Puss in Boots (Timeless Fairy Tales Book 6) (20 page)

Steffen was rigid for a few moments before he sighed and the fight went out of him. “Fine. Your cat would probably lay a sleeping charm on me if I tried to stop you. Be careful when you torch the place. We’ve gotten rid of a dozen goblins, but there are still at least thirty-five left.”

It’s just as well he thinks that’s what I’m going back for. He would knock me out if he knew the truth.
“It’s Puss and me. We’ll be fine.”

Steffen frowned at her—a real frown that cast a troubled light on his handsome features.

“We will be fine, Your Highness. We’re a capable team,” Puss said.

“I know. But I wish…” Steffen sighed and shook his head. “Be careful,” he repeated, squeezing Gabrielle’s hand.

The gesture made her blush. Remembering their discussion in Kinzig, Gabrielle averted her eyes and pulled her hand from his. “We will. Puss, do you know which way to go?”

“Of course. Who do you think I am? That stray cat that’s growing fat in the kitchens of The Turtle & Doves?” Puss scoffed. He trotted east, his tail raised in the air.

“Don’t pick on her. I think she’s pretty—and sweet,” Gabrielle said, hurrying after him. She paused long enough to wave at Steffen before she picked up Puss.

“Perhaps, if one doesn’t mind that she is as stupid as a stump,” Puss said.

“That’s unfair. You’re comparing her to you. You’re a magic cat; you’re a different species.” Gabrielle cuddled him close.

“Now I recall why you are my mistress. You are astoundingly observant,” Puss said. “Hold on to me. I’m turning us invisible.”

“Yes, Puss.”

Steffen watched Gabrielle disappear and stared at the spot he had last seen her long after she and her dratted cat fell out of hearing range.

It took every ounce of his self-control to hold himself back. He wanted to go sprinting after her to make sure she didn’t break her foolish neck. Even more so, he wanted to toss her in a room in Castle Brandis and lock her in, never to run around like a swashbuckling hero again—never to risk her life again.

“I’m the crown price,” he reminded himself, clenching his jaw.
It is acceptable to play hero when rescuing my people, but it is unacceptable to chase after a capable hero-girl and her magical cat, unnecessarily risking my life.

Every part of Steffen screamed at him to follow her. His heart thundered in his chest, and his muscles tensed as he stared down Gabrielle’s path. But there were some things royalty didn’t have the luxury to do—no matter how strongly they wished it.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. He forcibly turned his body, every part of his being echoing a feeling of wrongness. Just when he was about to follow after his men and the refugees, he heard tramping through underbrush.

Steffen ducked down, hiding under a massive fern. A group of ten forest goblins eased into view about a stone’s throw away. They were hurrying, their path leading them in the direction into which Gabrielle had disappeared. Their path would intersect with hers in minutes if they did not deviate.

Puss has the invisibility spell. They’ll run right past her.
Steffen tried to talk himself out of his actions as he unsheathed his sword and eased out from under the fern.
Besides, she’s smart enough to look for scout parties
. He took a few steps in their direction.
She’ll hear them coming, like I did
…
but
…

I don’t care
.

Steffen sprinted for the goblins, keeping trees between them until he caught up.

I’m risking my life—and abandoning my responsibilities as the crown prince—for the sake of a girl who could probably fend off the goblins just fine.
But that didn’t matter, he realized. He would gladly shirk his duties as a prince and run headfirst into terrible odds,
as long as she wasn’t hurt!
Steffen swung his sword, taking down the first goblin.

He took out the second the same way, but by then, the goblins realized what was happening. They turned and piled in his direction, overwhelming him by sheer numbers.

Steffen parried a blow from a black sword and took a hit from a club on his back. He pitched forward, but he took one goblin down with him, and finished it off with a dagger. He rolled out of the way of a spear, and popped upright, cutting another goblin down.

One goblin opened a deep, nasty wound on his thigh with an axe that sliced straight through his linen pants. Steffen chopped at the enemy with his sword, disarming and killing it before another goblin clubbed him on the head.

He crashed to his knees, vision blurring. He heard a movement behind him and shifted just in time to avoid a stab at his kidneys—although it sliced through the leather of his uniform and nicked his hip.

Steffen thrust his sword up, blocking another blow. By sheer luck, he fended off another swing and stabbed his sword into the goblin’s foot.

The goblin shrieked loud enough to wake the dead, and a gold lance took him down.

Rune.

Steffen’s golden-haired, hazel-eyed, storybook prince of a brother—burst through the trees, riding a horse. The horse reared, smacking a goblin in the head and tossing it to the ground like a ragdoll.

The remaining goblins shrieked—realizing they were beat—and ran through the forest.

“I’ll be just a moment,” Rune said, arming his crossbow.

Steffen watched him ride off, and for the first time in his life he was envious of his little brother. If Steffen had been a middle son, he would have trained for adventures—not for ruling. Not that he was even remotely interested in being the country’s hero. He wasn’t. But if he were, he would be free. Free to chase after spitfire adventurers who owned magic cats.

But that didn’t matter either.
It’s not like I’m in love with her,
Steffen thought.
I am not such a simpleton to think that—even were such a thing possible—it would happen over the four or five short days I have interacted with Gabrielle
. He shook his head and rocked back so he was sitting instead of crouching on his knees. “Better off not thinking about it.”

“Steffen—what happened?”

Steffen winced and looked up to see his baby sister—Fürstin Elise. “Elise? What are you doing here?” For a moment, it was impossible to breathe. In spite of his worries, Gabrielle was competent and had a magic cat. Elise, however, was all but defenseless. A goblin-infested woods was the
last
place she should be.

“Rune decided to bring me with him to get me out of the castle,” Elise said, squatting in front of Steffen. She paled as she inspected his wounds.

After observing her stricken look, Steffen attempted to distract her. “Is Falk being mean again?”

“Never mind that! What can I do to help you? Should your head wound be wrapped?” Elise dabbed at the blood on his face with the white handkerchief she clutched in her shaking hands.

“I’m fine. Just a few scratches,” Steffen said, purposely downplaying his leg wound—which bled too much for his comfort.

“A few
scratches
? You’re grievously injured!” Elise’s eyes were wide with worry, and she ran a hand through her wild curls. “I don’t know how to treat you, either—I never thought I would need medical knowledge. That is an unacceptable oversight.”

“I don’t think anyone in our family ever wished you would ever have a
need
for such skills. Why are you here, though? Rune should have left you in Jagst, that stupid puppy.”

Elise shook her head. “Rune has a medical pack. Can you wait for his return, or should I shred a part of my dress to staunch the blood flow of your leg wound?”

Steffen grunted and tried to shift—stopping immediately when pain shredded his aspiration. “Tell me why you’re here first, please.”

“We haven’t been there yet. One of Father’s guards caught us on the road. Rune decided to come straight here,” his foster-sister said, tapping her lip in thought.

“He could have left you with the guard.” Steffen furrowed his eyebrows, growing irritated with his brother.

“It would have been a wiser tactical move, but I begged to come.” Elise peered at Steffen’s leg wound before nodding in decisiveness. “We shouldn’t wait any longer; I’ll shred my dress. Although I need to be certain I use a clean part…”

“I’ll smack him when he gets back,” Steffen said. “It’s one thing for Rune to risk his own scrawny neck. It’s another for him to drag you into it.”

“It appears I’m not the only one who risked his scrawny neck, brother,” Rune said, securing his crossbow on his mount as the animal pranced through the trees. “What possessed you to take on so many goblins alone?”

“There were only ten, and they’re stupid. Mind your lessons and education better, and you would know that,” Steffen grunted. He considered pushing himself into a standing position but found that he couldn’t. His legs felt like lead weights, and his ears rang.

“Rune, I need the medical pack…wait…I beg your pardon. You attacked the goblins, Steffen?” Elise asked.

Steffen sighed and shot his younger brother an irritated look. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“I disagree. If
you
attacked ten goblins alone, I fear there is something wrong with your head.” She eyed his head wound.

“Where is your horse?” Steffen blurted, anxious to sidetrack her before she or Rune could further press him about his unusual actions.

“I rode with Rune.” Elise stood and approached Rune’s horse.

“Oh
did
you?” Steffen said, swiveling to pin down his little brother with a dark glare that made the younger prince shift in his saddle. “For the whole journey?”

“Yes. I don’t…Rune said I was light enough that his steed wouldn’t notice the extra weight,” Elise said, peering into a saddle bag. Rune’s horse swatted its tail, and she flinched.

“
Did
he? How
kind
of him. I shall have to commend your
kindness
later, Rune. In private,” he said, finishing his sentence internally:
with a club.

Elise was off the marriage market until she expressed an interest, but that didn’t mean Steffen’s younger brothers—hammer-head-Rune and Falk-the-incompetent-compliment-giver—weren’t attempting to squirm their way into her heart. Most days, Rune succeeded, but Steffen was starting to wonder if the young prince would accidentally banish himself into the friendship realm with the way he fawned over her.

There was no fear of that with Falk; he was as charismatic as a cow-pie.

“Steffen, would you stop talking and mind your wounds? We have to staunch the blood flow!” Elise said, searching through another saddlebag.

“I’ll get it, Elise. Where are your men, Steffen?” Rune asked. He dismounted and dug through his saddlebags.

“With the refugees. Hopefully they are halfway to Jagst by now.”

“Ahh, that explains your brash attack against the forest goblins,” Rune said. “Well done holding them back.”

Steffen said nothing to correct the mistaken assumption. His eyesight wavered, and he tipped back against a tree. “You were late,” he added. “The hero is supposed to arrive and save the helpless well before they almost bleed out.”

Rune laughed. “I don’t think anyone would call you helpless,” he said, pulling out a small bundle secured with twine. “Let’s get your wounds wrapped, and you and Elise can ride back to Jagst.”

“Here,” Elise said, kneeling at Steffen’s side. “Help me move him. While Rune patches you up, Steffen, I’ll fetch you some water.”

Steffen closed his eyes and felt his brother gingerly move his limbs. “If you insist,” he said.
Good luck, Gabrielle
.

Chapter 11

Carabas

“Even if this is last minute, we must plan. Approaching a foe as powerful as the ogre without a strategy in place is foolish,” Puss said as they walked through the forest—invisibility still cast on them.

“Yes. So what do you think we should do?” Gabrielle asked as she stepped over a log. “Put him in a charmed sleep and then take him out?”

“Good idea, but it won’t work.”

“Why not?”

“As I have told you previously, that particular spell only works on the weak-minded and the non-magical.” Puss’s claws pricked Gabrielle’s shoulder.

“So the ogre is strong-minded?”

“No. He has magic.”

“He
what
?” Gabrielle hissed. She stepped wrong and almost sent them tumbling, but she caught herself on a sturdy sapling.

“He doesn’t have much. He is limited to shape shifting, but it’s still magic,” Puss was quick to say.

“Shape shifting, is that all? No worries, then. He can just turn into a lion and
eat
us,” Gabrielle said, plodding on.

“Indeed. As he is immune to my sleep charm, I believe our best chance is to wait until he is sleeping and attack him then.”

“You think we’ll reach Carabas, and it will still be dark? It has to be mid-afternoon by now,” Gabrielle said.

“Worry not. We will reach Carabas before dusk.”

“What? How?” Gabrielle asked. She was somewhat distracted—she thought she could see the last bit of the forest up ahead.

“We’re not far from it. When we get out of these wretchedly dark woods, you will see the farmland that surrounds the ogre’s castle.”

“How can we be that close?”

“I have been steadily leading us eastward.” Puss purred in smug satisfaction.

“I knew that, but I thought we still had some distance between us and Carabas,” Gabrielle said.

“Jagst isn’t far from the ocean, and Carabas Castle has a harbor. You should have put it together,” Puss scolded.

Gabrielle stepped out of the trees and into the rolling farmland. “Or I shouldn’t have blindly trusted you.”

While adventuring their way through Arcainia, Gabrielle got to see all kinds of land. She had walked through more deep, rich forests than she thought Arcainia possessed; loped across rolling hills cultivated with neat rows of golden wheat, green shoots that held the promise of corn, and more; and climbed her way across open plains spattered with rock formations. All of these places boasted lush greenery and fat birds, and the cities all held chubby-cheeked, red-faced villagers.

The Carabas farmland was a stark contrast. The overcast sky seemed to hang low—like a layer of smoke from a great fire. The fields were spotted with dark patches where no seeds sprouted, and the plants were sparse and small. A hayfield that stretched across a magnificent hill was the dull green—almost a crusty tan—of thirsty plants.

“You weren’t exaggerating...the land
is
languishing,” Gabrielle said.

“No,” Puss said, his voice devoid of the usual smugness.

Together, the pair ambled through the unfertile fields and the dry plains. The demanding call of seagulls and the salty scent of the ocean tickled Gabrielle’s nose before the castle broke through the fog that veiled the coast.

The castle of Carabas was a gloomy sight. The walls were dark gray and streaked with black moss that made it look like dark slime was consuming the place. The rooftops were tar black, and the torches cast eerie shadows, making the castle a giant, glowing grimace.

It rested on top of a hill like an oval-shaped crown. The outer walls and buildings encompassed inner structures built on the crest of the hill and poking above the outer ring as if they were the second tier of a cake. One tall tower—a massive structure at the center of the castle—stabbed the sky with its needle-like roof and bell tower.

The city surrounding the castle fared a little better. Half of the homes were unlit—abandoned and vacated—but some of them glimmered white, royal blue roofs visible in the fading light. The city crowded the base of the hill on which the castle was built, extending around it like a horse shoe.

The harbor that used to be the pride and joy of Carabas was broken. Gabrielle didn’t know what it used to look like, but now there were only tumbled ruins and skeletons of piers and decks.

“If you squint, you can almost see the glory that it used to be,” Puss said.

“It’s lost,” Gabrielle said.

“No, not yet,” Puss said. “I saw it in books. The castle used to shine white even at night, and its rooftops were shingled with the brilliant blue that is often reserved for royalty. The architecture is still intact. It’s covered by the darkness of its occupant—like a canvas a painter has started repainting.”

“And we’re here to defeat this ogre that is so twisted he has turned a beautiful castle into a leering image of what it used to be?” Gabrielle asked.

“Yes.”

Gabrielle exhaled and squared her shoulders, upsetting Puss from his perch. “Well then. We better get started.”

The night was halfway over by the time Gabrielle and Puss left their hiding place to search out the ogre. The pair spent most of the evening wandering the castle invisibly, learning its layouts and avoiding the few human residents the ogre kept on as servants.

Now—with everyone asleep—they crept down the hallway, making their way to the ogre’s rooms. They hesitated at the great door of his chambers—which were previously used as a feasting hall.

“As he is sleeping, it is to be hoped that he will lack weapons and armor, but I fear I do not know if he will have kept his belted loincloth on,” Puss whispered into her ear.

“We’re about to attack a fearsome creature who has ruined Carabas
and
is responsible for the sudden outpouring of cooperation found in the goblins, and the placement of the candy cottage witch, and your foremost concern is that he keeps his
drawers
on?” Gabrielle hissed.

“You haven’t seen a naked ogre, or you wouldn’t be judging me for my worry.”

Gabrielle sighed and rested a hand on the giant door. “Are you sure about this, Puss?”

“Positive. We will finish this, Gabi.”

“For the refugees.”

“For the land.”

“For Arcainia,” Gabrielle agreed. Their whispered exchange put strength in her limbs, so she reached forward and yanked, pulling the door open; amazingly, it did not creak.

She slipped inside, Puss riding on her aching shoulder—he’d been there all day. The room was empty, except for the ogre—who slept on a pile of what looked like ship sails.

Broken and splintered furniture littered the room—as did the bones of animals. Gabrielle tip-toed to avoid stepping on anything as she approached the sleeping ogre.

She and Puss had sighted the ogre early in the evening (from the safety of an outer wall) as he stomped his way into the inner buildings of the castle. Sleep hadn’t done anything to beautify the creature.

The ogre was huge—easily two or three times the height of Steffen or even Moritz, his tallest guard. His limbs were thick and massive; his six-fingered hands were each the size of a small shield. His skin was the color of curdled cream—although he had finger-painted swipes of red on his face and arms. His face was concave, as if someone had punched him square in his snub nose and his face never regained its shape. The skin of his square jaw and cheeks were drawn up, and the skin of his brow bones and forehead was wrinkled down, so his eyes were tiny pinpricks—made to look even smaller by their contrast to his massive teeth that stuck out from his underbite.

Puss exhaled in relief, seeing that the ogre’s dirty loincloth and wrist guards were in place, even though the monster had removed his shoulder and chest armor.

A few sputtering torches and the moonlight—which fought its way through the hazy clouds and peered in through a skylight—dimly lit the chamber.

Gabrielle measured her breathing as she drew closer to the ogre, her sword already out of its scabbard and gleaming in the dull light. The plan was simple. She would hack at the ogre’s throat. If he woke up before he bled out, Puss would use a blinding spell on him, and they would avoid him until he dropped. It was no use trying to fight him once he was on his feet—Puss’s magic wasn’t strong enough for him to counter a frontal attack, and Gabrielle wouldn’t be able to reach any vital points.

Her boots were quiet on the stone floor as she ghosted up to the ogre’s makeshift bed, her eyes watering at the rancid stench of the creature’s breath. She took up a position between his massive shoulders and his egg-shaped head, intimidated by his sheer size. The ogre moved, and Gabrielle held her breath, even though Puss had cast invisibility on them.

The ogre stilled, and she breathed again. Her palms were moist as she clamped both her hands around the pommel of her sword and lifted it high above her head. Puss sank his claws into her clothes to keep himself anchored. Her heart wrenched in her chest, and she swung down on the ogre’s throat.

The ogre moved like lightning, rolling to his side so Gabrielle’s strike grazed his shoulder. He flopped back down on the bed, pinning her sword beneath his shoulder. Gabrielle had to let go of it to avoid her arm getting squashed—and broken—by the ogre’s frame.

She backed up, almost falling on her rump—when the ogre fished a hand behind his shoulder and plucked out the sword, casually tossing it away like a toothpick before he
laughed
. “I thought I smelled flesh and magic. Lucky for me, it’s just a human rat and her pet cat,” the ogre said—opening his eyes. They were tiny pinpricks of red, buried in a sea of wrinkled skin.

“
Run
!” Puss shouted, leaping at the ogre as he started to heft his head and shoulders off his bed. The magic cat landed on the ogre’s face with an angry yowl and scratched at him. A blob of light no bigger than Gabrielle’s fist exploded in the ogre’s face.

The ogre roared. He squashed Puss to his face with one giant fist—his thick fingers curling around the cat and squeezing before he threw him.

Puss hit the wall with a crunch and flopped to the ground, unresponsive.

Gabrielle screamed. “
PUSS
!”

The ogre lumbered to its feet, scrubbing at its eyes. Its roar shook the ground beneath her feet, but it fell quiet long enough to sniff the air.

“Reeking man-flesh. I will grind your bones!” the ogre snarled, lunging in Gabrielle’s direction.

Gabrielle jumped the splintered remains of a chair and sprinted across the room. She reached Puss and picked him up just in time to dodge a mangled table flying at her. It hit the wall, exploding into wooden fragments—some of which pelted and scratched her.

She tucked Puss—eyes closed, limp in her grasp—against her chest and ran, bursting from the feasting hall like a fox with hounds on its trail.

“Stop scurrying!” the ogre bellowed, breaking the doors down when he plowed straight into them.

Puss’s blinding charm must have worked, for the ogre ran into pillars and rickety furniture as he chased Gabrielle down the hallway.

She dove to a side of the hallway and squirmed her way through an open window. Barely avoiding the ogre’s grasping fist, Gabrielle lunged from the windowsill and darted to the side. The ogre slammed his fist through the glass pane of the neighboring window, showering her with glass. One of his fingers brushed her leg, but she jumped out of reach before he could hook her.

“I have your scent—human rat!” the ogre howled into the night air. “I will chase you until I mash you with my fists.”

A cold sweat trickled down Gabrielle’s back as she sprinted across the dirt expanse between the inner and outer castle. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see the ogre pulling his tree-trunk arms back in.

Gabrielle hefted Puss against her shoulder, freeing a hand so she could throw open a door that led into the outer buildings and walls of the castle. She hurtled down the hallway, following the escape path she and Puss had devised in case of…this.

Her breath came in tortured sobs, and the muscles of her legs burned when she burst through another door, flying free of the castle. A non-descript, bay-colored horse they had swiped from a nearly collapsed stable whinnied and danced, but he was unable to pull himself free of his picket.