The Moonlit Pathway | Juliet Marillier #6
As I move in, he lunges at the monster, striking hard, then leaps onto the falling creature and presses it to the ground.
I don’t see what happens next, because Belle is sinking fast. She’s way down now, and I can’t drag her whole body out by the hair.
Behind me there’s a ghastly gurgling sound.
Birds fly over, screaming. Then silence.
I think of the key, the one the gargoyle gave us.
But that’s not what I need now. It’s the other key, the other way to open doors.
A dance. A dance to untwist these thorns and release the prisoner.
Quick, because Belle looks as if she might pass out any moment.
Ah, I have it. Stirring the Cauldron. I glance over my shoulder.
The monster now lies on the forest floor, immobile.
Gavril is on his feet. He’s sheet-white, his eyes shadowed. But time is running out.
“Gavril? I need your help.” I fish the gargoyle’s key out of my pocket and hold it as if it’s a spoon.
I start to dance around the pit where Belle is entrapped.
If you stir the cauldron, you separate whatever is in it.
Loosen it up. I just hope my instincts are right.
Arms out in front, mimicking the stirring motion.
Circle one way, circle back again. And there’s Gavril opposite me, with a great rip in his jacket and blood on his shirt, mirroring my moves.
The birds are quiet again, save for a single owl offering a plaintive comment.
“Breathe, Belle,” I say, dancing on. “Stay awake. We’ll get you out soon. ”
Three rounds of Stirring the Cauldron. With each one, the thorns soften a little more, part a little further.
“Now,” I say, pocketing the key, and we move in, reach down, and haul Belle out of her prison.
Actually, Gavril does most of the hauling.
I help her to a spot where she can sit down and simply breathe for a while.
It’s only then that I make myself look at the monster’s body.
It has a massive wound to its chest, almost as if some part of it has been cut out.
And Gavril’s hands are all over blood. I don’t ask.
What matters now is getting Belle home. And dealing with the fallout from this.
I find our packs, fish out a bottle. “Drink some water, Belle. That’s it.
Gavril, are you hurt?” Stupid question, of course he’s hurt.
“I’m all right to walk back. Belle, can you manage it? We’ll help you.”
“My camera… my things…”
I gather her belongings, return the camera to its case, make sure her other things are in her pack.
I try to imagine explaining this to Stefan or Marina, or anyone else.
“We should go, if we can.” I cast one longing glance at the lake shore, transformed by the moon into a glowing ribbon of light.
It makes the old tale, the one the village women eventually told me, entirely believable.
Who wouldn’t want to cross the water, if what lay on the far side was a kingdom of dancing and magic and wonder?
Maybe it really existed, long ago. After what just happened, I’m prepared to believe almost anything.
We reach the castle before the others get back.
Astonishing. Did the gargoyle’s key somehow suspend time?
Belle comes to the tower with us. I help her take a shower.
I brush out her hair and tend to her cuts and bruises.
Then she heads off to make sure she’s in bed and faking sleep when the others return.
What story she’ll tell them, shaken as she is, I can’t imagine.
I get myself clean, put on pyjamas, make tea while Gavril showers.
No need to ask if he wants help – he comes into the study area wearing only a towel, and I check out his injuries and do what I can to patch them up.
I offer silent thanks to the Daniel Lupescu Foundation for providing a first aid kit in our bathroom.
“You should have antibiotics,” I say.
“It’ll have to wait.”
“Gavril. How did you learn to fight like that?”
“Martial arts training. Been doing it since I was ten. Useful for the kind of kid who gets teased at school. Sophie…”
“Mm?”
“How did you know what to do? That dance?”
“Dancing opens doorways. Answers questions. I just thought of something likely and tried it.”
We look at each other. Then, without any further need for words, we go to Gavril’s room and curl up together in the single bed. Just to sleep. For now.
* * *
It’s an old, old story. A family with many daughters.
A portal to a magical kingdom, where they go to dance, and wear out many pairs of shoes until their father gets suspicious and plants a spy.
I found the Lumina document in my grandmother’s attic when I was tasked with cleaning out her things after she passed away.
I’m a scholar. It made sense to do some research.
And I’m a dancer, which made that document particularly interesting.
But until I met a certain linguist, I never got a translation.
And yes, my grandmother’s grandmother was from Transylvania.
Grandma even had a pair of ancient dancing slippers in the attic, carefully wrapped in a silk scarf.
On the flight home, I tell Gavril this story, and he invites me to come and stay with him in Sydney and meet his mother.
I say yes. Of course I do. And I invite him to come and stay with me in Melbourne when it suits him, pointing out that I have my own flat.
We’ll make it work, one way or another. That doesn’t stop both of us shedding tears when we say goodbye at Sydney Airport.
I’ll miss him every single minute until we’re together again.
Odd, how much help we got from the authorities even after it became obvious that we’d broken the rules that night.
Nobody spelled it out, but Gavril got his antibiotics and a check-over by a doctor who was visiting the castle for unrelated reasons.
A woman from the village came up with a soothing cream that did wonders for Belle’s cuts.
As for me, Stefan took me around some of the local farms and I got the chance to talk to lots more people.
And Marina suggested I might consider applying for another residency, perhaps when I do my doctorate.
I made sure I had a chat with the winged pug, thanking it and passing on my news.
I left the key on the balcony table, and in the morning it was gone.