The Guardians: Nicholas St. North and the Battle of the Nightmare King

by William Joyce

  It was clear that North’s argument had a powerful effect on Bunnymund. The rabbit stepped closer. He then stood ramrod straight while his nose and whiskers twitched and stilled. Twitched and stilled. The twitches were soon as fast and blurred as the wings of a hummingbird in flight. Then the Pooka spoke very calmly and firmly.

  “I know the egg’s powers and its origins quite well, Mr. North. I helped, in fact, to make it.” He paused for a moment, letting North absorb that information. He drew himself taller, adding, “Inside its curved shell is the purest light in all creation. Light from the exact beginning of time. It is the light that all Pookas were sworn to wield and protect. But men, people, cannot be trusted with it. We tried once, during the Golden Age.”

  “Fine! Then you must help us stop Pitch,” North pressed. “He killed the Golden Age! He is a creature! A monster—”

  “But,” Bunnymund interrupted, “he was first a man.”

  North was not ready with a fast retort, but the Pooka raised his hand as if he were and continued: “Pookas were the gatherers of this light. We brought it to worlds that we felt were ready for its power. We thought that the people of the Golden Age showed the most promise of all, and they used it well. But then Pitch came. He destroyed everything. He is why I am the last of my kind. I came here with the hope of a new Golden Age.” He fixed North with a stare. “That is why Tsar Lunar, the Man in the Moon’s father, sent this ‘relic,’ as you call it, to me.

  “And since it has been in my possession, I’ve tried over and over to help the world of humans. I’ve invented most of your trees, flowers, grass. Spring. Jokes. Summer vacations. Recess. Chocolate. But none of it seems to have changed anything. Humans still behave badly and never seem to cherish the light.” A look that could only be described as forlorn crossed the Pooka’s face, and his voice grew solemn. “Man cannot be trusted.”

  “All that you invented—all of it—will be lost if Pitch has his way,” argued North. “He’ll drain all the light out of the world. Can you let that happen?”

  Bunnymund seemed to think about that for a moment.

  “Pitch and his Fearlings don’t even like chocolate or eggs!” Katherine added. She wasn’t sure if that was true, but it sounded good.

  Bunnymund was deeply disturbed by that remark. He puzzled. And puzzled. The egg warriors seemed unsure. They lowered their weapons a few inches. Finally, the rabbit spoke.

  “The fiends! Not like chocolate? Not like”—he gasped—“eggs? Now, won’t you please stop talking—you humans use so many, many words. And so few of them are about eggs. It’s exhausting.”

  Bunnymund eased the relic from its shimmering stand and held it aloft. “I will return in approximately one hour and seven minutes, human time—with your friends.”

  “I’m ready,” North said. “Let’s go.”

  “Oh, no, no, no,” Bunnymund said. “I work alone.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  One Mystery Begets Another

  TEETH MARKS!” OMBRIC SAID again. “But whose teeth marks?” His beard twirled as he pondered.

  His exclamation echoed throughout the village. The creatures of the forest, bristling with pent-up energy after having been trapped as toys for so long, joined forces to help Ombric search for clues. Dragonflies and moths flew through every inch of the forest. Spiders and ants crawled into every hidden nook in Big Root. Birds and squirrels checked the treetops.

  The parents, too, joined the search, combing through every home and every yard, upending mattresses and vegetable gardens.

  Ombric examined the gnawed pieces of paper with his microscope. “Who would eat my books? Nightlight had some hand in it, I’m sure, but what . . . ,” he wondered. He pressed his fingers against his temples, not wanting to admit it, but his last journey through time had taken a great toll on him. The long, slow process of releasing the entire village from Pitch’s spell had added to his weariness. For the first time in his very long life, Ombric felt not old but ancient. But he couldn’t wallow in this unfamiliar feeling—the children needed him, old or not. So he shook away his fatigue and examined the paper scraps again.

  Mr. Qwerty would never allow—

  Ombric stopped in midsentence. His eyebrows, beard, mustache, hair, shoes, and even eyelashes began to twirl.

  “MR. QWERTY!” Ombric shouted, leaping up. “MR. QWERTY!! MR. QWEEEEERTY!!!” He hadn’t seen the glowworm since he returned to the village! And now he knew the reason. “Mr. Qwerty has eaten my books! To keep them out of Pitch’s hands!”

  First things first. He remembered what the owls had said: They saw a flash of light before everything had gone dark. Ombric opened the box where the moonbeam rested and asked, “Was Nightlight holding anything when Pitch took him away?”

  The moonbeam, sensing Ombric’s excitement, grew stronger himself and glowed: Yes.

  “Was it white? Rather oblong? About the size of my hand?”

  The moonbeam pulsed twice.

  “That’s it!” Ombric said, sitting back down with a knowing nod. “Mr. Qwerty ate the books! Then he wrapped himself in a cocoon! Nightlight’s flash of light protected the children and gave Mr. Qwerty time to eat the books. The little fellow was always hungry for knowledge, but this is epic!” Ombric was almost laughing now. “Nightlight took Mr. Qwerty! He has him still. The library is in Mr. Qwerty’s stomach.”

  The old wizard stroked his still-twirling beard. “Right under Pitch’s nose. . . .”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The Honk of Destiny

  WE WILL NEVER KNOW what furious argument might have followed Bunnymund’s insistence that he go to the Earth’s core without North and Katherine, for in the incredibly tense seconds after the Pooka had made his declaration, Kailash came waddling into the chamber and honked loudly.

  They all three turned and looked at the goose—North with slight irritation, Katherine with concern, and Bunnymund with complete and total awe.

  “Is this one of the Great Snow Geese of the Himalayas?” Bunnymund asked, his nose not twitching but sort of rotating slowly in amazement.

  “Yes. Her name is Kailash,” Katherine told him hesitantly, a little rattled by the rabbit’s shift in interest. “She thinks I’m her mother. I was there when she hatched.”

  The Pooka inhaled deeply. “Tell me everything,” he insisted. “Was the egg very beautiful?”

  North fought his every impulse not to shake some sense into this strange, long-eared creature. Time was tumbling by, and the rabbit wanted to talk about eggs! But North’s calmer self sensed an opportunity.

  “Tell him about the blasted egg,” he said, motioning to Katherine to hurry.

  Katherine put an arm around Kailash’s slender neck. “Well, her egg was large and silvery, with swirls of pebble-size bumps that glistened like diamonds and opals,” she said.

  “As I’ve always imagined it! Come,” Bunnymund said, pointing to his egg museum. One of the shelves had an empty space labeled HIMALAYAN GREAT SNOW GOOSE. “It’s the one egg I don’t have. My collection is not complete.” He stared at Katherine. “It’s silvery, you say?”

  “Silvery and blue,” Katherine elaborated.

  The Pooka could scarcely contain himself.

  “Kailash would be grateful to anyone who did as we asked,” Katherine said.

  The Pooka was almost quivering. After a long moment his former reserve seemed to return. His nose twitched. Then he spoke: “My army is already assembled. I am at the ready. As I hope you are. Any friends of the Great Snow Geese are friends of mine. Come this way. We’ll take tunnel number seventeen twenty-eight.” He paused dramatically, then added with a flourish, “Straight to the Earth’s core!”

  “Finally,” North grumbled, placing his hand on the hilt of the magic sword. The weapon began to glow. Bunnymund’s egg relic did the same.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  In Which There Is a Fearful Discovery and a Whisper of Hope

  TO THE CHILDREN’S GREAT relief, Pitch and his Fear
lings had disappeared into another chamber.

  The chamber where they were kept was as wide and as tall as Big Root. But it was nothing like Big Root. This was a dark and fretful place. If Big Root was a treasure chest of wonders, Pitch’s lair at the Earth’s core was like the fabled box of Pandora: filled with doom and darkness. The children had managed to ever so quietly wiggle through the openings in their cages and climb down. Half a dozen tunnels led out from the chamber, but Tall William and Petter had explored and reported that every one was being guarded by Fearlings. Not that it mattered. The children wouldn’t try to escape without Nightlight.

  Fog, Petter, and Sascha stood watch while Tall William ran his hands over the door of Nightlight’s cage, seeking a knob, a keyhole, anything that would help them free their friend. But there was nothing, not even a crack. Whatever dark magic Pitch had used when he removed his sword from the lock had left the door smoother than fresh ice on the skating pond in Santoff Claussen.

  Tall William knocked hard to let Nightlight know that he was there, then placed his ear against the cage.

  “Did he hear you?” Sascha asked, putting her own ear against the metal. “Did he knock back?”

  Tall William shook his head. “I don’t think so, but it’s hard to hear anything with all that banging going on.”

  That banging was the incessant clamor—clanking, hammering, striking—coming from the next chamber. Every now and again it was peppered by the Nightmare King’s booming laugh.

  “What do you think Pitch is up to?” Petter whispered.

  “Let’s find out,” Tall William whispered back.

  They crept stealthily to the entrance of the next chamber and peered around the wall, just out of sight of the Fearling guards.

  What they saw made their eyes go wide. Hundreds of Fearlings were working furiously under Pitch’s direction. Some were chipping away at the lead walls, making the room larger, dropping the lead chips into a bucket. Other Fearlings melted buckets of lead over an eerie blue lava. When the lead melted into a sticky liquid, they poured the mixture into molds.

  Tall William watched uneasily—something was different about these Fearlings. They seemed more solid, less shadowy, than the others. One of them tested the lead in a mold with a thin rod. It was solid now, and the Fearling popped what looked like a heavy vest out of the mold and then handed it to the creature next to him. They passed it from one to the next, down the line, until it reached a Fearling that looked normal. Or at least what Tall William and the others had come to think of as normal. The creature slipped the object over his shadowy body. Then he, too, took on the more solid look of the others and skulked into the light.

  “They’re making armor,” Tall William breathed out.

  Petter stared hard. “It covers them completely.”

  “Now they’ll be able to go out in the sunlight!” whispered Tall William, struggling to keep the dread out of his voice.

  Then they saw rows of swords and spears being fashioned from the same thick liquid.

  “Like Pitch’s sword!” Petter hissed.

  They crept back to the others and reported what they had seen.

  The smaller children just stared after hearing this alarming news. The smallest William hid his head under Fog’s arm.

  Sascha drew a deep breath to keep her voice steady, then said, “I wish Ombric and the others would hurry.”

  Tall William tried hard not to seem scared, but he was. “The Fearlings will be too strong for them now with that armor and those weapons,” he said quietly.

  Petter grew very serious. “And if they bring Ombric’s library, Pitch will know all the magic there is!” he said. “He’ll be unstoppable.

  “But we mustn’t be afraid,” he added, trying to convince himself as well as the others. “It only makes Pitch stronger.”

  The children knew he was right. But it was getting very hard to stay brave.

  If they’d only been able to hear the conversation that was taking place inside Nightlight’s tiny, cramped cage. Nightlight was listening to the muffled voice of Mr. Qwerty. The cocoon shifted and wiggled under his jacket. “Change is coming,” said the valiant little worm. “And it cannot be stopped.”

  And Nightlight brightened.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The Egg Armada

  IF THERE ARE SEVEN Wonders of the Known World, Bunnymund’s tunnel to the Earth’s core would be the first of the unknown world. It was shaped like an egg standing on end and seemed to go on forever. North was intrigued by how quietly the Pooka’s train was traveling. Despite their remarkable speed, the train barely made a sound, just a quiet sort of clucking noise. He’d have to ask the Pooka how he managed that . . . even the mechanical djinni had emitted squeaks and hums.

  And though Katherine was increasingly worried about Nightlight and her friends, she couldn’t help noticing how enticingly strange everything about Bunnymund’s conveyance was. The railroad cars that were whisking them deeper and deeper underground were of course egg-shaped, as was virtually every knob, hinge, door, window, light fixture, and mechanical component. It was even more opulent than the Lamas’ flying tower.

  (Eggs’ shapes are surprisingly versatile in battle and travel.)

  Plus, the cars immediately behind her held an imposing army of well-armored Warrior Eggs wielding an impressive array of weaponry. The smallest eggs were the size of a common chicken’s egg, while platoons of other eggs were nearly as big as a good-sized suitcase, and a surprising number of eggs were huge—more than ten feet tall. Katherine was very interested about where those eggs could have come from!

  North, on the other hand, was having a difficult time taking these Warrior Eggs seriously. They’re eggs ! he thought to himself. EGGS! But he tried not to betray his doubts and instead asked his host in a tone that at least hinted at politeness, “Very pretty eggs, Bunnymund, but can they fight?”

  The Pooka regarded him evenly, his nose not even twitching. “The Greeks thought so at Troy,” he replied, sounding a bit bored. “Though why they built that clumsy horse instead of an egg, as I suggested, I’ll never understand.”

  Katherine, sensing another potential argument brewing, thought it best to interrupt. “Are we getting close?” she asked.

  “At our current rate of speed, we’ll be there in exactly thirty-seven clucks,” Bunnymund replied.

  Clucks? North and Katherine both wondered, then decided not to ask any more questions for a while. Bunnymund’s answers always left them feeling, well, they just weren’t sure. Bewildered? Uncertain? Odd? Doomed?

  Meanwhile, Bunnymund regarded the two humans. He found himself concerned for them. But why? Here was this headstrong young man, so determined to be daring. And the little girl, worrying about her friends. Even that lovely goose was all a-twitter about the danger the girl faced. So much disorder and upheaval!

  Still, he had to admit that there was a certain satisfaction in working with others, even humans. Never would he acknowledge that out loud, of course, but the Pooka had been alone for so many, many years. Having these other creatures about presented a change of pace. The girl did have excellent taste in chocolates. And there was something to be said for adventure. And what was this if not an adventure?

  Bunnymund’s musings were interrupted by an insistent clanging sound—far off at the moment, but growing louder and closer as his train barreled forward.

  “We’re very nearly there,” he told the others.

  Katherine could tell, for she could smell the dank, sulfury odor of Fearlings. She held her dagger tighter.

  At the same time North’s sword and Bunnymund’s staff both began to glow. Danger was apparently just ahead.

  An egg-straordinary way to travel.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The Now-Rotten Core

  BUNNYMUND ORDERED THE TRAIN to stop, and it did so as smoothly as a duck landing on a pond. He, North, and Katherine made their way to the engine car at the front to better see what was ahead. Engineer egg
s were still stoking the egg-shaped boiler of the idling engine with egg-shaped clumps of coal.

  “They occur naturally,” explained Bunnymund before Katherine could even ask the question. “Egg-shaped coal is where diamonds come from.”

  Katherine liked knowing that, but North found the information distracting.

  “Eggs!” he groused. “You talk too much about eggs!”

  Bunnymund was offended.

  “I do not.”

  “You do too.”

  “I DO NOT!”

  “Yes. You. Do.”

  “Do not!”

  “Do too!”

  Katherine sighed. Here they were, the oldest and wisest creature on Earth and the greatest warrior-wizard of the age, yet they were behaving like a pair of brats. She’d been waiting for something like this to happen between them. They’d been aching for a fight since they’d met! Truth be told, she’d expected something more mature from them both. Grown-ups, wizards, and Pookas! Are they all this muddled? she wondered.

  As the “do not”s and “do too”s continued unabated, Katherine made a decision: She would ignore them both. She turned to Kailash and told her to go to the back of the train and stay quiet. The gosling honked sadly, but Katherine insisted. As Kailash waddled back to the passenger cars, Katherine climbed down from the engine and walked down the tunnel. It was very dim. The walls of the tunnel grew less smooth and crafted. The egg-shaped lanterns that had been affixed to the ceiling for the whole length of the passageway thus far now appeared less and less frequently.