The Morrow Secrets (14 page)

But Esmerelda had heard a noise. The shroves had been spying on them for several days. From the moment Florré returned with the gossip from Esmerelda’s séance room, Marlin had been on to them. That nasty Morrow woman had tried to keep them out, kept the interesting secret from them. On the night of their departure, Marlin watched Cissie disappear through the back kitchen, then he scampered off and the shroves plotted in their lair. They decided to wait until the morning to break the news to the Grand Morrow. That would give the shroves more time for their plan to take shape. So Marlin and Florré watched as Tallitha and the others escaped from the Spires. Their sensitive ears were made for eavesdropping and the long, echoing tunnel made it so easy to hear the noisy children, every step of the way.

After many hours tramping over rough ground, Tallitha was exhausted, fed-up and cold. Her feet were sore and her ears were aching, battered by the blustery winds and relentless rain. The cool wet misserlies fell like a spray, soaking their clothes and seeping down to their skin. Tallitha longed for her soft warm bed. She was already missing Cissie and her home comforts and had started dreaming of buttered muffins and creamy hot chocolate. The empty wilderness stretched out before them and the waterlogged ground clung in sodden clumps to their boots. Suddenly the weather deteriorated as the driving rain and drifting mist began to blur their sense of direction. They were slowly veering off course, further into the bogs to the west of Wycham Elva.

They stumbled on through the night, their voices calling out but being swept away by the fierce winds. Without warning, just as the sun was beginning to edge the darkness to one side, Tyaas screamed. He had been dreaming about the adventures that lay ahead and had lost concentration, wandering hopelessly away from the others.

Tyaas was sinking into the reeking mess and black sucking mud of the swamplands to the west of Shivering Water.
‘Quick, he’s going under,’ shouted Tallitha. ‘Come on Benedict!’
But Esmerelda grabbed hold of Tallitha’s jacket, pulling her swiftly back.
‘Don’t move. Benedict, find the rope!’ yelled Esmerelda.
Benedict clumsily threw the rope across the swamp but it fell short. Esmerelda dragged it back and flung it out again and this time Tyaas managed to grab hold just in time. He was up to his waist in mud that squelched and oozed as he struggled to free himself.
‘Get me out, it’s pulling me down!’ he screamed.
‘Keep still. The swamp will suck you under if you move!’ shouted Esmeralda.
The three stood their ground and slowly began to pull him free of the sludgy gurgling mess, until he lay in a muddy heap at their feet. He stood up, immediately slipped, fell down again and slithered on the ground.
‘Oh, you pong something awful,’ said Tallitha screwing up her face at the sight of her mud-blackened brother.
Tyaas gasped and choked, trying to rub the thick stinking mud from his face.
‘Ahh, it’s disgusting!’ he cried. ‘One minute I was standing there and the next it dragged me under!’
He was shaking from the freezing mud and the shock of finding himself in the grip of the Gulping Mess.
‘You must get those clothes off,’ said Esmerelda looking for somewhere to shelter.
As the sun sneaked over the horizon they saw the misty expanse of the waterlogged swamp that almost had them in its clutches.
‘Many travellers have been lost in there,’ said Esmerelda, watching the popping vapours of the lonely mire.
‘But where are we?’ asked Tallitha.
‘We’ve strayed too far west. Shivering Water is in that direction,’ explained Esmerelda pointing towards the east.
Suddenly something caught her eye.
‘What is it?’ asked Tallitha nervously.
‘Over there, can you see them, by the shore of the lake?’ whispered Esmerelda.
Something was moving along the water’s edge. Then, out of nowhere, came a series of blood-curdling cries.
‘Make for the rocks, quickly!’ shouted Esmerelda dragging Tallitha behind her.
‘Who are they?’ asked Tallitha anxiously.
‘It’s the Murk Mowl,’ said Esmerelda, visibly shrinking as she mentioned the name. ‘Something must have forced them to the surface but they won’t stay up for long.’ Esmerelda peered round the rocks but the water’s edge was empty. ‘I think they’ve gone.’
‘But what are they?’ asked Tyaas.
‘They’re vile, evil creatures that live beneath the Out-of-the-WayMountains in a foul place called Old Yawning Edges.’
Esmerelda reassured herself that the Mowl had left the shores of the lake.
‘We can’t go via Shivering Water now, it’s much too dangerous.’
Esmerelda passed round the bitter moonflower and they sipped the luscious drink before ravenously tucking into bread and cheese. Esmerelda settled between the rocks and the others followed suit, wrapping their blankets around them against the cold. As they drifted off to sleep, Tallitha whispered, ‘But what’ll we do now?’
‘Sleep now. We’ll take a different route. Cissie’s brother has a farm at High Bedders End, some miles from here. We’ll have to skirt the swamp but hopefully we can avoid the Murk Mowl.’
With that, Esmerelda closed her eyes and snuggled into Tallitha’s back. The boys were already asleep, their steady rhythmic breathing gently rocking the others into a heavy slumber. But Tallitha’s sleep was overrun with wild chaotic dreams about the Murk Mowl chasing her through the deep caves, screeching and clashing their swords against the rock. She heard Cissie cry out, alone and frightened in Winderling Spires. Then in her dream the ghostly vision of the girl appeared in the tower.

The walk to the farm was pleasant compared to the endless trudge of the night before. The pastures hummed with insects and the tall grasses wafted aimlessly in the breeze. They passed through Sweet-Side Pastures, over Badger’s Dyke and the sweeping hills of Dolly Moor Fell. The deep brown colours of the bracken, the vibrant purple heathers and sky colours of cornflower, blue and bright cerulean, reminded Tallitha of the embroidery sampler she had failed to complete.

Once on the top they could see the snowy peaks of the Out-Of-TheWay-Mountains and, down below, the farm at High Bedders End. One final push and they would make it by twilight. Down, down they went, scraping their boots on the rough edges in Holly Pot Ghyll. The descent was steep, fast and exhilarating. Tyaas ran the last stretch, galloping down and flopping at the bottom. He shielded his eyes from the sun and gazed languidly at the others tripping down the side of the steep pasture.

‘How far is it now?’ he asked rolling over onto his stomach and chewing a cowslip.
‘Not far at all. Let’s keep going. We might arrive at Farmer Wakenshaw’s in time for supper,’ said Esmerelda.
‘Food, oh great, I’m starving,’ said Tyaas and jumped to his feet.
Laughing and joking they tramped through the dale, making their way to the farm at the other side of Summerset Beck. Tyaas was as free as a lark, throwing stones into the stream and planning in his mind’s eye how he would build an enormous dam of branches and rocks. Eventually, tired and foot sore, as the glowing embers of the sinking sun smouldered on the horizon, they entered the muddy farmyard. Two large dogs started barking and running towards them but there was no danger. The dogs wagged their tails and jumped up to be petted.
‘Sticker, Barney! Come here boy!’ Farmer Wakenshaw called to his dogs, surveying the bedraggled visitors.
‘Good day, Mr Wakenshaw. My name is Esmerelda Patch and this is Tallitha and Tyaas Mouldson, and...’
‘Aye, lass I know who you are, you’re just as our Cissie described you. Dressed in all the wrong clothes though, there’s no mistake. But you’re most welcome here,’ said the cheery farmer.
‘But how did you know we were coming?’ asked Tallitha inquisitively.
‘We didn’t know it was goin’ to be you, but we knew someone would call. The old cock was a-crowing by the back door this morning and that’s always a sign. The cock foretells the arrival of unexpected visitors,’ explained Bettie, who was married to the farmer.
She stood at the kitchen door with her arms folded, red-faced from cooking, a woman not to be messed with, but cheery nonetheless. She looked askance at the four of them.
‘Don’t you know that old saying? There’s much truth in country sayings and anyway, here you are to prove it. Did our Cissie tell you nowt?’ asked Bettie, clicking her tongue in dismay at the peculiar ways of posh folk. ‘Come inside and have some supper, you must be famished.’
Farmer Wakenshaw whistled and the dogs trotted obediently behind him, nestling down by the warm hearth. Josh Wakenshaw was a man with a happy disposition. He had ruddy cheeks, bushy eyebrows and abundant whiskers. He smiled so often that there were deep grooves in his weather-beaten face. His wife Bettie and daughters Spooner and Lince were sweet natured too, happy with life. They welcomed the travellers into their parlour and gave them a supper of pheasant, partridge and a host of vegetables, followed by apple pudding and creamy-yellow custard. Benedict could not recall a better meal or more cheerful hosts. Tyaas stretched out by the fire, yawned and rubbed his fat belly.
After supper, Esmerelda turned to her hosts. ‘You haven’t asked us where we’re headed.’ She looked gravely at the assembled company. ‘Unless your family is threatened, I must ask you to keep our visit here a secret.’
Josh Wakenshaw looked at his wife and nodded. ‘It’s alright lass, we understand, don’t we Bettie? You’re welcome here. We’ve two small rooms above the barn. They’re cosy and warm. Your secret’s safe with us.’
‘Course it is deary. Bless you,’ said Bettie, stroking one of the snoozing dogs.
Esmerelda relaxed and they set about clearing the dishes. Later, Josh sat by the fire and lit his pipe while his daughter Lince began playing her flute and her sister Spooner sang old Ennish ballads from the Northern Wolds. As night fell and the farm noises quietened, they sat and told stories of their different worlds, content in each others’ company. Bettie came back from locking the hen coops and nudged her husband. Josh knocked his pipe on the hearth, nodded to Bettie, and cleared his throat.
‘Well now, my dears, I ’pect you’ll be headin’ up through Ragging Brows Forest.’
‘It’s the only way to the caves that I know of,’ said Esmerelda.
‘Aye, you’re right there lass.’
He hesitated and looked at Bettie who raised her eyebrows for him to get on with it.
‘Bettie and me, we think you should be warned about some odd goings-on in the forest. It’s ’appen what some folks say, round ’ere, any road.’
Josh Wakenshaw refilled his pipe, struck a match and drew on the tobacco until the room was full of bluish smoke. Tyaas moved from slouching next to Sticker and began to listen more intently and Tallitha stopped talking with the sisters and sat on the sofa next to Benedict.
‘You must get through the forest in daylight. Don’t be abroad in Ragging Brows after dusk. It’s a rum place, there’s no mistake.’
Bettie patted the dogs and continued where he left off. ‘The story goes that some folks went into the forest, a while back. They must have got lost and were still there at dusk.’ She glanced at the wide-eyed faces glued to her every word. ‘Now lass you look frit’ to death,’ she said to Tallitha.
Tallitha swallowed hard and looked swiftly at her brother.
‘Ney lass, we don’t want to frighten you, but you need to be warned, just to be on the safe side.’
‘Aye, that’s right,’ said Josh, ‘just so you’re on the lookout, so to speak, for anything suspicious that comes your way.’
‘But what happened?’ asked Benedict nervously.
‘They went in to Ragging Brows, meaning to look for mushrooms, ’tis famous for its mushrooms, ain’t it Josh?’
The farmer nodded and leaned back in his comfy chair, deep in thought.
‘They must ’ave lost track of time and wandered in too far. It got darker sooner than they expected. In certain places that old forest is black as night.’
Bettie stopped and her husband took over the tale.
‘Well they never came out again and were never found. So the story goes,’ he said finally.
‘But that’s awful!’ exclaimed Tyaas.
‘Well it may just be a spooky story that people tell each other at night,’ said Josh trying to lighten the mood.
‘But what if it isn’t? What are we to do?’ asked Tallitha.
‘There’s no way round the forest,’ said Josh, ‘but best keep clear of the ravines, that’s where the wild mushrooms grow, the Honey Fungus and the Destroying Angel.’
‘We don’t have a choice. We’ll have to get through the forest by mid-afternoon,’ said Esmerelda biting her lip.
Josh and Bettie forced a cheery smile but their guests were not reassured and remained preoccupied. The dogs snoozed and Josh nodded off by the fire, letting his pipe clatter onto the stone hearth. Benedict was already falling asleep on the sofa when Esmerelda shook him, said good night to the Wakenshaws and they made their way over to the barn. As the boys snuggled down in their straw beds, Esmerelda took hold of Tallitha’s hand and led her to the adjoining room.
‘We must find the way through the caves. Will you contact Asenathe tonight? She knows you’re connected to her. She’s trying to help us reach her.’
Tallitha nodded. ‘The last shadow flight was easier, so I’m ready.’
As Tallitha began breathing deeply, Esmerelda started whispering the repetitive haunting words and releasing the sickly odour from her amulet. Then she dangled the shimmering pendant before Tallitha’s eyes. The dazzling lights and Esmerelda’s penetrating gaze soon brought Tallitha to a trance-like state. All at once she could feel the familiar drifting sensation as though part of her was sliding away from her body, being sucked out and melting into a separate sphere. Her mind seemed to stretch, pop and snap, then whoosh‒she had entered the murky trance-like state where she began spinning upwards through the bright tunnel.
Tallitha found herself flying over the mountains where the spectre of the dark castle loomed like an enormous creature against the night sky. Tallitha swirled round the highest towers until she located the girl, dressed in black and sitting at a writing desk. The vision turned and beckoned to Tallitha to enter. As she approached, the girl smiled and pointed at the writing in front of her. At first Tallitha hesitated, then she moved towards the desk and stared at the strange words before her. The writing was in old Ennish script. Furtively, the girl reached out and touched Tallitha’s hand. Suddenly everything blurred and the vision vanished. Tallitha found herself sliding fast, down inside the bumpy tunnel and whoosh‒she was back in the hay barn with a sharp jolt. She gasped and opened her eyes, blinking in the candlelight.
‘Can you can see her too?’ asked Tallitha, coming round.
‘I can feel her aura through you but I can’t see her, not the way you can.’
Tallitha had a pinkish glow around her. ‘She showed me some writing in Ennish. I’ll be able to write down the words, although I don’t understand their meaning.’
Esmerelda handed her pen and paper and Tallitha began to write the words automatically.