The Dark Wild

by Piers Torday

I’m not the only one who can hear this voice. Other creatures stop and look around to see who is speaking.

  But perhaps I am the most surprised of all to discover whose voice it is.

  The voice is mine.

  Not only is it me speaking, but I’m standing up on our cliff edge, no longer caring who sees.

  *Get down! Oh dearie me, do please get down, new friend!* says the rat. *It’ll only be me who pays the price, you know.*

  But right now I don’t care. I fought for every single member of my wild. I found them a cure. I can’t sit here and listen to this.

  First, Dagger stops screeching and chanting, fixing me with his small black eyes from his white rock. Then the foxes. Then the many eyes of the many spiders. And one by one, every single animal in the pit below twists their snout or beak or mouth around, to see what their leader is staring at.

  I am a Wildness. Animals listen to me. They obey my command – that was the gift the wolf-cub told me I had. The gift that called water snakes to our aid in the fish-road, and a mouse to stop a kombylarbester.

  I have nothing to fear from any animal. That’s what they said.

  *Oh dearie me, new friend,* gibbers the rat, darting away from me and cowering behind a rock. *Please don’t get us into trouble! I don’t want them to take you away!*

  The cavernous hall of the Underearth stays quiet. This time, I mean completely and utterly silent, with not even the buzz of a fly’s wings to be heard.

  Our precipice is bathed in shadow, but I can feel thousands of pairs of nocturnal eyes trained on me, as sharp and glittering as knives. I don’t sit down or move.

  Instead, I try again. *No. Don’t listen to this dog. He’s lying to you.* Somehow my words sound weaker and wobblier out than they did in, echoing round the cave to total silence.

  Then, after a pause that seems to last forever, as the sweat rolls down my neck – the dog inspects his claws. *Would you like to come here and say that, human?* he asks, back to his cold, dry voice.

  *If you will hear me rather than harm me, yes,* I say, with no intention of leaving our cliff any time soon.

  *It wasn’t a question,* says Dagger.

  And I hear a shriek behind me. Three short, bird-like screams. But they’re not made by birds. Three foxes stand at the entrance to our hiding place.

  Who knows how long they have been there – I didn’t hear them approach at all. It’s as if they just appeared out of the dark.

  Leading them, the large one who looks as if he is wearing a fur-fringed hood, who introduced Dagger on to the white rock. His eyes are hidden, but the shorter one next to him, with black-tipped ears, has eyes that are wide open and alert. Lastly, a skulking fox who hangs his head so low he seems to be almost crawling along the ground.

  *You human louts trapped my mother in a cage and killed her,* says Hooded Fox, in his gruff voice.

  *Hee-hee! You built over my den with stone,* says Eyes Wide, his eyes rolling as if there was something funny about that. *My vixen and cubs all died! Like you’re going to!*

  The skulker licks his lips, and adds in a sneering tone, *Yeah. What they said.*

  I hold my hands up. *I didn’t do any of these things. I have only tried to help animals. I rescued the last wild. I am … a Wildness too. My father found a cure for the plague.*

  The words are tumbling out so quickly and every one is true, so why do they sound like lies down here? Landing like hollow rocks in the chalk dust around me, crumbling to nothing as they fall.

  *You lie, human interloper,* says Hooded Fox. *There are no beasts left apart from the members of our wild down here. His Wildness has seen for himself and told us.*

  But Dagger saw us in the Forest of the Dead. He saw.

  The hooded leader of the foxes takes a step forward and opens his jaws. It could be a yawn or a grin or something worse. Either way, I don’t like it.

  I wobble on the edge of the precipice, holding my hands out to balance myself. Out of the corner of my vision, I can just see the rat covering his eyes with his paws, rocking backwards and forwards behind his boulder. *Oh dear, oh dearie me, I knew this would happen,* he’s whimpering to himself. *You stupid, stupid rat.*

  Eyes Wide steps forward, staring and blinking. If animals can look mad, this one does. *There is no cure! All the other animals are dead, dead, dead! We’re the only ones left … and now we’re just crazy about humans. I hear you’re delicious.*

  Skulker slinks along behind him. *Couldn’t have put it better myself,* he says.

  The three foxes are now so close I can smell their doggy breath, see their spit glisten on their teeth. They don’t look so skinny or weak now.

  *Save yourself, new friend, save yourself now,* cries the rat. *We’re both doomed if you don’t do what they say! Oh dear!*

  We are not doomed. I am a Wildness. I can command all animals.

  I raise my hands, to try and calm them. *Listen, foxes. I command you to stand back. Let me help you. Let me help all of you.* I keep looking anxiously over my shoulder at the animals below, all of them peering up at me. It’s like a spiky forest of fur, feathers and shells down there.

  *No one commands us but our Wildness,* says Hooded Fox.

  *But I have the gift –* I stammer.

  Eyes Wide laughs and wheezes, more like a hyena than a fox. Skulker slyly looks up at me from below.

  *You know what you just said?* he asks.

  I nod.

  *I don’t agree,* he says. And he pounces –

  The other two leap for me at the same time, thumping on my chest, punching my arms back, as we roll in a ball together down the slope to the wild below. As we fall, I see the rat sticking his snout over the edge, whiskers twitching with worry.

  I wish I hadn’t left the others. I wish the General was still here.

  Rats and mice part for us, crawling and clambering into the shadows, as we land in a messy pile on a floor of twigs and dry leaves.

  The foxes are snarling and biting, a whirl of ginger and white fur, tearing the skin on my knees and drawing blood, but they don’t hurt me more than that. My knees are grazed and scratched, cave soot cakes my eyes and I am too dazed to resist as they snatch at my clothes, Hooded Fox and Eyes Wide dragging me through the crowd to the white boulder. Skulker follows low behind, nipping at my feet as they bounce in the dust.

  They haul me to the front of the white rock and drop me like a sack of formula in front of Dagger. The dog who spoke to me in the Forest of the Dead looks down on me with his funny tiny eyes and swollen, ragged lips.

  Seeing his mouth close up again reminds me of what Littleman did to him. It’s strange, but even now – the wild turned towards us, chanting and baying for my blood – I can’t help feeling sorry for this strange, ugly dog.

  I don’t think he feels the same way.

  *Well done, brave fox Guardians,* he says. The foxes nod stiffly and draw back, keeping their heads low, touching the ground as if Dagger was a king. No animal ever did that for the stag or for me. He gives them a sort of razor-toothed smile. *And I promise you that it doesn’t matter in the least that you let a human discover our secret sanctuary. As soon as I spotted the intruder, you captured him quickly enough.* The foxes cower and whimper at this. *But now we have our first human prisoner,* announces the dog to the crowd, *let justice be done!*

  In the Underearth of the dark wild, buried deep beneath the city, a thousand forgotten animals fall quiet to hear my fate. I have never regretted leaving those I trust more.

  *In accordance with animal law, let any beast who bears a grievance against this intruder step forward,* orders Dagger.

  The crowd stays silent. They are unsure what to do, I can tell. I imagine this has never happened before. And I have not hurt any of them. Then murmurs and whispers begin to echo around the walls of my subterranean prison and courtroom.

  I shrink back against the white rock. The daylight now piercing bright like stars through the domed roof above, I wipe the muck from my eyes to get a
better look at the Underearth.

  It is not just a cave, as I first thought, at least not one made by rocks and water alone. The wall behind the rock is covered with paintings, not like any I have seen before. Drawn and coloured straight on to the stone, there are pictures of giant bulls and a pack of wolves, leaping deer – and splattered all over, human handprints, dripping blood red.

  These animals aren’t the only creatures to have lived here.

  The ragged walls are also carved, but not with pictures. Dotted lines, circles within circles, arrows and pointed letters. Inscriptions I have seen before – at the First Fold – where the pigeons said the dream of my gift began. Beneath the pictures, crudely dug tunnels lead off who knows where.

  As the murmuring fades away, my attention returns to the mob of animals around me, but not one steps forward.

  I sit up as much as I can. Perhaps this will not be so bad after all.

  The dog cocks his head. *Is there not one among you bold enough to challenge a human in public?* he says. But he doesn’t sound surprised or disappointed. *I understand your concern. You are right to be afraid of any human. They have ways of killing animals that are not easily discerned by the naked eye.* More lies. *But fear not – this is the perfect moment for me to call upon my New Guardians.*

  And from the shadows behind the white rock, as if the cave paintings had slid down on to the ground and burst into life, Mother and her wolves appear. There is a sharp intake of breath from the assembled wild.

  The foxes look at the new arrivals, and back to their leader.

  *But, begging your most wild pardon – we are your loyal Guardians, your Wildness,* says Hooded Fox, while his comrades gather behind him, casting suspicious looks at the newcomers.

  Dagger shakes his head. *You still are, brave fox, you still are. You are my old and loyal Guardians, the most loyal any animal has ever had. To celebrate this service, I am today announcing, before this whole and vast wild, your new role as Old Guardians. You must keep this wild safe at all costs against the enemy, as you have done tonight.*

  There is not one word of protest against the metal-toothed dog from the crowd.

  *I don’t mind as long as I still get to kill things,* says Eyes Wide, his eyeballs turning somersaults in different directions, *but if we’re still Guardians, what are the wolves?*

  *Ah,* says Dagger blinking his beady eyes. *Like I said, dear loyal fox, they are my New Guardians, expressly charged with guarding your humble Wildness – as we approach a state of war with those above. You are relieved of that most tiresome duty with immediate effect.*

  The foxes start to complain, but the wolves draw in around the rock as Dagger remounts it. The foxes content themselves with fastening their jaws around my wrists and ankles, spreadeagling me flat on my back against the dirt so I cannot move. As their filthy fangs dig into my bare skin, I feel short of breath, a nasty sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  The dog talks from the rock above me. He begins again, as the boar did at the Ring of Trees, with the greeting *I have taken to the white rock, so hear me.* He turns back to Mother, who stands at the front of her line of wolves guarding the rock, like the prow of a ship. *Brave New Guardians from the north – well done for answering our call, the whispers we sent far and wide through the tunnels of this land. And well done, also, our noble battalion of squirrels who ensured your safe arrival.*

  All eyes turn to the grey squirrels, who are leaping and rubbing their noses with pride. I didn’t call them. But someone else clearly did.

  The dog continues. *You are welcome to the Underearth. Do I hear that you have a charge against this human child?*

  Mother’s soft slanted eyes, close together above her narrow snout, are full of cleverness and hate. *Now my mate will be avenged,* she murmurs, before stepping right over me with a flick of her high-held tail, to address the dark wild. I struggle and kick, getting nothing but a nip from Eyes Wide in return.

  The painted cave temple is thick with anticipation, starlings swooping through the air to perch on the carvings above my head for a closer view. I scan the cliff above, but there is no sign of my ratty friend.

  Mother waits for the crowd to settle before speaking in her purring, silky tones. *There were others apart from you, this is true. My pack were appointed Guardians of the last wild, the last-surviving beasts above ground. A great stag had led us to a place of safety from the plague, or so we thought, until a few moons ago the wind blew in our greatest fear.*

  There is a groan from the assembled animals, and Mother’s companions hang their heads.

  *We remained determined to protect those we served, but the stag had better ideas. Some pigeons had told him of a human boy who still had the ancient gift, and despite our entreaties that the natural order had to be preserved, against the wishes of the whole wild, he brought the boy into our sanctuary.*

  A thousand pairs of eyes are ready to pass judgment on me.

  *The boy tricked the stag and some others into believing his father would provide human magic for a cure.*

  *Not true!* I yell, but Eyes Wide bites harder on my ankle this time, drawing blood. I gasp at the pain.

  *Who would you believe, dear creatures of this wild?* says Mother, in the softest tone. *Myself or this … animal killer?*

  I have never—

  The wild are in uproar, yelling at me. The noise is so great a little shower of stone dust crumbles down on me from the cracked roof, making me cough. The foxes only tighten their grip. It hurts so much, but I think of Polly and try not to show it.

  *We never believed his lies about magic. My mate tried to stop him and the stag escaping, but they killed him. They lured our only cub to follow him out of our sanctuary, into this human land. They left promising a cure, but none came. More beasts grew sick, and more died. In desperation, we Guardians left, and in search of food found ourselves trapped on a metal machine that carried us here. After many hours travelling in the dark, we began to hear your call from the tunnels around us. We called back. Thank you, squirrels, for answering us.* The grey squirrels flick their bushy tails with pride. *After the machine tumbled over, and we saw you, great Wildness, waiting for us, we knew it was our destiny.*

  The wolf looks down at the stray dogs and cats, the ones with bitten ears and missing fur, some three-legged, who are staring up at her wide-eyed.

  *All of you, listen. We are the last of that wild and we come in peace,* she says with a smile in her voice that makes my stomach curdle. *Unlike this boy, who seeks only our destruction. There is no magic; there is no cure. He has even turned my own beloved cub against me.*

  *The wolf is lying!* I manage to get out, before being nipped by all three foxes at once, making me cry out in pain. Sparks and dots fly before my eyes and bile rises into my mouth with the shock.

  Mother nods her head curtly at the ranks of beasts and withdraws back into the shade of the rock. Dagger pads and prowls up and down above, like he’s thinking. Finally he comes to a stop. *Well, my dark wild, you have heard the charges laid against our intruder: that he has lied to the last wild, murdered a Guardian and betrayed his sacred gift – passed down through his human bloodline for generations.*

  My mind is reeling, but I can’t think straight – passed down through my bloodline for generations?

  There is a flutter in the hazy light above.

  *Oh, your Wildness, your Wildness!* The starling is circling above the dog’s head. Mother raises her eyes in irritation. *I’m sorry to interrupt you …*

  *What is it, Starling?* asks the dog, sounding short. *Have you come to add to the charges against the intruder?*

  *Oh no, your Wildness. I just wanted to say that I think you’ve orchestrated this really, really well. The whole charges thing, building up the drama, then revealing the wolf’s statement, now the final judgment hanging in the air, so to speak – we in the starling nest just think it’s all been so exciting to watch.*

  There is a pause. You could literally hear a feat
her drop.

  *Is that all, bird?* snaps the dog.

  *That was all,* says the starling, flapping back to her nest, completely oblivious of the other birds scowling at her. But it has given me my chance. I think what Polly would do, if she was here. If only she was really here. Then she would do what she was best at – speaking out.

  The cave is silent as I try to be like her. *Wait! You have to listen to me. There are good humans above, fighting your enemies. They have discovered a secret weapon they call the Iris, that will bring the earth back to what it was. We could work together, we don’t need to kill each other—*

  Dagger peers down his nose at me. *Oh really? And what is this Iris, human? What does it do?*

  The mob are waiting. Pale and frightened, I begin to reply, when I realize … I don’t know. I know that Polly told me it was a secret weapon, that it was hope. I know that Littleman told me it was a capsule, that Aida said it could get the world back to how it was – but I still don’t really know what the Iris is or does. Nothing that I can explain to this crazy dog, anyway.

  The only person who might be able to tell me what the Iris does is miles away in a prison of her own.

  Suddenly, like a punch in my stomach far more painful than anything these foxes or this dog can do to me, I miss Polly more than ever before. She would have known what to do now. She would know a trick with a rock or have found a special underground weed that was toxic to dogs, I know she would.

  Even if I knew where she was, what she was doing, that might make this feel better, make me braver about whatever comes next.

  Dagger grows impatient, flicking spit from his muzzle. *I said, human, what does this Iris do?*

  All I can do is shake my head.

  The dog allows the gales of laughter to fall away before he speaks again. *So it is decided. Far be it from me to guide your wise judgement. I am simply your Wildness, your servant. I ask you, the wild – what sentence do you wish me to pass?*

  The cry begins softly at first, right at the back of the chamber, before growing and rising to a wail and a shriek that brings more dust and grit fizzing down from the heights. The sound is deafening, but even with thousands of different voices yelling and shrieking at once, the word is unmistakable.