by Gail Merritt
‘What’s horse?’ one of them asked.
I could tell that questions of any useful sort were futile. These little creatures knew nothing of the wider world but were anxious to help me if they could.
‘Are there creatures nearby? I can’t sense anyone.’
They told me that the larger creatures had left long ago. They didn’t know why and as they had plenty of food, they felt no need to leave. I thanked them for their help and put them back in their safe haven. I hoped that no harm would come to them and that whatever had driven others away would leave them in peace. The blasted tree was blackened and still smouldered, a thin spiral of smoke rising into the still air like a ghostly grey ribbon. Not far from it, I found the deep hoof prints from Gilbert’s shoes. He had been moving fast, obviously terrified by the lightning flash and fire. I only hoped for both our sakes that he had found the others. I was about to set off after him when a sharp pain cut out my vision and I clutched at the nearest trunk before sinking into oblivion once more.
‘Mantle sleep,’ the small voice said. ‘Mantle sleep. Bad sleep.’
I woke to find the woodlice crawling over my face. My first instinct was to brush them off with revulsion but the power of earlier Green Mantles, dormant for most of the time within my head, took control and helped me to thank the little lice for their concern. My cut was bleeding again. and I felt the urgent need to find Sandor. I think I called out to him and somewhere in the woods I heard wings take to the air.
I staggered far from the path and lost sight of the smouldering tree, but I thought that I could detect the faint odour of charred wood. Without familiar landmarks, it was hard to decide which way to go and I scolded myself for my indecision, striding out boldly, convinced that if I did not find Sandor, then I would eventually reach the inn. When I stopped to rest, my stomach churned with hunger and my lips craved for a drink. To my horror, I realised that the sun was still ahead of me. I was going south instead of south-east.
I reasoned that I must be close to the edge of the marshlands. In fact, it baffled me that I was not already there. This had to be a small remnant of the ancient forests that had once spread from the salt marshes to the Meed lands. I sent my thoughts out but found nothing. A second attempt failed to find Black Mantle and an inky terror rolled through my mind. This place was touched with magic. That was why nothing larger than the woodlice lived here. I looked northwards and then to the south. My head ached and a trickle of blood settled on my ear. I sat on the ground.
‘If I go east, I’ll reach the marsh and if I go north, I might meet the road, eventually. If I go south-east, sooner or later I should reach the dyke wall. I know there are villages there and I’m bound to find one.’ At the time, with my aching head, sore feet and growing thirst, the plan seemed reasonable and logical. I went south-east.
At first I kept up a good pace but before long I was staggering through bushes rather than going around them. Twigs and thistles tore at my hair and clothes, and my earlier optimism was replaced by resignation that I would never find a way out of the wood. I had ceased encouraging myself, and my legs went forward without consultation with my head. That was sitting under a tree somewhere back along the track. My conscience kept reminding me that it was my foolishness for ignoring Sandor’s advice that had brought me to this. I made all manner of vows and promises for the future but a part of me wondered if there was to be much of a future for me. I longed to see Sandor ambling towards me on the track, laughing at my stubbornness and forgiving me for my folly, but I saw nothing except tree trunks and clumps of unfriendly shrubs. When all I wanted was to close my eyes and find myself elsewhere, I sat on a tuft of knot grass, ignoring the sharp edges to its blades, and allowed myself to cry.
As the tears streaked my cheeks and dripped from my nose, I felt my energy departing and I curled up on the ground and closed my eyes. My thoughts went back to Brak. Perhaps, if ever I found my way again, I should crawl back to the Northern Meeds and home. I would relinquish the green mantle and become just another girl. I would practise my needle-work and learn how to sing. I might even let my cousin Tregrin find me a husband. Even the sudden scent of a living creature close by was comforting, although it mingled with the smell of a recent kill. My eyes creaked open and I saw two great amber discs. The discs formed themselves into eyes and something warm and wet licked my cheek.
‘This is a fine mess!’ The pain in my head snarled.
‘Oh fox!’ was all I could manage before the emotion overtook me and I could only sob as he washed my face, all the while scolding me for causing him much unnecessary concern.
‘As soon as the gypsy told me, I knew I’d be the only one who could find you. They are all searching further north. They wouldn’t believe you could get this far. Where were you going?’
‘To you, to help Tamora, to Gwythin.’ The words tumbled out as I buried my face is the rich flame of his coat. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ve missed you so much. Can you take me home?’
He sighed. ’Your sense of direction is pathetic. Better find somewhere to rest for the night. I’ll guide you back tomorrow. Your head had blood on it.’
We sat on the ground together and, in tearful snatches, I told him of the lightning hitting the tree, of losing Gilbert and of finding myself alone in the wood. He told me that Gilbert had arrived safely back at the barn but terrified and fearful that he had lost me. When they could find no trace of me, they returned to the coast and gathered a search party, but they were searching in the wrong place.
‘What of Tamora?’ I was almost too afraid to hear his answer.
‘She lingers. The Lady Gwythin does what she can, and Blue Mantle sheds tears as more become afflicted, but the strangeness is that all the sick children seem to be lingering on the edge of death.
The fox left me to find shelter and came back soon afterwards. He had found a ruined fowler’s hut beside a small lake. By the time we got there, I was trembling and dizzy with pain and hunger. He went in search of food, complaining that my abstinence from meat would make his task much harder. I curled up in a dark corner of the hut, shaken and exhausted, letting my mind think of nothing in particular. Through the broken roof, I could see the sky splattered with golden featherbed clouds. It would be sunset soon and the start of my second night in the woods. I shivered but cheered when I became aware of birdsong. Whatever malicious thing had stripped the forest to the North, it did not stretch to this place. A blackbird was beginning his evensong and the joy of it warmed me with gratitude for his virtuosity. Others joined him, and their choir filled the air. Then above them all came the solitary notes of a reed pipe.
I crept to a hole in the hut wall and peered out. The lake was calm, and the bank was deserted. The piper was hidden somewhere on the little island in the center of the lake. I could see nothing through the reed walls of the hut, so I crept outside and stayed low until I found a suitable hiding place among the reeds. The effort took more than I had bargained on and I breathed heavily, wondering if the piper could hear me.
I might never have spotted him for his clothes were the colour of the trees, grey and brown, flecked like a thrush’s chest. Suddenly he stood and began to walk across a small clearing, still piping, a dappled fawn following in his wake. Half dancing, he spun slowly around as he played, and I caught my first glimpse of his face. The shock sent me reeling sideways, my hand and arm plunging into the soft mud of the lake. It was the face of King Llewid of Dereculd.
15. - Encounters
There could be no mistake. He was less than the width of a stream away from me. It was Llewid, and the joy of seeing him welled up from somewhere in the pit of my stomach, oblivious of the fact that this could not be Llewid. I had held him in my arms as he died. I saw him buried beside his uncle, the old king. This was some innocent young man who had stolen away to the island to play his pipes. I settled back in my hiding place and enjoyed his merry recital while the fawn danced about his legs. It was an enchanting interlude and I resented the intrusion
of the fox who returned to my side.
‘Come away from here,’ he hissed. ‘This place has wickedness older than time. Can’t you feel it?’
‘You’re wrong fox.’ I stroked his head. ‘Can’t you hear the music? Don’t you think the piper looks like King Llewid?’
‘I hear it and I smell the evil but all you see is the face of your dead king.’ He stood on his back legs, as if to whisper something in my ear, but instead he bit my ear lobe.
I cried out, pushed him away and sprang to my feet. The piper had stopped his tune and was looking at me. For a long, breathless moment, his eyes held mine and I felt his misery and confusion. He took half a step towards me as the earth shook and we both fell to the ground. Before either of us could recover, there came a wailing from the air and, in the blinking of an eye, the dainty fawn became a snorting dragon. The great beast roared and shook its shaggy green scales, while the vermilion eyes searched the riverbank. It came between us, singeing the reed banks with its hot breath, sending me tumbling and crawling after the fox, towards the fowler’s hut.
‘Not there!’ he barked, and I stumbled along in his wake through heavy undergrowth, knowing that the fearsome creature was crossing the lake to destroy us. There was no shelter and we raced aimlessly on, leaping, ducking, weaving our way through a loathsome maze of green. My lungs ached for want of air and my legs became lead. Suddenly the fox dived into a badger set, his thoughts echoing back to me to follow. I bent, breathing heavily. How could I follow him? The hole was far too small. He insisted, swearing that he would bite the other ear if I did not save myself. The absurdity of that amused me and, in a second, I knew he was right. I was Green Mantle. The natural world was in my care and in the care of those who went before me. I searched their memories and I made the hole as wide as I need to slide down it, closing it again behind me, almost like an earthworm, covering it with brambles and nettles until not even the badgers could find it. We crouched in the peat-rich darkness, watching through a tiny hole, as the dragon sniffed the air prowling, searching, angry at its loss.
Even in our desperate state, I found myself wondering where the Llewid creature was, then I drove all thoughts of him away. Whatever power drew me to that lake might know the secrets of my heart and might be reaching into my mind. I filled my head with creature thoughts, a vixen’s thoughts of fresh meat and warm safety in the burrow. The fox was amused but willingly joined in the deception and, in the gathering dusk, the dragon tired of its hunt and went sulking back to its lair.
So it was that I spent the night in the earth, curled in mostly dreamless sleep with my dearest friend. I think I had one dream, before dawn, of a great forest and at its center was a tree, the tree, the tree of silver leaves and one fluttered down to my hand as I held it out, but as it touched my skin it cloaked me in silver. I woke with a start but did not share the dream with the fox. We left the badger set at dawn and by midday were near the coast road, where we were found by Matt and Sandor, coming through the forest towards us. There were no recriminations, no anger or double-edged remarks. We were all pleased to find each other safe and we hugged each other warmly.
‘Why did you leave the road? I asked. They might have missed us as they searched the forest.
‘No fear of that!’ Sandor explained. A series of black arrows of woodlice had shown them the way, from tree to tree in the densest patches. Before we left the forest, I found some of the woodlice and thanked them.
‘Mantle stopped leaking!’ they chuckled.
I gave them my protection and once more mounted Gilbert. It was comforting to see the fox back in his travelling bag on Gilbert’s back and when we reached the fishermen’s cottages, we all sank our spoons into Mari’s throw-together before visiting Tamora.
She was the colour of alabaster and her breath was shallow but even. Tregrin was sitting with Beryl at the side of her bed, and when I came to the door he stood and spoke softly to me. ‘She’s resting. Beryl won’t sleep although I’ve tried to persuade her that Blue Mantle and Gwythin have done everything they could. Can you make Beryl sleep?’
‘I will try.’ I whispered. He patted my shoulder and went downstairs. Beryl was sleeping soundly in a few moments. It was a simple Mantle trick and she was too exhausted to resist. I sat beside Tamora and held her hand as I went into her mind. It was as if she was far away, like talking to someone at the end of a long tunnel. I called her back, but she was too distant. I wanted to ask her so much, but I felt the presence of others, as if she was becoming part of something or someone else. I assumed it was my own tiredness that was blurring my message and I made my way down to the living room. Gwythin was standing with her back to me, looking out of the window. Blue Mantle was slumped in the chair beside the fire.
‘Is there nothing that we can do?’ I asked accepting a hot brew from Sandor.
‘It’s as if someone is sucking the life from her. I’ve tried everything. Did you notice the strange threads of colour on her arms?’ Blue Mantle directed his questions to Gwythin.
‘I’ve seen that before,’ I offered, ‘on some of the others. After death there is often bruising and a swelling in the armpit.’ The thought of Tamora’s death overwhelmed me. Gwythin turned slowly and I was shocked to see how pale and tired she looked. Whatever she had done to save lives had left its mark on her.
‘Blue Mantle shares our own fears.’ She put her hand gently on my cheek. ‘You have seen your own battles to get here.’ She took a small clot of earth from my hair. It crumbled in her fingers. ‘Their lives have been taken.’ She looked out across the marshes. ‘We have to find the thief.’ She smiled sadly at me. ‘You have to find the thief.’
‘I have to save Tamora first. Tell me, Gwythin, how can I save her?’
She looked down at the embers of the fire and sighed. ‘Her life force, her strength is ebbing away. If you want to save her you will have to give her more. You have to share your own strength with her. Then, get her away from here, far away, as soon as possible.’
‘I will take her back to Brak.’ Tregrin announced at the doorway. ‘The whole family is welcome to stay there with her as long as they wish. If we could carry her to the wagon, we could leave immediately.’
Gwythin smiled at the eagerness so obvious in his voice. She held up her hand. ‘I applaud your enthusiasm, Lord Brak, but your cousin has something that she must do first. The child will need help to survive such a journey.’ She nodded at me and I moved towards the door.
Without lifting his head or opening his eyes Blue Mantle spoke. ‘You both know that I should not condone what you are about to do but I’m too tired and worn out with my own efforts to raise even a small finger to stop you. Do what you can Megwin.’
Tamora’s eyes were closed when we entered the room and again I was struck by the thought that she was far away. I took her hand and sent my mind inside her fragile shell. The remains of Tamora was huddled in the far recesses of her mind. She had smelt the sweet apples and dreamed dreams of wonder until she felt the life being taken from her. She had seen terror. Terror had washed through her mind, sucking her joy and youth away. When she pleaded to be left alone, the terror had reveled in her distress. I had called to her, but fear had made her send me away and the terror began to suck away her life once more. In despair, she had called out to me. Now I was back with her, she felt that she could fight against the misery that gripped her and hold on to the life that was left to her. Together we agreed to combine our energy.
I gave the cowering Tamora all the strength that she would need to travel back to Brak and, with it, the gift of forgetfulness. She opened her eyes and smiled. I told her that she had been very ill but would recover and that I wanted her to go north with my cousin. Her parents were already packing the wagon with a bed so that she might sleep and, by the time I helped her down the narrow stairway, they were eager to be gone. We waved until they were out of sight, a lone rider and a green gypsy wagon. We gathered in Mari’s kitchen to discuss our plans.
; ‘The source of this lies somewhere beyond the marshes. I feel sure of that, although the marsh guardian knew nothing. I have to go and find it.’ I was too agitated to sit and preferred to pace.
‘How do you know?’ Blue Mantle seemed surprised. ‘I could find no rhyme nor reason for the sickness. You found that out from going inside her head?’
‘Yes, and although I know the Souran would have stopped me, you didn’t and for that I’m grateful, as I hope everyone will be if we can find the culprit.’ Despite our equality as Souran members I always felt Blue Mantle was my senior and I respected him. He was a gentle fellow, one who supported me when other Souran members wanted me gone. I explained to him that Tamora was so close to death and impossible to question, leaving me no alternative but to seek out what was left of her within her mind.’
‘You can’t go into the marshes alone. This could be a snare to catch you. I’ll go with you.’ Gwythin kept her steady gaze on me. Did she know more than she was saying? Had she been inside Tamora’s head too?
‘I have to go alone. You know that. The marsh holds no terror for me, we are old acquaintances. I have to seek out the guardian because it knows my name. It will be waiting for me.’
‘You aren’t going to let her do this are you?’ Sandor spluttered. He was still recovering from my disappearance in the forest. I was unsure whom he was addressing but it was the fox who answered him.
‘You should know by now, gypsy, that Green Mantle has friends everywhere. The seabirds will watch over her. I would follow her myself, but she would only scold me. Let her do this.’ There was no further argument.
When the sky was the soft green of predawn, I left the cottages and made my way to the marsh. I carried the staff of the Green Mantle, my tall wand of ancient rowan. My predecessor had never been without it, and it had miraculously appeared at the foot of my bed the morning after I received my Green Mantle. I no longer questioned such things.
