Gully didn’t move.
‘Gully?’
Skip grinned. ‘He’s fine.’
Ottilie exhaled. Gully always could sleep through anything. ‘Where’s Maeve? Is she … is she …’
‘Maeve’s out looking for you,’ said Leo, with a look that clearly said, calm down.
‘Tell me what happened.’ Her head snapped back and forth between them. ‘How are you all here? What happened when Whistler came out?’
Skip waved her hand. ‘No, tell us what happened down there.’ Her eyes darted to the doorway and she lowered her voice. ‘Where’s the sleepless witch?’
Ottilie didn’t know where to begin.
Ned got in first, his voice thin and croaky. ‘There was no witch, just a pipe in the coffin. Then Whistler dried to drown us.’
Leo looked confused. With a cough of laughter, he said, ‘A smoking pipe?’
Ned shook his head. ‘Musical.’
‘No sleepless witch?’ said Skip. ‘You mean there isn’t one … anywhere?’
‘Don’t know,’ said Ned.
‘But how did you get out?’ said Leo, glancing between them.
‘Dark tunnel. Glowing fungi,’ said Ottilie, holding the lumi out for them to see.
Skip’s eyes lit up. ‘Wow!’ She snatched it out of Ottilie’s hand. ‘Is that lumi? It’s worth a fortune!’
Ottilie’s weary arm dropped to her side. ‘Tell us what happened to you?’
Leo frowned. ‘We were hiding in the ditch. I was watching, ready to signal like we planned. But she must have known we were there, because the moment she appeared … I don’t even know what happened.’
‘The ground tried to eat us,’ offered Skip, still gazing at the lumi.
‘We couldn’t move,’ said Leo. His neck tensed, and Ottilie could tell he was reliving it. ‘The roots made a gag so we couldn’t call out to warn you.’ He met her gaze, offering an unspoken apology.
Ottilie blinked and shook her head – it was the most she could muster in that moment.
‘Then after she … took you down,’ he continued, ‘Maeve found us. She said Whistler spotted her and knocked her out of the air. She was unconscious for a while. By the time she woke up, it had all already happened. She thinks it’s all her fault – that she gave us away when Whistler caught her.’
‘It’s not,’ said Ottilie sharply, but she didn’t elaborate. It was her fault, not Maeve’s. She would tell them about the necklace another time, when she had enough strength to bear the blame. ‘What happened then?’
‘Maeve made the roots let us go.’ Leo gripped Skip’s shoulder. ‘But Skip was injured.’
Ottilie’s eyes snapped to Skip, who stopped prodding at the lumi and pulled back her hair to reveal a nasty cut across the side of her forehead that went down to the top of her cheekbone. ‘I got cut on a rock when the roots dragged me down,’ Skip explained.
‘It was bleeding so much,’ said Leo. ‘Maeve thought she might be able to close it, but we needed to go somewhere safe where Whistler wouldn’t interrupt her.’
Ottilie had a closer look at the jagged wound.
‘It was messy and slow, but she got there in the end,’ said Leo.
‘She thinks it’ll scar, but I don’t really mind.’ Skip grinned.
Ottilie gazed at Gully, still sleeping through all of this. She looked up to find Leo looking uneasy.
‘He wanted to go down after you,’ said Leo carefully. ‘But Skip needed help and we needed to hide. We convinced him to show us the way here, but once we got here, he wanted to go back for you. Maeve was working on Skip and those roots mangled my bad leg again, so I could barely walk. We couldn’t let him go alone. I knew you’d kill me if we did. So, Maeve …’
Ottilie remembered the way Whistler had made Ned sleep. She blanched. ‘She put a spell on him?’
‘Not really,’ said Skip. ‘She said there was a spell, but she didn’t know how to do it.’ She started speaking very quickly. ‘She was scared of getting it wrong and making him sleep forever, so she found some sickles –’
‘Sickles are poison!’ said Ottilie. She had learned from a very young age never to touch the pale, crescent-shaped flowers that floated like ghostly boats in the swamp waters.
‘Maeve used the petal powder to make him sleep,’ said Skip, still speaking very fast. ‘It worked great,’ she added.
‘I can see that!’ said Ottilie, trying very hard to stay calm. ‘But when is he going to wake up?’
‘She said by morning,’ said Leo, stepping away from her as if he feared violence.
‘You better hope he wakes up by morning!’ said Ottilie, panic gripping her again.
Ned put his arm around her, which didn’t help her nerves.
‘He will – she promised,’ said Skip, the beginnings of a smile creeping onto her face.
‘Wait, where’s Nox?’ said Ottilie. Had Whistler done something to them too?
‘Nox and Maestro are hiding in the forest. We didn’t want to scare everyone here,’ said Skip.
‘In Longwood?’ said Ottilie. Her old fears resurfaced, but she shoved them back down. The wingerslinks braved the Narroway. They could handle Longwood.
‘Hang on just a minute,’ said Leo, stepping towards them. Ottilie noticed his limp. ‘What’s this?’ He waggled his hand between Ottilie and Ned.
Ned quickly dropped his arm from around her shoulders and Ottilie awkwardly slid away from him.
Leo leaned in towards Ottilie and muttered, ‘I’ll have no-one messing with my fledge.’
Ottilie rolled her eyes and shoved him away.
Ned laughed. ‘She’s not your fledge.’
Leo gave him a look of mock distrust and said, ‘She’s not yours, either.’
‘I’m not anybody’s anything,’ said Ottilie, feeling deeply uncomfortable with all the attention. ‘We need to figure out what to do.’
They were stuck. Gully wouldn’t wake until morning and Maeve was still out looking for them. While the others took the opportunity to rest, Ottilie crept out to sit with Old Moss and Mr Parch.
She told them everything, every little part of her story, and they filled her in on the slightly less exciting goings on of the Swamp Hollows. Finally, because she had gone too long without asking, Ottilie said, ‘Where is she?’
Old Moss took her there, teetering back and forth, her walking stick clunking on the stone. When they came to the mouldy old curtain, Moss rapped her stick against the wall.
‘Gurt!’ she hollered.
‘Whozat?’ came a sniffly reply.
‘Get out here,’ said Moss.
Gurt eased the curtain aside as if it were delicate silk, and poked his waxy face through the gap. ‘Well, hello there, little Ott! What brings you to Castle Gurt?’
Did time not move in this place? It was as if it were the same day Gully had gone missing – as if they’d all been asleep since she left.
‘Take off,’ snapped Moss.
‘What’s that, Moss? Take off what?’ He dropped the curtain and started tapping his head as if looking for a hat to remove – then tugging at his shirt, revealing sharp ribs and pocked skin.
‘Off with you, you crusty leech!’ said Moss, brandishing her walking stick.
‘This is my property,’ he said, swinging his arms about proudly. ‘You can’t make me leave.’
Moss prodded him with the walking stick.
‘Argh!’ He jumped back.
She poked at him again and again until, grumbling, he scampered off down the tunnel, Moss hobbling just slightly behind.
Ottilie stepped into the hollow. Even after the rotting stench of the withering sickness, the smell of old bramblywine still turned her stomach. Freddie was in the corner, sleeping, just where Ottilie had left her nearly two years ago. Ottilie stood frozen, unsure if she wanted to rouse her. Finally, she moved over to the pile of old blankets and curled into her mother’s bones.
30
Parting Gifts
Perhaps
Old Moss had scared Gurt off, because he did not return to his hollow that night. Even in her sleep, Freddie’s breaths were short and shallow. It was as if she never exhaled, just sucked little gasps of air into a void.
Ottilie didn’t know what to expect when Freddie woke. Sometimes, first thing in the morning, Freddie was her old self. But it was rare and, as Ottilie lay beside her, she realised she couldn’t risk the heartache. Not now, not after learning about the keeper. Not with Whistler on the verge of attack, and Scoot nearing the end. So, knowing that she might well regret it, Ottilie slunk from Gurt’s hollow and back to her own.
Every one of them was asleep. Ottilie didn’t want to wake them. She needed air.
She was just about to pull the door shut when a shadow bobbed and feathers whooshed. She nearly jumped out of her skin as a black owl swept across the hollow to land on her shoulder. The weight was like a reassuring hand and, surprising herself, she smiled.
Stepping carefully over Mr Parch’s legs, she wandered through the winding tunnels and out into the damp air. Dawn was approaching. Through gaps in the trees a faint silver sheen brightened the sky, and the shallow swamp pools seemed to push towards it.
Maeve swept off Ottilie’s shoulder and turned back into herself just before her feet sank into the mud.
‘You’re getting so good at that.’
Maeve didn’t smile. Her eyes were hooded. ‘They told me about the sleepless witch,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t there? Just a pipe?’
Ottilie nodded and remembered what Leo had said about Maeve blaming herself. ‘Thank you for what you did. You saved all of them. It wasn’t your fault – it was mine.’
It was always easy confessing things to Maeve – so much easier than telling anyone else. Ottilie held out the bone necklace. ‘Whistler knew I was there because of this. She was probably watching for you. You got caught because of me – we all did.’
Maeve fixed her eyes on the necklace and simply said, ‘It doesn’t matter.’
But Ottilie knew it did. She’d been a careless fool and she could have got them all killed. ‘If you hadn’t got them out I don’t know what she would have done to them.’ Her throat pressed in and her words were little more than a string of gasps.
Maeve offered her no comfort. Instead, her eyes swept from tree to tree as if she suspected Whistler was hiding behind one. ‘She didn’t come looking for us.’
‘She has more important things to do.’ Ottilie didn’t dare imagine what those things could be. She dragged her focus to the present. Action – planning – it was the only thing that calmed her. ‘Would you go back ahead of us? Go and talk to Alba – see if she can find out what that pipe might be for, and tell her to keep looking into Seika Devil-Slayer. Whistler said her coven put the coffin in that tomb – she might have something to do with the pipe.’
Maeve blinked. She too seemed calmed by the idea of doing something useful. ‘I will – I’ll go now.’
Ottilie jumped from thought to thought, trying to find anything else they could do. ‘If you can figure out a way, try to warn Captain Lyre that Whistler’s got what she’s been waiting for, and that it’s all about to start again … without telling him,’ she sighed, ‘anything that will get you into trouble.’
Maeve merely turned, shifted, and soared into the dawn.
With some reluctance, Ottilie returned to the hollow. She wanted to say her goodbyes before everyone rose, but she needed something first. She crept over to Ned. His jacket had fallen open as he slept, and his inner pocket was glowing slightly. Careful not to wake him, she plucked out the lumi and tucked it quickly away so the light wouldn’t wake anyone.
For just a second, she hesitated. Lumi was worth a fortune. Was she robbing him? She was considering slipping it back when Ned’s hand brushed hers. She nearly jumped. The light from the torch outside was dim, but she could see that his eyes were open. Well, he didn’t seem to be stopping her. She lifted her finger to her lips and left the hollow.
Shutting the door behind her, Ottilie roused Old Moss and Mr Parch. Last time she’d left Swamp Hollows, she didn’t get a goodbye. No matter how painful, she would have one this time.
Moss forbade her from going back to the Narroway, but Mr Parch just hugged her firmly and said, ‘Good luck.’
When she held out the lumi, she thought Old Moss’s eyes were going to pop out of her head.
‘Ottilie,’ said Mr Parch. ‘Do you know what you have there?’
‘Yes.’ She pressed it into his twiggy hands. ‘It’s yours.’
He tried to give it back. ‘Oh no no no, we couldn’t. We can’t!’
‘I want you to have it,’ said Ottilie. The lumi would earn enough to keep them fed for a long time to come. And best of all, she told them where to find more. With the amount in that tunnel, they could buy themselves a home and leave the Swamp Hollows for good.
‘You just need someone trustworthy to get it for you.’ She wished she had time to collect it for them herself. ‘And make sure he doesn’t find out.’ She gritted her teeth, loath to even speak the keeper’s name.
‘We’ll share it,’ said Mr Parch. ‘We’ll find a way to get it and we’ll share it with everyone here.’
‘Do whatever you want with it,’ she said. ‘But … just … if you do leave, will you take her with you?’
Mr Parch’s eyes crinkled. ‘Of course, Ottilie. Of course we will. But … we can only ask. She has to decide to leave.’
Ottilie knew it was true – and she did not know if Freddie would leave.
‘And this.’ She held out the bone necklace. ‘If you ever see a dredretch, one of you put this on and stay close to the other. It’ll keep you safe while you get as far away as you can. But only ever wear it if dredretches are near. And you have to remember to breathe.’
She had thought it through. It was safe for them to keep it. Whistler would have no interest in them, and it could mean life or death if the dredretches breached the Narroway. She only wished she could give them her ring, too, but she was still no use without it.
Behind her, the door creaked open and someone leapt at her, strangling her with a hug.
‘I wanted to go back for you!’ Gully said. ‘They wouldn’t let me!’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘It’s all right. I’m here.’
31
Captain’s Orders
Injured and exhausted, they could not risk flying inland over the Narroway. They took to the coast again, camping on a beach just across the border. As they set off the next morning, Ottilie felt an eager ache. Was it Fiory she was yearning for? The fort and the grounds? Or was it simply the return to normalcy? But of course, whatever peace might be found there, she knew it could not last much longer. Whistler might have attacked already – she could well have used the pipe for whatever dark purpose it was intended. The king could be dead, Fiory a ruin.
As they passed through the southern peaks, everything looked ordinary. The mountains were steady and silent as ever, and Fiory was still standing, still guarded, just the way they’d left it.
The lower grounds were ahead. Ottilie could see the pale wingerslink sanctuary curving around the edge of a field. She could imagine Bill inside, combing Glory’s fur, or bribing Malleus with eel so he could file his claws. But she knew that wasn’t what she would find. These were not ordinary days. Bill would not be humming and prying splinters out of paws. He would be rocking back and forth, his webbed feet buried in the straw, sorting through the past to help fix the future.
The wall watchers must have sent early word of their approach, because the moment they touched down two of Ottilie’s least favourite people marched towards them – Wranglers Kinney and Furdles, with matching looks of cruel triumph on their faces.
Furdles had shackles hanging from his belt and Kinney was holding his whip, which he made a show of stroking as they were escorted up from the lower grounds. Something to make him feel powerful, Ottilie thought.
Ottilie and her friends walked to the tune
of Furdles’ gleeful murmurings and Kinney’s sporadic spitting on the ground. No-one checked them over or ordered them to the infirmary. Not even Leo, who was limping and had to lean on Ned to make it all the way up the cliff stairs.
As they trudged inside, Ottilie wondered where they were being taken. To Conductor Edderfed? To the king? She knew she should be more nervous, but, after everything, a scolding seemed almost trivial.
They rounded a corner and Captain Lyre’s door flew open. His face was heavier and harsher than Ottilie remembered. He looked like a statue of himself, sturdy and austere, with hard lines carved deep, trapping shadow.
‘I’ll see them,’ he said. His eyes scanned them from head to toe, concern, anger and fear switching with each blink.
‘We’re taking them to Yaist,’ said Wrangler Furdles, grabbing the back of Skip’s shirt as if daring Captain Lyre to try to take her. ‘He said he’d deal with them until the conductor gets here!’
Captain Lyre’s nostrils flared. His eyes fixed on Skip, who was struggling to pull herself free. A muscle ticked in his jaw. ‘I’ll see them.’ His voice was dangerously calm.
With much grumbling and muttering, Kinney and Furdles allowed them to enter Captain Lyre’s chambers. ‘Out,’ said Captain Lyre quietly.
Furdles swore under his breath and shuffled out. Kinney lingered in the doorway, stroking his whip.
Captain Lyre stared him down and finally, with a nasty smirk, Kinney left.
The door snapped shut and Captain Lyre turned so slowly Ottilie was sure he was trying to settle his temper. ‘Where did you go?’ His voice was too quiet.
Ottilie felt like a little girl again. There was something utterly terrifying about being disciplined by someone who was usually friendly.
Ottilie Colter and the Withering World Page 15
