Once Upon a Time: New Fairy Tales Paperback(33)

“Russell.” Laurel put a finger over his lips. “Silly. I wasn’t talking about you,” she said. “I was talking about me. I just need a little cooperation.”

And so, after a bit more persuasion, Russell cooperated.

After, they lay, looking up at the sky. Or they would have, if the bridge wasn’t in the way. Laurel fingered Russell’s dogtags. “What are these? Amulets of some kind?”

“It’s ID. So, if you’re killed, they can figure out who to notify.”

“What about this one?” She read the inscription aloud.

“I will always place the mission first.

I will never accept defeat.

I will never quit.

I will never leave a fallen comrade.”

“That’s the Warrior Ethos,” Russell said. “It’s something they make us memorize, but they don’t believe in themselves.” He sighed. “All I ever wanted to be was a soldier.”

In the morning, he awoke alone. Hungry and sore and worn out, like he’d been doing battle all night. Laurel was a warrior, for sure. He smiled, remembering.

“Laurel?” he said. No answer beyond the howling of the wind, blowing down the river.

He quickly yanked on his clothes, shivering in the cold. Laurel’s seaweed dress still lay where she’d dropped it, dried and disintegrating.

Crawling out from under the bridge, he saw that black thunderclouds were piling up in the northwest. An unusual sky for February.

Something bad was brewing.

The area around his campsite was deserted, not a nixie nor a pixie to be seen. After the tumult all night long, it was a little unnerving.

And, truth be told, a little lonely.

“That was a strange dream,” he said aloud.

? 106 ?

? Cinda Williams Chima ?

Roy lifted his head and whined when Russell spoke. “Guess I didn’t dream you up, boy.” He’d been half-convinced the dog would be gone in the morning, too. Gently, he gripped the dog’s ruff to either side and looked at him, nose to nose. Roy’s eyes glowed like red coals, like in all the stories about hell-hounds.

“Are you really the harbinger of doom?” Russell asked. “Is my number really up?” Would the harbinger of doom leave piss-marks all around the camp?

In answer, Roy unfurled an impossibly long tongue and licked him in the face. Pulling away, he pawed at a bundle, lying in the snow.

A long bundle wrapped in seaweed, a squarish package next to it.

Russell knew what it was before he ever picked it up.

“You forgot something, Laurel!” he called. “Come get this stuff! I don’t want it.”

Nobody answered.

He couldn’t help himself. He was a warrior, after all. Picking free one edge of the seaweed shroud, he unrolled it.

It was an iron sword in a leather baldric, a massive blade with dragons on the hilt. As he drew it out, he saw that it was freshly oiled and free of rust and incredibly sharp, as Russell found out when he tried his thumb on the edge.

“Ow!” he said, sucking on his thumb. “You call this a weapon?

Where’s my M110?” he called out. “How ’bout an M4?” No answer.

Unwrapping the other bundle, he pulled out a circular shield and a silver helm.

He picked up the shield in his right hand, the sword in his left.

Dancing around on the riverbank, thrusting and parrying , he fought an invisible opponent to surrender.

He’d taken fencing lessons, back in the day. It was an up-close, intimate dance that seemed appropriate to a warrior. His muscles remembered what his unreliable mind had forgotten.

A soft whickering drew his attention back to the river. A horse stood there, dripping wet, having just climbed out of the water. Her coat shone white with a faint tinge of blue, translucent as stillwater ? 107 ?

? Warrior Dreams ?

ice. Water streamed from her red mane and tail. She wore no saddle or bridle, only a necklace of water lilies and freshwater mussel shells.

The luminous blue eyes were hauntingly familiar. Recognition pinged through Russell.

“Laurel?” he whispered.

“I told you,” she said, tossing her head and pawing at the earth with her hoof. “You won’t be alone. We’re in this together.”

He took a step back, shaking his head weakly, the tip of his massive sword dragging in the snow. “No,” he said.

She came forward, twitching water from her tail, her eyes fixed on Russell. When she was close enough, she reached out and butted him gently with her head. He stroked her velvety soft nose. Pulling back her lips, she exposed fearsome sharp teeth. Gripping his parka, she dragged him forward a few steps, toward the river’s edge. Then knelt, to make it easier for Russell to climb on.