Castles in the Air


Bruno caught a glimpse of it as the horse-drawn carriage climbed the winding mountain road—a castle built into the side of the crag, flashing into brilliant view for just a moment and then vanishing as a cloud covered the sun.

He leaned forward and tapped the driver’s shoulder. “Is that the castle?”

The driver glanced quickly away from the road and then back again. A frown formed on his face. “What? No. You can’t see the castle from here, not until we come around the corner.”

Bruno sat back, twisting his head to try to see it again. There was nothing there but rock glimmering in the afternoon sun. It must have been a trick of the light that made it look as though there was a castle there. Come to think of it, one would have a difficult time building a castle directly into the side of the mountain. One would almost be carving it out of the mountain rather than building into it.

No, definitely his eyes and imagination had played tricks on him.

They rounded the corner and Bruno saw the actual castle, rising up from the ground in all its fairy tale-esque glory, the mountains providing an impressive background for it. Except...after that half-seen imagined castle, all golden and white from the sun glimmering on the rocks, this castle felt a little flat. More like an imitation of a fairy tale than the tale itself.

Bruno dutifully handed over his ticket and did the tour, but the flatness never left him. Everything about this castle, grand and gilded as it was, rang false and jarred his senses, always just a little off, never quite ringing true. The unctuous tones and oft-repeated anecdotes told by the tour guide only made him roll his eyes. Nothing here caused his imagination to take fire.

He was almost relieved when the tour ended and the tourists were politely but firmly urged to exit to make way for the next group.

He ignored the temptations of gift shop and café—too overpriced anyway—and wandered back out, eyes straying to the mountains again. He couldn’t help but wonder...perhaps ..

Almost of their own volition, his feet turned in the direction of the peak where he thought he’d seen the fairy castle, and he walked up the winding path toward it. The rational part of his mind scoffed at him even as he went; but sheepish though he was, something stronger than reason impelled him. Even as the path ended he continued, ignoring the signs warning people to stay on the paths, fully aware that he was behaving in a reckless fashion.

Anything could happen. A rockfall wasn’t too likely this time of year, but still, the mountains were no place for trotting off by oneself. Bruno knew that perfectly well. He himself had been involved in some rescues in his home village, getting foreign tourists out of sticky spots they’d placed themselves in solely to get a great shot for social media or because they saw an unusual plant.

He’d mocked them afterward for their folly, yet here he was, being just as foolish. Worse, because he didn’t have the excuse of wanting a selfie for Instagram driving him on. He was operating off nothing but instinct.

He reached the base of the crag where he thought he’d seen the castle. Craning his neck, he couldn’t see anything above him but grey and white rock.

That didn’t mean much, though. From this angle, there could be anything above him from a pair of chamois to an entire Bavarian village without him being able to see it.

Bruno contemplated going back. It was getting late, he was tired, he shouldn’t be here anyway. He was chasing a phantom, nothing more.

He cast one longing glance back down where he had come from, the tower peaks flashing in the setting sun from the real castle. He had so wanted something magical from this trip, something to inspire his art that had been feeling flat and dull for months now. If he turned around now, this trip would have been for nothing.

Muttering imprecations under his breath toward artists whose heads were so full of fancy that they didn’t think about broken necks, Bruno turned back to the crag and started to climb.

It wasn’t the worst climb he’d ever done, nothing requiring ropes and pistons. Still, it wasn’t a simple matter of strolling up a path, either. He had to use hands and feet to scramble along, and had to go out of his way more than once when the straightforward path was impassable. Looking anywhere but the next immediate step became impossible.

It was full dusk when Bruno finally reached a plateau. He took advantage of the flat space to stand up straight, stretch his back, and look around.

He was there.

Shimmering out of the shadows of evening, a wondrous edifice stood before him. Half carved out of the mountain, half in the mountain, its walls were built of gleaming white stone, its many towers topped with golden roofs. Bruno could see no sign of life, but even as he gaped, the silver gate swung open, beckoning him in.

Bruno knew all the stories of people who wandered into fairyland and were never seen again.

At the same time, there was no choice here. How could he come to the very gates of a fairy castle, risking breaking his neck or getting lost at night on a mountaintop, and then turn away at the last moment? It was impossible.

“You wanted something magical to inspire you,” he murmured. “Don’t ever say you don’t get what you wish for in this world.”

He stepped forward, letting the gate clang shut with a musical tone behind him.