Thisby Thestoop and the Wretched Scrattle

by Zac Gorman

  There were huge lacerations on the side of the cave that reminded Thisby instantly of the rock golem that she had seen. She thought of the hodag they’d encountered near where she and Mingus had found the rock golem but didn’t think it was responsible for this. Its claws weren’t big enough, for one. But whatever it was, it’d chased off an entire herd of catoblepas.

  “What did this?” asked Vas, pulling up alongside her. He ran his fingers along the walls of the cave, feeling the grooves cut into the solid rock.

  “I don’t know,” said Thisby.

  Thisby leaned in close and examined the lacerations. The marks were old. Mold spores had already begun to collect on the freshly exposed rock, and tiny spots of green fuzz sprang up in the cracks. She ran her fingers over the soft, fuzzy mold and sighed before dipping her oars into the brackish water and paddling away from the empty catoblepas chamber, farther up the Floating River.

  They found a place to camp for the night as the second day drew to a close. A bit of dry riverbank where the tunnel widened out. On the back wall of the shallow overhang against which they’d prepared to rest, Thisby spotted some strange flowers growing through the cracks in the wall. She touched a yellow one beneath her fingers and was so lost in thought that when Vas spoke to her from behind, she flinched.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m just curious. Seeing flowers like that . . . so deep below the earth,” he said.

  “We must be on the other side of Elphond’s Escape. The magic, it spreads like a weed, through cracks in the walls. Sometimes I wonder if it’ll eventually take over the entire dungeon. Can you imagine? Walking into the Black Mountain to find a world full of life. Plants and sky and rivers and animals. How would you even know you weren’t still outside?”

  Nearby, lying in one of the three glass boats they’d dragged ashore, Bero had already begun to snore. The walls of the boat amplified the noise in an almost comedic way.

  “It’s wonderful,” said Vas.

  “Yeah. It is,” said Thisby.

  She sat down with her back against the wall, staring out over the sad embers of the small fire Bero had conjured before falling asleep. Without him left to tend to it, the light was quickly dying. Mingus was no help, either, falling fast asleep as well and returning to his nonluminous dull gray color. Apparently, that was the natural color of a pewder sér. Which was another thing that Thisby hadn’t yet had a chance to properly process.

  “I never planned to make it out of the dungeon alive,” said Vas.

  If this was his attempt to fill the silence, he’d chosen an interesting technique. Thisby looked at him but wasn’t sure exactly what to say, so she looked away. She suppressed a strange instinct to apologize.

  “I came here to die, I mean,” he said as if misunderstanding was the reason for her silence. The fire crackled a response of its own, and Vas continued.

  “My father wanted me to enter the Wretched Scrattle because he wanted me out of the way. He was afraid that I’d replace him in his old age. He was right, I suppose. That’s the way things go. But he had me pegged all wrong. I don’t care about money. Not like he does, at least. It doesn’t really matter.”

  Thisby kept her eyes fixed on the orange glow of the dying fire to avoid looking at Vas. Bero’s snoring filled the silence.

  “Do you ever feel like all that stuff is just a distraction from something bigger? That there’s something impossibly huge hiding under all these layers of country and money and business and war, something that you know is there but you can’t quite put your finger on? Something that you think if everybody would just look at it, if everybody could just touch it, hold it, feel it, it would erase all that other stuff?”

  Thisby felt a bit embarrassed by what he’d said, but she was moved by his conviction nonetheless. She was reminded of Iphigenia and how her role had been thrust upon her as well, just like Vas. They both had so much and yet they also seemed completely incapable of appreciating it. Just as Thisby’s mind had wandered off, she felt Vas’s hand close over her own and give it a squeeze.

  Thisby sprang to life as if somebody had dropped a live mindworm down the back of her pants. She bolted for the rowboat, crossing her arms and muttering something about how it was late and they had a big day tomorrow. She lay down in the beached boat underneath the seats, curled into a ball, closed her eyes as tightly as they would go, and tried hard not to think about anything other than making it to the castle. After several minutes, she held her breath and peeked over the stern of the boat, but it was too dark to see anything now that the last embers of the fire had finally surrendered to their inevitable fate.

  Chapter 16

  The edge of the dagger pressed against Thisby’s throat.

  “You make a sound and you’re dead.”

  Her eyes adjusted to the dark in a hurry, spurred on by the adrenaline pumping through her body. The hooded man squatting over her had an ugly face with a squashed-in look to it.

  “Get up,” he commanded.

  He grabbed Thisby by the arm and dragged her out from beneath the overhang. Without Mingus’s light, she could barely make out two other figures standing several yards away by the edge of the river, looming above lumps she guessed were probably the bodies of Vas and Bero. She hoped they were still breathing, but it was too dark to tell.

  She was led down to the water, where two adventurers stood in front of Bero and Vas, who were tied up at their feet. One of the adventurers could’ve been the younger brother of the man who’d grabbed her, and the other was a woman who didn’t fit in at all with the others. She had a long braid of hair the color of fire and could have been mistaken for royalty if she wasn’t wearing the armor of a seasoned adventurer.

  “They’re alive,” she said, before Thisby could ask.

  Upon seeing that Thisby was seemingly no threat, the woman sheathed her sword.

  “If you don’t cause any trouble, you’ll live, too,” she said.

  Thisby watched as the younger man lifted Vas like a sack of potatoes and placed him in one of Bero’s magic glass boats.

  “What’s your name?” asked the woman.

  Thisby studied her and said nothing. The man was still grabbing Thisby’s arm rather roughly, but when the woman gave him a nod, he let go and moved over to help the younger man lift Bero into the same boat in which they’d placed Vas.

  “Thisby,” said Thisby.

  “Thisby,” the woman repeated. “My name is Elfriede.”

  Thisby didn’t respond.

  “Do you want to tell me why you’re worth ten thousand gold, dead or alive, Thisby?”

  Thisby said nothing, so the woman pulled out a scroll that had been rolled up and tucked into her belt. She unrolled it and handed it over.

  Sure enough, there was a drawing of Thisby’s face floating above a promise of ten thousand gold as reward for either her capture or proof of her death. It was what the Master had been warning her about before the incident at Giant’s Crossing. He’d been trying to tell her that Marl had placed a bounty on her head.

  Her thoughts spun around the one inevitable truth that must be at the center of this turn of events: Marl knew that she was competing in the Wretched Scrattle and was terrified that Thisby was going to win.

  “I don’t know,” said Thisby.

  Elfriede stepped closer to Thisby and squatted down so they were eye level with each other. She smiled.

  “I don’t like games, Thisby. I won’t play them. Do you believe me?”

  Something in her voice told Thisby that was the absolute truth. She nodded.

  “Good. Now I will tell you the truth. I don’t want to kill you or your friends, but I will. I will do it without hesitation if you don’t answer my questions honestly. Since I’m being honest with you, it only seems fair. Nod if you understand.”

  Thisby nodded.

  “Wonderful. Now I’m going to ask you that question again. Only this time, if you don’t answer, one of your friends dies. If you don’t ans
wer again, the other dies. If you don’t answer for a third time, you die. That’s all there is to it.”

  Elfriede paused to let that sink in.

  “Now why would somebody offer ten thousand gold for you?” she asked.

  “I’m the gamekeeper of the Black Mountain,” said Thisby. “The Overseer, Marl, doesn’t want me to win the Wretched Scrattle.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Think harder,” said Elfriede.

  Thisby considered what she knew. Marl had imprisoned the Master and put a bounty on Thisby’s head, which could mean only one thing.

  “She wants the dungeon for herself,” said Thisby.

  “And?” asked Elfriede.

  “And if I win, that complicates things.”

  “Fair enough,” said Elfriede, standing up. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

  Elfriede waved for her partners to come over, and they obeyed.

  “Tie her up,” she said, motioning toward Thisby.

  The men closed in and grabbed her by her shoulders.

  “Wait! What are you doing?” Thisby demanded, trying to wriggle free of the men.

  It was a pointless struggle, as the far larger men managed to hold her down with relative ease and bind her hands behind her back.

  “We’re taking you to the Overseer. To collect our reward. Just be thankful I’ve decided to deliver you alive. For now.”

  The younger man carried Thisby to a boat and tossed her in. She tried to lift her head to get a look at the other boat holding Vas and Bero, but she couldn’t see over the edge.

  “Stop!” she yelled. “You can’t navigate the river!”

  “With your help we can,” said Elfriede, climbing into Thisby’s boat.

  She pulled Thisby upright so she could see and sat her at the prow of the tiny boat. There was barely room for both of them in there. Looking back over her shoulder, Thisby saw that the older man with the squashed face had grabbed Bero’s pack of spell books as well as their other supplies and Mingus, who Thisby was sure was doing his “inanimate object” routine.

  Mingus’s last-ditch tactic when captured by enemies involved popping out his fake eyes and staying completely still, refusing to glow. When he did this, it was easy to mistake him for a jar full of weird jelly, although explaining why Thisby would carry such a thing around with her could be tricky. Thankfully, her kidnappers didn’t seem to be asking too many questions that didn’t pertain to the reward for her capture.

  In the boat behind him, she could see Bero and Vas tied up on the floor of the boat, with the younger man standing over them, using his paddle to push off into the water. Thisby hoped they were all right but knew it was probably herself that she should be worried about. If Elfriede managed to hand her off to Marl, there was no telling what the Overseer would do to her. If the bounty was any indication, it wouldn’t be good.

  Elfriede jabbed Thisby in the back with the paddle.

  “Eyes forward,” she commanded. “You need to concentrate.”

  Thisby turned around and looked down the river. There was a fork up ahead. She’d seen it when they’d landed. To the left, the tunnel was coated in fine moss. To the right, the tunnel was moss-free and she felt a cold breeze blowing down it.

  “Which way?” demanded Elfriede.

  “Left,” said Thisby without hesitation.

  “Are you sure?” asked Elfriede.

  “Positive,” said Thisby.

  Elfriede asked no more questions and turned her boat toward the right.

  “I said left!” shouted Thisby, but it was too late.

  “I know you did. Which is why I went to the right,” said Elfriede. “Do you think I’m so stupid as to fall into a trap?”

  Thisby was glad for the darkness as they passed into the tunnel. She would’ve hated for her captor to see her smile.

  So far, the group had managed to navigate the Floating River without encountering anything more dangerous than a pair of dire otters, which Elfriede and the other two had successfully chased off by slapping their oars against the water and yelling. It made for quite a scene, but considering the sorts of monsters that dwelled along the river, Thisby knew that they’d been incredibly lucky.

  Unfortunately, she still had no way of knowing how far they were from Castle Grimstone without her maps. If she’d had them, they could’ve made the journey from Long Lost Lake to where the Floating River crested near the top of the Black Mountain in a day’s time, and from there it was only another half a day’s journey on foot. That part, at least, she was certain she could navigate even without maps. There was no way Marl had managed to change enough of the top quarter of the dungeon so that Thisby wouldn’t recognize it. She’d spent her whole life in that part of the dungeon and knew it as well as anyone would recognize their childhood home. Just because somebody had put the toilet in the kitchen didn’t mean she’d be tricked into taking a bath in the sink.

  Before they’d been captured, they’d already spent one night along the Floating River, which meant that at some point they’d gone off course from the most direct route. Even on an indirect course, Thisby was fairly certain they’d arrive at the top of the river by the end of the day. What she couldn’t be sure of was that they’d be the first to arrive. It was possible, she supposed, that somebody had already won the Wretched Scrattle. For all she knew, they could be coronating a new Master right now. All she could do was hope she wasn’t too late.

  “Again?” griped Elfriede, scolding her extinguished torch.

  Every time she lit the torch, moments later it was extinguished by a cold breeze blasting through the tunnel strong enough to rock their entire boat.

  “I keep telling you, I have a lantern,” said Thisby.

  Elfriede relit the torch, and Thisby watched her face bloom to life in the darkness.

  “And I keep telling you it’s broken,” said the older man with the squashed face, who Thisby had learned was named Rathburn.

  “It’s not broken, it’s magic,” Thisby insisted. “It only works for me.”

  “We ain’t fallin’ for that, girl,” chuckled Rathburn.

  “Just give it to me and I’ll show you! You can hold your dagger to my throat if you’d like! I won’t try anything funny, but I also can’t navigate these tunnels without being able to see!”

  On cue, a stiff breeze blew out Elfriede’s torch again. Thisby heard her cursing in the darkness.

  “Oh, just give her the stupid lantern!” snapped Elfriede.

  Thisby felt their boats bump together in the darkness, and they fumbled around until Mingus was placed on the floor of the boat in front of her. The slime glowed softly, enough for them to see, and Thisby smiled.

  “See?” she asked. “I told you. Now untie my hands so I can use it.”

  Elfriede laughed. “Not going to happen. Give it here.”

  Elfriede jerked the lantern out of Thisby’s hands, and they were all immediately plunged back into darkness.

  “It only works for me,” said Thisby. “It’s magic. How many times do I have to tell you that? Bero, please explain it to them.”

  Through the dark, she heard Bero’s soft voice from the far boat. He sounded much closer than she’d realized.

  “It’s true. The lantern is soul-bonded,” he said.

  Elfriede muttered more curses, and Thisby felt the cold steel of her knife searching around her wrists. With a flick that seemed far too confident to perform in the pitch darkness, the rope around Thisby’s wrists was cut and fell away. Mingus started to glow as soon as Thisby picked up the lantern.

  “Don’t try anything stupid,” said Elfriede.

  It was good advice but also too little too late. Thisby had done something stupid, but it had happened hours ago when she’d tricked Elfriede into taking the wrong tunnel.

  The boats rounded a corner and began to gain speed as they headed through a long tunnel covered in ice, glittering blue in Mingus’s light.

  Thisby’s
boat slammed into a chunk of ice and spun around 180 degrees. Another chuck of ice struck the stern, and this time the shock was enough to knock her out of her seat. Thisby landed on all fours in the boat and watched through its glass bottom as chunks of ice drifted past. Rathburn yelled something, and although Thisby couldn’t clearly make out the words, when she glanced back over her shoulder, it seemed likely that it had to do with the river ahead ending abruptly in a thick wall of ice.

  There was no way Thisby could stop her boat now, not that she wanted to. Taking a deep breath, she dove in. She hit the water, and the shock to her system felt like she’d just hugged an electric snail. Frigid water rushed up around her, filling her nose and mouth. When she bobbed back up above the surface, it was just in time to watch her boat slam into the wall and capsize, spilling Elfriede out as well. Still clutching Mingus, Thisby swam ashore, her arms aching from any exertion in water this cold. She was coughing and shaking when she heard the others behind her.

  “Stop her!” yelled Rathburn.

  Wet and freezing cold, Thisby ran without looking back. For now, she’d have to hope that Vas and Bero were okay with their captors. She was the real prize and hoped they’d take the bait. It was her only shot.

  As she ran, she felt her clothes warming as the tunic dried itself off. If she survived this, she was going to have to find a way to properly thank Iphigenia for her gift.

  Thisby turned down a narrow tunnel which ended in a great, vaulted stone doorway, the kind you might see leading into a cathedral, only here there was no door. Instead, the entrance was almost completely frozen over with ice. That “almost” was all she needed. Thisby was already halfway squeezed through the only remaining fissure in the frozen doorway, her nose squished up against the ice, when she heard the sound of the others coming down the tunnel behind her. If it was a tight fit for her, there was no way for the others to get through without chipping away the ice first, and Thisby knew from experience what a chore that was.