by Jenny Nimmo
“I’ve lost him,” said Benjamin.
A series of distant barks sent them running forward again. Now at last, a pale light was beginning to filter through the trees. The barking changed direction. They all stopped and listened. Now here, now there, Runner Bean was everywhere at once. They left the path and ran into the trees, only to be drawn back again by another bark.
“He’s teasing us,” Olivia complained. “He can’t smell anything. He’s just playing a game.”
“Maybe he is,” said Benjamin.
Several minutes went by. The barking stopped. They waited and waited. Nothing. Benjamin called to his dog, but there was no answering bark.
“Time for a snack,” said Olivia, passing a chocolate bar to Charlie.
“I can’t eat,” said Benjamin. “Runner’s in trouble or he’d have come back. He always comes when I call.”
As winter light began to fill the wilderness, an icy breeze picked up, and the whistling and rattling of the bare branches all but drowned a very distant howl.
Charlie’s scalp prickled. “Was that the — thing, or Runner Bean?”
“Not sure,” said Benjamin.
“Whatever it is, we’d better find it,” said Olivia. “That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?” Taking the lead, she galloped along the path, while the boys raced after her.
Charlie wasn’t sure when, or where, the path ended, but he gradually became aware that it was gone and they were now following Olivia on a course that was all her own.
“I suppose she knows where she’s going?” Charlie called to Benjamin.
“Yes, I do,” cried Olivia. “My hearing is a hundred percent, and I know the howl came from this direction.”
They were now in an extremely dense part of the wilderness. The trees grew so close together that the low sun could only throw tiny splashes of light on the soft, mossy ground.
Olivia stopped and the boys ran up to her. “I’m waiting for another howl,” she said.
Another howl came. A long, low, melancholy howl that drew closer and closer until Runner Bean burst through a thicket and came bounding up to them. His hair was matted with grass seed, his ears were back, and his eyes were wide and fearful.
“What is it, Runner?” Benjamin clasped his dog around the neck. “What have you found?”
Runner Bean growled. It was a grumbling, angry sound. He definitely didn’t want to go back the way he’d come.
“He saw something, didn’t he?” said Olivia.
“Found something, I bet,” said Charlie.
“Show us, Runner, come on.” Benjamin attempted to push his way through the thicket before him.
Runner Bean lowered his head and growled again. He began to leap around the children, almost as though he were trying to stop them from seeing what he had found.
“OK, OK, Runner, we’ve got to find it!” Charlie pushed the big dog’s head away and waded through the low tangle of branches, until he and the others were standing in a small sunlit glade. A mound of dead leaves lay in the center, a mound shaped like a grave. A bunch of snowdrops had been placed at one end.
On the other side of the glade, a figure huddled between the great, gnarled roots of a tree. Briefly, it turned its face to them. There was no mistaking the wide nose and low, hairy brow. It was one of the creatures who had bitten Uncle Paton.
The children were at a loss. They had expected to find Asa, or, at least, the beast that he could become.
“Who … who are you?” Charlie took a step closer to the creature.
It snarled at him and then began to whimper.
Olivia grabbed Charlie’s arm. “Don’t go near it.”
“It’s OK, Liv.” Charlie brushed her hand away. “Look, it’s, I mean, she’s” — he knew instinctively that it was a woman — “she’s not going to hurt us. She’s sad. Maybe she’s just buried someone.”
“Asa?” Benjamin whispered.
Charlie walked over to the woman and crouched in front of her. “Do you know Asa Pike?” he asked gently.
Slowly, she turned her head toward him. Close up, she didn’t look so bad. There was kindness in her yellow eyes, and a dimple in her sallow cheek.
“I am Asa’s mother.” Her voice was faint and husky.
“Is that …?” Charlie looked back at the grave.
“Asa’s father.” The woman’s yellow eyes brimmed with tears.
“Did they kill him?” Charlie asked.
The woman looked up fearfully as Benjamin and Olivia crept closer. Rather than stand over her, they knelt on the ground behind Charlie.
“You’re Charlie Bone.” The woman gave a dismal little sigh. “Because of you …” She glanced at the grave, and her eyes brimmed again.
“I’m sorry if something I’ve done has caused you trouble,” said Charlie.
She sighed again. “Yes, yes. But you couldn’t help it, could you, poor boy?”
Olivia crawled a little closer. “Asa’s not dead, is he?”
The woman shook her head. “I do not know. They’ve taken him, hidden him. He was in a cave, imprisoned there, couldn’t change his shape from beast to boy, because of the darkness, you see. We brought him food and I told him not to howl, but he couldn’t stop himself.”
“And then the hunters came,” said Benjamin.
“Yes, and then the hunters came.” Her voice was so faint they could barely hear it.
Charlie hesitated before saying, “So it was the hunters who killed your husband?”
The woman began to shake. She twittered like a bird, whimpered, covered her face with long-fingered, hairy hands. “They killed him. They killed him. He was trying to lead them away from our boy. There was a shot and he fell. I dragged him into the shadows, covered him with branches and leaves so they wouldn’t see him. But the man who shot him saw him fall, saw the ground all bloody where my poor husband dropped. He thought he’d crawled away to die. So they left.”
“And they didn’t find Asa,” said Olivia.
“Not the hunters, no. But when I went to tell our boy his father was … dead” — she closed her eyes and screwed up her face — “Asa was gone. His cave was empty, the barred gate unlocked. They’ve moved him deeper underground, I know it, so his howling can’t be heard.”
“Who’s ‘they,’ Mrs. Pike?” asked Olivia. “It is Mrs. Pike, isn’t it?”
The woman looked up. “Yes, that is my name.”
“The Bloors took Asa, didn’t they?” said Charlie.
“Them. Yes,” she said sullenly.
The children looked at one another. They had come to rescue Asa but found instead his mother, who seemed to need their help as much as Asa.
“I think we should take you somewhere, Mrs. Pike,” said Charlie, “somewhere safe, in case the hunters come back. Where’s your home?”
“Far, far.” Mrs. Pike began to sway back and forth. “Can’t go back, not with my boy here, somewhere.”
Olivia stood up. “Mrs. Pike, you can’t stay in the wilderness. You’ll freeze to death. And, like Charlie said, the hunters might come back.” Now that the woman had a name, Olivia spoke just as she might to a friend.
Mrs. Pike responded with a rueful smile. “I can’t walk. I fell when I was moving my husband. My ankle was badly twisted.”
“Worse and worse,” muttered Benjamin.
Runner Bean whined in sympathy. He had remained on the other side of the glade, not sure what to make of things.
Charlie had been thinking. There was only one place where they could take Mrs. Pike — the Pets’ Café. “I know someone who will take care of you,” he said. “His name is Mr. Onimous. I’m going to pull you up now. Olivia, go around the other side of Mrs. Pike and help.”
Mrs. Pike didn’t object when they heaved her onto her one good leg, but she groaned horribly when they dragged her away from the grave.
They decided not to return by the stone bridge. By now it would be too busy. They would have to use the slightly dangerous iron bridge. No
ne of them was very heavy, and if they were careful, they should be able to get safely across. The Pets’ Café wasn’t far from the bridge, and with luck they should reach it before anyone noticed the odd-looking person hobbling between them.
They found the narrow path again, and soon, as the trees began to thin, they saw two rough wooden fence posts ahead of them. Charlie knew they had reached Bartholomew Bloor’s cottage. The sanctuary.
Supporting Mrs. Pike, they shuffled into a yard that had once been full of animals. It was utterly deserted.
“What is this place?” Olivia asked.
“My friend Naren lived here,” said Charlie. “Her father is Dr. Bloor’s father, but he isn’t like the other Bloors. He hates them. He felt safer away from the city, but still near to the Red King’s castle. He wanted it to be a secret place. He must have left with his family as soon as he heard hunters in the wilderness.”
“I knew them,” rasped Mrs. Pike. “They were good to us. Go and see, boy. See if they’ve really gone.” She pulled away from Charlie and leaned against the top bar of the fence.
Charlie ran to the cottage and looked in the window. The table was there and two chairs, but everything else had gone: the photographs on the wall, the lamps, the kettle, the pots and pans, the china ornaments, and the mementos that Bartholomew had collected on his many travels. All gone.
“No one there,” said Charlie, walking back to the little group.
Mrs. Pike began to moan. “Not gone, not gone. What will become of them? It was a good place and they were kind.”
All at once Charlie understood why Mrs. Pike was so concerned for Bartholomew and his family. “You lived here, didn’t you?” he said.
Mrs. Pike nodded. “In a barn, for a while.” She made a funny little noise at the back of her throat, her head fell forward, and she began to slide to the ground.
Olivia caught her, just in time. “She’s fainted. Take her arm, someone. This isn’t going to be easy.”
Easy it certainly wasn’t. How they managed to haul, lift, and drag Mrs. Pike as far as the bridge, Charlie would never know. The poor woman would regain consciousness, hop a little way, then slump into their arms like a dead thing. When they finally reached the bridge, Charlie ached all over, and he could see that the others were in the same state. Their troubles had hardly begun.
“That’s not safe,” Olivia declared, staring at the thin band of wrought iron disappearing into the mist.
“It’s OK, Liv. I’ve crossed it several times,” said Charlie. “So’s Benjamin — and Runner Bean.”
“You’re crazy,” said Olivia.
“It’s the only way,” Benjamin pointed out.
“What about her?” Olivia looked at Mrs. Pike, slumped against Charlie’s shoulder.
As if in answer, a wave of fog came swirling toward them over the river. Now they could hardly see more than a few inches in front of them. Olivia shined her flashlight into the advancing fog. It hardly penetrated at all. “Useless,” she said.
“We’ll feel our way,” Charlie said heartily. Someone had to be positive, after all. “Come on. Benjamin, you go first with one hand on the railing, and one hand holding the back of my jacket, to guide me. I’ll walk backward and I’ll haul Mrs. Pike along, while Olivia follows, making sure that Mrs. Pike’s feet don’t fall over the side …”
“And take us all with her,” Olivia said grimly.
No one could think of a better plan, and so they began the perilous trek across the river. They had only gone a few meters when Benjamin cried out, “The railing’s gone … I can’t see … I can’t see anything. The fog’s too thick — and — and something’s happening.”
Charlie grabbed the last bit of railing before the link was broken. A roaring, rushing sound filled his ears and, to his horror, he felt water washing over his feet. This can’t be happening, he thought. The river was at least thirty feet below the bridge. How can it rise this far? He thought of Dagbert’s endowment.
Olivia’s feeble croak came drifting toward Charlie. “My feet are soaked. Is the river tidal? I mean, do you think there’s a special time of year when it rises?”
Charlie wondered if now was the time to tell a lie. He knew the river wasn’t tidal, but he had to keep up their spirits. “Could be,” he said. “We’ll have to crawl. Safer that way.”
“But we’ll get wetter. We’ll drown,” wailed Benjamin. “I don’t know where the next bit of railing is, or even if there is one, I … oh!”
A radiant light suddenly illuminated the area all around them.
“It’s your moth!” cried Benjamin. “Look, Charlie! Over your head —”
Charlie looked up. There, fluttering in the air above him, was the white moth, her silvery wings throwing out brilliant shafts of light.
“Thank you!” breathed Charlie. “What would I do without you, Claerwen the moth!”
“I can see the railing,” Benjamin shouted. “Yes. I’ve got it. Come on, Charlie.”
By now, all three children were on their knees. It was just as well. Driven by the swirling river, the bridge began to heave from side to side. Charlie felt himself sliding toward the water. With one hand, he clung tight to Mrs. Pike; with the other, he clutched the edge of the bridge.
Frozen with terror, Benjamin couldn’t move another inch. “We’re going to drown!” he cried.
“We will if you don’t keep going,” yelled Olivia.
Behind her, Charlie could just make out the dark shape of a very wet Runner Bean; he was crawling slowly toward them on his belly. The bridge suddenly tilted violently. Everyone screamed as they slid across the bridge, clinging to whatever they could find. There was a howl of fear, and when Charlie looked over Mrs. Pike’s sprawled body he could see Olivia, one arm thrown around a railing, the other wrapped tightly around Mrs. Pike’s feet. Beyond Olivia, the bridge was empty.
“Was that Runner howling?” shouted Benjamin. “Is he OK?”
“Keep going, Ben,” Charlie grunted.
“I can’t, I can’t. I’ll fall in.”
We’ll all fall in, thought Charlie, and that will be the end of us. He imagined Runner Bean struggling against the vicious current. He wouldn’t be able to struggle for long.
Slowly, the bridge swung back until it was straight again. They waited for the next heave. It never came. All at once the iron beneath them felt firm and steady. When Charlie stood up, his feet held to the bridge as though it had an almost magnetic force. And yet he could move quite safely.
“Can you feel that?” he called to Benjamin.
“Yes. Yes. I feel safe now,” said Benjamin. “And I can see the other side, where your moth is flying.”
“Wow!” Olivia stood with legs wide apart. “It’s amazing. And look, Mrs. Pike’s feet aren’t sliding about anymore.”
“Let’s get going!” Charlie glanced unhappily at the empty bridge behind Olivia. He felt sick with apprehension. There was now a very good chance that they would survive, but what would Benjamin do when he discovered that Runner Bean had fallen into the river?
The wilderness was still shrouded in thick fog, but the mist was rolling back from the water, and Charlie could just make out the far end of the bridge. He half closed his eyes, squinting into the distance. Could he believe what he was seeing?
“What are you staring at, Charlie?” asked Olivia.
“There’s someone at the end of the bridge,” Charlie said softly.
“Where?” Olivia swung around. “Oh, wow!”
“I’m not seeing things, then?”
“No, Charlie,” Olivia said in awe. “I can see him, too.”
The figure itself was indistinct. It appeared to be dressed in dull gray, but there was nothing obscure about the red cloak, or the shining silver helmet with its brilliant scarlet crest.
“A knight,” Charlie murmured.
Benjamin looked back. He was too late to see the knight, for he had vanished into the mist. All Benjamin could see was an empty bridge.
> “Where’s Runner? HE’S GONE!” cried Benjamin. He pounded over the bridge, leaped onto dry land, and rushed along the bank beside the swirling river.
All the excitement had roused Mrs. Pike. Heaving herself upright, she asked, “What’s going on?”
“Benjamin’s dog fell into the river, Mrs. Pike,” Olivia told her. “And now Ben’s rushed off to find him.”
“In that?” Mrs. Pike stared at the foam spilling across the water. “He’ll drown, poor boy.”
“He’s very sensible,” Olivia assured her. “And at least we’re safe. Look, just a little way now, and we’re there.”
Charlie thought, Benjamin’s not safe. But Asa’s mother seemed to need his help more than anyone else just then.
Mrs. Pike managed to hop the rest of the way over the bridge, but needed Charlie’s arm to steady herself on the steps up to the road.
“Charlie Bone, there’s a light on your head,” Mrs. Pike observed when they got to the top.
“Oh, yes. She’s my wand,” said Charlie, “or rather she WAS my wand. Her light helped us to get across the bridge.”
“A wand …” Mrs. Pike spoke in a faraway sort of voice. “How very useful.”
A narrow lane bordered by tall hedges led into the town. Once on High Street there would be only a short way to go before they reached the Pets’ Café.
The town was not busy that morning. It was misty and cold, and no one paid much attention to two children and a hopping person whose face was hidden by a large hood. Mrs. Pike couldn’t move as fast as Charlie would have liked, but at last they turned into the cobblestoned alley called Frog Street.
Standing at the very end of Frog Street, the Pets’ Café had an ancient look about it. Who could tell how long it had been there, for it was built into the thick city wall, and that was nine hundred years old. Above the window there was a sign decorated with whiskers, paws, tails, and wings. No one was allowed to enter without a pet. Luckily, Charlie knew the owners well.
It was now ten o’clock. The café opened at half past ten. Charlie rang the bell. There was, of course, no answer. The owners, Mr. and Mrs. Onimous, didn’t like people arriving early. They wouldn’t open the door on principle.
