In case of a dragon attack, she had sewn two small vials in the bodice of her royal gown within her royal cleavage. It had cost several pieces of gold, not to mention a questionable reputation, but she finally managed to persuade the wretched Wizard Supreme to part with a magical potion to disguise herself.
One drop on the tongue would instantly transform her into the very likeness of a large beastly dragon. In such way, she fully expected to escape by posing as a dragon herself.
Sure enough, one fine day, a wandering dragon stumbled upon the princess’s castle and left it a fine pile of rubble. As he searched amongst the debris for the princess, sheswallowed the potion and turned into the most ravishing female dragon the other had ever beheld. The dragon forgot all about searching for a mere princess, and proposed marriage to her upon the spot.
Life was not working out the way she’d planned. “Ick,” said the princess.
“You are no ordinary dragon, Lady,” her suitor said, so excited that he blew smoke rings.
“Quite correct, tall and scaly,” she said, trying to leave for a safe spot to turn back into her royal form.
“I shall woo you,” said the dragon, and pounced to woo in the forthright way that dragons do.
“Woo. Woo,” said the dragon.
“Woah,” said the princess, quickly thinking of a way to rid herself of the creature long enough to drink her antidote from the second vial and return as a princess. Many the times as a princess, she had demanded a knight slay a dragon to prove his worthiness. That was it.
“No, no, no,” she said. “First you must slay a knight. No slay, no play!”
Now this particular dragon had kidnapped many a princess, but he had never slain a knight. It simply had not come up. He decided to secure his lady in a cave while he went off to consult his best friend, another tall, green, scaly dragon. He rolled a big rock across the entrance and left his lady love to breathe fire in anger. But, huff and puff as she might, the rock would not roll.
The dragon’s friend listened carefully and decided what with the recent shortage of available knights, they might have to resort to sorcery to win the fair dragon lady’s claws in marriage.
It so happened that he also knew of the same Wizard Supreme and demanded a disguise potion to turn a dragon into a knight. Taking the potion, he returned to his lovesick friend, and they set out to the cave to perform a play in which the dragon suitor would pretend to slay the dragon now disguised as a knight.
When the rock was rolled away, the princess saw what she believed to be a real knight, drank down the antidote, and reverted to her own regal form. She raced to the knight and promised her hand in marriage if he would but slay the ugly old dragon.
Enraged with jealousy, the dragon slew his friend, and stole the potion from him. Even though the princess was no longer a dragon, she had stolen his heart.
Quickly gulping down the potion, he became a knight and returned to the princess. She had been fooled the first time, but had since wised up.
As he approached, she took the remaining disguise potion and became a dragon, whereupon she slew him with one blast of her hot breath. Then she took the antidote, and became a princess. A handsome prince found her and fell madly in love, and they lived happily ever after.
The End
“But, that’s a terrible story,” Herb said. He felt sorry for the dragon. “How like a woman. And after he had turned himself inside out to please her.”
“That’s the whole point, Herb. No matter how much you may wish it to be otherwise, some loves were never meant to be,” Spring said.
Herb decided to change the subject. “It’s hard to comprehend that the man who created this world with all its beauty, could at the same time be so evil.”
“You’d better believe it,” Spring snapped. Her disposition had deteriorated considerably during the telling of the story.
“Sorry,” Herb said. “I know how you feel about Zygote. With good reason.”
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” she apologized. “It’s just that I know how horrid he is. You and Cling have had have but a very small taste of his cruelty. Kidnapping Lily was all in a day’s work. A man who could sanction the death of a wonderful, brilliant person like my father is—beyond words,” she finished, as her voice failed. Sometimes the pain came rushing back at unexpected moments. This was one of them.
Herb pretended not to see the tears. It was so hard to keep from hugging her in his arms, but he knew there was no place for him in her life. It would be wrong to encourage feelings that could not, and should not, be returned.
Even so, his heart went out to her, and his arms would surely have followed, had not Cling Ling returned soon.
Spring hastily wiped her face and went behind Herb to meet the Vinese. “There is a fresh water well not far from here,” he announced. They had exhausted most of their supply, so this was good news. They still had several of the Txnghc’s nutrition pills, so food was not a problem.
They had not gone far until they came upon a small pathway leading to the well. It was a covered redwood one with ivy growing up the sides and smooth decorative stones around the base.
“It’s just like a picture card, or a wishing well,” Spring said.
“Well, I wish only to drink,” Herb said. “I just hope the water tastes as good as the well looks.” He lowered the wooden bucket until it splashed down, sinking beneath the surface. He turned the crank to draw it back and tied off the rope.
Spring handed him the pewter dipper that hung from a peg at the side of one post. He plunged the dipper into the water and offered the first drink to Spring. She tipped it and drank deeply, spilling a little from the sides.
“Umm, cool.” She dipped it again and held it up for Herb this time. “For my Knight in Shining Armor,” she teased.
“From the loveliest princess in the land? How can I refuse?” he replied, drinking with relish. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. Much better than the tepid water left in the canteen.
Spring reached for the dipper to serve Cling Ling next. “Cling—” She felt strangely disoriented and blinked her eyes. The dipper seemed to slip from her hand.
Everything around her was swimming together, her vision was so blurred. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, she looked for Herb and Cling Ling, but all she saw were walls. Walls? Where did the others go? Where was the forest and the well? And most of all, where was she?
Spring climbed out of the huge four poster bed and ran to the single window in the small, round room. She looked out and down. She was up in a castle. Leaning out as far as she dared, she looked across the tree tops. There was no castle. Just a high tower, like a rook, the chess piece.
A spectacular view of the forest was spread before her. Perhaps she could spot Herb or Cling out there somewhere. But it was no use; there was just the wide expanse of green, and both Herb and Cling were green. It would be impossible to spy them from this height. She would have to go down and look for them.
Spying the small door, she ran to it and pulled hard on the knob, but it wouldn’t open. Locked! Someone had locked her in! Rummaging about the room, she searched for a key, but found none. If only she still had her things, with the magical key of her father’s. She looked beneath the bed, but there was no sign of her belongings. Mysterious. How could she have gotten here without knowing it?
Sitting down on the bed, she went over everything that had happened before she appeared here. They were walking through the forest on the way to Zygote’s castle. Cling Ling had found the well. They drank, and then—this. Nothing else had happened. So there had to be a connection.
Had they evoked some spell without being aware of it? What had they said? Now she remembered. They had been talking about fairy tales while waiting for Cling. She had told him her story about the Knight and Dragon and Princess, and then they had been joking about it at the well. They—of course. That was it. It really was a wishing well.
And if it was active? Pr
obably so. Even if it was artificial, it was still Zygote’s magic realm. If they had only thought, they could have simply wished themselves to Zygote’s castle then.
No, wait. They hadn’t been making wishes, exactly. Yet maybe the well was set up to take wishes with a drink, so anything a person thought about while drinking was considered a wish? The well couldn’t tell the difference.
But what had they been saying? She had been teasing Herb. Calling him her Knight in Shining Armor. But it didn’t make sense. Herb wasn’t there.
Herb wished he wasn’t there. He stood cowering at the back of a narrow ravine, his gauntlets held firmly over the mouth of the horse, trying to keep him quiet. There was a dragon out there.
Herb had no idea just how he had gotten to wherever he was, but he sure wished he could leave. Where were the others? He had awakened as if from a dream to find himself in the strange setting. More of Zygote’s evil doings, no doubt, but what was he to do?
He had been standing with Spring and Cling Ling at the well talking, and the next thing he knew, galloping full tilt across a grassy plain toward a fire breathing dragon. That had limited appeal.
Herb had pulled on the reins and turned the charger in the opposite direction. You would think a dragon would be happy to be rid of him, but oh, no. It had to pursue him. Herb had plunged his steed down into the maze of ravines in hopes of losing his fiery friend. It could still work if the annoying nag would only be still.
He had handled the horse amazingly well for someone who had never sat upon horseflesh in his life. If this was some sort of story scenario, such as the Troll at the Bridge incident, he would probably be equipped to enter into whatever plot it foretold. And if it was only a story, perhaps he had nothing to fear, after all. That is, if he could avoid becoming a one man feast until discovering the plot line.
The horse pulled away, reared up and whinnied, giving Herb a look of stern disapproval. No doubt it was used to jousts, and dragons, and bold goings on, and Herb had somehow offended its sense of valor. Well, tough grass. He was no Knight of Olde and he wanted to grow older.
Suddenly, the horse broke free and scrambled back up the side of the ravine. Herb rushed up after it. The last thing he needed was to be caught out in the open without a steed. He wasn’t quite sure how he knew that, but he was certain it would be the end of him if he was.
Puffing up after the wandering mount, that was now standing still, naturally, since it was in full view of the dragon, he put his foot in the stirrup and tried to hoist himself up. It wasn’t so simple in armor.
How did those Knights do it? Now he remembered. They had help. It was bad news for any Knight who fell off his steed during battle. A full suit of armor was hard to get up in.
Herb looked around the landscape and got inspired. He led the animal over to a large clump of rocks and climbed up to mount. The dragon was there, but seemed occupied in thought. Maybe it had found someone else to eat while he had been in the ravine.
If Spring could only see him now, he thought, as he mounted. Only today she had called him her Knight in Shining Armor. Herb looked down at the shine on his armor. He could comb his hair in its reflection.
Spring. Somehow, she had done this to him. Oh, would he love to get his hands on her. And this time, for a very different reason.
Spring had put two and two together at last. Their “wishes” had worked on each other. Right now, Herb was probably in some King Arthur tale, while she was, where? What would Herb have thought about? He called her a Princess, but fairy tales were full of princesses trapped in towers. That was it. Trapped. A Prisoner.
She turned quickly to the window, and tripped. Her foot had caught on something. Looking down to see what it was, she gasped to discover it was her own hair. But that was impossible. Her hair was not that long. Until now.
She reached back and pulled, watching the braid uncoil like a rope. Well, one mystery solved. She was Rapunzel, the girl with the long golden hair!
It figured. If any story would have appeal for Herb, it was one centered on a woman’s lengthy tresses. Hadn’t he always managed to put his hands on hers whenever the occasion presented itself? And the story of a beautiful girl, held captive in a tall tower for his exclusive pleasure was just the sort of thing he would conjure up. Based on a child’s story perhaps, but many a grown man’s fantasy.
Spring made another search of the room, this time for scissors or a knife; anything to cut with. If she could whack off the thick braid, she would try tying it to the window and climbing down. Even as a child, this possibility had occurred to her and she wondered why the silly Princess had never thought of it.
Well, she wasn’t vain, and this hair wasn’t really hers. In fact, it was a rather brassy shade of blonde. So much for Herb’s taste. Freedom was of higher priority than sex appeal at the moment. She kept on searching.
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your long, lovely hair,” came a call from below. Who could it be? It didn’t sound like either Herb or Cling.
She leaned out and looked down. Oh no. She had forgotten about the other part of the Rapunzel story. A bent old hag in a long, black cloak stood gazing up at her. A witch.
What to do? If she didn’t go along, the witch could suspect something. She couldn’t afford to distort this reality yet. Best to play along and see. Spring gathered up the long rope of hair and tossed it out, taking a firm grip from her side. There was a slight tug, but nothing as uncomfortable as she’d expected. Thank goodness this witch was skinny.
Suddenly, the witch’s ugly face was at the window, her long nose twitching over toothless lips. Her eyes were cruel and beady.
“Who’s been here since I’ve been gone?” she hissed.
“No-no one,” stammered Spring, jumping back. That was true. Or, was it? Now she remembered. Rapunzel had a boyfriend. He had been climbing in to romance her. And if she could see him when he came again, he might help her escape.
“That’s my good girl,” cooed the witch. “Come. Sit with me, and I’ll comb out your hair.”
What was there to do but go along with it? Worse could happen than getting her hair done.
The witch combed and rebraided the long length of silken hair while giving Spring sage advice on men. The funny part was, it was actually good advice. She remembered to behave like a docile doe and say “Yes, Mother” a lot. Satisfied, the witch climbed back down and left Spring alone again.
She was still hunting for a cutter when the call came again, this time from a male voice. Herb? She rushed to the window and looked out. There was a man, but not Herb. He was dressed in a pastel pink tunic over lavender tights and had a pointy feathered cap on his head. Rapunzel’s guy.
Quickly she threw down her hair and he climbed up, reaching through the window for her. She backed away, tripping again.
“Wait. I’m not who you think I am,” she exclaimed.
“What game be this, lass?” he laughed, chasing her around the small room.
“But I’m not Rapunzel. It’s all a mistake,” she gasped, dodging his hands. “We have to get out of here before the witch returns. Do you have a knife? Cut off my hair and we can climb down it together.”
He stopped dead in his boots. “Cut your wondrous hair, my beauty?” He looked aghast. “Better to ask me to cut out my heart.”
“But, it’s the only way. I don’t have a key.”
“The witch has done this. She has spun some evil spell to make you speak such words, my dove.”
“Okay, okay, forget I mentioned it,” she said, holding a chair in front of her. This man was beyond it. Obviously, these characters went by only one story line and could not be deviated. She would have to try another tack.
“My hero!” she emoted. “You slay the witch for me. You can hide and attack her when she returns. Save me, you—” she paused, gazing at his pastel outfit, “you, big strong man.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “I shall free you and we will live happily ever after.” He seemed elated at the pros
pect.
“Yeah, I thought you’d go for it. I mean, yes, my hero! The witch probably has the key on her. Good. Now all we have to do is wait,” she said, sitting down on the side of the bed to rest.
“Nay, not all, my lovely,” the Prince said suggestively, approaching with outstretched arms. This time he was too quick, and caught her fast.
“Prince. Down, Prince,” she panted. “This is a bad idea. While the witch is loose, I mean. She might come any moment.”
The Prince was busy kissing upwards on her arm, stopping at the shoulder. “Don’t be coy with me, you saucy wench. Many the time we have lain together. I know thee too well.” He leered.
Oops. She hadn’t thought of that part of it when reading Rapunzel’s story as a child. What did she think they were doing up there on those visits? Playing pat-a-cake?
“Oh. You weren’t playing checkers, were you?” she cried, trying to free herself from his grasp.
“Thou speech be strange, but thy lips sweet. I must taste their nectar,” he proclaimed as his lips crushed hers.
She pulled away and ran to the opposite side of the bed.
“No! No!” she cried, exactly like a Damsel in Distress.
“But, yes, yes,” he said, ripping off his garments and flinging them to the floor. As Spring had suspected, he’d nothing to hide.
“This new game doth please me. Thou hast spirit, wench,” he said, his eyes attempting to do to her clothing what his hands had done to his own.
“But I don’t want to play anymore,” Spring wailed.
He lunged across the small bed and caught her at the waist, ripping open the lacy bodice of her gown. It came loose with dismaying ease and she tumbled out. Spring looked down in amazement.
“Where did those come from?” Of course, they weren’t hers, they were Herb’s idea of Rapunzel’s. There wasn’t a mirror, so she had just assumed she looked like herself, but she must have looked like the Rapunzel the witch was used to, or she would have been discovered. She looked down again. How did the girl tie her shoes? No wonder the Prince was so determined!