Horns & Wrinkles (24 page)

Her weight fell so hard against the rope that she ripped it out of my hands, flipping me backwards.

She teetered, fighting for balance, and might have regained it if Jim Dandy's father hadn't stepped out of the shadows, grabbed the loose end of the rope, and dragged it around Bo twice, lashing her ankles together tightly.

Tim-ber!

First she fell slowly, then all at once, like a tower of teacups given a shove. All the way down she made a horrible, strangled cry:

"I-

E-

E-

E-

E-

E-

E-

E-

E-

E-

E-

E-

E!"

Hard as she hit the ground, I thought she might shatter, but she only lost some chips off her elbows and knees, which smacked first.

There was a windy "ga-rumph-umph" at the end, but the grunt didn't belong to Bodacious Deepthink. It came from Double-knot Eel-tongue, who'd gotten tangled up with the rope himself and trapped beneath the falling troll. The way the Great Rock Troll landed, she must have broken most everything inside him that was breakable and popped everything else.

"WHO??!" Bo screamed.

The answer to that lay trapped beneath her, trying to tell me something. Leaning forward, I heard Double-knot wheeze, "Jim Dandy ... run."

I heard him say no more, for by then Bodacious Deepthink had found me. First her eyes, all gold and cold, found me, and then her hands, all hard and rock, found me.

"YOU!" Bo bellowed.

Brushing Double-knot aside, she grabbed me by the waist and, struggling to her feet, lifted me up to her face. Her breath ground into my cheeks and burned the tip of my nose.

"Tasty," she hooted, giving me a shake.

"Share her!" the other rock trolls begged.

Not knowing what else to do, I blurted, "I know a riddle."

All the rock trolls around me started grinning strangely and whispering over their shoulders, and rubbing their tummies. None of which I cared to think about at all.

"A riddle?" Bodacious Deepthink sneered. "Who told you to try that?"

"I forget."

"Oh, I think not," Bo corrected. "Little blue-wing fairies, I'd say. Do you know what happens if I answer this riddle of yours?"

"Something terrible?" I guessed, trying not to cringe.

"That's right," Bo said with a rock-splitting laugh. "But not terrible for me."

"And what if you
can't
answer it?" I asked.

That brought a smirk to Bodacious Deepthink's wide mouth and made the trolls behind her hoot with glee.

"That's never happened," Bo said smugly.

The surrounding trolls seconded that, sounding proud of how nasty and smart and cunning their leader was.

"But what if you can't?" I insisted, squirming against her hands.

"Why, then," Bo said as she squeezed me tighter, "you'll be free to go, of course."

"And the rhinos? They can go with me?"

"Why, of course," she answered, her voice cold. "And the riddle?"

Pressing my eyes shut, I strained to recall what Jim Dandy's mother had told me. At first I drew a blank that had the trolls slapping their knees and roaring with laughter as my lips moved but nothing came out.

"Ah," Bo mocked, "the famous riddle without words. The answer to that is..."

The trolls gleefully sang, "Pudding, pudding, pudding," which did wonders for my memory. The riddle popped right out of me:

What dreams of red,
Mines gold in veins,
Makes a good stew,
And always complains?

What followed was silence, if you blocked out the rhinos bickering in the background.

Every troll cocked his or her head and leaned forward as if able to hear what Bodacious Deepthink was thinking. The Great Rock Troll herself lifted her chin toward the ceiling and closed her eyes in concentration.

When Bodacious Deepthink started tapping her foot, the nearest trolls straightened in alarm, reporting the holdup over their shoulders in whispers. The Great Rock Troll's head whipped toward the whisperers so fast that they crammed their own fists in their mouths to shut themselves up.

"Some of the fools in back must not have heard your pitiful little riddle," Bodacious Deepthink croaked. "Would you mind repeating it for them?"

I repeated it, noticing as I did that the Great Rock Troll was mouthing the words with me.

"Louder," she said.

I turned up my volume, understanding now that she was stalling.

"Tricky little thing, aren't you?" Bodacious clenched her teeth.

"Take as long as you need," I offered generously. The longer she fussed, the more rhinos Stump got into the tunnel.

"I don't need time!" Bo stamped her foot.

But she did need it, and the longer she ground on the answer, the more restless the other rock trolls grew. The nearest ones began edging backwards. The farthest ones slipped behind boulders, perhaps knowing something I didn't. And all the while Bodacious Deepthink was squeezing me until I felt like a tube of toothpaste about to blow. Then, without warning, she gave me a shake and cried, "I've got it. Worms!"

"Wrong."

"LIAR!" she screamed.

"Afraid not," I said, fighting for breath.

"Then you're a cheater. The answer must be my cook, but he's never made a good stew. He can barely burn porridge."

"Wrong again," I gasped.

Hearing that threw Bo into a blind rage. Groaning, she slapped both hands over her eyes as if she couldn't bear to look at me, or the world. Of course, to do that she had to let go of me. Without waiting for her next guess, I sucked down a breath and stumbled off.

By then the number of rhinos still outside the tunnel had dwindled to three. Behind me, Bo stomped her foot down so hard that the entire cavern quaked, shaking one more rhino through the tunnel mouth. That left my cousin Duke and Uncle Floyd trapped outside. I was almost to them when I heard the loudest shout yet from behind me.

"WAIT!!!!"

Turning, I saw that Bo had uncovered her eyes and was staring down at Double-knot's lifeless body.

"RIVER TROLLS!!!!" she shouted, as if that explained everything.

"Yes? Yes?" the mob of trolls answered, peeking out from behind boulders.

"THINK," Bo shouted, slapping the side of her head as if trying to put out a fire raging between her ears. "THINK!"

I didn't bother with thinking but stuck with running, yelling as I went, "Hurry, hurry."

For once my cousin Duke took my advice. Kicking Uncle Floyd aside, he launched himself straight into the gap. At the same time that he hit the mouth of the tunnel, Bodacious Deepthink roared, "LEECHES! IT'S LEECHES!"

A victory cheer rose from the trolls just as Duke found out another reason that he shouldn't have been stuffing himself full of hay. Plump and round as he was, he plugged the mouth of the tunnel all by himself.

"GRAB THEM!" Bo screamed.

Trolls came whooping after us, with Bodacious Deepthink leading the charge. A row of fire trucks couldn't have put out the blaze in her eyes.

From inside the tunnel, the rhino herd shouted for the lantern. Stump stunned everyone by leaning his shoulder into my cousin's rump and pushing as hard as he could.

"Pull him through," Stump ordered the other rhinos.

That hardly worked either. Hooves aren't much help when it comes to grabbing and pulling. I arrived, throwing my shoulder next to Stump's, but Duke stayed wedged tight.

It was Reliable St. John who saved the day by calling out from Stump's shoulder, "I wouldn't lift him."

That's when we noticed that the tunnel mouth was widest in the middle, narrowest at the top and bottom. Backing Duke out took some sweat, but we managed despite Duke's threats. Then Stump crouched down on his hands and knees, filling the bottom of the gap so that Duke could step on his back. As he crouched, Stump grumbled that his brother Duckwad had made him bend over the exact same way so that he could reach the slug jar.

The only good thing about all this? I didn't have time to dwell on how I'd once talked my younger sister Tessa into the same maneuver to reach the cookie jar.

"Just do it," Duke thundered, as Bodacious Deepthink huffed nearer and nearer.

So Stump did it, allowing Duke to step on his back and crash through the gap. My cousin blundered off into the darkness without so much as a thank-you.

By then Bodacious Deepthink was screaming, "INTO THE POT! INTO THE POT! INTO THE POT!" As a rallying cry, it worked wonders. Trolls were pouring forward from everywhere, crying for justice and pudding.

Grabbing the lantern, I leaped over Stump and into the tunnel, waving for Uncle Floyd to follow.

"Now you!" I called.

He charged toward us as fast as his wobbly old legs could manage, but as he tried hopping onto Stump's back, one of his ankles buckled. He hit the gap low and way off-center.

There followed a smoosh and a
whoomph.
I jumped back. Stump got rammed into the tunnel, with Uncle Floyd's shapeless hat flying after him. The rock stalagmites and stalactites stayed put, and so did Uncle Floyd, wedged crossways.

Oh, how Bodacious Deepthink roared with joy to see the fix we were in.

"MY LITTLE DUMPLING!"

"Squirm!" I ordered, grabbing ahold of Uncle Floyd's horn and pulling with all my might.

"Breathe in!" Stump shouted.

But it was no good. Uncle Floyd might as well have been Super-Glued in place.

"Leave me," Uncle Floyd said. "Go."

He didn't come anywhere near shouting it. In fact, he said it so low that I could barely hear him above all the rock trolls stomping closer. But I guess the important thing was that he meant it. He wanted me and all the others to get away no matter what. He even sounded a little proud that we would get away because of him.

It qualified as a genuine, unselfish act of kindness.

The pop and flash that followed were loud and bright as a rocket blasting off for Pluto. There was plenty of white smoke too, which smelled like peaches and cream.

When the smoke cleared, Uncle Floyd stood before us, holding his hands up as if he'd never seen such amazing things before. Which he hadn't. Or at least not for way more than a hundred years, he hadn't. You see, those hands had fingers, not hooves. He'd turned back into a young man, one dressed in a badly ripped pair of black pants that were held up—sort of—with a twine belt.

"It's me!" he cried.

"It is!" I cried.

"STOP!" cried you-know-who.

There we were, packed in a black tunnel—with a herd of bullies, one lantern, and a cave cricket who couldn't help lying.

Grabbing the lantern, Stump passed to the front of the line as Reliable St. John urged him, "Go slower. Go slower."

The rhinos lined up behind Stump, whining and griping all the while. Each one of them was convinced that he or she should be carrying the lantern. When Uncle Floyd and I tried following Stump up front, several rhinos blocked our way, snapping, "End of the line!"

Uncle Floyd didn't mind, though. He was too tickled with the return of his fingers and toes to care. At one point, he said to me, "Wait till Huntington hears about this." I didn't exactly get around to explaining that his brother, my Great-Great-Great-Grandfather Huntington Bridgewater, had been dead and buried for around a hundred years. Not too far behind us, Bodacious Deepthink was bellowing at her trolls.

"'FRAIDY CATS! CRYBABIES!"

The rock trolls weren't too eager to pop through a black hole where a herd of escaping rhinoceroses had just disappeared.

After we rounded a couple of bends, the rock trolls' shouts faded to a rumble. By then the tunnel, stretching out in darkness before and behind us, already seemed too long to me. Cut out of limestone, the walls sparkled as the lantern passed, but way back at the end of the line, where Uncle Floyd and I bumped along, the sparkles had already faded to a dull yellow-green, the color of split-pea soup. The tunnel was damp and smelly as soup too, last year's batch. Its ceiling rose higher than I could jump. Its sides stretched far enough apart for two rhinos to walk side by side, if they didn't squabble. Fat chance.