by Holly Hook
I'd never felt more dread in my life.
Shorty stepped across the threshold with me. He stared straight ahead at the other side, which was several hundred feet away. Dead leaves crunched under my shoes and I got the feeling of Halloween, but not in a good way. Despair lived in every molecule of this place. I tried not to walk too fast, to give Lawrence some time to feel this, but I found myself taking bigger and bigger steps.
A huge, stagnant pool of water spread out from the side of the road and it stank worse than Mr. Godfrey's class. Dead trees stood in it and moss covered their trunks. Shorty muttered something when he saw it and quickened his pace. "Don't look at that," he said. "I don't like it."
And of course, I looked.
The water appeared black with splotches of green and red scum across the surface. The pale gray light of this place reflected off.
And then a dark shape formed in the reflection.
And got darker. And bigger. It began to take the shape of a man in a long, hooded robe.
Shorty got behind me and gave me a shove. "GO!"
The two of us ran. My heart threatened to beat out of my chest. We passed the disgusting water and solid ground stretched out on both sides. Only then did Shorty slow and glance behind him. I followed it. The strange reflection was gone, leaving only blackness and sludge in its place.
"What was that?" I asked. "Another nix?" The black feeling in the pit of my stomach had only grown worse.
"I don't know," Shorty said. "It didn't look good. I guess things can happen in these areas. No more lingering near bodies of water."
I told you not to bring me here, Lawrence thought. Take me around this place. Now. That is an order.
"I've had it with this guy." Shorty stopped right under the tree with the ravens.
And tilted his shoulder to the side.
Lawrence went sliding down and grabbed onto his shirt with his little frog feet. "Who's going to enforce your order?" Shorty asked.
I had to laugh, which felt impossible in this place. This was awesome. I forgot all about the dark shape in the water for a second as I watched.
Shorty let Lawrence struggle for a bit longer, then stood up again. The frog scrambled back up onto his shoulder and glared at him.
You have no right to resist my orders, Lawrence thought. You are a mere peasant.
Shorty hesitated like he wanted to say something crushing, but nodded to me. "We shouldn't linger here any more," he said. "This place sucks. We can always have more fun later."
Shorty took a step when a large, black shape dove down at him.
Feathers and cawing filled the air. Shorty yelled. One of the ravens. And it was clawing at his shoulder--the shoulder with Lawrence. Shorty backed away into a dying tree, which grabbed at him with its pointy branches. Lawrence had crawled under his shirt, forming a bump there.
Help, Lawrence thought.
The raven was trying to take off with the frog prince.
I ran at Shorty and the bird. Shorty slugged the bird and it fell back a little, cawing with rage, and then attacked again. Lawrence stayed put as Shorty jerked his shoulder back. The raven pushed harder, cawing and trying to slug Shorty in the face with its wing.
"Leave them alone!" I shouted, searching the ground for a stick.
We couldn't lose Lawrence. If we did, I'd never see Franco again.
I found a dead branch just off the road, grabbed it, and swung at the bird. I hit it in the wing but the creature was crazed. Mad with hunger. Or mad with evil. I swung again and hit Shorty instead, and he grunted and pushed at me. This bird was insane. Bent on getting the frog prince.
"Sorry!" I yelled, dropping the branch. I lunged at the bird.
And then I grabbed a wing.
"Candice!" Shorty yelled.
I pulled the bird towards me and claws flew. Pain burned across my arm and bright red blossomed over my skin. The raven went crazier at the sight of the blood, opening and closing its beak. I kept my grip on its wing. It thrashed at me, trying to stab with its razor sharp beak. Feathers flew and rained. The raven's eyes were reddish. Evil. This was no normal bird.
I held the bird as far from me as I could and Shorty appeared in front of me. He seized the raven around the neck and pulled it away. I let go.
"Get off her!" Shorty shouted. The raven made another cawing sound and Shorty turned away. "Candice--don't look."
But I couldn't look elsewhere. Shorty held the bird's neck with both hands.
And then there was a cracking sound.
And silence. The fluttering stopped. The raven's wings drooped and remained still.
It didn't dawn on me what had happened at first, until Shorty released his grip and let the bird fall to the ground. It was still, feathers ruffled and reddish eyes empty.
He had killed it with his bare hands.
"Shorty," I managed.
The other raven cawed above us and took off into flight. I watched it circle above the dying trees once, then vanish over the tops.
Shorty turned to face me. "I told you not to look," he said. "I had to do it. The bird was evil. There was no saving it. This area must have made it that way. As much as I hate Lawrence, we can't have him die. We need to get Franco out of that pond."
That is right, Lawrence thought.
I turned. His voice came from the ground, from the trunk of the tree that Shorty had just left.
The frog stood there, backed as far as he could to the tree and trying to hide. He'd jumped off Shorty's shoulder during the struggle. Or fallen. Lawrence looked uninjured but he glared at both of us, turning his body right and left. It was creepy, to say the least.
Pick me up, he ordered. I told you not to come through here. When we see another dark area like this, we go around.
Shorty sighed, stomped over, and did as he was told. "Yes, master," he said in his best Igor lisp. Then he winked at me. "That was still fun. Seeing Lawrence suffer for a bit."
"I agree," I said. Disappointment washed through me that Lawrence had come out unscathed, but so did relief. He held the key to Franco, after all.
We made our way out of the dark spot. The dread dissipated from my stomach and I breathed sweet, fresh air. "I'm glad to be out of there," I said, trying to raise the mood.
But Shorty didn't respond. He'd put Lawrence back on his shoulder. His mood only seemed to darken with each step he took as if he'd taken some part of that dark area with him. He stared straight ahead and made a point not to look at Lawrence for the rest of the walk.
Or me, for that matter.
I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but his sudden despair seemed to go right into the center of the world.
Chapter Six
We passed two more small villages, both almost identical to the first. Small houses. A few animals. Women in dresses, bonnets, and aprons. Men in overalls and children pulling buckets from wells. Tall grass and unkept yards. None of them had wells or fountains we could drink from without stealing buckets, so we had to follow Lawrence's advice and stop at a gurgling creek. Shorty stayed back while I crouched and took a drink of the freshest water I had ever tasted. Only when I finished did Shorty leave Lawrence on the ground next to me and head into the trees to get a drink. He took a while to come back, and I sensed he might be relieving himself.
But he didn't look comfortable when he came back to the road.
"Something wrong?" I asked.
"I'm tired and I need to sleep. We need to stop soon." He picked Lawrence back up, and we headed on our way again.
We hit the fourth village close to evening.
The old road turned into a clearing and several houses with straw roofs spread out before us along with a pigpen and some sheep that grazed in a field nearby. Shorty stopped when he spotted people out walking around, a man in a leather hat along with two women in dark dresses and bonnets.
This is in your father's kingdom, Lawrence explained. These people have had no king for twenty years. Alric will enslave them if we do not marry
and protect this area from darkness. This must be a new village. I do not remember this being here.
He seemed to remind me of my duty a lot. "Is this Mary's village?" I asked.
No. We will not reach it until tomorrow morning. You need me to take you there.
"Great," I said, relieved that our trip would take longer. As soon as Lawrence escaped his curse, I'd be his bride. Wasn't that the story?
The sun was getting low in the sky. Shorty eyed it. "From what I've heard," he said, "We don't want to be out traveling at night, even in the lighter parts of this world. Alric told my parents there are thieves and stuff that will attack you at night."
"So we should stop here," I said.
These quarters are not suitable for royalty, Lawrence thought.
"I'm fine with sleeping here," I said, as much as it pained me to say it.
Shorty searched around. He didn't look happy to be scanning these faces.
"What's wrong?" I asked him. I wondered if it had to do with the specter in the swamp back in that dark, evil area.
"Nothing," he said. "I'm shaken up after what happened earlier. Maybe we shouldn't be walking through any more of those dark spots."
Agreed, Lawrence said.
I checked out my clothes. I still wore my T-shirt and jeans. I wondered how bad this would stick out or if these people were used to others popping in from the other world from time to time. It was a risk I'd take. "Shorty—we need to go ask someone where the inn or hotel is. It might end up being the barn." I said last sentence loud enough for Lawrence to hear.
No barns, he demanded.
"Then we'll find you a pond," I said. "Or a nearby swamp. You can stay there. You seemed to have no trouble with the pond back on my old farm."
Lawrence did the best thing he could have done right then.
He shut up.
Letting myself feel victory, Shorty and I walked towards the small hamlet.
A woman continued to tend her little garden, ignoring us. A farmer walked past, staring straight ahead. I waved at him, but he pretended I wasn't there and stared straight ahead.
"What's with these people?" I asked Shorty.
He shrugged. "They're not friendly, are they?"
We walked deeper into the hamlet until we reached what might be the center courtyard. It looked more like a clearing of dirt where chicken tracks and boot prints mingled. A single chicken pecked at the ground over and over and didn't react to our presence. This was a cold place. It even felt chilly. A sharp, cool sensation washed over my skin and Shorty shivered next to me. Lawrence shifted.
"Why, hello."
I turned. An old woman leaned out of her house, smiling at us. Her face was so wrinkled I could barely make out her eyes, but she waved us closer. "Are you searching for a place to sleep tonight? You look tired."
Shorty jumped, shocked. "Um..."
"Why are you standing out there? Come on in," she said, holding her door open wider. The house was neat inside, with a clean wooden floor. "Are you travelers from the other world?"
I nodded. "We got here earlier today."
"Through what kind of portal?"
"A pond," I told her. She seemed to know an awful lot. I studied her face for any sign of malice, but I found none. Shorty stood there, keeping his distance from her. Maybe it was because he still had a bullfrog on his shoulder.
"Interesting," she said. She eyed Lawrence. "I see you're carrying a prince along with you. I'm sure you will see Mary. That woman knows everything about the old tales. She'll know how to get him out of that skin."
Lawrence shifted, uncomfortable. He didn't like strangers sizing him up like this.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" the woman asked. "I have plenty of room in this old house of mine, if you don't mind sleeping on straw."
The evening was getting dimmer. Almost blue. I looked around and Shorty opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, then closed it. The hamlet had grown quiet. People must be inside, eating dinner. Smoke drifted out of a chimney and my stomach cramped with hunger.
I hadn't eaten since lunch at school.
Either way, my legs trembled, and I felt ready to drop. "Come on," I told Shorty. "We need a place to sleep." Why was he so quiet suddenly?
I stepped into the house and Shorty followed.
The house was larger inside than I expected, with a sitting room and a fireplace spread out before us. Happy flames danced inside brick. The windows had pink shutters over them, only letting in faint lines of light. An adjoining kitchen with a crude iron stove gave off heat and the aroma of brewing tea. It carried some strange, sweet smell with it. The woman hobbled into the kitchen while Shorty and I stood there. Lawrence's throat moved out and in.
"Are you sure you want to stay here?" Shorty whispered. "I'm sure there are better places. I don't want to sleep on straw."
The woman returned with two cups of tea, all smiles. She handed one to Shorty, and he took a drink, gulping all of it down in seconds. “That’s good,” he said. “If I get back to the other world, I must make a note to visit again soon.”
The woman wore a look of confusion for a split second, but then she smiled again. “I don’t see people from the other world often. I’ve had a few stop here before. Portals are tricky things.”
“You seem to know a lot about this place,” I said. “Do you know anything about water nixes?” Franco screamed back into my mind. There was no way I could sleep tonight with him down there, prisoner. What if he was losing hope? Soon he might feel convinced that rescue would never come.
The woman stood there and shook her head. "Mary is the one with all the answers," she said. "Where is she? I've heard she has the book with all the stories."
I found it a weird question. "Don't know," I said, taking a sip of the tea. It tasted like mint and something else sweet and was the best I'd ever tasted. Shorty was right. It was good. "We're looking for her."
* * * * *
Something hit me in the face.
I groaned and crept up through the layers of sleep. It came again, rubbery and cold. The blow was small, meant to annoy and not hurt.
You must wake, Candice.
My eyes fluttered open and the feeling of straw under me reached my tired brain. Where was I? This wasn't my bed.
It was dark but I could make out moonlight pouring in through a tiny window far above my head. The smell of the straw hit me and I opened my eyes all the way. Walls towered over me and I was lying on the floor.
And Lawrence the frog prince stood right in front of my face, foot raised like he wanted to hit me with it again. My eyes adjusted and I could make out his yellow eyes.
"What is your problem?" I asked, sitting up.
You should not have trusted that woman.
"What woman?" I searched my memory. It came back. The pond. Falling through. Franco getting snatched. Shorty and I arriving at the unfriendly village. There was something about tea.
I woke up all the way after that.
She drugged you.
"Huh?"
Lawrence hopped around like he was leading me towards a closed door on the other side of the room. I followed him with my gaze and stood.
The old woman. The sitting room. I'd been sipping tea, and she'd asked me where Mary was.
And after that, nothing.
I was trying to warn you, but you were too busy asking her stupid questions.
I bristled, hating Lawrence. "You didn't ask her anything. And if she drugged me, you did nothing about it. You didn't even try." Lawrence hadn't done or said a thing while we were standing in that sitting room. "Why would that woman drug me?"
She's with Alric. She must be and is trying to destroy our story.
"Where's Shorty?" I asked, scanning the room. He wasn't here. This room wasn't even big, either—about the size of a big walk in closet and made of mud brick. The straw I'd been sleeping on was the only furniture. Shorty drank that tea, too. The woman must have him somewhere else.
Passed out. I hid when it happened and she dragged him to another room. This house isn't what it seems on the outside. It's much larger. That woman must be a witch.
I stood on my tiptoes and look out the window. The moon was a large waxing crescent and cast light on the world outside. I spotted the tips of several trees, but nothing else. I wasn't tall enough to gaze upon the village. This window let in air only. It might be a prison cell.
Then I checked the door, careful not to step on Lawrence. He hopped out of the way and got buried in a bunch of hay. I did not try to help him out. It was a wooden door, an old cracked one that looked more fit for a dungeon than anything else. I peeked through a baseball-sized hole near where the handle should be, only to find darkness on the other side.
I pushed on the door. Nothing.
I was trapped.
Okay. This was a prison cell.
Lawrence scrambled out of the hay. He was a small dark shape in the moonlight. I only got in because there is a gap between the door and the floor.
"Some good waking me up did," I said just to get on his nerves. "Where's Shorty?"
Behind another door. You should never drink tea from strangers.
"There must be a key around here somewhere." I faced Lawrence. "Okay. It's obvious this woman wants to mess up the story. Alric must have lots of friends. We need the key. If you find it, I can stick my hand through this hole and get myself, and then Shorty, out."
Quiet, Lawrence thought.
Footsteps.
They passed the door, and I held my breath, praying it wouldn't open. The woman might try to hurt Lawrence if she was working with Alric. A lock turned somewhere outside the door and more footsteps sounded, and then a door creaked shut. The woman's footsteps made the boards groan, and a drawer opened and closed. She must be depositing the key.
Another door opened and the sound of crickets grew louder and then it closed again. The footsteps vanished.
The woman had left the house.
And left the key somewhere close.
