The Girl, the Gypsy & the Gargoyle

by Darcy Pattison

  With prickly branches pressing against her back, Laurel watched the Hallvard draw closer and closer. Now, she could see even, white teeth—no. It didn’t matter what she saw, it was wrong. She translated what she saw: The Hallvard had strong, yellow teeth and sickle-like claws.

  “Jassy!”

  “I know!” Jassy grabbed Laurel’s bag and edged around the clearing away from her. The Hallvard stopped, as if uncertain which person to attack. Jassy’s fingers tore at the knots on the bag.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to save our lives,” Jassy said grimly. He held up a clenched fist, full of pebbles, the fake jewels. The Hallvard half rose, following the motion of the jewels like a trained bear following his master’s commands. It gave Laurel fresh hope. Maybe Jassy did know how to handle the Guardian.

  Jassy flung the jewels over the Guardian’s head.

  The Hallvard twisted, trying to catch them with his paws. He roared in excitement—was that the reverse of frustration?—as the jewels disappeared into the undergrowth. He scrambled to where one landed and scratched in the leaves, searching for it.

  Jassy caught up their packs and both jewel bags and raced to Laurel. He grabbed her hand and pulled. “Run! It’ll take him a while to find the jewels.”

  Laurel jerked her jewel bag from Jassy and hugged it as they dashed from the clearing and down the trail.

  Behind them, the Hallvard roared. In triumph, Laurel thought, trying to interpret what she heard.

  “He’s found one jewel,” Jassy called over his shoulder. “Hurry! We’ve got to cross the creek before–”

  “Coming.” Laurel was breathing hard, but she knew they couldn’t stop. The jewel in her skirt pocket burned into her leg, almost tripping her. She tried to ignore it. The Hallvard is only after our bags of jewels, she told herself. She knew Jassy had done the only thing he knew to do—buy time with a few jewels.

  Laurel splashed through endless puddles and jumped over limbs that had broken off in the night’s storm. Her legs grew heavier and weaker, but each time she slowed, they heard a bellow of triumph that told them the Hallvard had found another jewel.

  After the fourth time, Laurel called to Jassy, “How many did you throw?”

  He slowed and ran beside her. “Don’t know,” he said panting. “Maybe, one more.”

  Laurel tried to calculate how fast they were running and how fast the Hallvard could run. He was faster than they were, and he wouldn’t tire as easily. Would they be far enough ahead to cross the creek before the Hallvard caught them?

  Laurel and Jassy both held their sides, now. Their breathing was labored and rough. But they dared not stop.

  Slowly, Laurel realized she was hearing something strange. It was a dull thrumming that grew steadily. It puzzled her, but she couldn’t worry about it now. It took more and more concentration just to keep moving. By now, she was limping badly, her blister raw and aching, so that she could barely trot. She was mad and tired and hurting. And it’s Jassy’s fault, she thought.

  Suddenly, she ran into Jassy, but he was ready for her and merely caught her in his circle of arms and made her stand still.

  “Shhh! Listen. Have you heard the Hallvard lately?”

  “What?”

  Jassy waggled his pointy gargoyle ears and listened for any sound of pursuit. “He’s got to be coming.”

  Jassy reached for the jewel bag that Laurel still clutched. She swiveled away and lashed out, trying to scratch Jassy’s ugly face. “Don’t touch my jewels.”

  Jassy dropped his hands and stared. “Have you lost your mind?”

  Now, Laurel stopped to really look. She shivered in the cold wind and stared up at bare branches. Was it really winter? Why was she arguing with Jassy? He was the only steadfast thing in this crazy land. Two in, two out. He wouldn’t try to leave without her.

  Seeing her confusion, Jassy gently took the jewel bag, and then took her hand and pulled her along toward the noise in front of them.

  They came out of the woods into the cold sunshine and stared at the dirty stream. The rivulets had fed the creeks; the creeks had tumbled toward larger streams; the streams had paraded madly to the river. The stream they had crossed the day before was now a river, a torrent of water cascading through boulders, barely staying within the banks.

  Behind them, the Hallvard roared, louder and closer.

  Beyond the tumult, Laurel saw the path rising up the hill. She caught a red gleam from the Troll’s Eye doorway far above them. It might as well be a thousand leagues away. That hallucination she saw, that bridge, it wasn’t there. There was no way to cross the river.

  TWENTY-TWO

  IN WHICH THE GIRL AND THE GYPSY TAKE A MIGHTY LEAP

  Faced with the river at flood stage, Jassy made an instant decision. “We’ll go upstream and look for a place to ford.”

  Laurel waved him forward, and then hobbled along behind. Despite the illusion of a wide-open path, the riverbank was hard to follow. She kept bumping into trees which grew right down to the edge of the banks where many large oaks and willows hung out over the rushing water. They climbed over or went around huge tree trunks. The ground itself was hard-packed—no, it was spongy and so waterlogged that each step took effort, and progress was agonizingly slow.

  The river wound around the base of the cliff. Each minute took them farther upstream, away from the trail up the cliff, until Laurel was ready to scream. They had a day and a half before they had to be out of this wretched land. But it rankled her to waste any time going upriver.

  Laurel worried about the Hallvard gaining on them, but apparently, he couldn’t travel fast off the path, either. Sometimes they heard him roar over the sound of rushing water, but they kept their lead.

  Mid-afternoon, Jassy split half a loaf. “It’s the last of the bread. I hope we’ll be out by nightfall, but just in case, we need to save some for tomorrow.”

  Laurel was weary and grateful for anything; she broke off bits and chewed hard at the spice-cake-flavored brick as she plodded along. She tried to keep up with Jassy, but her feet grew heavier.

  They’d gone perhaps two or three miles–at a snail’s pace–when Jassy stopped and pointed. “Do you think we could jump those?”

  Laurel didn’t bother to look: “Describe it to me.”

  Jassy explained that the river had gradually narrowed until now two large boulders, which lay on each side of the river, were only five or six arm-spans apart. It was the narrowest spot they’d seen yet, but water shot through this narrow cataract with a violent roar.

  Laurel was thin and short and always aware that she was the architect’s daughter or sometimes a nurse for the town folk; she had a rich life with connections throughout her community. And now, her life came down to this, her ability to jump, to make a mighty leap across swift waters, deep inside this stone world, where she could be lost forever. It was a simple thing to ask, that leap. “No. I’ll fall.”

  A growl rumbled through the woods behind her.

  “You have no choice,” Jassy said. “I’ll jump first, and then catch you when you jump.”

  Laurel shivered. Then, she shrugged, “I don’t care. Try it.”

  Jassy scampered up the rock. It was wide enough to allow three or four running steps. Grinning in such intense concentration, his dark brows looked like angel wings.

  He needs wings to make it, Laurel thought.

  Jassy took a deep breath, then ran and leaped. He arched out over the water and hung for a moment at the top, like a gargoyle bat. Then he came down and landed squarely on the rock on the opposite shore.

  He leaped and shouted angrily, “Hurrah!”

  Laurel dredged up enough energy to smile.

  “Your turn! Come on!”

  Laurel grasped the rock and climbed. The rock was covered with smooth gray-green lichens and emerald mosses. She stared at three tiny ferns that hung in a crevice above the water, trying to avoid looking at the smooth water below them. Were the ferns real? Was i
t really a torrent of water?

  She backed away from the edge. Looking up, she shook her head.

  Jassy stood at the edge of his rock and held out his hands: they were gargoyle hands, of course, with bone-thin fingers, hairy palms, grasping and groping hands made for stealing jewels.

  “Come on!”

  Laurel backed farther away and whispered, “No.”

  The Hallvard lumbered out of the woods, and when it saw Laurel, it roared. The sound—like an organ playing a hymn in the cathedral—reverberated off the blood-red cliffs above them. The beast charged straight for her rock.

  It was now or never.

  She closed her eyes for a moment. It didn’t matter if Jassy was a gargoyle or not, she had to jump. She clung to the rope of the jewel bag. She opened her eyes, ran two quick steps and leapt.

  Over the tiny ferns.

  Stretching across the water.

  Straining to reach the far rock.

  Her fingers caught the edge of the boulder, the jewels banging against the rock. Then her hand slipped on the wet moss. Jassy grabbed her arm and held on, giving her some stability. Laurel pulled, straining arm muscles, while trying to find a foot hold. At last, she lay halfway on top, and Jassy gave one more heave, but as he did, she looked at his hands. Hallvard paws!

  Startled, Laurel jerked away.

  She fell.

  Hot water hit Laurel with a shock and she sank deep, deeper, tumbling until a current caught her. She fought, kicking hard, and finally broke the surface to gulp in air. Then the rapids pulled her under again. Her hand was still wrapped around the cord of the jewel bag and it weighed her down. But she wouldn’t let it go. She needed those jewels, she thought fiercely. She had a cathedral to build.

  From deep inside, Laurel found a reserve of strength and kicked again. She broke the surface, gasping, coughing. This time, she was out of the main current and could stay afloat. She tried to get her bearings. The cliffs were to her right and she was on the left side of the current. Moaning, she realized it was the Hallvard’s side of the river.

  Laurel tried to windmill her arms, a crude swimming motion, trying to reach Jassy’s side. Instead, the current swept her even further downstream. She was small and thin and weighed down by sodden skirts and a heavy bag of jewels. She couldn’t swim across the river.

  She turned and kicked back toward the wrong shore. The water became shallower until, eventually, Laurel’s feet touched bottom and in a few more strokes, she stood upright.

  “The Hallvard!” Jassy’s voice was dim above the river’s music.

  Looking upstream, Laurel saw the Hallvard pushing through bushes toward her. She shoved wet hair from her face–she’d never had time to comb it out and braid it–and realized that she was trapped in the middle of the river.

  “Jewels! Throw jewels!”

  Jassy’s advice was probably wise. Though they felt nimble, Laurel’s fingers were obviously cold and stiff and the knot in the jewel bag was wet and stubborn. Just one jewel, she thought. Just one. Let Jassy waste his, but she needed all of hers.

  Then, she started shivering with cold. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to stop shaking. The only warm place on her body was the stone in her pocket, which burned on her thigh.

  The Hallvard cleared the underbrush and loped toward her.

  Desperate, she fumbled again with the knot.

  The Hallvard closed in.

  The knot came loose. Laurel pulled out one jewel and pitched it over the beast’s head.

  He didn’t slow down or even blink his yellow eyes. With a mighty sweep of his paw, he uprooted a bush in his way. Now, he rose onto two legs, towering over Laurel as he had in the cave. He advanced, arms outstretched, and she could only imagine him flexing his massive claws.

  Laurel jerked out a handful of stones and threw them over the Hallvard’s head. He was close enough now for Laurel to hear him grunting.

  He hesitated, but came on anyway.

  Now, Laurel threw handful after handful over his head, into the woods, into the river. The jewels arced like rainbows through the sky. Desperately, she threw a handful at his feet.

  The Hallvard stopped and dropped onto all fours. He picked up a jewel, his paws surprisingly adept. He had a fur pouch of some sort strapped across his belly into which he deposited each jewel he found.

  Laurel waded back into the river until it was waist high. She splashed upstream, hurrying past the now-occupied Hallvard and looking back often, expecting the beast to be at her heels. But he was busy now, finding the jewels. Laurel climbed back up the bank and ran to the boulders.

  Chilled, almost unable to move for shivering, Laurel lay flat on her stomach, watching the Hallvard and letting the warmth from the stone seep in. Each time the beast put a stone in its pouch, she shook her head and fumed. Those were her jewels.

  Before she was really ready, she forced herself to stand and face the gap between boulders again. Jassy was there, waiting for her. She took a deep breath, ran and jumped.

  And landed beside Jassy, on her feet.

  Jassy grabbed her and hugged, and then immediately pulled her away, back downstream to where they could pick up the trail again.

  TWENTY-THREE

  THE COMING OF THE GUARDIAN

  At last Jassy and Laurel stood at the bottom of the cliff trail. Laurel tilted her head back, hoping for a glimpse of the Troll’s Eye doorway, but it was hidden from view. She sat on a boulder and rubbed her right calf. “My legs ache.”

  Jassy studied the cliff, too. “We need to move faster. It took us half a day to hike down this hill and walking up will be even slower.”

  “When the sun goes down, the Hallvard is stone, right? We can rest then.” Now, her fingers probed the ache in her left calf.

  “No! That’s when we need to climb.”

  She stretched her toes long, and then tilted them upward, but still her calves hurt. She used a long, firm stroke to rub the right calf again.

  Jassy smiled, making his face look open and rested. “I don’t understand. Why is the Hallvard chasing us anyway?”

  “Why are you asking me?”

  Jassy sank to his haunches and stared straight at her face. Their gazes locked. Jassy had a silly grin on his face that Laurel translated: he was scowling.

  “Maybe we’re being chased because Master Gimpel lied.”

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Laurel bent to retie her shoes. Did he suspect? She wanted to check the stone in her pocket, but forced herself to take her time with each shoelace. Then she sat up and glared at Jassy. “You want all the jewels for yourself? Well, stay away from mine. Throw yours to the Hallvard, if you want, but I’m keeping the rest of mine.”

  Jassy grinned at her so hard that his eyebrows became one straight black line. He opened his mouth to say something, and then snapped it shut. He stood and started trotting up the trail.

  Laurel watched him for a moment and then rose and followed. What else could she do? Two in, two out.

  Silence reigned while they ascended the cliff, and the darkness crept across the sky. Laurel desperately wanted to reach up and force the sun below the horizon so the Hallvard would sleep. Her calves were aching again and threatening to cramp up. Instead, she plodded along, just like the sun plodded along.

  The path was steeper than she had remembered. Looking back down the cliff, they were high enough now that she could no longer see separate trees, just the forest canopy. She looked up to where Jassy was, above her on the trail. A short way off the path, she caught a flash of white.

  “Jassy, wait.”

  She walked toward the white and peered through the growing dusk. “It’s a tiny canyon, look. There’s something back here.” She stopped at a cliff face that opened into a box-shaped area.

  She stood before a mound of dirt. “Jassy, what is it?”

  “Laurel, we don’t have time.” He was in the opening of the box canyon. Then, he came briskly toward her. “It�
��s a grave.” He put his hand on something at the end of the dirt mound. “This is a white cross.” He hesitated, but then described it, telling her about the bleached white wood that was tied together into a crude cross, and a green vine with white flowers twined around it.

  Laurel thought: There’s something I should know about a vine and flower. But she couldn’t think what.

  Hoarse, Laurel whispered, “Who is buried here?”

  “There’s a name carved on the cross. Gimpel.”

  “His brother?” Laurel asked. “There’s too much here we don’t know.”

  Jassy nodded, and it was a tired nod, as if the simple act of moving his head up and down was impossible. And Laurel remembered that first time she saw him outside the cathedral, his face as he studied the cathedral and later, when he concentrated on collecting coins, the passion and energy of his smile, his patter. Was he really tired now, or full of energy? She hated not knowing. She plucked one of the flowers, still wondering why she was supposed to notice it. Touching the white wood, Laurel was surprised at how smooth it felt. “Jassy, promise–”

  Jassy whirled and put a finger to her mouth to stop her from saying more. “Two in, two out,” he whispered.

  Laurel blinked, her eyes suddenly full of tears. “Jassy.”

  Suddenly, the canyon darkened even more and they spun to see the Hallvard’s massive body blocking the entrance. Laurel jumped up and searched the canyon walls for an exit. The walls were three times a man’s height, smooth and sheer. There was only one entrance and exit, a perfect box.

  Jassy grabbed her hand. “Only a few minutes till the sun sets.”

  But the Hallvard seemed to understand the urgency of his situation. He advanced quickly.

  “Separate,” Jassy said. “Confuse him.”

  Laurel darted right, while Jassy went left. The beast followed Laurel and in two quick steps, trapped her in a corner. She had no weapons, nothing to use for defense. Instinct took over. She grabbed the ties of her jewel bag and whipped it around like a slingshot. Just as it came around, the Hallvard slashed out, his claws ripping out the bottom. Jewels—the worthless pebbles—flew in all directions, some landing on the canyon floor, some on the grave. And before Laurel could do anything, the Hallvard lashed out again. She ducked. But his claws caught her face. She fell, clutching wildly at her face, at her eye. She almost swooned at the pain, even as she rolled away, expecting to be crushed.