The Warrior Princess of Pennyroyal Academy Page 12

  One of the three, a man, passed a twig with a roasted fish to the person next to him. Evie studied his silhouette, and her stomach did flips. “It can’t be . . .”

  “What’s wrong?” said Basil. He followed her eyes. “Do you know him?”

  Now the man felt himself being examined and turned to face Evie. At first, his eyebrows crinkled up unpleasantly, as though he’d eaten something sour.

  “Who is this, Evie?”

  “Wormwood?” she said, stepping into the firelight.

  His head shook, as though it couldn’t possibly be true. “You’re . . . why, you’re the Countess’s girl, aren’t you? My stars, is that really you?”

  “It is. It’s me. Evie.”

  “Evie,” he said in astonishment.

  “Who’s Wormwood?” said Basil. “It’s considered polite to answer questions, you know.”

  “He’s Countess Hardcastle’s valet.” She ran forward and hugged him. Where he had been plump and doughy when she’d met him before, now his skin sagged from his bones. His crisp uniform was gone, replaced by simple linen clothes and a tattered cloak.

  “Evie,” he said. “I never dreamt I’d see you again.”

  “Nor I you.” She had spoken hardly a word to Wormwood when they’d first met, yet seeing him now felt like reconnecting with a long-lost friend. “Wormwood drove Malora and me to Callahan Manor after the wolf attack our first year.” She looked back at him, unable to contain her smile. “But what are you doing here?”

  His jowls sagged below his chin as his entire face fell. A memory had come to him, and not a pleasant one. “It all came apart. I’d known something was wrong for years, but . . . so many strange goings-on at that house. All the other servants left when you and the King died. They couldn’t handle it with only Hardcastle and Malora there. I don’t know why I stayed. She always treated me decently, the Countess, but it would be a lie to say she didn’t frighten the dickens out of me.” He seemed to finally notice Evie’s friends gathered just outside the fire. “Are you lot from the Academy as well, then?”

  “We are,” said Marline. “One graduate, three princess cadets, and one angry, bitter knight cadet.”

  Forbes gave her a cutting glare.

  “Well . . . you just keep your eyes on that Headmistress of yours,” said Wormwood. “Something’s not right with that woman, if you ask me.”

  “Princess Beatrice?” said Evie. “Why do you say that?”

  “She was up to Callahan Manor many, many times. Always had to have the expensive wines decanting when the Headmistress came for a visit. And she seemed entirely too chatty about dark things. I’d hear the two of them laughing on the veranda into the wee hours, the wine vanishing faster than I could pour it. And many’s the time I heard whispered words exchanged about . . .” He looked up with distaste. “Witches.”

  “That settles it!” said Demetra. “She is with them!”

  “But how could that be?” said Evie. “Wormwood?”

  His jaw had fallen open. He stared wide-eyed toward a commotion at the top of the camp. There were screams. Then there were shouts. “Witches! Run! They’ve found us!” The entire forest seemed to come alive.

  “Come on!” shouted Basil. “To the water! Everyone to the water!” But the villagers were in too much of a panic to listen, instead scattering into the forest.

  A group of dark figures materialized from the shadows, lurching down the hillside and into the firelight. Evie grabbed Demetra’s dress and pulled her away. They scrambled after Basil, down the tree-lined embankment toward a promontory with a view of the whole wide stretch of the river. The water below churned against the rocks.

  “What do we do?” he said.

  “We’ve got to jump,” said Evie.

  “No, wait,” said Demetra. “Look!” There, gliding across the water like a serpent, was a long, slender ferryboat. A boatman stood in the back, guiding his craft with a wooden pole. “Hey! Over here!”

  “He won’t get here in time,” said Evie. “We’ve got to jump!”

  Marline looked back to the encampment. The witches began to toddle over the ridge. “Here they come!” There were too many, and they were too close.

  Suddenly, the whole forest burst with a magical white flash. It had come from Marline. Witches yowled in agony. “Get on that boat!” she shouted. “I’ll hold them back!” As more witches began to hobble down the hill, she unlashed the hawk statue and shoved it into Basil’s chest. “Find a cure.”

  Before he could respond, she wheeled. Her princess magic bloomed, illuminating the leering faces of the witches coming for them.

  “He’s here!” shouted Demetra. “Jump!”

  Before she had time to think, Evie leapt off the outcropping and landed on the deck of the ferry below. Forbes, Demetra, and Basil all followed. “Let’s go!” shouted Forbes. “Move off!”

  The boatman calmly steered the ferry back toward the center of the river. White pulses of light burst from the dark forest they’d just left. As they watched the shoreline and tried to catch their breath, the faint sounds of Marline’s wild laughter echoed across the river. Then, one by one, the witches began to appear at the edge of the cliff. The white flashes stopped.

  Once they were far enough away from the shore, they each took spots at the sides of the ferry to balance it. The boat was nearly flat-bottomed, the bow curving to a point like a dagger. “Now, how in the world did that happen?” said Forbes, slamming his hand on the boat. “It was Malora. She set us loose, then told the witches where we were. She led them to us like hounds to a hare. How’s that for your precious family?”

  “No,” said Evie. “They must have seen us. Or had suspicions when we passed through Marburg. You saw how they looked at our carriage.” She glanced at the shoreline, where several sets of glowing yellow eyes stared back. “She wouldn’t do that.”

  “Poor Marline,” said Demetra, and that sent the rest of them to silence. The shore, too, had gone quiet. The ferry slid through the water like shears through silk, the boatman’s pole splashing softly as he propelled them along. Evie turned away from the shore. And now Marline is gone, too.

  The river cut a hard line through the dense pine forests. The water was calm, at least, and the wolves had stopped howling. She glanced over at the boatman. He was tall and lean, wearing a water-stained tunic and leather boots with mold growing on them. But it was his head that startled her. The man’s face was covered top to bottom in wavy black hair. She found herself unable to look away.

  “How much to ferry us north?” said Forbes. “To Goblin’s Glade?”

  The boatman turned at the waist, and Evie gasped. His head was on the wrong way round, with his face on the back. He was angular and bony, with patches of silver hair along his chin. Deep wrinkles furrowed the skin beneath his eyes. A dull red scar ran across his entire neck.

  “Goblin’s Glade, you say?” he rasped. His voice was even croakier than Rumpledshirtsleeves’s, dry and brittle and thin. It sounded as though his throat had gone permanently dry. “Just up the West Brother here. Catch us a rat or two with that blade and we’ll be square.”

  “That’s all you want?” said Forbes. “Dead rats?”

  “Man’s got to eat, and I’ve had enough fish for a lifetime.” His pole splashed through the water as he steered into a gentle curve. “Glade isn’t out of my way; I’m following the river anyway, right round to where he joins his Brother. Follow one up, follow the other down, carrying whatever needs carrying. Like you.” He shoved his pole against the bottom. “Rats’ll square us.”

  “I’ve never killed a rat with a sword before, but how hard could it be? You’ve got a deal.”

  Before long, the boatman began humming a quiet song. Demetra soon fell asleep on Basil’s shoulder. Forbes kept one hand on his sword, even as his head began to bob from exhaustion. Evie watched the ferry’s pro
gress as it sliced the smooth black water in two. The rhythmic sloshing of the boatman’s pole and the crisp, crystal smell of the river air put her into something of a trance. The shapes of the trees and mountains reflected off the water, as did the thick clouds hanging overhead. The silver orb of the moon had gone, and the sky had turned the color of charred coal. She stared into the water until it had lightened to whitish gray. She couldn’t say for certain if she ever fell asleep, but before she knew it, the rest of the night was gone. She looked around the ferry and was surprised to see that everyone was awake.

  “Are we nearly there?” said Demetra. Her voice seemed as loud as a dog’s bark in the quiet of dawn.

  “Not far now,” said the boatman.

  Demetra turned to Evie, perturbed. “I think we should talk about what happened at the camp.”

  “I’m sure Marline’s fine,” said Basil. “Remember the giants? We all thought they got her, and she came through that all right.”

  “Sure, Bas,” said Evie, though the best she could muster was a halfhearted smile.

  “I’m talking about what Wormwood said about Beatrice,” said Demetra. She took the class portrait out of her pocket and unfolded it. Beatrice said it was this one—ALL MUST GO was written there for all to see. “The Headmistress had a hand in the ambush. Isn’t that what we’re all thinking?”

  “It’s certainly what I’m thinking,” said Forbes.

  Basil grimaced. “It’s a bit of a leap, isn’t it?”

  “She’s been acting suspiciously ever since we enlisted. Think about it. Do you remember how she reacted when that witch predicted that the Warrior Princess was in our class? I do. She almost passed out cold. Liverwort had to help her out of the castle.”

  Basil furrowed his brow, trying to remember. “Did she?”

  “She did,” said Evie. Beatrice’s face had gone ashen that night. Where so many other staff members were overjoyed at the news, the Headmistress seemed horrified.

  “When Malora attacked me on the wall and Anisette was sent home,” continued Demetra. “Remember what happened then? The girl who kicked it all off, the girl who had been causing trouble the whole year long, got to stay. And Anisette was the one discharged. Why? Because Hardcastle turned up.”

  “So you’re suggesting that Beatrice is working in concert with the witches to destroy the Academy,” said Basil, assuming his familiar look of seriousness. “Why wouldn’t she just lower the wall, then, and let them in?”

  “I don’t know,” said Demetra, folding the portrait up. “But I can’t imagine it would be all that easy to take the one step you know will immortalize you as one of the most evil people ever to live.”

  “Yes,” said Basil. “Yes, I suppose that might be difficult.”

  Evie puzzled through it all and couldn’t refute a single thing Demetra said. But how could the leader of Pennyroyal Academy, a woman who had climbed to the highest rank in the princessing service, possibly be working with the enemy?

  “Could we perhaps change the subject?” said Basil. “The idea that we might’ve left Maggie behind with a traitor is making me ill.”

  “Here’s a different subject,” said Forbes, eyeing the boatman darkly. “I want to know what’s happened to his head.”

  “Forbes!” snapped Evie.

  The boatman shifted his pole and turned backward so he could see them. “I expect it’s my head you’re referring to?”

  “Yes, the one that’s on the wrong way round.”

  Evie smacked his leg and gave him a stern look.

  “I was a bandit before I gave my life to the river. Spent my days with a murdering band of criminals in a little cottage up there in the mountains. Or rather, they spent their days with me. I was the most murderous and criminal of the bunch.”

  “Perhaps we should walk from here,” said Evie.

  “I stole and killed and did whatever else I liked,” said the boatman. “The King, he finally had enough of me and my mates causing mayhem in his forest. He sent his best men to hunt us down. I got what I deserved, I reckon, but the Gray Man took pity on me and gave me a second chance.”

  “Who’s the Gray Man?” said Forbes.

  “He’s a sorcerer.” The boatman lifted his hair to reveal that his scar went all the way around his neck. “Gray Man fixed my head back on with his magic. That was enough for me. I gave up my criminal ways and became a pious man, a man of the water.”

  “If this Gray Man is such a savior,” said Forbes, “then why’s your head on backward?”

  “He wanted to be sure I learned my lesson. This way, I can never look forward, only back at what I once was.”

  “This Gray Man,” said Basil, suddenly quite excited. “Are you suggesting he brought you back to life?”

  “Gray Man has all the cures. But they’ve chased him into the Glade now. Some call him a monster.”

  “Could he turn stone back to flesh?”

  The boatman laughed, his throat as raspy as a rusted chain. “If any can, it’s him.”

  “And he’s in the Glade? That’s where we’d find him?”

  “Basil,” said Evie softly. “We’ve got bigger things to worry about. I’m sorry, but . . . it is only a bird—”

  “It’s more than just a bird,” he snapped. “Besides, what’s the harm in popping by for a cure?”

  “He isn’t hard to find,” said the boatman. “It’s just that usually no one wants to find him.”

  “Excellent,” muttered Forbes, fixing Evie with an exasperated glare. “Another monster in our forest.”

  “Plenty of monsters in this forest,” said the boatman. “Welcome to Goblin’s Glade.”

  As the river curved around to the right, becoming the eastern arm of the Two Brothers, the boatman began to steer into the current. He was guiding them to the northern shore, where a dark forest rose like an impenetrable wall from the water’s edge. As they got closer, they could see a thin trail leading up into the foliage where it disappeared through a mouth of tangled branches and briars. Flanking the trail were three large statues. One was a leopard. One a lion. The other a wolf. The boatman guided the ferry to the end of the path, river rocks scraping its bottom as it came aground.

  “Here we are,” he said.

  Forbes stomped off first. Basil followed, then helped Demetra and Evie across. The forest grew right to the edge of the river, leaving almost no shoreline at all.

  “Thank you, sir,” said Evie. “We’re in your debt.” She handed him the loaf of bread from her knapsack. “It isn’t rat, but hopefully it’ll do.”

  He took the loaf without a word, then shoved off from shore and floated away down the river. They watched him for a moment, the sun brightening the gray skies to a dull brown color. Then they turned and looked up at the three statues looming above.

  “Well, here we are,” said Forbes. “Goblin’s Glade.”

  EVIE’S FIRST IMPRESSION of Goblin’s Glade was that the whole forest was vertical. Her second impression was that it was the rainiest place in the world. They climbed and climbed through sodden, peaty earth that squelched beneath their feet in the relentless drizzle. Giantstoe pines and sprawling beeches proved themselves to be the worst umbrellas ever devised. A white fog as thick as moss sat draped over the mountain peaks. Patches of it hovered between trees. Despite the chill in the air, Evie couldn’t tell if it was rain or sweat that had soaked her so thoroughly.

  Thankfully, during the first few hours at least, the ancient enchanted forest hadn’t lived up to the reputation Rumpledshirtsleeves had described. They had yet to see a single creature, mischievous or otherwise. Even the trees seemed too old and indifferent to bother with the four cadets in their midst.

  “I never knew there were mountains without tops,” heaved Basil, his hair matted to his face.

  “The top’s not even the end,” said Forbes. “Who knows how m
uch farther once we reach that.” He had stopped to catch his breath, eyeing the heavy cloak of fog obscuring the mountaintops. “What’s the plan here, anyway?”

  “The plan keeps changing,” said Evie, “but the mission stays the same: find Rumpelstoatsnout.” She climbed past him to take the lead.

  They continued on, though the higher they got, the slower they moved. None of them seemed able to catch their breath, except for Evie, whose childhood in the Dragonlands had left her with incredible stamina.

  At one break, on a relatively flat slope in the thick of the fog, she started to become concerned with the time, or rather, the light. The other three leaned against trees and drank water and ate dried food from Demetra’s knapsack—which, currently, wasn’t dry at all.

  “The cruel irony of carrying this chair all over the world and not being able to sit down in it,” said Basil, rolling his shoulders.

  “Just leave the bird,” said Forbes, eyeing the statue of Marline’s brother.

  “No. She gave him to me to look after.”

  “Him? Look, she’s gone, mate. It may be a cruel fact, but it’s a fact nonetheless. There’s no point in hauling that hunk of stone up the mountain.”

  “There is if I can find a cure.”

  “Oh, sod the Gray Man. We’re here for only one reason: to give that chair to some troll and hope he doesn’t kill us.” He took a swig of his water. “Blimey, whose idea was this mission?”

  Evie glanced up the mountain to where it sloped into the fog and disappeared. Something was needling her. “Wait here,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  “What are you doing?” said Forbes. “We can’t afford to split up.”

  She began to run up the hill, which jutted upward and became even steeper. She climbed, much faster than she had with the others. Before long, the mountainside rounded off and began to level out.

  “Hey!” she shouted. “The top is just up here!”

  “What?” came Basil’s voice.

  “The top! It’s right here! Keep climbing!” She staggered to the base of a ghost pine, a high-altitude tree with a nearly translucent trunk and white needles. The fog began to separate and what Evie saw on the other side made her eyes go wide. An enormous bowl of pines stretched out before her, as black as the fog was white. Huge thunderclouds loomed above the valley, their bottoms disappearing in a relentless spray of gray. Lightning pulsed from within, while thunder grumbled its way from mountain to mountain. She walked forward to where the ghost pines began to thin out. Distant mountain peaks even higher than the one she stood on now looked down like grandparents into a baby’s bassinet. She stepped to the edge of a cliff, curved and sharp as a fingernail. The mountaintop should have continued on, sloping down the northern face to the valley below. Instead, half of it had crumbled away in a landslide.