The Dwarf and the Twins Read online

  The thumping of heavy animals shakes the ground. Hoofbeats. I duck and run. A net hits the ground where I was standing just a second ago. Blasted memories. I race through the underbrush as fast as I can. Men on foot follow me while the riders take the longer path around the thicket. They don't stand a chance in my woods. I grin.

  At least my beard is as useful as the fairy has planned. I stroke it as I run. The magic flows through my body, twisting bones, wrinkling skin, changing my hair to gray. Searing pain shoots through me, but it hurts less as long as I'm moving, so I keep stumbling on. I reach the path where the riders are approaching. They're close, but not too close. Stepping out from the underbrush, I wipe away the sweat and sit on a log. They see me and stop.

  “Hey, oldster.” The young man in the front looks so much like the king, it has to be his son. “Did you see a dwarf come this way?”

  I put my hand to my ear, pushing back strands of my soggy gray hair that had been brown only a moment ago.

  “Sorry, me lad? Ya gatta speak up fer me.” I drool and grin.

  “Forget the idiot, Highness,” one of the other riders says.

  The foot soldiers stumble from the underbrush. They fall in line behind the riders.

  “We've lost him. Let's go home. We'll be back tomorrow,” the young prince says. His blond hair shines in the sun like threads of gold. His muscular body holds so much energy, I close my eyes to stop seeing him. But when they file past me, I watch them leave. How handsome the prince is, and how unhappy he will make his father very soon. That is more than a premonition — it's a promise.

  “You will stay home.”

  Rose had never seen her mother this adamant before, but she felt caged in their house. A whole forest was waiting for her. Maybe she'd even see the hunters again. Especially their leader with his golden hair and proud bearing.

  “They won't notice me. I'm perfectly capable of hiding myself,” she shouted. “Stop treating me like a little girl!”

  “I only want what's best for you.” Her mother's voice begged for understanding, but the blood pounded so loudly in Rose's veins, she wouldn't hear the voice of reason. She stormed out of the cave and into the garden. Snow was kneeling on the moss-covered path between the flowerbeds under the window, where she had been weeding, with her hands idle in her lap. Tears flowed over her face, washing away the pain of Rose's anger. Rose crouched beside her sister and hugged her.

  “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scream at Mother, but the forest is calling for me. I can't stay here and do nothing.” She rested her head against Snow's, and her sister patted her back wordlessly. They sat in silence until Rose's anger faded.

  “Mother is afraid. She wants to protect you.” Snow didn't speak much, but when she did, it sounded like birds singing.

  “But I need something to do. I will die if I just sit around. You know I'm no good with a needle or with cooking.”

  “Why don't you help me bring in the harvest?” Snow suggested. “Autumn isn't far, and the plants have grown so well we'll be busy for many days.”

  Rose nodded reluctantly, and Snow told her what to do. With her hands busy, the urge to hunt in the forest faded a little.

  Soon it was time for lunch and they went to fetch water from the creek. When they returned, Rose stopped at the forest's edge. Pushing down the longing was so hard, especially since she knew the other hunters were out there. She wanted so much to see the handsome face of their leader again.

  “How can Mother be so sure the soldiers won't come here?”

  Snow laughed. To Rose's ears, it sounded like a brook bubbling over tree roots somewhere in the darkest parts of the forest.

  “Don't tell me you can't see or feel the roses' spell,” Snow said.

  Rose Red's eyes widened. The roses? What was so special about them? She turned to the carpet of vines covering the entrance to their cave. It resembled a red and white waterfall. Suddenly the tip of her finger hurt and she put it into her mouth. A golden glow emanated from the two rosebushes filling their little clearing to the forest's edge. Was that the magic Snow meant? How had she never noticed it before? Had she really been away so much? Why had Snow never mentioned it?

  Loud barking rang out along the path. Snow grabbed Rose's arm and pulled her into the glow. She whispered into her ear, “The roses are hiding our home and the garden from everyone but us. As long as we're here, no one will find us.”

  A pack of hounds raced along the track, stopping, sniffing, whining and whirling around in exactly the same place where Rose had been standing a moment ago. When the riders galloped around the bend, the sisters held their breath. Rose drank in the view of the young hunter charging toward them, a blue mantle flowing from his shoulders. His rosy-cheeked face glowed with the joy of the hunt. She had to force herself to stay where she was. The dogs barked as if they had found what they were searching for and ran on. The riders followed, cheering and shouting. They thundered past the girls, and the ground shook.

  The world quieted again. Rose sighed with relief, but then she noticed Snow was still shaking. Her eyes were closed, and she didn't respond to Rose's hugs. She must have had one of her visions. The passing riders couldn't have scared her that much. Murmuring soothing words, Rose tried to calm her sister, but her thoughts kept wandering back to the merry young man at the front of the hunt. His shoulders were very broad, and his arms seemed strong like hers. His light yellow hair reminded her of the grain Snow harvested from a field hidden in the mountainous part of the forest. The carefree happiness he radiated drove hooks into Rose's heart. Her longing to hunt with him grew unbearable. How much fun it must be to run with his group. How much food she'd be able to provide for her family. How his gray eyes might look at her if he saw her skill with the bow and arrow.

  Daydreaming, she led Snow home. Her mother pulled out a stool and helped Snow to sit, stroking her pale face. Snow opened her eyes and stared at her mother, tears in her eyes and her lips trembling.

  “We have to stop them. They're going to kill our godfather.”

  It occurred to Rose that they didn't even know the dwarf's … no, the small man's name.

  “How do you know?” Adele frowned.

  “I felt it in my bones, and the roses confirmed it.” Tears flowed freely over Snow's face, pulling on Rose's heartstrings as much as her longing to return to the forest. She had to follow the young hunter. Surely he wouldn't let his friends hurt the dwarf. Snow's blue eyes found her brown ones. “Do something, Rose. I know you can.”

  Without a word Rose turned, grabbed her bow and arrow, and raced out of the cave before her mother could stop her. Adele's worried calls died away the instant Rose Red left the golden circle of her namesake's influence.

  Below the forest's big trees, silence reigned. Rose had learned to adapt. She knew how to track anything without being noticed. Silent as a shadow, invisible as a breeze, she followed the hunters. She found them beside a lake eating, drinking, and laughing. The tired dogs were tied to a pole. They were panting and obviously very thirsty, but no one cared enough to give them any water. Rose frowned. Why didn't her hunter notice?

  As if he had read her mind, the young hunter — obviously the group's leader — waved to a brown-clad youngster standing in the forest's shadows.

  “Take the dogs home. They proved to be useless for hunting the prey we're looking for.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.” The boy bowed and took the bundle of leashes. The dogs rose reluctantly. They only walked faster when they smelled a nearby creek. Rose was silently grateful that they were gone. It would make following the hunters so much easier.

  Patiently she waited for the hunters to end their feasting, but the young men kept up the merrymaking. They threw dice and jiggled coins. They boasted about conquests they'd made, although Rose wasn't entirely sure about what it was they had conquered. They sang and drank until the sky grew pink and yellow. Their leader got to his feet, swaying.

  “We'd better get going, or father will be extremely d
ispleased about yet another wasted day. I wonder why the dwarf is so important for him.” He steadied himself with one hand on his horse's saddle. “It's not even as if the small guy looks like a dwarf. I would have expected a square-built, stone-skinned idiot with arms the size of tree trunks.”

  His friends laughed. One, equally wobbly on his feet, said, “Maybe he's scared the chap will raise an army and usurp the throne.”

  The young men doubled over with laughter. Rose realized that the handsome hunter's father had to be a king — their king.

  Laughing so hard, the young men needed much longer to climb their horses than their half-drunken state warranted. Rose frowned in consternation. How could grown men behave like this? How could they expect to catch anything if they preferred games to the hunt? How could the prince allow this kind of behavior?

  At long last, the men started riding. This time they tried to be quieter. Rose followed them on silent feet. They traveled through the forest for a long time, their horses stumbling over roots and branches. Finally they dismounted and left the horses with one of the men in a clearing. By now the full moon had risen, lighting the inkiness below the canopy enough so they could see. Rose grew impatient. For the first time ever, she doubted one of her sister's premonitions. These men would never be able to capture their godfather.

  “Hah! Didn't I tell you it would work?” The handsome prince's voice sounded very pleased. Rose scuttled ahead until she could see him better. He stood beside a tree, where a dark shape dangled from a branch. “Cut him down.”

  Rose's heart missed a beat when she realized that the trap had caught their godfather. Snow had been right after all. She crawled closer and studied the net that held the dwarf. It was studded with the white flowers of the sleepwell plant, a strong sedative. When the dwarf was let down, the net fell away. The captive moaned and awoke. Two men pulled him up. He struggled to break free, but they were much stronger and held his arms.

  “Why don't we hang him right away? Your father didn't say we have to bring him alive,” one of the hunters said. Their golden-haired leader scratched his chin as if considering this suggestion.

  Rose's heart dropped. How hardhearted did a man have to be to contemplate killing a person? All of a sudden, his attractive body and the beautiful face seemed empty to her. There was no soul worthy of the looks inside the man. She turned her gaze away and focused on the small prisoner.

  “Let's take him back to the horses first to see if he'll be trouble,” the leader of the hunt said. His men dragged the prisoner toward the path. A break in the canopy allowed enough moonlight for Rose to see the small man's features. He looked a lot younger than she had expected. From a distance, the long beard suggested a much older age. He bit the man on the right. The hunter pulled away his hand.

  That's the spirit, Rose thought.

  Before the dwarf could reach for a hidden weapon, the man had grabbed his arm again and cuffed the smaller man around the ears. Rose winced. She had to do something. Anything.

  Slinging her bow over her shoulder, she pulled out her dagger and grabbed one of her arrows right behind its head. Silent as a cat, she waited for the hunters to file past her. When the prisoner and his guards came close, she shot out of her hiding place. Two steps took her to the small group. Without hesitation, she drove the arrowhead into the left man's hand, and the dagger into the right man's. They screamed with pain, and let go of the prisoner. Rose grabbed him and pulled him into the thicket on the other side of the path. As quietly as she could, she hurried the dwarf along, ignoring his protest. The ground rose toward one of the rocky scarps scattered throughout the forest, but the snapping of branches and the hunters' angry shouts were still too close to use a different path. Maybe they'd find a place to hide nearer the rim.

  I can't believe Rose's strength. She half carries me on this mad dash away from the king's son and his men. I know she means well, but I can solve the problem in the blink of an eye if only I could touch my beard. I gasp for air. My short legs are not made for this kind of flight, and I need my free hand to keep the branches from slapping into my face. We break free from the underbrush so close to a fifty foot drop that Rose stumbles back and grabs the bushes to keep her balance.

  “Let me go,” I say right into her ear.

  Rose obeys; I listen for our pursuers. The crashing comes from some distance below us. I kneel and place my hands on the ground. My beard curls between my thumbs as I stroke the soft hairs. Sight and sound leave me as my mind travels. I tell the trees and bushes to lure our followers on a different path. I can feel the plants' branches click and creak, emulating the sounds of fleeing people. Immediately, the footfalls of our pursuers change direction. I return to my body and open my mouth to explain to Rose, when one golden-haired hunter breaks through the underbrush a few feet away from us. The blood drains from my head when I recognize the prince.

  He stops dead at the rim of the cliff, windmilling his arms. Staring down the steep, craggy slope with wide eyes, he tries frantically to regain his balance.

  Rose reaches out to grab him, her left hand holding onto the branch of a sturdy bush. All in vain. A stone below his left foot slips, and he stumbles over the rim.

  “No!” She hurls herself forward, but her fingers miss him. I crouch there gawking like an idiot. I never meant for the prince to die. As much as I hate the king, I'm no killer. I stroke my beard and feel the air vibrate with power in the same rhythm as my panicky heartbeat. The air grows thicker and slows the young man's fall considerably. It also carries him sideways, away from the sharp-edged stones at the cliff's base, buying me time. But he will still suffer major injuries when he slams into the ground. Air is tricky to handle.

  With a jerk, I drag Rose back. There is no need for her to see what I'm going to do to him. I hadn't meant to do this to him before late autumn. Be it as it may, I have to act now. Still stroking my beard, I close my eyes again. I form a picture in my mind and fill it with the prince's resemblance. The handsome, boyish features lengthen; his nose becomes a snout that fills with longer, sharper teeth. His body elongates and widens and grows a brownish pelt. Hands and feet grow claws as long as my fingers. His piercing scream fills my body as I share his pain.

  The prince is turning into a great bear, but I cannot rejoice. Many nights I have worried which creature would be best. I have considered turning him into a cat, a mouse, or a squirrel. In the end, I chose the bear. It is his best chance for survival. I mean to teach him a lesson, not to kill him. His pain fades from my mind.

  I open my eyes and peek over the cliff's rim. Rose has sagged down beside me, staring down in disbelief. A spray of shredded, royal hunter's clothing is scattered on the cracks below. There is no sign of the prince.

  “Where is he? What did you do to him?” Her gaze tries to catch mine, but I evade her eyes.

  “I …” I try to think of a way not to lie without telling her the truth. “I sent him to a place where he won't die.”

  “Oh, thank you so much.” She grabs my shoulders, pulls me up and hugs me. I've never been this close to a woman before, especially not to one so beautiful and soft. She smells like roses. My breath catches, and I try to wriggle free. She lets me go but keeps my hands in hers. “He's a moron and an idiot, but I would have been very sorry to see him die. Hopefully he'll find his men from where you sent him.”

  I silently hope he won't. The change will have made him terribly hungry.

  Rose smiles at me, and my heart jumps in my chest like an excited bird. What would it be like to have a beautiful woman smile at me like this more often? I press my lips together and push the thought aside. No woman in her right mind would consider a dwarf like me.

  “Why aren't you at home?” I ask. “I told your mother to make sure you didn't stray.”

  “You'd better be grateful that I ran away. After all, I saved your hide.” Her smile is dazzling. A longing I never knew before fills my heart. Will there ever be someone who can love me? In my distraction I missed her wor
ds.

  “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

  “I said, Mother has told us so much about you, but she never mentioned your name.” She holds out her hand in greeting. “I'm happy to make your acquaintance. As you very well know, my name is Rose Red. What is yours?”

  My jaw drops. No one has asked my name in half a century.

  In the early morning light, Snow took a stool and a spindle and sat on the bench beside the blooming roses. It had been difficult to get her mother to drink the sleepwell tea she had prepared for her, but it was the only way she could think of to keep Adele from running after Rose. And Snow just knew it in her bones that Rose would return victorious. If she couldn't save their godfather, no one could.

  Working automatically, she waited for her sister's return, marveling at the songbirds' symphony filling the air with more and more songs the lighter it grew. When the first ray of the sun peeked over the forest's canopy, Rose Red sauntered from the forest, whistling merrily. Over her shoulder, she carried a branch with several rabbits and ducks.

  “You did it!” Snow ran to her sister and hugged her with all her strength.

  “Told you I would.” Rose grinned. “Guess what? Our godfather's name is Martin.”

  Snow couldn't help but put a damper on her sister's smugness.

  “Mother was so worried, I had to make her drink sleepwell. It should be wearing off any minute now. Come in and tell us what happened while I prepare breakfast.”

  They entered the house. Mother was already up and greeted Rose with tears in her eyes. When she had calmed, Rose told them about her adventure and Snow admired her openly. Her heart danced in her chest knowing their godfather was safe. Many hours of happy daydreaming and working later, Snow piled the last of the dirty linen into her basket.

  “I will be at the creek, Mother.”