Timothy fell straight into a copse of elms. They were farther away than they’d looked from the tree. Jessica hunched against the wind and ran. As she ran, she tripped over tangles of roots and branches blown down by the storm. Flashes of lightning split the dark. Her ankle throbbed, but fear for Timothy drove her forward. When she looked up, Jessica found that she wasn’t running alone; the star girl traveled silently beside her.
Sarah screamed! One of the arrows she fired had struck Timothy’s leg. She urged the stag toward the ground just as Timothy tumbled into dense foliage. Cerridwyn appeared at her side as she descended. She raised a pale arm and called out a strange word in a language Sarah did not know. Cerridwyn’s voice seemed to be directed to the trees below them. Then she raised her bow and took aim.
The wolves and hounds dove down toward Timothy’s plummeting body. Sarah knew that the slow, the injured, and the weak were the first to be attacked by any wolf. Wounded prey were easy marks, a fast meal for hungry predators. Cerridwyn’s aim was sure. Her shot dropped the lead wolf with an arrow to the throat. Wolves and hounds scattered, unsure whom to follow. Cerridwyn fired again. Her shot went wide. The next lodged in a wolf’s haunch. Timothy disappeared into the trees. The hunt lost sight of the prey. A horn sounded high above them. Amazed, Sarah watched as the hounds and wolves drew back as one.
Then a roar shook the sky, a roar filled with anguish and rage.
Herne’s voice bellowed. “Cerridwyn, you have broken old laws by interfering with my rightful prey! Don’t think I will forget this night!” Then he and his pack of hounds and wolves swept away.
Gwydon dove past Sarah. His large frame maneuvered between the elms. Cerridwyn followed close behind, and Sarah did likewise. The Greenman lay pale and silent on the ground, surrounded by the Morris dancers. But Sarah didn’t see Timothy.
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ALONE
MALL UPPER BRANCHES ripped and tore at Timothy’s body. Then larger branches, like arms that flexed under his weight, passed him downward, limb to limb, softening his fall but never breaking it completely. The arms that caught him were hard and rough, the hands clawing, but they never let him plummet completely to the ground. He could smell the damp earth, the leaf mold, the ancient smell of the forest floor. And then, a sharp whack to the back of his head. Darkness rushed in. Above, thunderheads gathered, spilled open, and turned the rain into a deluge.
As soon as Sarah and Cerridwyn landed in the clearing, Sarah jumped from the stag’s back. Gwydon was already there, pacing and sniffing. But there was still no sign of Timothy. The Morris dancers, one by one, walked silently to the Greenman. Each dancer took a leaf from his hat, and laid it on the Greenman’s chest. Sarah watched, remembering the story of the Jack in the Green. Rain clung to her lashes, dripped down the back of her neck. She had never felt so miserable. She swiped at her eyes with a wet sleeve. A breeze stirred the leaves on the Greenman. A murmur swept through the group of Morris men.
The Greenman’s branchlike arms were waving! Then he was sitting and pushing himself to stand. His roar of laughter shook the leaves on every tree and his own viny foliage danced.
Sarah froze, her mouth open in disbelief. The poor, broken Greenman was alive! She turned to Cerridwyn. “I thought he was dead!”
“He was dead; that wasn’t an illusion. But death doesn’t always have the final word, even though the Dark would like us to think so. Things are not always as they appear—sometimes, not even death. The Greenman reminds us of that each year,” Cerridwyn replied.
All his stiffness was gone. In fact, the Greenman seemed taller, stronger, and leafier. It was no longer a question of tree or man; the two had become a new creature brimming with life.
Gwydon paced forward and nuzzled the Greenman’s hand, and the Greenman bowed to him. Again the furious baying hounds passed overhead. The deer pawed the ground and fled. The Greenman paused, looking up into the sky. “An evil older than the hunt is abroad tonight. But he has no power here.” At the sound of his voice, Gwydon sighed and lay quietly alert at his feet, nose twitching and eyes following every move.
Difficult as it was to take her eyes from the Greenman, Sarah had a more urgent mission in mind. Where was Timothy?
I didn’t kill him. I didn’t kill him. The refrain ran through Jessica’s mind like a fresh wind. She had finally reached the clearing, with the star girl at her side. They had run the entire way, and now Jessica sucked in great gulps of air, feeling as if her lungs might burst. Before her, the Greenman stood, whole and alive. A terrible weight rolled from her shoulders.
Jessica stared at the Greenman. Up close, he was taller and more magnificent than she had expected.
“Come, child.” The Greenman’s voice was tender, but his words were a command.
She limped forward. Her ankle was hot and swollen. Unsure, Jessica looked into his merry eyes. He extended two branches in her direction. They reminded her of arms. And then she was hugging his ridged trunk and burying her face in the leaves that sprang from his fingertips. “I’m so sorry, so very sorry,” she murmured into his damp bark.
The Greenman looked down at her from his great height and brushed her face gently with his twiggy fingers. “I know,” was all he said in a voice filled with the life of the forest: birds and deer, trees and vines, and all the small and scurrying things. And Jessica was sure that he did know.
“But where is Timothy?” Her voice was muffled against his side.
The Greenman gently put her aside. He walked to the edge of the clearing, stopping under one of the elms. He cleared away shrubby undergrowth and, there, nestled like a baby, was Timothy. His face was badly scratched and bleeding. He was missing his shirt, and his jeans were torn and muddy, and the shaft of an arrow stuck out of one leg. But Jessica was sure that he was still breathing.
Sarah tried to run to Timothy, but Cerridwyn held her back. “It’s not time yet.”
“I shot him. That’s why he fell!” Sarah struggled in her grasp. “Please, I’m so afraid I killed him.”
The wind shrieked. For the second and final time, the hunt passed overhead. Flickers of fear ran down Sarah’s spine, but the hunt continued past them. Herne and his hounds sought new prey.
“The Greenman lives, and Timothy James stands, but not alone,” Star Girl said. As she spoke those words, Timothy opened his eyes and sat up. He looked around bewildered, but he smiled at Sarah across the clearing. Then his face clouded as if he were remembering something terrible.
The Greenman lifted Timothy from the bushes and laid him at Cerridwyn’s feet.
“You’ve been shot, but it was this arrow that saved you.” Cerridwyn bent and, as gently as possible, pulled the arrow from his leg. Timothy winced. Sarah threw herself at her brother, hugging and crying. Cerridwyn bandaged Timothy’s leg with a strip of cloth from her own cloak, and Sarah wiped the dirt from his face.
Soon everyone was talking. It was a strange gathering: Sarah hugging Timothy, the Greenman talking to the beautiful star girl with a wolf at their feet, and the redhaired huntress watching over all. Even the Morris dancers had regained their spirits and danced around the circle. But Sarah noticed that Gwydon was not relaxed. He frequently looked up, toward the tops of the trees, the fur on his neck bristling.
Only Jessica stood alone on the outside of the circle. Her eyes were fastened on Timothy, and she felt a great lump growing in her throat that made it impossible to talk or even swallow. She looked out between the trees into the forest, and considered slipping away. It would be the best thing to do. She wasn’t part of this celebration; they didn’t want her. She was the reason Timothy was injured. She took a few steps on her throbbing ankle, but suddenly the wolf was there, blocking her path with a low growl. Trembling, she backed up, and he growled again. “What do you want?” Jessica asked.
“He knows it’s important that you sta
y.” Cerridwyn appeared out of the shadows. She towered over Jessica, and on her head was a crown with a single gold leaf, identical to the one she had given Timothy. “Aren’t you the one who received the poem?” she asked.
Jessica nodded.
“Then your story isn’t over, either. It wasn’t sent to you by mistake or by coincidence. You play a central part in all that happened tonight.”
“Yeah—I caused it all,” Jessica said bitterly.
“No, you don’t get that much credit. What happened tonight is only one small part of a larger story that began before you were born and will continue for many years to come. You’re a part of that story.” Cerridwyn looked fiercer now, and then her face softened. “You can change your part in the narrative, though.”
Jessica let herself be led, limping, back into the circle. Gwydon followed, wagging his tail now—if wolves’ tails could be said to wag.
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GIFTS
HE GREENMAN’S ALIVE!” Timothy shouted as he peered over Sarah’s shoulder.
“Yes, and so are you!” Sarah squeezed him so tight that he winced. Every inch of his body hurt. And he was still worried. He couldn’t forget the image of Balor with his terrible eye. What if Herne’s hounds came back?
At the edge of the clearing, Timothy saw another familiar face. Cerridwyn held Jessica’s arm in a firm grasp as she dragged her back into the clearing.
Sarah followed his gaze and narrowed her eyes. “This was all Jessica’s fault!”
Releasing Jessica, Cerridwyn stepped into the center of the circle. When she spoke, the wind stilled and the trees stopped their noisy rustling. “We have come to a place, time out of time, where we have all been summoned.” She paused and looked around at the many faces. “Jessica Church, step forward.”
Even as her heart dove to her toes, Jessica raised her head and met the gaze of the others in the circle. This was it; things could not get any worse. Sarah glared in her direction, but Timothy only looked curious. She shuffled forward. The eyes of the huntress burned into hers.
“I have been watching you for many years.”
Jessica furrowed her brow. This was not at all what she had expected to hear. Who was this woman who had been watching her?
“You have taunted others; you have bullied, lied, and betrayed.”
Jessica bit her lip but didn’t say anything.
“Tonight you saw how your decisions affect others. You have the chance to make new decisions, to take on a new role.” Cerridwyn changed in the blink of an eye to old Mrs. Clapper.
Jessica gasped.
“Perhaps you recognize me better in this form.”
“I don’t understand,” Jessica said. “How can you and the huntress be the same person?”
“Appearances can be deceiving. I have many forms and have lived many years.”
Jessica looked down. Her voice was very quiet. “I’ve made so many mistakes. What new role are you talking about?”
“You were the hunt’s rightful prey.”
Jessica shuddered as she recalled running through the woods with the hounds overhead.
“But,” Cerridwyn continued, “there’s more to you than meets the eye. You’re capable of great kindness and courage. You just rushed to help Timothy, even though you were in pain. You can use your intelligence to help many others, if you choose to. It’s not what you’ve done in the past but what you’ll do in the future that matters now. Think of a new start as a kind of gift. And I will help you by passing on some of my skill and wisdom.”
It sounded too good to be true. Jessica looked at Timothy. His face was covered in scratches. He had no shirt. His glasses were askew and streaked with dirt. When he had fallen from the wolf’s back, she was sure he would be killed. He had risked everything so that the hunt wouldn’t chase her. And now she was being given another chance. Who wouldn’t take that offer? She worried her lip.
“But what if I can’t do it? What if I mess up again?” It would be easy if she were like Mrs. Clapper, a goddess on the side.
“You probably will. But what matters now is your intention.” Mrs. Clapper’s eyes never left Jessica’s face.
The silence in the clearing was complete, as if the night had paused to listen. Sarah stood with the bow hanging from one hand, her fair hair plastered to her forehead. Her eyes, Jessica thought, are still accusing me. But when Jessica’s eyes met the Greenman’s, something in her melted.
Mrs. Clapper reached under her cloak and drew something out of her pocket. A necklace with a single blood-red ruby on a golden chain dangled from her gnarled fingers. “This is to help you remember.” She extended the necklace to Jessica, who reached for it with trembling fingers.
Jessica slipped the necklace over her head. The chain lay gleaming along her collarbone. Two things happened right away: Jessica seemed to grow taller, and Mrs. Clapper was Cerridwyn again, tall, proud, and beautiful.
“There are times coming when people will forget the old stories. Myth and all it represents will remain locked away in dusty books. All myth is a reminder of things people have forgotten they know, and of things yet to be. For many years past and many to come, I have been a signpost, a symbol of truth. We”—Cerridwyn gestured to the Greenman, Gwydon, and Star Girl—“are all reminders of true things. My time in your world as Mrs. Clapper is ending. I will have other forms in other places, but in your world it is time for you to carry on part of my task.”
“I don’t know how,” Jessica said in a very small voice.
“No, I don’t expect you do yet. But you’ll learn, and you’ll have friends to help you.” Cerridwyn smiled at Timothy and Sarah. “And I will help you as well.”
Sarah felt her face flush. It didn’t seem fair that Jessica, who Timothy said was never nice and never did the right thing, was receiving this honor. She wasn’t sure exactly what the honor was, but it did involve a spectacular necklace.
As if he could read her thoughts, the Greenman spoke. “Remember, Sarah, that you can’t always know the inside by looking at the outside.” He placed a twiggy hand on Gwydon’s head. “You and Timothy have important work to do also, and have already proved that you can do it well.”
Sarah thought of her stray arrow that almost sent Timothy to his death. “But I failed. I hit Timothy and almost killed him.”
“Killed him? As Cerridwyn said, yours was the shot that saved him. If not for your shot, he would have been caught by the hunt. His fall from Gwydon prevented Balor’s eye from reaching him.”
“Balor? The evil man Mr. Twig warned us about?” Sarah asked.
“Yes, Balor of the evil eye. He will go to very great lengths to destroy friends of the Light and stop at nothing to eliminate a future Filidh, once he has gotten what he needs from him.” The Greenman’s voice grew very grave. “Balor’s eye can kill with a glance, but only at a great cost to himself. Once he kills with his eye, Balor is at his weakest. His power ebbs for a time. If he had used his eye against Timothy, even Gwydon could not have protected your brother. Your shot made him fall out of the path of Balor’s eye. So, you see, even mistakes can be redeemed.”
Sarah felt happiness creep quietly in. But every time she heard Balor’s name, she trembled. She tried hard to remember what Mr. Twig had said about a Filidh. “Who is the Filidh?”
“Someone who will learn his place in time.” Leaves rustled as the Greenman spoke. He crossed to Sarah. With twiggy fingers, he withdrew something from his side. It was a long, slender core of wood, fragrant and crossed with many rings. A small hole remained in the side of his trunk where the core had been extracted. “The heart of a tree, to help you remember what others have forgotten.”
He extended the core to Sarah. “Loyalty and bravery are qualities that many in your world no longer value, or they confuse them with blind obedience. You have been very brave. Keep this near you;
you will need it in the adventures to come.”
At the words “the adventures to come,” Sarah felt her resentment toward Jessica slip away like a shadow into the night.
“And Timothy, who sacrificed his life for a friend,” the Greenman continued.
Timothy felt suddenly confused. Blood rushed to his face. “No, I just did what it was important for me to do. I didn’t think about sacrificing anything.” And then in a very quiet voice he added, “In fact, at first I really didn’t want to help Jessica at all.”
“Where is the crown given to you by Cerridwyn?” asked the Greenman.
Timothy’s heart sank. Perhaps he could pretend it had fallen off on his wild ride. But the Greenman was staring at him with solemn eyes.
“I traded it, for a bowl of water.”
“And did that water satisfy you?”
Timothy’s voice was almost a whisper now. “No, no it didn’t. But I thought it would, and I was so thirsty.”
The leaves on the Greenman’s head trembled and shook. “You have opened the door to danger, for the crown can be misused and cause you regret.”
Timothy felt as if his heart would break.
“But,” the Greenman continued, “you have also done a remarkable deed by riding in the place of someone who has bullied you and taunted you, someone who was not yet a friend. More, you’ve been given unusual intelligence and unusual grace. Use them well.” He shook his wild head, and a single leaf drifted down. He caught it between his rough fingers and handed it to Timothy. The leaf appeared to be as clear as glass, but it glowed a deep blue as Timothy took it in his hands. It was almost weightless, and, as he watched, the blue changed to red and then back again. “As you know, a leaf, even a simple leaf, has many layers. This leaf will help you know whom to trust and warn you if danger is nearby. Watch as the color changes. As long as the leaf glows blue, you are safe. If the color changes, you must be wary. If the leaf grows hot, you know trouble is near. And one more thing.” He whistled, and Gwydon was at his side. “You have the friendship and loyalty of a noble beast. He will always be there when you call.”
Beyond the Door Page 14