Out of the Tower, Part 2
This story was written as a university assignment for my creative writing course, circa 2017.
Read Part One here!
Though the trees grew dense around me, I felt exposed. My heart fluttered at every rustle in the undergrowth, every caw of the crows perched overhead. The path was narrow and riddled with roots that threatened to send me sprawling in the dirt.
The forest was not as I had expected it to be. As tiny bumps rose on my flesh, I wrapped my bare arms tighter about myself and tried to ignore the frigid winter air. The sun was quick to blind me when I looked up, but it had little warmth to share. Where was the dappled light, I wondered? Where were the rabbits and the songbirds that were meant to guide me on my adventure?
Something tugged at my gown. I flinched, my hands flying to my throat where my high neckline dug into my flesh and choked the breath from my lungs. The train of my robe had caught in the undergrowth encroaching on the path. Thorns pierced the white silk. I yanked on it, and in doing so ripped the fabric further until the whole train tore away from the gown.
“Useless thing,” I muttered. A high wind whipped through the trees and bit into my flesh as it passed. Its ice-cold breath raised the hair on the back of my neck. It sent a shiver down my spine. For want of something warmer, I prised the silk from the thorns and draped it over my shoulders like a cloak before hurrying on.
The trees grew more sparsely as I walked. They moved back from the path, and between their boughs I could see what looked like a wall of stone. I passed into a small glade beyond the reach of the forest and felt my chest tighten.
A tower stood at the centre of the clearing. It loomed over me, and for a moment I feared I had only walked in circles since I first entered the forest.
Yet there was something off about the tower. A sob came from somewhere above and I looked up to see a woman standing at the window, holding her head in her hands. Her braided hair was looped around a hook protruding from the wall. It was so long that it nearly reached the ground. There was no dragon to be seen – only a horse with its reins draped over a low-hanging branch and a man lying crumpled at the tower’s base.
I knew he was dead by the blood oozing from his head, by the unnatural angle of his neck and, when I drew near, by the absence of life in his eyes. I knelt and closed them for him, ignoring the way his blood seeped into the tattered hem of my white dress and stained it red.
Beside his head lay a small circlet of gold. My gaze strayed to the scabbard at his hip, to the hilt and pommel that poked out of it. I reached for the sword, only to find myself picking up the crown instead. I turned the gold band round and round in my hands.
So, this was a prince. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
“What are you doing?”
I flinched at the screech and dropped the crown. Looking up, I saw the woman leaning out of the window high above me. Her cheeks were red and puffy, and she gripped the hook supporting her hair so tightly I could see her fingers turning white, even from this distance.
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” she wailed. Her words came out in a series of blubbers so that I had to strain to understand what she said. “I told him to slow down! I told him! Years I’ve been waiting for my prince to come and rescue me and what does he go and do? He falls before he’s even halfway up! What am I going to do now?” She paused, overcome by another bout of sobbing.
Beside me, the length of braided hair was swaying in the breeze. Perhaps in the summertime it may have looked like golden thread, but in the pale winter light it was the colour of straw.
“Why don’t you climb down your own hair?” I called up. The crying stopped for a moment.
“I can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
“Because I have to wait here for a prince to rescue me. I can’t just leave.”
“I did.”
She stared at me with wide eyes. “You…” her voice trailed off. I watched as she took her braid in her hands, as if feeling its strength. She drew back from the window, disappearing for a moment and returning with a knife. Without pause, she proceeded to shear the tresses from her head and tie the braid in a tight knot around the wall hook.
“Don’t fall!” I said, scrambling away from the base of the tower. She paid me no heed, however, and so I could only watch as she climbed out of her window and gently lowered herself from the ledge. A shriek escaped her as she let go of the sill and allowed the braid to take her full weight. I thought she had started crying again, and then I realised she was laughing.
By the time she had reached the ground, the woman’s tears had dried, and she was smiling. She stepped over the prince’s body like he was no more than a puddle she wished to avoid standing in, running her fingers through her shortened locks. She held her hand out to me.
“Rapunzel,” she said. “May you always be free.”
Her hand felt warm in mine. My palm tingled under her touch, and I found myself unwilling to let go just yet. But handshakes are brief and before I was ready, she let my hand drop and turned on her heel towards the prince’s horse. I watched her mount, wishing more than anything I could follow.
But I had made a promise to my dragon, and I intended to keep it. I drew the sword from the prince’s scabbard and headed back into the woods.
The dragon had returned to huddling against the tower wall by the time I found my way back to her. As soon as I passed beyond the tree line, she began to pull on the chain, straining against its hold as she tried to reach me. There seemed to be a soft whining sound emanating from her throat and she was looking at me with hope in her amber eyes, as though she had missed me and was overjoyed to see me return.
I felt a pang in my chest. Perhaps I had missed her too. I reached out a hand and gently petted her muzzle, pleased that this time she did not shy away.
It was then that she saw the sword in my other hand. Her eyes widened. She recoiled, nostrils flaring, and struck the stone wall so hard that the tower trembled. Tiles slid from the roof and smashed on the ground. The dragon strained at the chain again, this time pulling away from me.
My stomach twisted. I wanted to throw down the sword and run to her, to calm her with gentle strokes and assure her I would never raise the weapon against her. All I wanted was to strike the manacle from her neck. But I knew that no matter how many promises I made, she would never allow me near with a sword in my hand.
I ran towards the tower, where the chain was looped and knotted around its base. Roaring filled my ears. A handful of sparks fell upon my arms and singed my skin. I ignored the pain and raised the sword above my head, bringing it down against the chain with as much strength as I could muster. The blade clanged against the metal link. I felt the impact shudder up my arms, so strong my grip weakened, and the sword slipped through my fingers. The link shook from the blow for a moment before bursting open. The whole chain trembled as every link from tower to dragon split while the manacle around the dragon’s neck divided into two halves and dropped to the ground.
I stared at the sword lying amongst the twisted loops of metal, both afraid and amazed. The roars died in the dragon’s throat, and I turned to see her watching me with an expression of disbelief on her face. She remained still as I approached.
I pressed my cheek to her neck and ran a gentle hand over her scales. “It’s done,” I whispered. “We’re free.”