by Scott Mebus
“We meant to,” the other man said. “But we didn’t quite make it. I’m Ned Peacock, first sergeant, State Militia. This is Private Kindernook.”
“Tom,” the other man said. Ned gave him a look.
“When you’re on duty, you are Private Kindernook!”
“What duty?” Private Kindernook shot back wearily. “No one ever attacked.”
“That’s just bad luck, that is!” Sergeant Peacock replied haughtily. “We could have taken ’em if they’d tried!” He pushed himself to his feet, staggering over to his horse. “Now saddle up and keep quiet.”
“Sir,” Bridget said deferentially. “Would you mind doing us a favor? We think someone is lurking out there . . .”
“Yes, see, we’ve been followed by someone—” Soka said, but the sergeant cut her off, indignant.
“Citizens being threatened! Women not free to walk the woods! Sounds like the British to me!”
Before anyone could contradict the soldier, Finn stepped forward with a nod. “You’ve guessed it, sir,” he said, eyes shifting left and right. “The British are right on our tail.”
“By golly, you must come with us!” Sergeant Peacock declared. “We can assail them from the blockhouse! We’ve got cannons and muskets and the works! Oh boy, action at last!”
“How many are there?” Private Kindernook looked frightened. “I haven’t really been keeping up with my cannon training. It’s just the two of us in the little fort, you see, and I’m in charge of cannons.”
“You’ll pick it up as you go!” Sergeant Peacock assured his subordinate, who turned green at the prospect.
“You know, even helping us escape would be a setback to the British,” Finn said, giving the girls a look that begged not to be trapped in a little fort with these two, waiting for the nonexistent enemy to storm the walls.
“That’s true.” Bridget backed him up. “Just taking us to the north side of the Great Hill would be a deadly blow to the Brits.”
“That sounds good,” Private Kindernook said hopefully. “You hear that, Sergeant? A deadly blow!”
“I guess,” Sergeant Peacock said suspiciously. “I’d rather blow them to pieces in a gun battle.”
“But this avoids the loss of life while still crippling the British war effort,” Finn argued.
“Then mount up!” Sergeant Peacock ordered. “I hope your hound can keep up with our horses! You take the two young ladies, Kindernook, and I’ll have the handsome lad!”
Finn looked like he wanted to protest about being stuck with the sergeant, but there was no time to argue. Soka smiled slyly at Bridget as Finn pulled himself up behind the sergeant on his horse.
“Serves him right,” she said, whatever that meant. Bridget and Soka climbed up behind Kindernook atop his steed.
“Hold on tight,” he warned them. “The sergeant likes to ride fast.”
They trotted up to the front door, Tucket following on the ground. Peacock counted to three then shouted, “NOW!” He urged his horse forward, bursting through the stable door like a battering ram, making Finn squeal like a frightened old woman. Kindernook followed, galloping past the sleepy tavern, down the hill, and away.
They quickly left McGown’s Tavern in their dust. Bridget laughed with joy as the horses galloped full speed down the hill and through the pass. Tucket sped along behind, easily keeping up. The soldiers from the War of 1812 might never have seen action, but they certainly weren’t rusty at horse racing.
They galloped along a path through the woods, passing a fort on their left. Kindernook shouted that it was Fort Fish, a War of 1812 fort that had long since been torn down in the mortal world. The whole area seemed to be teeming with soldiers from all eras, but these soldiers’ little fort—blockhouse number one—was the farthest out, and the smallest. It wasn’t much, the private shouted, but it was home.
They soon left all the fortifications behind as they raced into the North Woods. The trees streamed past as they galloped by; there was no way anyone could keep up on foot, Bridget thought happily. She decided to revise her initial dislike of horses; riding them really fast was awesome. The morning brightened around them, the natural world coming to life as they passed. Finally, the horses slowed to a trot as they approached the head of a long trail that led up the side of a steep cliff, which loomed over them, its top disappearing into a cloud bank high above.
Finn dismounted and the girls followed suit.
“We’ll take it from here,” Finn said, saluting. Sergeant Peacock saluted back, crisply.
“How bad a blow to the British would you say this is?” he asked hopefully.
“They may never recover,” Finn replied. Peacock beamed. Kindernook waved good-bye as the two of them turned their horses to trot back home to their little fort in the woods. Soon Bridget and her companions were alone.
“Quick thinking about the British,” Soka said to Finn, nodding with approval. Finn smiled, turning to Bridget for her approval.
“Yeah, you said it right before I did,” Bridget added, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was impressed with his quick thinking. Finn stuck his tongue out at her playfully before turning to face the trail.
“Let’s break out the coats,” he said. “It’s about to get really cold.”
Askook was growing testy and tired of the game. The Trap would soon be falling, and he didn’t have the luxury of playing with his toys any longer. Time to end his sport, for good. He knew what awaited them atop the Great Hill. It would not be at all what they’re expecting. The climb itelf could very well kill them, of course. But just in case they survived the ascent, he cast his mind ahead to make certain the guardian was awake. He sensed the mad haze of the guardian’s mind, poking it to get it good and angry. If they reached his master’s hiding place, they would find a nasty, and most certainly fatal, surprise waiting for them . . .
The steep path up the Great Hill was as treacherous as it was long. For hours they climbed, up the rocky path that wound around the mountain. Bridget knew there couldn’t be such a high mountain in her Central Park, so she had to be deep in the spirit realm, deeper than she’d been so far. The air grew colder as they climbed higher and higher, and soon snow began to fall softly, making the path even more treacherous.
“Stay near me!” Finn called back, bundled up in his heavy coat. Soka and Bridget made certain to keep up, and Tucket trotted behind, licking at the flakes as they landed on his nose. The wind picked up the higher they rose, which, coupled with the ice-covered stone beneath their feet, made the trail all the more dangerous. At one point, Bridget took a quick peek over the side, and it took her breath away how high they had risen. She could make out trees down below, but she couldn’t see the buildings of New York in the distance. Instead, a blue glow covered the horizon, cutting off the world beyond.
Presently, they came to a fork in the path. Finn pondered both ways for a moment, glancing up the side of the icy cliff. Finally, he pointed excitedly.
“The dragon rock!” he yelled over the wind. Bridget could just make out a primitive drawing of a winged lizard on one of the outcroppings.
“Who drew that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “It’s lost to history.”
They continued to climb. At one point, Finn pulled them back against the wall as a giant condor flew right past them, searching the ground in the distance for prey. Bridget shuddered to see the great bird swoop by so close, glad the falling snow made them hard to see.
Soon they reached another fork, but this time Finn didn’t even pause, heading to the right while wordlessly pointing to a scrawny tree halfway up the path, hanging out over the edge of the trail. The snow was falling faster now, sticking to Bridget’s eyelashes and making it hard to see. She moved closer to Soka, who stopped to brush off Bridget’s face.
“Better?” Soka asked. Bridget nodded gratefully. But she could feel her paper limbs starting to freeze up. She had no blood to keep her insides warm. If
she stayed out in the cold too long, she’d freeze solid. She thought about saying something, but she didn’t want to slow down now. They couldn’t be far, she thought. How high could a little mountain in Central Park be, anyway?
Various sounds on the wind alerted them to the animals on the prowl, but thankfully they stayed away. The snow was piling up over their ankles now, making it harder to walk. If they didn’t find this cave soon, they’d have to turn back. Finally, they reached a fork with four paths heading in different directions: two went back down, one continued to twist around the way they had been walking, and the last led directly up the side of the mountain at a steep incline. Here Finn stopped, perplexed.
“This is the spot Granddad always had trouble with,” he said. “The way he remembered it, he and Abigail made their way up that steep incline. But he told me when he tried to retrace his steps after the blizzard, there was a dead end up there, with nowhere to go. So he tried all the other paths to no avail. He looked everywhere for the ruby icefall, but he could never find it.”
“Great,” Bridget yelled, bending her arms to keep them from stiffening up. “So what do we do?”
“Well, we know it’s a dead end up there,” Finn said, pointing to the steep path. “And it’s probably not down. So we’ll follow the same path we’re on.”
“No, wait!” Soka stopped him. “Let’s try the steep path first.”
“Why?” Finn asked. “We can’t stay up here forever; we’ll freeze!”
“Because I trust your grandfather’s memory. What else do we have?”
Finn looked at her, uncertain, then nodded.
“Fine,” he said. “But we have to move fast. It’s pure luck nothing has found us out here, and our luck won’t last forever.”
Soka nodded, then turned to climb the steep path. Bridget followed, willing her bendy-bits not to freeze. Hans poked his head out of her pocket, his teeth chattering.
“I think my heater is starting to cut out!” he cried. “It was never meant for such cold! If I die, don’t let the dog eat me!”
“Oh, don’t be so negative,” Bridget said as Tucket happily climbed past her. He seemed to be the only one unaffected by the cold. The luxury that comes with a thick coat, she thought.
They climbed and climbed, and the path became almost vertical. Finally, they dropped to their hands and knees, pulling themselves up the final few feet to a plateau. Finn had to push Tucket’s bottom to get the dog over the hump. They reached the ledge, looked around, and felt their spirits fall.
In front of them loomed a wall of ice and snow, completely cutting off their way forward. It was a dead end.
“I knew it!” Finn cried, kicking the ice with his boot. “I told you this was a mistake.”
“It was the only way worth trying,” Soka said, her face sad.
“There’s nothing here but ice, ice, and more ice,” Finn replied, sinking to the ground. Bridget approached the wall, touching it lightly. Hans leaned out, his face intent.
“Wait a second,” he said, putting his helmet back on. “I’m picking something up. On the other side of this wall. It sounds like falling water.” His voice grew excited. “Remember what Pierre said? The ruby icefall? A waterfall under the ice. I think I hear it!”
“So we are here!” Bridget cried.
“Wait, I’m picking something else up. It sounds like . . . breathing?” Hans pulled off his helmet and stared up at Bridget, perplexed. “I think there’s someone on the other side of this wall.”
“Who? Abigail?” Bridget could barely contain her excitement. She backed up in order to stare at the top of the wall above. Finn and Soka turned to watch her as Hans cautioned her from her pocket.
“We don’t know who it is,” he said. “I think we should wait and—”
“HELLO!” Bridget screamed as loud as she could. “IS THAT YOU, ABIGAIL?” Her cry echoed through the pass, bouncing off the icy walls into the distance. Finn ran up, his face furious.
“What are you doing, you stupid child?” he cried.
“Hans heard someone on the other side of the wall!” Bridget told him excitedly. This didn’t seem to get Finn quite as amped as she’d expected. Instead, his face grew white.
“Someone . . . or something?” he asked, backing away while staring up at the wall in terror. Soka glanced up and she, too, went pale. Tucket began to bark furiously at something above them, and Bridget slowly turned to see what they were looking at. Her stomach dropped as a huge shadow fell on them, cast by something standing atop the wall. Hans threw on his helmet, adjusted something inside to see better, then screamed.
“BEAR!” he cried, just as the shadow fell upon them with a roar.
It was a huge bear, the size of an elephant, at least, and they were just able to leap out of the way before it barreled past. It hit Bridget with a heavy swipe of its paw, sending her careening into the wall. She slid to the ground with a thud. She didn’t feel any pain, but she could see the beast had cut a chunk of paper off her shoulder. Hans lay at her feet, stunned. She looked to the path, where all she could see was the back of the bellowing bear. Then Finn ran into view, pulling Soka behind a rock for cover. The bear started to turn toward them, but then it stopped, staring at something just out of Bridget’s sight. A growl rumbled through the ledge, making the very rocks shake. Slowly, Bridget pulled herself to the side to see what the bear was looking at. Her breath caught in her throat. She never imagined he could get that big!
Tucket had grown. Really GROWN! He had puffed up to the size of a woolly mammoth, towering over them like a creature from another planet. There was barely enough room for both giant animals on the ledge, and Bridget knew that soon one would have to fall. She could only hope that it would be her Tucket who survived. Tucket reared his head back and howled, once, sending icicles crashing to the floor around them. The bear roared back, shaking the very mountain with his challenge. And then, at once, they charged, meeting in the middle of the ledge with a mighty crash that seemed to make the world shudder.
Bridget could barely comprehend the battle she was witnessing. It was too big for her to fully take in. She quickly ran to the far corner of the ledge, knowing that if she stayed she’d be buried in no time. Finn and Soka joined her, their faces as terrified as she knew hers to be as they clung to one another.
Tucket and the bear clashed, again and again, swiping and biting with huge jaws and claws the size of crane shovels. The mountain quivered with each mighty blow, but neither would give an inch. The snow fell harder, making it difficult to see, and soon Bridget could barely make out shadows in the white, crashing into each other, tearing each other apart. On and on they fought, neither giving way. At one point, the sun peeked through the snow, and Bridget’s heart broke to see the blood pouring down Tucket’s beautiful tawny fur. But the great bear bled, too, from many wounds, and it seemed as though they’d keep fighting forever.
But then it happened; Tucket slipped, and the bear did not hesitate. He thrust one mighty paw across Tucket’s head, sending the dog crashing into the wall. Debris began to rain from the peak above, and Bridget and her friends had to dodge the falling rocks. Tucket whined, barely moving, as the bear reared back to roar in triumph before one last, fatal swipe.
“NOOOOO!” Bridget cried, and Soka had to hold her from running in front of the blow. Soka glanced up at the top of the wall and her eyes widened. She yelled down at Hans, who had just staggered to his feet.
“Can you toss one of your firecrackers up there?”
“I’d need to get closer and the wall’s too slippery to climb. You’ll have to throw me.”
Finn stepped forward.
“I’ll do it!” he said, picking up the roach. Hans gave the order and Finn reared back and threw with all his strength, sending the small insect warrior soaring through the air. Up the battle roach flew, and for a moment it appeared as if he’d reach the top of the wall. But the roach began to slow far short of safety. Instead, once he reached the apex of his flight
, Hans threw a tiny firecracker, the miniature missle arcing toward a large icicle swaying up above. Then the battle roach fell, fast, crashing into the rocks at Tucket’s feet.
For a moment nothing happened, and the bear lifted its paw for the deathblow. But just as the paw descended, a small explosion went off up above and the large icicle fell loose, whistling through the air as it dropped to impale the bear right through the jaw and send him crashing to the ground. The bear began to thrash, crashing into the wall again and again over the injured bodies of the brave spirit dog and the spunky battle roach. At last, the bear fell forward right through the ice, breaking it apart. An avalanche of ice and stone tumbled forward over its dead body—over Tucket and Hans, too—until they all disappeared completely under the rubble. The last few rocks tumbled forward down the path to the trail below, and then all was still. The great bear was dead.
Bridget rushed forward with a cry. She tore at the rocks with her bare hands. Soka tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen. She kept digging and digging, until finally she heard a whine. Following the sound, she tossed aside the rubble until she came across the gigantic bear paw. Nestled underneath, protected by the curved palm of the dead beast, lay Tucket and Hans.
She pulled Tucket out, sobbing without tears. He had shrunk to the size he’d been when she’d first met him, barely larger than a puppy. He was covered in scratches from his battle, and his beautiful coat was matted with blood. But he still breathed, and she sat by his side, petting him and whispering that everything would be all right.
“Good dog,” she breathed into his ear. “You’re a good, good dog.”
Meanwhile, Soka knelt down next to the prone battle roach, gently pulling off his helmet.
“He’s unconscious,” she said. “And it looks like one of his arms is crushed. But we won’t know how injured he is until he wakes up. If he wakes up . . .”
Bridget’s heart ached at the sight of her injured friends. She didn’t even react when Finn let out a shout from the other side of the fallen wall.
