by Farr, Cathy;
‘This is Wil Calloway, Bryn,’ she said without looking up.
The dark bundle over the man’s arm yelped quietly in its sleep and nuzzled into his jacket sucking contentedly on one of the buttons. Bryn stroked its tiny velvet ear and studied Wil for a full minute before he spoke, addressing Lady Élanor.
‘Did ‘e do it, Lady E – you know, what they said yesterday?’
‘No Bryn, he did not try to kill Seth Tanner – he was trying to help him.’
“ow do yer know ‘e’s tellin’ the truth?’
‘Because Farrow did not kill him,’ she said simply.
The man stooped and gently returned the sleeping pup to its brothers and sisters and then stepped forward towards Wil with his hand out-stretched.
‘Well thar’s good enough fer me! Farrow would know if yer wuz a wrong un, boy, no matter wha’ the Order or Lady E thought. So if yer alright by Farrow yer alright by me!’
He shook Wil’s hand warmly and smiled; his kind eyes twinkled.
‘Do you wanna ‘old one o’ the pups, Master Calloway? They’re ony born yes’erday – all doin fine now – though we lost one and one’s still a bi’ on the small side – bur she’ll catch up – they arlways do!’
He scooped up another plump puppy from the dozing litter and handed it carefully to Wil. It was warm and soft and surprisingly heavy for such a small bundle.
‘Tha’s it – arm under ‘is belly so ‘e feels safe – good – e’s a natural Lady E!’
‘Well at least he seems to be able to follow fairly basic instructions,’ muttered Lady Élanor - her tone still pure acid.
‘Bryn, the boy needs to spend time with Willow this morning. He can help you with the next feed and you can introduce him to Allana’s pups if there’s time. I must go down into the town - I will return before lunch-time.’
Bryn nodded. Finally Lady Élanor seemed to trust herself enough to look Wil in the face.
‘Allana’s pups were born three months ago, Wil – you’ll be very surprised, I’m sure, to see how big Fellhounds grow in just three short months!’ she said and left them. Wil stroked the warm, sleepy puppy in his arms and watched while the others crawled into a large puppy-pile and promptly fell fast asleep. He carefully returned the pup to its brothers and sisters. Without opening its eyes it determinedly burrowed right into the middle until just its plump little bottom poked out of the warm heap.
‘How can they breathe like that?’ asked Wil.
‘Oh, they manage. I’s the contact they wants. Even when they’re full grown – they like to ‘ave contact wi’ you – I’s one o’ their things.’
They watched the sleeping litter for a while longer and then Bryn led Wil around to another stall. He explained that Willow had to be kept away from her pups in case she stood or lay on them – which was what had happened to the pup that had died – she had rolled on to it. Bryn hadn’t noticed until it was too late.
‘I’ wuz dark see – by the time she started havin’ em and Lady E don’ like lamps in ‘ere in case o’ fire, so we ‘ad to manage bes’ we could. An then one was small and wouldn’ feed. Gosh, we ‘ad our ‘ans full tha’ nigh’! Bur Lady E come an give ‘em some o ‘er medicine an they perked righ’ up af’er tha’. Brilliant she is - an tha’ sister o’ ‘ers! I don’ know ‘ow they do some o the things they do – an I don’ want to – bur they’re both brillian’ and there’s qui’e a few o’ us ‘oo woul’n’t be ‘ere now if i’ wan’t for ‘em!’
Wil struggled to keep up with Bryn’s strange accent and his ability to talk seemingly without ever taking a breath!
‘Who is Allana’s master?’ asked Wil during a rare pause.
‘Allana is Lady E’s ‘ound. ‘Course she don’ go on the Moon Chases now, bur she did when she were young.’
‘What?’ Wil exclaimed, stunned. ‘You mean Lady Élanor went on hunts for Wraithe Wolves?’
“Course she did! Why no’? She on’y stopped when ‘er father died an she ‘ad to look af’er Tally - what with their mother already in ‘er grave an’…’
Bryn suddenly stopped talking but then quickly changed the subject and carried on.
‘Tally’s got ‘er own ‘ound too, yu know!’
Wil was intrigued now.
‘Er - no, I didn’t actually – does she go on the Moon Chases?’ he asked.
‘Na – Lady E says she’s too young jus’ yet – though I’m not too sure ‘she’ll let ‘er when the time comes, I don’ reckon! She’d be good, too – no fear in that little un!’
‘I didn’t think girls would be allowed to go on Moon Chases – I thought the hunts would be too dangerous?’
Wil looked down at Willow - even lying down she was huge. She lay on her belly watching them with her head on her massive front paws – the long hairs of her eyebrows twitched as she looked from one face to the other - Wil was sure that she was following what they were saying.
‘Course they’re dangerous! But I can’t think why girls shouldn’ go on ‘em?’ said Bryn, genuinely perplexed.
‘But the owners of the hounds are all referred to as “Masters” and “Fellmen”?’ said Wil; in Mistlegard the women shepherds were called “shepherdesses” - although, they did the same work as the shepherds – and shared the same rich vocabulary at shearing time!
‘Well, lad, I’m not sure where yer goin’ ‘ere, but round Thesker Fell ‘ound masters and Fellmen are jus’ as likely to be women as men!’
Bryn opened the gate into Willow’s stall. He bent down and patted her flank. In one corner, a copper-coloured chicken nestled into the straw and clucked softly.
‘Well, girl – you ready for a visit’r? Yer pups ur all sleepin’ lovely an’ they’ll not be both’rin’ yer fer a while now, so I’ll leave yer wi’ this young man ‘til they wakes up.’
He gestured to Wil to come forward. The stall smelt of sweet, clean straw, mixed with another odour that, while not unpleasant, was not a scent Wil recognised.
‘I’ll come an’ get yer both when the pups wake up,’ Bryn said and walked quietly out of the barn.
Quite some time later Wil heard voices approaching.
‘No, and I’ve tried everything reasonable, Bryn, but….’ Lady Élanor’s voice drifted out of earshot as she rounded the end of the stable block. A second later he heard her voice just outside the stock shed.
‘… the pharmacy before I next go down there!’
Not feeling remotely inquisitive Wil paid no real attention to the conversation – he was more worried that he didn’t have anything to report. He had just spent an infuriating morning desperately trying to see into the mind of the dozing Fellhound that lay sprawled in front of him – he had very little to show for his efforts other than a severe sneezing fit and sore knees from kneeling in front of Willow’s nose so that he could stare into her eyes. His efforts were also hampered because she had remained stubbornly asleep for the whole morning!
‘Goodness me – what are you trying to do, Wil?’ exclaimed Lady Élanor leaning over the stall rail. Bryn stood behind her chuckling quietly.
‘Great!’ thought Wil - his heart sinking, ‘Two days to go and all I can do is make myself look stupid!’
‘It’s no good, I can’t do it!’ he blurted out. ‘I’ve been sat here for hours and all I’ve got is housemaid’s knee and hay fever! I haven’t got a clue what Willow is thinking! I thought I might at least get some sort of warm, fuzzy feeling that must go with having babies, but nope - absolutely nothing!’
Lady Élanor raised her eyebrows.
‘I don’t think Willow is feeling in the slightest bit warm and fuzzy, Wil – she’s just given birth to seven puppies, one of which has already died, and since then she has been woken up every couple of hours and dragged out of her bed to feed them! No, I suspect that “warm and fuzzy” is definitely not what she is feeling!’
‘Well, whatever – I didn’t get any of it!’ Wil replied sullenly.
Bryn inched into the stall.
> ‘Sorry to interrupt, Lady E, bur I gotta get her back to those pups, they’re squawking somat terrible, greedy little bleeders!’
He gently nudged the sleeping hound with his toe and eventually she got the message. Harrumphing and groaning, she clambered to her feet, and stretched impressively.
Standing there in the straw, her sheer size took Wil’s breath away. Up on the Fell of course he had noticed how big Farrow was, but with so much going on he hadn’t really had the chance to take it in. Bryn brushed her down with a handful of straw and led her across to the opposite stall. Sensing their approaching mother, the puppies’ cries and yelps hit fever pitch - at the same moment Wil felt completely overwhelmed – all he wanted to do was to see his mother; to see her face clearly; hear the sound of her voice in his ears and fill his nose with her comforting smell of freshly-washed linen.
‘Wil, Wil…what’s wrong – you’re crying? Why are you crying?’ exclaimed Lady Élanor.
Wil sank to the floor - visions of his mother swirled around in his head. Then, just as suddenly a feeling of sheer comfort seemed to wrap around him like a blanket and everything felt alright again.
‘What did you do?’ he mumbled. Confused thoughts still whirled around in his head. The yelping had stopped. All the puppies were nestling into their mother for a good feed.
‘I didn’t do anything, Wil Calloway,’ Lady Élanor replied quietly. ‘You did that all on your own – it was the puppies – you saw what the puppies were feeling and translated their thoughts into your own feelings for your mother.’
Lady Élanor’s face was filled with sympathy. Wil’s hands were shaking – he had never realised before how strongly he felt about his mother; after all, he thought, she was just his mother - she was always there. He knew she loved him because that’s what mothers did; and, yes, obviously he loved her - that’s what sons did. He wiped his sweat-soaked forehead and studied the puppies.
‘How could I read them when I couldn’t do anything with their mother?’
Lady Élanor looked at Bryn, who was conspicuously making himself busy with the new family.
‘Let’s go back to the Hall, Wil,’ she said. ‘Tally’s there; she might be able to shed more light on what just happened than I can at the moment.’
‘Well, I really don’t see how you expect me to help if you’re not going to let me look into his mind!’ objected Tally, shoving her mug away. Nettle tea spilled across the table.
Wil sat opposite, toying with his dessert and watching as Tally dipped her finger into the little puddle and dragged it across the worn pine. He was torn between desperately wanting to understand what had just happened, so that he could do it again – only in a more controlled way the next time – and the desire to avoid at all costs the searing pain that usually accompanied Tally’s intrusions into his mind.
‘Tell us what you saw again, Wil,’ said Lady Élanor.
‘I keep telling you – I didn’t really see anything – it was more like feelings.’ Wil frowned and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
‘It sounds to me like you’re experiencing their instincts - rather than reading their minds,’ said Tally. She was making swirls in the tea across the table.
Wil pushed the bowl of untouched rhubarb crumble to one side as frustration welled up inside him. He didn’t understand what had happened up at the stables and he was certain he wouldn’t be able to do it again. He was no better prepared to defend himself than he had been two days ago when he followed Farrow into Mistle Forest - the only difference back then was that he had felt optimistic! There didn’t seem to be any sense of urgency. Wil glared at the two silver-haired girls.
‘Great! Well at least I’ll know which wolf is going to rip out my throat – I’ll be able to sense its strong instinct to kill me!’
‘That might be more useful than you think, Wil,’ said Lady Élanor darkly. ‘It might give you an extra second to think. Up on Tel Harion, an extra second can be the difference between life or death - believe me, I’ve been there!’
Tally was now spelling her name in the spilt tea. Suddenly, unable to stop it, the question that Wil had been avoiding for two days burst out of his mouth.
‘What really happens on a Moon Chase?’
Lady Élanor stood up and waved her hand over the table. Wil looked down - the spilt tea was nowhere to be seen and the pine was bone dry. Tally threw herself back into her chair with a huff and sulkily sucked her wet finger.
‘Tally, Nancy Wheeler is coming here this afternoon to collect some cough syrup for her new baby – would you go and mix some please?’
‘I’ll go in a minute – I want to hear about the Moon Chase,’ objected Tally.
‘Tally; go now, she will be here any minute,’
‘But, I …’
‘I will not ask you again Talasina – and don’t make it as thick as you did last time. I do not want a choking baby on my hands – especially not one of the Wheelers!’
Tally banged both hands on the table and sprang angrily to her feet. Then she barged her chair noisily out of the way and stormed out slamming the door.
‘Why don’t you want her to hear about the Moon Chase?’ Wil asked as peace returned to the kitchen.
‘She is too young.’
The short reply told Wil that particular subject was closed. Lady Élanor drummed her slender fingers on the table and then walked to the window. She looked out over the chaotic, colour-filled court yard and spoke.
‘As you know, Wil, The Moon Chase is a hunt for Wraithe Wolves that have come down off Tel Harion endangering our livestock. We do not hunt them for sport – they are far too dangerous for that.’
‘Is this supposed to make me feel better?’ asked Wil.
‘You asked!’
Lady Élanor then went on to tell him, in detail, about the hunt; about how, many moons ago it was an honour to die on a hunt. She explained that on a Moon Chase five Fellmen - Chasers - ride out, armed with long spears, accompanied by their Fellhounds. Three other Fellmen – Bearers – armed with crossbows, wait while the Chasers and the hounds go up onto Tel Harion to track down any straying wolves – unless the wolves find the hunt first, of course. Once found the wolf is driven down towards the Bearers. It is their job to kill it as soon as possible.
‘So what do the other wolves do when one has been singled out?’ asked Wil.
‘Part of the Fellhounds job is to keep the wolves away until the hunt is ready. They will often fight with a wolf during this time – it is very dangerous and they are often injured.’
‘Do they get killed… by the wolves?’
‘It is rare, but yes – usually if someone makes a mistake. Fellhounds are very competent killers when they need to be.’
Images of mangled bodies flashed through Wil’s mind – yes, there was no doubt about their capabilities there!
‘So what happens if the Bearers miss the wolf?’
‘In the old days the Chasers would go in with their spears. But now its up to the hounds and the Bearers so that everyone has the best chance to keep a distance between them and the wolves – believe me you do not want to be bitten by a Wraithe Wolf!’
‘Why?’
‘Because they are part of a dark world; if you are bitten by a Wraithe Wolf you will suffer agony beyond imagination while you take its form, after which you will take your chances with the pack among the mountains of Tel Harion – unless you find yourself in another Moon Chase – on the wrong side.’
‘What! You mean if you get bitten by a Wraithe Wolf - you turn into one?’ asked Wil aghast.
Lady Élanor poured two fresh mugs of nettle tea before she replied and pushed one towards the stunned boy.
‘That is why the Moon Chase is so dangerous, Wil. If you get scratched, cut, speared or even shot with a badly aimed crossbow I can heal you, but if you are bitten there is no potion or incantation that will save you from being lost to the Wraithe Wolves of Tel Harion.’
‘Do Fellhounds turn into wol
ves when they’re bitten?’
‘No –they are a distant cousin of the Wraithe Wolf – that seems to be enough to protect them.’
‘You said this morning that I couldn’t have my own Fellhound but that I wasn’t going to be the bait– so what am I going to do on the hunt?’
‘You will stay with the Bearers… and if you come back alive you will go free.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jail Break
‘I just can’t stand it any more,’ wailed the thin-mouthed woman who was standing in Lady Élanor’s living room jiggling a crying baby in one arm while clinging on to the elbow of an older coughing child with the other. ‘These two don’t give me any peace and Cae’s no help what-so ever! Off with that Seth Tanner every minute – you know what boys are like!’
‘Doesn’t Horace give you any help, Nancy?’ asked Lady Élanor as she inspected the eyes and throats of both children. The older child stopped coughing briefly.
‘Gosh no!’ replied Nancy in a shrill voice. ‘He was bad enough before, what with looking after the jail single-handed – but since he got that Fellhound pup, I don’t see him from dawn ‘til dusk! He’s training him to sell on – already got some interest over Minton Fell way – one of their hounds is coming up for finishing now – they’ve offered good money too!’
She went on, moaning about Horace and cussing Cae, while Lady Élanor examined the children. Wil was sitting by the fire at the far end of the living room trying to block out the cacophony and recall his experience with the puppies – if only he could work out how he’d done it.
Pricilla was perched on the back of his chair. Wil scowled at her, unable to see how he could fine tune his new found talent in just one day. Although he did feel slightly better about the Moon Chase knowing he was going as part of a group; from the sound of it he was really only going as a bystander. As long as he could survive the hunt, Lady Élanor had said, he would be free and could go home at last. He tried to push thoughts of home out of his mind but it proved impossible. His mother was most likely mourning his loss by now. Then Wil thought about his father - of his mother missing her husband every day for the past five years, not knowing if he was alive, or dead; and now she would be trying to come to terms with the disappearance of her only son.