Escape from Wolfhaven Castle (6 page)

‘Tom,’ his mother cried, dropping the frying pan and holding her arms wide.

‘Mam!’

They hugged each other close. Wiping away tears, Mistress Pippin pulled herself away. ‘I’m so glad you’re safe! Quinn, dear girl, you too.’ She then saw Elanor, white-faced and frightened, and bobbed a surprised curtsey. ‘My lady, are you hurt? What on earth are you doing down here in the kitchen?’

‘They … I …’ Elanor stammered.

‘Those leather-men were trying to take her,’ Tom said. ‘Mam, what are we to do? They’re everywhere!’

‘You need to get away from here as fast as you can,’ his mother answered. She plucked a knapsack from a hook by the door and began hurling things into it—a frying pan, a pot, a wooden spoon, a round cheese in red wax, apples, a bag of dried peas, a hank of air-dried bacon and a tinderbox. Quinn hurried to help her, while Elanor quickly pulled on her green gown and golden slippers. Tom filled a waterskin from the water-barrel, and grabbed some small pork pies from a plate on the table and threw them in the knapsack.

‘Quick, Tom, look in the larder, behind the barrel of brine.’ As Mistress Pippin spoke, she took her own brown woolly shawl and wrapped it around Elanor’s shoulders. Elanor huddled into it gratefully.

Tom did as he was told and found a longbow and a quiver of grey-fletched arrows, with a tightly rolled grey cloak tied to it.

‘The bow belonged to your father when he was a boy. I’ve been saving it for you. You must go to him, he
will help us,’ Mistress Pippin said, hurriedly shoving a small pouch of coins into the knapsack.

‘My father?’ Tom was flabbergasted. ‘But where?’

‘Look for him in the forest where the wolves howl.’ Mistress Pippin took her wedding ring off and thrust it in Tom’s hand. He knew it well. Made of fine gold, it was in the shape of two hands holding a heart. ‘Wear it, keep it safe. He’ll know it when he sees it.’

‘But Mam … my father … I don’t even know his name,’ said Tom, sliding the ring on his middle finger.

‘He’s called Hunter. That’s what he was, you know. He was the Lord’s Wolf-Catcher once … a long time ago. But … you must get away.’ As she spoke, Mistress Pippin was hurriedly filling another knapsack for Quinn to carry.

‘But Mam, what does he look like? Where will I find him?’

‘In the forest, I told you. And what does he look
like?’ Her face softened and she patted Tom’s cheek. ‘You have his eyes, Tomkin.’

Just then, someone began trying to kick down the kitchen door. Everyone jumped. Elanor screamed.

‘Shhh, shh, sweetling, we need to hide you. Into the larder, quick.’ Mistress Pippin raised her frying pan.

‘Into the larder?’ Quinn cried.

‘Yes, yes. There’s a secret way out through there. Climb over those barrels, press the stone at the back, the one with a little hollow … that’s the one.’

Over the sound of the banging at the door, Tom heard a click as a stone in the wall of the larder swung aside. Quinn went through eagerly, and Elanor and Tom followed close behind. Tom whistled softly to Fergus to follow.

‘Mam, hurry,’ Tom said, as the banging at the door grew louder. His mother was just about to follow him when suddenly the kitchen door broke down, and a tall figure in black armour strode through, a sword in his hand. His helmet had boar tusks on it.

Fergus growled, but Tom grabbed his collar and held him back, putting his hand over the dog’s muzzle
to keep him quiet. From the shadows of the larder, he could just see more men in armour crowding into the kitchen. At once, Mistress Pippin stood in front of the larder door, her frying pan held high.

‘How dare you burst into my kitchen like that!’ she cried. ‘Have you no manners, you knave?’

‘Where is the little lady?’ the knight growled menacingly.

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Mistress Pippin answered. Behind her back, she gestured urgently for Tom to go, but he couldn’t bear to leave her.

The knight strode forward, putting the point of his sword to Mistress Pippin’s throat. ‘Lady Elanor. Where is she?’

Tom jerked forward, but Quinn held him desperately, one small hand covering his mouth. ‘Shhh,’ she whispered in his ear.

‘Tucked up, sound asleep in her bed, no doubt, which is where I’d like to be,’ Mistress Pippin answered. ‘Now get that nasty sharp thing out of my face!’

The knight threw back his head and laughed. It
sounded weird and horrible booming through the metal of his tusked helmet. Tom saw that his sword had a handle of bone, all carved with strange symbols. The man put the point of his sword to the floor and leant on it, slowly pulling off one gauntlet. He wore a huge red ring on one finger.

‘I don’t
want
to hurt you. My bog-men have traced her scent here. Tell me where she has gone and we will send you to the dungeons with the others. Refuse to tell me and …’ The knight slapped his gauntlet into his bare hand.

‘
Bog-men?’
Tom murmured. To his horror, a swarm of them crept forward, sniffing the flagstones.

His mother flapped her hand urgently behind her back. ‘No need to get nasty,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why you’re looking for her here. Ladies don’t come down to the kitchen.’

Once more she gestured emphatically behind her back. With a choke in his throat, Tom let Quinn pull him into the passageway. As Quinn dragged the secret door closed, Mistress Pippin whacked the knight hard over the head with her frying pan.

9

BATTLE
WITH THE
BOG-MEN

E
lanor could hardly see a thing. She stumbled forward, almost tripping on her skirts and falling.

Quinn whispered to Tom. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ he answered, dashing his arm across his eyes. ‘I just … I just hope they don’t hurt Mam.’

‘She’s so brave,’ Quinn whispered back.

‘She may be small but she’s fierce.’ Tom’s voice cracked.

They hurried down a dark passage, lit only by the occasional slash of light through a crack in the stone. Fergus was running ahead, his nose to the ground. When he turned, looking for Tom, his eyes glowed green. Through the wall came the muffled sounds
of battle—clangs, screams and cries—then, horribly close, through a crack in the stone, a sniffling, snuffling sound.

They all ran as quietly as they could in the dimness. The passageway turned sharply, then went up spiral stairs as steep as a ladder. Elanor scrambled up, gasping for breath. She had never run so far or fast in her life.

‘Where does this lead us?’ Quinn whispered, as the steps wound higher and higher into darkness.

‘I have no idea,’ Tom whispered back. ‘But we can’t go back, we must keep going forward.’

They passed a small alcove and Tom suddenly stopped. ‘There’s a door here. Shall we see where it leads?’ Without waiting for an answer, he turned the handle and swung the door open. It creaked. Tom stopped, then, very slowly, eased it open wider. It creaked more loudly. He stepped through, Fergus pushing past him. ‘All’s clear,’ he whispered.

Quinn crept through, and Elanor followed. She found herself in a part of the castle she did not recognise. It was a round room, with a huge fireplace at one end, and narrow window-slits breaking up the stone
walls. Once the secret door swung shut, it was impossible to see where it was. Elanor wondered how many other secret doors there were in the castle.

Rushes covered the floor, and the walls were hung with all sorts of weapons. ‘The guard room,’ Tom whispered in surprise. ‘Quick, let’s arm ourselves while we can.’ He took down a dagger in a scabbard and tossed it to Quinn, who swiftly belted it to her waist, on the opposite side to her black witch’s knife. Tom found another dagger for Elanor.

‘Oh, no, I couldn’t,’ she protested, pushing the dagger away with both hands.

‘You must,’ Quinn replied fiercely, taking the dagger from Tom and thrusting it into Elanor’s hands. ‘You may have to fight, my lady, else we’ll all be taken captive.’

Ladies don’t fight
, her governess said in her mind. But Elanor was doing many things of which her governess would not approve. She took the dagger and strapped it to her golden belt with shaking hands.

Tom took a dagger for himself, and grabbed a coil of rope. Then, with an effort that made him grunt and
grow red in the face, he bent and strung the longbow, and put an arrow to it.

‘Can you shoot?’ Quinn asked him.

‘Not very well,’ he answered. ‘Though every time I go to the forest I practise best I can, with an old bow and arrows I made myself.’ He raised the bow and arrow, and squinted along the arrow. ‘This is much better.’

‘Anything else we should take?’ Quinn asked. ‘We might have to fight our way out.’

A shudder ran over Elanor.

‘You should have shoes, Quinn,’ Tom said, looking at the witch-girl’s bare feet. ‘The forest is filled with thorns, thistles and sharp stones.’

Quinn raised her chin. ‘A witch draws power from the earth. I can never cut myself off from that.’

‘Fine. Can you do anything useful with that power? Summon a fireball or two, or make us invisible?’

‘Magic doesn’t work that way.’

‘Of course it doesn’t. Well, then, what
can
you do?’

‘Lots of stuff,’ Quinn snapped. ‘Stuff a thickhead like you could never understand.’

‘Well, mutter a spell or two and get us out of here!’ Tom snapped back.

Quinn’s face was white. ‘I wish I could. If only I was ready to find my witch’s staff … but until I do, I can do nothing. Oh, Tom, we need to go and see the Grand Teller. Arwen will know what to do.’

‘We can’t,’ he said shortly. ‘We need to get out of here as fast as we can.’

Quinn and Tom stared at each other angrily, then she tossed back her thick mane of curly hair and began to run out of the room. ‘Coming?’ she mocked over her shoulder. Tom raced after her, and overtook her on the steps, Fergus bounding along beside him. Elanor followed timidly.

As they hurried down the steps towards the inner ward, Quinn turned to Elanor, her narrow face full of sympathy. ‘I know you’re afraid,’ she whispered. ‘But fear is the worst of your enemies. Try and be brave.’

Elanor swallowed hard, and nodded.

As they descended the staircase, the sound of fighting grew louder. They came to the doorway and peeked out into the courtyard. Armoured knights
battled against castle guards. The bog-men scuttled about, spears thrusting mercilessly. Mist roiled everywhere, turning orange here and there where flaming torches had been stuck in brackets on the walls.

‘We have to sneak past,’ Tom whispered. ‘Let’s head for the garden gate. I know where the spare key is kept.’

They crept out the door and along the wall, keeping close together. Tom kept his hand on Fergus’s collar. They had almost reached the archway that led to the garden when Elanor saw a mass of Wolfhaven folk being herded through the inner keep towards the dungeons, guarded by unknown knights. They were bound together by chains, manacles gripping their wrists and ankles. Sir Kevyn was fighting every step of the way, four knights struggling to hold him back. The chamberlain was crawling along on his knees, imploring the bog-men to keep away. Mistress Pippin’s face was grim and bruised. She struggled to free herself of the two men who held her. Then, with horror, Elanor saw her own father, Lord Wolfgang, chained and manacled like the rest. ‘Father,’ she whimpered.

At once, one of the bog-men raised his head and sniffed. His eyeless head swivelled towards her, then he began to run.
Slap, slap, slap
, went his feet on the stone.
Sniff, sniff, sniff
, went his flaring nostrils.

‘Tom,’ Elanor cried. ‘Help!’

Tom bent his bow and sent an arrow whizzing into the bog-man’s shoulder. The creature simply pulled it out and kept running towards them. Quinn jumped in front of Elanor, pulling free her dagger and her black witch’s knife. Tom fitted another arrow to his bow.

Then another boy leapt in front of the bog-man, and his sword flashed down. A withered arm spun away into the darkness. The bog-man lurched on, now armless. The boy made another desperate swipe. He sliced off one of the bog-man’s legs. The creature fell and could not rise, but wriggled forward, reaching for Elanor’s ankle. She screamed and scrambled away.

On hearing her scream, all the bog-men’s heads whipped around. They began to lope towards her. The boy jumped in front of her, using his sword to chop off the crawling bog-man’s head. At last, the creature went still.

Tom raised his bow, firing arrow after arrow into the bog-men. They simply pulled the arrows out and kept running. Quinn bent and picked up the spear the dead creature had dropped, and flung it as hard as she could. It went straight through the empty eye-socket of one of the attackers, and he fell silently. Fergus snarled and leapt, taking down another. The unknown boy’s sword flashed as he swiped it sideways. It got snagged in the neck of one of the bog-men. The boy grunted and tried to pull his sword free, but then more of the beasts were upon him, spears raised high. He lifted his shield, protecting his neck and shoulders. It was emblazoned with the writhing shape of a red dragon.