by Farr, Cathy;
‘Yes. I don’t know what’s happened but at the moment we’ve got a job to do and I think it might have just got a lot harder.’
Gisella pointed her bow slightly to the left. Will followed its point – there, in the rocks, right at the end of the narrow gully, stood a massive Wraithe Wolf. Its belly was almost touching the ground as it inched towards them. Even at that distance Wil could smell its acrid stench. Huge fangs jutted down from either side of its terrifying jaws – they were dripping with something black.
‘Aim for its chest, Wil – one bolt right through the heart is all it’ll take to finish this monster… Wil – where’s your crossbow?’
The forced calm in Gisella’s voice took Wil by surprise - he thought she was watching the wolf and couldn’t see that he didn’t have the bow.
‘I’ll explain later, Gisella - but I’ve got this.’
With an almost imperceptible flicker she glanced down and saw the hunting knife that he had just pulled from his belt, but before she could react in any way the nightmare got worse.
Silhouetted against one of the moons, a four-legged shape flowed over the rocks right across the ledge where Wil had just been sitting. It jumped down to join the stalking wolf ahead of them.
‘I said there were two,’ said Gisella.
They stood together watching the two wolves slowly edge their way along the narrow floor of Skelmer Hollow. Wil could hear the sound of running water some way off and guessed that they must be near to Dead Man’s Beck.
‘Wil, whatever you do, don’t step backwards and definitely don’t turn and run – I can kill one of them but one of us will be dead before I can re-load,’ said Gisella quite calmly. ‘Our big problem is that as soon as I fire at one, I can guarantee that the other will spring.’
‘Even if we don’t step back or run?’ asked Wil.
‘Yes,’ she answered.
Suddenly an idea came to him.
‘If I can get close enough, I’m pretty sure I can hit one of them with my knife,’ offered Wil. He had always been a dead shot when they played Split-the-Apple at home, although he didn’t think that now was the best time to try to impress Gisella with that one.
‘Unfortunately, I think that’s going to be our best hope! Unless Leon and Giles get here in the next minute our time might be about to run out.’
With that Wil heard a very short ‘Peep’ from behind them.
‘Giles…Leon… is that either or both of you?’ Gisella sounded utterly relieved as she spoke in a low voice, careful to keep her eyes fixed on the wolves in front of her.
‘It’s Leon.’
The young Bearer’s voice sounded husky and tired.
‘You OK, Leon? Where’s Giles?’
‘He’s… he’s back there, Gizzy. Mortimer and Olivia are… er… there. Emmet’s taken Drago round to the Beck in case these two make a run for it. Becky is somewhere behind me with Cali. I don’t know about Curtis, but between us we should be able to stop these two from going up the side.’
‘That’s the way one of them just came, Leon – I don’t think they’ve got any intention of trying to make a run for it – I get the feeling its going to be us… or them,’ Gisella whispered. ‘But it’s OK ‘cos our friend here has brought his knife!’
‘Knife? I thought he had Giles’s spare bow?’ Leon sounded confused and very concerned.
Wil cringed.
‘Look, I dropped it, OK. Not great, but there we have it! Now, I’ll do my best with what I’ve got and if the wolf gets me – well there we go – guilty as charged!’
The blade of Wil’s hunting knife glinted in the silver moonlight.
‘Well, it looks sharp enough,’ conceded Leon.
Next to Wil, Gisella took a swift in-take of breath as if she were about to utter some sort of stinging attack, but at the same moment one of the wolves charged forward. In four massive strides it hurled itself at Gisella. Wil heard a click – he was certain that she had fired her bow, but nothing happened. By sheer luck the wolf misjudged its leap, Gisella ducked and the beast went straight over her head, bowling Leon over as it landed.
‘Leon!’ Gisella screamed. He was lying flat on his back without moving.
The wolf landed a few feet away. It span round and dropped to the floor, haunches raised ready to launch again.
‘Don’t take your eyes off the other one!’ ordered Gisella.
‘What happened?’ asked Wil, surprised by her blunder after her neat disposal of the wolf they had met earlier.
‘My bow jammed – an occupational hazard, I’m afraid,’ she answered. ‘We really are in trouble now - I have to bang it on the floor to release the nut!’
‘So, we’re two bows down and two Wraithe Wolves still standing,’ said Wil dryly.
‘I’m going to have to get to Leon’s bow, Wil – it’s our only chance.’
Wil could see Leon’s loaded crossbow only about an arms length from Gisella – if she was very careful, very quick – and very lucky - she should be able to get to it. He couldn’t see what other choice they had and they certainly weren’t in a position to argue.
Just as Gisella made to move he remembered the bolt in his boot.
‘Hang on Gisella. I think I might have an idea.’
Very slowly he tucked his knife back into his belt and reached down to retrieve the short bolt. He weighed it carefully in his hand – yes, nicely weighted towards the sharp end.
‘When I say, drop down and go for the bow, OK?’
Wil, I can do this on my own – you don’t have to…’
‘Just do it, will you!’ pleaded Wil. ‘If we both get out of this alive you can give me a lecture later!’
She blinked at him but said nothing.
‘On three – One…Two…’
He held the silver-tip of the bolt behind his head and yelled the last word.
‘THREEEE!’
Surprised by the sudden shout, the wolf behind them took his eyes off Gisella and hesitated.
Wil hurled the bolt with every ounce of strength he had in his body and closed his eyes.
‘Well, blow me!’ Gisella said. ‘You got ‘im!’
He opened his eyes. The dead wolf was sprawled out, as if the bolt had caught it in mid-spring. Its dead eyes stared up at Wil with an almost surprised expression.
But before Wil had time to admire his handy-work the sound of long claws scrabbling over loose gravel made them both turn round - the second wolf was careering up the path towards them. Gisella rolled into a half-kneel and made a grab for Leon’s bow. Wil wrenched the knife from his belt and turned.
The wolf leapt…
Wil knew the beast was dead as it sailed past his ear, but as it went one of its barbed claws caught his shoulder. It torn into the thick wool of his cloak like a hot knife though butter and raked through his flesh - the pain was excruciating.
‘Got him!’ announced Gisella, standing over the second body.
Wil walked up and kicked the animal over with his boot, trying to ignore the searing pain in his arm. There, sticking out of its chest was a silver-tipped crossbow bolt – split cleanly in two by a short hunting knife that was sunk into the beast’s chest right up to the hilt.
‘Now that really is Splitting-the-Kipper!’ said Wil and fainted.
‘Yes Becky, but he saved Leon and me!’ Gisella was saying as Wil came round.
He opened his eyes. It was still night. Right in front of his face he could see two pairs of leather boots, scuffed and battered. He looked up. Both girls were looking down at him. Gisella’s face was filled with concern – Becky’s with confusion.
Cali, Becky’s Fellhound, was lying a little way off, panting heavily. Sprawled out next to Wil were the carcasses of two dead Wraithe Wolves. The stench coming from them was almost over-powering. There was no sign of any of the other Fellmen.
‘But you heard what the Order said, Gisella – killed or injured. And I can’t see that getting better by morning – can you? Look at all that blood! Anyway, he’s
the least of our problems at the moment!’
‘Yes, Leon’s still out cold – he must have caught his head with his own bow when he went down - look at that bruise! Can you take him back to camp on your horse? I’ve got some…’
Something made Gisella abruptly stop talking. She seemed to be contemplating something then she spoke again.
‘You weren’t talking about Leon were you, Becky?’ Wil could hear the dread in Gisella’s voice.
‘No, Gizzy. Its Giles – he’s…’ Becky stopped, clearly struggling to speak; she turned away and let the words tumble out of her mouth. ‘They got him, Gizzy. He just wouldn’t listen! He came up onto the Fell – he got between Olivia and Sharus. Sharus couldn’t protect them both – he’s trained for Olivia – Mortimer tried to warn Giles… oh, Gizzy – it was awful.’
Her tumbling words gave way to great gulping sobs. Wil struggled to his feet. Tears were streaming down the Chaser’s grubby face. Cali was at her side in a second, nuzzling her neck, he licked the glistening rivulets as they trickled over her chin.
‘I know you didn’t really like him, Gizzy, but – oh, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone,’ she sobbed loudly.
Gisella dropped Leon’s crossbow and folded her arms around the weeping girl’s shaking shoulders.
‘Has he… been taken?’ Gisella asked quietly into the night air.
‘Yes – it was horrible. Once he’d…uh… ch-changed he let out the most awful howl and then he just galloped away into the darkness. Since then Mortimer has been trying to get Olivia to come away but she won’t leave the spot where he fell.’
Gisella gave Becky another hug and then frowned down at the dead wolves.
‘Look Becky, I know it sounds heartless but we really need to get these two up onto Tel Harion before dawn,’ she said steadily, and then added almost to herself. ‘If we don’t, we’re all going to be in trouble!’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Wraithe Wolves
The next few hours were, to say the least, difficult. Wil helped to haul Leon’s unconscious body up onto Becky’s horse. Then he picked up Gisella’s crossbow and slammed the end down hard on the ground to release the jammed nut. Leon’s crossbow was now nowhere to be seen but when they moved the dead wolves Gisella spotted it under one of the bodies. Thankfully, other than being covered in blood, it was still in one piece.
The colossal weight of the dead animal surprised Wil as he trussed it ready to be dragged away - it was all Becky’s horse could do to haul it out of the Hollow. The pain in Wil’s arm was excruciating and he had to concentrate hard on not passing out again. His fingers, sticky with his own blood, were covered in wolf hair and dirt. Silently he thanked Tally for old Mr Barrowman’s voluminous cloak; it might have been a pain up on the rocks earlier, but the thick folds easily hid his ripped shoulder – he did not want to draw attention to his injury from either of his companions!
Gisella was leading the way across another rock-fall at the mouth of the Hollow when Emmet called down from the ridge.
‘Did you get him – the one that went over the top into the Hollow?’ Fired-up with adrenalin, Emmet talked excitedly but Wil could see that the Fellman’s horse was lame and his Fellhound had a nasty gash across its flank. ‘He came out of nowhere! Minstrel reared and went down a pot-hole - I came off - got a bit of a bang on the head – I’ll be OK though – thanks to Drago, here – as usual!’
Sporting a nasty lump above his right eye, he stroked the hound’s ear fondly.
‘Where are the others?’ he asked. ‘I heard one heck of a commotion further up the Fell but I had my hands a bit full at the time. Then I saw the wolf go down into the Hollow, so I headed for the other end in case he made a break for it – looks like I wasn’t needed though!’
‘So you haven’t seen Mortimer or Olivia, Emmet?’ Gisella asked quietly.
‘No – thought I’d better come and help you guys first – you know, to get the bodies up onto Tel Harion before dawn.’ Emmet’s eyes were wide with excitement. He craned his neck to look behind them at the body on the end of the rope and then at the black, lifeless shape some way back. ‘I take it there‘s another one down there? Gisella Fairfax – you have had a good night, haven’t you?’ Wil detected a note of envy in Emmet’s voice.
Gisella interrupted abruptly. ‘Giles left his post.’
Her voice was hard; she seemed to be trying to deliver the news while at the same time trying to blank the reality of it out of her mind. ‘Sharus had to make a choice between Olivia and him – the wolf got Giles, Emmet.’
Becky dissolved into loud gulping sobs again. Gisella and Wil stood pale and tired. All three watched while Emmet tried to digest the information Gisella had just given him. For a moment he looked completely nonplussed; then he put his hand to his mouth, turned away and strode a few steps and then strode back. Then he wagged his finger at nothing and spoke.
‘Na – it’s a mistake – not Giles. Not after the last time – he fought off a wolf single-handed then! Na – I just don’t believe it!’
Wil watched the scene, but his mind had gone numb to everything but the burning pain in his shoulder. Warm blood was trickling down his arm. It dripped off his finger tips into the dirt. Drago wandered over and sniffed at the growing black pool next to Wil’s boot. Terrified that Emmet would see and guess what had happened, Wil carefully slid his foot sideways and ground the blood into the dark dirt. The hound continued to explore the entire patch but his nose was soon attracted to the carcass on the other end of the rope, which certainly offered-up a host of far more interesting odours.
‘You’d better come with us, Emmet. Mortimer is with Olivia now – she won’t come down off the hillside,’ said Gisella. Becky was weeping quietly now. Gisella gestured for her to lead the way and they walked out of the Hollow and up onto the vast, sweeping slopes of Tel Harion. In the distance a huge fire glowed like an orange beacon.
Olivia’s flat voice drifted over the hillside as they neared the fire. She spoke without any emotion at all. Her horse lay dead just feet from where she sat.
‘We were going to get married. He promised me. After my eighteenth birthday, next summer. I told my mother. What am I going to do now?’
A single tear rolled down her cheek and dripped onto her hands folded in her lap.
‘I don’t think you ought to think too much about that now, Livy,’ said Mortimer. He held his arm protectively around her shoulder - he’d been crying too. ‘How about you come on down with us - back to the camp, hey?’
Curtis threw another branch into the crackling flames and raised an approving eyebrow at the body dragging behind Becky’s horse.
‘How many did you get?’ he asked Gisella, watching the flames of the fire hungrily lick around the newly introduced log.
‘Three – there’s one still down in the Hollow. Mortimer took the other one away earlier,’ answered Gisella in a tight voice then she turned to Mortimer. ‘We’d better bring them up, Mortimer – dawn is on its way now.’ In the distance, to the east, where the Fells butted up against the dark sky, the horizon was tinged with a faint hint of burnt amber. Both moons had waned sometime since – dawn was well and truly on its way.
‘Just give us a minute, Giz,’ said Mortimer hoarsely. His eyes were red. ‘How about you, Wil and Curtis going down to get the one you killed earlier, hey? He’s not far from that crop of pines over there.’
He pointed down towards a distant copse of dark trees.
‘OK, but I think you and Becky need to get down to the other one – really Mort, we haven’t got time to do this in relay,’ Gisella’s insistent tone seemed to jolt Olivia out of her dream-like state.
‘You never liked him, did you Gisella?’ she said in a flat voice and gazed unseeing at the brightening horizon.
‘Now isn’t the time for this, Liv,’ interrupted Becky before Gisella could say anything – although by her expression, Wil didn’t think she had a suitable answer anyway.
‘But she didn�
�t!’ Olivia persisted with a light laugh. ‘You never believed his story did you, Gisella? You just couldn’t stomach the fact that he was brave and capable – he should have been a Chaser – but you did everything to make sure that didn’t happen, didn’t you? Always disagreeing with him or criticising him when we were training. You did your best to turn Mortimer against him!’
Olivia was on her feet now. Mortimer’s bloodshot eyes darted between both girls. Curtis went over to stoke the fire and Becky started to cry again. Emmet and Wil shuffled and looked away embarrassed.
‘I don’t really know what you’re talking about Olivia, but I don’t think this is the time. If we don’t burn the bodies of the wolves before dawn you know what’ll happen, don’t you?’ Gisella was doing her best to keep calm. She reached forward slowly to put her hand on Olivia’s arm.
‘Don’t touch me!’ spat Olivia. She jerked away and fixed Gisella with a wild-eyed stare. ‘I hate you! It was because of you he tried so hard – he came up here to prove to you that he could do the job of a Chaser – I said he could borrow Sharus and Thunder. He was going to show you all!’
Olivia was rapidly losing control. She continued to rant and by the time she had finished everyone - even her own hound - had come in for some sort of criticism or accusation. Then she dropped to the ground and broke down. Sharus limped over and flopped down on the ground beside her. Wil could see that the hound’s hind quarter was ripped open and the lower half of his left ear was missing.
‘Look Emmet, can you take Olivia back to the camp on Minstrel?’ asked Mortimer, looking desperately at his fellow Chaser.
‘Er, No, I don’t think so, Mort – he’s thrown a shoe.’ He ran his hand down both of his horse’s front legs – Wil could see one leg was swollen. ‘He’s walking OK but his fetlock’s very hot – he certainly can’t carry me as well as Olivia.’
‘Right, take Shadow as well then,’ said Mortimer, handing the reins of his own horse to Emmet. Mortimer patted the animal’s neck and then turned to Becky – Leon, still flopped across the saddle of her horse, moaned quietly.
‘Becky, Leon had better stay where he is, so can you go with Emmet? We’ll burn these bodies and see you all back at the camp. If we leave it much longer we won’t just have dead Wraithe Wolves to contend with – and I’m amazed that we haven’t seen any Eagards yet!’ he said, looking into the sky as if expecting to see a flock of huge grey and white birds circling overhead.