by Brandon Mull
“What are you up to?” Seth asked.
She wiped the pudding away with the back of her hand. “Hi, Seth. I was just introducing Calvin to my favorite dessert.”
Seth approached the table and found Calvin stripped down to a pair of shorts, wading in a bowl of pudding. He smiled up at Seth and waved. “Look what I found!”
“I see you’ve been hard at work,” Seth said.
“Oh, come on!” Calvin exclaimed. “Are you telling me you would pass up the chance to swim in a pond of delicious vanilla custard?”
“Probably not,” Seth admitted.
“Taste it!” Calvin suggested. “I’m serious, it’s in a class by itself.”
Eve handed Seth a spoon. “You really should.”
“Your feet are in it,” Seth said.
“I washed up before entering,” Calvin said. “I didn’t want to taste my feet either. Scoop from over there.” He pointed. “I haven’t spent any time on that side of the bowl.”
Seth tried a bite of custard. It was really good! Sweet and cool and creamy.
“If I could shrink down I would join you,” Seth said. “Where is Tanu when I need him?”
“Tanu?” Eve asked.
“My friend,” Seth said. “A potion master. He can make a shrinking potion.”
Eve clapped. “Bring him sometime! That would be spectacular.”
“Take one last taste,” Seth told Calvin. “We have to go save the sanctuary.”
“Aren’t we returning to Blackwell Keep?” Calvin asked. He scrambled up the side of the bowl—no small feat at his size. Without pause he dangled from the rim and dropped to the table.
“Nope,” Seth said. “We’re going to go find a dragon called Dromadus.”
“No you’re not,” Eve said jealously. “The oldest dragon at Wyrmroost? Are you serious?”
“He might have info that will help us,” Seth explained, her amazement increasing his pride about the whole endeavor.
Eve stomped a foot. “That is unfair. I’ve lived at a dragon sanctuary my whole life and I’ve never even seen a dragon.”
“Never?” Calvin asked as he got dressed.
“Don’t they fly over sometimes?” Seth wondered.
“They steer away from this valley,” Eve said. “And I’m not allowed to leave it.”
“You have time,” Seth said. “You’re only, what, twelve?”
“So?” Eve said. “That’s a long time. And there are hardly any other kids my age.”
“How come?” Seth asked.
“Almost no babies are being born anymore,” she said. “Nobody is sure why.”
“If nobody is having babies, won’t the Fair Folk eventually become extinct?” Seth wondered.
Eve laughed. “No. The Fair Folk age more slowly when we reach adulthood. Much more slowly. We’ll be around for a long time. But I probably still won’t get to see a dragon. Imagine being a kid stuck at a dragon sanctuary with a bunch of adults and never seeing a dragon!”
“That would be torture,” Seth had to admit. If he were in her situation, he was pretty sure he would find a way to sneak a peek.
“And then some mortal kid comes along who gets to talk to a dragon his third day here!”
“On the second day I was attacked by the Dragon King,” Seth said. “And I’ve seen dragons before. And a hydra. A bunch of demons, too.”
Eve grabbed the front of his shirt. “I want your life! Take me with you.”
Seth glanced at Calvin, who sheepishly shrugged.
“I can’t,” Seth apologized. “Your dad would be furious. What about your neutrality?”
Eve released his shirt. “The neutrality is stupid. Lots of us think so, but nobody admits it. Only Lomo had the guts to do something about it, and we locked him up.”
“You agree with Lomo?” Seth asked.
“Of course,” Eve said. “We’re not part of the world. It’s so boring here. I want to do something. See something. Smuggle me out. I’ll be a big help!”
“Is she serious?” Seth asked Calvin.
“I think so,” the nipsie said.
“Everyone will watch us leave,” Seth said. “It won’t work.”
“Wait for me outside of town,” Eve said. “I’ll catch up. I’ll bring a horse and everything.”
Seth appreciated what she wanted. He saw her genuine eagerness. He could relate to how she felt. “I just can’t, Eve. Your dad helped us. We want him on our side. Henrick would never allow it.”
“You’re the caretaker,” Eve said. “Tell Henrick to obey. My dad can’t do anything to you. He’s neutral. He’ll just send people to get me. Hopefully they won’t catch up before I meet a dragon—and maybe see some other wonders. I’m still a kid. I won’t get a big punishment. The dungeon for a while at worst, if Dad decides to make an example of me, but the dungeon is nice. If I apologize I may not even get that.”
“Your dad could stop helping us,” Seth said. “He’s the reason we went to the Somber Knight and found out about Dromadus in the first place. You’re right that I’m the caretaker. And I have to be a good one. Kendra and I need to visit Dromadus as part of our job. You’d just be coming for fun. What if I get you killed? I can’t risk that.”
Eve pouted. “You have reasons to go. Good for you. But don’t pretend you aren’t excited to meet Dromadus. I can tell.”
“I’m excited,” Seth admitted.
“I wish I was caretaker,” Eve said. “I wish I had an excuse to have adventures.”
“Careful what you wish for,” Seth said. “This might get us killed.”
“At least you will have lived,” Eve replied sulkily.
“I wish I could bring you,” Seth said. “Maybe someday.”
“Really?” Eve asked.
“I hope so,” Seth said. “As long as there is still a sanctuary to see.”
Having bid farewell to Lord Dalgorel, Kendra, Seth, and Henrick cantered away from Terrabelle. Mendigo rode behind Kendra, and Calvin was safely stowed in Seth’s pocket. They left the valley by a different road than they had used to enter. The sun had already fallen below the mountains, and the light was fading from the sky. Seth kept looking back at the city. Part of him wondered if Eve would appear on a horse.
“The Winding Way would eventually bring us to the Zowali Protectorate,” Henrick said. “Perhaps someday you can visit the realm of the talking animals. But we’ll leave the road well before arriving there.”
“Will the darkness help cover us?” Kendra asked.
“From some creatures and some dragons,” Henrick said. “Others will see us better than we can see them. We have to move fast. I have ranged far and wide on this preserve. I will use all my experience to protect us.”
“Do we have any protections as caretakers?” Seth asked.
“Some inherent protections come with the office,” Henrick said. “But you have also killed a dragon at this sanctuary. You entered her lair and initiated the conflict. That act forfeited much of your protection. You do have one other important advantage: Celebrant appears to want you as caretakers when he stages his rebellion. If you died, a new caretaker would be selected. He might hesitate to kill you.”
“Marat told me Celebrant can’t get the medallion by killing me,” Seth said.
“Correct,” Henrick said. “Upon your demise the medallion will teleport back to Blackwell Keep. Same if you command it to return. Celebrant knows this. That feature may not save your life, but it could give the Dragon King less reason to capture or kill you.”
As they rode up to a pass out of the valley, Seth kept looking back.
“I don’t think she’s coming,” Calvin said. The words surprised Seth because they came from near his ear. The nipsie had apparently climbed from his pocket to his shoulder.
“Are you going to fall?”
Seth asked.
“I know my limits,” Calvin said. “This is easy.”
“Do you think Eve really would have tried to meet us if I had agreed?” Seth asked.
“I don’t think she was bluffing,” Calvin said.
“She seemed adventurous,” Seth said.
“Pretty girl,” Calvin added offhandedly.
“Don’t be gross,” Seth said.
“You didn’t notice?” Calvin asked.
“Maybe a little,” Seth said. “But that isn’t why I liked her.”
“That may change in a year or two,” Calvin said. “Trust me on this.”
“Isn’t she a little big for you?” Seth asked.
“I already found my true love,” Calvin said. “Serena. Besides, Eve is too young. I’m tiny but fully grown.”
“Serena is with the other nipsies?” Seth asked.
“No,” Calvin said. “I wish. She left with a group trying to research the nipsie curse several years ago. Never came back.”
“Several years ago?” Seth asked. “How old is she?”
“I’m older than I look,” Calvin said. “Nipsies age like the Fair Folk—everything slows down in our late teens. Many magical beings age more slowly than mortals.”
“I’ve noticed,” Seth said. “Do you think Serena is all right?”
“I worry,” Calvin said. “She has to be in trouble or she would have returned. In my heart I believe she is alive. We share a special connection. I would feel it if she perished.”
“Do you know where she went?” Seth asked.
“All I know is she left Fablehaven,” Calvin said.
“Can she do that without permission?” Seth asked.
“I did,” Calvin said. “The wizards who designed these preserves didn’t really plan on people smaller than fairies. We tend to escape notice.”
“Do you want to find her?” Seth asked.
“I would like that very much,” Calvin said. “I’m always paying attention. I hope that breaking the curse will help.”
“I hope so too,” Seth said.
They rode through the pass, leaving the valley behind. Stars appeared as the light expired. The night became colder as they rode on. A moon rose, silvering the edges of clouds and occasionally peeking through. The surrounding wilderness remained mostly obscured in shadow. No artificial light brightened the forests and slopes around them. Bulky shapes loomed in the dimness, recognizable only as trees or boulders from just the right angle or in close proximity. Seth wished he could see what creatures were hiding in the darkness. At least Kendra had really good night vision. Hopefully she would provide an early warning if trouble showed up.
The Winding Way stayed true to its name, curving around obstacles in the rough terrain and climbing or descending steep slopes in serpentine switchbacks. The horses alternated between a swift trot and a gentle, loping pace. Once, in the distance, Seth heard a low, tremendous roaring. Another time he heard an otherworldly screech, echoing down from high in the night sky.
At a point where trees lined both sides of the road, some of the branches interlocking overhead, Henrick came to a stop. “We can leave the road here,” he said. “The trees will provide cover.”
“Great,” Seth said. He patted his horse’s neck. “How are you holding up, Noble?”
The horse gave a single stamp.
“Luvians are tireless as long as you don’t push too long at a full gallop,” Henrick said. “One thing disturbs me: no dragons.”
“Is that a problem?” Kendra asked.
“Dragons openly watched us much of the way here,” Henrick said. “I assume it was mostly a form of intimidation. But I haven’t sensed a dragon high or low since leaving Terrabelle. Either they are no longer watching us or else they want us to think they are no longer watching us.”
“Uh-oh,” Seth said.
“They were expecting us to go to Terrabelle,” Henrick said. “Maybe they assumed we would return to Blackwell Keep and stopped watching. Or maybe they saw us depart along an unexpected route and started watching stealthily.”
“Dragon ambush,” Seth said.
“Or simple reconnaissance,” Henrick replied. “Who knows? Our visit to Dalgorel was expected. But Celebrant would be very interested in our present movements. An ambush could be catastrophic. We have not yet left the road. We can still turn back and head directly to the keep.”
“If we saw dragons, that would be a problem too,” Kendra said. “We already made this choice. Let’s go.”
“Did you notice the dome on the ridge as we left Blackwell Keep?” Henrick asked.
“Yes,” Seth said.
“I missed it,” Kendra admitted.
“It’s a safe hut,” Henrick said. “The protections of Blackwell Keep extend to more than fifty such enclosures around Wyrmroost. They can even stand against dragons. They are marked on your map, Seth. I have been saved by a safe hut more than once. If you lose me somehow, get back on a road or find a safe hut and wait for rescue. The horses can guide you.”
“We have safe huts at Fablehaven,” Seth said. “I’ve used them.”
“I’m glad you’re familiar with the idea,” Henrick said. “Noble, Glory, you remember the maps we looked at back at Terrabelle?”
Both horses gave a single stamp.
“You understand our destination?” Henrick checked.
The horses stamped again.
“And the locations of the nearest safe huts along the route?”
Again the horses stamped.
“Then with both caretakers in agreement, we should get moving,” Henrick said. He led the way off the road into the trees. Kendra showed no hesitation. Seth had seldom felt prouder of his sister.
Bridges and Bears
Kendra, Seth, and Henrick trotted under the trees, a vague shadowland of contorted shapes. Underbrush rustled as the horses plunged forward in single file. Kendra knew she could see better than Seth and probably better than Henrick, and still the shapes sliding past remained confusing. She kept her head down to avoid the grasping limbs. Vegetation swished against her legs. Henrick maintained a quick pace for a long while, finally slowing to a walk.
“We’re being watched,” Kendra whispered. She could see eyes at the edge of the dimness.
“Perceptive,” Henrick said. “Nothing to fret about. Just moss people. Shy folk. Hiders, not fighters. We’re about to lose the cover of trees for a time. Stay with me.”
They emerged from the woods on a wide, grassy slope. The horses cantered downhill. After the gloom under the trees, the moonlit panorama looked bright. Kendra scanned the sky. Patches of clouds obscured many of the stars. She saw no dragons.
Up ahead, the slope fell away into a ravine. A bridge spanned the gap, and another slope rose on the far side. As they approached the bridge, a lean form sprang up from underneath, blocking the way. The creature had a narrow chest and abdomen, but broad shoulders and long limbs. The heavy jaw and upturned tusks emphasized a pronounced underbite, and thorny spines covered the scaly scalp. The lanky figure stood nearly as tall as Henrick.
“Slow the pace, travelers,” the figure announced. “This bridge has been claimed.”
Henrick came to a stop, holding out a hand for Kendra and Seth to halt as well. Glory obeyed him before Kendra could react.
“Stand down,” Henrick ordered. “This bridge is property of the sanctuary, accessible to all.”
“Don’t get lost in the past when we’re standing in the present,” the creature said. “I’m no historian. This bridge might have been common property long ago. Today it has been claimed. Today it is mine.”
“I am Henrick, son of—”
The creature waved away his words. “I know who you are! I’m not new.”
“Then you know I’m the gamekeeper of Wyrmroost,” Henrick said.
The creature chuckled. “Are you? Or were you?”
“I am,” Henrick said firmly, taking a single step forward.
“You know who I am?” the creature asked.
“I know your kind,” Henrick said. “Stand down before this escalates.”
“And what kind is that?”
“Gate troll,” Henrick replied. “Sometimes called a bully troll.”
“And here you come, subtle as a brick, threatening me on my bridge,” the troll said. “Price just went up. Way up.”
“I’m in no mood for play,” Henrick said, his hand a blur as he pulled an arrow from his quiver and set it to the string of his bow.
An ax appeared in the hand of the troll, and he lunged to the side of the bridge, where the railing provided some cover. “But you’re the gamekeeper! Surely you like games!”
“Stand down and wait for easier prey,” Henrick said. “You’re out of order.”
“Whose order?” the troll asked. “I heard the Dragon King is the new chief around here. Tore up Blackwell Keep. Not long now before he drives off the mortals. What rules will you enforce then? What status will you enjoy? Way I see it, the time of listening to you give orders has come to an end.”
“You stand before me armed, troll, impeding my way,” Henrick said. “I’ll ask you a third time; then I let arrows fly.”
“That so?” the troll replied. “Looking for a fight tonight, are you? Even with the precious cargo watching?” He looked past Henrick to Kendra and Seth.
“I’m warning you, Grimp,” Henrick said, pulling the arrow back, ready to fire.
Grimp crouched low, now mostly hidden behind the railing, his ax still visible, glinting in the moonlight. “You know my name! Is that supposed to impress me? Here you are, skulking about in the night. Two kids in tow. Sanctuary on the brink of anarchy. You really want to fight? How fast can you kill me, mooseman? Before any kids get hurt? Before we raise a commotion? Don’t you want to hear my terms?”
“Speak,” Henrick said, arrow still ready.
Grimp licked his lips. “After you cross, the bridge belongs to me. Officially. Not squatter’s rights. Not a claim. Mine. Final word from the illustrious gamekeeper.”