Chapter 9
THE ONE WHO CROSSES WISELY WILL MASTER THE brIDGE
From deep within the bushes, a tiny voice pipped, “Please don’t hurt me.”
“Come out,” Stacia cried, “and we won’t do you any harm as long as you do no harm to us.”
“Very well,” said the voice. There was a great rustle, and then a beautiful little girl emerged from a perfect hiding spot.
Other than a smudge of dirt on her cheek and dress, Stacia thought she’d never seen such a pretty, well-kept child in her life. Crouching down in front of her, she asked, “What’s your name, young one?”
“Zima.”
“That’s a pretty name. Where do you live, Zima?
” Stacia couldn’t help it. She fixed Zima’s crown of blond hair, tucking in the loose strands of hair, and retied the blue bow of her embroidered pinafore, noticing it matched her eye color exactly.
When she blinked, Zima’s wide blue eyes reminded her of the forget-me-not flowers her mother had grown in her summer garden.
“I live in the town on the other side of the river across the bridge with my aunties.” Zima lifted a plump white hand, plugged her thumb directly into her mouth, and began sucking.
“How did you get over here?” Stacia asked, mouthing to Zakhar to bring her some water.
“I got lost.”
Stacia got her to drink a little bit of water, and then the little girl asked, “Can I pet your kitty? He’s awfully big.”
“You certainly can. He’s very soft, and he adores children, especially those who tickle his ears. Maybe he’ll even take you for a ride, if you’re very good.”
“Really?”
Her thumb came out, and she smiled widely, showing a rosebud mouth to match her little apple-pink cheeks.
“Do you think you can show us the way back to your home?” Zakhar asked.
At that, the little girl shook her head vehemently. “I know the way, but I can’t cross the bridge. Trolls live underneath. They see through the planks and wait for you to drop through, then they catch you and cook you for supper. Then they use your bones to play music at night.”
Zakhar asked, “How did you get to this side of the water if it’s so dangerous to cross over?”
She shrugged. “They know how to get across safely. I was out hunting berries with my aunties. It must have been time to go, but I didn’t hear them. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, they were gone.”
Stacia and Zakhar glanced at each other. “How many days have you been out here by yourself?” Stacia asked.
“I don’t know.” Zima shrugged. Her thumb immediately went back into her mouth, and she began sucking it fiercely.
Smiling, Stacia said, “I’ll bet you’re hungry. Would you like something to eat?”
The little girl nodded, and Zakhar offered her a bit of bread with some meat tucked in the middle. She nibbled on it and edged closer to Iriko while she did.
“What’s your kitty’s name?” she asked as some crumbs fell from her lips and onto Iriko’s coat.
“Iriko.”
“That’s a strange name.”
“Yes. He says he likes scratches on his neck. Right here.”
“You can talk to him?”
“I can. With magic.”
“Oh. My aunties have magic too. That’s how they made me.”
“Made you?” Stacia asked. “What do you mean?”
“They said I’m their perfect little girl. They fashioned me from ice and snowflakes. I’m their little snow girl. That’s why they call me Zima. It means frost.” She laughed when the tiger chuffed. “I think he likes me.”
“I think he does,” Stacia said, looking at the little girl with new eyes and wondering what, exactly, Zima was and what the little girl might mean to them.
* * *
With Zima sitting on Iriko’s back, the group made their way to the fork in the river, and then they passed over to the south side and continued on until dark.
The next morning they walked for half a day, and every hour the river became wider and deeper.
Soon they saw signs of other people. There was a trail that became a path and then a road.
Signs pointed ahead to a village, and Zima confirmed that it was indeed her village that lay ahead.
They were just wondering how they’d cross over and began looking for a good place, when they saw the bridge.
It was at this point that Zima became very agitated. “We can’t cross there,” she said. “I already told you about the trolls. They’re going to grab us.”
There was, in fact, a warning sign posted on the road nearby, with a wooden donation box beneath it. It read:
Travelrs cross at your own parile.
Pay the toll.
Misers risk highway robbery.
Or worse.
Stacia stood there for a moment, reading the sign.
Then she snorted and gave a cursory glance under the bridge.
Seeing nothing, she scouted the trees and bushes nearby, then clicked open the blade of her walking stick and said, “Come, Zakhar. Stay just behind me. Iriko, stay behind him, if you will.”
“But shouldn’t we put something in the box?” Zakhar asked.
“Do we have any coins in our packs? I don’t recall seeing any.”
Zakhar shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. But perhaps they will take something else.”
“We have nothing small enough to fit in the donation box. Besides, I don’t see anything or anyone. I say we risk it.”
“No. No. We can’t,” Zima said. “I told you—there are trolls.”
“It’s okay,” Stacia said without looking back. “I’m a warrior. Don’t worry. Iriko will keep you safe.”
The little girl closed her eyes and trembled, burying her face in Iriko’s fur and clinging to his neck tightly with her little arms.
“That’s a good girl. You hold on to him. We’ll get across just fine. You’ll see.”
Stacia started across the bridge, and everything went fine until they were just about halfway.
Then they heard a hissing sound. The water below the bridge began bubbling, and the bridge rocked back and forth wildly.
Iriko dug his claws into the wood as best he could, while Zakhar and Stacia grabbed on to the ropes, holding on lest they tumble over the side into the churning river.
Then it didn’t matter. The boards they stood on, strung together by well-made ropes, jumped and bucked, though they could see no reason for them to move.
Shifting, the wooden planks slid and rolled over, on top of and beneath one another, folding and bending in completely unnatural ways.
Before the travelers could leap or prepare themselves, the planks beneath their feet were gone, and one by one, they tumbled into the river.
To their surprise, the water didn’t carry them downstream, but it closed over their heads, and they sank down, down, down, until their feet touched the riverbed.
Their hair and clothes floated around them, but there was a sensation that they were enclosed in an underwater room.
What was even more astonishing was the fact that they could not only see, but they could somehow breathe and move, albeit slowly.
They could see the river shifting around the pocket of space they’d fallen into, but as they pushed against the barrier, they found there was no way through.
It was as if they were trapped inside a giant, stretchy bubble.
Zima began to cry, and as Stacia slogged slowly to her side, placing a hand on her back, she noticed the child’s tears had turned into tiny diamonds in the thick, watery trap.
She captured one and pinched it between her fingers.
That’s when she realized it wasn’t a gemstone at all, but ice.
She continued to rub the little girl’s back in small circles, and eventually she sat quietly, sucking her thumb.
They didn’t have to wait long for their captors to arrive. The liquid around them pulsed, and then a bubble pressed into the room, followed by a pop. Quickly, the room sealed itself behind the newcomer, repairing the hole made by him as perfectly as if nothing at all had happened.
The creature that stepped inside wore a long, tattered coat made of the skin of some type of amphibious animal and what appeared to be thick woolen pants, held up by a dark snakeskin belt fastened with a buckle made of shiny seashell or pearl.
Where boots should have been, his legs were bare and covered with a hard, glossy armor that ended just at his extralong toes, which were connected by thick webbing.
His chest was bare, his belly blue-green and bulbous, and his long locks of hair looked much like floating seaweed.
He raised a hand, beckoning them to come closer, and Stacia saw his long fingers ended in black talons, and the pads of his fingertips had suction cups.
When none of them moved, he extended his arms, spreading those fingers, and she noticed the same webbing as his feet.
With a powerful thrust of his arms, he was next to them immediately.
A heartbeat later, he ripped the weapon from her grip and seized her arm.
Stacia knew immediately there would be no escaping the creature.
He was unnaturally strong, and where she moved slowly in the water, he was incredibly fast and agile.
Still, she looked him in the eye, bravely, like her parents had taught her, and accepted the consequences of her actions.
“I apologize if I’ve offended you, sir,” she began, nodding her head deferentially.
“We had no coin to offer you. Perhaps we can negotiate a trade instead, if you are amenable.” Her voice sounded to her like bubbles, whistles, and pops, much as if she were trying to talk while submerged in her bathtub.
Of course, if that had truly been the case, she would have drowned by now.
She peered at Zakhar to see if he’d understood her, but he simply watched and shrugged as if he didn’t know how to proceed either.
The creature blinked. Its eyelids closed from the bottom to the top and then from the sides to the middle.
When it opened its eyes again, they gleamed with an eerie yellow light.
The beam fell on each of them in turn, moving over them deliberately from head to toe as if searching each one for something unique.