Nurk, page 7
Still, it was almost a ritual now. He reached into his backpack and pulled out his grandmother's diary.
Probably good advice, Nurk thought. Not at all relevant to the situation at hand, but probably good advice.
He straightened his shoulders and drew himself up to his full, inconsequential height and went to find the prince.
CHAPTER TEN
THE HOLE GOT VERY DARK, very fast. The light from outside died out after the first bend, and Nurk stumbled along in the dark, with one paw on the wall. He hoped there weren't any gaping pits or poisonous snakes. It didn't seem sensible for the Grizzlemole to litter his front hallway with pits or snakes, but anybody who kept giant caterpillars and walls of mushrooms probably wasn't dealing with reality as Nurk knew it, anyway.
There was a faint, rhythmic whistling noise in the tunnel. Nurk wasn't sure if it was just the movement of air or something more sinister, but it rose and fell in a regular pattern around him.
After what seemed like a very long time, Nurk saw a flicker of orange far off in the distance.
It was a reflection of firelight on a bit of shiny pebble. Nurk reached out and touched it in relief, then turned. The tunnel, painted in faint red light, made a switchback turn and seemed to open up at the end. The whistling noise was louder now, and at the end of each whistle was a bubbling noise.
Nurk was getting a bad feeling about that whistle.
Moving as quietly as he could, cringing whenever sand crunched under his toes, the shrew slunk to the tunnel mouth and looked out.
The cavern was large, with a hollowed-out fire pit. The fire was banked down to coals, but the dim red light was more than enough to illuminate the face of the sleeping Grizzlemole.
Nurk whimpered soundlessly.
The Grizzlemole was the size of half a mountain, and he was hideous. When the King of Dragonflies had called him a mole, Nurk had thought of one of the little gray scuffling moles, with pointed snouts and thick grubby claws. He had not envisioned anything remotely like this.
The curve of the Grizzlemole's back went up practically to the ceiling in a great sweep like a steep hillside. Dirty white fur stuck out in clumps, and the claws were the size of plows and the gnarled yellow of old toenails.
The worst, though, was the nose.
The Grizzlemole had some kind of growth under his nose that resembled a giant fleshy mop. Instead of nostrils, there were dozens of thick, ropy tentacles, ridged like the bodies of worms. Any one of the tentacles was longer than Nurk from nose to tail tip.
The source of the whistling noise was now obvious. As the Grizzlemole breathed, the air slithering through those lax tentacles made a shrill whistling snore.
As long as he's snoring, I'm safe, Nurk thought desperately. As long as he's snoring, he's not awake.
He looked up from the nest of tentacles and met the Grizzlemole's eye.
It was only his terror that kept Nurk nailed to the spot, as he stared into that half-lidded, milky gray eye.
He's looking at me, he's watching me, he's awake, oh help—
Wait.
Wait, the Grizzlemole is blind ...
He realized, as the creature continued to snore, that he was sleeping with his eyes half open. Nurk shuddered and turned away.
On the far side of the cavern was a curious construction made of twisted tree roots. It looked more like a ball of loosely woven twine than a prison cell, with an equally knotted door, and yet Nurk could make out a slumped green form sitting in the bottom of it.
That must be the Prince of Dragonflies, he thought.
Nurk really, really, really did not want to walk across that cavern, with the great Grizzlemole snoring with his eyes open and those awful tentacles lying in a tangle across the floor. But what choice did he have? He gritted his teeth and took a step away from the tunnel, and then another.
Once he was a half-dozen steps from the wall, he felt so exposed that it was easy to keep going, in hopes of getting to a shadow and whatever questionable safety it might offer.
He fetched up against the root cage at last. Poking his nose through the twisted wooden bars, he could see the dragonfly sitting inside. There was a definite family resemblance to Scatterwings and the king, but this dragonfly was smaller than Nurk and looked thin and pale.
"Hssst!"
The prince's head jerked up, and he came immediately over to the side of the cage.
"What manner of creature are you?" he asked, staring at Nurk's nose.
Nurk realized that he had neglected to take off the sock. He pulled it quickly off his nose. "I'm a shrew!" he whispered. "Scatterwings and the King of Dragonflies sent me to rescue you!"
"You're an awfully scruffy-looking shrew," said the prince doubtfully. "How do I know my family sent you and this isn't some kind of trick of the Grizzlemole's?"
Nurk was stumped. It had honestly never occurred to him that the prince might not believe him. "Why would I trick you?"
"The Grizzlemole is cruel. It might amuse him to make me think I was being rescued and then dash my hopes."
"Oh. Oh dear." Nurk thought for a minute. "Oh!" He bent down and pulled off a sock.
"There!" Nurk hopped on one foot and wiggled his toes through the bars. "Now will you believe I know Scatterwings?"
"That's Gruesome Grape, all right," said Prince Flicker, studying his toe. "Can't argue with that."
"Then let's get out of here!" said Nurk. "Before the Grizzlemole wakes up."
"Easier said than done," said the dragonfly. "There's the small matter of me being in a cage."
"Oh." Nurk examined the cage closely. The root bars were thick and gnarled, in places bigger around than Nurk's arm. The only exit was the root door, and it was locked by an enormous padlock. "Hmm." He looked in his backpack. His scissors were a good, sturdy pair and so would probably only take about a year to cut through the padlock. He could perhaps get through one of the tree roots in six months. He suspected that the Grizzlemole was going to wake up before then.
"There's a key," said Flicker. "On a cord around his neck. You have to get the key. Just don't touch the things on his nose. They're very, very sensitive. I think he uses them to see."
Nurk stared at him and then turned, very slowly, and looked at the Grizzlemole.
He was still a horrible mountain of flesh and fur, but now, looking carefully, Nurk could see a thin red cord running around the massive neck. Near the floor, almost lost in the shadow of those enormous sickle claws, was the faintest little gleam of what might be a key.
To reach it, Nurk would have to walk up to the Grizzlemole, step over that horrible tangled mass of tentacles, and stand inside the curved circle of claws. He would be directly in front of the Grizzlemole's left eye. If the creature so much as twitched a finger in his sleep, Nurk would barely have time to squeak before the Grizzlemole caught him and there would be two prisoners in the root cage.
"I don't think I can do it," said Nurk weakly.
"You have to!" said the dragonfly prince.
"I know I have to," said Nurk. "I just don't know if I can."
He stood by the edge of the cage for several minutes, holding the scissors. He knew he should try to talk himself into it, but his mind was an absolute blank. All he could see were those awful tentacles and the long, long claws.
"If you can't do it," said the Prince of Dragonflies, "then you should probably go back before the Grizzlemole wakes up."
That shook Nurk out of his stupor. To go all the way back, past the caterpillars and the mushroom wall, back to Scatterwings and her father, and have to say, "No, I was there; I just couldn't do the very last thing"—no, that was too much. He had to get the key.
With his tail looped firmly over one arm and his whiskers tucked in tightly against his nose, he walked slowly up to the Grizzlemole.
The tentacles were the worst. He had to decide where to put each foot before he took a step, so that he didn't so much as brush one. While he was doing this, he was directly in front of the Grizzlemole's nostril, and every time the monster let out one of those train-whistle snores, a blast of hot, wet air showered Nurk's fur.
He took another step. The next one carried him out of the snore radius and past the tentacles. The claws curved around behind him, a ribbed wall taller than Nurk's head.
He looked up at the Grizzlemole's eye.
The eyelid was still only half closed. The hairs were sparse around the eyelid, sprouting in coarse white clumps, with pale, dirty pink skin visible underneath. As the shrew watched, something small and white, with lots of legs, crawled across the eyelid and into the mole's fur.
Nurk felt sick.
He turned to the key. It was bigger than his paw and made of polished black iron. The red cord, which looked so small on the great curve of the Grizzlemole's back, was thicker than Nurk's wrist.
He had to use both paws to get the scissors to cut the twisted cord. He sawed at it, trying not to pull on the cord at all, cringing at every motion.
It seemed to take hours. It seemed to take seasons. It couldn't have been much later than noon when he entered the burrow, but Nurk felt that surely he had been working on this cord for much too long, that it was getting dark, and at any moment that tiny, wicked eye would open all the way, and the claws would flex, and the Grizzlemole would wake up.
The last thread began to part. Nurk quickly grabbed the key so that it wouldn't fall and finished cutting.
The key dropped silently into his paw. He exhaled.
Turning around in place without touching anything was actually the hardest part of the whole endeavor. But he managed, inch by inch, and picked his way out from between the tentacles.
He was nearly free and just starting to breathe easier when there was a horrible snorfling noise behind him, and the immense claws came down around him like a cage of swords.
Oh no oh no this is it he woke up I'm going to die ...
Nurk stopped breathing. The claw looked like ancient ivory, a filthy yellow, shot through with fine cracks and splattered with dirt.
About half a minute slid by, and he started breathing again, because nothing else had happened, and, anyway, there is no terror that is made better by asphyxiation.
The claws didn't move. The snorfling noise settled back into a muttering snore.
Nurk turned his head, very, very slowly, and saw the Grizzlemole's tentacles twitching a bit, but no other motion.
He's still asleep. He just moved in his sleep. That's it. He didn't wake up. Nurk let his breath out. A damp circle of condensation appeared on the Grizzlemole's claw and then melted immediately away.
Unfortunately, even if the Grizzlemole was still asleep, Nurk was now trapped in a cage of claws. They were too close together for even a shrew to squeeze between. The Grizzlemole's immense palm, wrinkled and patched with wiry hair, arched over his head.
"Hurry!" hissed Prince Flicker from his cage.
Nurk didn't dare reply. He was too close to the Grizzlemole's ears.
I have to get out, he thought desperately. He has to move again so I can get out!
The Grizzlemole snored, looking about as likely to move as a mountain.
If I can make him move in his sleep again somehow—oh, but what if he closes his paw?
If he moves, I might be squished.
If he doesn't move, I'll definitely be caught.
Oh, what would Surka do?
He sighed. Surka would have run the Grizzlemole through with her gleaming sword or ridden the monster around the room using his tentacles for reins, but neither option was possible for him.
If I ever do this again, he thought tiredly, I must remember to bring a gleaming sword. And perhaps learn how to use it.
Still...
He glanced over at the tentacles thoughtfully.
He wasn't his grandmother, and reins were out, but still...
His nose is very sensitive, Flicker had said.
Nurk knelt down and leaned forward. He couldn't squeeze between the claws, but he could poke most of his nose through the gap between two of them.
"We'll find out how sensitive your nose really is," Nurk said under his breath.
The claws were as solid as stone, and they scraped uncomfortably against his cheeks, but Nurk wiggled and shifted and strained until his long white whiskers popped free of the cage.
He pressed himself flat on the floor, and by wiggling his nose determinedly, he managed to brush a whisker against one of the Grizzlemole's tentacles.
The tentacle didn't respond.
Nurk strained forward as far as he could and wiggled his nose furiously. He could feel the tip of his whisker going flick-flick-flick against the tentacle.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Nurk's ears sagged with doubt—would the Grizzlemole even notice? If he did notice, would he wake up?—and then the Grizzlemole grunted, the tentacle twitched, and the enormous claws lifted away.
The Grizzlemole swiped at his nose in a halfhearted scratch, mumbled a bit, and lapsed back into snores. The paw dropped back to his side.
Those immense claws would probably have cut Nurk in half when they landed, but as soon as the Grizzlemole had scratched his nose, Nurk had scrambled forward on all fours. Half crawling, half falling across the stone floor, he pulled himself free of the Grizzlemole's embrace.
For a minute all he could do was lay sprawled across the floor, panting. He felt pounded flat, like a shrew-skin rug. The iron key was a cold weight in his paw.
I did it, he thought. I did it. I got the key. I did it.
He got up. He couldn't believe he'd done it.
Nurk practically skipped to the cage to unlock the prince but restrained himself. There was no need to get weird.
The key fit smoothly into the lock, and Nurk opened the door with agonizing slowness, afraid of a creak or a squeal of metal. The prince was practically dancing with impatience on the other side, but Nurk didn't dare throw the door open and risk a noise that would betray them both.
But the door opened with no more than a quiet rattle of roots, and the dragonfly prince stepped out and clutched Nurk with both sets of arms.
Nurk bore the hug patiently—if he had been locked in a cage for that long, he'd have hugged his rescuer, too—and then began leading Prince Flicker across the floor, to the mouth of the tunnel.
Skreeeeeee-chunk!
The iron padlock, which had been dangling at an awkward angle from the door, succumbed to gravity and slid free.
Flicker made a gulping sound of pure horror.
Slowly, slowly, as if in a nightmare, Nurk turned his head and saw that the Grizzlemole's blind eyes were fully open.
The monster was waking up.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"WHO ... IS ... IN ... my ... cave?" whispered the monster, in a voice like dead leaves rustling underground.
The massive head lifted, and the tentacles began to move and wriggle, slowly at first, then more rapidly, until the ones on the fringes were whipping wildly about, striking the Grizzlemole's muzzle. The giant claws flexed and turned, as he set them against the earth.
He can't see us, Nurk thought frantically. He's blind. He can't know where we are.
"Do you ... seeee ... my tentacles?" hissed the Grizzlemole. "They ... are ... better than eyesss ... in the dark..."
And to Nurk's profound horror, the Grizzlemole began to grope this way and that with the terrible fleshy fingers under his nose, reaching out with them, sending them writhing over the floor and the walls and the root-covered cage, like an army of blind serpents.
"I don't... have ... to ... seeee you...," breathed the mole. "I can ... feel ... your thoughts..."
The tentacles were coming closer. Prince Flicker was rigid beside him. Nurk tried to grip one of the dragonfly's wrists and discovered that he still held the iron key in his paw.
The closest tentacle crawled a whisker's width from Flicker's feet.
Nurk pulled his arm back and flung the key, as hard as he could, across the room. It hit the iron cage with a rattle of roots and fell down to the floor with a metallic clunk.
The Grizzlemole's head jerked up, and he whipped around toward the sound, the tentacles roiling and twitching at the end of his muzzle. Nurk grabbed Flicker and hauled him toward the hole. The dragonfly was deadweight for a heartbeat, and then he seemed to come to himself and began to run.
They fled up the burrow, toward the surface. Behind them the Grizzlemole shrieked.
"I feel you! I feel you, shrew!" The burrow shook as the Grizzlemole got his head and shoulders into it. Nurk darted a glance back and saw the great claws, like plows, digging into the dirt and pulling the huge body forward.
They ran.
The light died behind them as the Grizzlemole blocked the tunnel.
"I can't see where I'm going," moaned Flicker.
"Just keep running!" said Nurk.
They tried, but it's nearly impossible to run full tilt in the dark for very long, particularly when you're holding on to someone else, even if you're not exhausted and half sick with terror. Nurk ran with his whiskers straining and his arm brushing the side of the tunnel, trying not to run into the walls. But every turn and twist and patch of broken ground slowed them further. Behind them, the sliding, chuffing, tearing noise of the Grizzlemole coming up the tunnel grew nearer and nearer.
They had been reduced to a kind of stumbling jog when Nurk started to see things—shadows on deeper shadows, hints of motion. It took him a moment to realize that it was his own paw he was seeing, stretched out in front of him, and a moment more to realize that it was because there was daylight coming from up ahead.
"We're almost there!" he yelled, and pulled Flicker forward in a last brutal run.
Something thick and writhing and clotted with earth brushed his tail.
Another moment—another heartbeat—and it would have been too late. But they broke from the mouth of the hole into light that seemed dazzlingly bright, even if it was no more than the dim light of a deep forest in the afternoon, and the Grizzlemole cringed backward with a hiss.
"Don't stop!" Nurk gasped. His chest felt like a cow was dancing on it, but he couldn't imagine that a creature like the Grizzlemole would be completely stopped by a little filtered sunlight.
