The Heart of Glass

by Vivian French

  The Ancient One’s round blue eye widened as she took in this new information. “Millie, dear,” she said at last, “have you seen Gubble?”

  “That’s why Miss Gracie was going down the ­tunnel,” Millie said. “He was stuck, Dad said, but he did say they’d be out in two ticks.”

  “I think I need to speak to Marlon.”

  There was a steely note in the Ancient One’s voice, and as Millie fluttered up to the open window, she was wondering if she should have said as much as she had. “I’m sure he meant it for the best, Miss Edna.”

  “I’m sure he did,” Edna said grimly. “And that’s what’s worrying me.”

  Gracie had been too preoccupied with making her way down the dark and narrow tunnel to hear the ladder fall behind her. The first she knew of it was when Marlon appeared beside her, blinking in the light of the lamp.

  “Bit of a mistake,” he remarked. “Lost the ladder. Still, we’ve got the dwarf.” He pointed behind him, and Gracie became aware of a steady muttering and grumbling coming toward them. About to ask how they were going to escape without a ladder, she was distracted by a faint groan.

  “Gubble!” she said. “Gubble! Where are you?”

  “Ug. Ug.”

  Gracie held the lamp up high. The flame shone out, showing a heap of earth in the center of the main tunnel. As Alf had reported, there were two large feet emerging; Gracie bit her lip as she thought she saw one foot move, but decided it was the unsteady light. Then she caught sight of Gubble and forgot everything else. He was pinned against the tunnel wall, a thick tangle of roots holding him so tightly he could hardly breathe. He was covered in mud, except for a wet trail of tears that trickled down his dirty green cheeks.

  “Poor Gubble,” Gracie said. As she bent over him, her braids swung forward, and the silver thread glittered and gleamed. Gubble gave a surprised grunt.

  “Sorry.” Gracie pushed her hair back impatiently, but as she did so, it was her turn to be surprised. The roots were shriveling in front of her eyes, and a moment later they were gone.

  Gubble took several deep breaths, stepped forward, and swung his arms to and fro. “Nins and peedles,” he explained. “Sore.”

  Marlon chuckled. “Power of Trueheart,” he announced. “Good work, kiddo. Now, let’s think how to get out.” He flew a circle and looked inquiringly at Bestius, who was emerging, still muttering, from the side tunnel. “Any ideas?”

  Bestius didn’t answer. He was staring at the feet.

  Gracie followed his gaze and put her hand over her mouth in horror. This time there was no doubt. There was a twitch, then another, and the heap of earth shook as if suffering its own small volcanic eruption. From somewhere underneath came a deep and angry rumble.

  “Mullius.” Bestius breathed in. “Mullius Gowk.” He glared at Marlon. “If you hadn’t bumped into me, we’d be on our way back across the ladder; whereas now we’re in trouble. Big trouble!”

  Marlon sniffed. “Don’t remember inviting you to join the party. Besides, I thought you were pally with these guys.”

  “Not this one.” The dwarf shivered. “He used to eat us dwarves for breakfast. He’s an Old Troll, with the old ways.” He gave Marlon a sour look. “Very fond of bat pie.”

  “I think,” Gracie said as calmly as she could, “this isn’t quite the moment to worry about anything except how to get out of here.” She stopped as the heap of earth moved again. “Oh! Please don’t argue — we’ve got to get away NOW!”

  Bestius nodded. His heart was beginning to beat uncomfortably fast at the thought of a furious Mullius. He slung his spade across his shoulder and took command. “We’ll go down the tunnel. Follow me!” And he set off at a steady trot.

  “Go,” Gubble agreed, and Gracie took his hand as they hurried after the dwarf. A moment later there was a convulsive heaving and shuddering as the earth fell away from the enormous hairy bulk of the Old Troll; there was more angry rumbling, and he began to haul himself up to a sitting position.

  “FASTER!” Bestius said urgently.

  Gubble did his best to obey, but he was exhausted by his struggles to escape. Bestius, muttering anxiously under his breath, came back to take Gubble’s arm. He and Gracie half lifted, half pulled the troll along between them, Marlon zigzagging beside Gracie.

  “You’re doing good, kiddo,” he announced. “I’ll check it out ahead. Trust your uncle Marlon.”

  “Marlon!” Gracie whispered, “I’ve had an idea! What if you take the lamp? Would it be too heavy for you? Only once that — that thing is properly on his feet, he’ll catch us in no time, but if we could find somewhere to hide in the darkness, maybe you could lead him past.”

  Bestius nodded. “Good idea. It’d give me time to work out where to go.”

  Marlon did a fast dive. “Sharp as well as True,” he said admiringly. “Let’s try.”

  “Wait until we find somewhere to hide.” Gracie was panting as she ran; Gubble was heavy, and half his weight was on her arm. “Don’t take the lamp until you have to. . . .”

  “There’s a bend ahead,” Bestius said, puffing. “Once we’re beyond that, it’ll be easier to hide without him noticing.”

  There was no more talking as Gracie and the dwarf lugged Gubble for several more minutes. At last they had rounded the bend and began keeping an eye out for side tunnels or some sort of gap or recess, but there was none that they could see. Gracie was getting desperate; her legs felt like lead, and her arms and shoulders were aching. She forced herself to keep on running, even though every step was an effort.

  “Ug.” Gubble tugged at her arm.

  “He’s after us.” Bestius sounded grim. “I can feel the ground shaking . . . although he’s not coming that fast . . . not yet, anyway.”

  Gracie’s stomach lurched as she squinted ahead, praying for a crack in the walls . . . anywhere they could hide.

  “There!” Marlon swung in front of her, making the lamp flame quiver. “Over there, guys — see?”

  Marlon was right. It was not much more than a narrow gap between two particularly thick and twisted tree roots, but it was better than anything they had seen up until then. Bestius dropped Gubble’s arm and hurled himself toward it; a moment later he had disappeared. “Bigger than it looks from the outside,” he reported in a muffled whisper.

  This was optimistic; there was barely room for the three of them. Squeezing Gubble through dislodged a fair quantity of soil, but, as Marlon pointed out, their pursuer was making his way through the darkness and was unlikely to notice. “Let’s try the lamp, kiddo,” he said.

  Gracie placed it around his neck, but he could fly only a short way before the weight became too much for him and he was forced to land.

  “Can we make it lighter?” Gracie asked.

  Bestius considered, pulling at the end of his beard. “We could pour out some of the oil. It’s pretty full. That would lighten it — but the flame’ll go out that much sooner.”

  Even the walls of their hiding place were starting to shake. Gracie swallowed hard before she said, “We have to try. I can’t think of anything else to do.”

  Bestius took the lamp and all but emptied it. Marlon nodded approvingly as it was lit once more. “Stay here, you three,” he ordered. “I’ll fly just out of sight so all that monster sees is the glow. Once he’s past, make your move.” Gracie dropped a kiss on the top of his head, and he quivered in embarrassment. “No prob, kid. Keep cool,” he muttered, and took off before she could kiss him again.

  Bestius and Gracie watched as the lamplight zigzagged into the distance, leaving only a faint glow up ahead. A moment later they realized that the heavy footsteps were coming unpleasantly close, and they cowered back in their hiding place. The tree roots would give them no protection if they were discovered. Gracie froze as Mullius thudded nearer and nearer, snarling as he came.

  “Grind. Crush. Slay. Blood. Guts. Kill.”

  Then he was beside them, and they could smell sweat and earth and hot breath
that stank of rottenness and decay. Gracie clutched Gubble’s hand so hard she felt him wince, but he made no sound. None of them dared move until Mullius Gowk was long past, thundering after the ever-retreating glow of the lamp.

  “Phew,” Bestius said at last as the sound of footsteps finally faded away and silence gradually surrounded them. “Let’s give it a couple more minutes, shall we? And maybe have a bite to eat. Still haven’t eaten my lunch.”

  Gracie nodded, then remembered the dwarf couldn’t see her. “Yes,” she agreed. “That would be lovely.” There were sounds of a bag being unpacked and the rustle of paper, then a slice of hard bread was pushed into her hand. Gracie, who was so hungry she would happily have eaten burned porridge, ate it gratefully and found it surprisingly filling.

  Gubble ate his with noisy enthusiasm before slumping against Gracie’s side. “Tired,” he remarked. A moment later he began to snore.

  Gracie and the dwarf sat without speaking until a sudden fall of earth from above made them jump. “What’s that?” Gracie whispered as she shook dirt out of her hair. “Is that monster coming back?”

  Bestius was listening intently. “I don’t think so. But there’s something going on. . . .”

  Gracie strained her ears, but her hearing was not as acute as the dwarf’s. “I can’t hear anything. What is it?”

  “Digging,” said Bestius with a faint chuckle. “It’s OK. If I’ve got my directions right, and I usually have, we’re not that far from the Flailing road — and that means there’s the biggest troll you’ve ever seen digging away somewhere nearby in one of our mines. There’s a bit of a shake . . . Can you feel it?”

  Gracie realized she could feel a vibration under her feet. It was faint but steady: thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud . . . as regular as clockwork.

  Bestius chuckled again. “That’s what you get when someone’s digging with four arms.”

  “Four arms?” Gracie asked. “Has he really got four arms?”

  “Four arms and not a lot of brain,” the dwarf told her. “He’s called Clod. The trolls lent him to us to dig out the gold we need —” He stopped and gave a small, awkward cough. “Ahem.”

  Gracie noticed his discomfort. “Is there a problem, Mr. Dwarf?”

  Bestius pulled at his beard. Emboldened by the cover of darkness, he said, “Erm . . . got a bit of a confession.”

  “A confession? What kind of a confession?” Gracie asked.

  Bestius coughed again. “Ahem. Me and the bat — we did a deal. The trolls lent us Clod, but they wanted something in return.”

  Gracie was remembering something Marlon had said to her earlier in the day. “A princess,” she said slowly. “Marlon said Marcus was going to find a princess, but he never said what for.”

  “That’s right, miss.” Bestius took a deep breath. “It was a swap, see — we dug you out, and your young man found us a princess. And I was to take the princess down to King Thab — he’s the troll king — but she wasn’t going to be there long, because the prince was going to come galloping in and rescue her. But we never did dig you out, did we?”

  Bestius waited for Gracie to scream, or faint, or do whatever human girls did when they were badly shocked, but Gracie did none of those things. There was a thoughtful pause before she asked, “What’s the princess expected to do, exactly?”

  “I’ve no idea.” Bestius’s surprise showed in his voice. “The king wants her. I think he’s lonely.”

  “Poor thing,” Gracie said sympathetically. “But I don’t think any of the princesses from the Five Kingdoms would be very good at talking to a troll.”

  The dwarf cleared his throat. “The prince said he’d find one somehow. He was desperate to make sure you were safe; gave us his royal word, he did.”

  “Ah.” There was a world of meaning in Gracie’s voice. “You know what?” she went on. “I think we should try to get out now.” She bent down and shook Gubble. He woke with a grunt. “Dark,” he remarked. “Go home. Cake.”

  Bestius stood up. “If the Flailing mines are that way, there must be a supply tunnel somewhere very near here. Probably a train track. If I can locate that, we can dig through to it, and then — there you have it! We’ll be popping out in the Unreliable Forest in no time at all.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Gracie said. “Which way do you think Marcus will come with the princess? If he’s found one, that is.”

  “He’ll bring her to the diggings in the forest, I’d say.” Bestius, much cheered by having made his confession, sounded confident. “He won’t know where the troll tunnel is; he needs me to take him there.”

  Gracie gave a small relieved sigh. “That’s OK, then. We might even be in time to meet him.” She pulled herself to her feet. “Come on, Gubble. What are you doing?”

  Gubble didn’t answer at first; then he said, “Shh. Hear things.”

  Gracie and Bestius froze, listening intently. Gracie’s human ears heard nothing, but Bestius gave a sharp whistle. “Yes! Clanking and rattling! The supply train! Mr. Troll, you’re a genius. Not too far away, either. Should be able to dig through from here in thirty minutes max. Hmm. Too many roots where we are just now. Let’s go back a few steps, and then I’ll start digging. Now, is that a stroke of luck, or a stroke of luck?”

  As Gracie and Gubble followed a cheerily whistling Bestius, there was a stirring at the bottom of the deep pit. Oolie’s claw-like hand appeared first, followed by her head. Seeing the fallen ladder, she inspected it carefully before smiling a singularly unpleasant smile.

  “So dwarfies is here,” she muttered, and with a heave she pulled herself out of her secret passageway. Like an evil, overlarge spider, she scrabbled her way up the sides and arrived at the top, where she stopped to catch her breath before making her way into the main tunnel. The heap of earth that had fallen on Mullius distracted her for a moment; she sniffed around it suspiciously. There was still the dank smell of Old Troll in the air, and she scratched herself as she considered what this could mean. “Is the Trueheart caught? Is caught already?”

  She turned to peer into the darkness while she felt in her pocket for her tinderbox. Finding it was missing, she growled angrily before bending down and feeling the hard-packed earth floor with her bony fingers. A moment later she was crawling on her hands and knees, mumbling in surprise. “Mullius. Dwarf. Trueheart . . . and what’s this? Troll? More troll? What troll? But Mullius this side . . . Trueheart that . . . yes, yes, yes.”

  Oolie’s eyes gleamed. It was clear that Mullius had been there, and Gracie too, but there was no clue to suggest they were together. She hurried farther into the tunnel and crouched down once more. This time she put her ear to the ground and lay very still for more than a minute.

  Then she leaped to her feet, panting with excitement. “Yes, yes, yes, yes! Is footsteps! Trueheart footsteps! Is coming to Oolie . . . and Oolie will be ready. Oh, yes. Oolie won’t be caught again by sly little Trueheart’s tricks. Oolie will have her this time.” And the hunched and hideous creature licked her lips before she set off after Gracie.

  Marcus, guided by Alf, had ridden some ways ahead of the coach and come to a fork in the track. When Alf wheeled to the right, Marcus followed; it didn’t occur to him until a few moments later that this was a much narrower path and could easily be missed. He pulled his pony to a halt and considered the situation. It was beginning to get dark, and with nighttime coming it would be all too easy for the coachman to go the wrong way; he also saw, now that he had stopped, a turning circle for the coach not far ahead. “Oh, bother,” he said out loud. “What should I do? Do I let them go home? Or what? I can’t let them get lost in the forest. After all, it’s my fault they’re here.”

  Alf came swinging back. “Is there a problem, Mr. Prince?”

  Marcus rubbed at his head to try to clear his thoughts. As he did so he felt a twitching in his jacket pocket and remembered Flo. He looked down and saw her crawling out; a moment later she was in the air flying a woozy circle.
r />   “Hello,” he said. “Are you feeling better?”

  The little bat dipped in her flight and came to rest on Marcus’s sleeve. After a couple of sneezes, she said, “Excuse me — I know I’m only a bat, but Gracie Gillypot shouldn’t be in any tunnels.” She began to quiver. “There’s danger down there for a Trueheart.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Marcus agreed. “And I’m on my way; I really am.” He rubbed at his head again. “But what about the dwarves? I said I’d get them a princess if they dug Gracie out . . . but it sounds as if they haven’t done anything of the kind.” This thought made him sit up straighter on his pony. “And if that’s the case, I don’t need to drag Marigold through the forest to have tea with a troll, do I? So I’ll tell her and Vincent to go home.” He picked up Glee’s reins — then hesitated. “It’d be nice if I could get a message to Gracie — so she knows I’m on the way . . .”

  “I’ll go,” Flo said at once. “I’ll tell Gracie Gillypot you’re coming.” And before Marcus could stop her, she was flitting up into the twilight.

  Alf flew after her but was back within seconds, looking peevish. “She says I should stay with you,” he reported. “Says I’d slow her down. Me! Uncle Marlon says I’m the speediest —”

  “Shh!” Marcus held up his hand. “Can you hear something? Some kind of thumping — OH!” His eyes widened. “Do you know what I think it is? I think it’s that troll — the one we saw in the clearing. It’s exactly the same thud-thud-thud noise. . . . Oops! It’s making the path shake!”

  Marcus was right. Glee was moving restlessly, his ears flicking to and fro.

  Alf put his head on one side. “Quite deep down, I’d say. Don’t think he’ll pop up under our noses.” He sounded regretful.

  “I should hope not,” Marcus said with feeling. “Come on. Let’s send Marigold on her way.” He turned the weary Glee around and rode back down the track, Alf flying high above his head.