by Vashti Hardy
They ran after it, giggling and shoving each other.
“Whoever catches it gets all of the apple doughnuts Lavender left for us!” Prue called.
“That’s hardly fair to someone who doesn’t eat!” Edwin said.
“All right, we’ll buy you a new hat!” Agapantha laughed.
Before they knew it, ferns were whipping at their ankles and they were jumping through the low-lying forest fog and mulchy leaves.
“Where’s it gone?” Prue called.
“There!” Edwin said, pointing east where the hoppity wrench sprang above the fog line, hopping deeper into the trees.
“Out of the way, those doughnuts are mine!” Prue called as they dashed on.
But the fog was getting thicker, making it nearly impossible to see. They came to a standstill and looked around.
“I can barely see you,” Edwin called.
Prue scanned the clearing. She couldn’t hear the hoppity wrench any more. She caught sight of Edwin, low to the ground a short distance from her feet, then the shapes of Agapantha and … she froze. There was another shape in the white.
Around ten paces away, the branches moved, twisting as though suddenly alive. The hair on her arms rose. She watched the trees intensely, trying to see through the fog. There wasn’t a breath of wind, yet she was certain they were moving
“I think we should go back,” Prue whispered.
There was a rustling sound.
The branches moved again, separating from the trees. A creature emerged from the thick fog and stood facing them just ten paces away. It looked almost human in body, but taller and sinewy, with hard lines and skin tough and cold as bone. Great stag-like antlers extended from its head, its face a featureless skull with hollow eyes a glow of blood red within. Its extended arms hung at its side. Great clawed hands twitched.
There was a terrifying moment when none of them could move, then Agapantha cried out and it bounded towards them and they were running back, frantic breath steaming into the chill air. Branches snagged and snatched at them as the crunch of pounding feet and the whip of branches chased them through the undergrowth. Agapantha fell and Prue turned swiftly to help her, catching another glimpse of the fearsome stag-man in the fog hurtling towards them. But there was no time to take anything else in. Agapantha was up, and again they ran, but where was Edwin? Branches were coming at her suddenly through the mist and she took a swift turn away from Agapantha to dodge a fallen tree. Onwards she ran, but she was tiring rapidly and stumbled on a rock. Her knees buckled. She fell, hitting her head. Pain seared. She put her hand to it; thankfully, there was no blood. Hurriedly, she looked to her side for one of the others, but there was no one there.
No one except the stag-man, which was now standing barely ten paces away and looking right at her.
Her belly tightened as she took in the terrifying creature.
It let out a rasping, angry sound and stepped towards her.
She edged backwards, her muscles weak with fear, her heart hammering against her ribs.
It took another step. Its antlers were like sharpened chisels. It drew back, about to jump.
Then something flew from the trees. A stone bounced meaninglessly off the creature’s black chest, but it was enough to distract it and kick Prue into action. She scrambled to her feet. It lunged and swiped at her, but she arced backwards, and its antlers missed her by a whisper, just snagging on her jacket. Then something grabbed her hand and pulled. She didn’t resist, and began running alongside—
It was a long, thin hand holding hers, not Agapantha’s or Edwin’s. “Finblewick?” she managed to splutter between great gasps of air, then they twisted sharply, and she saw Agapantha to her left.
“Keep running that way!” Finblewick called. He jerked his hand away and leapt off in a different direction.
She dashed onwards, calling to Agapantha, then Edwin appeared just ahead, crashing through the thickets. With a rush they emerged from the forest and didn’t stop until they reached the factorium. Panting, hands on knees, sweat pouring, they looked back at the forest.
It was silent.
They watched, unable to take their gaze away, until Prue said, “Finblewick, he was there.”
“What?” said Agapantha.
“He saved me; I’ve got to go back.”
“Are you bonkers?” said Edwin.
“Let’s get help,” said Agapantha, but Prue was already heading back. Then Finblewick stepped out from the trees.
“What were you all thinking, larking about in the forest!” he spat. He looked at each of them. “You can all stop looking like scared rabbits; you’re quite safe.”
“Quite safe?” Prue repeated. “What was that?”
“Weren’t you told to keep out of the deep forest?”
“Yes, but our hoppity wrench escaped and… Wait a minute … what were you doing in the forest? It’s a long way from Deakins.”
“Never you mind. Your concern should be that no one finds out you were in there.”
“Finblewick, what was it?” Agapantha said.
He huffed and swayed hands on hips for a moment, lips contorting as though fighting to keep something inside. “It was … a guard. A guard to protect the Guild against snoops like you, and small personifates from wild beasts.”
Prue narrowed her eyes.
“You’d better get back to whatever you should be doing and hope that I don’t tell on you for nosing about where you shouldn’t be!” Finblewick said haughtily.
“Let’s go,” Prue said.
Sick with relief, they took the pneumerator back to the house and went up to Prue and Agapantha’s room. Prue insisted on grabbing a few apple doughnuts from the kitchen. “I feel like I need something sweet after that!”
“Do you think Liddy and Lavender know there’s such an awful guard out in the forest?” Agapantha asked.
“If they knew, they would surely just say, ‘Don’t go into the forest because the antlered monster guard might attack you,’” said Prue. “But I suppose it’s plausible that the masters would protect the forest from spies. Maybe Cora and Larkin had heard of the stag guard and that’s why they scared us like that?” She looked to Edwin. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
He shook his head. “Only in books. It’s like something in the Ancient Mercia books – some god of the underworld, I think.”
“Maybe Craftsman Shad has been experimenting?” suggested Agapantha.
Edwin frowned. “You’ve seen his designs. They’re mythical and over the top, but they aren’t evil-looking! That thing was horrific!”
“Hang on,” Prue took a bite from her doughnut and thought. “When we were being reprimanded in Master White’s office, surely White and Primrose would’ve mentioned the guard? And what was Sollentude up to when we caught him in the trap?”
“Actually, that’s a good point. What do we do?” Edwin asked.
“We should speak to Craftsman Primrose about the guard. If it’s gone a bit rogue, they should know, as maybe it’s the thing responsible for the sightings in Medlock. But we don’t want to all get into trouble again for going into the forest,” said Prue.
“Perhaps an anonymous note?” suggested Agapantha.
“I’ll write it. I’m good at disguising my handwriting,” said Edwin.
“Good. We’ll send it to Craftsman Primrose – he’s least likely to get us into trouble if he does realize it’s us, or if Finblewick says anything. And he’s not keen on Sollentude, so I doubt he’ll bring it up with him.” Prue thought for a moment. “I still can’t imagine what Finblewick was doing there, though.”
“Maybe he helps with the guards?” Agapantha suggested.
Prue shrugged. “Perhaps. But there’s one other thing I need to focus on first; I want my journal back from Cora. Quick, help me look before she comes back.”
But after rooting through Cora’s things for half an hour, they had to concede: the journal was nowhere to be found.
&n
bsp; CORA
On Monday, they stopped by the tower on the way to lessons and asked Luella to take the note anonymously to Craftsman Primrose. Cora was unusually quiet, which made Prue even more certain that she was up to something. She searched her things again in the evening, but there was still no sign of her journal.
Over the next few days, Prue, Agapantha and Edwin were keen to know what Craftsman Primrose had done about their note and what would happen, but they could glean nothing from his behaviour. He did seem preoccupied, but all of the craftsmen and masters were at the moment. The apprentices were working on some of the finer details of aesthetics with Rami Shad. The hundred personifates had filled up the huge open space of the design studio in orderly lines, and any final touches were being made.
Edwin had begun to approach discreet personifates who he thought may be open to finding out their first-life names. So Abel the garden mole became the next to discover that his original name was Maurice Montgomery. Prue thought it gave him an air of distinction, and she noticed he seemed to be rising up on his hind paws more and carrying himself with pride.
That evening, Prue lounged front-down on the parlour rug by the fire, writing a long letter home. Her thoughts were back on the farm, as the upcoming weekend was Sahwen. The only year they’d not celebrated Sahwen as a family was the previous one – the year when celebrating stopped. On their farm, the changing of the seasons was usually a big event. Francis and Prue would carve faces into the great pumpkins they grew in the north field, then they would place them around the house, lit by candlelight. Their parents made delicious pumpkin soup and pie, spiced with cinnamon; it tasted like autumn. In the evening the great orange faces burned brightly and the whole family danced around a scarebot, singing harvest songs together.
Agapantha sat crossed-legged beside Prue reading a note, and Edwin was on the other side with his face buried in a book on Ancient Mercia.
“My parents are in Medlock tomorrow,” Agapantha said.
“That’s good,” said Prue, not looking up from the letter she was writing.
There was a pause. “I’m going to meet them for dinner.”
“Nice,” Edwin said absently.
Agapantha cleared her throat a little.
Prue and Edwin both looked up at her.
“Spit it out, Ag,” said Edwin.
“Well, I wondered if, only if you’d like to, no pressure, but would you, maybe, like to come along and meet them?”
Prue smiled. “Of course – why wouldn’t we, you ninny!”
“Great!” she said sounding surprised, “I’ll send a note straight back.”
*
The Grand Principalia was the most exclusive hotel in Medlock.
“I feel massively underdressed,” said Prue.
“Imagine how I feel,” Edwin said, surveying the room of immaculately dressed people in plush dresses and suits.
They were greeted by an elegant white peacock. “Mrs and Mr Young are waiting for you, do follow me,” she said smoothly.
They followed the peacock past exotic palms and tables with smooth ivory tablecloths and silver cutlery. Crystal flutes sparkled beneath chaos lamps suspended from the high ceiling in glittering orbs.
Mrs and Mr Young stood as they approached the table. Prue could see that Agapantha inherited her fiery hair and red cheeks from her dad. Her mum had the same pointed chin and amber eyes, and she had a neatness to her blouse and trousers which, with an ache to her heart, reminded Prue of her own mum.
“Ah, here they are!” said Mrs Young. “We’ve missed you so much, Ag!”
They both embraced Agapantha warmly.
“These are my friends from the Guild, er … Frances Haywood and Edwin Snow-Moon.”
Mr Young laughed. “Oh, Ag, for a minute I thought you’d forgotten your friends’ names!”
Mrs and Mr Young fussed over them, making sure everyone was happily seated and had drinks and food, even ensuring Edwin had a plate and cup even though he wouldn’t be eating. “We want you to feel part of the evening, dear.” Mrs Young smiled.
“How are things in Gawthorpe?” asked Agapantha.
“Well, technology is taking some extraordinary twists and turns. Between us, I think it’s highly likely a personifate Guild will be opening at some point in the near future,” said Mrs Young.
“Really? But I thought the technology was exclusive and patented to Master Woolstenbury and Medlock,” said Prue.
Mrs Young nodded. “It is, but they are developing their own theories, presumably in different ways.”
Prue thought of the stag-man in the woods. Perhaps it was just an extreme deterrent against spies, or perhaps it was something from a rival city?
“Where do you work in Gawthorpe, Mr and Mrs Young?” Edwin asked.
“We’re at the MMD,” said Mr Young.
“That’s the Mechanimal Model Development,” added Agapantha.
“Oh, I’ve heard of that. Our mentor worked there before he joined the Guild,” said Prue.
Mr Young sat forward. “How wonderful, what’s his name? Mia has worked there for fifteen years, she’ll probably know him.”
“Come now, Archibald! You make me sound like I’m dreadfully nosy, which I am of course.” Mrs Young laughed.
“He’s called Craftsman Primrose, Charles Primrose.”
Mrs Young looked thoughtful for a moment. “The name doesn’t seem at all familiar, I’m afraid… No, I’m quite sure, I don’t know him. Perhaps he worked for the MMV, the Mechanimal Model Vicinity?”
“Yes, sorry, it must be, perhaps he said that.”
They ate and chatted mechanics and invention. They were warm and friendly, and the sort of people Prue thought her parents would like.
Prue excused herself to visit the bathroom, but on the way, she heard a voice she knew too well; Cora. She and Larkin were sitting at a table in the next room with their parents. Prue ducked behind a leafy plant.
“We’ll have to have words with the Governor. If they start having anyone as apprentices, they’ll lose all credibility,” Mrs Duval was saying.
“Your mother is quite right. Being an apprentice at the Imperial Personifate Guild of Medlock affords you the highest esteem from the Sovereign Chancellery, but if they start to lower their entry standards it’ll soon falter,” said Mr Duval.
“Well, for now, it will secure your future and the good name of the family. If you think for one minute you can make any sort of future from your own ridiculous notions!” said Mrs Duval.
“But Larkin is the one who’s good at all this invention nonsense!”
“And so are you.”
“She’s not that good,” said Larkin.
“I hate it there.”
“You don’t have a choice and that’s the end of it. I paid good money to Governor Watson-Wentworth to secure your apprenticeship.”
“Listen to your mother, Cora. You are a Duval and you will do as you are told, young lady.”
There was a screech of a chair and Cora stormed past inches from where Prue was hiding.
Prue almost felt sorry for her. Her parents hadn’t wanted Prue to come to the Guild, but they respected her choice when she ran away. It sounded like Cora wanted to do something else and didn’t actually want to be there at all. She hurried back to her table with the Youngs.
“Everything all right, Frances?” said Mrs Young.
“Yes, thank you,” she said.
*
On the way back, Prue, Edwin and Agapantha bumped into Craftsman Primrose on the steps of the house.
He opened the door ahead of them. “And what have you three been up to?” he asked, having a quick look at his pocket watch.
“We’ve just had dinner with Agapantha’s parents,” Prue said.
“How lovely.” The door shut behind them and Craftsman Primrose stopped and looked at them all curiously for a moment. “I was hoping to catch you all, as a matter of fact. I received an interesting note this week. It was anonymous.”
>
Prue could practically feel the warmth of Agapantha’s guilty red cheeks beside her. Edwin shuffled his paws.
“You three haven’t been in the forest when I expressly warned you not to after the incident with Sollentude and the trap, have you?”
They didn’t say anything.
“Of course not,” he said narrowing his eyes a little. He headed for the secret door to the pneumerator, then stopped and turned back to them. They paused on the steps.
“But, if it was, I would certainly like you all to know that it’s likely one of the more formidable-looking guards that Master Woolstenbury has deployed. There’s rather a lot of valuable qwortzite being held at the factorium at the moment, you see. However, the note is being taken seriously, and I am personally making sure it’s thoroughly investigated.”
The three of them remained silent.
“Like I say, if it was you, which it wasn’t, I would tell you that security is paramount at this time. Fear not, you’ll be perfectly safe to take part in the catching of the spirit lights this evening, so have fun.” Craftsman Primrose flipped back the mouse painting and opened the door. “Oh, and I’m pleased to report that all is ahead of schedule for the blood moon, and I can’t say more, but Master Woolstenbury has confirmed that Sahwen celebrations should go ahead as planned.”
*
That evening the releasing and catching of the spirit lights was much quieter. Most apprentices were being drafted in for last-minute work on the hundred; so it was only the newest apprentices, Liddy, Lavender, Queen Adelaide, Abel and a few flying personifates from the messenger tower who made their way to the lawn. Prue, Agapantha and Edwin couldn’t help but glance nervously at the forest edge as they walked.
They released the previous lights, which flitted away and disappeared like blown candles into the night.
“I’m pleased to have met you, Prue Haywood,” said Luella, sitting on Prue’s shoulder.
“I’m pleased to have met you too, Edith Scamp.”
“It’s a funny thing … how paths cross, so many ifs and buts and chance throws of the dice. I guess what I’m saying is I feel … very lucky … if luck is a thing.”
