"It's found us!" Ilien cried.
The Groll's silhouette vanished as it tore down the hill after them. The dog lunged forward, throwing the princess back into Ilien's arms, nearly toppling both of them to the ground. They held on in desperation as the night jumped around them.
"Listen up!" the dog barked as they approached the small pine grove. "Enter the grove five trees from the left. Any other way and you're dead. Go three trees in, left two and right three more. Don't stop until dawn. Now go!"
"I don't understand." Ilien had never been good with numbers.
The dog snarled in frustration. "Fifth from the left, in three, left two, right three more!"
The Groll poured down the hill, its tail swaying wildly in the air.
"Go or I'll rip you to shreds myself!" the dog bellowed as it clawed to a stop in front of the trees.
They tumbled off the dog's back and ran to the edge of the grove. The tall pines grew in straight, even rows. The grove was so small they could see straight through to the other side. They looked back, unsure what fleeing into the trees would accomplish, but the dog was already pelting up the hill to meet the Groll's onslaught.
"Five trees from what side?" Ilien asked in a panic.
"Don't men ever listen?" the princess berated. "Come on!" She ran along the edge of the grove, tallying trees as she passed them. Ilien tagged close behind as Windy entered the forest between the fifth and sixth tree.
"One. Two. Three!" she counted as she strode forward. "Now left!"
A shrill howl split the night and Ilien spun around. The dog and Groll fought on the hillside just outside the trees, a frightening frenzy of fangs and claws, limbs and jaws.
"Ilien! Come on!" Windy yelled, pulling him backwards.
Ilien backpedaled as he watched the battle unfold. The princess ran ahead, counting off trees. "One. Two. Now right!"
Ilien stopped. His jaw dropped open. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief. The world outside the grove had suddenly disappeared, dog, Groll, battle and all. In its place grew more straight pines as far as he could see. He blinked and rubbed his eyes again. Where ever he looked, the forest around him stretched neat and even into the distance. Everything outside the once small grove had completely vanished.
So, too, had the princess.
"Windy!" Ilien shouted, turning in circles. Endless needle-covered halls ran off in every direction, bathed in pale moonlight. "Windy! Where are you?" He glanced up at the thick lace of pine boughs overhead. A small patch of sky peered down, flat and starless, hovering close above the treetops like a vast sheet of grey paper.
"Windy!" he called. He cried her name down each long lane but there was no answer, and he soon realized that he'd lost his sense of direction. Every row of trees looked exactly the same. He was stranded alone in an endless forest made of row upon row of identical pines.
He closed his eyes against the confusing monotony and tried to think. "What did the dog say? Don't stop until dawn?" He opened his eyes, any hope of finding Windy dashed among the infinite trees. "But which way do I go?"
He forced his legs into motion, peering left and right down the straight forest paths to either side. The air grew colder as he walked and his breath plumed around him in swirling white clouds. He crept down the trunk-lined halls for what seemed like forever, keeping one eye on the broken sky above.
"The sun should be rising soon," he said aloud, offering himself encouragement. The hovering pine trees muffled his voice, as if he was locked in a vast green closet full of identical green overcoats. The ground beneath his feet felt soft and pillowy, and it was an effort just to keep walking. Finally he stopped, overcome with exhaustion and despair. He looked up at the sky through the lacing of pine branches again, but the low grey ceiling remained unchanged.
"Don't stop until dawn," he mumbled sleepily, the springy ground grabbing at his feet as he tried to walk forward.
Then something out of the ordinary caught his eye. Farther ahead, a single small tree arched over the straight, plush lane. It was as out of place among the evenly spaced tree trunks as he was. He approached the bent tree cautiously.
"What's this all about?" He took a step closer.
The tree jerked straight. His legs kicked out beneath him as a well-hidden snare yanked him feet-first off the ground. Now thoroughly awake, he dangled twenty feet up, a thick rope wrapped around his ankles.
The sound of crashing trees was quickly followed by the booming calls of a man. "Heel, Bleak! Heel!"
Ilien twirled in circles at the end of his rope. With each revolution he struggled to look in the direction of the voice. Soon he was so dizzy that all he could do was close his eyes and hope not to get sick. Slowly the rotations stopped. His head pounded. His stomach churned. He opened his eyes.
Below him sat the giant dog, or at least it looked like the giant dog upside-down. He screwed his eyes to focus. It was a massive dog alright, but not the same one. This one was black, a bit smaller, and definitely not as friendly. It sprang up at him, jaws snapping inches from his dangling head. It gathered itself to lunge again.
"Bleak!"
The thundering bellow sent the dog cowering behind a tree, and Ilien grabbing for his ears. From his unusual vantage point, Ilien saw a pair of behemoth legs clothed in numerous animal skins lumber closer. He craned his neck to see the rest of the towering body.
Even upside down the Giant was terrifying.
The Giant's stony voice dropped an octave as he regarded his tiny catch. "Hmm. What do we have here, Bleak?" His head was nearly level with Ilien and he peered suspiciously at him, either unsure whether his catch was safe to approach, or safe to eat. To Ilien, both thoughts were equally frightening.
"Well I'll be." The Giant spat tobacco onto the ground in a black, oily clump, then ran a massive hand across his weather-beaten face, wiping tobacco juice off his chin. "I don't believe it." He let out a laugh like the howl of a gale force wind. "A man-boy. Now how did a man-boy get into my trap?" He tapped Ilien with his finger, sending him spinning again.
"Look, Bleak," he said. "We've got ourselves a man-boy. I don't think I've ever seen one in these woods before. I wonder if they're good to eat."
The Giant grabbed hold of the rope and Ilien twirled to a stop. He felt suddenly sick, and not just because he was thoroughly dizzy. The Giant was looking at him grimly, his stonewall forehead furrowed in worry.
"Yeah. I don't think I've ever seen one of these in here before," the Giant said. "In fact, I know I haven't."
He brought his face, big as a boulder, close to Ilien's. His nostrils, large enough to fit fists into, flared even wider. Ilien's hair blew back as the Giant smelled him with a loud, wet snort. Bleak sat patiently below, as if waiting for a tasty biscuit.
"No, Bleak," the Giant said, finally. "I don't think we'll eat this one. Too bony. Besides, it ain't no man-boy. It's Nomadin."
Chapter X
Kink and Crank
"Sir?" Ilien chirped when he finally found his voice again. "I'm awfully sorry I fell into your trap." He could think of nothing else to say, having never fallen into a Giant's trap before. The Giant ignored him, carrying him by the rope like a freshly caught fish. Bleak trotted behind them, eyeing him hungrily.
"I meant no harm, sir," he said louder, noticing the thick hair that grew out of the Giant's ears. "I'm really pretty harmless. If you let me go I promise I'll—"
"Harmless you're not." The Giant studyied the trail before him. "Nomadin are never harmless."
Ilien tried to concentrate on where the Giant was taking him but he joggled up and down at the end of the rope and the passing trees danced in circles around him. "I think you've made a mistake, sir."
The Giant stopped, lifting Ilien so his face was level with his own. He drew him closer until their noses nearly touched.
"I, I didn't mean it like it sounded, sir. I—" Ilien swallowed hard. Upside down, his chest was in his stomach.
"Be quiet. And stop calling me sir." Again the Gi
ant's cavernous nostrils flared open. He sniffed Ilien up and down as if he was smelling a ham. "Nope. Definitely Nomadin."
The giant lowered Ilien and continued on, swinging him back and forth like a school boy carrying his lunch bag. "You see, my nose is never wrong. Just last night the missus sat telling me the goat's milk was still good. But I knew better. Should've seen her face when she drank hers. Now that was a good one."
Ilien jiggled up and down as the Giant broke into a fit of laughter. He noticed that Bleak had crept closer, sniffing the air as if Ilien trailed fragrant steam.
"And you say you're harmless? Bah! You're a Nomadin-child! That makes you as dangerous as Reknamarken himself."
"Who?" Ilien asked, beginning to feel sick again. Where had he heard that name before?
"You think you're pretty smart, don't you?" the Giant sneered, turning his head to target a nearby pine tree with tobacco. "You know who I mean." He spat hard, splattering the tree with thick, black goo. "You're just lucky I found you before Reknamarken did. You'll be safe here, in my collection."
"But I really don't know what you're talking about," Ilien said, gagging on the foul tobacco odor that hung in the air. He collected himself enough to cough, "Collection? What collection?"
The Giant jerked the rope sharply. "Be quiet, boy. You're as bad as that nagging wife of mine. I'll have none of it from you."
Ilien did as he was told. His head throbbed. His feet ached. And everything in the middle felt queasy. The Giant carried him casually down the lane, stopping now and then to look around. It appeared to Ilien, even upside down, that he was lost.
"Blast me to Loehs Sedah!" the Giant bellowed the fifth time he stopped. "Where is that damned tree?"
By this time Ilien's feet were numb where the ropes cut into his ankles, and his head felt like it had been visited by Stan and Peaty.
"Bleak!" the Giant shouted. The big black dog eyed its master with disapproval and opened its mouth to speak. "Don't give me any lip, dog. Just find the tree and be quick about it!" It glowered at him and skulked off, mumbling what Ilien thought was something about a paper bag, and the Giant followed. Soon the dog placed a paw on a tree where an X had been chopped into the trunk.
A greasy, black smile leaked tobacco juice down the Giant’s chin. "That's a good boy.”
"And you think you're the master race," muttered the dog.
A hard cuff behind the ears sent the dog tumbling down the lane. "Quit your talking! I won't have it, not from dogs. I swear I'll add your kind to the list!"
The Giant turned his attention back to the tree in front of him. "In three. Right two. No. No. That's to the swamps." He chewed on his bottom lip. "In three. Left two?" He paused to think, tapping his broad skull with a thick finger. "No. That's to the meadow, I think." He looked sheepishly back at the dog. "In two, left three?"
The dog barked once, its ears pinned back in defiance.
"Come on!" the Giant pleaded. "You know I can never remember if one bark is yes or one bark is no. Just tell me, or I swear—the list!" He raised a meaty hand and folded it into a fist.
The dog padded slowly over, its tail tucked between its legs. The glow in its eye told another tale, though. "In two. Left three," it growled.
"In two left three," the Giant repeated, carrying Ilien forward. Two trees passed Ilien upside down, then he turned and passed three more.
Even hung from his feet Ilien was astonished. One moment he was staring at the straight trunk of a tree, the next, the timbered wall of an enormous cabin. The dog materialized beside him, still wearing a sour look.
"Home sweet home," the Giant sighed, setting Ilien down.
Ilien rolled to his side with a painful grunt, the cabin at his back. He lay on a hill littered with stones, and below him a vast mirrored lake spread out to reflect the cheery glow of morning that painted the far horizon in shades of pink and gold.
"Don't you go anywhere, boy. Bleak, you watch him." The Giant lumbered over to the cabin and turned back at the door. "Now how am I gonna explain this one to the missus?" he muttered, surveying Ilien and the dog solemnly. He shook his head and opened the great, wooden door, slamming it shut behind him.
Bleak bared his fangs, then yawned. Ilien sat up and rubbed his wounded legs, watching the cabin door nervously. A large window on either side looked out upon the front yard, and soft lantern light warmed their darkened panes, but Ilien could see nothing of the cabin’s interior. Built of rough hewn timber, with a slanted roof of moss-covered wood, the cabin resembled every hunter’s lodge Ilien had ever seen, except for its size. The door was easily two men high and the windows gaped ten feet off the ground. Nestled along the right side of the cabin was a row of shabby, wooden dog houses, their open entries filled with gloom.
Satisfied that the Giant was gone for the time being, Ilien worked quickly to untie his ankles. “He’s not very nice to you, is he?" he remarked to the ever-watchful dog.
"Shut up! And leave those knots alone," Bleak warned, his hackles rising. "I have a list of my own you know, and little boys are already on it, Nomadin or not."
Ilien quit fiddling with the knots, but he knew he'd hit a nerve. He looked back at the row of dilapidated dog houses. "Is that where you live?"
Bleak bared his teeth. "What's it to you?"
"It's just, well, they don't look too comfortable, that's all. A little cramped, don't you think?"
"I said shut up!" the dog snapped. A pair of yellow eyes sprang up inside one of the dog houses. A moment later a second set appeared inside another. "Now you've done it. You woke Kink and Crank."
Two monstrous dogs emerged simultaneously from the darkened openings, one a yellow hound, its back end bent painfully sideways. Its rump seemed to take the lead as it shuffled forward, and a long tongue hung out the side of its mouth, bobbing up and down like a pink cigar as it spoke.
"Hey, Bleak. What's going on?"
Bleak nodded then shook his shaggy head. "Kink."
"Knock off that racket!" barked the second dog, an unkempt grey brute who stood stretching stiffly. "Can't a dog take a cat nap without some lousy cur chatting away like a flipping squirrel?"
"Sorry, Crank," Bleak offered, his ears laid flat against his head.
"Yeah, sorry, Crank," Kink repeated, sitting back on his crooked haunches, his tail beginning to wag.
The wiry hair along Crank's back rippled. "It wasn't your fault, you dolt!"
Kink stared dumbly at the others, his tail still wagging. "Oh yeah. You're right,” he said, then fell to scratching his bent back end.
Crank pinned Ilien with a bleary glare. "Who's that? Don't tell me those Giants finally bred. That's all we need around here, another oversized dimwit."
"It's not Giant," Bleak snorted. "It's Nomadin."
Crank's jaw dropped open and he took a step backward, falling on his haunches. Kink grinned stupidly, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
"Anselm found him in one of his traps," Bleak explained, glancing at the cabin door.
Crank followed his gaze. "Does that fool know what he's caught?"
Ilien lifted his chin. "Excuse me, but—"
"Shut up!" Bleak and Crank barked in unison. Kink sat smirking.
Crank stood, his legs stiff, his tail out straight. "What's he gonna do?”
"What do you think he's gonna do?" Bleak replied. "What did he do with us? He can't eat him. I don't think Nomadin are on the list. He's gonna keep him."
Crank’s tail bristled like a porcupine. "He can't keep a Nomadin boy here."
The heavy silence between the two dogs was broken by Kink. "Uh. Why?"
"Because of what the Swan said!" Crank shouted. “You don’t remember?”
Kink's tongue switched sides. "Um. No."
Crank stared at Kink, dumbfounded. "A Nomadin-child is as dangerous as the Necromancer himself. If he's allowed to stay here it'll be the end of the Drowsy Wood for sure!"
Bleak dropped to a crouch. "Shush!" he warned. "He's coming out."
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The door opened and the Giant emerged, a stream of sharp rebukes spilling out after him. The door swung shut and the muffled yells trailed off into silence. "If ever a Giant could be a witch it's that woman, I swear." He walked over to Ilien, shaking his head. "Get back to your kennels you mutts! Get!"
Crank growled menacingly but slunk back to his dog house. A quick smack finally wiped the grin off Kink's face, sending him yelping back to his. Bleak stood by Ilien, wagging his tail coyly.
"Good boy, Bleak." The Giant patted the big dog’s head with a burly hand then turned a bewildered look on Ilien. "Well, she won't let you in the house. Says she'll have none of it. You'll have to stay out here with the dogs. I'll bring you food when I can, and there's plenty of dog houses to choose from. Just don't go near the last one over there—unless you're wanting to be torn to bits!" He untied Ilien's legs. "No point keeping you tied. There ain't no escaping anyhow, isn't that right, Bleak?" The Giant laughed all the way back to the front door.
"Remember, any one but the last one," he warned, pointing a finger at the row of run-down dog houses. He listened at the door before opening it. "I swear that woman never stops." He yanked the door open and waded through the continuing shouts of his wife, slamming it closed behind him.
Bleak padded over to his dog house and disappeared inside, leaving Ilien alone with three sets of yellow eyes peering out at him. The Giant's cabin leaned against the very edge of the forest, the even lanes shrouded in shadows behind it, the glassy lake stretched serenely out in front. The tall trees stood over the still water like silent sentinels. The horizon remained unchanged, morning's rosy fingers frozen at the lake's far end. Ilien glanced over at the last dog house. No eyes peered out from the round, black hole. He wobbled to his feet, all pins and needles.
"Bleak?" he whispered.
Bleak's shining eyes wavered within his house then disappeared. Crank was already asleep. Only Kink's eyes continued to blink back at him from the darkness.
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