B00DW1DUQA EBOK (10 page)

He didn’t stop until he reached the point where the finger of woodland reached out towards the barn. Once again he paused and peered out. His heart pounded away and his lungs burned as he breathed ragged breaths. Still no-one to be seen. Perhaps Connor had already made it and was inside, or was on his way back to Diane.

Finn trotted out across the field, across the muddy triangle of bare soil trodden out by the doorway and on into the warm darkness of the barn. He stood while his eyes adjusted a little, then gave the low whistle they used to call to each other in the woods. No-one whistled back.

He clambered up the haystack staircase to the upper floor. The slit-windows let in little oblongs of daylight and by them Finn could see Diane’s stuff was all as she had left it. He had beaten Connor. As quickly as he could he bundled everything into a blanket, tied up its corners, slung it over his shoulder and leaped back down to the ground.

Standing outside he tried to decide what he should do. It had taken him longer to get here than he thought it would. What if Diane just gave up and left? The quickest way back to her was up the lane, but that meant he might be seen. He might even meet the Ironclads. If he took the path through the woods again it would be safer, but then he might be too late. He stood for a moment, fighting back the urge to just start running. He had to think.

The lane. He half-walked and half-ran along the track, moving as quickly as he dared without looking like he was in a desperate hurry. If anyone asked him he could just say he was on his way home. The blanket was just an old blanket, there was nothing suspicious about it. He kept expecting to meet Connor but saw no sign of him. Where had he got to?

There were lines of hoof prints in the dust of the lane. Heavy horses, lots of them, had passed up the valley recently. There were no wheel-ruts this time. No paw-marks either. Perhaps the dogs were ranging through the woods. He had made the right choice. It was much safer on the road.

He began to run again, holding his side to try to ease the stitch tugging at him. No-one would think it odd he was in such a hurry would they? He was just racing home because there were Ironclads in the valley.

He reached the crossroads and stopped for a moment. It was still very quiet. The hedgerows hissed in the breeze. He began to think everyone else had been taken, everyone in the whole valley carted off to work on Engn. Was he the only one left? He wanted to rest but he dared not. Diane had to get away.

He set off again, running as fast as he could now, up the sloping lane towards home, past the path up to the Switch House and on. He was running so fast he careered round a bend and nearly ran into the Ironclads. Two of them rode abreast, coming down the lane, the horses’ great hooves stamping forwards, their riders’ metal armour glinting in the sun. He stumbled to a halt in front of them. The Ironclads kept on coming, saying nothing. He should stand aside and let them past. Anything else would look suspicious. He had to pretend he had nothing to hide. He was just a boy on his way home. They weren’t coming for him.

The Ironclads trod nearer, a great wall of snorting horse and shining metal. Finn turned and hared back towards the crossroads, anywhere to get away from them. He ran and ran, Diane’s bundle dangling around his legs, threatening to trip him up. He expected to hear the horses stir into a thundering gallop after him, the metallic call of their horn. He was nearly back at the crossroads when he half-stopped and glanced over his shoulder to see if they were pursuing him.

A hand grasped his shoulder.

‘Finn! Come here this moment!’

It was Mrs. Megrim, standing at the foot of the Switch House path, grabbing his arm with iron fingers.

‘Let go of me! Let go!’ He squirmed and pulled but couldn’t get away from the old woman.

‘Listen to me, you young fool,’ she said. She shook him hard and spoke in a low, jabbing whisper. ‘You can’t just run around with the Ironclads here! They’re not stupid. They’ll see you’ve been helping Diane and what then? Listen to me!’

In an instant everything made sense to Finn.
She
had seen them, spying on them with a line-of-sight. She must have sent trunk messages through to Engn, telling the Ironclads where they were.

‘They know because you told them! I hope you’re happy now.’

She let go of him at that and stepped back as if she had been struck.

‘Me? You think it was me?’

‘Of course. Who else?’

‘Oh, it wasn’t me, little boy.’

‘Of course it was! Now let me go!’

She glanced up and down the lane for a moment. Finn could hear the clank and thud of the Ironclads approaching around the last curve of the lane.

‘Finn, listen to me,’ said Mrs. Megrim, shaking him once more. ‘It’s not safe out here. Come up to the Switch House. You’ll be safe there. Please.’

He tried to squirm his way free.

‘You just want to hold me up so they’ve got time to find her!’

‘No, no! There’s no helping Diane now. They’ll take her away to Engn and there’s nothing you can do. Did you think you could beat them, boy? Come on. It’s you we need to save.’

‘No!’

‘Yes!’

She dragged him onto the path. He stumbled to his knees. She was surprisingly strong. Behind him, Finn saw a flash of silver as the Ironclads appeared round the bend. If he got free now they would see him anyway. Perhaps if he hid in the Switch House he could let them pass by and then carry on up to the woods. He stopped struggling, rose to his feet and pushed past Mrs. Megrim, up the spiral path that wound around the low hill. The old woman followed, keeping a tight grip on the wool of his jerkin in case he tried to make a dash for it.

It was dark inside the Switch House, as it had to be, of course. It smelt of paper and dust and, for some reason, lavender. He had never been allowed in before. The walls were peppered with small, round windows, bright circles of daylight. Most had line-of-sight telescopes peering out of them.

Stepping awkwardly in case he walked into something, Finn crossed to peer through one opening at the front of the house, overlooking the lane. He could see four Ironclads, two lines of two, trotting past towards the crossroads. One of the two at the back turned his head to look up as he went by, as if well aware Finn was up there watching. Finn held his breath. But the horses didn’t stop. He was safe. They really weren’t coming for him.

He turned and sank to the ground, shoulders heaving. He dropped Diane’s bundle to the floor, where it spilled open. He would leave it for a few minutes then go and find her.

His eyes were adjusting now. He looked around. He knew, of course, what happened at the Switch House. Still, it wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d always imagined a room where beams of light criss-crossed, a great nest of them, each flickering as the coded words flashed through from up or down the valley. He had imagined banks of brass machinery, mirrors and lenses on mechanical arms that snapped into place as you turned knobs or pressed buttons, connecting two telescopes with mechanical precision so that two households, perhaps miles apart, could communicate.

Instead, there was a higgledy-piggledy assortment of line-of-sight telescopes, each poised at a different angle, positioned to line up with the ‘scopes set up in each building. Some buildings, of course, weren’t even directly visible. There were mirrors rigged up all along the valley so that signals from distant houses could bounce their way up. Just behind each ‘scope was a mirror held on a spindly metal stand that directed light from the ‘scope onto a black wall. The wall was divided into small squares, each labelled with the name of a house stamped onto a metal plaque. He found his own, up on the top row.
Smith
. It was flashing a pattern of longs and shorts now, the address of the house his mother or father wished to connect to. He didn’t recognize the pattern.

Most of the telescopes were banked like this, but two pairs were connected, their mirrors moved aside and lenses placed between them at precise angles so that they lined up. Finn could just see the rapid flashing of lights in the eyepiece of one of the ‘scopes. He wondered what was being said.

Mrs. Megrim sat nearby, peering through a line-of-sight down the valley. There were four or five flashing connection requests on the bank wall behind her, but she ignored them all. Which she prided herself on
never
doing.

‘What are they up to?’ he heard her say to herself.

‘What is it?’

‘They’re going the wrong way. I don’t understand.’

‘I have to go,’ said Finn.

‘No!’ She turned to look at him. Her features were indistinct in the low light, but Finn could feel her eyes on him, pinning him to the spot. ‘You can’t. It isn’t safe.’

‘Only because you brought them here.’

‘You young idiot. You know nothing.’

‘I know enough.’

Mrs. Megrim turned to her wooden desk, filling a corner of the room where no line-of-sight holes perforated the walls. A dim red lamp gave off just enough illumination to see by. An open book lay upon the desk, next to a sheaf of papers. Line-of-sight printout. She picked these up and thrust them into Finn’s hands.

‘Here. Here’s your betrayal.’ She turned back to peer into her telescope.

Finn held up the sheets of paper to one of the holes in the wall and began to read. They were all trunk messages, destined for outside of the valley. He didn’t recognize the destination address.

‘Where is 1A11?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Engn?’

‘Of course.’

The messages were all encrypted, the sequences of lines and dots gibberish. A child could read a normal line-of-sight message, but not these. The sender’s address was perfectly clear, though. Each message, all ten or twenty of them, had been sent by Matt.

‘What do they say?’ asked Finn.

‘I’ve no idea. I can’t read encrypted messages, you know. Despite what people say.’

‘How long has he been sending them?’

‘Him? Oh, off and on for years. Some of them I deliberately don’t route properly. Sometimes I just blur the imaging. Occasionally I let one through so they don’t get too suspicious. But all
those
are from the past week.’

‘Since Diane came.’

‘Since Diane came.’

‘Did you let any through?’

‘It’s against all the rules to interfere with a line-of-sight communication, you know. It’s more than my job’s worth.’

‘Yes, but did you let them through?’

She turned from her telescope to look at him again. Her wooden chair creaked as she moved. She spoke in a whisper.

‘No. I blocked every single one of them.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t like him and I don’t like
them
,’ she said.

‘And you think he saw us playing together somewhere when he was out mending the roads?’

‘Of course he did. I’m surprised the whole valley didn’t see the three of you running around and making trouble. They must have heard you
shouting
at least. What did you think you were doing? None of you have the sense you were born with.’

‘He sent a message through you didn’t intercept?’

‘Must have.’

‘But why? Why would he tell the Ironclads about Diane?’

‘Matt was a nasty, scheming bully when he was a boy and he’s no better now. He thought there would be something in it for him. Why else?’

Finn thought about this for a moment.

‘Then, do you think he would have mentioned me and Connor. Helping Diane I mean?’

She sighed.

‘I can’t say for sure. But possibly not. He needs your dad because he’s such a useless lengthsman. And he’s afraid of the Baron. He’s not stupid. Perhaps he only mentioned her.’

‘We just didn’t think,’ said Finn. ‘We thought
you
were spying on us. Matt is just so … harmless.’

‘That’s because you’re children and all children are stupid. And I
was
spying on you. I just don’t report to Engn.’

Finn hauled himself to his feet.

‘I have to go,’ he said again. ‘Diane is waiting for me. They might not have found her yet.’

There was silence from Mrs. Megrim. The darkness gathered deeper around her as she concentrated on the vision in the telescope. More connect lights flickered on the bank wall now. Finn counted fifteen of them.

‘Mrs. Megrim?’

She turned away from the line-of-sight and slumped into her creaking wooden chair, just a huddled shadow in the gloom of the room.

‘Oh, no.’ she said.

‘What is it?’ asked Finn. ‘What have you seen?’

‘Well,’ she said. ‘It seems it’s not just children that are stupid.’ All the iron had gone from her voice.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Finn, I’m sorry. You’d better look.’

He crossed to stand next to her, sending one of the lens stands clattering to the floor. He bent to peer through the telescope.

The scene was a blur of greens and blacks and sparkles of sunlight. He turned the little knurled wheel below the eyepiece and the image sharpened into crisp detail.

A phalanx of Ironclads rode in close formation down the lane from the farm. At their head rode one of the masters: unarmoured, purple-robed. There was also a smaller figure within the cluster of riders. He couldn’t see who it was at first but then, between the joggling heads of the Ironclads, he caught a clear glimpse. It was Connor. They were taking Connor away to Engn.

‘No!’

Finn burst towards the door, scattering stands and telescopes to the ground. Outside, in the blinding light of day, he stumbled down a step, rolling to the ground. Squinting, he stood and raced on, around the spiral path to the lane, then on to the crossroads. He arrived just as the Ironclads arrived.

‘Connor!’

He could see his friend clearly now. Connor’s face was open-eyed disbelief. He sat astride one of the vast horses the Ironclads rode, swaying gently in time to its leaden, unstoppable stride, hands behind his back.

‘Connor!’

Now Connor saw him. He looked defeated as he stared at Finn. Something else too: apologetic, perhaps. He didn’t speak.

‘Connor!’ said Finn one more time, but quietly, to himself. The Ironclads stamped by, the sweet smell of the horses mixed with oil and metal. They turned the corner at the crossroads, heading down and out of the valley. Finn could see that Connor’s hands were shackled to his saddle behind his back. On his finger, clearly visible, was Diane’s ring. The finger waggled.
Goodbye
, he was waving. Goodbye and, also, don’t forget our vow. Don’t ever forget.