Moon Crossing - A Fellhounds of Thesk Story

by Farr, Cathy;

  Phinn was surprisingly lively as they travelled back to Saran. Wil watched him trotting happily behind the horses. Occasionally, he would sprint off ahead at a full gallop, bounding into the driving wind as if challenging it to try to stop him.

  ‘’e was worried ‘bout you, Wil,’ said Bryn. Phinn came pelting towards them, darting to the right at the last minute, tail held high.

  ‘What have you given him?’ asked Wil. Phinn’s antics made him feel a lot happier.

  ‘Lady E’s got a special mixture she keeps fur the ‘ounds after an ‘ard moon chase,’ said Bryn. He tapped his nose and gave Wil an exaggerated wink. ‘Jus’ gave ‘im a draft o tha’. Right as rain in no time.’

  ‘So what’s in it?’ asked Wil, more to take his mind off his throbbing arm than anything else. Riding behind Bryn may not have been as fast as riding with Mortimer but Bryn was a lot broader and took up far more of the saddle.

  ‘Oh, this an’ tha,’ said Bryn with a vague wave of his hand. Phinn bounded out of a solitary hedge ahead of them. A furry corpse dangled from his mouth. Bryn roared with delight. ‘Ere, look, ‘e’s caught a rabbit, too! Well done, Phinn!’

  The Fellhound trotted over and dropped his prize into Bryn’s outstretched hand, then something behind them caught Phinn’s eye and he was off again.

  ‘Hmm, a nice one, too!’ said Bryn weighing the rabbit in his hand. ‘Martha’ll cook up a lovely stew with this!’

  ‘Or a game pie… with these!’ said a familiar voice from the other side of the hedge. A moment later, Mortimer rode into view waving another rabbit in his hand. At the same time Mia charged straight past them and nipped Phinn on the back of the leg.

  Lady Élanor laughed.

  ‘I wondered how long you would be able to stay quiet Mortimer Merridown!’

  Bryn tucked the rabbit into his belt and knocked Wil’s arm with his elbow.

  ‘Mortimer, how long have you been there?’ said Wil, wincing and grinning at the same time.

  ‘Oh, long enough to see that you’re a big baby when you’re hurt!’ said Mortimer. He was breathing hard. ‘I spotted you from right back there.’ He pointed over his shoulder.

  Wil wasn’t too sure where he meant, but he was so relieved to see his friend that he didn’t really care.

  White with foaming sweat, Shadow and Rhoani were blowing hard.

  ‘Gosh, you’ve made good time then,’ said Wil, but looking up at the sun he realised that he must have lost a lot more of the day than he had thought.

  ‘Not bad,’ said Mortimer, smoothing his hand along the top of Shadow’s mane. ‘Been galloping all day. Having Rhoani and Shadow meant I could swap so we could keep going.’ He handed Bryn a guinea fowl and the rabbit. ‘So where’s Gisella? Until I got closer, my Lady, I though you might be her.’

  Mortimer bowed his head as Shadow danced. Wil could sense the horse’s impatience at suddenly being brought to a walk so close to home.

  ‘She will be back at Lovage Hall by now – in the infirmary,’ said Lady Élanor.

  ‘What?’

  Mortimer looked at Wil.

  ‘How?’

  ‘Er, well, the boat probably wasn’t the best idea you’ve had, Mort?’ said Wil.

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Mortimer. ‘It got you out of Armelia, didn’t it? Phinn’s fine and, well, what’ve you done? Broken your arm?’

  Wil shifted awkwardly. A sharp pain shot right up his arm into his shoulder.

  ‘Well, yes, the boat was fine. And the Redback was great,’ he said trying not to show the agony on his face. ‘It was just that the landing wasn’t.’

  ‘Wasn’t what?’

  ‘A landing,’ said Wil. ‘It was more of a crash.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Mortimer.

  ‘And I got knocked out. Phinn and Gisella started to drag–’

  ‘Yer, Wil, I think I’m getting the picture,’ said Mortimer, for once looking almost as awkward as Wil felt. He changed the subject. ‘So how did Lady Élanor find you?’

  ‘Phinn!’ said Bryn before Wil could get a word in. He was beaming with pride. ‘Seth found ‘im. On ‘is way back to Saran ‘e was! Comin’ fer ‘elp. Beat’s me ‘ow he knew the way, bur ‘e did – ‘e was nearly ‘ome, too. Seth was worried about yer all an was up on the Fells lookin’ fer any sign of yer. Poor Phinn were half dead. But ‘e weren’t givin’ up. No. ‘e saw Seth an’ turned right back round an’ led ‘im right ‘ere!’

  Phinn was galloping across the Fells after his sister, while Farrow kept a more demure pace behind Mortimer. A thought struck Wil – even though he’d spent almost every moment of the dark winter days with a Fellhound he still had a lot to learn about them. Then another thought struck him.

  ‘So how did you and Lady Élanor find us?’

  ‘Well, turns ou’ that Seth’s go’ a bit of a way with pegalus. ‘e was out on Tanith when ‘e saw Phinn. Took ‘im no time at all to get back for ‘elp.’

  The gamekeeper chuckled.

  ‘Poor Rhoani won’t get a look in if Lady E don’t watch out!’

  The vision of Tanith in flames flashed across Wil’s mind.

  ‘Oh! So Tanith’s alright then?’

  ‘Yes, Wil, Tanith is fine. Tired of course, after such a long flight from Armelia, but otherwise perfectly fine,’ said Lady Élanor.

  Mortimer scraped a finger of foaming sweat from Rhoani’s flank.

  ‘Gisella’ll be alright though, won’t she, my lady?’ He flicked the sweat into the grass. ‘I know that the bolt went right through but we’ve come back from moon chases with far worse.’

  ‘Yes, she will be fine,’ said Lady Élanor. But there was something in her voice that worried Wil. Mortimer seemed to have missed it.

  ‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘Because I was thinking that she’d make a great chaser. What do you think, Wil? She’s as brave as any and she’s certainly got a way with the hounds.’

  ‘Well you’ve changed your tune!’ said Wil.

  Mortimer shifted in his saddle.

  ‘Yer, well, I was wrong. I’m not afraid to admit it. Olivia must have been upset and decided to try to make trouble. I’ll speak to Leon… he’ll be fine when he hears it from me.’

  Wil frowned.

  ‘You sure about that?’

  From the moment they rode into the yard at the stables above Lovage Hall, Wil had refused all offers of treatment for his shattered arm and his battered cheek. His head was throbbing, too, but he needed to see Gisella. Unfortunately, his visit to the infirmary had been both brief and disappointing.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry Wil, but I couldn’t keep her awake just in case you decided to turn up!’ said Tally. She had finally managed to get Wil to sit still long enough to dress his arm, but he was still resisting any attempts she made to look at his cheek or his head. ‘She is very ill – you do understand that, don’t you? We’re giving her camomile and morphine in very large doses, so if you’re not going to let me have a look at that bruise there’s really no point in hanging around.’

  Lady Élanor walked into the ward just as Tally took a breath.

  ‘Don’t worry, Wil. Gisella is fit and strong. If anyone can get through this, she will,’ said Lady Élanor kindly. Her pale blue eyes flicked to the purple bruise on Wil’s head and then to her sister. She continued in the same measured tone. ‘But Tally is right, Wil. It is better if we keep her like this for the next few days – sleeping, she won’t feel the pain. She needs her strength to fight, not to talk. In the meantime, perhaps you should let Tally take another look at that bump.’

  She moved closer. Wil backed away.

  ‘No, it’s OK. I’m fine, honestly.’

  He studied Gisella’s smoke-white face.

  ‘It’s just that, well, she hasn’t got anyone now…you know – to… to, well, er… look after her,’ he struggled.

  ‘No,’ said Lady Élanor. ‘With her mother still… away–’

  ‘Away!’ said Wil. A spark of anger flared inside him. ‘She’s in Armelia �
� Imelda’s new best friend – that’s where she is!’

  ‘You saw her,’ said Lady Élanor. Her irritatingly calm voice bore no hint of surprise.

  ‘Yes! So did Gisella! And I don’t think she’s going to want to see her loving mother again – ever!’

  It wasn’t until after Wil left the infirmary with his arm encased in cumbersome splints that he started to wonder about Lady Élanor’s reaction. She must have already known of Fermina Fairfax’s whereabouts – and, Wil was prepared to bet, she knew about Fermina’s romantic links with Sir Jerad Tinniswood.

  ‘Lord Lakeston must have told her,’ he muttered to himself as he stomped back up to the stables to check on Phinn. His head throbbed.

  ‘Who told who what?’

  Wil turned. Breathless, but beaming, Seth was just behind him.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ said Wil casually. He was fairly sure that Seth knew almost nothing about Lady Élanor or the legacy; if he told Seth that he’d met the ghost – or whatever he was – of Lord Lakeston, Seth would most likely march him straight back down to the infirmary again fearing that the bump on Wil’s head was more severe than everyone had first thought. ‘Where are you off?’ he asked by way of a distraction.

  A pink bloom the size of a walnut appeared on each of Seth’s normally pale cheeks.

  ‘Oh, nowhere,’ he said, suddenly sounding as casual as Wil. ‘Just thought I’d check on Farrow. Might pop over to see Tanith, too. Was, er, was Tally down in the infirmary?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Wil, feeling cross again. ‘Exhibiting the bedside manner of a Bragg Hound as usual.’

  Seth’s shoulders dropped a fraction.

  ‘Oh,’ he said. Then, with a sideways glance at Wil he asked, ‘Did she, er, did she, you know, say anything about me?’

  ‘No,’ said Wil. He kicked a pile of rotten leaves. ‘She was in a really bad mood. I just can’t understand why she dislikes Gisella so much!’

  ‘Feather blindness?’ said Morten Mortens as Seth and Wil walked into the yard. Mia was standing with Mortimer who was recounting the story about the eagard attack to the Grand Wizen. Phinn and Farrow were nowhere to be seen. Morten Mortens shook his head.

  ‘Very nasty. Only seen it once myself. Poor chap lost his sight – but then he didn’t have Lady Élanor watching over him.’

  The Grand Wizen’s face broke into a soft smile. Wil wondered just how much he, and the Order for that matter, really knew. Morten Mortens had said something before about a promise he had made to Lady Élanor’s father; maybe it had something to do with Lord Lakeston becoming a revenant? Then Wil started to wonder just how you became a revenant – did it hurt? By the noise Lord Lakeston had been making in that barn, he’d certainly been suffering from something for a very long time–

  ‘Didn’t they, Wil?’ said Mortimer.

  ‘Sorry?’

  Mortimer frowned.

  ‘That bump on your head made you deaf?’

  ‘No… yer… sorry, I was just thinking about something…sorry, what did you say?’ Wil did feel a bit dizzy. He sat down heavily on the edge of the water trough.

  Mortimer looked slightly more sympathetic. Morten Mortens peered over his glasses.

  ‘Are you sure you are alright, Wil? Shall I ask Lady Élanor to have another look at you?’

  ‘No, really,’ said Wil, attempting to dispel the dizziness with a shake of his head, but it just made it worse. He tried to concentrate. ‘What did you ask me, Mort?’

  ‘I was just telling Morten about the eagard attack; about Leon getting injured. They were headed back here when they set off, weren’t they?’

  ‘Er, yes,’ said Wil. Nausea was coming and going in waves now. He took a deep breath. ‘They were coming straight back here. I don’t think Leon was in a fit state to go anywhere else.’

  The stable yard was spinning now and the waves of nausea were so bad he didn’t want to risk opening his mouth. He barely noticed the Grand Wizen’s lack of concern.

  ‘Well, Oswald’s sister lives somewhere up by Grizzledale – tiny place, Little Piketon, I think…only about three houses. Right on the edge of Mistle Forest – they’ve got a hobgoblin, you know – excellent wild boar sausages.’ Morten Mortens grinned at the memory. ‘I’ll bet they stopped off there? It’s nearer to The Black Rock than Saran, after all.’

  Mortimer brightened.

  ‘Oh, I know that place – yer, those sausages are delicious! I tried to get them to give me the recipe but no such luck. Lots of juniper, I think. Those hobgoblins know how to butcher a boar mind – use every bit – even the stomach contents are– Wil, are you okay? You’ve gone very green.’

  Wil bent over the back of the water trough and vomited.

  ‘I think we’d better get you back to Lady Élanor,’ said Mortimer, and lifting Wil’s good arm over his own shoulder, he added, ‘And I think I’ll ask Martha to keep sausages off the menu for a while!’

  Despite Wil’s continued resistance, Lady Élanor finally persuaded him to stay the night in the infirmary.

  ‘Goodness me, Wil,’ she said, her pale blue eyes looking almost the crossest he’d ever seen them. ‘It’s not as if I’m suggesting you spend the night in Saran Jail! We can keep a proper eye on you here. I’m only cross with myself that I didn’t insist on it sooner. With that knock on the head I can assure you that the best place for you tonight is here. Now drink this!’

  She presented him with a glass of bright orange liquid and did not take her eyes off him until he had drunk every drop. The medicine was as bitter as lemon rind but after one gulp Wil’s nausea disappeared.

  Lady Élanor gave a satisfied nod.

  ‘Right, you can change into this for tonight and Martha will return your clothes – clean – in the morning,’ she said, exchanging the empty glass for a long, linen night shirt.

  ‘I can’t wear… it’ll be too–’ started Wil, but a sudden steeliness in those blue eyes silenced him at once. Without another word he changed and clambered into bed, making sure that the shirt didn’t ride up over his knees.

  The sheets were crisp and the cool pillow soothed his burning head. Wil could feel his body giving in. Fighting sleep now, he looked over at the opposite bed. For the briefest second, just before exhaustion completely consumed him, he could see Gisella. She was smiling.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Gisella

  Wil could not recall a time when he had slept more comfortably. It was almost lunchtime the next day before he stirred and when he opened his eyes Tally was just leaving Gisella’s bedside.

  ‘How is she?’ he croaked, dry-mouthed and still groggy with sleep.

  Tally spoke over her shoulder as she headed towards the door.

  ‘As well as can be expected after having a bolt shot through her lung, being dropped from a dragon, and then being dragged halfway across Tel Hireth in the wrong direction in the worse storm we’ve had for ten winters!’

  Tally stood aside for her sister to enter then she left the room.

  ‘Why is she cross with me now?’ said Wil. After all, he had just played a fairly big part in rescuing her from being burnt at the stake!

  ‘Just ignore her, Wil.’

  Lady Élanor was bearing down on him with another glass of the foul orange medicine.

  ‘Here, drink this and as long as you aren’t sick again this afternoon, you can get dressed and join us for supper. Martha is expecting you. I have not as yet had the chance to thank you all for getting Tally and Tanith home safely… and in time.’ She took the glass from him but did not catch his eye. ‘Mortimer and Seth have already accepted my invitation.’

  Then, with an unreadable glance at Gisella, she added, ‘You are welcome to stay. We’ve made up your usual room over at the Hall.’

  ‘Thank you, my Lady,’ he said, following her eyes. ‘She is going to get better, isn’t she?’

  Lady Élanor turned away from Gisella’s peaceful form. This time she looked Wil full in the face but her expression once again was unreadable.


  ‘Gisella has only a slim chance of survival, Wil. Her injury was bad enough, and although you did all the right things, she was out on the Fells for far too long.’ She turned back towards Gisella. ‘She is also battling with the news of her mother… her father’s murderer.’

  ‘How did you–’ Wil started.

  Lady Élanor cut across him.

  ‘Don’t forget, Wil, I can see these things.’ Her blue eyes held his gaze as she wound her hair absently between her slender fingers. ‘She has a fair chance. She may have been injured during the Alcama – a time of bad luck, if ever there was one – but she had you to take care of her and,’ her eyes fell back on Gisella, ‘I am guessing you will be here for her when she wakes up?’

  The room was suddenly much too quiet. Wil could feel his cheeks starting to burn.

  ‘Well, er, yer. I thought I’d stay around for a while. After all, as you said, I did try to help her.’ He paused and then added, ‘Do you think she’ll be cross with me for the boat crashing? I just couldn’t stop it. And then I banged my head and passed out and left her to try to drag the boat.’ He laid his head back on the pillow. Right above him, in the corner of the bright white ceiling, he could see a spider rolling a fly into a tight bundle of silk – all eight legs working frantically while the fly’s muffled buzz drifted through the otherwise silent room.

  ‘She’s not going to forgive me, is she?’

  ‘And why not?’ croaked a weak voice from the bed opposite.

  Lady Élanor was at Gisella’s bedside before Wil could turn his head. It was difficult for him to see Gisella’s face while Lady Élanor looked into her eyes; poked, prodded and tried her very best to discourage Gisella from trying to sit up.

  ‘Please Gisella, just lie still. It is very good to see you awake so soon, but please… lie down.’

  Despite the heavy cast around his arm, Wil managed to hoist himself up onto his good elbow. Gisella abandoned her feeble effort to sit up and, satisfied that she wasn’t about to try to spring out of bed, Lady Élanor left the room, calling Tally’s name crossly and muttering something about camomile not being on ration.