“How do you know my name?” Cecilia asked. She was sure there must be a very good reason, but was a little confused and flustered by all that had happened.
The woman leaned forward. Her face, which had been in the shadows before, was now bathed in light from the window.
“Don’t you recognize me?” she asked, with a small smile that was tinged with sadness.
Cecilia’s eyes opened even wider than before, if that was possible without sticky tape and Popsicle sticks. She did recognize the woman, although she was a lot thinner than when Cecilia had last seen her, and she had a different hairstyle. Cecilia realized now why Rocky had jumped all over the woman, pawing and licking, when they had first entered the castle.
“Mrs. Proctor!” Cecilia cried.
12
THE BOOK
THERE WERE SO many questions tumbling around in Cecilia’s brain that they tripped over one another and none of them came out of her mouth.
She stared at Mrs. Proctor with big eyes and said nothing. There was one question that kept trying to get out, but she was afraid to ask that one because she was afraid of the answer. If she didn’t ask the question, she didn’t have to listen to the answer.
But it was better to face your fears, Cecilia told herself. After a few more sips, she made her mouth say the words.
“When can I go home?” she asked.
Mrs. Proctor looked at her for a moment before replying. “That’s a little complicated, Cecilia.”
“How complicated?” Once Cecilia had started asking, she wasn’t going to stop until she found out the truth.
“Those of us who live here . . .” Mrs. Proctor trailed off. She reached out and took Cecilia’s hand. “We don’t live here by choice. We’d all go home if we could.”
Cecilia thought that over. She knew perfectly well what Mrs. Proctor was saying, but her mind didn’t want to believe it just yet. “You’re trapped here?” she asked.
Mrs. Proctor nodded. “It’s not a bad place to live, though. We all get along very well. I think you’ll like the twins. They’re about your age.”
Cecilia said nothing, still getting used to the idea that she was trapped here in the dark forest.
“How did you get here?” Mrs. Proctor asked. “You didn’t run away from home, did you?”
Cecilia shook her head. “There was an accident,” she said. “A bulldozer smashed into our house and the attic part just floated away.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Proctor said as if it was the most natural thing in the world for part of a house to just lift off and float away.
“When we drifted over Northwood, we crashed into a tree and then I had to climb down.”
“That was very brave,” Mrs. Proctor said.
“Not really,” Cecilia said. “If I had known I’d be chased by monsters, I think I would have stayed in the tree.”
“Not monsters,” Mrs. Proctor said, laughing. “Lions. Black lions.”
“Black lions!” Cecilia said.
“Now I want to ask you a question,” Mrs. Proctor said.
Cecilia nodded. “Anything.”
“How is Bob — Mr. Proctor? Is he taking good care of himself? Is the store doing all right?”
Cecilia hesitated. All she could see were those sharp, spitting teeth and the horrifying yellow shape of the bulldozer as it marched toward her house. It was going to be difficult to tell Mrs. Proctor the truth.
“I think it really upset him when you disappeared,” Cecilia said eventually.
“I left him a note,” Mrs. Proctor said.
Cecilia nodded again. “I didn’t know that. But even so, I think it really upset him. He became very angry with people. Even with me, although that was only because I stole Rocky, so I guess he had a good reason.”
“You stole Rocky?” Mrs. Proctor looked at the dog, who looked back and woofed happily. “Why?”
Cecilia sighed. This was the most difficult part. “Because I didn’t think Mr. Proctor was feeding him properly. I was just trying to help. I’m sorry.”
Mrs. Proctor shook her head. “Don’t be. Bob never really thought much of the dog, and I can see that what you’re saying is true. But please don’t think too poorly of my husband. He has had a lot to deal with.”
“I know,” Cecilia said. She decided to tell Mrs. Proctor about the bulldozer another time.
Cecilia stood and looked out the window, staring down at the clearing in front of the castle. The whole thing seemed like a dream — one that she would have loved to wake up from — but she knew that it wasn’t a dream. It was real.
“What is this place?” she asked. “Where are we?”
“Perhaps I should show you the book,” replied Mrs. Proctor.
13
ORIENTATION
The Story of Princess Annachanel of Storm.
In the time before ours, during the Lost Ages, in the reign of kings and the long ride of knights, there was a castle. A fortress, built into the side of a sheer cliff at the end of a ravine. It was immensely strong and easily defended. It could not be attacked from the sides because there were none, nor from the top, because of a craggy overhang.
The castle was called Storm, and the gorge beyond it was known as Storm Gorge.
The builders, whoever they were, had constructed a network of caves that honeycombed the cliff and they dug and scraped out battlements and rooms. They built grand halls and sleeping quarters, kitchens and bathing rooms.
The castle had existed for many hundreds, maybe thousands of years. Permanent, untiring, unyielding, like the rock from which it was cut. At times it had been full of laughter and life, but now it was deserted and lonely.
To this empty castle came a young boy and girl, running for their lives, seeking a place to hide.
And the castle welcomed them in with its wide stone arms and craggy smile.
The boy, Danyon, of noble birth, and his maid, Natassia, were running from an evil landowner, the Baron of Mendoza, who had attacked their coastal town, murdering the boy’s family in order to control the busy port.
More people came to Castle Storm, some running for their lives, some running from their lives. Peasants, nobles, farmers, and knights. They settled the gorge, raising crops and building farms and mills.
Time passed. The boy became a king, and the humble maid became his queen.
Danyon and Natassia ruled the castle and the gorge for many years, and the people prospered in the security and peace that it brought them.
But the Baron was not at peace. His lands were turbulent. People spoke of the missing boy. One day, they said, the boy would return at the head of an army.
The Baron was not going to wait for that to happen.
He never gave up the hunt for the missing boy. It came to pass, as these things do, that Danyon was found, and the peace of the gorge was threatened.
The Baron attacked the fortress with all the weapons at his disposal. With men in suits of hardened armor, with spears and arrows and giant wooden catapults that could throw a boulder over a thousand feet.
But the rock of the cliff was resolute and the height gave a great advantage to the defenders. Again and again, the evil troops of Baron Mendoza hurled themselves against the defenses of the castle. Boulders the size of wheelbarrows flew from the war machines, crashing against the rock. Spears and flaming arrows peppered the castle. Huge logs rammed again and again into the solid cliff face, until Danyon himself crept out under the cover of darkness and ignited prepared tar pits, burning the war machines to cinders.
The Baron withdrew, his gold depleted, but he vowed to return.
Danyon and Natassia devised a defense that no enemy could defeat. Using seeds imported from eastern lands, they planted an impenetrable maze of trees. Huge tarblood trees with black trunks as hard as rock and sap like sticky tar that would ensnare axes or saw
s that tried to cut them down. Natassia herself designed the devilish maze of twisting, turning, branching passageways that would draw in the unwary, trapping them in an intricate pattern from which few could escape. It took almost two decades for the trees to grow, and during that time, the Queen gave birth to a baby girl — Princess Annachanel.
When the Baron returned to the gorge, at the head of a renewed army, he found his path blocked by the huge forest. His army first attacked the trees, and then, when they realized that was futile, they attempted to find their way through the maze.
Of the four thousand men who entered, barely two hundred found their way back out, starving and emaciated, after weeks of searching for the exit.
Some of the soldiers said the trees themselves attacked them, although most thought that was simply the imagination of delirious men.
The Baron and the rest of his army were never seen again.
For the little Princess this was a wonderful, magical time. The King and Queen were adored, and although they demanded no taxes from the villagers, they were showered with gifts and love.
The ground in the gorge was fertile and food was abundant. There were celebrations and dances and great banquets at which the King and Queen would wait until all their subjects had eaten before breaking their own bread.
Amongst the villagers there were bakers, weavers, tanners, and musicians. The gorge was resplendent with deer and rabbits, and the villagers kept chickens, pigs, sheep, and cows.
The population grew and prospered and all were happy.
But time marches on relentlessly, and on a snowy winter’s morning the wise King, now well into his seventies, drew his last breath. Within a year, unable to live without her great love, Queen Natassia faded away also.
The little Princess, now all grown up, became the Queen.
***
Cecilia closed the big leather-bound book with a thud of heavy pages. Dust flew out, making her nose twitch and her eyes water.
The story was just like the ones in the books she read at home, except those were all made up, and she was quite sure that this story was true.
It was written by hand in beautiful old-fashioned writing, although only the first few pages had anything on them.
The rest of the book was blank, as if the author had intended to fill it with wondrous tales of balls and banquets and great battles, but had run out of ink, or never quite found the time.
Around the room a small crowd of people was waiting expectantly for her to finish.
“But what happened to the Princess?” she asked.
“Nobody knows,” Mrs. Proctor said. “The castle was deserted for many years.”
Mrs. Proctor was sitting on a wooden stool by the window. The sunshine was pouring in behind her, making her sandy blond hair glow like a halo.
Next to her were Avery and Evan, the Celestine twins, who had actually been born in the forest — a fact that Cecilia was still getting used to.
Avery, a chunky, tough-looking girl, said ghoulishly, “Maybe they all died of some horrible disease.”
Evan, a fine-featured boy who looked nothing like his sister, said immediately, “Don’t be putrid! Where are all the bodies, or the skeletons? I bet they just moved away somewhere. Maybe they got tired of being trapped in a forest. Maybe they knew a way out.”
“That’s just naïve,” Avery said. “I bet they all went crazy and hacked each other to pieces with axes and swords.”
“That’s putrid,” Evan said.
“Naïve,” Avery countered.
“Let Cecilia talk,” Mrs. Proctor said. “I’m sure she has many more questions.”
The group was a kind of a reception committee — a small group of Northwood residents who had gathered to help Cecilia adjust to life in the forest. They called it “Orientation.”
“So, Cecilia,” she continued, “what would you like to ask?”
“Mrs. Proctor,” Cecilia asked carefully, “how did you get here? People thought you’d, um . . . left town.”
“I came searching for my daughter,” Mrs. Proctor said.
Cecilia looked at her in surprise.
Even Rocky, lying on the floor underneath Cecilia’s legs, raised his ears.
“Jasmine?” Cecilia asked.
“Yes,” Mrs. Proctor said.
A young woman on the other side of the circle raised a hand and waved. “Hi, Cecilia.”
Cecilia waved back.
The girl she used to live next door to had grown up into a tall, strong-looking woman, and Cecilia barely recognized her.
Mrs. Proctor said, “It was three years ago. Jasmine was fifteen years old. It was just after Bob — that’s Mr. Proctor — opened the new superstore. Jasmine got awfully angry over something, I forget what, and she ran away. Mr. Millariquie, down at the wool store, said he saw her heading into Northwood.”
On the other side of the room, Jasmine blushed and dropped her eyes, obviously embarrassed about her teenage tantrum.
Cecilia thought about that for a bit. She realized that this might have been the real reason for the sudden change in Mr. Proctor’s personality after the superstore opened.
“And you came looking for her?” she asked.
“Not at first,” Mrs. Proctor said. “I didn’t have the courage. Nobody who goes into Northwood ever comes out. I had heard the tales of great black beasts that roamed the forest,” Mrs. Proctor explained, sighing.
“But one day I could bear it no longer. I packed a bag full of food, and took along a compass and balls of string and sticks of chalk, hoping to mark my path so I could find my way back out. But the compass didn’t help inside the maze, and the chalk would not write on the oily black trees. The string worked for a while, but it soon ran out, and I was lost in the maze like everyone else who had tried. I wandered for days, and finally, I saw a sign.”
“A sign?” Cecilia asked.
“Yes, just a wooden arrow on a small peg stuck in the ground. I followed the arrow, which led to another arrow, and eventually I found myself here at the castle with Jasmine and the others.”
“What about the lions?” Cecilia asked with wide eyes.
“I guess I was just lucky,” Mrs. Proctor said. “I often heard things moving around in the distance, but they never found me in the maze. There are more lions now though, so it is much more dangerous.”
Cecilia let that sink in, and then asked, “How many people live here?”
Evan jumped in to answer that one. “Thirty-nine. Forty, counting you.”
“Thirty-nine!” Cecilia looked around at the other people in the reception committee.
Aside from Jasmine and the twins, the rest of them were grown-ups. She counted twelve people. The oldest was a tall, straight-backed man in his fifties who looked like a soldier. Most of their clothes appeared to be handmade with a great deal of skill and care.
“Apart from the twins, who were born here,” Mrs. Proctor said, “everyone wandered in over the years, or were members of search parties for those of us who got lost here.”
“And they all got past the lions?” Cecilia was a little confused.
“In the early days, there were very few lions in the forest,” Jasmine said. “I heard you could walk for days and never see one, but now they seem to be everywhere.”
“Thirty-nine people,” Cecilia muttered.
She was still shocked at the number of people who had, for one reason or another, wandered into the black forest and never come out.
Evan was jumping up and down, itching to say something.
Mrs. Proctor smiled at him and said, “Okay, Evan.”
“Here we go,” Avery said, rolling her eyes.
“There are two plumbers, one mortician, four soldiers, a doctor, an electrician, a cook —”
“Who cooks the same meals over and over again,” A
very interjected.
“That’s not true,” Evan protested.
“Yes, it is,” Avery insisted.
Evan ignored her. “A bricklayer, a university professor, a teacher — that’s Mrs. Proctor — and a hardware store manager. There’s a priest, a butcher, a farmer, three astronomers who got lost looking for a lunar eclipse, a veterinarian, a hairdresser, a dressmaker, an accountant, two lawyers, three engineers, a cab driver, two truck drivers, a waitress, a fisherman, and a florist.”
He finished and his eyes swept the room as if expecting applause.
Avery yawned loudly and significantly.
Some of those professions sounded pretty useless to Cecilia if you happened to be trapped in a castle in the middle of a deadly black forest, but she didn’t say so. Instead, she blinked a couple of times while she checked the math in her head.
“But that’s only thirty-five,” she said after a moment. “Adults, I mean.”
“It’s . . . oh, plus the King, of course,” Evan said.
“There’s a king?” Cecilia’s head suddenly filled with images of long velvet robes and golden crowns. A king! “I’ve never met a real king before.”
A quick glance passed between Evan and Avery.
Mrs. Proctor seemed to have a strange expression on her face, but rapidly covered it with a bright smile. Then she said, “It was King Harry who went out by himself, braving the lions, to put out the arrows in the forest to guide people to safety.”
“How exciting!” Cecilia said, with visions of brave King Harry striding fearlessly through the forest.
“Yeah, really,” Avery said. Cecilia couldn’t tell by her expression if she was serious.
Cecilia sat quietly for a moment, looking around at the rough-hewn rock walls.
“Has no one ever tried to escape?” Cecilia asked. “To find the way back through the maze?”
Mrs. Proctor nodded. “Lots of people. Lots of times. But it is too difficult and too dangerous. Nobody has ever come close to getting out.”
Northwood Page 5