by Diane Rios
The animals still did not look convinced. Silas waved toward the Artist and Lord Winchfillin. Then he said softly, “These people are surely descended from my own people. They would not be here otherwise. They want to help you, they are not like the others. We all share an ancient history, from a more peaceful and powerful time. A more prosperous time, for all of us.”
Silas turned slowly in a circle. “Long are the years that you and I have understood each other. And respected each other and even loved each other. And yet, I am one of them.”
For all his secret strengths and abilities, Silas was indeed only a man, but even Auberon had softened slightly at the old man’s words. His parents had loved Silas the Stargazer, and he had been brought up to love the old man too, and to respect him. Silas had lived on the mountain and among them for generations. He had always been a wise advisor and true friend to the animals. He was a man, it was true, but not a regular man at all.
The giant bear growled a softer growl and lowered his head in respect for the small, brown, wrinkled, and grayed human, standing in front of him in bare feet.
Silas gently caressed the bear’s fur. Then he stood straight and addressed the others.
“Let us gather our people,” he said decisively.
“Summon the crow Blackberry, we will make him our guide.” The old man turned so all the animal leaders could hear.
“Let us send out scouts to act as eyes and ears for us! Let us meet with those waiting in Fairfax and put together a foolproof plan. I believe if we are very careful we can succeed. But first . . . King Cornix!” Silas addressed the huge black raven perched in the trees overhead. The bird turned sparkling black eyes upon the little old man and cawed loudly.
“Would you send your people to Brisco? Tell him to wait for us, he will need our help! And hurry, my dear Cornix, we don’t have a moment to lose.”
The raven king cawed again, and took to the sky, followed by Queen Fay. Up the pair looped, higher and higher, drawing more ravens and crows from the trees as they went, and then as one flew away to the west.
Silas turned to the lone wolf sitting quietly at the side of the circle. “Mai,” he said softly. The wolf looked back at the old man affectionately, and a high whine escaped his throat.
“Dearest Mai,” Silas said. “You are swift and silent. You have great patience and endurance. For these qualities I choose you as my head scout to follow the ravens to Fairfax. Once there, look for a place for us to gather, find out what you can, and wait for our signal.”
Mai whined again and blinked his yellow eyes in response before disappearing silently into the trees.
“King Auberon!” Silas whirled to hail the great bear who stood shifting from foot to foot impatiently. He would play along with this so-called plan for a while. Then he would do whatever he wanted. This made Auberon agreeable, but inside the great bear relished the thought that he might still be able to kill a man before the plan was through.
“Great King Auberon,” cajoled Silas. “You are our might. You are our greatest power.”
The bear shook his head disagreeably but was pleased at the compliment. The old man was correct in this at least. He was their greatest power. It was simply a fact.
Silas continued his soothing flattery. “There is no one who can stand against you. We all know that you have the power to wreak vengeance on whomever you choose.”
The great bear snorted as if to say, “Of course, and. . . ?”
Silas said sagely, “I want to reserve your great power, my friend. I want to keep it from the enemy until just the right moment. The moment when we can unleash it to its greatest advantage. For the moment when we are prepared to triumph!”
Auberon liked the sound of that.
Silas said to the bear king, “Your strongest bears will accompany us to Fairfax. They must go quietly, and not disturb anything until just the right moment. We can’t afford to give the game away too early, you see.”
“So, when do we get to give the game away?” growled Auberon, his eyes glittering.
“You will get a signal, my friend, when the time is right,” said Silas.
“And what happens when the ‘time is right,’ Silas?” queried Auberon.
Silas looked at his friend quietly, and then said with a steely strength so that only the bear could hear, “Then you will be the hammer that comes down and crushes them.”
The great bear’s eyes sparkled. He was satisfied. He could wait a little longer for his revenge.
Silas touched the bear’s shaggy shoulder tenderly and said, “I want you to understand. We need you. We could not do this without you.”
Deep in his loyal heart, beneath the rage and desire for revenge, the bear had a fleeting vision of a better world, one in which his cubs would not be clubbed, their mothers not be shot and skinned, their fathers not poisoned. He thought of being left in peace to live and grow and play and sleep the winters away in the mountains, without fear. He thought of his bears all growing to be old bears, and not killed before their time.
Auberon grumbled a deep, rumbling growl that Silas understood immediately. The old man embraced the great bear briefly. When he came away, Silas had a large spot of honey stuck in his own beard along with several small twigs.
Then Silas addressed the circle once more.
“We have the beginning of a plan, my friends!” he called out happily. “King Cornix and Queen Fay are gone to meet with Brisco Knot and our friends in the west. The wolf Mai has gone to scout the area around Fairfax for a place for us to gather, and here at the mountain we will send a force of animals to Fairfax tonight.”
The animal leaders looked from one another in agreement.
“Afra, my dear,” said Silas to the white doe, who stood silently by. “Your people are the swiftest among us. Your task is to find a place where our numbers can wait, until they are needed. A clearing or meadow where we can all hide safely. And you’ll have help. I’m sending Remington along with you to act as scout and messenger.”
The old rabbit hopped up and saluted Silas. He respectfully bowed to the doe queen. “It would be an honor,” said Remington.
“Then go, my friends, tell your people and get on your way. The crows and ravens will carry messages, and we will join you there shortly. Good luck and stay safe!”
Afra whirled on her long, delicate legs and flashed her white tail as a signal for her herd of does to follow her. The deer bounded in high leaps out of the thicket. Remington stamped his hind foot on the ground and was almost instantly surrounded by a band of fifty or more rabbits. He quickly communicated his orders, and in a flash the band of rabbits disappeared into the underbrush to follow the deer.
Silas said to the remaining animal leaders, “Those that are too old or infirm to make the journey or those who have young may return to their homes. Gather whoever is left and meet in the meadow in one hour. Courage, everyone, soon we march!”
The animal leaders dispersed back to the meadow to meet with their fellows and tell them of the plan.
Silas sank wearily back against the rocks and closed his eyes. He seemed suddenly frail. The Artist and Lord Winchfillin walked over to him.
Silas opened his eyes and smiled at them. “I am glad you are here. We needed people like you on our side. One day you must tell me more about your father and his gardening, my dear Artist.”
“I’d love to,” said the Artist.
“But first you must go west and help your friend Chloe.” Silas looked kindly at the Artist. “You love her very much, don’t you?”
“Yes sir, I have to come to love the little girl dearly. She is very special. We all want to help her, and her mother.”
“Her mother?” asked Silas. “Where is the child’s mother?”
“She is in the hospital, in Fairfax,” said the Artist sadly. “She may have met the same fate as all the others. I only hope Chloe doesn’t try to do anything until we get there.”
“Are we leaving tonight?” Lord Winchfillin
mustered the courage to ask.
“Yes, my dear sir,” Silas answered. “You two will go west and send word back to me with one of the crows.”
“Send word back to you?” Lord Winchfillin looked alarmed. “You mean you aren’t coming with us? But . . . who will control the bears?”
“Oh, I will be there,” said Silas consolingly. “But there is something I must do first.”
“What could be more important than keeping us from being eaten?” muttered Lord Winchfillin under his breath.
“I can’t tell you just what it is yet, but I can’t do it alone,” Silas said to them.
“Do you need our help?” asked the Artist.
“That is very kind of you, Artist.” Silas smiled. “But there is only one here that can help me, and that is . . . she.” He indicated Greybelle, who snorted in surprise.
Everyone was surprised. Lord Winchfillin said disbelievingly, “Greybelle? You need Greybelle’s help? Whatever for?”
Silas answered quietly, “I need her to talk to a friend. I think she might be more persuasive than I.”
Greybelle tossed her silver mane and nickered. Silas walked over to the mare and patted her neck. “Would you mind very much, my dear?” he asked her.
Greybelle said agreeably, “I will do whatever I can, if it will be of help.”
Silas turned to the men again. “It is time to go. We won’t be long and will join you in Fairfax at the soonest opportunity. For now, good luck to you, and may the Great Spirit be with you on your journey.”
The Artist and Lord Winchfillin clasped hands with the old man in farewell, and as they did, they felt a strange sensation that ran through their fingers and raced up their forearms. It was like a current of energy flowing into their bodies during that moment of contact with the old man’s warm and calloused hand. It faded when the contact was broken, but both men felt better afterward, stronger, and ready for their journey west.
In the meadow the animal leaders spoke to their people. Some prepared to return home with their young, and others took the opportunity to rest before making the journey west.
There was a sense of surprising calm, now that there was a plan. The animals were ready to get started, and the atmosphere was very different than at the start of the meeting. It gave the animals heart to know that Silas was on their side, watching over them, and that something would be done about the terror on the roads. They were now ready for whatever might come.
To the west of the mountain, Mai the wolf loped along easily under the trees, heading directly for Fairfax. King Cornix and Queen Fay had passed the wolf, flying over his shadowy form, and cawing down to him as they took the lead. Afra and her people ran swiftly west, and Auberon’s people followed. All through the night the animals that could make the journey set out. A steady stream of hoofed creatures, winged ones, burrowing ones, both predator and prey, moved west toward what exactly, no one knew.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE SMASHED AMBULANCE SPED DOWN A country road, its engine whining, its dented silver sides flashing in the sun as it careened around a corner. The vehicle barely managed to stay on the narrow road as it raced toward Fairfax. Behind the wheel, Blake Underwood, Chloe’s uncle, drove like the devil, his face smeared in motor oil, sweat, and blood. His foot was pressed down hard on the accelerator, and he forced the dented, scraped, and banged-up ambulance down the road at a breakneck speed, daring anything to cross his path. He glared furiously out the front windshield, his eyes watering and blinding him so that he could barely see. He swiped an angry hand across them every few seconds, further smearing the grime across his face.
Beside him sat his old driver Bings, his greasy cap pulled down over his eyes. Bings was attempting to sleep in the passenger seat but woke up with a shout when Blake yanked the car back from the edge of the road. Blake screamed with laughter and demanded Bings pass him a bottle.
Uncle Blake was filthy. He looked a far cry from the gentleman he had pretended to be not so long ago. He and Bings had been on the road for days, pillaging households and taking whatever was useful, or saleable. The backseat of the ambulance was full of things hastily shoved in—silver plates, candlesticks, a painting, a damask tablecloth, some velvet drapes. The two men had long since stopped taking patients back to the hospital, which too often resulted in personal injury. Even the old people could sometimes get a good scratch in before they could get the mask over their face.
Instead Blake and his cohort Bings used the ambulance to carry their hoard of stolen goods, to sell them on the black market. They ate and drank whatever they could find, which meant they were very drunk most of the time.
Just now they were headed back to Ashton House. After a week on the road, Blake wanted to clean up, eat, and get a good night’s sleep before taking a trip up to Tillamook Town to sell their latest haul. He grinned to himself, thinking how fun it would be to frighten that uppity cook Mrs. Eames and force her to make him and Bings a real feast. He hadn’t eaten a home-cooked meal in far too long. He could change his clothes and get out of this bloody ambulance driver’s coat. Blake grinned again as he imagined the poker games he would enjoy after he’d sold his goods.
He worried a little about that pitiful woman that had visited Ashton House, and who he’d let get away. It was still possible that she could speak to the police and tell them about the booth at the Cobbly Fair. But who would believe her, with her ragged patched dress. Blake chewed a filthy fingernail as he drove, and worried that if the blasted woman did tell the police about the Cobbly Fair, it would only be a matter of time until they traced the booth to the vagabonds, and then perhaps back to . . . no. Blake spat out the nail. There was no way to trace Tuttie and the vagabonds back to him! Nobody knew that they had met in the middle of the forest to exchange the girl—how could they?
Blake felt somewhat satisfied until he remembered Hotel Nell. His blood ran cold as he realized that they could certainly trace the girl from Hotel Nell to himself, for he had delivered her there! Cursing his stupidity, Blake pushed harder on the accelerator, which accomplished nothing as it was already pressed against the floor. He gnashed his teeth. Why had he offered to deliver the girl to the hotel? Why hadn’t he just left well enough alone and severed all ties at the Cobbly Fair? He would be free and clear if only he had! Blake cursed roundly.
Bings, dozing next to him, snorted loudly in his sleep. Blake, wanting to take his anger out on someone, punched Bings in the arm. Bings woke with a yell.
“Ow! Oy!” He looked at Blake who looked back at him, smirking.
“Whad’ya do that for?” demanded the little man.
“Because I wanted to, that’s why!” hollered Blake. “And here’s another!” he punched Bings in the arm again.
The car continued to speed down the road, the two men arguing inside. The ambulance swerved from side to side crazily, which made the men stop arguing, and start laughing. Drunk, they laughed maniacally as they nearly swerved off the road. Blake wrenched the wheel to the side to bring the car back on the road.
Bump.
“I think you hit a rabbit!” yelled Bings, holding on to his seat as the car swerved in the other direction.
Bump.
“There goes another one!” screamed Blake, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
The ambulance careened down the winding road, narrowly missing the edge again and again. Certain death waited at every curve as their wheels spun over the edge of a deep ravine below. Blake glanced in the ambulance’s rearview mirror. Staring back at him was a man who looked like he had been in a war. He glanced over at Bings and noted the same about his companion. Mud and blood-spattered, eyes white against their blackened faces, their manic smiles red and slavering, the lack of sleep, stress, and frequent gulps from various brown bottles made them look totally insane.
The ambulance sped toward Fairfax and Ashton House. It was just dark on the road now, and the only working headlight cut a single swath of light into the night, illuminating just a f
ew feet in front of the car. Blake peered through the windshield and saw the yellow lights of Ashton House ahead.
“That’s the ticket!” He cackled, anticipating his hot bath and dinner. He slapped the sleeping Bings next to him. “Wake up! We’re here!”
Suddenly a huge black shape appeared in front of the car. Blake slammed on the brakes and screamed, “What the . . . !” Bings flew forward and hit the dashboard as the car screeched to a halt.
“What is that?” screamed Blake as something enormous and black and . . . shaggy reared up in the light from the car. A deep, rumbling roar shook the night as the . . . something . . . bared huge yellow teeth and swiped the air with its enormous paws that were bristling with long, black claws.
“YAHHHHHHHHHH!” screamed Blake and Bings together.
King Auberon, for that is who it was, stood on his hind legs and roared his rage into the night sky. How dare this . . . man . . . machine try to hit him? The giant black bear hit the side of the ambulance with his paw and scraped his claws against the metal, carving deep gashes in the side. The two men screamed again as Auberon reared up again to deliver another blow.
Blake, quaking with fear, threw the car into reverse and screeched backward, just avoiding the bear’s second attack. Blake drove backward as fast as he could, and the two men watched in horror as the bear pursued the retreating ambulance. Blake could not maintain control of the vehicle and veered crazily off the road, crashing backward into a hedge that lined the drive.
“AHHHHHHHHH!” screamed the two men again as more black shapes crossed the road. There were bears everywhere. Huge, shaggy black shapes loped by the ambulance, looking curiously in the windows at the two terrified men. The first bear had halted its charge at the sight of the other bears, and stood defiantly in the driveway of Ashton House, huffing angrily in the direction of the ambulance. Its eyes glared red and even as Bings and Blake watched, it reared again on its hind legs and roared, flashing its long yellow teeth.