Crik (44 page)

Heather rose beyond the houses, reminding them of the world outside this strange town. A cold breeze rattled the rusted chains of a broken swing, admonishing them for their lack of attention.

The birds continued to ignore the group moving through their midst, preferring to keep their rapt attention on the house. A few blackbirds took flight to find food, only to resume their vigil once fed. The dog, for the first time, noticed the children, or more importantly, he became aware of the large black wolf. Instead of cowering, the dog raised its bark, hushing the birds gathered just beyond the range of its rope.

‘Do you think it’ll bite?’ asked Inara.

‘That little thing,’ said Bill. ‘I’d like to see it try.’ He strode forward, scattering the birds with impatient kicks. The dog, baring its needle sharp teeth, rolled its eyes back into its head.

‘We should leave him alone,’ decided Bill. Stepping back, he trod on a bird wing; the bird, raising a flute-like protest, pecked the offending boot. ‘It could have rabies.’

‘There’s a sign,’ said Inara, pointing to the post that held the dog’s leash. ‘It’s a little troubling, “Knell tells no lies, so don’t ask.”‘

‘There’s more,’ said Bill, shifting his glasses. ‘The chalk has faded, it’s hard to read.’ He stepped closer. ‘It says, “The truth has a high price to pay".’

‘Do you have any idea what that means?’ asked Inara. Her sparkling dark eyes regarded Jack.

‘I guess that Knell knows the answers to our questions,’ replied Jack.

‘And the price?’ asked Bill. ‘What will the witch want in return for answering your question?’

‘We won’t discover that by nattering out here,’ said Jack. ‘Anyway, it’s my question, so the price, if any, is mine to pay. Now come on, we don’t want these birds taking an interest in us.’

At the post ruffling the dog’s fur, Yang put a stop to the barking, and had the dog wag its tail in delight. The shadow continued to play with the dog as Jack and the others moved toward the house. Meeting the mongrel’s brown stare, Jack wondered whether the dog recalled him from his last visit. As far as he knew, the dog never saw him, or at least it took no interest in him, when the Lindre had transported him here.

The fluttering net, coated in dust and grime, draped the open cavity leading into the house like a funeral shroud. The sombre sound it made as the breeze stirred its roping, whispered its own warning. Jack’s mouth dried up as he looked into the gloom beyond the net. His eyes hunted for any movement. Any telling sign that Knell still lived here.

‘That looks like the hole we found the Narmacil eggs in, back in the woods,’ said Bill. The gaping hole, ringed by broken red brick, lay at the centre of the garden.

‘Do you want to look in the hole before we go into the house, Jack?’ asked Inara.

‘Why, it’s just another demon’s nest,’ said Jack, more impatient than ever to enter the house.

The netting felt spongy in Jack’s hand, making him want to snatch back his hand as though he touched the hair of a living creature. Steeling his nerve, he lifted aside the rope, as he did he heard a loud crash from the garden. Horrified, he observed the blackbirds flying toward them.

‘Hurry.’ He pulled Bill through the opening, and urged Black and Inara impatiently into the house.

The air bristled with falling feathers as the birds swooped for the opening. Underlying their thunderous assault was the sound of the maddened growls from the enraged dog.

Jack screamed as a bird struck his neck. Warm blood flowed down his back as the beak penetrated his skin. Taking a stance between Jack and the deadly flock stood Yang, striking the winged fiends with hands as large as shovels. Sneaking beneath the shadow’s defence a few birds dove for a breach in the netting. More struck Jack, scoring his hands and head with painful cuts that drew blood. Turning, he snatched a bird clinging to his collar, and rung its body in his hands. Enraged he reached for another bird when a pair of hands gripped his flailing arm and pulled him inside the house.

Outside the net, the birds had turned day into an impregnable wall of black feathers and sharp beaks. Surging inward, the net threatened to collapse. Jack took a step into the house, he was sure the blackbirds would bring down the flimsy barrier. Bulging, like a balloon with too much air, the net held. The holes between the ropes barely allowed through a few yellow beaks.

Sighing with relief, Jack took note of his exhausted friends, when from within the house he heard a dreadful scream.

The screamed word
s
, “Close the net, close the net”, repeated at such a high volume, and at such a high rate, that it took Jack a few moments to decipher them. Without windows to dispel the dusty interior, any attempt to locate the originator of the frantic calls was hopeless. The wings beating against the net sent Bill scurrying deeper into the house. Black growled and Inara clung to the wolf as though her life depended on staying on his back.

‘Is that you, Knell?’ asked Jack.

The reply, ‘Tie the rope to the pedestal,’ came from the gloom.

‘There Jack,’ Inara said, pointing to a coil of rope by his feet.

Taking the rope, Jack secured the line around the indicated stone pedestal. Immediately the blackbirds lost interest in wanting to enter the house, and as one, took flight to resume their eerie vigil.

An oppressive hush wrapped the group who stood staring into the dark passage, wondering about the open doorways that dotted its length. No one wanted to move. They sensed that if they took a step, they would never escape the house. With the net secure, the owner of the house remained quiet. Jack looked from one pale expectant face to the other. Inara loomed above him, her fringe sweeping down across her brow in jagged cuts. An unspoken plea shone from her eyes, begging him to make the first move.

‘I came here before,’ Jack cried out, for Knell to hear him. ‘You told me that you were expecting me to come.’ Again, he waited, and again not a breath of wind stirred the dust motes hanging in the air.

‘I can send Black in to check out the rooms,’ said Bill.

‘Not with me sitting on him you won’t,’ was Inara’s immediate reply. ‘Jack wanted us to come here; he can lead us into the house.’

Dry swallowing, Jack said, ‘Okay, I’ll go first; stay close.’ Now that he had finally arrived at Knell’s house all he wanted to do was leave. The air itself felt ominous.

‘I’ll be behind you all the way,’ said Bill.

The first step took more courage than Jack knew he possessed. His foot felt heavy, almost as though he dragged a body across the dusty floorboards. An indistinct Yang pressed his finger against his lips in a hush when he noticed Jack paying him attention.

Above the first doorway, coloured glass portrayed the mountain looming over the Scorn Scar at sunset. Rustic reds coloured the glass, reminding Jack of the paintings hung in Krimble’s house. Hoping this wasn’t another trap he edged toward the room’s gaping entrance.

He flinched as he noticed white forms clustered within the small room. Big shapes and a myriad of smaller ones crowded him as he pushed past the door. Showing no fear, Yang, with a flourish, threw aside a white sheet from a cupboard. Not expecting to find a cupboard, perhaps a hulking troll instead, had him take a hurried backward step.

‘Watch it,’ cried Bill, as Jack backed into him.

‘Why cover all the furniture?’ said Inara. ‘Seems rather pointless to have all this stuff and not use it.’

‘I don’t think Knell gets many visitors,’ said Bill.

Amongst the furniture, Yang uncovered, was a small cot fitted with a tiny ruffled mattress. Whether Jack had seen the same cot when he last came to the house he couldn’t be sure. He had expected to hear the baby cry; perhaps the baby slept in a different crib. With a cursory inspection of the other cabinets and tables, he stepped back into the passage. An old clock, with a face crawling with spiders, kept the midnight hour.

‘Hello,’ said Jack. Knell’s stubborn silence troubled him. Did she wait to pounce on him and toss him into an oven to eat him? With his imagination swirling with Grandpa Poulis’s wild stories, he approached the second door and stopped. Lit candles adorned low shelves, illuminating the interior. A figure swaddled in layers of clothes stood a couple of feet into the room. Amongst the folds of cloth, were bags of leather and purple coloured suede pouches. An old rope tied at the hip carried other purses and a few corked bottles swimming with brown liquid.

‘Knell, I’ve come to ask you a question,’ said Jack.

‘Of course you have, no one comes here if they already know the answer,’ replied Knell, shuffling across the room. She refused to turn and face the group plugging up her doorway. ‘You almost let those disgusting birds in my house. That net is there for a reason.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Jack.

‘None got in I suppose,’ replied Knell. The rasp in her voice was sharp enough to cut the flaking plaster on the walls. ‘The last time you came here, you came alone.’

‘This is Bill, and Inara,’ said Jack.

‘I don’t mean the cowering children.’ Her green hood turned toward Jack, and in the darkness, he discerned a blindfold drawn tight against parchment skin. ‘You came without your shadow, as it is now.’ Stray sunbeams stole through the netting, revealing Yang.

‘He haunts my every step,’ said Jack.

‘Haunts,’ replied Knell, moving to a chair with balls of stuffing escaping from worn seams. ‘I wouldn’t say your shadow haunts you child. No, it accompanies you. It goes where you take it, and no farther.’ The chair creaked as it took Knell’s weight. ‘Your Talent is unique to you. A Talent others have sought for themselves.’

‘Krimble wanted our Talents,’ said Inara.

‘You don’t have to remain by your wolf, like a little girl clinging to her mother’s apron,’ said Knell. ‘Come in and make yourselves comfortable. The chairs outnumber people in this house.’

‘I’ll stay on Black,’ said Inara.

‘Do as you will. Though being the eldest of your group I’d have credited you with more compassion for your animal. The wolf needs to rest.’

‘I’ll stay on Black,’ repeated Inara.

Bill passed Jack and sat in a wooden chair adorned with carved grinning faces on its arms. Moving his head like an owl on the hunt, Bill studied every corner of the room.

‘If you’re looking for cookies, you are out of luck,’ said Knell, noting Bill’s interest in his surroundings.

‘I wasn’t,’ said Bill, fumbling over his words. ‘You have the same dolls as my grandmother.’ He pointed to a doll with a red dress and floppy hat. ‘That’s one of her favourites,’ he indicated a blonde doll carrying a folded umbrella beneath her arm.

‘Such things are common,’ said Knell. ‘Some are gifts, others I bought myself, when this was still a town.’

‘What happened here?’ asked Jack. ‘Whoever lived in this town deserted it in a rush.’

Knell laughed so hard she began to cough. Hunched in her chair, she covered her mouth with a closed fist. Pulling the cork from a bottle at her hip, she brought the brown bottle to her lips. After hesitating, she drank its contents, gagging on the sweet taste.

‘You should’ve seen the mayor herding everyone up like cattle. The wagon train stopped at every house; every house bar mine.’ Her breath whistled between compressed lips.

‘Why’d they leave?’ asked Jack.

‘And why’d they leave without you?’ asked Inara.

‘I normally ask for something in return for answering questions,’ said Knell. ‘This time I’ll answer you for free.

‘They left because of the birds. Yes, those little winged fiends you nearly invited into my house. Time was the townspeople liked having me around. My Talent for answering those questions that trouble people had brought many to the Scorn Scar. When people arrive, they bring money with them. The quarry provided men with work, and the women sold what they had to the strangers who passed through my door. Helen Jacon sold lemon cakes and cups of tea. Miss Strapply offered pups, or kittens, I never remember which, to the strangers’ children. Mrs Turnorlay had her own wares to sell, while her poor unknowing husband worked the stone on the hill.’ Knell’s mouth tightened. ‘I lost count how many sat in that chair,’ she pointed to where Bill sat, ‘eager to hear what I had to say. Most were idle questions, things they should’ve known for themselves. I once told a farmer how to irrigate his fields. Another time a new Mother came to me with wet eyes begging me to tell her how to stop her new-born from crying.’

‘What did you say to her?’ asked Inara.

‘I told her to dangle her baby by the feet over the highest cliff, and when the baby stopped crying take it home for it would’ve cried its tears dry.’

‘You didn’t,’ said Inara.

Knell cracked another smile. ‘Didn’t I? Perhaps I told her to care for the child, to feed it when hungry and to change it when it soiled itself. That’s all that babies do, eat and poo. Eat and poo.’

‘I remember a baby crying here,’ said Jack. ‘In the other room dust sheets cover unused furniture, including a cot.’

‘Are you so impatient to know everything,’ snapped Knell, taking another swig from the brown bottle. Her knuckles protruded hard and white as she fiercely gripped the arm of her chair. ‘Once in a while a visitor would arrive seeking the answer to a problem that haunted them.’ Her blindfold twitched to Jack. With her skin drawn tight against her cheekbones, and with the cloth masking her eyes, it was impossible to guess her age. ‘I demand a high price for answering such burning questions,’ continued Knell, savouring her words in long drooling tones. ‘Not everyone paid what I asked in return for my help, preferring to live with their burden. Those willing to pay, I sent out to perform a task for me.’

‘A task?’ asked Inara, frightened by the implication of further trouble.

‘One that I cannot perform myself,’ said Knell. ‘Some had a Talent that helped them achieve what I requested of them. Others did it by hook or crook. I never asked how they did it, nor cared as long as I had my price.’

‘You wanted more than a doll with a frilly hat,’ said Inara.

‘Depends on the question asked,’ responded Knell, easing back in her chair. Dust rose into the air like ghosts, catching sunlight that speared between slatted boards.

‘You must’ve angered a few of those you turned away,’ said Jack.

The creases lining the blindfold shifted as Knell’s face dropped. ‘It was common for me to have threats. Some didn’t like the answers I gave. Others tried to force me into telling them what they wanted to hear. I never paid them any attention. Until the man with the bird perched on his shoulder arrived.

‘I had a door back then, and his knock reminded me of a woodpecker tapping the bole of a tree. Tap, tap, tap.’ Knell mimicked the knock with a closed fist, her teeth bared. ‘I wasn’t accustomed to having visitors at night. It took me awhile to rouse myself. Not that he waited for me to answer the door. He let himself in, while his blackbird flapped its wings on his shoulder. Wearing a long black coat, and with his hands clasped behind his back, he resembled one of his diseased birds. Perched himself in that corner,’ she pointed to a shadowed recess, ‘well away from the lit lamps. Sorrow scarred men have always sought my advice, hungry for any way to improve their lot. This Birdman felt different. His sadness wafted from him like gases from a bog.’

Desperate to know what the Birdman wanted, Jack leaned in closer to Knell. Alarmingly he found that he clasped his hands behind his back, in the same manner as she had described. Going a step further, Yang transformed himself into a large bird, mimicking the cocked head of a raven. Ignoring Jack’s accusatory scowl, the shadow remained rapt on Knell and her tale. Straightening, Jack retreated from the woman in the chair.

If Knell noticed Jack’s distress, she declined to mention it. A crackle in her parched throat coloured her words. ‘I found it difficult to hear what he asked, the baby cried something awful. Most of the time I know the question before my visitor utters it. This time I waited to hear it.’

Jack’s ears perked up at mention of the baby. He guessed what happened between Knell and the Birdman had something to do with the empty cot. Clustered shadows obscured the woman’s face. Yang, only inches from Knell, fed into the shadows. She ignored the demon’s intrusion as she resumed her tale.

‘He wanted to know how to create a perpetual night.’

‘If he did that, there would never be another day,’ said Jack, not believing what he had heard.

‘Snub out the sun, like you would douse a gas lamp,’ said Knell, sagely nodding her head.

‘That’s impossible,’ said Bill. ‘You can’t stop the sun from rising.’

‘Everything is possible,’ said Knell. ‘You just need to know how.’

‘There’s no reason,’ said Inara, rubbing the back of her neck in incredulity. ‘Who would wish for a night that never ends?’