Fablehaven1-Fablehaven

by Brandon Mull

  to the trail.

  The undergrowth isn’t as bad here, Seth said.

  Seth, it would take all day to track it twenty paces.

  I don’t mean to track it. Just to walk in this direction

  for a while. Maybe it will intersect a trail and we can pick

  up tracks again. Or maybe it lives not much farther ahead.

  Kendra put a hand in her pocket, feeling for salt. I

  don’t like the idea of leaving the trail.

  Me neither. We won’t go far. But this thing seems to

  like trails. It followed one all this way. We may be close to

  a discovery. It’s worth going a little ways just to check.

  Kendra stared at her brother. Okay, and what if we run

  into a cave?

  We take a look.

  What if we hear breathing coming from the cave?

  You don’t have to go in. I’ll look myself. The point is

  finding Grandpa.

  Kendra bit her tongue. She almost said that if they

  found him out here, it would probably be in pieces. Okay,

  just a little ways.

  They walked in a straight line away from the path.

  They kept scanning the ground, but noticed no more holes.

  Before long they crossed a dry, rocky streambed. Not far

  beyond, they wandered into a little meadow. The brush and

  wildflowers in the meadow grew nearly waist high.

  I don’t see any other trails, Kendra said. Or any

  monster houses.

  Let’s take a good look around the meadow, said Seth.

  He made a complete search of the perimeter of the

  meadow, finding neither holes nor trails.

  Let’s face it, Kendra said. If we try to go any farther,

  we’ll be wandering blind.

  What about climbing that hill? Seth suggested, indicating

  the highest point visible from the meadow, less than

  a quarter-mile away. If I were going to make a home

  around here, it would be over there. Plus, if we get up

  there, we’ll have a better view of the area. These trees

  make it hard to see.

  Kendra pressed her lips together. The hill was not

  steep; it would be easy to climb. And it was not too far

  away. If we don’t find anything there, we go back?

  Deal.

  They marched toward the hill, which was along a different

  line from the course they had originally taken from

  the path. As they picked their way through denser underbrush,

  a twig snapped off to one side. They paused,

  listening.

  I’m getting pretty nervous, Kendra said softly.

  We’re fine. Probably just a falling pinecone.

  Kendra tried to push away images of the pallid woman

  with the swirling black garments. The thought of her made

  Kendra freeze. If she saw her out in the woods, Kendra worried

  she would just curl up in a ball on the ground and let

  herself be taken.

  I’m losing track of which way we’re going, she said.

  Back under the trees, the line of sight to both hill and

  meadow was disrupted.

  I have my compass.

  So if all else fails, we can find the North Pole.

  The trail we followed went northwest, Seth assured

  her. Then we left it going southwest. The hill is to the

  west, the meadow is east.

  That’s pretty good.

  The only trick is paying attention.

  Before long, the trees were thinning and they were

  walking up the hill. With the trees farther apart, the underbrush

  grew higher and the bushes bigger. Kendra and Seth

  wound their way up the moderate slope toward the crest.

  Do you smell that? Seth asked.

  Kendra stopped. Like somebody cooking.

  The smell was faint but, now that she noticed it, distinct.

  Kendra studied the area with sudden alarm. Oh my

  gosh, she said, crouching down.

  What?

  Get down.

  Seth knelt beside her. Kendra pointed toward the crest

  of the hill. Off to one side rose a feeble column of smoke ——

  a thin, wavering distortion.

  Yeah, he whispered. We may have found it.

  Again she had to bite her tongue. She hoped someone

  wasn’t cooking Grandpa. What do we do?

  Stay here, said Seth. I’ll go check it out.

  I don’t want to stay alone.

  Then follow me, but stay back a bit. We don’t want to

  both get caught at the same time. Keep salt ready.

  Kendra did not need that reminder. Her only worry

  about the salt was that her sweaty hands were going to turn

  it to paste.

  Seth crept ahead, staying low, using the bushes for

  cover, gradually making his way toward the meager line of

  smoke. Kendra imitated his movements, impressed that his

  hours of playing army were finally paying off. Even as she

  followed him, she struggled to come to terms with what

  they were doing. Sneaking up on a monster cookout was

  among the activities she could do without. Shouldn’t they

  be sneaking away?

  The trembling shaft of smoke grew nearer. Seth waved

  her up to him. She huddled beside him behind a wide bush

  twice her height, trying to breathe quietly. He put his lips

  to her ear. I’ll be able to see what’s going on when I get

  around this bush. I’ll try to yell if I get captured or anything.

  Be ready.

  She put her mouth to his ear. If you play a trick on me,

  I promise I will kill you, I really will.

  I won’t. I’m scared too.

  He slunk forward. Kendra tried to calm herself. Waiting

  was torture. She considered moving around the bush to

  take a peek, but could not muster the courage. The silence

  was good, right? Unless they had stealthily dropped Seth

  with a poison dart.

  The pause stretched mercilessly. Then she heard Seth

  coming back less carefully than he had left. When he came

  around the bush, he was walking upright, saying, Come

  here, you have to see this.

  What is it?

  Nothing scary.

  She went around the bush with him, still tense. Up

  ahead, in a clear area near the summit of the hill, she saw

  the source of the thin smoke-a waist-high cylinder of

  stone with a wooden windlass and a dangling bucket. A

  well?

  Yeah. Come smell.

  They walked to the well. Even up close, the rising

  smoke remained vapory and indistinct. Kendra leaned over,

  staring down into the deep darkness. Smells good.

  Like soup, Seth said. Meat, veggies, spices.

  Am I just hungry? It smells delicious.

  I think so too. Should we try some?

  Lower the bucket? Kendra asked skeptically.

  Why not? Seth replied.

  There could be creatures down there.

  I don’t think so, he said.

  You think it’s just a well full of stew, Kendra scoffed.

  We are on a magical preserve.

  As far as we know it could be poisonous.

  It can’t hurt to take a look, Seth insisted. I’m starving.

  Besides, not everything here is bad. I bet this is where

  fairy people come for dinner. See, it even has a crank. He

  began turning the windlass, spooling the bucket down into

  the darkness.

  I�
��m staying on lookout, said Kendra.

  Good idea.

  Kendra felt exposed. They were far enough from the

  summit that she could not see anything on the far side of

  the hill, but they were high enough that she commanded

  an expansive view of trees and terrain when she looked

  down the slope. With little cover surrounding the well, she

  worried that unseen eyes might be spying from the foliage

  below.

  Seth continued unwinding the rope, sending the

  bucket ever deeper. Eventually he heard it wetly hit bottom.

  The rope slackened a bit. After a moment he began

  winding the bucket back up.

  Hurry, Kendra said.

  I am. This thing is deep.

  I’m worried everything in the forest can see us.

  Here it comes. He stopped cranking and pulled the

  bucket up the last few feet by hand, setting it on the lip of

  the well.

  Kendra joined him. Inside the wooden bucket, bits of

  meat, cut carrots, potato fragments, and onion floated in a

  fragrant yellow broth. Looks like a normal stew, Kendra

  said.

  Better than normal. I’m trying some.

  Don’t! she warned.

  Lighten up. He tweezed out a piece of dripping meat

  and tried it. Good! he announced. He plucked out a

  potato and offered a similar report. Tipping the bucket, he

  slurped some of the broth. Amazing! he said. You have

  to try it.

  From behind the same bush they had used as their final

  hiding place when approaching the well, a creature

  emerged. From the waist up, he was a shirtless man with an

  exceptionally hairy chest and a pair of pointy horns above

  his forehead. From waist down he had the legs of a shaggy

  goat. Wielding a knife, the satyr charged straight at them.

  Both Kendra and Seth turned in alarm at the sound of

  his hooves racing up the slope. Salt, Seth blurted, dipping

  into his pockets.

  As she fumbled for salt, Kendra dashed around the well,

  placing it between herself and the attacker. Not Seth. He

  stood his ground, and when the satyr was a couple of steps

  away, he flung a fistful of salt at the goatman.

  The satyr stopped short, obviously surprised by the

  cloud of salt. Seth threw a second handful, groping in his

  pockets for more. The salt failed to spark or sizzle. Instead,

  the satyr appeared bewildered.

  What are you doing? he asked in a hushed tone.

  I could ask you the same question, Seth replied.

  No you can’t. You’re spoiling our operation. The satyr

  lunged past Seth and slashed the rope with his knife. She’s

  coming.

  Who?

  I’d save the questions for later, the satyr said. He

  wound the rope until it was tight around the windlass,

  seized the bucket, and started down the hill, spilling soup

  as he went. From the far side of the hill, Kendra heard

  foliage rustling and branches crunching. She and Seth followed

  the satyr.

  The satyr slid into the bush Kendra had crouched

  behind earlier. Kendra and Seth dove in alongside him.

  An instant after they ducked out of sight, a bulky,

  hideous woman lumbered into view and approached the

  well. She had a broad, flat face with saggy earlobes that

  hung almost to her hefty shoulders. Her misshapen bosom

  drooped inside a coarse, homespun tunic. Her avocado skin

  had a ridged texture like corduroy, her graying hair was

  shaggy and matted, and her build bordered on obese. The

  well barely came to her knees, making her considerably

  taller than Hugo. She waddled from side to side as she

  walked, and she was breathing heavily through her mouth.

  Bending over, she pawed at the well, stroking the

  wooden frame. The ogress can’t see much, the satyr

  whispered.

  When he said it, the ogress jerked her head up. She

  yammered something in a guttural language. Shambling a

  couple of steps away from the well, she squatted down and

  sniffed at the ground where Seth had thrown his salt.

  There been peoples here, she accused in a husky,

  accented voice. Where you peoples be?

  The satyr placed a finger against his lips. Kendra held

  perfectly still, trying to breathe softly despite her alarm.

  She tried to plan which direction she would run.

  The ogress lumbered down the slope toward their hiding

  place, sniffing high and low. I heared peoples. I

  smelled peoples. And I smell my stew. Peoples been at my

  stew again. You come out now to apologize.

  The satyr shook his head, slitting his throat with a finger

  for emphasis. Seth slid a hand into a pocket. The satyr

  touched his wrist and shook his head with a scowl.

  The ogress had already closed half the distance to the

  bush. You peoples like my stew so much, maybe you take a

  bath in it.

  Kendra resisted the urge to bolt. The ogress would be

  on them in moments. But the satyr seemed to know what

  he was doing. He held up a hand, tacitly signaling for them

  to keep still.

  Without warning, something began crashing through

  the bushes about twenty yards to their right. The ogress

  pivoted and stumbled toward the ruckus with a quick,

  awkward gait.

  The satyr nodded. They scrambled out of the bush and

  started down the hill. Behind them, the ogress skidded to

  a halt and changed direction, coming after them. The goatman

  pitched the bucket of stew into a tangled patch of

  thorns and bounded over a fallen log. Kendra and Seth

  sprinted after him.

  Propelled by her downward momentum, Kendra found

  herself taking larger steps than she wanted. Each time her

  foot touched the ground became a fresh opportunity to lose

  her balance and tumble forward. Seth stayed a couple of

  steps ahead of her, and the swift satyr was gradually increasing

  his lead.

  Heedless of obstacles, the ogress pursued them noisily,

  trampling bushes and tearing through branches. She

  breathed in damp, wheezing gasps and cursed periodically,

  reverting to her unintelligible native tongue. Despite her

  cumbersome size and apparent exhaustion, the misshapen

  ogress was rapidly gaining.

  The slope leveled out. Behind Kendra the ogress fell,

  branches and deadfalls snapping like fireworks. Kendra

  glanced back, catching a glimpse of the burly ogress surging

  to her feet.

  The satyr led them into a shallow ravine, where they

  found the wide entrance to a dark tunnel. This way, he

  said, dashing into the tunnel. Although it looked spacious

  enough for the ogress to enter, Seth and Kendra followed

  without question. The satyr appeared confident, and he

  had been right so far.

  The tunnel grew darker the deeper they ran. Heavy

  footsteps followed them. Kendra glanced back. The ogress

  filled the subterranean passageway, blocking out much of

  the light filtering in from the opening.

  It became hard to see the satyr up ahead. The tunnel

  was growing narrower
. Close behind Kendra, the ogress

  gasped and coughed. Hopefully she would have a heart

  attack and collapse.

  For a space, the darkness became complete. Then it

  began to brighten. The tunnel continued to shrink. Soon

  Kendra had to crouch, and the walls were within reach at

  either side. The satyr slackened his pace, looking back with

  a mischievous grin. Kendra checked over her shoulder as

  well.

  The panting ogress crawled and then scooted forward

  on her belly, wheezing and choking. When she could worm

  no farther, she roared in frustration, a strained, throaty cry.

  After that it sounded like she vomited.

  Up ahead the satyr was crawling. The passage slanted

  upward. They emerged through a small gap into a bowl-shaped

  depression. A second satyr stood waiting for them.

  The second had redder hair than the first and slightly

  longer horns. He motioned for them to follow.

  The two satyrs and two children charged recklessly

  through the woods for a few more minutes. When they

  arrived at a clearing with a tiny pond, the redheaded satyr

  stopped and faced the others.

  What was the idea, ruining our operation? he asked.

  Clumsy work, the other satyr agreed.

  We didn’t know, Kendra said. We thought it was a

  well.

  You thought a chimney was a well? the redhead complained.

  I suppose you sometimes mistake icicles for carrots?

  Or wagons for outhouses?

  It had a bucket, Seth said.

  And it was in the ground, Kendra added.

  They have a point, the other satyr said.

  You were on the roof of the ogress’s lair, explained the

  redhead.

  We get it now, Seth said. We thought it was a hill.

  Nothing wrong with pinching a bit of soup from her

  cauldron, the redhead continued. We try to be free with

  our assets. But you need to use some delicacy. A little

  finesse. At least wait until the old lady falls asleep. Who

  are you, anyhow?

  Seth Sorenson.

  Kendra.

  I am Newel, said the redhead. This is Doren. You

  realize we’ll probably have to construct a whole new rigging?

  She’ll rip the old one down, Doren explained.

  Almost more work than cooking our own stew,

  Newel huffed.

  We can’t make it come out like she does, Doren

  mourned.

  She has a gift, Newel agreed.

  We’re sorry, Kendra said. We were a little lost.

  Doren waved a hand. Don’t worry. We just like to

  bluster. If you spoiled our wine, that would be another