Wildfire

by Lene Kaaberbøl

  “Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell us what happened, Miss Clara,” said Beardy, whose real name might be Mr Malkin. And, of course, everyone turned to look at me – both people and animals. I went bright red with embarrassment, and hunched over my teacup to hide it.

  “I locked the door just like Aunt Isa told me to,” I said without looking at them. “But then I saw something burning outside the stable…”

  I told them about the fire that had been built right up against the stable door and about Star screaming from inside. Even now when I knew that it was a ploy by Chimera to get me out of the house, I still couldn’t see how I could have done anything other than what I did. After all, I couldn’t let her burn down the stable with Star and all the goats inside… just the thought of it made the tears well up in my eyes.

  “Of course not,” said Mrs Pommerans, who was sitting next to me on the sofa. “You’re a good girl and a brave one, Clara, and you did what you had to do.” She comforted me by stroking my arm, which did indeed seem to help, while a scented cloud of peppermint spread around her. She had called me brave. No one had ever done that before. The lump in my throat grew smaller and after a few deep breaths I could carry on without crying.

  “She was perching on the roof,” I said. “I didn’t see her to begin with, but then suddenly there she was. And then… then she flew right at me.”

  Mr Malkin raised an eyebrow.

  “I thought her wings were mostly decorative,” he said. “Can she actually fly?”

  Master Millaconda shook his head.

  “She shouldn’t be able to. If they really were able to support her weight, the wingspan would have to be four to five times greater. But they probably give her the ability to glide.”

  I looked hesitantly from one to the other.

  “She flew,” I said. “From the roof and down… down on top of me. I… I fell. And she tied my hands and put a collar around my neck so that I couldn’t resist very much, and she… she did something to Bumble.”

  Aunt Isa nodded.

  “She bewitched him,” she said. “She twisted his life cord. He was still unconscious when I came home. Without my help, I don’t think he would have made it.” Bumble’s tail bashed the floor softly. Either he knew that we were talking about him or he was just pleased to hear Aunt Isa’s voice.

  “What does that mean?” I asked. “His… life cord?”

  “All living beings have something inside them which we call the life cord,” Mrs Pommerans explained. “It’s where your life force comes from and it’s what connects us to the rest of the living world. If it breaks, we die.”

  So Bumble had nearly died. She had almost killed him. It made me so angry that the teacup clattered in my hand.

  “She’s mean,” I said. “She’s mean and evil and… she doesn’t care about anyone.”

  The Goth girl nodded. “She’s as cold as ice. She doesn’t give a damn about the rest of the world as long as she gets what she wants.”

  “Shanaia speaks from experience,” Mrs Pommerans said. “She lost her home because of Chimera.”

  Shanaia. That was her name. She was sitting astride one of the dining chairs, resting her arms on its back. Her eyes shone white in the middle of all the black make-up and she wore black, fingerless leather gloves with studs along the knuckles. I felt quite intimidated by Shanaia and her ferret and was relieved that she was with us against Chimera and not vice-versa. I was just about to ask her how she had lost her home, but Mr Malkin went on with his questions.

  “Miss Clara, please continue. We have important decisions we need to make tonight.”

  So I had to tell them the rest. How Chimera dragged me off onto the wildways and how I finally made her go away.

  “Interesting,” Mr Malkin murmured as he stroked his beard with one hand. “Isa, dear, please may I see the iron collar? You brought it back, I trust?”

  “Yes,” Aunt Isa said, handing him a canvas bag into which she had put the collar and the wire once she’d freed me from them.

  He opened the bag and peered into it. Then he carefully shook the contents out onto the coffee table. He took a pen from the chest pocket of his tweed jacket and poked at the thin metal chain, making sure not to touch it with his fingers.

  “Cold iron,” he said. “No doubt about it. And even so it didn’t work. How strange.”

  What did he mean “it didn’t work”? My throat still hurt, as did my neck, and if Aunt Isa hadn’t found me, the collar would still be locked around my neck – I would never have been able to get it off on my own.

  Aunt Isa had noticed my confusion.

  “Cold iron cancels out magic,” she said. “Most wildwitches would struggle to use their powers if they’d been chained with that thing there. But you could.”

  That seemed very strange given what a useless wildwitch I was.

  “The only thing I’m good at is shouting go away,” I protested.

  “Yes. For now, at least. However, that is something you do with great skill.”

  Mr Malkin pushed the iron back in the bag, still without touching it directly.

  “This is our proof,” he said. “The Raven Mothers won’t be able to ignore this.”

  “The Raven Mothers?” I said. “Who are they?”

  “The wildworld’s supreme council and court,” Mr Malkin said. “Up until now they’ve hesitated, but this time they’ll have to do something about Chimera!”

  “But that means Clara would have to bear witness,” Mrs Pommerans said. “Isa, do you think she’s ready for that?”

  My aunt looked at me with that searchlight stare from which there was no hiding.

  “She’s not a little mouse anymore,” she said, at last. “Are you, Clara?”

  The cat on my lap yawned and stretched out a paw towards my face – not to hurt me, but to demand that I scratch its stomach. I did what it asked.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. But I wasn’t entirely sure.

  CHAPTER 14

  Raven Kettle

  “Mum?”

  “Hello, Mouse! How are you?”

  “Fine.”

  Why did I say that? She was thrilled to hear from me, but she was so far away. If I told her how I really felt, it would just make her sad. That was probably why I said I was fine.

  “Are you having a nice time with Aunt Isa?”

  “Yes. Yes, it’s nice here. I really like the animals. But I… I can’t wait to come home.”

  “I know, darling. What does Aunt Isa say? Is it safe yet?”

  “I might be able to come home in a few days. If… if everything goes to plan. And… if you’ll let me bring back a cat.”

  “A cat?”

  “Er, yes. It’s a long story. Please?”

  There was silence at the other end. I heard a teaspoon chatter against a coffee cup.

  “OK,” Mum said slowly. “I suppose that would be all right. As long as you promise you’ll look after it yourself.”

  “Yes, I promise.”

  “Is Aunt Isa there?”

  “She’s busy chatting to some guests,” I said quickly. “I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

  I hung up while she was still saying goodbye. I really wanted to call Oscar too, but it was time to go.

  A motley crew had gathered at the gate by the white stones. I was riding Star to avoid putting pressure on my bad knee. Everyone else was on foot except Mrs Pommerans, who rode an old-fashioned, racing-green bicycle whose basket was decorated with flowers.

  “My hip plays up if I walk too much,” she said apologetically when she caught me looking at her. “I’m better on a bike.”

  Kahla’s dad took hold of Star’s reins.

  “I do know how to ride, actually,” I said, a little offended.

  “That’s good to know,” he said. “But riding on the wildways isn’t quite the same as a gentle trot through the woods.”

  “We need to stick together,” Mr Malkin added. “But if we do get separated, Master Mill
aconda knows where we’re going. You don’t.”

  I remembered what it had been like to wander the wildways alone without knowing which was up or down, left or right. I shuddered and suddenly I didn’t mind Kahla’s dad holding Star, although Kahla was standing right next to us and watching me being led by the rein like a little kid. She peered up at me from under her woolly hat, but she didn’t look very arrogant now. More confused and fearful, I thought. Exactly how I felt.

  “Is everyone ready?” Mr Malkin said. “Good. Let’s go.”

  Star trudged along the gravel road with the field on one side and the spruces on the other. Then Mr Malkin and Mrs Pommerans started humming and slowly the fog across the field grew denser and greyer. Soon the fog of the wildways had enveloped us and I could see no further than Star’s neck and ears, Kahla’s red-and-yellow-striped woolly hat, the back of her dad’s camel-hair coat and Aunt Isa right in front of us. Hoot-Hoot was perched on her shoulder, rubbing his beak against her hair. It was probably meant to be an affectionate gesture, but it looked as if he were trying to wipe something off.

  The black cat rested on a fleece behind the saddle. I could feel its warm body against my back.

  At regular intervals Mr Malkin, who led the way, would hum some notes. They would be repeated first by Mrs Pommerans, then by Isa and Kahla’s dad, and finally by Shanaia, who was bringing up the rear. I had learned by now what all the humming and chanting was about – it was to do with finding our way and keeping our little group together in the fog of the wildways. If I closed my eyes, I could just about make out the others with my wildsense – people as well as animals. But it took a lot of energy and I felt dizzy and started to sway on Star’s broad back. I decided to stop.

  Suddenly something cold and wet landed on my nose. I squinted at it and saw that it was a snowflake. The fog around us was no longer just dull fog; it glistened as large, fraying, white flakes fell around us and settled on our hair and clothes and on Star’s warm neck.

  “Are we nearly there yet?” I asked Master Millaconda.

  He nodded.

  “Not long to go now,” he said.

  The fog dispersed. We were still in the middle of a forest, but I could see at once that it wasn’t Aunt Isa’s forest. This forest was ancient, with black, crooked trees whose trunks were so thick that it would have taken at least three people to reach their arms around them. And it was proper winter here, not merely late November cold. Snow covered the gnarled branches like soap suds, the path we were following was nothing but a trampled track, and the sky I could make out beyond the black treetops was gunmetal grey and laden with even more snow. Above our heads we heard the hoarse cries of birds, and wings flapping, wet from the snow, but these weren’t rooks like the ones around Aunt Isa’s house, these birds were much bigger.

  “Oh, no,” Kahla sighed to herself. “It’s already winter here…”

  I could tell from her voice exactly how cold she was and I felt very sorry for her in the midst of everything.

  One of the big birds swooped down so close to Star’s ears that I could make out every feather. Its beak was as long as my hand, its eyes shiny and jet-black. The birds circling us were ravens and I had a tingling sensation that not only were they watching us, they were also talking about us. Behind my back the cat stretched out and then leapt lightly and elegantly down onto the ground.

  “Hey, where are you going?” I asked. But it merely had another stretch before disappearing in-between the trees.

  “Cats go their own ways,” Master Millaconda said. “If you wind up with one of those for your wildfriend, you don’t own a cat, the cat owns you.”

  “I’m not sure that I even chose him to begin with,” I said.

  “No, that’s what I just said. Cats make up their own minds.”

  The snow was so heavy that Mrs Pommerans had to get off her bicycle and push.

  “This road gets longer every time,” she muttered.

  “We’re nearly there,” Aunt Isa said. “Look – you can see the birds circling Raven Kettle now.”

  And we could. Just ahead of us, the sky was packed with birds. Mostly ravens, but also other, smaller silhouettes – crows, rooks and jackdaws, judging by the thousands of raucous cries that filled the air. It was like a storm of birds, a circling, black whirlwind of birds. That must be why this place was called Raven Kettle.

  Or it explained the raven part. I didn’t understand the kettle bit until we came closer. The path met a cart track and the cart track turned into a sunken road that reminded me of the one leading to Aunt Isa’s farmhouse. The sunken road sloped down more and more deeply and the verges grew steeper and steeper until we suddenly arrived at an open space. The sides around it rose like those of a quarry and I could see we were at the bottom of a crater. In the middle there was a circle of trees, and all around the kettle walls there were windows and doors with, presumably, caves or some other kind of dwellings behind them. Light poured out through the panes and there was a smell of log fires and some sort of food.

  It wasn’t until we reached the centre of the circle that the noise ceased. The bird tornado stopped squawking and settled down in a swoosh of wings, as if our arrival were the signal they’d been waiting for. The birds watched us from every angle – from the circle of trees in the crater and from the branches of the trees that grew all the way around the edge at the top. It made me really quite nervous: all those eyes, all those beaks.

  A door was opened and a tall woman dressed in black came out and walked to the centre of the crater.

  “Good evening,” she said. “Welcome. Where is the new one?”

  “Here,” Aunt Isa said. “This is my sister’s daughter, Clara Ash. Clara, this is Thuja, who heads the Council of the Raven Mothers.”

  One of the ravens flew down and settled on Thuja’s shoulder. It was so big that it towered over her head. It turned to examine me.

  “Oh, yes. I see her now. She looks a little like you, Isa.”

  But Thuja wasn’t looking at me. She was still facing the grey, snow-heavy sky and her eyes were closed. Suddenly I realized that she must be blind. But then how could she know that I looked like Isa?

  Because she was seeing me through the eyes of the raven. It was the only explanation I could think of. I shuddered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

  “Let’s get business out of the way first,” she said. “Clara Ash, you wish to accuse a witch of the wildworld. Is that right?”

  I grew shy again, possibly because she was so serious.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “State the name of the witch you’re accusing.”

  “Chimera.” It was a half-strangled little squeak, but at least I managed to get it out.

  “Thank you,” Thuja said with a certain satisfaction in her voice, as if she’d been waiting for this moment for a long time. “The Council will summon Chimera! Now come inside where it’s warm while we wait, and get the fog of the wildways out of your bones.”

  She walked towards one of the glass doors and the others followed. I hesitated.

  “What about Star?” I whispered to Aunt Isa.

  “Star is welcome, too,” Thuja said without turning around. “She has travelled just as far as you have.”

  Aunt Isa smiled up at me.

  “Jump down and let’s take the saddle and the reins off her,” she said. “Star will decide for herself whether she wants to be inside or out.”

  And this was how Star ended up trotting happily after us through a glass door that opened into a large room with a fireplace in one of Raven Kettle’s guest caves. The fire was already lit and ten armchairs had been arranged in a semicircle around it. A corner of the floor was covered with a thick layer of wood shavings. There was a large bucket of water and a net filled with hay, which filled the dimly lit room with the scents of meadow and summer.

  “Oh, they know how to look after both their human and their animal guests here,” Mrs Pommerans said, and flopped into one of the
armchairs with a grateful sigh just as Star knelt on her front legs, lay down on her side and started rolling around energetically and joyfully on the wood shavings.

  I limped across the room and took a seat. My knee felt stiff and it was throbbing painfully, but even so there was something about the room and the whole place that comforted me. A kettle was bubbling over the fireplace. There was no doubt that someone had prepared this peculiar mix of living room and stable for us – they must have known we were coming.

  “I trust you’ll find everything you need here,” Thuja said. “Otherwise just let us know. We’ll dispatch a messenger to Chimera. She must present herself within three days or we’ll try the case without her.”

  “Thank you,” Aunt Isa said.

  “Do you think she’ll come?” I asked, and couldn’t help wishing that she would stay away.

  “Being shunned by the wildworld is a very serious matter – even for Chimera,” Aunt Isa said. “She’ll come.”

  To my ears it sounded more like a threat than a promise.

  I was so tired that I could barely eat my dinner. The beds in the guest cave were in small alcoves set into the walls and could be screened off with heavy velvet drapes. As soon as we’d eaten and I’d had a quick bath in Raven Kettle’s guest bathroom, I crawled under the duvet in the alcove I shared with Kahla. She seemed to have been just as tired as I was, because she had skipped her bath and was already asleep under a pile of blankets and duvets so high that all I could see of her was a single black lock of hair. I curled up on one side and yawned a couple of times while I half-listened to the voices coming from the main room.

  “… risk that they find her not guilty,” Master Millaconda said.

  “Impossible!” Shanaia exclaimed. “She’s guilty as hell!”

  “But she’s not stupid,” Mrs Pommer ans re marked. “Remember how she got you thrown out of Westmark. They chose to believe her over you.”

  “But now they must realize how wrong they were!”