Soul Splinter (19 page)

Moll raised a hand to her mouth. The cuts on Gryff’s paws were shrinking to slits and the blood had completely disappeared. A second later, the wounds were nothing more than a few scratches and then they vanished completely.

Moll’s heart felt ready to burst. ‘Oh, Gryff!’

The wildcat picked himself up so that he was sitting, then he looked Moll straight in the eye and dipped his head.

Moll wrapped her arms round him. ‘Sometimes I don’t think I really deserve a friend like you.’ She closed her eyes and felt her thoughts weave in and out of his. ‘You’ve never let me down, Gryff. Thank you.’ She looked up after a while and turned to Siddy. ‘I couldn’t have found the woundwort without you, Sid. You kept a cool head when I was panicking.’

Siddy grinned. ‘When you’re friends with dangerous people, you learn to keep a cool head.’

‘I’m not dangerous,’ Moll retorted.

Alfie squinted at her. ‘Yes, you are. Spending time with you is like hanging out with a volcano.’

Scrap snorted.

‘Don’t worry, Moll,’ Siddy said. ‘It was actually quite nice to be telling someone other than Hermit to calm down – makes a change.’

They shared out the sea-kelp crisps and dandelion-and-burdock cordial Mooshie had packed for them and then, after a bit, Alfie said quietly, ‘We’ll need to get going again. If Gryff’s able to.’

Moll buried her head in Gryff’s fur. ‘You don’t have to carry my pain any more. I can do it; I can run on soles of glass.’ But Moll knew deep down that they didn’t have a choice. Magic wasn’t something you could bend and twist to suit yourself.

Gryff growled into the elm, then he stalked towards the crack opening up into the undergrowth. And everyone knew what that meant: Gryff was ready to run.

They crouched inside the hedgerow and listened to the wind whistling through the branches of the elm. Moll shuddered beneath the dusk light as she remembered Cinderella Bull’s words: . . .
until the moon comes up you’ll be safe, so you’ll need to get as far away from here as you can in that time
.

Scrap pushed through the hedgerow, out on to the path, and set off at a run. The others followed and Moll winced – not at the aching in her own feet, but because of the pain she knew Gryff must be suffering. She paused several times, bending down and trying to scoop the wildcat up to carry him. But he was too large and he always shook her off with a determined growl and the only thing Moll had to comfort her thoughts was the knowledge that they still had some of the ointment for him.

The path wound on, further down the coast, past a beech tree riddled with rook nests. The birds tore off into the sky as the children approached, then all was still again. But, as they ran on, Moll’s blood quickened. The moon would be riding high soon and then the spell would wear off and the Shadowmasks would be on to them.

Eventually the hedgerows petered out altogether and in their place was a small copse of trees. Gryff limped level with Moll and she pulled the ointment from the rucksack and smoothed it over his paws. He breathed deeply as once again the balm of the oil and the strength of the herbs entered his skin. Scrap blew her whistle gently and Moll and Gryff hastened on towards the others. They had paused by the edge of the trees because, spread out before them, was a sprawl of reeds, rushes and bogs.

‘Looks like a marsh,’ Alfie whispered.

Siddy exhaled. ‘Oh, great. Hermit and I can’t wait to cross it.’

Scrap pointed out over the boggy land. A mile or so away there was a large dark shape: a forest.

Moll felt a familiar yearning for the cover of old, knotted trees. She nodded. ‘We need to get to the forest before the moon’s up – at least it’ll give us somewhere to hide.’

Alfie set off first, feeling a way into the reeds, then the others followed. After only a few steps, the reeds grew taller, pinging against their waists as they trod a path through. The ground beneath their feet was soggy, the marsh full of unfamiliar noises, and Moll stiffened as the weeds oozed through the gaps between her toes and folded over her ankles. But the water was cool, soothing her feet; she only hoped it was doing the same for Gryff.

Alfie stopped before a patch of water. The wind skirted across its surface, shaking the sedge and bog-myrtle bushes around it, and Moll could just make out the weeds stretching up from the bottom of the bog, swaying slowly. She took a deep breath and slipped a foot into the water after Alfie.

She hadn’t gone more than a few strides before she felt it: a cold, bony hand closing round her ankle.

M
oll shrieked, her eyes filling with horror.

Alfie whirled round. ‘What is it?’

‘In the water!’ Siddy cried, leaping backwards.

Beneath the surface was the unmistakable image of a face. But it didn’t belong to a person; it was more like the ghost of one. The skin was pale, an almost translucent green, the cheeks sunken hollows. It stared up at them with wild, veiny eyes, its mouth open in a silent scream.

Alfie was by Moll’s side in a second. ‘Run!’ he screamed, yanking her arm.

He pulled her free and they charged on through the marsh, water splashing up and drenching their faces, reeds snagging at their pounding feet. But whatever had seized Moll’s ankle wasn’t giving up. From behind them came a moan, threading through the reeds, and then a pattering, like footsteps skimming the surface of water.

‘Faster!’ Siddy roared, clutching Scrap’s hands and dragging her on behind Moll and Alfie.

But the creature was drawing closer and Siddy could feel its rotted breath drumming at the back of his neck. Scrap’s body was rigid with fear, but the creature, a hunched wisp of bones and sagging green flesh, sped right past them. It reached out long, gaunt fingers towards Moll and Gryff.

Alfie seized his knife and turned to face it. But, when he jabbed at the ghost-like shape, his blade passed right through it. The creature raced on, its feet flicking the surface of the water, then it lunged for Moll, wrapping skeletal arms round her ankles.

Moll crashed to the ground and, as her stomach smacked the water, air punched from her lungs and mud spattered over her coat. Gryff launched himself against the creature, but it made no difference. It was hungry for something and, though Alfie, Siddy and Scrap were hurtling towards it, the glint in the creature’s eye made Moll feel almost certain it was going to get what it came for.

Sharp nails plucked at her feet.

‘My soles!’ Moll gasped, grabbing at reeds with frantic arms. ‘It’s – it’s after my soles!’

She twisted her feet against the creature’s pull, but it only smiled darkly, its mouth a cavern of jagged teeth. Then it lowered its jaw to Moll’s feet and tugged at the gold soles Cinderella Bull had worked so hard to conjure. A ripping sound tore through the marsh and Moll’s head jerked in pain.

Then the creature drew back, cradling the soles in its bony hands. ‘Shadowmasks’ dark magic grows stronger.’ The words came in a gurgled spew, as if the creature’s throat was choked by mud and water. ‘Creatures like me claw through thresholds to find you; protection spells won’t hold darkness back . . .’

Moll scrambled backwards, grasping at the reeds to help her, but, as Alfie, Siddy, Scrap and Gryff gathered close, the creature dropped to its knees, melted into the water and was gone.

Moll was breathing fast, her heart fluttering inside her. For a while, she said nothing at all, then she wiped the mud from her face and turned her feet over; her soles were pink and ordinary again. ‘I don’t know
what
that was but it took my soles. We’re on our own now; there’s nothing left to protect us.’ Shaking the water from her coat, she glanced at Gryff who was stamping on the reeds and snarling at the place where the creature had disappeared. Moll sighed. ‘At least Gryff’s not in pain any more.’

Alfie rummaged in his rucksack for Moll’s boots, then he gazed around the marshland. ‘The Shadowmasks could be anywhere; that creature might tell them where we are.’ A snipe cried overhead, startled by the commotion on the marsh. ‘We need to take cover in the forest.’

Cautious now, they hastened towards the trees behind Scrap. The wind rose, hauling dark clouds across the sky, blocking out any chance of stars or moonlight. And when, finally, they approached the forest, it was almost completely shrouded in darkness. Tall trunks closed in around them and Moll shivered inside her damp coat and stretched out a hand for the bark: rough, thick and cracked. Pine trees. They would be tightly packed together; hard to steer through, but good for getting lost in. Without Cinderella Bull’s soles to protect them, perhaps that was exactly what they needed.

They edged further into the forest, feeling a way between the trees. The wind whistled through the trunks and Moll tried to listen to its spirit, as Mooshie had taught her in Tanglefern Forest. But it was whining in a way Moll hadn’t learnt, as if its breath was full of dread.

Now and again the children’s clothes snagged on branches and, although none of them said anything, each one could tell that this forest had been brushed by the Shadowmasks’ magic. The branches of the pine trees had lost their needles and were now just stumps and, as Moll breathed in, she noticed that their sharp scent had changed to something stale and rotted. Moll stooped, picked up a stone and slotted it inside the pouch of her catapult. Just in case.

Gryff prowled in front of her, his whiskers twitching. Then he stopped suddenly.

‘What is it?’ Moll whispered.

Gryff’s ears cocked towards the sound, a scratching in the undergrowth, then he grunted, and Moll glimpsed a deer bounding further into the trees.

They walked on and the deeper into the forest they went, the faster Moll’s heart began to beat. She knew the smells, barks and leaves of all the trees in Tanglefern Forest, but this woodland made her skin crawl. After a while, the trees thinned and they walked into a small clearing. But the hush that had fallen around them seemed unnatural; not a single woodland animal stirred.

Then they heard a noise that made their stomachs twist.

A creaking sound, like an unoiled door opening. And the sound of knives sharpening.

‘The owls!’ Siddy gasped.

The children clung to one another, hardly daring to breathe. Only Gryff moved, prowling round them, hissing.

The sound of the blades slicing came closer, but in the darkness no one could see where they were coming from.

‘Which way do we run?’ Moll cried. ‘If we split up, we’ll never find each other!’

But there wasn’t time for anyone to answer. Dozens of yellow eyes gleamed in the distant darkness around them and the sound of blades grinding filled their ears from all directions.

Moll raised her catapult and fired into the forest, fear searing through her. But without an obvious place to aim it was useless, and the owls screeched and loomed closer. Beside her, Alfie and Siddy clutched their knives and Scrap shoved her whistle into her mouth. She blew it as hard as she could and, as the sound blared into the darkness, the owls shrieked and wheeled backwards. Scrap blew again and again, but in moments the owls saw through the threat and advanced, their wings beating to the sound of grating metal, their yellow eyes slits in the darkness.

The children cowered together, waiting for the inevitable, for the whirring blades to slice down on them.

But then a silvery glow, not unlike moonlight, sifted through the pine trees and settled on those surrounding the children. A second later, as the owl wings beat just metres from the clearing, the shimmering trunks of the pines began to swell. With a loud crunch, huge, gnarled branches burst from the bark, groaning and creaking as they plaited together before arching over the group, enclosing them in a shining woodland cage.

The owls clawed the trunks with desperate screeches, but the gaps were too narrow and their blades couldn’t penetrate the mysterious barrier.

T
hey all crouched together, sheltered beneath the glowing trees. The sound of serrated wings and talons thrashing against the bark rang through the forest as the birds desperately tried to prise a way in. But the trees stayed firm.

‘The forest!’ Moll whispered. ‘It’s . . . it’s helping us.’