Moon Chase - A Fellhounds of Thesk Story
Page 26
The very next day after he had arrived home Wil had set about the promised repair to his mother’s roof – partly because winter was rapidly approaching and partly to escape his mother’s constant questions. But standing precariously balanced on a rather wobbly ladder, Wil had peeled back the rotten reeds and quickly realised that it was a much bigger job than a simple patch-up. So he hastily repaired the worst of the water-logged thatch and promised his mother that he would do a more thorough job at the first sign of fine weather in the spring. Still somewhat overwhelmed at getting her son back after fearing him murdered on Thesker Fell, his mother happily agreed. Although she did borrow more buckets.
Fortunately Wil’s emergency repair held good during the wild, winter storms, but as the last snows started to melt the leak returned with a vengeance. So as the first snowdrops poked their noses through the slushy snow, with the help of a few friends and a lot of old hay and straw bales piled high around the little cottage, Wil had spent the first month of very early spring thatching the entire roof.
He sat now; perched right on the top of the newly covered roof, proudly admiring the layers of tightly packed golden reeds. Their sharp, neatly cut ends stuck into his bottom but he was so pleased with his handy-work that he hardly noticed. Below he could see Phinn, sprawled full-length in the old sheep fold – fast asleep on a slowly melting snow drift.
He smiled and squinted over towards the hills. Lambing would be starting any day now – he hoped that Phinn would help him to live up to his promise to protect the new arrivals. But, to-date, Phinn had only shown a keen interest in playing with the sheep – an interest which, much to Phinn’s obvious disappointment, was not shared by the sheep.
Protecting the sheep, Wil felt, would definitely be a new challenge for them both! But at least they wouldn’t have to contend with any Wraithe Wolves up on Peachley Hills!
From his vantage point Wil could see the dense trees of Mistle Forest - dark green pine highlighted with the pale greens and pinks of newly sprouting oak, beech and chestnut. Not for the first time he wondered how Gisella and the others were getting along.
It had been two months since he had watched Gisella’s horse gallop over the horizon – two long winter months of dark, cold nights, a lake’s worth of rain and, in the last few weeks, heavier snow than he could remember in any other winter. Even now, in the warm spring sunshine, he could still see pockets of white here and there around the village and the peaks of the surrounding hills rising up behind East Lake were still looking very wintry.
As he sat pondering that disastrous parting once again, rehearsing what he would say to Gisella if he ever saw her again – if she ever spoke to him again that was - his eyes focused on a black dot above the forest. At first he thought it might be a crow, but as it came closer he could see that it was much bigger than any crow. He narrowed his eyes to get a better look – it was flying slowly, flapping its huge wings in great elegant sweeps. Closer and closer it came then finally the bird dived down past the last of the trees and headed straight towards Mistlegard.
‘Crronk, Crronk, Prruk!’
‘Pricilla?’ Wil muttered, not quite able to believe his eyes. The bird soared over his neighbours’ cottages and plonked down next to him on the crisp new thatch.
‘Crronk!’ she said, cocking her head to one side - then she took off again and headed back towards the forest.
‘No, wait! Pricilla – come back!’
Wil almost fell off the roof as he called after her. She flew up into the nearest oak tree and perched on one of its low leafless branches. Then, through the trees, another movement caught Wil’s eye.
A figure on horse back charged out of the darkness, silver cloak billowing behind – long silver hair, like the horse’s mane, flying in the wind. Pricilla took off again and swept down right in front of the horse – it looked to Wil as though the bird was leading the horse and rider. They continued at a gallop into the village and rounded the corner leading to his home.
‘Lady Élanor!’
Wil really did fall off the roof this time. He tumbled from the top of the new thatch and landed right in the middle of a pile of cuttings, which rather spikily broke his fall.
He was hastily dusting himself off when Lady Élanor skidded to a clattering halt in front of his mother’s cottage.
‘Lady Élanor – are you alright?’ he asked, pulling a short length of reed from inside his vest.
Her pale cheeks were porcelain white. Her normally pale blue eyes were bloodshot and under-lined with dark shadows – she looked as though she hadn’t slept for days.
‘Oh Wil, I’m sorry – I had to come – it’s Tally – she’s been taken!’
‘What! What do you mean ‘taken‘ Eli?’ Wil asked warily.
‘I think someone has kidnapped her and -,’ she broke down, unable to contain her anguish a moment longer. ‘They’ve taken Tanith!’
‘Kidnapped? How do you know she hasn’t just gone off in one of her flour-coated strops?’
‘Because they left this!’
She fumbled inside her cloak. Her hand shook badly as she handed him a small piece of scruffy parchment. Wil took it. The words were written in dark red – he hoped it was ink, but feared that it probably wasn’t. They read, ‘Give up the legacy or I will make your precious sister tell me where it is!’
‘Have you got any idea who wrote this?’ Wil asked Lady Élanor as a terrible feeling of dread crept over him.
‘Well, as Tinniswood is gone - I can only guess that it was Lord Rexmoore… or Imelda, my aunt – Tally’s aunt – our mother’s sister. I think Tinniswood may have found something out before he died and got a message back to Rexmoore.’
‘But why would this note come from Imelda?’
‘She’s the driving force behind Rexmoore – he is just a puppet. Oh Wil – what am I going to do? Tally doesn’t know where the legacy is!’
‘I know – she told me.’
‘There’s one other thing, Wil,’ her face was ashen grey now. ‘Fermina Fairfax has disappeared. She hasn’t been seen for two days. Gisella is distraught – we need to find her. We must find them all, Wil – please, will you help us?’
Wil looked down at the frightened woman. She was normally so calm and tranquil. He hadn’t realised before just how alike she and Tally were – the same silver hair, the same high cheek bones - although her sister’s eyes were somehow more penetrating – and, a lot of the time, far more moody!
‘I’ll go and get Phinn. You’d better come with me while I explain to my mother why I’ve got to go away again!’
This book is published by
Grosvenor House Publishing Ltd
28-30 High Street, Guildford, Surrey, GU1 3EL.
www.grosvenorhousepublishing.co.uk
All rights reserved
Copyright © Cathy Farr, 2010
The right of Cathy Farr to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with Section 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
The book cover picture is copyright to Sam Wall (samwall.com)
ISBN 978-1-78148-194-3 in electronic format
ISBN 978-1-907652-86-8 in printed format
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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