Authors: Marissa Burt
P
eter swung the torch from side to side. If someone else was in the passageway with them, he wanted to know about it. He could tell that the final test was coming but had no idea what it would be.
And Snow’s going on about being a Lady.
He inched forward, thrusting the torch into a side passageway.
Why did I have to get paired up with her?
He heard Snow start to laugh as the torchlight illuminated the tunnel.
Peter stepped back. In front of him stood not some threatening creature or dark wizard, but a girl. He guessed that she must be about his own age, though she was shorter than him, and her silvery cloak looked too big for her slight form. Her long dark hair was drawn back into a thick braid, which hung over one shoulder. She locked her big violet eyes on his face, darted a panicky look over to Snow, and opened and closed her mouth like a gaping fish. Then, before Peter could say a word, she turned and ran.
Peter snarled over at Snow, “We need to catch her! Keep up this time, or I’m leaving you behind.” He heard Snow’s answering sigh as he took off after the girl. Peter sprinted down the corridor.
Why would the examiners send in a
girl
for the final test?
That made no sense. Maybe she had some sort of special powers. Breathing heavily, he burst into a large opening with three tunnels leading off in different directions.
Snow arrived in the same space less than a minute later. Peter stood for a moment, his torch’s light casting the corners into shadow. Which path had the girl taken? “Any ideas?” he asked Snow.
She shrugged and examined a broken fingernail.
“Trying to figure out a ladylike way to catch your breath?” Peter snapped. Before Snow could respond, a scream pierced the cave’s stillness.
“After you,” Snow said, and Peter tore off toward the passage on the right.
Holding his torch high in one hand, Peter sped down the path and shot out into an open cavern. Off to his left, the girl had pressed herself against the cavern’s wall. She stood frozen, a wavering dagger held shakily in front of her. And he could see why.
Between Peter and the girl, blocking any hope of escape, crouched a large, scaly dragon. On one side of the girl, the floor dropped sharply into the rushing underground river that ran the entire length of the cavern. She couldn’t go that way. On the other was a huge boulder, which, unless she could climb it, effectively pinned her up against the wall.
This had to be the final test. He’d never heard of the examiners sending
two
Ladies for the Hero to rescue, but it didn’t matter now. As he crept up behind the dragon, it swiveled its head, opened one lazy eye, and rose to its full height. Red scales layered over black, and the dragon stretched up and up, hissing and snorting fiery breaths in Peter’s direction. Then it reared up, roaring, and began pacing back and forth, its talons clicking ominously as it moved. He could hear Snow grumbling behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder at her.
“I am
so
ready to be done,” she muttered. “Well?” She picked at a fingernail. “Hadn’t you better get on with it?”
“Some help you are.” Peter squared his shoulders and turned to face the beast.
“Watch out!” the other girl cried. She flailed her dagger at the dragon with one hand and tried to shoo them back down the passage with the other. “Run! Go! You can still escape!”
The dragon hissed. Its leathery mouth spread wide over yellowed fangs and filled the cavern with an awful stench.
Surely the girl isn’t going to . . . ?
“Stop, fair maiden! I will save you from this foul beast!” Peter yelled. He knew that sounded fake, but the examiners would just have to deal with it. They weren’t the ones who had to put up with two Ladies. He looked back at Snow and sighed. She was filing her nails in the corner.
No doubt I’ll lose points for that too
.
The dragon hissed once more, spraying the room with an awful-smelling green mist. Peter gagged.
Time to get this over with.
Just then, the beast opened its mouth, and shiny, smaller dragons began pouring out, mewling angrily.
“Gross!” the new girl said, and pressed backward, but Peter could see there was nowhere for her to go. The smaller dragons began to creep about, and a few fluttered toward Peter on uncoordinated wings.
“Back, foul fiends!” Peter cried as he crept closer. Nothing happened. He tried again, louder this time. “Halt, I say!” The big dragon belched and lay back down.
“Are you kidding me?” the girl shouted. “I don’t think dragons speak English!” She slashed the air in front of her, trying to fend off one of the little dragons that was piloting toward her with teeth bared and claws out.
“And I didn’t think Ladies fought dragons,” Peter said under his breath. He edged closer.
Rescue the Lady first. Then take care of the dragon.
That boulder looked climbable. If he put his hands just there . . . He pulled himself up and felt with one booted foot along the rock face until he caught a toehold. The stone dug into his palms. His arms shook under the strain. He heard another dragon belch, and the air grew hot around him. Fire, this time. Slowly, painfully, he made his way higher. One more reach, and he would be there.
“Hey, where’d you go?” the girl’s voice asked from the other side of the boulder, breaking his concentration. “Do you have a sword or something?” He slipped, the rock shredding his fingertips as he scrabbled for any hold. A jagged edge scraped his cheek. He kicked his feet, and then one hand caught. His body swung out to the side until he could get his balance back. His fingers burned. He hung there for a moment and began the painstaking climb again. One hand, then the other.
Just a little farther.
He pulled up over the top of the boulder and peered down. The girl was slashing madly now, striking at any dragon that came close. This time, her voice didn’t catch him off guard.
“Are you still there? If you’re not going to run,” she yelled out into the cave, “get your butt over here and help me out!”
Peter scowled down at the top of her head. “Your wish is my command, fair lady.”
She jumped and looked straight up at him. “How did you get up there?” She didn’t see the vicious little beast creep up to her foot and sink its teeth into one ankle. “Ow!” she yelled.
Peter pulled out his smallest throwing knife. The tiny dragon never had a chance.
“Here! Take my hand,” Peter ordered. The girl wasted no time. She sheathed her dagger and clambered over the dead little dragon and up the bottom of the rock. Bracing one leg against the cavern wall, she reached up to grab hold. He pulled hard, and the next minute she was beside him, gasping for breath.
“Thanks,” she managed, and wiped a grubby palm across her forehead.
“Wait here,” Peter said. He slid over the side of the boulder. This was taking too long. They had to move faster.
“Jump!” he called up to the girl once he reached the bottom. She slowly got to her feet and peered down at him.
Why isn’t she just doing what I say? Everyone knows the damsel in distress is supposed to
. . . Peter gritted his teeth.
Maybe she’s picky about her dialogue.
“I mean, won’t you descend, fair lady?”
The girl’s mouth dropped open. “Whatever,” she said as she inched out toward the edge. She hesitated for a moment, and a blast of dragon air propelled her from behind. Peter was ready to catch her, but he had no idea a small girl would feel so heavy. She landed in his arms and knocked him to the ground.
He could hear Snow’s laughter from somewhere behind him. “Very nice,” she said. “Very graceful.” This was punctuated by polite applause.
Peter helped the girl up and pointed her toward Snow, who was now emitting periodic ladylike gasps of terror over by the cavern’s entrance. But the girl didn’t move.
By this time, the little dragons had regrouped. Some flew crookedly up and over the boulder in their general direction. The others were rolling and somersaulting toward them.
The girl pulled out her dagger. “This is so weird.”
“Your dialogue,” Peter whispered meaningfully. He drew his sword. The girl pointed her dagger at him.
“Did you just say
dialogue
?” She turned to knife another little dragon, which curled up, making sad, hurt sounds. The large dragon roared, and spurts of hot, fiery flame shot around the cavern.
“You
are
a Lady?” Peter asked.
The girl shifted her dagger to the other hand. “Look, if you’re just going to stand around gaping and blathering about ladies . . . give me that.” Before he could protest, she grabbed his sword and whirled away, cutting a small dragon in half as she ran across the cavern. The big dragon now stood in front of Snow, who looked unfazed by the flames that ended inches from her face. She was filing her nails again.
“Good Sir Knight,” Snow called in a singsong voice without even looking up, “your assistance is required!”
Suddenly, the dragon spun around more quickly than seemed possible for such a large beast. The girl froze, Peter’s sword now hanging loosely by her side. The dragon darted forward, spurting alternate blasts of hot flame and green slime as it moved. It was nearly upon her.
Why isn’t she moving?
Quick as a wink, Peter ran by, snatching his sword out of her unresisting hand. He passed the boulder and scooped up the forgotten torch. Holding the sword high in one hand, he swung the torch back and forth in front of the dragon with the other. The beast reared back to roar again, and Peter threw the torch at its feet, sending slimy little dragons scuttling for cover. The huge dragon looked down at this new nuisance and, in that moment, Peter darted up with the sword and slammed it with all his might in between the dragon’s front legs.
E
verything froze. And then began to flicker and fade away. The sound of mewling little dragons grew tinny and disappeared. The moist cave air grew warmer. The stalactites overhead turned to stone arches and smoothed out. The torch sputtered and died, replaced by the strange glowing light.
Una looked around, speechless.
I must be going mad after all!
First, there was the giant dragon to come to terms with. And then, the disappearing cave. But what sent chills all over her was the pair standing across the way, arguing in loud voices. She knew that it was Lord Peter who had saved her in the cavern, and the girl with him must be Lady Snow. But knowing didn’t make it any clearer.
You don’t meet people from books! It just can’t happen!
Lady Snow jabbed a very pale finger at Lord Peter’s face. “Enough already,” she said. “I don’t give a squirrel’s behind who she is. The point is we’ve already failed. Don’t you see that? It’s over!” She shot Una an icy look before flouncing off through a stone doorway.
Peter screwed up his face at Snow’s retreating figure and turned to look at Una. “Thanks a lot,” he said. “What were you doing back there? Why couldn’t you just be normal?”
Una stared at him.
Didn’t we just escape dying a horrible death? Didn’t we just fight a disgusting dragon? Didn’t I just kill a bunch of little dragons with my own two hands? Didn’t I nearly die, because you and your idiot girlfriend stood there saying “Sir” and “Lady” until the dragon had multiplied—no
spawned
—more dragons?
“Normal?” Una said, her voice rising. “You think
anything
about this is
normal
? You do nothing . . . I . . . the dragons . . . with my dagger . . . the cave . . . your story.”
“Slow down,” Peter said. “You’re not making any sense.”
“We almost died back there!” she finally yelled.
Peter’s voice was very soft. “Is this your first practical?”
“What?” Una could hear herself screech.
“I figured as much.” He gave her a little pat on the shoulder. “You can’t die in a practical,” he said. “The professors wouldn’t really let anything bad happen to you. You’re just overreacting.” He continued with the patting, not noticing that Una had stiffened her arm beneath his hand.
“You’ll be all right,” he said. “Though you might have to retake the whole level because of your rule breaking. Come to think of it, I might have to as well.” He stopped patting and gave her a stony glare. “Why did you have to go and fight the dragons anyway? That’s the Hero’s job!”
Una stared right back. “Overreacting?” she said in a deadly calm voice. “
Overreacting?
You’re the one talking about examinations! Look who’s not making any sense now,
Lord
Peter!” Una almost never swore, and now she had to clamp her mouth down tight to keep from letting out a string of the most horrible words. Her jaw ached with the effort.
“How do you know my name?” Peter asked. His unfriendly stare had given way to a slightly less hostile look of curiosity.
Should she tell him?
Oh, well. Here goes nothing.
“You . . . are in a story,” she finally said in the kindest and gentlest way she knew how.
Peter yawned. “And?”
“No. No! Don’t you see?” Una waved her hands in a big circle all around the cave. “A
story
!”
Peter looked at her hands until Una slowly lowered them. “Of course we’re in Story,” he said. “This
is
the practical examination.” His forehead creased in concern. “Are you all right? Did you study too much? Maybe you should sit down.” He looked at Una as if she was very fragile.
Somehow the fact that Peter wasn’t surprised worried Una more than anything else.
He
knows
he’s in a story, and he doesn’t
care
.
“The story,” Una began. “I was reading it at my study desk—no, wait, that weird boy was there. I was in a new spot at the library, and that’s when I read about you and Lady Snow, and the lights flashed, and then the pages were blank. None of this makes any sense. Maybe I’m sick or something.” She trailed off when she saw Peter furrow his brow. “What?” she said.
“Come here.” Peter walked over to an archway tucked off to one side. In the small room that lay beyond was an engraved pedestal. As they moved closer, Una could see a stack of papers.
Peter ran his fingers down the first few lines of text. “Well, I don’t see anything about a library or flashing lights.”
“What?” Una nudged him out of the way and began to read. “This is the same story I was reading in the library!” she said. “Look, it’s just as I told you. Here you are in the forest, talking to Lady Snow.” Una paused, rifling through the pages. “You know, the odd thing was that further along, the pages were—” She gave a sharp gasp, bending closer to the paper. “Wait, that’s
my
name!”
Una rubbed her eyes and reread the script in front of her. There was her name, no mistake about it, right on the page. The description of the book Una sounded just like her. There she was creeping down the passageway in her silver cloak. Hearing voices and hiding out of sight. Meeting Peter and Snow in the torchlight. Una stared at the words in horror.
“But I was reading this story at school! How can I actually be
in
it?” She didn’t want to look at Peter, because she didn’t know what she might see on his face. Pity? Shock? She read on and found an account of the events that had just happened. Or almost as they had happened. “I did
not
look like a gaping fish!” she exclaimed.
Peter stepped up beside her. He had none of the expressions she expected. Instead, he was attempting to hide a smile. “You know, the record is pretty accurate,” he said. “Really. If it says you looked like a fish—well, you looked like a fish. Una. Is that your name?” He ran his hand over the open page and smiled at her.
Una looked carefully at him. He was about a head taller than her. His floppy brown hair was now streaked with dirt and ash. The blood from the cut on his cheek had dried, tracing a dark line across his face. His brown eyes looked kind, but there was a suspicious twinkle in them as he continued to talk.
“Don’t worry,” Peter went on. “I don’t think they’ll mark off for acting frightened. It’s only when you hide away because of it that it affects your score.”
“Why are you pretending that everything is okay?” she said in a near whisper. She swatted at his hand, which had returned to patting her on the shoulder. “We just missed being eaten by a dragon, if you remember, and your Lady friend went off and ditched us.” Her voice went up a notch. “My name is appearing in some random story, not to mention the fact that I’m with you in this, well, wherever I am, and
you are talking about some stupid test
?”
Peter snatched back the offending hand and stared at her. The muscles in his jaw clenched, but he said in a very polite voice, “Do you really not know where you are?”
“Right. I’ve just been pretending this whole time.” She smoothed down her hair, which was sticking out every which way from the now messy braid, and took a deep breath.
After all, Peter is just trying to help.
She began again. “I’m sorry. No. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what I’m doing here. Like I said, I was reading a story about two travelers.” She turned back to him and took up the papers from the stand. “This story. But I had it in the library at my school. And the next thing I know, I’m in the room out there. Fighting dragons.” The tears stung the backs of her eyes, but she willed herself not to cry. It was very quiet. “And now, the story is changing.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” said Peter. “And you’ve never been in this room before?”
“No.” Una sat down next to the pedestal, clutching the papers to her chest.
This must be what crazy feels like.
She tried to breathe in and out slowly but could only manage shallow gasps. “Do you know what’s happening to me?” she finally asked in a small voice.
Peter was running out of ideas. “I think it must be all the stress of the practical,” he said again in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. “Please say something, Una.” She hadn’t moved from her spot on the floor, where she now sat staring at the exam record. He hated it when girls were upset. He only had one sister, Rosemary. She was the youngest, barely toddling around, and he couldn’t stand it when she cried. He took a deep breath. With Rosemary it always helped to distract her, get her thinking about something else.
“Last year, for my first practical, I was so nervous I couldn’t sleep the night before.” He eyed Una. She seemed to be listening. “My roommate had to get up and help me recite the Table of Fairy Tale Elements.” He smiled, remembering. “And it wasn’t until we reached Witch’s Lair that I could finally fall asleep.” He looked over at Una, who had set the papers aside, and kept talking. “Good thing, too! The final test in that one
was
a Witch’s Lair. And see, it all turned out right. I passed and everything.”
Una frowned. “Table of Fairy Tale Elements? Like chemistry? I hate chemistry.”
“Chemistry! Not likely.” Now to keep her distracted. “Though if I knew some potion making, it might’ve helped with the witch. No, that exam was for Beginning Heroics. We just finished the one for Advanced Heroics. I didn’t see you in class this term,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t start yelling again.
Una looked up. “You’re a student?”
He nodded.
“At Saint Anselm’s?” she asked.
Peter crossed his arms over his chest.
So that’s it! She’s from another school!
“This is the Perrault exam wing,” Peter said. “There must have been some mix-up with the exam.”
Now I’m getting somewhere.
“And you’re sure you’ve never been here?” He waved one hand around the little room.
Una scanned the area. “I’m sure.”
“Let’s go through it step by step.” Peter paced back and forth. “If you haven’t been to this Tale station before, you’re definitely not from our school,” he reasoned. “What kind of Tale were you in before?”
“Um . . . ,” Una said.
Peter tried a different tactic. “Well, what do we know? You’re a . . .” He hesitated. He was about to ask if she was a Lady, but earlier Una hadn’t responded so well to that vein of questioning.
He stopped and frowned at his boots, which were spotted with dried dragon blood. He knew from her dress that she was from the Fantasy District. That was easy enough to tell. But the type of character she was training for was more difficult. If she wasn’t a Lady, could she be a Princess? He thought of her dialogue.
Not likely.
He mentally ran down the list of official character types he had memorized last year and examined her.
Village Girl?
He shrugged.
Maybe, but she seems too bright for that.
It was possible she was a Fairy Godmother, although those girls were usually plumper. He squinted at her face, but he didn’t see any warts or moles under all the dragon soot.
Most likely not an Ugly Stepsister.
He paused.
What if she’s a Villain? An Enchantress?
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Una snapped.
“I give up,” Peter said, spreading his hands wide. “What type are you? You said you weren’t a Lady, but I can’t come up with anything else.”
Una frowned at him. “Type?” She stood up, and it was her turn to pace across the little room. “Look, Peter, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know anything about heroics or Tale stations or types. I’m just an ordinary seventh grader who got up and went to her school this morning and, instead of sitting by myself eating my lunch, I’m here listening to you talk about witches and fairy tales and exams.”
Something clicked for Peter in the middle of Una’s speech. “Of course!” he exclaimed. “Chemistry! The library! You’re a Modern!” That would explain her refusal to speak in proper Fantasy dialogue. “But why are you wearing those clothes?” he asked. “If you’re not in the Fantasy District, I mean, how did you end up in our practical?”
Una rubbed her temples. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m not a modern! I’m not in any district, whatever that is. I’m just Una!” She tucked her arms in tight across her chest, eyes cast down to the floor. “I wish I’d never found that stupid book.”
Peter paused, digesting the weight of her words. “A
book
? You were reading the story in a book?”
“That’s what I’ve been saying!”
Peter took a step back from her. “You never said anything about a book.” His voice sounded funny, like he was hearing someone else talk. He swallowed. “You mean you’re
not
training to be a character?” he asked in a near whisper. If she wasn’t a character, if she didn’t know about types, if she wasn’t at Perrault, if she had never been to a Tale station before . . .
He moved closer to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Una,” he said softly. “It’s going to be all right.” But even as he spoke the reassuring words, he knew that they were lies. He had heard the stories before, of course, but . . .
Una uncrossed her arms and looked up at him. “You believe me?” she asked.
Peter nodded. “Una,” he said in a very serious voice. “I think you’ve been Written In.”