The Death of Yorik Mortwell (8 page)

Strangely, Susan did not return to the maids’ quarters, but went up a back staircase instead. Soon she came to a storage closet, in which there was a ladder. Up the ladder she went, pushing open a trapdoor at the top. The Dark Ones were behind her. Yorik waited, then climbed after, fading up through the trapdoor. He found himself in a long, narrow, deserted attic, surrounded by thousands of things for which the household had no immediate need—stacks of beds, wardrobes, and mirrors stretched in all directions.

He heard a scraping sound and found Susan reaching into a space beneath a floorboard. From there she removed Eleanor—the corncob doll Yorik had made for her years before. She stroked the worn yarn of Eleanor’s hair and gazed out a garret window into the night.

Yorik crouched, hidden in a wardrobe, watching.

The two Dark Ones crept near Susan.
You are all alone in the world, girl
.

Susan began humming softly.

You should have stopped him from killing your brother. Your brother’s death is your fault
.

With gentle fingers, Susan combed Eleanor’s hair.

Yorik stood, putting a hand in his pocket. A few of Erde’s mud-balls were there, made by her for his protection.

You are only a weak little girl. Your master is going to turn you out into the snow
.

Yorik withdrew two mud-balls.

You should slip the poison into his drink!
the dark voids hissed.

Yorik put one hand back to throw, then stopped as he saw his sister’s soft smile. She continued humming as she carefully straightened Eleanor’s homespun dress.

The Dark Ones bristled and pulsed. Then there were more, four more, fading in from the corners. Too many for Yorik’s mud-balls. They gabbled and cried, surrounding Susan and chanting horrible fears at her. He had seen them do the same thing with Thomas, to deadly effect.

And then Susan sang. In a clear, high voice, she sang, looking out into the night. Yorik knew the song—a lament their father had taught them, an old song in a dead language from across the sea.

The Dark Ones’ babbling taunts faded away. Slowly, silently, they disappeared back into the shadows.

Susan kissed Eleanor, laid her beneath the floorboard, and crept away.

Not that night, nor on any night to come, did they gain control of Susan. They failed, just as they had with Yorik in the water garden. Gradually, they gave up trying. Yorik watched, and wondered why this was.

The Dark Ones did not fail with others in the Manor. Gradually their control and their numbers increased. Yorik noticed that some of them had even stationed themselves in a scattered circle around the aviary glade.

The Princess wasn’t worried. “They know better than to get too close,” she sniffed from her sycamore throne. “By the way, if that other boy is coming back, it should be soon.”

“Won’t he be in danger?” asked Yorik, remembering what happend to Doris.

“I should say so,” chuckled the Princess, chewing absently on the end of her twig. “Sounds like they
possessed him once already. He’s forever vulnerable now. They’d only have to touch him to get him back.”

And so Yorik began to wait below the balcony where Master Thomas had fallen.

A
summer breeze swirled through the courtyard. Yorik waited, crouched on the balls of his feet. Nearby, Hatch paced relentlessly, sniffing the wind.

This was the sixth night that Yorik had waited below Thomas’s balcony, arriving after sunset and waiting until dawn. He found that being dead gave him patience enough to do this night after night, while Hatch stood guard.

The hound stopped pacing. He growled into the shadows.

Yorik tensed. From around a corner of the courtyard, toward the front of the Manor, electric torch beams sliced through the darkness, and voices argued.

Yorik relaxed. Whatever it was, it was the business of the living. He turned his attention back to the flagstones.

A ghost lay there, where moments ago there had been nothing.

Thomas opened his eyes.

“Welcome back,” said Yorik, not quite able to keep the anger out of his voice.

Thomas attempted to sit up. His hands waved helplessly over the flagstones. “Wh—” he said thickly.

Yorik eyed the struggling boy. “It’s not so bad. Just one broken neck, that’s all. I broke that and more when I fell. Anyway, the Princess will fix you.”

“B—” croaked Thomas. His head was stuck pointing sideways.

Yorik considered. Then he reached out, grasped Thomas’s head in both hands, and gave it a tremendous
crank
. Now Thomas’s head was facing forward,
though still tilted at an angle, making him look as though he were thinking about the answer to a question.

“Not perfect,” said Yorik. “But at least you won’t have to walk crabwise.”

Thomas floundered into a sitting position and bugged his eyes at Yorik. He swiveled to look at the courtyard, saw Hatch, and made a bleating noise.

“Wuff,” said Hatch. His ember eyes flared. Warm brimstone scent wafted over the boys.

“N—!” said Thomas.

“Listen,” said Yorik. “What’s happened is that you died.” He proceeded to explain as insects buzzed and chirped, a bat flew overhead, and Hatch patrolled the courtyard. He told Thomas about the Princess and Erde and the topiaries, and everything else that had happened since the day the Dark Ones had convinced Thomas to throw those rocks.

Thomas interrupted regularly, making thick, strangled noises. He quieted only when Yorik spoke of his encounter with Dark Doris.

Yorik finished solemnly. “And things have gotten worse since then. I’ve been leaving the glade every
night, haunting the whole Estate, trying to find a way to stop the Dark Ones.”

“Y—” said Thomas, then faltered. His gaze fell to the flagstones.

Yorik paused, looking at the other boy, remembering the rocks and the elm. At last he spoke. “I’ve forgiven you, Thomas. There was more to the story than I knew. I’m only here to take you to safety. The Princess said that once you’ve been possessed by the Dark Ones, you are forever vulnerable to their touch. We’ll speak more later, once I’ve gotten you back to her for repair.”

“G—” began Thomas, but Hatch interrupted. The hound went stiff and made an earth-rumbling growl, startling both boys.

“What is it?” asked Yorik.

Without another sound, Hatch raced away, his green glow shining.

“Come on,” said Yorik grimly. “Dark Ones must be trying to get in. The hounds can fight them. We must get you back to the glade.”

Yorik stood. Thomas just sat, his face scrunched.

“Look,” said Yorik. “There’s no use crying.
You’re dead, and that’s that. You’ll get used to it soon.”

But the small, round figure was inconsolable. Thomas huddled on the flagstones, weeping. His burbling cries sounded like water gurgling down a drain.

Yorik groaned. “Weren’t you listening? You’re not safe outside the glade.”

Thomas’s sobs resolved into a single sound. “Fa—” he cried. “Fa!”

Yorik calmed himself. He knew he must be patient with Thomas, who had been tormented by the Dark Ones for so long. Yorik stared into the dark, where torch beams bobbed, voices shouted, and hounds barked. “Your father,” he said finally. “Lord Ravenby is strong. The Dark Ones have been unable to break him.”

But since your death, he has declined. I am afraid he will not resist much longer
. Yorik elected not to share this with Thomas.

“Fa—” said Thomas brokenly. He struggled to his feet.

Yorik eyed him. “It’s unwise for you to see him now. And it’s too dangerous for you here. I can outrun a few Dark Ones. You can’t.”

Thomas wobbled, as though trying to shake his head. “Fa.”

“It’s unwise,” repeated Yorik.

Thomas wobbled defiantly.

“Very well,” said Yorik. “But you must obey everything I say.”

Thomas dipped his whole upper body. “Ys.”

“Follow me, then.” Yorik led the way across the courtyard, aiming straight for a far wall. Thomas waddled behind.

Then the argument that Yorik had been ignoring came spilling into the courtyard. There was an eruption of howls and barks. Electric torchlight stabbed through a green spirit glow. Men in flight suits and caps ran around the corner, pursued by the hounds.

Yorik recognized Lord Ravenby’s dirigible crew. One of them, the pilot, had a club. All of them had Dark Ones on their shoulders.

Advancing on them were Hatch and Oke, barking and snapping, their green spirit forms bristling and bright. The crew was shouting at them.

“Rabid dogs! Get back!” They shone their torches in the hounds’ eyes.

Hatch leapt at the pilot, his spirit jaws stretching for a Dark One. The pilot swung his club and hit Hatch in the ribs with a vicious crunch. Hatch fell soundlessly, and his spirit form winked out.

Oke raced for the pilot too. But the men were fleeing now. Reaching a door, they piled through and slammed it in Oke’s face. The hound sat for an instant, howling, then ran back to where Hatch lay.

“Hatch,” moaned Yorik. In the distance, he could see the other hounds running. Behind them bobbed the Kennelmaster’s lantern. There was nothing Yorik could do. He pushed through the Manor wall.

Thomas didn’t follow.

Yorik poked his head back into the courtyard.

Thomas was looking fearfully at the wall and gesturing toward a nearby door.

Yorik sighed. “You don’t need to bother with those anymore. Just push through the wall. It’s like swimming.”

Thomas looked entirely blank.

“You can’t swim?” Yorik asked.

Thomas shook his head no, wobbling his whole upper body along with it. Suppressing a groan, Yorik grasped Thomas’s arm and pulled him through the wall.

Yorik led the way across the Manor, frustrated with Thomas’s slow waddle. As they went, he instructed the other boy. “We must avoid the Dark Ones. Try to do as I do. This late at night, almost everyone in the Manor is asleep, so most of the Dark Ones will be with them, whispering into their dreams.”

Thomas nodded, lip quivering. No doubt he understood about the whispered dreams.

At last they stopped outside an ornate double door at the end of a long hallway. The corridor was dark, but firelight flickered around the edges of the door.

“Fa—!” gurgled Thomas.

“Yes,” said Yorik grimly. “He’s been denying himself sleep these last few nights. You’ll see.”

Thomas lurched for the door, but Yorik stopped him and led him to a place where they could enter
the study in a shadowed corner, opposite the fireplace and away from the burning firelight.

They faded in through the wall. Thomas whined at the sight of his father.

The once-commanding figure of the Lord of the Estate was bent forward, his shoulders slumped. His mass of dark hair had turned a scraggly gray.

He wore a dressing gown that had not been washed in weeks and muttered over stacks of papers that had fallen and slipped all over his broad mahogany desk.

Amid the paper piles crouched two Dark Ones, hissing their lies.

Both your children are dead. You could not protect them. You failed as their father and now you have nothing. Nothing
.

Lord Ravenby shook his head and mumbled.

The door burst open. The dirigible captain stormed in, wielding his club. His flight suit had a long, jagged tear down its front.

Lord Ravenby looked up blearily. Yorik felt Thomas shrink at the sight of the two Dark Ones hissing into the ears of the captain.

“Rabid hounds loose on the Manor grounds!” the captain shouted.

Lord Ravenby’s gaze wandered, vague and confused. “My Kennelmaster told me this was necessary. I can’t recall why.…”

A Dark One hissed something to the captain, who replied, “You should have all the hounds shot at once.”

“Shot, yes,” muttered Lord Ravenby. He pushed back from his desk and stood. He stumbled across the study toward the fireplace. Yorik could hardly look in that direction, as the sharp firelight burned his eyes. Then Lord Ravenby stepped in front of the fire, blocking the light. Yorik watched as the man reached for the enormous rifle above the mantel—the famous rifle that Lord Ravenby’s grandfather had used to hunt mammoths a century ago, when mammoths still lived.