“The riddle has been answered,” the toymaker said. “Those were the terms. You have to let us go now.”
But the answer, the voice cried, rising to a wail like the wind. The answer is a riddle, but what is the answer to that riddle? What is inside the inside? Who is there? Someone needs to know what it is. Someone…
The voice trailed off.
“I’m sorry we can’t answer that riddle for you,” said Pendrake, “but something is hunting us. A terrible thing. You must know of it. We have to get away before it finds us. Perhaps you can bring it here, into your house. You can play the game. That might keep it from finding us. It would be very kind of you to do that.”
The roaring of wind grew even louder and then subsided.
Someone doesn’t want to play the game with that one, the voice announced like a pouting child. That one is a riddle, too. A riddle that no one wants to answer. Someone is … afraid.
“But remember,” Pendrake said, “you’re not here. And it’s not here either. It can’t find you. It can’t hurt you.”
They waited for a response, but none came. The glade was silent.
“Let’s go,” Pendrake whispered. They followed him as he strode quickly out of the glade. After a short time the straight, column-like tree trunks gave way to more familiar shapes, surrounded by thick leafy undergrowth.
“We must get away from here,” Pendrake said as they went along. “Shade, we will need your eyes. Make sure no one strays. Follow me, and not another sound until I give the word.”
On they went, moving slowly and cautiously through the thick, clinging undergrowth. Will scarcely dared to breathe. He sensed rather than saw Shade at his side, and whenever the wolf moved further away he had to stop himself from reaching out. The wind grew stronger and whispered in the leaves. This helped to conceal the sounds the companions made as they crept along, but it also meant that every creak of a branch in the wind, every moving shadow, brought fear.
Will was suddenly aware that Shade was not beside him. He stopped. He couldn’t hear the sounds of the others. Panicking, he started forward again, shoving the clinging branches out of his way, but not daring to call out.
Then his feet slid from beneath him.
Will threw himself backwards and grasped for a handhold. He clung to a tangle of branches and pulled himself back up onto level ground.
Breathing heavily, he looked over his shoulder. A stray beam of moonlight revealed a sheer drop, into a stony darkness. He had almost fallen into what looked to be a deep, narrow gorge. As he backed away instinctively from the drop he saw the gleam of wet stone plunging down into blackness, heard the faint trickle of falling water.
As he picked himself up off the ground, Shade and the others appeared.
“That would have been a nasty fall,” Rowen said.
On they went, until at last Pendrake halted them with a word. The canopy of trees was not so thick here, and by the brighter moonlight Will could see that they had come to a sheltering hollow beneath the mossy overhang of a dry stream bank. Wearily they sat down in a huddled group.
“I think we’re safe, for now,” Pendrake said.
“From what, Grandfather?” Rowen asked.
“It was a true waylight that we saw,” Pendrake said. “But the snug had been broken open.”
“I thought they were hidden,” said Will.
“They have always been safe against most intruders, but as Moth suspected, another power came into the Bourne with the fetches. The secret of the snugs has been found out, and their light can now be used falsely to lure us into a trap.”
“Did you see anything?” Rowen said.
“No, but something warned me to keep my distance,” Pendrake said. “I felt a presence, like a dark thread in the weave of the Kantar. We are hunted, by someone or something I have never encountered before. A being of great strength and malice, that much is certain. I do not think it was aware of me. If it had been, I doubt I would have escaped to return to you. I don’t sense it now. We may have given it the slip, with a little help from our friend in the glade.”
“Whoever he is,” said Rowen.
“Some call him the Woodwraith. I came this way before and ended up in his house, as he calls it. From what he told me then I guessed that he had been lost in the forest long ago, in a story that ended without his being found. He doesn’t know who or what he is any more. Or even if he is anything at all. He seeks the answer to that riddle, though there doesn’t seem to be one. It has driven him more than a little mad, poor thing. But he is not wicked. He lures the unwary into his game, but always lets them go, eventually. He may even have decided to help us, by distracting our pursuer. Where we go from here, though, is the next question.”
Just then Shade raised his head and gave a low growl. Pendrake stood hastily and the others did the same.
“What is it?” Will whispered.
“I know that scent,” the wolf snarled, his voice colder and more frightening than Will had ever heard it. “The enemy is near.”
As evening fell she came to a bleak marsh where the wind howled over the dark waters. She was lost and afraid, and said aloud:
“What will become of me?”
In the gloom she saw a light, and eagerly hurried towards it. When she got closer she saw that the light came from the window of a cheery little cottage, just sitting there in the middle of nowhere. She was about to knock on the door when she paused and thought to herself, “I’m not sure I like the way this tale is going. But really, what choice do I have?”
— Tales from the Golden Goose
“I WASN’T CAREFUL ENOUGH,” Pendrake said in a tense whisper. “The thing that broke into the snug must have sensed my presence and followed me.”
“This ghool will not harm Will Lightfoot,” Shade growled. “I will go to meet it, while you seek safety.”
“I don’t doubt your courage, Shade,” Pendrake said, “but I fear this enemy would outmatch even you. No, we must stay together, and perhaps I can contrive something to throw the hunter off the scent. Follow me.”
“No,” Will said, the word out of his mouth before he knew why. They all stopped and stared at him. He stood, unable to explain himself yet. Moonlight on wet stone…
“No,” he said again, and now he understood. “We must go back. Back to where I slipped. There’s a knot-path there. We can use it to get away.”
“Are you sure?” Pendrake asked, studying Will carefully, his eyes uncertain.
Will turned away from the old man’s searching gaze. It was clear Pendrake didn’t really trust him, even though he had appeared certain of Will’s gifts before they left Fable. They were all waiting for him to decide. It was up to him, again.
“It was like before, with the cave under the willows,” Will said, “but I was too scared to notice. Yes, I’m sure.”
“We can’t turn back now,” Rowen said. “We’ll be heading straight towards whatever’s coming after us.”
Pendrake bowed his head, then he looked up, and there was no more doubt in his eyes. He took his waylight, swung open one of the diamond-shaped panes, and spoke a few words in a low voice. There was a tiny flash, and a bright blue wisp appeared, pulsing softly in the toymaker’s palm.
“We will have to risk a light, in order to move quickly,” he said, and then he turned to the wolf. “Shade, can you find the spot where Will stumbled?”
The wolf merely grunted, as if amused that anyone could doubt it, then he bounded off the way they had come. As the others followed, the wisp stayed with Pendrake, hovering just over his head, but its light was strong enough for them to see each other clearly. In that way they were able to stay together as they raced through the forest after the wolf, and in a much shorter time than Will expected, Shade halted, panting.
“This is the place,” the wolf said, and he lowered his snout to the earth and turned in a circle, sniffing.
“There’s no gorge,” Rowen said. “Maybe you’re wrong, Shade.”
&
nbsp; “No, he’s right,” Will insisted. “I’m sure of it.”
Shade stiffened and raised his head.
“Someone is here,” he growled.
A figure loomed out of the shadows. Rowen cried out and drew her knife. Will backed into Shade’s flank. The figure moved into the light and they saw that it was Finn Madoc.
“Thank goodness I found you,” he said breathlessly, and then searched their faces. “Though I think you already know why I was looking.”
Pendrake nodded.
“We are being hunted,” he said. “And our pursuer is closing in.”
“After I left you I met another Fox Company scout. He reported they’d encountered something unknown prowling the forest, coming this way. Something that was breaking into the snugs. I had to return, to warn you. But where can we go now for shelter if the snugs are not safe.”
“Will has found a knot-path,” Rowen said.
“Have I?” Will muttered, and turned away.
He pushed his way through a tangle of branches and met only more branches which snagged his cloak and scratched his face. Turning, he tried another direction, and met with disappointment there. A sick dread began to well up in him and he struggled against it. Tears stung his eyes.
“It’s no use,” he said, his voice shaking. “It was an accident before. I can’t make it happen again.”
“Stay calm, Will,” Pendrake said. “It’s here. Just look, and listen.”
Will took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His senses brought him a jumble of messages that seemed to grow stronger and more distracting as he struggled to ignore them: the thrash of leafy branches in the wind, the humid scent of moss and earth, the laboured breathing of his companions and his own thudding heartbeat. Then he remembered Finn by the stream, just sitting. What had he said? A knight-errant learned to be still and calm inside, no matter what was happening around him.
Will opened his eyes. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. His senses were still full of the world, but instead of trying to shut everything out, he stood in the midst of it without moving. He was here, now. There was nowhere else he could be. As he felt his fear drop away, he knew without any doubt that the path he needed was…
Will took three steps forward, and the ground dropped away underneath him.
Strong hands clutched and held him. He turned and saw Pendrake shaking his head.
“I don’t think your powers include flight,” the old man said with a wink.
Will’s boots found a firm footing on rock, and he leant forward. There was the gorge, a slender throat of mossy stone plunging into a deeper night than the one over their heads. He knew for certain now that he had been right. If they took this path they would vanish as if they had been swallowed up by the earth. And he knew something else too.
He disengaged himself from Pendrake’s grip and stepped forward over the edge.
“Will!” Rowen cried.
He landed in a springy bed of moss, not much more than his own height below where the others stood. He took a deep breath and felt his legs shaking.
“I’m fine,” he called up to the others. “It’s an illusion. The gorge isn’t deep.”
“Are you sure?” Rowen said doubtfully. “We can barely see you.”
“It’s only a short drop,” Will said. “Trust me.”
“I’ll stay behind,” Finn said. “If this hunter finds the knot-path, at least I can try to bar its way.”
“And if it can’t find the path, you’ll be telling it exactly where to look,” Pendrake said. “No, you must come with us, Finn. For your own sake, too. This is not an opponent for your sword.”
After some hesitation the others jumped down, first Shade, and then Finn and Rowen. Pendrake still stood at the lip of the gorge, the wisp cupped in his hands, illuminating his face eerily with its dim pulsing light.
“Go, Sputter,” Pendrake said softly, and the tiny creature sped off with a swiftly diminishing hum.
Soon they were standing together between high rock walls that almost met overhead. It was colder in the gorge, and the air carried a dank, earthy scent, like mushrooms and rotting logs.
“Are we safe now?” Rowen whispered.
“We don’t know what our pursuer is capable of,” Pendrake said. “We must keep moving.”
Without a word they set off together with Will leading them. After a few steps the gorge narrowed even further and then began to turn in a slow curve. To Will’s surprise, it kept on curving until he was sure they had come full circle and were about to return to where they had started. But that did not happen. They continued in a curving path, and Will’s sense of time grew hazy. One moment he felt that they had only just set out, and the next he was sure they had been walking through the gorge for hours. No one spoke, and Will began to wonder if somehow he had fallen asleep and was walking in a dream.
Then he felt a change in the air. It was moving again, the slightest of breezes, but it was enough to jolt him awake. Although the bottom of the gorge was still in deep shadow, Will knew that dawn was approaching in the world outside. They were coming to the end of the knot-path. He was sure of it.
As they walked, the walls on either side dropped in height and grew mossier, like crumbling garden walls, until they were swallowed up altogether in thick, tangled undergrowth. Now it was as if they were passing through a tunnel of green, much like the one Will had discovered between the willows.
And there before them was the way out, a narrow space bright with morning light. And at the same time, the twittering and chirping of birds reached their ears.
As he emerged from the knot-path, Will felt certain that they had come a great distance, but he wasn’t sure how he knew. Then he realized that the trees were smaller, more stunted and sickly-looking. The smell of the forest was different, too, carrying a faint reek of something unpleasant.
Will looked at Pendrake now, who was intently scanning the horizon. The old man seemed lost, and baffled. Will was suddenly very tired, as if they had been walking in the knot-path for hours. Everything they had done so far had only made things worse.
“Any idea where we are?” Finn asked the toymaker, who slowly shook his head.
“I’m afraid you’re much further than seven days’ travel from Appleyard,” he said at last. “How much further I can’t say. But you won’t be returning on time.”
Finn nodded, and straightened the knapsack on his shoulders.
“I’ve already disobeyed my orders by coming back to find you,” he said with a shrug, “so I might as well keep going.”
He glanced at Will, who was teetering from weariness where he stood, and added, “But first we should find somewhere safe to rest.”
Before they set off again, Pendrake dug into his bag and took out a small silver box with a crank handle sticking out of one side. He turned the crank and the top of the box sprang open. A whirling cloud of grey dust rose from the box and swiftly flew apart on the breeze.
“The dust of many roads, gathered on many journeys,” Pendrake said as he shut the box. “With luck it will hide the thread of ours.”
Led by Shade, they walked a short distance through the woods and then found some concealment in a stand of squat, crooked pine trees. They shared Finn’s bannog and drank from their flasks, and then Will lay down on a bed of fir needles and was soon dropping off to sleep. When Pendrake woke him, after what seemed only moments, the sun was high in the sky. It was time to move on.
After a short march through steadily falling country, they came to a steep bank that looked out over a vast, flat plain of mossy ground, dotted with pools of dark water. Here and there stood a few gaunt, stunted black pines, like ragged spears jabbed into the wet earth. There was a pungent stench in the air of stagnant water and decay. Will realized that this was what he had smelled when they came out of the knot-path. The smell and the bleak sight brought with it a memory, sudden and sharp, that stopped Will in his tracks.
One summer his father had taken hi
m on a duck-hunting trip up north. They had travelled a long way to a marsh in the middle of nowhere. In the morning they were up before dawn, and spent the day crouched in the tall grass or slogging through the marsh. Will had been eager for a chance to shoot his father’s gun, but when the duck he finally hit was hanging limp in his hand, he felt the cold and damp of the marsh seep into him. They walked on, but Will’s heart wasn’t in it any more. He lagged behind, until suddenly he realized he was alone. Dad had taught him to stay in one place if he got lost, but he panicked and began to run. He fell into the water several times and lost the ducks he had been carrying. Dad finally found him, soaked and nearly frozen, and was angry that he hadn’t done as he was told. The next time Dad invited him on a hunting trip he came up with an excuse not to go.
Shade came up beside Will and sniffed. “This is a strange place,” he said. “I don’t like the smell.”
“This is the Bog of Mool,” Pendrake said. “I travelled along its margins once before, years ago. There were more birds and trees then. I do not like the way it has changed. But at least it gives me some idea of how far we’ve come. I’d guess the knot-path has brought us a four-day march further west, and a little north.”
“Four days,” Rowen said, wide-eyed. “Then if whatever’s hunting us can’t find the knot-path, we’re safe.”
“A very large if,” Pendrake said. “We shouldn’t let down our guard.”
“Let’s stay close together, then,” Finn said. “We don’t want to get separated here.”
“Walk carefully,” Pendrake said. “The bog is land floating on water. One wrong step and you go straight down.”
They started forward without any eagerness, compelled only by the need to keep moving. The sun burned sullenly through shifting veils of mist. The damp spongy earth squelched under their feet. They heard bubbling and hissing, and at times saw clouds of vapour steaming up out of the earth. Shade took the lead, keeping his nose low to the ground. No one spoke. The gloom of their surroundings kept them moving only in the hope of finding somewhere to rest from the cold and damp. They had eaten nothing for hours but a bit of bannog.
The Shadow of Malabron Page 15
