The Troll Heart Page 7

  ‘Where are you?’ Isabella asked. ‘I can only just see you. It’s like you’re made of smoke, or you’re a ghost or something.’ Her eyes widened. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Isabella was a good detective, but it wouldn’t have taken anyone long to realise that Anna was in trouble. There were scratches on her face from her tumble through the bramble patch, and her hands were still muddy from her fall against the riverbank. There were bruises on her legs from where Billy had butted into her, and a slimy stain around her waist from where the troll had gripped her with its dirty hand.

  Anna gave her friend a brave smile.

  ‘I’m okay,’ she said. ‘But Max has been kidnapped again.’

  A swirl of mist curled up around Anna’s legs as she said it, tingly and cold.

  Isabella covered her mouth. ‘What’s happened? Is it another vampire?’

  ‘No,’ said Anna. ‘It’s a troll this time. We found it in England.’

  Isabella frowned.

  ‘I don’t know very much about trolls,’ she said. ‘Granny never talks about them. There’s a fairy tale about them though, isn’t there? About the troll who lived under a bridge.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Anna. ‘This one has a bridge too, except I’m not allowed to use it, and Max is on the other side. I don’t know how I’m going to find him.’

  Isabella bit her lip, thinking hard. She looked as if she was going to say something – but then her eyes narrowed again, as if she had just lost sight of where Anna was standing. Anna waved her hand. Isabella smiled as she spotted her friend once more.

  ‘How are you doing this?’ she said, amazed. ‘It’s like the weirdest phone call I’ve ever had. Did you find some more magic?’

  Anna glanced at the stepping stone. How was she doing this? Her feet were now tingling so strongly that the ends of her toes were completely numb. Some sort of magic was at work – magic that had almost certainly been stolen from the crumbling bridge. But how much longer would it last?

  ‘I think I cast a spell,’ she said. ‘By mistake. I wished you were with me, and then you were stuck inside in my head – and then the knife and the bridge-stone pulled you out, and now here you are. Or, I’m there. I don’t really know what’s going on.’ Too many thoughts were rushing through her head; Anna closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, struggling to maintain her focus. ‘I just need an idea. I need to find a way across the river, so I can save Max and bring him home. Then everything will be all right.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Isabella. ‘Okay. I’ll think of something.’ She scratched her head. ‘Can you swim across?’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Anna. ‘But the troll can probably swim better than I can.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Isabella. ‘Are there any boats nearby? Maybe you could float across.’

  Anna remembered the river boat from the night before – the river boat that was owned by a crazy woman who had tried to imprison her. Desperate as she was, Anna didn’t fancy asking the woman for help anytime soon. But were there any other boats nearby? The sagging shed in the field was probably filled with junk – but even if there was a boat inside, it was likely old and full of holes, just like everything else they had found around the hotel. The thought made Anna feel rather cross.

  ‘Why is everything in this place falling to pieces?’ she said out loud. ‘Why doesn’t anyone build anything new?’

  And then Anna was struck with an idea: a wonderful, brilliant idea. She thought back to their investigations around the hotel so far, quickly identifying all the things that could help: broken things; empty things; a dirty thing with yellow teeth. It only took a second, but suddenly the plan was complete in her head.

  Isabella smiled.

  ‘You’ve thought of something, haven’t you?’ she said. ‘You’ve found a way to save Max!’

  Anna smiled. The tingling in her feet was starting to subside. She waved at Isabella, savouring one final look at her brave, resourceful friend.

  ‘Goodbye,’ she called. ‘I have to go now! I’ll tell you all about it when I’m back!’

  Isabella grinned. ‘Goodbye, Anna! Good luck!’

  The edges of the trees began to flicker. Anna kept staring at her friend for as long as she could, but the effort made her eyes itch; she lost sight of the forest as a whirlwind of mist swirled up from the water below her, blowing against her skin. Anna shooed the mist away with her hands, blinking hard.

  Billy the goat was staring at her from beside the barricade. Anna had never seen an animal look so astonished. Despite everything that had happened, she laughed.

  ‘Come on, Billy,’ she said, jumping back to shore. ‘We’ve got work to do.’

  And then she scurried away between the trees, running as fast as her bruised and battered legs would carry her.

  11

  THE NORTHERN WAY

  THE OLD BLACK PONY LOOKED UP IN SURPRISE as Anna and Billy came charging up the hill. Animals scattered in their wake as the girl and the goat dashed across the field, only stopping when they reached the shadow of the dilapidated shed. Anna was glad to see that there was no sign of Mr Candle, or of anyone else. She pulled out the white knife and pointed it at the pony.

  ‘I need a favour from you,’ she said. ‘Come over here.’

  The pony shivered just as Billy had the day before. It walked over to the fence with its head held high, tossing its mane in the wind. Suddenly it looked much younger.

  ‘I bet you’re strong,’ said Anna. ‘See if you can finish knocking this fence down. Try to break off as many planks as you can.’

  The pony nodded. It leant down and pushed its long forehead against the top of the sagging fence. Immediately the wood began to groan. Billy jumped over to help, butting his horns against a fence post.

  ‘Good,’ said Anna. ‘Keep doing that.’

  Satisfied with their work, Anna ran over to examine the small cart where she and Max had eaten their sandwiches and biscuits. She doubted that the cart had been used for years; hundreds of cobwebs were strung between the wheels, and the axles were coated thickly with rust. Anna gave the cart a push. The wheels creaked and groaned unhappily – but to Anna’s relief, they were still able to turn.

  There were other things to find. Anna opened the door and stepped inside the crumbling shed, which was just as junk-filled as she had expected. She pulled a coil of rope down from a wall hook, coughing as some dust blew into her face. The rope was old and frayed, but it would still do the job.

  Anna had just finished gathering together a pile of useful things when a crashing sound made her jump. She ran over to the doorway, knife in hand.

  ‘Oh, good,’ she said. ‘Well done, Billy!’

  The fence had been knocked down completely. To Anna’s delight, it appeared that most of the planks had sprung loose as the old nails had snapped apart. The pony let out a satisfied whinny.

  ‘Right,’ said Anna. She smiled grimly. ‘Let’s get to work!’

  The sun was sinking towards the horizon by the time Anna had finished gathering everything she needed to put her plan into action. Raindrops speckled across the field as the shadows slowly lengthened, draping the hedgerows with darkness. It was very, very cold.

  The journey down the hill was slow and bumpy. Billy and the pony pulled at the harnesses Anna had tied from the rope, dragging the loaded cart over brambles and burrows, ditches and dirt mounds. Anna put her hand on the pony’s side as they walked under the willow trees. She could feel the animal trembling beneath her fingers, almost as if it could sense the danger lurking ahead. Suddenly Anna understood why the bottom end of the field did not require a fence.

  Billy bleated quietly as the old stone bridge came back into sight. The woods were ominously quiet. There were no birds calling in the trees, no frogs croaking by the waterside, no crickets chirping in the long, wet grass. All that could be heard was the quiet lapping of the current.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Anna, patting Billy’s head. ‘At least there’s no music. The troll must be somewhe
re else.’

  Eating Max, said a voice at the back of her head. She suddenly found herself wondering whether the troll had a kitchen on the other side of the river, or if it ate its meals raw. Would Jamie Sparrow be over there too? Would either boy still be alive? Anna shushed herself, fixing all her attention on the bridge. The walkway stretched out before her, silent and still, waiting to welcome its next victim. Anna regarded it smugly.

  ‘We’re not crossing you,’ she said. ‘So don’t waste your breath.’

  Anna didn’t need to use the troll’s bridge.

  She was going to build a bridge of her own.

  The cart was piled high with supplies. Anna and Billy had stacked up planks of all shapes and sizes, as well as some general bric-a-brac they had managed to drag out of the shed: a broken ladder; an ironing board; an old wicker chair. They dragged each piece of cargo down to the riverside, glad to be keeping their blood pumping. The wind blowing off the water was as cold as a snowman’s whisper.

  ‘That’s the last of it,’ panted Anna, dropping a final plank onto the grass. She turned to Billy, her teeth chattering. ‘Do you think we’ve got enough?’

  Billy nudged the pile of wood with his nose. Anna decided to take it as a good sign. She stretched her arms, looking out at the line of river rocks beside the troll bridge. Waves of fog rippled over their flat, craggy heads, sometimes hiding the furthest ones from sight. Were there enough stones out there to get them all the way across? Anna tried to remember the locations of as many of the rocks as possible, piecing together a map in her head.

  Billy bleated. Anna nodded, her face determined.

  ‘I agree,’ she said. ‘There’s no time to waste.’

  With a heave, Anna lifted up the first of the planks, steadying it upright on the bank. The nearest of the river rocks bobbed out of the mist obligingly, water trickling from its smooth black head.

  ‘Ready?’ said Anna. ‘One – two – three!’

  She let go, quickly stepping back. The plank fell forward, striking the top of the rock with a clatter and a bounce – but without falling into the water. Anna gave a silent cheer, planting her foot on the newly formed bridge. The plank was a little wobbly, but it seemed like it would hold. Anna walked carefully across, feeling a little bit as if she was being thrown off a pirate ship.

  The first stepping stone was solid beneath her feet. Anna glanced back at the bank, wondering if she would see Isabella again, but all she could see now were the willow branches dancing in the twilight.

  It didn’t matter. She didn’t need Isabella this time. She was going to rescue Max all by herself.

  Plank by plank, step by step, Anna built her bridge, with Billy helping out whenever he could. The stones in the water were mostly low and flat, but inventive solutions were sometimes required to link them. The ironing board was impaled on a row of weird stones that looked a bit like hands rising out of the water; the end of the ladder was hooked over a tall stone spire. It was slow, dangerous work. There were many times when Anna found herself teetering on the edge of an unstable plank, grabbing onto Billy’s horns to avoid toppling forward. By the time the two of them had reached the middle of the river, the sun had well and truly begun to set.

  Their bridge was going to need a light. Anna took her spare torch from her pocket and balanced it atop one of the highest rocks. She switched it on – and gasped.

  The surface of the river, which had previously been a dark, sludgy green, was now coloured the brightest blue. A spray of water hissed up from the nearest rock as a wave broke against it, stinging Anna’s cheeks with a strange saltiness. Anna looked behind them. She could no longer see the riverbank – could no longer see any land at all.

  ‘It looks like we’re in the middle of the ocean,’ she said, amazed. ‘But we haven’t gone that far, surely?’

  A school of silver fish swam past them, ducking their heads under the plank where Billy was standing. Anna squinted. She could just make out the outline of the jagged stone bridge beside them, twisting its way across the sapphire sea. She didn’t know where it was leading – but it looked as if she and Billy were being taken there too.

  ‘We’d better check that we can still get back,’ she said nervously. ‘I don’t want to get stuck out here.’

  Billy led the way back along their bridge. A seagull startled them as it cawed from its perch atop the old wicker chair. A clump of seaweed had been washed up on the ladder, almost causing Anna to slip as she stepped over it. The journey back seemed to take longer than it should have, but as they approached the beginning of their bridge, the water was transformed again. As Anna stepped onto the final plank there was no doubt she was standing above the murky English river once more.

  ‘Where is it taking us?’ said Anna curiously. ‘Where are we going to end up?’

  It was certainly a mystery – but now was not the time to get distracted. Anna picked up another piece of wood from the pile, ignoring the tired ache in her arms and legs. Now that they were seemingly building their bridge across an entire ocean, the stack of planks on the riverbank looked worryingly small.

  The final streaks of red and orange sunlight were dying in the western sky. Anna teetered across the furthest plank she had managed to drop into place. How much longer would their bridge need to be? Anna shone her torch down at the ocean-river, hoping to find some sort of clue.

  ‘Billy!’ she called quickly. ‘Come and look at this!’

  She wasn’t sure just how far she was calling back (was it metres, or kilometres?), but Billy managed to hear her. He trotted up to the end of the bridge, shivering in confusion at the sight of the new discovery.

  ‘Where are we?’ whispered Anna.

  The water beneath their feet was frozen solid. Grey-blue ice stretched away from them on every side, dusted lightly with snow.

  ‘Do you think we could walk on it?’ said Anna. ‘It might save us a lot of time.’

  Billy lowered his head, sniffing at the ice. Anna rolled her eyes. It was nice not to be entirely alone, but when it came to asking for advice, a goat wasn’t necessarily the best companion. With a sigh, she gently took her foot off the wooden bridge and pressed it against the ice. It felt solid – or more solid than the wobbling plank, at least. A snowflake floated down before her eyes, perfect and cold.

  Billy bleated encouragingly.

  ‘Now you say something,’ said Anna sarcastically. She stepped delicately forward, taking all of her weight off the bridge. There was a soft creaking sound – but the ice did not crack. She shone her torch around them.

  ‘I can see trees!’ she said excitedly. ‘Come on!’

  She shuffled forward as quickly as she dared. Billy jumped onto the ice behind her, his hooves clicking against the frozen surface. Hundreds of branches loomed above them as they approached the shore, black and feathery against the blue-grey sky.

  ‘Look,’ panted Anna. ‘There’s a sign.’

  They had reached the end of the ice. Anna and Billy stepped onto the land together, their feet sinking immediately into a snowdrift. An icy forest rose up out of the darkness around them: a forest of towering pine trees, quite unlike the willows that had bordered the river in England. Their long branches were weighed heavily with snow.

  The far end of the troll’s bridge stood beside them, as stony and strange as ever. Where had its magic taken them? Anna trudged over to the sign that was staked beside it, her arms crossed against the cold as she read the three weird words.

  VELKOMMEN TIL NORGE.

  ‘What does that mean?’ asked Anna. The words reminded her of the sign on the troll’s bridge; she found herself looking anxiously over her shoulder. ‘Where are we?’

  The bottom half of the sign was hidden by frost. Anna wiped the ice crystals away with the end of her scarf.

  ‘Oh,’ she said.

  New words had been uncovered on the bottom of the sign – words that Anna could understand. At first she couldn’t believe what she was reading – but then the winter
wind cut across her face like a knife, freezing her skin, and she knew the sign was true.

  VELKOMMEN TIL NORGE.

  WELCOME TO NORWAY.

  12

  UP THE RIVER

  NORWAY.

  Anna tried to picture the globe of the earth that sat in the Professor’s study. England was up the top of the map, to the north – but Norway was further north still, close to the crown of the world where the ocean itself was made of ice. Anna swallowed the chill that had lumped up in the back of her throat. Lizzie had told them not to wander too far from the hotel. Even Anna hadn’t planned to wander as far as this.

  Billy bleated from the darkness ahead. Anna followed him around to the end of the old stone bridge, stumbling through the snow. She hadn’t seen this entrance to the bridge before, but there could be no doubt that it was made of the same strange stone. There were even signs stuck up around it, just as there had been in England, although now all the words were pointy and strange:

  ADVARSEL

  FARE!

  IKKE GÅ OVER.

  Anna could guess what they meant. In this country, too, there were warnings.

  ‘This must be what Max would have bought me,’ she said to Billy. ‘I could have crossed the troll’s bridge, all the way here. I bet that’s what Mr Candle does. He knows how to pay the toll, so he can jump over an entire sea whenever he wants.’

  Billy sniffed the stone bridge cautiously. His long ears twitched.

  Anna suddenly felt very nervous. She hadn’t planned this far ahead. She glanced over at the dark and snowy woods, trying to ignore the fact that her face was slowly going numb from cold. Where might the troll have gone next? Where did it live? Building their own bridge had allowed them to cross the river safely, but it had taken a long, long time. Anna’s insides were seized by another chill that had nothing to do with the cold. What if Max had already been eaten?

  Gold for the burrow, or blood for the stomach.

  ‘The troll lives in a burrow,’ said Anna, remembering. ‘We need to find the entrance.’