The Monster in the Hollows

by Andrew Peterson

  “What is it, sailor?” Podo answered without taking his eyes from the oncoming ships.

  “They’re not Fangs! It’s men on the decks!” A cheer went up from the crew.

  Janner spotted Kalmar at Podo’s side, speaking to him and pointing at the ships. Podo nodded and patted him on the shoulder.

  “Kalmar here says there are more than a hundred sailors on yonder ships, and that they’re cooking henmeat with totatoes and butterroot. That’s a meal I ate many a time in the Green Hollows, boys! They’re Hollowsfolk on them ships, and that means we’ve got ourselves an escort to Ban Rona!”

  The crew cheered again. Then something splashed into the water a short distance away. Before Janner had time to wonder what it was, he spied commotion on the deck of one of the distant ships, and a tiny speck rose into the air, gaining in size as it arced towards them. A stone the size of Janner’s head fell short of theEnramere by an arrowshot and disappeared into the waves with a mighty splash.

  Podo ordered one of the men to run up a flag of surrender, but it did no good. More stones splashed into the water—still a fair distance from the ship, but getting nearer every moment.

  Why were they attacking? Surely the Hollish ships could see by now that they weren’t Fangs. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe the Hollowsfolk had become like the Stranders, so twisted that they despised not just the Fangs but everyone. It had been jarring to realize that men and women could be as treacherous as a Fang, ready to cut your throat or bind you and toss you into the Mighty River Blapp. And because regular people had it in them to treat a soul with kindness (unlike Fangs, as far as Janner could tell), theirs seemed a greater evil. But the Hollowsfolk? Janner had only ever heard good things about them—rowdy people, sure, but not evil. Not like Stranders, at least.

  An ear-splitting crash shook theEnramere as one of the catapulted rocks found its mark at last. It smashed into the deck on the starboard side, splintered the rail, and bounced into the sea. No one was hurt, but Janner shuddered to think what would happen if one of those stones hit someone.

  He realized the ship had drifted off course again so he tugged the wheel around to straighten it, wondering what he was doing at the wheel when they were under attack. He was too young and too small to helm a ship during a battle.

  As if in answer, a strong, familiar hand squeezed the back of his neck.

  “Fine steering, Janner,” Artham said. “But it’s time to get below. Things are getting ugly up here.”

  Another stone smashed into theEnramere, and without a thought of either sailing or his wounds, Janner hurried down to the main deck after Kalmar, dodging frantic Kimeran crewmen and praying he wouldn’t be in the path of the next stone. As he descended the steps to the hold, he heard another crash and felt the vibration in the ship.

  Below deck on a bench built into the bulkhead sat Nia, Leeli, and Oskar, their eyes wide with fear.

  “Janner! What’s happening?” Nia asked. “Are we close to the Hollows?”

  “No, ma’am. But it wouldn’t matter. It’s Hollowsfolk in the ships, not Fangs.”

  “What?” Nia asked, narrowing her eyes.

  “They started launching stones at us as soon as they were close enough.”

  “But—”

  “Your Highness, even the people of the Green Hollows are corruptible,” Oskar said.

  “Nonsense,” said Nia. “These are my people. And it’s time they knew it.” She stood and straightened her dress, showing no concern when another stone shook the ship. “Come with me, Leeli.”

  5

  The Boatwright’s Daughter

  Nia marched up the stairs, flung open the hatchway to the deck, and waited for Leeli to catch up. Beyond her, Kimeran crewmen made ready for battle as Podo ordered Artham to bring theEnramere about. Janner, Kalmar, and Oskar stared after Nia in shock for a moment, then followed Leeli out of the hold. Janner had no idea what his mother was up to, but he wasn’t going to cower below and miss it.

  “Lass! What do ye think you’re doing?” Podo said from his perch at the mainmast. “Get below before ye get hurt!”

  “I’ll do no such thing. Janner told me those are Hollish ships. Is that true?”

  “Aye,” Podo shouted, “and it’s Hollowsfolk sailin’ em. But they’ve given us no chance to parley and won’t stop their launching though we’ve waved and whooped like cowards. They aim to sink us and I don’t aim to be sunk. So it’s a fight, kinsmen or no.” He winced as another stone crashed into the sea just beyond the bow.

  The look Nia aimed at the three Hollish ships was enough to make Janner want to hide. She marched to the prow and pulled Leeli with her. “Leeli, get out your whistleharp and play us a song, dear. Play it loudly. How about ‘The Boatwright’s Daughter’?”

  The three Hollish ships were near enough now that Janner could make out the sailors’ burly figures and catch the glint of swords, axes, and hammers in their hands. Behind the sailors crowding the rails stood a line of archers. They drew back their bows as another sailor lit the end of each. In moments, theEnramere would be burning.

  Leeli pulled her hair from her face and lifted the whistleharp to her lips. She bobbed her head, remembering the melody, then loosed the song into the winds.

  When she played, the air itself changed. The sails luffed and the very waves seemed to pause in their dance as this new music flew over them. Janner’s ears tingled, and a now-familiar sensation filled his head. He could hear words—ancient words in an ancient tongue—and though he didn’t understand them, he could sense the memory and mood of the speaker as if he were eavesdropping on a conversation through a wall.

  He was listening to the sea dragons. The knowledge came to him that there were scores of them swimming below their ship in great loops and whorls, a herd of sanguine serpents as aware of him and theEnramere as he was of the clouds in the sky.

  Kalmar whimpered, closed his eyes, and flattened his ears. Janner’s mind swam with voices, and he knew that however vividly he heard the dragons, Kalmarsaw them, and with that thought came fleeting images of ruddy scales and shimmering fins, sharp teeth and bright eyes in the murky deep.

  He blinked away the vision and pulled his attention back to Leeli, who stood at the forecastle as she had stood at the icy crags of Kimera, playing her whistleharp and swaying with the song.

  The Hollish sailors froze and stared across the water at theEnramere. The only movement was the sea. Then, beginning with one voice and growing to many, these words came from the Hollish sailors:

  I’ll come to you in the wintertime

  When the fruit of the fall is fading

  I’ll bring a barrel of apple wine

  As long as your love is waiting

  But oh the sorrow a sailor sees

  Whenever he meets your father

  He’s mean as a swarm of deadly bees

  He’ll cut off your legs right at the knees

  It does no good to beg him please

  To marry his only daughter

  So I’ll come to you in the spring of the year

  When the bud and the bloom is growing

  And I’ll drive an ox to plow, my dear

  And furrow the field for sowing

  But oh the sorrow a sailor knows

  Whenever he meets your father

  He reeks of the sweat between his toes

  The roaches gather wherever he goes

  And never a man will ever propose

  To marry his only daughter

  So I’ll come to you in the summertime

  When the grass in the hollow is swaying

  We’ll nibble the grapes and clementines

  And look at the children playing

  But oh, the sorrow a sailor weeps

  Whenever he meets your father

  He picks his nose when he’s asleep

  He’s big as a cow and smart as a sheep

  I pray the Maker my soul to keep

  I love his only daughter

  So I’ll come to
you when I’m old and gray

  I’ll sail from over the water

  I’ll lay a rose at your father’s grave

  Then I’ll marry his only daughter

  When the song was over, Leeli lowered her harp and looked up at Nia. “Was that right, Mama?”

  “Perfect,” Nia said. “Look.”

  The Hollish ships drew near, but no arrows were shot and no stones were launched. The Kimeran crewmen drew their weapons and gathered around Podo at the port rail like a wall. The Hollish assault had stopped, but it would take more than a shanty to ease the tension. TheEnramere had been damaged, and some of her men were wounded.

  “Highness.” Oskar took Nia by the arm. “Highness, you and the children should take cover. If the Hollowsfolk have come under the sway of Gnag the Nameless, it’s best if they don’t know the Jewels are on board.”

  “If anyone in Aerwiar despises Gnag, it’s the people of the Green Hollows,” Nia said. “My children will be quite safe.”

  “Oskar’s right,” Podo said, his eyes still trained on the approaching ships. “It’s been a long nine years. A lot can happen, even in the Hollows. You should get below. Artham, you too. There’s no sense trying to explain those wings of yours just yet.”

  After glaring at the two old men for a moment, Nia herded the children below. Artham followed with his wings folded tight, ducking behind the Kimerans and into the hold.

  “I felt them again,” Janner said when the children had settled around the table. “The dragons, I mean.”

  “Me too,” said Leeli. Her voice trembled. “I thought they were coming again. For Grandpa.”

  “They were already here,” Kalmar said. “Hundreds of them. They’re swarming the water below the ship, and I think they’ve been with us the whole time.”

  Leeli grabbed Kalmar’s hand and looked at him with the beginnings of tears in her eyes. “Were they angry? Are they after us again? They’ll take him. I know it.”

  “They weren’t angry,” Janner told her.

  “How do you know?” Leeli said. “What did they say?”

  “I don’t know what they said, but it was nothing like before. I don’t think they’ll betray their promise. Grandpa’s safe till he gets to the Hollows. Don’t worry.”

  Leeli studied Janner’s face for a moment then relaxed a little.

  Janner glanced at Artham, remembering that he too could hear the dragons speak, but he only stood at the top of the steps with one hand on the door and the other on the hilt of his sword, ready to fling open the door and rush to Podo’s aid if things with the Hollish sailors went badly.

  TheEnramere thudded into the Hollish ship, and Janner heard first the thump of feet on deck as they lashed the ships together, then voices. Nia stopped her pacing and listened, tense as a bowstring. Leeli still gripped Kalmar’s hand and stared at the floor of the ship as if she could see the herds of dragons congregated below.

  After what seemed a long time, the door at the top of the steps opened and Podo peeked his grizzly head inside. “Artham, you and the children keep out of sight for now. Nia, dear, your people would like to see you.”

  Nia drew a deep breath and climbed the steps without a word. Before the door closed behind her, Janner caught a glimpse of a few Hollish sailors. They stood a head taller than the Kimerans and had broad, hairy chests, red and gold hair, and beards so thick and bushy they looked like bears. When they saw Nia their eyes widened, and Janner heard gasps.

  The door shut and Artham winked at the children. “This is going to be fun,” he whispered, and he beckoned the children closer. They scrambled to the top of the steps and put their ears to the door.

  “I am the daughter of Podo Helmer and Wendolyn Igiby,” Nia said in a strong voice. “My husband was Esben Wingfeather, and with him I ruled the Shining Isle until Gnag the Nameless waged war on the free lands of Aerwiar. You may have thought me dead and my children with me, but by the Maker’s hand we live and sail from Skree to the Green Hollows for refuge. My name,” she paused, “is Nia Wingfeather, Queen of Anniera, daughter of the Hollows.”

  After a dumbstruck silence, a rowdy cheer exploded on the deck. The Hollish sailors clapped in time and chanted, “Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah!” The chant carried to the other Hollish ships and grew in volume until even Artham and the children gave up their silence and chanted too.

  Janner moved to open the door, but Artham stopped him.

  “Your mother will present you when she sees fit to do so. You’re not just a boy on this side of the sea, lad. You’re a Throne Warden, and these Hollowsfolk know what that means. Just wait.”

  Janner wasn’t sure what all that meant, but he didn’t mind. His mother was a queen and a native daughter. These were her people. And they were a people who were strong enough to have survived the Great War and still sail the Dark Sea. They were still fighting. It meant there were yet places in the world that Gnag hadn’t ruined, places where Janner and his siblings might finally make a home.

  “Are we going to be all right?” Kalmar asked.

  “I think so,” Janner said. “Didn’t you hear? Our mother is the Queen of the Shining Isle.”

  “Will we have a house?” Leeli asked, her eyes widening.

  Artham laughed. “And a bed, too.”

  Janner limped back to his bunk and eased himself into it, wondering where the Hollowsfolk kept their books and how long it would be before he got to settle into the nook of a tree and read.

  A few minutes later, Nia appeared. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked happy. She announced that they were a half-day’s sail from Ban Rona, where the people of the Hollows would give them, she was sure, a queen’s welcome.

  6

  Through the Watercraw

  Children! Keep out of sight, but come here. I want ye to see this.”

  Podo didn’t have to say it twice. The children had spent four long hours in the ship’s hold, bursting with anticipation of their arrival at the Hollows. Janner and Leeli hurried up the steps and into the late afternoon light, but Kalmar stayed behind.

  “Kalmar?” Janner said, peeking back into the hold.

  “Go ahead.” Kalmar sat on his bunk, a gray shadow among shadows. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Go on, Janner,” Artham said. “I’ll keep him company.”

  Janner was too excited to wonder what was wrong, so he pulled the door shut behind him and squeezed between Nia and Leeli at the rail. He spotted the lead Hollish vessel ahead of them. The second ship was a short distance off the port side, and the third was following theEnramere.

  “That,” Podo said, pointing from the wheel, “is your new home. Ban Rona.”

  In the light of a fiery sunset, Janner’s first look at the port city of the Green Hollows was magnificent. They were sailing into a harbor, the mouth of which was framed by towering cliffs on either side, forming a wide gateway. The cliffs were narrow, like two giant walls rising out of the water, twice as high as the mast of the ship. The walls stretched for miles, curving back to the mainland on either side of the port, as if the ships were sailing through the open end of a giant horseshoe.

  The crags rose above them, sharp against the deepening blue sky; foamy waves clapped like thunder against the feet of boulders worn smooth and strange by epochs of tidal surge. At the top of the cliffs, bonfires blazed and figures stood on the brink, watching them pass, hoisting swords and axes and bows in time with the familiar “Rah! Rah! Rah!” of the Hollish warriors.

  “Word has already spread,” Oskar said. He removed his spectacles and wiped a tear from his cheek. “The Queen of Anniera has returned.”

  Janner was surprised to see that Nia wasn’t smiling. Her back straight, her face stern, she was a tower of strength, fiercer with each syllable of her kinsmen’s chant. She appeared both younger and older, and Janner felt a shiver of awe that this woman was his mother.

  On the far side of the harbor, nestled in the arms of the cliffs, lay the city of Ban Rona. The sun was low enough that
streetlamps had been lit, and firelight glowed from a thousand windows as if the buildings were watching their arrival with happy faces. The dwellings at the waterfront were connected by a maze of torch-lit boardwalks. The city rested on the slope of a hill, at the top of which stood a stout gray fortress.

  “The Keep,” Nia said.

  “Is that where the king lives?” Leeli asked.

  “There isn’t a king in the Green Hollows. We call him the Keeper, and he’s more like a chief. The Keeper isn’t part of a bloodline, like a king usually is. He’s chosen by the people at the Bannick Durga.”

  “The games,” Janner said. “I remember reading about them.”

  “Yes. Maker willing, we’ll go this year and you can see them for yourself.”

  As the last of the Hollish ships slipped into the harbor, Janner heard grinding metal and groaning timbers. His first impulse was to run for cover, but neither Nia nor Podo seemed concerned. Nia pointed at the precipice of the nearest cliff and said, “Watch.”

  There was a commotion at the top of the walls. The clank of metal grew louder and louder until at last the waters behind the ships foamed and roiled, and out of the sea rose the biggest chain Janner had ever seen. It drooped between the cliffs, and as it rose he saw more and more chain, interconnected like a giant fishing net. It stretched across the entire opening, forming a massive iron grid that nothing bigger than a rowboat could pass through.

  “It’s called the Watercraw,” said Podo over his shoulder. “No ship, no matter how strong, can breach such a defense. No wind could blow hard enough, and no captain would be foolish enough to try.”

  Janner felt himself smiling. He wasn’t sure about the rest of the Green Hollows, but at least Ban Rona was safe. Safe from people like the Stranders, and safe from Gnag the Nameless and his Fangs. The cozy houses that lined the streets of Ban Rona looked as warm and inviting as the Igiby cottage, and Janner hoped one would be theirs.