Moon Chase - A Fellhounds of Thesk Story

by Farr, Cathy;

  Wil read the label three times just to make sure he had read it correctly. As his eyes got used to the dark, he snaked over to the nearest sleeping guard and nudged his foot. The guard let out a very loud snore but stayed fast asleep. Not absolutely convinced, Wil kicked him – the man turned over and draped his arm around the man sleeping next to him. One final, very hard boot in the man’s shin convinced Wil that the man was indeed not going to wake up at least for a while.

  Excitement was now coursing through him. Pricilla hopped about – almost as if she was waiting for an instruction.

  By now, Wil’s hands were numb from the tight bindings. He tried to wriggle free, but it was no use. Then he remembered the knife in his boot. First he tried to bend backwards to reach it, but after an agonising attack of cramp he was forced to accept that he really wasn’t made to go that way.

  ‘Pricilla, I need you to undo the knot.’

  She cocked her head on one side and looked straight at him but didn’t move.

  ‘Pricilla, behind me, my hands are tied – undo the knot!’ he hissed again.

  But she just stood there. Hopelessness started to wash over him. Lady Élanor had given him a chance with one hand, but seemed to have taken it away with the other. He took a deep breath and tried once more.

  ‘Look Pricilla, unless I get my hands untied I can’t help the others, so pleeese, will you help me?’

  ‘Crronk!’

  She threw him a reproachful look, hopped over him and tugged at the bindings.

  ‘Oh, well, my mother did always tell me that “please” would get me a long way!’ he thought to himself with a smile.

  After only a few pecks and tugs, to Wil’s great relief the rope loosened. He twisted and pulled until it gave way and his hands came free.

  ‘Thank you, Pricilla,’ he whispered in relief and rubbed the life back into his numb fingers.

  Pricilla nodded her silky black head at him and took off into the murky night sky.

  Wil picked up Lady Élanor’s label and studied it again. It said that the drug would be effective for 6-8 hours but there was no way of knowing how long ago Tinniswood and his men had eaten. It had been dark by then and Wil didn’t have a clue how long he had been asleep.

  He tucked the label into his pocket and shook Mortimer’s shoulder. Wil’s heart almost stopped when Mortimer sprang to attention the moment that Wil touched him – the young Chaser was utterly bewildered.

  ‘It’s me – Wil. Mortimer, it’s OK. We’ve got to wake the others and get out of here,’ Wil whispered as Mortimer tried to focus both his vision and his mind.

  ‘What… how… what’s happened?’

  Mortimer’s confused state alarmed Wil. He was making quite a lot of noise but also, Wil wasn’t sure that Mortimer hadn’t eaten some of the juniper while he was cooking.

  ‘Mortimer, it’s me - Wil,’ he repeated as quietly as he could. He gently shook Mortimer by the shoulder. ‘Listen to me, Mortimer - did you eat any of the meat?’

  Mortimer blinked and coughed loudly.

  ‘Er, what? No… I don’t think so, no.’

  He was finally coming round but he was still making a worrying amount of noise! Wil spoke quickly.

  ‘Ssh, Mort! We’ve got to get out of here – I don’t know how much time we’ve got. It’s the juniper - I’ll explain later. Go and wake Seth – but do it quietly!’

  Wil yanked his knife out of his boot and cut Mortimer loose. Then he crept over to Gisella. She was curled up on her side. A wave of hair had flopped down over her forehead. With her hands tied behind her back Wil wondered how she managed to get comfortable but she was fast asleep.

  He gently shook her arm and said her name as softly as he could. She opened her eyes and smiled up at him.

  ‘Gizzy, we need to get out of here fast. I’m going to untie you; Mortimer has gone to get Seth and Farrow.’

  He wasn’t convinced that she had taken in what he had said, but as soon as her hands were free she was on her feet firing questions at him in a loud whisper.

  ‘How did you manage it, Wil? Won’t we wake that lot? Where are the others?’

  Wil clamped his hand over her mouth in alarm and put his finger on his own lips.

  ‘It’s the bag – it’ll take too long to explain now, but if we get out of this you’ve got a lot to thank Lady Élanor for!’ he whispered, releasing her.

  ‘And you have, Wil!’ Gisella reminded him sharply.

  ‘I’m not so sure about that, but I don’t think we’ve got time to discuss it right now - here’s Mortimer.’

  Mortimer’s grave expression told Wil all he needed to know.

  ‘You can’t wake him, can you?’

  ‘No – and worse – I found this right beside him!’ Mortimer held up a partly chewed bone. ‘He was right by the fire - I think he ate some of the meat.’

  Wil struggled to find words, after all, it wasn’t really the boy’s fault – how could Seth have known that the meat had been drugged? After all, he thought fairly, none of them had known – he wondered briefly if things always happened to Seth.

  ‘How that boy will ever make a Fellman is completely beyond me!’

  ‘I really don’t think you’re going to be able to carry him all the way back to Saran, Mortimer. I think we should hide somewhere until he wakes up,’ Gisella was saying as they struggled up the side of the steep valley. Seth, completely out-cold, was flopped over Mortimer’s shoulder.

  ‘I’ll be fine, Gizzy – honestly. I’ve carried injured Fellmen far heavier than Seth down off the Fell after a Moon Chase – remember that time when my horse got attacked and that Bearer, Erik Pederson, accidentally got shot? I had to walk back leading Shadow and carrying him – and he was a real lump!’

  Wil was not at all convinced by Mortimer’s cheerful tone – he could already make out beads of sweat on Mortimer’s forehead - even in the dark.

  ‘Yes, but you weren’t running away from a bunch of deer poachers - and it wasn’t the middle of a foggy night!’ argued Gisella.

  ‘Why can’t he ride on Farrow?’ Wil asked innocently - after all, she stood almost head height to Mortimer, and she had already carried Seth out of the river.

  Mortimer and Gisella stopped in their tracks. Their expressions gave Wil the distinct impression that he might have just suggested something utterly preposterous.

  ‘Why do you think she could do that, Wil? She’s a hound, not a horse!’ said Mortimer looking genuinely perplexed. Luckily Wil had another idea.

  ‘Look, I think it might be better if I go back and get a couple of the horses. We’ll be able to get away quicker then and it’ll slow that lot down if they wake up and try to chase us.’

  Gisella looked horrified.

  ‘Wil, it’s too dangerous – and anyway – you can’t ride!’

  ‘What if they wake up? You said that the drug would work for 6-8 hours – but we don’t know how long we’ve been sleeping,’ said Mortimer, but he was panting so hard that Wil knew it was their only option.

  ‘Well, if we assume that Seth ate the stuff at about the same time as the others – and by the look of that bone, he hadn’t eaten much – if he starts to wake up we’ll know we’re in trouble,’ reasoned Wil. ‘By the state of him right now, I’d say we’ve got hours!’

  Seth’s head lolled over Mortimer’s shoulders – he certainly didn’t look like someone who was going to wake up any time soon. Gisella moved to Wil’s side.

  ‘I’ll go too, then we can get two horses – that way we can all ride home. Farrow won’t leave Seth and anyway Mortimer - you’ve got the most experience with Fellhounds. The two of you should be able to help us if we get into trouble,’ said Gisella in a way that told them that there was no point in arguing with her. ‘I wish I still had my crossbow, though. Did you see what they did with it, Mort?’

  ‘One of Tinniswood’s thugs put it on the fire while I was cooking – sorry Gizzy, I couldn’t stop him.’

  Gisella set her jaw. She
looked more determined than ever.

  Mortimer reluctantly agreed with her plan, ‘OK, but if you hear my whistle – two short bursts – come back straight away – that’ll be the signal that Seth is waking up – which means that lot down there will be, too!’

  ‘Right, come on Wil – let’s show them that they aren’t the only ones who can steal livestock!’

  She was off back down the steep, grassy slope before Wil could open his mouth. He glanced at Mortimer and shrugged.

  ‘We’ll be back as quickly as we can, Mort,’ Wil said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. Then he followed Gisella back towards the camp.

  ‘She’d make a damn good Chaser!’ Wil heard Mortimer say to himself as they plunged back down the hill into the darkness.

  They found the horses tethered to a line of trees along the edge of the river. The animals spooked as Wil and Gisella stumbled through the bracken and emerged breathless out of the fog, but Gisella made a gentle clicking noise with her tongue and spoke softly which seemed to calm them instantly.

  All around them sounds of regular breathing were mixed with loud, throaty snores.

  ‘I can’t believe you don’t know how to ride, Wil!’ Gisella hissed as she untied the two horses nearest them. By luck, they were still wearing their bridles but to Wil’s dismay their saddles were nowhere to be seen.

  ‘It never came up at home,’ Wil whispered back defensively. ‘Most of the horses at home are used in the fields – the other kids used to get on at the end of the day, but I … well, I never wanted to – it wasn’t a big issue.’

  ‘So when was the first time you ever got on a horse?’ Gisella asked as she jumped easily onto one of the freed animals.

  ‘Two days ago – when I got on Olivia’s,’ replied Wil.

  ‘Well, for everyone’s sake I think you’d better ride with me, Wil. I can’t see you managing to get back to Mortimer otherwise – especially without a saddle!’ Gisella held the reins of both horses in one hand and put out her other arm to help Wil aboard.

  As Wil stepped forward to grab her outstretched hand he caught sight of a broadsword resting against a tree nearest the horses. It was just too good an opportunity to miss. He was good with a throwing knife, but happiest when he had a proper sword in his hands – although he had never actually used one in battle. Back home he spent hours practising after his chores were all done.

  ‘Hang on Gisella – that might come in handy.’

  One of the men let out an abrupt choking snore as Wil carefully picked his way over the rough ground – luckily the fog was much thinner now.

  ‘Hurry up, Wil!’

  He leant down and clasped his hand around the hilt – and felt a strong hand grasp his ankle.

  ‘GO GISELLA! GO!’

  ‘Wil – what…’

  ‘JUST GO – GET OUT OF HERE –GO!’

  ‘Stop right there, you little…’ growled a voice that Wil guessed belonged to the strong hand.

  Without thinking he grabbed the sword and swung it downwards. It sliced through the rustler’s wrist like butter. His agonised scream filled the foggy valley. Wil didn’t look down. Gisella was frozen to the spot. All of a sudden there were voices everywhere.

  ‘Go Gisella, get to the others. Get out of here!’

  Gisella’s horse started to panic. It danced sideways almost knocking Wil over before it crashed into the other horses. Still tied up some tried to rear, others kicked out. Without thinking Wil ran forward and slapped the terrified horse hard on the rump. Both animals took off into the dark. Wil could see that Gisella was still clinging on to the reins of the second horse.

  In the next second a long whistle pierced the night - Gisella must have sounded the alarm. Wil prayed that she had managed to stay on and regain control of both horses. Then he could hear pounding hooves galloping in the direction of Mortimer, Farrow and Seth and guessed that she had.

  In the camp, there was chaos. The stubborn fog stuck to the night air making it impossible to see further than a few feet. Men were shouting and horses were snorting, whinnying and rearing. Wil quickly ducked down and ran along the line of tethered horses, slicing through every set of reins. As he let the panic-stricken animals loose he yelled and waved his arms frantically, sending them fleeing off into the milky darkness.

  The sound of their pounding panic added to the confusion. Wil made for the stream and the cover of the trees. This meant going straight towards the mayhem – but, after all, he thought, it would be the last thing they’d be expecting!

  Wil knew when he’d got to the stream. Luckily the sound of the babbling water gambolling over the rocks, in and out of freezing pools, drowned out the huge splash he made when he ran straight into it. He crouched low to the rocky bank, still clutching the stolen sword. He had no idea which way Gisella had gone and could only hope that she had found the others.

  Angry shouts echoed around the camp. Tinniswood’s voice boomed out above the others – he was livid.

  ‘FIND HIM – FIND THE SEER, WIL CALLOWAY. I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE OTHERS – JUST FIND THAT BOY AND BRING HIM TO ME!’

  Wil lowered himself into the bitterly cold stream and scanned his surroundings. He could just about make out the glow of the dwindling fire where Mortimer had cooked the venison. From the sounds of shouting and splashing, Wil knew that there were men on both sides of the river now – they were spreading out to search for him. It was only a matter of time before they found their horses, too.

  If Tinniswood had issued specific instructions that they look for him, Wil dared not risk trying to catch-up with the others. The freezing water seeped through his cloak and try as he might, he couldn’t stop his teeth from chattering. If he stayed where he was the sound was sure to attract someone’s attention. The only way out of his current predicament was to follow the river. That way he could at least be sure of not leaving a trail that might lead Tinniswood straight to him.

  So, which way to go? Upstream would take him back up towards Tel Harion and would also take him right through the middle of the camp – neither prospect filled him with hope or enthusiasm. Downstream, he reasoned, would lead to Esk Falls – an area he didn’t know. But even so, downstream felt like the better option. And once he was far enough away from Tinniswood’s men he would be able to get back on dry land. So, after a hasty look to make sure no-one was nearby, he stepped into the middle of the stream and splashed off into the night.

  Half-wading, half swimming, he let the flowing water carry him away. In the distance he could hear the unmistakable sound of a Fellhound pitched in battle. He tried his best to detect sounds of his friends, but all he could hear was angry shouting and screaming. It certainly sounded as though Farrow was doing her job!

  He floated past the tree line at the edge of the little valley and heard a sound that made his already chilled blood freeze – a girl screamed – a loud, long scream of pain, anger and fear.

  ‘Gisella!’

  Completely overwhelmed by the temptation to turn back, Wil scrambled out of the water onto the bank. He stood and listened. Esk Falls sounded surprisingly close and the thundering torrent was now drowning out most other sounds.

  Dawn was now seeping through the fog, giving everything a slightly rose-tinted hue, but an eerie quiet upstream made the pit of his stomach ache with dread. He stood at the edge of the stream. Would he be putting his friends in danger if he went back? But his question was answered almost immediately.

  Out of the fog Wil saw a figure on horse-back calmly walking towards him. Confused by their steady plod, it was impossible to make out who the person might be.

  ‘Gisella?’ Wil called out hopefully. But as the figure drew closer, Wil realised he was wrong.

  Too late, he jumped back into the river. An oily voice drifted across the water.

  ‘Master Calloway – did you really think you would get away that easily?’

  Sir Jerad Tinniswood reined in his horse. Wil ducked down and said nothing.

  �
�I suppose you might have had a slightly better chance if you hadn’t left a little trail for me to follow,’ Tinniswood sneered and flicked a tiny piece of paper into the water with two fingers. It fluttered down and landed close by. Wil grabbed at it as it floated past. Inky-black cooking instructions for juniper were running across the soaking paper. He turned the label over – it was blank.

  Tinniswood’s mocking laugh rang out.

  ‘Right on the river bank – very careless – although what you want with cooking ingredients in your current predicament is beyond me!’

  ‘What have you done with my friends?’ demanded Wil.

  ‘Oh, them? Well, I’ve really no use for them so I left my new friends to their own devices – they’ve probably killed the hound and the boys by now – but the girl – well, she was very pretty, didn’t you think?’

  He left his words to hang in the air and smirked down at Wil.

  ‘What do you want from me?’ shouted Wil angrily - all he wanted to do now was get out of the river, strike Tinniswood off his horse and go back to rescue Gisella and the others – he refused to believe that any of them had been killed.

  Tinniswood urged his horse right to the edge of the bank and leant over its neck. Wil’s submerged body was now drifting down-stream in the gentle current. He was shaking uncontrollably with the cold.

  ‘I heard what Élanor said to you, boy - you can see into the minds of others. You would not believe how long I’ve been out here trying to find out that bitch’s great secret – the whereabouts of her legacy. First, you will help me to find it and then I’m going to take you and it back to Lord Rexmoore. For too long I have lived as a servant to that man and his grasping wife! Finally I will be rewarded for that loyalty!’

  Tinniswood ranted on about hard work and devotion but Wil was now chilled to the core. His body started to feel strangely warm - all he wanted to do was go to sleep. His concentration drifted and the sword slipped from his numb fingers.