Golden Bird, Red Fox: Chapter six

Braxton had not settled into his brother’s absence very easily. Without two siblings around, Ferrell focused all of his antics on Braxton, leaving a trail of papery mayhem every time he left the office. Picking up papers, Braxton decided, was a very time-consuming thing. Maybe he needed a secretary to do the more menial tasks.

And so, after cleaning up the fourth mess Ferrell had caused by rifling through the drawers of Braxton’s desk, he decided he needed a break.

The forest felt chillier than usual that day. Even with perfectly green leaves, and the heat of summer, something about the place was uneasy. Ferns rustled restlessly with the swaying of deciduous tree branches, blocking out the usual chatter of birds.

“Hey!” he heard. “Hey! Prince!”

Braxton jerked at the reins of his horse, glancing around as she slowed. He couldn’t pinpoint the sound with all this noise.

“Right here!” the voice said again, “to your left!”

He turned left, facing a tree with a burl near the bottom of its trunk.

“Never mind. My bad. Right. Your right.”

As soon as he faced his right, Braxton’s lips curved into a smile. The red face of a fox stared back at him blankly. “Randall! It’s good to see you again.” Leaning over in the saddle, he asked, “how is Gordon?”

“He… he didn’t listen to me,” Randall said. “I told him to not go into that fancy inn, but he didn’t listen to me! Just walked into the fancy inn and didn’t come out this morning! Oh, Prince, I’m so sorry!”

Braxton straightened in his saddle, processing what he had heard. “Wait, but what’s so bad about the inn he stayed at?”

Sniffling, Randall told him about the fate of those who entered that inn. “They can’t leave if they eat anything there, and the food steals souls! Then the body is left there while the poor person who stayed there has to wander the world as a ghost. It’s awful!”

“So Gordon can’t leave? What happens if his body leaves the inn without his soul?”

The fox hung his head. “I don’t know, Prince. I saw one person leave, but after that he committed a crime and was hanged in the town square. And you know, Prince? That person who left talked so strange. It was like some enchantress had bespelled him, or someone had killed his wife or something. And the way he moved…” Randall shuddered, the white tip of his tail twitching anxiously. “Promise me you won’t go in there.”

“Was he possibly possessed?” Braxton asked.

“I don’t know. I never saw someone get possessed except the time I caught a guy who had the head of a donkey, and the time I saw some fellows chasing after a girl who thought they were both after her friend’s hand. But that was caused by fairies, so I don’t think it’s the same magic.”

“Huh,” Braxton grunted, “What would happen in we took the body from the inn? Would his soul return to his body?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” the fox said, suddenly sounding devious. He licked his chops and his tail began swishing in long, fast strokes. “I can get you there by tonight. Would you like to come?”

“Naturally,” Braxton said, “I’ll let my family know I’ll be gone for the night, and then I’ll join you immediately.”

Luckily, he managed to avoid Ferrell while reporting to his mother and father. He lied though, saying he had found a lead on the whereabouts of the Trador children. It would be easier to just set Gordon back on the quest and return empty-handed.

Braxton met Randall again at the stables. Hay rustled underfoot, and the constant kicking of the more anxious horses kept Randall from being heard outside.

“Why did you come in here?” Braxton whispered.

“To make sure you didn’t bring your dumb horse. I’m an enchanted fox, you dummy. I can get you to the inn in uh... two seconds, give or take.”

Sighing, Braxton stood up to check for meandering staff. He couldn’t have a stable boy, or worse, a guard, seeing him talk to a fox, let alone lead one out of the stables. Since the area seemed clear, he creaked open the barn gate and led Randall to the orchards.

“Okay, how exactly are you planning on getting to the inn in two seconds?” The sun already shone from the western sky, and it was setting fast.

“Well, it’s obviously not just two seconds. More like, I don’t know, sixty?” Randall swished his tail casually along the ground, grinning like a fool. Definitely suspicious.

“A minute, then. How exactly do you plan on getting to the inn in a minute?”

“Well, you know. Magic. Your brother let me drag him. Why won’t you?”

Finding it hard to argue using anything other than the inn as a point, Braxton relented and stopped asking. He grabbed onto Randall’s tail, per the fox’s instructions, and held tight. It was not an easy task, because Randall’s fur was silkier than expected.

“I half expected you to be covered in knots,” Braxton muttered.

“Excuse you! I take great pride in appearances. And just for that, I won’t count to three before I start.” Between Braxton’s fingers, Randall’s tail twitched. Suddenly, it was like the world had begun spinning twelve times faster than it should have. The ground beneath them blurred into a patchwork of brown and green, with the occasional clear, sparkling stream flowing through like a seam. Like Randall had said, it felt like two seconds when they finally stopped.

“That was nothing short of impressive,” Braxton heaved. He collapsed onto his bottom, blinking away the dizziness.

“Was it? I never get to see the scenery because I’m the one running. Got to make sure I don’t trip.”

Braxton nodded dumbly. He stood up, wobbling for a moment, before taking a look at the scene before him.

It was hard not to gasp. On the left stood a sprawling mansion of an inn. Its windows gleamed with white, inviting light, and the front sign was brightly painted. Something deliciously aromatic drifted past Braxton’s nose, making him almost drool. The light wood stood out against a darkening sky, and everything about the inn seemed comfortable and delightful.

On the right, there was a misshapen assortment of wood. It looked so run-down, so decrepit, and so dark, that Braxton almost didn’t believe it was an inn. Did the chicken scratch on its sign even spell words?

“I understand why Gordon didn’t listen to you,” he murmured.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ll get in and save him quickly.” Braxton steadied himself and glanced down at Randall for reassurement.

“Before you go,” Randall said, “you should know that that inn absolutely reeks of magic. Not only that, but lots of different kinds. I won’t call you a wuss for deserting now.” His white sideburns drooped slightly, and his black, watery eyes reflected the sunset.

“I couldn’t just leave my brother in there,” Braxton said, bending to pat the fox on the head, “and don’t worry. I’ll be out in a jiffy. No food or drink and I should be fine, right?”

Randall nodded, leaving Braxton to stroll to the fancy inn’s front door. Interesting. He couldn’t see into the windows, regardless of how much light glowed from them. The front door was painted red, its bright brass handle brandishing the elaborate seal of a master smith. Braxton pushed the door open, his mouth watering as savory scents burst out at him. Inside was a bar with all its stools filled, and the dining tables all had clean tablecloths. A young girl stood at the ready and eagerly asked Braxton if he wanted a room.

“We’ll see,” he said, holding up a hand and smiling. He searched the lobby for Gordon’s enormous body, and was disappointed to find him neither sleeping nor awake. Boots padding noiselessly on a floor made of new boards, Braxton swerved around drunken dancers, trying to get to a different viewpoint.

Even after ten minutes of searching, Braxton could not find his brother. He wondered if Gordon had actually eaten anything. Maybe the first prince had just stayed the night, and left late on an empty stomach.

As he neared a hallway that must have led to the rooms, Braxton realized that several of the people in the inn were watching him. He was quite conspicuous in his suit, which he had foolishly forgotten to change out of. Deciding to ask Randall to sniff the area outside, Braxton made his way back to the front entrance.

“Where do you think you’re going?” spat a sweet voice. It was the young girl who had welcomed Braxton. He turned to her, noticing a sneer plastered on her face. The neck of her blouse was cut too low, and Braxton looked away, only to meet the eyes of a group of brutes. Each of them looked larger than Gordon, with belly fat sticking out under old shirts. In a split second, it seemed as though everyone in the inn had transformed. The dancing drunks staggered dangerously nearby, cackling and hiccuping. A grease-covered cook stumbled into the room with a butcher’s knife in his meaty hands.

Braxton backed away. He reached the front door, and his fingers groped at the door handle. His feet scraped against the ground, trying to carry him away, but not moving any further. Then, as the crowd of possessed staff and visitors pressed closer, Braxton remembered something. This front door opened inwards.

He was trapped.