Witch Crag (7 page)

“Careful!” breathed Raff. “How d'you know it's not poisonous?” But Kita, laughing, had picked another lily and was holding it to Quainy's mouth.

“Oh, it's heaven!” cried Quainy, swallowing.

“It's dew,” said Kita. “The flowers are shaped like that to collect the dew. I. . . I dreamt about Nada last night, and she showed me.”

Quainy and Raff stared at Kita, then at each other. Then, without another word, they stooped, and picked, and drank, throwing the broken flowers down. They didn't stop until their thirst was quenched with the fresh sweet water, and every single lily had been plucked and drained.

Quainy looked at the scattering of bruised, discarded flowers. “It seems awful to have done that,” she said. “We've destroyed all of them.”

“I think we'll be forgiven,” said Kita.

The forest was far less terrifying in the day. They walked steadily southwards, taking it in turns to lead and choose the way through the undergrowth. Five great crows followed them for a while, clattering on to the treetops above their heads, but the branches were so interlaced they couldn't swoop lower. They saw no sign of dogs, or anything worse.

“D'you think they've discovered we're missing yet?” asked Quainy.

“Bound to,” said Raff. “There'll be a right old hue and cry.”

“Will they come after us?”

“They'll search the woods all round the grasslands, for sure. But we're way past them by now.”

“It's you they'll be hunting, Quainy,” said Kita. “Vanished trade. Those old horsemen bridegrooms will be livid.”

Quainy shuddered. “Let them be,” she muttered.

“And Arc will be mad,” said Raff. “The night of passion was planned for tonight, wasn't it?”

“Shut up!” barked Kita, and he laughed.

Then Quainy, leading the way, stopped. “D'you hear that?” she whispered.

“What?” said Raff, impatiently. Quainy was too ready to be startled by a rustle or the crack of a twig.

“It's like . . . it's like. . .”

“Drumming,” said Kita.

They stood stock still staring at each other, breathing fast, frightened.

“
Footsoldiers
,” gasped Raff.

It was the sound of footsoldiers running in time, like they'd been trained to do when they went to battle. The ground seemed to vibrate with it. The drumming grew louder.

“They're close,” hissed Kita, white faced. “Out on the wastelands. Follow me. Deeper in.”

Then she froze. Someone was shouting. A young man, loud, full of authority. She knew that voice.

Arc.

“
Move
,” urged Raff, and Kita stumbled forward, blundering through the trees with the others close behind her.

The shouting grew louder. This time, they could hear the words.

“
As before!
Into the trees, split up, keep to the line, cover all the ground!”

A huge crashing and thrashing noise followed, as the footsoldiers fanned out into the trees, beating the undergrowth with staves, probing, searching. Kita quickened her pace, but the noise from the footsoldiers only seemed to get louder, closer.

“Kita
, stop
!” hissed Raff. “They'll hear us!”

“
What
then?” she gasped.

“Here. This bush.
Here
.” And he darted into a thick, tangled, sprawling mass of dark leaves. Kita blinked. There was suddenly no sign of him at all – he'd disappeared.

Quickly, grabbing Quainy's hand, she followed him into the bushes.

“Get behind me,” Raff muttered. “And try not to breathe.” There was just room in the dense greenery for the three of them to crouch close together. Raff faced the invisible gap they'd slipped through. Kita heard a thin rasp, and saw the glint of Raff's stolen knife as he drew it.

The terrible crashing and crunching drew closer, as the footsoldiers in their long line tramped further into the forest. “Keep your eyes
skinned
!” roared Arc. “Search!”

Then like an awful tidal wave, the stamping engulfed them, surrounded them. A stave slashed at the bush they were hidden in, inches from Raff's face; branches bucked and cracked behind them. Quainy had her eyes squeezed shut; she was trembling wildly. Kita took hold of her hand.

This was the end, it was coming
. Poor brave Raff would be cut down as he tried to defend them – Quainy would be seized – and as for
her. . .

Then, unbelievably, the noise lessened, withdrew, as the footsoldiers passed on. Huge eyed, motionless, Raff put a finger to his lips, and the three stayed as still as they could, the girls gripping each other to earth their shaking.

Minutes passed, drawn out and dreadful. Then, from deep in the forest, another yelled order. “
Turn around!
Retrace your steps! Cover the ground again!
I want her found!
”

“
No
,” moaned Quainy, as once again the army swarmed towards them, crashed all round them.
This time they'll get us
, thought Kita, desperately.
This time
. . .

Quainy had collapsed; Kita propped her against her side. Raff crouched, gripping the knife, coiled to spring, trembling visibly now too.

The thick bushes shook to their roots as the army swept on to them, slashing, probing, stamping. . .

. . .and went on past.

The three waited, hardly daring to hope. The horrible tramping withdrew, the leaves settled, the ground stopped shaking.

The terror somehow felt worse now it was over – now they could let themselves feel again. Kita crumpled to the ground with Quainy, and Raff slid down too and put his arms round both girls, and the three of them hugged and sobbed and waited to recover.

Rabbits who've escaped a fox, Kita thought – they must feel like this in their burrows. Weak, waiting for the terror to abate, waiting to come back to life again.

After a few minutes, Raff sat back on his heels and exhaled, long and low. “They're well away now,” he said. “Running hard.”

“But going in the same direction as us,” muttered Kita.

“Far into the wastelands. Far further than when they looked for the horsemen brides.”

“And found the witch.”

“They'll be lucky to get back to the hill fort before nightfall, searching as far as this.”

“Arc won't care if the moon's bright.”

“Should we stay here?” breathed Quainy. “Hidden? At least until they've got a lot further away from us.”

“No,” said Kita. “We can't waste the daylight, and we need to find water. I think we need to go deep into the forest, deeper than the footsoldiers would go – then make our way south again.”

“Deeper in,” shuddered Quainy. “Nearer those howling dogs.”

“I know,” said Raff. “But I don't think we've got a choice. You heard Arc. He won't give up.
I want her found
.”

“Except I don't think he meant me,” murmured Quainy.

Abruptly, Kita scrambled to her feet. “Come on,” she said. “Get going.”

Water, water, water. The silent, yearning pulse in all three of them. The terror they'd experienced had made their thirst far worse. But there was no point in talking about it.

Kita made them walk steadily into the forest, much further than Arc and his men had penetrated. The forest changed. It grew darker, denser, older, more ominous. It was hard going, much slower than walking on the outskirts. They trudged through tangled undergrowth and drifts of decaying leaves, and ducked under branches. Strange vines coiled in the trees above their heads like huge snakes.

Then, at last, Kita said, “OK. That's far enough. Now we head south.”

She was still navigating by the sun, but it was growing gloomier by the minute. They didn't stop to rest, just gagged down a few dried berries for energy as they walked. They seemed to be going downhill now, and the ground beneath their feet got harder, stonier. Kita stumbled like a sleepwalker. Hope had left her and she was weighed down by the knowledge that she'd failed her friends. Muzzily, she thought they'd probably die soon, die of thirst. She thought maybe they should turn back, give themselves up, to prevent this, but she was unable to act on that thought or make any change to just walking, walking.

But then she became dimly aware that something had changed; something in the heavy, muted noise of the forest was different. She slowed, listening. Quainy drew up close behind her, saying, “You all right?”

“Shhhh,” warned Kita.

“Oh, no – what can you hear, what—”

“
Shhhh!
”

Raff had stopped too, and all three listened intently. Then Kita gave a little wail and rushed forward, hurtling on through the undergrowth that grew thicker, lusher, the others following, and soon the noise they were making wasn't enough to drown out the gurgling, trickling, beautiful sound of water flowing. . .

Kita pushed her way through thick ferns, and stopped. She was staring at a little spring. It forced its silvery way up past several smooth, worn boulders, then flowed down a pebbly track to pool under a great, overhanging tree.

Without a word, they threw themselves down flat, side by side, and pushed their faces into the stream. Then they lapped, like animals, laughing and spluttering with pleasure, drinking, drinking. Kita felt as though every molecule in her body had been shrivelled and shrunk and now they were all swelling and flexing, coming back to life. When she'd drunk so much her stomach felt like a drum, she rolled on to her back and said, “Why don't we stay the night here? We're knackered. And it's nearly dark.”

“Oh, yes,” breathed Quainy. “I was thinking the same but I didn't want to sound soft if I suggested it. Oh,
yes
– we can wake up and have another long drink before we set off. . .”

But Raff was pointing towards the pool, and the mud surrounding it. “Animal tracks,” he said. “Look – paw prints. Dogs.”

They got to their feet, and examined the mud. “There's bird prints here too,” Kita said. “And rabbits. Maybe there's a truce when they all come to drink.”

“We don't have to sleep right by the water,” said Quainy. “Just near enough to drink when we want to.”

“I'll make a fire,” said Raff, decisively. “That'll scare any dogs away.”

“And signal to Arc where we are!”

“He's well gone, Kita. And we're so far in now – a little fire won't show through this dense forest.”

“What about the smoke?”

“It's dusk, it's misty . . . by the time the smoke's made its way out through the tree canopy, you'll hardly see it.”

There was a pause, then Kita grinned. “Looks like we all agree,” she said. “Let's camp for the night!”

Raff, grinning too, moved away from the stream, the girls following. “Here's good,” he said, kicking away moss and leaves from a level stretch of ground. He found a flat piece of wood and placed it in the middle, then made a nick in it with his knife. Then he pulled his fire-making kit from his belt, looped the wool string on the little bow round the straight stick, and set the stick upright in the nick on the wood. He palmed the stone, fitting it on top of the stick.

“OK,” he said. “Pull up some of that dried grass, there. When you see smoke at the base – feed the heat.”

He began to saw the little bow back and forth rapidly, and the stick wedged between the wood and the stone whirred.

Quainy raised her eyebrows at Kita, and they smiled. They weren't at all sure that this would work but it was enough that Raff was animated and happy, like he'd been years ago, before the bullying had crushed him. He was unfolding – stretching out again. He sawed furiously and the stick whirred.

Then there was a smell of charred wood, and a wisp of smoke rose. Hastily, Quainy dropped a few strands of dead grass on to it. Raff blew on it, and the tiny burst of flame that followed made them all cheer, then
shhhhh
each other, laughing. Quainy added more grass, and soon there was a bright blaze. Raff stowed his fire-kit away, saying, “Get some twigs – dry as you can. And wood. This fire is officially alight!”

“Well done, Raff,” breathed Kita, pushing twigs into the flames. “First you protect us from the footsoldiers, then you create fire!”

“Protect? I was cowering!”

“You had the knife drawn. I saw it. You were ready to fight!” cried Quainy. Then she reached her arm round his neck, and pressed a kiss on to his cheek.

Raff, blushing, scrambled to his feet. “I'll get more wood,” he muttered. “Keep the fire fed, won't you.” And he disappeared into the low-branched trees.

“I think you scared him off, Quainy,” said Kita. “Grabbing him like that!” But she was thinking,
he's never fazed when I get hold of him
. She wasn't sure what she felt about that.

Raff was gone for quite a while. “What's he up to?” murmured Quainy, nervously. “There's plenty of wood right nearby. You don't think he's got lost, do you?”

“No. Maybe he needed to take a dump.”

“Charming,” said Quainy, but she seemed consoled.

A few minutes later, Raff appeared, and practically swaggered up to the fire. Three pink, raw-looking shapes swung from his left hand.

Quainy gasped. “Are those—”

“Rabbits,” said Raff, proudly. “They'd come to drink on the other side of the stream, further up. I lay in wait and grabbed 'em.”

“They're very small,” said Kita.

“They're young. That's how I could catch them. I skinned and gutted them over there so the smell of blood wouldn't be near our camp. And so you two could bear to eat them. They did look very sweet. Before they died.”

“Monster!” cried Quainy, as Raff, laughing, found a long stick, spitted the three little corpses, and propped them over the fire on some stones.

As they lay back on their sheepskins on the soft, earthy forest floor and relaxed, firelight flickering across their faces, it seemed incredible that only twenty-four hours ago they'd been at the start of their escape. They felt good – victorious. They'd eluded Arc and they'd drunk as much water as they could hold and they'd staved off hunger with a piece of grain cake each. The dull food had tasted better with the smell of roasting rabbit in the air – with the promise of that to come. Quainy had collected two large handfuls of watercress from further down the stream; its fresh peppery taste would be perfect with the meat. It was going to be a proper meal, and then a proper long sleep, and then tomorrow, recharged, they'd forge on.

Kita rolled on to her side, and sighed contentedly, full of affection for her two friends. Pride and pleasure were filling her once more. “I need to pee again,” she said. “It feels wonderful. A few hours ago I seriously thought I'd never pee again.”

*

The roast rabbit was tender and delicious. They sat round the fire cloaked in their sheepskins and ate as slowly as they could, savouring it, interspersing meat with watercress. Then they gnawed at the bones. Raff was letting the fire die down – they'd be asleep soon.

“Wonder if you'll dream again tonight, Kita,” he murmured. “That was such a useful dream.”

Kita shifted uncomfortably. She hadn't thought about her dream since they'd drunk from the dew lilies – about the weirdness of it spilling into her waking world.

“Do you think . . . do you think Nada contacted you?” whispered Quainy. “From the dead?”

“I don't know,” muttered Kita. “I just know, when I saw that log, the ivy-covered one – I knew it was the one in my dream. I can't explain it.”

“Maybe it wasn't a dream,” said Raff, and he opened his hand. Lying on his palm, gleaming palely in the firelight, was a tuft of sheep's wool. “I found this caught on a thorn,” he said. “By the dew lilies.”

“So?” said Kita. “We were all wearing our sheepskins, remember?”

“Yes, but I found this when we first arrived. On a thorn none of us had been near.” He paused, then went on. “By four or five lilies crushed on the ground – already drunk from.”

There was a silence. “You're scaring me,” mumbled Quainy. “Why didn't you say anything at the time?”

“I don't know. All that mattered was to drink. And it . . . it disturbed me. It was too much like—”

“Witchcraft,” croaked Quainy.

“Maybe I sleepwalked,” said Kita, indignantly. She felt suddenly, weirdly, as though her friends were ganging up on her. “I dreamed about meeting Nada, and I sleepwalked, and just happened to find the lilies . . . reality and my dream were all mixed up.”

“Or Nada came to you,” said Quainy. “From the dead.”

“Is there more you can tell us, Kita?” Raff asked, quietly. “About what happened?”

“No!” cried Kita. “Nothing! Why are you asking? Stop looking at me like that! Like you doubt me, like you're . . . like you're
afraid
of me. . .” She broke off. Quainy was no longer looking at her but beyond her, and her face showed absolute terror.

Kita spun round.

From the dark shadows of the forest, five pairs of eyes glinted.