by Farr, Cathy;
After his third, painful slip, Wil decided to leave one of the torches wedged between two large boulders. This made the going slightly easier and also allowed him to see where he had climbed.
As he scrambled and slipped his way up, another two short whistle blasts screamed out of the darkness. Did that mean that the same wolf had been spotted again, or were there more? Wil had no idea. He peered in the direction that Gisella had run but the clouds had closed in again and all he could see was velvety blackness.
Above him, away in the dark, he could hear the distant sound of galloping hooves and then loud yelping, but after only a few seconds silence closed around him once more.
At last he landed on a large, flat boulder panting and sweating. He reached up as far as he could and jammed the second torch into a high crevice. Then, praying it wouldn’t slip and fall on top of him; he wedged himself against the rock-face and tried not to look down. He loaded the crossbow and waited. The moons, once more, had tucked themselves away.
Wil didn’t see the approaching wolf in the smothering darkness but he felt its presence. It was coming down over the north ridge of Tel Harion, right on the edge of Thesker Fell. Its progress was slow – there was something soft and warm in its jaws… something that was still struggling. In his own mouth Wil could feel the pounding heart-beat of a terrified animal that the wolf held fast in its teeth - he could smell its fear. The wolf’s own heart was also beating fast.
Behind it, two, maybe three Chasers and their hounds were sweeping across the hillside on its trail. But there was no fear in the wolf. Wil’s whole being was consumed with images of tearing flesh and crushing bones mingled with building excitement and eager anticipation. His fingers tingled and his veins felt as though they would explode. Adrenaline gushed through his body – all he wanted to do was kill something – chase it – watch it run and then catch it and crush every last breath of life out of it. He felt the wretched animal’s final heart beat and then its limp weight – the foulest taste filled Wil’s mouth as the wolf swallowed. He retched – the image was gone.
Wil pressed his burning forehead against the cool rocks. His hands were shaking uncontrollably. Before - when he’d seen through Farrow’s eyes and felt the puppies’ joy as they greeted their mother – those feelings had been different. The Fellhounds had very different emotions - they could reason; they felt loyalty – love. What he had felt in the Wraithe Wolf just then was something he never wanted to feel again – it was pure hate and rage – for a moment the wolf’s desire to kill had totally engulfed him. It killed because it could – and it enjoyed it. Wil had been scared before – now he was terrified.
The sound of two more, short whistle-blasts jolted Wil’s attention back into Skelmer Hollow. The torch, still burning above him, was giving off an acrid smell but he was relieved to see that it had stayed where he’d jammed it.
The bright moons were also lighting up the narrow gully again. Wil could just make out two riders and three hounds zigzagging across the entrance to the Hollow – which, he guessed, would be just about where Giles and Leon were lying in wait.
He squinted down the gloomy Hollow but couldn’t make out any other shapes. Then a waft of the foulest stench filled his nose - just below his hiding place a dark shadow crept over the rock-fall. Wil’s heart missed a beat. He could hear the Wraithe Wolf’s long claws scraping across the stones. But when it came across the first burning torch still planted firmly in the rocks it backed off, slipped and bounded back down on to the firmer ground of the path.
After his last experience, Wil was determined not to visit the mind of the animal below him. Instead, he tried to fix his concentration on Gisella - wherever she was. But as he watched a horrible realisation dawned on him - the wolf was stalking something or someone stationed further along. Then Wil saw Gisella - she was in the direct line that the wolf was taking. The wolf stopped and sniffed the air. A dreadful metallic taste flooded into Wil’s mouth – he concentrated hard on the rather satisfying image of Gisella threatening Giles with her bow – the taste went. Suddenly two short whistle blasts came out of that end of the Hollow – Gisella must have seen the wolf. Unsure whether to feel relieved or even more worried, Wil waited a moment and then slowly inched along the rocks in the direction of the whistle. He took care to stay parallel with the path below, mindful that his single bolt might be the last chance of getting the wolf, if it did decide to make a break for it in his direction. The wolf moved another stride closer – Wil couldn’t just watch any longer, he had to do something.
Clambering over slippery, moss-coated rocks in the dark, wearing an overly large woollen cloak and carrying a crossbow, Wil quickly discovered, was not an easy task. Twice he nearly toppled off the boulders because his foot was firmly planted on the hem of his cloak as he stepped forwards! To make life even more difficult for himself, he had also kept the crossbow loaded. But it was heavy and, largely to avoid shooting himself, he was trying to carry it pointing forwards - just in case he accidentally released the bolt!
Behind him, up on the Fell, deep, resounding barks echoed around the black hills, Fellmen shouted and horses snorted – the Moon Chase was now at full tilt.
Below, the wolf in the hollow had stopped. It took no notice of the noise from the Chase; it was concentrating all of its attention on the narrowing gully. Wil crouched. He could see that the beast was getting ready to spring – and right in the line of its gaze was the athletic shape of Gisella, picking her way down the edge of the rocks towards the wolf. Wil didn’t need to read the wolf’s mind; he could see clearly that it was watching the girl – what Wil didn’t know was if she could see the wolf!
There was no time to try to get back to get the others so Wil half-climbed, half-fell down onto the path and ducked behind the remains of a rotting tree. He listened and prayed that the wolf wouldn’t hear his pounding heart. Its throaty growl instantly brought back memories of the snarling heads mounted in the Great Hall - including the two sets of deadly-sharp teeth!
He counted to three, took a deep breath and quickly popped his head around the decaying stump. What he saw rooted him to the spot.
Gisella was standing at the end of the gully; eyes fixed, feet apart and her shoulders square. Her crossbow was aimed directly at the body of a massive, snarling wolf that was getting ready to spring. Its hackles were standing in a ridge along its back from its ears to the base of its great black tail, which it was wagging in slow, deliberate sweeps across the ground.
But Wil’s sudden movement made Gisella look up – the wolf sprang.
Wil screamed, ‘GISELLA!’ and pelted forward.
‘I cannot believe you just did that!’ shouted Gisella. ‘I have never, in my entire life, ever seen anything so stupid – so dangerous! You could have got me killed! And what would you have done if the wolf had turned on you – tell me that?’
‘I would have shot it,’ said Wil defensively.
‘What with?’ Gisella challenged him furiously.
Suddenly Wil realised that, in his haste to help Gisella, he had left the crossbow and his one precious bolt somewhere up in the rocks - he didn’t feel that this was the time to mention that he couldn’t remember which way he had come or where exactly he had put it down.
The dead wolf lay between them – its stench was over-powering. Gisella’s bolt had met its mark and the quiver was evidence that it had gone right through the animal’s stinking, matted coat and pierced its heart – killing it immediately.
‘But I thought you were in trouble,’ mumbled Wil. Gisella was so angry that words were clearly a struggle. Wil wasn’t entirely sure that she wasn’t seriously contemplating shooting him next! She took several deep breaths, kicked the wolf’s prone body and blew two very long blasts on her whistle before she could continue.
‘I am trained to do this job, Wil. You are not – remember that!’
Luckily for Wil the sound of a horse approaching at full gallop halted any further discussion.
‘W
hoa – well done you two!’ Mortimer’s face was filled with delight as he hauled his horse to a skittering halt. His hound bounded out of the darkness. Panting hard, her huge tongue lolled out of her open mouth as she stood beside him.
‘Yea, thanks – lucky first shot!’ said Gisella in a dry voice. She didn’t look at Wil. ‘Any more out there?’
‘Oh yes! Becky saw a big male, but as he was already tucking into one of our deer we decided to go for this one first – before he joined-in the killing! Tarek and Cali tried to bring him down up on the Fell but they lost him in the rocks.’
A cold shiver ran through Wil’s body – so the wolf Gisella had just killed wasn’t the one he had sensed while he was up on the ledge – he had read the mind of the one that had just made a kill.
‘So, where was the one that Becky saw?’ Wil asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
‘I’m guessing, just up there. Emmet and Curtis have gone up to have another go at it.’ Mortimer answered towards the edge of the escarpment – right above where Wil would have been sitting! ‘He took one of the stags and dragged it onto a ledge at the top of the scarp up there – still alive too, by the look. Yu’ know - I could understand it if they were killing for food, but we found fourteen dead deer up there, plus the one he was dragging away when we first saw him! I swear they just enjoy the killing!’
Wil said nothing.
‘Right, well, I’ll get this brute out of the way and we’ll see what else we can bring down!’ said Mortimer and threw a rope to Gisella. She lashed it around the wolf’s neck then he kicked his horse into a walk and dragged the mangy body unceremoniously out of Skelmer Hollow and away into the night.
‘Thanks,’ said Wil, looking at Gisella for the first time since Mortimer had arrived.
‘For what!’ Gisella was still fuming.
‘For not telling Mortimer about the bow.’
She stood in the darkness and looked straight at him.
‘Look, you’re the one on trial here - if you die, that proves you’re guilty – but I’d rather that you lived and proved that you’re innocent – I’d also rather that you don’t get any of us killed in the process! Now I suggest that you go and find your crossbow – you might need it next time!’
Feeling decidedly sheepish, Wil picked his way back across the rocky pile. Above him distant shouts and the occasional bark echoed out of the darkness. Fortunately, the intermittent beams of moonlight showed the evidence of his clumsy descent over the mossy stones. He gingerly followed the trail of skids and scrapes across the boulders and desperately hoped that he might come across the crossbow without breaking his neck - quite apart from anything else he really did not want to face Giles if he had to tell him he’d lost it!
He also thought about what Gisella had just said, and about Godwyn Savidge’s announcement at the festival – killed – or injured – that’s what Godwyn had said – if he went back to Saran injured that would also prove his guilt.
‘I don’t think I’ve got any worries about getting injured by a Wraithe Wolf,’ he muttered crossly as he slipped off yet another mossy dome and landed heavily on his knee. ‘At this rate I’ll be going back with a broken leg from falling down these blasted rocks!’
But as he put his hand out to steady himself his fingers brushed against the wooden stock of Giles’s crossbow. Miraculously it was still loaded, although it had slipped down into a crevice and was tightly wedged. Wil carefully released the precious bolt and then kicked the bow gently until it came free.
Buoyed up by his find, Wil seemed to make better headway for the rest of his climb. To his surprise, although there was no sign of the lower of his two torches, he could see the one he had mounted in the crevice higher up. It was still burning brightly and very soon Wil was sitting on the wide ledge with his back once again firmly against solid stone. From this position he had a reasonable view of both ends of the Hollow as far as the darkness would allow.
Now that he had finally stopped groaning, swearing, slipping and stomping, Wil noticed that an eerie silence had smothered the landscape like a blanket. The hairs on his neck tingled and goose bumps prickled-up his arms. Drawing his cloak tighter around him he strained to listen – desperate for even the slightest noise that might suggest that he wasn’t completely alone.
Time ticked by. The silence was occasionally disturbed by a whooshing sound as something large flew low over his head. He hoped it was Pricilla, but then a big grey and white bird swooped out of the blackness with its talons spread ready to grab at Wil’s face. Luckily the light from the torch scared it off at the last minute; it abruptly changed course and flew off, shrieking angrily, up into the night sky.
Wil wondered if it had been an eagard and retrieved the torch in case it attempted a second assault. Back home the shepherds cursed the eagards because they would take new lambs or sick sheep from the hills in night-time raids – but, until now, Wil had never actually seen one.
He sat on the rock with only the flickering glow of the torch for company. The tallow was now almost spent and a strong smell of burning wood wafted around the ledge as the remains of the torch burned down rapidly.
As he waited Wil allowed himself to think about home for a moment. He pictured his mother’s kind face and hoped that she was sleeping safely in their little cottage. The thatched roof had been showing signs of wear over the summer and, despite his fear of heights, he had promised her that it would be mended before winter set-in – after all, with his father gone, who else was going to do it? A deep sadness filled his heart. He wondered if he’d still be able to keep his promise - if he would ever get out of this mess. With bitter regret Wil recalled his dream about Farrow and Seth. It was hard to believe that it had only happened a few days ago! If only he’d just ignored it and kept out of the way – but then the hound would have been killed and, despite his current predicament, he knew that would not have been right. He pictured the stricken Fellhound hanging in the netting, covered in blood, exhausted and injured. Farrow had done what she thought to be right – Wil had, too. And, after all, he thought, he had met Lady Élanor and Tally… and Gisella - he cringed as he pictured how angry she had just been just now, in the Hollow – she was right, of course - he could easily have got her killed back there!
Suddenly a long, loud whistle blasted out above his head. He waited for the second blast but it didn’t come – one long blast meant trouble, Mortimer had said. An agonising silence followed. He stood up and strained to listen for any sound that might give him a clue as to what was happening.
The moons had gone behind yet another cloud and the darkness was crowding in around him once more when a wave of cruel excitement crashed over him and a strong scent of honey and lavender filled his nose. Wil knew that smell – he had sat with it for most of the journey as the hunt had made its way across Thesker Fell that very evening.
‘Olivia!’ he whispered in alarm. Cold dread swept over him. But then Lady Élanor’s words whispered through his brain, “As long as he keeps his mind open as well as his eyes, he will be fine.”
She had said those words when she was comforting Tally in the infirmary that morning. But Lady Élanor had been looking straight at Wil – knowing that he was listening, too.
He tried to slow his racing heart by taking big deep breaths and flexed his fingers to stop them from shaking. He needed to relax; to get back to where his mind had been before – into the mind of the wolf - but nothing came. Then out of the darkness an agonizing howl brought the night to life. Above him a horse whinnied and snorted; hounds were barking and howling and a girl was screaming. The noise was coming from the end of the Hollow where Giles and Leon were waiting.
Then Wil heard someone shouting.
‘NO, GILES, GET BACK DOWN! We need you down there, Giles – NO!’
It was difficult to tell who the disembodied voice belonged to above the girl’s screams. But the terrible sounds that followed would stay with Wil for the rest of his life. It started with a deep, threat
ening growl, followed abruptly by sickening sounds of snarling and gnashing; through which, the terrified screams of a young man filled the night. Suddenly the nightmare sounds stopped. They were replaced by a single blood-chilling howl. Then a whistle-blast that seemed to go on into eternity.
One of the moons inched around a cloud as if to see what had happened. In the brief slice of moonlight Wil desperately searched the mirror-smooth rock above his head, trying to find a route to the top of the Hollow. He stepped backwards to try to get a better view and his heel kicked Giles’s bow. Before Wil could turn to investigate, the sickening sound of splintering wood as the crossbow tumbled down onto the rocks below told him that, even if he found it, this time his chance to shoot anything with it had definitely been lost.
Then from somewhere below two short whistle blasts sounded again.
‘Wil, down here – down here, they’re coming!’ Gisella’s voice was shrill with alarm. ‘Bring the bow and get down here now!’
Jamming the silver-tipped bolt firmly into his boot, Wil charged down towards Gisella’s shadowy shape waiting in the Hollow below. His cloak billowed out behind him this time as he jumped from boulder to boulder – almost flying down the steep slope – for Wil, at this moment heights were not a problem!
‘What do you mean – they?’ Wil panted as he landed at Gisella’s side.
‘There’s two of them – I saw two, I swear it!’ she whispered. But she wasn’t facing up towards the entrance to the Hollow that opened out on the Tel Harion. Her eyes were searching the narrow opening at the other end. The seemingly endless whistle from above had stopped. Behind them Wil could hear distant voices and the pound of hooves some way off, accompanied by an occasional bark.
‘Did you hear that – just now?’ Wil whispered, blinking into the darkness up ahead.