Podgin covered his nose with his beard while Aguilax hoisted himself into the air. The lynx headed east.
“Make yourselves comfortable, boys,” said Illo.
There wasn’t much to be comfortable on. Martin sat in a patch of thick grass, listening for Aguilax’s return. Podgin plopped down against an oak and rummaged through the food sack. Illo darted up a tree, where, though out of sight, she could be heard plucking her bowstring.
Martin remembered her warning about trees that trapped people with their roots. He checked the nearest oaks nervously, but they all looked decently innocent. He stretched out his legs. Untying shoes with one hand was easy compared to tying them. Once his feet were bare he rubbed them down, being careful to avoid the blisters. Alleviating his feet only made the rest of his muscles complain louder, so he set aside his shoes and lay back in the grass with his hand tucked under his head.
He stared at the dancing leaves. If Elodie were there, she would have found the most perfect one and climbed as high as she dared to pick it. She had done that a few of the times they walked in the apple orchard just outside Bardun Village, but those trees weren’t half as tall as the forest oaks. A year ago, Martin would have climbed right up after her. Not now. One-handed tree climbing was an obstacle to tackle after he mastered one-handed shoe tying.
Martin closed his eyes and listened to the air breathe through the trees. He never intended to doze off, but he did. The soft breeze switched to rhythmic wings beating the air, and he thought Aguilax had returned. Then his body jerked, and he snapped out of his unexpected nap.
Illo stood over him, nudging his leg with her toe. “What’s up with you?”
Martin licked the roof of his mouth. “It hurts.”
“What hurts?”
“My arm. The old bite. I dozed off, and…” he sucked in a breath, clenching his teeth. The blood pumping down his arm felt like hot water. He looked around. “Where’s Aguilax?”
“Still gone.”
“I thought you woke me.”
“I did,” she said. “It’s Podgin. He’s missing.”
The sack of food was in its place against the oak, but Podgin was nowhere to be seen.
“He probably caught wind of mushrooms and went to look for them.”
“That’s what worries me,” said Illo. “He’s like a squirrel. Once he finds one nut, he follows his nose until he finds twenty, and by that time he’s thoroughly lost. Last year we didn’t hear or see him for a week. Fella and Aguilax found him near the southern marsh with a jar full of honeycomb and more bee stings than beard hairs. No need to give him a head start now.”
“What if Aguilax comes back?”
“Podgin can’t have made it far,” she said. “We’ll be quick.”
Martin got to work on his shoes. Illo watched him struggle with the laces in his teeth. If she was amused by his antics, she didn’t show it.
“You scared me, you know,” she said.
“How?” Martin grunted through his clamped jaw.
“When I came to wake you up. Right before I poked you, you yelled out.”
He tightened and spat out the lace. “Anything specific?”
“No words. You just yelled. I thought you were going to murder me. Bad dream?”
“No,” said Martin with a sigh. “Owls.”
Illo looked confused, but she dropped the matter.
Martin stood. “Any idea which way he went?”
Illo was about to reply when they heard a yelling voice coming their way. Podgin popped into view amid the trees, making a beeline towards them as fast as his short legs would carry him.
“I didn’t know!” He shouted when he saw them. “I didn’t know!”
His arms were folded against his torso, protecting three small objects nestled in his clothes. They were round and smooth and salmon-pink.
Illo grabbed his arm as he passed by. “Eggs?”
“Very observant of you,” said Podgin, his legs still pumping, “but we need to run.”
A new sound cut him off. Dozens upon dozens of angry cries and the drone of a hundred wings zipping in the trees.
Illo grabbed one of the eggs and held it up. “You idiot, these are sting finch eggs. Are you trying to get us killed?”
“I didn’t know whose eggs they were. All I knew is that they looked really tasty!”
“So will we in about ten seconds.”
Martin was glad he had already done his shoes. “Should I ask?”
“Yes,” said Illo. “You should. Sting finches are nasty little birds with beaks like carving knives. They’re territorial, aggressive, and very protective.” She thumped Podgin on the head as she said so. “Grab the food, Martin. We’re getting out of here.”
She put an arrow to the string as Martin and Podgin cleared the ground of their few belongings.
The sting finches burst into view like a speeding cloud, a churning mass of indigo feathers and white talons. The cloud parted around trees and swept low to the ground, closing the gap quickly.
“Run,” said Illo.
“But which way?” Martin asked.
“Doesn’t matter! Just run!”
They took off. Martin held the food bag tight in his hand. Podgin still clutched two of the eggs.
“Shouldn’t you toss those back?” said Martin.
“That’s a thought,” said Podgin. “What a clever way to get away from a flock of killer birds, chuck their children at them!”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Illo came last. She twisted around and shot her arrow without slowing down. A bird squawked and dropped. The rest of the flock jabbered all the more and sped on.
“I thought that might scare them off,” said Illo, catching up to the others.
“I don’t think it did. What about Aguilax?” Martin raised his voice to be heard over the birds.
“He’s not about to be torn to ribbons like we are, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Without any itch or tingling to forewarn him, Martin’s left arm exploded with streams of excruciating pain. He cried out and fell, scraping at his skin with his right hand. He lost all hearing under the pulsing in his ears. His tongue grew thick and his mouth tasted like metal.
Eyes and jaws locked shut, Martin curled in a ball on the ground, unable to get up. The shrill cries of the birds broke through the wall in his head. They were bearing down on him.
A body hit his. Not a bird. Bigger. A voice yelled on top of him, but it sounded like it was underwater. Dirt and leaves scraped his cheek.
After the first burst of pain, his arm still burned, but his senses started to sharpen again.
A yowl joined the din above him. Birds croaked and wings beat. Weight still pressed down on him, covering him and pushing his face and chest against the ground.
Then it got quiet. The birds were gone. The weight lifted off him. Martin rolled over. Illo leaned over him, sweaty and panting. She grabbed his hand and hoisted him up, her nostrils flaring with exertion.
Aguilax was there, too, with blue feathers in his teeth and claws and his fur mussed all over.
“That’s rotten timing, Martin,” said Illo, still breathing hard.
“I can’t—”
“The birds won’t stay away for long. We need to make it to the lake.”
Illo turned her back on him and picked up Podgin, who was scrambling on his back like a turtle, the finch eggs still safe in his arms.
Martin didn’t know what to say. His arm had never hurt like that before, not even when he had been bitten in the first place. It may have been his swimming eyes, but the veins in his wrist looked darker than usual.
He reached for his arm but stopped short. His right hand was sticky and red. Alarmed, he gently touched his face and chest where the ground had dug into him. He was scraped and bruised, but there were no open wounds.
Aguilax spat out the last feather. “That’s not your blood, my friend.”
Martin looked at Illo, who was
already on the move. As she jogged away from them, she put a hand to her lacerated shoulders.
“Come on,” said Aguilax softly. “To the lake first. We’ll take things from there.”
* * *
Aguilax set them on the proper course. Had they kept following Podgin’s loops, they would have missed the lake by a mile. The winged lynx stayed on the ground with them to lead the way. Illo ran beside him without a word of complaint. Martin brought up the rear alongside Podgin, who had tucked his treasured eggs into the food sack. They both kept their eyes and ears trained on the forest.
Twice Martin heard the sting finches behind them, but the birds remained out of sight. Eventually, their shrill cries faded.
Martin tried to catch up to Illo, but even though she never turned her head, she must have sensed his intentions. Whenever he sped up, so did she, refusing to acknowledge his attempts to reach her. A chilly brick sat in his stomach, and he gave up. He wouldn’t know what to say even if she gave him a chance.
They found the lake without incident. Only upon their arrival did Martin fully understand why they had had such a hard time finding it. The lake was small and as round as a button, enclosed by oak walls all the way around. The water was like a waxed floor with every leaf and twig reflected flawlessly on its surface.
An island broke the mirror effect in the lake’s deep center. Martin sucked in a breath at the sight of the fortress ruins on the rock. The towers and walls that still stood were devoured by wild plant growth. Even from the air, the island would have looked like a clump of mossy stone at first glance.
That’s it,” said Aguilax. “The dryad palace.”
“They don’t keep it very well,” said Martin. “And there’s no bridge. How are we to cross without being seen?”
“That should do,” said Illo. She pointed across the water to a recess in the rock under a low terrace. “We won’t be seen there. Aguilax, can you give us a lift? I don’t think any of us are in the mood for swimming.”
Aguilax took Illo first. He held her arms instead of her shoulders. It didn’t look like a pleasant ride. They disappeared into the shaded alcove.
Martin watched the palace for any movement, but there were no dryads on the walls that he could see. Aguilax came back and grabbed Martin next. They skimmed low over the water, crossing the lake in less time than it took Martin to worry about the cat’s claws.
“Wait for me here,” said Aguilax. “Ferrying Podgin may take a moment.”
He took off and dipped away from the island.
Illo knelt on the rock. Cupping her hands, she splashed water over her shoulder. She gritted her teeth but made no sound.
Martin sat beside her. “That looks painful.”
“Trust me, I’ve suffered worse.” She finished cleaning away the dirt before looking up at him. “What happened back there? I know you’re clumsy and all, but why didn’t you get up?”
He shrugged helplessly. “I couldn’t. It was like being paralyzed and on fire at the same time. My arm hasn’t done that before. Itches and aches, sure, but not that. I can’t explain it. It knocked me off my feet, and I couldn’t even tell what was going on.”
Illo covered her shoulder and winced. Then she let out a long breath. “It’s not your fault, anyways. If Podgin used his brain as much as he used his digestive system, we wouldn’t have had any trouble. If you feel like you owe me, hold him down for me when we get a chance. I’ll give him a kick so hard, every truffle he’s ever eaten will pop right back out.”
“Not a sight I care to see, but I’ll take it. Still, saving my skin wasn’t part of Fella’s instructions.”
“She would have done the same thing.”
“I didn’t think you were much like her.”
A rueful grin cracked the corner of her mouth. “Maybe not, but give me credit for trying.”
Aguilax flapped into view and set a dizzy Podgin on the rock.
“I would have been quicker, but he squirms more than a worm in a robin’s beak. I nearly dropped him.”
Podgin sneezed three times in rapid succession. “I resent that. I don’t see why I had to cross at all. I got you to the lake. I don’t even need the spade, just let me go.”
“That’s a fair point,” said Aguilax. “Shall I take you back?”
“No, thank you. My nose needs time to heal. Besides, I don’t fancy drowning. I can’t swim, you see. No, no. I’ll go on with you, as is my unfortunate lot today.”
“Give yourself a chance and you might just learn there’s more to life than closed doors and hot ovens.”
Podgin stuck his beard out. “A hideous lie if ever I heard one.”
Horns trumpeted somewhere in the palace. It was a faint sound, but it snapped Martin back into focus.
“Right. We’ve made it this far. Now what?”
“The palace isn’t that big,” said Illo. “With a healthy dose of luck and care, we can find Elodie and slip out before the dryads know we even exist.”
“But we still have to find a way in. Maybe things are different for dryads, but don’t palaces tend to have guards?”
“Leave that to me,” said Aguilax. “My wings have some strength left in them. I’ll fly around. There’s bound to be a dozen open terraces and holes in a place like this.”
“What if they see you?” Illo asked.
“Better me than any of you,” he said. “After all, I’m just a dumb beast.” He winked and took off again.
Martin, Illo, and Podgin sat on the rocks in the recess. Nobody spoke. Podgin retrieved the finch eggs from his sack and chuckled over them until he caught a glare from Illo and a subtle gesture at her shoulder. He scooted away, hid the eggs, and sucked on his fingers instead.
After a few minutes, Martin climbed over to a stack of boulders near the back of their hiding place. He sat with his back against the cold stone and listened for voices, more horns, or anything to give him a clue of what was happening inside the palace. He thought he caught a few faint and muted shouts, but then Illo started flipping pebbles into the lake and he lost them.
Martin removed his leather sleeve. Most of his arm was scraped up from when he had hit the ground, but he was more concerned about his forearm veins. They were still darker than he thought they should be, and the difference was stark when he compared his two arms. He rubbed them down with his thumb, but that didn’t do any good.
The stone plunking stopped. Illo was watching him.
Martin put the sleeve back on. As long as another bout of pain didn’t render him useless or endanger the others, a little discoloration could wait to be examined when he and Elodie got back to Bardun Village.
Aguilax returned just as Martin’s muscles were stiffening all over again. The lynx had good news.
“It’s just as I thought,” he said. “Most of the terraces lead to closed doors or crumbled walls, but I found one on the south face of the palace for us to sneak in through. I also flew around the whole structure a couple times to check for dryad soldiers, but everyone is indoors. I heard voices gathered in one of the halls deeper in. Something may be afoot.”
“Let’s not sit around any longer, then,” said Illo. “Some of us have new pits to dig.”
After a decent amount of groaning and sneezing from Podgin, Aguilax hoisted them up to the designated terrace. This time, Illo flew with her bow and an arrow in hand. When they were all safely on the terrace, Aguilax stood off to the side with his ears flat against his head, panting.
“Last time for a while, I promise,” said Illo.
She scratched him affectionately between the ears, and that seemed to perk him up a bit.
“Yes,” said Podgin. “We’ll run in, fetch the girl, run back out, and dive gracefully into the lake like the heroic little swans we are.”
“The only thing you have in common with a swan is your honking beak, which you should keep shut until we’ve done what we came to do,” said Illo.
An archway led from the terrace to a dark hall. Half of the hau
nch had cracked and fallen, but they picked their way over the stones and went inside. Stepping into the dryad palace was like entering a cave. It only took a few feet for the light to dim and the air to get thick and cold. Vines encased the hall’s insides like thick, green spider webs. Everything was quiet except for the tap of their feet on the stonework floor.
The hall didn’t stay straight for very long. Once the light from the terrace was at their backs, it sloped downhill in steep curves. Doorways lined the hall at regular intervals, most of them shut and bolted.
“Do you think she’s in any of these?” Martin whispered. “We might walk right past her and never know it.”
“I doubt she’s here,” said Illo. “It doesn’t look like the dryads use these levels for anything. I think it’s safe to assume that if we find the dryads, we’ll find Elodie too.”
The hall took them to an abandoned room with a tall, arched ceiling and a thick table surrounded by fallen chairs. Dust and dry leaves coated the table, and one of the walls cracked all the way up the middle.
“Well, no one’s been in this place for a couple decades,” said Illo.
Two doorways waited for them on the other side of the room. Each of them opened to stairway landings. Both stairways went down, and both curved sharply, one to the right and one to the left.
“Which way, hog-moggins?” Illo swept her arm out. “I’m as lost in a building as you are. It all looks the same to me.”
Martin poked his head through each of the doorways. “To the right,” he said.
“Quick call. Is that the way your aching heart is tugging you? I’ll puke if you say yes.”
“Nope.” He grinned. “Just split odds.”
“That works too.”
Martin went first, treading lightly down the staircase on the right. There were no windows, and therefore no light by which to see his own feet. Soon he had to keep his hand on the wall and shuffle forward to avoid somersaulting the rest of the way down.
He was beginning to worry he had chosen the wrong staircase, or that neither staircase led anywhere at all, when orange light flickered around the bend. There was a torch mounted in the wall, and it was the first torch of a long line.
“Split odds indeed,” said Aguilax. “Do the rest of you hear what I hear?”
Where the Woods Grow Wild Page 10