Wild Magic (23 page)

Sometimes his legs had ached. She had rubbed liniment on them and told him he would feel better in the morning. Did he? Maybe not, but it never stopped him. Day after day, year after year, he had thrown himself onto the tide of humanity that flowed through the streets of Hamelin Town. He had never complained, even through the bad times.

Now Jakob had fetched water from a nearby stream. He was wiping the Piper's face, trying to revive him.
He has such a big heart
, thought Marianna.
I wouldn't do that!
But then, her memories of Finn were different. Jakob hadn't known that bleak, desperate moment in the caves when Finn announced they wouldn't be going home. Hadn't seen him casually throw children into the terrifying eat-or-be-eaten world of animals. Hadn't seen the horror of what he did to Karl. And yes, Finn had his reasons—Marianna knew that now—but still she couldn't forgive him. Would Jakob, if he were she?

Yes
, she thought.
He probably would! With his big
heart, how could he do otherwise?

CHAPTER
FIFTY-FOUR

The fresh water seemed to do the trick. Finn opened his eyes and studied Jakob's face.

“Are we out?” he said at last.

“Nearly,” said Jakob. “Not far now.”

Finn closed his eyes and winced. Jakob couldn't begin to imagine the pain the Piper was in. The pine needles had been bad enough, but Finn had snapperbug bites too. Dozens of them. And even worse, he had the stab wound. No wonder he was weak! Blood was seeping through his shirt and Jakob felt guilty just looking at it. He desperately wanted to repair the damage he had done but he couldn't. Not yet. Magic would work in the forest only if the forest allowed it, and whatever was out there seemed to be enjoying Finn's pain.

They had been rough with him too, Jakob and Moller, dragging him along the path to escape from the pines. Finn should be rolling in agony; Jakob was amazed he wasn't. And very impressed. This was courage.

“I've spoken to the hawk,” said Moller, coming over. “He says there's a hill ahead—not very steep— and once we're down the other side, we're out.” He helped Finn to his feet. “Can you walk?”

Finn nodded. “I believe I can. I am certainly willing to try.”

On they went. Soon they saw the hill. It was curiously narrow—no wider than four men lying head to toe—and it rose no higher than the tallest trees.

“That's hardly a hill at all!” said Marianna. “We'll be over it in no time.”

“It's a bit strange,” said Moller cautiously. “There are no trees growing on it. Perhaps we should go around.”

“We can't,” said Jakob. “The trees are packed tight on either side, see? We'd have to fight our way through.”

Finn said nothing. He had a bad feeling about the hill but hoped he was wrong.

They walked on. The path grew dusty beneath their feet. As they reached the crown of the hill, they all felt a
thud
, down in the earth below. Then another, and another.

“Do you have dwarves in Elvendale?” Moller asked Finn.

A look of bewilderment passed over Finn's face.

“Dwarves work underground, don't they?” Moller reasoned. “Digging for gold and what have you.”

Finn shook his head. “I don't think it is dwarves. Their mines are in the mountains—and the beat is too regular for pickaxes.”

“Maybe it's moles!” said Jakob. “Huge moles, big as bears, with feet like snow shovels!”

Marianna pushed him playfully and they walked on, over the brow of the hill.

“There it is!” cried Jakob. “The end of the forest!”

And so it was. Beyond lay the soft, felted fields of Elvendale, with the high peak of Hamelin Hill basking in the distance. The travelers thought they had never seen anything so beautiful.

They started to descend. But the ground began to move beneath them, as if something was stirring, awakening. The angle of the hill sharpened dramatically, throwing them all off balance. Soon they were tumbling, head over heels, down the hill. Only it wasn't a hill any more. It was a worm. A monstrous white worm, rising up out of the earth where it had slumbered for centuries. As the travelers hit the ground, its eyeless head rose above them like an enormous serpent. The great mouth opened and out shot a tongue, red and forked, as long as a lane.

Marianna flattened herself against the ground. Finn managed to roll out of reach. But Jakob and Moller had fallen on their backs, helpless as beetles. The mighty tongue caught them both and—
THLP!
—they disappeared into the mouth of the worm.

CHAPTER
FIFTY-FIVE

Jakob and Moller were thrown into darkness. They could feel the monster's mouth: wet and warm and cavernous. Jakob reached out a hand and felt a fang. It was huge and smooth, like one of the stalactites in Hamelin Hill.

Then the worm swallowed and they were tumbling through tunnels, miles and miles of them. Whooshing along through the darkness, being bumped and banged at every turn—till they landed with a
thud
in the creature's long-empty stomach.

It was dark. So dark. Jakob wished he had his staff with him, but it had been left outside.

“Papa?” he said. “Are you there?”

“Aye,” said his father. “I am, and no bones broken.”

“What'll we do, Papa? How will we get out?”

It was a small voice, brave but fearful, like the call of a lost lamb. And there, in the dark, Moller suddenly felt scared to be a father. It was such an overwhelming responsibility. Jakob needed him. He was asking for help. Looking for answers. Wanting reassurance. Trusting that all these things would come from him—Moller—his useless, good-for-nothing wastrel of a father.

Poor little lad. He was going to be disappointed again. It broke Moller's heart to admit it, but it was true. And with that thought, tears came to his eyes, grown man that he was. He was glad it was dark; at least Jakob didn't have to see him crying.

“Papa? What'll we do?”

The voice again, a little more anxious now. Moller felt he was being torn apart, shredded by the stomach of the worm. But it wasn't the worm—the huge, mighty worm—that was tearing at his heart. It was a nine-year-old boy who couldn't begin to understand what he was doing.

Moller heard a shuffling sound. Jakob was coming toward him on all fours, feeling his way forward. And when Jakob found him, he wrapped his arms around his father and curled up close.

Moller felt the breath catching in his chest. Jakob hadn't done that since he was a little lad.
Papa's little
dormouse
—that's what his mother had called him. Jakob always wanted to curl up on Moller's lap when he was tiny. It was a bit of a struggle. There would be an elbow sticking out here and a crooked leg there. But they always managed, Jakob and him.

Moller reached down, put his arm around Jakob, and pulled him closer still. He could feel his son's heart, beating in the dark, strong and true. That's what Jakob needed him to be, wasn't it? Strong and true. Well, he couldn't promise it, but he would do his best. He could do no more.

Moller took a deep breath, sighed it away, and wiped his face with his sleeve.

“Son,” he said, “this is what we're going to do. We're going to fight this monster and win.”

“How?” asked Jakob. “We don't have any weapons.”

“We have this.”

Moller fished something out of his pocket and placed it in his son's hands. Jakob felt something square and polished.

“It's your tinderbox! Are we going to start a fire?”

“We are,” said Moller. “But first we've got to find something—the liver!”

And so they went in search of the worm's liver. Round and round they tramped, exploring the tunnels. The search became easier the farther they traveled, because the insides of the worm began to glow with a strange green light. And soon they found it. An immense brown mass, spongy to the touch and warm with blood.

Moller pulled out a pocketknife and hacked a hole in the liver. Then he took off his jacket, stuffed it into the hole, and began to strike the flint from his tinderbox. A spark landed on the cloth; the cloth started to smolder; the smolder became a burn; the burn became a blaze. The cavernous gut began to fill with smoke.

“We're done,” said Moller. “Let's get going!”

They started to run. Down the tunnels, back through the stomach, up toward the throat. The worm was wriggling around them, sending great, muscular spasms rippling along the meaty walls. The smoke was rising. Soon the monster would cough.

The worm began to raise its head. Jakob and Moller slid backward, desperately trying to catch a hold on the slippery insides. Down they went, tumbling back toward the belly, when suddenly:
KKKKKRRRR!
The worm gave an almighty cough, the jaws opened wide, and Jakob and Moller were spat out like cherry stones. They shot through the air and landed in a heap. Marianna rushed over and helped Jakob to his feet.

“You did it!” she said. “I knew you would. Finn said you'd be stuck in there forever, but I said,
No!
Jakob will find a way out!
”

“It wasn't me, Mari,” said Jakob. “It was Papa. I was completely stumped—just sitting there in the dark, thinking we were doomed. But Papa was brilliant. He came up with a perfect plan. And here we are!”

Marianna looked at her father, openly amazed. Moller was glowing like a pumpkin lantern— though he tried to shrug it off, as if defeating monsters was something he did most days.

But there wasn't time to stand around feeling proud. Behind them, the worm was hissing furiously.

“RUN!” shouted Moller. “SHE'S GOING TO BLOW!”

Inside the worm, the liver was blazing like a bonfire. The worm started to twist and turn, coiling itself in endless circles. The head turned this way and that, blindly scanning the forest, as if searching for something. What? No one knew. If it was hoping for help, none came. The fearsome tongue flicked. Licked the air, looking for water. But it was too late. The worm raised its head to the sky and a spear of flame burst from its throat. Up into the sky it went, a fountain of fire to rival the sun, and the body of the worm was burned in an instant. Fat flakes fell from the sky, hot and greasy, black as burned pancakes. They peppered the trees. Littered the ground. Crumbled underfoot as the travelers ran away from the mess, away from the forest and anything else it cared to throw at them.

PART
SIX

CHAPTER
FIFTY-SIX

“So,” said the Piper, “where do you choose? Hamelin?”

They were standing deep inside Hamelin Hill at a junction of tunnels. Finn was holding his pipe high, filling the cavern with a soft golden glow. Ahead lay four stone arches, each with a tunnel beyond.

“Of course, Hamelin,” said Marianna.

“Are you sure about that?”

Oooh!
Marianna wanted to slap him. Why was he wasting their time like this? Where else would they be going? Hamelin was their home. The sooner they were there, the sooner life could return to normal. Yes, it had been an extraordinary adventure and she would remember it forever, but now she was tired. She longed for the warmth and safety of her own bed.