Dawn of Wonder (The Wakening Book 1)

by Jonathan Renshaw

  But one day a vile and ugly serpent slid through the river behind her while they talked. The dwarf saw it but he didn’t have time to warn her so he leapt towards her with his knife raised so he could strike the serpent but she never saw the serpent and both of them (the river maiden and the serpent) dived away and vanished into the darkness of the water never to be seen again.

  From then and forever onwards he spent his days searching for her so he could explain what really happened, and also to avenge himself on the serpent by challenging him to mortal combat and hacking him into tiny little bits and feeding them to the crows.

  Aedan glowed with pleasure at his relatively obvious contribution. Still, he thought, there wasn’t nearly enough blood and glory there. He would have to put in a lot more monsters and battles as they continued with the tale. That was what any decent story needed.

  “Where is the silver dwarf now?” Dara asked.

  “The last signs we found,” said Kalry, “were on the west bank of the Brockle under a hidden patch of shady ferns where the light is dim and mystical.”

  Dara’s eyes grew large. “Will you take me there tomorrow?”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s going to be so much fun. I can hardly – Oh Skrill! Not again! Yuck. Here Kalry, you take him.”

  When the little crisis was over, the girls continued discussing plans for the expedition and the pursuit of the little magical being.

  Aedan and Kalry had invented the legend of the silver dwarf when they were five and six. Over the years, they had explored every corner of Badgerfields and all the shadowy valleys, wind-buffeted hills, dreamy woodlands and secret forests they could reach, hunting for enchanted places marked with tiny boot prints and dwarf-sized shelters.

  Aedan had never felt embarrassed about his imagination. Without it there was no magic. Whether or not they actually found the silver dwarf wasn’t important. The magic was in searching their whole world, lost in the wonder of it all. Without imagination, things were only as they appeared – and that was blindness. Things were more than they appeared, so much more. When he considered an oak tree, it was not just a tree. To someone small, like an ant, it was a whole landscape of rugged barky cliffs and big green leaf-plains that quaked when the sky was restless, a place of many strange creatures where fearsome winged beasts could pluck and devour someone in a blink.

  And it wasn’t just about magic. Without imagination, one could not think very far into things, like that Lieutenant. Without imagination, he was no more than he said he was. But there was more to him …

  It brought Aedan back and he decided, warning or not, he was going to pour out his doubts. Before he could begin, though, Thomas asked if they had played their origins game.

  “We did,” said Kalry.

  “And?”

  “He says he’s from Rinwold.”

  “So who won?”

  “She did,” said Aedan. “Again.”

  Kalry frowned. “I’m not convinced I did. Aedan said some things about him that kept me thinking all day. Thomas, have you noticed anything odd about him?”

  “He’s very impressive, almost frightening. But he’s a strange kind of man, that’s for sure. And not one with a lot of sense neither. I saw him take his coat off as soon as he was done with talking, even though the wind blew winter back for the day. Said he didn’t feel the cold, but there was gooseflesh running all over his neck and arms.”

  The silence lasted only a few heartbeats before Aedan gasped and leapt to his feet.

  “Kalry! Kalry, we need to speak to your father. Now!”

  The chill wind that had been rising through the early evening had brought a thick, soupy mist. Aedan slipped back past the lone sentry into the house, teeth chattering.

  “He’s not in the courtyard. Could he be in his study?”

  “If he is, it would definitely be a bad idea to go looking for him,” said Kalry. “He doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s there.”

  “Can we afford to wait?”

  Kalry bit a fingernail. Aedan had told her in a torrent of thoughts what he feared, and the dread was clearly growing in her mind. “No, I don’t think we should. But this might not go well.”

  They had to step carefully now as they passed back through the hall, over and around makeshift beds on which some of the children had already fallen asleep. The passage leading to the study was dark, but they felt their way easily enough with a hand brushing each wall – though Aedan could not quite reach both at the same time. There was a section of the passage where the floorboards were loose; they clattered like falling tiles under even the stealthiest tread. Light poured out from beneath the closed door at the far end of the passage. Dresbourn would be within. Aedan felt his stomach shrink and the blood begin to rush in his ears. He hated these meetings.

  Kalry knocked.

  “Who is it?” The voice was terse.

  “It’s me, Father,” Kalry replied.

  “Come in.”

  She opened the door into a large room, richly carpeted and lit with several lamps. The walls were lined with shelves that held more bronze and silver bookends than books. As in the hall, expensive paintings and large sculptures stood proudly, displaying their owner’s financial success and social status. There was a large teak desk on the far side of the room where Dresbourn, swollen even larger than normal in a rich fur coat, sat opposite Lieutenant Quin.

  Not for the first time, Aedan wondered how such a man with his puffy cheeks flanking a self-important little chin, haughty brow, and turned-back arrogant nose could be Kalry’s father. Her mother must have been a princess. Not wanting to stare, lest his thoughts be revealed, he dropped his eyes and noticed a long scroll that lay unrolled between the two men. He had a feeling he was trespassing there and he looked up again, uncertain, from Dresbourn to Quin. There was no welcome in either face. Dresbourn’s raised eyebrows had grown distinctly colder on noticing Aedan.

  “This is the same boy I saw with your daughter earlier,” said Quin. “Is he noble too?”

  “Aedan?” Dresbourn said, with a short humourless laugh. He regarded the scruffy boy as he would a porker on display at the farmer’s market. “Not as we understand it. He’s a notch above the local commoners thanks to his mother’s line and the education she’s given him, but his father more or less nullifies that.”

  Aedan stood silent, too intimidated to be offended.

  “Well, Kalry,” her father continued. “What do you want?”

  She cleared her voice and tried to clear the look of distress from her face as she pulled her eyes away from Aedan. “We wondered if we could speak to you,” she said. “It’s really important.”

  “Make it quick.”

  Kalry looked at the lieutenant and then at Aedan, unsure.

  “Actually,” stammered Aedan, “we need to talk to you alone.”

  “Children,” said Dresbourn, standing so suddenly that the desk lurched and a quill toppled from the ink jar, “I do not have time for your games now, and I am embarrassed that you would insult a guest, a man of rank and breeding. Kalry, I have raised you better than this.”

  “It’s perfectly alright,” the lieutenant interjected. “We can resume the discussion later. It so happens that this would be a good time to check on a few things.” He left, closing the door behind him. Dresbourn did not sit immediately. When he did, he leaned back in his chair and levelled his gaze at Aedan. It was that heavy, withering look that demanded an explanation while making it clear that anything said would be considered an impertinence; it was a look that, if cast about the farm, would cause young shoots to turn around and dive back into the earth.

  Whenever Aedan explained his thoughts to Kalry, her unfeigned enthusiasm was like summer’s rain and shine – his ideas burst into life, growing surer with the telling. But her father’s wintry intolerance never failed to shrivel the words on Aedan’s tongue. Dresbourn’s look did more than expect disappointment, it demanded disappointment, and reaped it every
time.

  Aedan tried to swallow but his mouth was too dry. Eventually he found his voice hiding somewhere back in his throat and hoped, as a hundred times before, that he might sound convincing.

  “We think he’s lying,” he said. It came out like an apology. He saw Dresbourn’s jaw clench, but decided to press ahead while he still could. “His jacket doesn’t fit him, that’s what gave him away. It’s why he didn’t wear it even though it was cold. Probably pinches under his arms. It’s not his jacket. I think he stole it from the real Lieutenant Quin on the way here. If what he says is true – about slavers being in the area – then I think he’s one of them.”

  The room fell silent.

  The awful words hung in the air.

  Dresbourn tilted his head back and released a tired breath, disinterested eyes looking down at Aedan. He said nothing. Aedan knew that tilt all too well; it had always made him feel like a liar even when telling the truth. He would not be endured much longer. He tried again, his voice sounding thinner,

  “The lieutenant’s plan doesn’t make sense. He’s only one man. It took him almost the whole day to prepare us, but there are forty farmsteads that he has to get to, so it would take him a month to reach everyone. I think he has a band in the forest. It’s really easy to hide lots of people in there. I think he’s leading them from one farm to the next, gathering us like chickens. I’ll bet he’s planning to take sentry duty at midnight and open the door wide.”

  “Is that it?” Dresbourn said, shaking his head with exaggerated slowness. “Because his jacket doesn’t fit, you think he’s a spy? He came to this farm first because he deemed it to be the first at risk. He will coordinate matters from the village tomorrow. We have just been discussing it. Do you honestly think I would not have discovered by now if he were false?”

  “There’s more than the jacket,” Aedan said, snatching the chance to get in a few more words. “There were things in his story that didn’t make sense. He said that the slavers were well armed, but he also said that nobody saw them except at a distance, even when they raided the previous village. So how does he know that they are well armed? He said they only attacked people who got isolated, but when Thomas’s father suggested moving as a big group, he said they would attack us. Then earlier this evening he said that they would not attack us in the house and stopped us putting lots of sentries on duty. I think he’s just making things up so we’ll do what he wants and we’ll be easy for slavers to catch.”

  Dresbourn’s eyes were hard. “Kalry, are you part of this nonsense?”

  “We aren’t looking for trouble, Father. It started when we tried to guess his origin, but there was so much that didn’t make sense. He said he’s from Rinwold, but lots of his words sounded like a sailor’s talk. I think Quin has been acting since he galloped in. Apart from his coat and that letter that could both have been stolen, how do we know he is who he says? Aedan and I think he’s a Lekran who has prepared himself for this act.”

  Aedan had been thinking. Something bothered him and suddenly he realised what it was. He had not heard the floorboards. The lieutenant, or whatever he was, had not left.

  “I can prove it!” he said, and ran to the door, yanking it open. The light of the lamps fell on the man’s surprised face.

  “See. He’s been listening the whole time!”

  “Not at all, my young friend,” said the tall man, stepping inside and putting his hand on Aedan’s shoulder. The grip tightened like a horse’s bite, but nothing was betrayed in the man’s face or the smooth voice in which he continued. “I returned from my rounds and decided to wait until you were done talking. I simply wanted to avoid interrupting.”

  “But the floorboards –” Aedan began.

  “Aedan, that is enough!” Dresbourn’s voice struck like a bullwhip. “You have insulted my guest along with my judgement. I forbid you to spread these disrespectful ideas any further. Due to the present crisis I will tolerate your presence here tonight, but at first light I want you out of my house. Now leave!”

  After beating a miserable retreat through the hall and back to the upstairs room, Aedan closed the door behind him and dropped onto the floor. He nursed the shoulder Quin had gripped, while Kalry recounted the ordeal to the others.

  “Maybe he’s right,” said Thomas after they had sat in silence awhile. “How could children have spotted what everyone else couldn’t?”

  “Because we haven’t killed off our imaginations,” Aedan mumbled behind a wrapping of arms and knees.

  “I don’t think you are wrong just because you are young,” said Dara. “Anyway, Dorothy always says you and Kalry are too clever by half. What’s the word she always uses?

  “Prodigies,” Kalry mumbled, “but I’m sure it’s more Aedan she means.”

  “Maybe your dad just got embarrassed ’cos you two thought out something he didn’t.”

  Aedan finished off for her, “And I made him hate me forever.”

  “Not if we are right about this,” said Kalry.

  “If we are right,” Aedan retorted, “then we will be marching in a line with ropes around our necks by morning. How is that better?”

  “Isn’t there something we can do?” asked Dara. Her voice was small.

  “Don’t be frightened.” Kalry put an arm around her. “Maybe we are wrong.”

  “I don’t like him!” the little girl said with characteristic fire. “I saw him looking at Tulia like he wanted to eat her. Tulia had her back to him and when he saw me walk into the kitchen he smiled in a way that made me want to run. I don’t think he is a good person at all.”

  Everyone was quiet. They had all climbed onto Aedan’s roof now, his vantage on the situation, and what they saw terrified them.

  “Kalry,” Aedan finally said, “do you still have that rope?”

  She pulled it out from under the bed and tossed it to him. “What are you planning?”

  “Something that will either save everyone or put us in enough trouble to last a year. You don’t have to join me if you don’t want. I’m going to the town for help.” He stood up.

  “But it’s too far,” said Thomas. “In this mist it would take all night. By the time you get back with help, that’s if anyone believes you enough to come out, it will be morning. If there really are slavers around, that might be too late.”

  Aedan sat down again with a dejected thud. He plucked at the coarse fibres in the coils of rope and let his eyes drift upward and across the thatch for a while.

  “We’re going to have to split up,” he said. “Two will need to stay here and watch, but without being seen, and two will need to go for help. The two who stay will need to count how many slavers and say which way they went, because rain might spoil the tracks. The ones who go will need to take horses, so I think that means Kalry and me.”

  Everyone nodded.

  “But how will we watch without being seen?” Thomas asked.

  “At the front there is the timber-shed roof – it’s flat and one of you could lie there and not get spotted. At the back there’s the treehouse. Just remember to pull up the rope ladder. We don’t know which way they’ll come, so you should split up.”

  Aedan looked at Dara. Her chin was trembling. This was asking a lot of anyone, but for a nine-year-old girl, waiting alone in the dark for a band of thugs to abduct everyone she cared about was too much. He realised this could not work.

  Kalry had seen it too. “Shouldn’t we at least try to tell some of the adults? At least warn them?” she asked.

  “Even after we were told not to?” Aedan put his ear to the door. “Your father is down there now. He’ll be watching and he’ll put a stop to anything we start. Anyway, I don’t think a single adult will believe us.”

  “Then who do you think will believe us in the town?”

  “Nulty.”

  Kalry nodded. “Yes, I suppose he would. But can he help?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s the best I can think of.”

  “Aedan,” sh
e said, looking at the little girl beside her, “we can’t ask Dara to wait alone outside. She’ll be terrified.”

  “I know. I was thinking that maybe you should stay with her and I’ll go alone.”

  “I’m the better rider,” she replied. “And I know the horse trails better. If one of us goes it should be me.”

  “You can’t go alone. You hardly know Nulty. If I let you go and your father finds out, he’ll hang me.”

  “Wait,” said Dara. “I’ll do it. I’m scared, but I’ll be brave for my mum and dad.”

  They all looked at her with proud eyes.

  “You are brave,” said Kalry, hugging her tight. The little girl leaned in, trying to control her shivers.

  “We need to pretend to be asleep,” said Aedan, “so we’d better put cushions under our blankets in case anyone peeks inside.”

  Once they had set the room up, he pushed the shutters open, tied the rope to the central beam of the window and turned back to give some final advice.

  “Dress warmly and paint your faces with soot. Don’t come down from your hide-outs until we get back, and whatever you do, don’t shout out or they will find you and take you too.”

  Thomas and Dara both nodded, though she was shaking visibly. Then Aedan and Kalry climbed down the rope and stole away through the darkness.

  A half-moon was drifting somewhere up in the heavens, but the mist was thick enough to engulf almost all the light. They felt their way along the stone walls to the corner, then followed the next wall until the courtyard was before them. They crossed this swiftly and headed in the direction of the tack room, feeling their way along the wall again until stone gave way to the familiar touch of wooden panels.