Venom and Song (39 page)

It was a longer tangent than Tommy expected. For two solid hours they marched, but Migmar certainly seemed to know the forest well. He led them across deep gullies where there at first seemed no crossing, through rock faces where at first there seemed to be no passage, and over a swift-moving stream where at first there seemed to be no ford. At last they came to a strange and beautiful glade. In this wide place only two kinds of plants grew: tall, graceful trees with smooth white bark and red leaves and waist-high, feather ferns with yellow flowers shaped like stars.

Migmar stood at the edge of this sea of ferns and said, “Wait you here. Be me back!”

Before any of the Elves could ask a question or say, “Hey, wait!” Migmar was gone into the ferns. Here and there, moving away from them, the Elves saw the ferns jostle or sway, but otherwise they saw no sign of Migmar's departure.

“Do yu think he ditched us?” asked Jimmy.

“I don't know,” said Tommy. “He seemed a good little fellow. Kat, you had some concern about him. Did you pick up his thoughts?”

Kat nodded. “It's a little hard to explain,” she said. “Gnome thoughts aren't like people thoughts—er . . . Elf thoughts, I mean. They think of a single topic, sometimes a single word. And all around this word, a hundred phrases and sentences whirl like moons around a planet. Emotions come rushing in around it all like an endless wave. It's confusing . . . and noisy.”

“But you thought you heard something . . . something that bugged you?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It was that central word . . . well, it kept coming up ‘lawbreaker' or something like that. But the emotion was what worried me. It was fear.”

“Come you forward!” came Migmar's high voice from up ahead. A patch of the ferns quivered ahead. “My village is this way. Come on.”

Tommy looked at his friends and shrugged. They marched together, into the ferns, hearing the stems snap beneath their boots. An unseen bird cawed overhead. Choruses of crickets, tree frogs, and who knew what else serenaded them with
chirps, breek-breeks, woos
, and
zip-zeeps
.

About two-thirds of the way across the lake of ferns, the Seven saw Migmar pop-up from the foliage ahead. His back very straight, chest puffed up, and a very stern look upon his face, Migmar held up a hand.

“That's far enough, my friends,” he said.

When the Seven, confused by the strange command, continued on a few paces, Migmar turned beet red. “I said STOP!” he yelled. “Stop you must now or face consequences!”

It might have been the comical, overly dramatic look of authority on Migmar's face or the fact that his best commanding voice sounded like someone who'd inhaled a helium balloon. But while the Seven did stop, they also burst into spontaneous laughter.

“Migmar, what are you talking about?” Tommy asked.

Migmar didn't answer at first, but from the ferns all around the Seven there came a strange sound, kind of like a collective gasp. Kat looked around the ferns. “We're not alone,” she said. “Gnomes . . . lots of them.”

“Um, it looks like they're goin' to attack us,” said Jimmy.

“Autumn, get to safety,” said Johnny.

“I don't know where safety is,” she replied.

“Should I roast them?” Johnny whispered to Tommy.

“No,” he replied, feeling pleased that they were looking to him for leadership. “No, not yet. I don't know how or why they mean to attack, but I still don't think they're a threat.”

“Migmar,” Tommy said. “What's this about? Why are your people surrounding us?”

Migmar's emerald eyes widened. “Regret you having to come in this fashion, I do,” the little man replied. “Is the way of my people.”

“But we mean you no harm,” said Tommy.

“Should I roast them now?” whispered Johnny.

“No,” Tommy muttered, holding out an arm to restrain Johnny.

“Is harm already,” said Migmar gravely. “Traveled you on sacred Gnome land.”

Tommy felt his temper slipping, not just because of the sudden, unexpected threat, but because his friends had trusted him, and he'd led them into a trap. “Look, Migmar,” he said. Another gasp from the ferns. “If we did tread on your land, it was only to save your skin.”

“Leave that, we must, to the court,” Migmar replied.

“Court?” Tommy blurted out incredulously.

“Stand trial is the only way permitted by our laws.”

“Trial? That's just crazy,” said Tommy, his hand straying to the hilt of his sword. “You've seen us in action. I give the word, and Johnny will light up everything within fifty yards of us.”

“Afraid, I was, it would come to this,” Migmar said. He put one finger in the corner of his mouth and produced a strange, warbling whistle.

“Owww!” said Kat.

“Hey!” said Johnny.

Then Tommy felt it, too, a pinprick on his neck, followed by an unnerving, spreading cold. In seconds, he saw a field of stars and then a great blue wave.

25
Peculiar Justice

“WAKE YOU up!” came a high but terse voice.

Tommy felt the tip of something sharp prick the bottom of his feet. He awoke, seated in a little gray torch-lit room with a trio of armed Gnomes staring at him and brandishing some long, twin-sided axe-spear weapons. The forward Gnome poked Tommy again.

“Owww! ”
exclaimed Tommy. “Cut that out!” He tried to reach for his foot, but found his arms restrained at the shoulders and elbows.

“Tell us not what to do, trespasser,” said the Gnome. He poked Tommy's foot again.

“That hurts!” said Tommy. He suddenly realized his boots were gone. “What . . . what have you done with my boots?”

“Trod upon sacred land, you did,” said the Gnome. “Destroyed boots, we did.”

“Look,” said Tommy. “This is all a huge misunderstanding. We're on an important journey, but we diverted to save Migmar.” The three Gnomes gasped at the mention of the name, but Tommy went on. “We had no intention of stepping on sacred land.” Tommy used his legs to stand, pushing his back up against the wall behind him. As he rose, he found that his arm restraints were elastic . . . or at least they stretched somewhat.

“Escape not,” said the Gnome with a laugh.

Tommy stretched forward and heard a chorus of groans from either side of him.

“AH! Stop!”

“Please!” said Kat. “You're breaking my arms!”

Tommy realized with a shock that his restraints were tied into a complex system of wheels, switches, and pulleys. If he pulled away from the wall, it tightened the restraints and bonds of the others who were also captive. Tommy quickly let himself slide back down against the wall.

“Wha-what's going on?” Jett asked, just waking on the other side of the square room. “Why am I . . . oh, those little boogers drugged me. I'm gonna—” He started to stand.

“Jett, WAIT!” Tommy yelled. “Don't pull away from the wall. We're all wired in. If you use your strength to get free, you'll kill us.”

“Told you,” said the Gnome.

Johnny had awakened shortly after Tommy and had seen about all he could stand. “I'll take care of this,” he said, lifting his hands to loose a stream of flames. He stopped the process and stared. His hands were encased in grapefruit-sized orbs made of a smooth metallic blue material.
Like this is going to stop me?
he thought, resuming the process of bringing his fire. He was going to hit the Gnome soldiers with a few bursts at their feet, just to scare them, but when he released fire within the orbs, he screamed.

“Ahh!” Johnny banged the orbs on the floor. “Ah, take them off! It's squeezing, breaking my hands. Ahh, make it stop!”

“Make stop, you can only,” said the Gnome, scratching at a reddish sideburn. “Constricts, sinter-stone does, when heated. Turn off, you must, your fire.”

Johnny stopped the fire immediately. As the stone orbs cooled, they expanded back to their original size.

“Are you through?” asked the lead Gnome soldier. “Try to escape, you must not. Awaits your trial does.”

Tommy's face reddened. “Yes, we're done,” he said. “For now, guys, let's just do what they say.”

The Gnomes went immediately to work in each corner of the room, detaching small t-shaped keys from their belts and pockets. Several clangs and clicks later, the entire shackle-pulley apparatus detached from the wall, yet still held tight to its prisoners.
Great,
Tommy thought.
It's portable
.

“Am Thorkber,” said the lead Gnome. He nodded to the Gnomes at his side. “Is Gilbang,” he said, motioning to the Gnome with bushy black eyebrows and a metal helmet that sat cockeyed on his head. “Is Sarabell,” he said, pointing to the female Gnome with silver-blond hair in pigtails.

“Lingered, we have, too long,” said Sarabell. “Waiting is the Barrister.”

“Are correct, my wife,” said Thorkber. He turned back to the Seven. “Try not anything on the way.”

The Gnomes led the young lords up a narrow spiraling ramp with a low ceiling and out through an arched doorway. Silvery moonlight shone down upon a village bouncing with night activity. Gnomes ran hither and thither, some wearing purple ribbons around their waists chasing others wearing green. Others vaulted across the busy marketplace on flexible poles. And still others appeared to be swimming through the air.

“They climb the air like I do,” said Kiri Lee, incredulous but smiling.

“Have hand chutes, do you?” asked Gilbang.

Kiri Lee looked closer at the seemingly flying Gnomes and saw that, indeed, they used devices to climb into the air. She watched a Gnome, already seven feet off the ground, toss a rumpled ball into the air with each hand. Each of these unraveled into a surprisingly large wind-catching chute. The Gnome was light enough to pull himself higher. Some climbed ten, fifteen, even twenty feet into the air.

Kiri Lee wished she could free herself from her bonds, but she had little hope. The network of cables around her wrists and ankles would tighten and potentially hurt her friends.

Kat found herself gasping at strings of multicolored lights strewn among the lower boughs of the massive trees that grew in the area. Colors sparkled in the eyes and on the faces of Gnomes too numerous to count.

The scene reminded Tommy of the boardwalk of Ocean City at night . . . only with little people. Gnomes sang and danced, ate and drank, bought and sold. The marketplace was abuzz with Gnomes haggling cheerfully over prices or trades.

“Oh!” said Autumn. “Look at that!”

The group stopped, even their Gnome captors. Autumn pointed high. One of the trees had been fitted with an ingenious metal collar around its trunk like a man might wear a belt. But this collar was rotating slowly up and down the trunk as if on grooves. Ornately crafted spokes protruded from all different sides of the collar. Suspended beneath each spoke were two or three swings. Gnome children swung freely, back and forth, 'round and 'round, and up and down as the collar spun, rose, and fell.

“Cool,” said Jett, in spite of their situation.

“Do yu suppose they'll let us ride it?” asked Jimmy. But he stopped laughing and frowned in concentration. “No, no, no,” he said, looking up at the kids on the high swings.

“Oh no!” exclaimed Kiri Lee. “Let me go, right now!”

While Thorkber and the other Gnomes showed no sign of loosening their bonds, they all looked up at the swing. There a Gnome child, a little girl with red pigtails, was losing her grip on the swing. She slid from her seat and held on to the outer chain with just one tiny hand.

“Let me go!” Kiri Lee yelled again. “I can save her!”

“Save her from what?” asked Sarabell.

Suddenly the little Gnome lost her grip completely and came free of the swing. She plummeted and hit the ground near the tree's roots with a horrible thud.

“No!” Kiri Lee fell to her knees and wept.

“Wait, Kiri Lee,” said Jimmy. “She . . . she's all right.”

They all looked on. The little Gnome redhead popped up from the grass near the tree's roots. She wobbled a bit, giggled, and bounced back toward the tree swing.

“How did she survive that fall?” asked Kiri Lee.

“What that?” asked Thorkber, grinning. “Made of tougher stuff than that, we Gnomes. Dive off a cliff, maybe would hurt. Done it, I have, and survived. Come, Sarabell, demonstrate.”

Sarabell handed her restraint cords to Gilbang. She waddled over to the edge of the woods, found a suitable dead branch, and then returned. So thick was the branch it looked more like a small fallen tree. Jett was amazed the Gnome maiden could carry it with such ease. She walked up and presented the branch to her husband. Thorkber looked at it approvingly.

“Whale away, my flower,” Thorkber said.

Sarabell swept back the branch, swung it high in the air, and brought it crashing down on Thorkber's head. The branch cracked in half, but the only impact the blow had on Thorkber was to slide his helmet a little off-center.