The Wildkin’s Curse (2 page)

‘S
O!
A
RE YOU READY TO DIE?'
M
ERRY CRIED
.

He thrust his sword towards Zed's mocking face. To his dismay, the tall, fair-haired boy swung his own sword around in a powerful arc, knocking Merry's blow sideways. His sword spun from his hand and into the bushes.

‘Whose turn to die now?' Zed jeered, swinging his sword high, ready to strike. ‘Unless, of course, you're prepared to yield?'

‘I'd rather rot in the ground!' Merry flung himself to the ground and seized his sword, rolling over and bringing it round low, trying to knock Zed from his feet. Zed jumped nimbly backwards, and Merry staggered to his feet again, flicking his dark hair out of his eyes. He slashed his sword back and forth, feinting once and lunging forward with a swift, if wavering, thrust.

‘Tricky!' Zed said with a mocking smile. ‘But can you be so quick if I do this . . . and this . . . and this?'

With each repetition, he thrust and parried expertly, his sword darting. Merry had to scramble to get away, gasping with exhaustion. His sword felt as if it had been forged from lead. His arm ached, his heart slammed erratically against his ribs, and sweat stung his eyes. He dashed his arm across his face and quickly wiped his sword hand on his shirt, before lunging forward with all his strength.

Dusk fell over the forest, and the sun glared red over the jagged peak of a steep-sided mountain. It glinted in the slitted eyes of an omen-imp that crouched hidden in a tree that hung over the clearing. A hideous little creature, he had orange fur, black leathery wings and scaly limbs, and a huge grinning mouth filled with needle-sharp fangs. The omen-imp watched the battle below intently, waiting for his chance.

Zed crossed his sword with Merry's and pushed him back. Merry tripped over a root that snaked away from the tree. He crashed to the ground and, before he had time to roll away, found a heavy knee pinning him to the ground and a sword jammed against his throat.

‘Any last wishes before I slit your gullet?' Zed said.

Merry battled to recover his breath, his pulse hammering, the taste of bitter defeat in his mouth. Then the omen-imp launched into the air, landing on Zed's head and tugging at his hair with all his strength.

‘Ow!' Zed batted the omen-imp away.

At once Merry rolled over, bringing his sword up and around in a swinging arc. Zed stumbled back, tripping over the same tree root that had sent Merry sprawling. He hit the ground hard, and lay winded for a moment, just long enough for Merry to set one foot upon his chest and the point of his sword into the hollow at the base of Zed's throat.

The omen-imp flapped up and down, shrieking with laughter. ‘What a thud! What a thump!'

‘So,' Merry said breathlessly, ‘have
you
any last requests?'

Zed tried to jerk away, but Merry leant a little more heavily on his sword point. ‘All right, all right, you win,' Zed said ungraciously.

‘What a mighty big lump!' the omen-imp jeered.

Zed glared at him. ‘Shut up, will you!'

‘What a grump!'

Zed ground his teeth together and tried to throw Merry off, but Merry held the sword point steady, even though his chest heaved.

‘Are you yielding?' Merry asked sweetly. ‘The great warrior Zedrin, yielding to . . . what do you like to call me? Squirt?'

‘Get off me, you oaf.'

‘You oaf!' the omen-imp shouted. ‘Use your loaf!'

‘Jumping Jimjinny, can't you get that little monster to shut up?' Zed said irritably. He tried to thrust the sword point away. ‘How am I expected to fight a sword battle with him pulling my hair out by the roots? Unfair!'

‘You shouldn't care so much about your hair,' the omen-imp jeered.

‘Come on, Merry, let me up!' Zed begged. ‘This tree root is mighty uncomfortable.'

‘Really? Because I'm quite comfortable here.' Merry lifted one hand and pretended to shade his eyes as he gazed at the mountains, black against the saffron sky. ‘Lovely view.'

The omen-imp cackled with wicked laughter.

‘Come on, Merry, stop being such a cabbage-head.'

‘I need to hear the words,' Merry said. ‘You know . . .
I yield . . .
' He drew the words out.

‘All right, all right, I yield.' Zed muttered.

Merry cupped his hand behind his ear. ‘Sorry, can't hear you.'

‘All right! I yield!'

‘That does sound good. Music to my ears. Can you say it again?'

‘I'll make
you
start singing if you're not careful,' Zed threatened. ‘Come on! Let me up!'

‘Well, since you asked so nicely . . .' Merry lifted his wooden sword away and stepped back so Zed could sit up and smooth back his tousled curls.

‘You only won because of that blasted omen-imp. Unfair!' Zed said, standing up and dusting himself off.

‘The Erlrune says we can use any weapon to hand. Well, Tom-Tit-Tot is my secret weapon, aren't you, boy?'

The omen-imp bared his fangs and jeered with laughter. ‘Swift as a sword, sharp as a spear, indeed I am a weapon to fear!'

‘You should fear me, imp! It's so unfair. Just because Merry happened to be the one to catch you when you fell out of the rafters. It could easily have been me.'

‘Except you probably would have trod on the poor little thing with those enormous boots of yours,' Merry retorted.

‘The boots of a brute,' Tom-Tit-Tot said, pretending to look cowed.

‘You're just jealous, squirt,' Zed said with all the confidence of a young man who stood over six feet tall in his socks. He towered over Merry, who was small and thin and bony. The two friends were a study in contrasts. Where Zed was tall and fair and easygoing, Merry was quick-witted and quick-tempered, with dark, fiery eyes. He wore his brown hair long, as he could never be bothered to cut it, and only tied it back so it would not hang in his face when he was playing his lute, which he did whenever he had a spare moment. His skin was rather sallow, and there were dark crescents under his eyes, for Merry never slept well, his brain on fire with dreams and ideas and plans and problems, none of which ever seemed to worry Zed.

Zed bent and picked up his wooden sword from the grass. ‘Lucky we're only fighting with practice swords. I'd have killed you ten times over, otherwise.'

‘Sure!' Merry jeered. ‘Which is why you yielded in the end.'

‘If I hadn't tripped . . .'

‘Excuses, excuses.'

‘Come on, we'd better get back. You know the Erlrune says we mustn't be out after dark.'

‘Race you!' Merry challenged, breaking at once into a run.

‘Hey! You can't just start racing like that. It's not fair.'

‘It's the quick or the dead,' Merry called back. ‘And so far, it's me that's looking quick.'

‘I'll get you!' Zed cried, lengthening his stride. ‘And when I do, I'll beat you black and blue.'

‘Have to catch me first, slowpoke!'

The two boys raced through the shadowy forest, laughing and calling rude comments back at each other. The omen-imp scampered after them, swinging from vines and spreading his leathery wings for short flights from branch to branch. Every now and again, he called, ‘I'll beat you, black and blue!'

The sun had sunk behind the sharp tip of Evenfell, the tall mountain at the far end of the valley, while the full moon hung, round and translucent, above the pine trees, its silver light reflected in the still waters of the Evenlinn. It was cold and snow lay thickly on the mountain's flanks. It was the first day of the month of shedding antlers, though, and the days were already growing longer. Under the gloom of the evergreen trees, the path twisted among gnarled roots and jagged protrusions of stone. The boys did not slow their pace, however. They knew the path well, and could see ahead a dim archway of light that heralded the end of the forest.

Tom-Tit-Tot flew down to pluck at Merry's hair. ‘Beware the trap! Beware the trick! You'd better be spry, you'd better be quick!'

Merry glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Zed diving at him and trying to crash-tackle him. Suddenly Merry's foot was caught in a loop of rope, and he was swung off his feet and spun upside-down, dangling from the enormous fist of a hobhenky.

‘Tricked! Trapped!' Tom-Tit-Tot called sadly and took refuge in a tree, snatching at acorns and flinging them with astounding accuracy at the massive head of the hobhenky. The acorns hit with a satisfying
clunk
, and pinged off into the undergrowth. The hobhenky looked around in surprise.

He was a huge, hulking creature, hung with ill-fitting armour made from scrap metal. A horned helmet was squashed down over his eyes, and he carried a gigantic mace in his free hand.

Although Merry spun and twisted, and hammered the hobhenky with his wooden sword, the creature only roared with laughter and swung Merry from side to side so he was sick and dizzy. Tom-Tit-Tot launched himself at the hobhenky's ear and was batted away as carelessly as a midge, flying head over heels back into the shadows under the trees.

Zed, by this time, was hanging helplessly upside-down too, the rope that had trapped his foot dangling in the fist of another hobhenky, virtually identical to the first.

‘Crash! Smash! Let us down!' Merry cried. ‘What are you doing?'

The hobhenkies roared with laughter.

‘Got you good!' one cried.

‘Got you
so
good!' the other shouted.

‘Smash! Crash! Let us down or you'll be sorry!' Zed tried to kick out with his free leg, but only caused himself to spin in dizzying circles. The hobhenkies slapped their thighs and wiped their eyes with their free hands, their gusts of laughter causing the leaves to blow sideways.

Tom-Tit-Tot turned a quick somersault, changing shape into an immense black snake that wound about Smash's legs, trying to squeeze him in its coils. Smash reached down, seized the snake's tail and hurled it away into the bushes, and Tom-Tit-Tot somersaulted again, changing shape into a black crow, attacking the hobhenky's eyes with his sharp beak. The hobhenky waved his mace about wildly, and the omen-imp somersaulted into the shape of a flea, jumping inside the hobhenky's clothes so that he squirmed and squealed and slapped himself all over. Merry was shaken up and down and swung about so violently that he cried, ‘Enough, Tommy-boy, enough! Do you want me to be sick?'

The flea jumped clear and turned mid-somersault into a slinky black cat that had the hobhenky cowering and moaning in terror. Tom-Tit-Tot enjoyed that, and rubbed himself against the hobhenky's leg, causing the hobhenky to trip. Merry hit the ground so hard that all the breath was knocked out of him.

‘Do you think you could go help Zed?' he said in a weak voice. ‘I think I'm right here.'

The black cat bounded off to terrorise the other hobhenky while Merry tried in vain to free his feet from the rope while Smash crouched, sobbing, and peering through his fingers. ‘Pussy cat gone?' he asked piteously. Then, seeing Merry struggling with his ropes, he jerked him upside-down again, dangling from one foot. Merry swung upright, grasped the knot around his foot and, with his other foot, kicked the hobhenky as hard as he could in the armpit. The hobhenky giggled and squirmed, crying, ‘Don't tickle!' Merry blinked back involuntary tears of pain and nursed his throbbing foot.

‘So, these are the great warriors the Erlrune has been telling me about,' said a cool, sarcastic voice.

Merry spun his body around and saw a girl standing a few feet away, leaning on a curved bow. She was tall and straight and slim, dressed like a boy in a long green woollen jerkin over a linen shirt and breeches that buckled at the knee. A leather armguard was laced about her right arm.

Her dark hair hung in a severe plait down her back, the unbound end as curly as a piglet's tail. A tendril had blown loose, and she lifted an impatient hand to shove the curl behind her ear. Her face was narrow, with dark-lashed eyes and a thin, high-boned nose.

‘Don't mind Crash and Smash,' Zed said, as nonchalantly as he could when dangling upside-down by one leg. ‘They love to play tricks. Smash! Crash! Let us down now! I'll give you the trouncing of your life if you're not careful!'

‘Trounce, bounce,' Crash giggled, and bounced Zed up and down so his hair flapped. He groaned and twisted about, trying to beat the hobhenky with his wooden sword.

The girl sighed. Swiftly and smoothly she fitted an arrow to her bow. Faster than the eye could follow, she shot the arrow through the rope so that Zed fell with a thump to the ground. Almost before he could groan, Merry was landing hard beside him.

Smash and Crash stared with bewilderment at the tattered ends of the ropes dangling in their huge fists, and then at the boys lying on the ground, moaning and massaging their bruised hips. They could not understand how the boys had escaped. The girl went to retrieve her arrows and then stood over the boys, looking down at them with a disdainful expression on her face.

‘Well, I don't think much of you two,' she said. ‘I really can't see what use you're going to be to me.'

Merry leapt to his feet. ‘What do we care what you think anyway? We could've got away from Crash and Smash if we wanted to. We just didn't want to hurt them.'

The girl uttered a hard crack of laughter. ‘Oh, yes?'

‘Who in the blazes are you anyway?' Merry demanded. ‘What are you doing here?'

‘I am Liliana Vendavala, daughter of Ladonna, daughter of Avannia, once Erlqueen of the Stormlinn. In the name of the Truth, I summon you to the presence of the Erlrune of Evenlinn.'

‘Is that so . . . Liliana, was it? Well, since we live with the Erlrune and have supper with her every night, I see no reason for you or anyone else to summon us anywhere,' Merry replied scornfully.