Thornspell by Helen Lowe

Helen Lowe reimagines the Sleeping Beauty story from the point of view of the prince who is destined to wake the enchanted princess in this lush, romantic fantasy-adventure. Prince Sigismund has grown up hearing fantastical stories about enchantments and faie spells, basilisks and dragons, knights-errant and heroic quests. He'd love for them to be true--he's been sheltered in a country castle for most of his life and longs for adventure--but they are just stories. Or are they? From the day that a mysterious lady in a fine carriage speaks to him through the castle gates, Sigismund's world starts to shift. He begins to dream of a girl wrapped, trapped, in thorns. He dreams of a palace, utterly still, waiting. He dreams of a man in red armor, riding a red horse--and then suddenly that man arrives at the castle! Sigismund is about to learn that sometimes dreams are true, that the world is both more magical and more dangerous than he imagined, and that the heroic quest he imagined for himself as a boy . . . begins now. Editorial Reviews From Booklist Confined to a country castle while his father fights in the south, bored Prince Sigismund dreams of adventures he believes happen only in stories. The nearby Wood is the source of most of his fantasies; it's been forbidden since his great grandfather's time, and stories abound as to why. No one visits the castle, and the gates rarely open, so when Sigismund spies a wealthy carriage on the road, he rushes to meet it and is flung headlong into an adventure involving the dangerous Wood, an enchanted palace, and a princess sleeping among thorns. Aided by a dragon and other allies, his own magic, and a legendary sword, Sigismund must break the spell before the evil fairy who cast it can gain enough power to take over his world. This reimagining of Sleeping Beauty follows the prince as he develops from a wistful little boy who longs for his stern father's approval into the worthy hero he is destined to be. This version fittingly has more swordplay and dangerous escapades than romance, but it still ends happily ever after. Grades 4-7. --Krista Hutley Review A quiet hero anchors this nicely crafted blend of fairy tale and dreamscape. . . . A narrative that begins as an exploration of fairy-tale archetypes thus moves into a very human and nevertheless magical drama. Thoughtful and understated. --Kirkus Reviews The charming modifications hang together nicely with the traditional elements of the story, and romance readers as well as fairy-tale aficionados will delight in this deft handling of the tale. --The Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books This reimagining of 'Sleeping Beauty' follows the prince as he develops from a wistful little boy who longs for his stern father's approval into the worthy hero he is destined to be. --Booklist Review This Sleeping Beauty retelling skillfully expands the basic story of the uninvited guest seeking revenge into a full-blooded tale of ambition and romance . . . romance readers as well as fairy tale aficionados will delight in this deft handling of the tale. This 'Sleeping Beauty' retelling skillfully expands the basic story. Romance readers as well as fairy-tale aficionados will delight in this deft handling of the tale. Confined to a country castle while his father fights in the south, bored Prince Sigismund dreams of adventures he believes happen only in stories. The nearby Wood is the source of most of his fantasies; it's been forbidden since his great grandfather's time, and stories abound as to why. No one visits the castle, and the gates rarely open, so when Sigismund spies a wealthy carriage on the road, he rushes to meet it and is flung headlong into an adventure involving the dangerous Wood, an enchanted palace, and a princess sleeping among thorns. Aided by a dragon and other allies, his own magic, and a legendary sword, Sigismund must break the spell before the evil faie who cast it can gain enough power to take over his world. This re-imagining of Sleeping Beauty follows the prince as he develops from a wistful little boy who longs for his stern father's approval into the worthy hero he is destined to be. This version fittingly has more swordplay and dangerous escapades than romance, but it still ends happily ever after. -- Krista Hutley Review Crown prince Sigismund is tired of being sequestered in a castle far away from his father and the court, but he is fascinated by local legends of the ancient wood that borders royal lands. People are fporbidden to enter the wood, which is said to have a castle at its heart, and none can say whether the occupants of the mysterious castle are friends or foe; Sigismund himself encounters a lady through the castle gate who is clearly gifted with power as well as beauty. When Sigismund is finally allowed to come to court, he takes part in a hunt that claims the life of one of his retainers, and his grief distracts him so that he finds himself captured and imprisoned in a fairy hill ... This Sleeping Beauty retelling skilfully expands the basic story of the uninvited guest seeking revenge into a full-blooded tale of ambition and romance. Additional richness accrues from the prince's having magical powers of his own, and the loopholes in the sleeping counter-spell that allow prince and princess to meet before her awakening are clever indeed. The charming modifications hang together nicely with the traditional elements of the story, and romance readers as well as fairy tale aficionados will delight in this deft handling of the tale. Review Prince Sigismund always dreamed of a life of heroism, adventure, beasts, and fair maidens in need of rescue. What little boy hasn't? But, in Helen Lowe's first novel, she takes a behind-the-scenes look at the classic Sleeping Beauty and puts it in the perspective of the prince, the one who awakens her from her sleep. With engaging characters and an energetic and magical plot, this book should capture the attention of all readers, breaking away from its genre of Young Adult. This book honors prince Charming's qualities, and does not damage the old story in any way. With a handful of plot twists and dangers lurking behind every page, this book will keep the reader engaged well after the final page, and Helen Lowe will be sure to have a cult following waiting anxiously for her next installment in her fantasy series. Book Description Award-winning poet Helen Lowe's first novel, Thornspell, is a poetically and dramatically rich fairy tale. Her magical suspense story parallels the German epic poem and opera, Parsifal, a man's search for the Holy Grail, as well as the film, Sleeping Beauty. It is an imaginative story with distinctive and complex plots and extraordinary characters. Sequestered within the castle walls for his own protection, young Prince Sigismund spends his time daydreaming about the enchanted world of King Arthur's knights, unaware that soon he will embark on a quest of his own. As the prince approaches his 18th birthday, a carriage with the evil fairy (faie), Margravine zu Malvolin, arrives at the castle gates. She attempts to entrap the prince. This bold move prompts the King to assign Balistan, master-at-arms, to prepare his son for the inevitable. The prince discovers, with meditation and interpretation of dreams, his own magical powers. The prince learns that Margravine placed an evil spell a hundred years ago on a kingdom in the Wood where a princess remains asleep. Sigismund, a true-blood prince, is the only one who can rescue the sleeping princess and her family. If Margravine can control Sigismund, she will have a power over both the fairy and mortal world. Sigismund goes against Margravine's strong magic. He discovers his own strength, and with the help of a magic sword, Quickthorn (like King Arthur's Excalibur), he is able to escape Margravine's control and lift the spell. Lowe suspends the reader's reality and thrusts us into an imaginary world with vivid descriptions and lyrical language such as the final confrontation. Sigismund sees Margravine floating in the air, her hair streaming out like a banner and billowing into the growing storm. Shadows flared on either side of her like the batwings he remembered, and the clouds rolled close, dark as nightfall with lightening at their heart. This young readers book is a thrilling read. Like the story of Parsifal, it conveys messages of compassion and honor. --Kate Padilla From the Publisher I'm always amazed by the power of a fairy tale and the many ways it can be told and retold. Just when you think you've read every possible variation on a story, some wonderful new author arrives to spin it fresh and make it new again. Such was the pleasure of reading Helen Lowe's remarkable Thornspell--a new take on the Sleeping Beauty story--for the first time. By approaching the story from the point of view of the prince who is destined to wake the sleeping princess, she found a whole new way to send shivers up my spine. Her language is rich and romantic and there is a perfect magical kiss at the end. But this is very much the prince's tale. It's a swashbuckling story, filled with sword fights and danger and dragons that will keep readers' hearts racing. --Nancy Siscoe From the Publisher I'm always amazed by the power of a fairy tale and the many ways it can be told and retold. Just when you think you've read every possible variation on a story, some wonderful new author arrives to spin it fresh and make it new again. Such was the pleasure of reading Helen Lowe's remarkable Thornspell--a new take on the Sleeping Beauty story--for the first time. By approaching the story from the point of view of the prince who is destined to wake the sleeping princess, she found a whole new way to send shivers up my spine. Her language is rich and romantic and there is a perfect magical kiss at the end. But this is very much the prince's tale. It's a swashbuckling story, filled with sword fights and danger and dragons that will keep readers' hearts racing. --Nancy Siscoe About the Author Helen Lowe won the inaugural Robbie Burns National Poetry Award in 2003 and was the recipient of a New Zealand Society of Authors/Creative New Zealand award for emerging writer. For Thornspell, she received the Sir Julius Vogel Award for best young adult novel. She received a second Vogel Award as best new talent in the fantasy field. In addition to her writing life, Helen has a second-dan black belt in aikido and represented her university in the sport of fencing. She lives in a ninety-year-old house with a woodland garden in Christchurch, New Zealand, which she shares with her partner, Andrew, and two cats. Excerpt. ® Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. The Silent Wood A boy was lying on his stomach on the topmost tower of a small, square castle, basking like a lizard in the sun. There was a book open on the lichened stone in front of him, and one slightly grubby finger traced the illuminations on the page. Neither he nor the book was supposed to be there at all, but he had slipped away from his many guardians to lose himself in the enchanted world of Parsifal and the Grail quest. When he was done with reading, he would simply doze on in the warm afternoon sun or look out, lofty as a falcon, over the world that surrounded the castle. Even from the high tower it was a small enough world, for the castle, the gardens, and the parkland that surrounded it were contained by a high stone wall. The wall snaked for miles between the park and the white dusty road, and even the local village lay inside the great wrought-iron gates. Sigismund, for that was the boy's name, couldn't remember the gates opening since the day his father had first brought him to the castle, several years before. He supposed they must open sometimes to let his father's couriers pass, and the merchants who brought luxuries from the capital, but he had never seen it happen, not even when he raced to the top of the tower to watch a departing caravan. There was always something that distracted his attention at the critical moment--or the dust in summer, or snow of winter, would be too thick for him to see the gate at all. Sigismund could lie for hours watching the road and imagining the long leagues to the capital, with all the towns and great houses, woods and fields, along its length. He would daydream of the adventures that might befall a traveler along the way, for there were still tales told of both faie and ogres dwelling in these remoter provinces. Sigismund's tutor, Master Griff, might look down his nose at such tales, but Sir Andreas, the castle steward, would shake his head and say that you couldn't take anything for granted, not in this country. Sir Andreas himself would never say more, but Wenceslas, who worked in the stable and was a particular friend of Sigismund's, said that Sir Andreas's own father had been killed fighting ogres. He too had been the King's steward and led his men against the ogres when they began killing travelers and raiding outlying farms. This story always gave Sigismund a shiver down his spine, because it was both exciting and sad at the same time. He liked to imagine riding out in the same way when he was older, protecting the people from outlaws and monsters, except that in these daydreams Sigismund always overcame his opponents and set any wrongs done to right. His favorite dream, however, was of the day when his father would come riding back from the endless rebellions and outright wars in the southern provinces. Then, thought Sigismund, his eyes half shut against the sun's glare, they would go adventuring together--perhaps along the fabled Spice Road and into the Uttermost East, where dragons flew like silken banners in the noonday sky and men spoke in strange tongues. He didn't like to think about what would happen if his father never came back, if he was killed fighting in the south. Sigismund supposed that he would have to return to the capital if that happened and be crowned king in his turn, although he would much rather ride out alone, like Parsifal on the Grail quest. I could be a knight-errant, he thought, and make my own way in the world, as princes used to do in the high days of King Arthur--or the Emperor Charlemagne, when Roland held the pass at Roncesvalles. But not crown princes, Master Griff had said on the one occasion when Sigismund voiced this dream aloud. You'll find that was only younger sons, even then. The oldest son still had to be responsible and mind the kingdom. Thoughts of princes-errant and the Grail quest drew Sigismund's eyes away from the eastern road to the great Wood that stretched for league on tree-tossed league into the west. Every sort of tale was told about that Wood: that it was the home of witches and of faie who would lure the unwary down into their hollow hills. Some stories even said there was a castle hidden deep in the forest, although there were as many tales as there were trees when it came to the nature of the occupant. One story, usually told in whispers, claimed that the hidden castle was the seat of a powerful sorcerer, another that it belonged to the Queen of the Faie, She-of-the-Green-Gold-Sleeves. There were other tales again that made it a lair of dragons, or basilisks, or trolls that munched on the bones of men. Sigismund had asked Master Griff for the truth of it, but his tutor had shaken his head. Trolls that munch the bones of men! You're getting too old for such stories, Sigismund. He had squinted out the library window into the enclosed garden below. All that is known for certain is that your great-grandfather placed an interdict on the Wood, forbidding anyone to go there. But the reason for the ban was never set down, and now even your father's council seems to have forgotten why. He shrugged. Yet from what Sir Andreas says, no one in these parts has ever broken it. Sigismund wondered whether this meant that something particularly bad had happened in the Wood during his great-grandfather's time, so bad that no one wanted to go there anyway. The old western gate into the castle was long since walled up, but there was still a remnant of a road that must have run into the forest once. It was little more than two rutted and stony wheel tracks now, but Sigismund had followed it one day, making his escape from the castle by means of a mossy channel that had once been the moat, and a culvert under the outer wall. The road did not go far, petering out into a bridle path within a few hundred yards of the castle wall, and fading away altogether beneath the forest eave. It had been very dark and quiet beneath the canopy, a heavy, listening silence. There was no call of bird or insect, no whisper of a falling leaf--not even the wind stirred. Sigismund had felt the fine hairs lifting along his forearms and up the back of his neck, and taken a step back.