Leaving the gems with reluctance, Emily ordered the pixies to gather as much food as they could carry for their journey. She didn’t want to leave the warmth of the cave, but she knew that Lar was right. It would be dangerous for them to remain any longer in a place where they could be so easily trapped.
They hurried through the passage back to the cave mouth. To their amazement, the land outside was clear of snow and, though not warm, at least free of mist and rain.
“That’s better!” Adam said.
“Nay!” Lar shook his head.
“Why not?”
“The Hag has not cleared the snow for our benefit. It can only mean one thing—she has sent her spriggans after us. We must flee!”
At the word spriggan, the pixies scattered in all directions. Most of them were used to roaming the wilderness singly.
“Wait!” Emily shouted. “Nobody will escape the Hag unless we stick together. You can’t give up for fear of spriggans. We’ll think of another plan!” Emily was very determined. Since she had been chosen to lead the pixies to freedom, that was exactly what she intended to do. Emily hadn’t seen the Hag, but she could sense her wickedness everywhere around her. She felt it was her duty to defeat the witch. Emily liked the pixies, and it made her angry to see them looking like whipped dogs.
The pixies made their way back and gathered around her, watching her from under lowered eyes.
“Are spriggans as big as trolls?” Adam asked.
Several pixies tried to answer at the same time, each shouting louder in their high voices and each making spriggans sound worse than the other. Lar calmed them with difficulty and took over the explanation: “Spriggans are no bigger than us, but are given by nature to malice and harm.” He looked hard at Adam from under bushy eyebrows: “The wildcat never spares the sparrow, is it not so, Master?”
“Ay,” Adam laughed.
Lar stared even harder at Adam, and his squint became even more noticeable. “Have I amused you, Master?”
“Er…no, it’s just a thought I had, Lar,” Adam said quickly, not wishing to offend.
“We must make haste,” Lar urged Emily. “Many of them will be coming this way even as we talk. The spriggans carry slings and their stones, when they strike, burn like fire coals. Above all, the spriggans are savages and they pinch, scratch and bite and pull hair out by the roots. Look!” Lar took off his brown hat and pointed to a patch of scalp without hair. “They are wiry and slippery, and we have no weapons against them,” Lar ended lamely.
Emily looked thoughtful and said, “Well, if we haven’t got weapons, we’ll have to use trickery. Lar, I remember reading that folks can be pixy-led, isn’t that some kind of trick?”
“Ay!” Lar curled his lip, “I should say so!”
“Well, then, we mustn’t go so far from here,” Emily ordered. “The spriggans will come here first. They’re going to find us!”
3
Lenya showed she understood by crying out excitedly: “I know just the place! Come on!”
The delicate pixy ran ahead, laughter tinkling, leading them along a valley until they came to a hillside. It was lined with a patchwork of collapsing stone walls. Lenya turned and grinned at Emily and Lar, who exchanged knowing looks. Only Adam looked puzzled and cross at being left out. The old pixy noticed the boy’s frown, so he began to explain patiently: “They are pixy fields from the Old Days, Master, from a time before the Hag ruled. There’s no farming or honest work done in this land now. It’s cursed.” A look of great sadness passed over Lar’s face. He sighed. Then, curling his lip, just as before, he added: “This field will be perfect. There’s a tuft of grass in the gateway.”
Emily took over the explanation so that Adam’s face brightened. The pixies were more cheerful, too, and their mood seemed to lighten the gloomy surroundings.
Lar chose five of the older pixies to go with Adam and another five to stay with him. The rest followed Emily to a safe hiding place.
Lar and his five pixies joined hands and danced in a circle around the tuft of grass in the gateway. The words they chanted were strange and made Adam think of years ago as an infant when all the world was a mystery. Satisfied, Lar and the others gathered stones to narrow the gateway until the opening contained only the tuft that they had danced around. Nobody could enter the field without stepping on it. Their work finished, Lar and his companions joined Emily’s group in hiding. Instead, Adam and his pixies waited in the open field for the spriggans to come. They took up position on the other side of the wall opposite the enchanted gateway.
Time passed while they exchanged tales about their different lands. Adam’s first discovery was that all pixy names begin with ‘L’ and are easy to say. They sounded sweet in his new tongue: Lex, Lygg, Loy, Lajx and Lupp. Sleepy-eyed Loy, under his strange, pointed hat, explained how he had fallen into the Hag’s clutches.
He had been unlucky when freshly cured of Rainbow Sickness. The complicated cure left him weak and unable to work, vulnerable to the Hag’s spell.
“What’s Rainbow Sickness?” Adam asked.
The pixies looked at each other, and their mocking laughter made him more curious. Loy began: “It was my own fault. I saw a rainbow and it was so pretty. You must never point at a rainbow with your first finger. I forgot and that’s how I got ill.”
“What’s the illness like?”
“First of all, your skin turns pink…like yours! That’s why we laughed just now!” Adam looked about him at the five grinning, greenish faces and smiled too. “Worse,” Loy continued, “you lose all your energy and spend all your time looking at waterfalls and fountains.”
“How do you cure it?”
“Wait until the Moon wanes, because the illness has to slip away from you. Get you to a stream when the sun is half-set. Wade into the stream, holding a gold object in one hand and a silver one in the other. Bend forward with your fists just in the water. Then the healer asks you a question. What have you got in your hands? she says. Gold, silver and water, you reply. Then the healer commands, Go away to the sea, Rainbow Sickness! and she says some magic words, which only healers know. For the next three mornings, the healer takes you under some arches, when the sun’s half-risen…and this is the worst part, she makes you drink three silver spoonfuls of a horrible concoction. Bleah!”
“What?”
“It’s a mixture of twitch grass and saltpetre,” Loy shuddered at the memory.
“And did it cure you?”
“The cure always works,” Loy said firmly. “On the third morning, I turned back from sickly pink to this healthy green colour.”
Adam smiled.
“But I didn’t have chance to get my strength back,” he added, “when the Hag’s spell latched on to me—that’s how I left Halewood for the Land of Poverty.”
“Listen!” Lex interrupted; his head cocked to one side. Lygg spoke for the first time in a calm, low voice: “They’re coming!”
“The spriggans?” Adam asked. He couldn’t hear a thing.
Instead, he saw them first, in the distance, before the sound of chanting and of pounding feet reached him. Standing up, he clutched Cari in his pocket. In some way, the orb comforted him with its presence. Even so, he felt very tense, but the pixy faces were even tenser.
“You’d better stand up and be seen,” he said grimly.
The spriggan force advanced at a trot, but when their leader saw Adam, he halted the column. There were about forty of them. They weren’t taller than pixies; however, their ugliness was revolting. They wore no clothes, revealing their leathery bodies covered in rough brown hair. Their eyes were horrible. Even though the small, enchanted field lay between Adam’s band and the spriggans, those black-slatted, grey eyes still chilled his heart. They spanned the short distance in a blaze of cruelty and hatred. Adam could sense terror hammering in the pixy hearts at his side and understood what fear the evil nature of these creatures induced. He shuddered as the spriggan chief’s eyes passed over him from head
to foot.
Adam saw the malign creature sneer and his long-nailed fingers close around his sling. Even so, he wasn’t ready for such speed of arm. Before he could move, a stone struck him viciously under the right eye. It burnt horribly and left a painful mark on his face.
“Quick, run!” Adam shouted urgently, shaking the tears from his eyes with a toss of his head, relieved that he hadn’t lost an eye. As they turned, fiery stones hailed down, burning their shoulders and backs, and the strange battle cry of the spriggans rang in their ears: Pruk, pruk, pruk! It sounded like some kind of horrible croak.
Everything went to plan as the spriggans sprang forward in pursuit. They were forced to enter the field through the narrow gateway prepared for them. So, their clawed feet trampled the tuft of grass as they squeezed through one at a time. Once inside the field, they began to run about most oddly. First, they ran in a column to the middle of the field where they stopped, looking around in confusion. Then they ran aimlessly again. This sequence of actions was repeated many times.
“It’s working!” Emily cried joyfully as she led the main band of pixies to re-join Adam’s group. “They’re well and truly pixy-led!”
“Of course,” Lar smiled. “Where Nature fails, art obtains, is it not so, Master?”
“Ay,” Adam nodded doubtfully because he didn’t really understand.
“Quick, look!” Lupp cried, jumping up and down with excitement.
The spriggans were beginning to argue among themselves. Every time they rushed forward, the illusion of a way out changed position. Since spriggans are too spiteful to put up with frustration for long, they began screaming, pulling hair, scratching and biting among themselves. Before long, burning stones were flying, causing their screams to become more piercing and pain-filled.
“Serves them right!” Emily laughed. “Let’s go!”
“But won’t they know how to break the spell?” Adam asked anxiously, touching his face tenderly where it still hurt.
“They might know if it comes to that,” Lex chuckled, “but they can’t do anything about it! The way to break the spell is to turn your coat inside-out and, as you can see, they don’t wear coats. They will be there until the Hag chooses to release them.”
“Why did they make that strange croaking noise?” Adam asked. It had made an impression on him.
“When they go into battle,” Lex explained, “they imitate the raven call, pruk, pruk, because the raven is the bird of death and a favourite of the Hag.”
Adam was silent. He didn’t feel like asking any more questions.
4
A worried discussion soon replaced their joy at tricking the spriggans. They had to get out of the Land of Poverty, but where should they go? Nobody knew how to break the Hag’s boundary spell. The only point of agreement was that she must be avoided at all costs. The wasteland looked the same everywhere and, in the end, all tracks led to her hovel.
Emily, meanwhile, had been thinking hard about fairy lore, suddenly remembering something important. There was the flower called St. John’s Wort – the one she had worn in her Midsummer Crown in…what she now called…My Own World. She knew this pretty, yellow-coloured flower was a sun-symbol and powerful protection against fairy magic. It flowered in June, July and August: the warm months. What chance was there of such a flower blooming in this cold wilderness? The pixies shook their heads. The only flowers they had seen were hardy flowers which grew on mountainsides, flowers which could survive the cold.
Lupp cleared his throat; everyone stared, for Lupp spoke so rarely that it was considered an event. Twice in one day, after many moon-risings of complete silence, startled them. Maybe his quiet voice was so gruff owing to lack of practice.
“I know a place where the earth is hot,” he growled, “there are underground springs.” He paused as if embarrassed at such a flood of words.
“Ay? Ay?”
“It’s a fearful, dangerous place—”
“Why, Lupp?”
“Because the wild beasts that live in this cursed Land gather there for warmth.”
“How do you know about this place?”
Lupp, stressed with talking, sighed heavily: “I got lost and only just escaped the fangs of a white-coated fox.”
“You never told me that!” Lex’s tone was hurt because he was Lupp’s best friend.
“You didn’t ask.”
Emily interrupted impatiently: “Did you see wildflowers there, Lupp?”
“Yes, Mistress, many.”
She got no more out of him because he had used a year’s ration of words in a couple of minutes. He nodded when Emily asked him if he could lead them to the place, convinced in her heart that if they could find St. John’s Wort, they would escape from the Hag’s power.
They set off cheerfully, heartened by having a plan. Lupp strode on wordlessly, seeming to know where he was going. For the first time, the pixies chatted happily, their stomachs full, buoyed by two quick victories over the Hag. Everyone felt hopeful that the Mistress would overcome the witch. Meanwhile, the weather held with no sign of spriggans. Even so, Lar’s anxious eyes darted backwards and forwards all the time.
A sudden tug at her sleeve and Emily gazed down into the eyes of Lajx, one of the older pixies. His leathery face was full of wrinkles and concern.
“Mistress, we should go no further this way.”
“Why not?”
“The troll, Blunderbore, lives over the next hill.”
“Are you sure?”
“Ay, quite sure.”
“Wait!” Emily called to Lupp, her cry halting the little band.
It was true. Although the land all looked horribly the same to Emily, other pixies recognised the place. At that moment a black kite screeched high above them. Adam and Emily saw the dismay on the pixies faces at the hawk’s call. Adam looked at Lar: “What’s up? It’s only a bird.”
“See! Even now it’s winging away to warn its mistress of our whereabouts.”
“The Hag?”
“Ay.”
Gloomily, they realised that they had lost the element of surprise, which was the only advantage they had. To avoid Blunderbore meant going far out of their way and losing their one chance to outwit the foe.
Loy and Lupp volunteered to scout ahead with Adam, hoping that Blunderbore wouldn’t be at home. They proceeded carefully, without taking risks because, as Loy explained in a high-pitched anxious voice, Blunderbore was known as the Crusher. He was the simplest and the strongest of the four trolls, with big, hairy feet which he used to trample down pixy homes. There was no point in putting up anything but the crudest shelter or trying to live in a cave, because otherwise, no sooner did a pixy build a home than the Crusher would come along and trample it down again. It was a kind of game for him. His feet were so big that the pixies could, at least, hear him coming; so, they could always escape outdoors in time.
They crept on hands and knees towards Blunderbore’s cave, hiding behind gorse wherever possible. Blunderbore was at home in the company of three other trolls. Adam recognised Nabgrasp and Blunderbore by a glance at his big, hairy feet. Trembling at the sight of the four trolls together, Loy managed to whimper: “That’s Thundell, the fat one. He steals our food; the other one is Rickett, the hunchback troll with runny eyes. He’s the foul troll, you mustn’t go near him, because if he breathes on you, you can catch all sorts of horrible diseases.”
The four trolls were arguing; bellowing at each other, as trolls do. Adam and the pixies kept their heads down and listened.
Adam had no need to envy pixy hearing on this occasion because every word came loud and clear and they were all about him.
“…and I tell you,” roared Nabgrasp, “I saw him, he drove me out of my cave. He’s Lord of the Trolls!” He said so! Rrrr! He stole my cave and all my trrreasure!”
“Nonsense!” Blunderbore growled. “There’s no Lord of the Trolls!” He turned to the other two trolls and scowled menacingly. “I’ve never heard of him, ha
ve you?”
They didn’t answer at once, for trolls are very slow thinkers. Rickett scratched his patchy hair and shook his head slowly, while Thundell rubbed the stubble on his chin and frowned.
“But I saw him, I tell you! I even spoke to him!” Nabgrasp roared so loudly that his voice boomed among the rocks. “He is a mighty warrrrior, tallerr than me, with fierrrce silver eyes and silverr hairr, I’ve neverr seen one like him beforrre!”
Feeling tall and strong, Adam smiled behind the gorse. “But I’ve got blue eyes,” he whispered. Lupp looked at Loy and shook his head; the boy’s eyes were obviously silver.
“I can soon settle this Prince-o'-the-Trolls business!” Blunderbore boomed. “An’ pixies might fly!” he chuckled. “I’ve got a book o’ troll lore in my cave. Just hang on a minute.” He moved with a flat-footed stomp which rocked the ground way beyond Adam and the hidden pixies.
Rickett scratched his head, and Thundell, who was sitting on a rock, began to pick his toe-nails, but it wasn’t long before the ground trembled at Blunderbore’s return.
“Look at Old Crusher!” Loy whispered, amazed.
Blunderbore was staggering under the weight of an enormous leather-bound book, as thick as Adam’s leg and as big as a pixy dinner table. Blunderbore dropped it in front of Nabgrasp, sending up a cloud of dust. “There!” he challenged the Grasper. “Go on then! Find a Prince-o'-the-Trolls in that!”
“’S not fair!” Nabgrasp sulked. “You know I can’t rrread!”
“Can you read, Rickett?” the Crusher growled anxiously. He couldn’t read himself; he just owned the book.
“Try reading with cross-eyes,” Rickett snarled unpleasantly, one eye challenging Blunderbore and the other on Nabgrasp.
“Lucky for you dimwits that I’m here,” Thundell boomed importantly, his stomach wobbling. “Fancy having a bloomin’ Book of Lore and not being able to read!”
“Watch it!” Blunderbore growled, “or I’ll trample your fat head!”
Thundell ignored Blunderbore, who limited himself to grinding a stone menacingly into powder under his hairy foot.
Whirligig Page 3