When the Parliament took Daphne, Leicester and Trafalgar both took off after them (at a discreet distance, so as not to be seen), but Jenny had no way to follow them. She had no wings to fly and one boat, but had no direction to go. She was stuck on the beach of the Land of Black Trees with nowhere to go and nothing to do.
This was the worst possible thing for Stormalong Jenny. She had earned that nickname from Captain Brown for her forceful personality -- if the men on the Hangman's Holiday were lounging about, doing nothing, she would force them to get back to work. She hated doing nothing, hated having nothing to do. It reminded her of when she was young, of how she came to be in the Storylands, of how useless she used to be.
But there was nothing to be done now. So she stayed on the beach and waited. She paced back and forth on the sands until her legs were tired.
And then she heard the growling. She turned and there, between two large black tree trunks, was a dog as black as midnight. It was at least six-feet in height and as she looked up, she saw that its eyes were two pieces of burning coals. She sank to her knees.
(Jennifer Vargas.) It spoke without moving its mouth, without betraying its sharp, white teeth. (Stormalong Jenny. Do you know me?)
"Yes," Jenny said. "You're the Canis Major. You're the Dog King. You're the Underhound."
(Yes.) The Underhound looked down at her with its red eyes. (You have been protecting Daphne Blackwell.)
"She's not here," Jenny said. "They took her."
(I know.) It shifted its stance. It looked smaller now, as if it was shrinking. (The Parliament wishes to gain access to the Nothing and believes she knows the way. Do you wish to get her back?)
"Yes," Jenny said, her voice a whisper.
(Ride with me.) The Underhound was small enough so that Jenny could climb onto its back now.
"Thank you, my lord," Jenny said, her fingers holding onto the coarse black hairs of its back. "But why?"
(Access to the Nothing is a secret.) The Underhound began to run, its feet moving so fast, they barely touched the water. (And secrets are my domain.)
They moved quickly across the water until they reached a new land, a land covered in ice and snow. "This is the Ice Child's land," Jenny said.
(I cannot move against the Parliament directly.) The Underhound led her through the frost covered land, growing larger as the snowbanks grew higher. (But there is a weapon you can use against them. It will not kill, but it will cut.)
She saw it then: a block of ice, ice as clear as a summer sky. Inside the ice was a sword, a cutlass made from blue steel. "The Sword of Night and Day," Jenny said. "Cutter of Blood and Bone. Terrors, I thought this was just a myth."
(We are all myths, Stormalong Jenny.) The Underhound moved closer to the block of ice and drew a breath, then expelled the hot air. Rivulets of water began to sweat from the ice block. It was melting.
"I heard that it cut the tongue from the Prince of Thorns himself," Jenny said. "I heard it was so sharp as to cut the day from the night." The Underhound was silent as it blew more hot air onto the block and slowly the sword revealed itself to the world, neither confirming nor denying what she had said.
(Take hold of the sword, Jennifer Vargas.) Jenny gingerly reached forth to take hold of the blue sword. It was still cold, but as she touched it, it warmed, like it was responding to her directly. She pulled the rest of it from the ice and held it up to the light. (This I give to you, Stormalong Jenny. It is my gift and thus cannot be used against me. But you may use it against the Parliament. You may use it to rescue Daphne. I will bring you to their mountain.)
Jenny barely had time to tie the Sword of Night and Day around her waist with her sash before the Underhound leaped above the snows and back to the sea, as it raced along the water and towards the mountain where the Parliament of Fowls waited. Where Daphne waited.
Jenny smiled and gripped the sword tight.
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