War in Hagwood

by Robin Jarvis

  Master Gibble wiped his eyes as she hugged him. “Your brother was right,” he said. “Wergling can happen on the inside.”

  He glanced over to where Gamaliel and Bufus were still standing close to the cliff edge.

  “Come away from there!” he barked sharply.

  Bufus and Gamaliel looked at one another. The world plummeted away before them and the ledge was wet and slippery. Gamaliel could read the other boy’s face and knew what was running through his mind. He shook his head violently.

  “No!” he shouted.

  “Think about it, Gammy!” Bufus yelled into the rain. “It would be so easy. One of us three has to die. You know that. Why not me? It makes sense. I’ve done what I promised my brother, I’ve made it to the end and done my best to make him proud. If I go now, you and Nellie over there might just make it!”

  Gamaliel glared at him. “Don’t you dare!” he raged. “This isn’t over yet.”

  “Look around you!” the Doolan boy cried in exasperation. “Evil Queen, massive win; good guys, a big fat nil! We lost. The war is done and dusted!”

  “Not yet,” Gamaliel answered with a defiant grin. “There’s still a chance—a mad, stupid, tiny scrap of a chance!”

  Bufus blinked at him. “You really are barmy,” he said.

  “I must be!” Gamaliel laughed. “Because even though you’re the biggest pain I ever met, I like you. And what’s more—I need you. The world needs you.”

  Before Bufus could answer, Master Gibble’s bony fingers took hold of his ear and he did the same to Gamaliel.

  “Get away from the edge!” the tutor repeated.

  They were hauled over to where Kernella was waiting and she folded her arms and scowled at Gamaliel.

  “What are you up to?” she asked. “It’s time you explained why you brought us here.”

  “You heard Gwyddion,” her brother answered. “He said the deciding moment will take place up here. The days will either be forever dark or ‘golden evermore.’”

  “That bloodthirsty crackpot also said you were the Blessed One!” Bufus scoffed.

  Gamaliel shrugged diffidently. “I don’t know about that,” he said modestly. “But … I have been chosen and this is where I am meant to be tonight.”

  “Stop this!” Kernella told him crossly. There was a determined look in his eyes that alarmed her. “We’re just going to wait here and see what happens, aren’t we, Master Gibble?”

  The wergle master was not listening. His attention was fixed on the valley between the Hollow Hill and the haunted crag. The curtain of lightning was moving closer and the noise of battle was growing louder. The armies were rushing through the forest, toward the lower slopes.

  Terser Gibble stepped through the pines and down onto the stretch of bare rock.

  “They’re coming this way,” he breathed fearfully. “Young Tumpin was right again.”

  The children hurried to join him and their eyes grew round at what they saw. The noise of the battle was louder now and they spotted the owl flying low over the treetops. Thunderous hooves were galloping closer. They caught sight of a great silver-white horse hurtling up the ridge, skidding through the heaps of wet leaves, crashing blindly through the thistles and tearing through the brambles.

  “Why is it coming this way?” Kernella asked.

  “A madness whips that poor beast along,” Master Gibble answered. “What horrors has it seen?”

  “Look!” the girl cried, pointing wildly. “There’s a rider trying desperately to control it. … Oh no.”

  Her voice choked in her throat as she recognized the figure crouched low in the saddle, her dark green hair streaming in the tempest.

  “It’s Meg!” her brother gasped.

  “She’ll plunge right over the edge if she doesn’t halt!” Kernella squealed.

  “Stop the horse!” Bufus yelled at the top of his voice as he sprang forward. “Stop it! You’ll be killed!”

  As they watched the insane steed race nearer and heard Meg begging it to halt, they heard a second voice yowling. The children drew anxious breaths.

  Master Gibble looked down at them. “That sounds like …”

  “Tollychook,” Gamaliel said. “He’s with her!”

  Dewfrost thundered on. She was almost clear of the gnarled, rotting oaks; soon her hooves would clatter and spark over the bare rock, fling herself through the pines, then leap off the cliff.

  Kernella turned her head away, but what she saw creeping up behind them made her scream even louder.

  * Chapter 18 *

  Over the Edge

  WITH BLOOD STREAKING DOWN HER NECK and smoke pouring from her burning flesh, Dewfrost ran like a demon. To flee was the only thought in her frightened mind, to run as fast and as far as she could, without stopping.

  With his hands gripping tightly to the horse’s mane, Tollychook’s arms were almost wrenched from their sockets in the fiercely jarring, bouncing ride through the forest. He felt battered and sick and for once was relieved he had not eaten anything.

  Dewfrost bounded over a thicket of briar and the ground began to rise. It was then Meg realized where they were headed.

  Nothing would stop the beast, so they would have to jump clear before it threw itself over the cliff edge. It was racing along at a breakneck speed, but it was their only chance.

  “We must jump to save ourselves, little shobbler!” she cried to Tollychook.

  The boy goggled up at her. “You can’t mean that, missus!” he shrieked. “We’ll break us necks and split our heads wide open!”

  “We must risk it!” she answered forcefully. “Else we will plunge to our deaths. The Witch’s Leap awaits us at the end of this road.”

  Tollychook stared at her a moment longer as the full meaning of that dawned on him. Then he began scrabbling feverishly at the hank of mane tied about his waist.

  The high thistles and distorted trees rushed by.

  “Hurry!” Meg called. “Hurry!”

  Tollychook grunted and strained and tore his fingernails but the knot had tightened.

  “I can’t get loose!” he yelled in panic. “I be stuck!”

  Dread and dismay shone in Meg’s eyes as she gazed down at the small plump figure sitting in front of her.

  “You must!” she told him. “Try harder! Cut it—bite it through!”

  “I doesn’t have no knife!” he wailed. “And I can’t chew through that—me belly’s in the way!”

  Meg cast a fearful face forward. The pine trees were already visible in the distance. The wooded stretch was coming to an end and they were on the final furlong. It would be safer to jump here, where the weeds could break her fall—but she could not abandon the young werling to certain death.

  “Let me aid you!” she said, reaching for the knot with one hand while clinging to the reins with the other.

  Dewfrost burst from the undergrowth and the solid rock echoed beneath her hooves.

  Meg’s nails clawed at the stubborn knot but it was no use.

  “You go, missus!” Tollychook shouted desperately. “Don’t fret ’bout me!”

  The woman’s large, froglike eyes glittered at him and her wide mouth smiled.

  “We go together,” she said and she clasped her hand about him tenderly.

  Dewfrost tore over the barren expanse of rock. The rain and thunder filled their ears but Tollychook thought he heard familiar voices calling his name. The world swept by in a blur. He saw seven towering pines flicker in and out of the lightning. A heartbeat later he felt the horse’s powerful muscles judder and tense as it prepared to leap between the trees and off the crag.

  Tollychook squeezed his eyes shut and held on to Meg’s fingers.

  The horse launched herself into the night. She flew into the air and the emptiness of that terrifying height yawned before them.r />
  “Tammedor,” Meg whispered.

  Dewfrost whinnied and thrashed her forelegs in the storm.

  Tollychook felt as though time slowed down. They had cleared the cliff edge and only a black gulf was beneath them.

  The horse whinnied again. Then there was a jolt and she was snatched backward in midair.

  Dewfrost neighed and screamed but her legs and body were caught firmly in sticky ropes. She tried to toss her head, but that too was held tight. She struggled and twisted but could not break free.

  Tollychook dared to open one eye and let out a disbelieving shout as he took in the astounding sight. Meg murmured in wonderment.

  They were suspended above the rocky ledge and between the trees. A taut net, bejeweled and beaded with the rain, radiated out from the pines on either side. One of the ropes was close enough for him to reach. He touched it and found that his hand was now glued fast.

  “Eurgh!” he exclaimed, trying to pull free. “It’s sticky as a …” He swallowed his words as the truth flooded over him.

  “Oh, ’eck!” he burbled.

  They were caught in a colossal spider’s web.

  Strung across the space between the seven trees was a gargantuan cobweb and Dewfrost was snared within it. All energies spent, her great heart thudding in her chest and with eyes rolling, the silver-white mare hung there.

  “’Tain’t possible,” Tollychook said, taking a breath. “Unless …” There was only one creature in Hagwood capable of spinning such a web, and he was suddenly gripped by a new terror.

  Behind him, Meg was marveling and shaking her head in amazement. Then, from below, voices called up to them.

  “Hoy, Chookface—stop wriggling. You’ll only make it worse.”

  “Stay still!” Gamaliel called. “Help is on its way.”

  Kernella gazed up at the incredible spectacle. It had happened so fast she had scarcely had time to take it in.

  The nightmarish Frighty Aggie, a huge part-wasp, part-spider monster, had scaled the cliff face and woven an enormous, enchanted web between the trunks of the trees to catch the leaping horse. When Tollychook looked upward, he glimpsed a sinister, yellow-striped shape withdraw into the shadows of the high branches. Before he could yell out, he saw a familiar figure descending on a single strand, grinning at him.

  “Master Lufkin!” he greeted in surprise. “What be …?”

  Holding the sticky thread with one hand, Finnen saluted him with the other and winked cheekily at Peg-tooth Meg.

  “Don’t be scared!” he said, drawing level with them. “Agnilla won’t hurt you. She’s here to help.”

  “But she be Frighty Aggie!” Tollychook hissed.

  “And she was one of us once,” Finnen answered sternly. “She brought me here, bless her. Now hold still while I cut your hand free. Aggie’s webs are tough as old roots.”

  He took a small knife from his belt and set to work. Then he cut through the hank of hair that was tied about Tollychook’s waist.

  “Now grab onto me and we’ll join the others,” Finnen instructed. He looked to Meg but she assured him she could jump down unaided.

  And so Finnen and Tollychook glided to the ground and Meg dropped beside them.

  Bufus, Gamaliel, and Kernella dashed forward and bombarded Finnen with questions. He was equally eager to learn how they had survived the collapse of the floor in the watchtower.

  “I thought you were killed!” he laughed.

  “No such luck!” Bufus snorted. “I’ve been lumbered with this daft pair of Tumpins all day!”

  “To ride on Frighty Aggie’s back!” Gamaliel cried. “How in Hagwood did you manage that?”

  “She didn’t hurt me when I met her the last time,” he replied. “I had to gamble on her not doing it again. She was the only help I could bring.”

  “You spoke to her?” Tollychook cried in astonishment.

  “Yes,” he answered. “She isn’t the terrifying horror we always believed she was. And I’ve made her a promise.”

  “Promise?” Bufus asked. “What promise?”

  Finnen didn’t answer; instead he gazed up at the pine tree where Aggie had concealed herself and shook his head. “The real tragedy is,” he said, “there’s a tiny corner of her mind that remembers who she was before she wergled into that shape and got stuck. Can you imagine the torment of that?”

  “But how did you know to climb up the cliff?” Gamaliel asked.

  “I didn’t! It’s the way she brought me! I had nothing to do with that. I had no idea where she was taking me.”

  “Oh, Finnen!” Kernella cooed. “You’re so brave! You’re a miracle!”

  Bufus groaned loudly. “There she goes again,” he said.

  It was a lovely, joyous moment. The war and everything they had gone through in the past two days had been temporarily forgotten. They were just five friends delighting in their reunion. Meg watched them and hung her head forlornly, knowing it would be all too short lived.

  “And where’s Liffidia?” Finnen asked.

  Tollychook lowered his eyes and the happy moment ended.

  Gamaliel pulled away and thought about what lay before him. It was time. He stepped across to Peg-tooth Meg and, in a frightened but solemn voice, asked, “The gold casket, can I see it?”

  Meg sensed the urgency and dread in his words and she gazed at the boy curiously.

  “Why do you wish that?” she asked.

  “I just want to see it again,” he insisted.

  “I do not have it,” she said. “I left it in the mud, down by the ruined tower, with Gabbity.”

  “You don’t have it?” Gamaliel repeated, aghast. “But … !”

  “Do not fret yourself. It was of no use,” she assured him. “Rhiannon has won.”

  Gamaliel stumbled away from her and leaned against one of the pines, reeling with shock. He wouldn’t be able to test his crazy plan after all, and in spite of his disappointment, a surge of relief washed over him.

  Standing apart from the group, Master Gibble fidgeted and felt awkward. The wergle master had hung back while the others welcomed Finnen. Too much unpleasantness, born from his own jealousy and resentment, lay between them and he felt ashamed and out of place. Seeing his discomfort, Kernella whispered something in the boy’s ear and Finnen walked over to him.

  “Good to see you again, sir,” he said.

  Master Gibble’s head gave a twitch. Unable to trust his trembling voice or meet the boy’s eye, he looked up into the branches of the pine trees and cleared his throat.

  The many eyes of Frighty Aggie were shining down at them.

  “Poor unhappy, lonely creature,” he said. “What a terrible price to pay for a want of wisdom. Mistakes can cost so very dear. We are all misguided in our way, some more than others.”

  “She’s here now,” Finnen told him. “That’s what matters most and what will be remembered tomorrow. What’s in the past is forgotten.”

  “But I—she has done such detestable things. Can it truly be forgiven?”

  “Oh no,” said a harsh voice nearby. “Nothing is ever forgotten, or forgiven—and for you, Master No Nose, there will be no tomorrow.”

  Everyone turned. A great wild boar was prowling up the rocky slope, carrying Rhiannon Rigantona on its back. In the stormy sky above, the owl was circling.

  The High Lady’s dark eyes surveyed the scene beneath the pine trees and her mocking laugh pierced those gathered there.

  “What an elaborate way to stop a horse,” she said, regarding the ensnared Dewfrost in the web. “That mare always was highly strung. Why didn’t you just cut off her head? Far simpler.”

  Meg rose. Her bent bones creaked and she glared at her sister.

  “You deal out death too readily,” she said.

  Rhiannon tugged on Ironback’s ears and th
e hog grunted to a halt. She dismounted and ran her fingers over the staff in her hands as the owl alighted upon her shoulder.

  “It’s certainly time I dealt with you, toad-face,” she replied coldly. “And those vermin that scurry around your ankles. Shall I call down the lightning and explode those tree rats one by one while you watch? Would that pain you as much as the death of blind Prince Tammedor? Probably not.”

  The clamor of the battle was close now and the foremost riders were already on the lower slopes. Rivers of lightning were streaming from the sky and several diseased trees caught fire or were blown apart.

  “Soon there won’t be a single one of your new subjects left alive,” Rhiannon told her sister, with a snarl. “But what a grand view of the destruction you have up here. I do so adore watching rebels burn.”

  The rocky ground shuddered as fiery bolts blasted from the sky. The army of the Hollow Hill fought bravely, but by the raucous crowing of the troll witches, Meg could tell they were not winning. She could only watch as knights and nobles, kluries and Redcaps, weary with battle, were flung into the air or ran, burning, into the forest.

  Rhiannon’s eyes danced over the grueling battle raging its way toward the ridge. Her face was an image of controlled pleasure and excitement. Those many long, fear-filled years had finally come to an end, and she anticipated many more bloody conflicts in the days ahead. The realms beyond Hagwood would fall before her just as easily. The world of humankind would humble itself and build temples in her name.

  At the forefront of the battle, Lord Limmersent was being pursued by two screeching hags. He rode his horse hard and with great skill, swerving and dodging the jags of lightning that ripped past him.

  He was the first warrior to break through the wooded stretch. Holding his sword before him, he galloped up the ridge, cursing the High Lady’s name.

  Rhiannon watched him dashing toward her then casually lifted her staff. The dark heavens thundered and a thorny stream of electric flame crackled down, spitting and seething around the stones bound to its top. As Lord Limmersent charged closer, Rhiannon pointed her staff and unleashed the lightning.