Chapter 14: Lady Mondegreen

Next moment he was standing erect on the rock again, with that smile on his face and a drum beating within him. It was saying ‘To die will be an awfully big adventure.’

--J. M. Barrie, Peter and Wendy

Grace fished around the hearth until she found the largest fragment of Goldtalon’s eggshell. It would not hold more than a spoonful, but most bird beaks were small and thin anyway. Unless the philosopher’s sword was the length of a letter-opener, more space than three girls’ pockets were needed to carry whatever the other ingredients turned out to be.

Elsewhere under Fort Stone, she brushed aside a stack of combs, needles, and razors, getting to a pile of leather scraps. Grace tried to recall the needlepoint lessons her mother taught her in order to become more “ladylike.” With wool, she stitched the scraps into a crude bag. A long strap crossed her shoulder, circling her waist. Without buttons or clasps, the bag-flap was kept closed with bits of rope which also lay around. Her makeshift purse hardly looked beautiful, with clashing shades of tan and brown. It was rather frayed in parts. But, taken as a whole, it should prove sturdy enough to last at least one quest.

Grace smiled. She came outside to show it to the group.

Bennu was whining. “You insisted this wasn’t going to be a scavenger hunt!” He narrowed his pearlescent eyes.

Schrodinger narrowed his own. “Well, I wouldn’t call searching for obscure magical ingredients to complete a recipe that’s the best—and only—chance to end a lethal mycological pestilence that legitimately poses a threat to free will itself a… ‘Scavenger hunt.’”

“Depends how you frame the random events of life.” Bennu calmed. “You can save the world and have fun at the same time.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” asked Diana. “Saving the world?”

“If it is, I’m out,” Fox spoke with practiced flatness.

“Somehow, I feel we’ll manage without you.” Jackanapes got a chorus of snickering from the Murder. Others ignored him.

“If this is to be a…scavenger hunt,” Schrodinger wiggled his sandpaper tongue as if meaning to spit out the words, “it shall not be a party. I’ve little doubt it will prove perilous, and should be approached with caution. Dignified caution.”

“The veritable stuff of ballads! Even epics!” exclaimed Diana. “We might all die tragically.” Tears were in her eyes, but not from sadness or anger. The look on her sunburnt face was jubilant.

Bennu laughed. “Just so long as we’re agreed.”

The group drew plans for where to take their voyage in the near future. Some were more invested than others.

“It’s…so…hard…to…say…goodbye.” Diana choked after every word. She wiped her left nostril on a sweater sleeve already so decorated.

“You seemed so gung-ho just now,” Grace pointed out.

“Vinland was a great respite,” said Bennu. “But it’s come to its natural conclusion, as all things must. Rest assured, Diana of the Moistened Dirge, there’ll be plenty more wonderous sights…does anyone else feel cold?”

“While certain scroll passages remain elusive,” Schrodinger cut in, “I know the location of the philosopher’s sword. My cousin lives nearby, in a place called Yokai-Town, on the clear other side of the continent. No problem for us, obviously. We just need a dark box and imagination. The issue’s when we arrive, we must pay for Ridil, if it will be relinquished at all.”

“We don’t have any money,” conceded Grace. “I’d hate to steal something.” She remembered the myrrh.

“Plunder whatever Viking booty’s in Fort Stone!” Fox rubbed her hands together in a manner best suited to a villain with a bushy mustache. “That’s not stealing. Technically, it’s grave robbing.”

“No good,” said Jackanapes. “I’ve checked every room down there. Nothing shiny.”

“Yeah, but if you had found anything, that’s exactly what you’d say,” claimed Rags.

“You’re right, sis. I would lie.” Jackanapes nodded, almost falling from his high perch.

“Not now, though.” Grace translated for the birds.

“I don’t know the price,” Schrodinger said coolly. “I doubt it’d be money, as I’m told Ridil’s current owner is independently wealthy. Whatever the deal, it won’t favor us.”

“I’m curious, Schrodinger, why would you go to such trouble to help birds?” asked Albumen. “It’s not like my kind appreciates cats.”

“I’ve seen this sort of thing before.” Schrodinger’s cool became cold. “During medieval times, grimalkins were driven out of Europe by the then most popular church. By the time we got back, a third of all humans had died. Sickness anywhere is something my race takes seriously, even if it doesn’t seem like it’ll impact us directly. Besides, while celestial muses and library cats disagree on plenty, we both help inspire the search for knowledge.”

“I vow to you, Schrodinger of the Black Box,” cried Bennu, “on returning home, I shall tell everyone of the vital aid you’ve freely given! There will come a new era of cooperation, our societies living harmoniously, and…”

“Pass.” Schrodinger cut him off.

Diana moaned. “I just had a thought. If we finish the cure, our quest will ne over, and we’ll have no reason to stay friends, so no one would want to be mine anymore! All alone, I’ll just melt into a pile of tears, and when that evaporates, nobody will even remember me.”

“I’d remember you.” Goldtalon rubbed against Diana’s side. She stopped sniffling to pat his shiny back with her warty hands. In response, the griffin purred. Her sliminess did not seem bother him.

“I would, too.” Grace stayed where she was, away from the slime.

“I couldn’t ever forget you. No matter how hard I’d try.” Fox sounded irritable, but instead of raining stones, she only had a nimbus of sand particles.

“Really?” Diana tried to inhale the snot dripping down her left nostril. “Then I’ll come on this adventure! Or rather, misadventure.”

“Okay, Miss Adventure!” Bennu cheered. “We just need to pack up, and it’s onto Yokai-Town!” The music he made while flying in loops had no lyrics, but was recognizably a military march.

The bloody Murder screamed, insisting they wait up for Chiaroscuro. The argument that might have been was interrupted.

“Hjckrrh!” Goldtalon started hopping. When together at night, the griffin told Grace how he wished to fly like his hatchmate.

For a creature that started without limbs, Bennu re-learned flying at a phenomenal pace. That was one set of memories that had not been jumbled, and his new wings worked perfectly.

Now, Goldtalon huffed, puffed, and flapped his wings madly. But no sooner had he leapt in the air than he crashed into a grapevine. He cried as Grace approached and stroked his side where eagle half gave way to lion.

“You’re trying to fly like Bennu or the corvids,” Grace pointed out. “But you’ve got more weight to carry behind.” At present, Goldtalon was the size of a pony. “You’ve seen Schrodinger spring, right?” Her griffin nodded. “What if you tried that first, then flapped your wings like the birds?”

Goldtalon’s orange, emerald-flecked eyes went wide. He crouched tight against the ground, as felines—from tigers to housecats—do before pouncing. Keeping his eagle half low in the grass, he raised his hindquarters. His tail flicked. The brush-shaped tip tickled Grace’s leg.

She stepped aside to give him space. Goldtalon’s wings pivoted in their sockets, the way gymnasts stretch their limbs before exercising. His eyes turned intense. Grace knew he was picturing some imaginary prey worth aiming for. Then, his muscular legs propelled him into the air! Only now did he start flapping his wings. While not exactly flying, he certainly glided.

When he returned to Grace, his landing was smooth, helped that he had four legs to balance on. A great clapping and cheering exploded behind them. Grace and Goldtalon were so engrossed in the task, they forgot others were around, much less staring.

“You’re fledging, hatchmate!” Bennu exclaimed. “True flight can’t be far off. This calls for celebratory cinnamon!”

Crows flew to congratulate the griffin. Even Fox whistled in something near amazement. Birds do not blush, but Goldtalon kept his eyes averted while preening his breast feathers. Grace did blush after Schrodinger complimented her clever planning.

From then on, Goldtalon practiced flying whenever he could, even skipping the occasional meal. This made little difference, since he ate at least sixteen daily.

Grace tried telling the passage of time by the rate her hair grew. Back home, the rate had been steady. But the lethargy that affected Fox and Diana upon arriving at Vinland was finally getting to her. Despite struggles within, memories of Grace past life slipped away, an effect which only intensified as the companions planned to leave.

Bennu was in the business of remembering, and it was he that pointed out the subtle ways their sanctuary outside time was changing. The salmon in the river, for example, turned fatter. The river itself looked clearer. While bright as ever, the sun’s heat felt a bit less intense, such that Fox could comfortably wear her coats outside while before she made to make do with one at a time.

“Not that I’m complaining, but there always seems to be just enough cinnamon to keep me full.” Bennu opened the bag for Grace to look. If anything, the sack contained more cinnamon than when it was first uncovered. Now that he mentioned it, Grace observed that while before the occasional grape would taste too sour, or even be rotten, now every fruit she ate was perfectly sweet. While things had always been peaceful and pleasant, circumstances at Vinland were shifting in an even more ideal direction. Almost like it did not want the friends to leave.

It was at this time Chiaroscuro returned to remind them, yes, there existed a world beyond this minor paradise. A black-and-white flash shot from a hole not far from where Schrodinger killed a jackalope. The body itself had been burned to Goldtalon’s protests, but with no rain to wash anything away, some bloodstains remained.

“Crap,” Chiaroscuro shook his head, coughing. “Horny bunny got away! I must’ve chased it forty minutes straight. Weird coincidence, kitty starts talking about a rabbit goddess, one shows up…” The Murder siblings crowded around him, but he pushed them back.

Grace crinkled her brow. “What were you doing for the weeks after you lost it?”

“Your question makes no sense,” responded Chiaroscuro. “I was out in a city for about thirty minutes, then went down a dark hole and came right back here. It’s time for me to rest!”

“But look at how much bigger Goldtalon’s got.” Grace would not let the subject go. “And my hair! It’s been weeks—maybe months—since you disappeared.”

“I kept suggesting we put out a search party,” said Albumen. “The others…” He gave a withering look to his siblings.

“I was really cold and wet.” Fox fiddled with something in her pocket. “And everything stunk, but I remember Dr. Bezoar saying different places in Astral pass time differently.”

Schrodinger confirmed this was so.

“Must be that Vinland-time somehow lasts longer than in the real world,” reasoned Diana. “If we go back, it could seem like a lot fewer days passed for them than it felt like for us.”

“So, I could be an old maid by the time I get home!” Grace did not mean to shout, but lost control of her volume. “My parents might be younger than me! They won’t even recognize me.” Goldtalon nuzzled against her, but she wanted to be alone.

“Let’s not worry about that now.” Bennu slapped Grace’s shoulder with a lavender wing. “Besides, human lives are so short anyway. No matter how you age in relation to your family, you’ll all be dead within the same eon. Enjoy what life you can.”

“About that. I figured this was as good a place to die as any.” Chiaroscuro coughed. If pain had a sound, that was it. “Not that there are any good places to die. I figure the best I can settle for is ‘not too shabby…’” That was all he said before turning rigid. His blind eye closed peacefully. The evil one continued glaring at the world.

Usually in stories, Chiaroscuro would have died doing something brave. A grand sacrifice saving his companions from certain doom. Dying had to mean something. What actually occurred lacked all that typical drama—just a natural fading away. Most of the raven’s friends hated him on first meeting. Perhaps they would miss him all the more.

“He’s gone,” said Offal.

“Naw, this is just one of his pranks.” Jackanapes tried to chuckle. He failed.

“Don’t kid yourself, kid brother,” said Dusky. “The old bird’s gone.”

“What should we do?” asked Ragamuffin.

“It’s the will of the Morrigan,” Albumen said simply.

“The Morrigan.” Bennu rose from where he collapsed after Chiaroscuro croaked. “Never had the pleasure of meeting her.”

“Who’s Morgan?” asked Fox. Being left out of the corvid conversation prompted a rain of flints.

“Another goddess who survived Ragnarök,” Schrodinger explained. “She—I should really say ‘they’ as there are three, sisters—once scavenged leftover corpses off battlefields. Well, when you’ve suddenly got your pick of dead gods to gnaw, it’s understandable how fat and powerful they’d become, even having to eat for three. I understand they roost in what remains of Valhalla, where the gods used to live. Now, it’s only appropriate for vagabonds and cheats.”

“In the nest,” said Albumen, “we’re taught once we become wormchow, to nourish future generations, we go to Valhalla with our ancestors. Including the original corvids, Huginn and Munin.”

They buried Chiaroscuro’s body. Grace felt it important to think of it that way. They did not bury Chiaroscuro. Only his body. Unlike a human funeral, there was no need for a coffin. While never close to the raven, Goldtalon dug the barrow himself. The Murder lifted the corpse to its resting place, each supporting a limb, with Albumen holding the head. The evil eye glaring at him could not have made him feel any worse.

Grace filled the hole once everything was as neat as it could be, trying to push in all the dirt Goldtalon excavated. But there was still a slight depression marking the spot. Maybe the rest of the dirt lodged under her fingernails.

Fox stood apart, dressed in all her garments. Schrodinger pretended to be distracted tying the gold canister (with its library item) around his neck. Bennu perched at the summit of Fort Stone, attempting to sing a lament Diana wrote on the fly. Because he forgot every other line, she had to keep feeding him lyrics. Until an unknown feminine voice began singing along.

“Lalalalalaaaaaalllllllaaaaaaaaaaalllllllaaaaaaaaaaa!”

Though inarguably beautiful, Grace found the voice deeply eerie. Then, she heard something halfway between a scratch and a creak. The shifting joints in the wings of a thin, white crow! Well, it was probably a crow. without feathers or organs, the naked skeleton might belong to any number of species. Its wings did not flap. The figure simply floated. Like macabre windchimes, music was made by air entering and exiting the hollow bones.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Condolences and salutations,” the skeleton began in the same melodramatic tone of a fortune-teller. “I am Lady Mondegreen. Normally I’d be invisible to you eventually-be-deads. Being immortal, the firebird shouldn’t see me at all. He was so out of death’s jurisdiction, I needed indirect help to save him from the Stymphalian bird. The late Chiaroscuro obliged. Little did he know how important he was in frustrating the plans of our shared enemy. But so much paperwork!”

“What’s with this skeleton?” Instead of openly blurting what came to her mind, Fox whispered in Diana’s ear. Her cloud of stones had been replaced by bits of amber containing dead bugs.

“Finally, I get to explain something.” Diana crossed her bandaged arms. “She must be a banshee. I’ve read about them in poems. They’re spirits that cry when somebody’s about to die, so the person can get their affairs in order.”

“I lead the deceased into the afterlife,” Lady Mondegreen interjected. “The diseased, though, are your business.”

From Fort Stone, Bennu swooped up to make eye-to-eye contact. Or, rather, eye-to-socket. “Um, hi.”

“Why yes, we are up high,” Lady Mondegreen’s tone switched to overeager receptionist. “Though you must do a bit more work keeping airborne.”

“No, I think you didn’t hear him right,” Grace addressed the cadaverous figure despite a mouth dry as Death Valley.

“Indeed, I didn’t know your phoenix friend had an epistle to write here. I shall leave you to it while I search where Chiaroscuro’s flittered off to. Ghosts do that sometimes.” Lady Mondegreen drifted away, making more windchime sounds.

“Don’t desert us yet!” begged Albumen. “What should we do for mourning our friend? My siblings and I…feel in this daze.”

Even without eyes, Lady Mondegreen stared. “Didn’t know you wanted dessert. I’d love to have brought a pie, but can’t actually carry one. To answer your question ‘What should be due?’ why, nothing at all. Except what you wish to honor your dead this morning, and the days to follow. Why you’d wish to tribute someone you call a fiend, however, I can’t fathom.”

“Whatever happens, Ma’am.” Albumen calmed down. “We appreciate your holy presence.”

“But I haven’t brought any presents.” Lady Mondegreen tilted her skull at an extreme angle. “I couldn’t carry those any more than a pie. Weather happens, regardless. I think you’ll have a storm—with or without stress.”

“She can’t be this air-headed, right?” asked Rags. Albumen shushed her, but the words were already out.

“I am not error-headed!” Lady Mondegreen whispered, but her voice was acute enough to hurt worse than a scream. A worm fell out of one socket.

“I think the truth is she’s deaf.” Grace figured not having ears probably would not help anyone’s hearing.

“Not actually Death,” responded the banshee, “and I’ve got no tooth, but I do work for her, or them. Makes sense there’d be more than one Death, as you mortals keep us very busy with your constant expiring. Regardless, the Morrigan will be pleased to welcome the raven to her halls, as will a certain Qua-Qua.”

“We’re wondering.” It fell to Grace to speak for the confused faces around her. “About that last thing you said.”

“You’re wandering where?” Lady Mondegreen sounded incredulous. “If you can’t recognize this Viking stronghold, it’s no wonder you’re lost. Thankfully, I can give the proper direction for leaving.”

“Happy to accept your help.” Bennu settled on Fort Stone’s peak.

Lady Mondegreen clicked her beak. “You are happy except for my help? You don’t want guidance, then?”

This was one of Bennu’s less lucid days, and the spirit was not helping his confusion. “Well, see, I’m a fowl, on this course I don’t yet understand. Can we talk privately…?”

“Wait a minute!” Lady Mondegreen howled. “I hope you don’t intend to speak in a foul, coarse manner. We’re in a somber setting, with children present.”

Fox swore.

“We’ll watch our manners,” Diana covered for her friend.

“You have manors?” asked Lady Mondegreen. “Why do I find you living under a rock?”

“That may be,” Bennu started, “really, though, Fort Stone’s a wonderful place. But we’re leaving. Our intent’s to…”

“No maybe about it,” Lady Mondegreen interrupted again. “This hour’s indeed intense. The Morrigan hates Ostara, and wants to foil her plans, which will pass soon unless you stop her. The death my employers provides (for nominal rates) is natural. Poles apart from the tainted ‘living death’ the rabbit traps her victims in. Honestly, feel thankful for exploding head. Otherwise imagine a soulless—though biologically living—existence sustained for years, decades, centuries.”

When Grace considered it, that sounded worse than just about anything.

“We’re resolving the issue,” said Schrodinger. “Time has passed, and we mean to devise a plan. We were in the middle of setting out before the need for a funeral.”

“Yes, time does have a past. And present, and future. When you’re dead, you can see a bit of the last one better than when stuck in the mortal coil.” Lady Mondegreen paused. “Don’t know what this issue’s revolving around. However, I think a plane would prove a fine device for traveling to the clouds. The phoenix’s almost as light as me. He can’t fly you up himself—and all of you are needed to stop Ostara. Even your griffin could only support a limited number of passengers.”

“We’ll adapt,” Schrodinger said through gritted fangs.

Lady Mondegreen clapped her bone wings together. “Congratulations on adopting. I assume that entails these three girls?”

“C’mon, me adopted?” Fox asked rhetorically. “I’ll give you a piece of my mind for that!”

“Of course, adoption’s common.” Lady Mondegreen was creepiest when trying to be reassuring. “And while death spirits are trained to bring peace of mind, hardly anyone offers it to us.”

“If you’re not going to help,” shouted Fox, “Get out of our hair already!” The bits of amber-with-dead-bugs shifted back her usual rain of stones. (If there can be a “usual” for something like that.)

Lady Mondegreen shook her skull. “That’s not a hare down there. It’s a rabbit. Common taxonomy mistake.”

“Rabbit?” asked Goldtalon.

“Yes, from my vantage, it does look a bit rabid. Oops, there’s another one, and more…” Lady Mondegreen floated higher, apparently leaving.

Grace no longer considered rabbits cute. Especially those with antlers. Her bloody, gashed knees testified that their prongs were sharp. Her friends dealt with the same, as dozens of jackalopes popped out of holes in the hill.

They foamed at the mouth, eyes rolling in sockets like spinning tops. The bigger, more aggressive bucks rushed straight at the companions. Others hopped erratically, cutting off escape routes. Jackalopes zagged whenever Grace thought they would zig, and zagged when she thought they would zag. Just to keep her guessing.

While not necessarily cowards, the Murder instinctively fled danger. In air, they avoided Lady Mondegreen, who decided to stay after all.

Until now, Fort Stone was the tallest thing in Vinland, but now it was overshadowed by a great iron gate that shimmered into the space. Each of its double doors were taller than some houses. From the stench wafting through the widening gap between, there was little doubt who was about to come through. It did not make the Aniwye’s reappearance any less awful.

A chill wind pushed him through the open gate. Before closing, Grace saw what looked like a desert, except covered in ice.

The giant skunk wore a pair of pince-nez glasses. Without earpieces, the eyewear had to balance on his nose. Stuck squinting at the world, the soul-baring effect his black eyes was ruined. Of course, he had plenty other attributes making him dangerous. “It’s your fault I’m blind, girl!” At the lightning of his words, thunder rumbled. “I hate these wretched spectacles. Even had to buy them one piece at a time!”

“But they look so great on you.” Grace remembered flattery distracted him before. She and her friends just needed time to get down Fort Stone’s trapdoor. Schrodinger would take them away.

“Really, you think so?” The Aniwye’s nose wrinkled. His glasses nearly fell off. “Someone said I should have stopped at a monocle. Er, I mean…you have the payment I need to finish the set! Hatched or sunny-side up, I’ll have your phoenix.” His glare fell on Goldtalon. “And a griffin? That’ll fetch a high price from Mistress Ostara.”

“Mommy, what’s going on?” Goldtalon spent his entire life in safety. It is forgivable, then, that he had little idea what danger the monster represented. Suddenly distracted, he pounced on a jackalope. Its antlers made a crunching sound going down his gullet, but otherwise was a “Good snack.”

“Pardon me, most noble skunk,” Bennu said as brightly as he glowed. “Technically I was to blame for causing your vision troubles. Granted I was an egg. But if payment’s required, I’ll just as willingly go with you to, ah…Ost…Ostara.” He flew between lenses the size of car windshields.

With a growl, the Aniwye called the jackalopes to cease fighting. They obeyed.

“Hmmm.” He tapped one giant, crooked claw on the ground, tossing up piles of dirt and vines. “Nope, I’d rather slaughter your friends, then capture you and the griffin!”

“Yes, I was worried you’d say that.” Bennu sounded genuinely apologetic when he burst into flames.

The skunk cursed and thrashed as sparks burned his face, even crushing some of his own minions. Initially, the jackalopes moved randomly. With their leader taken out, it made sense they would frenzy more.

Instead, the horde—whose reinforcements never stopped bursting from the ground—stopped drooling and fidgeting. They formed ranks and began hop-marching towards the companions, boxing them in. Even those who could take to the air were grounded by jackalopes springing up and biting their wings. All rabbit eyes focused dead on Grace and her friends, and while before they were dull brown, now hypnotic green glinted inside.

“Ostara must have taken direct control of their minds!” claimed Schrodinger.

“She can do that?” Fox asked between pained grunts. While the rocks she directed at the stumbling Aniwye were not exactly boulder-sized, they were still bigger than anything she previously summoned.

“Apparently!” Bennu sounded as chipper as if he had been offered a plate of cinnamon rolls, minus the rolls. “She’s a goddess.”

Diana cowered behind Fox as the older girl repelled jackalopes with almost-boulders.

“You see now why I killed the first jackalope?” Schrodinger moved to cover the girls, both of whom nodded. They were backed to the trapdoor, which Diana opened, leaping in after Fox. There was no time for the ladder. The grimalkin sliced plenty of jackalope heads off but took multiple prong-wounds to his legs and sides. He finally followed them into the dark.

Grace wished to go, knowing Schrodinger would find the best spot to shadowbox away. We need to fly fast. She remembered Dr. Bezoar’s words concerning the agate, and more recently, Lady Mondegreen’s mishearing “plan” as “plane.” “Goldtalon, you think you can carry me on your back?”

“Hjckrrh, sure thing, mommy!” The griffin bashed his wings together, and the jackalopes gnawing on them slid straight into his maw. He knelt so she could better climb up. His shoulders proved surprisingly broad for a creature that once fit in her palm. “Now what?”

“I want you to fly us to the top of Fort Stone. We’re getting our friends and leaving.” At Grace’s command, he crouched like a cat, lifting his hindquarters so she was tilted face-first into his nape. A jackalope charged, but he batted it away with his tail. Goldtalon sprung into the air.

He beat his wings forth-and-back, back-and-forth. For a moment, he struggled carrying her extra weight. Then, his incredible strength beat gravity, and Dr. Bezoar’s hints were validated. Though she did not get a chance to enjoy it then, Grace was flying!

Bennu burnt those jackalopes trying to weigh him down. He motioned for the Murder to accompany him underground, more and more insistently. The crow siblings remained huddled on the far side of the Runestand. To one degree or another, all were paralyzed in a state crossing terror with mourning. Jackanapes wailed over Chiaroscuro the most.

Lady Mondegreen hovered directly above. Completely quiet.

“We’re gonna’ die,” Ragamuffin wept to rival Diana. “And never see mom, dad, or Waif again!”

“Cheer up, Ragamuffin…I mean ‘Rags,’” said Offal. “At least a banshee’s already here to take us to Valhalla!”

“No,” Albumen shook his head wildly. “I’m not letting this happen. Not this way.”

“A mobbing?” asked Dusky.

“Without the old raven?” Jackanapes said before slipping back into moaning.

“No time,” said Grace.

Bucking and twirling, Goldtalon landing right on the tip of Fort Stone, maneuvering so as not to crush any birds. When he made an effort, the griffin could move quite delicately. It must have been the cat in him. As the five were still frozen, Grace picked up the crows, then motioned for Goldtalon to head to the trapdoor.

Even partially blind, the Aniwye could spot a target as big as Fort Stone. The monstrous skunk turned, raising his toilet brush tail. While Bennu, Goldtalon, and the griffin’s passengers escaped belowground, the Runestand, standing in the dream-Vinland for both centuries and an eternity, melted in a wave of skunk spray. Its carved runes erased forever. With them, all memory of those who once tried to settle there.

Bennu closed the trapdoor. In addition to the new acidic stench, the stone’s destruction ruined the quartz mirrors. The phoenix glowed brighter to compensate.

Grace directed Goldtalon to their shared quarters. Her feet touched earth only for a second when grabbing the leather bag where she stored the agate shell and phoenix feather. It also contained some basic supplies, like a leather-skin of water. Goldtalon never experienced shadowboxing, but looked for “The darkest, boxiest room” without question.

“We need to find refuge.” Grace rode on his back, but the roof and halls were too low and narrow to fly. Crows clung to his shoulders. So silent, the creaking bones behind them were easily audible.

“Why would you need refuse?” asked Lady Mondegreen. “Little good collecting trash’ll do. What you need’s an exit.”

“We can still fight the big, stinky animal,” said Goldtalon.

“Speaking as the only immortal amongst our circle of friends,” said Bennu. “It’s not worth the risk. But even down here, the Aniwye might break in and seize us, and we won’t see it coming beforehand.”

“Hold on.” Something clicked in Grace’s mind. “Lady Mondegreen, you can’t affect physical things. You pass right through them. So, they can’t hurt you, right?”

“True. As a spirit, I have no effect on solid matter, nor can I be injured. Banshees observe and convey information, but it may seem cryptic from a mortal’s perspective. Nothing brings context like death. It’s good everyone gets to try it at least once.”

A mad jackalope rushed at them. It hopped right through Lady Mondegreen, but Goldtalon devoured it, being careful to crunch the horns before swallowing.

“Dear Secretary of the Underworld, may your abilities be borrowed?” asked Bennu. He apparently had the same idea as Grace. “They would help us travel through these halls.”

“You wish to travel through these holes?” Lady Mondegreen seemed to respond to every question with another question. She glanced down various rooms with nonexistent eyes. “Very well, but why should my abilities be barrowed? We’re already in a barrow.”

Grace sighed. “We’ll follow you.”

“Well? You will fallow me? As in a field?” Lady Mondegreen sounded offended. “I swear, you all speak in such a needlessly befuddling manner.”

“To ensure we get out safe,” Bennu tried explaining. “And slide right under the Aniwye’s nose, we’d like your insight. Please tell us how to go forward.”

“No need for pleas! I’m happy to comply,” countered Lady Mondegreen. “I can assure you, anything nasty I see in sight, you’ll be forewarned about.” While misunderstanding the request, the result was the same as if she heard Bennu correctly.

“Let’s not end up with some blind alley,” added Grace. “You can scope out each room we want to go past. Then, come back and tell us which routes are safe and which to avoid.”

“I’ll accept the role as your ally,” said Lady Mondegreen. “But I assure you, I’m not blind. Even without eyeballs, I see you should avoid any specimen of ‘witch root’—by which you must mean the Root of All Evil, which is actually a fungus. So instead of roots, it has hyphae.”

“The thing that makes birds into zombies?” asked Grace. “We’re looking for its antidote.”

“I do have plenty of anecdotes.” Lady Mondegreen rattled off a chuckle. “But that’s for later. What now?”

“Now, we alter plans.” Schrodinger, who naturally could see in the dark, was leading Fox and Diana. “Otherwise, we’re prey to our enemies. Salvage what we can. You soared in here, Lady Mondegreen, find us space to move our feet and heels.”

Fox fumed about her first real home being torn apart, but under the Runestand’s protection, could not summon even one pebble to defend against the Aniwye. A crashing of huge claws happened the next chamber over. An awful miasma forced most of them to gag helplessly.

“Alas,” the banshee responded. “If you plan on going to an altar, I’m sorry I can’t see any conveniently close churches. You can pray on your own, though. No need to turn savage. I’m glad that you know to look for the sword whose feats involve plenty of healing. No item’s more important to stopping Ostara’s plan for world domination than Ridil.”

Scratching on the floor, Schrodinger wordlessly indicated where he wanted the banshee to move. This worked much better than asking aloud. Lady Mondegreen phased through stone walls as if they were open doorways.

Grace noticed they were steadily moving down—to levels of Fort Stone she never explored, but Schrodinger probably had time to learn about in his previous journeys. Whenever the smell of skunk came too close, they paused until the banshee gave the all-clear.

“Prepare for descent.” Schrodinger strided into the dark with zero uncertainty.

“Yes, we should all work to be more decent…” said Lady Mondegreen.

They ultimately made it down a steep incline. Even with shoes covering her mismatched feet, Diana slipped and crashed in a stone block.

No, Grace saw as she got a better look at the basement by Bennu-light, not a block. The girl realized: the whole time she and her friends dwelled in Fort Stone; they had lived directly above a tomb! The crypt was octagonal, with each side hosting a sarcophagus, gray granite with lids of some opaque purple crystal.

With a paw, Schrodinger motioned everyone to the center. The place was so tight, everyone found themself pressed against at least one coffin. Seven were sealed tight, but the one directly behind Grace and Goldtalon was ajar in one corner. She fought the dread impulse to look back.

Schrodinger coughed. “Ehmm. This dark room isn’t the main aspect in traveling to Yokai-Town, which is far away. Regular shadowboxing only carries you short distances. Traveling by map is meant for voyages into lost, legendary places. There’s one final method I have for traversing the Astral. It can move us across any distance, so fast we can avoid being, er… skunked.”

“I don’t need to come any further,” said Lady Mondegreen. “I’ll meet each of you in turn, but my current appointment’s with Chiaroscuro.”

“Would you say goodbye to him?” asked Jackanapes. “From us?”

His siblings murmured something like agreement. But the banshee’s skeletal form vanished without confirming or denying their request.

“If I may continue.” Schrodinger stopped licking a jackalope wound. “This time, we travel between atoms. The path I want us to imagine—which only works if we think as one—lies between random particles dancing on a scale smaller than we can understand. But we can pretend we understand.

“At eye level, we see a semblance of order in the world. But there’s glorious madness underneath. Believe we are the tiniest pieces of the cosmos. The universe is rather large, and we’re already so small. What difference, then, if we travel one inch or a hundred million miles?

“Granted, this method’s a bit shocking. That’s why you can’t use it often.” Schrodinger strained in concentration. His green eyes all but caught fire, his hair stood on end. A static charge passed though him into Grace, then Goldtalon, in a complete circle around the room.

Goldtalon trembled beside Grace. She patted a part of him where no crows clung.

“It’s okay, just close your eyes. Think small, like Schrodinger said.”

Grace started closing her own eyes, but heard a shattering above that set her ears aching. Great claws rent the crypt roof open. Miraculously, no chunks of stone crushed anyone, though she heard something sharp wedge into the slightly open coffin behind her.

“Found you.” The Aniwye spoke in a mocking tone. He squinted down at them. One pince-nez lens had shattered.

“Ignore the fat, pathetic rodent,” Schrodinger kept his eyes closed, static across his brindled fur. “Concentrate on the distance between atoms.”

“For saying that, you get sprayed first!” The Aniwye’s right paw lunged to the center of the room. He tried turning around, but the claw that reached for Schrodinger took a painful shock. The skunk squirmed, his colossal limbs contorting into the world’s least appetizing pretzel. He yowled in pain when struck by another shock from the cat. Still, he tried reaching for Schrodinger.

Grace tuned out the bullying creature. She existed on a level too small for him to find. In ensuing moments of deaf, dumb, blackness—there was no way to tell how many, exactly—her other senses sharpened. The burnt acid of skunk spray attacked her nose. Bile and bitterness lodged in her throat. She became painfully aware of bruises and scrapes ranged over her body.

Things were not all bad. A wave of warmth that could only be Bennu. Goldtalon’s unique combination of feathers and fur were a plush cushion. Granted, a suffocating cushion, but the trip was over before she ran out of air.