by Lari Don
“That’s not destiny. That’s personality.”
Thomas laughed. “Perhaps they’re the same thing.”
“Then how can you know Emmie and Ruby’s destiny? You’ve never even met them.”
“No, I haven’t met them.” Thomas turned and started down the scree. “But my grandfather made them. So he made their personalities and their destinies.”
Pearl stared at the top of his dark head below her. What did he mean, his grandfather made the triplets? She thought about the three rocking horses, brought to life and controlled by the Horsburghs. Surely her brother and sisters were more real, more alive, surely they had more free will, than those unnatural horses?
Chapter 13
Thomas walked at an angle down the scree: the unstable slope of small stones which had fallen from the crumbling cliff. Pearl nodded at his choice of route. Moving sideways over the scree rather than straight down, they were less likely to slip and take a fall of loose rocks with them.
Pearl didn’t try to catch up because she wasn’t sure what questions she could ask about how his grandfather had “made” her sisters and brother. Anyway, she was always cautious on scree.
She remembered the first time she had been on scree, when she was much younger than the triplets were now. She’d tried to beat Father to the bottom by sitting down and sliding. But the stones had moved with her, and pulled her down too fast. When she’d tried to brake with her heels, the rock chips falling behind her started to overtake and hit her back and head. She’d reached the bottom, bruised, grazed and in tears. Father had been furious with her, and had refused to take her climbing for weeks. Even if she never climbed with Father again, she would always be careful with loose rock underfoot.
Pearl went down the scree at her own pace, placing her feet at an angle across the slope. There was no lichen or moss colouring the wide carpet of grey rock. The scree was always shifting; nothing could grow there.
She was concentrating so hard on her own footing, she didn’t realise Thomas had stopped to wait for her until she nearly bumped into him.
“Don’t you like walking on scree?” he asked.
“I like solid ground under my feet; not moving and rolling, certainly not humming and singing.”
“I don’t like scree either. It’s a scar on mountains which are being worn down too fast. But we won’t be on this scree much longer. It ends at those high rocks, then we follow that burn down to the Laird’s grounds.”
Pearl planted her feet firmly and looked ahead. Thomas was pointing at half a dozen tall pale rocks, gathered in a tight group like a quiver full of arrows. She saw a splash of red at the base of the nearest rock. Poppy red? But poppies rarely flowered this high up.
To show Thomas that her caution didn’t mean she was afraid, she walked past him towards the rocks. She walked slowly; she wouldn’t be pushed into unwise speed by Thomas close at her shoulder. But the scree was shifting even before she put her feet down. It seemed to be moving forwards and downwards.
No, not downwards, not straight down like gravity would move it; but diagonally down, towards the gathering of tall rocks.
Pearl tried to slow herself, but the scree kept moving. She struggled to keep her balance.
“Go back, Thomas! Get off the scree!”
She slid faster and faster downhill, remembering in her back and shoulders the pain of her crashing descent years ago. Then she heard a harsh grinding sound over the clattering of small stones under her feet. The noise was coming from the rocks ahead.
She looked up, her arms flapping as she tried to stay on her feet. The patch of poppy red had spread, like liquid, all round the rocks.
And the rocks were grinding against each other, turning in the ground as though giant hands under the earth were twisting them. The rocks stood so close together, they struck sparks off each other as they moved.
Pearl jerked back with horror, lost her balance and sprawled on the tide of stones dragging her down.
As she slid closer, the smallest stones bouncing past her were caught between the two nearest rocks and crushed into dust.
She dug her heels and hands into the scree, ripping nails and skin in a frantic attempt to slow herself down. But she couldn’t grasp solid ground beneath her, just the tumbling current of stones taking her nearer and nearer to the grinding rocks.
She twisted her head. Was Thomas being dragged behind her?
He was on the shifting scree too, but he had his right hand over his left shoulder, trying to free his staff. Finally he managed to tug it out from the bundle on his back. In one smooth arc he thrust it straight through the scree into the thin earth beneath. It was enough to stop his slide, and Pearl watched as he leapt off the narrow band of moving stones onto a safe part of the slope.
“Pearl!” he shouted, his face white and his eyes dark.
“I can’t stop!” she screamed, now only yards from the groaning rocks.
She could feel the heat from the sparks below. She could smell the stink of spilled blood. She couldn’t hear Thomas any more. All she could hear was the thundering of the rocks. All she could see was a cloud of dust.
The solid shapes of the grinding rocks loomed out of the grey air ahead of her. Pearl straightened her trembling legs and pointed the soles of her strong black boots at the two leading rocks.
Her feet hit the rocks and she braced herself against the pull of the stones beneath her. The rocks held her up against the current of scree, but it was a temporary safety. The turning surfaces were dragging her boots inwards to the tiny crushing gap between them.
So she lifted her left foot, putting her whole weight on her right for a moment, and moved her left away from the gap. Then she lifted and moved her right foot. For a few moments Pearl lay on the slope, dancing a gritty two-step with the grinding rocks.
But the soles of her boots were wearing away, her legs were tiring and her back was being scraped raw by the stones underneath.
She risked a glance up. Where was Thomas?
He was standing on safe solid ground, watching her fight for her life.
Pearl could hardly breathe or think. She forced all her strength into her legs and feet. She could hold herself here for a little while longer, but the boy above was her only hope of rescue.
Even through the dust she could see he was scowling, arguing with himself. Then suddenly he stepped to the very edge of the moving stones. He thrust the staff into the slope again, and threw himself onto the river of scree. He lost his footing immediately, but the staff held firm and he didn’t slide down. He twisted round and held out his left hand towards Pearl.
“Take my hand!”
Pearl couldn’t reach, not with both feet braced against the rocks.
His long fingers stretched towards her.
“I can’t get any closer. Grab my hand, Pearl.”
This was her only chance. She lifted her left foot off the rock below, pushed as hard as she could with her right foot and launched her hand at his. He grabbed her wrist, as she felt her right foot slip towards the crushing gap.
Thomas pulled her up a couple of inches.
She could see the strain in his face. Her arm felt like it was being ripped apart at elbow and shoulder, and the scree was still battering at her body. But Thomas’s grip was strong, and she didn’t slip back towards the rocks.
He shifted slowly up the slope, using the staff to pull himself off the scree, dragging Pearl up with him. As she dangled from his hand, she swung round so the scree was sliding under her stomach.
Thomas stopped for a few deep breaths once he was on calm ground. His long arm was still holding Pearl over the moving stones, above the grinding rocks.
She waited for him to get his breath back and pull her right up. But his eyes narrowed, and he spoke very clearly over the harsh noise below.
“Where is Ruby?”
Pearl gasped. “What?”
“Where is Ruby?”
Through eyes watery with dust and fear, she s
tared at him. It had been a race, a contest, a war all along. And she had lost.
“Where is Ruby?”
There was no point in denying that she knew the answer, that she had rescued her sister and hidden her. He must have known since she followed the ring, since the rocking horse attacked her. He’d always known; that’s why he’d taken her with him. But she didn’t have to give him the answer he wanted.
“I won’t tell you.” She threw the hard words into the air between them.
“I’m holding your life in my hand, quiet girl. Tell me, where is Ruby?”
The rocks were grinding so loud that Pearl could hardly remember who her sister was, nor why she loved her. The endless rolling stones were scraping the courage from her body. But Pearl groaned, “I will not … betray … my sister.”
Thomas almost screamed, “Where is she? Tell me. I can’t hold you for ever.”
She couldn’t say it again. She just shook her aching head.
“It’s your choice, Pearl. I can pull you up or let you go. It’s your choice.”
Her dry mouth croaked, “No, Thomas. It’s your choice.”
He closed his eyes briefly, then laughed.
Just as she expected his fingers to open and drop her, he gave a hoarse yell, and heaved her onto the calm earth round the staff.
As soon as they were both off the scree, the grinding slowed and stopped.
Now the grit and dust were settling, Pearl could see a hare sitting on top of the middle rock. No, the hare was at too odd an angle. It was a corpse, propped up on the rock. A dead hare, ears dangling and paws open wide in a comic question.
Had it been hare’s blood she’d smelt at the foot of the rocks? Was this the Laird’s bloodlore?
She looked away from the rocks. Battered and shocked, she didn’t want to sit up, or stand up, or walk on. And she really didn’t want to speak to Thomas.
But she hauled herself over to the tiny burn falling down to the Laird’s lands. She rinsed the warmth of Thomas’s hand from her wrist, the grit from her palms and the blood from her nails. She drank handfuls of cold clean water.
She looked at Thomas. He was sitting with his arms round his knees, looking down at the castle and canals below.
He said quietly, “We will still find Ruby. But if we find her without you, then you won’t be able to offer her a different destiny. You’ve shown your bravery, Pearl, now show some sense and tell me where she is.”
Pearl shook her head, still rattling with the remains of her terror. “You were prepared to kill me!”
“I threatened to kill you. That’s different.”
“It didn’t feel different.”
He waved his hands at the hare and the bloodstained rocks. “It ends differently.”
“Would you do anything to get these mountains for your family?”
“Yes. Anything. I’ll do anything to win. I’ll reward those who help me, and grind down those who don’t. Are you still with me?”
“No, Thomas. I was never really with you. But I am going down there to get Emmie. If you’re going too, we’ll go the same way. But not together. Not ever again.”
Pearl stood up slowly. Every muscle in her body ached and her skin stung with grazes, but she climbed down the side of the burn as it splashed round the edge of the scree. She heard Thomas take a quick drink then follow her.
As she moved down the hill, faster and stronger with every step, she wondered how she could save her sister from both the Laird ahead of her and the boy behind her.
Chapter 14
Pearl stayed ahead of Thomas until they reached the bottom of the slope. But then she had to stop.
From the cliff, the land round the castle had seemed open: sweeping lawns decorated by curls of water. Pearl hadn’t noticed the thin dark shadow of a wall, drawing a line between the barren mountains and the Laird’s green parklands.
Now the wall was blocking her way. The top was higher than her arms could stretch, and the stones fitted so close together they gave no holds for climbing. She slumped against the wall and sighed. She was almost too sore and too tired to keep going.
Thomas arrived beside her.
“Shall we work together?” he asked in a smooth voice. “Just for a moment? Just to get over the wall?”
She swung round to him and yelled, “I don’t like you and I don’t trust you and I will not let you have my sister!”
“I know. But will you help me over the wall?”
“Me, help you! You must be joking.” She considered the height of the wall. “You could give me a boost; I’m lighter.”
“No!” Thomas laughed. “If I help you up, you’ll leave me here.”
“But if I help you up, you’ll leave me here.”
“No, I won’t. I still need you to reassure Emerald. I’ll need all my energy for the Laird, so you can comfort her or brush her hair or whatever little girls need. That’s why I let you tag along, remember.” He was adjusting the bundle on his back, securing the staff and gun.
“No it isn’t, you talked me into coming because you wanted to find out where Ruby was. That’s all.” Pearl kicked the base of the wall.
“That too. But I do want you to come to Swanhaugh Towers. Perhaps if you meet the Laird, you’ll think better of me.”
“I’ve seen his castle, Thomas. I already like him even less than I like you.”
“Help me up, Pearl, and I promise I will pull you up after me.”
“Why would I believe a promise from you?”
Thomas gripped Pearl’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. “By the land’s music and by my forefathers’ lore, I give you my word I will get you over the wall.”
Pearl nodded. She would have to take the chance.
She linked her hands to make a stirrup and braced her back against the wall. They both took a deep breath. Thomas put his left foot in her hands and she threw him upwards as he leapt. She stumbled as his weight left her palms.
Thomas pulled himself to the top of the wall, then, without a moment’s hesitation, he leant down, his long fingers reaching for Pearl’s hand. She shivered at the idea of trusting herself to that strong grasp again. But she reached up, he grabbed her tightly and lifted her up beside him.
“Thank you,” they both said, politely, at the same time. Thomas grinned. Pearl frowned.
“You didn’t use such a strong oath when you promised I could offer the triplets an alternative to your destiny.”
“No, I didn’t.” He raised his eyebrows and his smile grew wider.
“Will you swear now, by the oath I can believe, the oath you’ve just used, that I can have my say before you ask them to follow you?”
“No,” he said bluntly as he slid down the wall to the grass beneath.
“Why not?” she demanded, following him down.
He dismantled the bundle, put the jacket on, straightened his cuffs and hem, and armed himself again with the gun and the twisted stick.
“Because the Laird knows we’re coming. There might be no time to listen to my stories and songs, or your facts and arguments. Everyone’s destiny is approaching fast. It might be too late for anyone to choose.”
He turned his back on her and ran across the grass towards the nursery colours of Swanhaugh Towers.
Pearl patted her pockets, hoping to find a weapon, then set off after him.
The castle didn’t look any better close up. As she ran nearer, it began to look even worse. The walls were white stone, but the towers, the columns, the lintels, the balconies and the gargoyles were all carved from buttery yellow or sugary pink stone. It looked as if it was built to be eaten. Pearl felt like Gretel heading for the gingerbread house. Was there a witch inside? Would she bother to save this maddening Hansel from the oven?
If this fancy castle had been baked and iced, it was getting stale. It wasn’t aging like the castle she’d seen on the cliffs. It was rotting and mouldering. The pastel colours were smeared with streaks of mucus green from old copper and blood red f
rom rusting iron. Ragged curtains drifted out of cracked windows.
The land around wasn’t well tended either. The grass under her feet was long and lush, but it was growing in clumps like wild grass, not like a smooth garden lawn.
The sheep in the fenced off fields towards the river were plump enough, but they hadn’t been shorn last spring and their fleeces looked ragged and hot.
And the intricate canals looping round the castle were full of thick weed and bright green algae.
Thomas sprinted across the canals on slimy stepping stones, not slackening his pace at all, and Pearl followed as fast as she could.
She was about to cross the widest strip of smelly water when she heard a whooping booming noise. A dozen swans swooped through the air above them.
Thomas skidded to a halt on the grass, raised his gun and fired. A swan fell out of the air into the canal, filthy water splashing Pearl’s shins. She looked at the twisted white neck and dark eye, sinking below the fragile surface of the water. A dragonfly glittered above the bird’s open beak.
Pearl had only ever seen animals shot in sport before, never in hate or anger or fear. It didn’t seem right. There were rules in sport, but there weren’t any rules today.
The other swans wheeled away, and Thomas fired again, bringing down another bird.
Pearl watched him as he balanced on the balls of his feet, calmly swinging the gun round like part of his arm. Perhaps he wasn’t shooting in fear, or anger, or hate. This was a war, and Thomas might have the skill, power and coolness to win. Unfortunately, Pearl didn’t think they were on the same side.
She skidded across the stepping stones and caught up with him as he reloaded. The remaining swans circled behind the castle.
“Well done,” she said. Thomas gave her a smug smile. “Well done,” she repeated, “now everyone knows we’re here.”
He scowled. “The Laird knows already; the crows will have told him we’re on our way. But he doesn’t know the strength of my powers, nor the depth of your thrawn bloodymindedness, so we can still surprise him.”
He ran on towards the castle. Pearl followed, a few steps behind.
