The Various (14 page)

Lumst and Pank drew forth tinsy daggers from their belts. As implements for teasing walnuts from their shells they would have served admirably – as weapons they looked hopelessly inadequate. Maglin sighed, and Grissel looked contemptuous. Spindra carried a small wooden club, a truncheon of dark seasoned oak. Tod had some large Gorji object, picked up on a night-fishing expedition. It had several prongs and was made of rot-metal. Tod had spliced a new handle
to
it, thus fashioning for himself a kind of trident. He used it as an eel-spear.

Maglin’s heart sank within him at this pitiful display, though what more he could have expected, he didn’t know. These were farmers and fishers, not hunter-warriors. He could only encourage them and wish them speed.

‘Let us hope that you have no need of these things,’ he said – which sounded more ambiguous than he had intended. ‘Tod, you will lead the company out through the North Wood and across such ground as may be familiar to you. Pank and Lumst, you will use your eyes to help the company through the darkness. Spindra, you will advise on the likely actions of Pegs. And Grissel – you will act as defender where there may be danger.’

Grissel looked even more sour and discontented than he had done previously. So, he was to have the honour of protecting these hobbledehoys from whatever may come. Well so be it. But, he thought secretly, if they were to be pursued by packs of brocks and renards and Gorji hounds, then it would be look out all and each for himself. Then let them see, Tod and Spindra, how inferior it were to be wingless. Fishers and farmers! What did they know? And as for the others, the Troggle and the Tinkler, he felt ashamed to be in their company, the miserable paupers. Pank and Lumst! Names to hawk up and spit on the earth. He was an Ickri! Where were his brothers?

Maglin led the search party across the now moonlit clearing, to the inner fringe of the North Wood. Many of the Various tribespeople had turned out to watch
them
go, and there were well-wishers standing around in small groups to offer encouragement and parting advice as the company passed by.

‘Don’t ’ee worry, Spindra. You’ll find ’un.’

‘Bring us back a gurt eel, Tod, while you’m about it.’

‘What be doing up so late, Pank? ’Tis past thy bedtime!’

And so on. Only Grissel kept his head down, and acknowledged nobody, avoiding the faces of Scurl and his companions lest they be laughing at him.

The Ickri General stopped under the trees of North Wood and wished them all speed. ‘Now mind what I say,’ he told them. ‘Come back alive. There be no life worth risking for that of a horse – no matter what Spindra may think.’ Spindra did indeed think differently, but had the sense not to say so.

At the outer edge of North Wood, having made passage through one of the emergency wicker tunnels woven through the thick briars, the five cautiously emerged into the open and surveyed the dark land that stretched out beneath them. The moon shone through a hazy sky, and far below they could see a thick carpet of mist lying upon the silent wetlands. The rows of pollarded willow trees protruded from the bed of fog, like shock-headed creatures rising from a steamy swamp.

Eerie and strange it seemed, to all but Tod who was well acquainted with such sights. A perfect night for fishing, it would be, and no doubt some of his tribe were already preparing to take advantage of it. With
wicker
eel traps, clotting rods and night lines, the Wisp would be silently making their way down through the East Wood, to where the rhynes and ditches came closest to the outer belt of trees, and looking forward to a good catch under cover of the summer mist. And here was he, fishing not for eels, but for horses. A strange errand indeed.

Moonlight was more natural than sunlight to Pank and Lumst, yet never had they seen such a sight as this. It was their first venture from the confines of the forest and they hung close together, gazing about them in nervous wonder. Spindra was glad at last to be finally searching for Pegs – he was eager to be off, and Tod had to catch him by the sleeve in order to give pause whilst he surveyed the land. Grissel was the most apprehensive. This was all unfamiliar territory to him – the treetops in daylight were his natural habitat, not the open ground by night. He felt vulnerable. Some of his former bravado and disdain began to waver, and for the time being he was glad to let the fisher Wisp take the lead.

Tod waited and watched. Satisfied at last that all was safe and quiet, he cautiously moved off down the hill. Spindra fell in directly behind him. Lumst and Pank walked parallel to each other, a few feet apart and slightly behind Spindra. Grissel brought up the rear and had already unslung his bow. He turned from left to right as he walked, and occasionally glanced behind him. The white scut of a disappearing rabbit caught his attention, and he began to lose some of his nervousness. A coney! These were a rarity indeed
inside
the forest – most of them having been hunted down long ago – but now that his eyes were growing more used to the darkness, he could see that there were quite a few of them on the hillside. Maybe he could shoot one and pick it up on the way back. That would be one in the eye for Scurl – and Aken for that matter. He looked about him. There was nothing within easy range, and he was loth to become too sidetracked at this early stage. The others had already moved quite a little way ahead. He spread his wings and launched himself gently from the hillside, in order to catch up. He had originally intended to land at the rear of the company and take up his former position, but at the last minute he flapped a couple of times, flew over the heads of the other four, and alighted directly in front of Tod – nearly catching a spear between his shoulder blades for his folly. Tod was furious.

‘What bist playing at, Grissel?’ he hissed. ‘Do ’ee want to get theeself skewered?’

Grissel was unused to such treatment – from a Wisp moreover – but seeing the look on Tod’s face he contented himself with a ‘Garn with ’ee, fisher. I were only taking a stretch. You’m as jumpsy as a cricket.’ He allowed the others to pass him, and resumed his position as rearguard.

‘Hemmed fool,’ muttered Tod, and pressed on.

On the side of the hill and to their far left, perhaps a hundred yards distant, lay a small outbuilding – whitish in the hazy moonlight. Lumst, who noticed it first, tapped Spindra on the shoulder and pointed. Spindra in turn whispered, ‘Tod,’ and all five paused
to
regard the shabby looking concrete barn. Tod spoke quietly to Spindra.

‘What say you? Could the horse be there?’

Spindra moved down the slope a little more and peered towards the distant building. He could just make out the dark opening of the doorway. The others joined him.

Spindra shook his head and whispered, ‘No. Don’t make no sense for him to be in there. See, he could get in and out o’ that easy enough. Too close to home for him to stop there, anyways. No, he be further away than that, I reckon.’

The others were inclined to agree. It would be too easy, and too much to hope for, to find Pegs so close to home. They moved on.

Eventually they came to a sheep gate that led into a field of thistles, and here they rested, crouching beside the low drystone wall that separated the field from the long steep slope back towards the forest. Tod climbed cautiously up onto the ancient metal gate to get a better view of the farm buildings in the distance. He could see one dim light shining from an upper window. The rest of the buildings were dark. As he was about to descend from the gate, some movement caught his eye. It was on the other side of the wall, about fifty yards to his right. Tod leaned over the gate and looked along the line of rough stone. Trotting along the edge of the field, keeping close to the wall, was a big fox. Thin wisps of low mist hung by the wall, turning the fox into a ghostly figure as it passed through the swirls of pale vapour. It was heading straight for the sheep-gate.

‘Renard!’ hissed Tod, scrambling down from the gate, as quickly and quietly as he could. He joined Grissel and Lumst who instantly huddled behind the wall to the right of the gate. On the left side were Pank and Spindra. Tod dropped down on one knee, the only one among them who was in a position to run if need be. The others sat hunched with their knees by their chins, heads down. Grissel was further hampered by his wings, which were pressed uncomfortably into an awkward position against the wall. His bow was in his hand, but he had dropped the arrow he was holding, and his quiver was tucked behind him. He was used to being the hunter, not the hunted, and the situation had caught him unprepared. Listening intently, with pounding hearts, they waited for the renard to come.

They had expected that the great animal would continue along the other side of the wall, and, with luck, would pass by the sheep-gate also – but a slight scrabbling noise, the light tap of claw on stone, told them that the dreaded monster had jumped up on to the wall, not two yards along from where they crouched. They could hear it, high above them, panting slightly as it shifted its stance. Pank, from his position behind Spindra, was able to raise his eyes and see the beast, as it stood on the rough stone wall, seeming to fill the moonlit sky. It was his first sight of such a creature, and the thing was huge – almost as high at the shoulder as he, Pank, was tall. It was as big as one of Spindra’s horses. The great vulpine jaws opened in a horrible grinning yawn, silhouetted
against
the filtered moon, as it turned its head to look up the hill towards the forest. It sniffed the air a few times and then jumped lightly from the wall, its pale shadow passing over their heads. The rest of the woodlanders were then able to see the beast, as it landed on the dewy grass, just a few feet away from them. Sniffing the air once more, the great dog-fox began to amble casually up the slope in the direction of the forest. It paused to snuffle at the ground, half-turned as it picked up another scent – then looked up, and stiffened. It had seen them. Motionless it stood, hypnotic, sinister, and graceful – the very stuff of all their nightmares. Its merciless yellow eyes fixed upon the small cowering figures, its cool gaze assuring them that their fate was now inescapable, as the dark-tipped ears slowly flattened on the handsome, terrifying, head.

Tod was first to his feet. He grasped his eel spear and advanced a couple of paces – holding the weapon in front of him, threateningly, desperately. The big fox raised its hackles, and the huge jaws drew back in a silent snarl.

‘You better get an arrow to that bow smartish, Grissel, for I shan’t hold ’un long with this thing!’ yelled Tod. But Grissel was still scrabbling to his feet, cursing, his wings catching in the crevices of the wall and his bow tangled round one of his legs.

‘Quick!’ roared Lumst, and at the same time Spindra shouted, ‘What bist doing of Grissel?’ and flung his club at the beast, narrowly missing its head. At the sudden loud chorus of apparently human voices, the fox, towering over the strange little creatures as it did, seemed confused. It flinched at the missile hurled by Spindra, and backed away. These were no rabbits or chickens that it had stumbled across. A sharp stone in the ribs, thrown in terror by little Pank, was all the convincing it finally needed. The fox continued to sidle away up the hill, pursued by shouts, curses, and further lumps of loose stone which were lying around and subsequently flung by Pank and Lumst – so that by the time Grissel had finally notched an arrow to his bow it was clear that the dog fox was unlikely to be a further threat to them. It had slunk off into the shadows. There was easier meat to be had.

In the little pig-barn on the hill, Pegs raised his head and listened in the darkness. He had heard distant voices – shouts. Spindra’s voice, he was sure, had been among them. Were the Various abroad then? Had they left the forest? He listened again, for a while, but heard no more. Perhaps they were out looking for him. There was nothing he could do – he had not yet the strength to stand. Lowering his head once more,
he
half-closed his eyes. Then, after another minute or so, he heard a slight panting sound and became aware of a shadow appearing in the narrow frame of the doorway. Pegs looked up. It was a renard – a full-grown dog-fox – and such a beast as might consider a defenceless and wounded animal to be ready prey. The red hunter cautiously sniffed the air inside the barn. Blood. The smell of blood was in this place. It slunk forward a pace or two, crouching slightly as it caught sight of the stricken creature lying there, familiar, yet unfamiliar, injured, and – alone? Yes, alone, unprotected, helpless, exposed. The fox edged forward a little more, its courage now returning, and licked the drool from its jaws.

Good evening, Renard. How now, old friend?
The fox jumped back with a shrill yelp, shaking its head as though there were a bee in its ear. It turned and fled through the gap in the doorway. It had had quite enough for one night.

The searchers were quietly jubilant at their success in routing the fox.

‘Did ’ee see the size of it?’ whispered little Pank, awestruck at his own audacity in throwing a stone at the great red beast of legend. ‘I could have walked upright beneath his belly, almost!’