“I want to go down right here!” But the boots ignored him, or at least didn’t register his complaint. Straight and true they carried him, above the forest and its several rivers, coming down at last outside a town.
Amazed peasants in the village of Vuden in eastern Wallachia watched as a demon made a perfect landing in the middle of the weekly fair.
“The enchanted forest!” Azzie cried. “Where is it?”
“Which enchanted forest?” the villagers cried back.
“The one with the enchanted castle with the Sleeping Princess in it!”
“Back that way about two leagues!” the villagers cried, pointing the way Azzie had just come.
Once again Azzie soared into the air. And once again the Seven League Boots took their full seven-league stride.
Now began a nerve-racking contest in which Azzie tried to estimate what direction to take in order to reach his destination in exact increments of seven leagues. It took a while to figure out the appropriate zigs and zags.
There it was ahead, the peak of the magic mountain, recognizable by the haze of obfuscation which hung over it. But now, where in its vicinity was Charming?