North! Or Be Eaten

  “Ah!” the Fang continued. “And what about this skinny fellow? Will you let Mooph here squeeze him like a fruit? No, I think you’re finished, Wingfeathers. Gnag the Nameless has thingsss for you to do.”

  “Janner,” Tink whispered. “Janner, the rockroach. Look.”

  From the hole in the floor of the gully, a tendril of steam rose, and in the shadows, a deeper darkness writhed. A tremor shook the ground and sent pebbles and twigs rattling down into the rockroach den.

  If a little water from the First Well made Nugget as big as a horse, what did a whole bottle of it do to the rockroach? Janner wondered.

  He looked across the gully at his uncle in the troll’s fist. What would Peet do? Peet was the true Throne Warden of Anniera. Would he suggest that Janner, Tink, and Leeli give themselves up after all that had been done to keep them alive and safe from Gnag the Nameless?

  Janner didn’t think so.

  Then he made a choice.

  “Back up,” Janner whispered. He grabbed Tink’s elbow and Nugget’s collar and edged them backward.

  “Janner, what are you doin’?” Podo asked. “We’re out of options here, lad. Oskar’s at the end of his rope, and the Blapp’s the only thing we’re running to.”

  Oskar yawned and sat up. “To the contrary,” he said. “I’ve had quite the refreshing nap. And as I said earlier, I recall…” He adjusted his spectacles and looked north. “Podo, old boy, have you heard of Miller’s Bridge?”

  “What are ye talkin’ about, Reteep? This is no time for a history lesson!”

  “In the words of—”

  “In the words of Podo Helmer, we’re stuck! Best we turn ourselves in and hope for a way out when the Maker affords one.”

  “What’s Miller’s Bridge?” Tink asked.

  A memory surfaced in Janner’s mind, the image of a map of Skree from a history book he had studied only a year ago. Where the Mighty River Blapp poured into the Dark Sea of Darkness lay Fingap Falls. In parentheses below the words “Fingap Falls” was written “Miller’s Bridge, Second Epoch.” Janner blinked, and the picture in his mind vanished.

  “Back up!” he said again. Then he called to the Fang commander, trying to keep his voice level. “We’ll be going now. This has been a nice visit. Please give our regards to Gnag the Nameless when you see him.”

  The Fang commander saw the Igibys moving away and snarled. Janner looked at his uncle in the grip of the troll and was terrified he had just cost Peet the Sock Man his life. The Fang commander stomped away from the gully and gave the troll an order. Janner’s breath came in short gasps, and his eyes squeezed shut of their own accord. He couldn’t bear to watch the troll kill his uncle.

  But he heard no scream, no sounds of struggle. Janner pried open his eyes to see that the troll that had been holding Peet was gone. He had no time to consider this, however, because the Fang commander’s voice rang through the forest.

  “AFTER THEM!”

  “Run!” Janner said, and he spun around and pulled his mother to her feet. Tink and Podo helped Oskar up and draped one of the old man’s arms over Nugget’s back. The other arm went over Podo’s shoulder, and the dog and the pirate ran after Tink with Oskar between them. Janner and Nia took up the rear.

  Behind them, the Fangs poured into the gully. Janner heard the wooden ceiling give way beneath their weight, then the screams of the Fangs, the bellows of the trolls, and above it all, a bloodcurdling chatter—the clicking, clacking, insectile racket of the gargan rockroach.

  Janner risked a look behind him and beheld a shiny black nightmare bursting above the rim of the gully. The gargan rockroach had tripled in size. The domed back of the giant bug rose like a hard brown bubble, and its churning legs were like many-jointed spears, stabbing and clawing at the Fangs. Just as Janner tore his eyes away from the carnage, a troll wheeled through the air and slammed into a tree as if it were nothing more than a toy.

  They ran and ran. No one spoke. No one asked about Miller’s Bridge. The only sounds were their heavy breathing, troll screams echoing through the forest, and the steady roar of the Mighty Blapp growing closer with every step they took.

  “It won’t be long before the Fangs get past that thing,” Podo said between breaths.

  Janner knew the Fangs would be at their heels before long, but a few minutes was better than nothing, wasn’t it? At least they were still free, even if they were running for their lives.

  Then he remembered Peet. Maybe in the confusion of the gargan rockroach’s attack, Uncle Artham had found a way to escape.

  Oskar stumbled, and his arms slipped from Nugget and Podo. “I’m all right, I’m all right,” he said, wincing as Podo pulled him back to his feet.

  They stopped. Everyone but Leeli was winded and pale from running. Nia walked a little way ahead and looked north, her hands on her hips.

  Podo took hold of Janner’s shoulder and cleared his throat. “Ye didn’t save any of that water from the First Well before you threw it at the rockroach, did ye? Oskar here could use a drop or two.”

  “No sir,” Janner mumbled. He hung his head, half sorry and half angry that he was about to get a lecture for something that had saved their lives. He stared at the ground, painfully aware that the rest of the family was looking at him.

  But Podo didn’t lecture. He lifted Janner’s chin and looked him in the eye. “You did good, lad. Kept your head back there. I’m proud of ye.” He patted Janner’s back. “It’s just like Ships and Sharks, ain’t it? Always a way out.”

  “Not always,” said Nia, who stood at the top of a rise not far ahead.

  When Janner reached her, he saw that they had come to the end of Glipwood Forest. Below them, writhing through a mass of wet boulders, lay the white, angry waters of the Mighty River Blapp.

  11

  The End of the Road

  So what’s this about Miller’s Bridge?” Tink asked.

  They stood at the crest of a hill and looked down at the impassable mayhem of the Mighty Blapp.

  Oskar’s side had stopped bleeding, but the old man was near exhaustion. He had been running since that morning, first stealing the Fangs’ donkey from the stable behind Ferinia’s Flower Shop, then driving the donkey north and into the perils of the forest, only to be forced to run when he finally reached his friends. He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief and tried to smile. It was a weary, gaunt smile that made Janner fear for his mentor’s life even as it made him love the kind old fellow even more.

  “It’s so old that it might be a legend,” Oskar began. His legs buckled and Janner rushed to his side to hold him up. “Oh dear.”

  “I think I remember seeing it on a map,” Janner said. “It’s a bridge—at Fingap Falls.”

  “Fingap Falls!” Podo sputtered. “Blubber and porridge, how could there be a bridge at that awful place? I went there as a boy, and it was all cloud and thunder, a thing to make yer stomach curl up into yer throat. No. Absolutely not. We can’t go east.”

  “Why not?” Nia said. “We can’t go west. The forest stretches for miles and miles, and Maker knows how many cows we’ll meet, even if the Fangs don’t catch us.”

  “But—but—Fingap Falls is too close to the Dark Sea. Might fall in.” Podo crossed his arms over his chest as if that ended the conversation.

  “Papa, if there’s a bridge, and it’s a short walk from here, we might make it across before the Fangs even know it’s there. They might even assume we went west. I think we should listen to Oskar and Janner.”

  “Listen, lass.” Podo lowered his eyebrows at her. “There comes a time when you have to choose between death and capture. I’d rather die than let these slithers tie me down, but we’ve got these youngsters here to think about. You saw the way those Fangs held back when the kids stood in front of us. Those lizards don’t want to kill ‘em. Or they do, but they’re afraid to for fear of Gnag the Nameless. Maybe they stand a better chance of survival if we turn ourselves in. Maybe—maybe Gnag won’t turn out to be
as bad as all that.”

  Nia raised an eyebrow.

  Podo waved a hand in the air. “Aw, that’s not what I mean. I’m just sayin’ that if the Fangs don’t aim to kill ‘em, maybe that’s better than bein’ hurled over the edge of the falls and into the sea.”

  Tink nodded. “I think he’s right, Mama. I don’t want to die.” He gulped. “And I really don’t want to die from falling over the cliffs.”

  “Thank ye, lad. Glad you have some sense in your head.”

  Nia was so upset she couldn’t speak. Janner hated seeing his mother and grandfather at odds. When Peet was around, the two men argued constantly, but this was different. This was deeper than an argument. This was a decision that meant more than peace between two people—it was the difference between life and death for all of them.

  Janner didn’t know what to think. If they gave themselves up, at least they were still alive. As long as the Jewels of Anniera remained, the throne of the Shining Isle stood a chance of being restored. But if they died, whatever plans Gnag had for the children would be thwarted, which had to be a good thing.

  “We can’t just let them take us,” Leeli said. “Would King Esben—would Father—have chosen capture over death? He chose death, didn’t he? He could have escaped the castle, but he chose to risk his life for, well, whatever it was in the castle that he needed to protect.”

  “Grandpa, we might make it,” Janner said. “Maybe there is a bridge.”

  “But what if there isn’t?” Tink asked, shifting the weight of his backpack.

  “There’s a bridge,” Oskar said. “There has to be, old friend. Ships and Sharks, remember?”

  “FINE!” Podo roared, then quickly took control of himself. “Fine. Maybe there’s a bridge. Oskar, if ye say there’s a bridge at Fingap Falls, it’s to the falls we go. Move! We’ve wasted precious time.”

  Nugget had no problem bounding from boulder to boulder. Tink leapt from rock to rock, trying in vain to keep up with the dog and his sister. The Mighty Blapp rushed with increasing frenzy as it neared the falls. The air was thick with a mist that soaked the Igibys and Oskar, but it smelled clean and sharp.

  They picked their way over the rocks as the bank rose, so steep that Janner worried it would be impossible to find a safe way down to the bridge, if it existed. The other side of the Blapp looked no different—wet boulders and shale that sloped up to a tree line. He knew from maps that the river evenly divided Glipwood Forest. Beyond the forest in the north lay the Stony Mountains and then the Ice Prairies. He had always dreamed of seeing more of Aerwiar, but he never imagined it would be on the run from Fangs, trolls, and horned hounds.

  “Look!” Leeli cried.

  She and Nugget stood a stone’s throw ahead of the rest, where the river took a sharp turn to the right and seemed to course straight into a towering cliff and disappear.

  “I see it!” Leeli said. “Fingap Falls, and then the sea. It’s beautiful!”

  At these words, Podo bowed his head and closed his eyes—in prayer or worry, Janner couldn’t tell. The old man’s mouth drew down at the corners, and his nostrils flared. The youth he had gained from the water from the First Well was gone. Janner now saw a tired old man in wet clothes, gray-white hair dangling from his head in stringy locks. Podo’s eyes opened and looked right at him. They stared at each other for a moment, then Podo winked, forced a smile, and pushed on to the next boulder.

  Behind them, Janner heard the growl of a troll and the howl of a horned hound.

  He pulled his mother to the next boulder and kept hold of her hand as they hurried on. Podo helped Oskar, while Tink kept close to Leeli and Nugget. Janner was glad to see that Tink turned around every few steps to be sure his bow wasn’t needed.

  Finally, they rounded the bend in the river and beheld, far below, a plume of rainbow-lit mist, the hissing cloud that churned up from Fingap Falls. The river was split by jagged, towering crags into hundreds of roaring courses that tumbled downward in white madness. Far beyond and below the mist lay the wide, silent gray of the Dark Sea of Darkness.

  Such a view demanded that the company stop in its tracks. They huddled together, sopping wet and weary. If Janner had been able to read minds, he would’ve learned that each of them had the same thought: with the Fangs behind and the falls ahead, it seemed certain the river would kill them. It would suck them in and hurl them into the cold black Deep.

  Tink stood in front of his grandfather, trying to be heard above the roar of the falls.

  “What?” yelled Podo.

  “I said, I don’t see a bridge!” Tink shouted.

  Tink was right. The idea that there had ever been a bridge at Fingap Falls struck Janner as ridiculous now that he could see the place with his own eyes.

  “What do we do?” Janner cried.

  “We go!” said Leeli. Wind whipped her hair across her face, and she looked at the sea with a familiar look of fierce determination.

  Podo’s face, however, was ashen. He stood with a steadying hand on Oskar’s shoulder, and his eyes shot every which way but toward the sea. The two men were a pitiful sight. Oskar’s belly was wrapped in bloody bandages, and the top of his head glistened with moisture. Water and sweat dripped from Podo’s eyebrows. Their shoulders sagged, and their mouths hung open. It was unfair that two old men—two good men who ought to be sitting by the fire with their feet up and their bellies full—clung to each other on the banks of the Mighty Blapp with death before them and death behind.

  “Grandpa,” Leeli said. “I can see the sea from here, and it’s not dark at all. It’s wide and terrible and beautiful. We’re supposed to go that way. I don’t know why, and I know I should be afraid, but there’s something…right about it. Something about the size of the ocean, about the way it stretches out forever and flat—it makes me want to sing.”

  It seemed a silly thing to say, but Leeli’s eyes were steady. She angled her chin and pulled her hair from her face so that the wind blew it out behind her. Podo smiled at his granddaughter and nodded. Janner looked beyond the mist but saw only the ocean and felt nothing other than a dizzy shiver in his stomach at how far below the falls it lay.

  Nia placed a hand on Nugget’s collar, took a deep breath, then led the dog and Leeli down the rocky incline toward the falls.

  A great crash split the air.

  Just behind Janner, a boulder the size of a horse exploded into flinders of stone. Janner looked up and saw a troll peering over the edge of the bank from among the trees. Then several Fangs appeared, and soon the tree line above the riverbank teemed with them.

  Arrows clattered against the rocks around Oskar and Podo. Janner screamed at Tink, and they moved closer to the old men. The arrows stopped for the moment, but Janner saw the Fangs conversing and pointing at Nia. She stood near Leeli, but not so close that a good archer would have much difficulty avoiding the little girl and hitting the mother.

  Podo waved and shouted at Nia to stay close to Leeli. The Igibys hurried along a stretch of shale that ran parallel to a foamy pool at the edge of the river. From the corner of Janner’s eye he saw the shapes of fish as long as his arm swimming in the shallows.

  “Get back from the water!” he cried as they ran. No one heard what he said, but they looked where he pointed and moved as far from the edge as possible.

  Janner looked back to see two trolls skidding down the bank, jarred by the larger boulders and grinning so wide that he saw in each of their mouths two squarish front teeth with a generous space between. With much less grace (though that is hard to imagine), the Fangs tumbled down behind the trolls as chaotically as if they had been pushed from above—which was probably what had happened. The trolls found their feet, brushed themselves off, and set after the Igibys at a trot just as the first of the Fangs reached the bottom.

  When the trolls passed the shallow pool, schools of daggerfish leapt from the water. Their needle-sharp noses burrowed deep into the trolls’ coarse flesh. The trolls wailed and yanked out the fish
even as more leapt from the water, and Janner was sick at how close he and his family had been to the same fate.

  Everyone hustled nearer to the falls but Tink, who stood staring at the rocks.

  “TINK!” Janner yelled.

  Tink had one eye squinted shut and his head cocked sideways. He eyed the bank above the falls the same way he studied a tree he was about to draw.

  “What are you doing?” Janner screamed. He yanked Tink’s arm so hard that his brother stumbled and fell.

  “Ow!” Tink cried as he leapt back to his feet.

  “Tink, they’re right behind us!”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” Tink said through clenched teeth, charging ahead of his brother.

  “Then what were you doing?” Janner snapped.

  Tink didn’t answer.

  The boys skidded to a halt when they reached the others, who had come to the end of the road. They stood at the brink of a cliff. Below was a whirling murk of mist.

  To the left sped the river, angry, white, and cold.

  To the right, the steep wet slope of shale and boulders rose and disappeared in gray mist.

  Behind them, the trolls and Fangs advanced.

  “There’s no bridge, is there?” asked Janner.

  “Not anymore, son,” said Nia. “If there ever was a bridge, it’s gone.”

  12

  Thunder, Spray, and Stone

  So this is the end,” Janner said.

  Nia smiled and pushed a lock of damp hair from his eyes. “I’m glad we tried.”

  Janner rested his head on his mother’s shoulder, surprised he could find any amount of comfort when their situation was so bleak, all because he was near those he loved and who loved him.

  Then he thought of Tink. Janner rounded on him and jabbed a finger in his brother’s chest.

  “What were you doing back there? All day we’ve been in danger, but you keep standing around! Is this a game to you?”

  “I wasn’t standing around! I saw something—”