Nancy Farmer - The Land of the Silver Apples

“We were but thanking you for the kindness you have shown my mother’s fields. We ask your permission to travel on to Din Guardi.”

A twittering hiss blew through the gathering, like the wind rattling ripe wheat. Din Guardi is a place of shadows. A ring of Unlife lies about it.

“It is nasty,” Jack agreed, “but, you see, my father’s there, and the Bard, my master. I’ve got to make sure they’re all right. Don’t worry, we’ll leave as soon as possible.”

The yarthkins conferred among themselves with many a sigh and hiss and a vague rumble like thunder in the distance. Jack wasn’t happy about the thunder. It sounded like anger. Finally, the chief yarthkin replied: We will not hold thee, but we will not forget thee.

“Thank you,” Jack said uncertainly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be remembered. The yarthkins crept back to the walls and fitted themselves in. It was difficult to see how they managed this without using hands or feet, but they did. Soon they were all tucked into their beds, as snug as peas. The straw-colored hair faded into the wall until it became a collection of brown lumps again.

“I think we should go now,” said the Bugaboo, and Jack was surprised to see he’d turned bright green with alarm. It was the first time he’d seen the hobgoblin king afraid, and it made him realize that the little haystacks weren’t quite as harmless as they looked.

The tunnel changed abruptly from brown dirt and glowing mushrooms to a harsher landscape of rock. The air had a cold mineral smell, and water dripped from the roof. Jack relit Thorgil’s torch.

“Let me take that,” said the Nemesis. Thorgil reluctantly handed it over. It was but another reminder that she had only one useful hand and couldn’t protect the flame. She fell back to walk with Father Severus, who was looking surprisingly vigorous.

“I don’t know what happened,” he said, wondering. “I’m feeling extremely well, like a man half my age. Perhaps I only needed time to recover.” But Jack thought, privately, that the water in the land of the yarthkins had something to do with it. He felt immensely better since drinking it. The depressing apathy of Elfland had lifted, taking with it the sorrow over Lucy.

Everyone looked happier, even Thorgil. Ethne, of course, was always radiant, finding each new experience fascinating, no matter how disturbing it was to the others. “Those yarthkins are so cute,” she gushed. “I could just cuddle them!”

“Never, ever, attempt to cuddle a yarthkin,” said the Bugaboo.

The Nemesis walked ahead, waving the torch back and forth to avoid drips. “We’re near the sea,” he called. “Can you feel the waves?”

Jack noticed for the first time a tremor passing through the rocks. A cold breeze stirred and brought whiffs of seaweed and salt. “What’s that noise?” he said. Everyone stopped. From far away came a mournful howl.

“That’s not Jenny Greenteeth, is it?” said Pega.

“Wraiths are quieter,” the Bugaboo explained, “more like heavy breathing in your ear.”

“Bedbugs! Just what I wanted to know,” said Pega, leaning closer to Jack.

As they went on, the howls became louder. It was clearly the voices of many beings. Some cries were high and screechy. Others were deep like the bellow of a bull. “I’ve heard that before,” the Bugaboo remarked. “Was it wyverns? Or manticores? Ah! I have it! Kelpies.”

The Nemesis halted, making everyone bump into one another. “Kelpies! I’m not going a step farther!”

“They’re far out to sea, old friend,” the Bugaboo said.

“You don’t know anything. They could be waiting for us.”

“I’m quite sure they’re not. You see—”

“Look, I’m willing to follow you anywhere. You’re my king. I’m the one our people chose to protect you from your stupidity. Besides, they like you. I like you—oh, St. Columba! I can’t believe I said that. But, please, Your Royal Ignorance, don’t ask me to go near kelpies. They eat hobgoblins. They’ll eat me.” The Nemesis had turned ashen. His ears furled and unfurled, and his eyes blinked so rapidly that Jack was afraid the creature was about to faint.

“I know you like me,” the Bugaboo said, grasping his friend’s hand. “It’s the worst-kept secret in the world. And I absolutely admire and respect you. But I was about to say that the kelpies are howling at the approach of a storm. They can feel the winds building, and it drives them mad. I’ve seen it before. They’re all sitting on islands looking out to sea. More importantly, the wind is blowing from them to us, so they won’t smell a thing.”

The Nemesis blushed orange. “Are you sure?” he said.

“Just as sure as God made little brown yarthkins.”

“Oh my.” The Nemesis shivered. “To think I’d have to admit you knew something that I didn’t.”

“St. Columba would be proud of you,” the king said warmly. “He used to say humility was the greatest of virtues.”

The group walked on again with the hobgoblins in front. Father Severus said quietly, “They may look like demons, but their soundness of heart puts me quite to shame.”

Pega pulled Jack to one side and whispered, “I’ve just remembered. Yffi is a half-kelpie. We should tell the Nemesis.”

“And do what?” Jack said urgently. “Go back? Spend winter on the beach? Father Severus would die.”

“But we can’t lie.”

“Wouldn’t you bend the truth just a little to save someone’s life? There’s Father, too. He needs us.” Jack and Pega had stopped. The others went ahead, with the Nemesis holding up the torch.

“I—I suppose you’re right,” Pega faltered. “Only, we have to find the Bard right away. He’ll take care of Yffi.”

“That was my idea, too,” declared Jack as they hurried to catch up.

They went more slowly now, stopping frequently to listen to the howls. Waves clashed. A cold wind began to whip through the tunnel, blowing the torch flame back. And now a faint light came to them from an opening not far away.

They came out to a rocky shore, wading through a small inlet before climbing up to the trail again. Jack suddenly felt dizzy, like he was about to faint. Then the sensation passed. The sea surged in, sending fountains of spray high into the air. Jack braced himself to get drenched, but the spray never reached him. “How is that possible?” he asked the Bugaboo, pointing at the edge of the water. It stopped abruptly, as though something was forcing it back.

“We’ve passed into the realm of Din Guardi,” the hobgoblin said. “It’s protected.”

“Protected?” echoed Jack, thinking that it made more sense to keep Din Guardi from threatening everything else.

“Long ago, when this place was taken from the Man in the Moon, a barrier was made to keep him from returning. The old gods still claim the fortress. The Sea God tries to storm it with his tides. The Forest Lord waits on the land.”

“Is that the ring of Unlife the yarthkins spoke of?” said Jack.

“The same. They cannot enter either.”

“Nothing keeps kelpies out,” the Nemesis said. “Keep moving unless you want to be dinner.” A line of pillars partly hid them on the left. On the right rose a cliff topped by gray walls so crusted with lichen, they looked as though they’d grown out of the earth.

Jack glimpsed a sunrise between a sky filled with roiling clouds and a lurid sea thronged by dangerous-looking rocks. Tall figures rose and fell as they welcomed the coming of the storm.

“Keep down,” the Nemesis hissed.

Jack obeyed, but he couldn’t resist another look. He’d never seen kelpies, except for King Yffi, who’d been bundled in clothes from head to toe. Anyhow, Yffi was only half kelpie. The creatures on the rocks were much taller. It was difficult to see much with the light behind them, but they appeared to be covered in fur. More than anything, they looked like huge otters. Their feet—Jack only had a glimpse of these—ended in long, hooked claws. The kelpies’ cries were horrible and yet oddly musical. The longer Jack listened to them, the better they sounded. He could use such harmonies in his own music. But first he had to get closer.