red?” said the beast softly.

I nodded. “Her only grandchild. Please, she's very ill. She'll die if I don't bring her a rose, and she can't. She can't die.”