“We should leave right now,” Pryvyd said, staring out at the trail of white rising through the palms in the distance, “before whoever has lit the fire moves to a different spot.”
“What if the salt boars attack us during our travels?” Odette translated for Moshul.
“It’s a risk we will have to take.”
Moshul laid down the log across the trench and the group departed their small island of safety for whatever dangers were lurking in the woods. To Wily’s relief the screaming trees did not stretch deep into the jungle. Once they passed the last one, the jungle became quiet. At least, quiet for a short stretch. Soon Odette began whistling to herself.
“That’s your happy whistle,” Wily said to Odette. “Do you know something that we don’t?”
“Huh,” Odette replied. “I didn’t even realize that I was whistling. Guess I’m just glad to be away from the salt boars.”
Wily had his doubts about that. He wondered what pleasant thoughts were actually going through her mind. He watched her do a cartwheel into a handspring.
“Can you still see the smoke in the distance?” Odette asked Roveeka, who from her seat on Moshul had the best view through the trees.
“Yes,” Roveeka said. “We are heading straight for it.”
CLANK. Wily turned to see a large portion of Pryvyd’s armor lying on the ground in broken pieces.
“Not much of my armor left now,” Pryvyd said, trying to hold the remaining chest plate against his body. It snapped in half and crumbled to the ground, exposing the white cotton undershirt beneath. “What kind of knight will I be without armor?”
“The same as you are with,” Roveeka said. “A great one. Except I’d stay out of battles. Especially ones where the other side has swords or arrows.”
“My necklace crumbled to dust a while ago,” Odette said. “Everything made of metal is disintegrating. Which is pretty fascinating.”
Looking down at his tool belt, Wily could see that all his metallic tools had rusted over. He pulled out a flea wrench, used to turn the smallest bolts, and tapped the tip with his pinky. At once the wrench’s metal prongs disintegrated, crumbling into red dust that drifted to the ground as a cloud of powder.
Wily turned to Roveeka, who was standing at his side in a sad slouch. Wily knew this was unusual for his hobgoblet sister.
“What’s wrong?” Wily asked.
“It’s Mum and Pops,” she said glumly. “I can’t bear to look.”
Wily knew how important the two knives were to Roveeka, and so it was quite understandable that she was upset by the thought that they were nothing more than rust powder in her pocket sheathes.
“Then don’t look,” Wily said. “I know what they meant to you in the past. But they’re just slivers of metal.”
Roveeka smiled. “You’re right.” She gave the handles of the two knives on her waist a gentle touch with her forefingers.
“There’s the campfire,” Odette whispered from just ahead.
Beyond the last row of palm trees on the white salt beach, a fire of dried fronds and branches was burning. The steady plume of white smoke they had seen from a distance snaked into the sky before the wind blew it out to sea. Beside the fire, a small structure had been built of sticks.
“Can you see anybody?” Wily asked the others.
Not from up here, Moshul signed back.
“Maybe they are taking a swim,” Roveeka said. “That would explain the shoes down by the water.”
“Let’s hurry over and investigate before they come back,” Odette said.
As the group moved through the brush, Wily heard a distinct snapping sound nearby. From the leaf-covered ground, a rope net lifted into the air. Moshul was enveloped and hoisted off the ground. The hidden trap pulled the moss golem into the tree, which bent under his giant weight. Despite Moshul’s great size, he was held aloft in the net.
“A trap,” Odette said as she stepped backward. “There could be more—”
Suddenly Wily heard another snapping sound. Odette looked under her foot to realize she had just stepped on a trip wire.
“Whoops,” she said.
A second net was pulled up from the ground. This one was just as large as the first that had snared Moshul, and it caught not only Odette but Pryvyd, Roveeka, and Wily too. Together they were lifted into the trees, their bodies tossed in the mesh of vine.
“That was my fault,” Odette said timidly. “What? I’m allowed to make mistakes too.”
“Righteous,” Wily called out. “Where are you?”
“I think it’s under my butt,” Roveeka said.
“Nope,” Odette answered. “That’s my arm.”
“It’s down there,” Pryvyd said.
Righteous, thin enough to slip through the holes in the net, had avoided capture and was hovering near the ground.
“Go,” Pryvyd said. “Find where the rope is clamped and release us.”
Wily watched as Righteous zipped up to the pulley hidden in the tree and then followed the path of the rope down to the ground. At the bottom, Righteous found that the rope was triple-knotted around a thick palm tree root.
“Untie it!” Odette shouted.
Righteous tried to pull the loops free, but untying a complicated knot with just one hand was proving rather difficult. It was a tight knot to start, and with the weight of all the heroes pulling it taut again every time Righteous managed to loosen it a little, the task seemed as if it might be impossible. Righteous gestured helplessly.
“Someone made this trap,” Odette said, turning to Wily. “How would they get us down?”
Wily considered. “A simple snare like this one would be cut with a sword or knife or some other sharp blade.”
“That’s a problem,” Odette replied. “Ours have all rusted away in the salt air. What do we do now?”
“We figure out some other way to cut the vines,” Pryvyd said. “Perhaps we can find a sharp leaf that will do the job.”
“A sharp leaf?” Odette questioned aloud. “You got one of those, Moshul?”
Moshul, hanging from the tree like a giant dewdrop of mud, shook his head as best as he could in the awkward position.
“Or I could just use my teeth,” Odette said in a huff.
“That was going to be my next suggestion,” Pryvyd said, sounding defeated.
“Mum! Pops!”
Wily twisted his neck, straining to look at Roveeka, who was pressed up against his back. She held in her warty hands her two knives. They were out of their sheathes, and to Roveeka’s and Wily’s surprise, they had not rusted at all. They appeared just as shiny as they had before they arrived on this island.
“How is that possible?” Odette asked, glancing at them.
“I guess they really are special,” Roveeka said. “Mum and Pops have never let me down.”
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Pryvyd said. “My armor and shield were far thicker.”
“We can try to figure it out once we’re down,” Wily said. “Roveeka, cut through the ropes.”
“I’m already on it,” Roveeka said, hacking away at the vines beneath her. “Prepare yourselves for a pretty big—”
The net tore open. Pryvyd, Roveeka, Odette, and Wily fell to the ground.
“Ouch,” Pryvyd said. “A little bit more warning would be nice next time.”
“Didn’t think Pops would still be so sharp,” Roveeka said, “but he was. Never should have doubted him.”
“No metal can survive the salt,” Pryvyd said as he got to his feet.
“Unless Mum and Pops are eversteel,” Roveeka said brightly. “Even when I don’t polish them, they’re always shiny.”
Wily had often noticed the picture delicately drawn on the blades, which depicted what appeared to be a large sleeping lizard. When he was in Carrion Tomb, he thought the other markings along the blade were glowing torches. Since then, he had realized they were made to resemble the stars in the sky. Was it possible that these blades were made in the mythic Eversteel Forge?
Up above, Moshul was signing something to the effect of I’m still up here and I don’t want to be.
Roveeka moved to the spot where the moss golem’s snare was tied to a tree stump. With a quick slash of her knife, the rope was cut and Moshul fell to the ground with a thud. When the moss golem got to his feet, Wily could see that Moshul’s head was dented and big chunks of mushrooms were smashed on top.
“From here on,” Wily called to the others, “make every step a careful one.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Wily approached the simple campsite, scanning the jungle floor for trip wires and drop pits. If there was one trap protecting the area, there were bound to be others as well. A few feet closer to the campfire, Wily found a patch of leaves laid out on the ground. With his foot, he carefully pushed them aside to reveal a pit with spikes made in an almost identical fashion to the trap they had made. There was just one major difference. The spikes in the pit pointed up, making the trap deadly rather than merely protective.
“Walk around the leaves,” Wily called back to the others as he moved closer to the fire and the small wooden structure.
Odette walked up alongside him and peered into the flames.
“The fire won’t last much longer without more wood,” she said. “We should collect some before it goes out. It is far easier to keep a campfire burning than start a new one.”
“Moshul,” Pryvyd said, “stay here. Guard Wily. We’ll be back with wood.”
Righteous, Pryvyd, Odette, and Roveeka moved for the jungle. Cautiously, Wily peeked through the open door of the structure. There was nobody inside, just a collection of leaves that had been laid out on the floor like a carpet. Wily stepped underneath the roof of twigs and he found a few more items placed in a neat pile: a map scrawled on parchment, a pair of lenses that looked like they might have been from reading glasses, and the wooden handle of a tool. Wily was particularly interested in the map. He studied it closely, his fingers moving along the carefully drawn lines.
It appeared as if a small portion of the island had been explored and recreated on the sheet in black ink. Wily couldn’t be certain, but he guessed it depicted places he and his companions had yet to pass. There was a drawing of a large plant near a stone temple, and along the shoreline a spot labeled “Grizzler Teeth.”
By the time Wily stepped out of the small structure, Pryvyd and Odette were approaching the still-crackling fire, each with an armload of firewood. Moshul was scanning the area, both by using his jeweled eyes and by sending out a line of ants from his belly button to go exploring the nearby bushes.
“Hey, everyone,” Wily said. “I found something that might be very helpful.” But before Wily could tell the others what he had discovered, Odette interrupted him.
“Where’s Roveeka?” Odette asked.
Moshul shrugged.
“I thought she was with you,” Pryvyd said.
“She was,” Odette said. “But she was tired so I told her to head back.”
“On her own?” Pryvyd was mad.
“She’s the only one with weapons,” Odette said defensively. “I thought she would be fine. It wasn’t that far.”
“Roveeka!” Wily shouted with growing alarm.
From the shrubs, Wily heard a muffled voice cry out. Righteous leaped to attention. Even in the most spectral form, the enchanted arm was ready for a fight.
“Stay where you are,” a man’s voice shouted, “and the hobgoblet won’t get a spear to the back.”
Wily raised his hands in the air, as did the others.
“Let her go,” Pryvyd shouted back. “We’re not here to hurt anyone.”
Roveeka took a few hesitant steps out of the bush. A sharpened bamboo pole was pressed to the base of her spine by a figure still cloaked in the shadows of the trees.
“Wily, I’m okay,” Roveeka shouted, her voice trembling with fear.
“Well, well,” the man’s voice said. “This is getting ever more interesting.”
Exiting from the foliage was a slight, middle-aged man with torn clothes and no shoes. Wily thought his eyes were playing a trick on him: the man was his father, Kestrel Gromanov, the Infernal King.