by K Madill
The mist, which was now so thick he could barely see through it, hovered in a cloud over Luco. Luco’s eyes snapped open.
“Grandad?” he whispered, sitting up quickly. The hammock swung from his sudden movement. “I smell my Grandad’s pipe.” Mandamus nickered in apprehension for now the swirling vapour was beginning to take shape.
Luco struggled out of the hammock, freezing, when he saw the apparition of a towering man with beefy arms and a thick, white moustache standing before him. The spectre grinned down at Luco.
“You grew up,” the ghost said. “Bit scrawny though; just like your mother.” The spirit slapped Luco on the shoulder, only his hand passed right through him
“Granddad,” Luco breathed. He tried backing away but got caught up in the hammock behind him. “I’m dreaming.”
“No, you’re not.” Luco’s Granddad and Mandamus said in unison.
Luco’s eyes filled with tears. “Grandad, I miss you so much,” he said. “I never even got to say goodbye to you before you died. You were out in the field and I was off playing my guitar. If only I had been there.” He sniffed and scrubbed his eyes with his fist.
His grandfather’s face went soft. “I know you miss me,” he said. “And there would have been nothing you could have done, whether you’d been with me or not. When it is time to go, it is time to go. As for saying goodbye, you have said it several times, in fact, and I heard you each time. I hear everything you tell me, you know.”
Luco’s face brightened. “You do?”
“Oh, yes,” his grandfather nodded. “Every word. I am always with you, especially when you call for me. Now, who’s this new friend you’ve got here?” he asked as he signalled at Mandamus who nickered in return.
Luco nodded eagerly. “Can you believe it? I have a horse bond! His name is Mandamus. Mandamus, meet my grandfather. Come to think of it, that’s weird, Mandamus, you’re in my dream too.” Mandamus smiled indulgently. He would let Luco think he was dreaming if that made things easier.
“Good for you,” his grandfather said jovially, eyes twinkling. “And what a fine horse he is. Long legs, a strong frame and not too big. Perfect horse for endurance riding, and let me tell you, you’re going to need him. Beware Luco, there are hard times coming, and you and that horse are going to have to stick together. Do you hear me? Stick with him.”
“Hard times?” Luco repeated, looking confused.
Mandamus felt a stab of fear. What did Luco’s grandfather mean?
“Times where you are going to look around and wonder how you got there,” Luco’s grandfather said gravely. “Times where you wonder whether you will live to see another day.”
“I don’t understand,” Luco whispered while clenching the sides of the hammock even tighter.
“You’ll see,” Luco’s grandfather told him and Mandamus’ belly lurched as a voice from deep within him said that Luco’s grandfather was right.
“Now, as for your immediate problem—how to help that Lethe girl, I think I have a solution that may work.”
The moonlight was strong enough that Mandamus could see Luco’s face darken with embarrassment.
“What?” Luco stammered. “Who said anything about wanting to help Lethe?”
“You did!” his grandfather chuckled. “Right after you met her, in your head you said, ‘I wish I could help her. Grandpa would know what to do.’” He winked at Mandamus.
Luco shook his head. “I guess I talk to you even when I don’t know I’m doing it. Grandfather, that poor girl is under a curse. Some river hag, Nadee her name is, took this girl’s memory, and comes here every full moon to refresh the curse. Lethe has to stay in the water. If she’s out too long, her memory disappears, and she becomes disoriented. Then, her entire body shuts down. Who does that to someone?”
Luco’s grandfather shook his head. “It is pretty awful.”
Luco nodded. “Right? But every time I try to think of a way to help Lethe, the only thing that comes to mind is that glass cube you used to have on your pond, remember the one? The fish would swim up into it and then you could see them? It was like you had an aquarium on the surface of the water. Well, something keeps telling me to build a giant one of those and trap that hag inside, but how? Where would I get a cube that big?”
Luco’s grandfather looked like he was about to explode with pride. “That’s my boy,” he thundered with a booming laugh. “Capturing that hag is the perfect plan and I have an idea about your idea.” Small tendrils of mist began rising from his shoulders as he continued. “Build a cube, just like mine only a hundred times the size. There is sand glass all over this place. Find it and mix it with dandelion milk until it’s like water and then heat it up until it’s as hard as your skull.” He reached over and rapped his ghostly knuckles on Luco’s forehead. “You know how to do it. I taught you.”
Luco smiled. “How could I forget? You decided I should learn glassmaking during one of the hottest summers Roseneath ever had.”
“Make glass from the mixture,” his grandfather said. “Use it to build a trap. That Samhain lady will help you find the sand, and your horse will help you carry things. After it’s built, lure the hag into it and sink it to the bottom of that lake.”
Luco’s grandfather grinned broadly while the misty tendrils that curled softly from his shoulders turned into swirling streams. He was disappearing.
“Granddad, wait,” Luco said desperately as the spectre faded. He reached out to grab his grandfather’s arm, but his hand passed right through it. “I have so many more things I have to ask you! How do I get the trap to work? Where should I put the—”
“You’ll figure it out,” his grandfather answered faintly, and he gave Mandamus one last wink before vanishing.
“I had a strange dream last night,” Luco said, as he unwound the dressing from Mandamus’s hoof. Dark clouds filled the sky and the morning was cold so Luco had built a small crackling fire.
“Oh, yeah?” Mandamus replied, jerking his leg as Luco poked at his wound.
“Oh, yeah,” murmured Luco, pulling Mandamus hoof back towards him. He looked around to make sure Samhain wasn’t within earshot. “I dreamt about my dead grandfather but that wasn’t the odd part. What freaks me out is that the dream was so real. I could smell him. Take a whiff for yourself,” he held out his arm, the dressing dangling from his fist. “You can still smell his pipe tobacco on my clothes.”
Mandamus stretched his neck out and sniffed Luco’s sleeve, catching a trace of the same musky scent that had emanated from the ghost last night.
“Luco, that wasn’t a dream. I saw it too.”
Luco’s eyes bulged, and he dropped Mandamus’ bandage. “You saw it too,” he whispered.
“Uh huh,” Mandamus said. He placed his hoof gingerly on the ground and put weight on it. Just a slight twinge of pain. He put the rest of his weight on it and while the head-splitting pain was gone, he was nowhere near ready to walk on it for hours at a time. “I saw him, alright. He came to warn you, don’t you remember? He said to beware and that hard times are coming. I wonder what he meant by that?” Mandamus squinted up at the sky, watching more swollen clouds roll in. The air smelled like rain.
Luco stooped down to retrieve the wrappings. “I don’t know,” he answered softly while rolling the gauze back into a ball.
“Are you going to build that trap he talked about?” Mandamus asked.
Luco chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. “It wouldn’t be hard, you heard what he said about there being sand glass here. All you need to do is mix it with dandelion milk and melt it over a fire. Oh man, I’d need so much stuff but if I had my tools, I could make molds and pour glass into them for walls, no big deal. Like building a fish tank only bigger. My only problem is, my tools are at home.”
“It sounds like you’ve done it before,” Mandamus said, impressed.
Luc
o nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes. My grandfather taught me how to build lots of things. He wanted me to have a trade in case my guitar playing never worked out. Which it hasn’t. He was a smart guy.”
Luco crouched back down for another look at his hoof. With a satisfied nod, he dropped Mandamus’ foot and stood up. “I’ll see you in a little while,” he said with a distracted smile. “I’ve got to ask Samhain a few things.” Luco rushed off.
That night, Mandamus saw Samhain at the end of the path, at the border of the dense forest, whispering to three crows, two raccoons and a moose, all of whom listened intently. She waved the creatures away, watching as they hurried off in different directions. The next morning, Luco woke up to find a pile of buckets, shovels, axes, rope, tools and on the very top, a pair of gloves. It seemed that the animals Samhain had been talking too, spent the night thieving supplies from humans. Now, Luco could get to work.
Luco explained his plan to Mandamus in detail. The trap would be built near the centre of the lake on a floating dock. Luco would also build a long, skinny walkway leading to the trap. The dock on which the glass cube rested would be made from logs bound loosely together with rope that when pulled, would break apart, sending the cube to the bottom of the lake with Nadee inside.
To Mandamus, the plan left an awful lot to chance. What if the hag had no interest in the room and cursed them too? What if she killed them, like Lethe said she would? But he kept these concerns to himself when he saw the stony look of determination in Luco’s eyes.
Luco worked non-stop over the next two days, barely stopping to eat. He felled trees. He hauled buckets of sand. He even made a makeshift harness out of rope and hooked it up to Fallow, using the dragolotl’s strength to pull loads up and down the steep, winding trail that led from the top of the canyon to the bottom.
Arkas helped by breathing flames onto countless piles of brush and creating the hot fire that Luco needed to make the glass. Then, on the third day, Mandamus returned from grazing to find five glittering panes drying on the grass under the bright sun. The glare was blinding, and Mandamus was impressed for the panes were as smooth, clear, and, Luco boasted, almost impossible to break.
Lethe, who was both eager and anxious about Luco’s plan, was also bent on helping. Luco was grateful for her enthusiasm, he confided in Mandamus, for he could not bring himself to get into the water to build the docks. Under Luco’s direction, Lethe arranged the logs that Luco rolled into the water then firmly knotted them together until they formed a large platform. Then, with more of Luco’s instruction, Lethe used smaller, shorter logs to fashion a long, skinny dock that reminded Mandamus of a goose’s neck leading from the beach to that floating glass room.
“Mandamus!” called Luco the day before the full moon. “Come check this out!”
The horse poked his head up from the stretch of long grass that he had been hiding in and shook flowers from his mane. He was getting to his feet when Fallow, whom he had been hiding from, pounced on Mandamus, knocking him back to the ground. Fallow crowed and licked Mandamus’ face.
“Get off me!” Mandamus squealed. His hoof felt better, but not well enough to be tackled by a dragolotl that matched him in size.
“Mandamus!” Luco shouted again.
“I’m coming,” he called, struggling to his feet and shaking the grass from his coat.
He could now step on his foot for most of the day before the dull ache came back. In a day or two, they would be able to leave. Fallow, looking very disappointed at the interruption of their game, followed Mandamus down the steep, narrow trail that led to the lake.
Luco stood, hands on his hips, bare-chest glistening with heat and sweat. His hair was held out of his eyes by a strip of red cloth and his face was bronzed from days of working under the hot sun.
“Right there,” Luco said proudly, pointing.
Mandamus could not believe his eyes. Bobbing softly on the water was a massive, shining cube made of glass.
It had been built on a floating dock made of logs that had been fastened together with thick, rope. Luco had also crafted a four-poster bed out of driftwood and gathered moss for a mattress. Lethe had woven a quilt out of river grass but what amazed Mandamus the most was that the room was filled with water from the dock to the ceiling. The water had a greyish tinge to it and large fish swam circles around the bedposts. Fallow crowed.
“How did you get the water in there?” Mandamus asked, jaw dropping.
“Lethe did that part,” Luco replied, reaching down to scratch Fallow. “She stirred up the water in that way she has, and it flooded the cube through the spaces between the logs that make up the floor. Watch this.”
Luco pulled on the side of the trap, sliding the large pane to the side. Instead of spilling out, the water stayed inside the cube, swirling listlessly but not a drop escaping.
Mandamus watched in awe as the fish drifted to the bottom of the cube then slipped through the small spaces between the logs that made up the floor. As incredible as the trap was, he couldn’t help but feel another nip of anxiety. Would it hold? What would Nadee do to them if it didn’t?
That evening, Luco decided to take a well-deserved break. He built a towering bonfire and sat in the glow of it, beating on an over-turned pail with a pair of crudely carved drumsticks. Soon, he sang:
Black tide, full moon, is the end coming soon?
Not the cheeriest song, Mandamus thought, and then he realized that Luco was just as worried about their plan as he was.
Arkas seemed to love Luco’s music and he flitted in and out of the bonfire squealing happily. Finally, he hung off a tree branch and, spreading one of his wings, he beat on in mercilessly as though it too were a drum until Luco gave him his tiny porridge pot and spoon. Arkas banged the pot with all his might to Luco’s song.
The forest rang with music and the crackle of the tall flames. The almost-full moon shone a sparkling path on the lake’s surface illuminating the black beak and feathered head that raised itself out of the river and watched them with small, silver eyes.
Part Two
CHAPTER 11
The Snowbreth, the General, and His Wife
“Quietly,” Caucus whispered, his voice muffled by the heavy silver mask he wore on the lower half of his face. He beckoned the soldiers behind closer. The horses they rode, struggled through the deep snow. The soldiers, clad in white, rode silently past Caucus and wove through icicle-laden trees to the deserted entrance of a colossal castle carved entirely out of ice. The pointed peaks glittered coldly in the moonlight. A rumble of whispers cut through Caucus’ men as they took in the over-sized doors and mammoth windows.
“There’s no one here.”
“Where have the Snowbreth gone?”
“It’s like the tribe knew we were coming.”
The murmurs of the soldiers grew louder until Caucus silenced them with a hiss. He rode up to a tall, wide door made of hardened snow. Words had been carved into its surface.
“The Hall of The Snowbreth Tribe,” the door read. “May All Who Enter Come in Peace.”
Caucus pulled an apple-sized ball from his coat and flicked its tiny switch. Stretching out his hand he gave the ball a slight squeeze.
BOOM!
A red beam shot out and the door exploded. Shards of ice rained down on the horses and men.
“Go!” Caucus yelled as he spurred his horse through the thick snow and into the castle. He galloped through a snowy open courtyard, through taller than normal doors into a vast chamber. The men had to crane their necks to see the ceiling, their breath puffing plumes in the freezing air. Lining the walls were banquet tables filled with food, but the room was abandoned.
Caucus slid from his mount and pulled out a long glass baton from under his coat. Inside an eel squirmed and sputtered with tiny bolts of electricity. Motioning for his horse to stay put and for his men to follow, he he
ld the baton in front of him, letting its cold blue light lead the way.
The foyer of the castle was deserted and, in the middle, sat an immense throne which, like the castle, had been carved out of ice. Its seat was large enough for five men and its back, tall enough for ten. Sitting proudly on this throne was a hulking creature covered in shaggy white fur with thick curling horns like a mountain goat.
He was flanked by two more of his kind. One had a scarred, rebellious face and carried a spear while the other was shorter, wore horn-rimmed glasses and had a knapsack slung over his shoulder. The creature on the throne stared down at the soldiers with worried, wondering eyes.
“We’re here for you, King Farzad,” Caucus growled. “By order of Queen Asura. She wants you at the Silver Castle tonight for questioning. You can come peacefully or….” He held up the bat.
Farzad got up. The soldiers broke into terrified whispers.
“I knew he was big but…!”
“Watch out for those claws!”
“Those horns—look at those horns!”
“A general now, are you Caucus?” Farzad said. His voice was deep but soft. He eyed the surrounding soldiers. “Commander of an impressive group of men, from what I hear. What do you call yourselves again? The Rakhana?”
“Quiet,” General Caucus ordered as he pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt. “Hold out your arms.”
“You watch your mouth, Human,” the scarred Snowbreth growled. His hands twitched as though he could barely restrain them. “You’re talking to a king.”
Farzad raised his hand.
“That’s enough, Ruger,” he said pleasantly. “We will not fight the Rakhana. We will surrender ourselves peacefully.”
With a deep sigh, the shorter Snowbreth took off his glasses and tucked them carefully into a pouch on his pack. With a last look at Farzad who gave a slight nod, he held out his arms. Two of the soldiers rushed forward and snapped silver cuffs around his wrists.
“See, Second Mate, Tobey, has the right idea,” Farzad rumbled. “Come now, Ruger. The general will not harm us.”