Aldo's Fantastical Movie Palace

  18

  THEY WALKED THE REST of the day in silence. By evening, all that remained in Chloe’s head was the constant drumbeat. Steady. Always steady. The entire procession marched in step to that unnatural drum, all except for Scout. Chloe tried to break free from the beat, but her feet quickly fell back into the easy rhythm.

  Finally, the drumbeat slowed, and the march stopped. The travelers had reached a bulge in the road. It resembled a huge cul-de-sac, except the road continued out the other end. But with the urging thump gone, the entire parade spread out blankets and lay down on the cobbled street. Minstrels wandered among them playing soft, sleepy music.

  “There are ten of these stops,” Scout said. “Ten days of walking until we reach the City of Reckoning, through which runs the only road to the pool.”

  Chloe nodded. Suddenly she was very tired and lay down, her back cool against the smooth stones. “Are you serious? We’re ten days from this pool? Nobody will leave the road for ten days?”

  “They widened it to make us comfortable. People have no reason to leave.” He paused. “What are you thinking about?”

  Chloe propped herself up on an elbow. “We can’t stay on this road for half that long. We’re too visible. I’ve already bumped into Vaepor three times. We’re going to get off, no matter what it takes.” She glanced at his leg. “How well do you swim?”

  “Not my strong suit, actually,” Scout whispered, and gave Chloe a sideways glance. “No, Chloe. No, and no. The lake is not an option. Escorts line the road across its entire span.”

  Chloe barely held back a grin. “Okay, not a lake.”

  The next morning carried the feeling of a camping trip. As she stretched and wiped the sleep from her eyes, Chloe held on to a dream about Mom and Dad and an autumn trail ride, back when Dad’s eyes sparkled and his hugs felt big and safe. Dad hadn’t invaded her dreams for years.

  She and Scout rose and joined the other pilgrims marching down the road. As the day grew long, the procession broke up, with older folks falling toward the back and younger couples and families taking the lead. Chloe and Scout’s limp settled into the drumbeat’s pace somewhere in between.

  Scout’s limp was more pronounced. Chloe watched him grimace, and the words fell out.

  “Why did your dad do it?”

  He breathed deeply. “I was injured in battle.”

  “Battle?” she gasped. “You’re too young to be in a battle.”

  Scout glanced at her. “Everyone is, but battles come anyway.”

  Boom. Boom.

  Burble.

  The thumping so filled her brain, it was hard to focus on Scout’s voice, much less a tiny gurgling. But the sound was unmistakable. Water flowed ahead.

  “You’ll do better if you kick off your shoes.” Chloe said. “I knew we’d cross this soon.”

  Scout leaned in. “I don’t understand.”

  Their pace slowed as thousands of people bottle-necked, squeezing forward on the thinning road.

  “Ah, the short bridge.” Scout jostled about as the crowd converged. “The most uncomfortable ten seconds of the entire trip. Everyone squeezes across it.”

  “We won’t.”

  “We won’t?”

  The river’s babbling turned rushing torrent. Chloe pressed her way onto the bridge and surged forward, carried by the tide of pilgrims at her back.

  “Listen, Vaepor’s looking for us here. I say we swim up the Green River, follow its bank through the Northern Mountains, cross the Safelands, find a way across the bay to Shadowton, and pick the road up right there. It’s more a longcut than a shortcut, but maybe safer, right?”

  Scout’s face was blank. “And this knowledge of Retinyan geography comes from …”

  “Algebra. That’s mainly where I drew the maps.”

  “Right.” Scout cleared his throat. “May I simply tell you that a successful traverse by your route exists somewhere between crazy and impossible?”

  Chloe nodded. “Crazy and impossible.” She bit her lip and thought. “Which one is it closer to?”

  “It is … it is both!” He shrugged his shoulders. “Hear your history. You followed the girl onto the grass, not heeding my warning. You now wish to journey where tragedy certainly awaits, not heeding my warning. You never read to the end of the script, not heeding my warning. Of all the travelers I have led —”

  Chloe stared at him. “What did you just say? About the script!”

  Scout opened his mouth, and then let it shut. He shook his head. “We’ll go, but let it be known I had nothing to do with this. Lead on.”

  “You’re going to tell me how you know about the script.” Chloe grabbed Scout and yanked — dodging, ducking, but always moving forward. After minutes of painful pinching from all sides, they reached the rail and Chloe poked her head over the edge.

  “Ow!”

  “No.” Scout released her hair, which he’d practically yanked from her scalp. “Don’t look. If you wish me to follow you into this madness, you must promise not to look. When I say leap, jump the railing. You will fall, but not far. I’ll be right behind.”

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “Fine. You like to be in charge, don’t you?”

  “One. Two.” Scout peeked over the edge as they walked forward slowly. “Last step. Right here! Ignore what you see, and jump!”

  Chloe had leaped fences many times at home. It was an easy enough maneuver, made easier because she could see through to her landing. This was altogether different. Chloe flung her legs and body over the top rail, glanced down and, like a frightened cat, clawed for the lower crossbar. She caught it and hung, her dangling feet fighting to find footing back on the road.

  Hundreds of feet below, huge rocks jutted upward as water crashed in angry white foam against them.

  “Scout!” she screamed. “Pull me —”

  He peeped over the fence, grunted, and smashed her whitening fingers with his own.

  “Aaahh!” Chloe fell. For two seconds. Her feet struck water and she plunged beneath, surfacing quickly. There were no rocks, only a peaceful river, and ten feet above her was the bridge.

  Ignore what you see.

  She drifted away from the bridge. Come on. You said you would —

  For a moment, Scout’s limp leg appeared over the rail, but the drift of people knocked him to the ground. Above, a dragon shrieked and dived down toward the bridge.

  “Scout!” Chloe screamed. “The sky!”

  Then he came all at once, rolling over the edge, breaking free of arms and legs and landing on his side in what must have been a painful splash. His head popped up. The dragon circled not two feet above him. It snarled and searched the width of the river.

  Scout winked at Chloe and dived — she watched anxiously as Scout’s shape tracked the dragon beneath the waterline, each stroke labored but quick. Then, with a tremendous splash, Scout burst up, knife raised, and plunged it into the dragon’s belly.

  The dragon recoiled as Scout and drops of black blood crashed down together into the river. The beast clawed at his stomach, screeched, and vanished from sight.

  “It’s not often that you get such a chance against one of Pindle’s children. How I hope it was the same one with whom I shared a nest! You can believe that a wound from that blade will sicken her for days to come.”

  “She couldn’t see us?” Chloe called.

  “Vaepor’s illusion is so great his own Senseri can’t see through it anymore. She saw the gorge, the rocks —”

  “But I sees you jest fine, lad.” A strong hand grabbed for Scout’s collar and hauled him onto a flat raft of logs.

  Chloe breathed deep and dived. It was instinct, but one that made little sense. The water was clear and cool and shallow. There would be no place to hide below.

  Above, she saw the bottom of the raft. She couldn’t leave Scout. Yet something below the waterline felt comfortable, safe. Like home. Inside, she felt a twinge of longing.

  It was her father who first taught her to
swim. Her father who brought her to the Melmanie pool for practice. It all changed with the accident, of course, but even now he would be proud of how strong a swimmer she’d become.

  Chloe kicked hard and glided beneath the logs. Her air supply was running low —

  Glurp. An arm rounded her waist, hauled her upward, and pitched her onto the raft. Scout grabbed Chloe under her arms and pulled her away from the edge.

  Scout hung his head. “I thought you’d drowned.” His legs buckled and he sat with a plop.

  A squat fellow with giant forearms leaped out of the water and landed feetfirst on the raft. It was a strange sight, and despite her exhaustion, Chloe started to giggle.

  “Well, I never known a human to stay near two minutes under water. You be part fish.”

  “No.” Chloe breathed deep. “But what are you?”

  “River dwarf,” he and Scout both said, though Scout spoke through a scowl.

  “And what have I done, other than rescue a cripple from certain death, that you would frown at who I am? I am Tuftunder, from the proud line of Tunders —”

  “Proud line?” Scout repeated. “Thieves.”

  “Borrowers.”

  “Liars.”

  “A creative lot. And who be you to speak? The river pirate’s life never lacks for adventure, and” — he winked and fixed his gaze on Chloe’s scar — “we even remember it.”

  “And what makes you think I don —”

  “I agree, wise dwarf.” Scout kicked her foot. “We were on the Pilgrimage.”

  “And fell off the bridge? ‘Tis the first time in my two hundred years that I’ve seen such a thing,” Tuftunder said. “Lucky you are that my mood was generous and my fortunes favorable.” He walked over to a chest and opened it. Mountain stone! Chloe stared at the treasure, and Tuftunder slammed the lid. “Foolish elves.”

  “How did you get those?” Chloe asked.

  Tuftunder picked up his pole and rafted them faster down river. “You wouldn’t be rememberin’, so there be no harm in bragging a bit. See, lass, the Green River stretches deep into the Unknown Forest, a place you would not dare go.”

  Chloe bit her tongue.

  “Go on, noble dwarf.” Scout leaned in. “Tell of your exploits.”

  He smiled broadly. “If you insist.”

  CHAPTER

  19

  TUFTUNDER’S CHEST SWELLED as he began his tale. “Elves, especially wood elves, are a dumb collection — filled with fear they are. I floated a silent raft into the Unknown and hollered, ‘Vaepor be I. Give up your stones.’ Mountain stones dropped like apples from the trees. Mind you, Tuftunder is the only river dwarf with courage to float into that accursed forest.” He stroked the wooden chest. “But the reward ‘tis grand.”

  “You pretended to be that beastly thing?” Chloe scooted backward on the raft.

  “Beastly? Perhaps to some. But Vaepor pays a pretty penny for these stones.” Tuftunder paused and lowered his voice. “Lately, he pays a pretty penny for children — perhaps not lame ones, but strange, pretty ones. ‘Keep your eyes open,’ he’s been saying of late.”

  Pretty. He called me pretty. Chloe straightened, and the thought washed over her.

  He also wants to sell you to Vaepor.

  The second thought was new; an unknown voice pushed into her brain. Chloe turned toward Scout, who peered off into the distance. It wasn’t his voice she’d heard. At least she didn’t think it was.

  “Don’t take us to It,” Chloe said.

  “Now you have a problem with that? Ease, lassie. Enjoy the ride. You were walkin’ Its way on your own, why shouldn’t I benefit from the deal?”

  Night soon felt thick and heavy, and the river sounded wider, stronger. Wilder.

  “Soon the river will fork and we will veer right, toward Wayward Mountain.” Scout spoke, his voice monotone. “The river will tumble down, beneath that peak. There, Tuftunder will try to remove us. We must not get off the raft. No matter what, we stay together on this raft until we pop out the other side.”

  “Out the other side are the Safelands,” Chloe said. “I know that like I know my name. And the river flows into the bay. It’s a beautiful bay.”

  “It’s a horrifying bay. Who filled your mind with these tales?”

  “That doesn’t matter.” Chloe peeked at Tuftunder, who was poling without any attention to his passengers. “What’s under the mountain, Scout?”

  “No,” he said.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “Simple word, really. It means that at this time it might be best for you not to be thinking about what’s ahead.”

  Chloe crossed her arms, stared at Scout, and exploded. “Had you jumped sooner, we would not be here. You’re the reason I’m floating at night with a nasty, smelly dwarf!”

  “Hardly smelly,” muttered Tuftunder.

  “If you know so much, fearless guide, don’t you think it’s time you tell me where I’m going?”

  Scout sat back and spoke quietly. “Under Wayward Mountain lies what you want most, Chloe. It’s how the dwarfs will lure you.”

  “There.” She stretched and lay back down. “Was that so hard? Doesn’t sound so bad. What I want most … My mom and a big steak and Grandpa’s hug and to wake up in Aldo’s —”

  “Quit your yammering!” Tuftunder hissed. “We’re being followed.”

  Chloe glanced back. She couldn’t see more than ten feet in the mist. Tuftunder reached his hand into the water. “Three hundred yards, I’d say. Likely comin’ after what I’ve rightfully stolen.”

  And then Scout did perhaps the bravest of all things.

  He stood and lunged at the chest of stones, and shoved the entire crate into the water.

  “Think, Chloe!” Scout yelled. “Remember home.”

  “You fool!” Tuftunder raised his pole above Scout’s head.

  For a moment, her mind blanked, and then a face rushed in. Dad? Will you please look at me?

  In the water, stones floated to the surface, burning a brilliant blue and leaving a breadcrumb trail behind them.

  “My stones!” The dwarf brought the pole down on Scout’s bad leg and dived into the water. Scout cried out as the dwarf swam furiously from stone to stone, stuffing them into his pockets.

  Scout reached for the pole and staggered to his knees. He pushed the raft forward with a groan. “Now, Chloe. Think of me.”

  “What?” She shook her head and focused on Scout’s twisted leg. Floating stones turned gray and then disappeared into the night. From a great distance back, Tuftunder screamed, “Me stones. Me raft, me — Help!”

  Scout stared at Chloe. “There is something back there. Can you” — he winced and reached Chloe the pole — “take a shift?”

  She nodded and clasped the grip. She’d not used a raft pole before and was not certain how to hold it correctly even now, but she sank the rod deep into the mud and pushed until her shoulders ached.

  Hours passed and dawn broke, and still they urged on their now-drifting raft. The river had indeed widened, so much so that it more resembled a lake, but always the pole struck bottom.

  The swift current that had carried them so far now meandered about. At times the raft swirled aimlessly, with neither Chloe nor Scout owning the strength to stop its spin. Other times, the logs caught a quick drift and forged ahead, sending Chloe sprawling onto her belly.

  “I’ve never been on a river like this,” she said. “At home the Snake River winds, but it never throws you down.”

  Scout stretched, staggered to his feet, and reached for the pole. Chloe collapsed with a groan.

  “There’s much beneath our feet to change the water’s direction.” Scout squinted over his shoulder. “I can’t see anyone behind us. Perhaps he exercised his revenge on the dwarf and that was that.”

  Chloe nodded and watched Scout battle the current.

  “Scout?” she asked softly. He didn’t answer. “Scout? I lost it with you back there, and I’m sorry. I’m afraid
I’m not very good at adventures. I’m the boring one in our family.”

  Scout laughed. It was rare to hear the sound, and it rang so clear and free that she laughed too.

  “Boring?” Scout asked. “I doubt —”

  “What is that?” Chloe interrupted, pointing in front of the raft. Water rose like a small wall, churning and foaming and drawing them near.

  “That is the squeeze. All this water crowds through that channel, and then the river speeds and twists and the rapids overtake it. We shoot beneath the bridge spanning the Northern Road and from there on it’s a wild ride to the roots of Wayward Mountain.”

  “Rapids. On this raft?” They pitched to the left and bobbed beneath the water. Chloe slipped her fingers in the cracks between the logs. “It won’t —”

  “Stay together.” Scout poled. “No, it won’t. The banks are foul — we can’t land. Our friend Tuftunder would have brought us certain doom. Without him, we may just have delayed …”

  Chloe nodded. He didn’t need to finish. Her plan had failed.

  They reached the channel. On the near side swirled a cauldron that sucked water from the larger river, churned it into white froth, and then whisked it into the rapid-filled smaller river ahead.

  Scout grabbed her hand. “Lay down and grab the edge. Don’t let go.”

  “Of the raft, or you?” she yelled as they spun nearer to the gap.

  “Both.” Scout grimaced, and in they flew.

  The front lip of the raft dipped beneath the waterline and the raft followed. They sank, struck an underwater tow, and popped out again. Chloe gasped for air and lifted her head off the beams. Ahead was the Northern Bridge.

  “It would be strange if there were people waiting for us, right?”

  “Waiting? Nobody’s waiting.”

  “So,” Chloe continued, “if I did see someone on the bridge —”

  “You won’t.” Scout said. “The Pilgrimage —” Scout looked ahead and quickly glanced back to her. “We can’t be seen, not here. Get beneath the raft!”

  He released her hand and rolled into the froth. Chloe did the same. Only their fingertips would be visible from above, and they should be easily missed in the waves and white caps.