The Edge of Strange Hollow Page 8

  They were moving so fast, Poppy couldn’t lift her head against the force of their movement. She turned it instead, and from the corner of her eye could see a tunnel of branches creaking and swaying above them.

  The boat lurched to a stop. At the back, Mack leaned over the edge and threw up. They were at another dock. Poppy might have believed they had come right back to where they started except for two things. They were surrounded by water—and the only shore was the white cliffs gleaming, far away, in the last of the afternoon sun.

  “It’s the Alcyon,” Mack announced, sounding more excited than Poppy expected. “I’ve always wanted to see this.”

  “The bottomless salt sea,” Nula intoned.

  The dock was attached to a huge island made of roots, and those roots rose up into the largest tree Poppy had ever seen. Its bark was a deep red-brown, streaked in black, and its trunk took up the entire island, except for a thin band of sand and rocky shore around it. She looked up, and up, into the thick branches stretching high above them. Shining green holly leaves with spiked black edges rattled in the breeze.

  Her hands were clammy as she clambered out onto the dock, half dragging Dog with her. “The Holly Oak—we made it.”

  Mack, still recovering from his bout of nausea, stumbled out of the boat behind her.

  Nula scrambled out onto the dock. Poppy looked back in time to see the Boatman and his boat tip straight up and sink behind her, stern first, into the Alcyon sea without a sound or even a ripple to show their passage.

  Dog whined, and Poppy wet her lips. “It’s okay, Dog,” she said, patting Eta’s head. “This is the Holly Oak. Sacred ground. Nothing on this island can hurt us, right?”

  Nula scoffed. “Whoever told you that must not be very creative.”

  “But—”

  “Where there’s a will there’s a way, isn’t that what you humans say?” Her ear flicked. “Honestly, for someone who breaks rules as a hobby, you’re a little…”

  Poppy drew back. “A little what?”

  Nula shrugged. “I’m just saying—you should always watch your back. Tell her I’m right, Mack.”

  Mack’s face was thoughtful. “I’ve always heard the island is the safest place in the wood, but she has a point, Poppy. It doesn’t hurt to be careful.”

  Nula nibbled one clawlike nail. “Unless we need to be reckless. Then it might.”

  Poppy raised an eyebrow.

  “Hurt to be careful, I mean,” Nula clarified.

  Mack shook his head.

  “You’re confusing, Nula,” Poppy said, her lips quirking.

  “Don’t blame the messenger! It’s not me that’s confusing. It’s the world.” She looked around and lifted her blue hands to take it all in. “What now?”

  Poppy looked up at the tree. It stretched into the sky as if it could pierce straight through, as if it were the center pole of the whole world, and everything revolved around it. She felt dizzy, staring up, and her pulse skipped a giddy beat that made it worse. She took a deep breath. “Now, we go see what the Oak knows about the Soul Jar.”

  Mack and Nula followed Poppy as they made the slow climb up the slope, scrambling over boulders clutched in the grip of the Holly Oak’s roots.

  “So,” Nula called over. “A pooka, a human, an elf, and a cerberus walk into a tree…”

  Mack laughed. “It does sound like the start of a bad joke,” he admitted.

  “Right?” Nula muttered. “I just hope we’re not the punch line.”

  Mack laughed again, but Poppy didn’t. Her hands shook. She couldn’t make them stop. There was no telling if the Oak would welcome them or not—would welcome her, or not. She tipped her head back again to look up into its branches. What if the Oak sent her home? Could she do that? Poppy frowned. Well … there was only one way to find out.

  She kept climbing.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  They picked their way over the cobbles, stumbling over root and stone. Dog kept falling behind, and when Two let out a plaintive whine, Mack turned back to pick them up, slinging them over his shoulder.

  Poppy was out of breath by the time the roots leveled out into a wide plateau. Rotted leaves and bark had turned into a thick layer of soil, and the ground from the top of the slope to the base of the tree bloomed with wildflowers and meadow grasses. Two large pavilions were staked out at the base of the tree. Beneath their shade, creatures milled around—waiting, Poppy supposed, to talk to the Holly Oak.

  There were three werewolves, standing around chatting over small plates of raw meat. She also spotted several old women. One held a tentacular in her huge clawed hand. She gave Poppy a sharp-toothed grin as they passed by, forcing a shiver along her spine.

  “Keep going,” Nula hissed as they moved past another old woman, dripping as though she’d just come out of a pond. The other creatures gave her patch of wet ground a wide berth—all except for a large flaming salamander, who lingered close, watching her with undisguised hatred in its black eyes.

  Under the second pavilion a large winged serpent was curled up, sleeping. A species of wyvern, perhaps. Next to it, a small herd of boar-like creatures snuffled through piles of mushrooms. Poppy thought they were boar-like rather than actual boars, because though they were on all fours, they muttered among themselves, spraying bits of their food around. She spotted a Hyphae—one of the fungal folk—watching the boars from a shady corner. She slowed. He was tall, and his body was so thin he could slip through a crack if it weren’t for his bulbous head. He was completely white—except for his round pinkish eyes, and a thin line of pink around his neck—all of him covered in downy white fuzz.

  Mack started to move toward the pavilion and Poppy grabbed his sleeve, forcing herself to keep walking. Mack gave her a startled look.

  It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in the pavilions. Any other time she would have rushed under either of the canopies to learn as much as she could. But now … she didn’t want to wait another moment to talk to the Holly Oak. She had already waited thirteen years. She wouldn’t wait another day. Besides, there was no telling what harm the Soul Jar could do. They needed to find it fast—especially if she wanted to get to it before her parents. It was practically an emergency!

  She looked toward the trunk of the tree and glimpsed a shadow curling along the trunk. She slowed, squinting to see what cast it.

  “Stairs,” Nula hissed in her ear, as if the pooka could read her mind. Like magic, once she knew what they were, Poppy could make them out. Spiraling around the trunk was a set of steps.

  After that, she didn’t think. She ran.

  Mack called out from behind her, and Brutus gave an offended bark, but she didn’t slow. This was the time for action. She was surprised to hear Nula running behind her—urging her forward. “Go,” the pooka said. “Before they try and stop us. Hurry.”

  The stairs were wide enough for someone twice her size, but open, and there was no railing on the outside. She hesitated. It wasn’t that she was afraid of heights, exactly. She just wasn’t not afraid of heights. You can do it, she told herself. She didn’t want anyone stopping her, and she didn’t want Mack to try to talk her out of it either. He wouldn’t like this one bit. She looked over her shoulder at him.

  Mack had slowed, hanging on to Dog’s collar to keep them out of trouble as they passed the far end of the pavilion. If she gave him time to catch up, he would try to stop her, for certain. She began to climb—then almost lost her balance still staring upward.

  “If we’re really doing this, you better move it,” Nula said, giving her a shove.

  “Poppy, wait!” Mack called.

  Poppy dashed up the stairs, risking a glance back. Her best friend had skidded to a stop at the base of the stairs and was looking up at her with such a hurt expression that she almost turned back.

  Almost.

  She sped up, trailing one hand along the rough brown and black bark to keep her balance. The black streaks glittered like the sky at night. Poppy chance
d a peek over the side. Her heart lurched, and she shot back, clinging to the tree. A moment later, she pushed onward again, higher and higher.

  By the time she and Nula made it around the back side of the tree, Poppy’s knees had begun to shake. She stopped, pausing to catch her breath, and closed her eyes as she leaned back against the trunk. If she looked down again she’d fall. Mack was definitely upset with her. He could have come too, she argued with herself—Nula did.

  The pooka wasn’t even out of breath. She stood at the outer edge of the steps, looking down the hundred feet or more to the ground as if she were looking for a place to have a picnic.

  Poppy gave herself a mental shake. This was the right thing, even if it stressed Mack out. They had no time to waste. Can it be the right thing if it feels terrible? a part of her argued. She squeezed her eyes tighter and let her head thump back against the bark. She could feel Nula watching her. “Why are you staring at me?”

  The pooka gave a bright laugh. “Sorry. I guess … I didn’t realize how interesting humans are. You wear all your feelings on your face. Did you know that? I mean … Do you do it on purpose?”

  “What are you talking about?” Poppy asked, opening her eyes. When she did, a strange spinning sensation took hold. Nula felt it too, because her gold eyes got even wider as she gripped the bark next to Poppy.

  It was like riding on a corkscrew. The stairs spun backward. There was a strong breeze, and Mack came back into view. The entire stairway had coiled back to the ground.

  Poppy’s jaw dropped. “Thorns!”

  Nula looked back up to where they had been standing a moment before. “Maybe if we ask nice, this thing will go the other direction,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

  As predicted, Mack was angry. “You just ran off!”

  “Then again, maybe not,” Nula muttered, ignoring him.

  Poppy met Mack’s eyes. “Come with us!” There was a moment of stillness between them; then she spun to dash back up the steps. This time Eta barked too.

  Poppy ignored all of it. She wasn’t going to be outsmarted by a tree, and she wasn’t going to give up. If she had to pass some high-flying stair-climbing test, so be it. She’d pass them all. Whatever the Holly Oak threw at her. She was getting in there.

  She would wear it down.

  She would go faster.

  She took the stairs two at a time, with Nula’s cascade of laughter at her heels.

  This time, Mack came too. “Poppy!” he shouted past Nula. “You can’t push your way in—the Holly Oak doesn’t work like that!”

  “We’ll see!”

  “Poppy’s right, you know,” Nula panted. “Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands.”

  Poppy could almost hear Mack’s scowl. “We should wait with the others,” he called defiantly. “Things work better in the wood when you follow the rules.”

  Poppy’s answer came in harsh breaths. “The Soul Jar is loose, Mack! Someone might be in real danger.” As she said the words, she suddenly realized they were true. Whether she got to the malediction herself, or her parents did, someone was counting on them. But she still wanted to get there first. Her thighs were burning now, almost as much as her throat.

  Mack’s silence was ominous. She hoped he was just thinking over what she’d said. “If anyone can help,” she added, “it’s the Oak.”

  “Hey, look,” Nula said, pointing up into the thin branches above them. “There’s a little door up there.”

  Poppy reeled back so fast she bumped into Nula and lost her balance. The ground spun up at her from below. Nula gasped and Mack lurched past her to yank Poppy back to safety.

  “Let me go in front,” Nula said. “I have an idea.”

  Poppy stood shaking and let the pooka by. “Thanks, Mack,” she managed to whisper.

  He didn’t say anything, but his warm skin was a shade paler, and he stayed at her back the rest of the way up.

  Poppy’s legs hurt, and her hand had gotten scraped on the bark. Also, her nose was running and she had no tissue. Sniffing, she slowed to a trudge. The stairs seemed to have gotten steeper.

  Ahead of them, Nula’s pace was so steady it was almost a drumbeat. Behind Poppy, Mack was quiet, lost in his own thoughts. Dog brought up the rear, tongues lolling.

  They had to stop and catch their breath twice. The second time, Poppy lifted her face to look out across the landscape. She stayed back from the edge, but beneath them the island fell away, and beyond it, the wide open Alcyon sea lay sparkling, the waters dark and still. She could see smoke rising from Strange Hollow chimneys in the distance beyond the trees, and farther still—the fog.

  Poppy wondered how deep the sea was. She wondered how the Holly Oak survived here, surrounded by a fathomless salt sea … and if it was—fathomless—where did the roots go? They entered the water. She had seen that for herself. Did it drink the salt water? Did it just make all its own soil and … float here?

  She turned to Mack. “See? Aren’t you glad I ran ahead?”

  “It is quite a view.” He gave her an uncertain smile. “I guess we better keep climbing.”

  Nula had gotten farther ahead with her drumbeat steps, and Poppy hurried to catch up, watching her feet as she climbed. Mack stayed close.

  “There,” she heard the pooka whisper, and Poppy’s head shot up to see a small green door, narrow, with gilded hinges and a small round knob over a gold-plated keyhole. The whole door jutted forward slightly from a bump in the trunk. Poppy chewed her lip and tried to ignore the surge of hope. “How did you spot this from way down there? You’re amazing, Nula!”

  Nula hid a smile and the blue stripes in her ears darkened with pleasure. “I’ve had a lot of practice finding doors into places where I’m not wanted.”

  Poppy watched her friend jiggle the knob and wondered why she’d say something so sad.

  “Locked,” Nula confirmed.

  Mack was looking around nervously, as though he expected the Oak to scold them.

  “Now what?” Poppy said.

  Nula grinned at her. She wrapped her fingers around the knob, and then she was gone.

  A slender green snake disappeared through the keyhole. Poppy and Mack exchanged glances.

  There was a creaking sound, and the door swung open.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Poppy stepped into a small, dark alcove—empty except for a bucket, a broom, and a small shelf above the door, filled with bottles and books, and several large spiders. The air was dusty. Was this … a closet?

  The walls were the soft warm wood of the tree, as was the floor. She moved closer to Mack. “Nula?” she hissed.

  “I’m right here,” Nula said, tapping Poppy’s shoulder with the tuft of her tail. She laughed when Poppy and Mack jumped. A tapestry curtain hung in front of them, completely blocking whatever was on the other side. Eta let out a low growl, Brutus and Two following her lead. Poppy lay one hand on Eta’s head, and reached out to pull back the curtain.

  Her mouth went dry.

  The alcove opened into a huge chamber with soaring ceilings. Arched buttresses of smooth wood stretched away above them. Copper lanterns hung on the walls of the chamber, glowing with warm light that shifted and moved, but didn’t flicker like fire.

  “It’s so quiet,” Nula murmured.

  “It’s a sacred place,” Mack replied. And then, as though he couldn’t help himself, he added, “We really shouldn’t be here without an invitation.”

  “It let us in, didn’t it?” Poppy breathed.

  “Did it?” Mack hedged.

  She caught movement to her right as her vision adjusted in the dim glow. A picker paced along the wall. The hair on her neck rose at the sight of its long stick-insect body—twice as long as Dog and just as tall. She stared as it made a clumsy turn, making its way back the other way along the edge of the hall. She caught a glimpse of humanlike eyes in its triangular face and shuddered.

  The floor of the chamber was wood, soft and worn along a center
aisle from years, perhaps centuries, of visitors. They walked toward a tall column at the end of the chamber. As they got closer, Poppy realized it was a tree—another tree. A tree within a tree, rising so high that Poppy had to stop walking and stretch her neck to look up. It was as though the inner tree was holding up—or forming—the chamber. Its branches curved across the ceiling, smaller branches weaving together to form panels, extending themselves into the buttressed arches. The only impressions of leaves were the ones carved into the curves of the room.

  With a jolt, Poppy realized she’d fallen behind. Mack and Nula both had their heads tipped back too and hadn’t noticed. Poppy wondered how many people tripped and fell on their faces the first time they came here.

  They came to a platform in front of the tree and stopped.

  Nula looked around. “Now what?”

  Poppy couldn’t believe that just that morning they had broken her blood ward. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She should be feeling elated. She had learned more about the forest in one day than she had gathered from all her hours of study, poring over her parents journals; more than she had in her whole life so far. Far from jubilant, she just felt sweaty and anxious. “We need to … figure out how to talk to the Holly … I guess … now that we’re here.”

  Nula lifted her hands. “Okay, but where is she? Looks to me like we’re just standing around in a hollow tree.”

  Poppy scowled, but Mack looked affronted. “It’s beautiful! Look at the craftsmanship!”

  Nula’s ear flicked as if a fly buzzed nearby. “Sure. It’s a fancy hollow tree. The Faery Queen’s throne room is fancier though.”

  Mack frowned. “Fancier doesn’t mean better.”

  “Well, if you say so.”

  Poppy stepped forward so they didn’t have to argue around her. The light had shifted on the smaller tree, and she moved closer to get a better look.