Jack

by Liesl Shurtliff

  But what could they do? They couldn’t fly. I laughed as the pixies flew us over the castle and out of sight of King Barf and his giant tantrum.

  Tom and Annabella were waiting for me at the beanstalk. It looked as though the rest of the elves, including Papa, had already gone down Below. Annabella waved as the pixies lowered us to the ground.

  “Jack, what—”

  “I couldn’t leave her,” I said. “King Barf will never stop taking from us as long as he has Treasure.”

  “What are you going to do with her?” asked Tom.

  “Bring her home.”

  “Mama is going to faint,” said Annabella.

  “Probably.” I smiled as I imagined the look on Mama’s face when she saw a chicken the size of her kitchen.

  The pixies were buzzing around the hen, squeaking and chattering, like they knew exactly what she was capable of and wanted in on the gold just as much as the king.

  “King Barf’s going to come after her,” said Tom.

  “But they won’t know where to look,” I said. “I don’t think they’ll find—”

  Boom.

  The earth began to vibrate, and a deep rumbling grew louder and louder. Up on the hill, a dozen or more soldiers on horses stormed down the road, including Frederick and Bruno, the magician, and King Barf leading the charge. He was still in his golden nightdress, a crown thrust hastily over his nightcap. I would have laughed if I hadn’t been so terrified.

  The hen squawked in distress and started to peck furiously at the ground, like she could sense it was her only escape.

  “Get on the hen!” I told Tom and Annabella, and we all climbed up her wings and sat on her back. Saakt squeaked and fluttered in front of Annabella.

  “Won’t you come with us?” she asked.

  The green pixie squeaked some more and looked unhappily at the hole.

  “Oh, yes. Too much dirt. I understand. I hope to come back someday, if I can. Will you try to stop the king from coming after us?”

  The green pixie stood tall and raised his hand in a kind of salute. He squeaked at the other pixies, and they all rose up in a flurry and shot after the king and his men.

  “Go down, Treasure!” I kicked at the hen like a horse. At first she just squawked and flapped her wings, but then she stumbled forward enough that we fell through the hole and plummeted toward earth.

  “She’s not flying!” Annabella shouted.

  Indeed she wasn’t. The bird was limp and lifeless as a chicken supper. Was she dead? I could see people below, gathered around the beanstalk. I could see our house. I could see the hard ground getting closer and closer.

  “Pull her feathers!” I shouted. We yanked hard, which roused the bird to frenzied flight. She flapped her wings just enough to catch the air before we hit the earth. The hen landed with a bounce and a crash, and we tumbled from the tail and rolled onto green grass—normal grass that came in tiny blades beneath our feet. Treasure squawked and flapped around as though her head had just been chopped off. The men from the dungeon had gathered in our fields and were now dodging Treasure’s haphazard jerking and flapping.

  Tom, Annabella, and I stood up and shook away our dizziness. We plucked the giant feathers from our clothing and hair. We looked around, disoriented from our sudden fall and the change of worlds. The sun was setting here, as it had been rising in the giant world, and everything was so…small. We looked at one another with shocked faces.

  “I thought we were dead meat,” I said.

  “I’ve never been more terrified in my entire life!” said Annabella.

  We looked at Tom, who was very pale and still teetering, but he smiled and said, “That was amazing!” We all had to laugh at that.

  “Well, well. You certainly brought home a big pet,” said Baker Baker. He and all the rest were gaping up at the hen, which was eagerly pecking in the ground for bugs and worms and seeds.

  “Jack!” someone called. “Annabella!” It was Papa. He was moving toward us from the house—which was now completely covered with vines and leaves from the giant beanstalk—and with him was Mama. She was limping as fast as she could on her injured foot, leaning heavily on Papa’s arm.

  “Mama!” Annabella shouted, and ran. I ran too. It was only a matter of weeks since we’d left, but it felt like years and years. Annabella and I both reached Mama at the same time, and Mama grabbed us both and squeezed us hard, harder than Martha, even. I always knew Mama loved me, even when I was naughty, but now I knew she loved me so much it actually hurt—both of us.

  “I thought you were gone. I thought I’d never see you again, you naughty, naughty children!” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “We’re home, Mama,” said Annabella.

  “Home,” I said, wiping a tear from my eye before anyone saw.

  Cluck, cluck, bergeek!

  Mama looked up and shoved us behind her to protect us.

  “Don’t worry,” said Annabella. “She’s really a very friendly hen, and she’ll be able to catch all the mice around the farm!”

  “A hen…,” said Mama. She twisted at her apron, unable to take her eyes off Treasure. “Well, I suppose it’s better than a giant spider or…or a toad.”

  Annabella looked at me and giggled. It felt so good to have everything back in its rightful place and size, but then I saw Tom standing alone with his hands in his pockets, kicking his feet in the dirt. I pried myself from Mama’s arms and waved for Tom to come over. He walked toward us with his eyes on the ground and his shoulders up around his ears.

  “Mama, this is Tom. Tom Thumb.” He smiled at the name.

  “Hello, Tom,” said Mama. Tom opened his mouth to reply, but just at that moment, the sky rumbled and then—

  Boom.

  Boom.

  The giant beanstalk quivered. The earth trembled. The sky creaked and groaned.

  BOOM!

  Mama grabbed me and Annabella. People ran and screamed as dirt began to sprinkle down. Great globs of earth hurtled from the sky and exploded on the ground.

  “They’re coming,” I said. “King Barf is coming.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Jack vs. King Barf

  Bergeek! The hen flapped her wings and ran in circles, molting brown feathers. She knew her master was coming for her.

  BOOM! CRACK!

  The sky split open wider than ever before. More dirt poured down like a cloudburst.

  “Run!” shouted Papa. “Take cover! Don’t let the giants see you!”

  People ran this way and that, like sheep with no shepherd. They ran into the trees, crouched down behind rocks, and jumped into the Giant Feet Ponds. Even Sir Bluberys hunkered down in a ditch. He didn’t seem so eager for battle anymore. His black eye had left him chastened.

  Papa ran toward the house with Mama in his arms, and Annabella followed.

  “Jack!” Papa called. “Come on!”

  “The hen!” I shouted. “I have to hide her!”

  “There’s no time, Jack! Hurry!”

  But I couldn’t just leave her in plain sight. I dug into my pockets and pulled out another piece of corn.

  “Come on, Treasure,” I coaxed. She followed me toward the torn-up barn. The roof was gone, and it was mostly in shambles, but maybe that was all the better. I could hide her in plain sight in a pile of straw and lumber.

  “Good girl.” I tossed the corn into a pile of hay. Treasure squawked and dug her beak into the pile. I went outside again and looked up.

  Ropes were dropping down from the sky—not just one or two, but dozens and dozens. The giants began to descend one after the other. Soldiers with shields and swords landed—

  Boom! Boom! BOOM!

  —on the ground. The earth shook so violently, my stiff legs buckled beneath me.

  After the soldiers, Frederick and Bruno came down, followed by the magician. He climbed down halfway, then did a flip and landed on his bottom.

  And then came the biggest dirt shower of all. With a crash and a roar,
King Barf lowered himself down in his gold nightdress and a crown over his nightcap.

  BOOM!

  The hen squawked and flapped, sending bits of straw everywhere.

  “Treasure! Where is my Treasure?”

  Boom, boom, Boom!

  The king stomped all over, tearing up bushes and trees, exposing all the people hiding beneath them. They screamed and scattered, but King Barf stomped down his foot and they were half buried in a wave of dirt. He snatched someone up and lifted him by a leg. It was Baker Baker.

  “Where is my Treasure! Where is the thief who took my golden hen?”

  “I don’t know! I don’t know! I’m just the Baker Baker!” Everyone began to flee and find other hiding places.

  “Catch them!” said the king. “Squeeze them until they give me back my Treasure!”

  The giants stomped around, scooping up the escaped prisoners. The magician picked up three men and juggled them. Sir Bluberys tried to escape around the other side of the house, but his mule brayed loudly.

  “Sir Bluberys!” shouted Bruno, and he bounded toward him, but Frederick tripped his brother and snatched up Sir Bluberys for himself.

  “Give him here!” Bruno chased after Frederick. They nearly crushed a dozen people.

  I watched all this from the remains of the barn, quietly moving straw and broken boards to keep Treasure covered. If anyone searched here, it would look like a jumble of ruins.

  “Treasure!” shouted the king. “Where is my Treasure! Where is she!”

  Bergeek! The hen flapped her wings, upsetting the boards and straw. I jumped onto her back and tried to calm her.

  “Treasure, quiet!” I hissed. “Lay down!”

  The hen seized up. She squawked and released a golden egg.

  Oh no. I said the magic word!

  A golden egg rolled out of the barn. I winced as it wobbled to a stop right at the magician’s toes. He bent down and picked it up. “Your Goldness! Look at this! A golden egg! They have them here, too!” He waved the egg in the air.

  The king snatched the egg out of his hand and sniffed it. “Still warm,” he muttered, then he sniffed the air.

  “Quiet!” shouted the king. “Be still!”

  The world became quiet and still; even the hen seemed to hold her breath.

  “Treasure, lay!” King Barf commanded.

  The hen trembled as though trying to resist, but she could not disobey. She laid another egg, and again it rolled out of the barn. It came to a stop at the king’s heel. He whipped around and picked up the egg, searching all around to see where it had come from.

  “Lay!” he commanded again, and again the hen obeyed.

  “Over there!” called the magician. “In that pile of sticks!”

  Boom, boom, boom!

  A great shadow loomed over us, and in an instant the jumbled remains of the barn were ripped apart so that the hen and I were fully exposed to King Barf.

  Bergeek! The hen went berserk.

  “Treasure!” the king exclaimed, like a child who has found a missing favorite toy. Then he saw me. “And the thief!”

  There was no time to flee, no place to hide. King Barf snatched the hen in one hand and me in the other. Up we both went.

  “Don’t you worry,” the king cooed to the hen. “You’re safe, and I’ll never let anyone take you again. Now, lay!” The hen froze, trembled, and expelled a golden egg into the king’s hand.

  “Lay! Lay! Lay!” It was as if the king were checking to make sure the magic still worked. And it did. The beanstalk was fading before my very eyes from green to brown. The leaves curled and the bean pods shriveled. Didn’t they see? Couldn’t any of the giants see?

  The king lifted me to his lumpy pink face. “You will pay for stealing my Treasure.”

  “Your Majesty, please!” I said. “I meant no harm. I only took your hen to save your kingdom from destruction!”

  “You steal my gold to save my kingdom?” the king scoffed. “Did you hear that? The elf says he stole my hen, my golden hen, to save us!” The king laughed, and so did the magician and the giant soldiers. It felt like the whole world was laughing at me.

  “No, I promise! You must listen! Your hen, the golden eggs…the magic is killing all the growing things. Don’t you see? The magic is making your land poor.”

  “Poor? Ha!” said King Barf. “My hen has made me rich! The richest king in the world!”

  “But the magic…the hen has to get the power to make gold from somewhere, and she’s getting it from the earth. Every time the hen lays an egg, you kill something growing—don’t you see? Look at the beanstalk!” I pointed to the brown stalks, the withering leaves. “It was green just a moment ago, before you made more golden eggs.”

  There was a shifting among the other giants. Mutters and whispers. They were beginning to see.

  “Of course!” said the magician, clapping his hands. “Your Goldness, I remember now! When I made the golden hen, I called for all the powers in the earth to make her gold! Oh, goody—now we can make a whole flock of golden hens, and golden geese and pigeons and peacocks…”

  “Yes!” said the king. “We shall, Magician.”

  “But, Your Majesty,” said a soldier, “if this elf speaks the truth, then this hen and her golden eggs are the cause of the famine.”

  “And so what?” said the king. “What is a beanstalk to my gold? Nothing but a nasty little weed.”

  “Your Goldness,” I said, carefully, a plan sprouting in my brain, “I’ve never liked beans myself, but at least they can feed you. Can your gold do that?”

  “Of course it can! My gold has always fed me well. I’m the richest king there ever was.”

  “So you need nothing besides gold?”

  “Nothing!”

  “Very well, then,” I said. “Eat it.”

  “Eat what?” said the king.

  “Your gold. If gold is all you need, if the gold makes you so rich, then you should eat it.”

  The king stared for a moment, and then he laughed a high, mirthless laugh. “What an amusing little thief! Shall I eat you as well?”

  “Are you afraid, giant, to eat your gold? If you can’t eat your gold, then you will starve, because soon that’s all that will be left in the worlds Above and Below. Just gold. If gold is all you need, then prove it. Eat some. Eat one of your golden eggs.”

  “Ha! Why not? It’s an egg, after all.” The king turned me over to one of his soldiers. He picked up a golden egg, polished it on his nightgown like an apple, and popped it into his mouth. He crunched down once, twice, three times and swallowed. He looked at me and smiled. “Delicious! I think I’ll have another.”

  He ate another egg, and another. He gorged himself on golden eggs until there were none left, and still he was not done.

  “Lay!” he commanded the hen.

  The hen obeyed, and the king ate another egg.

  “Lay! Lay! Lay!”

  The hen laid three more eggs, and with each egg, the land faded. A tree collapsed. Flowers and shrubs shriveled. The brown beanstalk started to fall from the sky, coiling like a giant snake until the final stretch of it crashed to the earth and dust billowed out in a cloud.

  “Gold is good for me.” King Barf patted his stomach and belched. He snatched me from the soldier’s hand and brought me back to his face. His breath was metallic and foul. “Now I will grind your bones, you little thief!”

  His hand squeezed me tight. My breath grew short. My vision blurred, and my bones groaned with the enormous pressure. Any second now and they would crack, snap, and crumble.

  King Barf froze. The villainous smile left his face, and his nose started to twitch. He sniffed. His eyes crossed.

  “Eeh! Aye! Oh! Uhhh…ahhh-CHOOGAA!”

  Leaves exploded out of the king’s nose. Vines crawled down his mouth and chin and spread over his cheeks, so he looked like he had a green beard. The king went cross-eyed looking at the plant, and then he ripped it out of his nose. He roared in pain and th
en gazed at the plant in wonder. “What is this?” he said.

  The magician clapped his hands together and jumped up and down. “Ooh! Well done, Your Majesty! What marvelous magic! Do it again!”

  The king kept hold of me, but he dropped the golden hen and clutched at his stomach. He staggered sideways and groaned in pain.

  “What’s going on? What is this! I’ve been poisoned!”

  Suddenly a vine shot out of his ear. It branched out in three directions, and buds formed on each branch. King Barf reached up and pulled but only managed to snap off a leaf. The king roared and threw it down, but then another vine exploded out of his nose, and several more from his mouth. He coughed and choked and tore at the vines and leaves, but they just kept coming. The vines twisted down and wrapped around the king’s legs. Pods formed and swelled on the vines. Green beans.

  The beanstalks wrapped around his ankles. His face went from white to pink to red and then to blue. His dark eyes met mine, wide and frightened, and then angry like a mad dog’s. He roared through the plants and squeezed me tighter, until a vine coiled right around his hand, forcing his fist to release me. I dangled from a vine a hundred feet above the ground as the king staggered and swayed and, finally overcome by green growing things, crashed to the earth.

  I held on tight as the vines continued to grow, thrashing and roiling like a terrific storm. Dozens of beanstalks twisted and knotted themselves around King Barf, until he was consumed by the tangle of stalks. The vines wound around each other and rose up into the air. They crashed through the Blue, and dirt showered down in a torrent. The earth tilted and trembled. It felt as though the sky were falling, until at last it stopped.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Growing Up and Down

  Above and Below, the whole world was still and silent. Everyone, giant and small, stared at the tangle of beanstalks that had been King Barf. I shook the dirt from my hair and climbed through the vines and branches and leaves. When I emerged from the plants, everyone stared at me.

  “Jack!” shouted Papa. He burst from the crowd and ran to me. He picked me up in his arms and held me tight, tighter than King Barf even, but I felt so safe, I didn’t care that I couldn’t breathe.