North! Or Be Eaten

by Andrew Peterson

  Janner shook his head and looked at his brother. Tink saw it too. He smiled with wonder, staring at the empty air before him, waving his hand before his eyes to see if the picture would scatter.

  Janner closed his eyes and still saw the images sifting in the blackness, in and out of focus, but always there, changing with the melody Leeli played. Janner opened his eyes again and focused on the falls beyond the image. He could see through it if he wanted, but as soon as he paid attention to the song again, the image thickened.

  Then something changed.

  16

  The Jewels and the Dragons

  A deep sound shook the air, a sound Janner had heard before but couldn’t place. He looked left and right, expecting something to emerge from the trees, wondering for a moment whether he was hearing things that weren’t really there. But it wasn’t his imagination.

  Oskar sat up and said, “Ah!” Nia smiled, hurried to the cliff, and looked down at the ocean. Podo, however, groaned and shook his head, then crossed to the far side of the clearing and into the forest. Janner had no time to wonder at this because by then he’d seen them.

  The sea dragons.

  Far below, the dragons danced on the surface of the ocean, tiny, glimmering worms on a gray floor. Their voices rang through the air, across the great distance and over the roar of Fingap Falls. The dragon song mingled with Leeli’s, and the music pulsed with joy and then sadness.

  Janner blinked with wonder when he focused again on the images swirling before him. He no longer saw Nugget but a spray of giant waves, then something red and gold—the dragons. He had only ever seen the creatures from the heights of the cliff, but now he could see them as if he floated just above the surface of the sea, a stone’s throw away.

  They were as beautiful as they were fearsome. Their bodies shimmered with metallic scales that swirled with color. The dragon closest to him glittered orange and gold, like the strikes of a thousand matchsticks, but its winglike fins cycled between shades of blue. Its head was sleek and graceful, perfect for slicing through the water, and its eyes—big and deep and serene—sent a chill down to Janner’s toes, because it was suddenly clear the dragon knew it was being watched. The eyes rolled back, and translucent lids slid over them as the dragon opened its mouth and sang. Teeth lined its mouth, but not in the crooked, yellow way of the Fangs or the toothy cows; these were straight and bright and sharp as needles.

  Janner pushed his mind through the image and looked again at his brother and sister. Leeli’s eyes were closed, and though she smiled, tears wet her cheeks while she played. Wind stirred Tink’s hair, and he stared at the empty air before him; his eyes flicked back and forth as if studying a drawing that hung a few feet before his face.

  The song changed to a gentle hum, and Janner turned his mind again to the floating image. A dragon rose from the waves bearing something black on its back, nestled between its fins. It was Nugget.

  The other dragons wheeled into formation around the one bearing the great dog, their long, graceful necks still arched as they sang. They brought their noses close to Nugget’s wet, battered body. Together they lifted the dog into the air so that he appeared to float atop the streams of a fountain, and then they bore him below the surface.

  To Yurgen’s crypt where heroes lie, said a voice in Janner’s mind. It whispered and screamed and sang at the same time.

  Leeli’s song came to an end, and Janner ached for her to keep playing. Whatever power the song had awakened in the three Wingfeather children would leave a terrible emptiness when it was gone.

  She must have sensed some new thing approaching, because she paused only for a moment. She played another tune, low and dark, with a melody that gave Janner a feeling of danger. The image thickened again and hovered just over the waves. The dusk had deepened, so the figure that lifted from the water was difficult to see. It was another dragon, but Janner knew it was ancient, even by a dragon’s standards. The other dragons had twisted and danced, but this one was still, unbothered by the giant waves lapping at its sides. The others had shimmered, but this one was gray and lightless except for the pale shine of its eyes.

  He is near you, young ones.

  Janner trembled, but he wasn’t afraid; the voice wasn’t evil.

  “Keep playing,” he whispered to Leeli. She looked unsettled but nodded and continued.

  Tink’s eyes were wide and full of fear, like he was staring at a ghost. Janner was about to ask Tink what he saw that frightened him so, but the voice spoke again.

  He is near you. Beware. He destroys what he touches and seeks the young ones to use them for his own ends.

  “Who?” Janner whispered, not sure if the dragon could hear him. “Gnag the Nameless? Who?”

  We have been watching, waiting for him. He sailed across the sea, and he is near you, child. We can smell him.

  Janner’s heart pounded. Gnag the Nameless was near? Janner had never thought of Gnag as anything but a scary name, an evil, featureless being. Could it be that Gnag had arms and legs and crossed the Dark Sea like anyone would, on a boat? Janner wasn’t sure if the thought made Gnag the Nameless more or less frightening, but he was sure that if Gnag was nearby, they had no time to rest, no time to sit on the cliff listening to the dragons. They had to get as far away as possible.

  The dragon sank beneath the waves. Leeli’s song ended, and she lowered the whistleharp to her lap with a sigh.

  Janner rubbed his eyes and shook his head, still not sure whether or not he was dreaming. “What just happened?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Tink said, “but they’re taking Nugget to a cave.”

  “How do you know that?” Leeli asked in a quiet voice.

  “I’m not sure. They showed me. I saw them carry his body deep into the sea and into a cave, where they laid Nugget on a pile of rocks. The cave was full of bones, and the bones were covered with some kind of markings. Writing, maybe.”

  “I asked them to take care of Nugget,” Leeli said, “with my song. I told them who he was, what he did for us.”

  “I can’t remember what they looked like anymore,” Janner said.

  Tink stared out at the horizon. “I can still see them. Their fins—did you see the fins? They were huge. Eight sea dragons. Three silver, two reddish gold, an orange, and a blue. Then that last one—the old gray one.” He paused. “And I saw other things, Janner. Awful things.” He shuddered.

  “What? What did you see? Was it Gnag the Nameless?” Janner asked.

  “Gnag? No…I don’t know.” Tink shook his head and closed his eyes.

  A short distance away, Nia cried out. “Where’s your grandfather? Papa!”

  Podo emerged from the trees. The old man was winded, his limp more pronounced than usual as he made his way toward them. His eyes were downcast. “Boys, set up the tent. It’ll soon be too dark to see.”

  “Grandpa, something weird just happened,” Janner said. “The dragons—”

  “Tent! Now!” Podo snapped.

  Janner’s cheeks burned. What had he done to deserve that? If Gnag the Nameless was nearby, then it made no sense to pitch a tent. They had to get away or at least hide.

  “Grandpa,” he said, and Podo fixed him with a blazing eye. Janner resisted the urge to cower and apologize. He had to say something. He stood up straight and clenched his fists. “Grandpa, the dragon spoke to me.”

  Podo’s face was hard. “Aye?” he rumbled after a moment. “And what did the dragon say, boy?”

  “It said that Gnag the Nameless was near. It said he had sailed across the sea and they could smell him. It said, ‘Beware.’”

  “Gnag the Nameless.” Podo snorted. “A sea dragon said Gnag himself was close by. Is that what you’re tellin’ me?” The old pirate crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

  Janner pointed at Tink and Leeli. “Ask them! They heard it too! Or—they didn’t exactly hear it, but—but they saw things and felt things. Didn’t you?”

  “Yes sir,” Tink sai
d. “I saw them. Up close.”

  “And I felt them, Grandpa,” Leeli said.

  Podo and Nia exchanged a glance, and Podo waved a hand in the air. “Well, did the sea dragon also tell ye that his whole race is a bunch of scaly liars? Did he tell ye that they manipulate and confuse for the thrill of it? Sea dragons watch the doings of men with a wicked eye and would just as soon see you run off the cliff as run from Gnag the Nameless.”

  What? Janner thought about the rush of emotions he always felt on Dragon Day. The sea dragons were frightening, fascinating, even haunting—but not evil. It was Leeli’s song that had beckoned them, and Leeli certainly wasn’t evil. And then there was Nugget’s body. The dragons had carried him away with such care—there was nothing evil about that. But how could Janner argue with a pirate? Podo knew more about everything than Janner, especially the sea.

  “That’s what it said. I just—I just thought you should know,” Janner said quietly, unable to meet Podo’s eyes. If he had looked up, he would’ve seen that Podo wasn’t able to meet his eyes either.

  “Boys, see to setting up the tent like your grandfather told you,” Nia said after a moment. “We can talk about the sea dragons in a little while. Gnag the Nameless or not, we all need a meal and a rest. Maker only knows when we’ll have another.”

  “Food?” Tink asked.

  Nia nodded. “We’ll eat the dried diggle that Artham made us.”

  “Food,” Tink repeated.

  17

  An Ally in Dugtown

  The tent took the boys longer to raise than they would’ve liked. Janner had a hard time focusing on the task at hand because he kept looking over his shoulder at the dark wall of trees, half-expecting Gnag the Nameless to leap out and gobble them up. The sun was down and stars flickered in the east by the time they finished. The air cooled, and with the constant wind curling up from the cliffs, the family and Oskar gathered in the crowded tent for warmth as much as for companionship.

  “Let’s see to that meat,” Tink said. “I’m so hungry I could eat a boot.”

  “But first we should have some light,” Oskar said.

  “Mister Reteep, we can’t,” Janner said. “Fire draws the critters out of the forest, remember?”

  “You’re quite right, lad. But that’s not true of all fire.” Reteep removed something from his pouch and asked Janner for a match. Oskar held in his hand a round, greenish candle. “Snotwax, my boy. We can’t smell it, but most animals loathe its odor. Look.” He pointed at an insect buzzing madly for the opening in the tent flap, then placed the candle on the grass between them and smiled.

  Nia removed several strips of dried diggle meat from her pack and passed them around. It wasn’t much, but they were all grateful.

  “I hope Uncle Artham’s all right,” Janner said between bites.

  “Me too,” Nia said. “But I’m sure he’s been in worse places than a troll’s fist. Now, tell me about what happened with the dragons.”

  “I’ll be outside,” Podo grumbled under his breath. “Oskar, you wanna come?”

  “Goodness no,” Oskar said. “I find the whole business quite fascinating.”

  Podo grouched his way out of the tent, and Janner told his mother about what he had seen, heard, and felt.

  “You saw this too?” Oskar asked Leeli, adjusting his spectacles.

  “No sir,” Leeli said. “I didn’t see much of anything. Lights and fuzzy shapes, really. But I…felt something. Like my heart had an invisible arm that reached out and touched something in the dragons.” Leeli’s cheeks turned red. “I know that doesn’t make sense.”

  “It felt like you were connected somehow? Is that it?”

  “Yes—connected. I couldn’t hear words, exactly, but I could feel their thoughts, like when you rub your eyes and you see colors and shapes like fireflies. And the shapes told me things. I couldn’t quite understand them, but Janner could.”

  “‘To Yurgen’s crypt where heroes lie,’” Janner blurted. “I just remembered, the dragons said that before they carried Nugget under. That must be the cave Tink saw. Some sort of dragon burial ground, I guess.”

  “Astounding,” Oskar whispered. “Janner, have you read of Yurgen?”

  “No sir. Sounds familiar, though.”

  “He was king of the dragons, long ago,” Oskar said.

  Janner closed his eyes and flipped through the pages in his mind. “In the First Epoch. I didn’t know his name, but I remember the story. He sank the mountains, digging into the earth to try to find…what was it?”

  “The holoré,” Oskar said.1

  “That’s right—the healing stones. He needed them to save his wounded son, right? But he never found the stones, and he dug so deep that the mountains collapsed—”

  “The Sunken Mountains,” Tink said. “I never knew that.”

  “Which is why I always tell you to read more,” Janner said.

  Tink rolled his eyes.

  “I always assumed it was just a legend,” Oskar said.

  “It’s no legend,” Podo mumbled from just outside the tent.

  They were all silent as the tent flap opened and Podo crawled back inside. He settled in the far corner at the edge of the candlelight.

  “I’ve sailed through the Sunken Mountains, and a sadder place you’ll never see. Aye, sea dragons are ancient critters. One look into their eyes and ye feel yourself fallin’ back in time. There’s more to ‘em than pretty songs and long teeth. They know things.” Podo shivered and closed his eyes. “They remember things.”

  “If they know so much, what makes you certain it lied about Gnag the Nameless?” Janner asked carefully.

  “Because, lad, if Gnag was nearby, we’d all be dead.”

  The candle flickered. No one moved. Janner’s skin crawled with invisible bugs. Finally Oskar cleared his throat. “They remember things, do they? Well, I do too.” The old man forced a smile, trying his best to clear the creepy air. “I remember reading in an old book that there was once an alliance between the sea dragons and the kings of Anniera.” Janner looked to see if Tink was listening, but he was busy searching his lap for stray crumbs. “This was two epochs ago,” Oskar continued, “so I thought it was just a legend. After tonight? I’m not so sure. Perhaps your mother knows more than I do, children. She was the queen, after all.”

  Nia shrugged. “Esben mentioned the sea dragons once in a while, but it never seemed of much importance. I heard talk of the old days, when the young dragons were hunted.”

  Tink looked up from his search for crumbs. “They were hunted?”

  “It was a terrible thing, and it was a long time ago,” Nia said. “I don’t know anything about an alliance.”

  “Ah! But you didn’t know anything about Miller’s Bridge, either, highness,” Oskar said happily. “I’m going to read the old books much more carefully from now on, I’ll tell you that. In the words of Bimm Stack, ‘I’ve an idea! Attend closely to me and you might find your shoes.’”

  Everyone in the tent, including Podo, looked at Oskar with great confusion, trying to sort out what the quote had to do with old books. Oskar took another bite of his dried meat and scratched his belly.

  “So what do we do now?” Janner asked his mother.

  “Why don’t we ask your grandfather.” She turned to Podo. “Papa, what do we do?” she asked in her queen voice, the voice she used when she was tired of talk and ready for action. Even ornery old pirates sat up straight when such a voice was directed at them.

  “If the Fangs send a message by crow to Torrboro, I reckon we’ve got a day, maybe two, before they set to patrollin’ this side of the river. For now, we ought to bunk down and sleep. Tomorrow we’ll head north, though I don’t know quite how. Once we get past the Barrier—if we get past it—the lands between here and the Ice Prairies are unknown to me. The crazy old Sock Man was the only one of us who knew the way.” Podo looked out at the night through the flap of the tent.

  “There’s an ally in Dugtown,” Os
kar said.

  “What ally?” Podo asked.

  “His name is Ronchy McHiggins. He’s a fine chap and has been my contact for many years. Runs a tavern called the Roundish Widow that serves the finest sailor’s pie I’ve ever laid mouth on.”

  “Mmm,” Tink said.

  “He cooks it with a sprig of honeybud, and the mashes atop it are copiously peppered and garlicked. Seven vegetables are mixed with goat crème and—”

  “Can we trust him?” Nia asked.

  Oskar cleared his throat and eyed his diggle meat with disdain. “I hope so. He’s the one who introduced me to Gammon.”

  “Who’s Gammon?” Janner asked.

  “Gammon’s the leader of the rebellion in Kimera,” Podo said. He seemed more alive now that they had the beginnings of a plan.

  “Kimera’s in the Ice Prairies,” Nia told Tink before he could ask.

  “Gammon’s the one who helped me smuggle the weapons to Anklejelly Manor,” Oskar told Janner. “An imposing fellow, strong and cunning. He’d have to be to survive all these years. I met him in Torrboro not long after the Great War,” Oskar continued. “He saw my cart heavy with crates of books and convinced me to help him. I was so surprised to find anyone with the mettle to defy the Fangs, even in secret, that I agreed. I carried weapons Gammon collected from the rubble of Skree. We hid them in crates beneath old books and soon amassed all the weapons you found beneath the manor. Gammon has weapon chambers like that all over the continent, waiting for the day when the Skreeans will use them.”

  “Well, what’s he waiting for?” Tink asked. “If the weapons are in place, then why not fight back now?”

  “Because he isn’t ready. As I said, he’s cunning. His followers trust him explicitly and believe he knows what he’s doing. It’s a good thing he’s on our side,” Oskar said, “because with his charisma and strength, he would be a formidable enemy. Each time I met him, I found myself hanging on his every word. A trustworthy fellow, though, I’d bet my books on it.”