Interlude II

  ( Cecilia )

  The wheels of the radish wagon went round and round, though certainly not smoothly. Stones and branches littered the forest roads, causing the wooden, tuber-laden ride to jerk and jolt.

  When Cecilia had first heard of the trials, she'd assumed they would be held near the Royal Palace, perhaps in Candy Town itself, a trip that'd take just a few hours on foot. But word had soon spread that they would take place somewhere known as the Flossmeadows. Cecilia had never even heard of such a place, but apparently it was a series of fluffy-flowered clearings to the west. The village elder had told her they were near Shroomster, though that wasn't much help considering she'd never been there either.

  Not only was the journey further than expected, but the months had not been kind to Mama's health. Walking just short distances now presented a considerable challenge, so a multi-day trek through rough terrain was out of the question.

  That was how Cecilia came to watch Mama wince and groan in discomfort with every bump in the road. She'd hoped to arrange for a nice cushioned carriage, but as the date of the trials drew closer, it had become dispiritingly apparent that such luxury was beyond their means. The best Cecilia could do was hire them a ride aboard a local farmer's wagon.

  Every day she'd worked the fields from sunrise until sunset. Her muscles hadn't been used to squatting, lifting and carrying so much for so long. The aches had burrowed to the bone. Sleep seemed to last mere seconds, during which her joints seized.

  Eventually she learned to ignore her yearning for respite. What had been an irregular unpleasantness simply became her existence. She concentrated only on moving. Limbs strengthened and endurance expanded. Most importantly, she earned enough to afford their transportation.

  Each village they passed was host to more and more travellers, until flagged tents started to outnumber permanent structures. There were more groups upon the roads too. Some were young and ambitious like her. Others were older, but battle-scarred and bulging with brawn. There were even those that'd arrived from far-flung realms, draped in exotic garments and riding atop strange steeds.

  In the presence of such individuals, Cecilia would've almost certainly believed her own invitation to be a mistake, had it not come from the lips of Queen Titania herself. Though now she started to wonder if it'd been mentioned in humour.

  Was I a fool? Is this all going to end in hurt and humiliation?

  Coursing dread steadily intensified, like the blood in her veins was slowly coming to simmer. The more she dwelt on the feeling, the more it spread through her body until every inch itched with concern. Just before she drowned in hopelessness, a finger and thumb caught her cheek to dispel all worry.

  "I'll always be proud of you," said Mama. "No matter what."

  I shouldn't trouble her...

  Cecilia nodded confidently. "I can do it. I'm going to pass." It was as much a promise to herself, for she couldn't bear the thought of putting Mama through such disruption only to fail.

  That was when Cecilia accidentally locked eyes with a fellow entrant unlike the rest. Sore pools gazed from a pale face. Almost every visible scrap of milky skin was rippled with scars, but despite that, the scrawny girl was smiling. The frail, rag-clad thing raised an almost skeletal hand to give a friendly wave. The other hopefuls were all so intimidating, yet this disfigured lass, travelling all alone upon bare and bruised feet, somehow kept her head high.

  Cecilia was so caught off guard she didn't even think to return the gesture. She just watched as the girl in tattered clothes fell further and further behind the wagon.

  Why is she so happy? There's still a long way to go. Even if she makes it to the Flossmeadows, she'll be exhausted. Shouldn't she focus on finding food first? Or at least shoes...

  "Sir, could we -" started Cecilia.

  "Nope," said the farmer bluntly.

  "But it'd only take -"

  "You paid for right to ride, not the right to direct," grumbled the farmer. "We got a schedule to keep. Shroomster folk are picky. They like their radishes fresh."

  Cecilia sighed and returned to the back of the wagon as the girl grew ever more distant.

  Is there nothing I can do for her? Maybe...

  She stole a glance over her shoulder to ensure the farmer's eyes were on the road ahead, before nudging a radish so that it fell from the cart.

  Eventually, the rickety wheels ground to a stop. They'd reached a fork in the road which was dividing the other travellers.

  Cecilia clambered over the mound of vegetables to talk with the farmer. "Why'd you stop?"

  "I thought you was goin' Flossmeadows? You want that way." The farmer motioned down the rougher of two paths.

  "You can't take us?" asked Cecilia.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "I agreed to bring you to Shroomster. Which is where I'm headin'. That way." The farmer nodded toward the smoother path. "A deal's a deal, and you're welcome to stay aboard, if you wish. Will jus' make the next step of your journey longer, is all. This is closest we gettin' to Flossmeadows."

  Cecilia frowned. She'd known spending the night in Shroomster would be impossible from the very start. The people of Titan were far from wealthy, and would not pass up the opportunity to extort foreign nobles when it came to the price of lodging.

  "How far is it?" she asked.

  The farmer subtly glanced toward Mama. "Depends. You might make it before nightfall. Might not. Shouldn't be much to fear though with so many would-be heroes around. A little dark never hurt nobody..."

  Mama was already picking herself up and preparing to dismount.

  "Could you take us just a little further?" asked Cecilia. "Please, sir. My mama is not well."

  "That may be," said the farmer, "but my cart ain't makin' it down that road an' back without losin' a wheel or two. Now off with yer."

  Cecilia helped Mama to the ground. The moment they were clear of the wagon, the farmer tugged the reins of his mossmule and the wheels began to roll once more.

  "Are you going to be ok?" Cecilia took Mama's arm across her shoulder.

  "Of course. You've gotten us this far. We'll just take our time, ok?"

  As daylight faded, Cecilia couldn't decide which hurt more - the pained grunts and groans that escaped Mama's tight lips, or the fact that she was trying so hard to restrain said sounds for Cecilia's benefit. The road was long, and made all the longer by their pitiful pace, for they were progressing at a mere shuffle, and had been for several hours now.

  "I'm sorry," said Cecilia.

  Mama gave a tearful smile. "Don't be silly, sweetie. I can't wait to cheer you on."

  Cecilia tried to appear brave, though her efforts would quickly fail when a trumpet sounded from behind. An escort of petalponies and flowery pennants was approaching. They took up the entire path and showed no signs of slowing down.

  "Quickly, Mama!"

  They hobbled and strained with forced urgency, but the thudding hooves were gaining as brass horns blared. With no other choice, Cecilia threw them both clear.

  Sprawled upon a bed of prickly twigs and stinging nettles, Cecilia watched the retinue pass. At its centre, a young lady wreathed in white roses rode sidesaddle atop a petalpony in full, glorious bloom. At her hip rested an elegant sabre, its hilt forged to floral forms. She spared only the slightest of downward glances, plucked one of the roses from her dress and tossed it to them.

  Cecilia would've had to bite her tongue to hold back her curses in any other situation. Thankfully, on this occasion, the thorns pressing into her backside provided more than enough of a distraction. She gritted her teeth and slowly wriggled her way up from vicious foliage.

  In the panic, she'd done what she could to guide Mama's fall, aiming her toward a bank of soft, spongy lichen. "Mama! Are you ok?"

  Mama didn't appear harmed, but she was transfixed upon the departing riders. "Sweetie, remember when I said I'll always be proud of you?"

  "Of course," said Cecilia.

  "Well, I'll be even prouder if you can beat that one," said Mama.

  Cecilia laughed and started to help Mama back to her feet, yet as she hoisted her once more, something felt different. Lighter. Puzzled, Cecilia looked across to see that Mama was just as surprised. Supporting the other arm was the sore-eyed, scarred girl they'd passed earlier. Even having walked for hours upon haggard feet, she was still smiling and ready to offer support.

  "What are you doing?" asked Cecilia.

  The girl shuffled her toes forward upon the harsh, stony ground. "Helping," she squeaked.

  "You poor dear," said Mama. "I'm afraid we haven't anything to give you."

  "Yeah," said Cecilia. "You're heading for the trials too, right? You should probably save your strength."

  But the girl insisted they continue forth. "We are to be heroes," she squeaked. "A Fairy Princess cannot ignore those in need." With that, she plucked something from her pocket. The dusty remains of a half-eaten radish.

  Nightmare I

  ( ? )

  She did as she always did. As she always had. As she always must.

  A furnace, as ancient as it was gluttonous, towered over her. Ravenous flames roared within its gaping maw, hot enough to make its slimy features glow. Stalk-eyes loomed, pulsating with sickly hues, whilst a molten halo oozed, forever dripping yet never depleted.

  The voracious light illuminated only her and the surrounding meat mounds within the endless, starry night.

  Arms retracted and the great spoon withdrew. A grunt of effort and swing of weight plunged it downward, sinking its tip into the squirming squelch. Next she put her foot upon the curved rim, and dug deeper until the concave utensil came to a gritty stop. A leveraging lean finished the job, and allowed her to raise the gruesome, glittery scoop. Into the blaze it went.

  The infernal incinerator groaned with further hunger, infinitely insatiable.

  She was tired. So very, very tired. Each weeping heap sapped her strength.

  From the dark, a shadow emerged. A figure not unlike herself. One she almost recognised. With its arrival came both tremendous relief and immense sadness.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry..."