The Grimm Chronicles, Vol. 4

by Isabella Fontaine

  “He might be the lucky one,” Sam murmured, watching between the rails. I had the urge to grab onto his shoulder to make sure he didn’t escape. My fingers tensed—how far would he go with me? How scary could this get before he lost his nerves and decided it would be better to cast his lot with Agnim?

  That depends on whether I believe what he said about how much he hated the Corruption. Because he’s not saying what’s obvious: his extra dose of greed helped him in the business world. It may have been a “curse,” but it was also a blessing.

  I looked down. Sam was looking up at me, his stony face unreadable. Unreadable to most. But I knew his “tells” better than most. He wasn’t confident.

  Not confident in what, exactly?

  “Faster!” the captain shouted. The ship’s sails caught the wind and it picked up speed, moving against the slow current toward the fork in the river. The current seemed to be trying to push the ship south, as if it knew all about what lay west and wanted no part in it.

  We reached the fork. All of the sailors stopped what they were doing to look longingly at the southern bend. The ship creaked, turning. The sails lost the breeze for a moment, but the ship continued turning, moving diagonally and pushing its way west, directly into a current pushing us away. The sails found the wind again. We moved in a zig-zag pattern from shore to shore.

  The wide river cleaved the rolling hills in half. The sailors worked with a ferocious intensity, moving from the foremast to the main mast to the mizzen mast, which was the rear mast jutting out of the captain’s cabin. Behind that, a woman stood clutching the wooden spokes of the massive steering wheel—or whatever you call that thing.

  The ship bobbed up and down. Water sprayed up. Sam threw up between the rails.

  “Oh that’s gross,” I said with a smile. “You’re totally embarrassing us.”

  “I don’t know what it is,” Sam said. “I … I …”

  Flick laughed and slapped his brother on the shoulder, causing another violent evacuation of green fluid from Sam’s mouth. “My brother’s always had a weak stomach. Except when it came to dealing with heroes.”

  “A different time,” Sam said with a muffled gag. “Different circumstances.”

  “And a different you and I,” Flick added solemnly. He looked up at the captain. “How long until we reach our destination?”

  “Hours,” Ahab answered. He was staring up at the sails, watching the wind puff them out like round white bellies. Each of the three masts had two sails each: a big one at the base and a smaller one near the top. “But it’ll not be long before we reach the Blighted Lands.”

  “How are we gonna know?” Seth asked. He put his hand to his forehead like a visor to shade his eyes from the sun. “Looks like just a bunch of hills.”

  “There.” The captain pointed one long, dirt-encrusted finger toward the horizon, where the river snaked around a rocky cliff face. The rocks had vertical cuts, as if the land had simply pulled itself up from the earth and the earth had clawed wildly, trying to keep it down.

  Creepy stuff.

  And it got even creepier when we reached the bend.

  First, the grass turned brown. Then as we reached another bend, the leaves of the tall maple trees along the shore began to yellow, as if the season was changing right at that spot there: an invisible line drawn across the land, over the rolling hills to our right and cleaving the patch of trees off to our left.

  The wind left the sails. They went limp, as if they had given up just like the land itself.

  “Tie down the sheets!” the captain ordered. “Then get below deck and man the oars! There’ll be no wind to help us here.” His hands squeezed the railing. Along the shore, the tall trees with yellow leaves gave way to shriveled trees with bare branches and flaking gray bark. “There’ll be no one to help us out here.”

  The ship slowed. The current was pushing us harder now, driving the ship back the way it came.

  “Dead land,” Flick whispered. “Ain’t never before seen the Corruption infect the land itself.”

  “Crap,” Seth said. “This is, like, something out of a video game.”

  “That idiot Agnim is destroying the land,” Flick said. “Why? What kind of fool would have any use for this?”

  “Mayhap he has no use,” Ahab said. His eyes were on the birds above: crows, circling the dead half of the forest off to our left. “Agnim would strike the sun if it insulted him.”

  Long wooden oars slipped out from little holes in the hull and began paddling in concert. The ship slowed against the current, but kept moving. The air cooled. Dark clouds passed over the sun.

  The river widened. Skeletons of giant fish lined the shore.

  “Man!” Seth said, looking up. “I am seriously getting scared.”

  The captain put a hand on his shoulder. “Save thy fear for the land, boy. On this river, I am the one to be feared.”

  “Wonderful,” Sam said. He turned to me. “Well?”

  “Well what?” I asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “Have you come up with a plan?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “No hurry. We’re only moving deeper into enemy territory. Unknown enemy territory. With dead grass and dead trees and dead who-knows-what-else.”

  I gave him the stink eye. “How about a little optimism?”

  Sam shook his head. “The more I see, the less optimistic I am.”

  “Hey, Alice?” Seth tugged on my shoulder. “How are you going to stop Agnim’s magic and stuff? The sausage didn’t give you any spells this time around.”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “But—”

  I spun around and glared at him. “No more questions.”

  He cringed and I immediately felt bad. Where did that come from? It’s this place. It’s making me tense; on edge.

  It’s the Corruption. It’s everywhere, feeding on the land. Feeding on us.

  I looked down at the dwarfs. They were staring out at the bleak landscape: dead grass and sparse, skeletal trees. A terrible thought hit me: if this place is affecting me, what’s it doing to the Grayle brothers? To the captain and his sailors?

  We turned another bend in the river. Ahead, it looked as if a fire had swept the land. Black trees. Dead leaves slipping between the tall black blades of grass. The skeleton of a large animal, its bones picked clean. It had been near the riverbank, probably debating whether it might be better to take its chances in the river.

  And silence. An hour of silence so intense that none of us wanted to break it. Only the gentle lapping of the oars to tempt our ears.

  “Say boy,” Ahab said. “Why not take a break from worrying and steer the ship for a spell?”

  Seth’s eyes lit up. “Get the heck out.”

  The captain nodded over his shoulder to the rear of the ship. “The stairs’ll lead ya to the poop deck. Tell Meredith the captain gave you permission. But be wary: she’s a bit possessive.”

  “This is so awesome that I’m not even going to make a joke about the poop deck.” Seth hurried to the staircase on the side of the captain’s cabin, taking the stairs two at a time.

  “This way,” the captain said, walking toward the front of the ship. “We’re close to our destination now.”

  We followed him to the front of the ship, up the stairs to the top of the forecastle to the main deck. The sailors finished tying up the jibs and tip-toed back down the bowspirit, giving the captain a respectful nod as they passed. We looked out over the bowspirit at the dark water. We were listing toward the right bank, which was lined with skeletal trees. Skeletal trees that were swaying from side to side without a wind.

  Trees with little golden leaves.

  “Uh-oh,” I whispered.

  “What do you mean, uh-oh?” Flick asked.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s something,” Sam insisted.

  I shrugged. “Just some scary trees off to the right. That’s all.”

  “Keep her centered!”
the captain called over his shoulder. “It’s too shallow along the starboard side, ya bleedin’ cur!”

  “Sorry!” came Seth’s voice. “This is harder than it looks!”

  “We might could stop here,” Flick said, licking his lips. “That’s gold, brother. I’d stake my life on it.”

  “You don’t want to tick off those trees,” I warned.

  “Yes,” Sam said, though his eyes betrayed him. The gold tempted both the dwarves, and whatever dark force had blighted this land was getting inside of their heads. I knew it because the dark force was getting inside my head, tempting me to order us to turn around. Playing on my worries. My imagination … I couldn’t stop picturing Seth’s death. I couldn’t stop picturing those bat creatures, overwhelming all of us and tearing us limb from limb.

  “There,” the captain said. “Up ahead. The town of Riverend.”

  I moved on wobbly legs to the starboard side of the deck, clutching the damp railing. The town—if you could call it that—was coming up on the right of the river. A dozen tall houses with dirty red roofs clung to the edge of the river, which had been walled off with red bricks that extended out to the river to create a small dock for ships. Behind the first row of houses were another half-dozen houses higher up the sharp cliff face. Even higher up the cliff was a sandy-colored castle with two fat rectangular towers. The castle’s square windows seemed to be peering down at the town directly below, watching.

  Red drapes hung out of the open windows, catching on a gentle breeze and beckoning us.

  The sailors rowed our massive ship closer. Water lapped at the hull, trying in vain to push us back.

  Warning us.

  Seth returned to the front of the ship and rested his arms on the railing, taking in the town. “Cool castle,” he said in a quiet voice.

  The ship moved closer. We could see Riverend now for what it truly was.

  Black burn marks clung to the exteriors of the homes. The roofs weren’t dirty at all—they’d been burned. One of the roofs was damaged, caved in near the center. Chunks of stone had been torn away from the exteriors of the homes running along the river. All along the impossibly twisty road that wound its way up the hill were splinters of carts and abandoned carriages. The second tier of houses were no better off: their stone roofs were blackened and their wooden doors smashed in. There was more, too, the kind of terrible stuff you only read about in history books when the authors dwell on the horrors of war:

  Dead horses lying in the street.

  Shattered windows whose shards had snared blackened curtains.

  A child’s stuffed bear, abandoned on the stone dock.

  “This is as far as we can go,” Ahab said. He pointed beyond the town: there was a ship in the middle of the river just beyond the town, half-submerged, its tattered sails soaked through and covered with a black moldy substance. The current brushed up gently against the upturned hull, which had snapped in half and simply sunk, no doubt digging into the mud.

  There was no way around it.

  “Easy now!” the captain called over his shoulder. He turned back to the dock, leaning hard on the railing and eyeing the tied-up hay bales hanging over the massive stone dock to prevent larger ships from smashing into it. “No pretty docking here.”

  “We’re gonna crash into it?” Seth asked.

  The captain, reserved and focused, shook his head. “Nay, boy. Just a rougher landing than I’d like. The current’s strange here, like it’s got a mind of its own.”

  “I don’t like this,” Flick said. “This town smells like death.”

  Seth pointed to the road. “Probably the dead horses, dude.”

  Flick turned to him, eyes wide. “Yup.”

  We were only twenty feet away from the dock now. A cool breeze blew from the west, catching the stuffed bear lying on the dock. Its little arm lifted up in the air, waving to us.

  “Starboard oars!” the captain roared. I leaned over the railing to watch the starboard oars slip back inside the little holes in the hull. The oars on the port side continued rowing. The ship listed to the right. A male and female sailor emerged from the hatch, waiting. They were both wearing boots and gloves, their fingers anxiously bending and unbending. Each had on a blue bandana to keep their hair pulled back.

  The captain watched the dock move closer. We were only five feet away now. The dock was built for smaller ships, not something as large as the Leviathan II.

  “This is like parking a truck in a compact space,” I whispered.

  Seth gave me a quizzical look. “You don’t even know how to drive, dudette. Where’d the optimism go?”

  The Corruption has knocked the optimism right from my lungs.

  The wind picked up and the stuffed bear’s arm lifted up again. The captain turned. “Now!”

  The two sailors split up. The man ran toward the rear of the ship while the woman ran toward us. She bent low and in one smooth motion scooped up a coil of rope lying beside the railing. Like a gymnast, she jumped onto the railing, taking two more steps before turning and jumping off the ship, landing onto the dock.

  “Brace yourselves!” the captain shouted.

  The ship crashed against the dock. The hay bales prevented the wooden hull from breaking apart, but they didn’t do much to soften the impact. I fell into Sam, who fell into Flick, and all three of us landed on the deck. I felt a stinging sensation in my hand but ignored it, clutching the railing and pulling myself up so I could watch the sailors run to the iron cleats built into the brick. The ship was already pulling away from the dock—there were only a few short breaths to secure the ropes. The coil beside the captain’s right boot shrank and in just one blink of my eyes it disappeared. I turned back to the dock. The woman had run the rope around the iron cleat and was in the process of tying a cleat hitch before the rope could straighten out. Its slack was nearly gone.

  “Let go,” I whispered.

  The sailor ran the rope around the cleat one more time then stepped back, arms held up as if she’d just disarmed a bomb. The rope went taut. The ship jolted, then stopped.

  Ahab laughed. “You see? Nothing to worry about.” He turned. The sailors were spilling out of the hatch now. One was limping, his face contorted in a manly attempt to hide the pain. “What happened?”

  “Just a spill,” he said in a low voice. He curled his lip, pulling his black mustache closer to his big flaring nostril. “Might ‘a broke something.”

  “Then you’re no good to me, fool! Back down the hatch. The rest of you know the drill.”

  The sailors nodded and grabbed more coils of rope that hung from hooks on the center mast. Two of them crawled over the railing and—with expert precision— tip-toed down the taut rope. A third sailor tossed them a fresh coil and they attached it to another iron cleat. Two more sailors made their way to the dock. The second one nearly fell, but the woman who’d tied off the first rope reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him up.

  Ahab roared with laughter. “You should have let him fall, Emma! The boy could use a good bath!”

  “That sailor of yours,” Sam said, “he was injured. A broken foot?”

  The captain nodded. “All sorts of dangers on a ship this size, but death is not one of them. He’ll heal.”

  Sam nodded. He turned me, and something in his eyes told me to file this information away. No problem, buddy … but what exactly do you plan on doing with this knowledge?

  Slowly, the sailors pulled the ship closer to the dock and tied it in place. Sam pushed past us the moment the plank was in place, hurrying off the ship. His sea legs immediately betrayed him and he fell to his knees. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss the ground.

  “Sheesh,” Flick muttered, shaking his head. “You’re all soft, brother.”

  Sam looked up and glared at him. “I haven’t been on a boat since Abraham Lincoln was president!”

  I stepped up to the plank, then turned back to the captain. “You’re not planning on going off and chasing any
magic fish, are you?”

  Ahab shook his head. He was looking up at the castle on the edge of the cliff, right eye twitching. “Nay. The fish is at home with the missus.”

  “Oh. Um … I don’t suppose he still grants wishes?”

  “Only small ones. Like many with magic, his is diminished here.”

  “Oooooh!” Seth’s eyes went wide. He slapped me hard on the shoulder. “That means Agnim’s magic is probably weaker here, too! Awesome. Great news, finally.”

  The captain shook his head. “I wouldn’t count on it—”

  “Nope, sorry. Not listening.” Seth hurried down the plank. “Noooooot listening.”

  I turned back to the captain. His eyes were narrowed. Dark. He may not have had barnacles hanging from his beard, but being here in this place had definitely drained the color from his skin.

  What if he leaves …

  “Promise you’ll wait for us,” I blurted out.

  The captain looked down at me. “Promise you’ll hurry, lass.”

  Chapter 9

  Black leaves scattered on the empty road. It smelled like burning. I blinked a few times, letting my eyes make a slow, deliberate scan of the houses. Namely, the windows. If anyone was still here, they were probably curious as heck about us.

  But the windows were empty. The place was dead.

  “We should check out the castle,” Seth said.

  Sam shook his head. “There’s hardly any point. This place has been picked over. Harvested.”

  “Of what?” Seth asked.

  “People.”

  “Maybe there are survivors hiding in the castle.” I pointed up the road, where it made a sharp right turn, winding around the houses along the river, climbing the hill like a winding staircase. The houses on the second level were no different than the first. Just as empty, too, from the look of things. Burned curtains and charred window frames. Scorch marks on the stone exterior.

  And claw marks.