Peculiar Fables of a Twisted Mind

The prince makes his way up the stairs of the castle, preparing himself for the crowd that awaits his words. He focuses on the movement of his legs laboring upward. How could this happen? His thoughts continue to plague him with the travesty over his nation.

Once he reaches the backstage the secretary approaches him. “They are ready for you, My Lord. May the heavens and spirits calm your mind as you speak.”

With an unreadable face, the prince nods to his servant. His gaze straightens to align with the door, unwavering with his stance. A deep breath fills his chest and releases any doubt or anxiety he might have, then, he steps forth onto the balcony. The sun gracefully beams on him while the crowd stares up at him silently. His eyes sweep across the many people who look to him for leadership and hope in this dark moment of history. The prince stiffens and begins his speech.

“People of Murith, I am well aware of the darkness that befalls our kingdom, and I understand how you all must be feeling.” A pause lingers beside him for effect. “But take heart, for I, Prince Gruden of Murith, shall vanquish the cave witch that haunts our lands.” Before he can see too much concern in the crowd he looks to his secretary.

The servant approaches with a bow as they give a pendant to the prince with extended arms.

Gerund gently holds the emerald pendant and raises it for the people to take a glimpse. “With this, we will finally be rid of the witch.” When he doesn’t see a glimmer of hope with them he strives for a way to see beyond the peril. “Very soon we will once again flock our herds where we wish. Our children will laugh as they run through the fields. We will enter the forest without fear and see new lands like our fathers once did.” Courage suddenly swells in his chest to give him a burst of power with his last phrase, “I swear by my father, Prince Herand, I will destroy the cave witch!”

Silence befalls the crowd for a brief moment. At last, someone meekly claps with encouragement. Not long in and the rest of the crowd joins with a wish of good luck,

“Long live the prince! Long live the prince! Long live the prince!”

***

The army marches forth on horseback to their destination. Only when they approach the opening of the dreadful cavern do they finally halt with a cloud of dirt.

Prince Gerund examines the dark and rugged hole carefully from a distance. After much consideration he demounts his horse and braves to step closer. He nods once and makes his thoughts known to his soldiers, “We move in, the sooner we do, the less time she has to prepare herself.”

Gerund and his team waste little time prepping and move forward with their torches in hand. As they walk further into the tunnel the darkness easily engulfs them.

A light flickers to life and helps lighten his way. Many other torches from the cave’s walls ignite speedily with a clear path for the army to follow.

A throaty and sinister voice echoes through the tunnel, “Come and get me, Prince.”

Gerund stiffens to the beckoning and marches onward with his men following behind. “Stay on your toes, she could have traps set up.”

And as if the walls heard him, a click of activation brings a mechanism into action.

Gerund quickly recognizes the sound. “Duck!” He swiftly somersaults forward, barely missing the blades that could have chopped him in half. After spending a few seconds on the ground for any delayed attacks he stands up with his torch in his hand. A slight churning in his stomach pinches him with unease as he sees that the simple trap has taken one fourth of his men. He knew that some would not get to see the end of this war, but it still hurts to see his men lifeless on the stone floor.

He heaves in a deep breath of remorse and carries on. “Onward men, we shall not let them die in vain.”

The remaining group follows in pursuit behind their leader. The caliginosity around them thickens as their progression into the cave deepens. As they walk further into the cave with caution, the sensation of an evil presence grows stronger.

Gerund stops suddenly with his men behind. He lifts a flat hand to signal the army for silence.

A faint noise is heard channeling through the tunnel.

It instantly triggers an alarm for his instincts.

“Run!”

The army rushes forward at the command with the danger being realized in their minds.

Consequentially, the men in the back start to fall behind as the windy noise creeps closer to them. The torches begin to blow out behind them with the black air quickly catching up to them.

The living darkness finally reaches the ends of the army and pounces on the blind soldiers.

Gerund pounds against the pavement of the tunnel harder as the screams of his men explode in echoes from behind.

His secretary stumbles close behind in cold sweat as their pace quickens. The screams of their comrades rile up in their nerves and cause an overwhelming fear to erupt inside them.

The prince attempts to push himself and whoever is listening, “Don’t relent, we must make it to the end!” With these words he notices some of his men still keeping up with him and even advancing ahead, including his secretary.

A beam of light rivaling the tunnel torches comes into view ahead.

Realizing what it is, Gerund sprints forward with what’s left of his men. The end of the tunnel grows near with the shadow demon advancing closer to them. In desperation, he leaps forward into the den and tumbles to the ground. As he recovers himself from the ground he sees that only a handful of his army reached the end with him. While he still pants from the chase his eyes fall upon a decapitated hand halfway cut down the forearm. He sees the emerald pendant it clutches.

“There you are.” The dry voice from earlier speaks at a closer range.

He turns to see a tall and fair-looking woman standing in the middle of the den.

She smiles at him with an almost sensual and expectant look. “I’ve been waiting for you, my prince.”

Without hesitation, the remaining soldiers lunge at the witch with all their strength.

Gerund instead takes this opportunity to dash for the pendant.

The woman simply waves her hand at the aggressive men and turns them into stone. Their bulging faces contort into anger with fangs bared.

Gerund separates the pendant from the hand and attaches it to the hilt of his sword unsteadily. He speeds towards the witch. A force plasters him to the ground and he looks to see that his feet are turning into stone. He looks at the witch who’s focused on a strange glowing orb. Before the spell creeps up to his chest he wields the sword in both hands and positions it over his head. Without aiming, Gerund chucks the sword at the witch with a spin.

“Urk!”

It pierces straight through her midsection. She glares at the pommel with contempt. She grabs it and pulls out the sword as if it were an annoying sticker. Once she pulls it out all the way the witch drops the sword and lets it clash to the ground. Still holding a dissatisfied obverse, the witch glares at the prince while his face is engulfed by stone. She walks over to his stale form and cherishes the determination frozen on him.

His mouth remains agape with many pointy teeth protruding while bulging wide eyes stare back at her underneath the rough edges of his face. His short stature is almost laughable considering the thought he stood a chance against the cave witch.

She moves on and makes her way down the tunnel her enemy came from with the kingdom of goblins in her mind.

***

532 YEARS LATER

“And so, Queen Valiah placed a curse on the tyrant and nasty prince, giving us this luscious land.” A tour guide stands in the middle of the den with a group of people gazing in awe of the stony goblins.

Some of the tourists quickly snap photos of the stale figures, dazzled by the historic lies they’ve always been told.

One man stares at the face of what remains of Prince Gerund with camera in hand. He studies the twisted face of what he believes to be a dreadful man, wondering why someone could be so evil.

The tour guide continues her routine droning of the legend, “And so as punishment, these gargoyles are here to guard the sacred sanctuary of the Queen, forever.”

The fleet follow the guide out of the den for the next part of the tour. The man takes one more second to connect with the tyrant Gerund and finally takes a picture of his wrathful gaze. He scurries along to catch up with the group with no worries or concerns of the lies he has been told his whole life.