A/N: This is for Rosey's contest on the 15th and needs serious work... any comments are appreciated.
A breeze played with the wispy mahogany strands of hair escaping around my face. I inhaled it deeply. It brought the scent of salt and gutted fish, the cries of the fishermen and mongers, its tail playing in the masts of the ships around me.
The vessel I was concerned with, however, had no mast, it was only a rowing boat, and its owner was surveying me as I was him. He was huge, perhaps only half a head taller than me- I’ve always been relatively tall, but at least twice as wide. He reminded me of a bear, with a huge expanse of brown-clad chest, red-brown worker’s hands, a mass of ebony coloured hair and a face that needed shaving, and two pools of black sitting either side of an impressively straight nose.
I plucked up the courage to speak. “I require passage upriver,” I said.
He looked away, busying himself with the things in his boat. “Most people would be going by land this time of year. Couldn’t you go with a merchant’s caravan?”
I shook my head. “There are none leaving soon enough, I need to begin immediately. Also, I can only reach my destination by the river.”
“That destination being?” he asked lazily.
“The Seven Tunnels,” I said without hesitation, but my stomach jumped.
The man was silent and frozen for a moment, then straightened and looked at me, his expression incredibly serious. I shut my eyes tight for a moment, having no wish to explain myself, not when it still pained me. “I can pay you any price you’d like,” I continued.
He looked at me, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I’ll take you, but only if you’re sure. I’m not taking some poor young thing to that hellhole on a whim.”
“This isn’t a whim. I’m desperate,” I said, looking at the wooden quay beneath my feet, and urging myself not to cry. “And I’m not young,” I said instead of shedding tears, meeting his oil-black eyes once more. “I’m eighteen and I know what I’m doing. Shall we negotiate price now or after we leave?”
“After we leave, that way you can’t take your business elsewhere,” he said, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face. “Do you want to go and get your things or-?”
“I’m ready now,” I interrupted. I didn’t have anything with me except my cloak, but I didn’t want to take anything else. Besides, from what I heard, life in the tunnels was suspended. I wouldn’t need changes of clothes, and I didn’t have a bedroll or food to take, and even if I had, there was no way to bring them down without being noticed.
The man seemed impressed, but said nothing. “Well, I was preparing for a trip to the villages anyway, so we could leave this minute, if you’d like.”
I reminded myself why I was doing this and nodded.
The man took my hand to help me into the boat and all of a sudden I felt a hand on my elbow. I turned to see exactly who I expected, the brown hair only a few shades darker than mine flopping over his forehead, his soft gold-specked eyes and pink mouth smiling at me as he helped me into the boat, strong enough despite his slim frame.
Then I blinked, and Killian, with all his softness and splendour was gone and I was left with only the boatman’s cracked hand in mine.
I sat down and my blue silk skirts flooded out over the seat. “Oh,” I said, I hadn’t anticipated that.
The man smiled at my surprise and said, “Don’t worry about it. Besides, ‘The blue of twilight becomes you as golden does the sun.’”
I started. It was a quote from Greendale, my favourite poet (and, I remembered with a jolt, Killian’s too), and I hadn’t expected to hear it. Then again, said my inner diplomat, why shouldn’t a boatman know poetry?
For a while we didn’t speak while he navigated our way into the estuary and along to where the river narrowed. At last, away from the noise of the harbour he got into his stride. I could see the muscles in his forearms working as he pulled the oars, taking us through the city, which was quiet this early in the morning. The sun was still low, but the sky was definitely brightening.
Settling into a comfortable rhythm he at last broke the silence by saying, “So, I suppose if I’m to ferry you for the next three days we should at least know each other’s names.”
“Gina,” I supplied shortly, not meeting his eyes.
He raised his eyebrows. “That’s a peasant name, and you’re no peasant. Tell me the truth.”
I sighed, but seeing no way round this, said, “It’s not entirely a lie, everybody I know and like calls me Gina, and it’s what I’d prefer for you to call me.”
“But your real name is?” he prompted.
He looked at me from below his brows and I sighed, letting the cat out of the bag. “Genevieve.”
“Ah,” he said softly. “Your Royal Highness?”
“Yes,” I said with a sigh, wishing he hadn’t caught on so fast. “Please don’t shout it or do anything ridiculous and annoying like that. And you are?”
“Bern,” he replied shortly and I smiled- the bear comparison seemed even more fitting. “That’s all the naming you need of me. But I’m not sure I want to be taking the heir to the throne to the Seven Tunnels.”
“Please,” I said, shutting my eyes. There was a reason for me wishing to keep anonymous other than my own comfort- I knew this would happen. “I need to get there.” As I said it, the terrible few moments of the morning before ran through my mind. There was Killian, standing on the battlements, his arms outstretched and eyes wide with excitement. I heard my own laughter and then suddenly he was falling-
“Why?” Bern asked, dragging me out of the horrible flashback.
I shook my head to clear it, choosing the words of her answer carefully. “I need to save someone I love.”
“You must love them a lot,” Bern said matter-of-factly.
I remembered Killian’s laugh, his pale pianist fingers on her face, his expression as he cautiously handed me a book from the library ladder, the way his mouth twisted into a half-smile when he debated with my father at the dinner table, the feel of those pink lips on mine… “I do,” she said quietly.
Bern was silent, pulling the oars steadily. They had left the centre, now going further out of the city and into the countryside. “Who would Princess Genevieve love so much as to go to the Seven Tunnels for?” he mused. “Princess Catarina, perhaps?”
The words conjured up my sister’s face, similar to my own, but rounder and surrounded with ash blonde hair, blue eyes twinkling in the sun as she laughed at the end of a race against me and Killian, stretching her browned arms above her head. I thought about her now, still probably curled up in the white sheets of the room next to mine.
“No,” I said, still thinking of her. “Cata’s safe.”
“Then it must be the foreign one…”
At this throwaway description of Killian I bowed her head and croaked, my throat dry from the thoughts of him and Cata, “Killian of Redmount.”
“That’s the one,” Bern said, leaning back and pulling on the oars. “Prince Killian of Redmount.”
I looked down to the surface of the river flowing beneath us and said nothing. Bern was also silent, and I suddenly felt a change in atmosphere. He seemed more comfortable in silence. I had never particularly minded whether I was in silence or in conversation. Killian and I could stay in the salon all evening talking but spend an afternoon outside beneath the blossom trees saying nothing at all. Cata loved to talk, hated to be still or quiet but Bern, Bern seemed quite the opposite.
We continued in silence for a long time, leaving me to my own thoughts. They whirred, centring around the days ahead rather than those I had left behind. Where would we sleep, would we light a fire? What would we eat? And when got to the Seven Tunnels- that was where the, the creature had come from, which one would I choose?
*
Bern produced his own coarse bread and, to my delight, some slices of beef and even some tomatoes for lunch, and the short early spring day began to darken. I was once again wrapped in my thoughts which seemed to go round in circles when I suddenly realised Bern has slowed.
“Why are we stopping?” I asked anxiously, looking around, until the twinkling of lamplights on the bank caught my eye.
“I’m not rowing through the night, The Cobbler’s as good a place as any to stay,” Bern said, rowing us up on the sandbank.
I sat uncertainly in the boat, looking up at the lights. I could feel Bern’s eyes on me and he said with surprising gentleness, “I doubt you’ll be recognised this far outside the city. Come.” He stretched out his hand.
I took it and hoisted myself out, standing looking at the cloudy sky’s reflection in the water below while Bern tied up the boat. Then with a grunt he signalled for me to fall into stride behind him.
The inn glowed the same way the palace kitchens did, with bubbling good nature and firelight. A girl who I thought was showing too much breast to be in any way tasteful showed us to a small table in the corner, where I shuffled away hoping not to be noticed. Bern vanished and reappeared with two tall mugs of what I discerned to be watered down beer. We drank for a few minutes in the silence I had become accustomed to, before Bern set down his mug, stretched and yawned.
I watched him, analysing him, before saying, “You don’t talk much, do you?”
“You’re not the only person I’ve ever ferried. They always want to tell me their stories, and they’re awful. I don’t encourage it. Though,” he picked his drink up again and said, “It seems as though your story is one needs telling, Miss Princess.”
I traced the rim of my iron mug with my finger. “I… I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“This one, Killian. How did you meet him? That seems like a good place,” Bern said.
I took a deep breath, calming my swirling mind. “Killian… alright. Killian is the prince of Redmount, as you know, and my younger sister, Catarina, was promised in marriage to him. Cata was only fourteen at the time, and though some fourteen year olds would be ready to take on such a burden, she by no means wanted to marry.”
At this point, the barmaid returned with two plates heaped with meat, potatoes and gravy for them. I didn’t feel like eating, but Bern picked up his fork and said, “Go on.”
“He was still in Redmount at the time, and Father asked Cata to just write him a letter and see what he was like… but she didn’t want to, she only wrote a few lines. I wrote a letter to accompany it, apologising for her, asking Killian to please write her a good long letter she would have to reply to. And he did, but he sent me one as well.
“So we started writing and suddenly I found that he was very similar to me. We loved the same literature, had the same ideas, liked the same, well, everything. Then one day he said he was going to visit.” I gulped, and felt goose-bumps as I remembered that first meeting. Killian’s miniature that had been sent to Cata had done well, but nothing compared to the living breathing thing smelling of cleanliness that kissed my hand that night at the ball.
“And it went on. Cata and Killian and I would explore the grounds, but more often than not, Cata would leave and it would just be the two of us and… we fell in love.”
Four little words did not describe the plethora of images that went through my head. It was not just Killian, it was everything about him, everything about the two of us. “Fell in love” did not describe those months spent in the palace grounds, of walking hooded in the city, of climbing trees and wiping off old dusty poetry volumes. It didn’t seem to cover all the emotions that tumbled over me at that point. They did not tell of that first kiss, when he ran into the lake fully clothed, and when I began removing my shoes and stockings he tugged my hand to bring me flailing wildly towards him and meet his lips with mine.
“Fell in love” didn’t do it justice by any means.
Yet I did not want to meet Bern’s eyes, or tell him any of this so I went on, my voice trembling slightly. “Of course, there was a problem.”
Bern nodded, and spoke, surprising me slightly. “This part I know. Or I can guess at least. You’re the eldest daughter, he’s the eldest son. He was supposed to marry the Princess Catarina, he couldn’t marry you. One of you would have to give up your realms.”
I nodded, my stomach churning at that reminder. “I would have, but Cata was never supposed to rule, she wouldn’t know how, the people wouldn’t be happy… and in Redmount, Killian was an only child, the crown would pass to his cousin who had radically different ideas. And nobody would be happy if we merged power, not after all the history between Redmount and Alleria. His and Cata’s marriage was to pacify, but not to unite. Nobody wanted to be united.” I closed my eyes.
“Yesterday…” I had to stop to swallow. “Was it only yesterday? It seems like a lifetime ago. Yesterday Killian and I were walking along the wall and… Killian suddenly jumped onto one of the crenels.”
I saw it in my head, Killian letting go of my hand, my own squeal of protest as he jumped onto the rock. He opened his arms wide, threw his head back and shouted. The words carried across the air towards me. “Marry me, Gina! Marry me, and we can be alone together forever!” He opened his eyes and looked at me, his gaze burning like wildfire. “Marry me?”
Then everything happened at once. A breeze, the slightest breeze, whispered against my cheeks and suddenly Killian’s look of glee turned to horror- the corners of his mouth turned down, teeth bared, but his eyes still on me as the last of my giggles paused on my lips.
As elegantly as he had jumped, his arms spread wide, he tumbled backwards.
“He fell,” I said, surprising myself, to Bern, and the words gushed out, my face heating up. “He fell backwards down, down. I rushed to see, but it wasn’t the wind that had carried him from me. It was a creature, the most terrible creature you’ve ever seen, like a bird, but no bird I’ve ever seen, with red and black scales covering its body, a long neck and a beak-like face. It cawed like a crow and he landed on it. His eyes were shut, his arms were limp… I called for help, but they were too far, too high for the archers and-” I felt tears gather in the corner of her eyes and wiped them away with the back of my hand. Taking a deep breath, I said,
“That’s why I need to get to the Seven Tunnels. Those creatures, whatever they are, dragons perhaps, but I've never seen a picture of a dragon so vulgar, so brutal... they don’t come by themselves, they're mercenaries, and somebody ordered that, that foul thing to come and take Killian away from me.”
“And you think it was a political move?”
At last I picked up her fork and stabbed a potato. “What else could it be?” I asked.
*
We rested that night and in the morning set off once more. At midday, I finally broke the long silence that had taken us by saying, “You know the Seven Tunnels then?”
Bern nodded.
“Tell me of them,” I commanded. I knew what the books could tell me, but that was not enough.
“There are seven leading out of the cavern. Each, eventually, leads back to this world, but not the world you left it. It will have changed for you going through the tunnel. Each, or perhaps only a few, will represent a different aspect of your life. For instance, Killian, he was taken by a red dragon, yes?” Gina nodded, she had not heard this before. “That means he will most likely be in the autumn tunnel.”
“The autumn one?” We had met in autumn, he had always said autumn was his favourite time of year for the colours.
“There is one tunnel for each season, spring, summer, autumn, winter, one of pure darkness and one of pure light.”
I counted these in my head and frowned. “Where does the seventh lead?”
Bern grinned. “The seventh leads back out.”
I managed a weak smile but my heart was racing. Finally, I nodded. “So, the autumn tunnel, that will bring Killian back to me?”
Bern chewed his lip, then nodded. “Yes. But I cannot say what other consequences it will have, politically, upon your sister, upon the world. That’s the trouble with royalty,” he said and flashed a grin. “You can’t do anything just for yourself.”
“Don’t I know it?” I muttered.
“‘The adventures we dream of are far from those of reality,’” he said grimly.
I looked up, amazed. “That’s another Greendale quote,” I said.
He smiled. “You like him?”
“He’s my favourite,” I admitted.
And suddenly, Bern began to talk. At first it was only of poetry, but he began to loosen, make jokes. I listened and replied and would have enjoyed myself, if the constant reminder of where we were going was not there, The day went far quicker than the one before. It began to get dark and Bern looked cautiously at the sky.
“It’s going to rain,” he said. “We should stop, prop the boat up.”
He showed me how he turned the boat into a shelter, and just in time before the heavens opened. We scurried underneath it and ate a cold dinner, watching the rain on the river. We lapsed into silence and I tumbled into reverie. After a while I found myself confiding in him,
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Hesitantly, he reached out and put an arm round my shoulder. “Something tells me you’ll figure it out, Princess Gina.”
I smiled, blinking back tears for the umpteenth time, laying my head on his shoulder. “Sorry,” I said with a laugh, sitting up again. “I’m not usually this… emotional. I’m usually the practical one, the responsible one, the-”
“I understand,” he said calmly. “I do.”
Something made me wonder if he too had lost someone he loved, if he had ever been in this situation, and I was going to ask him, but I didn’t want to pry. I just laid my head down again and slowly I began to drift.
*
It was a grey dawn the next morning. I was the one encouraging the silence today, and Bern agreed. We packed up and wordlessly set off up the river. His oars glided through the water, still and calm and silver in the morning light. I bowed my head, praying and hoping silently that this would not be the last time I would see this place. For I knew something Bern had not mentioned, something that frightened him also. The peril of the tunnels, the creatures and tortures.
There was a reason nobody went through.
I could see the end of the river, engulfed in a cavern. I swallowed as Bern pulled up on the side, but my practical side won through. “I have to pay you,” I said, unhitching my purse from my sash. He waved me away, staring at me with those big black eyes.
“You don’t have to do this,” he reminded me, but I shook my head.
“Yes. I do. Because if I don’t, nobody else is going to.”
“But who will rule?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, Bern. I’ll come back. To this world or to whatever one the tunnel may lead me. Whichever tunnel I may take.”
“You mightn’t take the autumn one?”
I shrugged. “Perhaps there is another way. If I go through the summer one, I could save him and still come back to rule, to make Cata happy. Or-”
He nodded. “The decision is yours and yours alone. I won’t force you.”
I turned to leave, but something made me turn again. “Which, which path would you take?”
He bit his lip. “Spring, I think. Spring’s a good time of year for people like me.” Then, surprising me, he leant over and kissed my head. “Good luck,” he whispered.
I walked along the river and without looking back, dipped my head under the lip of the cave.
The grotto within glittered, the walls made out of shimmering rock. I hitched my skirt up and looked around. Sitting there, almost waiting for me, was a candle. I picked it up and shed more light on my surroundings. Beneath my feet were things growing out of the ground, minerals that spread like flowers in pinks and blues. And ahead there were six caverns spreading themselves out. At the far left was, as Bern had said, one of pure black. Then, as if in the most exquisite paintings, lay one for each season. They went in reverse order, the first being winter, the ground frostbitten and lonely, a single tree standing with pink-white snow nestling in its branches like blossom. Then there was autumn, a sunset stretching over brown and golden hills, serene and ancient. Beside this, summer was an explosion of green trees and grass. Flowers poking coloured heads up, and then spring, with new buds rising and daffodils bobbing their heads beside a stream. Lastly, and I had to squint to see it, was a tunnel made of pure white light. It made me shut my eyes and when I opened them once more, there were people.
Cata, her blue eyes the same colour as mine, was lying on the summer grass laughing, before turning and beckoning to me with a nod of the head. Two thrones had been placed in winter, and my father paced before them, muttering and stroking his beard. He looked up and gestured for me to come through and help as he so often did. On the stream in spring, was Bern and his boat, unloading packages for normal people. The darkness and the light allowed me to see no one.
Autumn was bare.
I took a step back, frightened, and my foot nearly went into the river, but somebody caught me. I stared at him, seeming both solid and spirit at once. His gold-flecked eyes held mine, serious and tender. I gasped.
“Killian?” I whispered. He nodded. “It’s really you?” He nodded again, a tiny smile playing on his lips. “Killian, I don’t know where to go.”
He stretched over and took my hand in his slim fingers. “You should go where you are needed.” His voice sounded in my ear as if he wasn’t really speaking the words.
“But they all need me. Father, and Cata and the people and… and I need you.” My voice had never sounded so small, but he just squeezed my hand again.
“I’ll be with you whichever way you go,” he reassured me.
“That’s a promise?”
He nodded once more. I turned and looked at the tunnels, debating. Then I looked back at him, and his face made me sure he understood, and that I was right.
With Killian beside me, I took a deep breath and made my choice.
So, I really like Bern. He seems like a nice kinda guy and I thought that he was played out very well. And Gina as well. I really like how you played them out and was able to show their personalities. Good job! ^^
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