Escape from Wolfhaven Castle (13 page)

The little girl approached silently, carrying her
candle before her. She was still dressed in the trailing black velvet gown, though now her feet were bare. As she came closer, Quinn saw the rat’s beady eyes staring out from the tangled mass of hair. The little girl beckoned urgently, one finger held to her lips.

Fergus stopped growling, though his tail was sunk low. Quinn stood still, afraid but wondering, hearing the rapid beat of her friends’ feet racing away.

A child of silence
, the mysterious old voice said very softly.
Yet she hears all.

The little girl stopped before Quinn and laid her finger on the wooden face of the necklace. Her face was grave and puzzled.

Greetings, little maid
, the voice said.

The little girl bowed her head.

In great wonderment, Quinn touched her necklace. She lifted the Grand Teller’s gift so she could see it. The medallion was small enough to fit into the palm of her hand. It was carved into the likeness of an old man’s face, though his hair and beard were made of oak leaves. She had always thought the eyes were shut, as if the old man was sleeping, but she now
saw that the eyes were open, gazing up into hers.

Beware, danger comes
, spoke a voice in her mind. It was not the deep, old voice she had heard before, but a high, sweet, tremulous voice.

Quinn looked back at the little girl, and saw that her face was filled with tension. The girl gestured towards the windows, and Quinn rushed to see. Through the tiny panes of glass, she could see a group of horsemen galloping up the hill towards the castle, all carrying flaring torches of flame. In the front was the man wearing boar tusks fixed to his helmet.

I will show you the way out
, the little girl said silently.
But you must be quick.

‘Tom!’ Quinn called. ‘This way!’

Tom had stopped and turned, looking back at her in worry. She beckoned, and saw his eyes fall upon the little barefoot girl. For a moment he hesitated. ‘We can trust her,’ Quinn urged. ‘She’ll help us.’

Still he hesitated.

‘The man with the boar tusks is coming!’ Quinn cried in desperation. ‘We have to get out of here. She’ll show us the way out.’

Tom made a swift decision. ‘Elanor! Sebastian! Come this way.’

The pair were both a long way down the corridor, but slowed and looked back. They saw the little girl standing in her halo of light, beckoning.

‘Have you lost your minds?’ Sebastian panted. ‘She’s one of them! She locked us up!’

Fergus trotted up to the little girl and looked up at her with his wise brown eyes. She stroked his head and he wagged his tail. That decided it for Elanor, and she scurried to join them.

Sebastian groaned, flung up his hands in exasperation, and raced to follow her.

Come this way
, Eugenie whispered in Quinn’s mind.
But be quiet as you can. My mother is near.

‘We must be quiet,’ Quinn said. ‘Lady Mortlake is near.’

Tense and silent, the four friends followed the little girl and her circle of wavering light. The click of Fergus’s nails on the stone seemed very loud.

Eugenie led them through the maze of galleries and staircases, till they reached the great hall. Its
vaulted ceiling was hidden in shadows. Skulls of long-dead animals leered down at them. The embers of the fire were a cluster of small, blinking red eyes. Eugenie then led them to a small side door and drew a key from her pocket. In a moment, the door was unlocked and they were thrust into the tumult of the storm. Icy rain lashed Quinn’s face. A taloned wind yanked at her hair. It was so cold, the bones of her face ached.

As they hurried down into the inner ward, Quinn saw that the gateway was open. She could hear the thunder of the horses’ hooves, and she could see the red glare of the riders’ torches. The knights galloped up the hill and across the wooden bridge. In seconds they would be upon them.

‘Hide!’ Sebastian cried, looking all around him.

Eugenie beckoned them, and again they had no choice but to follow her. She led them, stumbling in the blinding wind, towards the stable. Beside the double doors were a row of barrels. The five children and the dog crouched down behind them, Tom’s hand on Fergus’s muzzle to keep him quiet.

The horses came to a rearing, snorting stop in the middle of the courtyard. The knights dismounted heavily, their armour clanking. The acrid smoke from their torches stung Quinn’s eyes. She crouched lower, hoping desperately not to be seen.

A troop of bog-men came loping through the gate, their bony legs working tirelessly. The man in the tusked helmet pointed to a far corner of the courtyard. ‘Wait there,’ he ordered.

The bog-men silently obeyed, standing in orderly ranks. The torchlight flickered over their hideous faces, highlighting the taut, blackened skin, the eyeless sockets and twisted mouths. The air was filled with the stink of rotting eggs.

‘You deign to answer my summons, at last!’ Lady Mortlake shrieked, striding down the steps of the castle, her black hair whipping behind her.

The man with the boar tusks took off his helmet. Quinn bit back a gasp.

It was Lord Mortlake.

‘Why did you signal me? I have much to do if I’m to keep Lord Wolfgang and his people crushed under
my heel.’ Lord Mortlake slapped his gauntlets into his hand, looking thunderously angry.

‘What took you so long?’ his wife screeched. ‘I have news, important news.’

‘We galloped the whole way, almost rode the horses into the ground,’ said Lord Mortlake. He gestured towards the sweat-lathered horses, standing with hanging heads and heaving sides. ‘You’d better have a good reason for dragging us all this way.’

‘Lord Wolfgang’s brat is here!’ she cried. ‘She came looking for
help
!’

Lord Mortlake strode forward and gripped her wrist with one hand. ‘Lady Elanor? Here?’ He looked around, his eyes fierce as an eagle bending to its prey. ‘Where?’

‘Luckily for you, I locked the brat up,’ Lady Mortlake answered. ‘Let me go, you’re hurting me.’

Lord Mortlake shook her roughly. ‘Where is she? I must have her. As long as she’s free, she’s a risk to me.’

‘Don’t you worry, I have her safe,’ Lady Mortlake sneered. She jerked her hand and at last he let her go, frowning down at the cobblestones.

‘To keep her or kill her?’ he mused out loud.

Elanor turned big, anxious eyes towards Quinn, who squeezed her hand in comfort and pressed her finger to her lips.

‘
Kill
her!’ Lady Mortlake ordered.

He held up a hand to silence her. As he thought, she paced to and fro, gnawing at her full red lips.

‘Perhaps killing her would be best,’ he said at last. ‘I want no complications.’

He was answered with a rush of colour to his wife’s face and a radiant smile. She swept up to him, clasping his arm with both hands as she reached up to kiss his unshaven cheek. ‘I think that’s best,’ she said, sweet and low. ‘You are so wise.’

The knights unsaddled the horses and led them into one of the stables. Some of the horses were so exhausted they could scarcely stumble along. One had a thin figure draped over the saddle. In the light of the torches thrust into brackets on the stable wall, Quinn recognised the lank, dark hair of Lord Mortlake’s son. ‘Is that Cedric?’ Lady Mortlake asked. ‘What’s wrong with him?’

‘He passed out a while back,’ Lord Mortlake said.

‘Such a weakling,’ said Lady Mortlake. ‘I suppose he fainted at the sight of blood. Well, at least you managed to take Wolfhaven Castle,’ she added. ‘Your plan worked.’

He frowned. ‘Of course my plan worked. It was flawless. At least, it was until Lady Elanor slipped my leash, but we have her now.’

Lady Mortlake was radiant. ‘And soon she’ll be dead, and her stubborn father with her.’

‘No, I have a need of him first.’

She frowned, and he tapped her under the chin.

‘Never you fear,’ said Lord Mortlake. ‘He won’t be alive long.’

Lady Mortlake smiled and clapped her hands together.

Lord Mortlake looked up at the castle. ‘So where is she?’

‘I’ll take you to her. I warn you, she has other brats with her. And some kind of awful hairy creature.’

‘They will all need to die,’ Lord Mortlake said.

‘Before we kill them, will you do something for
me? Will you kill that beast in the stable? It’s been making such a racket, it has given me a headache.’

‘Ailith, I’ve fought all day and ridden all night—’

‘You
want
me to have a headache? Maybe your horrible mother is trying to poison me … I want the unicorn’s horn too.’

An electric thrill ran over the children crouched behind the barrels. Quinn’s and Tom’s eyes met in wild excitement.

‘Did she just say
unicorn
?’ Sebastian whispered.

Elanor nodded, her eyes round with amazement.

‘Mother’s not poisoning you, Ailith,’ Lord Mortlake said impatiently.

His wife shouted, ‘If a unicorn’s horn can save you from plague, pestilence and poison, it’s bound to help cure a headache. Kill the wretched beast! I want the unicorn’s horn and I want it now!’

‘Very well,’ he answered, shrugging wearily.

Lady Mortlake smiled at him. ‘See you back upstairs.’ She sashayed away, and Lord Mortlake drew his sword with a swift hiss. The bog-men jerked to attention, but he waved his hand in dismissal and
they relaxed back into a standing position, eye-sockets staring sightlessly forward.

Lord Mortlake strode to the stables, his sword in his hand. Quinn heard the stable door being unlocked and unbolted.

A high, shrill neigh of defiance pierced the air, and Elanor’s whole body tensed.

‘That’s enough of that,’ Lord Mortlake said. ‘I need your horn, beast.’

Elanor leapt to her feet and hurtled out from behind the barrels.

‘Elanor, no!’ Tom cried, but she was gone.

18

SWORD MET SWORD

T
om ran after her, Quinn and Sebastian close behind.

They were just in time to see Elanor head-butt Lord Mortlake from behind. ‘You’re not killing that unicorn!’ she shouted.

Lord Mortlake stumbled forward, but he was a tall, strong man and Elanor was only slight. He did not fall, but recovered his balance and spun around, his sword instantly swinging out.

It met Sebastian’s sword with a clash of metal. Sebastian staggered at the force of the blow, but fought back manfully. Sword met sword, but it was an unequal contest. Lord Mortlake had immense
strength, and tall as he was, Sebastian only came up to his shoulder.

‘Get him, Sebastian!’ Tom shouted. ‘Watch out!’

Sebastian was being forced back against a great pile of hay. His arm was tiring, his sword waving wildly. Tom lifted his bow and fired an arrow at Lord Mortlake. It clinked against his armour and fell to the floor. Lord Mortlake did not even look around. Instead he raised his sword and brought it down towards Sebastian in a great, sweeping arc.

Then Fergus streaked past and leapt upon Lord Mortlake, bearing him down to the ground. His great sword clattered on the cobblestones. Lord Mortlake threw the dog off him and rolled, reaching to recover his sword. Tom kicked out and sent the sword spinning away. Lord Mortlake aimed a blow as he staggered to his feet, but Tom dodged it and managed a quick kick at the back of the knight’s knee. Lord Mortlake dropped to his other knee, but reached out his arm and took Tom down with him.

Sebastian rushed forward, his sword dropping unheeded as he sought to drag Tom free. Quinn
seized Lord Mortlake’s arm, clinging onto it with all her strength. He flailed his arm wildly, and she was shaken up and down, but did not let go. Fergus, barking madly, lunged forward and clamped his teeth onto Lord Mortlake’s backside, where there was a gap in his armour. Shocked, Lord Mortlake dropped Tom, spinning and trying in vain to dislodge the wolfhound.

Suddenly Elanor brought a metal bucket down hard on Lord Mortlake’s head. His eyes rolled up, and he fell with a great clatter to the ground.

Panting, the four children stood around him, watching him warily. He did not move. Behind them came a soft whicker. All four pairs of eyes flew up.

It was hard to see the unicorn in the shadowy stable. Tom could only tell that the unicorn was huge, bigger even than the carthorses that pulled the farm ploughs. Elanor breathed on her ring, and soft light shone out, glinting on the chains that kept the great beast harnessed and hobbled. They all stared in wonder.

The unicorn’s coat was the dark silvery-brown of
a winter moor, his mane and tail black as night. He dipped his head and pawed the ground. A long, black, spiralling horn sprang from between his dark eyes.

‘Oh, he’s incredible,’ Elanor breathed. She ran across the stable, and began unbuckling the unicorn’s hobbles. His hooves were as big as plates and fringed with shaggy black hair. He bent his head and nuzzled Elanor, as if in thanks. Fergus whined and lifted his nose, and the unicorn touched it with his black muzzle.

‘Quickly!’ urged Tom. ‘We have to get out of here!’

The beast was so tall that it was hard to reach the buckles which kept the heavy harness strapped about his back and shoulders. Sebastian had to drag over a bale of straw to stand on while he undid the straps. Quinn rushed to unfasten all the other buckles, while Tom unchained the unicorn from the wall. The unicorn had a dark stripe that ran down his spine, and more dark marks on his legs, like the streaks on the silver bark of a birch tree.

‘Leave the bridle on so we can ride him,’ Elanor said. Her face was lit up with awe. ‘He’s so big; he can easily carry two of us.’

‘Let’s get away as fast as we can,’ Tom said. ‘Girls, you ride the unicorn. We’ll run along beside.’

‘I can’t ride,’ Quinn said, looking up at the great horned beast in trepidation.

‘I can,’ Elanor said. She jumped up onto the bale of straw, then deftly sprang up onto the unicorn’s back, tucking her skirts around her legs. ‘Quick, you can hang onto me.’ She gathered the reins as Quinn scrambled up.