Without hesitation, Jessica ran forward. The Greenman, still bound by ribbons, watched her. He didn’t struggle and kept his sorrowful eyes on Jessica’s face.
“No!” Timothy shouted.
But Jessica barely paused before plunging the sword into the Greenman’s side. His leafy face crumpled as if in dismay, and Timothy heard a low groan. Within moments the woody arms were limp, and his body sagged, supported only by the colored ribbons.
“Greenman!” In a rush, Sarah was at his side, supporting his head.
Timothy followed, stopping a few feet from Jessica.
“Jessica?” his voice cracked.
Her face was twisted in anger.
“How could you?” His voice was stronger now. Disgust and pity rolled together into one. He balled his fists, but his feet remained rooted to the ground. “Why did you do it? What’s he ever done to you?” His face felt hot. “I hate you!”
With two hands, a dancer pulled the sword from the Greenman’s side. Then the Morris men stepped up to the Greenman, one by one. Each dancer plucked a leaf from the limp form and stuck it in the band of his hat.
His face is empty, Timothy thought as he stared at the Greenman. All the life gone. He was slumped like a felled tree, just like the story of the Jack in the Green. This was Jessica’s doing. She killed the Jack! This was worse than being a bully at school. She was Bent, just like Mr. Twig described.
Overhead, hounds bayed again. The wind suddenly revived and spun into a frenzy.
Jessica shook herself as if she were waking, and looked around. Her eyes fastened on Timothy. They held his for a moment, as if asking a question. Timothy dropped his gaze.
Jessica backed away.
“Look!” Sarah pointed up at the sky.
Pinpoints of red grew larger, drew closer.
The Morris men sheathed their swords. With a swift stroke, a dancer freed the Greenman from the web of ribbons. Sarah tried to cushion his fall, but he was too heavy, too stiff. The men lifted his still body from the ground, three men on each side, and without a word, they bore the lifeless form of the Greenman into the woods.
“Where are you taking him?” Sarah’s voice cut sharply through the clearing, but there was no answer.
As his sister began to sob, Timothy looked across the clearing to Cerridwyn. She looked so stern and fiery that Timothy turned his eyes away.
Jessica had paused at the edge of the clearing. Timothy looked at her terror-filled face. Her shoulders were hunched; her body shook. He’d never seen anyone look as alone as she did. And through the night, the hunt drew closer.
Jessica knew with certainty that the hounds were coming for her. She could imagine their hot breath on her neck, the great slobbering mouths, and the sharp bite of their teeth. Timothy and Sarah, the only people she knew here in the woods, looked at her with horror and pity. She had to get away, but where could she go?
Cerridwyn extended her bare arms wide. She reached one hand out to Timothy. With the other, she gestured in Jessica’s direction. As Timothy looked at Jessica, his anger warred with pity. He couldn’t forget what she had done, but she was so alone and miserable. “The hunt is coming. Soon it will be upon Jessica. Tonight she is the hunt’s rightful prey. Timothy James Maxwell, you have the chance to rescue your friend, but it is a choice that only you can make.”
“What?” A coldness crept up from Timothy’s toes. “What do you mean?”
“You can save her.”
Timothy shook his head. “My ‘friend’? Why should I help her?”
Cerridwyn looked at him silently for a moment. “If you choose to go, Gwydon can aid your flight.” Timothy looked at the ground. Cerridwyn was asking for some kind of choice. Was she asking him to be hunted instead of Jessica? Why him? Jessica wasn’t anything like the popular girl who tormented him at school. No, she was a mess. It was impossible not to feel sorry for her. “What will happen to me?” He swallowed hard.
“I can’t tell you how your story will end, because I don’t write the stories. I can only tell you that you will be hunted across the skies. Gwydon is swift, and I suspect there are others who will come to your aid.” Nothing she said sounded in the least reassuring to Timothy. “I can also tell you that if you take her place, Jessica will go free and return home safely.”
Timothy thought of being chased across the sky by the very things he feared the most—the large wolflike hounds. It was worse than any nightmare. He looked at Sarah. She’d stopped crying and was standing by his side, listening to everything Cerridwyn said. He looked at Jessica again.
Star Girl now stood next to Jessica, watching them all. Jessica was pale, trembling, and covered in mud. Timothy remembered all the times she had made fun of him in front of her friends at school. But he also remembered talking to her in the library and visiting her at her house, another Jessica. Was it enough to make him risk his life? Would he even do that for a very good friend?
Timothy shuffled his feet. No one else spoke. He felt as if the entire world was waiting for his decision. He remembered the strange note with his name in it. And Timothy James stands alone. That poem had his name in it. Was it about saving Jessica? He felt as if this was something that he and he alone was meant to do, some purpose especially designed for him. He had wanted to be brave, to be wolfproof. He looked up at Cerridwyn. Her smile was reassuring, and he felt the first glimmer of hope. She thinks I can do this.
“I want to go with him,” Sarah said, as if she could tell what he was thinking. “He’s my little brother and I’m supposed to watch over him.” She looked as fierce as any pirate in the middle of a storm.
“It’s not your task. Your story goes in another direction,” Cerridwyn said in a firm voice. “But quickly now; soon it will be too late to decide.”
When Timothy looked up, he could see the red eyes of the hounds and the darker silhouette of antlers against the sky. He looked straight at Cerridwyn. This was his task; if he looked away, he would lose his nerve. “I’ll go,” he said, even though his legs shook and his heart pounded so hard, he thought it might explode from his chest.
Cerridwyn took the gold leaf crown from her head and placed it on Timothy’s. “My crown goes with you. Whoever wears it has some of my power, and great strength against adversity. It’s not something to be given, or worn, lightly.”
Timothy put his hand up and touched the crown. He felt his back grow a little straighter, and for a moment, he almost felt brave.
Cerridwyn signaled to Gwydon, who padded over and stood by Timothy’s side. Timothy knew he was meant to climb on the wolf’s back. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of all forty-two teeth in the wolf’s mouth.
“Why does he have to go?” Sarah’s voice was shrill. “Jessica is the one they want!”
Timothy knew Sarah was afraid for him. For a moment, his own fear made it impossible to move, but Gwydon lowered his head, and Timothy, with his eyes closed, put his arms around the thick fur of the wolf’s neck. Sick with fear, he swung a leg across Gwydon’s back. He could feel the wolf’s muscles bunch and gather. In one tremendous bound, they were off, skyward.
By using the key provided here, you can decipher the Ogham script that appears in this chapter. Zoom in or increase font size to see code more clearly.
THE HUNT RIDES
ARAH STOOD, lips slightly parted, watching her brother disappear into the storm on Gwydon’s back. There was nothing she could do. Hot tears of frustration spilled down her cheeks. She looked at Jessica, who still cowered. “If anything happens to my brother—”
But Cerridwyn cut off her words. “It wasn’t your choice. This night will be long, and we still have much to do before we see your brother again.”
“How can you know that we will see him again?” Sarah met Cerridwyn’s eyes with a challenge. “I should have gone; I’m the oldest.”
“Age has nothing to do with it; he is the one who was called. We also have a job to do.” As she spoke, she removed an arrow from her quiver an
d tested its strength.
The word we offered Sarah a glimpse of hope. “Please, I’ll do anything to help him.”
The wind rustled and moaned through the tops of the trees. Sarah looked across the clearing. Both Jessica and Star Girl were gone.
Cerridwyn spoke. “Can you use a bow and arrow? Can you ride?” She looked closely at Sarah, and Sarah was acutely aware of how tall and imposing Mrs. Clapper’s new form was.
“I won a prize for archery at summer camp two years in a row.”
“At least you know how to shoot, but the conditions will be very different tonight,” Cerridwyn said. From under her cloak she drew out a bow, smaller than her own, made of yew wood. She handed it to Sarah, along with a quiver filled with some of her own arrows.
Sarah held the bow in her hands and was surprised how light it felt. She fumbled nervously, trying to fit an arrow into the bow.
“Watch me now.” In one smooth motion, Mrs. Clapper demonstrated how to pull back the bow, aim, and fire, sending an arrow flying into the canopy of the hornbeam tree. Sarah heard it fall through the branches, and there, lying on the ground, was a seedpod pierced through by the arrow.
“Pay close attention and follow me, and you’ll do fine. But it will require all your concentration.”
Sarah wasn’t so sure that she would be fine at all. But the job gave her something to think about other than her brother. Her fingers felt thick and clumsy. The wind whipped her hair into her eyes, making it difficult to see; the cold seeped into her bones. Her fear for Timothy kept rising like a tide.
Cerridwyn drew another arrow into her bow, this time aiming into the open sky between the canopy of trees. Her wild red hair gleamed. The wind lifted her cloak; underneath, her bare arms were strong and muscular. She let the arrow loose into the night sky. Sarah waited and watched and tried to concentrate, as Cerridwyn had asked. For some minutes, she saw and heard nothing; then there was another sound in the wind. Something was coming toward them with great speed. Sarah half hoped it would be her brother returning on Gwydon, but what came instead took her breath away.
Timothy opened one eye. Before him, the night sky streamed by; clouds and stars were all a frightening blur, and the wind made his eyes tear. His arms were locked around Gwydon’s neck, his face almost buried in the shaggy fur. Slowly, he opened his other eye and looked down. They were high enough above the treetops that his feet cleared them by a yard; they were low enough to see every house, every lawn, in detail when the moon was unobscured. The first glimpse sent waves of terror washing over him. The ground was so far below! By the second glance, he felt exhilarated! This was better than any of his flying dreams, better than anything he had ever imagined!
Gwydon was steady in flight, and as Timothy gripped the wolf’s sides, he could feel the beast’s muscles working to propel them through the night. He steadied the crown on his head. The exhilaration didn’t last long. The wind lashed out with sudden force, and in its gusts Timothy could hear voices, the baying of hounds, and a deeply bellowed laugh. He pictured the red-eyed hounds chasing him. Worst of all, he pictured the horned man who hunted souls. The wave of fear was so strong that he almost slipped from Gwydon’s neck. Bile rose in his throat, and he was afraid he was going to be sick. He closed his eyes again and hung his head over the side of the great beast. The cold wind bit his face and raked through his hair.
Gwydon heard the calls, too. His speed increased. He rose higher into the sky, and his path became more circuitous as the sound of the hounds grew closer. Below him, Timothy heard the scream of a horse that had been left out to pasture, and he braved a look downward. In the moonlight, he saw a dark coat with a blaze of white across the horse’s chest. Two hounds sped downward toward the horse. Again the horse screamed. Then, gathering his strength he bolted over the fence. The hounds did not let up. Timothy could see the tops of their white backs disappear through the trees, in pursuit. Then the horse was in the open again, running with a wild fury; the hounds gained on him. Timothy could imagine the heaving sides, the sweat-flecked neck. In an instant, the hounds were upon the horse, the first ripping at the Achilles tendon so that the noble animal would stumble and fall. The second hound tore at the horse’s throat, and the dying beast let out a final, piercing scream. Timothy buried his face in Gwydon’s fur, but this time images of the dying horse filled his head. A sob shook him as he realized that he, too, was their prey.
Why had he agreed to do this? The choice had seemed clear earlier; it was something that he was called to do, something that had less to do with being a hero than obeying whatever was calling him. And now he was sure to die: falling from Gwydon’s back, or on the ground, savagely attacked by dogs; it really didn’t matter how. He just knew that he wasn’t ready to let that happen. There must be some way to survive. He summoned all his willpower to focus on that thought. But it wasn’t enough. Turning his head, he saw the gleam of the hounds’ eyes, the silhouette of antlers tearing through the night behind them. Help me, he thought, and then he shouted the plea out loud. It echoed emptily through the night.
Two white-tailed deer came bounding out of the sky and skidded to a stop near the feet of Cerridwyn. Sarah thought they were the most beautiful creatures she had ever seen. They were a perfectly matched pair in both size and coloring, a soft brown with white markings. Each sported a full rack of antlers above a long, arching neck. Sarah timidly reached out a hand to stroke the velvety fur. The stag quivered under her hand, but its eyes were focused on Cerridwyn, who bent to whisper something in each of the stags’ ears. Then, without speaking a word to Sarah, she mounted one of them with ease. Sarah swallowed, guessing that she was expected to do the same.
She slung her bow from one shoulder as she had seen Cerridwyn do. The deer’s back seemed to be a long way off the ground. When Sarah threw one arm around the stag’s neck, he shifted his feet uneasily. There was no saddle or stirrup to help her pull up when she tried to throw a leg over his back. How was she supposed to mount? One leg was almost over when she slid in a heap to the ground. Ouch! Her tailbone collided with a rock. Rubbing her backside, she tried again. Again she fell. Cerridwyn said nothing, but her stag pranced impatiently.
“I need help.”
Cerridwyn looked down at her from the back of her deer, and in the half-light her face, terrible and beautiful, softened. She spoke several words in a language Sarah did not recognize, and the deer knelt down, bending his forelegs under him. Now Sarah easily slipped onto his back. She threw her arms around his slender neck just as he bounded into the sky. Toward Timothy, Sarah hoped.
By using the key provided here, you can decipher the Ogham script that appears in this chapter. Zoom in or increase font size to see code more clearly.
REGRETS
HE BLIND FEAR and panic subsided, leaving in their place a strange vacantness, a feeling Jessica knew well, one she always tried hard to keep at bay. It was the same emptiness she felt in the dark hours of morning when the rest of the world slept. It was the feeling she got when she was alone for too long and unwanted thoughts circled like flying insects. This time there was no escaping her thoughts. Her mind replayed the last hour and the awful thing she had done. Striking out at Jimmy had felt good, repayment for mocking her, but the crumpled form on the ground had not been Jimmy at all. Instead, it was a forlorn thing, part man, part tree. It wasn’t as if she had hurt a human, she tried to reassure herself, but then the dancing men had come and borne him away as if he were a human after all. And she had seen the look of horror on Timothy’s face and on his sister’s face.
The hounds came then. She could almost feel their hot breath, hear the snapping of their jaws. Just as she was about to run, Timothy had mounted something … a giant wolf. And the hounds turned and chased him instead. The emptiness came over her like a howling wave.
Just as she felt as if she would drown, the beautiful girl touched her arm, and the burn of her touch forced Jessica to focus on the pain and kept her mind from being swept away. She
knew that Sarah blamed the entire course of events on her. And if anything happened to Timothy, Jessica knew that she would always blame herself.
All she wanted to do was escape. When the star girl left the clearing and climbed a great ash tree, Jessica followed—anything to avoid Sarah’s accusing eyes. They climbed silently through the leafy branches, feeling the muscled bark of the tree beneath them, climbing higher and higher until Jessica was sure there could be no branches above. Still they continued to climb. If a tree could be said to straighten its back, then that was exactly what the ash was doing; branches that hung down toward the ground were lifted and straightened. Just once, Jessica looked down; the ground was a dizzying drop below. She felt her head swim, and she threw both arms around a stout branch and refused to move. Without speaking, the girl stopped just above her, settling into the vee of two leafless branches. Jessica’s hands were raw from gripping the ridged bark so tightly. Her arm burned from the girl’s touch, and her twisted ankle throbbed.
“Who are you?” Jessica asked.
Star Girl looked down at Jessica, her bright hair like fine spiderwebs among the branches and twigs. “I am here to bear witness. It is my job to watch and remember.”
“What do you mean ‘to bear witness’?” Jessica was sore and tired. She felt a flicker of anger return.
“It means to carry along something you have seen, to pay attention, to keep the knowledge alive. Look.” Star Girl gestured downward, and for the second time that night Jessica looked down.
Below her stretched the expanse of the forest, and she could see it all, border to border. And beyond the forest to the west she could see a great span of water with no farther shore. She couldn’t tell if she was looking at a very wide river or the ocean. To the east were fields, some with fences and a house, that ran into the feet of saw-toothed mountains. The farthest mountains were capped with snow. None of this was the land Jessica knew. She was not on the edge of a wooded greenbelt bordering the highway. She could see a road, but it was dirt and faint in the moonlight. The entire world that she knew was gone, and as she looked out over the strange land, an overwhelming feeling of nausea shook her. She closed her eyes and wrapped herself tightly around the branch.
Beyond the Door Page 11
