Authors: A C Gogolski
The Wealding Word (13 page)
She bolted forward at once, hoping to rush into the knight, but she lost her direction in the fume. Instead, Nell bowled over the prince. Hands over his eyes, the blow caught him unawares and he landed hard on the ground. There was no time for Nell to think. Quickly she reached down and ZZZZZZINNG! Ryan’s handsome sword was in her hands. “Hey!” he called, squinting to see his attacker. “Come back with that!”
Nell turned toward where she thought the cart stood and ran with one arm in front of her. In another instant she smacked against a wooden wheel. There, through the thick haze to her left, she could make out an armed figure stumbling in the smoke. She groped around the cart and climbed up the back, praying that no harm had come to her friend.
He was still alive! “Good ol’ Wind,” Tomkin chuckled.
“Tomkin, give me your hand – quick,” Nell whispered. The confused shouts and coughing from the soldiers helped to cloak their voices. Though the prince’s sword was well blunted, in a few moments she managed to hack Tomkin free. Nell took the troll’s hand. “We need to get you out of here!”
“I know that!”
Over the side of the cart they rolled, dropping low to where the air was easier to breathe. They were crawling toward the trees when
someone grabbed Nell’s foot. Ryan had shimmied under the cart and was clinging to her heel. “Nell!” he said. “The fire is upon us! You can’t run off into the weald!”
She didn’t want to waste time talking to him. The wind could change direction at any time and break their cover. “Leave me alone!” she said in a loud whisper. “I’m going with Tomkin. You want him dead, but he’s my friend, and he knows the weald better than anyone.”
“I don’t want him dead,” the prince pleaded. “But I can’t argue with my father’s friend. There’s nothing I can do!”
“Well, you can come with us or stay with him!” With that, Nell kicked her boot free of his grip and wriggled into the undergrowth.
“Wait,” Ryan whispered. “You… you have my sword!” For as long as the boy could remember, the lords at the castle had teased him, saying he must avoid young ladies at all costs. At that moment, Ryan understood why. With a groan of anguish, he dove forward on hands and knees, following Nell and Tomkin into the black, smoky wood.
They crawled, ran and tumbled on through the haze. The flames bellowed in the distance, promising to devour the wilderness this night. Nell could sense the terror of the forest. The trees knew fire was on its way, and each sent forth its cry – the cry of thousands waiting to burn.
Nell wanted to block her ears, but it would be no use. The sorrows of the wood bowled over her like an invisible tide, wave upon wave threatening to push her away. So great was the impulse to flee that she could barely stumble after Tomkin. She gasped, feeling another ancient grove go up in flames, somewhere in the distance. Above the din of the trees, she could hear the old oak’s voice calling out:
Flee druiida, flee greenspeaker!
Another sound came to her too, like the belching squeal of a pig, but utterly twisted and wicked.
Tomkin saw Nell stumbling and quickly found a place where they could take cover. The area was overgrown with evergreens, though it might have been a farm long ago. They hid behind a fallen log. It was as good a place as any for a short rest.
After several steadying breaths, the anguish of the forest left Nell’s ears. Her mind quieted. “Did you hear it?” she asked finally. “Their suffering? The burning trees?” When the forest was gone, there would be a hole in the world, and Nell sensed its absence already.
Tomkin nodded, “I did and I do. But nothing can stop it now. My people once cried out like this, long ago when our cities fell into the ground. Nothing to be done then either, except move on and stay alive.”
Ryan huffed loudly, ignoring Tomkin’s tale. “I think you have something of mine,” he sulked.
Just then she realized she still gripped his sword. Handing it back, she said, “You should sharpen that, it doesn’t work vey good.”
“It’s not supposed to be used,” the boy moped. “A prince should rule, not fight.”
“Who told you that?” Nell asked.
The long trudge through the forest had given the prince time to reconsider his predicament, and bitterness had seeped into him like smoke through the trees. He was lost and at the mercy of some troll. Ryan was certain that he gambled away his life chasing Nell into this burning, grumlin-infested wood. And for what? Arms crossed, sword on his lap, he glowered at Nell from beneath a fallen pine. Broken branches poked all around his head like so many horns.
Tomkin caught the smell of something and rose to look around. Seeing him move, the sullen boy raised the sword, saying, “You there, troll. You had better not be leading us into a trap. I am the king’s son and I can…” he faltered.
“What? Burn down my house?” Tomkin asked.
“Or tickle him with that big butterknife?” Nell said.
“Perhaps you can order me a second execution?” the troll hooted.
Ryan fumed at their jests. No one ever made fun of him at the castle. “Where are we going? I demand to know.”
“The old oak, of course,” Nell said.
“We are?” Tomkin brightened. “Excellent, I hope Lady Zel is there.”
Nell was aghast. “Wait, I thought that you knew every path in the weald – isn’t this the way to the pond?”
“No idea!” squealed the troll. “You try finding your way half-blind from smoke.”
“So where are we then?” Ryan asked. Before Tomkin could make a guess, they heard gurgling voices nearby.
“Grumlins,” Tomkin whispered. “Better stay low. I’ll see what they’re after.” The little man crept under the pine, beard dragging through the sticks and needles.
“Will he give us away?”
“Of course not,” Nell told the prince. “He’s the one who showed me to the witch’s tower. You shouldn’t have held him prisoner. He might have helped you find Lady Zel.”
Ryan scoffed. “My father says the last thing we need is more sorcery. ‘Magic is for the weak,’” he quoted. “Honest men don’t use it. Haven’t you heard she changes people into sheep…”
Nell cut him short, “Yes, and doves too. But haven’t
you
heard that she’s your great-great-grandmother? That’s no way to talk about family. Don’t you still wear the bracelet that she gave you for your birthday?”
If Ryan was shocked by the news of his lineage, he didn’t show it. “No. My father says I’m not to wear it. I don’t need magic trinkets anyway.” Nell could hear a quiver of fear beneath his sulkiness. She listened inwardly as they waited for Tomkin, feeling curiously distanced from herself. It was as though her emotions belonged to someone else. There was fear along with sorrow and excitement, all jostling about in her like horses in a parade. She glanced at Ryan and could see the prince tremble. It was up to her to give him courage.
“Lady Zel is out there somewhere. She won’t let us die.”
Soon Tomkin crawled back into their hiding spot. “There are grummers all right. Lots of them – all over the place. But at least I know where we are,” he seemed pleased with himself despite the situation. “The old trapdoor is just beyond those trees.”
Nell peeked under a branch and could see the tumbledown stone wall. Smoke shifted and there beyond it stood the circle of sycamores surrounding the trapdoor. She remembered clearly the last time she was here, and the grumlin that had chased her away.
The eel-eyed creatures darted in and out from between the trees, like wasps circling their hive. Then, from out of the smoke lumbered a larger group of the fish-men. The sky pealed with thunder and a high scream rang out from the newcomers. Nell jumped to her feet at once. “Lexi!” Another thunderous crash swallowed her call.
The grumlins tugged and dragged the girl behind them, heading straight for the stand of giant trees. Lexi was indeed with them, still wearing her apron, her blond hair tangled around her face. Nell somehow knew if the grumlins reached the trapdoor, she would never see her sister again.
Thunder boomed for the third time, and with it pattered a few big, sooty drops of rain. Nell stepped toward the circle of trees where the grumlins were heading. She had to do
something
. “Stop!” she shouted. Her voice sounded from a place different than usual, a place where, before now, there was only silence. It was as though all her life she was just pretending to be a child, and at this moment, another part took over.
The grumlins stopped at the sound of her call – but not because she commanded them. Many cast long-fanged grins at her. “Nell? Nell!” Lexi screamed. Two grumlins broke away from the group, clutching spears in their webbed hands.
“What are you doing?” Ryan hissed.
Tomkin recognized the shift in Nell’s voice however, and a small smile crept across his face. “Just watch, boy.”
“Stop!” Nell commanded a second time. Once more the advancing creatures snapped to a halt, but now it was not by their own will. Inside, they were suddenly disconnected from their thoughts. They stood dumbly, blind in mind to what they had been doing. “You can’t
take my sister,” Nell shouted. “And you shouldn’t have come here. You’ve ruined the weald!” She deepened her connection with the forest, and it filled her in turn with a wild fury. Wealding magic streamed in her veins. From her its power radiated like the pulse of a bell.
The grumlins around Lexi looked at each other, their placoderm jaws bleating wordlessly.
Just then the forest let out an ear-splitting groan, and the nearby stand of sycamores suddenly lurched into motion. Waist-thick branches thrashed and slammed the ground with deadly accuracy. Splintered wood flew everywhere. Grumlins too slow to move were pounded senseless, or flung into the burning treetops. They dove to get away from the angry trees, but the boughs were quick and long. Lexi ran screaming as her captors were pummeled by the deadly assault. The confusion lasted for just a moment. Then, in a rain of sycamore leaves, the great trunks collapsed in on themselves, twining and clasping round one another. No grumlins would be escaping the forest so easily today. Nell and Lexi hugged each other, staring blankly at the trees as they settled back to stillness. Now hidden under tons of living wood, the trapdoor beneath was completely sealed.
Seeing the sisters huddled together, Ryan remembered that he too, could help. He stepped forward, sword raised in defiance. It didn’t take long for the remaining grumlins to slink out of the trees. Rain pounding off their plated heads, they crept toward the group. The prince waved his sword, but one boy against a half dozen grumlins made for terrible odds. Ryan tightened his grip against the downpour. He tried to imagine he was sparring in the yard with nothing to lose, but their pointy fins and dripping teeth rattled his courage. Bright red lids slid down over their eyes. Unlike the knights of the castle, the servants of the Widow would show the young man no mercy. “What do we do now,” he yelled over his shoulder.
Behind him, Nell felt the green strength of the Wealding Word run down her legs and out her feet, back to the earth. She and Lexi clutched each other, both of them exhausted. How could it end like this? After everything that had happened, would Lady Zel leave them to die at the hands of grumlins?
Tomkin pushed forward to stand beside Ryan, his small fists held high at the approaching spearmen. “Have at you!” he yelled, though he barely reached their knees.
The nearest grumlins bolted at them, spears ready to skewer the two defenders – but the sound of snapping branches made them freeze in place. Their cold eyes widened and suddenly they raised their spears high in front of them. Ryan whipped his sword about too, desperate to know this new and unknown menace.
Lexi shrieked as a low, hungry growl rumbled just over her shoulder. Standing on his hind legs, a great black bear reared behind the group. Eyes bloodshot and claws outstretched, the beast crashed past the prince, smashing into the grumlins. Nell turned away as the bear raged, muscles rippling beneath wet fur. She recognized it from Lady Zel’s tower – though she never imagined the bear could be so ferocious. In seconds, the remaining creatures had thrown down their spears and were fleeing for their lives.
Then a horn blared above the downpour, and a few heartbeats later someone from the trees shouted, “Prince Ryan! He found the missing girls!” Other calls joined in, “Hurrah for the prince!” Nell lost track of the bear as the riders poured forth. It was just as well he was gone. Soldiers netted two of the grumlins, and as for the rest, they disappeared into the hazy woods.
Spying the prince, Lord Umbrage crashed down from his horse. He pulled his sword from its scabbard, shouting, “And the prince has captured the troll. Grab hold of it, boy! It won’t be causing us any more trouble.”
Ryan stepped forward, placing himself between Tomkin and the knight. “No,” he said. “You will not be touching him. Put your weapon away. I… I command it!”
“My prince,” Umbrage growled, “Step back. Your mother has filled your head with fairy tales and witchlore, but this is not the nursery. Now, step back!” The knight had a dangerous look in his eyes.
Ryan held his ground though, and Tomkin skirted behind him. The prince and advisor faced each other for a long moment, rain spattering on their naked swords. It was then that Ward appeared from out of the smoke, taking in the scene at once. Unsheathing his own sword, he dismounted, ready to protect the prince at any cost. One of the soldiers broke the tension, calling, “Lord Umbrage, have a look at this!” A group of men stood gaping at the five massive sycamores twisted together over the trapdoor. “Wound together like a tangle of rope,” someone marveled.