PathFinder

by Angie Sage

  “We haven’t escaped,” Ferdie whispered. “We’ve broken in. We’re trying to find our parents and our little brother. Please don’t say anything.”

  The young woman sighed. “It’s okay, I won’t tell on you. But take my advice: get out of here while you can. She’ll get you, too. Like she gets everyone.”

  “But we have to find them,” Ferdie said stubbornly.

  The young woman shrugged. She seemed defeated. “Okay. If they are from that shiny-hair village, then they’re here.”

  Oskar looked amazed. “Really?”

  “They’re downstairs. Where I have to go.” With that, the young woman hurried out.

  Ferdie and Oskar scooted after her just in time to see her push open a door on the left and disappear inside. They quickly followed and found themselves at the top of a flight of spiral steps, lit by lanterns that gave out a dull red light. Halfway down the young woman realized they were following her.

  She waited for them to catch up. “You’re crazy,” she said in a low, urgent voice. “There’s nothing you can do to help them, got that? Just go. Get out of here.”

  “Madam! Where are you?” The Lady’s accusing voice flew up the spirals of the stairs.

  “I am coming, my Lady!” The young woman hurried down, flapping her hands at Oskar and Ferdie in shooing-away movements.

  But Oskar and Ferdie were too close to give up now. They tiptoed down the steps, picking their way carefully. The air was cold and damp, and smelled of fear. They heard barked commands of the guards: “Move! Move! Move!” Then a sudden scream . . . someone sobbing . . . the frightened wailing of a child. Oskar looked at Ferdie in dismay. The child was too young to be Torr, but the sobbing could so easily be their mother.

  They reached the last twist of the stairs and a shaft of white light glanced up from below. Oskar and Ferdie wrapped their night cloaks around them, pulled their hoods farther down over their faces, then peered gingerly around the last twist of the stairs. They saw a large, round chamber, with twelve archways leading off from it. They saw the sheen of PathFinder hair and the shining steel of the spikes on the guards’ helmets and elbows as, prodding with long red-tipped sticks, they herded the villagers into one of the archways.

  Ferdie peered around the last spiral, straining to see. Beyond the broad metal backs of three guards, Ferdie saw a mass of people being pushed toward the archway and, one by one, disappearing down it. Ferdie could name every person there, but she could not see her parents and little Torr. A wave of desolation ran through her—she was too late. Suddenly a guard who had been obscuring her view stepped to one side and Ferdie saw her mother.

  Ferdie didn’t care anymore. She took off down the steps, yelling, “Mum, it’s me, Ferdie. I’m okay! Mum, Mum! I love you, Mum!”

  Rosie Sarn whirled around, and Ferdie saw that she had Torr clasped tightly to her. “Ferdieeeeee!” Rosie screamed.

  Feeling as though he were in a nightmare, Oskar crept down a few more steps, watching in horror as the scene unfolded before him.

  “Mum!” Ferdie was in the Hub now, running headlong toward the guards. Her sudden appearance confused them, and Ferdie was able to plunge into the throng unhindered. Desperately Rosie Sarn tried to push her way back toward her daughter.

  A piercing shriek came from the shadows on the far side of the Hub. “My pet! My pet!”

  Oskar saw a flash of shimmering blue, like a giant kingfisher diving for its favorite fish, and the Lady plunged after Ferdie.

  It was pandemonium. The guards stood, uncertain what to do. They were unwilling to act without orders and their commander was running amok. The chamber echoed with competing shouts.

  “Mum, Mum!”

  “My pet! My pet!”

  “Ferdie, Ferdie!”

  And then, suddenly they were together—Ferdie, her mother and Torr hugging one another as though the world were about to end. And then it very nearly did. A pair of soft white hands with an iron grip wrenched Ferdie from her mother’s arms. Her mother landed a punch on the Lady’s nose and Torr began to scream.

  But the Lady screamed louder. “Guards! Guards!” she yelled. “Get them off me!”

  The guards waded into the group, which scattered before the fearsome red-tipped sticks. Some villagers ran voluntarily into the arch to escape; others were pushed. With the Lady’s long nails digging into her arms, Ferdie watched her mother and little brother being herded through the archway, and then suddenly, as if a switch had been thrown, Torr’s cries stopped.

  Sticking to her resolution never to cry in front of the Lady, Ferdie bit her lip. She gave a quick glance at the stairs but all she could see was the young woman with the faded ribbons dangling from her sleeves standing on the bottom step. She had her hands over her face and her big brown eyes were staring through her fingers in shock.

  The Lady dismissed the guards and turned her attention to her new prisoner. “You were so naughty to leave me,” she told Ferdie. Her face dimpled into a frown and her fat white fingers tightened around Ferdie’s wrist.

  Ferdie was thinking fast. The tears in the Lady’s eyes told her that all was not lost. If only, she thought, Oskar had enough sense to go back up the stairs and get out, she could talk the Lady round, if she played it right. Ferdie hated lying, but she forced herself to speak. “I’m really sorry,” she said. “I’ve come back because . . . I missed you.”

  The Lady’s expression melted. She let go of Ferdie’s wrist. “Did you really?” she asked. A movement on the stairs made the Lady look up, and Ferdie was spared having to answer by the Lady’s shout of, “You, Madam! Come here!”

  The young woman came reluctantly, like a dog pulled across the room on an invisible lead. She caught Ferdie’s eye and a glance of sympathy passed between them.

  “Yes, my Lady?”

  The Lady launched into a torrent of abuse. “You, you trumped-up piece of nothing, are a sulky little madam and no use to me at all. You were meant to get those people away hours ago, and instead I find myself dragged into a sordid fight.” She put a handkerchief to her throbbing nose. “It’s disgraceful!”

  Ferdie saw fear jump into the young woman’s eyes. “I—I did my best, my Lady,” she stammered.

  “Your best is not good enough, Madam. You have one last chance to prove yourself and then you can forget about your precious son forever. Understand?”

  Ferdie saw the young woman press her lips together to try to stay in control.

  “One last chance,” the Lady steamrollered on. “Our quota this month is twenty short. And you, Madam, will provide the shortfall.”

  The young woman looked horrified. “Me?”

  “You, Madam. You live in a well-populated Castle, do you not? They will not miss twenty fools from there, I am sure.”

  “No! Oh no . . . please, no.”

  The Lady shrugged, as if bored with the conversation. “Well, Madam. I hear your boy is still alive. However, I cannot guarantee he will stay that way.”

  The young woman was as white as a sheet of paper. “I . . . I’ll do it,” she whispered. “I just need to . . . to work out how . . . to get them.”

  “You have until this time tomorrow.”

  “No!” The young woman gasped.

  “Yes! If I do not have twenty people right here by then, I promise you will never see your son again.” The Lady smiled. “Because, Madam, there will be nothing left of him to see.”

  The young woman turned gray.

  “You have a choice,” the Lady said coldly. “I leave it up to you.” Another movement on the stairs caught the Lady’s eye. “A boy! There’s a boy left behind!”

  Ferdie stared in horror. Unnoticed by Oskar, the hood of his cloak had fallen back and his red hair was shimmering in the dimness of the stairs. Ferdie saw Oskar’s eyes wide and dark, staring out from his pale face, like a rabbit caught in a beam of light. “Run, Oskie. Run,” she muttered under her breath.

  But Oskar knew he couldn’t leave Ferdie. There was only one t
hing to do—he ran straight at the Lady. In a moment he was at Ferdie’s side. The Lady went to grab him, and Oskar, truly his mother’s son, landed another punch.

  The Lady’s hands flew up to her nose and blood began dripping between her fingers, soaking into the silk of her dress in angry, dark patches. Oskar looked shocked at the effect—he’d never punched anyone before.

  “Quick! This way,” the young woman whispered urgently. To Ferdie and Oskar’s surprise, she turned and hurried into one of the archways with the letters VII carved into it. Ferdie grabbed Oskar’s hand and they ran.

  “Dop!” the Lady screamed out from beneath a rapidly reddening handkerchief. “Dop!”

  Inside Way VII, Ferdie and Oskar ran along a tunnel, following the young woman toward a shimmering white mist. And when she disappeared into it, they hurled themselves after her, no longer caring what lay beyond. Whatever it was, it had to be better.

  ORDERS

  The Lady stared into Way VII in dismay. She dared not follow. The last time she had Gone Through there she had fallen straight over a precipice and very nearly drowned. She hoped that the little madam would fall in tonight, just as she had. She swore and tugged violently on a bellpull.

  In her tiny room—known as the kennel—at the far end of the Garmin cages in Cell Block Two, Mitza Draddenmora Draa was summoned by the screeching of a bell. A few minutes later she arrived breathless into the Hub to find the Lady holding a bloody handkerchief to her nose.

  “You rang, my Lady?” Mitza’s voice trembled.

  “Send Garbin into Way Sebben!” the Lady yelled through her dripping handkerchief.

  “How many, my Lady?” Mitza asked anxiously. The Garmin terrified her.

  “All.”

  “All?” Mitza asked faintly.

  “All. I’ll show that Madam and her precious Castle. They’ll be sorry!”

  PART IX

  THE OUTSIDE PATH

  In a tall, ancient castle wall some twenty feet above a dark, slow-flowing moat, the outline of an archway began to glow with a dim purple light. If anyone had been standing on the far side of the water they would have seen the eerie sight of the archway appearing out of seemingly solid stone, and a strange white mist swirling within its depths. But it was late in the evening, the Castle drawbridge was raised and no one was foolish enough to walk the Forest edges at night.

  Suddenly, from out of the mist, a wild-eyed young woman came running. Just in time she grabbed hold of the edge of the arch to stop herself from falling headlong into the Moat below. She turned and shouted a warning: “Slow down! There’s a steep drop!” She stood in the entrance while two smaller figures appeared from the depths. They stopped dead—breathless and confused.

  “It’s really narrow,” the young woman whispered. “I’ll move along a bit. You must lean back against the wall, okay?”

  “Okay,” said Ferdie. She didn’t care how narrow it was. She was free of the Lady once more. She took a deep breath of unfamiliar, damp air. Above was the night sky, scattered with stars; ahead, the darkness of trees; and far below, dark reflections in water, slowly moving. Shuffling sideways, Ferdie made room for Oskar.

  Oskar could smell the earthiness of land, the wet woodiness of trees and the sharpness of water—but not seawater. This was fresh, but muddy. He knew at once they were far away from home.

  “Come on, you two, let’s get going.” Oskar recognized the voice of the young woman. “Be careful,” she said. “There’s only a ledge here and the stones are loose. Hold on to the wall, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  “And don’t look down. By the way, I’m Lucy. Lucy Heap.”

  “Ferdie,” said Ferdie.

  “Oskar,” said Oskar.

  “Sarn,” they both said together.

  The path was precarious. At times it was so narrow that all they could do was to edge along crab-wise; at other times it would widen but be covered with slippery gravel. Oskar was last and he kept glancing back to see who—or what—was following. To his relief, he saw and heard nothing. He hurried along, following Ferdie and Lucy Heap by the dim light of the moon, which was sinking toward the treetops on the far side of the water.

  After a frighteningly narrow section of the path, Ferdie and Oskar saw a light ahead. Lucy sped up and soon they were picking their way down some precarious steps, which took them down to a slipway where dark water gently lapped. Here was the light that Ferdie had seen—a lantern illuminating a sign that read: Rupert’s Paddleboat Hire.

  Lucy looked anxiously back along the path. “Not far now,” she whispered, hurrying them up the slipway.

  The slipway led into a street with tall, thin houses on the left-hand side and lower, smaller houses on the right. After the dark of the pathway it was bright and cheerful—many of the houses had lights in the windows, and one had a blaze of candles burning at every window. It was to a little house opposite this that the young woman took Oskar and Ferdie. She opened the front door and they followed her inside to a narrow passageway cluttered with boxes and bags.

  “Simon,” Lucy called out softly. “Si, are you there?”

  A door at the end opened and a young man dressed in black appeared. He looked, thought Ferdie, both anxious and relieved at the same time.

  “Lu!” he said, hurrying toward them. And then, suddenly noticing the shimmer from Ferdie’s and Oskar’s hair, he stopped. “Who are they?” he said suspiciously.

  “It’s . . .” Lucy hurled herself into Simon’s arms. “Oh, it’s awful. Just awful.”

  WILLIAM

  Ferdie and Oskar were sitting beside the fire in a small front room lined with books. While Simon placed some mugs full of something hot on the table in front of them and Lucy put down a plate of biscuits with trembling hands, Ferdie looked at the books. They were an odd mixture of knitting patterns, Magyk, building construction manuals and Alchemie texts. The lower shelves were full of brightly colored children’s books and some well-worn toys.

  The mugs contained herbal tea, which smelled like old straw. But Ferdie and Oskar were glad for the warmth, and they sat cradling their mugs, listening to the story of how the Lady had invaded the lives of Simon and Lucy Heap.

  Lucy began. “Two months ago our little boy, William, disappeared.”

  Ferdie and Oskar exchanged glances—so it wasn’t happening only to them.

  “William . . . he was—I mean, he is—only six.” Lucy stopped for a moment, took a deep breath and continued. “William loved to sail his toy boat in the Moat. One day after school I let him go to the slipway with his friends to play with their boats. It was a lovely, warm evening and it was still light, and he was perfectly safe—well, I thought he was—because his uncle, my brother Rupert, has a boathouse there and he was working outside, keeping an eye on them. Well . . . oh, it was all my fault . . . I just didn’t notice how late it was getting—I was busy working on a design for a stupid tower thingy. Suddenly I realized it was nearly dark and William wasn’t home. I ran out of the house and there was no one at the end of the slipway—no little boys and no Rupert. It was deserted. I raced down to the water and shouted for William. Rupert came out and said he thought that William had gone home when all his friends did. I yelled at Rupert for being so stupid and then I saw William’s favorite toy—a little white knitted sheep his granny made him—up on the Outside Path—you know, where we just walked along.” Lucy gulped. “I knew then that something terrible had happened. I ran along the Outside Path so fast you wouldn’t believe it. It curves around with the Castle walls, so you can never see very far ahead, and it was really dark by then because there was no moon that night, but as I got around the bend I saw something.” Lucy shuddered. “A huge animal, white and horrible, with a head like a snake. Standing up on two legs. And then I saw it go through the wall.”

  Simon sighed. He looked wretched and Ferdie felt sorry for him. She could tell he did not believe Lucy—but Ferdie believed her, all right. And so did Oskar.


  Lucy continued with her story. “I raced toward where the white thing had disappeared but there was no sign of anything. The wall was . . . well, it was just a wall. And it was dark by then too.”

  “We searched all night,” Simon said quietly.

  Lucy nodded dismally. “People were wonderful. So many came to look for him. The next day Rupert found William’s toy boat floating in the Moat, and everyone began to say he must have fallen in the water and drowned. They went out searching for his . . . well, you know, for him, but I knew he hadn’t drowned. I just knew. The next day Simon and I walked along the Outside Path looking for clues. But we found nothing.” Lucy looked down at crumb-covered rug in front of the fire. “Simon, there’s something I haven’t told you.”

  Simon leaned forward, his green eyes fixed on Lucy. “Lu—what haven’t you told me?”

  “Um. Well. Every day, while you were at work—” Lucy broke off and said to Ferdie and Oskar proudly, “Simon’s the Deputy Castle Alchemist, you know. Every day I walked the Outside Path to where I’d seen the white things. I would stare at the wall for hours—I was so sure that something had to be there. And then, one day, I saw it: the outline of a filled-in archway with some faint letters carved into the keystone: ‘IV.’ I was so excited—I’d found it! I knew that was where the Garmin had taken William.”

  “Garmin?” said Simon dismissively. “That’s a mythical creature. Garmin don’t exist.”

  Ferdie took a deep breath. Simon scared her a little, but she had to speak up. “But Garmin do exist. And they do take people away. People like me.”

  Lucy shot Ferdie a look of surprise.

  Aware that Simon’s intense, piercingly green eyes were on her, Ferdie said, “Garmin took me one night at the dark of the moon. They took me from my house.”

  Lucy took a deep breath. “Si, Garmin took William away. And I’ve been trying to get him back.”