North! Or Be Eaten (6 page)

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Authors: Andrew Peterson

BOOK: North! Or Be Eaten
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If Peet the Sock Man, so familiar with the dangers of the forest, had been with them and not fending off the Fangs and trolls and horned hounds, he would’ve most emphatically suggested that the Igiby family
not
descend into the hole.
1

But they did.

1
. From Pembrick’s
Creaturepedia:
“Avoid the gullies and sinkholes of Glipwood Forest at all costs. It is commonly known that the gargan rockroach sets its trap in such places. But the gargan rockroach lying in wait beneath the leaves and limbs gathered at the bottom of the gully is only one of the dangers to the oblivious gully crawler. The sweet scent emanated by the female gargan rockroach sends some animals into a temperbolic trance and draws them irresistibly to the waiting rockroach. It is not uncommon to find gathered in the gully any number of deadly creatures trapped and awaiting the gargan rockroach’s return from deeper in the earth where it tends its young.”

7
Monsters in the Hollow

N
ugget stood at the bottom of the gully with one great paw atop an old rotten tree trunk, Leeli and Tink on his back. Nia slid down to join them while Podo and Janner, halfway up the slope, tugged at the donkey’s reins. Janner scrambled to the rear of the donkey and pushed with all his might, but it did no good. The fear-struck beast brayed and whipped its head in defiance. It had no intention of going any farther.

“C
OME ON
,
YOU STUBBORN OLD CLOMP CHOMPER
!” Podo yelled.

“We need you to come just a little farther,” Leeli’s voice called sweetly from across the gully. “That’s it. Come on!”

The donkey’s ears moved forward at Leeli’s voice, and its braying ceased. It took one halting step forward. Podo arched an eyebrow at Leeli, who smiled in return. Janner risked another look behind him as he slid down the gully slope.

Peet the Sock Man had dropped from the trees and stood before the line of wary Fangs with his arms folded across his chest, his back straight, his chin thrust out, and his eyes closed. He reminded Janner of Mayor Blaggus when he conducted the Glipwood Township Orchestra.

Then a troll emerged from the Fang front lines. It was the first clear look Janner had at one of the creatures, and he understood why Nia and Podo looked so worried when Oskar mentioned them. The troll’s legs were short and stout, but the creature still stood twice as tall as a man. Its torso and arms bulged with muscle and veins; a tiny head with a sprout of gray hair peeked out from between its shoulders. The troll’s eyes were hidden in the shadow of its bony forehead—a forehead matched by a bony jaw that looked strong enough to batter down a castle gate.

The beast gripped an iron-studded club in a fist the size of a wheelbarrow. It held the club above its head for a moment, then growled at Peet (in a moanish sort of way) and slammed it down. The ground vibrated, and pebbles shook loose from the bank where Janner stood. The donkey lost any courage Leeli had awakened and backed away.

“Grandpa!” Janner cried. “We have to leave it!”

They scrambled out of the gully, lowered Oskar from the donkey’s back, and draped his arms over their shoulders.

The troll slammed its club into the ground again.

Peet still hadn’t moved. He stood petulant and motionless, buying the Igibys precious time just as he had on their escape to Anklejelly Manor. When Janner and Podo reached the bottom of the gully where the others waited, Janner took one last look up at the terrified donkey. He felt sorry for it and wondered if the Fangs would put it to work or if they would eat it.

Then he saw, dangling from the donkey’s saddle, Peet’s satchel.

Janner ducked out from under Oskar’s arm and skittered back up the slope. The trolls and Fangs had inched closer to where Peet now skipped in circles and whistled to himself. The man was as brave as he was crazy, and the Fangs didn’t know what to make of it. Janner tried to untie the straps that bound Peet’s satchel to the donkey, but they wouldn’t loosen, so he tore it open to grab what he could. He dug through a bundle of journals tied together with twine, a hammer, one old boot, a live mouse, and a leather flask—the water from the First Well.

Janner gasped. He tucked the flask into the side pocket of his pants and leapt back into the gully.

But something was wrong.

Nugget should have crawled up the other side by now, but he stood motionless in the bottom of the gully. Leeli pleaded with her dog to awaken from his trance. Tink had dismounted and stood in front of Nugget with his hands on the sides of the big dog’s face, calling his name.

Nugget responded with a lazy whine.

Then Tink screamed and struggled with something at his feet. Janner scrambled over fallen limbs to his brother before anyone else had time to react. When he saw the source of Tink’s distress, Janner screamed too.

From a space between two dead limbs on the gully floor—which Janner now realized wasn’t a floor at all—a milky-eyed head emerged. Its nose was moist and wide, its snout long like a horse’s but stouter, and two yellowed fangs jutted down from a mouth full of crooked, sharp teeth: a toothy cow, trapped below them in a gargan rockroach den. What they thought was the gully floor was more like a giant brushpile hollowed out from below.

Within the cow’s mouth was Tink’s left foot, a foot that would’ve been removed from his body and well on its way to the beast’s digestive system had the cow not been
sluggish in the fog of the rockroach’s gassy trap. The toothy cow’s eyes oozed a yellow fluid and rolled around in a drowsy fashion as it worked Tink’s ankle deeper into its maw.

Janner pulled at Tink’s leg, but the cow’s smaller teeth were angled inward.
1
If the cow had been fully awake, Janner was sure Tink would be yet another member of his family with only one working foot.

Podo appeared with his sword drawn and whacked at the monster, but the cow’s head was only partially visible through the opening in the branches, and he couldn’t do enough damage to release Tink’s foot from it’s mouth.

The commotion jarred Nugget out of his trance. The great dog barked and tensed his body, taking in the situation as if he had just woken from a dream. When Nugget saw the cow, he pounced at the opening in the floor, which nearly sent Leeli flying from his back. When he landed, the patchwork of branches where they stood shifted and revealed more of the toothy cow’s head.

The brothers and their grandfather looked at one another long enough to share the realization that they were about to fall—and then they did.

Nugget crashed to the ground. Leeli landed in the soft fur of her dog’s flank, and Janner, Tink, and Podo followed, head over heels, slamming into the leafy floor of the gargan rockroach’s den.

Janner was disoriented but realized that in the fall, Tink’s foot had slipped loose from the cow’s jaws. Then he saw the fear on Podo’s face. The old pirate looked past Janner at something that froze him like a statue.

The den was crawling with monsters.

1
. To prevent prey from escaping. It is but one of the many deadly features of the Skreean toothy cow. See illustration,
On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness
, 288.

8
A Thorn of Contempt

T
here were four toothy cows; a hissing, flapping family of cave blats; a horned hound, wounded so that it stood on only three of its legs; and a diggle staggering about, flashing its quills. Piles of animal bones littered the floor, and the skulls of all manner of forest creatures gazed at the Igibys.

“Don’t move a muscle, lads,” Podo whispered. The toothy cow that had been sucking Tink’s foot leaned against the side of the enclosure, breathing heavily, a sick rattle in its throat. The animals were sluggish, but Janner could see that beneath the daze brought on by the rockroach’s gas, the beasts were fierce and hungry.

“Wake up, Nugget!” Leeli took his paw in her hands and shook it. “Nugget, please!”

Nugget lay where he had fallen, a heap of black fur. The dog panted, his eyes glazed, like he was lazing by the fire on the verge of happy sleep. The rockroach’s poison was stronger here. Leeli scooted to Nugget’s head, heedless of the beasts so near, and called his name again.

Tink sat on the ground and gagged at the cow slobber on his foot. His shoe and the bottom of his pant leg were wet, dripping, and smelly enough that an eager band of flies already buzzed about.

Nia called through the hole above them. “Boys! Leeli! Are you all right?”

“Aye, lass, they’re fine!” Podo said, not taking his eyes off the congregation of animals. He lowered his voice. “Boys, draw your swords, and do it slowly.”

Janner rose with care, tugging Tink up by the strap of his pack.

“Ewww,” Tink moaned at the
splootch
that sounded when he put his weight on the wet foot.

Is he really more worried about his wet foot than the situation we’re in?
Janner thought with a flash of anger.

When Janner drew his sword, Tink overcame his disgust and drew his own. The two boys stood side by side, just behind Podo. The horned hound shook its head, and its eyes regained some energy. It seemed to be willing itself to attack, to
come awake long enough to wreak some violence before the rockroach ended its life. The toothy cows mooed and shook their mighty flanks to wake from their stupor.

The horned hound growled. Its lips curled back in a snarl, and a tendril of drool dangled from one of its longer teeth. It took a wobbly step forward and happened to put its leg in the path of the drunken quill diggle. The diggle hissed and arched its back. Three quills the length of a forearm sprang from the diggle’s back and lodged in the horned hound’s neck.
1

The hound pounced on the quill diggle. The cave blats squealed and hopped about, the cows mooed, and finally, Nugget came back to himself. He yawned and scratched behind his ear with one of his giant rear legs.

“Nugget, wake up!” Leeli cried, and wake up he did—but only enough to stand, yawn, and stretch. The cows and the cave blats circled one another. They crashed into the walls and loosed a shower of leaves and twigs.

“We can’t climb out without leavin’ Nugget here to die,” Podo said. “He’d never be able to climb through the hole we made in the ceiling. See that?” Podo pointed his sword at a patch of light on the far side of the gully, beyond the animals. “Where the floor slopes up? When I tell ye to, head that way and hack a hole in the ceiling big enough for Nugget to follow!”

Janner spotted a speckle of sunlight breaking through the branched roof. The animals blocked the way. Before Janner could wonder about Podo’s plan, his grandfather cried out and leapt into the fray, sword whirling.

“Now!” Podo screamed.

The old pirate swung his sword, pushing the cows, the hound, the diggles, and the blats aside. The animals turned on Podo as one, jaws clacking and eyes oozing.

“Tink,” Janner screamed, “get Leeli onto Nugget,
now
!”

“What?”


NOW
!”

Tink winced but obeyed and flung his sister atop Nugget. Janner tugged the dog forward, into the chaos where Podo fought the beasts.

“Tink, don’t just stand there!” Janner shouted. “You heard what Grandpa said! Cut a hole in the ceiling! If you’re a king, then
act
like one!”

From Pembrick’s
Creaturepedia

Tink froze. He looked at Janner as if he had just been slapped, then sprinted through the fray as fast as only Tink could sprint. He crawled up the far slope of the gully and hacked at the branches of the ceiling.

Tink’s hesitation didn’t last long—half a heartbeat—but in that tiny space of time, a multitude of bitter thoughts roared inside of Janner, all of them aimed at his brother like arrows.
Behold
, he thought again, this time without a trace of humor,
the High King of Anniera
.

Just as Janner hurried Nugget and Leeli past Podo and the toothy cows, light poured in through the hole in the ceiling. Tink had made it through. He sheathed his sword and tore the branches away.

Janner scrambled to the dog’s rear and pushed, trying not to think about the sound of Podo’s struggle just behind him. Leeli leaned forward and closed her eyes as Nugget burst through the hole and bounded up the far side of the gully.

Janner clapped Tink on the back. “Go!” Tink climbed through the hole.
No hesitation this time
, Janner thought. He turned and shouted, “Grandpa, come on! We’re out!”

It was at this moment that Peet the Sock Man leapt from the rim of the gully at top speed, his arms spread wide like wings. Janner watched his uncle with awe.

His socks had long since fallen away in shreds, cut to pieces by the talons at the ends of his reddish forearms. Peet’s white hair trailed behind him; one of his eyebrows lay flat and low, the other arched like a curl of smoke; and in Peet’s eyes blazed a single purpose:
Protect. Protect. Protect
.

What struck Janner most about his uncle in this moment was not the graceful leap through the air or the deadly, mysterious talons, but that amidst all the danger and panic, Artham P. Wingfeather’s gaze was fixed on
him
with what Janner knew to be a fierce affection.

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