by Lou Anders
The pumpkin head bobbed in sad agreement.
“The little black filly’s words are very true,
But enough talk, Jack has things to do.”
Then the Wicked Fairy raised his hands, which were wrapped in tattered gloves to match his threadbare clothes, and his long fingers twisted strangely in the air in uncomfortable ways. To Midnight and Curious, it looked like he was casting magic spells. Which, of course, he was.
Shoop! Shoop! Shoop!
Pumpkin vines sprouted from the ground around our horses’ hooves. They grew up into the air. They writhed like evil green snakes. They reached their leafy tendrils for the horses’ unprotected legs.
“Look out!” shouted Midnight, though it was a rather obvious thing to say. She reared away from the vines, little flames bursting from her nostrils in anger. Then she backed up the ramp and into the shelter of the bridge.
Curious hesitated. He didn’t want to follow. Wicked Fairies were on the other side. And that was a good point. But, his Scientific Mind argued, the wickedest of them all was right here. And that was a better point.
He ripped his legs free of the grasping pumpkin plants and ran to join Midnight.
They stood together under the shelter of the rooftop covering, watching as Jack advanced.
“Come on,” Midnight said, beginning to move backward across the bridge. Even as she spoke, Midnight was wondering why she was waiting for the unicorn. It’s not like she was with him. And he certainly wasn’t her responsibility.
“But…,” said Curious. “That’s your side.”
“So?”
“So, I’m a unicorn.”
Midnight almost said “So?” again. But she realized that Curious was right to be afraid. Even if she wasn’t a threat to him, she couldn’t say the same for her herd. And she was absolutely certain there were fairies and Fairy Creatures who would love to eat a unicorn. Curious wouldn’t be safe on her side of the River Restless. He’d have to stand and fight Jack here. Midnight could leave him to do it, but then Curious would be dead, and then who would tell all the other unicorns about how much better a night mare was than them?
She shook her mane in disgust at the way her evening was going.
“Don’t tell me I’m going to have to save you again?” Midnight snorted.
“Save me?”
Midnight shouldered her way beside him on the bridge.
“We can make our stand here and fight.”
“Okay,” said Curious. “But maybe I’m saving you! Did you think of that?”
“No,” Midnight replied. “I did not.”
And then they didn’t really have time to talk, because Jack was upon them. And their fight began.
Huge green tendrils writhed all around Jack o’ the Hunt. They seemed more like the tentacles of a sea monster than the vines of a plant. They reached over Jack’s shoulders and slithered around Jack’s legs to grasp at the horses.
Curious and Midnight reared and dodged. Still the tendrils came.
They reared and dodged some more. They reared and dodged a lot.
That’s when they noticed something.
The vines kept falling short.
The plants were certainly long enough to reach them. They were certainly quick enough to catch them, strong enough to pull them.
But a vine would stretch out, almost gripping one or the other of them, and then, suddenly, it would recoil.
Almost as if it hit something. Like a fence. Or a window, or an invisible wall.
Which was really odd, really strange, and for a certain pumpkin really frustrating.
Jack scowled. He couldn’t understand what was happening either. He turned his pumpkin head all around, back and forth, and then…upward.
Curious followed Jack’s gaze. As I said before, it was hard to know where a pumpkin was looking. But there wasn’t anything at all that Curious could see.
Just an odd small thing, a curved bit of metal nailed into the gable of the bridge. If you saw the odd metal thing, you would say that it was shaped like the letter U. But Curious didn’t know how to read. Curious just thought of it as a funny-shaped thing, and probably a rock, because, of course, the Glistening Isles didn’t have any metal on them either. Or not much. So he didn’t know what it was or what it was made of. But you, I’ll bet, know exactly what it was.
It was a horseshoe, nailed for luck over the top of the covered bridge.
A horseshoe.
Now that’s a pretty common thing in the rest of the world. And in your world, too, I’m sure.
But not here, not on the Glistening Isles, where no one ever, ever shoes a horse.
So it must have been something held over from long ago, when those wild and blue-tattooed humans lived in these isles, before the fairies came.
That’s something to think about later. Because right now things are about to get worse.
Because Jack wasn’t a fairy to give up what he wanted.
Oh, no! Jack was a fairy to get what he wanted.
And right now, he wanted those two horses.
Didn’t he?
He must have. Because when he saw that his vines weren’t reaching them, he tried something else.
Suddenly, little orange orbs started sprouting all over his vines.
They swelled up like balloons (though, of course, Curious and Midnight didn’t know what balloons were either).
They grew ripe and plump and fat.
They were pumpkins! Dozens of pumpkins!
Jack hurled them. He slung them through the air like missiles.
And they could get through the invisible wall.
Maybe because they were flying so fast.
They burst like pulpy orange bombs on our horses.
They struck the walls of the bridge.
They caused the whole covered bridge to shake and tremble.
And then, as the bridge shuddered, that horseshoe came loose from its nail.
And fell.
Have you ever played horseshoes? Have you ever tossed them at a pole?
Well, it was like that.
The horseshoe dropped straight down, and it caught on Curious’s horn.
He shook his head, hoping to dislodge it.
But that only spun the horseshoe round and round.
And as it spun, Jack seemed to stumble.
The bad rhyming fairy looked dizzy. Confused.
This was very interesting to Curious and his Scientific Mind, and he would have considered it further.
But then the bridge collapsed.
All the rearing and stamping and hurling of pumpkins was too much for the poor old thing.
The supports under it snapped.
The whole bridge, covered roof and all, collapsed into the River Restless.
This surprised everyone.
Curious. Midnight. Wartle, who had been hiding in Curious’s mane. It surprised Jack. It probably even surprised Winky.
Jack’s carved pumpkin eyes widened across his shell.
And then our horses were spinning round and round as the covered bridge was swept away in the swift currents of the River Restless.
They were being carried far away from Jack.
On the one hoof, that was a good thing.
But on the other hoof, now they were in danger from the river itself.
They stumbled back and forth, as floorboards broke away beneath them.
The whole bridge shuddered and groaned as the river began rapidly to tear it apart.
Curious and Midnight ran back and forth, trying to stay on their hooves and not go down with the bridge.
But the bridge was spinning really fast. Crashing into rocks. Tumbling over waterfalls. Swirling round and round and round.
And then suddenly, fo
r one hopeful instant, they saw a bank just a few feet away. Was it the unicorn side? Was it the night mare side? It didn’t matter. They had only seconds.
“Jump!” they both yelled at each other.
They jumped.
And they landed.
Whump!
Behind them, the whole bridge shuddered and shook and collapsed into the waters.
And then it was gone.
“That was close,” Curious said, which was an obvious thing to say.
“Yes, it was,” said Midnight, because she was being obvious too.
“Close, close, close,” said Wartle, because he wanted to be included.
Then they all did the next obvious thing, which was to see which side of the river they were on.
If they were on the unicorn side, Midnight would be in trouble. And if they were on the night mare side, Curious would be in trouble.
Wartle would be fine either way. He could always slip into one of the smaller fairy doors. And anyway, nobody much noticed puckles.
As to Winky, who knew what a wispy wood wink thought about trouble, if it thought at all.
“Whisperwood,” said Wartle. He pointed with a finger at the twisted, stunted, blackened trees that seemed to reach for them just a few feet away from the riverbank.
“Oh, no,” said Curious.
“Oh, yes,” said Midnight.
“But now I’m in real trouble,” said Curious.
“Not immediately, you’re not,” said Midnight. “Which means I can say something I’ve wanted to say since I met you.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Good-bye,” she replied.
And with that, Midnight began to trot away.
“You’re leaving?” shouted Curious.
“That’s what usually follows a ‘good-bye,’ ” replied Midnight.
“You can’t just leave me!” insisted Curious.
“Can. Am. Did,” said Midnight.
“But what will happen to me?”
Midnight stopped. She blew an exasperated breath through her nostrils.
“I already saved you twice, unicorn. I don’t plan to make a habit of it.”
“But I don’t know how to get back.”
“That’s certainly a problem,” said Midnight. “But it isn’t one of mine.”
“Please,” said Curious. “Help me.”
“Why should I?” asked Midnight. “When has a unicorn ever helped a night mare?”
Curious was silent because the answer was “never.” No unicorn had ever helped a night mare.
Midnight felt a little stab of guilt. She tried to brighten him up.
“Look,” she said, “I’m sure you could find your way back if you’d just use that Scientific Mind of yours.”
Curious was awfully proud of his Scientific Mind.
“Hmmm…,” he said. “I just might.”
“There,” said Midnight. “You see. I’m sure you’ll work something out.” She turned to go. She had things to do. Now, where had that wispy wood wink gotten to?
“Looking for this?” called Curious.
Midnight stopped.
She turned around.
Wartle was standing atop Curious’s head. He was waving the Absorbing Orb. And it was now glowing with a new, blue light.
“My wink!” roared Midnight.
She galloped back to Curious.
“Give it here!” she roared.
She lunged for it, but Wartle leapt off of Curious and onto the ground.
Midnight dove at the puckle.
But Wartle ducked behind a rock. And when she kicked it over, he was gone.
Then he waved to her from the trunk of a tree.
“Not fair!” she cried. “He’s using fairy doors!”
It was true. Wartle was running in and out of the little holes, ducking in and out of Elsewhither. The holes were too small for the bigger fairies, too small for unicorns and nightmares, but they were fine for little puckles.
Midnight chased him back and forth. He popped out of mushrooms and mudbanks and rocks. Each time he waved his hands at her merrily and then—poof—he disappeared again.
“This isn’t fair!” yelled Midnight.
“Ah, but it is,” said Curious. “You told me to use my Scientific Mind, and this is what my Scientific Mind came up with.”
“Tormenting night mares?”
“No. A trade.”
“A trade? What do you mean?”
“You help me get to my side of the river,” explained Curious. “And I give you the Absorbing Orb with the wispy wood wink inside.”
Midnight glowered. She grumbled. She groused.
But in the end she had to say…
“Deal.”
Of course, she launched herself at Wartle one more time. And of course she missed.
So she had to apologize and say “Deal” again.
Probably the first deal ever between a unicorn and a night mare.
“Now,” she said when she had calmed down and flames had stopped spurting out her nose, “I think I know who can get you back across the river.”
“You do?” said Curious.
“Yes,” she said. “But before I take you, we have to go somewhere first. And you have to let me borrow the Absorbing Orb.”
“Never trust a night mare,” said Curious. “That’s what they say. I’m not giving it to you until I’m safely back in unicorn territory.”
“I didn’t say ‘give’ it to me,” said Midnight. “I said ‘borrow’ it. You let me borrow it, I take you home, you give it to me then.”
“No deal,” said Curious. But he was bluffing.
“Then you can stay here forever for all I care,” said Midnight. “Because if I can’t borrow the Absorbing Orb now, then I don’t need it at all later.” And she wasn’t bluffing. Because she really did need to be somewhere. And very soon. And the unicorn could see it in her oh-so-determined eyes.
Curious glowered. He grumbled. He groused.
But in the end he had to say…
“Deal.”
Now we’re going to leave Curious and Midnight for a moment.
They’ve just been through an ordeal, so maybe they need a bit of a break.
They aren’t getting one. They are in rather a hurry. Or Midnight is at least. And Curious is in a panic.
But we’re still going to leave them alone for a page or two.
Because, you see, something else important is happening somewhere else, and we need to know what it is.
Now, do you remember Grace? She was Curious’s friend.
Whatever happened to her?
As it turns out, she did buck and run when Curious went under the water.
Don’t be too harsh on her.
Yes, she deserted her friend.
But she wasn’t very brave. And she wasn’t a swimmer.
And she was pretty upset about everything she saw.
Anyway, she was running for help.
To the queen probably. She would know what to do.
So she was maybe running on three parts fear and one part going for help.
Which can make anyone run really, really fast.
Only, as she ran, her legs kept getting tripped up on vines.
That was odd, because all the lands on the good fairy side of the River Restless were extremely well-manicured.
There were no brambles, no weeds, no undergrowth at all to trip a horse’s hooves or snag a fairy’s foot.
Nonetheless, she was tripping.
She looked down and she saw…
Pumpkin vines. Big green pumpkin vines.
And they weren’t just lying there getting in her way.
They were moving!
And then they did ensnare her hooves.
And she had to stop.
And there, right in front of her, was a pumpkin.
With a face.
And it stood up.
And it spoke.
“Oh, what beauty! Oh, what grace!
So good to meet you face to face.
The prize Jack sought has run away,
So he’ll cheer himself with other prey.”
And then the vines were snaking up her legs. They were winding around her flank. They were wrapping around her neck.
And, lastly, and most frighteningly of all, they were twisting around her horn!
“So there’s good news and bad news,” said Midnight.
The unicorn and the night mare were walking along the edge of the forest, heading upstream along the River Restless. They hadn’t entered the wood yet.
“Bad news?” said Curious. Somehow this didn’t surprise him. He didn’t trust the night mare—why would he?
“The bad news,” said Midnight, and she gave an embarrassed neigh, “is that when we were bobbing down the river on that old bridge, we were carried downstream away from my part of the Whisperwood. So we’re farther away from where I need to be.”
“Why is that bad?” asked Curious.
“I’m in a hurry,” explained Midnight.
“And the good news?” said Curious.
“The good news is that I know a shortcut.”
“I see,” said Curious. So far none of this was very alarming.
“But there’s more bad news,” said Midnight.
Curious sighed. Of course there was.
“Which is what?” he asked.
“The more bad news is that the shortcut is through the Festering Fens.”
“That sounds terrible,” said Curious. He didn’t know what the Festering Fens were, but they didn’t sound very appealing.
“Oh, but there’s more good news too,” said Midnight. “The more good news is that there’s a path through the Fens that is…mostly safe.”
“ ‘Mostly safe’ doesn’t sound very safe at all,” said Curious. “I don’t think I want to go anywhere called the Festering Fens.”
