The moment Ash arrived in Icamore he hurried to find a spot at the market, which operated every Saturday morning in the village square. Usually the market was a busy place full of stalls, but many men had left to fight in the war twelve months ago. Lord Belgrave had resisted sending his men to war for several years, but pressure from King Tristram had finally seen him relent.
The Draygonians had plundered and over-populated their own country and their greedy ruler, King Phizo, wanted to claim Krell for his people. The Great Wall, which had been built by the Krellians several hundred years ago, was in danger of being breeched. All efforts now focused on stopping the Draygonians gaining a foothold in Krell.
With many of the men away, including Lord Belgrave and his army, the market was much quieter than usual. Ash hoped he would be able to sell all his mother’s goods. They needed the money.
Setting down his basket, Ash’s voice mingled with the cries of the other vendors. “Delicious fresh butter! Mouth-watering blackberry pies too tasty to miss. Strawberry jam! Come buy my delicious strawberry jam! Best in all our mighty kingdom of Krell.”
Mrs Tattle, the tanner’s wife, jingled some coins at him. “I’ll have two pies and a pot of jam, thanks.”
“Certainly, ma’am.” Ash tipped his hat.
“Where’s your mother today, lad?”
“Milking the cows.” Ash handed the jam and pies to Mrs Tattle and dropped the money in his coin pouch.
Mrs Tattle shook her head sympathetically. “I hope you’re helping her while your father’s away.”
“I’m trying to, Mrs Tattle.”
“Good lad. Have you heard any news of the war then, Ash?”
“No, Mrs Tattle,” Ash said. “No messengers have come our way.”
“It’s a terrible shame,” Mrs Tattle said. “And a terrible price for our village to pay. We’ve lost my lord and many of our good men. There’s been no word from any of them in months, I hear.”
“Hopefully they’re not lost entirely, Mrs Tattle. I want my pa and Duncan to come back.”
“Yes, of course you do, Ash.” Mrs Tattle took a deep breath. “So let’s keep hoping for the best.”
Ash nodded. “Yes, Mrs Tattle.”
“Say hello to your ma for me, won’t you?”
Ash tipped his hat again. Mrs Tattle wandered off. Ash tried to forget about his pa and Duncan and instead set up his cry once more. “Delicious fresh butter! Mouth-watering blackberry pies!”
It was a prosperous morning. As the bells tolled eight, Ash sold his last pot of jam to old Fyodor Carver, the butcher. He knew Ma wanted him home, but it was early and he was tempted to stop at the river to watch the elderly fishermen bring in their catch.
Ash picked up the basket, empty now save for the cream jug and his unusual rock, and set off. The smell of smoke, roasting nuts and frying meat wafted across the marketplace. Ignoring the rumblings of his stomach, Ash told Trip to stay close. Together they pushed through the milling groups of women and children and moved towards the river, glad to leave the rabble and the noise behind.
At the corner of Miller’s Row, Ash heard shouting. Trip, who had been padding obediently alongside his master, chose that moment to chase after a broken-tailed stray cat. Both quickly disappeared around the corner.
“How many times do you have to be told? You’re not welcome here,” a voice jeered. “You’ll bring a pox on us all.”
Ash rounded the corner and saw his friend, Taine, standing with his fists clenched as three boys cornered him. Behind Taine stood his twin sister, Rhyll, defiance glinting in her green eyes.
“Leave us alone, Morgan,” Taine growled.
Ash’s cousin, Morgan, and his two pals, Orford Tailor and Burke Reeve, were always picking on someone.
“Or what?” Morgan sneered.
“We’ll put a spell on you.” Rhyll curled her lip.
A look of intense fear flashed across Morgan’s face but he swiftly recovered. “You know witchcraft is forbidden in Icamore. Lord Belgrave has declared it the work of idle hands. We’ll tell on you if you dare use it and then you’ll be locked up. How would you like that?”
Rhyll became even more defiant. “You won’t be able to tell anyone if I cast a spell to glue your lips together,” she said.
“You wouldn’t dare.” Orford gulped, turning pale at Rhyll’s threat. “Would you?”
Ash stifled a laugh. He crept closer.
“Of course she wouldn’t,” Morgan growled as he punched Orford. “She’s bluffing.”
“But their mother was a witch, wasn’t she?” Burke glanced nervously from Morgan to Rhyll and back again.
“It got her thrown out of Icamore.” Morgan laughed harshly. “Old Maggot Magdeth said your mother taught you witchy spells and potions, but I’m not afraid. You can’t hurt me. You’re a girl.” He stepped closer, leaning over Rhyll. “And you’re pathetic.”
Rhyll’s face flamed to rival her red hair. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Oh yeah?” Orford said. “Magdeth told us all about you and your freakish mother. What she said would make your ears bleed if you heard it.”
“That does sound serious.” Taine smacked his lips dryly. “I hope you weren’t too scared, little Orfie.”
Orford bristled. “Not likely.”
Ash stowed his basket behind a fence and tiptoed up behind Morgan. He reached out and tapped his cousin on the shoulder.
Morgan spun around. “Well, if it isn’t Manure Face come to help his hexing mates.”
“Leave them alone, Morgan.”
Morgan glared. “Why should I?”
Ash returned his cousin’s stare, wondering how they could be so different. There was no mistaking their physical resemblance. They had the same yellow curling hair, the same round face and pale blue eyes. But that was where the resemblance ended. Although he was only a year older, Morgan was much taller and broader than Ash. He was a whole lot meaner too.
“Mind your business, Manure Face. This has nothing to do with you.” Morgan gave an exaggerated sniff and leaned towards Ash. “When was the last time you had a bath?”
“When was the last time you had an intelligent thought?” Ash shot back.
Orford sniggered. Morgan, his face erupting with rage, slammed his fist into Orford’s arm.
“What was that for?” the boy whined.
Morgan poked his chin out at Ash. “You’re just a coward, aren’t you? You’ve got a smart mouth but there’s no muscle behind it. You’re weak.”
Ash prickled with anger. He tried to stay calm, knowing Morgan was goading him.
Why does he always want to fight? Ash wondered. Why does he love stirring up trouble?
“You’d be no good in the war, would you?” Morgan continued. “I bet if you ever got near a battle with the Draygonians, you’d run and hide like a baby. Probably cry like one too.”
“I would not.”
“I bet you would.” Morgan leaned in close. “You’re not fighting material like me. You’re small and weak and helpless.” Morgan shoved Ash’s shoulder for emphasis. “So different to your big brother.”
Morgan puffed his chest out, smiling smugly as he nodded to his mates for support.
Ash would have loved nothing better than to wipe the smug look off Morgan’s face, but he didn’t dare. Ma would be furious if he did.
“You’re wrong, Morgan,” Ash said.
“You’re a coward, Manure Face. And we all know it.”
“Don’t listen to him, Ash,” Taine said. “He’s talking rubbish.”
“I know that.” Ash struggled to keep his voice steady. “He’s just trying to make me angry. Like he always does.”
“Hey, I know,” Morgan said, “how about we fight it out? If I win, everyone will know you’re a coward. If you win, I’ll take back what I said. Come on. Show us that you really do have some guts. Right here. Right now.”
“That’s stupid!” Rhyll steamed. “Fighting doesn’t prove anything.”
“Oh yes it does,” Morgan said. “It’ll prove who’s stronger. I want this gutless little maggot to fight me, so stay out of it.”
The boys closed in. Morgan shoved Ash hard in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Ash’s temper flared as Morgan jostled him. He shoved Morgan back, but the other boy hardly seemed to notice.
“Give him a thumping! Rip his head off!” Orford and Burke shouted.
“Leave him alone.” Taine lunged at the boys, but they easily fended him off, knocking him to the ground.
Ash pulled Taine to his feet. “You all right?” The friends stood shoulder to shoulder, facing their enemies.
“Fine,” Taine said. “Don’t know why you butted in, really. Anyone could see I was about to take them.”
Ash smiled.
“What are you two cowards whispering about?”
“Nothing,” Ash and Taine said together.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ash spotted Rhyll grabbing a bucket of slops from a doorstep.
“Come on, Manure Face. You can have the first shot.” Morgan offered his jaw to Ash.
“I’m not going to fight you, Morgan. We’re kin. It’s not right.”
Morgan’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets. He pounced on Ash, seizing his collar and screwing it painfully tight at his throat. “You can forget about us being family, Rover. I’m better than you and you know it. Now, are you going to fight me or not?”
Before Ash could answer, Rhyll ran up behind Morgan and his mates and tossed the bucket of slops all over them. At that moment, Trip returned. Seeing Morgan threatening Ash, he rushed at Morgan with bared teeth, knocking him into Orford and Burke. With screams and curses, the three boys toppled backwards into a puddle where they scrabbled and slipped in the mud and filth, all the while trying to evade nips from Trip’s sharp teeth and hefty whacks from Rhyll’s bucket.
Ash called Trip off and Taine dragged Rhyll away.
“You filthy rodents won’t get away with this!” Morgan yelled after them.
“Who are you calling filthy, Fish Breath?” Ash hollered back.
The three friends turned and fled, Ash stopping only to collect his basket. Angry, but relieved they had escaped unhurt, Ash urged the others to keep running. The trio didn’t slow their pace until they were outside the village walls.
“I’ve got something amazing to show you,” Ash said once he’d caught his breath. He felt inside his basket for the rock. Ash gasped. He was certain it had wriggled when he touched it.
“What is it?” Taine asked.
Rhyll’s face lit with excitement. “Is it magic?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.” Ash nodded towards an abandoned cottage up ahead. “Let’s go in there so I can show you without anyone seeing. You’re not going to believe what I’ve found.”
3
THE HATCHLING
“Why all the secrecy?” Taine asked.
“You’ll see. Sit down and stay out of sight.” Ash motioned to the far corner of the empty cottage. “We’ll be in all sorts of trouble if we’re found in here. You know the rule about trespassing on Lord Belgrave’s property.”
Taine and Rhyll sat on the packed earthen floor of what had once been a kitchen. Trip threw himself down beside them and promptly started dozing.
“Is it food?” Taine said. “I’m starving.”
“It’s better than food.” Ash kneeled beside the basket and pulled out the rock.
Taine and Rhyll leaned forwards to see.
“It’s a rock,” Taine groaned with disappointment.
Rhyll clicked her tongue in agitation. “It’s an egg.”
Taine was suddenly interested again. “It is food!”
“Can you forget your stomach for one minute?” Ash said. “Look closer. Tell me what you see.”
Taine squinted at the rock. “I can’t see anything in here. Hold it up to the light.”
Ash lifted the rock towards the window so that sunlight slashed across it. The ebony and violet swirls on the rock’s surface shifted. Flecks of silvery light appeared, whirling around.
“It’s beautiful,” Rhyll breathed. “Can I touch it?”
“You can hold it if you like.” Ash passed the rock to her.
When she felt its warmth she gasped in surprise, almost dropping it.
“Careful! Don’t break it. Did it heat up for you?”
Rhyll nodded.
“It didn’t work for Ma when she held it, but maybe that’s because we were inside. It must be the sun that makes it warm.”
“Like it’s affected by the heat?” Taine said.
“Exactly,” Ash agreed.
“Where did you find it?” Rhyll asked, still staring at the rock.
“It found me. It fell out of the sky and landed on my head when I was in the meadow, working. Well, I was actually sleeping, but it did fall out of the sky.”
Rhyll arched an eyebrow doubtfully.
“Rocks don’t drop from the sky, Ash,” Taine said.
“This one did.” Ash lifted his hair to show them his bruised forehead. Then he crossed his heart with his finger. “Tristram’s honour.”
Taine gave Ash a playful punch. “What would you know of Tristram?”
Ash punched Taine back. “More than you.”
Taine laughed. “Maybe we should break it open, see if we can eat what’s inside,” he suggested.
“Taine!” Ash and Rhyll both gasped in horror.
“Only joking.”
Rhyll passed the rock back to Ash, who sat looking at it for a while.
“Maybe it’s a piece of the sky,” he said.
“Don’t be silly,” Taine said. “All those ancient myths are nonsense.”
“Maybe not,” Rhyll countered. “Remember the story Mother used to tell us about the storm of burning rocks? And how everyone was so afraid they leaped into the river and drowned.”
“That was a story to keep us in our beds at night. It wasn’t true.”
“Maybe the rock, or egg, is magic,” Rhyll said. “Do you believe that?”
“No, but knowing my luck, if it is magic, it will be bad magic,” Taine said.
“According to Lord Belgrave, all magic is bad,” Ash said.
“I don’t believe that for a minute,” Rhyll said.
“Oh, don’t get her started.” Taine sighed.
“Look!” Ash cried.
With the sun streaming across it, the rock grew hotter in Ash’s hands. As the three friends watched, it glowed with bright, vivid colours that danced across its surface. Strangest of all, the rock started to spin, slowly at first then faster. Ash yelped in surprise, trying to hold his hand steady. Trip woke and barked in agitation.
“What’s happening?” Taine said.
“I told you, the sunlight is doing something to it,” Ash said.
“I don’t like this,” Taine said. “Throw it away.”
Rhyll clapped her hands and laughed. “I knew it was magic.”
“Be quiet, all of you,” Taine hissed. “Someone will hear us.”
The rock doubled in size then doubled again. It was now the size of a small boulder and too heavy to hold. Ash eased it to the ground.
“It’s a magic egg,” Rhyll yelled above the noise of the barking dog. “And it looks like it’s hatching.”
“Scariest egg I’ve ever seen.” Taine covered his face. His voice wobbled with fear. “I can’t look.”
There was a flash of brilliant light and a cracking sound. The shell turned black and fell away. In the centre of the broken egg, sticky and forlorn, stood a strange-looking bird.
Ash’s stomach tensed with a mixture of fear and excitement. “Sit, boy,” he ordered Trip, who was still barking. Trip whined then sat, watching the bird keenly.
It was the size of a sparrow and almost entirely grey. Instead of looking like a chick, with fluffy down, it appeared to be a shrunken version of an adult bird. It had a long narrow
beak and sharp-pointed feathers. Its head was broad, almost too big for its neck to support, and it looked pathetically weak. The only splash of colour on its entire body was its long orange legs and oversized feet.
Taine pulled his hands away from his face. He squinted at the sticky bird. “What is that thing?”
“It’s a bird. Obviously.” Rhyll’s voice was flat, disappointed.
“I can see that, but what sort of bird?”
“It looks like a sparrow.” Feeling sorry for the strange little bird, Ash picked it up and wiped the stickiness from it with his sleeve. He didn’t want it getting cold or sick.
“That is one ugly sparrow,” Taine muttered. “Are you sure that’s what it is?”
The bird turned its head and stared at Ash with such intensity he had to look away. It was as if the bird was sizing him up.
“He’s listening to us.” Rhyll reached out towards the bird. Its sharp beak pecked her and she drew away. “Ouch! He’s not very friendly, though he seems to like you, Ash.”
“Feed me!”
Ash glared at Taine. “Would you stop thinking about your gut, Taine?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Feed me!”
They all stared at the bird.
“Feed me!” This time they saw the bird’s beak move when it spoke.
“I think it’s hungry,” Taine said.
“But how can it talk?” Ash scratched his head, feeling more confused than ever. “This is too weird.”
Suddenly, Trip growled and ran to the door.
“Quick! Someone’s coming,” Ash said.
“Oh no,” Taine moaned. “Now we’re going to be in for it.”
“Shush,” Rhyll hissed. “Stay calm.”
Ash hid the remnants of the egg in a darkened corner seconds before the cottage door swung open.
“What are you lot doing here?” It was Lord Belgrave’s old squire, Renshaw Gilking, standing in the doorway. A longbow and a quiver of arrows were slung over the squire’s hunched back and a clutch of dead pheasants hung from his belt.
Keeper of the Phoenix Page 2