Crik (54 page)

‘I don’t wish to leave it,’ answered Grandma Poulis. ‘If they decide to harm me, it is their sin, not mine.’

‘It is you who will pay the price,’ said Justice. ‘Don’t trust them.’ She stood nearer now, her influence taking hold as the cold seeped into the protection Grandma Poulis provided the group.

‘Esmelda.’ Grandpa Poulis let go of Bill’s hand and stepped forward. His assured walk was at odds with the strain on his weather beaten face. When he stood facing his wife, he said, ‘Although you and I were both young when the hangings took place, we both remember those nights. Witnessing the line of fire snaking through the village gave you nightmares for years. You thought if I knew about your secret I would give you over to the Elders, that I would allow them to hang you. Well,’ he smiled, ‘I’ve known for many years, and not once during our time together have I ever thought you had an affliction that needed a cure.’ As he spoke the blue colour surrounding him and his wife became stronger, pushing back the other colours. Once more, the air began to spark with energy.

‘I know many stories,’ said Grandpa Poulis. ‘I bore people with them all the time. I scare Bill with tales of Bone Doctors, creatures of the wood, ghosts, and bandits. I have even told him a story about a group of bandits that were ghosts. I do so, not just to make him wary of running off without a care into the woods, not that it did any good, but because they are good stories. There are stories about Ghost Walkers too,’ he said. ‘Bill hasn’t heard them from me.’ He looked back, and for an instant, his eye lingered on Mr Dash. ‘Not because they don’t make a good yarn when around a campfire on some cold night, they do. Those tales come from misunderstanding and distrust. It’s right to warn the youngsters about Bone Doctors, if one found you they would take you and do everything an old man like me tells you they would do; I have no doubt they would do more besides. My telling serves two good purposes, entertainment and a warning.

‘My uncle first told me about the Ladies of Light when I was younger than Bill. He refused to name them Ghost Walkers. I got that name from the planks of wood marking their graves.’ His remark brought a sour twist to his mouth. ‘He believed the trees spoke. They did not whisper or connive, as some would have us believe. According to my uncle, who knew Crik Wood better than any tracker who has ever lived in this village, the trees cared for us. Saw us as their children. Most here know we receive our Talents on the night of the Pairing. It is the Narmacil, another woodland creature, who gives us our Talent. When old enough to understand every person finds this out.’ Many of the adults muttered agreement, and not a few of the children looked confused. ‘The Ladies of Light don’t come by their Talents in this way,’ Grandpa Poulis continued. ‘My Uncle believed, as do I, that the trees, wanting to connect us with the world, bequeathed you with the purpose of protector. Your light brings hope and love. You would soothe the wild things that hunt the night woods around our homes. When people find their loved ones in bed, appearing to be dead, they presume an evil spirit had stolen their wife or mother’s soul. Only,’ Grandpa Poulis paused, first looking toward the people of his village and then to Justice and her sisters, ‘I know it is your soul I now see. It is why,’ he said, taking Grandma Poulis’s hand, ‘everyone here loves you. Every person sees who you are. Lack of this understanding has bred mistrust in the past. If we could see them, we would know others possess souls as bright and as beautiful as your own.’

He pointed at Kyla. ‘These, through the actions of scared people, have turned into what those people had feared. Their souls are dead and cold, turning their light into a shroud. They have proven this by killing our friends and neighbours.

‘Esmelda, please do not go with them. The boy is back and we can rebuild the village that these Ghost Walkers,’ his deliberate use of the cursed name, sent a ripple of black through Justice’s figure, ‘can go back to wherever they call home. You belong here with Bill, all your friends, and me. I need you my love.’

‘You foolish old man, I am not going anywhere.’

Jack’s heart leapt in his chest. He watched Bill’s grandparents hold each other. While Grandpa Poulis spoke, the light around them had grown steadily brighter, driving back the Ghost Walkers. The huddled Myrms lowered their masks; each one a parody of the life they had destroyed in the Wold.

‘They will betray you,’ said Justice.

‘No.’ Grandma Poulis stepped away from her husband to face the group from the Red Wood. Her eyes blazed with anger. ‘You killed my friends. You would kill my family if I were to allow it. I am no sister of yours. Leave these woods; hide behind your wall of thorns and don’t ever trouble us again.’

‘We came to rescue you from your imprisonment,’ said Kyla. ‘When the boy told us there was another like us in the village we had to come.’

‘You came to avenge the wrongs made against you,’ said Grandma Poulis. ‘Although what happened to you is beyond forgiveness, you cannot blame any here for those crimes. Those who carried your bodies to this tree are long gone. If you seek them they are at rest in the ground.’ She pointed toward Long Sleep. ‘By coming here you threaten the future. The children behind me, including my grandson, knew nothing of what had transpired here. This night will start new nightmares. Go now, so that we can rebuild our village and bury our dead.’ Her commanding voice drove into the three Ghost Walkers with a power that reverberated in Jack’s chest.

Justice grinned, her lips scythed open across bone white skin, peeling back to reveal only darkness. Madness had taken her as Grandma Poulis spoke, and all her pretence slipped away. She no longer attempted to cajole the old woman into following her back to the Wold. Turning to the Myrms, her hair, now white, flew up, surrounding her with a terrible halo. The Myrms shrank away as their mistress strode into their midst.

‘If you came back with me, I would have left your people alone.’ Justice’s teeth bit each word with a snap of her jaws. ‘The Red Sisters told me to do this, and I would have obeyed. We wanted to share our world, with all its wonders with you.’ She turned her deadly gaze back on the villagers; her skin had retreated, leaving behind only a screaming skull. Kyla and the third Ghost Walker had also shed their skin. The three horrors came together. Justice kept her eyes, whereas her sisters stared from hollow dark sockets. ‘Since you are not returning with us, you leave me with no choice. You already sent spies into our lands to scout out any weakness. We always knew you would come looking to finish what you started. The Red Sisters were right to send me to stop that from happening.’

‘None here has any interest in the Red Wood,’ said Grandpa Poulis. ‘We know where it is, and we have always shunned it. Our hunters and explorers know to stay well clear of that accursed place.’

‘Not everyone.’ The Ghost Walker fixed her eyes on Jack, sending a cold shiver through him. ‘We placed blue stones to stop any trespass. They were not enough to dissuade you. No,’ she said, ‘the only way for us to remain safe is to kill you all.’

‘You will find that harder than you think,’ said Mr Gasthem. A haze of flies heralded the Village Elder as he picked his way to the front of the group. ‘Your Myrms caught us by surprise when they attacked us in our beds. Now we are together, and some of us have surprising Talents.’

Graham Belson transformed his top half into a bear, while his brother changed his legs into the giant paws of the same fearsome beast. Under his feet hundreds of beetles pushed up through the ground. No, Jack thought, there were thousands of the multi-legged crawlers, oozing out of every crack. Even with an abacus, or ten others each with their own counting device, he would never be able to count all of Mr Gasthem’s little charges. Yang changed his form into the same formidable cat he had used back in the Wold, snarling back his lips to show rows of wicked fangs.

‘It will not be enough,’ said Justice. ‘My Myrms outnumber you.’

Then the bodies hanging from the trees began to twitch and fight against the ropes holding their necks. From Long Sleep Cemetery, shuffled into sight freshly raised bodies; the earth from their graves fell from them in clumps. At their head, sat upon a huge wolf, was a girl.

Cold white fingers clutche
d
at the rope’s coarse fibres like climbing ivy. They scrabbled higher, cutting themselves on the rough spun as they sought the knot. Sounds of fighting drifted from below, a scream, a roar, and a whistle that pierced the night with a frightening blast. The fingers did not slow at the sounds; they had found the knot and busied themselves with untying it.

Deafening roars from the gathered Wold army made Beth Hulme scream out in fright and snatch her sister’s arm. Every beast wore a mask of a slain animal, eagles, trout, bulls, and a woodpecker with a dangerous sharp beak. Their continued parody of those creatures they had eliminated from the Red Wood turned Jack’s stomach. To the front of the snarling horde stood five Myrms, their hair, a reddish thatch, covered exceptionally large shoulders; the other Myrms watched these five intently.

‘Raglor would be amongst those five if Silver hadn’t ripped out his throat.’

Jack found Bill speaking at his shoulder. ‘It doesn’t matter; if they attack amass they’ll finish us off before Inara can reach us.’ Like a fortune-teller’s death card, his statement left behind an air of despondency.

‘I wish they’d hurry up. They sure do move slowly,’ said Bill, looking at the hill where the zombies moved as though they were hip deep in his grandmother’s thickest winter stew. ‘The fighting will be over before they arrive.’

‘If Justice gets her way it will.’

Grandma Poulis turned her serene face to them. For the first time since Bill had returned, she smiled down at her grandson. ‘You have much to explain,’ she said, sounding more than ever like her old self.

‘Great,’ said Bill, ‘even if I live through this I’m dead meat tomorrow when she gets hold of me.’

Grandma Poulis, either not hearing Bill, or ignoring his comment, looked toward the scared faces. She began to speak, intimately and urgently, aware of the coalescing threat behind her. ‘Mr Gasthem is right, we can fight them.’ She assured the people of Crik Village. ‘You possess formidable Talents. I call on you now to use what you have to defend those that you love.’

‘Some do,’ said Liza Manfry, her flaxen hair fanned across her pallid cheeks. ‘Only,’ she paused, taking the time to look around, ‘not everyone has a Talent that can fight those creatures.’ Love for Grandma Poulis glazed her eyes; it was apparent how much courage it took for her to speak to Grandma Poulis, let alone question her.

‘I know you; I have seen you play in the village.’ Grandma Poulis favoured the scared girl with a smile. ‘You aren’t one of my grandson’s friends, so I don’t know you very well. What is your Talent?’

‘I hide, the air becomes misty, and when I am within it no one can find me.’

‘Then hide child, and if you can spread your mist, keep others safe with you. Move to where Dr Threshum is taking care of the injured. You will find shelter beneath the arm of rock where the tree has anchored its roots.’ She pointed to the side of the path where a horn of rock formed a dark earthen alcove. Its twin, that helped support the Hanging Tree, loomed impassively over a cluster of Myrms. ‘Those who can confront these beasts will draw around you, to form a protective ring. Go, now,’ she shouted, knowing the horde at her back were about to charge.

The command broke the spell that had held the group; they ran toward Dr Threshum. First went the children, screaming with outstretched arms, following them ran the adults, who had no offensive or defensive skills, the ones that preferred to stay close to home rather than go hunting in the woods. Last of all strode the hunters and trackers, backing to form a line before the children and the wounded. Jack went with this last group, confident that Yang would protect him.

Noticing Bill a step behind, he snatched the other’s shirt. ‘Go with the children; Black can’t help you here.’ He searched the hill and saw Inara at the head of her army; that was still perilously far away. Come on Inara.

‘I’m not leaving you,’ Bill cried, shaking off Jack’s grip.

Jack could see the resolution on his friend’s face; he had witnessed it too many times to try to argue. The hard faced hunters only spared him a quick glance before seeing the black shadow cat prowling a few paces ahead, and let him stay. Everyone in the village knew his Talent, Yang had pulled a prank on everyone at one point or another. Jeff Swizleback stood beside the boys, his large form dwarfing them. Jack was trying to remember the old tracker’s Talent when the Myrms rushed forward.

‘Boys, get behind the line.’

Hurling themselves across the ground the creatures roared, drowning out the recognisable voice of Grandpa Poulis. Blue light from Grandma Poulis bathed the metal masks, and to Jack, the created shadows brought the masquerade to life. Bears snarled, boars ground enormous tusks, owls twitted, and eagles screeched - a whole jungle to fight. In the face of this onslaught, his bowels turned to water. What was he doing standing out here? Doubt riddled him; he should be behind the men, with his mother. Thoughts of his mother cramped his stomach. The Myrms had already gotten to her, doubtless whilst he spoke with Knell. Raw feelings he had, before love for Grandma Poulis took them away, like a magpie snatching a brass ring, resurfaced. He felt adrift, alone. That was how things were now; knowing he was an orphan, without a home or any security, made him look at his feet, where a cluster of beetles, ants, and roaches, scrabbled over his laces; he bit back the need to cry and lifted his chin. They went into our home and killed her. Snatching the up-swell of dark emotion, he used it to stop from turning and fleeing, as he suspected he should do. With his anger rekindled, he cried out in defiance, only for a furious buzzing sound to swallow his shout. Looking up he saw thousands of flies, hornets, and mosquitoes, flying overhead in a dark cloud. Mr Gasthem had sent the insects ahead, a flying squadron to intersect the Myrm’s frontline. Grinning, he watched as the swarm collided with the beasts from the Red Wood. Best of all the hornets attacked them with their stingers, making them cry out in dismay.

‘They’re hurting them,’ said Bill in triumph.

The winged menace slowed the progress of the Myrms. The hairy brutes swatted at the air, at their arms and legs. A few of the hunters laughed and jeered, knowing how painful a hornet’s sting was.

‘It’s a shame there aren’t any giant hornets for Mr Gasthem to command,’ said Jeff Swizleback. ‘Then we’d have something to cheer about.’ He paused, a contemplative expression swept over his darkened features. ‘Do you boys know that girl on the wolf? Do we have to worry about her?’ The tracker hiked a thumb to where Inara led the reanimated bodies down the embankment.

For the first time Jack noticed how the hunters watched the zombie army with as much alarm as they showed toward the army from the Wold. A few of the men even ignored the Myrms, choosing to protect the flank facing Inara’s approach. He should have foreseen that the dead villagers would scare the men; why hadn’t he thought of their reaction to Inara’s gift until now. During their time together Inara’s Talent had become almost commonplace; something he accepted, despite its discomforting nature. Yet, remembering Krimble’s reanimation still made him shudder in abhorrence.

‘That’s Inara,’ Bill answered Jeff Swizleback, oblivious to the fear her appearance had caused. ‘She’s our friend. She can raise the dead.’

‘I can see that lad. With her fighting with us, we will outnumber these beasts. We have to hold on until she arrives. She better hurry, things are about to get ugly.’ Snapping his fingers, the tracker gained the attention of the men. Quickly his digits flowed into a series of crooked gestures with such rapidity that Jack could not follow. Those watching the moving fingers began copying the complicated movement with well-practiced dexterity. It’s a code, Jack realised. Like butterflies, the dancing fingers leapt from one hand to the other. Without a word, those facing Inara swung around to face the threat posed by the Myrms. They all ignored the walking dead as though they were not even there.

In that instant, Jack spotted two of the red furred Myrms take note of the reformation. They bent close, grating out their speech from between blunt teeth. When they parted, they called out, gesturing toward Inara. A third of the fighting force facing the villagers separated from the main horde and raced toward the reanimated dead. They howled as they cut into Inara’s force, stabbing with swords and bludgeoning the corpses with metal clubs.

Jack only saw the initial collision, and prayed Inara would be all right. The beasts beset by Mr Gasthem’s insects became his focus. Crawling insects created a living tapestry of flailing arms, falling bodies, and stamping feet. Shimmering wings glinted in the Ghost Walkers’ glow like thousands of gold coins.

A few of the more ferocious Myrms crashed through to the front, knocking over their besieged companions. A haze of mosquitoes clung to their fur, halting a few, and turning others aside. Despite this small victory, the insects only managed to slow down the attack, not stop it.

‘Here’s where we find out if your shadow is as fierce as he looks,’ said the old tracker.

‘He knows what to do, he hasn’t let me down yet,’ said Jack, happy to feel a swell of pride. A day before he would have only felt dread or disgust for his shadow. Despite his renewed faith in Yang, the sight of the charging Myrms formed a hard knot of tension in his chest. Beside him, Bill now looked as white as cotton. Yang has to protect us both; the thought doubled his fear.

A badger faced Myrm came straight for them. From the mask’s mouth lolled a copper tongue. A twisted shard of metal, held tight in the beast’s enclosing fist, stabbed the air. It would only take a single swipe from the sword to cut him in two, thought Jack, with mounting horror.

Yang, seeing the immediate threat, rose up on his hind legs, sprouted a spear from his chest, and struck the beast high in the neck. Thick blood flew as the beast fell.

‘I wasn’t expecting that,’ said the old tracker with admiration. ‘A few more tricks like that and we may even live through this.’

Jack was not sure how many more tricks his shadow could perform. Not enough to protect them all, he knew that, they faced too many. A scream from down the line; a Myrm had thrown an anvil-sized rock into Mr Karne. There were few adults in the village who tolerated Yang, Mr Karne was rare, in that he actually liked the shadow; even joined in with a prank or two. It hurt to see the man rolling on the floor, and Jack fancied that if he kept watching the injured man, he would feel his own leg hurt, like catching a cold, or someone else’s fear. He brought his hand to his face, yet he still heard the screams, and felt awful. Unable to bear not knowing his fate, Jack peeked through his fingers. Before the Myrm closed the distance on Mr. Karne, the ground heaved upward, hurling the creature off its feet.

‘Dwayne Chancer did that,’ said Jeff Swizleback. He elaborated when he saw the incomprehensive stares thrown back at him, ‘A hunter visiting from Grenville. That trick of his scares rabbits to death.’

A Myrm sidestepping Yang, prevented any response they may have given, and Bill looked desperate to speak, eager to concentrate on anything other than the coming assault. Hurling itself forward the beast barrelled straight toward the old tracker. Jeff did not flinch; he only stood still with his mouth agape. Had the shock at seeing the attack focused on him rendered the man motionless? Tossing his head Jack searched for aid; the men standing nearest to him engaged the enemy with their assorted Talents, fighting for their lives. Surrounding them, the Myrms squeezed them into a tight circle. Mr Gasthem’s winged menace had dissipated, leaving only a few lone hornets to bother the oncoming tide of armoured beasts. Inara’s army, at first looked decimated by the ferocious attack. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, their limbs twisted and cut. Only, the screams coming from that quarter issued from the Myrms, not the risen dead. The hacked bodies still moved intent on pulling down the armoured beasts. A body of a woman, her backbone showing through a silk burial dress, clung onto a Myrm. She tore off its fox helm to expose a face crazed in fright. Jack wished he had the woman beside him.

‘Mr Swizleback,’ Bill cried, reaching out a hand to shake the tracker.

Mr Swizleback brought to mind the stone statues overlooking the village cemetery. Jack, convinced, that if Bill touched the tracker’s arm, his friend would feel marble under his fingertips.

The Myrm, bathed in warm blue light, threw up its weapon and prepared to kill Mr Swizleback. Although Yang had twisted around when the Myrm had evaded his attack, he had no time to stop the descent of the metal hammer.