part0019

T he horses trotted through the night, the quakes and thuds of the wagon waking Bolt every few minutes. His mind raced with images of rampaging penguins. He saw the Earl in his head as clearly as he had seen it in Pygo’s, right before he had been shut off from her memories: the massive face, the immense power that radiated from him, and the bits of fish in his beard. The closer they got to Sphen, the more real that picture seemed to become.

His eyes opened with a start. “Who said that?” But no one was there. His brain was playing tricks again, his worry creeping up.

And he had plenty to worry about! Not only was the Earl powerful, but Bolt remembered how tempted he had been to fight alongside the Baron all those months ago, and how easily the Baron had twisted Bolt’s mind, bringing out the evilness from within Bolt.

With all these thoughts and worries in his head, Bolt remained awake for quite some time. But eventually, he fell into an uneasy sleep. He dreamed of monsters and were-creatures and bowling penguins.

Bolt awoke again when his body flew up in the air after the wagon wheels hit a particularly cavernous pothole. He opened his eyes and saw sunlight.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” said Annika with a yawn. “Pygo and I woke up three dozen potholes ago.” Bolt wondered if his eyes were as bloodshot as hers.

They rode along a narrow winding road through a mountain range, but the horses soon slowed and stopped. They must be near Sphen: Bolt could feel an angry and violent cloud of penguin hatred bubbling in the air, the corrupted thoughts of thousands of birds. He tried to sense the Earl, perhaps pick out the source of all that disturbance, but the hatred was so thick he could barely wade through it. He coughed and dislodged a nugget of loathsomeness from his throat, but there were plenty of evil nuggets of loathsomeness still hovering in the air around him.

“I feel cold,” said Annika, as if even she could sense the dense, frigid despair around them. Only Pygo seemed unaffected, panting and bouncing on the wagon bed.

The driver shouted to the group from his cab up front. “This is as close as I get. If you’re foolish enough to go to Sph-Sph-Sph . . .”

The man nodded. “. . . then get off now. The faster I get out of here, the better. Not better for you, mind you. No, things are going to be horrible for you pretty much from here on out.”

Annika leapt easily off the side of the wagon, but Bolt had to carefully wobble himself over, as did Pygo. No sooner had they touched the ground than the man cracked his reins, and the horses broke into a gallop, their hooves spraying dirt behind them.

For a moment, Bolt wished he was still on the wagon, but the moment passed. It was far too late to change his mind now. He was just glad Annika was with him. She made him feel braver than he was.

Even with her here, though, Bolt felt a wave of fear washing over him as he gazed across the edge of the mountain and the grayish hue that floated above the city. Sphen was bigger than Bolt had pictured, with hundreds of houses and buildings stretching out between the mountain and, on the other side, the Deader Sea. Every house was gray. The trees were also gray. And the lawns. And the flowers.

“So this is Sph-Sph-Sph . . .” Bolt said, now unable to finish the word himself. “Looks like a happy place.” He gulped. “For a goblin.” Bolt would have been far happier fighting a goblin than entering this city.