North! Or Be Eaten (10 page)

The others descended the steps as quickly as they dared. Janner kept an eye on the mist behind them, waiting for the trolls to emerge.

The air changed from a featureless fog into wisps and curls stabbed with sunbeams. The sky was fully visible above, but below lay only mist, so it seemed they were walking on a cloud.

Then with a
whoosh
of wind, the mist spun away for a heart-stopping moment.
The eternal gray of the Dark Sea of Darkness yawned before them. Here the plateau of Skree was twice as high as the cliffs of Glipwood. The tiny whitecapped waves were invisible at this height, and the horizon curved downward to the north and south, which made Janner wonder if the books he had read were right after all in their claims that Aerwiar was as round as the moon.

At last Janner saw the final cusp of Fingap Falls and realized with a snap of despair that they had only begun to cross the giant river. Where the Blapp poured over the edge and into the sea, the river divided into a score of channels, all of them as wide as rivers themselves, spreading out like foamy veins before they careened into the Dark Sea.

But the waters made one last stop on the way down.

A shelf of rock jutted out and caught the falls like an open hand, forming a shallow lake in its palm. At the far edge of the shelf rose stone towers like giant fingers curled upward, and the white waters slipped between them and merged again as they fell. Between each of the towers stretched what looked from this distance to be a paper-thin span of rock.

Miller’s Bridge.

Janner could see that it had been built by a far greater civilization than his own. The towers were worn by thousands of years of weather and water, but it was clear they were no natural formations.
Someone built this
, he thought, and he felt very small. And he understood why the bridge was so little known; only those foolish enough to descend the stair into the mist would ever get close enough to see it.

Then, as quickly as the mist had been whooshed away by the gust of wind, Janner’s thoughts were scattered by an earsplitting roar behind them.

Podo turned to face the troll.

The creature loomed over them, squatting on a boulder the size of a house. It had come from another direction, Janner realized, probably leaping through the mist from boulder to boulder so that it could cut the family off or at least surprise them. While Podo had been watching the stairs behind, the troll had been approaching from above. After a dumb grin at the Igiby family, the beast gathered itself and leapt from the rock.

“Run!” Podo bellowed.

Heedless of the dizzying height, Janner grabbed Nugget’s collar and sprinted down the steps, which angled away from the cliff wall and narrowed.

What had been a ledge was now a bridge held up by stone turrets. The way was still wide enough for two to walk abreast, but the fall on either side made the going precarious. Nugget followed Janner only because of Leeli’s constant assurance, and
Janner wondered more than once whether the ancient bridge would support the giant dog’s weight. He prayed it would, even as he hoped it collapsed beneath the troll.

The troll landed on the ledge with a crash that sent vibrations through Janner’s feet. Just behind him, Nia struggled down the steps as quickly as she could with Oskar limping beside her, an arm around her shoulder. Tink took the rear with Podo and inched down the stairs backward with his bow trained on the troll. Janner reminded himself again that if they survived, he owed Tink an apology and a great deal of praise.

The troll stopped where the ledge became the bridge. The brute cocked its head sideways and scratched at its sprout of hair, then hammered a fist on the bridge. Pebbles shook loose and vanished into the water below, but the bridge held. A second troll joined the first, and they appeared to be conversing, their big, lippy mouths flapping at each other in earnest. Janner wished he could hear what kind of language they spoke, and if he hadn’t been running for his life, he would’ve laughed at the thought.

They reached the first of the towering fingers of the shelf. The top was a flat area no larger than the Igiby garden, big enough for six humans and one giant dog, but not by much. From here Janner could see the whole of Fingap Falls above and behind: the network of waters pouring between the rocks, slamming into carved boulders and scattering again, gushing down through the misty air to the palm of the rock shelf, where the water gathered into what looked like a boiling lake before it slipped between the towers and into the Dark Sea.

The shelf jutted out from the cliff so that when Janner looked down he felt that he was floating. He saw only white water, and below, the gray sea. All the world was water.

Each of them, even Nugget, was out of breath. Their arrival at the first tower seemed something of an accomplishment, and the trolls hadn’t yet ventured onto the bridge, so they silently agreed to stop for a moment’s rest. Nugget bore Leeli at the center of the huddle. She sat with her back straight, one hand stroking Nugget’s neck, the other shading her eyes as she gazed out at the horizon with a calm that mystified Janner. Tink held Nia’s hand and rested his head against her arm, looking like the tired little boy he was.

Janner clenched his jaw. He wished he was back in the Igiby cottage, lying in the bunk below Tink, laughing with his brother about some silly thing. Their lives in Glipwood hadn’t been ideal, but standing on a rock amidst the clamor of Fingap Falls wasn’t ideal either. Even T.H.A.G.S. seemed better than this.

Podo cleared his throat and spat into the Dark Sea. Janner saw that his grandfather trembled, facing the sea with what looked like defiance. Podo’s sword was drawn as if the ocean, or something in it, was about to attack.

“Hadn’t we better go?” yelled Oskar, leaning wearily against Nugget’s flank. “They’re coming.”

All eyes turned to the ledge far behind them. The two trolls clung to the stone wall so that the long line of Fangs had room to cross the bridge in single file.

With a deep sigh, Podo turned away from the sea and shook his head as if waking from a dream. “Tink, how many arrows do you have left?”

“Twenty, maybe twenty-five.”

Podo squinted at the Fangs crossing the span. “Aye. That’ll help, for a little while at least. What about you, Janner?”

“Sir?”

“Arrows. Have ye got any?”

“Yes sir. I had thirty-two when we left.” Janner loosed the cords that bound his bow to the pack and nocked an arrow.

“Don’t waste any time, lads. They’ve no place to hide, and ye might give us time to get across. When those lizards are close enough to make you nervous, turn an’ run like mad. I’d tell ye that it’s time to be men,” Podo said, “but I can see you already know that.”

Janner drew his bow and aimed at the nearest Fang.

Podo and the others moved across the narrow bridge to the next tower. The bridge wasn’t long, but with the Dark Sea yawning thousands of feet below them, the going was slow. Nia tugged at Nugget’s collar while Podo and Oskar followed, wind whipping their hair and clothes.

The Fangs were halfway across the span to where the boys stood. Tink released his bowstring and sent an arrow whizzing through the air.

T
he first Fang in the long line jerked and tumbled from the bridge. Janner shot next and watched with disgust as his arrow arced through the air and disappeared into a fall of water. When Tink’s second shot felled another Fang, he looked sideways at Janner with a hint of a smile.

Janner took careful aim and missed again. On the third shot he finally hit his target.
Twenty-nine arrows left
, he thought, wondering how many Fangs were strung along the ledge and back up to the riverbank. Hundreds?

Thanks to Tink, the Fangs fell steadily from the stair bridge and the line advanced no farther. The Fangs were agitated, but they had to know that sooner or later the arrows would run out, and they weren’t shooting back. The Fangs wanted them alive. As long as the lizards didn’t change their minds, the boys were the safest defense against the creatures. Janner glanced back at the rest of the company and saw that they had reached the second tower and were edging onto the next bridge.

Tink’s bow twanged, and another Fang tumbled into the roiling water. To his surprise, Janner saw that the front of the line was farther away than it was before.

“It’s working!” Tink cried.

The Fang in front waved its sword and shouted at the line, trying, Janner guessed, to get them to move back. Two Fangs tripped in the clumsy retreat and fell screaming into the water.

“Why are they retreating?” Tink asked.

The Fang in charge beckoned to the trolls, but the trolls shook their heads. The Fang pointed at Janner and Tink and brandished its sword at one of the trolls. The troll shook its head again, but with less certainty. Finally the other troll nodded and released its grip on the wall. The other followed suit, and the two beasts stepped to the edge of the long stair bridge that led directly to where Janner and Tink knelt.

Janner gulped. Surely the bridge was too old, too fragile to support the weight of the giant creatures.

But the ancients knew what they were doing when they constructed Miller’s
Bridge. The two trolls inched their way to the center. Janner prayed the bridge would collapse, but it didn’t. When they saw the bridge would hold, the trolls grinned stupidly and picked up their pace.

Tink loosed a shot at the first troll, but the arrow glanced off its skin.

“Come on!” Janner said, pulling Tink to his feet. The Igiby boys fled, and the trolls bounded after them. The beasts closed the distance with every stride while the Fangs followed at their heels.

Far ahead, the others neared the bridge that led to the fifth and final tower.
And what then?
Janner wondered.
What happens when there’s nowhere left to run?

Just as the boys reached the bridge to the third tower, the ground shook. The trolls were only a few feet behind, and one of the beasts had pounded its fist on the tower floor.

Tink sped ahead of Janner, arms and legs pumping, but with the awful sound of the trolls’ huffing and puffing so close behind, Janner was able to keep up with his brother for the first time in his life. Podo stood at the edge of the farthest tower and frantically waved the boys on. Janner saw fear on his grandfather’s face. Podo drew his sword and sprinted toward them with a scream stretched across his leathery face.

The distance whizzed by in a blur of slick stone, white water, and slate sea. Janner could feel the
thud-thud-thud
of the trolls’ footsteps just behind him. He felt a distant sense of relief at the sight of Nia and Oskar picking their way up the slope of the north riverbank. At least
they
had made it. If only there were a way to stop the trolls and Fangs from crossing, they’d be safe—for a while anyway.

Podo stopped in the center of the final bridge as the boys approached him, but he wasn’t looking at them. His fiery eyes were trained on the troll at their backs. Podo raised his sword and arched his back, straining every muscle in his barrel chest.

“Tink, duck!” Janner screamed.

In midstep, both Igiby boys hunkered over and sped past their grandfather on opposite sides. Janner felt his right foot slip from the edge of the bridge and saw the dizzying surface of the sea directly below, but his momentum carried him to the tower, where he stumbled and fell. Janner turned in time to see the sword leave Podo’s hand and spin through the air toward the oncoming troll.

The sword buried itself in the beast’s neck. The troll widened its tiny eyes in surprise and tumbled forward as it clawed at the sword hilt with clumsy hands. Podo danced backward on the bridge to dodge the beast as it collapsed. When it slammed into the bridge, the skill of the ancient builders was put to its final test—and failed.

A mighty shudder sent rocks plummeting to the water below. The dead troll lay motionless, the blade of the sword peeking out from between its shoulders. The other
troll, standing just behind its dead companion, howled and beat its chest. In its anger it was unaware of what became immediately clear to Janner, Tink, and Podo: the bridge was about to fall.

A thrill shot through Janner like a bolt of lightning.
We might make it! If the bridge collapses, we just might make it!

More rocks broke loose from the quaking bridge. The second troll cut its roar short when it realized at last what was happening. Fangs congregated on the tower behind the troll, growling and peeking around it to see what was wrong.

Janner got back to his feet and ran with Podo and Tink across the last tower. On the far side, Nugget carried Leeli down the steps from the tower to the gentle north bank, where Nia and Oskar waited. Leeli dismounted into Nia’s embrace.

Janner’s heart rose at the sight of his family, then sank when he turned to see that the bridge had not yet fallen. The troll stepped over its dead companion and made its way across the damaged bridge. It roared and flexed its mighty arms.

Please
, thought Janner.
Please let it fall
.

With a great
crunch
, the bridge shifted and sank a few hands lower. The Fangs that congregated on the tower grew agitated as more stones tumbled away.

Podo shook his fist at the troll. “Come on, ye monster! Take another step!”

The ground trembled again, and the troll’s little eyes shifted from the bridge to the sea. But again, the rocks settled.

The troll’s fearful look became a wicked grin. The Fangs snarled and clanged their swords. To Janner’s horror, the troll leapt the final distance and landed on the tower only a few feet in front of them. It raised itself to its full height and roared so loud that the falls themselves were shamed.

Janner felt a tug at his pack.

“I’ll be needing this, laddie,” Podo said as he drew Janner’s sword. “Though I don’t think me sword-throwin’ trick will work twice in one day.” He looked down at Janner with sad eyes. “Now you be a good man. You lead this family to safety, like I know you can.” He kissed Janner on the top of his head. “Never stop fightin’ for ‘em, hear?”