Grip of the Shadow Plague (Fablehaven #3)

Grip of the Shadow Plague (Fablehaven #3) Page 31

Dale swung his net to bat away fairies. A tight formation of shadowy fairies whizzed toward them from the side, but Grandma fried them with powder.

"Hugo, ram through the satyrs!" Grandpa shouted.

Hugo lowered his head and dashed for the entrance. Two of the satyrs grabbed the third and launched him acrobatically into the air, then sprang out of the path of the oncoming golem. The airborne satyr soared over Hugo, furry arms outstretched, teeth bared. Warren yanked Grandpa out of the way just in time. The goatman landed nimbly in the bed of the cart an instant before Dale hit him with a flying tackle that sent both of them tumbling over the side.

Without an order, Hugo leaped away from the front of the cart, giving the wagon a final push to ensure it would coast through the gap in the hedge. The golem loped toward Dale, who was still rolling on the ground with the goatman. About half the arrows had spilled from the quiver on Dale's back. The two other dark satyrs rushed at Hugo from either side. Without breaking stride, the golem made a motion like an umpire calling a runner safe, simultaneously backhanding both assailants and sending them cartwheeling through the weeds.

Dale managed to roll free from the goatman and was scrambling to his feet when Hugo seized the dark satyr by one arm, hoisted him high, and punted the snarling fiend halfway to the main road. Cradling Dale, Hugo ran past the hedge and into the meadow surrounding the pond. Kendra cheered along with the others as the cart coasted to a stop. Dozens of dark fairies flew to different points along the hedge, hovering above it, but none crossed over. The tainted satyrs rose and stood at the gap in the hedge snarling in frustrated fury. Hugo gently set Dale on his feet. Dale looked shaken, his clothes torn and smudged with dirt, one elbow scraped and bleeding.

"Nice work, big brother," Warren said, vaulting down from the cart. He started examining Dale. "The brute didn't bite you, did he?"

Dale shook his head. Warren embraced him.

Grandpa climbed down from the cart and began inspecting Hugo, studying the splotches where the fairies had discolored him with their dark energy.

"Way to go, Hugo!" Seth cheered.

"Quick thinking, Hugo," Grandpa approved.

The golem gave a gaping, craggy smile.

"Will he be all right?" Seth asked.

"Much of the dirt and stone composing Hugo is temporary," Grandpa said. "He sheds and gains soil all the time. As you've seen, he can even gradually regrow a limb. The plague would have to work in deep to affect him."

As Grandpa spoke, Hugo brushed away the discolored soil, leaving his body unmarked.

From her elevated position in the cart, Kendra surveyed the scene. The pond looked the same as she remembered, enclosed by a whitewashed wooden boardwalk connecting twelve elaborate gazebos. The interiors of the hedges were meticulously trimmed, and the lawn of the meadow appeared freshly clipped.

But the familiarity ended there. The parklike clearing around the pond had never been nearly so crowded. Fairies fluttered everywhere, hundreds of them, in all shades and varieties. Exotic birds perched in the trees above the pond, including a few golden owls with human faces. Satyrs romped on the boardwalk and in the gazebos, hooves clacking against wooden planks as they chased merry maidens who looked no older than high school seniors. Off to one side of the pond was a tidy encampment of short, stocky men and women in homespun clothing. On the other side several tall, graceful women stood conversing, dressed in flowing robes that reminded Kendra of foliage. In a far corner of the field, right up against the hedge, Kendra observed a pair of centaurs staring back at her.

"Seth, Stan, Kendra!" yelled a jovial voice. "Glad you dropped in!"

Kendra turned and saw Doren gamboling toward the cart, followed by an unfamiliar satyr whose wooly white legs had brown spots.

"Doren!" Seth cried, leaping from the cart. "I'm so glad you outran Newel!"

"I led him on an epic chase," Doren bragged, beaming. "Sharp turns saved me. He got bigger, but wasn't quite as fleet. Tenacious, though. If I hadn't thought to come here, he would have snared me in the end."

Kendra climbed down from the cart.

The satyr with the white legs elbowed Doren. "This is Verl," Doren said.

Verl took Kendra's hand and kissed the back of it.

"Enchanted," he simpered in a smarmy voice, wearing a ridiculous half-grin. He had stubby horns and a childish face.

Doren punched Verl on the shoulder. "She's off limits, you blockhead! Caretaker's granddaughter."

"I could be your caretaker," Verl persisted, limply retaining her hand.

"Why don't you take a swim, Verl," Doren said, ushering him away several steps before returning. Kendra ignored Verl when he turned and winked at her, fluttering his fingers.

"Don't mind Verl," Doren told her. "He's a little intoxicated by all these nymphs trapped in the same space as him. They normally won't come within shouting distance. The guy makes a career out of striking out."

"I can't believe how many creatures are here," Seth said.

Kendra followed his gaze to where a group of shaggy, tawny, monkeylike creatures were leaping acrobatically along the top of a gazebo. Each seemed to have a few extra arms or legs.

"Not many safe places left," Doren said. "Even some of the nipsies found shelter here-the only ones who didn't go dark, not quite half a kingdom. They're erecting a village underneath one of the gazebos. They work fast."

"Who are those tall women over there?" Kendra asked.

"Those stately ladies are the dryads. Wood nymphs. More approachable than the water nymphs, but not nearly as lively as the hamadryads, who love to flirt."

"What are hamadryads?" Seth asked.

"Dryads are beings of the forest as a whole. Hamadryads are linked to individual trees. The hamadryads are the more spirited girls you see socializing with the satyrs among the pavilions."

"Can you introduce me to a centaur?" Seth asked.

"You'd have better luck introducing yourself," Doren replied sourly. "Centaurs are very self-important. They've adopted the notion that satyrs are frivolous. Apparently having a bit of fun on occasion renders us unfit for fellowship. But be my guest, go say hello, maybe you can join them in standing around glaring at everyone."

"Are those little people dwarfs?" Kendra asked.

"They're none too happy about being driven above ground. But any port in a storm. All sorts have sought shelter here. We even had a few brownies turn up, which can't bode well for you."

"We lost control of the house," Seth said. "Evil brownies snagged the register."

Doren shook his head sadly. "Some situations have a nasty way of going from bad to worse."

"Doren," Grandpa said, approaching from one side, "how are you holding up? I really am very sorry about Newel."

Grief flickered across Doren's features. "I'm getting by. He was a straw-brained, long-winded, skirt-chasing rascal, but he was my best pal. Sorry about your big islander friend."

"We need to get these tents set up," Grandpa announced. "Would you care to lend us a hand?"

Doren suddenly appeared uncomfortable. "Right, about that, I'd love to, but the thing is, it turns out I promised a few of the dwarfs I'd swing by to see how they're settling in." He started backing away. "You all mean much more to me than they do, but I can't let our special bond interfere with an ironclad commitment, especially when the little fellows are out of their element."

"Understandable," Grandpa said.

"We'll catch up more later, after you get the-um-after you get more settled." He turned and trotted away.

Grandpa brushed his hands together as if wiping off dust. "The most surefire way to part company with a satyr is to mention work."

"Why'd you scare him off?" Seth asked.

"Because satyrs can chatter for hours, and I need Kendra to join me on the pier."

"Now?" Kendra asked.

"There's no reason to delay."

"Let me guess," Seth said. "I'm not invited."

"Too many spectators may impede contact," Grandpa said. "You're welcome to assist Warren and Dale with the tents. Kendra, let's not forget that photograph of Patton."

Seth walked with Kendra and Grandpa toward the cart before veering away, hustling to join a line of dwarfs trooping by. None stood much taller than his waist. "How are you men doing?" he asked.

When they looked up, he saw that despite their sparse whiskers, they were all women. One of them spat at his feet. He hopped away from the loogie.

"Sorry, I'm nearsighted," Seth said.

The dwarfs continued on their way, paying him no further heed. Seth jogged toward the pond. Who wanted to set up tents when all these amazing creatures were corralled for his enjoyment? Besides, it would give Warren and Dale an occasion for brotherly bonding.

Seth was impressed by the quantity of satyrs. He had vaguely assumed Newel and Doren might be the only ones. But he counted at least fifty trouncing about, some older than others, some shirtless, others wearing vests, their fur ranging from black to brown to red to gold to gray to white.

The satyrs possessed boundless energy. They chased hamadryads, danced in clusters, wrestled, and played spontaneous acrobatic games. Although their boisterous antics were inviting, Seth's association with Newel and Doren had stripped away some of the satyrs' mystique. He was more curious to interact with the creatures he had never seen.

He sidled up to the gathering of dryads. There were about twenty of the slender ladies, not one of them shorter than six feet. Several had the bronze skin of Native Americans. Some were pale, others ruddy. They all had leaves and twigs twined in their long tresses.

"You've got the right idea, brother," said a voice in his ear. Startled, Seth turned and found Verl beside him, gawking at the dryads. "The hamas are girls-these are women."

"I'm not after a girlfriend," Seth assured him.

Verl smiled wolfishly and winked. "Right, none of us are, we're well-traveled gentlemen, above all that. Look, if you need backup, just give me the signal." He nudged Seth toward the regal women. "Save the redhead for me."

The two redheads Seth could see were at least a head taller than Verl. Having the love-starved satyr at his side made him suddenly self-conscious. The women were not only lovely-they were intimidating in their numbers and their uncommon height. He backed away sheepishly.

"No, Seth, no!" Verl panicked, falling back with him. "Don't waffle now. You were there! The black one on the left was giving you the eye. Do you need an icebreaker?"

"You got me flustered," Seth muttered, continuing his retreat. "I just wanted to meet a dryad."

Verl shook his head knowingly and clapped him on the back. "Don't we all?"

Seth shrugged away from him. "I need some alone time."

Verl lifted his hands. "The man needs some space. I can relate. Want me to run interference for you, keep away the hangers-on?"

Seth stared at the satyr, uncertain what he meant. "I guess."

"Consider it done," Verl said. "Tell me, how did you meet Newel and Doren?"

"I was accidentally stealing stew from an ogress. Why?"

"Why, he asks. Are you pulling my leg? Newel and Doren are only the coolest satyrs in all of Fablehaven! The guys can land babes with a wink at fifty yards!"

Seth was beginning to grasp that Verl was the satyr equivalent of a nerd. If he wanted to get away, it would require some finesse. "Hey, Verl, I just caught the redhead staring at you."

Verl blanched. "No."

Seth tried to keep his face composed. "Absolutely. Now she's whispering to her friend. Her eyes are still on you."

Verl smoothed a hand over his hair. "What's she doing now?"

"I almost don't know how to describe it. She's smoldering at you, Verl. You should go talk to her."

"Me?" he squeaked. "No, no, not yet, I better let this simmer for a while."

"Verl, this is your moment. The timing will never be better."

"I hear you, Seth, but honestly, I don't feel right about homing in on your territory. I'm no claim jumper." He raised a fist. "Good hunting."

Seth watched Verl scamper hastily away, then set his eyes on the centaurs. They had not moved since Seth had spotted them. Both were men from the waist up, astonishingly broad and muscular, with brooding expressions. One had the body of a silver horse; the other was chocolate brown.

After the dryads, the surly centaurs suddenly seemed much less intimidating.

Seth started toward them. They watched him approach, so he kept his eyes lowered most of the way. There was no denying it-these were the most impressive creatures within view.

As he drew near, Seth looked up. They glowered down at him. Seth folded his arms and glanced over his shoulder, trying to act jaded and casual. "These idiotic satyrs are driving me nuts."

The centaurs regarded him without comment.

"I mean, a guy can hardly find any peace to process all the recent trouble around here. And to dissect the important issues. You know?"

"Are you making sport of us, young human?" asked the silver centaur in a melodious baritone.

Seth decided to break character. "I just wanted to meet you two."

"We don't commonly socialize," said the silver centaur.

"We're all stuck here," Seth replied. "Might as well get acquainted."

The centaurs considered him grimly. "Our names are difficult to pronounce in your language," said the brown centaur, his voice deeper and gruffer than the other's. "Mine translates as Broadhoof."