“How about now?” Orion questioned, revealing three silver coins.
“I didn’t know what she was planning,” Rat stated.
“You’re not in trouble, boy. Just tell me where they went,” Orion demanded.
“She said they were going to the Garden Gate,” Rat confessed.
Orion was shocked by the news; he had never considered the possibility that Damselfly would leave the castle, and he could not fathom what reason she might have for doing so.
“When did you last see her?”
“Not long ago,” Rat revealed timidly.
Orion assuaged his concern with the knowledge he would easily catch up with the princess; she could not get far alone, and he knew the gatekeeper would never allow her through.
“Thank you.” Orion pressed the coins into Rat’s shaking hand.
“There is one more thing I want you to do,” the sorcerer instructed.
“Tell my sister what you told me and that I have left the castle to retrieve the princess.”
Rat could only nod his acceptance as Orion swept past him in his pursuit. The orphan boy looked down at his palm in disbelief at the wealth he glimpsed there; three silver coins shone back at him and the promise of more to come.
Damselfly had never been outside the castle without adult supervision. The sun remained setting, providing a diluted light and meagre warmth that was enough without being enough. Although there were signs of time’s loss upon the land, Damselfly was so excited about her mission that she barely noticed. She glimpsed the animals in the fields without noting the lack of food or reduction in their numbers. She heard birdsong like it was a lullaby rather than a lament. Even Buttontail was unusually positive regarding their new found freedom.
“This would be a great place to play hide and seek,” he commented.
“Not now, Buttons,” Damselfly reminded.
“We have to reach the Garden Gate and get to the Magicgarden so we can find the Matriarch like Uriel said. Then she can help us save mother.”
The princess clenched Uriel’s token in her hand, determined to complete her bargain with Death for her mother’s life.
They had barely left the castle’s shadow when Damselfly caught her first glimpse of the Garden Gate; it reflected the late evening sunlight and seemed to glow with magic. As they drew closer, it was easier to make out the details. The gate was made of gold, which has always been a magical element, and it stood ten feet high, like a monument to days past. It looked a little like a large turnstile or merry-go-round though it stood vertically with nothing keeping it from falling except magic. Damselfly wondered if this mechanism could really transport them to another garden.
“Who goes there?”
A deep male voice called out, startling Buttons who hid behind Damselfly’s fairy wings. The princess steeled herself and answered as confidently as she could.
“My name is Damselfly and this is my friend Buttontail. We are here to access the Magicgarden via this gate.”
A man appeared before them, wearing bright colours of red, yellow and orange. His face was covered with a mottled beard, except his eyes which seemed to hold great pain. Damselfly thought the man looked like a giant moth wrapped in flames.
“My name is Gregorian and I am the gatekeeper.”
The name sounded familiar to Damselfly although she was too occupied with thoughts of saving her mother to really consider their implications.
“I wish to travel to the Magicgarden,” the princess explained.
“No one can pass the gate without payment,” Gregorian stated.
Damselfly held up the token Uriel had given her and she glimpsed surprise in Gregorian’s eyes as his gaze passed over it.
“Where did you get that?” the gatekeeper asked.
“Does it matter?” Damselfly countered. “You are the gatekeeper, and this allows me to use the gate. My reasons for doing so is none of your concern.”
“I cannot allow the princess to leave Thronegarden alone,” Gregorian answered.
Damselfly was not particularly surprised that she had been recognised. There was after all only one princess in Fable and she had not attempted to conceal her identity.
“I think I know you too,” she replied. “Old Nana told me a story about Death’s most faithful servant and he was called Gregorian.”
Gregorian
There was a man who could remember,
Every little thing that happened each day,
Yet in all his young life he had never lost another,
That was not the way it would stay.
From his earliest memories,
He had been taught to fear Death,
Though it is hard to fear someone who only appears in stories,
He did not understand the lesson until his mother drew her last breath.
At the funeral he was sad,
Until he realised he could recall,
Every conversation they had spoken whether good or bad,
With that he knew she was not lost to him after all.
The son continued not to fear Death’s shadow,
Though their paths were about to cross again,
For his wife became ill and the rest we already know,
He was soon standing over her grave in the rain.
The husband told himself his wife was not really gone,
While he could feel every kiss they had together,
Strangely, this did not fill the void in his home,
Finally, he knew Death was his enemy to be feared forever.
Unfortunately, Death was not satisfied,
He came for the man’s children one night,
The father could remember every time they laughed or cried,
Though no memory could replace what Death had stolen or make it right.
The man was haunted by what he had lost,
His mother’s words echoed inside,
His wife’s kiss stung like frost,
His children’s laughter brought him pain no matter where he sought to hide.
The man begged Death for
