Back To The Divide (13 page)

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"Remember, a vamprey's a shadow-beast," said Thornbeak. "Ordinary spells don't work on them."

"I
need
that snail," said Felix desperately. "What am I going to do?"

Thornbeak and Ironclaw looked at each other.

"Someone's going to have to enter the vampreys roost-cave, aren't they," said Betony, "and get it back."

Ironclaw sighed. "I suppose it'll have to be me, won't it? Brazzles are meant to be immune to vamprey bites; something to do with our feathers. I've never put it to the test, mind you." Being heroic seemed to be an ongoing requirement rather than a one-time event, which was depressing.

"We'll do it in daylight," said Thornbeak, with an uncharacteristically fond glance in Ironclaw's direction. "No sense in taking unnecessary risks. I'll fly up high just before daybreak -- then I'll be able to see them streaming back to their roost like smoke, and we'll know where to find them."

Felix and Betony curled up under Thornbeak's protective wing and went to sleep.

Early the next morning Thornbeak circled above the forest, using her magnifying vision to scan the trees below. There was a pale streak of pink in the sky to the east -- dawn was imminent, and she didn't have long. A sunrise-bird started to sing somewhere, then another and another. She clenched her talons with impatience and widened her search. The sky was getting lighter all the time. Suddenly, all the birds fell

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silent. A grainy shadow was crossing the canopy, dividing and reuniting like a school of fish. That's them, thought Thornbeak, and she hovered above them, watching. The leading edge of the smudge sharpened to a point. Then the whole shadow changed shape like a leech, squeezed itself through what was presumably a crack in a rock face, and disappeared.

Thornbeak spiraled down, so that she could memorize a few landmarks. A skeleton tree, victim of some thunderstorm; a great gray crag, crisscrossed with fissures; a pool, its surface still and dark and oddly menacing. It wasn't a cheerful sort of place. She landed in front of the rock face and surveyed it.

The vampreys' entrance crevice was clear enough, from all the droppings fanning out beneath it. That was the good news. The bad news was that it was far too narrow for a brazzle to negotiate. She went over to it and peered through the chink into the gloom, hoping she would be able to see another exit. It was too dark to see anything much, although she could hear the rustle of leathery wings as the creatures settled themselves on their roosts to sleep away the daylight. There couldn't be another exit, there wasn't enough light.

A rush of air made her jump, as a straggler tried to skim past her and make it home. She caught a glimpse of its vicious little face: Snakeweed on a bad day, but with red eyes instead of green. She snapped at it, but it was too fast for her, and it slithered through the crack with a triumphant squeak.

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Thornbeak took off and flew back to the camp with a heavy heart. It was too narrow. One of the youngsters was going to have to venture inside; she could donate a feather or two, which would help, but plucked feathers wouldn't be as powerful as ones that were still attached to their owner. In the end it was going to depend on the strength of mind of whoever accepted the challenge.

Betony immediately assumed that
she
would be the one who would have to retrieve the snail. Felix had been so ill the previous year that she was used to taking charge. "Right," she said, "I'll tuck the brazzle feathers into my cap, so I'm protected from above, and --"

"Hold on a minute," said Felix. "This is
my
problem."

Betony stared at him.

"The snail was
my
responsibility."

"But ..."

"Not only that," Felix went on, "but you have a lifetime's dread of vampreys -- I don't. I'm far more likely to be able to laugh at them than you are."

"You'll be saying that boys don't cry next."

"No I won't. I don't think crying's a sign of weakness, as it happens. It shows that you
feel
things. I've done plenty of crying in my time -- let's face it, I had plenty of reason to -- and I'm not ashamed of it. But I do think I stand a better chance of fighting back the tears this time than you do."

"He's right, Betony," said Thornbeak. "I think we'd better have breakfast. I want the sun high in the sky before we

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attempt this -- vampreys won't come out in daylight, so they won't pursue him."

Betony wasn't quite sure how she felt about all this. She skewered some mushrooms on a stick and held them over the fire, watching them darken and shrivel. On the one hand she was relieved; the prospect of entering a cave full of vampreys was very scary. But on the other hand she had her pride to consider and the wonderful story that would now be Felix's, not hers. A smell of burning interrupted her thoughts, and she had to throw the mushrooms away and start on another lot.

Thornbeak gave Felix two of her feathers, so Ironclaw gave him four. Felix smiled to himself; Ironclaw just couldn't help being competitive. He made a makeshift mask by sticking them in his cap, and Betony handed him a skewerful of mushrooms. He'd forgotten how good they were -- deliciously creamy with a hint of paprika and lemon. He followed this with a drink of water from a nearby stream; then he washed his face and hands and fastened his backpack.

Ironclaw fluffed out his feathers, glanced at the sky, and announced, "Well. We can't just sit in our droppings all day. Let's go."

They took off. They hadn't been in the air for very long before Thornbeak called out, "That's the tree ... and there's the cliff!" She started to descend.

It seemed to get colder the lower they got, which didn't make sense. When they landed by the cave the sun had gone in, and everything looked drab and depressing.

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Betony glanced at the pond and shivered. The water was dark, too dark; it looked very deep. There were no plants growing on the banks, but there were a lot of bones scattered around. She didn't look at them too closely.

"OK," said Felix. "No point hanging around."

"What's wrong with you if your nose runs and your feet smell?" asked Betony.

Felix looked blank.

"You're built upside down!"

Felix burst out laughing -- more from Betony's attempt to protect him than from the joke itself. Then, while the smile was still on his face, he slipped through the crack in the rock.

There were tiny red lights dotted all over the cave's ceiling. For a moment it just seemed bizarre; then a couple of them moved, and he realized they were eyes. He switched on his flashlight. A vamprey was hanging upside down on the rock wall just above his head, watching him, its claws hooked over a tiny ledge. It opened its mouth and snarled, but as it was upside down the snarl looked more like a grin. Felix grinned back, and the vamprey seemed to lose interest in him.

OK, thought Felix, I can handle this. He swept the beam around the cave and was amazed to see piles and piles of junk on the floor, spattered with filth. At least, it looked like junk at first glance. Broken pottery, a dented chalice, a bent arrow. A rusty spoon, a chipped crucible, a tangle-cap ... He shuddered, and the vamprey on the wall turned its head toward

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him. He forced his mouth back into a smile, and the vamprey turned away again. He started to pick his way through the bits and pieces, noting that not everything was junk. A nugget of gold, a silver necklace, a copper brooch ... It was going to take forever to find one tiny matchbox. The place stank; the dirt was a century's worth of vamprey droppings, some old and dry, some black and tarry and smelling pun-gently of ammonia. He took a tissue out of his pocket and fashioned it into a mask by making holes in it and threading a bit of string through it. If he breathed in too much of the stuff he might start sneezing, and his eyes would water.

Another chalice, a belt studded with bronze stars, a little book ... He picked it up. It was an instruction manual for something called a storm-oracle. He let it drop. A splintered wooden sheath for a scythe, a shoe, something that resembled a miniature crystal ball with a brass band around the middle. There was some lettering on it, although most of it had worn away. A, c, L, E ... The last part of the word
oracle,
maybe? He put it in his pocket and went back for the booklet. He could study it later; anything involving magical theory would be interesting.

A jade bracelet, a leather strap that looked like part of a cuddyak bridle, yet another chalice ... a matchbox. He heaved a sigh of relief and bent down. It was empty.

The vampreys overhead began to stir, their leathery wings rustling like dry leaves.

[Image: A jade bracelet.]

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A small shower of the disgusting black droppings rained down, and Felix wiped them off as best he could and put the matchbox in his pocket. It's just a setback, he said to himself, nothing more, don't get upset about it. If the matchbox is here it's almost certain that the snail is, too. With the mask on the vampreys could no longer see whether he was smiling, so he made himself laugh out loud. The laugh sounded hollow and insincere.

Not insincere enough, however. He saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and swung the beam of the flashlight toward it, his heart suddenly beating a lot faster. A big black dog stepped out of the shadows at the far end of the cave. It couldn't be a dog, of course -- it had to be a worrit. He had another shadow-beast to deal with, one that would try to make him laugh himself to death.

Checkmate, thought Felix. If I laugh, the worrit will get me. If I cry, the vampreys will.

The worrit looked even sillier than the one he'd seen the previous year. It had the mismatched eyes -- one yellow, one green, but its black fur was decorated with polka dots, and the hair on its head was arranged in lots of crazy little braids that stuck out at right angles. It was wearing a ruff around its neck, which kept springing out of position and tickling its nose. To counteract this, the worrit blew at it every so often. Felix felt the giggles start to rise within him, and the ominous rustling of the vampreys died away again.

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Felix suddenly remembered the way the riddle-paw had dealt with a worrit. What had the book said?
She told him jokes until he laughed himself to death.

"Hi," said the worrit.

"Not particularly," he countered. "In fact, I'd say meeting you was the low point of the day so far." The worrit hesitated.

Felix ripped off his makeshift mask, stuck out his tongue, spread his hands palm-forward on either side of his ears, and wiggled his fingers. "What's this?" he asked.

"A vamprey with indigestion?"

Felix had to struggle not to double up with laughter, for that was probably exactly what he
did
look like. He started to back away toward the cave entrance. He couldn't win here; the best thing was just to get out. The worrit took a couple of steps forward, tripped over its own feet, and fell down. When it got up, it had a diamond bracelet hanging over one ear.

Felix fought to control himself. Then he said, "Where can you find a lot more diamonds than that?"

The worrit's furry black eyebrows drew together in an expression of consternation.

"In a pack of cards," said Felix. Only a few more steps to go, now. Then he realized that the worrit didn't have the faintest idea what a pack of cards
was.
It started to do a dance that Felix remembered was called the star squirm. He mustn't laugh, mustn't laugh. He dug his nails into the

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palm of his hand, but he did it so forcibly that the tears sprang to his eyes. A sound like breakers on a beach swelled from above, as the vampreys smelled the salt and prepared to attack. Felix turned and ran. As he sprinted for the exit he saw something small and white on the ground, half-hidden by a dagger. It was the snail. He let his sleeve drop down over his hand, bent low midstride, knocked the dagger out of the way, and seized hold of the snail. There was a sudden rush of wings, but the brazzle feathers in his cap acted like a force field around his head. The vampreys would have to find another area of unprotected skin, and they flittered around him, confused. Then he was squeezing himself through the gap, and the air outside was sweet and clean and his friends were waiting for him.

"Did you get it?" asked Betony before he'd even had time to catch his breath.

Felix held up the snail to show her. He felt perfectly all right, he wasn't turning to marble, his sleeve had protected him. Everything had worked out OK.

"You're bleeding," said Betony, pointing to Felix's hand. She looked far more upset about it than was strictly necessary.

Thornbeak stiffened. "Let me see," she said.

Felix put the snail back in the matchbox, rolled up his sleeve, and looked at his hand in astonishment. The blood had trickled down his wrist, warm and wet and sticky. He hadn't felt anything bite him, but the rush of adrenaline as