And if his sister refused to have any fun, then she darn well better let him carry the spear.
They finally stopped to eat lunch beneath a tall, twisted tree Paul called a ropewood tree. The boughs were actually made up of two or three smaller ones that grew around and around each other, giving the long, curling branches the ropelike appearance for which the tree was named. Paul warned them that in meaner forests, these trees were called hangman’s trees, and you’d never want to stop for lunch near one of those. Everyone scooted just a few feet closer to the road after hearing that.
That was how this world was, thought Carter. A place similar to the real world in so many ways, except…wilder. Fiercer. The flowers could make you heady, their scents were so strong, and the forests loomed over everything, watchful. The sun was brighter in the sky, and the nights, when they came, were darker and more terrifying.
At lunchtime, Carter discovered that the delicacies of last night’s feast were not on today’s menu. Instead, they dined on travel rations—hard bread, a handful of dried fruit and more of that tough-as-leather salted pork. When Carter was forced to give up on his pork for fear of losing a tooth, Paul happily took his share. And Max said Carter had a bottomless stomach.
As for the rest of their party of adventurers, Max ate her lunch in silence while Lukas and Emilie sat on opposite sides of their little camp, each avoiding the other. With no one to talk to, Carter lay back and contented himself with staring into the forest. Twinkling lights had begun to appear in the distance and flitted between the branches. Some looked as big as a person’s head. Carter was watching them drift among the leaves when a boy suddenly appeared. He was smiling and laughing as he chased the lights through the trees.
Carter sat up quickly and squinted to get a better look. Was the boy a New Hameliner? Something about the light in the forest made him look blurry around the edges. Carter was just getting ready to call for Max when the boy vanished. Carter blinked and rubbed his eyes, but the boy was really gone.
Paul drifted over to his side. “You saw him, too?”
Carter nodded. He hadn’t imagined it, at least. “Who was he?”
“Don’t know,” said Paul. “You see things in the wild, especially here in the Shimmering Forest. Those lights can play tricks on your eyes. Or he may have been a ghost. We get those, too, from time to time, though it’s rare to see one wandering this far inland. There’s a village down on the coast called Shades Harbor that’s thick with them.”
“Ghosts?” Back when Lukas had interrogated Carter, one of the first things he’d asked was if Carter was a ghost. So much had happened since then that Carter had forgotten all about the strange question. “So, there’s ghosts on the Summer Isle, too?”
“Some are true ghosts, passing through to the other side,” said Paul. “Others are just dreamers. Those ones are only visiting. I think they take a wrong turn in their dreams and end up here for a spell. Can be hard to tell them apart, though.”
“And you said there’s a whole village of them?”
Paul leaned close and whispered. “I’ve seen it. Big black ships bringing the shades to shore. Ghosts and dreamers wandering lost. It’s a lonely place.”
“I don’t think I like the sound of that.”
Paul shook his head. “Then there’s others still, worse ones….But I don’t like to talk about any of them. Stay clear of them all, I say.”
“He looked so real,” said Carter.
“You’ve gotta trust more than just your eyes when you’re out here in the wild,” said Paul, with a devilish grin.
Carter scanned the forest once more, hoping to catch another glimpse of the smiling boy, but he was truly gone. Was he a dreamer? Carter wondered. Carter hoped the boy was really safe and snug in his bed somewhere. To him this place would have been just another part of the dream—a dream of chasing fireflies. Or was the boy someone’s spirit, and if so, where was he going?
“Why don’t you tell me about your home?” said Paul, interrupting Carter’s train of thought. He was no longer concerned with the boy in the woods, and why should he be? He was a scout, their guide through this magical land, and all this was just a part of his every day. “I overheard you and your sister talking about it—someplace called Greenwich Village.”
Paul stuffed a hunk of dried pork in between his cheek and gum, like a chipmunk.
“Well,” said Carter. “What do you want to know?”
“Does Greenwich Village have a wall like New Hamelin does?”
“Oh, well, no. And people just call it Greenwich Village. It’s actually part of a big city called New York.”
“A city?” repeated Paul, sounding impressed. “A village inside of a city! I can’t imagine it. Do they have great big manor houses there? Say, did you grow up in a castle?”
“No, we live in a third-floor walk-up.”
Paul shook his head. “Ah, too bad. I always wanted to know what it was like to live in a castle. They say the Princess lives in one, though I’ve never seen it.”
“Sorry.”
Paul leaned back and put his arms behind his head so he could look up at the branches of the ropewood tree. “If I lived in a castle, I’d make a really good king, you know. I’d order my subjects to hunt and play all day long. No work whatsoever. Then we’d eat until we passed out in our chairs. Really good king, don’t you think?”
“Sure,” lied Carter. King Paul would be really good for about a week, until people realized nothing was getting done.
“Did you have a trade in Greenwich Village? I’m a scout, which is by far the best thing to be, though I think I was once apprenticed to a tailor. Can’t remember, really. What did you do?”
“Uh, well I went to school. And my dad’s a teacher, so I guess that’s a trade. Kind of.”
Paul sat up and squinted at Carter for a moment. “You remember what he looked like?” he asked. “Your father?”
“Well, yeah,” said Carter.
“That’s lucky,” said Paul. “You’re lucky, Carter.”
“Yeah.” Carter didn’t really know what else to say. It was one of the saddest things he’d ever heard—so many children in New Hamelin and so few memories.
“Well,” said Carter, looking for something else to talk about. “Do you think we might run into him? The Peddler, I mean.”
Paul shrugged. “Maybe. He’s always on the road, but you never know where. Always traveling. Strange old fellow, anyhow. If we miss him, you’re not missing much, in my opinion. Don’t know why everyone makes such a big deal—”
Their conversation was interrupted by the distinctive snap of a twig nearby. Paul was suddenly alert, his head cocked and listening. The snapping twig was followed by the rustling of leaves. At first Carter feared that the sounds were coming from the ropewood itself, that the tree was coming to life to hang them all. But it soon became obvious that the branches weren’t moving on their own. Something was moving in them.
Lukas saw it now, too, and one of his hands went to his lips to gesture for quiet while the other reached for his hatchet. Paul had begun to quietly yet quickly string his bow. Even Max had taken up her spear, though her hands fidgeted as if she wasn’t sure how to hold it. Carter drew his tiny knife and stared up into the branches. Something was moving up there, and it was…giggling?
Lukas let out a long sigh of relief. “It’s all right,” he said softly, and lowered his hatchet.
“But what is it?” asked Max.
“Kobolds!” answered Paul, breaking out into a huge grin. “Brilliant!” He reached for his quiver.
“We are not wasting arrows on woodland sprites,” said Emilie.
“They’ll be wanting to play,” said Paul, with obvious disappointment.
“And we are not going to encourage them,” said Emilie.
“Where?” asked Carter. “I can’t see them.”
“Kobolds are good at hiding,” said Emilie. “But they are all mischief makers.”
“And they think i
t’s fun to have someone shoot arrows at them?” asked Max.
“Came close to hitting one once,” answered Paul, nodding. “But they are quick as lightning.”
Lukas hefted his pack up off the ground. “Arrows can’t hurt them,” he said. “But Emilie’s right. Even kobolds can be troublesome if they get riled up. We need to get a move on, anyway.”
While the rest of them gathered their things, Carter kept peering into the tree overhead. Every now and then laughter would burst forth from the branches—a whole chorus of tiny voices now—but he still couldn’t see anything.
As they left the shade of the ropewood tree and set out again on the road, Carter spared one last look back. The branches were absolutely quivering with movement now. The leaves began to part, and Carter saw…butts. Scores of fat little behinds, poking out through the branches and wiggling in his direction. Carter stopped in his tracks, unsure if he was really seeing what he was seeing.
“Will you look at that!” said Paul, stopping beside him. “Nasty little creatures, aren’t they?” Then Paul made as if he was drawing back his bowstring and let an imaginary arrow fly. The kobolds cheered.
Carter’s first adventure, the first day of his great quest, and he’d just been mooned.
Max didn’t sleep at all that evening on the road, and the next several days weren’t much better. Even though Lukas and Paul took turns keeping a watch in the evenings, what little sleep Max could come by was restless and troubled. Exhaustion finally began to catch up with her as her whole body had begun to ache and her thoughts turned muddy and thick. She couldn’t stomach breakfast, but what she would have given for a cup of coffee.
The Shimmering Forest went on forever, but while the trees seemed unending and unchanging, the Peddler’s Road itself underwent a significant transformation. The dirt road that they’d been following gave way to a cobblestone highway, lined with lonely ivy-covered arches that appeared every half mile or so. Paul told them that this once grand stretch of road had been the Peddler’s gift to the Princess of the Elves, dedicated to her. But that was long ago, in happier times, and now it was little more than a ruin in the wild, overgrown with vines.
The constant summer sun climbed high overhead, but rather than cool the road with their shade, the trees seemed to trap the heat in while blocking out any breezes that might have offered relief. Max’s armored vest grew heavy and the shirt beneath soaked through with sweat, but it didn’t seem worth the energy to take the vest off, especially since she wasn’t about to ask someone to carry it for her.
It was a relief when they finally stopped to rest in the shade of a tall willow tree on the bank of a pond. The pond was lovely and covered in blooming lily pads with dragonflies that fluttered in and among the petals. Lukas agreed that they could stop there for a brief rest, though he cautioned everyone that this might be a nixie pond and to stay away from the water’s edge. Max had no idea what that meant, and she was too tired to ask. Still, it felt good to stop moving, if only for a few minutes, and Max allowed herself to close her eyes. She waved away the offer of food and wanted nothing more than to lie in the cool grass. Her head was swimming and the thought of eating made her feel sick, anyway.
“When was the last time you really slept?” asked Emilie, giving her shoulder a little nudge.
Max couldn’t believe she had only just closed her eyes and already this girl was shaking her awake.
“Can’t I just rest for ten minutes?” asked Max.
“I said, when was the last time you really slept?”
Max bit back a nasty retort—she’d be asleep now if Emilie would just leave her alone. Confusion and sickness were symptoms of sleep deprivation, Max knew. And so, apparently, was irritability. “I’ll be fine,” said Max, yawning.
“You silly girl, I didn’t ask if you would be fine,” said Emilie. “I asked when was the last time you slept.”
Max sat up and glared at her. Why did every word out of her mouth sound like it was coming from some nineteenth-century school governess? Nevertheless, Max couldn’t find the strength to argue.
“I don’t know,” she answered instead. “Guess I just miss my pillow.”
“You need to take care of your body, or it will fail you,” said Emilie.
“Look, I just need a catnap and then I’ll be good to go.”
“Just so,” answered Emilie. Someone had already built a small campfire while Max had been resting. Balanced atop the flames was a small cast-iron pot, which Emilie carefully picked up using her skirt. She poured steaming water into a small wooden cup and handed it to Max. “I had them make a fire so I could brew you this special tea. Drink it all, down to the dregs, and it will restore some of your strength. But tonight you must sleep. I can brew you a different tea to help with that if need be.”
Max remembered the last time Emilie had offered her tea. It had led to an argument. She’d been wondering if it was something said during that argument that had convinced Emilie to come with them.
“Fine. Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me,” said Emilie. “Drink my tea.”
Max sipped at the hot liquid—it was a bit flowery for her taste but wasn’t all bad. Her cup in hand, Max found her brother sitting by the pond and trying to teach himself to whittle with his little knife.
“What are you making?” asked Max.
Carter looked at his handiwork. “I was going to turn this twig into a dog, but I think this is just going to end up a smaller twig—hey, did you see that?”
Her brother pointed to the pond where, if Max squinted, she could see several of the lily pads bobbing up and down in the water. It looked like something, or several somethings, was swimming just below the surface. Whatever they were, they were big.
“You think those are those nixie things Lukas was warning us about?” asked Max.
Carter nodded, excitedly. “Nixies are water spirits. They appear in all sorts of stories, but they aren’t usually dangerous.”
“They aren’t,” said Lukas, joining their conversation. “But where there are nixies, there might also be nokks.”
“What’s a nokk?” asked Max.
“Male water spirits,” answered Lukas, staring at the pond fearfully. “They appear as old men with seaweed hair, and they lurk at the bottom of ponds and rivers. Like most wicked things, they can’t abide the light, but if you swim too deep, they will grab your ankles and pull you under.”
“Do you think there’s a nokk in there?” asked Carter. For some reason, the possibility seemed to excite him even more.
“I don’t know,” said Lukas. “But if you ever do see one, there’s a little charm to ward him off. Say his name three times—nokk, nokk, nokk.”
“Who’s there?” said Max, but Lukas just blinked at her, expressionless. “Sorry, bad joke.”
“Of course,” continued Lukas. “You can’t say his name if your lungs are full of water, so it’s best we stay clear of the pond altogether. I can’t think of anything worse than drowning. I’ve never liked the water. I don’t like not knowing what’s in there with me.”
“No problem,” said Max. “It’s good to know that something scares you. I was beginning to feel like a coward around all of you.”
“Plenty of things scare me,” said Lukas. “But as a member of the Watch, you try to control your fears, because in this place, the dark has a way of making fears come to life.”
“If you’re trying to reassure me, you’re doing a terrible job,” said Max.
“We’ll be fine in the daytime,” said Lukas.
“And if we’re still out here on a true night, when the sun goes down?”
Lukas glanced at Max’s brother, but he didn’t answer Max’s question. “Come on,” he said. “Paul’s back.”
“Back?” said Max. She hadn’t known that Paul had ever left.
“You’ve been napping for hours,” said Carter. “Emilie said you looked like you needed it.”
Max felt the color rise to her cheeks. She t
hought she’d been asleep for a few minutes at the most. No wonder Emilie had poked her awake.
They returned to their camp, where Paul and Emilie were already kicking dirt over their small fire.
“We might need to do without a fire this evening,” said Emilie. “Paul thinks we are being followed.”
“Followed?” said Carter. “Is it the kobolds?”
Paul shook his head. “They’re too big to be kobolds. They’re using the road, same as us, and they’re moving fast. I only spotted them because Lukas asked me to do some scouting of the woods while Max was sleeping. I think it’s safe to assume they’ve seen the smoke from our fire.” Max felt her blush deepen even more because they’d only made that fire so Emilie could brew tea for her.
“It could be rats,” said Lukas. “Probably a scavenger party.”
“I could try to get a closer look if you want,” said Paul.
“No,” said Emilie. “No more running off by your lonesome. We keep together from here on out.”
Max watched Lukas’s face. Emilie had just taken hold of the conversation, giving orders where it had been Lukas’s place. But if he resented it, he didn’t let it show, on his face at least. Max thought she detected a hint of annoyance in his voice when he next spoke, and she found it reassuring that she wasn’t the only one who had to bite her tongue around Emilie.
“Paul, what’s the road like ahead?” Lukas asked.
“It bends to the east about a mile or so on. Then it’s pretty much a straight line until the river.”
“Wait a minute,” said Max. “I thought the rats only came out at night?”
“That’s when the packs do,” said Lukas.
“Mischiefs,” said Carter.
“Pardon?” said Lukas.
“Oh, uh, a group of rats is called a mischief, not a pack,” Carter said. “I read it somewhere.”
Now was hardly the time for a vocabulary lesson, but Carter sometimes couldn’t resist showing off that big brain of his. Max was used to it, but Lukas and the rest were getting their first taste.
“All right, then,” said Lukas. “The mischiefs come out at night, but sometimes we see a few of them during the day. And we can avoid them, if we’re smart.”