It was almost sundown when I emerged from the library doors, the sky heavy with grey and black clouds. Another storm was brewing, a familiar sight in the early spring of the West Kingdom. The air hung heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming wildflowers. As I stepped onto the cobblestone road, rain began to fall, a gentle drizzle at first, but quickly gaining momentum. People scattered, running for shelter, scurrying like ants under a sudden downpour. I pulled the hood of my cloak over my head, and tucked the books I'd borrowed into the bag the Old Drunk Wolf had given me. Lady Elara had bought all the books, a good price, too, thankfully, since she'd found them valuable.
I was walking briskly towards the market when I noticed a crowd gathered around a large hut. A man, dressed in black, stood on a small stage, his voice resonating with a dramatic flair as he told a story. The people inside the hut looked mesmerised, their heads tilted in rapt attention. I didn't have time to stop.
But then I heard it. A voice, clear and distinct, cutting through the din of the city.
"Lady Pine, Lady Pine, oh wise one, tell me the name of my love whom I seek, whose fame burns brighter than the midday sun."
I peeked into the hut, excited by the familiar story. Every child in the kingdom knew the tale of Lady Pine, the wood witch who guarded the secrets of the old gods. It was a classic, a story passed down through generations, a tale full of secrets. What made this performance unique was the use of puppets. The stage at the far end of the hut was crowded with small, doll-sized puppets, each about a foot tall. They were intricately carved, their movements lifelike, controlled by hooded puppeteers behind the stage. Their strings were thin, almost invisible, making the puppets seem to move on their own.
"Lady Pine, her eyes like the skies darkened by the coming storm, her face like the cracked earth scorched by the summer's wrath, she looked upon the maiden."
The narrator, the man dressed in black, explained after the dialogue of the girl puppet, dressed in white. The scene shifted to Lady Pine, a puppet clad in a woody gown and a pointed hat, kneeling before the girl in white.
"Alas, poor maiden, you know nothing! The man you seek, he brings no blessing, only sorrow and despair!"
The girl puppet, dressed in white, was voiced by a young girl older than me, perhaps around Rosemary's age. She looked impatient, her lips pressed together in a thin line.
"Speak not of him, foul crone! The evil is not my love, but the sister of seven sins, thou, the Pine Witch!" Her voice, though young, was sharp and filled with anger.
Lady Pine started to plead again.
"When he lays his eyes upon you, maiden fair, it will be you, your friends, and family who will pay the price!"
"Silence your riddles, hag! The choice is not yours, but mine. I shall seek the answer from the Alders, your elders, who are true and wise."
The story continued, the girl in white eventually finding the true name of the Sun, marrying him, and living happily ever after.At least that's what the story says. I stayed until the very end of the show, completely captivated.
As the show ended, the narrator, a man with kind eyes and a gentle smile, began packing the dolls away in a wooden box.
"Pardon me, Mister, but do you by any chance know what happened to the girl dressed in white afterwards?" I asked.
The narrator looked at me for a moment, a curious expression on his face, his eyes flickering towards a girl who stood beside him. She was probably his daughter. She had golden-brown hair, the same like his father, touched with streaks of fiery red, and her eyes were a captivating golden hue. She had a captivating beauty, not like Rosemary, calm and disciplined, but like a nymph, playful and mischievous.
"Gwendolyn, you have a customer," the narrator said, nodding towards me.
It was as if she had been waiting for this moment. She walked towards me, her golden eyes sparkling with a mischievous gleam. "I assume you are not happy with our ending to the story?" she asked, her voice a soft melody.
"Umm, not exactly, miss," I mumbled, blushing under her gaze. She chuckled, a light, tinkling sound that made me feel even more awkward.
"That's a yes, little guy," she said, her smile widening. "How old are you anyway?"
"I turned twelve a few weeks ago, miss."
"And why are you here without an adult? You lost?" she asked, her tone playful.
"No, miss. I was on my way to meet my master at the marketplace."
"Good," she said, her smile widening. She quickly reached out, her fingers wrapping around my hand, and before I could even react, she started pulling me towards the outside of the hut.
"Why do girls always try to take care of boys younger than them?" I wondered, a touch of amusement mixed with annoyance colouring my inner voice.
"Did anyone ever mention you're too short for your age?" Gwendolyn asked, a mischievous glint in her golden eyes. She wasn't being mean; it was more like a playful jab, an attempt to tease, which only added to my annoyance.
I ignored her playful banter and returned to the main topic. "Miss Gwendolyn, do you know what happened to the girl dressed in white after she got married to the Sun?" I was curious. The story was part of the fabric of our world, passed down through generations.
She tilted her head, her gaze fixed on me, as if considering the value of my question. "I know some more, but it comes with a price. After all, selling stories is my trade."
"But I don't have any money, other than the coins I got from the librarian." I was already regretting my decision to engage in this conversation.
"Oh, you're a reader too, I see." She smiled, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Tell me what you've come to learn, and have a visit next time with flowers. In exchange, I'll tell you what I know."
"I'll try my best, miss," I said, feeling a little ashamed of my need to bargain.
She started walking, pulling me along with her. "Well, after she got married, she lived with the Sun for a long time, until one day, something bad happened." Gwendolyn's voice was hushed, almost conspiratorial.
"What bad thing?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
Gwendolyn changed our course, entering a new alleyway. It wasn't the usual route to the market. "It's a shortcut. It'll get you to your master faster," she said, as if reading my mind.
We walked in silence for a moment, the only sounds the pitter-patter of the rain and the echoes of our footsteps. Then, Gwendolyn continued the story.
"One day, the Sun decided to gamble with the Darkness. He wasn't satisfied with only ruling the day; he wanted the whole sky for himself. The Darkness agreed, but every time the Sun lost, he had to leave his wife in the sky, alone with the Darkness."
She quickened her pace, dragging me through the alley. This alley had very few people; it was a forgotten corner of the town. It was probably a back alley, I thought, wondering if Gwendolyn realised how dangerous it was to be wandering in the shadows, especially after sunset.
"Let me guess, the Sun lost almost every day, except on the new moon days. That's how his wife, the Moon, comes into the night sky." I smiled smugly, completing her story.
"Well, nice try, short guy, but not exactly. Even right now, the Sun is still gambling with the Darkness. He loses every day. After all, gambling is a bad habit; something you can't let go just after a year. But when the Sun went down, leaving his wife, he gave her a part of his light so the Darkness couldn't touch her."
Interesting, I thought. The hints from the Old Drunk Wolf and the books I had read were true. The girl dressed in white had really become the Moon. "Miss Gwendolyn, what do you know about the Wind Dragon who fell in love with the Moon?" I asked, trying to explore a new perspective of the old story.
Gwendolyn stopped, her free hand, the one not holding me in a tight leash, moving under her hood. She stayed like that for a moment, as if remembering something. "Miss Gwendolyn?" I asked, wondering why she had stopped.
But before I could say another word, the ground shifted beneath us, and something appeared literally through the ground. Gwendolyn stumbled, falling back onto the cobblestones. The rain was still pouring and the cobblestones were slippery. I was stunned for a moment, then quickly recovered. "Miss Gwendolyn!" I shouted, rushing to her side, checking to see if she was hurt.
But to my surprise, Gwendolyn was unharmed. She was on the ground, holding a dagger, her eyes blazing with fury, as she defended herself against a fist that was inches from her face.
I never knew she had a dagger under her hood, let alone that she could handle one! But even more interestingly, the fist that assaulted us was literally against the sharp edge of the dagger, but no blood was spilled.
I followed her gaze, my eyes meeting a face full of fury. The creature, with a thick black beard, and sky-blue eyes that seemed to age in the blink of an eye. He looked young, but those eyes held the weight of a thousand years.
"Get away from the boy," the dwarf spat, his voice a venomous hiss.
Gwendolyn glared at the small creature that towered over her. The dwarf's features were fierce, his face etched with anger. The air crackled with tension, the silence of the alley broken only by the sound of Gwendolyn's ragged breaths and the dwarf's furious growl. Well, isn't the day becoming more and more unpredictable.