by A C Gogolski
“It’s not my fault!” Nell shot back. Tears poured down her cheeks. Her arms were shaking from the strain of the pot.
Rawley sprang forward, giving a warning nip at the older girl’s skirt. Faced with a growling dog, Lexi pushed Nell away and kicked at him. “I’ll get you too, you stupid mutt!”
At that moment the weight of the pot became too much for Nell. With her last bit of strength she heaved it away from her, directly at the fire. It hit the hearth with a dull thud and then a POUUF!, as water splattered over the flames. In an instant, smoke assailed the kitchen, while ashy rivulets ran amuck over the floor.
“Arrgh!” Lexi shrieked. “You’re in trouble now!” But the sight of charcoal rivers flowing across the floor – and the best pot of the house charring in the fire – was enough to divert her rage. She barreled past Nell and dove for the mop. “Get a broom!” she cried. Nell choked back her sobs and ran to obey. The rest of the day they spent cleaning in tense silence.
A week passed, and people all over the village were talking about the family who lived beneath the “witch oaks.” It seemed Lexi was right: no one came near Chase’s shop. Nell’s father hadn’t sold a single boot or made any repairs – not since the trees began leaning so ominously over his home. And the more her parents worried about money, the more Lexi tried to hurt Nell when they were alone. Hair-pulling, tripping, and pushing her into the mud were her favorite punishments. She didn’t forget Rawley nipping at her either. The older girl found an opportunity to smack him any time she held a broom – which was often.
People now avoided Nell when she walked to the castle. Some of the younger children would bump her when they ran past, or throw dried leaves in her hair, and her friends pretended not to see her. Nell knew now how the old hermit felt when he came to town. As word of her “curse” spread, urchins about the village began shouting names at her like troll-girl, hobblespook, and Hexi. The latter was only used when she was with her sister: “Oi, here come Lexi and Hexi!” they taunted. And of course, any teasing by association made Lexi even more determined to punish Nell at home.
It only got worse when, during a wicked spring storm, the wind blew down one of the oaks leaning over the cottage. In the middle of the night a gnarled branch split the roof open with a creak and a crash, and there was no way to stop the rain from pouring in until morning. Her father had to work for two days clearing the huge tree, with no one but his daughters to help him. Nell could see him frown when he looked at her now. He had a roof to repair, a family to feed, and still no business at the cobbler’s shop.
After another long day left to the mercy of her sister, Nell climbed into bed. She tried to find consolation in her pets. “Maybe I should just leave,” she said, but the cat and dog simply looked at her. She had been speaking with them less and less since the parade. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time they talked. Were they were speaking to her now? She didn’t know.
CHAPTER 8
THE GRAY BEAST
Running away was much easier than Nell expected. It was spring, the days were warm, and Nell could be far from the village before anyone noticed she was missing. Her mother and Lexi were busy preparing a stew in the kitchen when Nell slipped in. Neither paid any attention to her while she stowed a few pieces of bread, two radishes, and some salt-packed sturgeon in her bag. Then, dodging the buckets catching drips from the poorly repaired roof, Nell walked out the front door.
She didn’t bother calling to Sola or Rawley, she could no longer hear their voices anyway. Besides, that was just another part of her old life she wanted to forget. She wasn’t far down the road, however, when Rawley appeared at her side. The dog glanced up at her and licked her hand, content simply to trot along.
“I don’t know what to do,” Nell said. Even if she couldn’t make Rawley understand her, it still felt better to talk. “Everything is going wrong. Maybe I am cursed.” She walked heavily, head down. It was a bright spring day, but the sunny birdsong did nothing for her mood. She wandered out of the village and past the muddy farms on the way to the wood. Horses pulled iron ploughs in the distance, furrowing the soil for planting. The men guiding them barely glanced at “that girl with the curse,” as she was known.
Only one person paid her any mind: her neighbor with the missing fingers, Mr. Gall. He was herding a few dozen goats down the road when she met him. Over their absent bleats and baas, the man stuttered, “G-going somewhere? C-careful the grumlins don’t get you.” He showed a row of crooked brown teeth in what might have been a smile. But Nell was in no mood for conversation, especially with the curious herder. Without replying, she hastened around his animals. Soon she disappeared into a stand of budding white birch.
Gloom was upon her as she wandered the wood. Unconsciously she wound her way to the old well that Sola and Rawley showed her in the fall. No giant frog croaked there today. The well sat on the edge of the marsh, and her thoughts drifted back to the day she met the oak. That seemed like a long time ago. Stopping to rest, she set her bag upon the mossy ring of stones. The little roof to the well had long ago rotted away, but a rope and bucket still survived. She emptied it of leaves and then tossed it down into the darkness for a drink. The bucket hit the water with a distant splash.
It was then she met with a feathery feeling. It crept upon her slowly, tingling up from her toes. She had the sense that someone was calling her from afar, but she couldn’t hear the voice. Blue sky peeped through branches overhead, and warblers, bluebirds, and robins filled the air with the carols of spring. Yet something was wrong about the day, like a shirt worn backwards, or a fork with missing tines.
Rawley panted nearby, waiting for a chipmunk he had spotted to dart from beneath a branch. Nell’s eyes grew heavy as she watched her dog. Without bothering to bring up the bucket, she settled into the leaves and put her head against the mossy stones of the well. “Let the grumlins take me if they want,” she murmured.
When she opened her eyes again, the sun was gone. Gray clouds now covered the forest, stifling the birdsong. Nell could not tell how long she slept, nor what time of day it was. And she was alone. She bolted up, shouting, “Rawley!” Her voice sounded too loud, disturbing the drone of the nearby marsh. The air suddenly grew cold and quiet. Her dog didn’t come, but the uneasy feeling of being watched intensified. Nell felt oddly naked, standing there alone by the well, and wished she had not called out.
She shook her head and pushed a thick curl behind her ear. It was time to go home. Besides, she remembered she couldn’t find her way to Lady Zel’s tower without Tomkin – the troll had told her it was altogether invisible to uninvited wanderers in the forest. What would I possibly do alone in the woods at night, without a proper blanket or fire?, she wondered. “I really am stupid, just like Lexi says.”
Nell was reaching for her bag when she caught sight of movement in the thicket beyond the old well. “Rawley?” she called again, this time more cautiously.
As if summoned by her voice, a gray creature with a long, pointy head prowled from the trees. Large, jagged antlers threatened the air above it, seeming to shrink and grow as the light changed. It had the front legs of a horse, and the rear of a deer, but its limbs were jointed all wrong, giving it the crouched look of a spider. Its body was like that of a sick animal, ribs and spine poking from mangy fur. But for such a huge and unwieldy thing, it made no sound. A long skinny rat’s tail trailed the creature, with three curling pink fingers at the end. The tail floated about grasping at branches with a will of its own.
Nell took a step backward and felt the stones of the well. She could make no further move without turning her back on the creature. For a moment she considered bolting into the woods to her left, but her limbs froze up. She couldn’t even lift her tongue to swallow.
The gray beast slowly cocked its head, red-rimed eyes absorbing her every detail. Then it spoke. Its voice carried the echo of a hundred wild dogs – a distant, frenzied baying from the pit of its gut. “You dropped your bucket,�
�� it said. “Let me help you.”
Nell was afraid to take her eyes off the creature, but its compulsion was too great. Her head swiveled against her will and she saw the bucket once again on the edge of the well. The water inside it reflected the gloomy sky above. “Drink,” came the baying call.
A thirst greater than any Nell had ever felt stole over her, but she knew she must not bend to drink. To give in to the commands of the skeletal beast would be her doom. “Ra… Raw-ley,” she croaked. She wasn’t sure if she spoke the name or not, but the thought of her companion gave her some hope. With a great effort, she managed to turn her head from the bucket.
The creature was so near to her now that its horse breath moved her hair. Shifting antlers jutting from its skull bent toward her face like twenty shadowy knives. Its eyes were opals, just three hands’ breadth from hers, and she could taste the hot air wheezing from its crusted nostrils.
The voice sounded again inside her chest, “Come with me, I will feed you. I will take you home.”
Looking into its eyes, Nell felt she would never see home again. Heaviness filled her. She was a hopeless puppet with no will of her own. Rawley had abandoned her just like the Prince, and her end would be a drab gray ritual of pain. The beast’s mouth parted to show a line of pointy teeth, and Nell shut her eyes to the sight of it.
Then an unexpected sound split the air. Ga WOOOOOK! It echoed up from the well, startling both the creature and Nell. The giant frog! Her mind was free of the beast’s beguiling for just a moment – long enough for her instincts to take over. Shifting back on her hands, Nell kicked the sickly thing between its antlers and scrambled up onto the well.
The creature screamed like an insane horse, tossing its head wildly. Just as Nell tried to fling herself into the grass, one of the sharp antlers caught the back of her coat and tipped her in the wrong direction. Her collar suddenly snapped free of the barb and she teetered, for a frozen moment, on the lip of the well. The gray beast reared, its three-fingered tail whipping toward her but it was too late. Arms flailing, Nell slipped into the well. The darkness gripped her. Her hands and feet beat frantically at slick walls all the way down the stone shaft. In a heartbeat the frenzied fall ended, and Nell found herself in water up to her knees. For a long time she stood unmoving, unwilling to look up for fear the gray beast’s head would greet her from above – and haunt her every second thereafter.
She drew a shuddering breath, trying to steady her heart as her eyes adjusted to the murk of the well. Water trickled around her feet and legs, moving to some unfathomable place. She remembered the big well in her village. Once she heard that all waters were connected beneath the earth. She might even find her way back home if she knew which way she was facing. But the dark! a voice inside her screamed, and Nell knew the truth of it. How could she brave the black tunnels of the earth alone?
She finally looked up and saw the opening of the well high above: merely a circle of dismal cloud, veined by the branches of a nearby tree. Of the beast, there was no sign.
Slimy beards hung from the stones over her head. Nell stared up at the tiny window of sky for a long time, but her fear of the darkness stopped her from calling out. No one would help her if they didn’t know she was there. Then again, the terrible things lurking in the dim might slither near if she made noise. Weeping silently, she stood craning her neck, witnessing the sky deepen to night above her.
CHAPTER 9
THE UNDERGROUND KINGDOM
Nell could no longer tell if her eyes were open or closed. Her neck ached, and she was cold and hungry. The frog had started croaking again, belching its morose call just a few feet from her in the darkness of the well. Sola said it was a giant frog, and down here in the depths, its voice was truly thunderous. Strangely, terror did not reach Nell, just a sad recognition that she needed to do what every fiber of her did not want to: grope into the black, unknown regions of the earth, and surrender all hope of light.
She was about to take her first step in the direction away from the frog when a light glimmered overhead. Was it a torch, perhaps a candle? Someone had come! She managed to find her voice, cracked and small, calling “Help… help! I’m in the well, down here!”
The candle above wavered and disappeared, then returned and seemed to be passed over the opening. Perhaps there were two people up there. For an instant, she wondered what type of person would wander the woods at night, with only an uncovered candle for light. What did it matter though? Being rescued by anyone would be better than floundering alone through the endless black. The candle hovered over the well again. Nell cried, “Hello? I’m stuck!” The thought of being freed made her choke with relief.
But what were they waiting for? “Hello?” she said, more hesitantly this time. Why weren’t they answering?
The small flicker changed color, shifting from white to blue. It sailed away and returned a third time. At that moment, a terrible recognition dawned upon Nell. She husked, “Oh no! No no no.” The blue candlelight wavered directly above the well, and then, ever so slowly, began floating down the long, slimy shaft.
Nell tripped through the muck at the bottom, falling against slick stones and splashing about in a panic as the candlewisp bobbed into the cavern. She clutched the wet stone wall, trembling from fear and cold. The uncanny blue flame illuminated a narrow cave, uneven and open to the right where the water trickled. Nell stood watching the spirit, panting small breaths and wondering how such a small thing would devour her.
The spook-light guttered and blew itself over her head with a swish. After a few heartbeats, it changed from blue to pale green, flickering toward the opening where the stream flowed. In desperation Nell looked about her, unsure what to do. It was the first time she was able to glimpse the shape of her prison, and by the retreating light of the candlewisp she could finally see the frog. It was bigger than Sola, booming another questioning croak as she stared at it. Then, just for an instant, Nell caught sight of something next to the frog – an apparition of sorts. Its shape was that of a stooped creature with pincer-hands crossed over its belly, and a pig-like face staring down at the water. Suddenly it jerked its head upward, consuming Nell with smoke-pink eyes. Unlike the frog, which was solid, Nell could see the stones of the well behind the pig-specter.
By now the bobbing spirit was almost out of sight, and the dark threatened on all sides again. No matter how much she dreaded the candlewisp, Nell knew the pig-creature was worse. “Wait, wait,” she cried, and the pale spirit wavered. Nell splashed her way toward the little spook-light, fleeing the swirling pink gaze of the creature. The thing made no move to follow, except to lower its snout and grab at some invisible web.
Now that she was away from the specter beneath the well, the life returned to Nell’s arms and legs. It was easier to make her way through the water with candlelight to guide her – even weird green candlelight. She found that there was never any level path to follow, just the obtuse hollows of the earth. At times she had to crawl through mud, with granite bones pressing against her on all sides. Sometimes she followed the spirit into wide, accidental vestibules of stone, with ceilings, walls and floors tilting at uncomfortable angles. Other times she clung to cracked shelves, with nothing but yawning blackness behind and below – one misplaced step away. And always she needed to scale, crawl, and squeeze quickly, for the candlewisp was swift and indifferent to all obstacles.
Bizarre mineral deposits like sagging sculptures, crystalline castles, and stony icicles appeared unexpectedly along the way. So magnificent were they that when she looked upon them, Nell could almost forget the danger she was in. Everything glittered and glistened by the light of the candlewisp, but there was little time to gawk at the marvels of the underground realm. The spirit led her tirelessly on through labyrinths of hanging rock and flowing water. There was no sign of life in the stillness – no insects spun webs or burrowed down there. Yet something thrummed deep, deep below her. She could hear a pulse of life within the earth, slow and massi
ve beyond imagining. It came to her in her belly, a frequency so low it could only be felt.
As she wondered at the sound, the glowing candlewisp finally slowed its flight. Having followed it for so long, Nell forgot the thing might be taking her somewhere she didn’t want to go. Stories of people drowned by the treacherous spook-lights flooded back into her mind.
The creature beamed a steady green, blinked once, and then darted through a fissure. “I guess I have to follow,” she said, standing once again in darkness. If the candlewisp left her, she knew all was lost. There was no telling where she was now in relation to where she started.
Nell took a deep breath and felt her way down into the narrow cleft in the rock. She soon exited into waist-high water with a gasp. Panic set in as she waded into the midnight depths, but she soon caught sight of the green flicker, sailing quite a distance away to her left. There were two of them now, or rather, it was the candlewisp’s reflection, seen from the edge of a still lake.
She took another cautious step toward the spirit and in a moment she was swimming through cold water. It was then a faint, tinkling sound came to her. Solemn, lonely, and filled with an unnamable yearning, the melody touched a feeling in Nell that she had never experienced before.
As she splashed further out, she noticed other lights. Below the surface, tiny flames winked into being. Whites and pale blues, lavenders and delicate greens, the candlewisps softly illuminated buildings and lanes submerged within the clear subterranean lake. Soon there were hundreds of flickering globes beneath her. As she swam on, she began to see the forms of people take shape around the candles – little troll people, like Tomkin – pale shades reliving the scenes of a drowned civilization.
