by Farr, Cathy;
‘Oh, for goodness sake,’ said a calm voice right over Wil’s head.
A tanned, slender hand holding a small white square of cloth appeared from behind Oswald’s head. Oswald went limp. A second later Leon stopped shouting.
‘I’m sure that much chloroform can’t be good for you?’ groaned Wil as Seth and Gisella lifted poor Oswald off him.
‘Well, I had to do something!” Gisella said waspishly. ‘We are supposed to be on our way to rescue Tally – unless everyone has forgotten!’
After knocking out Oswald with another lungful of chloroform, Gisella had done the same to Leon. This made it far easier to drip the feather blindness ointment into Leon’s eyes.
Despite Wil’s misgivings about the chloroform, he had to admit that it had worked a treat. Gisella had then taken the opportunity to bind Leon’s head and eyes. Her intention was to keep out the light but Wil couldn’t help worrying about how Leon might react to this enforced blindness when he woke up – especially when he found out that the dressings would have to stay on for the next four days!
Mortimer was still lying with his back against the tree. The effects of the chloroform were obviously wearing off and his cheeks were now a far healthier colour. He turned his hand over and flexed his fingers.
‘Who did this?’
Wil and Seth answered at the same time.
‘Seth.’
‘Me!’
‘Don’t you remember, Mort?’ Wil cut in before Seth got the chance to get too carried away. He was struggling with Mortimer’s constant lack of trust although he did his best not to let it show. ‘It was from the first aid bag. We gave you something for the blood you lost, too.’
Mortimer inspected the thin scar. Eventually he seemed satisfied.
‘Hmm, well it feels okay so far – I guess I owe you a thank-you, Seth.’ And for the first time in what seemed like a very long time, Mortimer gave Seth a genuine smile. ‘That’s one heck of a bruise, by the way! Did one of those birds get you too?’
A look of surprised indignation flickered across Seth’s battered face then he beamed.
‘Yep, but I managed to get out of the way before it did any real damage!’
Surprised, though very grateful to Seth for being so gracious, Wil knew this was the moment to tell Mortimer about Leon. The morning was rapidly becoming afternoon and they really needed to decide how they were going to get on and rescue Tally – and who would be going.
‘The thing is Mort, Leon didn’t – er, get out of the way, I mean,’ said Wil. He braced himself for Mortimer’s reaction.
For a split-second Wil thought it wasn’t going to be too bad. Mortimer’s words were both predictable and understandable.
‘What! He’s not dead, is he? Where is he? Where’s Oswald?’
But then Mortimer was on his feet. With a look of wild-eyed revulsion, he grabbed the front of Wil’s shirt.
‘Did she have anything to do with this?’
Something in Wil snapped. He swiped Mortimer’s hands away and pushed him with all his might. Mortimer tumbled backwards into Seth.
‘What the–’ Mortimer protested. But Wil cut across him.
‘This… stops… now!’
He stormed over to the rocky ledge where Gisella had stationed herself under the pretext of acting as lookout. His chest was tight, and with every step rising anger pulsed through his body.
‘Gisella, come down here! You and Mortimer are going to have that chat!’
Without waiting, Wil turned. He bore down on Mortimer. Once the words started, they wouldn’t stop.
‘Right, to start with, Gisella is NOT trying to kill you – Olivia lied to Leon and Leon believed her. Second, Gisella wants to be a Chaser – it was Bryn who told her to help you with Mia! For some bizarre reason these people seem to care about you!’ Wil was now well and truly in his stride. ‘And thirdly, it wasn’t Seth who stitched you up, it was Gisella. And before you say anything – she probably saved your life – so I suggest your next two words are – Sorry and Thanks!’
He stood panting and unclenched his fists. Mortimer opened his mouth and then closed it again. Seth stepped between them. Mortimer was clearly struggling with the torrent that Wil had just delivered.
‘Is this true?’
Seth nodded.
‘Well the bit about the stitches and saving your life is – I was there! But Gisela didn’t tell me about the other stuff,’ he said and then added quickly, ‘But I believed her anyway! Mia trusts her and that’s good enough for me… and it should be good enough for you too, Mort.’
As if she understood what was happening, Mia licked Mortimer’s hand and then walked over to Gisella and sat down pressing her long back against Gisella’s leg. Gisella scratched the hound’s ear gratefully and took a deep, visible breath.
‘It’s true, Mort. Olivia wants to leave Saran, she told me. And I told her I wanted to be a Chaser. I spoke to Bryn about learning so that I could take Olivia’s place when she leaves. He told me to help you with Mia – you know, because you might still be missing Tarek – and I was supposed to learn at the same time,’ her voice quavered with the struggle to hold back tears. ‘True, I love Mia, but she’s your Fellhound, Mortimer. All I wanted to do was ride with you and the others on the Fells and one day have my own hound.’
By now her tears were flowing freely.
Mortimer suddenly looked lost.
‘Why would Leon do this?’
They let Mortimer’s words hang in the air while he tried to digest what was happening.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to be a Chaser?’ he asked eventually, keeping his eyes fixed on Mia.
‘Because I wanted to make sure I could do it first – I… I didn’t want anyone to laugh,’ Gisella answered, gulping back tears. Her lip was quivering uncontrollably now.
‘And you did my stitches – even though I’ve been so horrible to you. Why?’
Gisella swallowed and tried to speak but tears were streaming down her face now and words failed her. Wil answered for her.
‘Because, like the rest of us, she cares about you, you complete idiot! And, because she didn’t know what she was supposed to have done. She believed it would be alright in the end!’
‘You didn’t tell her, Wil?’
‘You must be joking! I knew it was all because of Olivia’s lie – I just couldn’t work out how to get you both talking to each other to sort it out!’
Mortimer looked skywards, ‘Well, I never thought I’d hear myself saying this, but – thank the moons for those eagards!’
He threw a sheepish grin at Gisella.
‘Sorry, Giz… and… thanks.’
Gisella uttered a gulping sob and smiled a watery smile – again, words failed her.
‘Right,’ said Wil with a sigh of relief, the sun was now high in the sky and the twin moons had long since disappeared over the bleak horizon. ‘Now that we’ve finally sorted that out – can we please get on with rescuing Tally?’
CHAPTER TEN
Separate Ways
With Gisella and Mortimer back on speaking terms Wil’s mood lifted considerably. He sat and listened while Mortimer quizzed Gisella, and was relieved that Mortimer accepted Gisella’s reason for why they had knocked out Oswald and Leon in the first place. Mortimer was more concerned about what might happen once the chloroform wore off and Leon was awake.
‘How long did you say those bandages had to stay over Leon’s eyes, Gizzy?’ Gisella retrieved the now rather grubby square of cloth from a pocket in her breeches.
‘Well, the label says four full days.’
‘Does it say anything about moving him?’ asked Mortimer.
Gisella turned the label over and shook her head. Mortimer glanced towards the tethered horses.
‘Well, in that case, the way I see it he’s got two choices. Either someone – I suggest Oswald – takes him home or they stay here and wait for us.’
It was clear from Gisella’s shocked expression t
hat she hadn’t considered this; although given the recent events, her suggestion took Wil by surprise.
‘But they can come with us – surely that would be safer?’
Mortimer flexed his fingers as if testing them out.
‘You know what Wraithe Wolves are like, Gisella. If they get the slightest idea that one of us is weak they’ll be down in their droves! And once we get to Tel Harion…’ he paused, his dark eyes searching the horizon. Then he shook his head. ‘No, it’s better if they turn back now – once they get to the Black Rock they’ll be fine.’
Wil studied Mortimer’s face – his confidence didn’t quite make it to his eyes.
‘Anyway, I can’t see Oswald wanting to press on. He only came to protect Leon after all. It’s my guess that Oswald’ll be delighted when I suggest he take his son home!’
As it happened, breaking the news to Leon and Oswald hadn’t been that bad – largely because Wil had found a bottle of dark purple liquid in the first aid bag that was simply labelled ‘FOR PANIC! TAKE THREE DROPS!”
As a precaution, Gisella had insisted that Mortimer take one drop – because, as she reasoned, he had already had one bad experience that day and he might suddenly go into some sort of delayed shock. So, very begrudgingly, Mortimer had opened his mouth while she tipped the bottle and tapped it once – Mortimer’s tongue went bright purple. Seth muttered something about checking on Farrow and rushed away, coughing loudly. Gisella said nothing and carefully dripped the full dose onto Oswald’s and then Leon’s lips. Moment’s later they both stirred.
Oswald, while very confused, was completely calm. He accepted without question Mortimer’s story that he must have passed out after being overcome with worry. And Mortimer’s suggestion that Oswald take his son back to Saran was met with positive enthusiasm.
Contrary to everyone’s fears, Leon’s reaction to his blindness second time around was very different from the first. True, he was worried that he could not see, but made no complaint of the pain or burning that had caused him such discomfort previously. He had no memory of the eagard attack and listened intently while Mortimer and Oswald recounted as much of the tale as they could piece together. He also calmly accepted Mortimer’s instruction that his bandages were to be left on for four days in order to allow Lady Élanor’s medicine to work.
Meanwhile, Wil kept an eye out for Pricilla, his aim being to send word to Lady Élanor that Leon was injured and on his way home with his father. But the skies remained stubbornly clear.
Oswald took up the reins of his own horse in one hand and gripped the reins of Leon’s horse in the other while Mortimer helped Leon into the saddle.
‘So, due south, you said, boy?’ said Oswald gruffly.
Mortimer patted the neck of Leon’s horse and nodded.
‘Just take it steady, sir,’ said Mortimer. ‘Once you get to the Black Rock you should be able to see Mistle Forest. Keep it on the skyline and head south – you’ll be back in Saran tomorrow.’
Despite being back on a horse, Wil was relieved that they were finally on the move again.
‘Well you were right about Oswald,’ he said to the back of Mortimer’s head. ‘Did you see the relief on his face when you suggested taking Leon back to Saran?’
‘Yes,’ said Mortimer without looking round. ‘Although I’m sure Leon didn’t really understand what was going on. I think Gisella might have been a bit heavy-handed when she gave him that calming liquor!’
‘OK, I might have given him an extra drop or two, but after the way he was before… well, I just didn’t want to take any chances!’ admitted Gisella, with a guilty grin.
‘Yer. What a performance!’ said Seth.
‘Well, he did wake up blind, Seth. Be fair!’ said Mortimer.
‘I know, but it couldn’t have been that bad – I mean, he insisted on riding his own horse just now, didn’t he? Let’s hope Oswald doesn’t let go of those reins!’
‘Well, I thought that taking both horses was a bit selfish of them, actually,’ said Gisella. ‘I mean, I’m not sure if anyone else has thought about this, but if anything has happened to Tanith we’re going to have a heck of a job getting five of us home on only two horses!’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Another Attack
The problem of how to find Lord Rexmoore’s castle was resolved far easier than any of them had anticipated. As they reached the snowy peak of Craggston Tor, Mort Craggs darkened the horizon. Below, the walls of Armelia spread like a shroud and there at the base of the Craggs, among the jagged rocks, lurked a sprawling castle shining golden in the late afternoon sunlight. Wil’s heart sank.
‘Oh, great,’ he muttered. ‘More climbing!’
But as they got nearer Wil could see that the castle tower appeared to be incomplete. To confirm his own thoughts, Mortimer spoke only a short time later.
‘I think Rexmoore’s doing some home improvements!’
He reined Shadow to a halt. Seth and Gisella pulled up alongside.
‘Well I don’t know how we’re going to get the hounds in there, Mortimer,’ said Seth.
‘From here, I don’t see how we’re going to get in there either!’ said Gisella. Wil silently agreed – from where he was sitting, there was certainly no obvious sign of a gap in the wall – or a gate. ‘Please tell me someone mentioned that wall? Didn’t Lady Élanor give you any clues as to how we’re going to get in?’
But Gisella’s question went unanswered.
‘Ouch! What was that?’ said Seth, slapping his hand onto his neck.
‘What was what?’ asked Mortimer.
A second later he, too, was nursing his cheek.
‘What is wrong with you two?’ asked Gisella.
‘I’m not sure,’ Mortimer answered waving his hands around his head, ‘I think I’ve just been stung by something.’
‘Well, I think we can safely say it wasn’t a midge!’ said Gisella, admiring the walnut-sized welt blooming on Mortimer’s cheek when–
‘Ow!’
Mortimer grabbed at the missile that ricocheted off Gisella’s thigh. It really was a walnut!
With that, Wil felt a sharp sting on his own neck. Another nut – this time a hazelnut – rolled across the ground. At the same moment what sounded distinctly like a chuckle came from a thick copse of battered, snow-dusted trees – the only obstacle that stood between the riders and the wind-raked Fells of Tel Harion.
‘What the–’ growled Mortimer. He pointed towards the copse, ‘Mia, Go!’
Mia didn’t need to be told twice. She took off towards the trees. Without waiting for an order Phinn darted after her.
‘Got your knife handy, Wil?’ Mortimer said in a voice low enough not be heard from any distance.
Wil patted his boot, ‘Yep, safe and ready for action.’
‘Good, hang on!’
Wil hardly felt Mortimer move but Shadow went from a stand to a gallop in a heartbeat; in three more they were in the middle of the thick copse under a huge Thesk pine. Mia was on her hind legs, towering above Mortimer as she stretched up the trunk, keeping a keen grip on its orange-brown bark with her finger-long claws. Craning her neck, she sniffed along one of the lower branches and sneezed violently when the needles tickled her nose. Phinn sat on his haunches and offered up a deep bark that echoed out over the barren hills.
‘Call them off! Call them off!’ wailed a boy’s voice from high above them.
Mortimer dismounted. Slowly, he strode around the ancient trunk, searching the cloud of needle-fine leaves, yellow-green from at least two centuries of Tel Harion winters.
‘Who’s there? Come on – show yourself!’
‘Not until you call off those dogs!’
‘How do I know that you won’t shoot us?’
The voice didn’t reply. Mortimer’s eyes flicked down to Wil’s boot. Wil took the hint and silently drew out the hunting knife.
After a few minutes one of the upper branches bounced as if something – or someone – was jumping up
and down on it. Tiny crystals of old snow sprinkled through the ancient branches. Wil closed his eyes. Then he heard something else clattering down through of the tree and opened them again to see Mortimer jump backwards with his arms over his head. A small tin whistle, several different nuts and a sling-shot landed at his feet. Mortimer bent to pick up the whistle but Mia got there first.
‘Leave, Mia!’
Mortimer’s sharp command made Wil start. Mia immediately backed away and lay down, chin flat to the floor; her bushy eyebrows twitching as she watched her master retrieve the dropped items one by one. With a frown, he blew into the whistle. Brief but ear piercing, the blast was surprisingly loud. Mia and Phinn sat up immediately. Mortimer raised an eyebrow and tapped the whistle on the back of his hand.
‘If you are unarmed you can come down. But I warn you, my friend here is a dead shot with a knife.’
‘But how do I know those hounds won’t eat me?’ returned a nervous voice.
‘You don’t!’ Mortimer answered. He winked at Wil. ‘In fact, as they haven’t had their breakfast yet, we don’t know either! You’re just going to have to come down and take your chance!’
‘Well, in that case I’ll stay up here, thanks!’
‘What’s going on?’ asked Gisella as Seth steered Rhoani carefully through the knot of trees. Farrow padded behind them. Mortimer beamed.
‘Seth! You got your bow handy?’
Seth took a wary glance around the gnarled trunks.
‘Er, yer. Why?’ He swept the tree with a wary glance.
‘Well, it seems,’ said Mortimer jabbing his finger towards the spiky canopy above their heads, ‘that the pest that stung us has settled in this pine tree and I was wondering if you could get rid of it?’
With eyes full of mischief Mortimer waved the whistle and the slingshot for Seth to see. For a moment Seth looked completely baffled then a wicked smile erupted on his face.
‘Ohhh! Right! Yer, no problem,’ he said yanking a bolt from his jacket which he nestled into his bow with a deft click. ‘One bolt should be enough, Mort, I’m pretty sure I can see a pair of legs up there. D’you want me to wing it,’ he closed one eye and aimed up into the tree, ‘or kill it?’
