The Hundred: Fall of the Wents (7 page)

Fangor, inside his ear, assented with what Copernicus had said. “They don’t believe in nuffink! They don’t love nuffink!”

So Tully stopped, afraid of somehow offending the dead souls of the bees, if they had souls at all.

“We’ve got to move,” said Aarvord. “There’s got to be some kind of shelter. Hen-Hen didn’t send us here just to die.”

“Tell them that,” said Tully, gesturing toward the corpses of the bees.

They began to walk—any direction was as good as another. They had not been traveling more than a few minutes when Tully thought he heard a breath of noise in the distance from where they had come. He turned his head, but in the gloom he could see nothing. He strained his eyes to see, and took out his little telescope from the bucket. Indeed, he could see the tail end of some dark shadow, like a stream of smoke, whipping away on the far reaches of the horizon. It was headed east. Without his telescope, he would never have been able to see it at all. Then it was gone, and he wondered if his eyes—and his little sighting tool—were both playing tricks on him.

“What is it?” asked Aarvord.

“Nothing,” said Tully. In his heart, he felt a dreadful premonition. It may be that I have seen the Hundred, he thought. But whatever it was, it was moving away from them at a rapid speed. He decided to spare the others the anxiety of something that he may or may not have truly even seen. Much later, he realized that this had been a mistake.

As they walked, Copernicus clung to Tully’s chest, inside his vest and well hidden within the robe. Aarvord’s eyes swiveled as they walked, looking for any hint of life or color. And Fangor continued to shiver inside Tully’s ear. Each step became so difficult that Tully thought of abandoning the bucket, but he clung to it stubbornly. It was his only artifact from home—the one thing left that he had of Hindrance.

Hindrance! It had been only a few days past that she had given him the puzzle box for his dream day. He had not thought of it since he had tucked it away. He stopped in the snow and brought it out now. The polished wood seemed like a warm light in this grey, blank world. He turned it over and over, searching for a key. He had spent many happy hours solving Hindrance’s toys, as he had the telescope, the eyeglasses, and others she had given him. He remembered boxes that had revealed small metal flowers, poems, and more. No doubt this box had such a small treat within it. It would be a comfort, but would do them little good.
He did not have the luxury of time to sit down and trick out its secrets.

Copernicus felt like an icy coil of metal within Tully’s vest, unmoving, and he suddenly feared the snake would not make it much longer. None of it made sense. Yet, the Council had agreed he had a task to do, and he had been sent here to do it. He shook the box again and pressed at each side with his fingers as they walked.

“I see nothing,” said Aarvord. “This is an abandoned world.”

“It can’t be,” said Tully. He wondered why Hen-Hen had not given them any food, or even some hint of what they needed to do and what they would encounter. They had been given the warm robes that now prevented them from certain death, so Hen-Hen must have known that they were traveling northward. Maybe Hen-Hen, like the rest of the Council, was evil, and meant for them to disappear where no one could find them.

“Why do you think the Council was made up of our enemies?” he asked Aarvord. “What does it mean? Did they send us here to dispose of us?”

“I don’t think so,” said Aarvord. “They might as well have killed us where we stood and saved themselves the trouble. I think we were made to think that they were enemies. It was what we saw, but not necessarily what was real.”

“That Scratchling looked real enough,” said Copernicus in a husky voice, and Tully was glad to hear that the snake had some life left in him.

Tully felt a slight tickle across his cheek, and realized that Fangor had finally abandoned his ear. The Louse did a quick dance to stave off the cold and Tully longed to slap his own cheek.

“Bees all gone?” squeaked Fangor. “Dead, yes?”

“They died,” said Tully shortly. “Some made it and flew off.”

“Grand. I’ll tuck in here, then. Your ear is too hot,” said Fangor. “I’ve been fairly roasted since we left. It’s horrible.” Fangor gave a quick jump and landed inside the bucket, where he ducked under the edge of the little wooden telescope and vanished.

“So sorry,” said Tully, icily. Secretly, he was glad to have Fangor with them as it made their company one larger. Such as it was.

Suddenly Fangor gave a loud shriek (which sounded as loud as a Louse’s scream can sound, which isn’t much) and emerged from the bucket. He hopped to the edge and from there to Tully’s shoulder.

“A bee! A bee!” he wailed. “Coming to eat me!”

“What bee?” said Aarvord. “The corpse of a bee, more likely!”

Tully set the bucket down and Aarvord reached in and rolled the telescope over. There it was. It did not look very fearsome. Cowering and shivering, a small Dull Bee was hiding in the very bottom of the bucket. It was barely alive. Its legs moved feebly. How had it gotten here, among its bigger and more intelligent cousins?

As far as Tully knew, Dull Bees could not talk. They were assumed to be quite stupid. Aarvord ate them for breakfast, even. Still, he bent down to this one and said: “Friend, are you all right?”

The bee did not reply, but merely waved its antennae weakly. It was clearly near dead with cold, and Tully felt that saving its life was crucial. It alone knew where they were, and where its more clever cousins had flown them. There was even a chance it could communicate with its own hive at this distance. Without thinking much about it, he scooped up the creature and placed it gently inside his ear—the one place that Fangor had complained of the heat. It crawled in gratefully and lay still. It was much more uncomfortable than having Fangor in there, as the bee’s body was furry. A Boring Bee would not have fit at all, but a Dull Bee was just the right size. It almost completely blocked the hearing in that ear, but if it would save the bee’s life then so be it.

“Gads!” screamed Fangor. “You would help one of ‘em?”

“They took us here,” said Aarvord, shortly. “It’s the least he can do.”

“Took us…here? What is here?” said Fangor. “This place is the end. Of life.”

Fangor now shivered on Tully’s shoulder, aware that he had abandoned his warm space. But he was fearful of the big wooden bucket. He started to creep around the back of Tully’s neck toward the opposite ear, but Tully reached back and cupped him under his palm.

“Don’t even think about it,” said the Eft. “I have to hear somehow.”

Fangor sullenly tucked into the collar of Tully’s robe instead
, his eyes above the fold of the clothing so he could see the wide, white landscape receding behind them. Fangor wished he had never decided to take a nap in Tully’s hair. That’s where he had gone wrong. He should have stayed in the city, where it was safe. This adventure was not good. The place was riddled with bees—well, just one bee, now. And a stupid Dull Bee. But bees were awful, no matter how many there were.

As Fangor eyed the landscape, he saw what he thought looked like a plume of smoke over the low white hills in the distance. He scrabbled around in Tully’s collar to get a better view.

“Stop that!” said Tully.

“I see sumpfin,” said Fangor. “Do you see it?”

Tully turned his head, and he too saw the trail of smoke, so pale that it was almost invisible against the bleak sky. Aarvord saw it as well.

“There’s something alive over there,” said Aarvord. “Has to be.”

“Alive, yes, but what is it?” said Tully. He pulled the small telescope out to take a closer look. The telescope revealed the smoke in more vivid detail, but nothing else. Tully shared the telescope with Aarvord, who also saw nothing additional, except that he could make out the grey shape of a hill.

“It may not be safe, but we have to try,” said Aarvord. “It’s all we’ve got.”

They turned and headed off on the new course. The snow here seemed deeper and looser. It came up to Tully’s knees, and he struggled to plow his way through it. Aarvord tucked his head down into the cold wind and marched along, his eyeballs on their short stalks craning up to keep his sights on the smoke. Copernicus, inside Tully’s clothing, barely moved at all. Tully reached in and touched him now and again to make sure he was still breathing.

Fangor complained loudly that, as he had discovered the smoke, he had a right to see where they were going. They ignored him.

“Nobody gives me any credit,” he groused, and sank deep within Tully’s collar to stay warmer. “I know how to find my way anywhere. Never been lost!”

It grew colder still, and the day seemed to be waning as they walked. Aarvord stopped and turned back to Tully.

“We could make fire,” he suggested. “But there’s nothing to be burnt.” He looked meaningfully at the bucket and flicked his thumb and second finger together; a spark flew off and was doused in the snow. (Fantastic Grouts had this ability as well—their fingers could go hard as flint at a moment’s notice.)

Tully pulled the bucket closer to his body and scowled. “It’s mine,” he protested.

“And so are our lives,” said Aarvord.

“But it will burn quickly, and then we’ll be cold again,” said Tully stubbornly.

“We are cold now!” shouted Aarvord, and Fangor flinched inside Tully’s collar. “The Kepper-Root will trap the heat it gives, and will give us strength.”

Tully stared at Aarvord, then slowly began to remove the treasures from his bucket. He stuffed them, one by one, inside his clothes. When the bucket was empty, he handed it to Aarvord, who flicked his fingers to make fire. They all huddled around it, hoping, and Aarvord lit it again and again until it finally caught.

The heat it gave off was far from fierce, but it was enough. The smell of the burning wood was pleasant and reminded one of forest glades and happy times. They stood around with their robes open and finally, when the flames began to die and the bucket was only crumbling cinders, they lashed the robes tight and caught the heat inside them. It was enough to revive Copernicus, who stirred a bit. Tully felt glad for the warmth that now stole over him. But he was sorry for the loss of his bucket. The sweet scent of the burning wood had reminded him of Hindrance.

Tully and Aarvord began to move again, silently, knowing that the cold would settle again and the robes could hold the heat only for so long. The plume of smoke was still visible, but thinner, even though they had drawn closer. Tully thought that they would never reach the hill with the smoke…never be truly warm or safe again. Perhaps he could just lie down in the snow with those few things from home. He could dream of yesterday when his Wents were still with him.

Soon it would be dark.

As they trudged along after many minutes, the snow grew suddenly looser and Tully stepped forward to find the ground giving way beneath his feet. His feet scrabbled for purchase, but there was nothing there: He fell through the snow, and kept falling. Whether Aarvord was falling with him or not, he could not say. Everything was a blur of cold, white flakes that he inhaled through mouth and nostrils, and still he kept plunging downward. He tried to hug his robe tightly around him, so as not to lose Copernicus and his treasures, but he felt he was tumbling end over end in a wild surf of snow, and no longer knew which way was up. Then it ended.

*

When Tully woke, his first sensation was that he was deeply, pleasantly warm. The second realization was that he ached all over, and that some of his scales seemed to be bent or broken. Fortunately, he would not need them again, because this warmth must certainly mean that he was near death. He had heard of creatures dying of cold and growing comfortable with their fates at the end, when everything grew warm.

But, when he opened his eyes, he could see that he was not under a mountain of snow. Rather, he was in a round, sheltered room, and there was—and now he was certain this could not be—a glowing, crackling fire in a hearth a few feet from where he lay. He blinked and when he opened his eyes again Copernicus was extending a forked tongue right toward the tip of his nose. The snake drew his tongue in and gave a gasping hiss.

“I thought you were asleep, still, yesss?” said Copernicus. The snake seemed completely restored to the bloom of health. His own scales glowed in the firelight. He was grinning.

“This place is delightfully warm,” said Copernicus. “I haven’t felt so good since I shed my skin this morning.” He wriggled closer to the fire and stretched himself out. Tully lifted himself onto one elbow with a low groan. His right ear throbbed and hummed, and he realized the bee inside was waking up. Tully’s scales glittered with a red light from the fire.

“Asleep?” muttered Tully. “More like unconscious, I’d guess. Where are we? And where is Aarvord?”

“I haven’t seen him,” said Copernicus, whipping around with a worried look. “But he must have fallen low, just as we did. At leassst, I hope this is trues.”

A guttural voice barked out “True. Not ‘trues.’ No
S,
you silly serpent.” Aarvord was at the door to their chamber, his goggle eyes looking as if they’d been slightly knocked askew. His Kepper-Root robe was hanging open, the belt undone. He had a thick bruise across his midriff, purple against his greenish skin. But beyond that, he seemed none the worse for having plunged through the snow.

“Aarvord!” said Tully, sitting up, and then bent double as a stab of pain shot through his back. He hoped it was merely bruised. He dug inside his clothing and recovered the small puzzle box that Hindrance had given him. Although he seemed to have fallen directly on it, the box was unmarred.

Just then, a small squeak was heard from above, and they craned their necks to look up at the ceiling. Fangor was clinging to a roof beam above and small flecks of snow fell from a gaping hole where the boards had rotted and broken through. Fangor let out a small cry of despair and fell, landing inches from Copernicus’ jaws. Luckily, lice bounced with ease. Fangor jumped up and twitched the snow from his legs, giving Copernicus a wary look.

“I thought I was a goner,” said the Louse. “I popped out of your collar halfway down, and I had to pick and claw my way through the snow. Horrible! Terrible! I didn’t know if I was going up or down. Where are we? What is this?”

“We don’t know,” said Tully. “We haven’t had time to find out.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Aarvord. “While you were, shall we say,
resting,
I took the liberty of exploring a bit.”

“And?” said Copernicus.

“We are in luck, my friends,” said Aarvord. “I don’t know who lives here but whoever does lives in the finest style imaginable. I’ve never seen such luxury. This fire is only a small glimpse…there are rooms filled with food—”