by Farr, Cathy;
Leon acknowledged Mortimer with an abrupt nod.
‘What took you so long?’
Then he noticed Seth and Gisella. Giles’s expression showed that they were not who he had expected.
‘What the hell have you brought these two for? It’s bad enough that Calloway had to come!’
‘Rexmoore’s men – Emmet and Curtis didn’t get away in time so it seems Lady Élanor made a few changes,’ said Mortimer. He spat on the ground near Shadow’s feet and dismounted. Wil gingerly hauled his aching leg over Shadow’s rump, gripped the saddle with both hands and very slowly lowered himself to the ground. Leon addressed Mortimer, obviously enjoying Wil’s painful descent.
‘Yeah, we saw them take Emmet. Becky, too. They must have taken the others after we’d gone. I’m betting someone tipped them off after yesterday’s meeting – can’t think who!’
‘Well, no prizes for guessing who Leon thinks that might be!’ said Gisella icily. ‘Well, for your information, Beck, I didn’t even know about the rescue until dawn this morning when Seth woke me up!’
‘Sadly, we only have your word on that, Fairfax! And I’ll bet your mother had something to do with it, too!’
‘Leave my mother out of this!’ said Gisella in a high voice, her eyes glistening again.
‘Well, if she’s so innocent, where is she? My father said she’s been missing for days – and before … well, missing a few buns from a baker’s dozen, I heard!’ Leon laughed at his joke but Gisella didn’t see the funny side at all.
‘Well, at least she hasn’t been having cosy meetings with Godwyn Savidge!’
‘What–’
‘Oh, come on, Leon – they were down by the courtroom two days ago. I heard Savidge say that Morten Mortens is too old for the Order. Savidge is desperate to be the Grand Wizen – I heard him talking about special privileges if your father helps him?’
Wil thought about Oswald and Godwyn’s row at Lovage Hall the night before and closed his eyes – things were rapidly going from very bad to even worse!
‘And what special privileges might those be, Miss Fairfax?’
Wil opened his eyes. Oswald Beck – a crocodile smile on his face – was standing behind Gisella. She went to say something but closed her mouth quickly. To Wil’s great relief it was Mortimer who spoke next. He was looking into the blackening sky. The sun had set leaving behind a star-lit horizon that threatened a very cold night.
‘Look, I’m sorry Mr Beck, but we really don’t have time for this. We’re going to have to make a move again in a couple of hours.’
Wil could see that Oswald was about to take up the argument but before anyone could say anything else a relieved voice from somewhere below them piped up, ‘Thank goodness for that, I’m starving!’
While they had all been arguing, Seth had found a sheltered ledge and was busily building a fire.
‘I would have thought you’d have done this by now!’ he was saying as Wil and Mortimer dropped down onto the ledge carrying their saddle-packs over their arms. Leon followed, empty-handed.
‘What do you mean ‘by now’?’ said Leon.
Gisella dropped her bag close to the fire and stomped off in the direction of a stream that Wil could hear babbling at the base of a nearby gully.
‘We saw you waving from way off,’ said Mortimer pointing back across the Fell in the direction they had come. For a split second Leon looked utterly confused but rallied almost instantly.
‘Oh, then!’ he said quickly. ‘Oh yer, I saw you then. But, well, you know… we had to unload our things and I needed to get water for the horses. We just hadn’t had a chance to make up the fire. Anyway – Seth’s doing a great job without my help!’
Red-faced, Oswald tottered into the makeshift camp carrying both saddle packs.
‘Hard ride, Mister Beck?’ Wil asked pleasantly while they all watched Seth trying desperately hard not to burn himself.
‘Yes, boy – beat you to it, though!’ he said triumphantly and lifted his flask to his lips. Wil watched a small trickle of dark liquid dribble down the man’s chin as he took a deep draught.
‘You certainly did!’ said Wil and headed off towards the sound of the brook.
From the edge of the gully Wil could see Gisella’s slender frame below. She was barefoot and up to her knees in the stream, splashing water over her face and arms. The shallow brook tumbled noisily over the rocks, drowning any surrounding sounds – if Wil was going to speak to Gisella, now looked like the time.
There was no real path down the bank and, with darkness closing, in the going wasn’t easy. Even Phinn picked his way cautiously, with his body so low that his deep ribcage brushed the ground.
Wil reached the water’s edge at the same moment that Gisella looked up – just in time to see the large flat boulder to which Wil had just committed all of his weight, rock sideways. There were two spectacular splashes – one was Wil; the other was Phinn whose enthusiastic leap to follow Wil strongly suggested that he thought this was some great new game.
‘Well, that’s one way to get my attention!’ said Gisella.
Wil spat out a mouthful of the river.
‘It wasn’t quite what I had in mind.’
The stream was deeper than Wil had expected and within a second his boots were brimful of icy water. Wading happily beside him, Phinn ducked his nose and blew out a lungful of bubbles until, with a drenching jerk, he raised his head and coughed loudly. Then he did it again.
Wil, meanwhile, was trying in vain to get to his feet but he hadn’t noticed that his waterlogged cloak had wrapped around a tree root. He fell for the second time. This time Gisella laughed out loud.
She waded over to him and untangled the cloak.
‘You should be able to get up now. Here!’ she said.
Wil took her outstretched hand – cold and slender, it felt weird in his rough palm – nice, but weird.
Back on his very soggy feet, Wil waded to the bank. He plonked down on a twisted tree root, leant back and lifted both legs into the air. Water cascaded out of his boots and over his trousers – together with the half a dozen bolts that he had jammed into his boot earlier. Gisella laughed again.
‘Well, as long as someone thinks it was funny,’ said Wil, with a good-natured grin.
Gisella’s voice lost its mirth and her smile vanished. She waded back to the bank and picked up her boots.
‘Well, it’s certainly the funniest thing I’ve seen all day!’
Wil folded the edge of his cloak over two of the bolts to make a tight twist and squeezed about a bucket of water out of the cloth.
‘Just what is going on with you and Mortimer?’ he said.
‘I would have thought that you knew the answer to that, Wil!’ snapped Gisella.
Wil continued to squeeze his dripping cloak.
‘Well… if I did, I wouldn’t… be asking… would I?’
Gisella gave a derisory snort.
‘You don’t honestly expect me to believe that, do you, Wil? You and Mortimer have been thick as thieves all day!’
She was still standing in the stream waving her boots over her head – Wil could see that there was a distinct possibility he wasn’t going to be the only one to end up soaking wet!
‘Maybe you’d like to tell me what’s going on because I really haven’t got a clue!’
‘Look Gisella, I’m asking you because Mortimer just won’t talk about it. Seth’s as confused as me and to be honest, unless it gets sorted out, I really don’t hold out much hope of us rescuing Tally. In fact, at this rate, she’s going to be in more danger if we go than if we don’t!’
Gisella stopped flinging her boots around for a moment and stared into the busy stream.
‘Do you think I hadn’t thought of that, Wil? Look – all I know is that Bryn asked me to help Mortimer with Mia – after he, you know – lost Tarek so suddenly – then next minute he’s best friends with Leon and I’m left out in the cold!’
‘So, you and Mortim
er… you aren’t… I mean… you weren’t… well, of course – you were just helping him with Mia, weren’t you?’ Wil’s words tumbled out in a rush. Gisella frowned.
‘That’s what I just said, Wil?’
‘Yes, but Seth… eh… Seth said that he thought that everyone else assumed–’
‘Wil, for goodness sake, I am not now – and never was – going out with Mortimer Merridown – if that’s what you are so ineptly trying to ask!’
Gisella was wielding her boots again so dangerously that Wil felt compelled to duck in case she let go – accidentally, or otherwise!
‘No… of course not… I didn’t think that you were, of course – I just thought, you know… I’d better check, er, to make sure there was no… er… misunderstanding.’
‘The only misunderstanding around here is that I thought I was coming to help my friends rescue Tally – but apparently no-one wants me here!’
With that Gisella hurled one of her battered boots into the water right in front of her.
‘I want you here!’ thought Wil. He watched the boot bob a short distance down stream before it snagged on a fallen branch, filled with water and sank.
‘Do you want me to go and get that?’ he asked after a moment’s silence.
‘No, I’ll get it!’ she answered, her face sullen. Still clutching the other boot, she took a precarious step and gingerly placed one bare foot on a rock in the middle of the stream. ‘Honestly Wil, you’ve got to believe me. I went to see Bryn because I want to train as a Chaser. He was already worried about Mortimer taking Mia on so soon after Tarek so he suggested that I could help Mortimer to train Mia – that way I could keep an eye on him and learn about Fellhounds at the same time. And my mother was…’ she frowned and took a deep breath, ‘wasn’t well… so it was perfect to get me out of the house.’ She sploshed her foot back into the water. ‘For a while Mortimer seemed fine but then one day I went to join him out on Nell’s Reach and he completely ignored me. It was awful, Wil. I don’t know what I’ve done and now he won’t even look at me …’ She broke off. With another deep, this time, shaky breath she retrieved her boot and swooshed a handful of water over her face.
Wil sat on the bank contemplating what she’d just told him. Mortimer had said that she wants to become a Chaser!
‘But that didn’t mean that she wanted to take Mortimer’s place,’ he reasoned. ‘...and it certainly didn’t mean that she wanted him dead… Did it?’
‘Did you tell anyone else about this, Gizzy?’ he asked out loud.
‘Only Olivia – I went to see her. I know she said some horrid things about me on the Moon Chase after Giles… you know… but I’m sure she didn’t mean them – we were always okay before.’
Still barefoot, Gisella tottered back along the rocks, clambering over the tree roots that cluttered the riverbank. ‘She doesn’t want to be a Fellman any more, Wil. Now Giles is gone she wants to leaving Saran for good when she gets to her eighteenth summer. She told me and then made me promise not to tell anyone, so I haven’t… until now. That’s next summer, Wil. I thought it would be a great chance to take her place without upsetting anyone – and we already know that Seth wants to be a Bearer rather than a Chaser, so he could take my place – as long as we could convince his father, of course!’
The root – Wil’s makeshift seat – bounced as Gisella plonked down heavily and emptied her boot into the swirling pool below her feet.
‘Well, it certainly sounds like you’ve got it all worked out, Giz – but why didn’t you tell Mortimer?’
‘I promised Olivia and, anyway, I wanted to make sure I could handle a Fellhound first. If I was hopeless I wouldn’t stand a chance – and I’d look stupid. So I asked Olivia not to tell anyone until I was ready and she said that she wouldn’t.’
Wil stared down into the dark water below him as her words flowed over him. He knew that she was telling the truth.
‘She has no idea that Olivia broke her promise; Olivia must have told Leon who twisted the truth to suit himself,’ he thought. All he needed to do was to go to Mortimer and explain what had happened. But if Mortimer’s mind had already been swayed by Olivia’s broken promise, it might be difficult to convince him – especially when the deliverer – Leon – was about to accompany them up onto Tel Harion!
As Wil deliberated on what to do, a handful of earth and stones rolled past into the stream. Farrow was first to appear, but almost immediately Seth’s familiar voice drifted out of the darkness.
‘Wil… Gisella… are you down there? Come and eat something – we’ll be off again soon! Farrow, come here now!’
Wil didn’t think it would be a good idea to antagonise Mortimer any further by making it obvious that he and Gisella had been talking. He lowered his voice to a whisper.
‘You go up – I’ll have a quick wash and be up in a minute.’
‘But aren’t you clean enough from your dunking?’ said Gisella with a mischievous giggle. But without waiting for an answer she pulled on her boots and left him where he sat. He listened to her scrambling up the bank and wondered again what had happened to Gisella’s mother, Fermina. He heard Gisella swear in the darkness and another flurry of rubble cascaded past him.
Phinn, bored of rooting about in the river bank, splashed over and nudged Wil’s knee with his very wet nose.
‘It would be much easier if Leon wasn’t with us,’ he thought stroking Phinn’s damp ear. Without Leon, Wil knew he would be able to explain the misunderstanding to Mortimer this minute and everything would be okay; but just what story had Olivia and Leon cooked up for Mortimer? And the fact that Gisella really did want to become a Chaser was going to make it harder to convince Mortimer that Leon’s version was a lie – and what on earth were Godwyn Savidge and Oswald Beck planning for the Order? With both Leon and Leon’s father around, Wil thought, finding out was going to be even more difficult.
CHAPTER SIX
A Gift from Above
‘… far too dangerous, Leon! If we go that way we might as well paint ourselves in deer’s blood, too, because the Wraithe Wolves will have us for supper!’
Mortimer stopped talking and looked up as Wil walked into the little camp.
‘Where’ve you been?’ he asked suspiciously, glancing over at Gisella who had suddenly found something very interesting in her bag.
‘Went for a wash but I slipped and fell in the stream – I’ve been ages wringing out my clothes.’
Wil draped his wet cloak over a bush for extra effect before delving into his own bag.
Leon nodded towards Gisella. ‘But she went down there, too?’ he hissed, his voice loaded with accusation.
‘Oh!’ said Wil in feigned surprise. He took a bite out of the pork and apple pasty that Martha had packed for him – he was cold and suddenly ravenously hungry. The huge pasty was absolutely delicious! He spoke again with his mouth full. ‘I didn’t see you, Giz – but come to think of it,’ he swallowed, ‘I did hear someone splashing about further upstream. But it was too dark to see who it was.’
Taking care not to catch anyone’s eye, Wil munched hungrily. Even though the pasty was stone cold, he could feel the food warming him through.
‘Did anyone else have one of these, they’re really good!’ he asked, taking another huge mouthful.
‘What was in yours, Wil? I had corned beef – my favourite!’ chirped Seth. He was looking a lot happier now he had a full stomach.
‘Pork and apple – I think?’
‘Ew! That sounds yech!’ exclaimed Seth, sticking his tongue out in disgust.
‘I thought you might say that!’ Wil grinned and popped the last scrumptious morsel into his mouth.
With supper finished, Mortimer suggested that they get some rest before heading on. The fire was still glowing but Wil wasn’t convinced that he would get any sleep at all on the frozen ground. He hauled his still damp cloak around him and glanced over at Seth. The sleeping boy’s hair was coated with a light dusting of frost that gl
istened in the moonlight; however, despite the ice Wil could feel knitting into his own eyebrows, within less than a minute he too was fast asleep.
But Wil’s dreams were far from restful. Stomach-churning flying scenes made way for rows of teeth; then a putrid smell filled his nose and he was being chased by at least a hundred Wraithe Wolves. Next Phinn was locked in a vicious fight with an Eagard that picked him up and carried him up over Mort Craggs; Phinn was yelping helplessly and just as the giant bird flew over what looked like the ruins of a castle, it let go–
Wil woke with a jolt. In that split second between being asleep and being wide awake, Wil had the feeling he was being watched. He shook his head and blinked into the dark. The only sound around him was the regular breathing of sleeping people. Farrow and Mia were sprawled out a little way off, seemingly oblivious to the ice beneath them. Then, in the light of the dying fire, Wil spotted Phinn’s shining eyes fixed on him – the hound’s long eyebrows sparkling with frost. Wil grinned to himself; he should have known it would be Phinn. The young hound stayed with his chin flat on the floor between his huge, outstretched paws. Reassured, Wil closed his eyes but the cold crept into his bones and his mind just wouldn’t shut up. It kept asking him questions about Gisella and Mortimer, the journey they were about to make, and Tally – how would they know where she was? Or even if she was still alive? What was Armelia really like?
Wrapped tight in his cloak, Wil tucked his arm under his head and did his best to focus on nothing but the darkness around him. Suddenly something hit his cheek. He brushed his face in case it was a midge – although he knew that it was too cold and too early in the year for midges – by about two full seasons!
