The Doorway and the Deep (35 page)

The voice was so soft that Lottie thought at first it couldn't possibly be Dorian's.

“You—you did?” she whispered.

Dorian nodded. “I was just a kid, but I remember. They were friends with my father, and they stayed at the inn sometimes, when I still lived in New Albion, before Father sent
me north to sharpen. Your father made me laugh so hard once that I shot soup straight out my nose.”

Lottie laughed. “Really?”

“Really. They were nothing but kind to me. That's what I remember. It isn't much, but there it is, for what it's worth.”

“It's worth a lot,” Lottie said. She sank her hand into her pocket and touched the silk-covered ring resting there. “Sometimes I feel so far away from them. They're my parents, but they're strangers, too. That probably doesn't make sense.”

“At the risk of sounding like a sap,” said Dorian, “I'd say you've done them proud.”

Lottie gave Dorian a disbelieving stare. He just nudged the tip of his boot against hers. Then he shivered and tugged on the sleeves of his coat. As he did, Lottie saw the white circle imprinted on his wrist.

“I forget sometimes,” said Lottie, “that you were born Southerly.”

Dorian scoffed. “You're not
born
either way. Southerly, Northerly—they're just alliances, and alliances can shift. You should consider yourself lucky with that unbranded wrist of yours.”

“So,” said Lottie, “you don't think of yourself as a Northerly, either?”

“Not a chance. I just side with whoever is doing the least amount of damage.”

“And, I guess, for now that's us?”

“Yeah,” said Dorian. “For now, it is.”

“I THINK
I'm coming down with a cold.”

They had set out early that morning, with renewed energy and stomachs full of breads and cheeses from the Sharp Bend tavern. Everyone's spirits seemed high, but Adelaide had begun sneezing around noon, and she hadn't let up.

She now rubbed miserably at her runny nose and added, under her breath, “This wouldn't be a problem in New Albion. I would've just taken Father's medicine and be done with it.”

“You mean, Mr. Wilfer has a cure for the common cold?” asked Lottie.

“Of course,” said Adelaide. “Healers long before him first concocted it. Goodness, I mean, that's
primitive
medicine.”

Adelaide paused to sneeze, then rubbed at her reddening nose. “Don't look,” she said. “I'm sure I look a fright.”

“You look fine,” Lottie assured her. “Just as worn down as any of us.”

For most of the day, they'd been plodding down a broad path across the open field. The flatlands, true to their name, stayed flat, and when the path sloped, it did so gently. Lottie found it nice not to have to strain her legs so much as she had in the Northerly Court, but she did miss the shade of trees. Nothing grew out here but grass, and occasionally a wide expanse of corn or grain. It was a pretty enough sight, but Lottie soon felt her skin burning under the glare of the sun. She felt, also, that she was in a perpetual state of squinting. She'd forgotten what it was like to spend so much time in unhindered daylight.

As they walked, Lottie found herself thinking often about Fife. They still hadn't spoken properly. Fife talked to Lottie in front of all the others, of course, but that wasn't the same. Several times, Lottie had tried to walk alone with him, alternatively falling behind or skipping ahead to where he floated. But every time she did so, Fife would float off as though he hadn't noticed and begin a new conversation with
Oliver or Eliot. After hours of this, Lottie gave up trying. It had been one thing when they'd been distracted by finding food, shelter, and the right path. Lottie hadn't expected Fife to talk to her then. But now, with nothing but hours of smooth walking on hand, Lottie realized that Fife was purposefully ignoring her.

Very well
, she thought.
If he's got nothing to talk about, then neither do I
.

So, instead, she talked to Adelaide about her runny nose. And when she wasn't talking to Adelaide, she spent time spying barns and thatched cottages in the distance. In fact, Lottie grew so distracted by the sight of a weathervane atop a nearby barn, she did not notice the Barghest's presence until the creature released a deep growl.

“Oh!” Lottie found the Barghest slinking alongside her, his gray mane blowing in a gentle wind. The Barghest was a large animal, but it could move so softly, and Lottie wondered if she was not just impressed by this fact but also a little frightened.

“How fares the Heir of Fiske?” the Barghest asked.

“I'm all right. Just nervous.”

“Why is that?”

“Well,” said Lottie, “nothing bad has happened to us for a full day, which makes me think that something extra horrible is right around the corner.”

The Barghest released a crunchy bark that Lottie took for a laugh.

“Not a cheery thought,” it said.

“Guess not. But there's no reason for me
not
to think that way. It seems that just when we think we're safe, someone attacks. Nash on the boat, and Iolanthe in Wisp Territory
and
the Northerly Court. Why can't the Southerly King mind his own business and let me be?”

“You are a threat to him,” said the Barghest.

Lottie frowned. “Well, yeah, but I'm not the one who's going to poison him. None of that was my idea. I wish he'd just give up already. It gets tiring, always running, never safe.”

“That it does,” said the Barghest, shaking its mane.

Something squelched under Lottie's foot. She stepped back to inspect it and immediately wished she hadn't. Brown slime coated the sole of her boot, and on the path lay the upturned body of a large, goo-covered toad.

“Ugh,” she said, wiping her boot on the path.

The others looked back.

“What is it?” asked Eliot.

“Oberon,” said Fife, spotting the dead toad. “That's disgusting.”

“I didn't see it,” said Lottie, swiping her foot all the more vigorously, desperate to rid it of blood.

But Adelaide was pointing to the ground, her eyes wide with horror. “Look,” she said. “
Look
.”

The toad was moving again. Or rather, something was moving
inside
the toad. It bulged against the toad's skin until it burst free in an explosion of yet more brown slime. Everyone shrank back. Adelaide shrieked. Lottie shielded her eyes. When she looked again, she saw three filmy toads emerging from the first toad's body—each one just as big as the first. One let out a menacing
croak
and hopped straight for Fife.

“AAAH!” he screamed, leaving the ground just in time to avoid collision.

“There's something strange at work here,” said Dorian. “Move out, quickly. And whatever you do, don't step on another one of them.”

Eliot took a cautious step back. His heel landed squarely on the toad that had just missed Fife.

“Watch out!” said Lottie. “I think they
want
to be stepped on. That's how it works. Look!”

For just where Eliot had squished the creature, another three toads emerged from its corpse, their eyes dark and slitted.

“Run!” she shouted. “Run, but
watch your feet
!”

It took only a half minute's fleeing to confirm that Lottie's hypothesis was all too right: the toads threw themselves
underfoot as though they desired nothing more than to be squished. And with each squishing came the arrival of three new toads. No matter how careful the company was to watch their footing, the toads were quicker and more cunning. In no time at all, the pathway was swarming with them. The sound of their awful croaks filled Lottie's ears. A stench like a mildewed rag began to clog up her nose. The toads where everywhere, piling atop one another and jumping high. Lottie gave up trying to be cautious; she began to run blindly.

Lottie wondered if she could die this way. She wondered if the toads would continue to pile and pile until she was dragged under their miry bodies, suffocated. And, just as she began to despair, she felt arms, firm and strong, wrap around her middle. Her feet left the ground, and she rose upward, out of the din.

“Steady on, Lottie,” said a voice at her ear.

She knew Fife was using his keen, but she didn't care. She wanted to feel better. From where she floated, she could see the full stretch of the sea of toads, growing ever deeper and wider. She saw Dorian hacking away with his sword and the Barghest nipping at the toads with its fangs. She saw Eliot and Adelaide, close beside each other, arms covering their heads.

“We have to help them!” she said. “Drop me down someplace safe. Out there!”

As she pointed to the horizon, she saw for the first time that the shore was in view. There was a long bank of sand and the wink of blue waters.

“Set me down up ahead,” she said, “and go back for the others.”

“Are you crazy?” shouted Fife. “It could be a trap. This could be just what Iolanthe is after—to get you alone and kill you off. I'm not leaving you.”

“But we've got to do
something
!”

She looked again at the terrible scene below. Something was different. The toads were still multiplying, and the others were still fighting them off. But the
color
of the toads had begun to change. What had once been a sea of brown was now filled with glimmers of red, blue, black, and purple. It took Lottie a hard moment to figure out what was happening. Then she spied Oliver in the midst of the colored sea, and she knew.

“Oliver's touching them,” she said. “And look, Fife! I think they're dying for good.”

Fife's float had sputtered to a low hover, close enough for them to see the action better. Oliver was grabbing at toads left and right. As his hands made contact with each one, their bodies bloomed with new color and fell away. One landed just beneath Lottie's floating feet, dead. It was stained as bright blue as the cloudless sky above. No new toads emerged from its lifeless body.

“He's stopping them,” Lottie said. “Do you see? He's
really
stopping them.”

“It must be killing him,” Fife whispered

Oliver was red-eyed and red-faced, his movements frantic. But he didn't seem to be hurt, didn't seem to be incurring injures from the frogs he touched.

“I think he's okay,” Lottie said.

“No,” said Fife, lowering them to the ground, clear of the swarm. “No, I mean, it must be killing him
inside
.”

On instinct, Lottie stepped forward, but Fife grabbed her by the elbow and held her back.

“You can't do anything,” he said. “Not yet. Just wait it out.”

Lottie knew Fife was right, but it was agony to watch the others bat off the remaining toads, to hear Adelaide's screams, to see the red of Oliver's eyes. The others had taken note of what Oliver was doing. They'd all come to a stop, crouching down with hands over their heads until the attack had subsided and the ground was littered in the discolored carcasses of dozens upon dozens of toads. The tide had turned. The remaining toads hopped away into the field and out of sight.

It was over.

Slowly, Adelaide and Eliot uncovered their heads. Dorian straightened to his full height, sword at his side, its blade coated in mud-colored blood. The Barghest pawed
roughly at the bodies of several toads lying dead at its feet. And in the midst of it all stood Oliver, hands limp at his sides, his eyes a burnt-out black.

“Lottie!”

Arms swung around her. Eliot.

“Are you okay?” she asked him. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” said Eliot, pulling away to get a good look at her. “You?”

“Fine,” she said, just as Adelaide joined them. “Fife and I are fine.”

“Just goes to show who your favorite is, Fife,” said Adelaide. “Left the rest of us to our doom, did you?”

“I hardly call a bunch of hopping toads your
doom
,” said Fife. “Anyway, Lottie is the Heir of Fiske. Top priority and all that.”

“Everyone in possession of their limbs?” asked Dorian, crossing over the mound of toads with a sickening
squelch, squish, squash
.

Everyone confirmed that they were all right, just badly shaken. The Barghest joined them, panting.

“Well, we've had our scare for the day,” said Dorian. “But the coast is in sight. We should journey on—and this time be more mindful of where we set our feet.”

“Hold on,” said Eliot. “Aren't we going to, I don't know, applaud Ollie for his bravery? If it wasn't for him, we'd all be drowned in frogs.”

All eyes turned to Oliver, who was still standing in the pile of colored toads. His eyes turned pink under their gaze, and Lottie knew instantly that this was the very last thing Oliver wanted.