by T C Shelley
Baba Yaga snored in the entryway.
The dragon bones cracked, and the fire licked them, subdued and shrinking.
Sam returned to wearing at the tear-wet hair with the stone. He needed to get far from the cave. Beatrice waited for him.
Yama got up, and Sam rolled over on to his elbows and knees, his face on a smooth boulder, so she couldn’t see how far he had got through his restraints. He tried not to think, and he didn’t look into the fire. ‘Not toast boy.’ She dragged him back from the fire by his waist, his face scraping on a rock before she dropped him into the dirt. ‘Maybe when the crone get what she need, we can stew. Be many patient.’
Sam’s mouth had filled with mud, but at his eye level, so close it should have stuck and blinded him, was a charred piece of bone. It looked as sharp as the shard from Bladder’s leg. He wriggled around to it, watching Yama-Uba busy herself at the fire, licking her slobbery lips.
Yama threw another dragon bone on to the fire, casting light into the whole cave and illuminating a stack of tiny pixie skulls decorating one wall. She sniffed him, her tongue slithered out and she licked the side of his face. Then she scuttled off to a dark corner, returned with pots of salt and some herbs and sprinkled a handful of each into his hair.
‘In case,’ she said.
She returned to the darkness and Sam knew he didn’t have much time. He shuffled closer to the bone fragment and twisted it in his fingers until its jagged side rubbed at the cord. Crack, crack, crack. Hair after hair fell away. He moved the bone up and down in the space between his knees, breaking a few more hairs each time.
Yama rattled something metal, and Sam heard a soft ‘shick shick shick’ of something cutting again and again through a solid lump. Yama hustled back and threw onion pieces on his back.
The fire spluttered the noise of sure footsteps.
‘She here now,’ Baba Yaga said from the entrance way. ‘That her.’ Yama screamed and Sam almost cried aloud, but he continued wearing at his rope.
He heard the steps and turned to look.
Maggie’s face peered in the doorway.
‘Maggie! Maggie!’ Sam called. It wasn’t a face he’d hoped for, but it also wasn’t one he’d feared. He laughed. ‘Maggie! Thank goodness. You have to help me!’
Maggie handed Baba Yaga the bone torch she was holding and entered. She carried a hessian sack over her shoulder. An animal writhed inside, the bag muffling its complaints as she dropped it.
‘And happy I am to see you too,’ Maggie said. A grin lit her beautiful face.
‘They said the crone was coming.’
‘Did you tell him that?’ Maggie glared at Yaga and Yama.
Baba shook her head and hugged her arms. ‘Yama say “you know who” and he yell “Crone”.’
Yama squealed and glared at Yaga.
‘He’s a bit too clever for words, isn’t he?’
‘I have to get away before the crone comes,’ Sam said. ‘I think she’s been hunting me since I was hatched.’
‘That she has.’ Maggie smiled and pulled her hand towards her, as if dragging dark air into her chest. She shrank a little, her face dried, the colour in her red hair leached from the tips and deepened at the roots until they turned a blood-red so dark they could have been black. Even her clothes decayed and frayed to rags in the same moments. Her dazzling green eyes simply faded.
The crone was as emaciated as the first two, but while the others hunched and scrambled in the dirt, she stood tall.
‘Samuel,’ she said. ‘I would say that this is a pleasant surprise, but you are easily led. It’s a shame you had to go and make me set a trap for you in the first place.’
‘You’re the crone? The one who tried to catch me on Hatching Day?’ Sam said.
‘I hate being called that. It’s so impersonal.’ The crone came closer, bending over with an aged groan to stare into his face. ‘Oh, Samuel. I never meant you harm, in either form.’
Sam studied the creature. It was hard to see with his chin in dust. She held herself with regal arrogance: her greyed head and her hands, although clenched in painful talons, moved with grace. Her voice, though croaky and aged, was still Maggie’s. Her eyes were pure hunger.
‘She eat you,’ Yama-Uba said.
‘Yama, remember place.’ Baba Yaga kicked Yama-Uba’s leg.
‘Aach!’ Yama-Uba grovelled in the dirt. ‘We eat?’ she begged of the crone.
‘I’m sorry, my darlin’, not this one,’ Maggie said.
Drool hung on Yama and Yaga’s bottom lips, but they both nodded. Yaga sneered at Sam, waving him away before hobbling to a corner. She pointed her hairy backside at him and pulled a brown animal skin around her shoulders.
‘Don’t be like that, darlin’ sister. I’ve brought you something else.’ Maggie kicked at the sack on the ground, and the contents groaned.
Yaga scuttled over to undo the rope at the sack’s neck and felt inside, the bag howled, and she pulled out a bright blue ribbon. ‘It pixie. Maybe not as delicious as real boy, but do.’
Maggie laughed. ‘I’m in a good mood today, don’t be so worried, ladies. When he …’ She pointed at Sam. ‘… does right by us, there’ll be babbies for everyone.’
Yama-Uba cheered and ran to get a cooking pot. ‘Pixie do till then.’
The bag squirmed and squealed.
‘Let’s go outside, Sam.’
Maggie pushed her hand deep into the dragon-fire. She didn’t scream as it licked over her arm, and she pulled out a brightly flaming dragon bone. Then she picked up Sam by the shirt and carried him out of the cave.
As he spun in her hand, light as a fairy, Sam watched the dragon-fire illuminate the ceiling. He saw Yaga hit the bag with a heavy frying pan; it grunted and stopped wriggling.
Outside, Maggie put Sam on to a rock. As soon as she set him in place, he pushed his wrists between his knees so the breaking cord didn’t show. She reached out a clawed hand and smeared dirt around his face.
‘I’m amazed Yaga knew you for a boy. I’ve not seen one so grimy and grotty in centuries. You could have stepped right out of the Dark Ages, Sam. Is that not a lovely thought?’
‘Maggie, why do you look like this?’ Sam asked.
The crone stared down at her rag dress. ‘It’s my true form, and for centuries I have preferred it. Pretty is not anything a creature down here wants to be. You see how put upon the pixies and brownies are, and they’re little more than cute. The glamour I keep for the humans. They like pretty things.’
Sam wished he could think of more questions to ask her so that he could work at his cords. A few moments more, that’s all he needed.
The cavern looked empty, but sounds of a nearby skirmish flickered from Maggie’s dragon-fire torch, and something that could have been a voice calling his name.
‘What’s that noise? It sounds near,’ he said.
‘Ogres squabbling, I expect. Thunderguts has commanded every Great Monster in The Hole to gather in the Ogres’ Cavern. Ogres, trolls, goblins – every man jack of them is making their way there. And Baba Yaga loves chaos above all things, so the sound of all those monsters moving has been drawn to her dragon-fire. Dragon-fire draws the heart’s desire. If you yearned for the sound of hummingbird wings, they would echo through these flames as loud as drums.’ Maggie turned and stared at Sam’s face. ‘Now, it’s time to stop this tomfoolery. I brought you down here so you could understand our plans. You forced me into trickery, you know, because I couldn’t drag you away from your toys up there. So I brought your most precious toy down into The Hole.’
‘My toy? You mean Beatrice?’ Sam stared at Maggie. ‘It was you who had Beatrice stolen?’
‘Of course it was, Samuel. Nutty-Arm played his part well enough – his only role was to trick you into the well, where you could not escape. He wasn’t supposed to have you pushed down, though. That was bad of him. You could have been hurt. I don’t want you hurt. Don’t worry, he’ll make a fine snack for my sisters.’
<
br /> Sam went cold. Maggie had tricked him, and she probably had more tricks to come. He felt his cords; thinner, but not thin enough. Maggie wasn’t his friend and she wouldn’t help him. He’d have to escape by himself.
He wished he had one friend.
‘Sam? Sam?’ a voice called from the dragon-fire.
Sam wondered who it could be. Maybe it was Daniel wandering about way up there under a light-filled sky. He ached for a real friend, and the fire had sent him a real friend’s voice.
Maggie frowned at the flames.
‘What does Thunderguts want with me?’ Sam asked.
The crone turned, and Sam saw the contours of her cheekbones and her clear jawline. Even without her glamour he could see hints of the young Maggie. ‘We’re his pack, you and me, and he has a plan. You have a much greater destiny than playing with humans. We’ve been waiting for a creature like you for centuries. You belong with us, Sam. Come and see for yourself. Your little Beatrice is waiting there for you, too, Sam.’ Maggie patted his leg. ‘All snuggly and safe. So no more of your tantrums and silliness. Your king wishes to see you. You’re a special breed, Samuel, but he gets impatient with your delays.’
Sam nodded as the stone broke more hairs. Of course the king wanted him, either to eat or to figure out how to make more like him. He kept his movements so tiny she didn’t notice. Break. Crack. Break. The hairs came apart in twos and threes.
‘If I come with you will you take Beatrice back to her family?’
Maggie’s answer was not an answer. ‘I know you have a soft spot for Kavanaghs, little prince, I’m the same myself. I’ve keened for them so long, and I understand how a capricious imp could grow too fond of one or two toys.’ She tweaked his cheek, just under the eye. It hurt and a tear leaked out. ‘But enough now.’ Maggie put a taloned hand on his shoulder. ‘Let’s set the world to rights, shall we?’
The voice from the torch called ‘Sam’ once more. For all Sam knew the speaker was a thousand miles away, flying in a sunlit sky.
‘You have a great destiny, Samuel …’
A stone missile hit Maggie square in the head and shoulders. The rock was almost as big as the crone herself. She crumpled under its weight and lay still.
‘Bladder!’ Sam yelled at the uncoiling stone cat.
‘You OK, Imp?’
Sam rubbed his shoulder and head. ‘I’m good now!’
‘Let’s get you out of here.’ Bladder’s eyes widened at Maggie lying on the ground moaning and the hags bustling inside the cave. ‘They planning to eat you?’
Samuel rubbed sharp bone against the cord, splitting more hairs. Maggie groaned under the gargoyle.
‘They’ve all been working for Thunderguts. The crone too.’
‘That’s the crone? Well, I’m rubble. She’s his oldest ally.’
‘So much noise out here. What happen?’ Yaga yelled from the cave door. The bony beast scuttled forward on all fours to stare at Maggie lying flat on the ground. ‘She dead?’ She pondered the crone’s still form, fixed her eyes on Sam and licked her lips. The old hag rushed back into the cave. Sam heard a pixie scream.
‘Come on!’ Bladder said.
‘Gotta get untied.’ Sam bent double and jumped to get the bone, furiously rubbing at long strands of hair. ‘I won’t be going anywhere like this.’
Baba Yaga came crashing out of the cave with Yama-Uba at her side. Yama carried the frying pan and Yaga had a fiery dragon’s bone in her hand. Yama strode straight for Sam, drool wetting the front of her ragged dress.
Bladder leaped, his stone body clanged against the frying pan, and Yama dropped it. Sam desperately broke hairs.
Baba Yaga turned on Sam, and Bladder jumped between them.
‘Here, Kitty, does kitty like fire?’ Baba Yaga cackled as the torch crackled.
Bladder laughed. ‘Seriously? Kitty’s made of stone and don’t care one way or the other.’
Bladder opened his jaws wide, clamping down on the burning end of the torch. Flames flickered from his mouth into his mane, turning it into a golden halo.
Sam rubbed the cord against the bone. Friction burned his sore fingers but chewed through the hair rope.
‘’Urry uk!’ Bladder said around a mouthful of fire.
Bladder whacked Baba Yaga around the head and knees with the unlit end of the torch. His mouth glowed red. Yaga screeched at him, her lanky arms whipping around to protect her face and chicken legs.
Sam heard the victorious snap as the last of the threads frayed away, and he cheered as the rope uncoiled from his wrists and loosened at his ankles.
Sprinting, Nutty-Arm fled the cave, soaked and smelling like stock. A piece of cabbage covered half his face. He slipped towards the cavern edge, away from the fighting.
Bladder choked as he poked and hit at the furious hag, but his eyes widened as he looked to Sam’s left. Sam caught the movement too. Yama was crawling towards him, her claw clutching the frying pan.
Sam scuttled back and flung himself to his feet. He ran past Bladder and shoved a solid fist into Yaga’s chest. They both leaped over Maggie, who still lay in the dirt like a corpse. Yaga took a few steps sideways. Yama collided with her and they collapsed in a clatter of limbs.
‘Un! Un!’ Bladder’s words were still muffled around the burning torch. Sam grabbed the white end of the dragon bone and pulled it from the gargoyle’s mouth. Bladder spat as they sprinted from the hags. Their steps were echoed by a patter of tiny feet.
Sam looked over his shoulder. Yama and Yaga were two shadows in the distance. Maggie lifted her head and Yama screamed.
CHAPTER 18
Sam scanned the scene behind him. He couldn’t see the hag’s cave, and their dragon-fire had vanished. He thought they could risk a rest. As he sat, his body reminded him he had a sore shoulder.
‘It’s that sleep stuff, in it?’ Bladder asked.
Sam would have liked sleep, but since he’d seen Beatrice’s face in the fire, all he wanted to do was to get to her. He tried to stand, but his wobbly legs mutinied. ‘I could rest for a bit,’ he replied.
Bladder grunted and sat.
Sam hugged the hard shape next to him.
‘Gerroff,’ Bladder said. ‘What you doin’?’
Sam let go of him. ‘I can’t believe you came for me. I thought you’d leave to find Wheedle and Spigot. I’ve caused you so much trouble.’
‘They’re all right. It’s us down here that needs help. Especially you, the runt of the litter.’
‘I was mean to you. I said …’
‘What, you? Don’t be ridiculous! Wheedle says ruder things to me before sunup each morning.’ Bladder laughed and shook his mane. ‘But you made me owe you, see? I’m paying a debt. And like Wheedle always says, pack looks after pack. They stick together. You don’t drop someone because he’s a bit thick. Especially if he risks himself putting you back together.’
‘Well, I’m sorry.’ Sam squeezed him.
Bladder purred for a while before shaking him loose. ‘That boggart, whatzisname? Bogweed, tried to pick me up and throw me after you, an’ I broke his toe when he dropped me. Then I chewed on the big brownie – I took a chunk out of his leg and ripped his jacket, caused a lotta howling.’ Bladder chuckled. ‘Must’ve shocked ’em to see me go in the well by myself. I knew the fall wouldna kill’d ya, but had I known how far down it was I might’ve thought twice.’ Bladder stared at the dragon-fire. ‘When you weren’t at the bottom I knew you was alive, so I kept on coming.’
‘You called my name?’
‘Course I did, who were you expecting?’ Bladder harrumphed. ‘The flying fidget? Sorry to disappoint you.’
‘It’s just you’ve never used my name before.’
‘Yes, I have. I remember it felt weird. I’m hardly going to call “Imp, Imp” down here, am I? All and sundry would answer. Now stop talking, you obviously can’t talk after a walk.’
‘I’ll be all right. You’re here.’ Sam wanted to laugh. ‘How did you find
me? You couldn’t have heard or seen anything.’
‘Sense of smell, Imp, you really do stink.’
Sam chuckled so hard his shoulder and head hurt again.
Bladder turned and spoke to the darkness, ‘You don’t have to sneak around over there. We could hear you even if we didn’t have dragon-fire.’
‘Are you going to eat me, good sirrahs?’ Nutty-Arm asked.
‘No,’ Sam said. Bladder pulled a disappointed face at him.
‘Why not?’ the pixie asked.
It was a sensible question; everyone else wanted to eat him.
‘I don’t like the taste of pixie,’ Sam replied.
This seemed to reassure Nutty-Arm and he stepped into the light. When no one jumped to eat him, he trotted closer to the flame, plopped down and warmed himself. Despite Sam’s reassurances he wouldn’t eat the pixie, the drying herbs and vegetables on his clothes made Nutty-Arm smell tasty.
‘Will they come after us, do you think?’ Bladder asked. Beyond the circle of dragon-fire the area was unbroken dark.
Nutty-Arm blinked. ‘You bought us some time, good sirrahs. They can’t hear us. If we didn’t have this dragon-fire torch, they could, but now we’re out of range of the bigger fire, our torch will draw sound and light to us. We’ll be silent to them.’ The pixie hugged his knees. ‘Although this torch isn’t strong enough to draw from very far away, we’re safe enough here.’
Sounds zipped through their small bubble. Sam peered around the circle of light. He could see the dirt at his feet, and a stretch of ground littered with stones and bone fragment. ‘Where’s here?’ Sam asked.
Nutty-Arm didn’t answer. He shuddered and stared into the darkness, until Bladder poked him. ‘Oh, you’re asking me, sirrah? Valley of the Hags, I think. The old ones who lived here once have been hunted until those two hags are all that’s left. They tend to eat their new-mades.’
‘Well,’ Bladder said, ‘it’s no point climbing back up the well, even if we could find it. An’ your hands look like mince. Do pink patty hands still stick? If they don’t, how do we get out?’