“I’ll figure it out on the way,” North said.
“Let’s take things one at a time, shall we?” Ombric told him, looking around. “Perhaps Katherine is right, and the animals can tell us what became of my books. But an enslavement spell this powerful can’t be reversed quickly. It needs to be done carefully and well.” He shook his head. “It’s the work of many, many hours.”
“Then they’ll have to stay like this until we return,” North said to Ombric. “You can release them after we’ve crushed the Nightmare King. We’ll help you.”
Ombric tugged at his beard, frowning. “Some of these spells are trickier than others. If I wait too long, I fear this spell could be irreversible.” He looked at the porcelain creatures scattered across his floor. “There are no two ways about it. I’ll have to stay behind in Santoff Claussen, and you’ll have to continue on to Easter Island.”
“Easter Island! We have to get to Pitch!” North bellowed.
Katherine added, “Nightlight is hurt!”
“The Pooka, if he can be found, will be able to lead you to the Earth’s core,” Ombric explained. “Pooka lore indicates that he has a series of tunnels that span the interior of the globe.”
North began to object, but Ombric insisted. “By the time you reach Pitch, I expect to have restored our friends here and discovered the whereabouts of my library.”
Looking up at him with her steady gaze, Katherine said, “You can do whatever you set your mind to.”
Ombric raised an eyebrow. “The student reinterprets the teacher’s lesson,” he said. “Well done.”
“Just do me a favor, old man,” North conceded. “Release Petrov first. I can’t stand to see him like this.”
Ombric agreed. Then, with no time to lose, Katherine, Kailash, and North left Big Root.
On their way to the forest, Katherine looked into Old William’s frozen eyes. “We’ll be back,” she promised him. “And so will all of your Williams.”
She climbed into the air shuttle, strapped Kailash into a seat, and then did the same for herself.
“To Easter Island! Let’s hope this Bunnymund creature actually exists,” North said, scanning the sky for signs of trouble. “There’s no setting for the Earth’s core.”
As he watched them rocket away, Ombric knew he could trust the brave girl he had raised and the young man who had been his apprentice. They would do what needed to be done.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Curl Twirls
KATHERINE’S CURL BEGAN TO twirl again as she and North streaked toward Easter Island.
She did not like that they could not all stay together. But she was certain that Ombric was correct. Only he could manage the delicate and lengthy task of undoing all the enslavement spells that Pitch had conjured against Santoff Claussen. The parents, the owls, the insects, the Spirit of the Forest, the bear, Petrov—everything that breathed would have to be individually “un-toyed,” as Katherine had termed it.
Still, she had been brave for so long, and truth be told, she was a little weary of having to be such a grown-up. She wanted Ombric near. He was like a father to her. And in times of danger, it feels good to have one’s own father near, not thousands of miles away. But she bore this anxious feeling silently.
She knew they would need to be at their best, perhaps even more than their best, to save their friends and once again undo the dark plans of Pitch.
They were far above the ocean of the Pacific now. The Moon was clear and bright, and so close that they thought they could see the Man in the Moon and his Moonbots smiling down at them.
They rocketed forward—faster even than they had flown on their way to Santoff Claussen. And the stone on the magic sword that marked Easter Island blinked steadily.
Katherine looked at it with alarm. “Is that a bad sign?”
North shook his head. “Quite the opposite! It means we’re getting closer.”
Kailash honked. “She’s glad,” Katherine said.
“Of course she is; we’re on the wildest goose chase in history!” North joked.
Katherine was glad for the joke, and even more glad to know that North sensed her worries and was trying to cheer her.
The dials of the airship let out an alarm. Up ahead was Easter Island! The sun was just beginning to rise when the ship settled gently on a sandy beach. It cast a soft glow over the island, and Katherine could hardly wait to get out. North opened the shuttle’s door and climbed down the ladder.
Katherine patted her pocket to make sure she had her dagger. Satisfied, she turned to Kailash. “Stay here until I know it’s safe,” she told the gosling, then she jumped onto the sand after North.
Together they began to explore the island.
Hundreds of giant stone heads sat ominously across the barren beach. Katherine had seen drawings of these colossal sculptures in Ombric’s library. But they were much stranger than she’d expected and larger than she’d imagined.
North ran his hand across a mouth—a narrow slit below an enormous stone nose. “These were carved,” he said. “But by who?”
There were no signs of life. No humans running over to see what had landed on their beach. No birds cawing in alarm. Katherine and North walked among the stone heads and wondered if there were any living creatures on the island at all. The only sound was that of the waves coming in and going out again. Oddly, Katherine thought she smelled a hint of hot cocoa in the salty sea air. And she had the strangest sensation that they were being watched.
And they were! One of the stone heads had turned in their direction. Then another. And another. With the screech of stone scraping against stone, all the heads, as far as they could see, were slowly rotating toward them.
The orb on the magic sword was glowing even brighter. North took a chance. “Where can we find the Pooka?” he shouted out. “We need to get to the Earth’s core—on the double!”
The heads didn’t answer.
But as the echo of his shouts died away, something began to emerge from the top of each of the stone sculptures. Two stone shafts, almost like ears, slowly rose, stretching to sharp points at the tips. The heads had grown stone rabbit ears! Every one of them! Katherine and North exchanged uneasy glances.
Then something, or someone, twisted up out of the ground a dozen feet away, sending sand and grass flying in all directions.
Katherine and North found themselves looking at an extremely tall rabbit. He stood completely upright, not crouched like a bunny. He was at least seven feet tall (with ears) and wore green egg-shaped glasses and a thick green robe with golden egg-shaped buttons. Around his waist was a purple sash and waistcoat with egg-shaped pockets. He held a tall staff with an egg at its tip.
Katherine gave the Rabbit Man an uneasy smile.
The rabbit did not respond. He didn’t even blink. In fact, he was so still that Katherine thought he might be a statue too. She took a step closer, but to her utter surprise, a group of armor-covered eggs with tiny arms and legs emerged from under the hem of the rabbit’s robe. The eggs raised their bows. Their arrows, she noticed, had tiny egg-shaped points.
Katherine pulled back again, but North was less cautious. He had seen the rabbit’s nose twitch and had an inkling.
“You are the Pooka, I presume?” he asked.
The rabbit became a sudden blur of motion. In less than a blink he was standing directly in front of them.
“I am E. Aster Bunnymund,” he said in a deep, melodious voice. “I’ve been expecting you.”
E. Aster Bunnymund, last of the Pookas
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
In Which Pitch Appreciates North’s Ingenuity but proves to Be a Dark Customer Indeed
NORTH’S MECHANICAL DJINNI WAS a truly inspired invention. Pitch took delight not only in the theft of his enemy’s creation, but also in the wonderful things it could do. When he was inside the djinni, Pitch could not only venture out into the sunlight, he could turn it into any number of machines, most notably, one that could fly�
��the perfect way to quickly transport the children across a vast distance.
With the children and Nightlight trapped within his lead cloak, Pitch had transformed the djinni into just such a machine.
He cared nothing for beauty, but he appreciated the elaborate design of the flying sleigh machine that swelled out from the djinni’s shoulders, back, and arms—every floorboard, deck, and bolt was a mechanical marvel. A surge of envy roiled through him, for it was clearly a combination of ancient magic and human invention that had created this masterpiece. The Nightmare King had never imagined anything that even approached North’s genius. But he would. Oh, once he had all the books in the wizard’s library, he would.
He narrowed his eyes and issued a curt command to the djinni. “Take me to the core!”
Propellers began to spin, and within seconds, the sleigh was piloting across the sky, crossing continents, then oceans, finally landing upon one of the most desolate places on Earth: a volcano at the very top of the Andes Mountains.
Inside the cloak, the children of Santoff Claussen whispered to one another about where they might be and whether or not Ombric and North had already started their rescue mission.
William the Absolute Youngest fumed in the darkness. “I wish I had a sword,” he muttered.
“I do too!” said his oldest brother. “If I had North’s new sword, why, I’d—”
“Silence!” roared Pitch. The volcano was a shortcut to his new lair. As they entered the open fissure of the volcano, the flying machine’s propellers folded tight. They were speeding down faster and faster, straight for the center of the Earth.
The children, trapped in the inky darkness of Pitch’s cloak, could see almost nothing, though their ears began to pop. Their only light was Nightlight’s considerably diminished glow.
Tall William and Petter, aided by Fog, tried to push their way out of the cloak prison—to no avail. The black cloth wasn’t woven, but made of a metal mesh that was flexible but impenetrable, no matter how hard the boys pushed and clawed at it. Sascha did her best to comfort William the Absolute Youngest and some of the other children, but she was most concerned about Nightlight. He lay slumped against the cloak, his eyes closed. His light grew more and more faint—it started to flicker.
William the Absolute Youngest cried out, “Is he dying?” Tears slipped down the children’s cheeks. They held their breaths, watching and hoping that the youngest William was wrong.
Sascha grasped Nightlight’s hand. It felt strange in hers, like it was made of air and light and crystals, but in a moment he began to glow—faintly—again, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
To her surprise, Nightlight reached out, collected her tears in his hand, and then did the same with those of the other children. He closed his fist tight around them, before pulling his fist to his chest. The children could see where the bookworm was hiding under Nightlight’s jacket. “I hope Mr. Qwerty is all right,” said Sascha.
“Remember,” whispered Petter, “we mustn’t tell Pitch about Mr. Qwerty.” Just as they were all nodding in agreement, they slammed down on a rocky surface. The children tumbled onto a hard floor, scraping their knees and elbows. Then Pitch flung open his coat, sending them spinning and rolling in all directions. Sascha banged into a wall. Petter rolled away from Pitch’s raised foot only seconds before he brought it down, hard. Tall William did his best to gather the youngest children in a tight group.
They were in a giant room with walls of grayish melted-looking metal. The air reeked of sulfur—shallow pools of milky lava flowed around one end of the room. The children could feel Fearlings weaving in and out of their legs like shadowy black cats. Fog flinched and batted furiously at one that seemed to be whispering in his ear. Sascha pressed her lips together and swallowed a scream as another slithered around her face and head.
Nightlight had helped them see inside the cloak, but here the walls seemed to absorb his dim glow, leaving them in a darkness so thick that they began to wonder if Pitch had swallowed up all the light in the world.
Then there was a sound like fingers snapping, and blue flames appeared from the lava pools, casting everything in an eerie glow. The Fearlings pulled back from the light, but couldn’t resist continuing to reach for the children, their long, tentacle-like fingers creeping within inches of their faces.
The older boys drew the younger children behind them, and they all instinctively formed a protective circle around Nightlight.
Pitch smirked at their efforts. He commanded the djinni suit to transform itself back into a mechanical man. Then an inky vapor rose out of the djinni’s ear, oozing outward and sharpening into the shape Pitch most preferred for himself. He kicked the mechanical suit aside and loomed over his hostages.
Sascha felt the hands of the smaller children reaching for hers, pulling at her sleeves. She forced herself to stay calm. Ombric, North, and Katherine would move Heaven and Earth to come to their rescue; she knew that as surely as she knew that the sky was blue, the grass was green, and fireflies cheated at games of tag. Still, she couldn’t keep herself from averting her eyes as Pitch’s gaze lingered on each of them. When he reached Tall William, however, the boy stared back.
“You said you had no plans to hurt us,” Tall William said as Pitch loomed over him.
“I remember what I said, boy,” Pitch answered. “If your precious wizard hands over his library, perhaps I’ll keep my promise. Or perhaps not.” Then he pointed his long skeleton arms toward Nightlight.
“But you,” he added with a malevolent smile aimed directly at the spectral boy, “you are another story.”
Nightlight stared back at Pitch with a weak but mischievous grin. The children’s strength was feeding his own, and his light was steadily brightening. He thought of Katherine, of how much he wanted to see her again, and became stronger still. He had spent thousands of years trapped inside this monster. He could survive whatever it wanted to do to him now.
Enraged by Nightlight’s smirk, Pitch raised his hand as if to crush him. Sascha shrieked, but Nightlight’s grin only grew wider.
“I’ll turn you into my Fearling prince,” Pitch threatened. “And your friend, Katherine—when she arrives—will be my princess.”
Nightlight knew exactly what Pitch was doing: trying to frighten him by threatening Katherine. He deliberately smiled wider.
Pitch reached out his long, gnarly hand and, with agonizing slowness, let his fingers hover just an inch from Nightlight’s head. “Now you will be mine. You kept me imprisoned for centuries. Day after day, year after year, I dreamed of revenge. . . .” He lowered his hand, but the instant he gripped Nightlight, there was a brilliant explosion of light, sending Pitch staggering backward.
He grasped his hand in pain, and for a moment his palm and fingers seemed to glow, then became flesh-colored. The look on Pitch’s face was an unsettling mix of fury and something else. Something the children had never expected to see. Something that looked like . . . sorrow.
Pitch screamed. He covered his injured hand with his cloak, pulled out his sword with his other, then pointed toward a small, cramped cell that hung suspended from the ceiling. A swarm of Fearlings picked up Nightlight and threw him inside the small lead cage. “Please be my guest,” Pitch said, his voice suddenly taking on a cheerful tone, “in this solid lead prison, created especially for you.”
Pitch slammed the door with the tip of his sword. The sword’s point then transformed and sharpened into the shape of a key. He locked the door, and the key transformed back into his sword.
“The only way to open that door now will be to kill me,” he said with a gleeful smile. “And who amongst you is up to that?!”
Then he laughed in a way that left the children feeling helpless.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A Surprising Twist with a Chocolate Center
THE RABBIT AND NORTH eyed each other, sizing one another up.
North had been dubious about this fabled Rabbit Man since Ombric had first de
scribed him. North liked to think that he and Ombric were the world’s greatest hero and wizard. The idea of this rabbit as their equal—perhaps their superior—did not sit well with the prideful Nicholas St. North. But he would give the Pooka a chance.
“You’ve been expecting us?” North asked wryly.
“Yes and no. I have and I haven’t. Maybe. Maybe not. I did, however, have an inkling,” the rabbit answered. He opened one of his egg-shaped pockets and withdrew some egg-shaped candies. Their outer shells were pebbled with an astonishing variety of delicately iced decorations. “Please, have a chocolate. I make the best in the universe,” the rabbit said.
That was the sweet scent Katherine had noticed earlier—chocolate—but this was so alluring that she could barely think of anything else. This wasn’t just a whiff of some common candy; it was a hypnotizing mist of taste possibility.
“This one has a caramel center made with the milk of an intergalactic bovine creature that on occasion jumps over the Moon,” the Pooka told her, waving it under her nose. “And this one—marshmallow made from the whipped eggs of Asian peacocks!” Bunnymund’s eyes glistened. His nose twitched and he leaned forward, holding out a pair of chocolates.
Katherine wavered—she was so hungry. In all their dashing about, she and North hadn’t remembered to pack anything to eat. So she reached for one of the chocolates.
Before North could object, the Pooka turned to him. “You, sir, would likely enjoy something darker . . . wilder.” He pulled forth a candy of impressive size. “This egg is made with cacao leaves that grow in the dark center of the great caves of Calcutta; it contains a pinch of mint from the ice caps of Mars. It also has three molecules of Hawaiian lava sprouts for a little extra kick.”
Never had North smelled something so tantalizing. It was almost as tempting as the jewels the Spirit of the Forest had used to lure his band of outlaws in the enchanted forest. She had turned his men into stone elves, so he couldn’t help but be a little suspicious of this offering. Besides, the Pooka’s egg warriors were still pointing their bows at them.
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