Wild Magic (16 page)

The elf children didn't reply, just kept on smiling. Then the girl put down her needle and thread, rose to her feet, and fetched a neat wooden tray from one of the tables. She offered it to Jakob.

There were pale brown cubes on the tray. Some kind of sweetmeat? Jakob took a piece and popped it into his mouth.

Mmm!
Almond and honey.

He took another, then another. Soon he had eaten every piece, but the elf children didn't seem to mind. They laughed and pointed to their bellies.

“Yes,” said Jakob. “It's good. Very good!” He grinned. His teeth were sticky with sweet stuff. The elf children clapped in delight. Then the girl said something to her brother. He nodded and they both ran past Jakob and out of the barn.

“Oops!” said Jakob. “Was it something I said?”

He didn't have time to ponder. Suddenly the door opened and there stood the farmer.

“Oh dear,” said Jakob. He felt like he had back in the caves—cold and panicky. His heart was pounding and his throat felt tight. Had he done something wrong? Did they think he had come to steal something?

He glanced around, desperately looking for some means of escape. But there was no other door. He had walked into a trap.

The elf stepped inside and studied Jakob with a cool, green, silent gaze. Then he reached into a wooden crate, brought out a rough piece of cloth, and laid it flat on the table.

Jakob was horrified. The elf was going to gag him. Tie him up!

Or was he?

To Jakob's surprise, the elf began to select nuts and berries. A handful of this, a handful of that. All went onto the cloth. Then he pulled a piece of string from his pocket, gathered the cloth into a bundle, and tied it.

The elf children reappeared, carrying a basket full of brown-paper packages. They skipped the length of the barn, beamed at Jakob, and offered him the basket. Jakob stood there bewildered. Then the adult stepped forward, casually tossed the bundle of berries into the basket—and smiled. It was so fleeting, Jakob wondered if he had imagined it. But then the elf nodded and he was sure. He nodded in return and took the basket.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you very much.”

The elves stepped aside and invited Jakob to leave. And he was nearly out of the door when he remembered something.

“Oh!” he said, spinning around. “May I . . . ?” He pointed at the berry necklaces dangling from the roof. “For my sister.”

The elf nodded, reached for a pointed stick, and unhooked one of the strings. He laid it gently in the basket. Jakob was thrilled. It was exactly the one he wanted. The shiny red berries were the same shade as Marianna's hair.

“Thank you,” he said. “She'll be thrilled.”

With a smile and a wave, Jakob left the farm and carried on down the lane. As he walked, he asked himself why he had felt so scared in the barn.

“There's nothing to be frightened of here,” he told himself. “It's a heavenly place and the elves are friendly. I bet
everything
is friendly! Dogs won't bite and bees won't sting. Ants won't steal your food. No, they'll
bring
you food! A whole army of ants will bring you supper, carrying it in the air over their heads. Fifty of them carrying an apple!

A thousand of them struggling with a round of cheese!” He laughed at the picture he had painted and walked on. Eventually he reached a widening in the lane with a pond and a warm mossy bank beside it. It was a perfect place for a picnic.

“Ooh!” he said, as he collapsed onto the grass. “My legs are
tired
! They're not used to walking like this.” He started to unpack the elves' basket.

“Cakes!” he cried, carefully unwrapping the first of many enticing parcels. “Cheese . . . butter . . . soft bread rolls . . . something pink—” He sniffed the package. “I have no idea what this is, but it smells good! Pears . . . milk! From those magic cows! Peaches . . . nuts and berries . . . and a pot of honey. What a feast!”

Jakob had eaten his unexpected supper, walked on till sunset, then found the spot where he chose to sleep. And as he curled up on his bed of leaves, he couldn't help wishing—for the second time that day—that Marianna was there beside him, sharing the adventure. She would have loved the magical cows. And she would be so thrilled with his new body! She would make him walk up and down, turn around, touch his toes—until she was convinced he really was better. Then she would smile at him, her eyes would go all crinkly, and she would look like she was going to cry—just a tear or two—because she was so happy for him.

I wonder where she is
, he thought.
Where did the Piper
take her? And what are they all doing now? I bet they're
having such fun.

With that thought, he sank into a deep, dreamy sleep. The Piper played a merry tune and Marianna followed him, wearing her berry necklace. Jakob followed her, dancing like a fool on a feast day. They danced to the top of Hamelin Hill, caught hold of the clouds, and raced across the sky, then slid to earth on a shimmering rainbow. Tumbling, tumbling onto leaves, into sleep and on till morning.

CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT

Jakob awoke to another warm, dry day. He breakfasted on a bread roll and a piece of cheese he had saved from the night before, then washed his face in a nearby stream and strolled on.

But the day didn't seem as bright as the one before, nor the world so wonderful. Yes, the sun was out, shining like a happy pancake in the great blue skillet of the sky. And yes, there were extraordinary things to see, like strawberry trees and sheep with wings and mushrooms that moved, walking in lines, one behind the other like mountain goats.

But Jakob had no one to share his wonder with. He was alone. And that was a cruel joke, because now, with his fine new legs, there was no reason for him to be left out anymore. “Bring me a gang of boys,” he said, “and I'll run with the fastest of them! Take me to the river and I'll show you how to swim, faster than a salmon. Bring the girls too! Let them watch. They won't shame me now.”

Where
were
they, Marianna and the others? Where had the Piper taken them? Jakob pondered this, mile after mile. Could he find them? Maybe, maybe not. He certainly had nothing to lose by trying.

There was an old man, back in Hamelin, who sat outside the abbey most days. Jakob liked to sit with him because he told wonderful stories. Tales of bold knights and daunting dragons. Luscious ladies and hideous hags. Now, thinking back, Jakob remembered something important. The knights traveled all over the land but they always had a quest—a task, a challenge—something they had to do. They didn't wander aimlessly. They always knew where they were going. And if an adventure happened along the way—a lady needed rescuing from a tower, say, or an evil knight needed to be challenged—they would welcome it. They would do whatever had to be done, then return to their quests.

That's what he needed. A quest. And he had one, didn't he?
Sir Jakob and the Quest of the Missing
Children—
that was it! He even had his own magical equipment—because a knight always had something magical, whether it was a sword that would never break, a potion to help him breathe underwater, or boots that could walk through fire. Jakob had his staff with its marvelous globe. That was special— though Jakob didn't know exactly what it could do. It hadn't done anything magical as yet except glow in the dark.

Sir Jakob of the New Legs . . . That's who he was! But he needed a sword.

He left the path, rummaged under the nearest trees, and pulled out a fallen branch. No! That was too crooked. He found a straighter piece and snapped off the excess wood. Perfect! He tucked his new wooden sword under his belt. Now the adventure could begin!

CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE

Jakob headed south, deeper into the country. Now that he had a quest, he was more alert to the sounds around him. He listened for any trace of music in the air. And he found it: in the rippling of a stream and the full-throated song of a thrush; in the rhythmic chopping of a woodcutter's ax; in the call of a curlew; in the hot drone of tawny bees; in the magical tinkling of harebells by the side of the lane. But he didn't hear a pipe or the patter of dancing feet.

The sun rose higher and the day began to bake. Jakob was walking between open fields and the low hedges gave no shade. He needed a drink, a meal, a rest, but could see no hope of getting them. Not unless he cut across the fields and headed for the forest.

The forest.
It was vast, dark, forbidding—and out of his way. It would mean leaving the path. Or would it? Suddenly, as if by magic, he came to a parting in the lane. One path carried on ahead, the way he had been going. The other turned left, to the forest.

Jakob didn't have to think twice. He took the left-hand turn and headed down the new lane. Soon he knew he had made the right decision. The hedges grew higher, so the lane was shady. He passed a pond and was able to drink. The ground was soft and springy beneath his feet.

Then he heard it.

Laughter. High-pitched girly giggles, somewhere up ahead. Jakob stopped and listened hard. They sounded close. There were voices too. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but they didn't sound elven.

Jakob hurried on. When he came to a large flat stone, he scrambled onto it and peered all around. Looked to see whether he could get into the forest any quicker. He couldn't. He would have to wait till the end of the lane, but it wasn't far.

Jakob started to run, his feet pounding the soft earth.

“Let them be there,” he panted. “Don't let me lose them this time.” The memories were flooding back. The hillside. The closing door. Marianna's face, white as a candle. He ran harder, faster than he had run so far. Was that
pipe music
he could hear? Yes! Soft and insistent. Sweetly seductive.

He burst out of the lane like a cork from a bottle and stopped, gasping. He looked around. Listened again. The forest lay ahead of him. Still. Unmoving. Silent. Tunnels of trees. Stripes of sunlight and shadow.

Jakob felt panic thumping inside him like a horde of angry imps. The girls had gone. He had been close,
really
close, yet he had lost them.

“Stupid, stupid,
stupid!
” he raged. “You should have cut through the hedge.”

“Ja-kob. Oh, Ja-kob!”

A voice, light as thistledown, floating between the trees.

Marianna?

“Ja-kob. Ja-kob!”

“MARIANNA?” Jakob peered between the trees. He could hear voices again. Boys' as well as girls'.

“Marianna! Is that you? Are you in there? Come out!”

Nothing.

Jakob wavered at the forest edge. He was overjoyed to have found Marianna and the others, and yet . . . something didn't feel quite right. Why wasn't Marianna coming out? It wasn't like her to tease him.

“Marianna? Come out. Please. I need to see it's you.”

Silence. Jakob heard his heart beat, once, twice, then—

“Come on, Jakob. Play the game.” A boy's voice. It sounded like Johann, the butcher's boy.

“There's nothing to be scared of.” It was the girl's voice again. “Promise!”

Jakob made up his mind . . . took a deep breath . . . smiled bravely . . . and entered the Whispering Forest.

Behind him, in a flutter of fire-gold feathers, a hawk rose majestically into the sky, circled three times, and—
ffffoooo!—
it disappeared. Over the fields, over the meadows, over the wildwoods, back to Hamelin Hill.

PART
FIVE