Journey to Winter's End

The events that will unfold

Occur over thrice a night

The stories that are to be told

Will shed upon thee light

The town crier went through every village of the Kingdom of the Six Winter Nooses to announce Rose Clashflame’s execution that evening. Townspeople rushed from their homes and work to the village square to witness it. Rose’s trial deemed her a witch, and the punishment for being one was death by fire.

Eve Bloom gathered her brown wool cloak around her. The snows still fell, and would for another three months; winter lasted six months in the Kingdom. Pushing her way through the crowds, she came close to the execution platform where she met her best friend Sybil.

“Terrible, isn’t it?” Sybil whispered.

“Not as terrible as having witches around.”

“So you agree with death by fire?”

“Of course I do. Serves them right.”

“How could you say such a thing?”

“The world will be a better place once all the witches are gone.”

Not wanting to press the issue further, Sybil kept quiet until the proceedings began.

When the magistrate of His Majesty’s Crown Court began, the executioner with torch in hand stood behind him and the witch.

“Rose Clashflame, you are hereby accused of high sorcery by His Majesty’s Crown Court and the High Court of Appeals. You have been convicted of said accusation, and your sentence henceforth is death by fire. Do you have any last words?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“Very well. Executioner, she is ready.”

The executioner nodded, his black hood blowing in the breeze. The normal style of execution for a layperson was death by hanging, but death by fire was reserved only for witches.

“I cannot watch this,” Sybil whispered, turning her head away.

“And to think there are many more rotting away in prison,” Eve responded. “I wish they would all get on with it already.”

Tears threatened Sybil but she held them back.

Onlookers watched as the executioner tied Rose to a thick wooden pole, binding her wrists from behind. He then produced a bucket of warm tar and doused the witch in it. Next was a bucket of goose feathers. This preliminary act was merely for the witch’s humiliation, and to ensure burning.

Townspeople laughed and crowed at the sight of Rose tarred and feathered. When it was time to set her aflame, the executioner reached for his torch, but paused at the most incredible sight.

Rose’s tar and feathers were slowly dripping off her, like raindrops running down a painted wall. The people gasped and hushed conversation began, much to the magistrate’s horror. Witch she was, indeed, for only the most powerful of magic could produce such results.

“Sybil, look!” Eve cried.

When her friend turned around, a sparkle lit her eye at the sight of Rose, bearing no evidence of the feathers or tar.

The executioner stood gawking as Rose broke free of her restraints. The magistrate rushed to her when she jumped high in the air and stood on top of the pole.

“Hear ye, hear ye!” Rose cried over the chaos below. “I hereby declare a war with all mortals. Plague shall strike your lands, killing that most dear to you: vegetation in all forms. Your livestock will die for lack of food, as you shall in turn. Said plague shall never be lifted from the Kingdom, not until every last one of you is dead!”

The townspeople shuddered at her words. When Rose produced a powder from her pocket and blew on it, an explosion occurred, sending the pole toppling down. Rose disappeared into the night.

“What wonders never cease,” Sybil whispered.

Mayhem ensued in the village square as everyone rushed home to lock their doors, fearful of what Rose might do to them. Sybil returned with Eve to her home; with Eve’s father away at battle, Eve had the cottage to herself. Sybil had the liberty of spending the night, as she was an orphan and lived alone.

***

A knock at the door startled Eve and Sybil awake. Opening it, Eve found one of the King’s knights.

“Eve Bloom?”

“Yes.”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

He produced a scroll and began to unroll it. The words sank heavy on her heart as he said her father died in battle in the Northern Highlands. Sybil came to stand with her and held her. The knight also proclaimed that Eve was the heiress of her father’s cottage and his dragon.

“What am I to do with Blackthorn?” she asked Sybil. “I’ve had no interaction with dragons before. I’ve no idea how to properly care for them.”

“All in due time. Come, let’s not worry about that now,” Sybil said as the knight handed her the scroll.

Eve sat at the dining table, silent. She had a blank look on her face, and Sybil took her hands.

“I’ll care for you, dear one,” Sybil said.

When Eve looked into her eyes, the tears sprang forth. Running to the back door and out into her vegetable and flower garden under the morning sun, she sank to her knees and cried onto the ground. As she realized everything in her garden was dead, per Rose Clashflame’s curse, the tears flowed even more.

Sybil waited to join her. Wanting to give Eve time to grieve alone, she began preparing breakfast. When Eve didn’t return, she went outside to join her.

Eve held a dead dahlia in her palm and sobbed. When teardrops fell onto the dried flower, it came alive, scent and all. Horror and wonder filled Eve as Sybil knelt beside her.

“What’s this?” Sybil asked.

“I have no idea.”

“Did you cry upon it?”

“Yes, but –“

“Come inside at once, and bring the flower.”

They hurried inside the cottage and slammed the door shut, locking it.

Sybil took the flower and began ripping it into pieces before tossing it into the fire pit. She took Eve’s hand and sat with her at the table.

“I feared this day would come,” Sybil whispered.

“What day?”

“You are a…”

“A what?”

“A witch, my dear friend.”

Silence hovered between them as Eve stared at Sybil, disbelieving.

“That’s impossible. My mother wasn’t a –“

“She was, Eve. As am I.”

Eve jumped from her chair, moving to stand by the fire. “I don’t believe what you are saying.”

“Your magic has come to be since Rose unleashed her curse. You have green magic, Eve.”

“What are we to do?”

“We must go to Winter’s End immediately. They will care for us there. If anyone in the Kingdom finds out about us, we shall be imprisoned as well, and eventually burned.”

The gravity of Sybil’s words sank in with Eve. Winter’s End was the legendary abode of all witches from every land. The journey was long and treacherous, but it was the only solution before them for their problem. After a long silence, Eve turned to face her and grasped her hands.

“We shall take Blackthorn,” Eve said.

“Your dragon? But he cannot fly.”

“Never mind that. I won’t leave the poor creature here to rot.”

“Quite so. We’ll meet tonight half past midnight at the dragon stables. Don’t be late.”

***

Eve prepared a sack for the journey with what little provisions she had left, and one change of clothes. Meeting Sybil at the dragon stables proved to be an easy feat, but getting past the sleeping grooms was to be another adventure.

“I come prepared,” Sybil whispered, motioning towards her sack.

“As do I. How are we to remove Blackthorn from the stables without waking the grooms?”

“Leave that to me. Go acquaint yourself with him. I’ll be back.”

Eve walked past the sleeping dragons until she came upon Blackthorn. She saw him a few times in her childhood, but never recently. He was easy to find, as he was the only all-black dragon in the lot. He was her father’s prized possession, a rare breed acquired in the Eastern Lands.

“Blackthorn,” Eve whispered.

One black eye popped open, and it regarded her. Eve held her hands up before opening the stable door.

“I come in peace, Blackthorn. I’m taking you away from this place.”

The dragon began to stand, yawning and shaking its tail. Eve admired this creature; she never saw anything like it.

“I know you cannot fly, so we will set off on foot.”

Blackthorn opened its wings slowly, then folded them close to his back as if in acceptance of her offer. Dragons weren’t permitted to fly in the Kingdom for over one hundred years. They were merely work dragons, kept chained up and treated poorly. If not, they’d become unruly and fly away.

Sybil’s footsteps were light but still audible, and Eve winced when she spoke.

“They’ll be fast asleep for another few hours.”

“What did you do?”

“I tickled their noses with a sleeping potion I prepared this evening.”

Eve didn’t have time to ponder Sybil’s abilities as a witch, not now. They must leave.

“Right then. Off we go.”

The town square was deserted and torches put out, so they strained to see in the dark, all but Blackthorn. His night vision was impeccable.

They reached the horse stables on the outskirts of the village when shouts from behind made them turn around.

“Stop!” a knight cried. “Stop in the name of the King!”

Eve froze but Sybil moved with a swiftness. She gathered Blackthorn’s reins in her hand, heaving her sack upon his back and securing it. “Eve, we must run!”

The two teenagers ran as fast as they could, Blackthorn by their side, when the knights’ torches grew brighter.

“Stop, witches! Stop now!”

“We must ride,” Sybil cried out.

“Very well, you ride in front. I’ll ride behind you.”

Sybil gave Blackthorn a command to stop and lie down with only enough time for them to mount him, then she kicked her heels and Blackthorn took off.

Racing through the fields, Blackthorn proved to be more than worthy of the journey. His pace rivaled that of the knights’ horses tenfold, and soon the torches behind them faded away.

***

They stopped only to rest and eat from their sacks, and Eve produced a slab of raw meat for Blackthorn. Smoke shot out of his nose as he ate in delight.

“Will we be able to stop for sleep?” Eve asked. “I cannot make the journey without rest.”

“Of course, but only when we’re crossing the Mountains of Mourning.”

“Why do we have to cross the mountains? We’ll never make it out alive.”

“We will, for we are not mortals. Those that reside in the mountains shall look after us, and keep the knights out.”

The Mountains of Mourning were notorious for their dangerous paths and deadly fairy folk. No human ever made it out of there alive. However, they needed to cross them to reach Winter’s End, which sat at the foot of the mountains on the other side. There was no other way around, as there were acidic rivers and thorny valleys around them. The only way to Winter’s End was to cross the Mountains of Mourning.

“Be brave, dear one,” Sybil said.

“I’m trying.”

“You’re doing quite well so far.”

Eve walked to stand beside Blackthorn who finished his meal. “Would you like some more, Blackthorn?”

He blew more smoke from his nose as if in agreement. She produced a jar of rolled oats from her sack and Blackthorn opened his mouth. Pouring the oats in, he chomped, then fluttered his wings in gratitude. She ran her palm over his head, and found it was not scaly, but smooth and shiny under the white moonlight. He lifted his head to meet her hand, moving side to side, and Eve smiled.

“He really is a beautiful creature.”

“Aye, and we are lucky to have him. I’m afraid we couldn’t escape had it not been for our dear Blackthorn.”

“Is it time?”

“Yes, we must keep moving,” Sybil said.

They tied their sacks to Blackthorn’s harness, then set off on foot to begin their ascent into the Mountains of Mourning.

***

The steep climb up the first mountain exhausted the travelers. Even the dragon was slow, as the climb seemed never-ending. Thorny flowers and ditches full of prickly stickers lay on either side of the path. Almost to the summit, they reached a stream of iridescent water. They let Blackthorn drink first, after which they knelt to scoop water into their jugs.

“Who goes there?” a voice shouted.

All three perked up, but could find no one.

“How dare you bring such a creature into the mountains!”

“Show yourself!” Sybil said. Eve’s eyes widened but Sybil patted her arm in reassurance.

Out from the bushes strolled a dwarf fairy, seeming tiny to Blackthorn’s mammoth size.

“I repeat, how dare you –“

“What is your name, o wise one?” Sybil asked.

Pausing, the fairy recovered and spoke once more. “I am Ferdinand, and this is my Kingdom.”

Sybil smiled while Eve fought back laughter. A dwarf fairy, king?

“It is an honor to meet you,” Sybil said. “We began our trek in the middle of the night from the Kingdom of the Six Winter Nooses.”

“Ah yes, that dreadful king of yours.”

“He is no king of mine.”

“Sybil!” Eve cried.

“Then your name is Sybil?” he asked.

“Indeed. Sybil of the Sage Coven. This is my sister in sorcery, Eve.”

“The Sage Coven! My, my, this is a pleasant surprise. I haven’t seen your lot in quite some time, save for one raven-haired madam who traveled just hours ago on these very same trails.”

“Was it Rose?” Sybil asked.

“Precisely. I granted her passage and provided sustenance for her.”

“Rose is of the Sage Coven as well.”

“I know, for she advised me of that. She also told me you’d not be far behind.”

“What?” Eve asked.

Sybil looked just as surprised, and Blackthorn sat on his hind legs, licking his front claws.

“You heard correctly,” he continued. “She proclaimed that a party of young witches would be following closely. She didn’t mention the dragon, however.”

“Do forgive us, o wise one. Blackthorn is Eve’s only possession, and has proved to be quite useful. It was only by saddling him that we escaped the knights on horseback, and made it through the clearing and up your mountain.”

He waved his hand, then led them farther up the trail. When he stopped, an intricate display of tables upon tables of food and drink lay before them. Roses in vases sat atop the wooden tables amidst platters of warm meals.

“So that you may endure the journey through the next mountain,” he said.

“There’s a second mountain?” Eve cried.

“Never fear, dear one,” he said. “My people will take care of you along the way, as I do now.”

Eve and Sybil didn’t know where to begin. Plates of meats, nuts, fruits and vegetables lay before them. Goblets of wine and jugs of water sat waiting for them to drink. Sybil made her way to the plate of fruit, but Eve stopped.

“Would it be possible for my dragon to dine with us?” she asked.

“Certainly,” he said. With a wave of his hand, an entire table full of raw meat produced itself from nothing. Blackthorn fluttered his wings and breathed smoke as Eve led him by the bridle to his own table.

Once satiated, they felt they couldn’t walk one step, for they overate. The fairy king led them to a secluded clearing in the mountain forest, and there were beds waiting for them, and a large blanket for Blackthorn.

“Sleep, my sisters. I shall wake you at high noon.”

***

The young witches and Blackthorn were reluctant to wake, but Ferdinand sang a melody low at first, then louder. As they packed food from the tables into an extra sack he provided them, he gave instructions.

“The trek down the mountain will be an easy one, but I dare say crossing the Twin Rivers will prove quite a challenge.”

The girls glanced at each other, then back to him as he continued.

“There are parts of the rivers that cannot be crossed on foot. You shall make use of your dragon then.”

“But he cannot fly,” Eve said.

“I dare say he must try, or else you will perish.”

Not elaborating further, he led them back onto the worn path, then bade farewell, disappearing into the thick forest.

At the foot of the mountain they found a ghastly sight. They didn’t look much like rivers but lakes on either side of a dirt road. The water was gaseous, bubbling and burping with what looked like mini volcanoes all throughout. The dirt road was narrow, and in the middle, it disappeared for a half kilometer. It was impossible to cross the water save for flying on Blackthorn’s back.

“Eve, what are we to do?” Sybil asked.

“Blackthorn must fly. It’s now or never.”

Turning to the dragon, she pulled his mouth bit so they looked each other in the eyes.

“Blackthorn, listen to me,” Eve said. “I will release you only for a moment, and you will fly in a circle behind us, then return. Do not fly over the waters. Understand?”

The dragon nodded his head as if to say Yes, then began galloping behind them. His small wings spread out, but when he stopped, their hearts sank.

With a sudden flourish he sprang up from the ground and flapped his wings. Taking flight, he circled not once but thrice over the two, before returning to the ground where they stood gawking at him.

“Bravo!” Eve cried. “Well done, Blackthorn!”

He breathed smoke out his nose, then sat on his hind legs for them to mount.

“Shall we have him walk the road before it splits?” Sybil asked. “What do you think?”

“Aye, let’s walk him first so as not to tire him out. We’ll fly him when the road splits.”

On Blackthorn’s back, they walked the narrow road, and the dragon’s claws slipped here and there, jerking the girls forward and back. They held on tight at the split of the road where Blackthorn took flight once more. He rose high above the gurgling waters, but the toxic fumes invaded their noses. Blackthorn coughed and breathed fire as he fought to stay in flight. When a mini volcano erupted, it frightened the dragon so that it jerked backwards midflight and Sybil shot off his back. As she fell to the thick waters below, Eve cried out and Blackthorn flapped his wings to stay afloat. Sybil landed on a large stone amid the murky waters, and Eve’s heard skipped a beat.

“Sybil, don’t move!”

Thinking fast, Eve produced from her sack a long rope. Tying one end first to herself, then to Blackthorn’s bridle, she lowered it to Sybil who sat trembling on the stone.

“Grab hold!” Eve shouted.

Sybil did as instructed and held on as Eve kicked Blackthorn with her legs, and he resumed his flight. He rose higher and higher so as to avoid the fumes. He flew clear across the lakes and into the forest of the second mountain. Flying lower once it was safe, he lowered Sybil onto the ground, then he landed beside her.

“Oh Sybil, my darling!” Eve said as she dismounted and ran to her.

“I thought I would die in those waters.”

“Nay, Blackthorn saved you!”

“You saved me.”

“We both did. Come, rest here for a moment.”

Eve led her to a felled tree and they sat on its wide trunk. Blackthorn flapped his wings slower until they folded onto his back.

“Blackthorn, you saved us!” Eve said as she rose to stand near her prized dragon.

He leaned his head into her and nuzzled her cheek. Petting him, she thanked herself for bringing him.

“I suppose more of Ferdinand’s people will be here?” Sybil asked.

“I hope. Come, let’s continue to the summit and then we may rest once more.”

***

At the top of the second and last mountain, they found a festival. Ferdinand’s people had prepared a delightful setting of more food than before, with cheeses and fresh meats and everything they had previously. The trio met with Ferdinand’s son, a fairy prince, and he blessed their journey. Sybil inquired if their mountain contained any dahlias, and the prince said no.

Reaching into her pouch, she held one black seedling. Motioning for Eve to help her, they dug a small pit into the forest floor before dropping the seed into it. Then they covered it with the dirt, and Sybil blew dust from her pouch onto it.

“Place your hand on the ground,” Sybil told Eve.

As she did what she was told, she watched the ground break and there sprouted a dahlia plant.

“Hold still and concentrate,” Sybil said.

Beside the plant sprang forth more rows of dahlias. This was only the second instance in which Eve displayed her magic.

“Well done!” the fairy people cried in applause.

Eve looked at Sybil who nodded, then grabbed her hand.

“It’s not too far now,” Sybil said. “We must continue to make it to Winter’s End before nightfall.”

***

The land of Winter’s End was a wonder like Eve had never seen. Waterfalls, flowing rivers and rolling valleys spread in front of them at the entrance to the land. A butterfly landed on Eve’s shoulder, then flew to Blackthorn who breathed smoke to be rid of it. The girls laughed at him, walking farther into the valley. Flowers they didn’t know existed were all around them. A doe and her fawn watched them, but pranced away when they saw Blackthorn.

Winter’s End was a fortified land, and the valleys that encircled it led up to the looming stone walls. Before they could knock on the wooden door, it opened wide for them, and was large enough that Blackthorn fit his enormous frame through it.

Eve and Sybil found the witches of Winter’s End waiting for them. They stood in columns and smiled. Eve thought she never saw anyone so beautiful as every witch before her. Man, woman and child regarded them as they came closer. Every last one of the inhabitants of Winter’s End was a witch, with no exceptions.

“Greetings, dear sisters,” a witch began. Eve recognized her as Rose Clashflame, and her heart stopped.

“Do not be afraid, I pray,” Rose continued. “We are a peaceful lot, as you are too, I imagine. I knew you’d make the journey to our great land, and that’s one of the reasons I cursed your previous kingdom.”

Eve noticed that Rose looked like an older version of herself, and thought she couldn’t be more than fifteen years her senior.

“What did cursing them have to do with our coming here?” Eve asked.

“I knew your magic would only show itself in a time of need, such as losing all of the wildlife and plants around you. I knew you had a green thumb, because I do too.” A smile grew on her face, and Eve knew.

“Mother?”

“Yes, dear one.”

Sybil stood open-mouthed at the revelation, and Eve inched closer.

“But how – why – Father told me you died when I was a newborn.”

“Nay, it was but a lie. He knew I was imprisoned for sorcery, and didn’t want you to bear the stigma of growing up a witch, only to be imprisoned yourself one day. So he raised you in a mortal home and prayed that your magic lie dormant all your life. I knew that wouldn’t happen, however. It was inevitable.”

“Why didn’t you come for me when you left the kingdom?”

“It was too dangerous for both of us. I knew in my heart you’d find a way here, and at last you have arrived.”

The witchfolk hoorayed and applauded at Rose’s words, but she silenced them with a wave of her hand.

“I must, however, tell you something.”

“What is it?”

“We cannot allow your dragon to live here among us. It is unnatural, and to keep such a glorious creature captive is cruel and against nature.”

“But he saved us!”

“I am aware, and he has done his duty. For the good of all, especially for him, you must release him into the wild.”

As tears pooled in Eve’s eyes, she unfastened Blackthorn’s harness and bridle. Handing them to Sybil, who in kind shed tears for their beloved creature, Eve led Blackthorn out of the plaza and through the gates once more. Sybil and Rose joined them.

“Dearest Blackthorn,” she said as tears streamed down her cheeks. “You have proven to be one of the most honorable and trusted friends I’ve ever had.”

Sybil nodded behind them, and Rose held her hand.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done without you,” Eve continued. “We would’ve never made it were it not for you.”

Blackthorn nuzzled her more, and she stroked his glistening black coat. “Take care, dear friend. I hope you have a long and prosperous life ahead of you. Don’t forget me, as I shall never forget you.”

He made a sound as never before, like a whine. Before he could turn around, Rose stepped forward and ran her fingers over his coat too. She then waved her hands and chanted something inaudible to the girls. Blackthorn’s wings grew twice the size as before, and Eve and Sybil looked at each other in wonder. When Rose stood back with Sybil, Eve patted his back, then began to run. Eager for the chase, Blackthorn galloped after her. As Eve came to a halt, she called out to him, “Go, Blackthorn! Fly away, dear friend!” The dragon did as ordered and soared off into the sunshine, leaving captivity behind.