The tonttu was fairly quivering with excitement. “I do not know the way, but I think I can find some who do. I will be back soon.”
He dashed out of the cell, slamming the door behind him.
“What do we do now?” I asked.
“We wait. I have been cultivating Erkki as an ally since I was captured. He’s a good-hearted little fellow but lives in terror of the king…as does everyone in the mountain these days. I’ve been lucky that Wergis has been too obsessed with finding the prince to pay much attention to me. Otherwise I might be in much worse shape than you find me in now. Well, never mind that. Let’s see what Erkki left for us to eat.”
“I’m nae sure the lad should partake of this food,” said Angus.
“You’re wise to be cautious,” replied my grandfather. “And if we were in a faerie mountain, I would certainly agree. But he can eat this without fear of being trapped.” He smiled and said, “He may not like it, but he can eat it.”
“I’m starving!” I said.
Which seemed to settle the matter.
The tonttu had brought a fish soup, which reminded me of something Granny Aino makes sometimes. There was also a kind of bread, fairly hard but all right if you dunked it in the soup to soften it. The third thing was a mashed vegetable, bright orange.
“Troll root,” said my grandfather, pointing to it. “It only grows on this mountain.”
I had some of everything, as did Angus, though his portions were tiny.
Askeladden stuck with the fish soup. He said it was very good.
As we were finishing up, the door swung open once more. Erkki stepped in, followed by six more tonttus. Five were dressed in simple clothing. The sixth looked much more elegant, his dark tunic embroidered with gold symbols.
I noticed an odd look pass between him and my grandfather. But it was Erkki who spoke. “These five”—here he indicated the humbly dressed tonttus—“carry food to the tonttus who guard the glass coffin. They have agreed to lead you to the prince. I brought Aspen because he is the scribe of Troll Mountain and should be witness to this.”
I remembered that Grampa Raimo was friends with a tonttu named Aspen. Clearly they were not letting on that they knew each other.
“You must pretend to be our captives,” continued Erkki. “Otherwise we may be stopped along the way. The cat and the bird will be able to travel freely, as all ravens and cats do in the mountain.” He paused, looked at Angus, and said, “The human boy I can explain, but it would likely be best if we could hide the brownie.”
Angus sighed. “I can ride in Cody’s duffel bag. I’m used to such indignities.”
Erkki nodded and said, “Good.” Turning back to my grandfather, he added, “I will need to bind your hands behind your back. The boy’s, too.”
“And we will need to trust you,” Grampa replied.
“Of course,” said Erkki as he bound my hands. “Now listen. The prince is hidden deep in the heart of the mountain. Only the lowliest of the tonttus, who must take food to the seven who guard the coffin, know the way. That is because the queen knew the king would not think to question them….They are not important enough.”
“Which tells you how pompous and out of touch he has become,” said another of the tonttus. Then he waved his hand and said, “Whew! Something smells like roses.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I farted.”
“Are you all right?” asked my grandfather. He looked worried.
“Not sure. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that food. My stomach is kind of jumping around.”
“We don’t have time to worry about that,” said Erkki anxiously. “Follow me.”
He led us out of the cell, then closed the door behind us, carefully locked it, and hung the keys back in place.
“So as not to arouse suspicion,” he explained.
With our tonttu escort singing the walls to a dim light, we reentered the tunnels and began to make our way toward the heart of the mountain.
Nettie, afterward (continued)
I followed Mother down, ever down, toward the mountain’s heart. As we traveled closer to the lava, the air grew warmer, the smell ever more pungent.
I could tell we were traveling by minor tunnels because the walls gave very little light compared to the more important routes. So I was surprised when I heard someone approaching from a side tunnel.
“Say nothing!” ordered Mother. “I will handle whoever it is.”
I nodded and waited.
When the approaching group came into sight, I was astonished to see a band of tonttus escorting Cody and a tall human with blond hair in our direction. Most of the tonttus were fairly shabby, but one was quite well dressed and looked strangely familiar. He caught my eye and gave his head the tiniest of shakes, as if to warn me to say nothing. It was an old signal of ours, and I held in a gasp as I realized it was my companion in mischief from so long, long ago.
I assumed the tall human must be Cody’s grandfather, though he looked far too young for the part. Both he and Cody had their hands bound behind their backs, which made me worried and angry. Korkaya and Askeladden were with them. I wondered where the brownie was, then figured he was probably concealed in Cody’s pack.
“What is this, Grekko?” said my mother, her voice low but sharp. “Why have you brought these humans here?”
One of the tonttus bowed and said, “They told us what Princess Nettie hopes to do. We brought them to you in case their help was needed.”
Quickly, I explained to my mother who Cody and Raimo were. Then I turned to the tonttus and asked, “If you brought them to help, why have you bound them?”
The tonttu leading the group said, “Because to let them walk as if free would have aroused suspicion.”
I realized at once that he was right.
We walked on. After several minutes, the tunnel came to a dead end. I was afraid we had taken a wrong turn until Mother placed her hand against the wall and murmured some words I could not make out. With very little sound the wall parted, revealing that the tunnel actually continued into the mountain.
We passed through. Once we were all in, Mother spoke a sharp word. The wall slid shut behind us.
“That false wall is why your father has not discovered where the prince is hidden,” she said. “It was the last protection. It would open to his touch, of course, for he is the king. But it is so well made he cannot see it.”
“Would you please remove our bonds now?” asked Cody’s grandfather.
The tonttus hurried to do as he requested.
We continued on, the downward slope steeper now, Mother always singing the walls to light ahead of us. The heat was becoming hard to bear, even for me. Soon Cody took off his jacket and set it against the tunnel wall. “I’ll pick it up on the way back,” he said.
“Carry it!” ordered my mother. “Even now I do not want to leave anything like a trail or a clue.”
Cody picked up his jacket.
Shortly after that we turned a corner, and I gave a little cry, part excitement, part grief.
We had entered a cave that was a nearly perfect hemisphere. Directly across from us was a circular opening about three feet above the floor. Through it I could see the rosy glow of the lava. I wondered how far below us the mountain’s heart might be. It was clear from the heat that we were close.
In the cave, just as the legend had said, were seven tonttus. Because of the heat they were almost naked, wearing nothing more than loincloths. Each held a spear or had one lying next to him. Though they were supposed to be on guard, some were sitting, some lying down. Three were playing some kind of game with knucklebones they rolled like dice. I gathered they had gotten used to not being disturbed by anyone except my mother. Even so, they leaped to their feet when we came in. Bowing in unison, they said, “Welcome, Queen Hekthema!”
Then they goggled at the rest of us, clearly wild with curiosity but uncertain whether they dared ask.
I thought little of all this. My attention was riv
eted to the center of the cave, where, on an altar of stone, rested the glass coffin that held Prince Gustav Fredrik.
His finely sculptured features, his high cheekbones and cleft chin, looked little changed since I had last seen him, a hundred and fifty years before.
I felt a tightness in my chest. We were here to set him free. But could I possibly bring myself to do that? It would be hard. Yet I knew I could not allow my father to shatter the coffin and thus doom the prince to wander in eternal despair as one of the unquiet dead.
“What do we do now?” I said to my mother.
“The cover is sealed in place. We need to sing it off. I could do it on my own, but it will be faster if we work together. Once the seal is broken, we will lift the lid from the coffin. After that it will take about an hour before he truly departs, his spirit safe to go…wherever it was supposed to go. We must guard him well until that happens!”
With a heavy heart I took my place at the foot of the coffin.
Mother stood at the head.
“Echo me,” she ordered. Then she began to sing, her voice as harsh as I remembered it from those terrifying lullabies long ago. She would sing a line, and I would repeat it, not understanding the words, which were in a magic language she had never had a chance to teach me.
The others watched in silence, the only sound beside our voices the dull roar of the lava somewhere below. When we completed the second verse, I heard a slight popping sound. Mother nodded to me. We grasped the lid of the coffin and lifted.
It came off with no resistance.
My heart was pulsing with sorrow.
We placed the lid against the wall. Then I returned to the coffin and bent over it to gaze on the sleeping prince.
“We need only keep him safe for another hour. Then his spirit will be free,” said Mother.
I did not answer. I was staring down at the prince.
Because I was standing with my back to the entrance of the cave, I did not see my father enter. I only heard his fearsome roar, and the heart-stopping words, “Faithless daughter! How dare you return to our mountain?”
I was so startled that I jumped, unintentionally pushing the coffin away from me. It tottered on the edge of the altar, then slipped over, carrying the prince with it.
I heard the crash of glass as it shattered on the stone floor.
A cry of grief I had not known it was possible for me to make tore from my heart.
Quivering with rage, I turned to face my father.
Cody’s Life Log
10/30 (continued)
As if my stomach wasn’t already in enough of an uproar, Nettie’s father storming into the cave sent it into overdrive. Seeing the king in all his fury was the most terrifying moment of my life…worse, even, than when I was attacked by the undergrounders while searching for Nettie below Grand Central.
About the king: to begin with, he had three heads!
He stood at least eight feet tall but seemed even taller because each head was topped by an iron crown that rose in wicked points. He was dressed in leather breeches, and a pair of wide leather straps made an X across his broad, hairy chest. From his shoulders hung a cape sewn together from the pelts of many animals.
Five of his bulging eyes, which were the size of softballs, literally blazed, almost as if there were candles inside them! The sixth eye, dull and dim, rolled in its socket.
Ferocious tusks thrust up from each of the three lower jaws. His shoulders hunched up behind him like a small cliff.
He had bristling hair and spiky, untrimmed beards.
I thought everything was over then and we were all going to die. But to my astonishment, Nettie said firmly and without fear, “Father, you have no place here!”
The king bellowed…not a word, just an ear-shattering cry of rage from all three mouths.
Nettie’s mother came to stand beside her. “Our daughter is right, Wergis. This is no place for you.” With a scowl, she added, “And how did you find your way here?”
“Not all are disloyal to us,” said the king’s central head. It was smirking, which is an odd facial expression when you have tusks. “Erkki came to let us know that we might follow a group here to find the sleeping prince at last.”
“Oh, Erkki,” sighed my grandfather. I could tell he was terribly disappointed in the little tonttu.
“Well, you have done your worst,” said Hekthema. “The coffin is shattered, as you can see. You have achieved your goal. Now go and leave us in peace while we finish what must be done.”
The king’s five good eyes burned with new fury. “You dare speak to us with such insolence?” he bellowed. “You dare defy our wishes, our orders, our commands?”
I noticed that the tonttu Aspen—my grandfather’s friend—had moved to the window and was looking down at the lava. Suddenly he turned back. His face marked with fear, he cried, “King Wergis! The Heart of the Mountain is restless. I fear it is starting to rise!”
A silence fell over the cave. Aspen looked back through the opening, then turned. His voice thick with panic, he said, “It is! It is rising!”
This put a stop to everything. Was the mountain going to erupt?
The thought was horrifying. We would be drowned in lava!
And then it happened.
Angus had been right—I shouldn’t have eaten the troll food. Not because it would magically trap me here in Troll Mountain. Just because it didn’t agree with me.
Without intending to, I unleashed the biggest, most powerful fart of my life. It was silent but potent and seemed to go on and on and on. The sweet odor of roses filled the cave, overwhelming even the rotten-egg smell of the lava.
“Roses!” cried Aspen, his voice filled with horror.
“Roses!” cried the other tonttus, their faces twisting in fear. “Roses! Rose on the rise! The end is coming! The end is coming!”
“Your Majesty,” said Aspen, “as your sage and advisor, I tell you that if you would save the mountain, you must go now, and go quickly! You know the prophecy:
Sweet be the scent that will say doom is near,
Rose on the rise is the smell you should fear!”
“Rose on the rise,” chanted the other tonttus. “Rose on the rise! The smell we should fear.”
Wringing his hands, Aspen said, “The prophecy is coming true! If you do not leave quickly, all of Troll Mountain will be destroyed!”
All three heads of the king looked horror-stricken.
“Smell it, Your Majesty!” urged the tonttu. “Whenever did roses cover the smell of the lava? You have vowed always to protect the mountain. It is your oath! You cannot stay. You cannot stay!”
The king growled as his three heads sniffed the air. The rage that twisted his features made me fear he might simply pick us up one by one and toss us through that window, down into the rising lava.
Instead, he roared in helpless fury. Then the central head bellowed, “Troll Mountain will stand! Never will it fall because of King Wergis!”
He turned and strode toward the tunnel that led out of the cave. At the entrance, he spun back and said to the tonttu who had urged him to go, “Let it be noted in the Annals, Aspen Markonnis, that when the time came King Wergis sacrificed all to save Troll Mountain.”
He reached up and one by one yanked off those fierce-looking iron crowns and flung them to the cave floor. Each bounced several times before coming to rest. He glared around the cave with his five blazing eyes, then turned and disappeared into the darkness.
For a long time, no one said anything. Finally, my grandfather went to the tunnel. He stared into it, then turned to us and burst into laughter.
“Oh, that was well played, Aspen,” he said when he could catch his breath. “Tell me, was the lava really rising?”
“It was indeed,” replied the tonttu. But as he said it, he winked at my grandfather. So I couldn’t tell for sure whether he meant it.
Grampa Raimo turned to me, bowed, and said, “Grandson, I must congratulate you on what
may be the greatest and most well-timed fart in all of history! With that ripe and rosy scent you drove a tyrant from his throne!”
The air of jubilation that filled the cave was interrupted by a wail from Nettie.
I turned but couldn’t see her until she rose from behind the stone altar.
Her face was twisted in grief.
From her massive arms dangled the limp body of the prince.
Nettie, afterward (continued)
The moment my father was gone, I hurried behind the stone altar. The sparkling shards of glass that littered the floor did not bother my bare feet. Overwhelmed by sorrow and tenderness, I knelt and gathered the prince in my arms.
Then I returned his body to the altar.
Mother and I had failed, failed miserably, in our attempt to protect him until his spirit could be properly released.
Now that sweet soul would be damned to wander for all eternity.
Looking down on his handsome face, knowing it was the last time I would ever see it, I could not resist. Expecting nothing, but secretly hoping true love’s kiss might yet do its work, I bent and pressed my lips to his.
He did not stir, which did not surprise me.
I heard a choked sound from my mother. I turned and saw that she was wringing her hands in despair.
I returned my gaze to the prince. As I did, I felt something surge within me, a wave of emotion as fiery and powerful as lava rising in a mountain shaft. I placed my hands on the edge of the altar to support myself. Whatever was happening to me continued. A wave of pain and despair that surpassed all the suffering I had experienced to this point boiled in my heart.
Then I realized it was more than mere despair. The feelings running through me included an overwhelming tenderness for this man who had shown me the first and only tenderness I had ever known…and had paid for it by being cast into this false death, which would lead to his everlasting torment.
It made no difference that the kindness he had shown me had come while I was under a glamour, displaying a false beauty. Until Gustav Fredrik, I had never known what kindness was, or what the heart could experience. Though he had woken something in me that might better have been left slumbering, it could never go to sleep again.
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