Lukas nodded that he understood—Emilie did not make idle threats—and kept one hand on her arm to steady her. Together they scrambled up the pockmarked and weather-worn earlobe. The wrens, after much squawking and carrying on, took flight.
Lukas heard Carter asking Paul what was going on, but the scout just shushed him. Even the prankster knew that this was serious work they were about to attempt.
Emilie leaned low and, cupping her hand around her mouth, she began to whisper into the troll’s ear. She hadn’t been flippant in her choice of words when she said the trolls slept. Their bodies turned to stone in the sun and they rejoined the earth from which they were made, but they could be woken up, somewhat. It was possible, if you knew the right words, to stir them just enough to have a chat. The trick was not to disturb them so much that they felt the need to roll over.
Soon there was a low rumble from deep beneath their feet, a rumble that became words and gurgled when it spoke. Bubbles rose from the river near the troll’s sunken mouth, though its lips barely moved.
“Where’d my little birds go?” asked a deep bass voice. “The birdsong is so soothing, so sleepy….”
The troll started to drift off into a snore that sounded like the grinding of rocks. Emilie was forced to raise her voice to be heard over the din.
“I said, old troll, have you had any other visitors recently? Did any footsteps interrupt your dreams?”
“Footsteps?” said the voice. “Tiny feet that scamper and scurry and tickle me topsides and below. Yes. I remember footsteps….”
Emilie gave Lukas a significant look—so someone had been by recently. That was worrying. “Ask when they passed,” he whispered. Better not to have too many people talking at once when you were trying to have a conversation with a sleepy stone troll.
“When, old troll?” said Emilie. “When did they cross?”
“Hmm? No, not long ago. Not long. Their tails tickle my undersides still. Hmm, heh, heh. Tickles.”
Tails?
Lukas’s hand went to his hatchet as understanding dawned on him. “Emilie! Get away from there!”
“Hmm?” rumbled the voice. “Such a racket.”
Emilie waved Lukas angrily away and began whispering into the ear—a lullaby this time to help him to sleep once more. Soon he’d rest again, but there was no time for that now. Emilie didn’t understand that they were all in danger, and not from the troll bridge.
Lukas grabbed Emilie around the middle and yanked her away, dragging her, protesting, toward the path, far faster than was safe. But somehow they managed to keep their footing and not spill off the side as they stumbled back to the others.
“What in heaven’s name is the matter with you?” asked Emilie.
There wasn’t time to explain. “Get everyone moving!” he called to Paul. “Make for the far bank! It’s an ambush!”
Lukas’s voice had the bark of an order about it, and Paul jumped to action.
Together they guided the other three along the bridge, over the shoulder and onto the outstretched arm toward the far bank. Lukas could see the shore just up ahead. They could’ve made a run for it, but Lukas didn’t want to risk Carter falling behind.
Then, not twenty feet in front of them, shapes came scurrying up the sides. They’d been hiding underneath in the shadows, their tails tickling the very stone. The rats were waiting for them.
Max recognized the enormous leader rat at once. The patch of raw, puckered skin across its snout marked it as the same rat that had come for them in New Hamelin, the one Carter had burned with lamp oil. This time the creature was holding two knives, one in each hand, and with his thick, snakelike tail, he drew a third from his belt. Two more rats, one gray and one black, joined him while a smaller, fourth creature slinked some distance behind.
Max remembered Lukas boasting that he and Paul could take on two rats easily, but here were four. Still, the two boys wasted no time. Max heard Paul shouting in her ear to duck, and no sooner had she obeyed than an arrow sailed over her head. The black rat squealed as the arrow landed in its thick flank and it tumbled over the side, splashing into the river below.
It was the only free shot Paul was going to get, however, because the rats charged forward. They closed the distance so fast that Paul was forced to drop his bow and draw a long knife.
Max called to Carter as a rat made straight for them, snapping its jaws and hissing in anticipation. But Emilie got to Max’s brother first, and though weaponless, she flung a small pouch in the air in front of the rat’s face, and its contents exploded in a cloud of black powder. The rat reared backward, sneezing and pawing at its eyes. The air now smelled of pepper.
Emilie covered her own nose and mouth as she shooed Carter away from the coughing rat and behind his big sister. Emilie pointed to the spear in Max’s hand, which Max had nearly forgotten about. “If you’re planning on using that thing, now’s the time!”
The rat, who had been momentarily blinded, recovered quickly. Its eyes, bloodshot and angry, glared at them. Without another warning, it lunged just as Max hefted her spear in front of her. The rat dodged Max’s attack with ease, scampering back out of range, but it watched her now with a wary eye. Max placed herself between the rat and her brother.
She didn’t dare look away from the creature, but in Max’s periphery she could see that Paul and Lukas were busy with their own battle. They were trying to fend off the leader’s three flashing knives. While the rest had come at them with teeth and claws, that one stood and fought like a human.
Max brought her attention back to her own opponent. “S-stay away,” stammered Max as the rat advanced. “I don’t want to hurt you; I’m…I’m a vegetarian!”
The rat cocked its head at her in confusion, then laughed. Or at least that was what it could’ve been—Max had never heard a rat laugh before. It was an ugly, unnatural sound. “King Marrow wants you alive,” the rat rasped. “But I think I’ll have a taste first!”
Then it ducked under Max’s spear point faster than she would’ve thought possible. It came for her, its yellow teeth snapping, but just then the rat yelped in pain. It was Carter. He’d used his little knife to stab the rat’s tail, and he was looking amazed that he’d done so.
The rat whipped its head around and clamped its powerful jaws around Carter’s leg. Carter cried out as he was yanked to the ground. Max was too close to stab the creature, so she brought the butt of the spear down on the rat’s head, instead. It squealed again, but it let go of Carter as it tried rising up on its hind legs to reach Max’s throat. Just then the ground seemed to shift beneath their feet, and the rat lurched to one side and tumbled over. Max nearly fell, too, though she managed to keep her footing.
The rat scrambled back up to standing and opened its jaws for another attack, but this time Max didn’t hesitate. This creature had gone after her brother.
The rat leaped forward, and Max stabbed with her spear. The point struck home, and the creature squealed and fell, rolling lifeless into the water below.
“Carter!” Max said, but Emilie was already by his side.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Really.”
Emilie lifted Carter’s pants leg, which had been shredded by the rat’s fangs. Max held her breath, afraid of what she would see.
“Well, look at that,” breathed Emilie, relieved. The rat had bitten down on Carter’s brace, and the sturdy plastic-and-steel contraption had protected him. The brace had a few teeth marks, but Carter was uninjured.
Emilie smiled at him as she helped him to his feet. “You wear your armor well, sir knight.”
Max looked for Lukas and saw that the leader rat was gaining the better of the two boys. His whiplike tail caught Paul across the chest, and though the boy managed to avoid the blade, he was still knocked prone. The rat spared him little thought, however, as he threw his weight at Lukas and shoved the boy and his weapon aside.
“We need to move!” said Max.
“No, we have to help them!” said
Carter, his little knife in his hand.
“You stay here—” Max began, but suddenly she was slipping again and had to throw her free hand out to keep from falling. The bridge was becoming unstable.
“It’s the troll!” said Emilie. “I didn’t have time to put him fully back to sleep.”
Having broken past Lukas and Paul, the big rat turned his red eyes toward Carter. “To me, children,” he rasped. “Come to Marrow!”
Then Max heard someone shouting her brother’s name as Lukas returned to the fray. His sudden charge caught the rat called Marrow off guard, and the creature was forced to retreat a step to dodge the boy’s wild hatchet swings.
“Get out of here, Carter!” Lukas shouted as he struggled to push the giant rat back.
“Wait!” said Carter. “I have an idea!” Carter turned and ran back the way they’d come. It was a relief that Max’s brother was running away. Maybe he could save himself, maybe follow the road back to New Hamelin. But she had to make sure the rats couldn’t follow, so she joined Lukas, her spear at the ready.
Marrow stared down at the two of them, Lukas and Max side by side, and seemed to grin, though it was hard to discern any expression on his burned and ruined face. “Give me the boy, New Hameliner,” he said. “Or you all die here.”
Then Max’s brother was yelling something, calling in the distance, and at first, she worried he might be in trouble. What if there were more rats back the way they’d come? But then she began to make out words.
“Hey!” her brother was shouting. “WAKE UP!”
He wasn’t. He wouldn’t…
Any more words died in the rumble of grinding rock and the roar of rushing water. Hundreds of nesting birds took flight as an earthquake shook the bridge beneath their feet and a tidal wave rushed up to swallow them all. The last thing Max saw was Marrow sliding toward the river, clawing desperately in vain to hold on to the bridge that was moving beneath him. And the last thing Max heard before tumbling headfirst into the waves herself was a deep, booming voice, the voice of a thoroughly annoyed giant troll, complaining about all the racket.
Five children dragged themselves, sputtering and drenched, onto the far riverbank. As Max looked up at the enormous stone bridge that had, for lack of a better description, just rolled over onto its other side, she saw that the portion of the bridge that was now topside was green with algae and barnacles, and glittered wetly. There was less room for the river to flow freely since the bridge had shifted position, and the water spilled over the top in places, creating small waterfalls and white-water rapids. Downriver of the bridge, the deep Western Fork continued on its meandering path.
Max and her friends were half drowned but alive, although Lukas seemed especially shaken up by their dip in the river. And their weapons—her spear, Paul’s bow and most of his arrows, Lukas’s hatchet—were somewhere at the bottom of the Western Fork along with Lukas’s and Paul’s packs. Max had even been forced to kick off her boots so that they didn’t drag her under, and so she was left standing on the pebbly shore wearing a single soggy sock.
She shivered as the breeze began to pick up. Was it Max’s imagination or was today a little cooler than the day before? Maybe it was because she was drenched in river water. Either way, there were more pressing problems. On the other side of the river a pair of equally waterlogged shapes had pulled themselves out of the water and were slinking off into the forest, their long tails dragging behind them.
“It looks like two of them made it out,” said Max. “The leader and that little one who didn’t fight.”
“The rats aren’t known as great swimmers,” said Paul. “They won’t be following us.” He glanced over at Max’s brother. “Quite an idea he had.”
“It was crazy, is what it was,” said Max. “We’re lucky we weren’t drowned. Or crushed beneath the troll bridge.”
“Still,” said Paul. “It was something to see, wasn’t it?”
Max turned her back on the scout and stomped over to where Lukas sat emptying sand out of his boots. The fight had frayed her nerves and the swim to shore had left her exhausted, but somehow she still had the energy to get mad.
“You promised me that Carter wouldn’t get hurt,” she said, jabbing a finger in the boy’s chest.
“He didn’t.”
“He almost died! We all almost died! Fighting with giant rats might be everyday for you, but it’s not for us.”
Max could feel the stares of the others upon her, but she didn’t care. Carter followed her and tried to calm her down with a hand on her arm, but she yanked it away. “If we keep this up, who knows how many of those rat things we’ll run into—and now all of our weapons are at the bottom of the river!”
“Not all,” said Carter, brandishing his little knife.
“Great,” said Max. “I’ll let you know if we need anyone to peel potatoes. You’re going to get yourself killed!”
Carter tucked his knife away again, visibly stung. Then Max stormed off, yelping as she stubbed her bare toe on the rocky ground, which just made her all the madder.
They let her stew for a while, which was fine with Max. She sat alone on a driftwood log, her hands shoved in her damp pockets against the chill. When she finally heard footsteps approaching from behind, she turned and experienced a shock—Emilie was the last person she expected to see.
“Would you like some company?” asked Emilie.
No, Max wouldn’t. People didn’t storm off when they wanted company, but she didn’t say that out loud. Instead, she shrugged and scooted over a few inches to make room on the log.
Emilie sat down next to her and began wringing river water out of her skirt. “I’ve sent the boys to fetch driftwood for a fire,” she said. When Max gave her a look, she added, “Don’t worry about Carter. Lukas won’t let the boy out of his sight. But we could all use a good warming-up. And you and I could use a good talk.”
Oh no. Was that to be Max’s punishment? While the boys picked up sticks, she would have to sit here and be lectured by Emilie? Drowning might have been a better option.
“What do we have to talk about?” asked Max.
“Lukas has suggested that we turn south and make for the village of Shades Harbor. There we can resupply and regroup.”
“A village sounds nice.”
“Hmpf,” said Emilie. “Wait until you see Shades Harbor. But nevertheless, it may be our only option. We cannot continue as we are. After that, we have to decide whether to press on or to turn back to New Hamelin. I think the choice is going to rest with you, in the end.”
“And I know what you want,” said Max. “You want us to go back.”
“No,” said Emilie.
Surprised, Max looked at the other girl. Emilie had fought their leaving in the first place, and Max had half suspected that she’d insisted on coming with them just so she could convince them to turn around. Max hadn’t been expecting this change of opinion.
“I know,” said Emilie. “That surprises you.”
“Yeah,” said Max. “It sure does.”
Emilie wrung out more river water from her wet skirt, watching as it made a little stream in the pebbled sand beneath their feet. “You remember what you said to me, back at the village?”
Max shrugged. She’d said a lot of things to Emilie back at the village, and few of them nice.
“You said that I wear my pants,” said Emilie.
“Um, it’s ‘wear the pants,’ but like I said, that’s only an expression. Actually, it’s a stupid chauvinistic expression, but—”
“I understand what it means,” said Emilie. “It means leadership. But the thing about leadership is, it gets very lonely, and I don’t make friends easily. It’s not easy when you are Eldest Girl, but we are the only two girls on this journey with three thick-skulled boys, and though you and I might not be friends, it might make things simpler if we were at least…friendly.”
“Oh,” said Max. This was definitely not the conversation she’d expected. “Oka
y. Sure. I guess.”
“Very good, that’s settled, then,” said Emilie, with the same matter-of-fact tone that one might use to agree on the price of eggs. “And since we are now being friendly, can I give you some friendly advice?”
“Okay,” said Max warily.
“Don’t give up on Carter.”
“I’m not…”
“Back in the village you said that you didn’t understand why girls shouldn’t be allowed to put themselves in danger to help the ones they love.”
“Well, I wasn’t talking about—”
“I think the same should go for Carter,” said Emilie. “What he did back at the bridge was foolhardy and reckless, but it was also just a little bit brilliant, wouldn’t you say? And he might have saved our lives.”
Max wasn’t sure how to respond. Max had watched people coddle and patronize Carter his entire life, and she’d seen how hurtful it was—to be judged not capable without being given a chance. Most people thought they were being protective, but some were plain mean.
Just now, Max had been mean, and Carter deserved better from his sister, of all people.
“I’ll apologize,” said Max. “But I won’t stop worrying about him.”
“Nor should you,” said Emilie, arching an eyebrow at Max. “I worry about those boys all the time! Dunderheaded bunch of know-nothings that they are.”
Max and Emilie shared a smile. Then, having given up on ringing the water out of her sodden dress, Emilie stood up and sighed. “Now then,” she said. “I’d better clear a place for the fire. Once we’ve dried off, we’ll make for Shades Harbor. Maybe there I can find myself a pair of actual pants. This blasted skirt just won’t do.”
The little dot labeled Shades Harbor on the Peddler’s map turned out to be a small collection of buildings that could only be called a village if one were being generous. The harbor was arranged in a semicircle around a foggy little bay nestled in between two forested bluffs. A main street, its cobblestones wet from sea spray, wound past a number of oddly proportioned buildings. Some tilted precariously while others had been built in what could best be described as an upright zigzag shape. It wasn’t a modern town, but its style, if there was one underneath all the bizarre architecture, reminded Carter of pictures of Victorian London. Gaslight lamps flickered in the fog, and in the distance Carter heard the clatter of a horse-drawn carriage echoing off the stone streets. Farther out into the bay, a lighthouse perched on an outcropping of stone.