Once Upon a Time: New Fairy Tales Paperback (45 page)

“Ivan,” said Blanchefleur.

“Come here, recruit.” Ivan walked to the boulder and stood in

front of the wolf, as still as he could. He did not want Blanchefleur to see that he was afraid. “You shall call me Captain, and I shall call you Private, and as long as you do exactly what you are told, all shall be well between us. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” said Ivan.

The wolf bared his teeth and growled.

“Yes, Captain,” said Ivan.

“Good. This is your Company, although we like to think of

ourselves as a pack. You are a member of the Wolf Guard, and should

be prepared to die for your brothers and sisters of the pack, as they are prepared to die for you. Now come inside.”

Ivan wondered where inside might be, but the Captain loped

toward the cliff face and vanished behind an outcropping. One by

one, the wolves followed him, some stopping to give Ivan a brief

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• Theodora Goss •

sniff. Ivan followed them and realized the cliff was not sheer after all.

Behind a protruding rock was a narrow opening, just large enough

for a wolf. He crawled through it and emerged in a large cave.

Scattered around the cave, wolves were sitting or lying in groups,

speaking together in low voices. They looked up when he entered,

but were too polite or uninterested to stare and went back to their

conversations, which seemed to be about troll raiding parties they

had encountered, wounds they had sustained, and the weather.

“Have you ever fought?” the Captain asked him.

“No, sir,” said Ivan.

“That is bad,” said the Captian. “Can you move through the forest

silently? Can you tell your direction from the sun in the day and the stars at night? Can you sound like an owl to give warning without

divulging your presence?”

“Yes, Captain,” said Ivan, fairly certain that he could still do those things. And to prove it to himself, he hooted, first like a Eagle Owl, then like a Barn Owl, and finally like one of the Little Owls that used to nest in his father’s mill.

“Well, that’s something, at least. You can be one of our scouts.

Have you eaten?”

“No, sir,” said Ivan.

“At the back of the cave are the rabbits we caught this morning,”

said the Captain. “You may have one of those.”

“He is human,” said Blanchefleur. “He must cook his food.”

“A nuisance, but you may build a small fire, although you will have

to collect wood. These caverns extend into the mountain for several

miles. Make certain the smoke goes back into the mountain, and not

through the entrance.”

Skinning a rabbit was messy work, but Ivan butchered it, giving

a leg to Blanchefleur and roasting the rest for himself on a stick he sharpened with his knife. It was better than he had expected. That

night, he slept beneath his coat on the floor of the cave, surrounded by wolves. He was grateful to have Blanchefleur curled up next to his chest.

• 367 •

• Blanchefleur •

The next morning, he began his life in the Wolf Guard.

As a scout, his duty was not to engage the trolls, but to look for

signs of them. He would go out with a wolf partner, moving through

the forest silently, looking for signs of troll activity: their camps, their tracks, their spoor. The Wolf Guard kept detailed information on the trolls who lived in the mountains. In summer, they seldom came down

far enough to threaten the villages on the slopes. But in winter, they would send raiding parties for all the things they could not produce themselves: bread and cheese and beer, fabrics and jewels, sometimes even children they could raise as their own, for troll women do not

bear many children. Ivan learned the forest quickly, just as he had at home, and the wolves in his Company, who had initially been politely contemptuous of a human in their midst, came to think of him as a

useful member of the pack. He could not smell as well as they could, nor see as well at night, but he could climb trees, and pull splinters out of their paws, and soon he was as good at tracking the trolls as they were. They were always respectful to Blanchefleur. One day, he asked her what she did while he was out with the wolves. “Mind my own

business,” she said. So he did not ask again.

As for Ivan, being a scout in the Wolf Guard was like finding a

home. He had learned so much in Professor Owl’s tower, and he had

come to love the lizards in his charge, but with the wolves he was

back in the forest, where he had spent his childhood. And the wolves themselves were like a family. When Graypaw or Mist, with whom

he was most often paired, praised his ability to spot troll tracks, or when the Captain said “Well done, Private,” he felt a pride that he had never felt before.

”You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy,” said

Blanchefleur, one winter morning. The snows had come, and he

was grateful for the hat and gloves Mrs. Pebbles had included in his satchel.

“I don’t think I ever have been, before,” he said. “Not since—”

Since his mother had died. Since then, he had always been alone. But now he had a pack. “I think I could stay here for the rest of my life.”

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• Theodora Goss •

“We seldom get what we want,” said Blanchefleur. “The world has

a use for us, tasks we must fulfill. And we must fulfill them as best we can, finding happiness along the way. But we usually get what we

need.”

“I’ve never heard you so solemn before,” said Ivan. “You’re starting to sound like your mother. But I don’t think the world has any tasks for me. I’m no one special, after all.”

“Don’t be so sure, Ivan Miller,” said Blanchefleur.

Suddenly, all the wolves in the cave pricked up their ears.

“The signal!” said the Captian.

And then Ivan heard it too, the long howl that signaled a troll raid, the short howls that indicated which village was being attacked.

“To the village!” shouted the Captain.

“Be careful!” said Blanchefleur, as Ivan sprang up, made sure his

knife was in his belt, and ran out of the cave with the wolves. Then they were coursing through the forest, silent shadows against the

snow.

They saw the flames and heard the screams before they saw any

trolls. The village was a small one, just a group of herding families on the upper slopes. Their houses were simple, made of stone, with turf roofs. But the sheds were of wood, filled with fodder for the sturdy mountain sheep. The trolls had set fire to the fodder, and some of the sheds were burning. The sheep were bleating terribly, and as wolves

rushed into the village, the Captain shouted to Ivan, “Open the pens!

Let the sheep out—we can herd them back later.”

Ivan ran from pen to pen, opening all the gates. Mist ran beside

him and if any sheep were reluctant to leave their pens, she herded

them out, nipping at their heels.

When they reached the last of the pens, Ivan saw his first troll. She was taller than the tallest man, and twice as large around. She looked like a piece of the mountain that had grown arms and legs. Her

mottled skin was gray and green and brown, and she was covered

in animal pelts. In her hand, she carried a large club. In front of her, crouched and growling, was Graypaw.

• 369 •

• Blanchefleur •

“Come on, cub!” she sneered. “I’ll teach you how to sit and lie

down!”

She lunged at Graypaw, swinging the club clumsily but effectively.

The club hit a panicked ram that had been standing behind her, and

the next moment, the ram lay dead on the snow.

Mist yipped to let Graypaw know she was behind him. He barked

back, and the wolves circled the troll in opposite directions, one

attacking from the left and the other from the right.

What could Ivan do? He drew his knife, but that would be no

more effective against a troll than a sewing needle. To his right, one of the sheds was on fire, pieces of it falling to the ground as it burned.

As Graypaw and Mist circled, keeping away from the club, trying to

get under it and bite the troll’s ankles, Ivan ran into the burning shed.

He wrenched a piece of wood from what had been a gate, but was

now in flames, then thrust its end into the fire. The flames licked it, and it caught. A long stick, its end on fire. This was a weapon of sorts, but how was he to use it?

Graypaw and Mist were still circling, and one of them had

succeeded in wounding the troll—there was green ichor running

down her leg. The troll was paying no attention to Ivan—she was

wholly absorbed in fending off the wolves. But the wolves knew he

was behind them. They were watching him out of the corners of

their eyes, waiting. For what?

Then Ivan gave a short bark, the signal for attack. Both Graypaw

and Mist flew at the troll simultaneously. The troll swung about

wildly, not certain which to dispatch first.
Now
, thought Ivan, and he lunged forward, not caring that he could be hit by the club, only knowing that this was the moment, that he had put his packmates in

danger for this opportunity. He thrust the flaming stick toward the

troll’s face. The troll shrieked—it had gone straight into her left eye.

She clutched the eye and fell backward. Without thinking, Ivan drew

his knife and plunged it into the troll’s heart, or where he thought her heart might be.

A searing pain ran through his chest. It was Dame Lizard’s tail,

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• Theodora Goss •

tightening until he could no longer breathe. It loosened again, but he reeled with the shock and pain of it.

“Ivan, are you well?” asked Mist.

“I’m—all right,” he said, still breathless. “I’m going to be all right.”

But he felt sick.

The troll lay on the ground, green ichor spreading across her

chest. She was dead. Behind her was a large sack.

“That must be what she was stealing,” said Graypaw.

The sack started to wriggle.

“A sheep, perhaps,” said Mist.

But when Ivan untied it, he saw a dirty, frightened face, with large gray eyes. A girl.

“You’ve found my daughter!” A woman was running toward them.

With her was the Captain.

“Nadia, my Nadia,” she cried.

“Mama!” cried the girl, and scrambling out of the bag, she ran into

her mother’s arms.

“This is the Mayor of the village,” said the Captain. “Most of the

trolls have fled, and we were afraid they had taken the girl with them.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” said the woman. “You’ve done more

than rescue my daughter, although that has earned you my gratitude.

I recognize this troll—she has been here before. We call her Old

Mossy. She is the leader of this tribe, and without her, the tribe will need to choose a new leader by combat. It will not come again this

winter. Our village has sustained great damage, but not one of us has died or disappeared, and we can rebuild. How can we reward you for

coming to our rescue, Captain?”

“Madame Mayor, we are the Wolf Guard. Your gratitude is our

reward,” said the Captain.

On the way back to the cave, Graypaw and Mist walked ahead of Ivan,

talking to the Captain in low voices. He wondered if he had done

something wrong. Perhaps he should not have told them to attack?

After all, they both outranked him. They were both Corporals, while

• 371 •

• Blanchefleur •

he was only a Private. Perhaps they were telling the Captain about

how he had reeled and clutched his chest after the attack. Would he

be declared unfit for combat?

When they got back to the cave, Blanchefleur was waiting for him.

“Ivan, I need to speak with you,” she said.

“Blanchefleur, I killed a troll! I mean, I helped kill her. I want to tell you about it . . . ”

“That’s wonderful, Ivan. I’m very proud of you. I am, you know,

and not just because of the troll. But it’s time for us to leave.”

“What do you mean? It’s still winter. I haven’t been here for a year yet.”

”My mother has summoned us. Here is her messenger.”

It was Tailcatcher. In his excitement, Ivan had not noticed the

striped cat.

“The Lady wishes you to travel to the capital. Immediately,” said

Tailcatcher.

“But why?” asked Ivan.

“You are summoned,” said Tailcatcher, contemptuously. “Is that

not enough?”

“If you are summoned, you must go,” said the Captain, who had

been standing behind him. “But come back to us when you can, Ivan.”

Ivan had never felt so miserable in his life. “Can I say goodbye to

Mist and Graypaw?”

“Yes, quickly,” said the Captain. “And thank them, because on their

recommendation, I am promoting you to Corporal. There is also

something I wish to give you. Hold out your right hand, Corporal

Miller.”

Ivan held out his hand.

The Captain lunged at him, seized Ivan’s hand in his great mouth,

and bit down.

Ivan cried out.

The Captain released him. The wolf’s teeth had not broken his

skin, but one of his fangs had pierced Ivan’s hand between the thumb and forefinger. It was still lodged in his flesh. There was no blood,

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• Theodora Goss •

and as Ivan watched, the fang vanished, leaving only a white fang-

shaped scar.

“Why—” he asked.

“That is my gift to you, Corporal. When I was a young corporal

like yourself, I saved the life of a witch. In return, she charmed that fang for me. She told me that as long as I had it, whenever I fought, I would defeat my enemy. She also told me that one day, I could pass the charm to another. I asked her how, and she told me I would know