Roveeka held the flakes to her nose, then stuck out her tongue and licked them.
“Eww,” Odette said. “Why would you do that?”
“They’re halite crystals,” Roveeka said with a grin. “We grind them up in the dungeon to get salt.”
“The animal must have stepped in salt and brought it here on its hooves,” Pryvyd said.
“Or,” Roveeka proposed, “the animal could be completely made of salt and it just leaves a path of halite crystals wherever it goes.”
“I think my version is a lot more likely,” Pryvyd said.
“I disagree,” Roveeka said. “On account of … behind you.”
Wily and Pryvyd both turned around at the same time. Before them stood a pig as big as a wolf, with a white crystal face and a set of translucent tusks. Its thick stone legs were kicking the sand angrily, sending flakes of salt into a cloud behind it. The strange creature looked like it was preparing to charge.
Righteous was the first to act. It flew forward with sword in hand. The salt boar swung its tusks to parry the blade—and as soon as contact was made, Righteous’s sword turned to rust and crumbled. The boar lunged forward and snapped down on the armor plating surrounding Righteous’s hand. Then it began to mash the bronze armor in his teeth and chew it like a cracker.
“That’s my arm you got in your mouth, pig,” Pryvyd said, grabbing Righteous by the hand and tugging it free. Angry at the interruption of a promising meal, the salt boar turned its attention toward the knight, eyeing his shiny breastplate as its mouth watered. “Oh, no you don’t.”
Pryvyd grabbed his armor and tossed it away before the boar could nosh on it. This enraged the crystal beast, which let out a bellow. The trees echoed the boar’s scream, with the sound seeming to travel miles down the beach and deep into the jungle. Then the salt boar charged at Pryvyd, brandishing its crystal tusks. Pryvyd blocked the attack with his spiked shield, but just as the sword had, the shield shattered upon impact with the strange creature. The boar let out another cry as it kicked up more salt.
“Get away,” Odette screamed as the boar jabbed its tusks toward Pryvyd.
The Knight of the Golden Sun tumbled backward and was nearly impaled, but Moshul grabbed the boar in his moss-covered hands, lifting it off the ground. The boar flailed, trying to pierce the golem, but it only managed to shave vines from his chest. Once Moshul got a good grip, he spun the boar in circles overhead before tossing the crystal creature into the ocean. The salt boar sank below the surface, disappearing into the waves.
“Do you think it will come back?” Roveeka asked as she stared out at the ocean.
“Unfortunately,” Wily said. “I don’t think a little water is going to keep it away for very long.”
“Worse still,” Odette said, “I fear more may be on the way.”
“Do you think you could quell them?” Roveeka asked Wily. “You’re amazing with monsters.”
“That creature seems more rock than animal,” Wily said. “I think my beast-training skills won’t be helpful.”
Righteous, who was hovering nearby, looked very alarmed. The armor that had once encased the arm became brittle and fell to the ground like metallic snow, revealing Righteous’s true form beneath. Wily realized he had never seen the transparent ghostly appendage without its protective shell before. Despite loving Righteous dearly, Wily found its new appearance a little creepy. The arm looked sad and defeated.
“The salt from the boar sped up the rusting,” Pryvyd said, looking over at Righteous. “But it would have happened with or without the boar.”
“It’s true,” Wily said. “Even the buckles on my trapsmith belt are beginning to crumble.”
“Oris Rock is looking pretty good right now,” Pryvyd said. “With or without a storm. It would be better than here.”
“I’m never swimming again,” Wily said. “Or at least not today.”
“Then what do you propose we do?” Odette asked.
“We make camp and use some carefully constructed traps to keep the boars out,” Wily said. “It’s building time.”
“But everything made of metal is falling apart,” Odette said. “What kind of traps can you possibly make without metal?”
“We can make drop pits with wooden spikes and cover them with leaves,” Wily said. “It won’t be fancy, but it can keep us safe.”
“Drop pits with spikes?” Roveeka asked. “I don’t want to hurt the pigs … even if they are kind of mean.”
“If we point the spikes downward along the inside walls of the trap,” Wily explained, “no animal will get hurt. Including us. But it will keep them contained for a while.”
Wily’s mind switched into trapsmith mode. His eyes darted around the beach, composing a plan.
“We can’t make camp here,” Wily said. “We need to find a spot in the jungle where the ground is more solid.”
Everyone except for Wily eyed the line of screaming trees with caution. He knew there was little time.
“We need to act now,” Wily said. “Before a whole herd of salt boars shows up.”
Together, the group hurried off the sand and through the chorus of moaning palms. Wily was looking for something very specific: an unoccupied patch of earth a good ten feet away from trees in every direction. After a few minutes of running, Wily found a spot that would have to do.
“Here,” Wily pointed to the center of the ring of trees. “Put all our stuff in the center. Moshul, I need you to dig a trench in the dirt that looks just like this.” Wily used a stick to form a large circle around the center spot, then a second, smaller circle inside it. “It needs to be this wide, and as deep as Pryvyd is tall.” Moshul nodded and set to work digging, his large moss fingers pushing into the thick, heavy earth. The moss golem’s fingers dug off the top layer of soil and salt. Right beneath, Wily saw a dense network of roots.
Moshul signed as Odette translated. “This will make digging a little tougher. The trees have adapted to the island. Their roots go deep into the ground to find fresh water. I will have to pull them out too.”
“Do what you have to,” Wily shouted, raising his voice over the sound of the screaming trees. “I need the rest of you to collect reeds, leaves, and branches. We have to cover the trench as best we can.”
Wily and Roveeka split off in one direction, scanning the ground for palm leaves. They were surprisingly hard to find. It seemed as if these trees held on to their pale green leaves more than a typical bush or plant did.
“I haven’t found any but this one,” Roveeka said, holding up a shriveled brown leaf in her hand. “I guess we could try pulling them off.” As she uttered the words, a nearby palm began to wail loudly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“Look, I found a whole bunch of sticks under here.” Wily pointed to a large fallen limb. “And some leaves too.”
“Hopefully,” Roveeka said, “Pryvyd and Odette found more than we did.”
Wily and Roveeka ran back toward the camp with their meager find. When they got back, they discovered that Moshul, despite the dense mesh of roots, was a much faster digger than they were leaf finders. Three quarters of the trench was already complete, and judging by the speed with which Moshul was working, Wily was certain it wouldn’t take him too much longer.
“We’ve got plenty of leaves,” Pryvyd said as he came back with an armload. Odette was close behind.
“It wasn’t pleasant,” Odette said. “We had to do a bit of delicate climbing and plucking to get all these. You think hearing those trees scream on the beach was bad. Try cutting leaves off their branches. I can barely hear myself think. Plus, I have some pretty nasty scrapes from those needles.”
Moshul finished digging out the trench, which was now a full ring around the plot of earth in the middle. Wily and the others snapped branches, making them into wooden spikes that Moshul then lined the inside wall of the trench with. Once finished, the moss golem climbed out.
“Cover the drop pit with leaves and twigs,” W
ily instructed the others. Once they were finished, it was impossible to see any evidence of the trap hidden below (with the exception of the large amount of leaves in one area). Moshul and Pryvyd placed a log across the gap to allow the group to move to the center island. Once they were safely together in the small circle of earth, Pryvyd and Moshul pulled the log over to their side.
It was close quarters in their makeshift camp. The group was practically shoulder to shoulder. Wily wished he had suggested making the circle in the center of the trap larger. It wouldn’t have taken that much more effort on Moshul’s part, and it would have been a whole lot roomier.
“I think we should have made this little island a little less little,” Odette said as she tried to stretch out her legs without hitting anybody else.
“Really? I like it,” Roveeka said. “It feels like we’re a family this way. Hobgoblets sleep in big piles on the ground.”
“I’m wet and tired and I really don’t want anybody’s elbow in my face,” Odette said as she nudged Righteous, who was hovering just over her head. “Float a little higher, will you?”
The long day had taken a toll on the perky morning elf. Then again, the long day had taken a toll on Wily too. He had thought he was so clever, getting Thrush to take them on the Coal Fox, and now here they were, stranded on a deserted island, without a chance of catching up to his father and Stalag.
I made another mistake. How could I be so foolish? He felt like crying, but his eyes were so dry he couldn’t even squeeze out a single tear.
Wily wiggled about, trying to make himself comfortable, with little success.
“We’re going to be okay,” Roveeka said quietly in his ear. “Right?”
Wily turned and gave a weak smile back. As he did, he could feel his body trembling. At first, he was confused. He wasn’t cold or even nervous. Why was he shaking? He quickly realized that Roveeka was shaking too. In fact, everything was vibrating. Then he heard the noise: a low rumbling like that of a crab dragon trying to dig its way through a stone wall.
“I think the salt boars are coming,” Pryvyd said as the rumbling grew louder.
The sound of storming feet was joined by the wailing of screaming palms. It was only moments later when the stampede of salt boars, with tusks pointy and snouts huffing, came blasting out of the jungle. They were heading straight for Wily and his friends. Wily had a moment of sudden panic that these animals might be capable of jumping farther than he’d anticipated. If that was the case, they would all be poked like pincushions.
Luckily, the trap he had devised functioned exactly as intended: the lead boar’s halite hooves made contact with the fake floor of leaves and twigs, and the branches snapped and gave way to the pit beneath. The surprised animal dropped inside. The boars behind it were moving too fast to stop before reaching the edge of the trap. Like a waterfall of fur and crystal, the mass of boars went tumbling, one after the next, into the hole.
Wily looked down at the snorting, angry mass of wild animals thrashing below them. The few boars that had managed to slow themselves before falling into the pit paced anxiously around the circle looking for some way to reach Wily and his companions. Some of the boars in the pit tried to climb over the others to reach the adventurers, but the spikes that had been placed around the center prevented it. Soon the boars grew frustrated and realized they had been bested. They scrambled back up the outside wall of the trench, scurried past the still-wailing trees, and disappeared into the jungle.
“We did it,” Roveeka said with a big smile.
“But now what?” Odette asked. “We spend the rest of our lives trapped here?”
“When dawn arrives,” Pryvyd said, “we’ll start building a raft. We’re going to get off this island and stop Kestrel. I promise you that. But for now, in the dark, all we can do is rest.”
“Which is hard to do,” Wily said, “knowing that my father has not only escaped the prisonaut but is now with Stalag searching for the Eversteel Forge.”
Righteous was squeezing its fist in anger, ready to take on Kestrel and Stalag all on its own.
“I’m angry too,” Pryvyd said.
Roveeka nestled up next to Moshul and then turned to her brother. “There’s room for you here too, Wily.” Wily crawled beside her and got himself comfortable, resting his head on Moshul’s cool, mossy body. The soft vegetation reminded Wily of his pillow back in the royal palace, his home that seemed so very far away right now.
* * *
WILY WOKE UP alone. His friends were nowhere to be seen. The log had been laid down across the trench that Moshul had dug. He could feel his throat was dry again like part of a sandy beach where the waves never reach.
“Odette? Pryvyd?” Wily called out. He walked across the log to the other side, carefully making sure that there were no boars hiding among the trees. “Roveeka?”
Wily saw footprints on the ground that led in the direction of the beach. He followed them as he tried to wet his lips, which felt like potato crisps. The morning sun was creeping over the horizon, casting the clouds in a pink-and-orange light. The water lapped calmly against the shore as a salty mist drifted through the reeds.
Not far from him, through the fog, Wily saw Righteous hovering beside Pryvyd, whose back was to him. He was dressed in his golden armor, as polished and shiny as it always was. But as Wily got closer, he could sense that there was something not quite right about him.
“Pryvyd,” Wily called out, “where is everyone else?”
The figure turned around—but it was not Pryvyd. Inside the armor was Stalag, Wily’s arch nemesis, his pale frame encased within the gold and metal. The evil cavern mage’s eyes quivered with menace.
“They are all gone, you foolish boy,” Stalag cackled. “Your mistake has led everyone to their doom. You will remain on this island until you are an old man, frail and weak and alone.”
“No!” Wily screamed. “I’m not giving up. I will find a way off here.”
“There is no second chance for you this time,” Stalag said.
As he was speaking, the cavern mage’s skin started to peel away from his flesh, and as Stalag smiled, hundreds of spiders began crawling out from the cracks in his golden armor. The hairy arachnids raced across the beach toward Wily, whose feet were now buried ankle-deep in the salt. Wily struggled, but before he could break free, the spiders were crawling all over him. He looked down to see one large black widow poke its sharp fangs into his arm.
As it bit down, Wily was snapped awake from his dream by his arm actually being poked.
It was dawn and all his friends were still gathered on the little island in the center of the trench Moshul had dug. Odette was next to him, her finger lightly jabbing his elbow.
“You were having a bad dream,” she said.
“It felt so real,” Wily replied.
“That’s not the only reason I woke you, though,” she added as she pointed above the trees. “Look.”
Wily followed her line of sight out into the distance. A plume of white smoke was rising into the air.
“That’s smoke from a campfire,” Odette said. “We’re not the only people on this island.”
8
WHERE THERE’S SMOKE
“We should leave right now,” Pryvyd said, staring out at the trail of white rising through the palms in the distance, “before whoever has lit the fire moves to a different spot.”
“What if the salt boars attack us during our travels?” Odette translated for Moshul.
“It’s a risk we will have to take.”
Moshul laid down the log across the trench and the group departed their small island of safety for whatever dangers were lurking in the woods. To Wily’s relief the screaming trees did not stretch deep into the jungle. Once they passed the last one, the jungle became quiet. At least, quiet for a short stretch. Soon Odette began whistling to herself.
“That’s your happy whistle,” Wily said to Odette. “Do you know something that we don’t?”
&nb
sp; “Huh,” Odette replied. “I didn’t even realize that I was whistling. Guess I’m just glad to be away from the salt boars.”
Wily had his doubts about that. He wondered what pleasant thoughts were actually going through her mind. He watched her do a cartwheel into a handspring.
“Can you still see the smoke in the distance?” Odette asked Roveeka, who from her seat on Moshul had the best view through the trees.
“Yes,” Roveeka said. “We are heading straight for it.”
CLANK. Wily turned to see a large portion of Pryvyd’s armor lying on the ground in broken pieces.
“Not much of my armor left now,” Pryvyd said, trying to hold the remaining chest plate against his body. It snapped in half and crumbled to the ground, exposing the white cotton undershirt beneath. “What kind of knight will I be without armor?”
“The same as you are with,” Roveeka said. “A great one. Except I’d stay out of battles. Especially ones where the other side has swords or arrows.”
“My necklace crumbled to dust a while ago,” Odette said. “Everything made of metal is disintegrating. Which is pretty fascinating.”
Looking down at his tool belt, Wily could see that all his metallic tools had rusted over. He pulled out a flea wrench, used to turn the smallest bolts, and tapped the tip with his pinky. At once the wrench’s metal prongs disintegrated, crumbling into red dust that drifted to the ground as a cloud of powder.
Wily turned to Roveeka, who was standing at his side in a sad slouch. Wily knew this was unusual for his hobgoblet sister.
“What’s wrong?” Wily asked.
“It’s Mum and Pops,” she said glumly. “I can’t bear to look.”
Wily knew how important the two knives were to Roveeka, and so it was quite understandable that she was upset by the thought that they were nothing more than rust powder in her pocket sheathes.
“Then don’t look,” Wily said. “I know what they meant to you in the past. But they’re just slivers of metal.”
Snared: Voyage on the Eversteel Sea Page 7
