Pip and the Twilight Seekers

by Chris Mould

  “No idea. They moved quickly. We had no chance to talk.”

  “They know not to return here,” said Sam. “Maybe they are right to keep on the move. It’s not safe to stay still. Not now.”

  Shortly after, the McCreedys entered. Mrs. McCreedy had not handled it well since her son went missing in the night. She was visibly shaken and looked sick. Her husband held on to her tightly.

  “Any news of our boy?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” said Sam. “I’m sorry.”

  “This is your doing,” said Mrs. McCreedy. “Hiding children in this place. Attracting unwanted attention. Stirring the forest folks. We ’eard you took a boy in. A stray.”

  “Of course,” said Sam. “I make no apologies. What if I had seen your boy in the street and taken him in. Would you still have thought it was the wrong thing to do?”

  Mrs. McCreedy looked at Sam with tears in her eyes. Unable to answer his question, she turned and left, with Mr. McCreedy following on after.

  “Sam, I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault. Elsa, please,” he shouted after her.

  “It’s fine, Ely,” said Sam, “I understand. My own boy is missing too now and I can only hope he is safe. I understand the frustration. I share your anger. This place is becoming a living nightmare. Keep talking to me. We must all of us keep talking.”

  Much more was said that night. Fighting talk. The kind to send a shiver down the spine and raise the hackles. The type of speak that raises hair on the back of the neck and brings goosebumps to the surface of the skin. Of taking up arms and challenging the forest. Of pitchforks and spears and handmade weapons. Plans that spoke of fire and flames, blades and bayonets.

  There were tears too and high emotions. Lost children are the worst fear of parents. To conceal your greatest treasure is one thing. To have it taken is another.

  Sam knew the children were no longer safe at the inn. And he knew that he himself was also in danger now. Perhaps the authorities would question him. Sure, they had found nothing in the tavern. But he knew and they knew that a cloud hovered over the Deadman’s Hand.

  “To all your children,” said Floyd, and he raised his tankard aloft. “That they may one day live in peace.”

  “To all our children,” came the reply, and all the glasses and tankards were raised in the silence of the Deadman’s Hand. A chink of glass and pewter resounded softly amid the crackling of the fire and outside the wind hurled the snow around the eerie streets of the empty hollow.

  The door opened slowly. Snake eyes pierced the darkness of the room. Jarvis lit a candle in the fire and returned the holder to its place on the long wooden table. His nose lifted and he drew in a cloud of air. Strange, he could still smell those damn children. That whiff of youth had always stuck in his nose. But then he noticed something that wasn’t right. He returned to the candlestick, picked it up, and held it over the mantel. Where was Captain Dooley? His heart thumped back at him in response when he realized the old wooden soldier was missing. He looked down into the hearth. Perhaps he had fallen from his perch. “No, damn it, where is he?” he swore. He searched around his feet and then angrily threw the candlestick into the fire.

  The three children were huddled into the corner. If they held tight he would believe they’d fled and he’d go out into the night to search for them. Wouldn’t he?

  But they had not noticed that their concealment had been witnessed. Esther stepped out from the darkness of a shelf on the wall where books and papers were stacked.

  “They’re here,” she said.

  “It’s the boy from the inn, isn’t it? Him and his little cronies. I know it is. I can smell them.”

  “The very same,” she answered. “Delivered to your door, sire.”

  “Ahh, bless you, Esther. You still have your uses, eh!” Jarvis grinned and patted her head gently.

  She had been there all along. Watching and waiting. In the low light she had gone unnoticed. Why had they been so careless? Pip was angry with himself. Surely by now he had learned to wander around the hollow with his eyes wide open.

  Pip and Frankie were curled up with Toad almost sitting right on top of them. Pip had Captain Dooley cupped in both hands, holding on to him tight.

  Jarvis threw off his cloak and began to search, cursing them as he went. “Come here, little piggies. Didn’t Mummy tell you it isn’t nice to steal other people’s toys?” It was dark but there was little space and not much to search amongst. He would have them by their throats within minutes.

  “Come along, my pesky little city rats,” he pleaded. “Come to Uncle Jarvis.” He was full of excitement. Those kids had haunted his dreams for the past three months. He could not have hoped that they would walk right into his hands. It really was turning out to be the perfect evening.

  “Tell me, oh dear Captain, where are the three little birds?”

  Pip was too late. He heard the voice coming but he was so shocked that he was unable to do anything.

  “Three little birds, nesting in the cupboard.”

  Jarvis moved to the corner of the room. He placed his hook on the large doorknob and flicked it open. A nasty smile announced his delight. Their pathetic, sorrowful little eyes stared up at him. Their wizened little figures curled up in a nest like newborn rats. Shrinking further back into the corner, they shook in fright as Jarvis speared his hook into the wooden panel that formed the back of the cupboard, missing their heads by a fraction.

  A bang came at the door. It was so loud that it stopped Jarvis in his tracks. He pushed the cupboard door so that it was almost shut and then he went to uncover the source of the nuisance. Horses could be heard outside and the banging quickly became louder and more persistent. Voices followed. Loud shouts. Before Jarvis had reached it, the door came inward, flying off its hinges and spinning into the space that made the parlor before ending up flat on the floor.

  It was none other than Hector Stubbs.

  “Jarvis. I have a warrant for your arrest.”

  It was a shame that the children were huddled together with their eyes shut. It would have been a treat for them to have seen Jarvis so frightened. He was pinned into a corner with Stubbs staring into his eyes, pressing him firmly and not caring too much for weak excuses.

  In the mayhem their presence had gone unnoticed and Toad had slowly pulled the cupboard door shut to conceal their company. Captain Dooley’s mouth was held tight.

  “Mister Jarvis, do you realize that dealing with the woodsfolk is an act of treason?”

  “I haven’t dealt with the woodsfolk, sir, I promise. I go to the woods to look for children.”

  “When I prove that you’re lying, Jarvis, I’ll make sure you swing at the gallows. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m going to ask you again, have you delivered children to the forest and taken money from the woodsfolk?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Mister Jarvis. You’re lying. I can see right through you. You’re hollow on the inside, do you know that? Empty-headed. You don’t think straight and I’m going to prove it.”

  Jarvis tried to remain calm but he was shifting awkwardly on his seat and he was finding it impossible to keep his hands still. He fidgeted with the hem of his cloak.

  “Earlier you discovered a young girl in the street. When the parents resisted, holding on to their young one, you were helped by guards, who fended away the adults.”

  “Er … yes.”

  “And the girl?”

  “She escaped through the streets, no thanks to your guardsmen.”

  “So you came away empty-handed?”

  “Of course.”

  “A fruitless night, you might say!”

  “If you wish.”

  “Don’t try make a fool out of me, Jarvis. Where are those children that you already held in your carriage? You certainly didn’t bring them to me. I suspect you thought they’d gone unnoticed.”

  “I was attacked,” Jarvis claimed. “By the forest
folk. They took the children from me in the early hours. I was on my way to you.”

  “Strange! You never mentioned it!”

  “I didn’t think I needed to. It happens a lot. I capture children and I get hijacked. It’s a dangerous occupation.”

  “Oh, really? The last we spoke you said you hadn’t seen anything for months!”

  Jarvis looked down, thinking hard. Damn it, he was being outsmarted. He was far more used to being the one asking the questions. It wasn’t easy the other way around.

  “Now tell me, which is the correct story, Mister Jarvis? Because I have a version of my own and I think it’s better than yours. I think you have more to do with those forest freaks than you’ll admit. And I think that somewhere along the line you get more from delivering to the forest keep than you do to the city! Tell me I’m wrong!”

  “Of course you’re wrong.”

  “Let me remind you of something, Jarvis. You’re here to protect the children of this city. I know people don’t see you that way but you’re there to keep them from harm. I want this city to have a future. Without its children I won’t have an army to fight the forest, the city will die out altogether and those tree dwellers will take over when you and I grow old.”

  Jarvis didn’t have an answer. He didn’t see it that way, and if the truth be known he wanted rid of all those children.

  Unable to defend his position he was cuffed in irons and taken outside, where transport waited to take him back to the city prison. In a panic, Esther followed behind.

  Silas was perched at the undergate. He kept a watchful eye over the forest keep entrance.

  The prisoners were beginning to attract far too much attention. And they were becoming numerous. Edgar McCreedy had been joined by the Carraway twins and Mr. Brice’s son. When word had begun to spread that Captain Dooley was assisting Jarvis, a handful had fled into the streets to escape detection, and been caught as they moved through the city.

  Perhaps there were seven or eight now. Maybe more.

  It was some time since the forest keep had been home to children. It was a most unpleasant place. The bowels of the forest, deep beneath the trees: a huge underground cavern dug out by the creatures born of the woods. The walls still bore their sinister claw marks and were reminders of just what the children would have to deal with if they attempted escape. Large roots spiraled around the space like wall decorations and fibrous threads of plant life came down from above.

  An argument was boiling between the elders of the forest and was overheard by the frightened children. “Leave them,” said Hogwick. “They’re too valuable alive.” But it was taking a lot to convince some of the bark demons of the forest. Long winters meant that food was not easily available and they were beginning to look at the prisoners with a different eye.

  “Perhaps they will be of better use if the winter continues to leave us unfed,” came the wheezing voice of some ungodly creature who stared longingly at the little ones.

  “Quiet,” said Hogwick. “I won’t hear of it. Do not give ideas to the others. Their bellies grow hungry and their minds grow weak. They will be easily influenced.”

  It was true, there was unrest in the forest. Trouble in the trees was not good for the cause of the woodsfolk. The strength of their union would be their success. Disagreement would not help.

  There was much talk between the forest creatures. “Hunger breeds anger in the demons,” confided Hogwick. She was in discussion with Roach and Stixx. “We wield great power over the city with the children alive. But without them we are nothing—back to where we started. Keep your companions alert at all times. Some of our brethren are nothing but animals and think only of food and water. We must keep a careful eye over the keep. The anger of the bark demons needs to be used to our advantage. If they grow more discontent it may be the right time to make an attack and send them into the city.”

  “You may be right. We must discuss it with the others,” said Roach.

  Esther had neglected to inform the forest of Jarvis’s misadventure. Her time was consumed by following the guardsmen and making sure she knew where Jarvis was located. She also wanted to be the only one responsible for his escape. It was important that she won favor with her master. Captain Dooley had been stealing the limelight, telling his tales and allowing Jarvis to pick off the children. She must prove her worth and win her place again as his companion.

  She found the small window at the top of the hangman’s tower, bedded her feet into the snow- trimmed ledge, and pushed her face up to the glass. Her large beak pointed downward, and she used it to scratch away at the frost. She could see something in there. Captain Dooley was no use when it came to escapes. Only she could help.

  She felt sure that she could break in. Those little panes of glass would only take so much pecking before they cracked.

  Jarvis sat with his head buried in his hands. Just when he had started to make some progress, his whole world had fallen apart again. Things had been perfect. With Captain Dooley by his side he had been able to pick off those children from the city and fill the forest keep. Why had he been so careless? It was his own fault, he knew.

  If Captain Dooley ended up in the wrong hands those children might survive. Every last one of them. And he hated children so much that just that thought alone brought a tear to his eye.

  A cracking sound came from above. He gazed toward the tall ceiling of the room where he was kept. A tiny window he hadn’t noticed was splintering glass down on him.

  “What … Esther! What are you doing here?” Her beak poked through the fractured glass pane and she turned her head sideways to gaze down upon him. When she was sure it was him she disappeared again. She would return with rope and he would be out within no time at all.

  The children had emerged from their hiding space inside the cupboard and were now taking a good look at Captain Dooley, although they were anxious about making use of him. That horrible little wooden face was not to be trusted, they were sure. But the truth was, Captain Dooley held no discrimination. He just blurted out the truth to whomever asked him.

  No one had wanted to touch him. Or look at him. Frankie was brave enough to step up and take hold. She half expected a bite or a nip, but to start with, there was nothing from the lifeless character. At first sight, he appeared to be just what he was, a limp and lifeless puppet. But he felt Frankie’s grip around him and everything came to him in a breath. “Little Frances Duprie. Escaping the horrors of the hollow while her siblings wait in vain.”

  Immediately she threw the doll to the floor in shock, her heart quickening.

  “I don’t want to touch him,” she said.

  Pip was emptying a tattered and torn drawstring bag of odds and ends. “Use this,” he said. Frankie picked the captain up by his hat and dropped him inside.

  For the moment they sat tight in Jarvis’s hovel and discussed their plans. With all the fuss of Jarvis being captured they were sure his home would be a safe haven for now.

  Toad was wandering around the room and Pip watched him bend down and take something from the floor. He held it up and shook the dust from it. It was Jarvis’s black cloak. He pulled it on and pretended to walk like Jarvis, holding his torch up to the windows and doors, and it got them all laughing, for a moment at least. But Pip could see Toad’s mind turning over. He was having serious thoughts—something to do with the cloak itself.

  “No!” said Pip.

  “It could work,” said Toad.

  “What are you talking about?” asked Frankie.

  “Follow me,” said Toad, and, taking a careful look through the window first, he stepped outside the door, pulled on the cloak, and jumped into the carriage seat, taking hold of the reins in both hands.

  “Come along, my pesky little city rats. Come to Mister Jarvis,” said Toad, laughing out loud in his best Jarvis voice.

  “Are you serious?” said Pip.

  “How else we gonna get into that forest keep?”

  “You look too s
hort. Hang on,” said Pip, and he jumped aboard, perching on the back of the seat with his legs around Toad’s shoulders. He pulled the cloak up higher and yanked the hood over his own head.

  Pip looked at Frankie. It was the most terrifying thought that any of them had ever had. But it might be the only thing that could work. It would make for an easy route into the forest and on to the keep.

  “It looks OK,” said Frankie with her arms folded, “but now the legs seem too short! Wait there.” And then she took her turn and squeezed herself up to the end of Toad’s legs in the footwell as if to extend the leg area.

  “Good thinking,” said Toad, and he pulled the cloak across her.

  “Are we brave enough to see this through?” said Frankie.

  “Are we dumb enough to let those forest gumps walk all over us? Is there a better plan?” asked Toad.

  “Come on then. Giddyup, lass,” Pip whispered to the mare, and they set off with the carriage rumbling to life, Pip finding his feet with the reins and steering up out of the dip that was home to Jarvis’s hovel. He pulled the hood of the cloak well over his face, ensuring he wasn’t seen.

  “Do you know where we’re going?” said Pip.

  “Of course I know where I’m going,” said Toad. “I’ve lived here for twelve years. I know these streets better than old Jarvis. Just listen for my directions.”

  As the carriage rolled into the city streets, Toad discreetly whispered his route to the forest. They would pass under the central bridge and around the fountain, and then through the pointed arch past the Deadman’s Hand and toward the nearby trees. Toad knew he would see the burned-out remains at the back of the inn, and he knew they would all be tempted to go straight there. To do so was to put them all in great danger and blow their cover. It would take all his willpower not to head through the door and throw his arms around his father.