Thornghost (12 page)

T
he gorge opened up around them, falling back into the ground until only the hillside remained. The starry sky widened like a great sail, cut off in the distance by more mountains. Around them a shifting wind whispered and moaned, and Niklas felt exposed, or worse, like something horrible was about to happen. He could tell from Secret's stance that she agreed.

Kepler and Castine whispered briefly between themselves. Then Kepler took the point while Castine brought up the rear, keeping her distance. Enough, Niklas thought, to get them both with an arrow before they could spring on her. Good thing she didn't know his last name.

“That was close,” he murmured to Secret, trusting that the wind would snatch away his words. “I almost told them where we came from.”

“There is something wrong in this place,” she said. “We need to escape.”

“Not a good idea.” Niklas nodded at the bow slung on Kepler's back. “Not yet. We'll need better gear if we're going to get rid of those roses.”

That wasn't the whole truth. His head still churned with questions he couldn't ask. How could Sebastifer have lived in that cottage? And why did Castine hate his mother? What could she have done to these creatures? All his life, Niklas had blamed everyone else for not talking about her, but he hadn't asked, either, because he didn't want the nightmares to come. Now that the mystery opened like secret doors within secret doors, he couldn't stop. He had to know more. “What did they say before?”

“The squirrel doesn't trust us, so no surprise there,” Secret murmured. “The ferret says he likes our mugs, whatever that means. They've agreed on taking us to someone named Odar, who will decide our fate.”

“Right,” Niklas whispered back. “Obviously we want to do all the fate-deciding ourselves. But let's go with them for now.”

Secret's tail whipped. “Not so stupid, cub. You heard what the squirrel said, in the cottage.”

“I did. So I'm not going to tell them who I am.”

Secret turned her ears out, but she didn't argue anymore.

They hit a road of flat, smooth stones and followed it
along the spine of a crest. From the silty lightening of the sky behind them, Niklas guessed they were walking westward. If there were skullbeaks or other monsters in the gloom, he saw no sign of them.

Dawn crept over the moor, and the hues of the landscape came to life. Tiny violet flowers that softened the heather, shades of blue moss, and slick green stones in rivulets that trickled down from snowcapped peaks. As they descended the mountain, more and more ruins dotted the hillside. Gap-toothed fences and roads reclaimed by grass, but also houses staring after them with burnt-out eyes.

Niklas caught up with Kepler. “What happened here?”

“Nightmares,” Kepler said. The morning light picked out the details of his striped fur, and now Niklas saw that the ferret had scars on his face and arms. Not burn scars like Rafsa's, but cuts, most old and some new. Castine had them, too, especially on her legs and face. “These farms were the outskirts of what used to be the realm of Jewelgard,” Kepler said. “But now it's just known as Broken.”

“Is that where you're taking us? I thought there weren't any safe places for leagues.”

“No safe places you would
find,
” Kepler said with a little smirk. “Not the same thing. And anyway, it depends on your definition of safe.”

Before the morning sun cleared the peaks, they left the road and the open view and turned to the mountain again, on a winding, rocky path flanked by tall walls on both sides.
The sky grew bright, then deep blue above them. Secret kept licking at her gash every few steps. Niklas suspected she was getting tired. His head hurt, too, from Rafsa's punch. By the time Kepler lifted his arm and called them to a stop, he felt dazed with hunger.

He looked around, confused. As far as he could tell, there was nothing different about this particular stretch of glassy rock and dark walls. “We're here?”

“Nearly. Castine is going to scout before the last bit.” As soon as the squirrel had disappeared along the trail, Kepler took off his backpack and slumped against the stone. He put the bow in his lap, but didn't seem too concerned about keeping the arrows close.

Niklas sat down and brought out the sandwich. Secret just grimaced when he offered her some, but Kepler's face lit up in wonder. “Is that really cheese? Where did you get that?”

“I brought it from home,” Niklas said. The ferret looked so starry-eyed that Niklas gave him the whole thing. Kepler ate it with glee. When he had finished, he brushed crumbs out of his whiskers with a happy sigh. “Thank you. I'd almost forgotten about cheese.”

He fished an object out from his vest and twirled it between his fingers until it spun into a blur. A medallion. It was smaller than the one the Sparrow King carried, and made from wood instead of spiky glass.

“So this Sparrow King,” Niklas said. “Is he a nightmare, too?”

“He is the king of Nightmares.” Kepler caught the medallion in his hand and kissed it. “Also the not-so-rightful ruler of Broken. It would be an understatement to say we'd like to get our hands on him.” He slipped the medallion inside his shirt. “Of course, being heroes and all, we're content to have saved you instead.”

“We didn't need to be saved,” Secret said, tufted ear tall and imperious.

The ferret smiled, delighted that she had spoken. “I've read about you lynxes. You have incredible eyesight, don't you? Want to see something while we wait?”

Secret swished her tail. “What?”

“I'm only guessing,” Kepler said. “But I'd say the reason you're here.” He leaned his bow against the wall and climbed up the side of the cleft, finding slits and cracks for his fingers and toes. “Don't worry, your boy can come.”

Niklas took off his boots to follow. Secret swished her tail again, but he pretended not to notice. He wanted to see this reason. So Secret soared past him instead, to a slim ledge halfway up the wall. They peeked over the top, into a distant valley pooled with haze and golden sunlight.

“That's Jewelgard.” Kepler tilted his head. “Or it used to be, before the Breaking. That's what we call the war when the Nightmares took the valley.” He pointed eastward. “The trolls came from the mountains behind us.”

“Trolls,” Niklas said. So there were trolls on this side of the tunnel, too. Maybe he should have expected it, from
Rafsa's comment about the king, but he still wished it wasn't so.

“Oh yes. They're one of the most common kind of Nightmare,” Kepler said. “Jewelgard was rich and peaceful, mostly scholars and gardeners. They didn't stand a chance. The trolls came by the hundreds, united under a new strong leader.” He pointed across the valley. “There. Do you see it, Secret? On the far side of the valley, by the sea.”

Niklas saw only blue mist, but Secret said, “I see it. The tip of a human tower.”

“That's right. If you ever need a looting mate, let me know.” Kepler winked at her. “It's not human, though. The Nighthouse is the Sparrow King's stronghold.” He turned to Niklas. “I know your mission is secret, but . . . Am I right? Is that why you have come? To help us?”

“No.” Niklas winced at Kepler's disappointed face. “Our home valley is in trouble. We just came to look for roses.”

“Roses.” Kepler cleared his throat. “You're in luck, then.”

“Get down from there!” Castine had returned and glared up at them from the path. “It's daylight, or haven't you noticed? Skullbeaks could spot you through that slit.”

They did as she said, but Kepler shrugged. “I thought they should at least get a glimpse of the garden.”

Castine tossed her head. “Just go. The path is clear.”

As Kepler stepped into a groove in the rock, Niklas thought that the ferret's back looked more bent than before.

• • •

A
t the end of the cleft, they learned what Kepler meant by his luck comment.

They found roses, all right, and more than they were looking for.

A giant wall of thorns and flowers towered above them, dwarfing even the shrub in the mountain tunnel. Niklas had to tilt his head back to see the top. It was a rose fortress.

Castine touched her hand to a thorn the size of a saber. The petals on the nearest rose turned red. With a whisper, the hedge opened, making a doorway for Castine, exactly the shape of the one in the Summerchild cave. There could be no doubt that this was the same kind of rose. As if to confirm Niklas's thought, golden flashes began to drift along the branches.

Niklas touched Secret's back and whispered, “I guess this one would take some pretty large garden shears.”

“It will only prick you a little, so no need to worry.” Kepler leaned in. “But I wouldn't mention those garden shears if I were you.”

“That was just a joke,” Niklas hurried to say. “I meant that this is the biggest rosebush I ever saw.”

“Rosebush?” Castine laughed. “This isn't a rosebush. It's the Rosa Torquata.”

“The Rosa Tor-what now?”

“Torquata,” Kepler said. “
Twisted
in Latin. Our home, or host, or guard, or prison, depending on your outlook. One thing is certain: We would be dead without it.” He placed his pink palm against a thorn. “It can tell who we are by tasting our blood. If you were a Nightmare it wouldn't allow you to pass.”

Another rose turned red, and a new gate appeared in front of Kepler.

The golden lights reflected in Secret's black pupils as she turned to Niklas. If the Rosa Torquata could tell who they were, would it also have half a mind to kill them, like the one last night? But Niklas couldn't see any of the dark, strangly vines. He took that as a good sign.

“Seems polite enough,” he told Secret, hoping she would understand. “Very fresh and, uh, healthy.” He held out his hand. Secret looked uncertain, but she raised a paw. Unlike the hungry roses in the tunnel, this shrub didn't stab at them, so they had to press against the thorns. A sharp sting, and two more roses turned red.

The hedge shivered for a moment. Then it created a portal for them, weaving its thorns into a handsome pattern. The lemony sweet scent of ripe roses wafted out to welcome them.

Niklas let his breath out.

Secret kept close to the ground, but she followed Niklas through the wall.

The roses continued as far as he could see: Massive stems and jagged branches crisscrossed. Thorns jutted out of every limb, like razor-sharp daggers, while bony roots puckered the ground. “Welcome to the Nickwood,” Kepler said, licking a fresh, thin cut on his arm. “Try not to fall.”

Castine watched Niklas and Secret gaze around, a smile playing in the corner of her mouth. “The Rosa isn't just a shrub. It isn't even just these woods. It grows under every mountain and below every valley, connecting every corner of the world in one giant root system. It is everywhere.”

Niklas nodded, trying to look calm on the surface. All the roses, all the thorns, even the ones in the Summerchild cave: They all belonged to one and the same enormous plant. That could only mean one thing.

Garden shears would never do.

D
on't stumble, Kepler had warned them, and Niklas did his very best to follow the advice. He was so busy not cutting himself on thorns that he didn't notice the village until after it had sprouted up around them. Kepler smiled. “Our grand capital.”

Castine chuckled, and Niklas could see why.
Camp
was a better word for the small gathering of shelters in the green, dappled light.

The shelters were made from what the Rosa had to offer: twig platforms connected with woven ladders, panels made snug with crushed flowers, leaves for roof tiles, and prickly branches for beams.

More human-like animals appeared as they passed by. Niklas saw badgers, rabbits, foxes, and mice. They wore wooden medallions and tattered clothes in faded black, but some had added embroideries in reds, blues, and
pinks. None of which covered up the fact that their fur was full of nicks and scars.

It seemed the Rosa was a difficult host.

The villagers gawked at Niklas and Secret. A few touched their medallions, eyes shining with something Niklas thought might be hope or sorrow, or maybe both. But most looked skeptical. One fox even spat on the ground.

“Not so friendly,” Secret mumbled, sticking close to Niklas.

Kepler walked tall beside them. “We don't get many freshers around here,” he said. “I'm the last one, and that was four years ago now.” He smiled at the fox. “See you for supper, Gidea?”

The fox gave Niklas a pointed look. “You tell Odar he has lost his mind.” She closed the door to her hut.

“We don't get many children, either, with or without
keys.
” Kepler tugged at his vest. “Some of these people have been here since the Breaking. They're a little wary, that's all.”

“They have a right to be,” Castine said.

The rosebush gave way to form a bell-shaped dome over a small meadow. High above, the canopy of dark green leaves trailed boughs of white roses. They snowed petals down on the building that sat in the middle of the clearing.

The house was a giant patchwork. It had two floors of
piled stones and planks in different colors. Cornices and turrets stuck out with no thought for symmetry. Cracked pillars and balconies fought for room beneath tall, carved gables and chimneys that blew out wisps of smoke. Above the front door hung a much-glued wooden sign that said
The Second Ruby
.

Niklas had to laugh. “How can you have an
inn
inside a fortress of a rosebush?”

“This is the only place where the Rosa will allow us to light a fire,” Kepler said. “Everyone comes here to heat their tea stones and fill their bellies of an evening. But in addition to serving as dining hall, the Second Ruby is built to keep our memories. All the bits and pieces were rescued from the rubble of Jewelgard.”

Kepler ducked under a knuckle of roots to pick up a basket of yellow, swirly-topped mushrooms. “You'd better go in first, Castine.”

Castine clicked her tongue. “You think Odar is going to believe the mushroom story now? Haven't you considered our guests can actually talk?” But she still took the basket and disappeared through the massive turquoise front door of the inn.

“Sit if you want,” Kepler said. “You must be tired.”

Niklas sank down on the front steps next to him, but Secret wouldn't settle down. She paced the swath of grass between Niklas and the handful of villagers who peeked out from the edge of the clearing. They didn't seem too
concerned that a giant lynx prowled in front of their snouts.

“You're all friends here, then?” Niklas asked. “Rabbits and foxes, cats and mice?”

“Oh, there are differences,” Kepler replied. “Petlings and Wilders is the most important distinction, between animals who are tame and those who are less so.” He shot Secret and her whipping tail a glance. “Before the Breaking, there used to be clans and guilds and factions, too, but none of that matters here. We're all that's left of Jewel­gard: forty-one scarred souls who hide here among the roses.”

Niklas met the gaze of a tall field mouse. Her eyes widened before she ducked behind some leaves.

“They'll come around,” Kepler said. “It's not really you they fear.”

“It's not?”
Was it someone else, then? Another human? Maybe his mother? What could she have done?
Niklas wanted to ask so badly, his tongue itched.

“No. So you don't have to worry either, lady fair,” Kepler said, confident that Secret would hear it. “They would never hurt a human child.”

“Is that so?” Secret made an extra-wide turn at the corner of the steps, pointing her ear for Niklas to come look. Of all things he found half a fountain sticking out from the side of the inn. It worked, too, spouting water from three statues of children.

Three
beheaded
children.

Their heads had been replaced by those of animals carved from wood: a weasel, a raccoon, and a whinnying horse.

Niklas turned to Kepler, not sure if he should run very fast or laugh at the ferret's mortified expression. “Cheery decorating.”

“Uh, yes, we're a cheery lot.” Kepler scratched his chin. “That looks bad, doesn't it. We didn't lop their heads off, the Nightmares did that, but since we had lugged the other parts all the way from the ruins, we thought we might as well use the fountain for our own heroes.”

At that moment, Castine stuck her head around the corner, and Kepler nodded.

“We can go inside now,” Kepler said. “Listen. Could you not discuss our little adventure in the canyon with Odar or any of the other villagers? Tell them that we bumped into each other at the edge of the woods.”

Secret flattened her ears. “Why?”

“We've had a bit of trouble lately, so no one is allowed to leave the Nickwood without Odar's permission.” Kepler sighed. “I promise you, Castine and I are only trying to do good. But you must do what you feel is right.”

Niklas put his hand against Secret's chest to stop the pacing. “Let's decide later,” he whispered. “Are you up to it? I know you don't like houses, but it didn't end so well the last time we split up.”

He watched Secret glance up at the blue door. The Second Ruby wasn't very big, as public houses went, but with all its mismatched, jutting parts, it still looked imposing. She shook her neck fur. “You are crazy to trust these people. You're even crazier if you think I'm letting you go in there alone with the head-loppers.”