The Mirror's Tale (Further Tales Adventures) (19 page)

CHAPTER 30

W
ill turned to see the face of the beast inches from his own. It barked at him, loud as thunder. And there was no mistaking it:
“Death!”

The head stretched toward him, mouth open wide. Will leaned back to avoid being caught between the rows of jagged teeth that gnashed together.

The beast had smashed a hole in the door on the left of the carriage. Its head and one of its legs were through, and it was trying to wriggle in the rest of the way. The hole splintered at the edges and widened as the creature thrashed back and forth. A second paw muscled through. Every one of the black claws was like a blunt dagger. The beast drew itself in another foot, and it lunged at Will again, forcing him to scramble to the other side of the carriage. He felt a tooth scrape his knee.

Will tried to draw his sword, but the space was too cramped. He reached to his other side, where a knife was slung, and unsheathed it. The carriage lurched again, and he heard a heavy thud and a snarl from above.
Another one on the roof!
But still the carriage
rolled faster as the crazed horses ran. The beat of their hooves sounded like a hailstorm.

The wood crunched as the first beast squeezed its broad shoulders through the hole. Will pressed his back against the other door. The beast strained forward, stretching its neck, and Will turned his face to the side as the jaws snapped shut again. Flecks of hot drool spattered his cheek. It suddenly felt as if his heart had stopped midbeat. He couldn’t move his arms, and his legs were shaking. He was dimly aware that a high-pitched moan was slipping out from his mouth and that he was crying.

Then words came to him:
What’s on the other side of my fear?

He still had the knife. With both hands on the grip, he screamed and shoved it as hard as he could into the underside of the monster’s jaw.

The beast roared. Will glimpsed the blade inside its gaping mouth. The creature thrashed wildly and slipped out through the hole it had made. The carriage bounced high, and Will heard a gruesome crunch, and he knew the rear wheel must have run over the fallen beast.

Something hard and sharp slammed into Will’s back. He fell to the floor of the carriage, grimacing from the stinging pain. He looked back to see a clawed paw reaching through the other door, swiping at the space he’d just left.

And then something went wrong with the carriage.
It wobbled crazily as if a wheel was loose. There was a snapping, wrenching noise, and the sound of hammering hooves changed direction and grew more distant.
The horses have broken away from the carriage,
Will realized, as he lay on his back.
But it’s still rolling!

The carriage veered left, bounced off something unyielding—a tree or a boulder—and swerved right. And then, a strange quiet came. The only thing Will heard was the
squeak, squeak
of wheels spinning madly. His body floated as if he were light as air.

I’m over the cliff,
he thought. And in the moment that followed, he had time to wish that he’d seen his brother again before the end.

The carriage came to a violent stop, sooner than he thought possible. He was hurled sideways into the cushioned seat. The carriage rolled until its front pointed up, and Will tumbled down to the back. He glanced at the door. The monstrous paw was gone. His breath came in great, heaving gasps as he lay there and waited for the next horrible development that would surely come.

But for a long while nothing happened. The carriage rocked gently as if there was a baby inside that needed sleep. Will bent his elbows and wrists, his knees and ankles. Nothing seemed broken, though he couldn’t begin to count the bruises. His instincts told him that all was not yet well, so he stood slowly until he could look through the hole that the beast had torn in the side of the carriage.

All he could see was the gray face of the cliff. He cautiously edged his head out of the hole, though he doubted the beast was still with him. When he saw what was below, he gasped.

The carriage was suspended high over the ground, forty feet or more, as if frozen in midfall.
But how?
He looked out the other side of the carriage, and saw the broad trunk of a tree, almost within reach. He poked his hand through the window and quickly drew it in, still worried that a paw might slash down. But it didn’t. He eased his head back out and saw that a thick branch had pierced the spokes of the front wheel of the carriage. That was the only thing holding it up. It would be a lethal fall if the carriage broke loose. He took a closer look at the ground and saw the crumpled, still body of a beast.

Will heard an ominous creak, and the carriage started to tilt. The branch sagged under its weight, and he saw the limb begin to crack, exposing the tender white wood under its gray bark. He didn’t wait to see how long the carriage might stay aloft. He pushed the door open—the carriage was sideways, so it flopped straight down—and searched desperately for another branch to cling to. There was a snapping sound, and the carriage fell free. Will leaped away as it plummeted. He threw himself at a thick cluster of leaves.

He gripped the branches with all the strength he could muster. They were thin and supple, and they bent
from his weight, easing his fall Below, he heard the carriage shatter on the ground. He looked beneath his dangling feet and saw one of the wheels bounce away from the wreckage, past the fallen beast.

The branches he clung to bent as far as they would go, but he was still dangerously far from the ground. He’d come to a stop near a slender birch tree. Will wrapped his legs around the birch and seized it with both arms, letting the branches that saved him spring back toward the sky. He stayed there a moment to catch his breath and gather his wits while the supple tree swayed back and forth under his weight. Then he relaxed his hug on the trunk and slid toward the ground. The bark rubbed his skin raw through his sleeves and pants, but it was a safe way to descend. Before long he felt his feet touch the earth. He dropped to his knees and covered his face with his hands, unsure which would overcome him first: laughter or tears.

It occurred to him that he might still be in a fix. He looked at the cliff above and saw a pair of the beasts, nosing around the edge, looking for a way down. One of them turned its head to face him. Its ugly mouth opened, and Will heard the unnatural bark again:
“Death! Death!”

“What do you want from me?” he screamed. “Leave me alone!” He picked up a stone and flung it at the beasts, but it clattered off the sheer wall, woefully short of its target. The creatures turned as one, and they ran
back down the road the way that Will’s party had come, toward the lower terrain where they could enter the valley, double back, and track him down.

Will wondered where he should go next. He couldn’t see Andreas and the others. He wondered how far the carriage had rolled before it went off the cliff.

He put his hands on either side of his mouth and shouted, “Andreas! Can you hear me? Matthias? Can anybody hear me?” There was no answer.
Maybe I should stay here,
he thought.
They’ll come and look for me eventually. If any of them are still alive.
The thought sent a shiver through him.
No, they can’t be dead. Andreas can fight, he’ll make it.
He pondered the wisdom of staying put. It would be a footrace between the men and the beasts.

He made up his mind to put his faith in Andreas and wait by the wreck of the carriage. It seemed like the smartest thing to do. But then his heart jolted as he heard a deep, rumbling growl behind him. He whirled, expecting to see another one of those monsters standing there. But it was the fallen beast, lying on its side next to the wreck.

How can you not be dead?
Will wondered. The beast’s eyes were still closed. One of its clawed feet twitched, and the ugly, knobbed head wobbled off the ground.

Will froze, trying to avoid its attention. He hoped the thing would fall unconscious again. The beast shook its head, sneezed, and spat out a bloody fang the size of a dinner knife. It pawed at the ground with
one foot and tried to sit up. Will’s hand moved to his side and touched an empty sheath where his sword should have been.
Lost it when I was rolling around in the carriage,
he figured. He thought of trying to retrieve it from the wreck, but that would take him closer to the monster.

The beast opened its eyes and saw Will. Thick, bubbly drool spilled out between its teeth. It hacked and snorted and redoubled its effort to stand.

Will decided that staying put might not be the best decision after all. He needed a new plan, and fast. He looked to the lower end of the valley.
If I go that way, who will I meet first?
He had the awful feeling that it might be more of the beasts. He glanced at the cliff, but dismissed the idea of climbing it; too steep, too dangerous. And he’d had enough of falling, thank you.

He heard a scraping sound and saw the beast crawl toward him. One of its back legs was broken.

What do I do?
he wondered, backing away from the creeping monster. He remembered something from those decaying translations at Ambercrest:
Exploit any advantage over the enemy.
There was one he knew of: People could understand signs, and animals could not. He dug his heel into the soft earth and carved a straight line, then capped it with an inverted V. It made an arrow that pointed in the direction he’d decided to go.

Toward The Crags.

It was closer than Ambercrest. His uncle’s castle was
only a few hours away, he figured. All he had to do was follow the road.

He started to run. Before he left the wreck of the carriage behind for good, he turned to see if the beast was still dragging itself after him. The creature had paused in its pursuit. It clawed at the earth where he’d dug his arrow. Erasing the message. Will’s mouth fell open, and his hand came up and covered it.
This is crazy.

When the beast was done, it came after him again. Not crawling this time—it hobbled on three legs. It was healing.

With a whimper Will turned and ran again.
To The Crags.
Bert was there, waiting for him. He’d be safe at The Crags if he could only make it there.

CHAPTER 31

W
ill stopped to rest his aching legs and wipe the sweat off his forehead. From the way the cliff was descending, he thought he might be able to climb onto the road soon. He turned to see if the beast was catching up. The blasted thing was relentless. Thankfully it still wasn’t moving too fast, and Will was far enough ahead that he could no longer see it through the sparse trees and tall grass of the valley.

But it still barked at him.
“Death! Death!”
And then, much farther away, Will heard an answering cry from more of the creatures:
“Death! Death! Death!”

Leave me alone,
Will thought grimly. He ran through the tall grass, wondering how much farther he could go before he was worn out. Then he heard a familiar sound ahead: the whinny of a horse. He found a surge of energy and sprinted, calling out, “Hello! Is someone there? Hello!”

“Who’s that?” a stranger replied. Will ran toward the voice and saw a thin, young man standing near his horse, which was tethered to a tree. The man held a dead hare by the ears. He had a sparse beard, long neck, and
prominent Adam’s apple. As Will ran toward him, the man scowled and shouted, shaking the hare with his fist.

“Hey—you’re not supposed to be here! You could get strung up for poaching, you know. This valley is for Hugh Charmaigne’s hunters only. Lord Hugh Charmaigne.”

Will eyed the horse gratefully. He bent over with his chest heaving and his hands on his knees, and squeezed words out between gulps of air. “I’m … Lord Charmaigne’s nephew … son of the baron … how far to… The Crags?”

The man’s forehead wrinkled. “The baron’s son? But what are you doing here?”

“Attacked … by beasts … like the Beast of The Crags …”

“Beast of The Crags? There ain’t been one of those for a hundred years, if there was ever one at all! Are you pulling my leg, Master Son-of-the-Baron?”