“General who? I’ve never heard of a General Fithyhoop.”
“He’s new.”
“New.” The ridgerunner tilted his head a little.
Kal got ready to run. He wasn’t concerned about losing a fight with ridgerunners, but he didn’t want to hurt them.
“I’ve never heard of him,” the ridgerunner said. “What breed is he?”
Breed? Kal had no idea how to answer that question, so he went on the offensive. “Silence, ridgerunner! I’m here to find out about trolls, not to answer questions from you lot. Now tell me where you last saw the troll and I’ll be on my way.”
“Fine,” said the ridgerunner. “I’ll tell you, but it won’t do you any good. It’s one of the runaways. Won’t fight. We were sent to bring back its head.”
“For fruit,” said one of the others sadly.
“Yes, for fruit. But a rotten boy interrupted our execution. He wouldn’t let us kill it.”
Kalmar had to hide a smile. It was definitely Janner.
“And what happened?” Kal growled. “You didn’t let it escape, did you?”
“The boy cut its bonds. The troll attacked us and took the boy, probably for food.”
Kal’s inner smile vanished. But again, something in his blood told him that Janner was alive. “Where is it? I’ll have to kill it myself, I suppose.”
“The last we saw of it, the beast was east of here, about half a day’s walk. I’m sure you’ll find its tracks and whatever’s left of that blasted boy.”
“You won’t find any fruit, that’s for sure,” said another ridgerunner.
The leader sighed and sat down, which signaled the others to lower their weapons and join him. They looked so forlorn that Kalmar almost wished he had a basket of apples to give them. Then he had an idea.
“I have another message from General Fithyhoop. Gnag appreciates your willingness to help in his campaign, and he has bequeathed to you a secret storehouse of fruit.”
“What? Where?” The ridgerunners jumped to their feet and circled Kalmar like schoolchildren about to get candy.
“We are Gnag’s humble servants,” said the leader with a bow.
“If you travel north and west, you’ll come to a lake in the shape of a shoe.” Kal knelt and* traced a map in the snow. “Turn due east and travel into the forest for a day, until you come upon a snoak tree with a hole in the trunk big enough to fit a full-grown digtoad. You can’t miss it. Travel north again for a half a day until you see a stone binhouse. It’s filled with every kind of fruit you can imagine.”*
The ridgerunners’ eyes twinkled, and a few drops of drool spattered into the snow.
“Spread the word to any ridgerunners you see,” Kal said. “Gnag is generous. He values your people!”
The ridgerunners were wild with glee. In seconds, the fire was stomped out, their camp was struck, and the little creatures dashed away to what Kalmar hoped was the middle of nowhere. He stood alone, pleased with himself and wishing Janner had been there to see it.
Kal sniffed the air to be sure the ridgerunners were indeed still moving away from him, then he dashed away too, hoping to find his brother before the troll had him for breakfast.
18
The Mystery of the Dream Window Thing
Not long after Leeli began playing her whistleharp, Dugger returned to the houndry with a note from Nia.
Leeli,
Stay put. You’re in Biggin O’Sally’s care until morning. Chimney Hill is full of the wounded, so we needed your bedroom anyway. I have to believe that if Kalmar left, it was to find Janner and bring him home. If you find them in the song, send word immediately. Maker help us.
Love,
Mama
Leeli capped the tube on Dugger’s collar and patted his head. “She says I’m to stay at the houndry.”
“Good,” said Thorn with a yawn. “It’s better for the pups with you here anyway.” At first, Thorn had sat with her and listened, but whenever he offered a helpful word of encouragement Leeli’s concentration broke and she found it harder and harder to be kind to him. She had played through every song she could remember; Hollish reels, sailing songs, battle songs, sad songs, happy songs, Skreean dirges, soup songs, bacon songs, gravy songs, goat lullabies, songs about the Maker, to the Maker, and even some songs that were so old people claimed they were writtenby the Maker. But nothing happened. No visions. No mysterious connection with her brothers.
Thorn was siphoning fresh water from the cistern to fill the trough. He’d been looking at her with a puzzled expression all night. “How could they hear you if they’re out in the hollows somewhere? I mean, your playing is loud, and pretty too. But not that loud.”
“I don’t understand it either,” Leeli told him. “But sometimes, something weird happens when I play. The music opens up and makes it so we can all see each other.”
“Like a window?”
“Sort of. More like a dream. Actually, itis like a window, but a window in a dream.” Thorn nodded as if he understood, but Leeli knew he didn’t. She smiled. “I know it sounds strange.”
“Real strange. But at least you’ve got the dogs dozing. All but Frankle.” Thorn aimed the water spout at the next trough and pointed at Leeli’s feet. The little dog’s paws and snout stuck out from beneath the bench, eyes twinkling in the lamplight. “He’s been watching you the whole time.”
Leeli bent over and scratched the little dog’s chin. “I didn’t realize he was there.” She sighed. Whatelse was she missing? The other times the magic had worked it had been an accident; she hadn’t been thinking about much at all.
“The first time it happened I was singing an old Annieran song on the cliffs in Glipwood.” Leeli paced the room, scattering hay with her crutch as she went. “The dragons stopped and listened. The second time was when Nugget died.”
“Your giant dog?” Thorn asked. “I would like to have seen that one.”
“Then I played on the way to the Ice Prairies. I was worried about the boys, and I played, and all of a sudden I could see them both. But later, when Janner got to Kimera we tried to find Tink and it didn’t work. Nothing. Not until Gammon took us prisoner. Then I hummed, and Janner saw Tink again.” Leeli closed her eyes and tried to imagine what had changed. She had been crying and afraid. She remembered that. She was trying not to show it, but she was afraid now, too.
“When was the last time your window-dream-thing worked?” Thorn asked over his shoulder as he topped off the final trough.
“On the deck of theEnramere, when the sea dragons came to kill Podo. I played this old song called ‘Yurgen’s Tune,’ and suddenly we were all connected. I could hear the dragons, too.”
“Creepy,” Thorn said with a yawn.
“What?” Leeli said, with a yawn of her own.
“The dragons. You’re probably used to them, as much as you’ve seen them, but I think they’re creepy.”
Leeli stopped walking.
“What is it?” Thorn asked.
“The dragons,” she said.
“What about them?”
“Maybe the magic works best when they’re around. It’s happened almost every time I’ve seen them!”
“Great,” Thorn said with a smile as he sat down on the bench where Frankle was hiding. “All you need is a sea dragon. Easy.”
Leeli plopped down beside him and banged her crutch against the wall. Several dogs sat up. “If I could get close to the sea, maybe it would work.”
“Maybe if you play that ‘Yurgen’ song he’ll come swimming up.”
“It doesn’t work like that. The dragons come when they choose to. Besides, the last thing I want is for them to actually come out of the water.”
“Why’s that? I thought you said they weren’t evil.”
“Not all of them are. But the main one—Yurgen—is old and twisted. He wants to kill Podo, and I don’t trust him. He scares me.”
Thorn dangled a henleg bone over the edge of the bench and smiled as Frank
le’s nose edged out to sniff it. “Maybe you just need to bait them. Wave a henleg and they’ll come close enough for your song to do its thing.”
Leeli’s head shot up. “Thorn, you’re brilliant! I don’t want them out of the water. I just need them to come closer. I need my grandpa.”
“Pa told me he went back to Chimney Hill a while ago.”
Leeli threw on her coat and clicked her tongue as she made her way to the houndry door. Six dogs awoke and padded out with her. “Thorn, can you help me get my sled ready?”
The sky hung low and the fog was thick as Leeli drove her sled down from the Guildling Hall to Ban Rona. Piles of Fang armor seemed to float out of the mist, along with Hollish sentries standing watch, smoldering houses, broken doors, and muddied piles of snow. Whining dogs wandered the streets, unable to find their masters. The air was dank with sadness and fear of the next attack. Leeli turned south and drove the dogs up the road to Chimney Hill.
“Hail, Song Maiden,” a voice said as she dismounted the sled and limped to the front steps. Danniby, dressed in his black Durgan uniform, materialized from the shadows and bowed, then he raised a steaming mug in her direction. “Sippin’ bibes to warm the bones. Is everything well? Your mother told me you were to spend the night at the houndry.”
“I need to speak to Grandpa. Is he awake?”
“He tried to sleep, but he’s been out to see me every few minutes, asking after your brothers. I’ll see to your dogs.” Danniby moved to unharness the team.
“Don’t,” Leeli said. “I’ll be right back.”
She pushed through the door and found Oskar and Podo beside the fire. There were makeshift cots spread around the room where the wounded slept or tried to sleep.
“Leeli girl!” Podo said quietly as he grunted his way out of his chair. “What are ye doing out in the night? Those bats could be circling!”
“Grandpa, I need you. Mister Reteep, where’s the First Book?”
“In the words of Cletus John Jimmyjames, ‘At this hour? It’s in my room.’ I’ve been studying the First Book—along with some old accounts of the Annieran kings and queens I found in the library. I think you’ll find it allveryinteresting. Fascinating stuff. For example, did you know that Old Hollish was used in the courts of Anniera by scribes up until only eighty years ago? And the original character forgleefwasyimplewith the exception ofsumpo in the tertian tense . . . ” he trailed off when he realized no one was listening. “I’ll get the book. And I’ll be very quiet.” Oskar stood and let out a little gasp. His eyes twinkled and he raised a finger. “It’ll give me a chance to practice my Durgan sneakery! I’ve been reading all about it. Observe.”
Grunting like a pen full of hogpiglets, Oskar dropped to all fours, then rolled to the foot of the stair and tiptoed up the steps, making enough noise to rattle the windows. Several irritated groans came from the cots.
“What’s the trouble, lass?” Podo put an arm around her and sat her down beside him by the fire. “I thought you were Janner and Kal, come home at last.”
“I’ve been trying to find them. But the song won’t work.”
“Blast. It’s too bad, but it’s no surprise,” Podo said. “That sort of thing never works when you mean it to. It’s the Maker’s way of driving ye mad.”
“But I think I might know how to get it to work.” Leeli took Podo’s hand. “It’s the dragons.”
Podo’s eyebrows lowered and he pulled his hand away. “The dragons?”
“Whenever I’ve played the song and they were nearby, the magic worked.”
Podo stood and limped over to his chair. “Magic,” he said as he eased himself down and propped up his foot. “It never did anyone any good.”
“But that’s not true. I was able to see Kalmar and Uncle Artham when we were in Kimera. And I was able to stop the dragons on theEnramere. If I can get it to work, maybe we can find the boys.”
Oskar peeked over the banister, and Podo and Leeli pretended not to notice as he made his way stealthily down the stairs, rattling the windows with every thump. He scooted on his back across the floor to the hearth, hid behind the nearest chair, and held out the First Book, waiting to surprise Leeli. “Thank you, Mister Reteep,” Leeli said without turning. Oskar emerged from behind the chair, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. He sat down with the book in his lap, looking dejected.
“What’s all the racket?” said Nia from the top of the steps. Her hair was a mess and she was dressed in a soiled apron. When she saw Leeli, she blinked away her sleepiness, hurried down the stairs, and hugged her. “Please tell me you found them.”
“It won’t work,” Leeli said, holding up her whistleharp. Nia’s face fell. “But I think I know why, Mama. We need to be near the dragons.”
“Dragons,” Podo spat. “You can’t trust them.”
“We don’tneed to trust them,” Leeli said. “We just need them out there in the harbor for the song to work. I think. It’s worth a try, isn’t it? What’s the worst that could happen?”
“The dragons could come out of the sea and eat us all,” Podo snapped.
“They don’t want to eat anyone but you.” Leeli said firmly. “And they won’t come out of the sea if you don’t set foot in the water.” She knew him well enough to know that his anger was just a mask for his fear. “Grandpa, please. If it doesn’t work, then fine. But we have to try. And we have to do it before the Fangs come back. Don’t you want to know if the boys are all right?”
Podo heaved a sigh, then clomped to the door and put on his coat. “I’ll get the sled ready.” Then he grabbed his legbone and a sword and stepped outside into the cold dawn.
By the time the sun rose, Leeli, Oskar, Nia, and Podo were riding west toward the harbor. The sunlight that pushed through the gray mist was weak and eerie. And though they didn’t know it, above the clouds, a vast flock of Bat Fangs circled in the airy silence, awaiting the signal to attack.
19
What Kalmar Saw
Kalmar smelled the troll long before he found its tracks. Just before sunrise he spotted a set of footprints as big as flagstones in a budding apple orchard. Though the stench of troll flesh stung his nose, he could smell Janner too. He was alive.
Kalmar crept through the orchard slowly, recalling every Durgan principle of sneakery. He had to be quiet, because surprise might be his only advantage. He might be able to beat a Fang, but a troll? They were big, their skin was as thick as bark and they were strong enough to throw a boulder. Kal had seen them do it at Miller’s Bridge.
At the edge of the orchard, the footprints veered to the left and wound into a brushy ravine. If it weren’t for the footprints, the terrible smell, and all the broken branches, he would hardly know the troll was there at all, Kal thought with a grim smile. Trolls weren’t exactly masters of stealth. As he crept down the hill and into the brush, he could hear the thing breathing, a huffing, snorting sound, like a giant hogpig gobbling slop. He hoped it wasn’t gobbling his brother.
He dropped to all fours and crawled under the haythorn brambles, stopping now and again to tug his cape loose from a thorn or twig. The smell grew stronger and stronger until Kal’s eyes watered and bile rose in his throat. He worried that his nose would be permanently damaged, like the nasal equivalent of staring too long into the sun and going blind.
Kalmar reached a muddy boulder and peeked around it, discovering at last the welcome sight of Janner sitting among the haythorn with his legs tucked up to his chest and his black cape wrapped around himself for warmth. But Kal still couldn’t see the troll. It had to be on the other side of the boulder.
Kalmar wanted to whistle or snap, but it was too risky. He waved at Janner, but he wouldn’t look up. Kal leaned against the boulder and scooted his way around to the other side, where he saw the troll’s gray, lumpy foot, its toenails yellow and cracked. The foot was attached to an enormous leg, and the leg was attached to an enormous body, and at once he realized the boulder wasn’t a boulder at all. It was the t
roll’s back. And Kal was leaning against it.
He shrieked mostly with disgust that he’d actually touched the thing. Janner’s head jerked up and the look of confusion on his face might have been funny if not for the danger. Kal fell backward into a tangle of brush, scrambling to draw his sword.
The troll grunted then stood and spun around. It saw Kal and narrowed its beady eyes. The fat lower lip curled downward and it sneered. Kalmar’s cape was hopelessly tangled in the scrub, his sword was beneath him at an odd angle, and he was so frightened that even if he could move he wouldn’t have been able to.
The troll raised its mighty arms over its head and curled its fingers into battering ram fists. Kal closed his eyes, regretting, among many other things, that the last thing he would smell would be troll sweat.
“Oood!” Janner cried.
Kal was aware, in what he thought was his last moment, that this was a strange thing for Janner to shout. When the blow didn’t come, he opened one eye and saw Janner standing between him and the troll, waving his hands.
“Oood, no! He’s not a Fang.”
After a pause, the troll spoke in a deep rumble. “Fang. Bad Fang.”
“No, Oood. This is my brother.” Janner put a hand to his heart. “Brother.”
“Brudder.” The troll studied Kalmar and eventually lowered its arms. “Brudder?”
Janner extended a hand to Kalmar. “Kal, get up. Slowly.”
Kal took his brother’s hand and disentangled himself from the brush, willing his legs not to shake. He had no idea what was going on, but he knew better than to ask questions. He put his arm around Janner. The troll growled again.
“It’s all right. He’s not a Fang.”
“Good Fang?” the troll asked, cocking his head a little.
Janner smiled. “Yes. Good Fang. Brother.”
At once, the troll broke into a grin. Before Kalmar could say a word, the troll grabbed them both and lifted them to his chest in the stinkiest hug of Kalmar’s life. He held his breath, though the embrace was so tight he couldn’t have breathed anyway, and just when he thought he would lose consciousness, the troll released them both and patted them on their heads with surprising gentleness.
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