North! Or Be Eaten

by Andrew Peterson

  “That’s all of them, Uncle Peet!” Tink called.

  Peet nodded, folded the canvas over the books, and heaved the pile into the hole he had dug.

  “Oskar! How much time do we have?” Podo barked.

  “Oh dear.” Oskar brushed himself off. “Not more than a few minutes. I tried to sneak away, but they saw me, and there are hundreds of them. Hundreds!”

  A new sound drifted through the woods. A horrible sound, like nothing Janner had ever heard. Part moan, part growl, it was clear it came from something large. Even Nugget whined. He bounded to Leeli and pressed his great furry body against her, whether to protect her or to be protected, Janner wasn’t sure.

  “And that’s the other thing,” Oskar said gravely.

  “Eh?” Podo heaved a supply-laden pack over his shoulder. “What’s the other thing?”

  “Trolls.” Oskar shuddered and wrinkled his nose.

  Trolls? A shiver of fear coursed through Janner. He had never seen a troll, though Pembrick’s Creaturepedia depicted several troll races, all of which were formidable and ghastly to behold.

  His heart skipped a beat at the look of worry that flashed over Nia’s face. She was serene in the worst of circumstances, able to grow icy cold even as the heat of danger rose. But when the troll’s growl-moan sounded again, closer than before, her face wrinkled in a way that made her look old and tired, though only for a moment.

  Podo looked hard at Oskar, then nodded. “Well, whether it’s trolls or Fangs or me Great-Granny Olaraye comin’, we’re getting out of here fast. Janner, get that donkey over here and tie what ye can to the saddle. Tink!”

  “Yes sir,” Tink said from behind Podo.

  “Help yer sister with her things, then have yer bow and arrow ready. You ride on Nugget with her and shoot at anything you’re sure you can hit. Be sure, understand? Arrows are precious.”

  “Yes,” said a papery voice just above them. “Arrows are precious. But they’ll do the Igibys no good, I’m afraid.”

  Zouzab Koit perched high in the overstory and looked down on them with an expressionless face. Oskar sputtered, so enraged that he could think of no one to quote.

  “You!” shouted Podo, his face already reddening for the torrent of curses about to burst from his mouth.

  But before he could say a word, Peet the Sock Man screeched and leapt impossibly high, swinging himself into the boughs where Zouzab crouched. Zouzab skittered away, blowing his high-pitched whistle as Peet pursued. In a flurry of whirling branches and falling leaves, the Sock Man and the ridgerunner were out of sight, leaving Podo and Oskar trembling and speechless. Their anger was interrupted by another troll call, then another whistle blow, not far away.

  “No time! Move!” Podo said.

  While Janner pulled the tired donkey to its feet, Nia pushed the dirt into the hole where Peet had stashed his precious journals. She threw a pile of leaves atop the fresh dirt and spread them around to conceal it.

  “Papa, where will we go?” Nia cried as Podo rushed up the ladder to the tree house.

  “Don’t know, lass! North, I reckon,” he called over his shoulder. “We can’t go south now, like we planned.”

  “But—but there’s nothing north but the river. We’ll be trapped!”

  “Ah!” Oskar said. “There’s a bridge. A way across…” He doubled over and coughed. Janner rushed to his side to steady him.

  Podo climbed down the ladder in a blur, carrying an armful of dried meat, which he shoved into his pack. “We’re fools to stay here a toot longer. Hurry!”

  “Here.” Nia tossed Peet’s leather satchel to Janner. “Tie this to the donkey, then get your things. Go!”

  “Mama, Mister Reteep is hurt,” Janner said. “Where’s the water from the First Well?”

  “I don’t know, son. Artham had it. We’ll have to give Oskar some when we get far enough away from the Fangs.” She turned to Oskar. “Can you make it? Can you ride?”

  Oskar nodded, wheezing.

  Janner’s sword, lashed to the side of his pack, thunked against his hip when he threw the pack over his shoulders and reminded him how heavy and real and dangerous swords—and the situations that called for them—were. The growl-moans of the trolls grew louder, and Janner could hear the faint thud-thud-thud of marching feet.

  Leeli sat astride Nugget, her hands on the tufts of black fur that gathered at the sides of her dog’s great head, her newest crutch slung with twine over her shoulder. Tink sat just behind his sister with his bow ready. Nia held the tired donkey’s reins and ran a soothing hand along its jaw. When Oskar tried to mount the donkey, it fixed him with a surly eye and brayed.

  “All right, lads and lasses,” Podo shouted, “we’re off at a quick pace, hear?”

  “But Grandpa, what about Uncle Peet?” Leeli asked.

  Podo lowered his voice and spoke without looking his granddaughter in the eye. “We ain’t waiting fer him. No time. He’ll catch up.”

  “But—”

  “After them!” snarled the faint, unmistakable voice of a Fang of Dang.

  Janner saw a green, scaly face appear in the tree-choked distance, then another, and another. Podo took hold of Nugget’s collar and led him at a run, deeper into Glipwood Forest.

  6

  The Gully Rim

  Through the forest they ran. Behind them, like an invisible storm blowing through the trees, came the howls and moans and stomping feet of the Fang army. The donkey needed no prodding from Janner to quicken its pace. Peet the Sock Man was nowhere to be seen, but his screech occasionally cut through the darker sounds behind them.

  Podo drove them onward, and even with his peglegged limp, he had to check his speed to allow the rest to keep up. Janner and his mother ran with the wild-eyed donkey between them, and Oskar huffed and wheezed in the rear.

  As they ran, Janner looked over his shoulder and saw a line of Fangs weaving in and out of the trees, and among them, three lumbering trolls, which broke fat limbs like twigs. Janner felt a combination of horror and fascination and wished he could somehow stop the pursuit so he could get a better look at one of the smelly hulks.

  “Janner, watch where you’re going,” Nia said, and he just had time to dance around a small tree. Ahead, Nugget trotted beside Podo, choosing his path with care so that Leeli was safe from low branches. With each troll bellow, Nugget’s ears flattened against his head and he whined.

  “Shh, boy,” Leeli said, leaning forward to speak in her dog’s ear.

  Tink sat behind Leeli with his bow at the ready.

  “Tink, can you see them?” Janner huffed.

  “Yeah, I see them,” Tink answered, trying to hide the worry in his voice. “They’re getting closer. Grandpa, they’re getting closer!”

  “Aye, I hear ‘em, lad,” said Podo. “You just keep that arrow on the string.”

  Janner tried not to look back, but he couldn’t help himself. He saw even more Fangs and trolls, close enough that he could make out looks of vicious glee on their faces. He could also smell them. A sharp, bitter odor polluted the air, and with the smell came memories of Slarb, of Gnorm and the Black Carriage, of cold, damp Fang flesh. With the memories came deep and overpowering fear. Since Oskar had burst into the clearing, Janner had felt tension and urgency—but now that he remembered the iron grip of a Fang claw and the ooze of venom from a Fang tooth, he was truly afraid.

  From Pembrick’s Creaturepedia

  “Oskar!” Nia cried.

  Janner saw the old man stagger, teetering like a pile of dishes about to collapse. When Oskar reached out to steady himself on the nearest tree, Janner saw with alarm that the old man’s hand was bright with blood. Oskar’s knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground.

  Podo rushed back to his friend and pulled him to his feet.

  “Janner, make room!” Podo ordered. Janner shoved the bedrolls and supplies from the donkey’s back and with Podo’s help heaved Oskar onto the poor beast. The old man lay on his stomach, draped over the sadd
le like a game animal freshly killed. His eyelids drooped, and his face was pale and clammy.

  “Tink!” Leeli screamed, and Janner turned to see a new reason to fear. A horned hound burst from the ranks of the charging Fangs and barreled toward them. It wore a collar, and its face and body were decorated with black war paint.

  Tink sat frozen on Nugget’s back.

  “SHOOT!” Podo roared.

  Tink blinked twice and came back to himself. He drew the bow and loosed the arrow, and the hound collapsed in a burst of leaves.

  Podo didn’t need to give the order to run like mad. Nugget leapt into motion so fast that Tink nearly toppled from his back. Nia ran beside the braying donkey and steadied Oskar, who moaned as he jiggled along.

  The way was difficult. The forest north of Peet’s tree house rose and fell in steepening hills. Now and then they had to skirt around treacherous gullies, dried riverbeds tangled with fallen trees.

  From the top of a long slope, Janner saw the Fangs were no more than an arrow shot away, and two more of their horned hounds sprinted toward the Igibys. Tink loosed another arrow and missed. As he hurried to draw another arrow from the quiver, Peet swooped down from the trees with his talons bared, killed the hounds, and disappeared into the leaves again.

  Janner knew Peet was no match against so many Fangs, but his sudden presence was like a cool wind on a hot day. A Throne Warden of Anniera occupied the space between the Igibys and their enemies.

  Peet’s appearance had a surprising effect on the Fangs as well. Janner couldn’t see much, but he sensed the space between himself and the Fangs increasing. Though they numbered in the hundreds, the Fangs hung back, wary eyes on the branches above.

  Suddenly Janner found himself skidding down a steep bank. Podo had led Nugget into a deep gully and was halfway across the depression, amidst old branches, brown leaves, and rotting tree trunks. The trench stretched a long way in both directions, so they had no choice but to cross it.

  The donkey stopped dead in its tracks on the rim of the slope. Janner pulled at the reins while Nia pushed from behind, but the animal wouldn’t move. Its eyes were fixed on the gully floor, its nostrils expanding and contracting like a beating heart.

  If Janner had not been running in fear for his life, he might have remembered what Pembrick’s Creaturepedia had to say about such gullies in Glipwood Forest; he might have thought to warn his family before they scrambled down into the tree-clogged floor. If Janner hadn’t been thinking about the Fangs and trolls snarling through the woods behind him, he would’ve suggested firmly that the Igiby family find a way around the gully, even if it added hours and miles to the journey.

  If Peet the Sock Man, so familiar with the dangers of the forest, had been with them and not fending off the Fangs and trolls and horned hounds, he would’ve most emphatically suggested that the Igiby family not descend into the hole.1

  But they did.

  1. From Pembrick’s Creaturepedia: “Avoid the gullies and sinkholes of Glipwood Forest at all costs. It is commonly known that the gargan rockroach sets its trap in such places. But the gargan rockroach lying in wait beneath the leaves and limbs gathered at the bottom of the gully is only one of the dangers to the oblivious gully crawler. The sweet scent emanated by the female gargan rockroach sends some animals into a temperbolic trance and draws them irresistibly to the waiting rockroach. It is not uncommon to find gathered in the gully any number of deadly creatures trapped and awaiting the gargan rockroach’s return from deeper in the earth where it tends its young.”

  7

  Monsters in the Hollow

  Nugget stood at the bottom of the gully with one great paw atop an old rotten tree trunk, Leeli and Tink on his back. Nia slid down to join them while Podo and Janner, halfway up the slope, tugged at the donkey’s reins. Janner scrambled to the rear of the donkey and pushed with all his might, but it did no good. The fear-struck beast brayed and whipped its head in defiance. It had no intention of going any farther.

  “COME ON, YOU STUBBORN OLD CLOMP CHOMPER!” Podo yelled.

  “We need you to come just a little farther,” Leeli’s voice called sweetly from across the gully. “That’s it. Come on!”

  The donkey’s ears moved forward at Leeli’s voice, and its braying ceased. It took one halting step forward. Podo arched an eyebrow at Leeli, who smiled in return. Janner risked another look behind him as he slid down the gully slope.

  Peet the Sock Man had dropped from the trees and stood before the line of wary Fangs with his arms folded across his chest, his back straight, his chin thrust out, and his eyes closed. He reminded Janner of Mayor Blaggus when he conducted the Glipwood Township Orchestra.

  Then a troll emerged from the Fang front lines. It was the first clear look Janner had at one of the creatures, and he understood why Nia and Podo looked so worried when Oskar mentioned them. The troll’s legs were short and stout, but the creature still stood twice as tall as a man. Its torso and arms bulged with muscle and veins; a tiny head with a sprout of gray hair peeked out from between its shoulders. The troll’s eyes were hidden in the shadow of its bony forehead—a forehead matched by a bony jaw that looked strong enough to batter down a castle gate.

  The beast gripped an iron-studded club in a fist the size of a wheelbarrow. It held the club above its head for a moment, then growled at Peet (in a moanish sort of way) and slammed it down. The ground vibrated, and pebbles shook loose from the bank where Janner stood. The donkey lost any courage Leeli had awakened and backed away.

  “Grandpa!” Janner cried. “We have to leave it!”

  They scrambled out of the gully, lowered Oskar from the donkey’s back, and draped his arms over their shoulders.

  The troll slammed its club into the ground again.

  Peet still hadn’t moved. He stood petulant and motionless, buying the Igibys precious time just as he had on their escape to Anklejelly Manor. When Janner and Podo reached the bottom of the gully where the others waited, Janner took one last look up at the terrified donkey. He felt sorry for it and wondered if the Fangs would put it to work or if they would eat it.

  Then he saw, dangling from the donkey’s saddle, Peet’s satchel.

  Janner ducked out from under Oskar’s arm and skittered back up the slope. The trolls and Fangs had inched closer to where Peet now skipped in circles and whistled to himself. The man was as brave as he was crazy, and the Fangs didn’t know what to make of it. Janner tried to untie the straps that bound Peet’s satchel to the donkey, but they wouldn’t loosen, so he tore it open to grab what he could. He dug through a bundle of journals tied together with twine, a hammer, one old boot, a live mouse, and a leather flask—the water from the First Well.

  Janner gasped. He tucked the flask into the side pocket of his pants and leapt back into the gully.

  But something was wrong.

  Nugget should have crawled up the other side by now, but he stood motionless in the bottom of the gully. Leeli pleaded with her dog to awaken from his trance. Tink had dismounted and stood in front of Nugget with his hands on the sides of the big dog’s face, calling his name.

  Nugget responded with a lazy whine.

  Then Tink screamed and struggled with something at his feet. Janner scrambled over fallen limbs to his brother before anyone else had time to react. When he saw the source of Tink’s distress, Janner screamed too.

  From a space between two dead limbs on the gully floor—which Janner now realized wasn’t a floor at all—a milky-eyed head emerged. Its nose was moist and wide, its snout long like a horse’s but stouter, and two yellowed fangs jutted down from a mouth full of crooked, sharp teeth: a toothy cow, trapped below them in a gargan rockroach den. What they thought was the gully floor was more like a giant brushpile hollowed out from below.

  Within the cow’s mouth was Tink’s left foot, a foot that would’ve been removed from his body and well on its way to the beast’s digestive system had the cow not been sluggish in the fog of the rockroach’s gassy trap
. The toothy cow’s eyes oozed a yellow fluid and rolled around in a drowsy fashion as it worked Tink’s ankle deeper into its maw.

  Janner pulled at Tink’s leg, but the cow’s smaller teeth were angled inward.1 If the cow had been fully awake, Janner was sure Tink would be yet another member of his family with only one working foot.

  Podo appeared with his sword drawn and whacked at the monster, but the cow’s head was only partially visible through the opening in the branches, and he couldn’t do enough damage to release Tink’s foot from it’s mouth.

  The commotion jarred Nugget out of his trance. The great dog barked and tensed his body, taking in the situation as if he had just woken from a dream. When Nugget saw the cow, he pounced at the opening in the floor, which nearly sent Leeli flying from his back. When he landed, the patchwork of branches where they stood shifted and revealed more of the toothy cow’s head.

  The brothers and their grandfather looked at one another long enough to share the realization that they were about to fall—and then they did.

  Nugget crashed to the ground. Leeli landed in the soft fur of her dog’s flank, and Janner, Tink, and Podo followed, head over heels, slamming into the leafy floor of the gargan rockroach’s den.

  Janner was disoriented but realized that in the fall, Tink’s foot had slipped loose from the cow’s jaws. Then he saw the fear on Podo’s face. The old pirate looked past Janner at something that froze him like a statue.

  The den was crawling with monsters.

  1. To prevent prey from escaping. It is but one of the many deadly features of the Skreean toothy cow. See illustration, On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness, 288.

  8

  A Thorn of Contempt

  There were four toothy cows; a hissing, flapping family of cave blats; a horned hound, wounded so that it stood on only three of its legs; and a diggle staggering about, flashing its quills. Piles of animal bones littered the floor, and the skulls of all manner of forest creatures gazed at the Igibys.