Chapter 1
The Prince, the Bird, and the Magic Mirror
“What are you doing?” Asked the Voice from the shadow in the corner of the room.
“Writing a story,” answered the Prince, who was surprised at the Voice since there was no one else in his room. He pushed his chair back from the table and turned his head to look at the shadow in the corner of the room. There was nothing there but the shadow and a little dust where the corner of the room had not been properly swept.
“What kind of story?“ said the shadow.
“Well, a fairytale, if you must know. Is there Someone here?”
“Not yet,” said the Voice. “Have you begun the story with Once upon a time?”
“No, I haven’t. Not all fairytales begin that way.”
“Do you have a Dragon to slay? A Princess to rescue? A Hero to rescue her?” The Voice persisted.
“I’m working on the characters. This story will have a small golden Dragon who will be a help to the Hero, not something to kill! This Dragon breathes fire but is a good Dragon. His name is Pontiffax.”
“Okay, but there must be an Evil of some sort or there can’t be a story.”
“I know that,” said the Prince. “The Evil in this story is Nothing, a shadowy absence of being, an emptiness where there ought to something. A hole in existence, so to speak.”
The Voice remained silent for a short while. The Prince turned back to his desk and picked up his pen. The paper on top of his desk was blank. He put the pen back down for Nothing came to him.
The corner of the room laughed. “That’s funny,” said the Voice. “Perhaps you should write a comedy. You seem to be stuck already with your fairytale. Is your story perhaps about you and this Princess?”
“It might be,” muttered the Prince.
“So.” Said the Voice. “You aren’t really writing a story. You are a character in someone else’s story? In fact, we both are, aren’t we?”
“That could be, for I just found myself at this table with pen and paper, sort of. And there you were behind me, a disembodied Voice coming from a shadow in the corner of this odd room.”
“Why odd?”
“Haven’t you noticed? There are no doors, only a trapdoor in the floor. The room is a box, high in a castle tower, with three windows, one in each of the north, south, and west walls. The east wall contains a mirror. Usually, in this kind of story, the mirror is the way either in or out.” The Prince walked over to the long mirror. “So far it only reflects myself and this room.” As the Prince gazed at the mirror, his image faded and was replaced by a scene of blue sky with white clouds. The Prince touched the mirror’s surface. It was solid. Then the scene changed to a meadow of green grass and yellow flowers. He touched the bottom of the mirror with his foot. Still solid. That image faded and became that of a young woman in a room similar to his own.
The woman had raven black hair down over her shoulders and intense green eyes that were looking at him. Her face was a lovely, classic beauty, with high cheekbones, that slightly tapered down to a gently rounded chin. The Prince touched the mirror and his hand disappeared. He tried his foot and this time it too disappeared into the mirror’s reality. “Can you hear me?” Asked the Prince of the young woman of the intense blue eyes and lovely face. “May I join you?”
The woman smiled and answered “yes.” The Prince stepped into the mirror and into the room where the young woman stood. “Wait for me,” said the shadow Voice and something dark fluttered through the mirror after the Prince. The Voice was now coming from a crow that landed in the woman’s room on the floor next to the Prince.
The woman yelped and stepped back. “Are you a sorcerer?” She asked. “And is that your familiar?”
“No. Just your humble servant, Godric, my lady. The bird seems to be my companion, though in my room he was just a talking shadow in a corner. A disembodied Voice.”
The bird hopped onto a table in the woman’s room, cocked his head to look at the Prince and the woman. “Do you two know one another?” he asked. “If not, shouldn’t we get acquainted, introduce ourselves, so to speak. My name’s Philip. And I was wondering, did your eyes just change color, from green to blue?”
The woman looked at the crow. “I’m Elesandra, a Princess in this land of Ardor. And my eyes, that happens sometimes. When I get angry, they turn red, sometimes. My father is King here, King Andor. And very strict. Especially when it comes to visits by young men who come as suitors. Perhaps you two should return to your room before he finds you here.”
“But we have just met,” said the Prince. “I haven’t even given you my name yet. It’s Godric, incidentally. My father is King Bolt of Nodd. Might I qualify as a suitor, my Princess?” Her eyes flashed back to green as she considered. She did not seem amazed by the talking crow.
The bird coughed, cleared his throat and laughed. “We better try to get back, Prince of Nodd. If her father finds you here you’re likely to be fish bait,” he added knowingly.
“All right,” said the Prince. “You are a wise bird, or something, I suppose.” He turned to the Princess. “You never answered me, my Lady. May I find you and call as a suitor?”
“Yes,” she said, after more hesitation. “But leave now, if you can. I hear footsteps on the stairs.”
He smiled, took her hand and kissed it. He turned, saw his room in her mirror and stepped back through, followed by Philip. When he turned to look, Elesandra and room had vanished. All he saw in the mirror was his own reflection. The Voice however had stayed in the bird.
“So, Philip, are you going to help me find the land of Ardor and the lovely Princess?” the Prince jokingly asked.
“Of course, your Royalness, if you think I can help. That’s what wise creatures do in fairytales, but how do we get out of this room? There’s no door.”
“We use the magic mirror or we use the trapdoor in the floor. How do you think I got up here?”
Philip cocked his head and looked up at the Prince. “You said you just found yourself here. Nevertheless! Let’s use the mirror, if we are able. I don’t like trapdoors!”
Godric looked into the mirror, saw himself in his leather jacket and wavy dark hair looking back at his face, square jawed and ruggedly handsome. Again the scene shifted to the blue sky and the green flowery meadow. In the distance he saw a dark woods. “There always has to be a dark woods,” he said to Philip. “I would have thought of that for my story.”
“Can’t have a fairytale without them, apparently. See if we can get out that way.”
They could and did.
