Pip and the Wood Witch Curse (13 page)

Pip pulled desperately at Toad and stirred his drowsy state. “Quick!” he roared. “Climb up!” He was not going to let go of his friend, not now that he had found him. Toad was startled into action: Half-roused and half-asleep, he began to pull Frankie along with him. They kicked out at the wolves and the witches and used the crumbling stone of the surrounding ruin to climb up onto the horse.

The crows were descending again, pecking from above. Hogwick darted forward, keeping out of range of the horse’s hooves. Pip grabbed a flaming branch from the fire and swiped at the beastly limbs and crows’ beaks.

The horse continued to circle, her three passengers clinging to each other for dear life. With a jolt, she shot forward and a chase ensued through the trees. The crack and splinter of wood echoed beneath them as they bolted toward the light from the city.

“Don’t look back!” cried Pip. But they did. The wolves were struggling to keep up with the horse. The witches darted skillfully between the spaces in the trees. Toad grabbed Pip’s flaming branch and began to beat at them as they came. Frankie was sandwiched between them, with her arms round Pip’s waist. She tucked her head between his shoulder blades, kicking her legs out at whatever was there.

They slid across the horse’s back, their feet digging in to hold on. A clawed hand dug its grip into Toad’s shoulder. He looked back to see Pugg straining to hold on to him, preventing him from turning round to attack her with the stick. But the low bough of a nearby tree cut her short, knocking her out completely.

Hogwick was trailing way behind. All she could do was hurl a spell in their direction, but it was drowned out by the shouts and dissipated into thin air.

Jarvis was furious. “That’s my horse, you thieves!”

Roach was determined not to give in. He crawled on five limbs, drumming over the forest floor and drawing close as the witches continued to slow the horse down until she was almost standing still.

Pip dug his feet into her side. “Come on, girl. Just a little more.” They were almost out of the woods.

Screaming and cawing and cackling and howling surrounded them. The children were pulled and scratched and tugged, but somehow they held on.

Toad was swiping the stick with all his might. “No one is going to make a forest boy out of me!” he yelled.

Abruptly the sound of hooves on cobbles could be heard and they spilled out through the broken rusted gates into the city streets. But that did not stop the chase. Still the witches held on.

Roach was gaining on them fast. He was so determined that he had now forgotten his injuries and he tore across the cobbles like lightning.

Pip didn’t know the city well enough and the maze of streets was a blur, but Frankie knew this part better than anyone. They were near to the Duprie house. She piped up and began to shout out directions from her position in the middle. “Left, right, straight on. Heads down!” she warned, as they entered the skinny, tunneled passageway of Puddle Snake Alley. It was so tight that the horse struggled to pass through, and as it did it scraped off any hangers-on. A heap of witches lay scattered at the entrance to the walkway, but some flew overhead and waited at the other end, circling like vultures, ready to swoop on the emerging riders.

Out came the steaming breath of the horse, followed by her head and then her bare back. The children had gone, lost in the black of the tunnel. The horse bolted through the streets alone, sweating and braying and slipping on the icy surface of the cobbles.

A swarm of witch life filtered into the narrow space from both ends, searching the darkness.

“They’re in here!” screamed Jarvis, but no one could see anything.

Roach scrabbled upside down along the walls, feeling his way along every brick.

“Nothing!” he roared. “Nothing at all!”

Witches hung like bats from the ceiling, searching every inch of the void where the children had disappeared. And when that proved fruitless out they went, filing through the streets like ants until finally the streets grew quiet and soon the only sound that could be heard was the doves in the nearby clock tower.

“Where are they?” screeched Jarvis as he stood in the silence of the market square with his arms held up in despair. “Where have they gone?”

Silence returned to the streets. There was no cawing or cackling or squawking or the thunderous pounding of feet. Just stillness.

Toad lifted the drain cover in Puddle Snake Alley and the whites of his eyes broke the darkness.

“Have they gone?” whispered Pip.

“There’s no sign of anything,” said Toad.

“It’s freezing down here,” said Frankie. “I want to go home.”

“You can’t go home,” said Toad. “The old place is empty. You’ll have to return with us, to the tavern. We should head there now. All that matters is that you’re safe. We’ll have you fed and watered in no time.”

They climbed down the wooden ladder and disappeared into the depths of the tunnels, while above their heads the wood folk filtered back into the forest without the slightest clue of where the children had gone.

There was no boat, but their branch was still burning at least, and there was a good length of walkway before the friends would have to get into the water to cover the last stretch.

The light petered out as they felt their way through the darkness. They stopped to catch their breath, puffing clouds of white air. Pip blew on the branch to stop the flame from dying, and when the brick path ran out they braved the freezing water for the last stretch of the journey.

They emerged soaking and frozen into the darkness of the tavern cellar. Sam was right there, and when he heard the drain cover rattling at his feet he panicked and grabbed a pitchfork. He stood there waiting, shaking. What would appear? Something from the forest? But no, it was the face of his only son.

Sam had been so frantic with worry and despair, and unable to talk to anyone about it, that he dropped to his knees when he saw Toad. Relief washed over him and tears sprang uncontrollably from his eyes.

“I’ve never been so worried,” grunted Sam. “Look at the state of you! Where on earth have you been?”

“If it hadn’t been for Pip, you would have never seen the three of us again.” Toad grinned.

“Three?” quizzed Sam.

“Yes, three. There are three of us now,” began Toad, “There is someone we want you to meet. Someone who was worth the risk.”

And out climbed Frankie Duprie. Almost as tiny as Pip, with torn and ragged clothes that matched the scars on her face. Shattered and worn, soaked to the skin, and frozen to the bone.

“Frankie!” said Sam.

He was shocked into silenc and he stood a moment while took in the scene around him, realizing what the children must have been through.

Pip had never seen an adult cry before. For a moment he didn’t understand it, and then a feeling washed over him, a feeling he had never had before. A warmth that came from the people around him, a hum of companionship, a glow of safety and kinship. Of all the things he could have felt right there and then, and after all he had been through, he did not expect to feel like this at all. He felt himself holding back his own tears.

“We must get news to your parents, Frankie,” Sam said. “But you must stay here for your own safety. Toad, make up another bed. Pip, show Frankie the annex. Go quietly. Make a bath. I’ll cook.”

Sam smiled away to himself as he warmed up the stove and began to conjure food from his kitchen.

Anger stirred in the forest. Harsh exchanges broke the eerie silence of the woods. “Assemble the Stone Circle,” growled Jarvis. “Bring yourselves to the reckoning. Some of you will pay for this.”

In a short while the tavern was busy again, and in the way that Sam had always loved in the past: with children’s voices and the sound of small feet parading up and down the stairs.

For the first time in a long time Pip didn’t dream of his parents, of the faceless figures of his mother and father that jostled him in his sleep. Instead, he dreamed of the hollow. But it wasn’t the same hollow. It was a peaceful one, without a forest, or dark corners where strange things lurked or preyed. And in the dream he sat at the fire, cozy and warm, and Sam was there and Frankie and Toad. They talked and laughed and told dark tales into the early hours, and they were scared but it was a good scared, not a bad one. A safe and warm scared.

He had not slept like that in such a long time.

The old place was filthy. Derelict, you might call it. No one had been here for some time. It was not the safest of buildings in the hollow, and repairs would have to be made if it was to be habitable. The plaster was cracked and damp in places, and the river came too high up the brickwork. So far in fact that if you looked out from the window you might think you were looking out from the inside of a boat as the water washed up against the sides.

Stonework and debris had fallen from the attic, tumbling down the chimney and dropping inside the hearth.

A hand reached in and searched through the junk. A wooden box, a pile of old books and papers, and the soot-covered remains of an old cloth sack.