The Edge of Strange Hollow

by Gabrielle K. Byrne

  “Of course!” Nula fished the small leather-bound book from her tunic, handing it over. She held out her herb knife in her other hand.

  Poppy opened to the center page. The inklings were asleep again in their strange little blobs. As her blood dripped onto the page, they scattered, then gathered into words.

  Stay away from the Grimwood, child.

  Stay away from the fog.

  Stay away from the thorn trees, child.

  Stay away from the bog.

  Tooth for tooth.

  Blood or bone.

  Promises are made of stone.

  Know your place, and

  Watch the weather.

  Wood and home must rise together.

  Poppy ran her fingers over the last line. “All magic has a cost,” she recalled under her breath. Mack and Nula settled in close to her. “I’ve been thinking about this,” Poppy said under her breath. “We already know the maledictions are the cost for humans’ long lives, right?”

  Nula nodded. “That was Prudence Barebone’s bargain to keep the peace. And to get something out of it for herself as well,” she added.

  Mack brushed his hair out of his face. “And the maledictions grow in the soil of the thorn trees—so the Holly Oak knows they’re the cost, but couldn’t say anything to anyone who didn’t already know. That was Prudence too.”

  “But this…” Poppy traced the last line of the rhyme again. “‘Wood and home must rise together.’ To keep the promise intact, we both have to keep the peace. The woods can’t attack the Hollows, and the Hollows—”

  Mack’s eyes widened. “The fires! It’s him, isn’t it—the governor? It’s been humans all along! And that’s why there have been more maledictions in Strange Hollow lately!”

  “That’s what I think too. Mack, do you remember that strange smell in the square?” The image of the crate, filled with bottles of amber liquid flashed in her mind. “It was just before you grew…”

  “I remember—”

  “Well, I don’t,” Nula grumped. “So, explain.”

  Poppy forced herself to slow down. “The governor said he wants to purify the wood. He said … something about how the time has come, and there’s a battle to be fought.” She paused. “They have these bottles … I think they’re setting them on fire and throwing them into the wood.”

  “Like that day the trees exploded around us,” Nula recalled.

  “Right. And then the thorn trees grew around us. I think it’s been humans setting the fires in the wood all along. I think—I think the governor wants to burn the Grimwood down. That’s his plan. That’s what he wants the town to do.”

  Nula’s ears lay flat, disappearing into her cropped hair. “How can he do that? Why?”

  “Easy,” Mack said, his eyes flashing. “He wants to get rid of the forest, and everything in it.”

  Nula paled, her tail whisking forward. She clutched it in her hands, brushing her chin with the tuft. “But the rhyme says rise together … so what’s that mean, then?”

  “Rise together,” Mack muttered. “We rise together—you know, help each other out…”

  Poppy gave a slow nod. “But then, it stands to reason that if we rise together…”

  Nula’s tail whipped the air. “Everything has to balance. If we rise together, then we fall together.”

  Mack grimaced. “If the Grimwood attacks the Hollows, then the wood falls too … but if humans attack the wood…”

  Poppy gave him a dark look. “Go on.”

  “Then the Grimwood can openly attack the Hollows. Tooth for tooth. Blood or bone.”

  Nula lay down on the other side of Poppy and let out a long breath. “I bet the Faery Queen would love that.”

  “Other things too,” Poppy agreed.

  “I hope that governor guy is willing to listen,” Mack grumbled as he stretched out on the other side of Poppy.

  Poppy’s throat was dry. “I hope he believes us.” She lay down next to her friends and tried to push the worry out of her head, but it only filled up with all the things she missed. She missed the warmth of Dog’s body lying next to her—missed Eta watching her until she fell asleep, and even Brutus’s bad breath. She missed the sounds of her parents puttering in their lab late at night, their voices drifting up her tower stairs. She even missed, a little bit, the longing she had before she went into the wood—because it meant she had known exactly what she wanted.

  She wasn’t sure how, but Nula and Mack both dozed off. She watched the stars come out instead of sleeping. Faint music drifted up the hill from Strange Hollow. Poppy tried to listen, but she could barely hear the strange melody over the tumult of her thoughts and the rushing of her blood. It took every ounce of her self-control not to race toward Strange Hollow and search.

  Bad things were coming. The governor had a plan to burn the Grimwood, and the Holly Oak would never let it happen. Not without a fight. She needed to get to her parents—find them, and get them out of the Hollow. Instead, she was stuck here, waiting for the children to come. Waiting a little is worth it, she reminded herself. More people searching will save time.

  She recognized the melody then. It was the townsfolk’s warding song, weaving itself through the air, rising and falling in the warm breeze. It trembled in the air like rainfall.

  Nula’s feet twitched in her sleep as though she was running, but her face was peaceful. Mack wore a scowl, but soon let out a snore that made Poppy giggle.

  She gave up on even trying to sleep and sat up to watch the pale twilight moon as it slowly rose above the horizon. Her thoughts drifted, and it seemed like only moments before a small silhouette was climbing the hillside in the moonlight. Other shadows followed, clustered close for warmth or confidence.

  Mags stopped her march at Poppy’s feet. Her brother—Peter, was it?—stood by her side, and at her back was a group of six or seven other children. One girl at the back looked just a year or two younger than Poppy. Poppy yanked her ponytail tight. Mags wore a pale blue dress with a delicate floral pattern that belied the absolute power she clearly wielded over the other children. Her brother, dressed in tidy gray with his arms crossed, looked for all the world like a guard ready to keep back the adoring masses. Poppy’s heart warmed. She nudged Mack and then Nula.

  “Who are we looking for exactly?” Mags asked.

  “We’re looking for my parents,” Poppy explained, and she pulled their locket pictures from the little pocket in her backpack where she had stored them. She handed them to Mags to pass around.

  “If we can’t find them … then we’re looking for any signs that might lead us to them. Locked doors that aren’t normally locked. Signs of someone being kept hidden. People sneaking around or acting strange. Anything. And we need to hurry. Governor Gale is going to … do something bad. We don’t think there’s much time.”

  Mags and Peter exchanged a look. Then Peter dipped his head, mumbling at his shoes. “You’re right,” he said. “We heard our parents talking. They’re planning to do it soon—tomorrow morning.”

  “What?!” Poppy snapped.

  Mags pushed past her brother. “Don’t get any ideas though. You promised us answers. You have to—”

  “We’ll keep our promise.” Poppy scowled, and any other person would have been intimidated, but Mags just scowled back.

  Mack rose to his feet, and half the children cowered behind Mags. Several were staring at Nula, who gave them a sassy grin and turned herself into a falcon, a weasel, and then a lynx in short order. When she poofed back into herself, all the children were staring at her with wide eyes, including Peter. Mags’s cheeks had reddened, but she kept her eyes on Poppy with great strength of purpose. “I’ve thought about it, and seeing as you’re in a hurry, I’ve decided we’ll ask questions on the way. Once we get into town, we’ll split up. The kids will report back to me.” She lifted an eyebrow as if expecting a fight. “It will save time,” she added.

  Poppy let out a breath. “Thank you.”

 
Mags lifted her chin and nodded—and as they all marched down the hill, the assault began. Mags chose who could ask the questions, and she got to go first. She asked about blood wards—and wards in general, and Poppy and Mack took turns filling in the details. Nula jumped in to tell the kids how to break a blood ward.

  Mags’s hierarchy was unquestioned. Every third question belonged to her brother.

  Nula was brilliant. She put Poppy and Mack to shame, playing to the crowd like she was born to it. It wasn’t long before all the questions were whether she could turn into this creature, or that creature.

  And she obliged them all. She even turned into a crocodile—as described by one of the girls who had seen a picture in a book from outside the fog. The girl screamed when she saw it, which earned her a demotion. Mags didn’t pick her again.

  “This is awe-ful,” Mack said with a chuckle.

  Poppy cocked a brow at him. “You mean awesome?”

  “Right. Awesome.”

  She grinned. “It is, isn’t it?” Despite everything, her chest felt warm, as if some little crack in her heart had healed up, sealing itself as the children asked their questions, and got their answers.

  “Maybe this time you’ll actually see Strange Hollow … even though it won’t be quite the same with the whole town in bed,” Poppy smirked at Mack.

  He gave her a playful shove.

  They were just reaching the first houses of Strange Hollow when Mags turned to face her, and Poppy found herself standing a little straighter.

  “I have a question,” Mags said as the crowd of children quieted around her.

  Poppy stepped forward. “Ask. I’ll answer it if I can.”

  “Part one. What do you think about the Grimwood—do you think it’s evil? Part two. What should we know about it … that we don’t?”

  Mack let out a low whistle, and Nula threw up her hands.

  Poppy swallowed, and considered her answer. “Okay. Part one. No, I don’t think it’s evil. I just don’t think it’s good either.” She paused and thought about the forest—about the Veena river as it ran over the rocks, and the Boatman. She thought about how Nula had come back again and again, even when she was scared. She thought about the song of the Mogwen, and the tentaculars, and the unicorns. “It’s the most beautiful, mysterious place in the world,” she breathed at last, watching Mags’s eyes light up. “And it’s the most dangerous and slippery one as well.”

  “Slippery?”

  Poppy lifted one shoulder. “You never know what you’re going to learn … and it isn’t always simple … or comfortable.”

  “That’s obvious,” Mags scoffed.

  “Okay, well, I think the Grimwood is … I think there’s a lot we still don’t know, and even more that we don’t understand, but I also believe that knowledge is the enemy of fear.” Poppy’s heart squeezed. Her father had said this so many times, she could almost hear his voice.

  “So, you’re saying we should learn more.”

  “Yes.” She glanced at Mack. “But we have to do that and still be cautious. Fear has its place, and so do rules … and respect.”

  Mags thought about this. “What about the second part of my answer?”

  Poppy shifted her weight. Next to her, a little boy was reaching up to touch Nula’s arm. The pooka gave her tail a mighty swish that forced him to jump back a step.

  “That’s easy,” Poppy said. “Prudence Barebone.”

  Mags scowled. “Who?”

  Nula, understanding, handed Poppy the book along with her small silver knife.

  Poppy opened to the woodcut of Prudence making the bargain with the Holly Oak where the inklings still slept. She made a small poke on the pad of her pinkie finger. Mags paled.

  As her blood dripped onto the page, the inklings scattered, and the children pressed in.

  “Let her through,” Peter called out, and the sea of children parted to let Mags and him to the front.

  “What does it mean?” Mags asked, and for the first time, Poppy saw fear in her eyes.

  Poppy didn’t answer, but she turned to the rhyme next.

  “It’s not the same as the rhyme we say,” Peter noted.

  “No,” Poppy agreed somberly. “It isn’t. This is Prudence Barebone’s promise. And it means we have to keep the peace with the wood.”

  “The woods take people,” Peter said, his voice grave.

  “The maledictions trick people out—that’s true,” Poppy agreed, noting that they were still very close to the village now. The dark windows of the houses caught the moonlight and gleamed like eyes. “But no monsters have ever attacked us—nothing has left the Grimwood to attack the Hollows. And the maledictions are the cost we pay for our very long lives. That was part of the promise too.”

  Outrage flew across Mags’s face as she lifted her eyes from the book. “So, you’re saying this Prudence lady just went and tied us together, is that it? She asked for long lives—which was nice and stuff, but she just ignored the cost—maybe didn’t even ask about it?”

  “We’ll never know exactly what happened. But … yes.” The girl was sharp. Maybe even sharper than Poppy herself—though Poppy hated to admit it. Mags was easily three or four years younger.

  “Hmph.” Mags shook her tight curls and crossed her arms. “That’s a terrible promise—that’s a promise that should be broken!”

  Poppy startled. She hadn’t thought about it quite like that, but Mags’s words rang true. Prudence’s promise was wrong from the start. “But … we can’t,” she realized out loud. “We can’t break it. Our ancestors agreed. They sealed the promise with their blood—and they’re all dead. None of them can take it back.”

  “We’re tied together,” Mack added. “It’s done.”

  Mags made a huff of breath through her nose that reminded Poppy so much of Mack she almost laughed. “So,” Mags huffed again. “If the Grimwood attacks us, it falls too? And if we attack it?”

  Poppy finished her thought. “Then anything in the Grimwood can attack the Hollows … for real. Tooth for tooth. Blood or bone.”

  “Sheesh,” said Peter. “That oak-lady meant business.”

  Poppy gave him a sad smile. “I’m not sure she had much choice, or at least, she didn’t think she did.”

  “Why didn’t anybody tell us?” Mags folded her arms.

  Nula’s tail whipped the other direction. “Because humans have incredibly short memories. You would forget your own names if they weren’t written on your hands during childhood.”

  Mags pulled a face, and Peter studied his hands with a perplexed expression.

  Poppy leaned in to whisper in Nula’s ear. “Humans don’t write their children’s names on their hands.”

  “What? Really?”

  Poppy shook her head.

  “Well, anyway, you have terrible memories.”

  “So.” Mack cracked his knuckles as they approached the town. “Questions answered. Promise kept. Now, let’s go find Poppy’s parents.”

  Mags frowned and reached out to grab Poppy’s arm. “When can we do it again?”

  Nula laughed. “No fair! That’s a question! Time’s up, Mack said.”

  Poppy rolled her eyes. “We’re not the faeries, Nula.” She turned to Mags. “I don’t know. Right now I need to find my parents. Ask me after that.”

  Mags held out her hand, and after Poppy shook it, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pretty little wooden whistle. She handed it to Poppy. “Take my extra whistle,” she said, casting a dark look around at her gathering of friends and compatriots. “If things go sideways, use it.” She met Poppy’s eyes. “You blow that whistle, and we’ll come.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Strange Hollow was peaceful with everyone in sleep’s gentle care. Poppy’s footsteps echoed off the sides of the houses. There were signs posted about the curfew at every corner ward. People were to be inside with their doors locked and their wards set by dark. She stopped to look at one. There was a really bad sket
ch of Mack on it that made him look terrifying.

  As soon as they entered the town, Poppy found herself watching Mack. The last time he had walked through Strange Hollow it had been broad daylight. He’d had to hunch over and keep his eyes down to maintain his disguise. Until things went sideways, Poppy thought, wrapping her hand around Mags’s wooden whistle.

  Now, despite the dark, Mack tried to take in everything they passed. His eyes were wide, his gaze shooting from one thing to another like spring birds gathering seeds. They paused at one of the low fences and he looked at Poppy expectantly. “Is fencing your house a human thing?” His steps faltered. “Elves only fence pigs.”

  “I guess,” Poppy answered. “I think they like to keep everything separate.”

  “You don’t have a fence around your house…”

  Poppy shrugged.

  “Maybe it’s just because they’re all pushed together,” he suggested.

  A few more steps and Mack opened his mouth to ask another question. Mags turned around and gave them a scathing look. “Come on,” she hissed. “We have a lot of ground to cover. Mack, you come with me and Peter. There are some empty buildings just to the east.” She pointed at a tall blond boy. “Silas, you take Reva and Thomas and check those outbuildings on the south end of town by the blacksmith’s forge. The rest of you go west. Check the grain silo, and the barns between here and the fog. But hurry, and don’t get caught. We’ll meet back in the square in two hours.”

  Mack raised both eyebrows at Poppy as if to say, “Glad she’s on our side,” then did as he was told and moved ahead with Mags.

  “Where should Poppy and I look?” Nula called softly.

  Mags narrowed her eyes at her. “Check the square, and the marketplace. Don’t go too far.”

  Poppy and Nula watched the children scatter, sneaking off to see what they could discover. Moonlight spilled across the cobblestone streets.

  Poppy allowed herself the luxury of walking down the middle of the main road as they moved through the center of town. Nula crept along in the shadow of the houses next to Poppy. The road led through the square and toward the market on the far side.