Umberland

by Wendy Spinale

  “Well, that was certainly awkward,” Maddox says.

  “Let’s go before more gryphons arrive,” I say.

  We travel for nearly ten minutes. Ahead of us, the forest appears to continue on; however, I run into a solid structure. When I put my hand out, it is met by a wall with trees painted on it. I follow its length with my hands. Maddox does the same in the opposite direction.

  “Alyssa! Over here!” Maddox calls.

  I make my way over to Maddox, climbing over dry logs and through thick brush. Ropes hang from a pulley several meters above and attach to a large basket. “Looks like we’re going up,” I say, climbing inside the basket.

  Maddox hesitates.

  “What’s wrong? Aren’t you coming?” I ask.

  Nodding uneasily, he starts to climb in but retreats again.

  Confused, I watch him as he takes in the expanse of the wall.

  “Is the brave and mighty Maddox Hadder terrified of heights?” I tease.

  “Yes, and spiders, which are everywhere in the Poison Garden, but mostly heights,” Maddox says, peering at the top of the wall.

  “You’re kidding me. Would you just get in here? I promise it won’t be that bad,” I say, holding a hand out to help him in.

  “Wishful thinking,” he grumbles under his breath. Reluctantly, he throws a leg over the edge and settles into the basket.

  “You take that side, and I’ll take the other.” We spin the handles of the large wheels on either side, letting the mechanism guide the ropes through its braking system. The basket lifts only a little at first, but then we rise several meters off the ground.

  We continue to spin the handles. Although Maddox is clearly nervous, his hands shaking with every turn, his sights are set on the top of the wall. Something snaps loudly and the basket drops a few meters, listing to the left. Maddox nearly falls over the side, but I reach for the back of his jacket with one hand, my other holding desperately on to the lip of the basket. The lift swings lopsided over the forest floor. Maddox squeezes his eyes shut and clings to the side.

  “This is a prime example of why one should keep his or her feet firmly placed on the ground at all times,” Maddox says.

  Above, the rusted brackets holding the pulley in place have bent, skewed at an awkward angle.

  “Trade sides with me,” I say.

  “Gladly,” Maddox says, taking over my position in the basket. It shudders as we switch, but fortunately, we fall no farther.

  The wheel on this side is nothing more than springs, washers, and other metal parts. The rope hangs loosely within the wheel of the pulley. I grip the rope and wrench it, lifting my side of the basket.

  “If we get out of this alive, remind me to refrain from going on any further adventures with you,” Maddox says.

  Between the two of us we manage to lift the basket up the wall. We finally reach the top of the hedge wall and tie the ropes onto two hooks. Maddox climbs out first and helps me from the basket. When we are safely out, Maddox lies down and throws an arm over his eyes.

  Standing, I take in the view of catwalks before us. It is absolutely stunning from this high up. The early morning sun shines down on the brightly colored treetops. Their leaves are a blur of reds, oranges, and golds, and beyond them are the brilliant azure waters of the lake we encountered. A large tree marks the center of the maze, shimmering in the daylight. I’m certain it is the pwazon pòm tree that we seek. From where I stand, the catwalk on this section of the Labyrinth looks like an elaborate maze: starting and ending in various places.

  “The bad news is that we are not there yet,” I say.

  “And the good news?” Maddox mumbles, his arm still thrown over his face.

  “If we can figure out which of these catwalks will get us closer to that tree, we might have the apple by sundown. Assuming we don’t meet any other creatures or deadly obstacles up here,” I say.

  “That is the best news I’ve heard in a long while,” Maddox says, finally standing.

  The catwalk rumbles beneath our feet, and I hold on to the copper railings. The walls of the Labyrinth move, creating new walkways and paths to follow. The eastern path shifts, and within seconds, new pathways merge together.

  “This isn’t so bad. At least this way we can see which way we need to go,” Maddox says.

  “Yeah, but nothing here is as simple as it seems,” I retort.

  Loud clanks echo throughout the Labyrinth as we make our way along the shifting catwalks. Suddenly, a horn blares so loud that I have to cover my ears. Nearby, something rises from beneath the floor. At first all I see are spikes, but as it surfaces, I realize it is a human-size ball with sharp barbs affixed to its surface, poking in every direction. It reminds me of the vicious ball at the end of a mace. More metallic clangs reverberate around us. Dozens of similar spiked balls rise throughout the catwalk.

  The walkway shakes beneath our feet, making it nearly impossible to stand. The nearest weaponized sphere wobbles and rolls off its stand, straight toward us.

  “Time to go,” Maddox says, pushing me to a perpendicular walkway. We don’t get far before another sphere rolls in our direction, the tips of each spike glinting in the sunlight.

  We dash down walkways, running into dead ends, backtracking to others, and struggling to stand straight as the walls shift beneath our feet. I step out onto an adjoining catwalk but am yanked back by Maddox as a spiked sphere nearly skewers me. Some of the orbs pick up their speed as they spin through the loops, giving them momentum as they swing out the other side.

  It seems no matter what direction we turn, we find ourselves either farther away from the Labyrinth’s center, or in the path of the maze’s weapons. I take Maddox by the hand, noticing a walkway that appears to be empty and leads straight to the west of where the apple tree stands. We sprint, our boots pounding on the metal grates beneath our feet.

  “We’re almost there!” I say, breathless. “Just one more corridor.”

  As if on cue, a hatch opens beneath our feet, and we fall down a shaft that appears to hold the inner mechanisms of the rotating walls. We are surrounded by machinery that blurs in the gas lamplight as we descend quickly. I can hardly catch my breath, much less scream. Panic settles over me as I wonder what lies at the bottom: something to catch us or kill us. I shiver, thinking what that might feel like.

  Finally, something shimmers beneath us. Maddox and I hit a silky parachute-like material at the same time. It pulls from the wall, but we hit another and another. With each one, our descent slows. Maddox turns his head toward me, fear washing away, replaced by awe. He smiles brilliantly as the fabric billows above us. I smile back, grateful not only for not being splattered like a broken egg on concrete, but also for Maddox’s company. Exhilaration replaces the terror I felt only seconds ago. I throw my hands out in front of me, enjoying the fall.

  “Wahoo!” I yell, my cheeks hurting because of how hard I’m smiling.

  Maddox shakes his head and laughs.

  Our speed slows down to a crawl. When we finally hit the bottom of the shaft, the jolt tosses me and I find myself on top of Maddox, my arms pinning either side of him.

  “You may very well be the craziest person I have ever laid my eyes on,” Maddox says, resting his hand on my cheek.

  “It takes one to know one,” I say.

  Our lips are so close, too close. It’s the first time I’ve noticed that he smells of cream and sugar. Of course the host of the grand Poison Garden Tea Party would smell of ingredients to add to tea. Leaning in, I close my eyes. Just as my lips graze his, voices interrupt our fleeting intimate moment.

  “Well, who do you think it is?” a female voice says.

  “I don’t care. Probably that darn dodo bird playing pranks on us again. Do you know how long it’s going to take me to reattach those chutes?” another voice says, only this time its male.

  Something paws at our shelter of nylon. Maddox pulls me close, his arms wrapping around me protectively.

  “
Chip, you’re always complaining. What if it’s something good this time?” the first voice asks. “We haven’t had a decent catch in weeks!”

  Maddox and I shield our faces as the material covering us opens up. The bright sunlight shines down in our faces, obscuring the face hovering above us.

  “What do we have here?” the female voice says. Blinking, I see two metal hands spread open the rest of the material. A kind face made completely of brass clock parts peers down at me. Rust colors her lips red, and long black wires serve as her eyebrows and lashes.

  “Oh my!” she says, cocking her head to the side. “It’s okay, dears. Don’t be frightened. We won’t hurt you.”

  Her head spins wildly and when it stops, another face scowls at me. The same black wires are affixed to this face as well, only it appears to be a beard and mustache. The machine holds up his metal arm and a barrel lifts from a hidden compartment.

  “Chirp, step away!” shouts Chip, aiming a red light in between my eyes. “We don’t know who they are or where they’ve been.”

  Again, the machine’s head spins, this time stopping on the female face. The barrel disappears back into her arm.

  “Nonsense, Chip, they’re just wee children,” she says, offering her hand. “Come, come, you two. You must be terrified.”

  Chip moans from the back side of her head. “Heaven help us,” he grumbles under his breath.

  I don’t have a chance to respond before the machine is shaking my hand vigorously.

  “I’m Chirp, and that grumpy old thing on the back of my head is Chip,” Chirp says.

  “I’m Alyssa,” I say. “This is Maddox.”

  Maddox bows his head.

  “Such a pleasure to meet you,” Chirp says.

  “At least for one of us,” Chip groans.

  “Oh, shush!” Chirp says. “What brings you here?”

  Maddox straightens his coat, brushing out the wrinkles. “We’re looking for the pwazon pòm tree.”

  Chirp’s eyes grow. “Oh, no, no, no, my dearies. No one should enter the orchard. It is much too dangerous. Why, you’ll end up like the rest of the challengers that have come here. Nothing left but your inner parts exposed and your outer parts melted away like thin pieces of aluminum.”

  Reaching for his top hat in the pile of fabric, Maddox guffaws. “Giant blades, shifting walls, human croquet, memory-wiping forest, and spiked spheres … I’m sure there is nothing in or near that tree that can be any worse than what we’ve experienced.”

  Chip’s face spins toward us, smiling widely. “You hear that, my love? Who are we to deny them entrance? Let the strangers continue on their journey.”

  As if not of his own will, Chip’s hand smacks himself hard in the forehead with a loud clang.

  “Blast! What’d you do that for?” Chip whines.

  Chirp’s face spins back. “Chip, I’ll have none of that barbecuing the Labyrinth guests. It leaves such a wretched smell.” This time she turns a key in her neck, locking her head in place. “That’s much better now. I think our visitors have had enough of the likes of you.”

  “I hate when she does that,” Chip murmurs. “Do you know what sharing a body with a feisty woman is like?”

  “Ignore him. Come with me, my dears. Perhaps we ought to talk about this over a warm cup of oil,” Chirp says, leading the way out of the shaft.

  Maddox’s brows draw together. “I don’t suppose you have tea, do you?”

  I elbow him in the ribs. “Don’t be rude,” I whisper.

  He sticks out his tongue and gives me a disgusted look. “Maybe just some hot water with lemon and honey?” he asks hopefully.

  As Chirp leads the way, Chip glowers at us from the back of her head. Leaving the shaft, we end up in a flourishing plot of land. In the middle is a building that looks like a large steel-and-brass furnace. Steam lifts into the sky from a copper pipe on the roof. Grated windows glow red. A fire dances just below the doors of an open basement that looks like a kiln. An overflowing pile of coal sits nearby.

  “What a lovely home you have,” I say, a weak attempt to be polite.

  Chirp’s bronze cheeks redden. “Why, thank you!”

  “Yes, Chirp’s very particular about our home. Sometimes even to a point that it’s a pain in my—” Chip starts, but Chirp smacks the back of her head.

  “Knock it off, you!” Chirp says.

  “—brass,” Chip moans.

  “Follow me,” Chirp says, seeming flustered, her hands flitting about.

  “Do you think she intends to cook us?” Maddox teases, gesturing toward the glowing red embers flickering within the basement.

  The rusty hinges wail as Chirp opens the caged front door of her house. “Please, come on in. Make yourself at home.”

  As the sun rises on the horizon, the Lost Boys take up posts in the towers that surround the inner and outer baileys, each armed with slingshots, pistols, and bows. Peering out the window from the duchess’s sleeping quarters, I watch the refugees below prepare a battering ram in front of the castle doors.

  “What do you think they’ll do if they get through?” Gwen asks, joining me.

  Although I’d asked her to protect those that arrived from the infirmary, she refused, claiming that Lily and Bella were enough protection for them. I try not to read too much into it. By instinct, I reach for her hand, but stop, reminding myself that she ended things with us. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I settle my hands onto the hilts of my knives.

  “It’s going to be a bloodbath if they do,” I say.

  “I wish Alyssa were here,” Gwen says. “I hope she’s okay.”

  “I don’t know that there would be much that she could do either,” I say.

  Gwen faces me. “Pete, let’s just give Katt access to the castle. No one has to die. We can hide my mother’s research.”

  Standing this close to Gwen and knowing I can’t touch her strangles the breath from me. “And then what? When she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, do you think she’ll just walk away? She’ll take us out one by one, use us against one another in order to get information. We’ll die anyway. We have to stand our ground.”

  Pressing her lips together, she shifts her weight to one side. “Then let’s get out of here. Evacuate the castle. We’ll take the Jolly Roger and just go somewhere else.”

  “Where, Gwen? Where in the bloody world are we going to hide?” I say, frustrated. Hook’s zeppelin might still fly, but there’s no way she’s big enough for all of us. “There’s too many of us. Between the sick, the Lost Boys, the Queen, and the duchess’s staff, do you really believe we’ll all be able to make it to the ship before Katt catches on to what we’re doing?”

  Gwen casts her gaze over the growing number of refugees gathering around the castle. While I want so badly to hold her, I also feel anger flickering at the edges of my heart. I can’t understand how she can so easily give up on what we had together.

  “We’re out of options. We have to fight or die trying,” I say, shoving all the emotions deep down.

  “To die will be an awfully big adventure?” she asks sadly. It’s the very thing I said to her the last time I was sure I’d never see her again. Now she stands with me and we’re facing death a second time in just a few short months, only so much has changed between us. If I’m going to survive this, I have to protect myself. Brick by brick, I try to build a wall around my heart. Ironically, I know Gwen is doing the same.

  As if reading my mind, Gwen takes my hand in hers and squeezes. Confused, I stare at our hands. “Pete, I can’t take much more loss.” And again, my hope sinks. She gazes down at the crowd before turning her eyes back to me. “But if this is our last day, I want to spend every moment by your side.”

  I pull my hand from hers and step back. “Gwen, you either want us, or you don’t. I want you by my side always. But if you don’t …” It kills me to say the next words, but I make myself anyway, no matter how bitter they are. “Then you’re right: It’s over. Either wa
y, get off the fence and decide, because my heart can’t take losing you.”

  Before Gwen can respond, Katt yells from below.

  “Aw, well, isn’t that just sweet. I’ve caused a lovers’ quarrel,” Katt hollers. She is dressed all in white with a laced-up corset, a holster riding low on her hips with a matching pair of pretty pistols, and a flowing skirt trailing behind her. Her long hair is pulled up in a twist and held in place with what looks like a knife. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was the bride at a deranged wedding. “Last chance, Lost Boy! Step down as leader and hand over Professor Darling’s research.”

  “Katt, you look lovely. What’s the occasion?” I say flir-tatiously.

  “Your funeral if you don’t give me what I want,” she says, bitterness cutting through her words.

  “Seems awfully early to be planning funerals, especially mine, since I have no intention of dying today,” I say.

  Katt narrows her eyes, clearly not amused. “Hand over the research or face the consequences.”

  “Northumberland is under my rule, and I won’t bend to your threats,” I say with conviction.

  Katt flashes me a sultry smile. “As you wish. The blood that spills is on your hands, Lost Boy.” She whirls around, her snowy-white skirt flowing behind her. “People of Umberland, you have suffered enough under the reign of my sister and Duchess Alyssa. They have both failed you. The Queen is ill, unable to protect you. Duchess Alyssa has abandoned you, leaving outsiders in charge. Will you stand for that any longer? Will you continue to lie down and die while they withhold the information vital to the cure?”

  The crowd roars in support. A scrawny boy approaches Katt, kneels, and lifts an elaborate crown to her. Katt places it on top of her head. Spikes rise from the black wire base, adorned with jewels. A diamond is embedded in the center of the band.

  “Long live the White Queen!” a voice cries. The crowd thunders its approval.