War in Hagwood

by Robin Jarvis

  Not wasting another second, Peg-tooth Meg took two baskets from her sluglungs and began dipping the birds’ bodies into the jar of elderberry juice.

  “Hear my voice, Harkul,” she chanted to the silver talisman lying at the bottom of the jar. “’Tis I, Clarisant. In the dim long ago, Gofannon the Smith made you to do my bidding. Hearken to my command. Let your power enter this dead flesh and change any who consume it.”

  One by one she quickly dipped each feathered body into the juice and piled the baskets high.

  “Take these to the roof, my subjects,” she told the sluglungs.

  Still bulging from their feast, some of them went grunting up the steps, while the rest went in search of their discarded armor and the weapons from the cellar.

  The furious biting and gnawing grew louder, but Finnen hardly heard the horrible sound or even noticed the feverish movement of the shadows beneath the door.

  “Gamaliel can’t be dead,” he repeated in disbelief.

  “We will be if those things get in!” Liffidia told him harshly. “I don’t want to think of our friends lying under that rubble either, but just standing here fretting is a sure way to get us killed.”

  Finnen stared at her as if lost in a dream, then passed a hand over his brow and forced himself to push his grief and shock into the furthest corner of his mind.

  “Let’s start defending this place,” he said gruffly. “Those horrors outside won’t just be attacking this door, they’ll be scaling the walls. We have to station someone at every window to keep them out. Put whatever dead birds are left at the bottom of the stairs. It may delay them when they burst in and buy us a few more seconds.”

  They hurried up the steps and had almost reached the infirmary when they heard a terrible commotion below.

  “They’re inside!” the Tower Lubber shouted.

  The Redcaps had indeed climbed the tower walls. They needed no rope or ladder—their clawed hands and toes were more than capable. Clinging to the weathered stonework like lizards, they clambered effortlessly around the curved walls, seeking a way in.

  From the moment the hideous yammering had started out in the forest, the injured birds had been twittering in fear. They recognized the cries of the Redcaps.

  The plucked hen saw a sinister shadow move across the window. Startled, she glanced up and saw a long sinewy arm come reaching in, followed by a horrific face.

  Flapping her naked wings, she clucked in alarm and then every bird began to screech.

  A Redcap squeezed inside, grinning foully from ear to ear. His leering eyes flicked about the room and a long black tongue darted out to lick his pointed chin. He let out a gloating laugh at the panicked spread before him. His deathless mistress had promised him and his vile crew any of the fresh, frightened morsels they could find in this draughty old tower.

  He dropped to the floor and reached for the nearest tidbit: a nice plump pigeon, squawking in a nest.

  Suddenly, a crowd of strange creatures came bursting into the room: a bow-legged cur with pegs for eyes; the ugliest woman he’d ever seen; three small, frightened-looking runts; and a fox cub. They were followed by over a dozen repulsive toadlike things brandishing swords and spears.

  The Redcap hissed in annoyance. He reached for the bow slung across his shoulders but, before he could draw back a black-tipped arrow, a spear came flying through the air and caught him in the throat. The force of it hurled the Redcap to the floor, kicking and gargling. A moment later, he was dead.

  Peg-tooth Meg lowered her eyes in dismay and stared at her trembling hand.

  “Amazing shot!” Finnen exclaimed.

  “I was aiming for its shoulder,” she said bitterly. “Killing does not come as easy to me as it does my sister.”

  “Then you’d better learn fast,” the werling told her.

  “There’s more comin’ in!” Tollychook wailed.

  Ravenous faces had appeared in both windows. This time the sluglungs were ready: They barged across the room, thrusting their rusted swords between the invaders’ eyes and cutting off their heads.

  The dead Redcaps dropped from the wall but more appeared in their place, jabbing with their arrows and trying to scratch the defenders with the poisonous tips.

  “Three to each window!” Meg ordered. “The rest remain behind to defend these stairs. Little shobblers, come with me to the roof.”

  The Tower Lubber and the werlings hurried after her. Finnen hesitated. He leaped over to where the first Redcap had dropped his arrows and cautiously picked them up, taking great care to avoid the darkly stained points. They were the perfect size for a werling to use as spears. Taking the lot, he ran after the others.

  On the roof the sluglungs with the baskets were awaiting Meg’s orders.

  “Why have you not cast them over the side?” she asked when she saw that they were still heaped with dead birds.

  “Megboo not say,” they gibbered unhappily.

  With Fly at her side, Liffidia ran to the edge and looked over the wall. What she saw made her gasp in terror and she staggered back, just as an arrow came glancing off the stone where her face had just been.

  The tower was swarming with Redcaps. They were crawling up the walls like wasps. Many were almost within reach of the roof. She could already hear their barbarous cackling.

  A clawed hand came grappling over the battlement and the tip of a scarlet hat reared into view. Fly’s hackles rose and he stood before his beloved werling, ready to jump at the brutal face when it showed itself.

  “Get back!” Finnen yelled and he bolted forward, skewering his arrow deep into the scrabbling hand.

  There was a yowl and the Redcap fell from the tower. A defiant roar issued from the forces below.

  “I’ll kill as many of them as I can,” Finnen promised and he swiftly passed an arrow to Tollychook and Liffidia. “Make good use of these!” he said.

  “The bait!” Meg shouted. “Throw it, now!”

  The sluglungs hurried to obey. They lifted the baskets and started flinging the dead birds over the walls.

  Finnen positioned himself by a cleft in the stones and peered down warily. The Redcaps hooted with glee when they saw the delicacies hurled from above. Some of the fiends clinging to the tower tried to catch them while the ones still baying on the ground beneath reached up their long arms expectantly.

  Several fights erupted when the bodies landed among them and not one Redcap managed to claim a whole bird for himself.

  They champed and crunched and swallowed and stared upward for more.

  On the roof, the werlings held their breaths.

  “Is it working?” the Tower Lubber asked.

  Finnen shook his head. “Nothing!” he cried. “They’re not changing!”

  Peg-tooth Meg fingered the silver talisman and closed her eyes.

  “Then the plan has failed,” the Lubber announced.

  Three more pairs of claws came groping over the wall. The obese sluglungs lunged with their swords, thrashing and slashing, and three Redcaps fell from the tower in pieces. Another swung himself up and over the battlement, landing right in front of Tollychook.

  “Sssssnnaaar!” the horror hissed at him.

  The werling shook and immediately dropped his arrow. The Redcap went for him but toppled over, his legs hewn from under him by a sluglung’s axe.

  Tollychook stammered his thanks and plucked up the arrow again.

  Suddenly, a tremendous commotion broke out on the ground below. The Redcaps who had eaten the birds were retching and choking. They fell to their knees and thrashed their limbs wildly. Those around them leaped back and watched as they screamed and kicked and flailed in the grass.

  Hoarse cries of astonishment rippled through the onlookers. They could not understand what was happening and wary circles formed. The others were changing. As they writhed and
twisted in pain, dark needles were spiking from their skin and unfurling into plumage. Soon they were covered in feathers: some speckled, some raven black, others pale yellow, and one even had elderflowers sprouting from his head.

  A stunned quiet descended.

  Fifty-eight new feathery creatures were blinking and looking about them with sharp, jerky movements. When they tried to speak, only a dry croaking came from their now-rigid lips and they scurried around the encircling crowd, bewildered.

  The bogle keepers watched incredulously and wondered just what powerful entity dwelled in that tower.

  The Redcaps scratched their bony heads and sniffed the bizarre, feathery creatures uncertainly. There was a deathly pause. Their transformed pack members uttered pitiful chirps and looked helplessly at one another. The unchanged Redcaps’ lips quivered in a rippling wave around them. With a single hate-filled shout, they pounced and butchered each of these new changelings.

  Seated upon her horse, the High Lady regarded the scene with contempt and gazed up at the broken tower.

  “Nursery tricks,” she muttered. “Is that the best you can do, sister?”

  At her shoulder, the owl fluffed out its feathers. “Soon she will perish,” it hooted wickedly.

  “Take wing, my provost,” the High Lady said. “Observe what is happening atop that ruin. Tell me when Clarisant dies.”

  Watching from the battlements, Finnen allowed himself the ghost of a smile. “Bless you, Gamaliel Tumpin,” he whispered. “It worked.”

  “A large number are destroyed,” Meg declared. “Now we must fight the rest. Though we are still outnumbered, we have the high ground. Do not abandon hope.”

  “I ain’t had none of that fer days,” Tollychook grumbled to himself.

  “Are all the baskets empty?” the Tower Lubber asked quickly.

  “There are no birds left,” Meg answered. “And I do not think the Redcaps could be tricked that way again.”

  The Tower Lubber laughed. “It is the baskets I’m after,” he said. “I have another use for them!” Leading two sluglungs, he disappeared down to the infirmary.

  There was no time for Meg to guess what he was doing. The enemy was crowding up the walls now and many evil faces appeared suddenly over the battlements. The sluglungs gathered around their mistress and swung their swords in readiness, but they were far too stuffed and ungainly to challenge the ferocious Redcaps. Overlooked for the moment, the small werlings and the fox cub had to duck under the sluglungs’ jellylike legs to avoid being trampled or struck with arrows.

  One sluglung’s axe was wrested from his hand and at once, three Redcaps leaped upon him. Snarling, they pinned his arms against the wall while another took up a bow.

  The sluglung’s great round eyes glared at them. Then he clamped them shut and strained with such force that his entire body rumbled and quivered. The slimy creature’s froggy eyes and wide mouth snapped open, and everything it had eaten exploded forth in a devastating belch. A violent torrent of chestnuts and apples bombarded the Redcaps in front of him and, shrieking, they fell back, lost their footing and tumbled over the edge. The Redcaps holding the sluglung’s arms were next. A barrage of hazelnuts fired directly in their faces and they let go to shield themselves.

  Guffawing, the sluglung grabbed them while they were still squinting and cringing and hurled them from the roof.

  When the rest of Meg’s followers saw what had happened they took huge gulping breaths and, within moments, the summit of the tower boomed with cloud-ripping burps. Everything inside their engorged bellies shot out, hammering the Redcaps backward. Jets of juice swept them, slithering and struggling, from the battlements and a blizzard of pears punched them mercilessly in the eyes and on their snouts. They had never encountered anything like this before and some jumped rather than face this terrible foe. The others were killed with sword and spear and soon the roof was clear of them again.

  Meg looked around at her peculiar, glistening subjects, now returned to their normal girth, with only the occasional caterpillar or beetle wriggling under their translucent skin, and her pride in them made her heart swell.

  “A thousand blessings upon you, my clever, slimy sweets,” she cried.

  The sluglungs gave a burbling cheer and brandished their weapons, hopping from foot to foot in an invigorated dance. Now they were fit and ready for proper combat.

  Liffidia was staring at them, almost doubting her eyes. Even Bufus would have found the vomiting disgusting, but at the same time she admired them enormously. Tollychook decided there and then that he never wanted to see another apple or pear as long as he lived, and as for chestnuts, he would never touch another pasty that contained them.

  “Now we have something to throw down at them,” Finnen exclaimed, paddling through the jetsam and rolling the fruit to the wall. “They’re as good as stones!”

  Already more Redcaps were clambering over the battlements but the refreshed, sprightly sluglungs bounded up to them with swords and axes ready, and the fierce fighting resumed.

  In the heat of that battle, the Tower Lubber returned with the baskets. They were now heaped with old nests from the infirmary, and the sluglungs he had taken with him were carrying more. Swiftly he lit one in the fire and threw it, flaming, over the side.

  “Now the rest,” he told the sluglungs.

  Soon the ruined tower was cascading with fireballs. They fell into the besieging Redcaps and onto the upturned faces of those climbing up the walls.

  “When you run out of nests,” the Lubber shouted, “burn the baskets!”

  Liffidia marveled at his ingenuity. She wished she too could be of some use when an idea flashed into her mind. She hurried to an abandoned Redcap bow and pulled a suitable stick from the edge of the fire.

  But even as she set to work, wrenching the string from the bow, the sound they had all been dreading reverberated within the tower. The entrance had finally been breached—the Redcaps were rampaging up the lower stairs.

  * Chapter 6 *

  That Which She Most Loved

  GIVE ME AN AXE AND A SWORD!” the tower lubber demanded. “My place is with the sick and injured in the infirmary. I have not tended them these many years to abandon them now.”

  Two sluglungs gave him their weapons and he ran down the steps to the infirmary, where a furious battle was already raging.

  “Fight well, my love in the sky,” Meg said softly.

  There was no time to think. They were surrounded on the roof. The battlements were crawling with Redcaps. Dozens of snarling fiends leaped forward. Sword and spear cut through snout and shoulder, but there was always another ferocious Redcap behind it.

  Peg-tooth Meg fought alongside her subjects, a rusty blade in her hand and an ancient shield on her arm. She took no delight in dispatching the invaders, but she cut down just as many as her gelatinous warriors.

  Finnen was lobbing apples with deadly marksmanship. He had already struck six Redcaps from the wall. A seventh fell, and he reached for another missile and lifted it over his head as he took aim at his next target.

  He was so engrossed he did not see the Redcap that was creeping up behind him. The savage creature bared its teeth and prepared to spring. Finnen let the apple fall and whisked about. Suddenly, it gasped and collapsed on the ground. Standing by the dead Redcap, looking shocked and afraid, was Tollychook, his arrow buried deep in the Redcap’s back.

  “Dab crack, Master Umbelnapper!” Finnen greeted him gratefully.

  Tollychook blushed, then scurried off to find himself another arrow.

  In the infirmary, the sluglungs who defended the entrance stairs were dismayed at the multitude of Redcaps who came gushing through the chewed-up door. The stairway was narrow, however, and no enemy could pass the sluglungs’ fence of ancient swords without being hacked to bits. The Redcaps growled and took up their bows. Soon arrows were shoo
ting through the air. The sluglungs held up their shields, which juddered under the striking blows. Then one dart found its mark.

  It pierced the quivering frogspawn-like flesh and passed straight through the other side. It was natural for the sluglungs to withstand any such injury. Wounds normally healed in a moment. But this time the poisoned arrow left behind a blackened hole that did not close up and venomous threads were already flowing from it. The sluglung groaned as the dark veins branched inside his bloated body. He wavered and sagged, dropping his weapons with a clatter. Then, with a frothing wail, he toppled forward and fell among the Redcaps—dead.

  A hellish, triumphant crowing erupted and the Redcaps trampled him under their stomping feet as they waved their arrows. The remaining sluglungs gibbered dolefully. Another torrent of Redcap arrows sang toward them, thudding into their shields.

  “All shall die!” the Redcaps hissed. They could hear the terrified chirping of the birds in the infirmary and ached to devour them. “Our pretty darts will prick the toadlings like so many hedgepigs and then we shall eat lark and thrush, sparrow and crow.”

  But the sluglungs stood their ground and the bravest of them slashed with his sword and cut off a Redcap’s pointed ear.

  Incensed, the enemy surged forward, trying to push the obese obstacles up the stairs, but the sluglungs planted their feet squarely on the steps and drove them back with their shields. There was a scuffle and a tangle of long limbs and snouts. One of the Redcaps managed to barge through the first rank, but was swiftly chopped in two.

  Then the savage creatures saw how they could win through and began crawling up the walls to scurry upside down along the stairwell’s ceiling, high over the sluglungs’ heads.

  And still the blizzard of arrows rained down. Another of Meg’s subjects caught one in his neck and was dead a moment later.

  The first of the Redcaps that had dashed along the ceiling leaped clear when he reached the infirmary. He somersaulted in the air and landed on the floor with a slap of his great flat feet.