Keeper of the Phoenix (3 page)

Ash pulled Taine to his feet. “You all right?” The friends stood shoulder to shoulder, facing their enemies.

“Fine,” Taine said. “Don’t know why you butted in, really. Anyone could see I was about to take them.”

Ash smiled.

“What are you two cowards whispering about?”

“Nothing,” Ash and Taine said together.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ash spotted Rhyll grabbing a bucket of slops from a doorstep.

“Come on, Manure Face. You can have the first shot.” Morgan offered his jaw to Ash.

“I’m not going to fight you, Morgan. We’re kin. It’s not right.”

Morgan’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets. He pounced on Ash, seizing his collar and screwing it painfully tight at his throat. “You can forget about us being family, Rover. I’m better than you and you know it. Now, are you going to fight me or not?”

Before Ash could answer, Rhyll ran up behind Morgan and his mates and tossed the bucket of slops all over them. At that moment, Trip returned. Seeing Morgan threatening Ash, he rushed at Morgan with bared teeth, knocking him into Orford and Burke. With screams and curses, the three boys toppled backwards into a puddle where they scrabbled and slipped in the mud and filth, all the while trying to evade nips from Trip’s sharp teeth and hefty whacks from Rhyll’s bucket.

Ash called Trip off and Taine dragged Rhyll away.

“You filthy rodents won’t get away with this!” Morgan yelled after them.

“Who are you calling filthy, Fish Breath?” Ash hollered back.

The three friends turned and fled, Ash stopping only to collect his basket. Angry, but relieved they had escaped unhurt, Ash urged the others to keep running. The trio didn’t slow their pace until they were outside the village walls.

“I’ve got something amazing to show you,” Ash said once he’d caught his breath. He felt inside his basket for the rock. Ash gasped. He was certain it had wriggled when he touched it.

“What is it?” Taine asked.

Rhyll’s face lit with excitement. “Is it magic?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.” Ash nodded towards an abandoned cottage up ahead. “Let’s go in there so I can show you without anyone seeing. You’re not going to believe what I’ve found.”

“Why all the secrecy?” Taine asked.

“You’ll see. Sit down and stay out of sight.” Ash motioned to the far corner of the empty cottage. “We’ll be in all sorts of trouble if we’re found in here. You know the rule about trespassing on Lord Belgrave’s property.”

Taine and Rhyll sat on the packed earthen floor of what had once been a kitchen. Trip threw himself down beside them and promptly started dozing.

“Is it food?” Taine said. “I’m starving.”

“It’s better than food.” Ash kneeled beside the basket and pulled out the rock.

Taine and Rhyll leaned forwards to see.

“It’s a rock,” Taine groaned with disappointment.

Rhyll clicked her tongue in agitation. “It’s an egg.”

Taine was suddenly interested again. “It
is
food!”

“Can you forget your stomach for one minute?” Ash said. “Look closer. Tell me what you see.”

Taine squinted at the rock. “I can’t see anything in here. Hold it up to the light.”

Ash lifted the rock towards the window so that sunlight slashed across it. The ebony and violet swirls on the rock’s surface shifted. Flecks of silvery light appeared, whirling around.

“It’s beautiful,” Rhyll breathed. “Can I touch it?”

“You can hold it if you like.” Ash passed the rock to her.

When she felt its warmth she gasped in surprise, almost dropping it.

“Careful! Don’t break it. Did it heat up for you?”

Rhyll nodded.

“It didn’t work for Ma when she held it, but maybe that’s because we were inside. It must be the sun that makes it warm.”

“Like it’s affected by the heat?” Taine said.

“Exactly,” Ash agreed.

“Where did you find it?” Rhyll asked, still staring at the rock.

“It found me. It fell out of the sky and landed on my head when I was in the meadow, working. Well, I was actually sleeping, but it did fall out of the sky.”

Rhyll arched an eyebrow doubtfully.

“Rocks don’t drop from the sky, Ash,” Taine said.

“This one did.” Ash lifted his hair to show them his bruised forehead. Then he crossed his heart with his finger. “Tristram’s honour.”

Taine gave Ash a playful punch. “What would you know of Tristram?”

Ash punched Taine back. “More than you.”

Taine laughed. “Maybe we should break it open, see if we can eat what’s inside,” he suggested.

“Taine!” Ash and Rhyll both gasped in horror.

“Only joking.”

Rhyll passed the rock back to Ash, who sat looking at it for a while.

“Maybe it’s a piece of the sky,” he said.

“Don’t be silly,” Taine said. “All those ancient myths are nonsense.”

“Maybe not,” Rhyll countered. “Remember the story Mother used to tell us about the storm of burning rocks? And how everyone was so afraid they leaped into the river and drowned.”

“That was a story to keep us in our beds at night. It wasn’t true.”

“Maybe the rock, or egg, is magic,” Rhyll said. “Do you believe that?”

“No, but knowing my luck, if it
is
magic, it will be bad magic,” Taine said.

“According to Lord Belgrave, all magic is bad,” Ash said.

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” Rhyll said.

“Oh, don’t get her started.” Taine sighed.

“Look!” Ash cried.

With the sun streaming across it, the rock grew hotter in Ash’s hands. As the three friends watched, it glowed with bright, vivid colours that danced across its surface. Strangest of all, the rock started to spin, slowly at first then faster. Ash yelped in surprise, trying to hold his hand steady. Trip woke and barked in agitation.

“What’s happening?” Taine said.

“I told you, the sunlight is doing something to it,” Ash said.

“I don’t like this,” Taine said. “Throw it away.”

Rhyll clapped her hands and laughed. “I knew it was magic.”

“Be quiet, all of you,” Taine hissed. “Someone will hear us.”

The rock doubled in size then doubled again. It was now the size of a small boulder and too heavy to hold. Ash eased it to the ground.

“It’s a magic egg,” Rhyll yelled above the noise of the barking dog. “And it looks like it’s hatching.”

“Scariest egg I’ve ever seen.” Taine covered his face. His voice wobbled with fear. “I can’t look.”

There was a flash of brilliant light and a cracking sound. The shell turned black and fell away. In the centre of the broken egg, sticky and forlorn, stood a strange-looking bird.

Ash’s stomach tensed with a mixture of fear and excitement. “Sit, boy,” he ordered Trip, who was still barking. Trip whined then sat, watching the bird keenly.

It was the size of a sparrow and almost entirely grey. Instead of looking like a chick, with fluffy down, it appeared to be a shrunken version of an adult bird. It had a long narrow beak and sharp-pointed feathers. Its head was broad, almost too big for its neck to support, and it looked pathetically weak. The only splash of colour on its entire body was its long orange legs and oversized feet.

Taine pulled his hands away from his face. He squinted at the sticky bird. “What
is
that thing?”

“It’s a bird. Obviously.” Rhyll’s voice was flat, disappointed.

“I can see that, but what sort of bird?”

“It looks like a sparrow.” Feeling sorry for the strange little bird, Ash picked it up and wiped the stickiness from it with his sleeve. He didn’t want it getting cold or sick.

“That is one ugly sparrow,” Taine muttered. “Are you sure that’s what it is?”

The bird turned its head and stared at Ash with such intensity he had to look away. It was as if the bird was sizing him up.

“He’s listening to us.” Rhyll reached out towards the bird. Its sharp beak pecked her and she drew away. “Ouch! He’s not very friendly, though he seems to like you, Ash.”

“Feed me!”

Ash glared at Taine. “Would you stop thinking about your gut, Taine?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Feed me!”

They all stared at the bird.

“Feed me!” This time they saw the bird’s beak move when it spoke.

“I think it’s hungry,” Taine said.

“But how can it talk?” Ash scratched his head, feeling more confused than ever. “This is too weird.”

Suddenly, Trip growled and ran to the door.

“Quick! Someone’s coming,” Ash said.

“Oh no,” Taine moaned. “Now we’re going to be in for it.”

“Shush,” Rhyll hissed. “Stay calm.”

Ash hid the remnants of the egg in a darkened corner seconds before the cottage door swung open.

“What are you lot doing here?” It was Lord Belgrave’s old squire, Renshaw Gilking, standing in the doorway. A longbow and a quiver of arrows were slung over the squire’s hunched back and a clutch of dead pheasants hung from his belt.

“We were just leaving,” Ash said.

“You shouldn’t be here in the first place,” Renshaw said gruffly. “This house and the land it stands on belong to Lord Belgrave.”

“We’re very sorry, sir.” Taine leaped to his feet and performed the neatest, deepest bow Ash had ever seen. Taine earned a clip behind the ear as thanks.

“Don’t give me that,” Renshaw growled. “I know you Taine Piggins
and
I know your father.” The squire’s face softened for a moment. “How’s his leg, by the way?” he asked, proving he wasn’t completely heartless.

Taine frowned. Jordie Piggins had been run over by a wagon loaded with wool two years ago. His leg had been crushed. Ever since, he had hobbled about with the aid of a walking stick, like an old man.

“Still giving him trouble, sir,” Taine said. “But mainly in the cold weather.”

Squire Gilking grunted. “Right. Well, you’d better get out of here before I have you punished for trespassing. You know the rules.”

“Yes, sir,” the three friends chorused.

Ash eased the bird into his basket.

“What have you got there?”

“N-nothing, Master Squire, sir.” Talking to adults, especially ones employed by Lord Belgrave, always made Ash nervous.

“Why, it’s a bird. Give me a look at that.” Renshaw peered into Ash’s basket. “Strange-looking thing.” He poked his gnarled finger at the bird. It gave him a sharp peck. “Ouch! Vicious too. Where did you find it?”

“Ah, at home.”

“It’s his pet,” Rhyll said.

“We’re fattening him up to roast,” Taine said at the same time.

“We’re not eating the bird,” Ash said hotly. “He’s my pet, Taine, I told you. Stop thinking about your stomach.”

“Feed me!”

Renshaw studied Ash and the others for a moment then gave a rasping laugh. “Hungry little sod, aren’t you?” he admonished Taine.

Taine hesitated for a moment before replying, “Yes, sir, I am.” He grinned and rubbed his stomach.

Renshaw addressed Ash. “You wouldn’t steal from Lord Belgrave would you, Master Rover?”

“Never in a million years, sir.”

“Glad to hear it. Now get going. And take that ugly bird with you.”

The friends scurried out of the cottage with Trip close behind.

“Master Piggins, you wait,” the squire’s voice sounded after them.

Taine gulped and slowly turned. “Yes, sir?”

“Here. Wouldn’t want you eating your chum’s pet, would we? Might not be too good for the friendship.”

Renshaw threw a pheasant at Taine.

“No. We wouldn’t, sir,” the boy said, catching it. “Thank you very much, sir.” Taine looked as if he might hug the squire.

Sensing as much, Renshaw growled and waved towards the road. “Off Lord Belgrave’s property. Get moving.”

When Ash arrived home he found Amelia in the vegetable garden hoeing out weeds from between the tomatoes and lettuces.

“Finally,” she said when she saw him. “How did you fare at the market?”

“I sold every last thing.”

Ash handed the coin pouch to his mother. She tested the weight of it then smiled. “You’ve done well, although it took you awhile to get home. Dawdling again, Ash?”

“I … er,” Ash hesitated, glancing at the basket where he’d hidden the bird. “I ran into Taine and Rhyll in the village.”

“I should have known. You’re always skiving off with those two, aren’t you?” She nodded at the garden. “Especially when there’s work to be done.”

“They’re my friends, Ma,” Ash said. “And nicer to me than my own cousin.”

Amelia gave Ash a searching look. “Did you have another run-in with Morgan?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Ash shrugged, reluctant to tell his mother about the incident. He didn’t want to upset her. Not when she had so much to worry about already.

“Maybe I should have a word to his mother next time I’m in the village,” Amelia said thoughtfully.

“Don’t bother, Ma. It’ll only make things worse.”

“I won’t let Morgan push you around. It isn’t right.”

“Feed me!”

Ash cringed.

“Where are your manners, son?” Amelia said. “If you’re hungry, you can have the rhubarb pie I made for you. It’s on the table inside.”

“Thanks, Ma.” Ash headed towards the house. Rhubarb pie was his favourite. And a rare treat.

“What’s that?”

Ash glanced down to see the bird had stuck its head over the rim of the basket. With trembling hands, he held it up to his mother.

Instantly, she recoiled. “Oh, it’s the ugliest creature I’ve ever seen. Take it away.”

“Feed me!”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Ash said. “The bird did.”

Amelia sighed. “Ash, that’s not funny.”

“Feed me!”

Amelia stared from the bird to Ash and back again. “It really did speak, didn’t it?”

Ash nodded. He held his breath, dreading what his mother might say. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he’d found a talking bird. He wondered how his mother would take it.

“Let’s have a closer look then,” Amelia said before marching Ash inside.

“Feed me!” The bird twisted its head away.

“He must be hungry,” Ash said.

“He?” Amelia looked uncertain.

“Well, it sounds like he’s male,” Ash said. “What do you think?”