The Morrow Secrets (16 page)

According to the two sisters, the commotion had definitely aged Agatha. She looked peaky and her skin had become sallow with all the constant fretting and weeping. Sybilla and Edwina took it in turns to sit with their sister, alternately and insidiously reminding her of the dangers out in the wilds of Wycham Elva and beyond to Breedoor. Each new bout of wailing made Agatha look even more haggard and older, much older. The sisters quietly relished these diminutions in Agatha’s demeanour and ate monstrous amounts of sweet tarts, wearing the pastry cook out with their insatiable demands for more sugared cakes. But what were sisters for, if not to give comfort when comfort was needed?

Eventually Snowdroppe arrived, late as usual. She flounced into the library as though nothing had happened and expected the world to dance attendance on her needs. She was dressed in apple-green velvet with sparkling emeralds at her throat and dangling from her ears. She swept towards Agatha and kissed the air ever so lightly by the side of each sunken cheek.

‘Well dear Aunt, this is a to-do, is it not,’ said Snowdroppe admiring herself in the sitting room mirror as she glided past.
The Grand Morrow glared at Snowdroppe, her dislike pasted all over her distraught face.
‘Did you know anything about these dreadful plans?’ demanded Agatha.
Snowdroppe bristled as she sat opposite the Grand Morrow. How dare Agatha speak to her in that off-hand tone, accusing her in that superior manner? She took her time answering, ordering tea from Marlin and demanding lemon rather than milk. She sipped it slowly.
‘Why, Aunt, what do you mean? They’re my children after all and of course I’m concerned. But heaven knows they’re always up to some prank or other. Tallitha especially, she is so headstrong.’
Agatha cut her short, shocked at Snowdroppe’s total lack of motherly concern.
‘Your children are missing. They may be injured or taken prisoner by the border tribes and all you can do is to complain about Tallitha.’
Snowdroppe sighed, raised her eyes and looked unperturbed.
‘I shouldn’t worry if I were you, Aunt Agatha. Essie will take care of them, won’t she? Try not to fuss so much, you’ll wear yourself out,’ said Snowdroppe pouting and rising from her seat. ‘Well, if that’s all, I have an arrangement with Maximillian.’
But Agatha was not letting her off that lightly.
‘No it isn’t. Who is this Benedict? What was he doing in my house?’ she demanded, staring hard at her nephew’s vain superficial wife.
Snowdroppe was momentarily caught off guard. She faltered, forced a simpering smile and sat back down again.
‘He’s... why he’s a distant cousin. You remember meeting him, dearest Aunt, of course you do. He came for tea.’
Snowdroppe gave Agatha a patronising smile, the sort one would give to an old woman who was losing track of things.
‘I’m old but I’m not stupid. I’ve never met this boy. Whose cousin is he?’
Snowdroppe was cornered. Agatha could be a tiresome old witch.
‘Why Aunt, I thought he was your cousin of course. He’s been having lessons with...’
‘What do you mean a cousin of mine? Having lessons? I don’t like strangers in my house!’
Agatha was aghast at Snowdroppe’s off-hand manner and in her house too!
‘You had better hope he is more sensible than your wayward children and will take care of them. I suppose they must have struck up a friendship. Be more careful in the future, Snowdroppe. This is my house, not yours! I want to know what goes on in it. If you must introduce anyone else into my circle you will tell me first. Do you understand?’ said Agatha forcefully.
She gripped the chair and stared at the simpering female before her. What on earth did Maximillian see in her? Well he was soused as a herring most of the time so he probably couldn’t see very much at all. Her family, her dear family was disintegrating before her very eyes.
Snowdroppe regarded Agatha coolly. One day, she would teach her a lesson. Agatha Morrow would rue this day, she would make certain of that! Snowdroppe raised her eyebrows disparagingly and stood up. Revenge is a dish best served cold.
‘That will be all. I will keep you posted should there be any developments,’ Agatha threw the words at the self-regarding creature that stood before her.
‘Most kind,’ said Snowdroppe sarcastically and left Agatha to stew.
Later, when Snowdroppe was certain she was unobserved, she conferred with the shroves on the latest rumours. Marlin and the others were enthralled by her. The balance of power was shifting in Winderling Spires. Soon they would be dancing to her tune.
But the strange, old house was quiet without Tallitha and Tyaas. Agatha demanded the family rally round and that everything should return to normal. She ordered Marlin and Florré to be despatched to follow the children and they duly departed but returned within a few hours having been unable to pick up a good enough trail. Shroves were renowned for their keen sense of smell so their inability to find the scent was frowned upon by the Grand Morrow. But Marlin knew where the children were headed. He was quite content for them to continue on their journey and he smiled inwardly at the deception played out in the grand house. There were more interesting plans afoot. So the shroves spent their days engaged in their favourite pastime, snooping on the Morrow women, pretending to offer consolation, but secretly enjoying the women’s distress and watching their every move.

Waking up to the sounds of the farmyard, the clattering of the breakfast dishes and the women chattering to each other made Tallitha yearn for Winderling Spires and dear Cissie. Tallitha turned over and buried her head under the blankets. She missed the strange old house and her nurse’s affection. She had taken so much of her old life for granted.

Tyaas bounded onto Tallitha’s straw bed holding a struggling lamb that was ba-ba-ba-ing for its mother.
‘Ah she’s sweet,’ said Tallitha, ‘let me hold her.’
Tallitha petted the lamb as it frolicked about on the straw, trying to get back to its mother, with Tyaas catching it, falling over and laughing.
‘Isn’t this great,’ he said.
But Tallitha didn’t reply. She looked distracted.
‘What’s up?’
She stroked the lamb then clutched it to her chest.
‘I miss home.’ Her voice trailed off into a whisper. ‘What if we’ve made a mistake and we never see Winderling Spires or Cissie again,’ she said plaintively.
Tyaas did not understand his sister. First she wanted to be free of Winderling Spires and all her responsibilities to search for Asenathe, and now she wanted to be at home again.
‘Buck up Tallitha,’ he said, ‘you wanted an adventure, and now we’re really having one.’
‘I know,’ she said pathetically. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m scared,’
Tyaas was amazed. ‘But what are you scared of?’
‘The future,’ said Tallitha quietly, ‘and of Ragging Brows Forest.’

Saying goodbye to the Wakenshaws was hard. The farmer and his family had been delightful company and the warm beds and good food had been such a blessing. As the dogs barked and they waved to their friends, they looked back at the idyllic farmyard and the safety of Josh and Bettie’s cosy homestead.

‘Goodbye and take care,’ shouted Lince and Spooner from the doorway.
‘Remember, keep out of the forest at night and you’ll be fine, my dears,’ said Bettie with an attempt at a broad smile.
‘Come and see us on your way back,’ shouted the girls.
The four travellers made their way up the steep side of the dale towards Ragging Brows Forest. It was a hard climb and with every step Tallitha thought about the dangers that lay ahead of them. The Wakenshaw’s story had unnerved her. Spending a night in the dark forest was to be avoided at all costs.
‘How much further?’ asked Tyaas, stopping to take a breather.
Esmerelda shaded her eyes from the bright sunlight. It was another beautiful day but all she could see ahead was the steep incline, way into the distance.
‘It’s a fair way yet,’ she said, ‘let’s take a rest.’
So they shared Bettie’s stotty cakes filled with cheese and homemade pickle. Later they made their way over an old mine-shaft which was littered with slate and shale. Benedict was excited about every new plant and insect he discovered. The flowers were abundant, poking out in clumps over the hillside and Benedict would not be hurried.
‘Look here’s a beautiful specimen, a dog violet, wait, what about this meadow-sweet.’
He kept stopping to examine the butterflies and crane flies and to make notes on each insect that came in his path.
‘Come on, Benedict,’ insisted Tyaas. ‘We aren’t going to get very far if you keep this up.’
But Benedict ignored Tyaas’s pleas, sauntering along at a snail’s pace and within a few minutes he was at it again.
On the hillside Tallitha could see the outline of the forest which stretched way off into the distance. Thousands of tall pine trees stood row upon row like sentinels up into the sky, guarding the edge of the ragged forest. Behind the outer rim of trees the heavy darkness percolated between the branches making Tallitha feel deeply uneasy.
‘It looks worse than I feared,’ said Tallitha quietly, peering nervously ahead into the gloomy depths of the dismal pine trees.
They picked their way through the undergrowth, hoping to make good headway, but within an hour they realised they had gone in a complete circle.
‘I don’t understand it,’ said Tyaas scratching his head, ‘we’ve been here before.’
‘We must have gone the wrong way when we crossed the stream back there. Or was it over there?’ said Esmerelda looking puzzled.
All the trees and pathways looked the same and it was becoming abundantly clear how easy it would be to become completely lost. The memory of the Wakenshaw’s story began to play over in Tallitha’s mind. Tyaas took the compass from his pocket and sighed.
‘I thought I’d worked out how to use this compass. We’re heading north, aren’t we, Tallitha?
But Tallitha was unsure. She began to feel panicky as the light slowly faded. Overhanging branches and dense foliage blocked their way and as they walked deeper into the forest, Esmerelda began to look nervously about her.
‘Is it getting darker?’ she asked.
Tyaas shrugged his shoulders and checked the compass again. After their near-disaster in the Gulping Mess he kept it in his pocket at all times.
‘Tyaas are you sure you know how to use that?’ asked Benedict. ‘Here let me have a go.’
‘No, leave off. I can do it,’ shouted Tyaas.
He pushed Benedict away and hugged the compass to himself shielding it with his hand.
‘We should be skirting the eastern edge of the forest. Let’s keep going in this direction,’ said Tyaas sounding more confident than he actually felt.
Tyaas went first, using his knife to hack down the stubborn, tangled bracken while Tallitha and the others scrambled through the undergrowth behind him. Slowly the light ebbed away as the gloomy patches of the forest became darker still. Suddenly Tallitha grabbed hold of her brother.
‘Wait a minute. Listen, all of you.’
They stood perfectly still.
‘I can’t hear anything,’ whispered Benedict.
‘I know,’ said Tallitha, turning quickly to look over her shoulder, ‘it’s much too quiet.’
A heavy, deathly silence bore down on them. Dusk was settling and it was getting murkier with every step. Tallitha stared into the gloomy twilight and it seemed to her as if something was watching their faltering steps, luring them ever further into the heart of the dark forest.

A Skink was hiding close by. They could not see her, but she could see them. Ruker had been stalking the travellers for some time and had watched them lose their way several times. She was an artful forester, skilled in all the woodland ways, able to survive in the harshest conditions. She operated by stealth and surprise, always ready to pounce or to escape through one of the tunnels in the forest floor. The four friends had been drawing attention to themselves, noisily tramping through the undergrowth and calling out to each other without a care. Ruker felt nervous to be out in the forest as evening was drawing in. She looked quickly this way and that, peering into the shadows, watching for any sign that the wild dogs were on the move. The Black Hounds would soon be out, foraging for their night feed. Ruker knew she had to intervene or these strangers would meet a sorry end. She crept out in front of them, sprang up quickly from the undergrowth and coughed.

‘Ahhhh, who are you?’ gasped Tallitha hiding behind her brother. Tyaas laughed, ‘It’s OK, she’s a Skink. Aren’t you, my friend?’ The Skink grinned. She was lithe and graceful, built for climbing

the tallest trees. Her long dark hair was pulled into a braided plait but it was her eyes that attracted them. They were almond shaped, brown and beautifully slanted, peering out beneath a heavy fringe. She blinked slowly and tightly held her sabre in its leather tabard.

‘You scared me,’ said Tallitha realising that the Skink meant them no harm.
‘I’m Ruker, come with me. You aren’t safe out here,’ she said authoritatively, ‘I can smell the wind, it is changing,’ she said mysteriously, raising her head and sniffing at the air.
‘Why should we follow you?’ asked Esmerelda suspiciously.
‘It’s up to you but the Black Hounds will be out soon, and you don’t want to meet them,’ she said nervously. ‘The wind will deliver your scents straight to them. They’re extremely nasty and will devour you as soon as they look at you. So are you coming or not?’
Ruker’s voice sounded like the noise of the wind through the forest, gruff and raw and in full command of the situation. The four travellers knew they had no choice so they quickly followed the Skink as she hightailed it through the undergrowth.

Tallitha raced after her, the wild dogs uppermost in her mind. She didn’t fancy being their supper that night. One minute they were running along the forest floor and the next, Ruker was pushing them, one by one, down a dark brown hole in the earth. The leafy entrance was camouflaged with knotted branches and layers of wet sodden leaves. One by one they tumbled down a narrow shaft and landed in a heap at the bottom.

‘Owwww‒it’s pitch-black down here!’ cried Esmerelda trying to stand up and banging her head.
‘Watch it. You can’t stand up,’ said Ruker. ‘You have to crouch down, like this.’
She bent down on all fours to avoid the tangle of overhanging branches and pushed Benedict into the same position.
‘But where are we?’ asked Tallitha.
‘We’re in a Skink burrow. We have hidden routes under the forest to avoid ending up as fodder for the wild dogs,’ she grinned and nodded upwards.
The others followed her gaze, knowing they had better make the best of it. The Skink lit a number of small waxed sticks and handed one to each of the travellers. In front of them was a long dark twisting burrow. The underground path curled under the boughs of thousands of interwoven tree roots which had been twisted together overhead and formed into a low arch.
‘Come, follow me.’
The Skink moved at a tremendous pace, darting and diving over tree roots, throwing back instructions to the others.
‘Leap over here. Mind that branch. Keep to the left, watch the roof here, it sags.’
Ruker barked orders the whole length of the tunnel, intermittently looking over her shoulder to make sure that no one had fallen behind. Tyaas was in awe. Who would have thought the Skinks were so clever. The burrow was an amazing feat of engineering and this was one fine Skink. After a few minutes Ruker stopped, held up her hand and signalled for them to halt.
‘This is the end of the tunnel. We have some climbing ahead of us. I suppose you know how to do that?’ she asked sarcastically.
From the look of them she wasn’t sure. They certainly weren’t dressed properly. Their boots were too new and she could see their hands were unused to manual work. They would be sore and chapped by the end of this climb. Tyaas and Tallitha nodded, Esmerelda said she could just about manage it, and Benedict went pale.
‘I’m afraid. I’m not good with heights,’ he stammered looking warily up the cavernous shaft above him. Ruker roped them up just in case of any mishaps.
‘I’ll go first, followed by you,’ Ruker said pointing at Esmerelda. ‘Then you, girl, then the scared one, then the boy. Clear about that, then let’s go, quickly now.’
Ruker began to climb up the inside of the hollowed tree using the foot- and handholds.
‘Watch out for any falling debris,’ she shouted as twigs and leaf litter fell on top of their heads.
It was an arduous climb and they had to make several stops for Benedict who wobbled and froze.
‘Stop looking down. Just keep going, you won’t fall, and if you do, you’ll land on me,’ said Tyaas spitting out pieces of bark that were showering down on top of him.
‘This is my worst nightmare,’ howled Benedict pathetically. ‘I’m trying my best.’
‘Come on, don’t stop!’ said Tyaas pushing Benedict from behind.
At the top, Ruker opened a trap door and they stepped out on to a solid wooden platform. The view before them was spectacular, way over to the grey mountains shrouded by cloud in the distance. They had just climbed up the inside of a huge redwood and were high above the tops of the trees.
‘Welcome to Hanging Tree Islands,’ said Ruker with a flourish and a bow as she proudly showed off her world.
‘Wow!’ said Tyaas, ‘it’s incredible, and so high!’
Tallitha and Tyaas skipped over one of the rope bridges overhanging the dark forest below. All around were the twinkling lights of the Skink village built at the top of the tree canopy way above the edges of the Ragging Brows Ravine, hundreds of feet below. The tree tops were interlinked with rope bridges, rope swings and ladders which connected all the tree-dwellings. Benedict stepped onto the rope bridge, swayed and tightly closed his eyes.
‘Be calm, my friend,’ said Ruker, ‘you’re safe up here.’
Benedict stared at the deep chasm of the ravine and began to shake. Esmerelda fumbled in her bag and pulled out slivers of her special mushrooms.
‘Here, eat these‒they’ll steady your nerves.’
Benedict chewed pieces of the Dryad’s Saddle and Ruker placed a blindfold over his eyes. It worked and despite protests they were soon at Ruker’s front door.
The Skink’s dwelling was one of many scattered amongst the high branches of the redwood trees. Each residence was a smooth round construction made of interwoven straw and mud with pointed roofs. They were all individually paint-washed in muddy colours, sludgy green, washed out ochre and walnut brown. Inside the hut there were a number of small burrow-like sleeping chambers leading off from a central room. This was where all the cooking and eating took place. Ruker was immensely proud of her cosy home and ushered her visitors inside. She lit the lamp and settled her guests around the glowing stove.
‘Now, tell me, what possessed you to go into Ragging Brows Forest at dusk?’
Ruker prepared food while Tallitha told her about their adventures and where they were headed.
‘You have a hard road ahead of you. Who’ll show you the way through Out-Of-The-Way-Mountains?’ she asked, handing them supper.
‘We don’t know yet,’ said Tallitha sheepishly, seeing herself and the others through Ruker’s trained eyes.
‘It’s a maze of treacherous shafts and tunnels. Even those who make the caves their home only know certain parts of them.’
Ruker studied the travellers. They were about to enter an underground world that was riven with danger. They were completely unprepared for the trials ahead of them. Esmerelda bristled.
‘I’ve been some of the way before and we’ve been given a clue to the way through the caves. We just have to work it out.’
Benedict looked at Tyaas for confirmation but he shrugged his shoulders.
‘Have we? When was that?’ asked Benedict, perking up.
‘Last night, Tallitha contacted Asenathe when you were asleep. She saw a riddle written down. It said: