Part V
Alternately named, 'Edward Postle finally reveals that he is, in fact, the narrator'.
The carriage bumped over stumps and stones, and Klara was off on her way, into the wide blue yonder to search for Rune once more. Tired of looking at forests that all looked the same to her, she entertained herself by reading the picture books thoughtfully placed inside the carriage by the princess.
A few days passed like this, with Klara reading the picture books and nibbling on the cakes and nuts inside the well-stocked mini-pantry when she was hungry; until the carriage suddenly came to a halt.
“What is going on?” she asked the coachman, who had jumped down from his high seat above the carriage and holding out a hand to steady her descent.
He replied tersely, “We are to meet the informants here, missus. But don’t worry,” he added, seeing how the girl immediately looked wary. “They ain’t bad men, or I’ve heard from Mr High and Mighty Captain over there.”
And so they stood there, in the very middle of the dark forest, watching the sun setting over the blazing green treetops.
Suddenly, out of the blue, a gruff voice appeared to come from a dark of the crowded and crooked forest, and Klara jumped in fright. “You are the troop from Amarovia, is that correct?”
“Aye,” the captain said warily. “To whom am I addressing?”
“That is of no consequence,” the voice said. “But before we depart on good terms, please hand over our price.”
Before anyone could speak, Klara cried in frustration, “But you haven’t told us where Rune is!”
“Klara?” the voice changed. “Is that you?”
She paused, then meekly said, “Yes?”
“Damn! They have our objective! Men, attack!”
And without another word, a whole band of men came from all corners of the forest, carrying ugly-looking knives with them and jumped on the Amarovian legion, belting out an oddly pure battle cry:
Roses bloom and cease to be,
But we shall the Christ-child see.
But we shall the Christ-child see.
Men fought each other, blood splattering everywhere. Everything was happening all too fast for poor, scared Klara to comprehend, and she could only squeeze her eyes shut and scream on the top of her lungs, “Stop! Stop this madness!”
Her high melodic voice was partially covered by the malevolent growls of bloodthirsty men during warfare, but after repeating and repeating her words, the fight finally slow down to a stop.
“Please tell me where Rune is,” she begged, “That is all I want to know, and nothing more.”
“Then come with us,” a young man said, “We shall keep you safe and warm, for we are from your very own town.”
After a slight hesitation, Klara finally consented. “But please treat these poor men well; all they wanted to do was protect me and find Rune for me.”
“Very well. Two men from our group and two from the Amarovian legion will accompany you, while the others will follow our lead.”
So she climbed into the carriage again, the captain and the young man that had spoken right behind her; while the coachman sat in his seat and urged the frightened horses onwards.
The frosty silence inside the carriage forced Klara to return to her now boring picture books. She could already recite them all, but she couldn’t stand watching the two men glare at each other, like the one opposite him had committed a horrible crime.
After a while, the young man said, “Klara, we have finally arrived at our camp.” He jumped out of the still carriage and pulled the girl out of it, deliberately ignoring the captain.
The rebels had set up a temporary camp after chopping trees to make a clearing for them and for firewood, as it was becoming more and more cold, and autumn was nearly gone. A bright fire was burning right in the middle of the camp, red and blue and green tents encircling it.
And out of one of the few green tents, came a dishevelled young man, smoking a cigarette as he stumbled forward to greet them.
“What has happened? Did you not fetch the Amarovian legion to come and join our fight?” he said, and the familiar green eyes of Edward Postle widened as he took in Klara’s figure.
“Klara? What the…” he began, but immediately shook his head. “No, Klara was a lot smaller the last time we saw her.”
“But it has already been three years,” she softly said. “I’ve grown now.”
He shook his head again, mouth agape in awe. “Dear Lord, what have you been through?”
Klara took this as a cue and told him everything, from how Rune had suddenly changed to how she had finally ended up in the rebel camp. Edward didn’t comment or interrupt at all throughout her rendition of her tale, but merely stood and stared at her, taking in every single detail of her now blossoming adolescent beauty.
She was like a rose, he realised, a beautiful rose that had endured harsh winds and heavy rains just to be reunited with her childhood companion, but never using her thorns to prick and spite anyone for her own gain.
“Then you must hurry, little one,” he said at length, “Winter is coming upon us, and everyone knows the Snow Queen’s power is at her most during winter.”
“What? The Snow Queen has Rune?” she cried, not so small hands gripping his arm tightly.
He fought off an urge to brush her long fringe away from her eyes so that he could see those bright hazel eyes again, and inwardly cursed himself for still being a hot-blooded, still-not-thinking-clearly teenager. God, I need another cigarette.
“Yes, Klara. But I’ll go with you, if you want.” The words tumble out of his mouth before he could think about it, and he suddenly just wanted to curl up in his dirty cot inside his tent and never wake up again.
(In retrospect, this was the first time he had ever been so embarrassed. If just he had more time to prepare for her unexpected arrival…the writer believes that he might have a bigger shot. But on with the story.)
She said quietly, “Thanks. I’ll need all the help I can get.”
He grinned. Like an idiot. “You know, you can just call me Edward.”
“Thanks again…Edward.”
He straightened up, and became serious. “We shall have to hurry on, then. Darcy, you lead the combined elite troops; every other man should follow his and Fortescue’s lead.
“I’ll go with Klara to check on the field and to alert you guys of anything we might need to encounter.” He climbed onto one of the Amarovian stallions and helped the girl up.
“Men,” his voice rang through the forest, quietening every man and animal that lurked just beyond the camp. “Pack up. I want every man to be prepared for departure right after dinner.”
Nearly everyone immediately left their posts and began to walk in single file towards their respective tents, except for some who continued to watch over the bubbling soup in the large cauldron over the fire.
The young man with the surname of Darcy gave the two on the pure white horse waterskins, some loaves of bread, cakes and a ham, putting them in a knapsack and tying it to the leather saddle; while Fortescue gave Klara a pair of dark blue mittens.
“Remember, young ones,” the older man stroked his white beard as he saw Klara putting the mittens on, “The Snow Queen fears those with warmth in their hearts. Have faith, and the cold could never freeze your souls to death. Godspeed.”
“Godspeed,” the two echoed, and onwards they went into the night.
Part I ＊ Part II ＊ Part III＊ Part IV ＊ Part VI＊ Part VII
Spoiler
This is the fifth part of my contest entry for SporkPunk's 21 Century Fairytale Contest! Please tell me what you thought of it. 
)