Jabberwocky (13 page)

He dropped his traveling gear on the pulpy floor. In the far corner of the cavity was a hole with a ladder that led downward through the pith of the tree. As much as he longed to rush down, dusk was no time to emerge from the other end. If Elora was still alive, and she
had
to be, she could wait one more night.

Darieus had instructed him to sleep in the Tumtum tree’s enclave. Supposedly it was essential to the success of his mission but Darieus refused to explain why. However, after walking through the oppressive forest for days, he wanted nothing to do with the cramped quarters.

This is
my
mission now. I don’t need his help.

Taking only his bedroll, dinner, and sword, he descended. Night had fallen in the strange clearing, but it still offered more light than the tunnel. Leaning against the base of the huge tree, Tjaden ate a cold dinner. He spent the next hour visualizing his sword piercing the Jabberwocky’s heart. Elora was watching and he finally felt like a hero.

When his thoughts and dreams began to merge he pulled the bedroll up, and leaning against the massive tree, he slept.

PART IV

And, as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!

Tjaden walked through the dense tunnel of trees. Instead of stillness, malice surrounded him. The forest sent probing vines that snared him and tried to choke the life out of him. Terrified, he remained still, without resisting or drawing his sword as the forest claimed him. All the while, the Cheshire Cat trilled, “Arrive in peace; there’ll be a feast!”

Tjaden’s horses screamed, yanking him from the dream. Shooting up to a seated position, he looked around. The horses’ shrieks sounded like they came from terrified women. Tjaden grabbed his sword and tried to stand, but he was held tightly to the ground. There was enough moonlight in the clearing to make out what looked like roots which had grown over his legs while he slept. They didn’t constrict, but were too tight for him to free himself.

From his awkward position he hacked at the plants, which tightened immediately. Unable to use the full range of his swing, it took ten or fifteen strikes to chop through a single root. More tendrils came out of the ground to replace the ones he hacked through and Tjaden intensified his slashing, all the while hearing the shrill cries of the horse. After a quarter hour he had freed all but one ankle. He stood, exhausted, and three swipes later he was clear.

Tjaden rushed to the entrance to the path and saw that the animals were much more entwined than he had been. In addition to roots like that those that had bound him, the horses were assailed by vines extending from the trees. All of their legs were wrapped, and a few vines reached completely around their bodies and necks. The vines weren’t as hardy as the roots, but moved much faster, writhing and slithering in the air. In between screams the animals bit at the vines, but they were losing ground fast.

As soon as Tjaden began hacking at the plants, two vines released one horse’s leg and moved quickly along the ground, sniffing out Tjaden like blind snakes. He backed up and fought them off, shocked at how fast they moved. The detachment of the two vines did nothing to lessen the horses’ entanglement.

He tripped on tendrils and roots and realized the area where he stood was filling with them. Scrambling to his feet, he tried to run to the tree, but two roots had already wrapped one ankle and more vines stretched toward him. He chopped through the roots and sprung in four long strides to the base of the tree. It pained him to abandon the horses, but there was nothing he could do for them. With sword in hand, he scaled the tree and sat defensively on the first branch. No roots, vines, or tendrils attacked him.

Tjaden was still out of breath when the horses went silent. Sounds of wringing, and an occasional crack of the animals’ large bones filled the clearing and he ducked into the cavity of the Tumtum tree to escape the grotesque noise.

The enclave was free of unfriendly plant life. As far away from the door as possible, he leaned against the wall of the tree with his sword still drawn and cursed himself for not being able to save the horses. Unable to think of anything that would have made a difference, he cursed Darieus.

The disturbing noises continued, but after a very long time Tjaden fell asleep.

When Tjaden woke, sunlight poured into the Tumtum tree’s interior. He was sore from the struggle in the night, but happy to be alive. With his sword ready he crawled out onto the wide branch and inspected the clearing. It was vacant. There was no sign of his bed roll and no sign of struggle. Moving farther out on the branch he could see into the path where his horses had been attacked. Again there was no sign of the horses and the ground appeared undisturbed. Tjaden’s heart sunk, but he forced himself to focus on the reason he was there.

With determination he entered the Tumtum tree. Luckily he had left his pack inside the tree instead of taking it with him to the clearing, and it still leaned against the tree wall. Kneeling next to it, he removed the glass container that held the female Jabberwocky’s scent. After unwrapping the padding he tied it to his belt. Without delay, he descended the manmade ladder at the inner edge of the tree’s cavity. The climb down the ladder was much longer than the climb up the bark to the branch, placing him below ground.

The passage felt like it had been scraped with tools long ago. The walls were woody. Not hard like a branch, but soft like the inside of a root, and Tjaden assumed that must be the case. He had to rely on his sense of touch, for the passageway was as black as the path through the tulgey woods.

He trod on, one hand on the wall of the corridor the other on the hilt of his vorpal sword. With each step he felt the weight of the sealed container that held the Jabberwocky essence. Darieus had lied about so many things Tjaden couldn’t help but wonder if the tincture in the flask would have any effect on the Jabberwocky.

The lack of confidence was still foreign to him, even after the doubts of the night before the dark burrow. He was a lone recruit, and only an average recruit at that. His only tools were determination and a flask that had been given him by an unscrupulous egotist. Only a madman would attempt such an assault. But Elora might be at the end of the tunnel, and nothing could make him turn back.

Hundreds of paces later, the passageway began to narrow and angle upward. He could reach up and touch the top of the root corridor. An opening ahead admitted some light and he saw that the walls and floor were stringy. He slowed his pace, his heart racing and a sheen of sweat forming on his brow.

Creeping within an arm’s reach of the narrow opening that led into daylight, Tjaden didn’t dare peek out. He didn’t need to. Standing near the mouth of the tunnel he felt a slight breeze start and stop in rhythm with the sound of resonant breathing. The rotten air current revolted him as it cooled his sweaty brow.

With determination, Tjaden loosened the tie on the container at his hip. Sweaty hands made it difficult, but he chipped off the wax seal.

Clenching his teeth and taking a deep breath, he grasped the lid and…heard a voice. A human voice. Someone was singing, and as he listened to the melancholy dirge he realized it was Elora. Tears sprang immediately to his eyes. Though he’d never accepted the fact that she might actually be dead, he was filled with relief.

With every fiber of his being he wanted to burst out of his hiding place and rush to her. It took immense effort, but he retreated a few steps and sank to his knees to consider his next move.

*****

Elora was surprised by how many wistful songs she knew. Love songs, nursery rhymes, and even some lullabies. Though the songs made her feel heavyhearted, they also gave her a bit of relief. She wasn’t one to give up, but after nearly two weeks in captivity her options were shrinking.

She sang.

Again the dark night presses, presses on thy soul.

Pierces hope and dreaming, he’s never coming home.

‘
tever path he’s trodden, trodden free or bond

Onward he’ll continue, the pathway still is long.

Ay dah la dee, ta loo ree

Ay dah la tee, lo ray

Ay dah la dee, ta loo ree

Ay dah ta ree ta lay.

Ere she ‘pproaches smiling, smiling pure as gold

Nights and years a’ crying, countless ye shall know.

The vanished know no comfort, comfortless are ye

Yet continue waiting, tho’ live or dead she be.

Ay dah la dee, ta loo ree

Ay dah la tee, lo ray

Ay dah la dee, ta loo ree

Ay dah ta ree ta lay.

The song was a common lullaby in Shey’s Orchard, but Elora never imagined being one of the vanished. Her imprisonment wasn’t physically hard to bear, once she learned she was relatively safe. But she wouldn’t last much longer.

The glade she shared with the Jabberwocky was three or four times larger than the one around the Tumtum tree. The trees that enclosed the clearing were a closely knit wall, the same as the rest of the tulgey wood. A few large boulders and soft grass covered most of the open area.

The only water supply was a natural spring which formed a pool at the center of the glade. Unfortunately, the water was laced with mercury. Every time she took a drink of the spring water she could taste the quicksilver. It was similar to an iron taste, like a bloody nose, but she had enough experience with mercury from helping in her father’s mirror shop to sense the difference. If it was strong enough to taste, every drink was poison, even if it took weeks or months to affect her. She drank only once a day in an attempt to avoid the symptoms as long as possible.

It was nearing midday.
He’ll be leaving soon to hunt
, she thought. It hadn’t taken long to learn the Jabberwocky’s routine. When he returned he would give her a healthy portion of whatever prey he found. Using the flint and steel she’d found in the glade—presumably by a former captive—she used it to spark a fire to cook the meat for her dinner each night.

The only other item she’d found was a single red ribbon with a gold tip, the kind a maiden wears after her Sixteenery but before her wedding. It wouldn’t be proper for Elora to wear it in her hair, not for another eight months, so she tied it around her wrist. Whoever it belonged to had hopes and aspirations, just like Elora.

Did you have someone waiting for you too? Someone who still waits?
she wondered as she toyed with one of the gold tips. The ribbon might be the closest Elora ever came to her own Sixteenery.

Elora flinched as the Jabberwocky stood and lunged into the air. The hole in his wing made flying difficult. How he had received the wound was a mystery, but it happened after he left her in the clearing by the gargantuan tree on the first day. His flight was uneven, more like a bat than a bird. She wondered how much of that was due to the wound in his wing.

“What are you going to bring me for dinner tonight?” she said aloud, though the Jabberwocky was far out of hearing range.

“I have some dried meat and flat bread.”

She jumped at first, not realizing the voice was familiar. Looking around for its source she saw the most welcome sight of her life. Tjaden was walking out of the tunnel. Was he truly shining, or did her imagination just made it seem so?

They rushed into each other’s arms, reminiscent of their embrace after the encounter with the bandersnatch, and melted into their first kiss.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in amazement. Her hands gently caressed his cheeks as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“I’m here to rescue you. I’ll tell you what I know on the way out.” Taking her hand, he led her back into the hollowed root.

“Why didn’t you run, get away from here? And how are you possibly still alive?” he asked as they entered the humid darkness.

“We can’t get out this way. The Tumtum tree, it eats…people, animals. Anything unlucky enough to wander near.”

“I know. I barely escaped last night. The horses weren’t as lucky. But it doesn’t attack during the day, does it?”

She shook her head despite the darkness. “No, but it has vines, appendages that trap whatever wanders in. When any prey approaches, the way is open, but when it tries to leave, the path out is blocked.”

As if talking to himself, Tjaden recited, “Arrive in peace, there’ll be a feast. And there you shall remain.”

“What?”

“Something I heard,” said Tjaden. “I’ll explain when there’s time.”

“Anyway,” said Elora, “the only way out of the clearing by the Tumtum tree is to climb up the tree and down the ladder.”

Tjaden stopped walking and turned toward her. They were engulfed in darkness, yet she stared up into his face. He said, “Which brings us to this root tunnel.”

“Exactly.”

“At least you found the tunnel and avoided the Tumtum tree at night,” said Tjaden. “I always knew you weren’t the kind of girl to give up easily.”

She grinned in the dark, laying her free hand on his arm. “No, I pretty much get what I’m after.”

Predictably, Tjaden had no come back. He just cleared his throat. Signaling the direction of the glade he asked, “Is there any possibility of escaping that way?”

“No, it’s surrounded by trees just like the other clearing. I can barely fit my hand through most places.”

“We’ll have to try the path. With my sword maybe I can cut through.”

“Give me your dagger. I can help or at least defend our ankles if the vines come out.” She thought his spine straightened slightly and knew he was as proud of her as she was of him.

They started down the corridor again, and Tjaden asked, “Why did the beast let you live? How’d you survive?”

“The Jabberwocky isn’t what you think. He’s not what anyone thinks. Where do I start? First of all, he can talk.”

“You mean like a human?”

“Yeah. He struggles, but he can do it.”

“What did he say to you?”

“He just can’t stand to be alone. He used to have a companion, a mate. Before she was killed the two of them lived here alone. They never left except to hunt. Animals, not people. When he lost her his entire life changed. He changed. Became the monster everyone fears.”