Blind Man's Buff
Page 13
“I thought I did.” She sniffed, and managed to find a handkerchief. “But this time it’s all different because the trees move so much and get so mean.”
Once again they slept and once again they woke late, still tired, to see that every tree and bush had moved during the night. They had believed they slept on a thick bed of soft undergrowth under the shelter of a massive old Mulberry, but now they sat, as bewildered as usual, under a bare-branched beech, leafless in the cold. They managed to eat a little breakfast, but the cheese was soon soggy with snow, and they drank more snow than milk.
“I’d go home,” said Peter quietly, staring down at his frozen fingers, the tips poking through the bitten holes in his gloves, “if only I knew the way.”
“Me too,” admitted Poppy. “but all we know is we’re in the Forest of Sharr, and we wish we weren’t.”
That day was no different from the others. Several times Poppy called for Gilden, standing and shouting at the top of her voice, but nobody heard and nobody came. She also shouted for the Epilogs, for the trees to start being nice to them, or for anyone else to come and help.
Nothing changed.
It was that evening after Poppy had collapsed in a heap, leaning back against a wide black tree trunk, that Peter looked up, saying, “Look, Pops, it’s a fruit tree, Isn’t that what your mother and Granny used to call Golden Figs?”
Forgetting her exhaustion, Poppy jumped up. “It is, it really is. We have to eat some. Gilden said they really help in all sorts of ways.” She paused, shaking her head. “Not with magic. You only get more magic if you have some already, and neither of us do. But it can make us stronger, and feel better, and maybe even find the way out.”
One of the huge figs in its rich golden skin was hanging near her fingers, and she reached up to pick it. But with a spring, the whole fig tossed itself upwards and out of reach. Peter tried, and even started to climb the tree, but each time a fig was near enough to pick, it moved at the last minute.
Finally Poppy stared upwards, stamped her foot, and said, “Don’t be such a rotten tree. Your figs are beautiful and we need at least one even if we have to share it. You let me have some last time when I was with Gilden.” This suddenly appeared to change everything. The tree gave a little shake, and two gorgeous golden figs dropped at Poppy’s feet. She bent and scooped them both up, holding one very carefully in each hand. “Oh, thank you very, very much, dear kind tree,” she said. “I’ll tell Gilden how kind you are the next time I see him.”
At this the tree gave another little shake, and two more figs appeared at Poppy’s feet. She handed two to Peter, and clasped the other two herself, smiling widely and calling the tree a darling. They then both sat cheerfully curled up beneath the enormous spreading branches, and began to eat.
Not simply delicious, the figs seemed to make the whole forest appear more beautiful. The weather warmed, the snow stopped and the ground dried. Since they were bigger than normal, Peter thought he’d never be able to eat two of these figs, but he had soon swallowed the lot and wished there was more. “I think the tree’s wonderful, and the figs are wonderful, and everything’s going to be wonderful,” he said, and promptly fell fast asleep, his thumb now firmly back in his mouth.
Poppy watched him, smiling. She wasn’t tired anymore. The fig juice had woken her up and she wanted to dance.
Bouncing up, she patted the tree with another soft thank you, and began to skip a little way ahead. She didn’t dare go too far in case she lost her way back and then she and Peter could wander the forest for weeks without ever finding each other. But then, peeping between two Sycamore trees with their strange seeds encrusted with ice, she saw the last thing she had expected. For although the snow had stopped, and it was growing dark, there was a great vivid rainbow arching up from the grass towards the sky. The colours shimmered, and against the late evening sky, they seemed even brighter. For a moment she couldn’t move, feeling herself bewitched by something so gloriously extraordinary. Then, with a deep breath, she hurried back to Peter. He was still deeply asleep.
Unable to wake him, even by shaking him hard, Poppy went backwards and forwards to the rainbow several times before curling up next to him, and drifting off into her own placid dreams. She felt she had seen a promise of something special. She didn’t know what. But she did remember Gilden talking to her about the black centre of the forest, where amazing things could happen. It was where things began, he said. And just before reaching that spot, there had been the golden figs. Poppy was quite sure that she had discovered the centre of the forest, and that when she and Peter woke in the morning, there would be that promised new beginning.
They both woke to the dazzle of a Lashtang dawn.
Peter, having slept for a long time, was now wide awake and bursting with energy. Poppy felt that somehow her wishes had been granted, even though she wasn’t really sure what her wishes were. She had wanted to be safely back at home during the long nightmare through the forest. But now she didn’t want home at all. She wanted something much more special.
So over a little breakfast and the last few bites of their soggy bread and cheese, she told Peter what she had seen.
“A rainbow. It’s magic, I’m sure of it. It grows out of the black centre.”
“Well it won’t be there now,” sighed Peter. “I’m sorry I missed it. But rainbows never last very long, so it will be gone.”
“Oh gracious, I hope not. It was magic,” Poppy insisted. “Come and see.”
They hurried, packing up their few possessions, and then as they stood to leave, two more golden figs bounced down from a high branch, and one hit Peter on the head. Grabbing up both and stuffing them into her pocket, Poppy took Peter’s hand and they started running through the path between the sycamore trees. Poppy was delighted to see that the trees had not moved, and she pushed past the last bush of tangled briar roses, all wilting under the crust of snow.
And there in the small clearing was the rainbow. Its colours blazed out, each arch perfect. It rose high and then arched downwards, but no one could see where it finished. Yet they could see exactly where it started, seemingly growing directly from a small black circle in the ground.
Peter stood and stared in wonder. He could neither move nor speak. Poppy danced around him. “See? It’s magic.” And she skipped over, running through the translucent colours, backwards and forwards several times. Her smile grew bigger each time. “Do this,” she commanded Peter. “It feels wonderful. Even better than golden figs.”
Very tentatively, almost as though frightened, Peter followed. He walked through very slowly the first time, but as the light seemed to flow through him, he started to run faster. Finally, with a huge breath and an even bigger smile, he stood still right on the spot where the rainbow grew upwards, raised his arms into the brilliant arch, and waited.
“I can see things,” he whispered. “My Dad, sitting in his workshop mending locks. He’s calling out to me. And my Ma. I haven’t seen her since I was tiny. But there she is, kissing my cheek. It’s – wonderful. I feel like a baby again. They’re both holding out their arms to me. Now I can feel them hugging me.” Reluctantly, he moved away, and nodded to Poppy. “It’s wonderful. Your turn now.”
As he stood aside, Poppy stepped carefully into the exact place where the rainbow started. She had expected the same experience as Peter, and to see herself as a baby in her mother’s arms. But instead she saw Gilden. He was walking through the forest towards her. Slow and elegant, his bright stripes like a lantern in the shadows. He called to her. Poppy then saw herself running towards him. But then she stopped.
A tiny blue star was hovering over their heads, diving downwards towards Gilden. He lifted one huge paw and swiped it away, but it danced out of range, and then returned. As Gilden looked up in fury and opened his mouth to roar, the star flew between his teeth. The tiger gulped, trying to clear his throat. And then as Poppy watched, horrified, so Gilden seemed to cry. His eyes filled with tears and his
beautiful face moistened, with teardrops like little pearls on his whiskers.
The tears dried and Gilden’s expression changed. He stepped forwards, lifting his head, and snarled. His eyes narrowed and seemed to turn cold. Where the rich black and golden warmth had appeared to smile, now the smile was gone. The welcome was gone. The tiger growled low, his legs seemed to elongate a little, and he stared at Poppy. “Putrid child,” he said. It was not Gilden’s voice. It was Yaark’s.
“Who are you?” whispered Poppy in the vision.
“The one who hates you,” answered the tiger. “The one who despises all humans. And the one who will kill you.”
With a heart-thumping stagger, Poppy leapt back from the rainbow. “You saw happy things – lovely memories you’d forgotten,” she mumbled to Peter. “I saw hideous things. I thought it was Gilden, but it was Yaark and he threatened me.”
Peter shook his head. “That seems so – unfair. But did you see the steps?”
She had not, and at the moment was bitterly disappointed and wanted nothing more to do with the rainbow. “I thought we were going to escape. First the figs, then the black centre and the rainbow. It all seemed beautiful. Then it turned ugly.”
“There are steps into the curved colours,” Peter insisted. “Perhaps it’s like the ladder. We could climb it and get out.”
“Or climb it and fall on top of Yaark.”
“I want to try,” Peter said. “But I won’t go without you. I won’t risk us getting separated.”
“Let’s wait.” Poppy sat down, her back to the rainbow as if she was leaning against a tree trunk. “It gave me a shock, seeing Yaark. I want to think about it. Then, if you still want to climb, I promise I’ll come too.”
After a pause Peter sat down next to her. “Alright,” he said, “but listen. I think these things – the good ones, that is – give us what we need. Like the figs sent me to sleep because I was exhausted but they woke you up because you needed some happiness and excitement. Same with the rainbow. It answered my question. It’s months I’ve wanted to remember what my mother looked like, and my father too.” He stared at Poppy, and asked, “So what was your question?”
“I didn’t ask one.”
“But in your head I mean. Isn’t there something you’ve wanted to know for ages? About Yaark? Or Gilden?”
“Oh yes.” Poppy turned to smile at Peter. “Yes, yes, I’ve been stupid again. Don’t tell the others what an idiot I’ve become, what with getting lost and being muddled. Gilden and Yaark. Gilden told me he was sometimes Yaark which sounded weird. It’s one of the things I’ve puzzled over for ages. And now I’ve seen it happen.” She hesitated, looking up at the rainbow over her head. “But I still don’t really understand.”
“So climb the rainbow.”
Poppy seemed to be staring without blinking at the rainbow, as if she expected to see an immediate answer. Then, quite suddenly, she jumped up. “O.K.,” she said. “I just have to, don’t I? I mean, I can’t just walk away from magical steps into the sky. Unless it turns out to be that grumpy old ladder again.”
“But what if we climb together and still end up in different places, like our visions.”
“Hold hands.”
Which they did. Very carefully, clutching each other’s fingers, they walked around the rainbow to where glittering steps appeared within it. The steps moved and shone and certainly looked nothing like the wooden ladder. Peter took the first step up.
“It feels wonderful,” he told Poppy. “It tingled right through my boots. I feel different. Older. Excited.” Following, Poppy climbed onto the lowest step as Peter climbed onto the next. They did not have to climb any further. It happened in an instant.
One deep breath and a gasp, and both Poppy and Peter were floating within the veil of dragonflies that surrounded Lashtang’s world.
Like the dragonflies themselves, arms outstretched like wings, they swooped and twirled, flying, hovering, diving, fluttering and dancing. The soft touch of the gossamer wings patted their cheeks, and the little breezes were warm. After the long winter freeze of modern Hammersmith, medieval London and Lashtang, this felt like summer and bright flashes of colour all around them were like coloured sunshine. There was no more glimpse of the rainbow, but the dragonflies carried those same translucent tones, as though the rainbow itself had turned into the Lashtang veil.
“The veil can take us home if we wish it,” Poppy whispered.
But Peter, beaming like sunshine himself, shook his head. “I think I’d sooner stay here forever.”
She laughed. “Come on then. I’ll chase you.”
She started to run, still laughing, since it felt as though she was leaping in space. The dragonflies dithered beside her and for a surprised moment she thought she heard them singing. Peter was jumping like a kangaroo and also laughing. Then he reached out his fingers and touched hers.
But immediately the veil parted. It seemed as though a flutter of soft curtains were pulled apart, and both Poppy and Peter tumbled, rolling over several times, into the strangest place they had yet seen.
Chapter Fourteen
Younger willow put his feet up on a footstool and smiled proudly at his guest. They were drinking Epilog Peppermint Potion, which was a special concoction made for centuries only in the Epilog tunnels, using herbs, leaves and small berries from the outskirts of the forest. It could be drunk hot or cold and this time it was hot. Steam rose into Nathan’s face, and he breathed it in as he drank. He decided it was utterly delicious.
Hermes, had succumbed to the drowsy cosiness and was fast asleep on a cushioned chair, his head tucked underneath his wing.
“I must admit,” said Nathan, his nose still in his steaming cup, “it was actually Poppy who wanted to come and find you. We were doing a lot of spying for the Octobr rebellion, but we were interrupted. She thought she’d come back here and start a new under-cover resistance movement with Epilogs. It’s a perfect idea, since you’re all just about invisible. But she went straight to the forest, and I know how dangerous that is. I was sure she’d get into trouble and never find you.”
Madam Willow frowned, putting her cup back on the table beside her. “We have certainly not seen her,” she said, “or everyone would have been talking about it.”
“I couldn’t stop her coming, but I thought the least I could do was come after her,” said Nathan. “She’s with Peter, but he’s a real dreamer and the only things he really knows about are locks and music.”
Younger Willow stood up. “Nothing we can do tonight, I’m afraid,” he said. “But tomorrow I’ll send out a search party. Then you and I, my illustrious empole, can do exactly as the young lady empola wished. I am more than ready to start our own Epilog Resistance-Movement. We could begin in Peganda.”
“There’s a big house there on the river,” nodded Nathan. “Most of us could work from there. But I must be sure Poppy’s alright first.”
“Let me show you the spare bedchamber,” smiled Madam Willow. “You need to sleep, and we can work everything out in the morning.”
Nathan felt rather guilty about leaving Poppy to wander in danger that night, but he could barely stand up and knew he needed to sleep. As he curled in the heated bed, snuggling under a mass of feather quilts, he felt more positive that everything would work out well. He just wished he had Alfie and John with him.
The dawn blazed golden, scarlet and lilac through his bedroom window, and Nathan sat up, feeling cheerful at last. He found breakfast waiting for him, and Younger Willow already organising a search party.
“I’m ready to join you right away,” said Nathan, eyeing the hot scrambled eggs and toast with temptation.
“No, no, my illustrious lord,” said the Epilog at once. “We know the forest very well, until it gets too far into the dark centre, for I am the only one who has ever ventured that far. So we will march far quicker on our own.”
“I feel I should come,” Nathan frowned. “She’s my sister after all.”
He was reluctant, but Nathan saw the reason behind the excuse, and sat quickly at the little dining table. “She’s got hair like mine,” he said, looking up at the leader of the search party. “She’s not very tall, and she’s wearing blue Lashtang trousers under a blue split up coat. And Peter is about the same age,” but he was interrupted.
“My lord,” replied the Epilog, “there are no humans at all in this forest. Whoever we see, whatever they are wearing, will be the empola and her friend, because there can be no one else.”
And they marched off into the tunnel outside.
Breakfast was delicious, but Nathan couldn’t stop thinking of Poppy, until Hermes sat in the middle of the table, as he liked to do, and said, “My illustrious lord, I understand that it is the duty of the future emperor of Lashtang to redeem his country, and plan for its return to the rightful rulers. If I may, I should like to explain the situation which has grown up here before your arrival. It may help with the future redemption.”
“Um. Yes,” said Nathan, not entirely understanding. “Perhaps both of you could do that. But I’ve seen some of the past. I know William Octobr, the first emperor to surrender in the Hazlett invasion. I saw a tiny bit of Lester Hazlett, who conquered Lashtang at that time. And I saw a lot of Krillester and the poor wretched Ninester who was put aside at the time of the Epilog massacre.”
“I was thinking of more recent times,” said Hermes, head to one side. “As you know, for many years the Hazletts have ruled. There have been many uprisings, including two led by the Empress Prestabella, whom you also met my illustrious lord. But all have failed. So when the illustrious Empress Messina, your mother, led an uprising seven years ago, she left you and your sister in the care of the illustrious Lady Altabella, your grandmother, so that should she fail, you would be saved to continue the dynasty in her absence.”