The Girl, the Gypsy & the Gargoyle

by Darcy Pattison

  Jassy-the-human-boy didn’t smile back, but just held his nose and rolled his eyes. “Well, it smells awful to me. Let’s go.”

  And just as suddenly, Laurel sobered. And hiccupped. If she couldn’t see right or smell right, could she trust herself at all? And there was still the question of whether or not she could trust Jassy. He said loyalty was his only flaw. But that said nothing about whether he told the truth or not, nothing about whether she could trust him. Where was her bedrock? Because she had to trust–

  She rubbed her eyes. It couldn’t be, not here. There, across the valley, a dark stream of color drifted higher and higher. It looked like–. But it couldn’t be–.

  She pointed, “Look! Smoke!”

  EIGHTEEN

  WHEREIN THE DARK BECOMES DARKER

  About a quarter mile away, a black column of smoke streamed lazily upward, curling around the heights of the cliff.

  Jassy grabbed Laurel’s hand in excitement. “It’s not smoke; it’s bats.”

  “The cave!” Laurel tilted her head up to watch the dark stream. “There must be thousands of them.”

  The first of the bats reached high into the dark sky, and then spread out and disappeared like smoke dissipating in the wind; but the column continued unabated as more bats poured out of the cave.

  Jassy said, “We’ll wait an hour and make sure the Hallvard is asleep. Then, we’ll enter the cave.”

  Laurel agreed and they returned to their campfire. The skies deepened into an eerie black where no stars twinkled. Instead, far across the valley, they saw the only moon in this strange world: a dim red glow that marked the Troll’s Eye doorway back to their own world.

  Opening his pack, Jassy pulled out linen strips and a crock of black pitch. “We need to make torches.”

  “You really did come prepared.” Laurel helped dip linen strips into the pitch and then wrap them around sturdy sticks. The smell was putrid, or at least she thought it was. “Jassy, what if my vision gets worse? The cave will be dangerous.”

  “Do we have a choice?” Flickering firelight played across Jassy’s grim face.

  She was glad that, for now, he looked like himself, like a normal boy. “I’m scared.”

  He nodded. “But we can do it. Together, we’ll make it.” He jabbed the torches upright in the dirt, waiting till they headed to the cave.

  Laurel tried to wipe the sticky pitch off her fingers by rubbing them in a clump of grass. Would the cave really be full of jewels? She jumped up and paced before the fire, flicking her yellow skirt with each turn back in the other direction.

  She glanced up to see if the stars had moved, but of course, there were no stars. Only that red doorway far up on the cliff. She rubbed her eyes, but that made her even jumpier. And her fingers still stank of pitch. Ironically, she wished the curse would change it to some good smell.

  Too much waiting! “Jassy, let’s go!”

  He yawned, but agreed. “You’re right. We’ll leave our packs here. Just take your torch.”

  Jassy added two more large branches to the fire to keep it going while they were gone. Then he thrust his torch into the flames and Laurel lit her torch, as well.

  They walked side by side across the meadow to the dark bulk of the cliff, and then turned left along the cliff face. Shadows jumped and shifted in the torchlight. Laurel grimaced, but managed to hold on to a true vision–she hoped. The wind picked up and moaned softly through the dark spiky firs behind them. Clouds scudded darkly across the sky. Or was it all her imagination?

  Jassy stopped and pointed ahead.

  Before them gaped a ragged arch-like hole with mosses dripping from the edges. Laurel wrinkled her nose at the damp, musty smell and wished that this smell would reverse, too. She shifted her torch to the other side and tucked her free hand into Jassy’s. The torch sizzled, whispering something unintelligible to her, perhaps a final warning.

  Jassy squeezed her hand in reassurance, and then pulled her forward. Breathing too fast, her stomach clenched with fear, Laurel clung to Jassy’s hand as if it was a lifeline.

  A single tunnel led deep into the ground, the warm air growing cooler, damper. Even the darkness changed from an open sky to a dark so thick their torches barely pierced it. They crept along the somber passage, trembling.

  “How far?” Laurel’s voice–the merest whisper–echoed, and she cringed.

  Jassy shook his head and Laurel nodded agreement. Until they found the treasure chamber and knew more about the Hallvard, they had to be cautious.

  Laurel concentrated on listening for something beside themselves. She tilted her head back and forth and tried to penetrate the darkness outside their pool of light. Was the Gargoyle Man right; was it safe to enter the cave at night?

  What was that?

  Laurel spun around, but there were only their own eerie shadows floating on the cave wall. She rested one hand on the corridor wall, needing something solid to reassure her. It was wet. And cold. Not like Jassy’s warm hand which still held hers. Cold and warm, a strange reality. But the contrast helped ground her, kept her from yelling out, from worrying that the curse was taking over again.

  There were only the small sounds of water dripping and their muted footsteps. No, their steps were too loud, the chink of pebbles against stone. A cold fear spread through her, but fear of what, she didn’t know, just that she was shivering. Now, her breathing came in ragged gasps.

  Something flew straight at her face.

  Laurel screamed. She dropped her torch and jerked her hand away from Jassy to cover her face. Desperate, she dropped to her knees away from whatever it was.

  Instantly, Jassy was there, helping her up. “Only a bat,” he murmured. But he looked over his shoulder where they had come from and then looked forward, studying the corridor.

  Laurel realized that if anyone or anything was ahead, her scream had alerted them that she and Jassy were coming. “Sorry,” she snapped. “It scared me.” She fumed at herself for getting spooked.

  Grumpily, she straightened her blouse and skirt and picked up her torch, which was still lit.

  Jassy soothed, “It’s your first time in a cave.”

  She nodded. She’d been in Jassy’s cave, of course, but had never gone out of sight of the entrance.

  “Pretend it’s a quarry with a lid on it. You aren’t scared in a quarry.”

  That description did make the cave sound friendlier. “I’ll try,” Laurel said.

  They walked on for five minutes until the corridor opened into a small chamber, maybe twenty arm-spans long and ten arm-spans wide.

  Jassy waved his torch, lighting up the dark places, “Two exits. Now what?”

  “We need the red bird.” The tiny moment of calm was gone as she wondered if they’d ever see the stone bird again. And would he really have known which corridor to take? She fumed at herself for losing him so quickly, the only chance they had of a navigator in this land.

  Jassy left her standing in the middle of the room and poked his head into each opening and smelled. He turned back and shrugged, “Which way?”

  Grimacing, Laurel said, “Left. Last time the left fork was correct.”

  “As good a guess as any.”

  They ducked through the low doorway into the passage and found that it plunged deeper into the rock. Again, they held hands, helping each other balance. But the passage quickly narrowed, forcing them to go single file. Jassy led, his hissing torch creating a dim pool of light that overlapped the gleam from Laurel’s torch. The steep slope jammed Laurel’s toes into the end of her boot and made her calves ache.

  Eventually, the passage leveled and opened up. Then it dropped off five feet to a lower level.

  “I’ll go first,” Jassy said. He handed his torch to Laurel, turned and edged over the drop-off, landing on his feet. Carefully, Laurel dropped down Jassy’s torch and he caught it. But she didn’t notice him stoop to set down the torch until she was already dropping hers. It fell in the dirt and before he could ca
tch it back up, the cloud of dust extinguished the flames.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll relight it after you get down,” Jassy said. He picked up his torch again and held it high for Laurel to see better.

  Behind him, Laurel saw a great chasm that stretched away into darkness.

  In the dim light, she saw a bridge, a stone arch over the chasm, something they could easily cross over.

  Jassy had said nothing about a chasm or a bridge; they must be illusions. She gritted her teeth, turned and grabbed the edge of the rock and dropped her legs over the edge. She searched for a toehold, but finally had to just drop. She landed with a thud and sat abruptly.

  Jassy leaned over. “Are you–”

  His hand had coarse black hair and claws!

  Laurel sprang up, and as she did, her head knocked Jassy’s arm. Jassy’s torch flew away and they spun around to watch it fall and fall and fall and fall, until it was just a bright spark, and still it fell until, finally, it disappeared.

  Inky blackness engulfed them.

  Laurel fell to her knees and clutched a handful of dirt in frustration. The chasm was real! And deep.

  “Jassy!” She panicked–

  “Here.” He touched her head.

  “Oh, I was afraid you–” With effort, she drew deep breaths and calmed herself. “What now?”

  “Your torch. We’ll find it and relight it with my flint box.”

  “I’m not moving.” The dark was too complete to even think about moving.

  “Fine, I will lie down and stretch out and feel around for your torch. You just hold my feet, so I don’t lose you in the dark.”

  “Hurry.”

  Laurel shivered, her fear growing: fear of the dark, fear of the Hallvard, fear of the Troll’s Eye curse. They had to hurry. Or she wouldn’t make it. She held onto Jassy’s boots while he stretched flat out and groped around for her torch.

  “Can’t find it.” Jassy’s voice was strained, too.

  Laurel bit her lip. She didn’t want Jassy to move away from her touch. “I’ll scoot along the wall we just came down. Then you can try again.”

  Still shivering, she pushed her back against the rough wall and slid right about two feet and held onto his boots. Again, Jassy stretched forward, patting about, searching for the torch and raising dust.

  Laurel sneezed. Miserable, she closed her eyes and opened them–no difference, just black, a void. She took one hand away from his boot and jammed that fist into her eye until stars swam before her, a welcome sight. But the stars weren’t real. She wondered: How many years did it take a skeleton to turn to dust?

  “Go right a couple more feet.”

  Laurel obeyed, and Jassy stretched away from her, patting the dirt.

  She leaned her head back against the wall and clenched her teeth. “Hurry.”

  “I found it!”

  Laurel exhaled in relief. Funny how dark was darker without the torch. Even unlit, the torch—the possibility of light—made the dark easier to bear.

  Jassy crawled back to Laurel and handed her the torch. He fumbled with his pack until he found his flint box and struck a couple sparks. Finally, a circle of light surrounded them again, chasing away the suffocating darkness.

  Cautiously, they crawled to the edge of the drop off. Laurel’s heart pounded in her ears. “It doesn’t have a bottom. Or a bridge.”

  The chasm was fifty arm-spans across and the bottom was lost beyond the reach of their torchlight. Jassy held up the torch and dropped a rock; they listened for it to hit bottom. Nothing.

  “I saw a bridge over this hole. What happened to it? And why didn’t you see this?”

  “I was concentrating on getting down. And you really saw a bridge?”

  “Now I’m seeing things that aren’t there. What next?”

  “Blast it! I don’t know.” Then, softer, “I don’t know.”

  “–don’t know–” echoed the cave.

  This time, Laurel threw a fistful of dirt into the chasm. She wanted to scream and rage, hit and cry.

  “I don’t know,” Jassy repeated and gently touched her shoulder.

  Turning, there he was, and he folded her in a one-armed embrace. He was a warm body in this cold place, and it comforted her to have another human with her.

  Quickly, though, Jassy moved away. “We’ve lost time.”

  “Yes.” Laurel rose and went back to the five-foot wall and climbed. Jassy handed up the torch, and then climbed up himself. They trudged back up the steep passage to the small chamber and into the right-hand passage.

  It was a level and straight corridor this time, widening steadily as they plodded along.

  Laurel needed reassurance. “Jassy, we will build the cathedral tower, won’t we?”

  “We’ll build.”

  “And Father will live to see it built?”

  “He will.”

  Jassy’s promise was enough, for now, Laurel thought.

  The roof rose steadily above them now, until it was lost outside the reach of torchlight. They walked as if through the arched corridors of the cathedral, as if this was tutored stone, elegant in its design, organized and deepened by the endless ages of water that carved mountains from the inside out.

  The corridor curved gradually and opened into a large chamber that extended off into the dark.

  Jassy held up his torch and whistled in wonder. “The treasure room!”

  Before them lay heaps of stones: flashing rubies, rich emeralds, brilliant diamonds, and lustrous opals. They weren’t strewn haphazardly, rather were arranged neatly upon stone shelves along the wall. Not in strict order, but with a casualness that gave the room an opulent feel, a room meant for royalty.

  Laurel stepped forward to see better.

  Suddenly, she felt eyes watching her. She whirled to the right. Over her loomed a huge bear with its long yellow claws outstretched.

  She screamed.

  NINETEEN

  IN WHICH THE GIRL AND THE GYPSY FIND THE TREASURE AND MEET THE GUARDIAN

  Jassy shoved Laurel away from the creature, dove under the sharp claws and rolled away. Laurel lay where she fell with eyes squeezed shut, expecting claws to dig into her.

  But nothing happened.

  After a moment, she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Jassy crouched and staring at the creature. She was glad to see that he was still holding the torch.

  Ignoring her, Jassy stood and circled the stone figure that guarded the chamber’s entrance. “It’s sleeping,” he said when he was sure.

  Laurel’s cheeks flushed. “Sleeping,” she said in disgust. It was embarrassing to be so scared of something frozen in stone. She tried to ignore the creature and look around. She dusted her skirts, sighed and let curiosity pull her to Jassy’s side, where they both stared at the Hallvard. He was bear-like, but too massive to be a real bear. Over ten feet tall, the sculpture was perfect in every detail, even the individual hairs on his pelt were perfectly done.

  “He looks so real,” she whispered. Then wondered why she had whispered, since stone sculptures couldn’t hear.

  “He is real,” Jassy said. “He just can’t move at night, remember?”

  This close, she heard the creature breathing: in, out, in, out. And his hateful yellow eyes followed her movements, she was sure of it.

  She darted back to Jassy and hid behind him. “He’s looking at me.”

  Startled, Jassy turned and stared at her face. “What do you mean?”

  The Hallvard’s yellow eyes must be some kind of strange jewel, she thought.

  When she didn’t answer, Jassy said, “He can’t move till dawn. Let’s fill our bags and leave.” He waved at a large brass scale near the door. Beside it was a jumbled stack of bags. It took Jassy a few minutes to sort out the sacks and choose the smallest of the brass weights, the one Master Gimpel had called a Troll’s Weight. “Here.” Jassy handed Laurel a small canvas sack. “Fill this with whatever jewels you want and then we’ll weigh it.”

  L
aurel turned to look at the jewels, but blinked. The mounds of jewels were only heaps of pebbles and rubbish. She stumbled forward, uncertain, “Where did the jewels go?”

  Jassy was already holding several brown pebbles. Without looking up, he snapped, “What now?”

  She watched him pick up several more pebbles, roll them around, heft them, smell them, taste them.

  Then, he looked up with a look of pure joy. “Look at all this! Such treasure!”

  Disgusted, Laurel tossed him her bag. “Here, fill mine, too.”

  “Really? OK.”

  It wasn’t fair, she thought crossly. He’s having all the fun and all I get are pebbles.

  Something tugged at the edge of her vision. There. By the wall.

  What was it?

  Laurel tiptoed around heaps of rubble toward the far wall. Jassy was so involved in his worthless jewels that he wouldn’t notice if she wandered around.

  Something along the wall gleamed red. She bent and picked it up. A ruby! She caressed the oval stone, and admired how it fit so comfortably in her small hand, as if it had been made just for her. It was her gemstone, her ruby.

  She put it to her eye and the familiar winking door opened. It was a Troll’s Eye.

  Turning slowly, she studied the treasure chamber through the lens of the Troll’s Eye: it was full of jewels. Glittering. Enticing.

  She took the Troll’s Eye away from her eyes. Just worthless pebbles again.

  Oh, what was happening to her? What was real? She thought it was a good sign that she could still ask this question. But that didn’t help her know what was real and what was an illusion. She couldn’t trust her senses any longer. There was a reality, something was there, but her ability to see and hear and touch and smell that reality was gone; the curse of the Troll’s Eye was real. Instead, she had to believe that the reality was there despite herself. And how long could she believe in what she couldn’t see? Laurel closed her fist tightly over the ruby jewel.

  Suddenly, the cave rumbled ominously. Startled, Laurel turned back to the cave wall, but it was moving, slipping. A great jumble of loose rocks, stones and boulders stretched away toward the ceiling somewhere above–she had forgotten how high the ceiling was–and those rocks were sliding toward her.