The Watching Wood (6 page)

When she opened her eyes she was standing on the table, outside the birdcage, and the little wood nymph was eyeing her with curiosity.

6

The Hunters' Mansion

The wood nymph trotted back and forth across the cage, swinging out of the bars, like an excited toddler in a playground, always with his eyes on Rachel. She waited patiently outside, startling a little when he leapt suddenly onto the bars above her. The glamour was a façade – she wasn't really small enough to stand on the table, and she couldn't fit through the tiny door – but the magic made her seem small to the world, and made the world seem huge to her.

Hanging upside down, the wood nymph stuck his finger between his lips and shook it, making a
b-burr b-burr b-burr
sound. Rachel giggled. The nymph seemed pleased he had made her laugh, and grinned, repeating the sound. When she
laughed again, he reached out and gently
booped
her nose with one gnarled finger. She raised her hand and he leaned through the door, so she could touch his nose. His skin felt grainy, like rough tissue paper, and he smelled like the woods. Swinging right side up, he dropped to the threshold of the door.

Rachel saw her chance and stepped backwards, holding out her hands. After a moment, the nymph smiled, came towards her and grabbed both her hands, spinning her around the table in a lively jig. Rachel squealed with delight as noise erupted all around them. At last, when she was out of breath, she touched the nymph gently on the nose again.

‘Thank you for the dance. Bye bye, little man.'

The full-sized world rushed back with dizzying speed, and she had to lean on the table as her knees went weak. The wood nymph shrieked in terror at the giant girl looming over him, and scurried back inside the cage.

Rachel was dismayed. ‘Oh no! Hey, sorry, little man, I didn't mean to–'

But she was interrupted by Jenny's athletic frame landing on her from behind.

‘Rach, you're a freaking genius!'

Jenny's iron grip almost choked the life out of her, but she laughed as the other girls all tried to hug her at the same time.

‘We're only five points behind those Hawk Falls wenches
now.' Jenny had roughly turned her to face the reddening complexion of Victoria Meister.

‘Cheat,' the pixie-cut girl said, marching towards them.

‘Yeah?' Jenny said combatively. ‘How'd she cheat?'

‘I don't know,' Victoria replied, ‘
yet
. But you cheated in the last Trial, and no-one without Hunter training could glamour a
wood nymph
.'

‘Well, she did. So suck it up, loser.'

‘Jenny.' Rachel heard the warning in Grace's voice and followed her gaze to Victoria's hands, which hung by her side, crackling with some sort of fierce energy.

‘I think it's time the newbies were taught a lesson.' The crackling energy was now climbing up Victoria's arms.

‘Bring it on, sweetie,' Jenny said, releasing her grip on Rachel, ‘but there ain't nothing you can teach me.'

‘SILENCE.'

The buzz of the arena muted instantly, and everyone turned to face Lady Hecate, who stood high on the bleachers, with the handsome privateer behind her.

‘The victor of today's Trial has been summoned by the Hunters.' There was a hushed gasp throughout the crowd. ‘St John's of Dunbridge, you will relinquish your competitor for the remainder of the day.'

The hordes of students separated silently, making a path from Rachel to the bleachers. She shook her head.

‘Grace,' she whispered, ‘do you think it's safe?'

‘I don't know.'

In the immediate crowd she saw a shock of strawberry blond hair and a very wide smile. Boy-Adie was waving his arms in encouragement. ‘Go!' he said, grinning.

‘What's going to happen to her? Will she be okay?' Adie asked.

Boy-Adie's lanky frame shook with barely contained excitement.

‘She'll get to see the Hunters' Mansion. It's a great honour!'

Adie was still eyeing her with worry, but Rachel's mind was set at ease. Her echoing footsteps were the only sound as she waved at her friends and made her way through the crowd and up onto the bleachers.

‘This is Aruj of Morgane,' Lady Hecate said, her expression showing no pleasure in making the introduction.

‘You have a gift, Rachel of Dunbridge.' Aruj's voice was low and deep, like a sound from the depths of the ocean.

Rachel couldn't reply. The pale eyes set in dark skin were striking, almost hypnotic. With considerable effort she finally managed a smile, and followed close behind him as he led her out of the arena.

‘I hope she'll be alright.' Grace watched her friend leave with the stranger in the weird outfit, and tried not to worry.

‘I'm sure it's fine,' Una said lightly. ‘They probably won't
torture her for information or anything.'

‘
Una
.'

‘I said they probably
won't
.'

Grace sighed.

‘Jenny's still itching for a fight, I can tell.'

‘Yeah, she's got that snorting bull look she gets sometimes. Never seen her actually fight anyone, though. I mean, like, with fists. Do you think she would?'

‘Sometimes I wonder.'

‘Hey,' Una said, nudging her in the ribs, ‘take a look at Adie and Boy-Adie. I don't know who's gone redder.'

Grace grinned as Adie chatted with an embarrassed smile, and the tall boy jammed his hands self-consciously into his pockets. Una nudged her again.

‘Delilah's gone to the dark side, though. Look, she's practically hiding under those bleachers.'

‘Don't say it like that, Una.'

‘I don't mean it in a bad way. I just mean she's doing that thing again, where she goes all quiet. Like she was before …'

Adie came skipping towards them, saving them the unpleasantness of having to remember Delilah's mother.

‘Hey, you guys. Want to head inside for dinner?'

‘So,' said Una, ‘did you finally get his name?'

‘His name's Gaukroger,' Adie replied.

‘Oh, I'm so sorry.'

‘I like Gaukroger.'

‘I like him too, but that's a terrible name.'

Rachel tried to keep her eyes open as the barren land sped past. She wanted to take in as much of this new world as she could, but she was still adjusting to the green hue that saturated everything, as if the whole of Hy-Breasal was radioactive.

She was sailing on land, on a ship with big, graceful sails, which gouged a deep groove in the ground as it moved. It was piloted by Aruj in all his swash-buckling glory. She held fast to the side; it was a bit much that just the two of them were travelling on this huge ship that could hold a hundred people – Grace would undoubtedly have something to say about their carbon footprint. But Rachel had no idea if witchcraft added to the greenhouse effect, or even if it
could
be wasted. Besides, the thrill was worth it.

Aruj had barely spoken since their introduction. He was a man of few words, which meant that he was probably really deep and mysterious. She made a bet with herself that he had a very tragic past too. He might have lost the love of his life at sea, or fallen for a mermaid, but they could never be together because they came from two different worlds. Or something. She sighed and forced her eyelids apart again, straining against the perpetual green.

The Hunters' Mansion lived up to the promise of Aruj's
outfit. It was palatial, with the main part of the building flanked by two taller wings. Rachel didn't know exactly what
gothic
was, but she was sure this house must be it, with its dark grey stone, tall narrow windows, and pointy mouldings at the top, like someone had painted the mansion then held it upside down so the paint ran. The grounds were large enough to house the ship inside its high walls, and the gardens were full of grey and silver flowering bushes. Yes, this place was definitely
gothic
.

Aruj led her through the wrought-iron doors into the entrance hall, dark and grand with polished wood and a wide staircase that split in two at the landing, leading left and right further into the house. There were oil paintings in ornate brass frames, portraits of elegant women and handsome men, all dressed as if prepared for battle.

‘Rachel of Dunbridge,' Aruj's depths-of-the-ocean voice said, ‘meet Alinda of Morgane.'

Confused, Rachel turned to face an extraordinarily beautiful woman who seemed to have materialised out of nowhere. Her eyes were pale, like Aruj's, but her skin was also pale. She wore breeches and boots like those of Rachel's privateer guide, but on top she wore a loose blouse, enclosed by a leather corset that pinched her waist to an impossibly small size. Though she looked to be in her twenties, her hair was fully silver, and swept back in an up-style of relaxed braids and twists; the kind of boho chic look that Rachel had yet
to master. She wondered how long those tresses of silver hair would be if let down. Rachel had once had a mild cardiac event when she found a grey hair hidden in her sleek, dark locks but if premature ageing made you look anything like Alinda, she'd be quite happy.

‘Welcome, Rachel of Dunbridge.' Alinda's smile was epic.

‘Just … Rachel is fine. It's so nice to meet you. This place is gorgeous, really, it's so fancy. I love all the old pictures and stuff. They must be really ancient.'

Alinda and Aruj smiled in reply, the way deep, mysterious people do. Rachel wished she could shut her own babbling mouth. It was so uncool.

‘Let me show you what you're here to see.' Alinda moved like she was on a travelator; her head didn't bob up and down when she walked and, try as she might, Rachel couldn't imitate it without losing her balance. So she resorted to her own stupid, clunky walk and followed the silver-haired woman up the stairs, with Aruj close behind.

The decor remained dark and stately throughout the main part of the house, but when they moved into the west wing, the rooms took Rachel's breath away. They entered via a pillared gallery, with a curved ceiling that was painted with colourful and detailed hunting scenes. Gold mouldings decorated the buttresses and balconies and, peering
over the mezzanine, she could see the marble floor beneath, soft in colour and polished like glass. She'd been on holiday to France one summer, and this place reminded her of the Palace of Versailles. When she got back everyone had asked her if she'd been to the Eiffel Tower. She had, but she couldn't think why anyone cared about
that
. Versailles was full of lavish rooms, gold paint and expensive stuff. Marie Antoinette had lived there (she couldn't remember which century) and she had thrown the most awesome parties. She had been married to the King and was the ultimate fashionista but, for some reason, everyone hated her and in the end she got her head chopped off.

At the end of the gallery they moved into another gorgeous hall. There were doors on each side, some of them open, and Rachel glimpsed more luscious decoration. Each room had its own colour palette and distinctive style. One had furnishings in mint green, with rounded feet on the tables and chairs. Another was deep crimson, decadent and vicious, with dagger-shaped ends on the curtain rails and fireguards. Her guides led her up the wide staircase, past a gold-plated suit of armour and shining old-fashioned weapons displayed on the walls.

‘I'd love to see inside that yellow room.' Rachel couldn't help herself blurting, as she passed yet another sumptuous chamber. ‘I don't think I've seen so much silk in all my life.'

‘These aren't the rooms you wish to see,' said Aruj. ‘
These
are the rooms you wish to see.'

Alinda pushed open a door at what Rachel was certain had been the end of the building. She caught glimpses out of the windows on the landing, and was sure there was nothing but the gardens beyond. But they stepped into a tunnel that seemed to have been dug out of this world and into the earth of another. Primitive torches lined walls that were nothing more than rough clay, the same clay that was soft beneath their feet. In the poor light, Rachel followed Alinda's graceful steps until the woman stopped at a door on the right side. She gestured at a window in the door, and Rachel looked in.

A handsome man, also dressed as a privateer, stood in the large, clay room, his shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and a long sword in his right hand. With a shock she noticed the hideous creature that lurked by the far wall. Its nose was long and curved, its skin the colour of a scummy pond. The hair that sprouted from its misshapen head was like dry grass, and on the end of its scrawny arms were overly long, knobby fingers. It hissed with malice at the man, lashing out with its knarled hands, but the privateer was too quick and swung beneath the creature's claws. Rachel gasped and squeezed her eyes shut. She heard a grisly screech and a dying gurgle from the creature. Instinctively, she turned to go back the way she had come, but Aruj calmly placed his hands on her shoulders and held her gaze with his pearl eyes.