The Fallen Prince

and moving fast. Bodog isn’t keen on the concept of dirt riding, which is weird, since he lives underground where he’s moving dirt all day. For some reason, he’s become attached to the bent stick he found and won’t leave it behind. He holds it in front of him like a balance pole while his toes grip the mound in a prehensile way that gives me the shivers. Reece easily takes to dirt surfing, which doesn’t surprise me. It’s Signe who needs a little help and time to adjust. She’s a girl through and through and refused to change into pants. Being dressed like she is, it’s a miracle she doesn’t fall off.

The sun is still climbing into the sky when we reach the place Signe’s line ends on the map. She’s right. It’s a stretch of fields and more fields. Bodog starts making noises. “There.” He points to an old bridge, its wooden railing sagging, boards warped and cracked.

The mounds beneath our feet dissolve. The sound of rushing water billows up from a crack in the earth about as long as a football field and as wide as a gymnasium. I don’t see anything unusual, and I take a step closer.

“Do you feel that?” Signe rubs her hands along her arms.

Reece pulls her back protectively. “Yeah. It feels wrong.”

There’s a deadness about the area that makes my skin crawl, as if warning me to stay away.

“It’s the beginning of the Unknown. It has to be.” Signe’s words are soft and shaky.

We all turn to Bodog. He’s scratching at the earth, like he’s searching for something to munch on, but his eyes are glued to the bridge.

Reece stares beyond the bridge. “What exactly is the Unknown?”

“A story to scare little children.” Signe rubs her arms. “At least, that is what I’ve always believed.”

“A truth,” Bodog counters, “too horrible to ignore.”

Signe’s freckles suddenly stand out on her pale skin. Makes me wonder about the stories she was told as a child.

“Is it another dimension?” I ask.

A lash of wind blows Signe’s hair in her face, and she tucks the strand behind her ear with a shaky hand. “More like a bulge of space created for all the evil in Teag. Scary enough to make up children’s rhymes about it.” She wraps her arms around her torso and begins worrying a path into the ground.

Bodog snorts. “Created for unwanted things. Uncontrollable things.”

“Like a depository for anything different.” Reece shakes his head. “That’s messed up on an epic scale.”

Signe stops pacing. “Kera cannot be in there. It’s horrible.”

I don’t like the thought of Kera being in there anymore than Signe. The firsts have never been shy about maintaining a status quo when it comes to Teag. They like their land and its inhabitants to reflect the perfection they love. Anything odd or weird would naturally not fit in.

I take a good look at Bodog. There isn’t anything odder or weirder than him. With a deep squat, I’m eye level to my strange, little friend. “Bodog, why have I never seen anyone else like you in Teag?”

A troubled expression crosses his face. His stare blurs with water, and his head sinks between his shoulders. “The Unknown.”

“They put your kind in there?”

He nods, though his body is wooden, like an old discarded puppet. He’s a creature out of place in this realm, much like I was in mine.

I bow my head. How can the firsts possibly justify such a cruel act?

Reece lets out a low soulful whistle. “The more I find out about these firsts, the more I don’t like them.” He looks at me. “No offense.”

I stand, fighting the anger that flares within me. “Not a fan, so none taken.”

Signe’s curls bounce as she shakes her head. “The firsts are harsh not only on others, but on themselves.”

“Are you seriously defending them?” I ask, more than a little surprised. “Because they’re part of my family tree even I wish I could disinherit.”

“All I am saying is that they have an amazing capacity to love as well as hate. At times, that hate comes with a distorted sense of justice.”

Does mine? Kera tried to warn me. She said I was changing. If I’m not careful, could I become as twisted as my father before they locked him away? It’s a disturbing thought.

I turn to Bodog. “Is the bridge the only thing keeping whatever’s in there in and us out?”

“No bridge.”

Reece leans close to Signe. “You see the bridge, right?”

“Are we seeing what’s not there?” I ask. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“It is there.”

And this isn’t the first time Bodog has said something that doesn’t make sense. “If the bridge is there, then it can be crossed.” I walk to where the ground falls into a fairly deep gap. The sensation of needles poking my skin appears. I ignore it and peer over the side. At the bottom, a river rushes over huge rocks and swirls back against itself.

Reece’s voice rises above the sound. “My gut doesn’t like this.”

“Mine’s telling me there’s no other way,” I reply.

I sling my satchel over one of my shoulders and then grab hold of the wooden railing. It wobbles beneath my hand. I place my foot on the bridge and carefully test it with a bounce. It holds. I glance back. The stick lies across Bodog’s lap, and he has his hands over his ears and his eyes tightly shut, mumbling to himself again. Signe clasps her hands prayerfully in front of her, while Reece slowly shakes his head, still not convinced I’m making a wise decision, and edges closer.

I can’t stop now, not if I can make it across and find Kera. I move my hand along the rail, my grip white- knuckled. The air feels thick in front of me. A sharp pain digs at my side like the tip of a knife slowly grating past muscle and bone. I suck in my breath and press forward. As my foot connects with the board, it splinters apart, jarring me forward. The whole side of the ravine begins to shake and crumble. Signe gasps my name. Reece darts forward. Amid the earth shaking and rolling me toward the gaping hole, I throw myself back. Reece grabs my satchel strap and spins me safely to the ground before letting me go.

I touch my side, sure to find it bleeding. It feels bruised, but the skin is unbroken. My hands shake and I feel sick to my stomach.

Reece braces his hands against his knees and sucks in air. “Next time,” he huffs, “we’re going with my gut, not yours.”

I slowly roll to my knees, and only then do I hear what Bodog is saying. “You cannot cross. You cannot cross.”

My head hangs, and I grit my teeth against his fatalistic attitude. “There’s got to be a way to cross, Bodog. I’m not giving up.” I push myself to my feet and scowl down at the little man. “Either you start thinking of ways to get there, or…leave.”

“I know how,” a high-pitched voice says.

We all turn to see Halim leaning against a tree, clutching the bag Bodog rejected as he bites into an apple. I slant Signe a questioning glance.

“He was going to follow us anyway.” Like that’s an excuse.

“Do you want to know or not?” the little nose-wipe calls.

Reece and I exchange looks. He shakes his head, clearly not willing to trust a kid. I know better. I was like Halim when I was younger. I pin the kid with my best stare. “Spill it.”

He takes another bite, not in the least bit intimidated. “Do I get to come along?”

“This is no place for a kid,” I hear Reece say to Signe.

Being raised in a loving, stable family, Reece doesn’t get it. I do. That doesn’t mean I’ll roll over like a dog begging for pets and let Halim come along. “How’d you get here so fast?”

“I left before you, plus I know shortcuts.”

Figures he’d know shortcuts even a magic map wouldn’t know about.

“Let me guess. I can’t keep you from following us, can I?”

“Nope.” His grin makes me want to grin back.

“I didn’t think so.” I totally cave and wave him over.