The Flame in the Mist (34 page)

“We din’t know. They was stayin’ the week at our cousin Smithy’s, half a day south of us, an’ when Flora an’ the boys disappeared, well, Abe Smithy, he’s only four, an’ thought it was a game.… Din’t tell his folks till the end of the day. Soon as they realized, Uncle Smithy tried to come to us, but the Mist kept at him, he was that angered—”

“Oh, Dig …” Jemma took his hands and squeezed them, her heart breaking for him.

“Took him more’n two days to reach us. Two days! By then our little ’uns had been gone more’n three. Pa an’ me, we went straight up to the castle, an’ saw ’em, Flora, Tiny, an’ Simon, in the dungeons … it was awful, awful! Couldn’t unlock ’em, Drudge don’t have the keys no more, see—Nocturna took ’em, he said—so we said we’d go an’ talk to the Agromonds, bargain with ’em, tell ’em we won’t deliver to ’em no more, but Drudge, he talked us out of it, said it wouldn’t do no good,
they wouldn’t care, an’ would only kill us too. He kep’ sayin’ your name,
Jmaaagh, Jmaaagh
, you know, the way he does,
get Jmaaagh
.” Digby was trembling. “Said you was our only hope. I been riding all night … I hate to ask you, Jem, after what you been through, only I din’t see what else … an’ Ma n’ Pa, they begged me. Please—”

“Dig, of course I’ll come!”

Lumo and Sapphire stepped up beside them.

“We were already preparing our journey, Digby,” Lumo said.

“But Lumo,” Sapphire said, the blue washing almost entirely from her eyes, “if the Agromonds took the triplets five days ago, then …”

“Then we must leave now,” he said, “since there are just two days left to save them.”

The rescue party was soon ready. Pedrus had saddled another pony for Digby—his own was exhausted—while Bethany, Moll, and their mother had hastily packed sandwiches and flasks of mauve tea. Talon had given Jemma a woolen nightcap—it was a good disguise, she said; she couldn’t see a single strand of red poking from it—and Pedrus lent her his saddlebags for Noodle and Pie, who settled in with the book, cloak, and crystals. At the last moment, Bethany thrust a shiny golden coin into Jemma’s trouser pocket. “I blessed it at your homecoming fire,” she said. “You never know, it might come in handy.”

Jemma, her parents, Digby, Marsh, and the rats rode out of Oakstead on the stroke of ten.

They cantered along in silence, Marsh leading the way,
with Digby and Jemma close behind her, and Lumo and Sapphire bringing up the rear. The sun became hazier with each mile as the Mist thickened, and the morning air grew chilly and damp. Jemma pulled her cloak from the saddlebags and managed to wrap it around her, glad she’d thought of bringing it. She patted the Stone around her neck for extra reassurance.

Digby rode just ahead of her on Steadfast. How must he be feeling? Surely he must hate the Agromonds, so why didn’t the Mist attack him? Poor Flora, Tiny, and Simon! The desire for revenge flared in her. Instantly, something that felt like an icy hand slapped her face, almost knocking her from the saddle.
The Mist is so quick to read me
, she thought. She reeled in her feelings and kept her eyes fixed over Grayboy’s ears, until her mind and the white view ahead became one.

Soon they passed the point where she and Digby had been ambushed. Jemma’s heartbeat quickened, rousing her from the rhythm of Grayboy’s hooves. Noodle and Pie were restless in her pockets.

“What is it, Rattusses? You feel something too?” She looked around, alert to any sign of suspicious-looking strangers. But there were only rocks and heather.

Then came a scream, and a thud behind her.

“Lumo, Ida! Help!” Sapphire gasped. “No—stop!”

Jemma turned. Her mother was writhing on the grass, clutching her head. Her pony stomped the ground several feet away, snorting, its ears flat on its head.

“Never, never!” Sapphire screamed, lashing out at thin air. “Not my daughter, you won’t—oh, merrily doth the skylark water on the garthmfflick!”

“Mother!” Jemma leapt off Grayboy.

“Jemma, stay!” Lumo was off his horse, running toward Sapphire. At the same moment, he and Jemma slammed into an invisible shield.

“Sapphire!” yelled Marsh. “Counter—use the Light!”

But Sapphire was rolling around singing at the top of her voice: “Jamem​mamem​emma! Ah, the carbonariforous glug glug glu … Wheeeeeorrrrr!”

“Accursed Mist!” yelled Lumo. “Mord take it, it’s— Oh! Folderolay flaflafla flombug!”

Marsh was beside Jemma now, pushing against the shield. Marsh’s words ran through Jemma’s head:
Counter … Blank …
She closed her eyes and thought of the moment she’d first seen Marsh riding out of the Mist to meet her. Warmth flooded her heart; the shield seemed to give a little. She opened her eyes. Marsh was still pushing frantically. Lumo was spinning in circles, slapping his head and muttering gibberish. But Digby was kneeling by Sapphire. Sapphire clung to him, wild-eyed. Gratitude welled up in Jemma and suddenly she too was through the shield and running toward them, as was Marsh. Seconds later, Lumo joined them, looking dissheveled and disoriented.

“Digby! Thank you, my boy,” he said. “Sapphire, speak to me!”

“Oh—oh—” Sapphire sputtered as Digby and Lumo helped her to her feet. “I had the merest thought, the merest flicker of worry about Jemma … then it grew into hatred for them for taking her.… I couldn’t counter, couldn’t blank … Too confused …”

“I, too,” said Lumo, looking pale, “was taken off guard.”

“But how did Digby get through?” Jemma asked. “He must have been thinking of the triplets. Why didn’t it stop him?”

“Actually,” Digby said, “I wasn’t thinkin’ of ’em. I just saw she needed help. That sort of took me over.”

“An’ don’t forget,” Marsh said. “Digby got through when he was lookin’ for you in the forest that night, Jem. P’raps he has some immunity to the Mist from deliverin’ to the castle every week.”

“Digby,” said Lumo. “When you think of your brothers and sister imprisoned at the castle, what is your feeling?”

“I want to help ’em, save ’em. Rips me up, it does.”

“No thought of revenge against the Agromonds?”

“Revenge? I’ll say. There’s times I want to tear ’em limb from limb. But them thoughts is like poison goin’ through me, tanglin’ in my head till it’s a mess an’ muddle, an’ I can’t think straight. I figure that don’t help the triplets none. So I jus’ focus on ’em being home safe, like it’s actually happened, you know? Then anythin’ seems possible.”

“Extraordinary,” Lumo said. “Being able to put aside such anger … Your purity of heart is your best defense, Digby. For all our training, it puts us to shame.”

Jemma walked over to Grayboy and the other horses, and gathered their reins. Clearly her parents would not be able to go on, vulnerable as they still were to the Mist.

“Jem,” Marsh’s voice came from behind her. “Your folks is goin’ to have to turn back.”

“I know.” Jemma clenched her fists and tried to quell the hatred rising in her. She wished the Agromonds were dead.

“Their old wound—all that grief—is a sign the Mist recognizes ’em by—”

“Marsh, I’m not
stupid
!” Jemma wheeled round and raised her hand to hit her.

Marsh grabbed her arm. “It’s the Mist, Jem, not you. Counter it!”

“Let me go!” Jemma struggled to free her arm.

“Counter!”
Marsh held fast, her expression like steel. Jemma closed her eyes and concentrated. Here was her beloved Marsh, who had risked her life to save her, and was risking her life now to help her rescue children she hadn’t even met.… Her fury subsided. Marsh let go of her arm.

“I’m so sorry!” Jemma said. “That was awful.… I just felt a little annoyed with you, then suddenly I was really furious.”

“Don’t mind about me, Jem. But you was thinkin’ thoughts against
them
, weren’t you, jus’ before? You got to remember, the Mist’ll take the smallest bad feelin’ an’ make it bigger. It can make enemies of us ’fore you can say ‘Mother of Majem.’ ”

“I know. It won’t happen again.”

“Let’s hope not. Come on, let’s get back to the others.”

“I see you’ve surmised our decision,” said Sapphire as they approached. She and Lumo hugged Jemma, then Digby gave them each a leg up onto their horses. They looked dissheveled and exhausted.

“Would that we could come with you,” Sapphire said with a sigh, “but we’d only hinder you. We can help you better from out of the Mist. We shall send out Lightlines to you, and, with the whole of Oakstead, hold the vision for your success.”

“Farewell, Jemma,” Lumo said. “Nobody could wish for a finer daughter. Please, hurry back to us as fast as you can.… And Digby, remember my words to you. Ida, your friendship
and love can never be repaid. All of you, we await your safe return: yours, and Digby’s brothers and sister. May Light, and our love, be with you.”

They turned their horses and trotted away. Jemma watched as their silhouettes were swallowed into the Mist.

Jemma’s energy drained. How quickly she had taken her parents’ support for granted! And now, they were gone. She should have anticipated it, should have protected them with a light sphere, should have—

“Jem!” Marsh snapped her fingers. “Counter it, quick, or you’ll be on your knees in no time.”

“Every little thing! I don’t know if I can—”

“You can. You jus’ got to keep up your guard. Look, if your ma hadn’t gone down, you’d still be managin’ all right, hmmm?”

“I suppose.” Jemma looked at Digby, who was holding Steadfast’s reins as he shuffled from foot to foot. She couldn’t let him, or the triplets, down. “All right, then. Let’s go.”

On they rode at a steady canter, Digby leading the way. His face looked more tense by the moment, but every time Jemma felt his anxiety creeping into her nerves, Noodle or Pie nosed out of the saddlebags and nipped her buttocks, reminding her to keep countering and blanking. She didn’t even dare express any sympathy for Digby in case it knotted into anger or thoughts of revenge. Marsh, her expression like a mask, was clearly minding her own advice too, and focusing on shutting out the Mist. It was as though the chilly whiteness had drawn a veil between them all, and the thicker it became, the more their separation increased.

*  *  *

At the Elm River Pass, Digby steered Steadfast off the main track and headed down the steep path leading to the river. They had decided to take the long way around Blackwater that he had found the previous week; it was worth the extra hour it would take to avoid any Agromond followers, and Flashwing, Steadfast, and Grayboy were agile enough to make up the time once they were on flatter ground again.

They pulled up at the water’s edge to eat the packed lunch that Bethany and Moll had prepared. The ground was slushy, and the river rushed by—the result, Digby said, of snow melting farther north. In Hazebury, the waters were even higher than they were here.

Finding a dry patch of moss under a tree, they spread out their meal. Jemma was surprised how hungry she was, and ate her cheese sandwich with gusto. Marsh too was tucking in, and Noodle and Pie were crunching an apple as if there was no tomorrow. Digby sat looking at the ground, tugging distractedly at a blade of grass.

“Chin up, lad.” Marsh laid a hand on his arm. The Mist looked thicker around him, Jemma thought, than it did around Marsh.

“Digby,” she said, “careful what you feel. I think the Mist is reading you.” Her heart went out to what he must be going through. Were the triplets being starved? Tortured? Or both?

“Mind out, Jem,” said Marsh. “Watch your own thoughts.”

Digby got up and walked toward the bushes where the horses were tethered.

“Well, thanks for the gratitude!” Jemma stood and followed him through the wet grass. “I come out to this sun-forsaken place to help you, and you walk
away
from me?”

“Jem!” Marsh yelled after her. “Counter!”

“Digby, look at me when I’m talking to you!” Jemma caught up with him and grasped his shoulder. He stopped, his back to her, hands in pockets. He was shaking.

“Jemma!” Marsh’s footsteps rustled through the leaves behind her. “I said,
counter
!”

“Digby! Can’t you even face me?” Jemma yelled, trying to pull him around. “Hazebury dross!”

The force of her disdain shocked her and she dropped her hand. Those awful words—they were Nocturna’s, Shade’s, not hers! Digby turned, his face a picture of misery.

“Oh, Dig, I’m so sorry.…”

Marsh caught up to them. “It’s you the Mist reads, Jem, not him! What he feels is normal with what’s goin’ on. But you …” Marsh shook her head. “I don’t know what we’re goin’ to do if you keep lettin’ the Mist get to you like this. You
got
to get a faster hold of yourself!”

Jemma bowed her head.

“T’ain’t your fault, Jem.” Digby wiped his face with the back of his sleeve. “I shouldn’t have walked away from you. Your pa warned me to be careful.”

“But I’m such a fool! Just an idiotic—” Jemma checked herself and took a deep breath, remembering her father’s words about self-deprecation. “Still. I’m sorry.”

“We got to stick together, eh, Jem?” said Digby, pulling her into a hug.

She nodded, and hugged him back.

Marsh heaved a sigh of relief. “Come on, you two. We best— Why, Mother of Majem, look at that!”

A sphere of Mist-free air had expanded around them.
Digby backed up, testing. The air around him remained clear. “Well, I’ll be,” he said. “Why d’you s’pose that is?”

Marsh raised her eyebrows and smiled. “I wouldn’t know, I’m sure.” She untied Flashwing and sprang into the saddle. “But you feel any trouble comin’, you jus’ remember the way you felt holdin’ her like that. I wager it’s as good as any counterin’. Now, best let the Mist back in, or it’ll get suspicious. Then let’s pack up the rest of lunch, and be off.”

In the early afternoon, they came to a wooden bridge, and crossed to the woodlands on the other side of the river. The ponies cantered easily over the fir-needled ground, and soon Jemma heard the faint
whomp, whomp
of the waterwheel through the rush of water, and could just make out the ghostly form of Blackwater’s greenhouses beyond the trees on the opposite bank. As they rode on, her nerves unwound slightly. The most dangerous place was now behind them, and there hadn’t been a single person in sight.