Chapter 2:
Prince Jollyrei rode up the centre road, which quickly started descending from what had been a rocky bleak plateau down into a forested valley. The sun came out, and he was feeling quite cheerful. He spurred his horse into a gallop and was moving quickly, even though he had no idea where he was going.
It wasn’t like finding a Firebird was simple. It was all the business of looking for the Firebird that was tricky. I mean, it’s not like there was a book on the life and habitat of the red-plumed Firebird. Actually, he thought, maybe there was, but he hadn’t bothered to check the palace library. He had packed food, weapons, warm clothing, and a first aid kit, in addition to blankets and other things you needed to camp out. He had even packed a few things he had heard that some Italian nobleman, Casanova, always took along in case he might spend the night with a lady and might need fresh breath in the morning.
The forest was getting thicker now, and he slowed his horse to avoid being brained by low branches. It seemed unlikely that he would find any young ladies in this wood to spend the night with. A map might have been a better idea, but nobody in fairy tale quests ever takes a map. He felt happy about this thought. At least he was doing this whole questing thing properly. Bound to get somewhere.
So he pressed on through the forest, convinced that, even though he really had no idea what he was doing, he would ultimately win through. It had always worked before. On the other hand, he thought, in most fairy tales, it was the third son who usually managed to fulfill the quest and live happily ever after with a beautiful princess, and he knew how to count. There was Phlebas and him. That made two, not three. Perhaps some caution was in order.
Around noon, he came to a clearing in the wood, where the sun shone down in dappled dancing beams among some wildflowers, and he decided that it was time for a rest. He dismounted and took down his saddlebags and then let his horse graze in the meadow while he had a bite of lunch.
“Well,” he said, “so far I am not cold nor hungry, and even though I have no idea where the Firebird might be, this forest is quite peaceful. I think that whole thing about my horse dying must be false.” He laughed happily as he sat down to eat some cold beef and bread, and a few swallows of wine he had brought along.
Nobody could have been more surprised than him when a huge gray wolf leapt out of the forest and ate his horse.
He just stared. One second, all was peaceful. There was decent wine and a grazing happy horse. The next second (or so it seemed) the horse was down, there was blood everywhere, or all over one large patch of meadow anyway, and a huge wolf was tucking into his horse.
The wolf did not bother to eat the saddle or bridle, but made a good job of much of the rest of a very decent horse. Jollyrei had worked hard to buy that horse from Lada Zhiguli, the most famous horse breeder in all the Russias. (He really would have to find out how many Russias there were. Someone must know.)
He finally jumped up and drew his sword, meaning to kill or chase off the wolf.
“You don’t want to do that,” said the wolf.
“Yes, I rather do,” said Jollyrei.
“Okay,” said the wolf, “I can see your point. Consider, however, your position. You are one man, admittedly with a sword, and I am a bloody great timber wolf, who, I should note, has just eaten the better part of a very good sized war horse.”
“Yes,” said Jollyrei, always one to consider the angles. “I can see that. So…”
“So, do you feel lucky?” said the wolf.
“Oh great,” said Jollyrei. “So now I’m supposed to be questing, and I’ve lost my horse. “
“There was a sign,” said the wolf. “It was all very clear. No fine print even. You can’t say you weren’t warned.”
“Aha!” said Jollyrei, raising his sword, “it also said I would live!”
“Then clearly you don’t try to attack a vicious wolf 3 times your size,” said the wolf.
Jollyrei lowered his sword. “I’m not conceding,” he said. “Just reconsidering my options.”
“Good man,” said the wolf. “So what’s the game? What are you, a fine prince of all these bloody Russias, doing riding around in the dread Forest of…er…Dread?”
“Losing my horse, it would seem,” said Jollyrei. “On the other hand, it does show that prophesies do come true. I am on track.”
“On track to do what?” asked the wolf.
“It’s really none of your business,” said Jollyrei, “but if you must know, I am looking for the Firebird.”
“Ah,” said the wolf. “Tricky.”
“You know of the Firebird?” asked Jollyrei.
“Graceful bird, looks like it’s on fire, turns into a pretty girl when she lands. Has a thing for apples? Yeah, I know her,” said the wolf. “Look, she’s bad news. She holds out the promise of great fortune, but also tremendous peril. I’d just go home, if I were you.”
“I can’t,” said Jollyrei, and found that he was telling a huge wolf the story of his evil father, and how he had to find the Firebird in order not to be banished to Sweden.
“I’d go to Australia,” said the wolf. “The girls are great in Australia.”
“Isn’t Australia a myth?”
“The boy is in a fairy tale looking for a Firebird, and he’s chatting to a wolf, but he’s worried that Australia might be a myth,” said the wolf drily.
“Good point,” said Jollyrei. “Anyway, if you’ll excuse me, I seem to have no choice but to continue my quest on foot.”
“I could help you find the Firebird,” said the wolf.
“You’ll pardon me,” said Jollyrei, “if I don’t jump at this incredibly generous offer. You just ate my horse. I find it hard to trust you completely.”
“Suit yourself,” said the wolf. “I have not eaten you, you may have noticed.”
“You just ate an entire horse!” shouted Jollyrei. “I don’t think it’s likely you could eat another bite of anything.”
“Good point,” said the wolf. “I don’t even want a thin mint. So fare well.”
Jollyrei grabbed his saddlebags and slung them over his shoulder, and started hiking down the road.
The sun was hot all afternoon. After a while, he started grumbling and muttering to himself. After that, he started groaning about his misfortune, and after that he just stopped doing anything. By nightfall he was exhausted. He had no idea where he was, and no idea where he was going, and he had no horse. He was alive, but that just seemed like some joke the gods were playing on him so they could laugh at him a bit longer.
He finally collapsed by the side of the road, with blisters on his feet, and unable to walk another step. He took a swig of water from his canteen, and just sat there leaning against a tree.
“So, how is it going then?” asked the wolf. “Are you any closer to your goal?”
If Jollyrei had had the strength to throw something, or had had something worth throwing, he would have done it. As it was, he just looked to his left in what he hoped was a withering, baleful manner. There was the wolf, sitting next to him, looking fit and calm.
“I have no idea where I’m going,” said Jollyrei, unable to muster up his former bravado. “How could it be going well?”
“You need the assistance of someone who knows about Firebirds,” said the wolf. “I think I mentioned that back a few miles.”
“So, how do you know about the Firebird?” asked Jollyrei.
“Well, she’s enchanted, ain’t she?” said the wolf. “I’m enchanted too.”
“Well, you’re a talking wolf,” said Jollyrei dubiously.
“Wolves all talk then, in your experience,” said the wolf.
“I’ve only ever met one. All the wolves in stories I read as a boy talked. There was the one who blew down houses built by pigs…”
“Yeah, well, I don’t go in for pigs much,” said the wolf. “I don’t have to be a wolf, you know.”
Suddenly the wolf was gone and there was a large red squirrel sitting on the ground next to Jollyrei. The squirrel wore a steel helmet and wore an elaborate sword belt, complete with a squirrel-sized broadsword.
“So you’re really a squirrel?” said Jollyrei, too tired to be surprised.
“When I can be. It beats the alternatives,” said the squirrel.
“Can you be anything else?”
“Well, sure,” said the squirrel, “but what would be the point?”
“You think being a squirrel has a point?” asked Jollyrei. “Why not just stay a wolf?”
“Hey, I don’t criticise your hair or that beard you’ve got.”
“I don’t whimsically change my whole shape and size,” said Jollyrei. “It’s a bit more than a trim off the sides.”
“Okay, bad analogy,” said the squirrel, intently combing out a tangle in its tail. “Point is, I’m enchanted, innit.”
“What are you really?” asked Jollyrei. “I mean, what shape? Are you a man?”
“Well, it was a long time ago,” said the squirrel. “Don’t really remember, but I know it’s got something to do with the Firebird. You have to find her, so I have to help you. It is my destiny.” The last phrase would have been ominous sounding if it had been said by anyone who wasn’t small, red, furry, and chewing a twig out of his tail.
“Okay, fine,” said Jollyrei. “I’m clearly not doing well finding her myself. How will you help me find her.”
“I will carry you to her,” said the squirrel.
There was a long pause. The squirrel was large, about a foot and a half tall, but Jollyrei was over six feet tall and…
“Not as a squirrel, you great pillock!” shouted the squirrel. He changed back into the wolf form, making him about 3 feet tall at the shoulders. The wolf glared at the prince.
And so, Prince Jollyrei rode the great wolf through the forest as the darkness began to fall, and the wood became murky with fog, and all those really spooky noises started, which are probably just woodland animals telling their cubs, kits, pups, and fledgelings bedtime stories, along with the odd witch cackling into her cauldron of boiled virgin and newt stew (nobody knows why they do this, except that fairy tale witches are truly awful cooks).
The prince was feeling quite uneasy when they inexplicably burst through the fog, and there in front of them was a shining palace, with an intricately wrought iron gate. Through the gate Jollyrei could see a beautiful garden, even more beautiful than the evil Tsar’s, and from the garden came a fiery glow.
Jollyrei dismounted and the wolf stretched his shoulders. “You need to lose some of those pounds,” said the wolf. “You ain’t half heavy. Get some exercise. Stop with the fatty food.”
“So the Firebird is in there?” asked Jollyrei.
“No, the goblin hoards are having a bit of a barbecue,” said the wolf. “Yes, she’s in there. You scale the walls, grab the bird, and come back over. But listen, don’t touch the cage.”
“Don’t touch the cage? Why?”
“Bad things will happen,” said the squirrel.
“Hey!” said Jollyrei in surprise. “Stop doing that! Why are you a squirrel again.”
“Access,” said the squirrel, darting through the bars of the gate.
“And I have to vault over the walls?” asked Jollyrei.
“Yes, because if you touch the gate…”
“Bad things?”
“Right.”
So Jollyrei dropped his saddlebags and some of his heavier gear. He kept his sword, which was not in any way magical, but was quite nice and sharp, and he painstakingly climbed over the wall. At least this felt right. How he was going to climb back over carrying a Firebird he didn’t know, but he reckoned he should solve one problem at a time.
He dropped lightly to the ground on the other side of the wall, and only tripped once, making a foolish amount of noise crashing through a rosebush, but nobody seemed to notice except the squirrel who rolled his eyes.
There in the centre of the garden was an ornate gilded cage. The door of the cage was open, and the Firebird was inside. She seemed to shimmer between her bird and woman forms, sometimes a fiery bird, and sometimes a woman in a sheer dress of flame, her shapely form showing through the fire. Jollyrei stood entranced.
“She was a princess once,” said the squirrel. “Her dress of fire is the source of her power, but also her prison. She can never know freedom or love until she is, er, freed from her dress. Then the spell will be broken, and the power of the sorcerer who owns her will be destroyed.”
“I shall free her then,” said Jollyrei.
“You can’t,” said the squirrel. “You can release her from the cage, but if you try to remove the dress, you burn.”
“Okay,” said Jollyrei. “One thing at a time. Who’s this sorcerer?”
“His name is Wragg,” said the squirrel. “He’s got the army of goblins I mentioned.”
“Are you kidding me!” shouted Jollyrei.
“Shhhhh!” said the squirrel.
“Are you kidding me,” whispered Jollyrei. “Goblins?!”
“Don’t touch the cage,” said the squirrel.
“Dammit!” said Jollyrei. But he reached carefully into the cage and gently grasped the Firebird/woman around the waist. As he did so, she turned fully into her bird form, which disappointed him for some reason, but she seemed quite content to rest in his hands. He unsnapped the chain that held her in the cage, and carefully withdrew her. He snapped her chain to his belt, and she sat perched on his wrist like a fiery falcon.
“So now, I just have to get her back to my father,” said Jollyrei, somewhat reluctantly. “And I’ll be Tsar of all the Russias.”
“How many are there?” asked the squirrel.
“Who knows?” said Jollyrei. “A few, I guess.”
So entranced by the beauty of the bird was he, that he strolled straight to the gate and put his hand on the latch before the squirrel had time to yell: “Don’t touch the…”
In moments they were surrounded by an extremely large number of extremely ugly goblins, wielding extremely ugly, but serviceably sharp swords.
“Do please drop your weapons and remain calm,” said a jovial sounding voice. “Blood on the garden path is so very tedious.”
“I think we’re about to meet the evil sorcerer Wragg,” said the wolf.
“Sorry about the touching the gate thing,” said Jollyrei. “Feel a bit stupid about that.”
“No really?” asked the wolf. “Ever been in a goblin dungeon?”
“No,” said Jollyrei. “I’ve never been in any dungeon.”
“A day of firsts for you then,” said the wolf.
“Well, he shall not get this Firebird back,” said Jollyrei. He unclasped the chain from his belt and took the jewelled collar off the bird’s neck. Then he launched her into the sky.
“Oh dear,” said the Sorcerer, watching the Firebird fly over the garden wall and into the forest. “Now what will we do with you?” The goblins made a few suggestive noises.
“I thought you said that freeing the bird would end his powers,” said Jollyrei.
“Seems not,” said the wolf. “Believe me when I say I’m as surprised as you.”
to be continued…
I've always left the magic to Repertor! 
