Greenwitch (14 page)

The children felt Captain Toms gently but urgently drawing them all back against the wall, into a corner almost cut off from the spot where the two figures confronted one another on the quay. Nervously they moved as they were told.

From the blackness that was the Greenwitch came a hair-raising sound: a long low lamenting, like a moan, rising and falling in a mumbling whine. Then it stopped, and the creature began muttering to itself, broken words that they could not make out. Then there was silence for a moment and all at once it said very clearly, “You have not the full power of the Dark.”

“Now! I command you!” The painter's voice was shrill.

“You have not the full power of the Dark,” the Greenwitch said again, with a growing, wondering confidence. “When the Dark comes rising, it is not as one man, but as a terrible great blackness filling the sky and the earth. I see it, my mother shows me. But you are alone. You were sent by the Dark with one small mission only, and you gamble now to make yourself a great Lord, one of the masters. By completing one of the
Things of Power for yourself, you think to become great. But you are not great yet,
and you may not command me!”

Softly, Captain Toms said, “Tethys has seen what we could not see.”

“I have all the power required!” said the painter loudly. “Now, Greenwitch, now! Do as the Dark demands!”

The Greenwitch began to make a new sound, a low rumbling so ominous that the children shrank back against the wall. It was somewhere between the growl of a dog and the purring of a cat, and it said,
Beware, beware.
. . .

The painter cried out furiously, “By the spell of Mana and the spell of Reck and the spell of Lir!” and they saw by the last faint glow that he swung up his canvas and its luminous painted magic over his head again, facing the blackness of the Greenwitch. But he could do nothing. The rumbling from the Greenwitch rose into a roar, the air was tight with rebellion and fear, and Jane heard in her mind over and over again the cry
Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!
and never knew whether it had been cried aloud or not.

They were conscious of nothing but a great seething. Resentful fury roared in their ears, throbbing with the slow thunder of waves against rock. And suddenly the whole world was luminous with green light, as for one terrible moment the Greenwitch in all its wild power loomed out of the sky, every live detail clear with a brilliance they never afterwards mentioned even to one another. With a shriek the painter flung himself backwards, and fell to the ground. And the Greenwitch, crying rage from a great mouth, spread terrible arms wide as if to engulf the whole village—and disappeared. It did not go down into the sea. It did not vanish like a burst balloon. It faded, like smoke, dissipating into nothing. And they felt no sense of release from fear, but a greater tension as if there were a storm in the air.

Barney whispered, “Has it gone?”

“No,” Captain Toms said gravely. “It is all through the village. It is with us and around us. It is angry and it is everywhere, and there is great danger. I must take you home at once. Merry had good reasons for choosing those cottages—they are as safe as the Grey House, in the protection of the Light.”

Barney was looking at the still figure on the quay. He said fearfully, “Is he dead?”

“That is not possible,” Captain Toms said quietly. He looked down at the painter. The man lay on his back, breathing evenly, his long hair spread like a black pool around his head. His eyes were closed, but there was no sign of injury. He looked as though he were asleep.

From the road leading into the harbour they heard the engine of a car, growing closer, rounding the corner. Simon stepped out to wave it down, but there was no need. As the car's lights swung on to the group on the quay it slowed abruptly, brakes screaming, and pulled to a halt. From behind the blazing head lamps an American voice called, “Hey! What goes on?”

“It's the Stantons!” The children rushed to the car doors, and two puzzled figures climbed out. Captain Toms turned quickly; his voice was clear and commanding.

“Evening—you've picked a good time to appear. We've just found this fellow lying here, on our way to the cottage—looks as if a car's knocked him down. Hit and run, I reckon.”

Bill Stanton knelt beside the prostrate painter and felt for his heart; raised one eyelid; gently felt along his arms and legs. “He's alive . . . no blood anywhere . . . no obvious breaks . . . maybe it's a heart attack, not a car. What should we do? Is there an ambulance here?”

Captain Toms shook his head. “No ambulance in Trewissick,
we're not too good for emergencies. And only one policeman, with a motor-bike. . . . You know, Mr Stanton, the best thing we could do is get him in your car, and you drive him to the hospital in St Austell. Poor fellow might be dead by the time we get P.C. Tregear out.”

“He's right,” said Fran Stanton, her soft voice concerned. “Let's do that, Bill.”

“Fine by me.” Mr Stanton looked round the quayside, his eyes searching, quickly efficient. “We'll have to be very careful lifting him. . . . I wonder . . . ah!” He prodded Simon, nearest him. “See that pile of planks over there? Two of you kids bring one, quick.”

In a struggling group they slid the painter on to the narrow plank; then, with slow lifting and tilting, manoeuvred it to leave him lying on the back seat of the car.

“Do up the seat belts round him, Frannie,” said Mr Stanton, climbing back into the driver's seat. “He should be okay. . . . Will you call the policeman, captain, and have him follow us? Shouldn't like anyone to think it was us knocked the guy down.”

“Yes, of course.”

Fran Stanton paused with the car door open. “Where's Will?”

Her husband took his hand off the ignition key. “That's right, it's late. He and Merry can't still be out walking. Where is he, kids?”

They stared at him, speechless.

The brightness died out of Bill Stanton's amiable round face; in its place came suspicion and concern. “Hey now, what is all this? What's going on here? Where's Will?”

Captain Toms cleared his throat. “He—” he began.

“Nothing to worry about, Uncle Bill,” said Will, behind them. “Here I am.”

 

 

“
VERY GOOD,” SAID MERRIMAN, WATCHING, AS THE STANTONS
' car hummed round the corner from the harbour and away into the main village street. “They should just have time to get clear.”

“You make it sound as though somebody was going to drop a bomb,” Simon said.

Jane said nervously, “Gumerry? What's going to happen?”

“Nothing, to you. Come along.” Merriman swung round and began striding fast and long-legged across the quay towards the cottages; the children scurried after.

“See you later, Merry!” Captain Toms called.

They stopped, turning in consternation; he was beginning to limp back to the Grey House. “Captain? Aren't you coming with us?”

“Captain Toms!”

“Come along,” Merriman said without feeling, and pushed them before him. They shot him quick glances of irritation and reproach. Only Will marched along without sign of emotion.

“I'm so glad you're back.” Jane slipped round to her great-uncle's side. “Please, what's going to happen? Really?”

Merriman glanced down at her from his deep-shadowed eyes, without slackening his pace. “The Greenwitch is abroad. All the power of the Wild Magic, which is without discipline or pattern, is let loose tonight in this place. The power of the Light, since we have so arranged it, will give protection to the cottages and to the Grey House. But elsewhere . . . Trewissick is under possession, this night. It will not be an easy place.” His deep voice was tense and grave, filling them with alarm; they trotted nervously at his side and up the winding zig-zag alleys and stairs to the cottage door. Then they fell into the lighted room like mice diving below-ground from a hunting owl.

Simon swallowed, regaining his breath, feeling slightly ashamed of his haste. He said belligerently to Will, “Where were you?”

“Talking to people,” Will said.

“Well, what did you find out? You were gone long enough.”

“Nothing much,” Will said mildly. “Nothing but what hasn't already happened.”

“Wasn't much point in your going then, was there?”

Will laughed. “Not really.”

Simon stared at him for a moment and then turned irritably away. Will glanced at Jane, and winked. She gave him a quick rueful grin, but studied him afterwards, behind his back.
Simon wanted to quarrel, and you wouldn't,
she thought.
You're like a grown-up, sometimes. Who are you, Will Stanton?

She said, “Gumerry, what should we do? Would you like Simon and me to keep watch, upstairs?”

“I should like you all to go to bed,” Merriman said. “It's late.”

“Bed!” The outrage in Barney's voice was louder even than the others'. “But everything's just getting really exciting!”

“Exciting is one word for it.” Merriman's bony face was grim. “Later you might have another. Do as you are told,
please.” There was a flicking edge to the words that did not inspire argument.

“Goodnight,” Jane said meekly. “Goodnight, Will.”

“See you in the morning, everyone,” Will said casually, and he disappeared into the Stanton half of the house.

Jane shivered.

“What's the matter?” Simon said.

“Someone walked over my grave. . . . I don't know, perhaps I've caught a chill.”

“I'll make you all a hot drink and bring it up,” Merriman said.

Upstairs, Simon paused in the little corridor linking the bedrooms, clutching his head in a kind of despairing fierceness. “This is ludicrous! Crazy! One minute we're in the middle of some awful great . . . watching that, that
thing
. . . and then Gumerry turns up, and before you know it he's tucking us up with cups of cocoa.”

Barney gave a huge yawn. “Well yes . . . but I'm . . . tired. . . .”

Jane shivered again. “I am too, I think. I don't know. I feel funny. As if—Can you hear a sort of buzzing noise, very faint, a long way off?”

“No,” Simon said.

“I'm sleepy,” Barney said. “G'night.”

“I'm coming too,” said Simon. He looked at Jane. “Are you going to be all right, on your own?”

“Well, if anything happens,” Jane said, “I'm going to come running in to hide under your bed so fast you won't even see me.”

Simon managed a small grin. “You do that. There's one thing certain, absolutely no-one is going to get any sleep tonight.”

But when Merriman came tapping gently at Jane's bedroom door in a little while, there were three steaming mugs still on his tray. “I might have saved myself the effort,” he said. “Simon and Barney are fast asleep already.”

Jane was sitting in pyjamas and dressing-gown beside the window, looking out. She said, without turning round, “Have you magicked them?”

Merriman said softly, “No.” Something in his voice made her turn, then. He was standing in the doorway, his eyes glittering out of black pools of shadow beneath the jutting white-wire eyebrows. He stood so tall in the low little room that his bushy white hair touched the ceiling. “Jane,” he said. “Nothing has been done to any of you, or will be. I promised you that in the beginning. And no harm can come to you here. Remember that. You know me well enough, I do not put you into mortal danger, now or ever.”

“I know. Of course I do,” she said.

“Then sleep sound,” Merriman said. He stretched out a long arm, and she reached out and touched his fingertips; it was like a bargain. “Here, have some cocoa. No potions in it, I promise. Just sugar.”

Jane said automatically, “I've cleaned my teeth.”

Merriman chuckled. “Then clean them again.” He put down the mug and went out, closing the door.