“Now is for cleaning the hollow,” Sashee said. “We are getting used to the process. The earthquakes have occurred more and more frequently for the last few years.”
Sashee sounded concerned about the quakes. Van was about to ask her about it, when Nid advised, “Let us focus on the good, Sashee. Like, preparing for tonight’s Feast of Departure!”
For the rest of the day, they all helped clean the main cavern. Then Jorie, Brux, and the male gnomes kept disappearing into tunnels and reappearing with round, black circles that resembled flat pieces of coal and long tubes of varying sizes filled with yellow, orange, or red gel.
Van, Paley, and Elmot helped the female gnomes in the kitchen, a designated nook off the main cavern. The room had a counter chiseled from the wall, with a handful of holes carved into the surface and grates over the holes for stovetop cooking. Stone fireplaces had been constructed for baking. Instead of coal for heat or wood for fire, the gnomes used mushroom caps for cooking—the black rocks they had carried in earlier. Van and Paley giggled to see that the stones generated heat after the gnomes poured yak urine over them.
While in the middle of prepping vegetables, spicing the meats, and kneading dough for bread, Jorie popped into the kitchen, bringing more mushroom caps to replenish the ovens.
“They glow different colors when they’re heated,” Van said in an animated voice.
“Yeah, ignore the yak urine part,” Paley jested.
“Ho-boy!” Jorie said passionately. “The lava sticks don’t generate heat! When they’re shaken, the lava inside moves and creates a glow so bright that when they’re stacked in a teepee, it looks like a real fire. They last for hours.”
Van remembered that Jorie’s knowledge base included tribal customs. Their team leader was thrilled to observe the gnome culture firsthand, now that they posed no threat.
“Who knew gnome traditions could be fun?” Paley said.
“What you got in there?” Jorie asked, using her nubby finger to point at a boiling pot.
“Peach and thyme–marinated oilbird.” Elmot peered into the mixture, as he stirred with a long wooden spoon.
When night rolled in, everyone was ready to celebrate.
Before the festivities started, Schydel told Van she wanted to skip the celebration to rest in her nook and asked whether she could take Wiglaf with her to ensure her continued healing. Van agreed, thinking it would keep the little guy away from the stomping feet of innumerable dancing gnomes.
A bonfire made of lava tubes raged in the middle of the cavern. The entire gnome tribe emerged from countless tunnels and crevices to enjoy the feast—even gnome children, who resembled smaller versions of adult gnomes, complete with wispy beginnings of beards on the boys.
Spit-roasts of fuchsia-bellied lizard and snow-striped eel from various fire pits enticed the revelers. Chilled mead flowed from vast kegs, brought inside from their out-scouts above, some of whom joined in the celebration. Female gnomes brought out freshly made genoise bread infused with oakmoss, and pots of stews. Other gnomes played fiddles, fifes, drums, and flutes in synchronized rhythms. Van sampled a little bit of everything. Paley did the same. They tried marinated walnuts and rice, tenderized lime yak stew, and barbecued river crab; all of it was delicious. The team ate like warriors and danced for hours with one another and the gnomes, whom, despite their aberrant appearance, Van had grown to appreciate.
As the night wore on, and the gnome children were tucked snugly in their sleeping nooks, the party quieted down. A core group of gnomes sat in a circle near a small mushroom cap fire with Ildiss, along with Van, Brux, Paley, Jorie, and Elmot. Nid and Sashee lingered there, too, but Hallux only briefly stayed, preferring to tend to his recovering wife.
Ildiss seemed much more down to earth, away from her smoky fire in the nook. Van no longer felt repulsed by Ildiss and grew interested in the old gnome’s wisdom. Ildiss admitted she might have misinterpreted the messages of her spirit ancestors. Because Van had given them a gift that permitted the gnomes to accompany her on her journey, Ildiss now believed Van was an Anchoress destined to face the Plague of Evil, the first stage in the Escalation of Dishora. Their conversation turned to the Coin.
“The Coin has many magnificent properties,” Ildiss said. “But you will do well to remember that all light casts a shadow.”
Jorie leaned forward. “Go on.”
“A good story always starts at the beginning, so there we will begin,” Ildiss said in her raspy voice. “The Coin was formed by the Creator as a protective device for mortals to use when evil rises to destroy the Light. As time moved on, many forgot the Coin’s true purpose. They underestimated the object, forgetting that powerful magic should be used cautiously and with respect. Many learned, tragically, the destructive properties of the Coin.”
Everyone in the circle leaned forward, enthralled by the Seer’s story.
“You see, the Coin’s magical powers are immense,” Ildiss continued. “Having access to that kind of power can easily corrupt even those who cling to the good within themselves. It can corrupt even the Anchoress, if she is not ready to wield it. It is believed that only those born of royal bloodlines are worthy enough to access the power of the Coin without corruption. In theory, royals have all they need, making them strong enough to resist the seductive powers of the Coin. Royals do not lack and are therefore less likely to be corrupted by evil.”
Van shivered, despite the heat of the mushroom cap fire.
Ildiss’s beady eyes narrowed. “In regard to the Great War, some claim Amaryl was too young to wield so powerful a weapon, and thus, the demons rose to our world, causing the Great War to become the Dark War. It is neither here nor there, who used what to defeat the demons. The problem happened afterward, when Amaryl began wearing the Coin on a chain around her neck as a constant reminder of her power as Anchoress Queen. It was the first sign of her destructive obsession with the Coin.”
“Once the Coin is retrieved by the Anchoress,” Nid said, “anyone can possess it and use its inherent magical powers of attracting luck or finding the best path.”
“But misuse will still lead to their downfall, and they won’t be able to connect to its power to create magic without going insane,” Sashee added. “Unless deep in their hearts they feel no sense of lack.”
Ildiss turned her black eyes toward Van. “If you obtain the Coin, you will be challenged by your inner nature and true Self,” she said solemnly. “There is a constant struggle between the good part and bad part within our Selves, constantly pulling us in different directions. Without the strength to cling to your inner Light, your mind will be corrupted by the power of the Coin, and you will lose your way.” Ildiss leaned toward Van to emphasize her next words. “Evil tempts those with greed in their hearts. It is skilled at using trickery to create inner conflict, which results in outer fighting. This gives Darkness the ability to rise. Remember this: If one finds oneself surrounded by Darkness, one must cling to the Light, for therein lies the help of the Creator.”
This was the first time Van had ever stayed at a party after she had stopped having fun. Thankfully, after Ildiss’s warning, the conversation turned to pleasant topics.
When the last embers of the mushroom cap fire had burned down, the gnomes showed Van and her teammates to their guest sleeping nook. The alcove had small hollows carved into the walls, like mock bunk beds, lined with mattresses made of hay. Exhausted and without much chatter, they nestled in.
Within minutes, Van heard the even breathing of sleeping teammates. She lay awake thinking about Ildiss’s story, the vision Amaryl had shown her, Jacynthia’s advice, and the warnings in Manik’s text. She didn’t fully understand the warning about the Coin and how it related to her. There was no way she would want to keep the Coin or wear it around her neck. She also felt confused about why Amaryl would reveal a vision of her affair with Goustav, rather than other parts of her remarkable life. Nothing made any sense.
Eventually, Van slipped into a
disturbed sleep, with nightmares of the earth crumbling beneath her feet. Deeper and deeper she fell, into a dark crevice filled with shadowy, whispering monsters.
CHAPTER FORTY
Day 13: Living World
After eating a hearty, gnome-cooked breakfast of truffle scrambled eggs with apricot and walnut–stuffed hearth bread, team Delta headed into troll territory, stocked with food and gold and accompanied by three gnomes—Sashee, Nid, and Wasubel.
Van wondered why the other gnomes made a big to-do about the great “sacrifice” of their three friends, who had volunteered to leave the comfort of their tribe, as if traveling with humans were a tremendous chore that they would be lucky to survive.
The three gnomes led the Delta team through the tunnels, out of the mountain, and onto rocky, frost-covered terrain, moving surprisingly fast for creatures with stubby legs.
Van sensed tenseness among her teammates, from the subject no one would talk about—Trey.
“We gnomes have a saying,” Sashee said, as if reading Van’s mind. “Loved ones never truly leave us, as long as we remember them in our heart.”
This broke the ice, and Van and her teammates spent the morning recounting tales about Trey and how much they missed his talents and quirks. Afterward, the team remained chipper and upbeat, but as the day wore on, the monotony of the trek wore everyone down. Even Wiglaf disappeared back to his magical realm.
“Are we in troll territory yet?” Paley whined.
“It’s not something we should look forward to,” Brux said.
“Should be,” Sashee said, answering Paley.
“What do you mean by should be?” Elmot asked. “Don’t you know where we’re going?”
“Troll tribes wander,” Wasubel said. “We don’t know where they’ll be. As your guides, we try to avoid them. We haven’t seen any trace of trolls—yet—so we are doing our job.”
“Elmot! Check your map!” barked Jorie.
Elmot was on it. He hadn’t checked his map all day, fearing it would insult the gnome guides.
“Our route is not on any map,” Wasubel scolded.
“We’re taking the most direct path to the Caves of Wolfenden,” Nid said. “While trying to avoid trolls.”
“If we’re lucky, we won’t run into any trolls at all,” Sashee said.
“They’re big, hulking blocks of dumb,” Nid quipped.
“Very awful,” Sashee said.
“They’re right, our route isn’t on here,” Elmot said, happier now that he had permission to pull out his beloved holographic map. “The map doesn’t show troll territory, either. But we’re moving in the right direction.”
By early evening, the gnomes had led them into a clearing, where the team set up four tents, courtesy of the gnome tribe. The three gnomes shared one tent, Jorie had a tent to herself, Brux and Elmot shared one, and Paley and Van would sleep in another. Although dusk had barely arrived, they settled in for the night.
“Van,” Paley whispered urgently. “Come to the bathroom with me?”
Van had just gotten comfortable in her sleeping bag. She sighed. “Okay.”
Paley untied the tent door flap, and they both stepped out into the freezing twilight air. Van walked a few steps, shivering. Her feet crunched on the frost-crusted ground. “Just go here.”
“No. It’s too close to the tents.” Paley wrapped her arms around her chest and rubbed her knees together.
“Go wherever! Hurry up!” Van said through chattering teeth.
Paley bolted into the trees.
Van heard a thud, then a surprised “Oh!” from Paley, and a squealing, whinnying noise. As Van dashed into the woods, the others rustled in their tents.
Paley lay flat on her back in the snow. She had run into an enormous, yellowish-green hoofed beast, now still screeching and rearing on its hind legs. It had a dragon-like head with a pair of wavy horns and a powerful scaled body with a horse’s tail. The others arrived in time to witness its massive rider lose his balance and thud to the ground.
“Congratulations, Paley,” Wasubel said sarcastically. “You just met the Troll King.”
The Troll King wore a ridiculous gold crown and, around his bulging wrists, a variety of gold jewelry that looked like human necklaces. He leaped to his feet and sputtered at them in a guttural language that sounded like he was chewing on rocks.
More trolls wielding clubs rode out of the brush on horselike creatures. The trolls were similar to the gnomes, in the sense that they all looked the same. They were twice the size of an average human, with hairless, square-shaped heads atop thick, stumpy necks. Their flat, crooked teeth protruded from their mouths, along with two fangs rising upward from their lower jaws. Animal skins draped their stocky bodies.
The trolls jumped off their mounts, all of them grunting in agitation.
Thankfully, Brux, the team’s languages expert, was fluent in troll.
It turned out the trolls had been following their group for the last couple of miles, waiting for them to settle in for the night before raiding their camp. Paley had blown the trolls’ plans when she knocked the Troll King from his qilin, the creature he rode.
“How bad is it?” Elmot asked Brux.
“Uh . . . not good,” Brux said. “When the Troll King falls off his qilin, he is considered to have lost his luck. This means his position is vulnerable to be taken over by another troll.”
“Most likely from another clan,” said Jorie, the team’s authority on cultures. “Taking the kingship from another clan would elevate that clan’s status.”
“How are other trolls going to know he fell?” Van asked. “His own clan won’t say anything, right?”
“The other trolls will talk,” Jorie said. “They’ll want a replacement because they’ve lost confidence in their leader, may even attack him themselves.”
“We’re in a dangerous situation,” Brux said.
Elmot shuddered. “The middle of a troll war is the last place we want to be.”
Paley nervously ducked behind Brux. “Are they going to kill me? Tell the Troll King I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
“Since his kingship is in question, he no longer has the right to decide what to do with us,” Jorie said. “We’re safe until another king takes over.”
“And then we’re dead?” Paley asked nervously. “Where’re our gnome guides? They came prepared for this.”
“Sas—” Van stopped mid-word. The gnomes were nowhere to be found. She scanned the landscape. The gnomes could have hidden from the trolls in many places in the trees and the jutting boulders. Their gnome guides possessed skills in troll negotiations. So, where are they?
The trolls tied their qilins to nearby trees. They confiscated the group’s backpacks and then patted down each of them, relieving them of their weapons.
Jorie winced when one of the trolls manhandled Zachery.
Van and Paley were so small, compared to the trolls’ big calloused hands, that the trolls had missed the Twin Gemstones during the search and everything else that the girls had tucked away in their many pockets.
Van relaxed, thinking she was off the hook, when the Troll King sputtered gibberish. Two trolls each grabbed Van by an ankle, tipped her upside down, and shook her. The Twin Gemstone and a lip gloss in a faux gold container fell from her pocket. Paley was shaken upside down next. Several packets of contact lenses tumbled to the ground, along with her Gemstone. The trolls confiscated the items, satisfying the Troll King.
Brux stepped up and tried to discuss terms of their release with the Troll King, but the king felt too worried about an impending attack to listen to the babble of his prisoners.
After unsuccessfully trying to push the whole team into one of the tents, the trolls separated Van, Jorie, and Paley into one tent and Elmot and Brux into another. Then the trolls settled around a campfire. They grumbled at one another, not paying attention to their prisoners.
“They’re not worried about us running away,” Jorie informed Van an
d Paley. “They have guards hidden all over the woods, watching for other troll clans. They’re too preoccupied with the impending attack. We need to get your Gemstones back, but in the meantime, we’ll be okay. At least, until they get hungry.”
“W-What’d you mean?” Van asked, wide-eyed.
“Trolls are like goats,” Jorie said. “They’ll eat anything, but they favor meat.”
“No wonder the gnomes are hiding,” Paley said. “I would’ve hidden from the trolls, too, if I had the chance.”
“Don’t worry. They’re not smart enough to figure out they can eat us,” Jorie said, in a bungled attempt to soothe Van and Paley. “There’s nothing we can do but wait. Get some rest.”
How was Van supposed to rest, knowing the trolls might be discussing a recipe on how to best cook humans?
With the tent being such tight quarters, Van and Paley huddled together in one sleeping bag, both of them trembling, more from being deemed troll foodstuff than from the cold.
Just before Paley fell asleep, she muttered, “I never got to go to the bathroom.”
Although Van thought she might never sleep again, due to Jorie’s frightening commentary on troll culture, sleep had other plans. It nibbled at Van until she succumbed to its sweet seduction.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Day 14: 6:28 a.m., Living World
The troll clan’s battles had kept Van and the others awake all night. It seemed as if every troll strong enough to challenge the king had taken his shot for the throne and lost. Morning came, and the trolls settled around the campfire, waiting for an attack from an opposing clan.
The all-night fighting made the trolls’ stomachs growl—loud enough for Van to hear it in the tent. She knew they were deciding which human to eat first.
Paley moaned, convinced it would be her, because the Troll King had pegged her as a troublemaker.
Eager to put her talents to the test, Jorie assured them one of her best skills was hand‑to‑hand combat. “The trolls are big, but they’re dumb and clumsy,” she said. “I’m fast and deadly.”
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