Winter Wood (42 page)

‘Sorry, no. I have to go.'

‘Well can't I stay over for the night, then?'

‘George will you come
on
. You've got school tomorrow and there's a dozen things to sort out yet. Now let's get cracking.' Auntie Pat was adamant. She moved around to the back of George and crowded him towards the door. George was furious.

‘Well, I wish we hadn't bothered to come back at all now! We should have just stayed out there. And now I'm going to
miss
everything. And it's important! How come nothing I ever have to do is as important as anything anyone else has to do? This
always
happens . . .'

‘Yeah, yeah. Just keep moving. Cheerio, Midge.' Auntie Pat looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes at Midge. ‘Have a nice peaceful afternoon,' she said. ‘And see you at the weekend, I expect.' She reached across George's hunched shoulders and opened the kitchen door.

‘Yeah. Bye, Auntie Pat. Bye, George,' Midge mumbled.

Auntie Pat gave George a gentle shove, and they were gone. Midge could still hear George grumbling all the way down the front path and out to the car.

She was alone.

Midge put her carrier bag on the kitchen table and sat down. The place seemed unusually peaceful, no noise from the builders for once. And the room itself was almost eerily quiet, the low hiss of the Rayburn the only sound.

It was the absence of the clock, Midge realized. The fast friendly tick of the little travel alarm – so much a
part of Uncle Brian's kitchen – was no more. It lay silenced for ever at the bottom of the weir, down there in the darkness . . . along with Old Whitey . . . and . . .

Midge shivered. She opened the carrier bag and peeked inside, glad of the plasticky crackle that broke the spell. The Orbis looked so out of place in there, too magical an object for such an everyday setting.

It was a shame that George had been dragged off. She wished that he could have been there too, when she handed this thing over. Soon she would take the bag and trudge up Howard's Hill with it, go to the tunnel and give it to whoever was there to meet her – Maglin, or Tadgemole. Or Pegs. She was desperate to hear what had happened to Pegs, and that was another reason for making this journey today. She couldn't wait any longer. Today was the day, and it had to be done – and at least there was no more danger to worry about.

Midge stood up and began to zip her fleece. But her hands were all shaky, and the zip didn't seem to want to connect. Maybe she'd better sit down again, just until her nerves were calmer. Have a glass of milk or something.

HENTY LED THE
way through the wicker tunnel, hopping from stone to stone as she moved along the stream, trying to keep her feet dry. Little-Marten splashed along behind her, already too tired and wet to bother about using the stepping stones. He had been surprised to find the tunnel gates open and nobody on lookout duty. Then Henty seemed to hesitate for a moment as she reached the circle of daylight ahead. Little-Marten stumbled sideways in order to avoid bumping into her, and saw that there was somebody on duty after all.

It took him a moment to recognize Ictor, captain of the Old Guard, standing close to the tunnel entrance, bow and arrow at the ready.

‘Thee've come back, then.' Ictor's manner was cold, unfriendly. ‘Where've 'ee been hiding – in a ditch? I'd not be in your boots, Woodpecker, wet or dry. Not by the time your betters've finished with 'ee.' He lowered his bow.

Little-Marten was still wondering why Ictor had been reduced to the post of tunnel-lookout, but thought it best not to ask insulting questions of one who was
armed. All he said was, ‘Maglin'll be pleased enough to see me, I reckon. I've news for him – and for all here. The Gorji maid be coming. And she've found the Orbis.'

There. That altered the superior expression on Ictor's bearded face.

‘The
Gorji
maid?' Ictor's pale grey eyes narrowed, and Little-Marten felt powerful in the knowledge that he carried. Maglin would be equally impressed at this news, and would surely forgive him for deserting his Perch.

‘Aye.' Little-Marten pulled himself upright. ‘She comes to the forest this very day, she and another. They'm bringing the Orbis, and Maglin shall hear of it directly. I'm away to his pod.'

‘No!' Ictor held out an arm, barring Little-Marten's passage, and for a moment it seemed a threatening gesture. But then he said, ‘Thee'll not find Maglin in his pod.' His voice grew gentler. ‘I were talking with him not a moment since. He be . . . walking the bounds.' Ictor withdrew his arm and pointed away to his left. ‘Follow on around. Thee s'll overtake him soon enough.'

‘That way?'

‘Aye. That way – and thee've no need to fear. If the maid arrives, I s'll keep her safe till Maglin comes. But what did 'ee say, Woodpecker – that she were coming with
another
?'

‘'Tis another Gorji chi'. A lad that be kin to her, I reckon. He means us no harm.'

‘So there be two of 'em?'

Little-Marten shrugged his shoulders. ‘Aye.'

Ictor scowled, but said, ‘So be it, then. I s'll take care o' both.'

Little-Marten felt vaguely hesitant as he and Henty began to move away, but then Ictor said, ‘And thee've done well – the pair of 'ee. But mark 'ee, Woodpecker' – Little-Marten turned – ‘'twould be best if thee spoke of this to none but Maglin. He'd be angered not to learn of it first. Send him here alone, when thee finds him.'

‘Aye.' Little-Marten and Henty set off along the trodden path that bounded the East Wood. When they were out of earshot, Henty whispered, ‘I thought that one were a captain. What does he do standing tunnel-go?'

‘Casn't say,' said Little-Marten. ‘Perhaps he've fallen wrong side o' Maglin. He were high captain of the old Queen's Guard. Ictor, he be called, and he were brother . . . to Scurl.'

Little-Marten came to a halt. Brother to Scurl . . .

‘What?' said Henty. ‘What'll he do then, if he learns that Scurl have died? What if that Gorji maid should tell him?'

Little-Marten shook his head. ‘Dunno. All here reckoned Scurl to be dead already. Maybe it wouldn't make no difference to 'un one way or t'other.'

‘And maybe it would,' said Henty. ‘I didn't like his look, I know that. We'd best hurry.'

They quickened their pace, following the path that bordered East Wood, but saw no sign of Maglin. Little-Marten was still soaked through and shivering with the cold.

‘I reckon we've missed him,' he said. ‘P'raps he've gone back up to the clearing.'

‘Ho – Woodpecker!' A shout from above.

They looked up to see a group of Naiad foragers – four or five youngsters – working the high banks above them. Sorrel-picking, by the seem of it. Grinning faces took in Little-Marten's dishevelled state.

‘Didst have to swim home, then, Woodpecker? Have 'ee been chasing arter eels?'

‘Heh. An eel have been chasing
he
, by the look of 'un.'

Little-Marten ignored their chaff. ‘We'm trying to catch up wi' Maglin,' he shouted up. ‘Did he come this way?'

‘Naw. He've not come by here.' One of the lads popped a sorrel leaf in his mouth and chewed on it. ‘We should ha' seen 'un.'

Another said, ‘
I
saw 'un, though, in Royal Clearing, just afore we come down. He were climbing ladder to Counsel Pod. You be on the wrong path, Woodpecker.'

Little-Marten looked at Henty. It was clear that Ictor had misled them. Now they really were worried.

‘We'd best give this up and get to Counsel Pod,' muttered Little-Marten. ‘And quick as we might. I don't know what Ictor be at, but he don't mean any good by it that I can see. And I don't like the thought o' Midge meeting up with 'un.'

They left the path and began to make their way up through the woods, taking as direct a route as was possible towards the high clearings. It was a hard climb, and in their weakened state they were soon out
of breath. Little-Marten's clothing felt clammy, the heavy damp material chafing against his skin. He was exhausted. As they gained the narrow pathway that opened onto Royal Clearing, he said, ‘Hold up. I be about done.' He rested his forearm against a birch sapling, and lowered his head for a moment, to ease the dizziness that overtook him. Henty put her hand on the back of his neck, and the touch of her palm was cool and comforting. ‘I s'll be right,' he mumbled. ‘And soon as we tells Maglin about the Orbis I'm away to my rest, maid or no maid.' But then he felt Henty's fingers squeeze tighter, as if in fear – or warning. Little-Marten looked up to see a blurry figure emerging from the bushes. He shook his head and blinked. It was the mad hag, Maven-the-Green, appearing before them like some creature from a haunty-dream.

‘Orbis?' Her voice was thin and creaky, old as the woods themselves. ‘What do 'ee say of the Orbis?' She moved a step towards them, her ivy-wreathed head cocked to one side as though the better to hear.

Little-Marten felt Henty grip his arm tighter yet as she shrank close to him. He had seen enough of Maven to at least be familiar with her wild appearance, but for Henty this was clearly more of a shock.

‘N-naught.' Little-Marten tried to keep his voice under control. ‘We said naught.'

‘Come.' Maven's blackened teeth showed as her mouth opened into a hideous smile. ‘Thee knows I, Woodpecker.' She reached into the folds of her trailing green rags as though to draw something from within, but kept her hand hidden for the moment. ‘And thee
knows enough to answer I straight. Now then. The Orbis. Tell me what 'ee've heard o' it. Bist safe, then? And do it come to the forest?'

Little-Marten remained silent. He kept his attention on Maven's hand, knowing full well what that hand was reaching for, and what it might bring down upon them.

‘Aye,' said Henty. Yet again she had taken the situation into her own control. ‘It comes to the forest this day – with the Gorji maid. We're away to tell Maglin.'

Little-Marten was shocked that Henty would speak so freely. As he turned towards her his eye caught movement in the nearby hazel thickets, a glimpse of something white. Something there, and then fading away. Gone.

But then Maven was speaking again. ‘Thee've seen the Gorji child – talked wi' her?' Her fierce eyes gazed upon Little-Marten. ‘Let me hear it from thee, Woodpecker.'

‘'Tis so,' Little-Marten mumbled. ‘She've found the Orbis and shall bring it to East Wood tunnel. She'm not far behind us, I s'd reckon. We've to bring word to Maglin – or to Tadgemole. Don't matter which, so the maid said. Either or t'other to meet her there.'

‘Either or t'other . . .' Maven's voice was a croaky whisper. ‘Then Maglin shall hear of this d'rectly – but 'tis I that shall tell 'un, not thee. Away then, the pair of 'ee. And leave Maglin to me.'

‘But . . .' Little-Marten was lost. ‘'Tis for we to tell this news . . .'

‘And now thee've told it.' Maven began to bring her hand from the depths of her ragged gown.

‘Then what should us do?'

‘I reckons thee should fly whilst thee still can, Woodpecker, and take this maid to her home. Tell thee tales to the Tinklers instead.'

Little-Marten glanced beyond Maven to where the clearing began to open out. He could see the distant heads of Glim and Raim, standing guard at Maglin's pod – close enough to hear him if he shouted perhaps, but too far away to be of any aid.

‘Fly, pretty birds . . . fly away home . . .' Maven drew the blowpipe from her gown, and brought it slowly to her grinning mouth. ‘Ssssssss . . .' She was hissing like a snake, her hunched and twisted body weaving from side to side. Henty seemed frozen, unable to move, and Little-Marten had to drag her away. He hauled on her arm as he stumbled backwards along the pathway.

‘
Henty!
Move theeself!' At last she seemed to come to life, and the two of them scurried off in the direction that they had come. They turned from the path at the first opportunity, wove themselves deep into the thickets and then looked fearfully back towards the clearing. There was nothing to see. Maven had gone.

Little-Marten wiped his muddy brow. ‘She'm mazy as a toad, that 'un. And I thought I were going to have to carry thee to get 'ee to move.'

‘She'd have done us no harm, though.' Henty was craning her neck, still trying to see through the thickets.

‘Done us no
harm
? She'd kill 'ee soon as look at 'ee,
Henty! And've done such a thing more'n once. Tulgi . . . Benzo . . .'

‘No. She meant us no harm – I could tell it. What'll she do, dost think?'

‘Hemmed if I cares. 'Tis what
we
shall do that I be wondering. Casn't get to Maglin . . . nor the Elders . . .'