by Toby Forward
“This is Tadpole,” said Smith. “He led me here.”
“He knew the way?”
“You know my name, and his,” said Smith.
It was a challenge and an invitation, not a request.
“I’m Bearrock.”
“Bearrock,” sang the voices, deep and steady. “Bearrock, the miner.”
“The roffle led you here?”
“He didn’t know what he was doing,” said Smith.
“You did?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you follow, then?”
“To see you.”
“Me?” Bearrock raised his pick.
“All of you.”
“All of us,” they chanted.
“No one leaves the Finished Mine,” said Bearrock.
“No. I know.”
“Hey,” said Tadpole. “What’s going on? What’s the Finished Mine? And why does no one leave? I’m not staying.”
“So why did you follow, Smith?”
“I need iron.”
Bearrock smiled. “There is iron in plenty where you come from.”
“Excuse me,” said Tadpole. “What do you mean? What’s the Finished Mine?”
“It’s where miners go, after their Finishing,” said Smith.
The faces disappeared. Only Bearrock remained.
“Finished,” whispered the voices. “Finished.”
Slowly, the figures returned, their faces looking towards Tadpole.
“It’s where the first iron was ever mined,” said Smith. “The iron that made the mirror.”
“Just the mirror?” asked Bearrock.
The way he asked made Tadpole know that he was mocking the smith, that he already knew the answer.
“Other things, too,” said Smith.
“Other things,” they whispered.
“Long ago,” said Smith. “And now, I need more.”
“The iron is here,” said Bearrock. “But you can never take it away. You’ve come too far. You should have asked us to bring it to you.”
“Too far,” they whispered.
“Those days are gone,” said Smith. “I need it now.”
“No one leaves the Finished Mine,” said Bearrock.
“No one has,” Smith agreed.
“The iron will be no use to you. You can’t take it away from here.”
“I need it.”
“Then come and take it,” said Bearrock.
He took Smith’s arm, and, to Tadpole’s amazement, Smith allowed him to lead him away, deeper into the cavern, towards the centre, beyond where the light of his cloak shone.
“Stop,” he shouted.
Smith looked over his shoulder. “You did well,” he said. “Go back.”
“You said I can’t.”
“You’re a roffle,” said Smith.
“Roffle,” they whispered.
“Go back,” said Smith. And he vanished into the darkness beyond sight.
“Go back. Go back. Go back.” The whispers grew and swelled to a shout.
Tadpole grabbed his cloak, turned and fled. In the light he could see the many twists and passageways in the mine-working. It was a network of low, narrow tunnels. He didn’t stop to think or guess or try to remember. He just ran, taking any turning at random, until he saw daylight ahead. His cloak dimmed. He slowed down. By the time he was a few paces from the mine entrance no light came from him at all. He paused at the opening, looked out, with cautious eyes. Seeing it was clear, he stepped out.
Instantly a sheet of blackness fell over him. Strong hands grabbed him, and pinned his arms to his sides. He tried to call out. Whatever had smothered him soaked in the sound and nothing came out. A foot kicked the back of his knee and he fell to the floor.
“Kill.”
“Eat.”
“Girl.”
“Eat.”
“Kill.”
Kravvins all around him. They clicked and scurried.
Tadpole shuddered as he imagined their legs crawling over him, stabbing him, their blank faces and their hard mouths.
“Gone.”
“No. Here.”
“No. Gone”
“Kill.”
“Gone.”
“More kill.”
“There.”
“Kill here.”
“Girl.”
“Gone.”
Fewer voices. Less scratching.
Tadpole had ceased to struggle and lay still in the darkness. The hands still gripped him. Painful fingers dug into his arms. He wanted to call out in protest. Fear and the smothering darkness prevented him.
“Kill.”
The kravvins sounded distant now.
“Eat.”
He strained to hear them.
The last of the voices faded. The clicking and the scratching ceased. The hands relaxed. Tadpole wriggled.
“Wait. Quiet.”
He stopped.
“Shh.”
A blade of light cut through the darkness. His arms were free. He pushed at the covering.
And saw Tamrin.
She pulled her cloak away from him and stood up. He staggered to his feet.
She put her finger to her lips.
“This way. Come on.”
She led him round and over the mine entrance. They settled behind a mound of big rocks.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“I was waiting for you. I hid us under my cloak.”
“What’s happening? Where are the others?”
“Follow me,” she said. “And make sure you’re properly covered when we get close.”
They climbed the hill behind the mine opening and skirted round to a high point overlooking the town.
“Cloak,” said Tamrin.
They wrapped themselves securely and she moved closer to the houses.
Kravvins swarmed everywhere. There were bodies in the streets. To the other side of the town, kravvins chased escapers, stabbing and falling on them to devour them. Houses blazed. Fires leaped from roof to roof.
“Where are the others?” asked Tadpole. “Cabbage?”
“They fought off the kravvins. December’s house was the first target. I escaped from the back to get you while the others protected the front. When I was clear, they counter-attacked.” Tamrin’s eyes shone with joy. “You should have seen the magic. It was fierce. Of course, kravvins are like ants. They don’t care how many of them are killed. They keep coming at you. But it gave December and the others time to raise the alarm. They drove as many of the people as they could out of their houses and into the countryside.”
They looked down at the devastation and slaughter.
“Those that are left were too slow,” she whispered.
“Can’t you do something?”
“If I tried, they’d come at us again. No. You and I need to get away.”
“Who’s that?” asked Tadpole.
“Where?”
He pointed.
A tall woman stood at the edge of the town, directing the battle. She motioned to the kravvins where to go, when to strike, how to find stragglers. She strode up and down, her long grey gown flowing out behind her, the breeze lifting her hair.
“That’s Ash,” said Tamrin. “No. It can’t be.” Her face was a mask of pain. “She’s locked away. Sealed in.” Tamrin’s hand went to her throat and she clasped a metal pendant on a leather cord.
The woman in grey paused. She lowered her arms and looked around her.
“She’s looking for us,” said Tamrin. “Hide.”
She pulled Tadpole to one side and they ducked behind more rocks, flat on their faces. Tadpole was winded and he grazed his cheek. More Up Top unpleasantness.
They peered over the edge. The woman was looking away from them. The kravvins had stopped ransacking the town and gathered around her, waiting. She divided them into cohorts and sent them out, searching, hunting.
“She’s looking for us,” said Tamrin. “We have to get out of here.”
She scrambled away, keeping low.
“Wait,” said Tadpole. “Look.”
Ash flickered and lost her edges. For a moment her face was a dog, mouth wide, jaws slobbering. In an instant she was herself again.
“It’s Smedge,” said Tamrin. “It’s not Ash.”
“Then why…?”
“I don’t know.”
The Smedge-Ash creature turned its head in their direction and sent a cohort of kravvins their way.
“Time to get out,” said Tamrin.
Tadpole and Tamrin didn’t stop until it was nearly night. The sun, long hidden behind cloud, touched the horizon.
“Can we stop, please?” asked Tadpole.
“Soon. We need to be sure.”
“It’s ages since we started off. We haven’t seen a single kravvin. They’re not following.”
Tamrin slowed down. “You’re probably right. But we need to be sure.” She stopped and listened. The evening crept towards them across the fields, following the sinking sun.
“Where are we going to sleep tonight?” asked Tadpole.
“Roffles,” said Tamrin, and she smiled. “If it’s not your stomach it’s your sleep.”
Tadpole sat down on his pack, glad of the rest.
“What’s wrong with that?” he asked. “You can’t live without food or sleep.”
“True. But you shouldn’t live for them.”
Tadpole might have taken offence earlier, when she was being surly. Her tone was different now, lighter, and friendly.
“So, where are we going to sleep tonight?”
“We’ll have to rough it,” she said. “Your cloak will keep you warm, and the trees will cover us. And—” she stopped Tadpole from speaking again — “before you ask, I’ll catch us something to eat. You won’t go hungry.”
Tadpole looked up at the sky. It was dark enough now. No stars. The cloud gathered overhead.
“This way,” said Tamrin. “We’ll need water as well.”
Cutting across a hay meadow, she followed the slope of the ground until it led them to a small stream.
“This should do,” she said.
Tadpole was delighted with the ease and speed she showed in getting their dinner.
“You’d better make the fire,” she said.
“Oh, I’ll watch what you do,” said Tadpole.
Tamrin crossed her arms and stared at him.
“Are we starting to be friends?” she said.
Tadpole nodded with enthusiasm.
“Then don’t treat me like an Up Top fool. Get some sticks and bigger wood, find the roffle fire in your pack and get it blazing. Come on.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s all right.”
He kept an eye on her while he prepared the fire. She picked low-growing leaves and brought them. She took out a knife and dug into the damp earth by the side of the stream, finding roots, which she placed on the leaves. Last of all, she made her way back into the hay meadow and stretched out on the ground, her arms in front of her.
Tadpole washed the roots in the stream. While his back was turned he heard a squeak and a snap. Tamrin came back with a rabbit, its head dangling to one side.
“You’ve got a can in that pack as well, have you?” she asked.
Tadpole admitted that he had.
They sat together by the fire. Tadpole boiled water in the little can. Tamrin skinned and gutted the rabbit, throwing the innards, the skin, feet and head into the stream. They chatted while they worked.
“Will the others be all right?” asked Tadpole.
“They should be. It’s the townsfolk who need to worry. The ones who survive have nowhere to live.”
“When can we join them again?”
“I don’t know. We’re not going to try. They’ll do what they have to do, we’ll do what we have to.”
She sharpened a stick and drove it lengthways through the rabbit.
They held an end of the stick each and turned the rabbit over the glowing coals. The scent of roasting drifted up. Small drops of fat fell on to the fire, making it blaze and fade.
The rabbit, the roots, the leaves and some fresh water from the stream made an excellent dinner. By the time they were finished, Tadpole’s face glowed with grease and pleasure.
They settled down for the night on the margin of the fire’s warmth. The orange glow streaked Tamrin’s face, and Tadpole was comforted by her presence.
“No stars, still,” he said.
“They’re up there. You’ll see them.”
“Not tonight.”
“No.”
Silence gathered round them. Then the noises of the night.
“Are we safe?” asked Tadpole.
“How do you know I wasn’t asleep?”
“What if the kravvins come?” he asked.
“They’re not silent things,” she said. “We’ll hear them coming.”
“Are you sure?”
“Listen.”
He listened.
“What can you hear?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s right. Do you know why?”
Tadpole felt that he was being lectured, so he didn’t answer.
“It’s because you’re jabbering,” she said. “You scare the animals away. As long as you’re quiet, they’ll start running again. And you’ll hear the night. If the kravvins get near, the first thing you’ll hear is the silence. Good night.”
The silence returned, and then the scratching and rustling.
“What’s happened to Sam?” asked Tadpole.
Tamrin sat up.
“Are you going to talk all night?” she asked.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Let’s walk, then.”
They walked along the riverbank.
“Nobody tells me anything,” said Tadpole. “Every time I ask, they say, ‘Find out for yourself’.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Ash. Who is she? Why is she dangerous? Why can’t you or the other wizards just go and beat her?”
Tamrin thought about it for a moment. The moon tried to escape the net of cloud. Tamrin stopped and took the pendant from under her jerkin.
“Look,” she said. “What is it?”
“A dragon’s head. With fire blazing from its mouth. Is it Starback?”
“Look at the neck of the dragon.”
Tadpole’s face drew close to Tamrin’s as he examined the pendant. He could feel her breath on his cheek.
“What is it?” he asked.
Tamrin stepped back
and the pendant dropped from Tadpole’s fingers.
“It’s a seal,” said Tamrin. “Years and years ago Flaxfield and some others sealed Ash inside the Castle of Boolat. Since then, she’s never been able to escape. So, she works through others. She’s made the kravvins and the takkabakks to go out and kill and terrify people. She uses Smedge. And she uses that fool Frastfil and others in the college. She’s trying to destroy all magic except her own.”
“I heard about her being locked up,” Tadpole said. “But who is she?”
Tamrin walked on. An owl swooped low over the water and disappeared into the tree on the opposite bank.
“It’s a complicated story,” she said, at last.
“Tell me. I’ll follow.”
Tamrin raised her arm and made a throwing movement with her hand, like flicking something away. A shower of blue petals rushed out and hovered over the water. Iris petals, with yellow throats and black scribbles. They showered down on to the surface, making it bright with beauty in the night.
“An old wizard, tired, weak, greedy and dying,” she began. “His name was Slowin. Took a girl as his apprentice, and, when the day came to sign her indenture, he stole her name. Stole her magic. Her name was Flame, and, instead of giving it to her when she signed her indenture, he stole it for himself.”
“What was the girl called?”
Tamrin frowned.
“Roffles,”
she said. “Never just listen.”
Tadpole hung his head. She nudged him and smiled. “She was known as Bee, then,” she said. “That was when the wild magic broke out. It fell as fire. Slowin was transformed by it. His old self was burned away, changed. And he became Ash. Young, beautiful and a woman.”
The last words were almost silent and Tadpole had to strain to hear them. Tamrin clicked her fingers and the petals sank beneath the water. She was invisible again in the new darkness.
“The girl?” asked Tadpole.
“The girl was burned, too. She nearly died. Flaxfold saved her life.”
“December,” said Tadpole.
“December.”
Tamrin turned from the path and pushed into the undergrowth, hacking obstructions out of the way with her staff. Tadpole followed.
“There was a fight,” she said, over her shoulder. “December sealed Ash inside Boolat. December, and Cabbage, and Flaxfield, and Dorwin together. They all did it.” She stopped, turned, looked at Tadpole and said, “And Perry. The roffle. He was there. He was one of the group that defeated her, and sealed her away. Wizards and humans and roffles together. They did it.”
“My ancestor,” said Tadpole.
“Of course.” Tamrin took out the seal. “And this is it. This is the very seal they used. All those years ago.”
Tadpole touched it again. He saw that the base was carved into the shape of a bird.
“This is what Ash wants,” said Tamrin.
“How did you get it?”
Tamrin started to hunt around for something, chopping away with her staff.
“Flaxfield was the keeper of the seal. He gave it to Sam. Now we keep it.”
“What do you mean? If Sam keeps it, how can you?”
“She thinks that if she can break this seal then she’ll break free of Boolat.”
“And can she?”
“I think she can. The sealing spell is weakening, though. And I think we need to take the seal and renew it.”
“And you’d do that? You’d go to Boolat?”
Tadpole almost managed to keep the fear out of his voice.
“I have to. Sam and I, we’re the ones Flaxfield trusted to do this. That’s why we have the seal.”
She stopped hacking and called out, “Found one.”
“Can you do it on your own?” asked Tadpole.
Tamrin pulled branches away from a low bush. She smashed into it with her staff, stripping away twigs and leaves.