Furnaces of Forge (The Land's Tale) (13 page)

‘Thank you, Wave. I think I’ll walk down to Leaf’s camp. I’ll get some things for her. She’ll need them when she wakes,’ said Crimson.

Wave nodded. ‘She’d like that.’ He hesitated. Crimson saw the terrible sadness in his face and the silent plea in his eyes. ‘She will wake . . . won’t she, Crimson? Leaf will be OK?’

‘Of course she will,’ Crimson replied. ‘I promise.’

Wave smiled gratefully and Crimson turned and started to walk down the hill.

‘Crimson!’

She stopped and looked back.

‘I don’t know what could have frightened Leaf, if something did. This is Muddlemarsh. I don’t think any Muddle has ever been frightened here. I never have. Not before. But, yeah, I am now. You know, in case Leaf . . .’ Wave slowly turned and walked away. Crimson watched until he had disappeared among the leaves and shadows of his young trees.

≈

Before heading to Leaf’s camp, Crimson stopped at the fire station and asked Calamity if she would like to come with her. Calamity didn’t need to be asked twice. A nice stroll in the woods with Crimson sounded like just the thing.

The pair walked along the road to Beadledom. A short distance from Home the road crossed a small stream. As they went over the bridge, Nanny’s goat bleated hello, then continued her pursuit of dragonflies and dandelion wisps. Not far from the bridge they left the road and headed along a path north through the woods and to the meadow.

Like all the other Muddles, Calamity felt subdued by Leaf’s accident. Usually when she was out with Crimson, the puppy liked to talk, keeping up a pleasant, companionable yapping. Today, however, she remained silent.

They emerged from the trees into the meadow. Neither could resist a glance to their left at the cliff from which Leaf had fallen, and at the rocks where she had lain.

Almost halfway across the meadow, Calamity stopped. She raised her nose into the wind. She sniffed, then began running in circles round Crimson. After several circuits, she ran back to Crimson.

‘There’s a strange scent,’ she barked. ‘It’s faint, but I’m sure it’s an animal.’

The people of Myrmidia and Beadledom tended not to have a lot to do with the Muddles. They thought Muddles were unpredictable, unreliable and altogether rather odd. Until then, Crimson had never really given it much thought, but perhaps the animals of Myrmidia and Beadledom felt the same way about the animals of Muddlemarsh, for very few ever strayed into Muddlemarsh. Though, she thought, if this was the scent of an ordinary animal, why didn’t Calamity recognise it? It was another odd piece for Crimson to add to the puzzle.

Crossing the meadow they entered more woodland. A small path took them further into the trees until they came to the small clearing where Leaf had pitched her tent. Through the trees on the far side, Crimson could see sparkling flashes of light as the sun frolicked on the water of the lake. A small, unhurried brook washed over round, grey stones to the west, and eastward, towards Beadledom, the grassy floor of the valley rose into gentle hills.

This was one of Leaf’s favourite places and she had made it a beautiful and happy place to be. Muddles would wander here to say hello to the scout and sit in the green, leafy shade, listening to birdsong and the laughter of the breeze in the trees.

On this day, there was no joy for Crimson as she stood at the edge of the clearing and gazed at the camp. The call of the birds was subdued and the breeze was a hushed sigh. Leaf’s tent, brightly decorated with slogans, flowers, birds and butterflies, looked lonely. The folding table in front of the tent, with Leaf’s hair brushes and cosmetics, ribbons and mirrors, all neatly arranged, seemed out of place without the exuberant young scout sitting at it.

Crimson stepped into the camp. The sensations she had suppressed, the wordless whispers which both beckoned and warned her, surged inside her. The camp felt wrong, though Crimson was unable to pinpoint what was amiss.

It took her only a few minutes to put some things into a small bag for Leaf: smake-up, clothes, a bottle of Leaf’s favourite perfume and a book. When she emerged from the tent, she found Calamity sitting in the middle of the camp, deep in thought.

‘What is it?’ Crimson asked.

‘I’m just trying to work out what that scent is I can smell. It’s stronger here. But I’m not sure what it is. It’s familiar but strange. I nearly had it. It’s right on the tip of my nose.’

‘You’ll think of it, Calamity. Come on. Let’s get these things back to Home for Leaf,’ said Crimson.

From the north came a sound, faint and unclear. Crimson and Calamity stopped to listen. Again it came, drifting across the lake, almost too low for Crimson to be sure she’d heard it at all, but Calamity’s ears were sharper and the puppy had no doubt. She cocked her head and looked at Crimson.

‘There’s another smell. Two horses,’ barked Calamity. ‘But they’re not Muddles.’

There are few horses in Muddlemarsh – indeed, few in the Land. It would have been very unusual for one, let alone two, horses from Beadledom or Myrmidia to be wandering in Muddlemarsh. There were too many questions to just walk away.

‘Shall we see if we can find them?’ Crimson asked.

‘If?’ yelped Calamity indignantly. ‘If?’

Crimson smiled and gave Calamity a scratch. ‘Let’s go then, Sniff,’ she joked.

Nose to the ground, the puppy led the way. The horses had travelled round the west side of the lake, and then continued north towards the dense wood at the foot of the High Mountains. Crimson became more convinced they were doing the right thing when Calamity confirmed that whatever animal it was with the other strange scent seemed to be travelling in the same direction as the horses. Occasionally, the unfamiliar scent went off in a different direction, but before long, they all came together again.

It was Crimson who spotted the smoke, a thin wisp of grey spiralling into the sky about half a kilometre ahead.

‘That’s smoke from a camp fire, Calamity,’ she said. ‘I don’t know of many horses that can make camp fires. Let’s take a look.’

Moving quietly through the trees, they came within sight of an unremarkable camp, nestled in a cluster of boulders at the base of a small hill. In front of an igloo-shaped tent burned the small fire, and over it, suspended from a simple frame, hung a cast-iron pot. What was remarkable, though, was the hunched figure sitting on a log away from the fire.

‘Kevin!’ Crimson whispered in surprise at the sight of the Beadle. ‘I wonder what he’s doing here? And where are the horses we heard?’

‘Let’s ask him,’ said Calamity and she bounded into the camp, barking a greeting.

At the sound of the puppy, Kevin jerked upright. Crimson, about to call out a greeting of her own, stopped in shock.

Kevin’s hands and feet were tied and he was leashed securely to the log.

‘Crimson!’ he called. Relief showed on his face. ‘Calamity! By the clouds! How did you find me?’

Calamity scampered to Kevin and began gnawing at the rope securing him to the log.

‘Let’s get you free first,’ said Crimson. ‘Do you know if there is a knife somewhere?’ Crimson asked.

‘In the leather bag near the fire,’ he replied.

It wasn’t a bag but a piece of leather rolled up and held together with a piece of string. Crimson untied it and spread it on the ground. It had pockets of different shapes and sizes and in the pockets were knives and eating utensils. She took a small sharp knife and hurried back to Kevin. It took only a few seconds to slice the ropes round his hands and feet.

Kevin rubbed his wrists and ankles. ‘How did you find me?’ he asked again. Calamity was still gnawing at the rope that tethered him to the log. Kevin untied it from his waist, leaving Calamity holding it between her teeth.

‘We weren’t looking for you, Kevin. We were following a strange scent Calamity picked up back at the meadow. What happened?’

‘Horses,’ barked Calamity. Kevin looked at the puppy, then at Crimson, a question in his eyes.

‘Horses,’ said Crimson.

Kevin nodded. ‘They have two,’ he said. ‘Look, Crimson, we have to get away from here as fast as we can. They’ll be back soon. We have to hurry.’ He looked around anxiously.

‘OK, we’ll go, But just tell me: who are they? And what do they want?’

Kevin’s eyes scanned the trees and the hills. ‘They’re from The Place. They’ve come to take me back!’

Crimson didn’t know what to make of his reply. Why would they come all this way for Kevin? There was no time to think about it now though.

‘Which way did they go? We don’t want to run into them. I’m sure I can’t outrun a horse.’

Kevin pointed in the direction from which Crimson and Calamity had just come. ‘I’m sure they went that way, towards the meadow.’ He paused and fear paled his face. ‘It’s not the horses you have to worry about, Crimson,’ he said. ‘It’s the hounds.’

‘Hounds?’

‘Spoorhounds. Big savage dogs.’

Calamity’s blood was up. ‘Bring ’em on,’ she barked.

‘How many, Kevin?’ Crimson asked.

‘Four. That’s all I saw.’

Crimson made a quick decision. ‘We won’t go back through the meadow. If we go that way,’ she pointed west, towards the woods and hills, ‘we’ll come out above the plantation, near the road to Bourne Bridge. It will be a bit slower but I’d rather not run into whoever kidnapped you, or their dogs. We should make the road in a couple of hours and from there it’s only a couple more to Home.’

Kevin looked at the sky. ‘It’ll be dark in a couple of hours,’ he said.

Crimson nodded. ‘Then let’s get moving!’

They turned towards the afternoon sun and headed for Home. Through the dense wood they ran, listening all the while for sounds of pursuit. When they came to the stream that flowed from the Salvation River far to the north, they plunged in without hesitation and waded across. Their pace slowed, burdened as they were by their waterlogged clothes. Kevin, smaller and rounder than Crimson, began to falter. He knew he was holding Crimson back, yet she never moved too far ahead, running just in front of him, finding the easiest way through the trees and rocks.

Gradually, the floor of the valley rose to become its wall. It wasn’t steep, rising gently into the hills, but it was enough to test Kevin’s strength. He found breathing hard and could feel the rhythmic pounding of his blood in his head. He fixed his eyes on the ground in front of him and willed his legs to keep moving.

Crimson saw Kevin flagging. ‘We’re nearly at the top, Kevin,’ she encouraged him. ‘When we get there, we’ll stop for a few minutes. It’s not far to the road after that.’

Kevin couldn’t answer. His mind urged his body onward. He feared being taken back. He feared leaving the Land and the happy life he now had.

‘Almost there,’ he heard Crimson say.

‘Almost there,’ he repeated to himself over and over.

Kevin stumbled as the ground levelled beneath his feet. He felt Crimson’s hand on his arm and through the fog of concentration he heard her say, ‘Let’s rest, Kevin.’ His mind freed his legs and he slumped to the ground.

They had arrived at the top of the hill. The woods thinned ahead of them as the land sloped down to the west. To their left, the trees gave way to fern and bracken. Crimson knew that the edge of the coffee plantation lay not far beyond. To their right, a rocky outcrop jutted from the ground.

Crimson looked back in the direction they had come. In the dim light of dusk it was difficult to see but, in the distance, she could make out the faint twist of smoke from the camp. She scanned the meadow and the woods surrounding the lake but there was no sign of anybody. She sat, legs bent, her arms wrapped round her knees, and caught her breath.

‘What made you follow the scent of the horses?’ Kevin was finally able to ask.

While they sat, Crimson told him about Leaf’s accident. Kevin’s face, still tinged pink from his efforts, began to shed all trace of colour as he listened. When he heard that Leaf’s camp was not too distant from where he’d been held prisoner, a thought took shape.

‘You don’t think that the two who kidnapped me had anything to do with Leaf’s accident, do you?’ he asked.

‘That had occurred to me, Kevin. It’s possible. You still haven’t told me what happened to you. When did they kidnap you?’

‘Two days ago. It took a full day to ride back from Mint.’ Kevin grimaced. ‘That was a very unpleasant experience. A full day on my stomach, thrown over the back of a horse.’

‘That was the day after Leaf’s accident,’ said Crimson. ‘Maybe they did have something to do with it. Maybe Leaf was trying to climb the cliff to get away from them. But why?’ Crimson stood up. ‘Well, I don’t intend to wait here until they catch up with us so I can ask them. Are you ready to keep going?’

Kevin hauled himself on to his feet. ‘I don’t suppose it’s downhill from here, is it? I don’t fancy running up any more –’

His words were cut short by a warning bark from Calamity. The puppy faced the trees. Her ears were back and she emitted a long, continuous growl.

Four hounds stepped out of the woods; enormous, brown, shaggy hounds with snarling jaws. Their teeth and eyes shone starkly in the evening gloom. All four came forward, heads held low and eyes fixed on the Muddle pup. Calamity stood her ground. She lowered her front legs and raised her rear haunches, ready to spring at the menacing dogs.

‘Calamity!’ Crimson screamed. ‘No! Don’t!’

Calamity ignored Crimson. Her eyes were fixed on the dogs before her and her body tensed. The spoorhounds took another step forward.

‘Stand.’ A woman’s voice, calm but hard, came from the woods behind the dogs.

The hounds continued to snarl and menace, but all four did as they were commanded.

Through the trees came Edith and Hazlitt. Edith sat astride a red chestnut horse and Hazlitt rode a sleek bay. Edith reined in her horse just behind the dogs. Her eyes, full of arrogance and disdain, swept over Kevin, Crimson and Calamity, who was barking at theem to stay back. Then she skewered Kevin with her gaze.

‘Well, Kevin, here you are. We missed you,’ she said with cold sarcasm. She kicked her horse forward. The row of hounds parted to let her through and stood, two on either side of her. She shifted her gaze to Crimson. ‘If you want that pretty dog of yours to stay cute, then you’d be well advised to make her stop yapping.’