The Robe of Skulls (13 page)

If Lady Lamorna could have seen Gubble at that very moment, she might have given way to complete despair. Gubble was, for Gubble, looking cheerful. He was not a long way behind the sorceress and Foyce, and he was riding Marcus’s pony with a fair degree of success. There was something like a grin spread over his flat green face, and every so often a deep rumble shook him from head to foot. Marcus, alarmed at first, had decided that this was Gubble’s way of laughing and grinned back.

When the bedraggled figure had first limped out from behind the gravestone, Marcus had reeled away in horror. But Glee had pushed him forward to look again.

“Help Gubble,” the troll said hopefully. “Gubble help boy.”

Marcus stared. “Did you know your head is on back to front?” was all he could think to say.

“Gubble knows.” A tear dribbled a green channel down Gubble’s muddy face.

Marcus studied Gubble carefully. “Don’t you work for that witch?” he asked. “I saw you with her!”

The troll’s face screwed itself into an expression of intense hatred. “No more Evilness,” he spat. “Gubble’s Trouble, Evilness is.”

Marcus was impressed. “What about that girl — Foyce?” he said.

Gubble’s face grew even more livid. “Gubble hate girl.”

“But I’ve got to find her,” Marcus explained. “She’s got my brother! I have to rescue him — him and the others. Can you show me the quickest way to Fracture? I’ve got a map, but I’d be quicker with a guide. . . .”

Gubble tried to nod, but his shoulders got in the way. “Gubble knows,” he said. Then again, “Help Gubble!”

“I’ll do my best,” Marcus said. “I’ll have to get the spell taken off Arry somehow — so whoever does that could help you too. If someone can take the spell off a frog, it should be easy for them to swap your head around.” He put his foot in his stirrup, then paused. “Would you like to ride Glee? I’ll run for a bit. Erm . . . which way do you want to face?”

After a short experiment, it appeared that Gubble felt happiest with his body facing backward, his head looking forward. This meant that he could hold firmly on to the back of Glee’s saddle, and he felt safer than he ever had riding on the donkey. “Nice!” he said approvingly.

“Let’s go,” Marcus said, and they left the churchyard to cut across the fields, Glee trotting steadily and Marcus running alongside.

As the evening drew on, the clouds sank low and a steady drizzle made the various travelers shiver and pull their cloaks and coats tight around them. Gracie was more than grateful for the thick cloak Val had given her. Marcus wondered how Ger had managed with such a thin jacket and resolved that if he found Arry and was able to get him home safe and sound, the first thing he would do would be to buy Ger a brand-new coat that kept the rain out. Lady Lamorna, huddled in her old peasant woman’s woven wool, felt dampness seeping into her bones. Foyce, warm and dry in her fur-lined cape, lessened her pace a little as the narrow path turned muddy and slippery. Only Gubble was happy. His rumblings became a steady drone, and Marcus suspected that he was singing.

In the church tower at Dreghorn, the clock solemnly chimed midnight. There was a small rustling, and Marlon shook himself awake. “Time for a checkup,” he told himself, and flew to the window. There he let out a series of high-pitched squeaks, stopped, and listened. From Gorebreath came a clear answer, and then, after a pause, a series of relayed messages came flooding in from far and wide.

“Hmm,” he said to himself proudly. “My Millie’s a good girl. She’s doing well. At the rate she’s traveling, she and kiddo numero uno’ll be in plenty of time for the action. Kiddo number two’s doing good too.” He scratched his stomach in a thoughtful way. “We may get that dame yet . . . but it’s still early.” He yawned a sharp-toothed yawn and flew back to his beam. “Quick doze. Need to keep fresh. Don’t want any more mistakes. . . .” And Marlon slept again.

He was woken by the faint light of early morning and the flip-flap of the belfry’s resident bats making their way back to bed. After giving his fur a cursory brush, he went back to the window and squeaked again. This time there were fewer replies, but Marlon’s eyes lit up. “Thought the rain would slow ’em down,” he said, “but they’ve done well! All of them getting close. Time to make a move. Better see that the kids are OK.
Ciao,
all!” And he left the local bats to heave a sigh of relief as they got ready for bed. Having Marlon as a lodger meant far too many interruptions.

As he flitted his zigzag way over Gorebreath and up Fracture Mountain toward the village, Marlon was pleased to see that the rain had stopped. There were many footprints and hoofprints in the mud of the narrow highway, he noticed. As he soared higher, he saw Marcus and Gubble wearily picking their way up a half-hidden path that led over steep rocks but cut out many of the bends of the usual road. Glee was tethered below on a small patch of grass.

Marlon swooped down. “Hello, there,” he said cheerfully. “Does the troll know he’s got his head on back to front?”

Gubble stopped his singing and grunted.

“Hello,” Marcus said. “And yes, he does. What do you want?”

Marlon was hurt. “Is that the way to talk to a pal?”

“You said it was
my
adventure.” Marcus was grumpy from lack of sleep and soaking-wet boots. “It’s fine for you, flitting about. We have to climb.”

“See my heart?” Marlon said. “It’s bleeding. Thought you’d like to know that the dame’s back in her den. But I know when I’m not wanted . . .” He shook his head and flew slowly upward.

“Oops — I’m sorry,” Marcus said with real sincerity. “I really am.” He lowered his voice. “Is it far now?”

“Well, I never was one to hold a grudge,” Marlon said cheerfully, “so I’ll check it out.” He winked at Gubble and disappeared. Two minutes later, he was back. “Hey! Kiddo! Reinforcements! Follow me —” And he shot off at an angle up the steepest aspect of the slope.

What does he mean, reinforcements?
Marcus wondered, but he scrambled after the bat as fast as he could, Gubble struggling behind him.

Gracie had found the journey back to Fracture easier than her journey out, despite the rain. Millie was a chatty little bat, and much concerned for Gracie’s comfort, so she took care to pick out the easiest paths. She was very proud of her father and spent much of the journey telling Gracie how busy he was, flying to and fro for the Ancient Crones (“He takes nearly
all
their orders, Miss Gracie!”) as well as keeping the bat brethren organized, passing messages from one to the other.

“If you want to find out anything, Miss Gracie, just ask my dad! D’you know he even spends time in the palace library? My mom and me, we say he ought to be a Royal Appointed Bat! He looks at so many books, you wouldn’t believe! Whenever the princes leave them open, my dad’s in there having a peek just as soon as it’s dark. And there’s this professor, see — he’s Miss Val’s brother — and it’s ever so sad because she wants to not be an Ancient Crone anymore, but even my dad can’t find anyone to take her place.”

Millie paused for breath, and Gracie saw the lights of Fracture village twinkling high above them. A deathly cold feeling seeped into her stomach, and she was particularly glad to have the little bat chatting happily in her ear as she climbed.

“But you, Miss, I’m sure you’ll be able to do as Auntie Edna says, Miss. If you can lead that nasty stepsister of yours into the mires, you’ll be doing us all
such
a favor! ’Cause Miss Val says that when she retires, she’ll let me and my mom and my dad all live with her and her brother, see, and we’ll be as happy as clams, because my dad’s getting on a bit, and it’ll do him a world of good to rest —”

“What’s that? Who says? Hi, kiddo — having your ear bent by my littl’un, are you?”

Gracie stopped for breath and beamed at Marlon. “We’ve been having the nicest chat,” she said.

“Little old blatherer, she is,” Marlon said fondly, and he and Millie rubbed noses as they landed side by side on a twig. The cold feeling in Gracie’s stomach was suddenly shot through with a sharper pain. She ignored it resolutely and went on smiling. “Are you here to show me the way back again? I have to rescue some frogs, and Foyce”— Gracie hoped her voice wasn’t wobbling —“has to follow me.”

“Right on, kiddo. There’s a lad and a troll right here on the same mission — wait, and I’ll bring them on up.” And Marlon was off once again.

“Ooooh!” Millie fluttered her wings and smoothed her fur. “That’ll be the prince! Aren’t you excited, Miss Gracie? You’ve never met a prince before, I’ll bet — me neither!”

Gracie did remember the Ancient One promising she would have help, but the fact that the boy concerned was a real prince hadn’t sunk into her consciousness. She had been studiously avoiding thinking about what she was going to have to do once she got to Fracture, and this included anybody who might be involved — Foyce especially, but all others too. A vague idea of crowns and glitter and velvet floated into her head while Millie twittered and made sure her wings were neat.
I hope he won’t want a lot of curtsying,
Gracie thought.
Maybe he’ll be very posh and grand.

But when Marcus hauled himself up from the steep slope below the path, his face red and sweaty with the effort, Gracie saw that he was neither posh nor grand. He was wet, grubby, and tired, but he grinned cheerfully before he leaned back to help the most extraordinary creature that Gracie had ever seen.

Gubble had not traveled well. Even when his head faced the right way around, he was not built for speed and agility. Back to front, his progress was painfully slow, and only grim determination had kept him going — grim determination and two important words that rattled around in his small and confused brain. One word was
Help,
the other
Revenge.
He rolled himself onto the path, and then with Marcus heaving on one arm and Gracie on the other, he finally stood up. “Dead,” he announced. “Gubble dead.”

Marcus slapped him on the front. “Not yet,” he said encouragingly. “Remember? We’re going to get your head sorted out for you.”

Gubble didn’t answer. He was squinching up his eyes and staring at the lights on the hill above. “Evilness,” he said. “Girl.” And his face screwed up into an expression of extreme loathing.

“That’s right,” Marcus said. He turned to Gracie. “Hi, I’m Marcus. And this,” he added, patting Gubble again, “is Gubble.”

“OK, OK, OK — no time for chitchat!” Marlon whizzed in between and around the figures standing on the path. “Got to plan!”

“Actually,” Marcus said as he leaned heavily against a mossy tree trunk, “I need a rest. Just for a moment,” he added hastily.

“Looks completely wiped out, doesn’t he, Miss?” Millie said in Gracie’s ear. “Poor lad! Should have stopped for forty winks like we did.”

Gracie thought Millie was right. Marcus was now very pale and plastered with mud.

Marlon did another circuit. “No time for that now, kiddo!” he said bossily. “Got to have some action!”

“If we go farther up the hill,” Gracie said, “there’s an empty house. It’s the nearest house to ours — I mean, to Foyce and my stepdad. We could creep in there while it’s still dark, and we could plan what to do and rest.” Before Marlon could interrupt, she added firmly, “It won’t help anyone if we’re all worn out.”

“Sounds good to me.” Marcus managed an exhausted smile.

“Very well said, Miss,” Millie said approvingly.