Dawn of Wonder (The Wakening Book 1) (5 page)

“Wait,” said Dara. “I’ll do it. I’m scared, but
I’ll be brave for my mum and dad.”

They all looked at her with proud eyes.

“You
are
brave,” said Kalry, hugging her
tight. The little girl leaned in, trying to control her shivers.

“We need to pretend to be asleep,” said Aedan, “so
we’d better put cushions under our blankets in case anyone peeks inside.”

Once they had set the room up, he pushed the
shutters open, tied the rope to the central beam of the window and turned back
to give some final advice.

“Dress warmly and paint your faces with soot.
Don’t come down from your hide-outs until we get back, and whatever you do,
don’t shout out or they will find you and take you too.”

Thomas and Dara both nodded, though she was
shaking visibly. Then Aedan and Kalry climbed down the rope and stole away
through the darkness.

A half-moon was drifting somewhere up in the heavens, but the
mist was thick enough to engulf almost all the light. They felt their way along
the stone walls to the corner, then followed the next wall until the courtyard
was before them. They crossed this swiftly and headed in the direction of the
tack room, feeling their way along the wall again until stone gave way to the
familiar touch of wooden panels.

Hinges screeched at them as they edged the door
open. They waited. Nobody raised the alarm. Inside the dank little room the
smells of waxed leather and saddle soap were almost strong enough to see by,
but Aedan was no mole and he groped through the utter blackness of the room,
bumbling this way and that until something poked him in the eye. Fortunately Kalry
knew the room well enough to locate what she needed by feel, and soon she
dumped a saddle and bridle in Aedan’s arms.

Saddling the ponies proved to be more complicated.
Aedan had to quietly upend a water pail to make up the height he lacked. He
hoped Kalry wouldn’t see from the adjacent stable. Bluster, his pony, was quick
to mimic the nervous manner. Aedan had to dodge stamping hooves while feeling
about in the darkness for the girth strap. Finally the saddle was on, at least
it felt like it was, and it looked to be facing the right way too.

The bridle presented a new problem. Bluster was
swinging his head and shaking his mane with obvious anticipation. Aedan had no
idea how to bridle something that was whipping through the air like a storm-tossed
branch. Suddenly Bluster pricked his ears at a scuttling noise outside. Aedan
recognised his chance; he quickly slipped the bridle on and over the focussed
ears, securing the buckle while his pony stared out into the darkness.

“Are you ready?” he whispered over the low wall
into the adjacent stable, feeling a good measure of pride at having tacked up
first.

“Almost,” Kalry replied. “Just setting the stirrup
length.”

Aedan cringed. He had forgotten about that. Saying
nothing, he pulled the stirrups down from the saddle and estimated that his
feet would swing freely above them with a few inches to spare. He tore at the
leather buckle, yanking in a good foot of the strap and secured it again at the
highest possible notch.

“I’m ready,” she said.

Aedan darted recklessly under the pony’s belly and
repeated the procedure, wishing the leather would not creak so.

“Aedan?”

“Yes,” he replied, leaping against the saddle and
scrambling up until his foot could reach the stirrup that was now some height
above the ground. “I’m ready.” He looked at the dark shape of the stable door
blocking his exit, muttered something and slid down again, the saddle pulling
his shirt up and grazing his belly. He eased the door open. Kalry was already
on her way out. He repeated the scrambling mounting operation, but this time Bluster
had no reason to stay put, and walked out the stable with Aedan still clawing
his way up.

When he finally seated himself he couldn’t reach
the reins – they had slid down the pony’s lowered neck. Fortunately, Kalry’s
pony stepped in front causing Bluster to raise his head just enough for Aedan
to strain forward until his joints were popping, grip the leather with the tips
of his fingers, and draw it back with a gasp. He tried to stifle his ragged breathing.

“Now we reach the difficult part,” Kalry
whispered.

Aedan said nothing, mostly because he didn’t want
to betray his exhaustion.

“It will be best if I lead. Stay close so we don’t
get separated in the mist. Are you alright? You seem quiet.”

“I’m trying to listen.” It was sort of true.

They walked the ponies with as much stealth as the
clip-clop of hoof on stone would allow. Soon they left the paved farmyard and the
horses’ tread dropped to near silence on the damp earth. It was an eerie
sensation, floating through the mist with the ground barely visible, the only
sign of movement the drift of pale eddies. Any sounds that reached them were wrapped
in a thick dreamy blanket.

“I think we are getting to the gate,” Kalry
whispered. “I don’t want to dismount here, so I’ll try to open it from above.”

They drew to a stop. After a few clinks of the
chain and a metallic groan, the heavy wooden beams of the gate loomed out of
the fog and swung past. Aedan hoped she wouldn’t ask him to close it. Perched
up in the air as he was, his short arms would never reach the top beam. He dug
his heels into the pony’s side and Bluster surged past.

“Let’s take the juniper track,” Kalry said,
ignoring the gate. “It’s slower than the road, but less than half the distance,
and we can’t do any more than walk in this mist anyway. The track lets us drop
more quickly and the mist might clear up as we get lower.”

Aedan grunted. He hated the track. When the horse
aimed uphill, all was well – holding on presented little difficulty. When the
horse aimed downhill, it was like sitting on the side of a perilously steep
roof, always at that desperate point of sliding off. And this was a roof that
bounced and lurched and made unexpected grabs at succulent shoots of grass and
reeds. Once, not too long ago, he had lost his grip and gradually advanced down
the horse’s neck in a smooth buttery slide until he ran out of horse and
dropped off the end. He would make sure that did not happen again.

He saw Kalry swaying easily with the pony’s motion
as they walked away down the path. He braced himself, gripping the pommel of
the saddle with both hands and let the reins hang slack. This pony would have
to steer itself. As Bluster’s hooves reached the drop, his withers sank and Aedan
felt himself slipping down the lurching slope. He made a quick grab at the
cantle behind him and clung on, rigid with desperation that seemed to be making
up for the deficiency of leg length and technique.

“How are you managing back there?” Her voice was
annoyingly calm.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

He was wearing his warm deerskin jacket, but now
little waterfalls of sweat were running off his nose and eyebrows as he fought
the pony’s every movement. They walked in silence for what felt like hours,
descending rapidly.

As Kalry had hoped, the mist was a low cloud that
thinned with their descent, revealing a long grassy slope levelling out ahead
and, beyond that, the dim outlines of a sleeping village. The whole central
valley began to open up around them. It was curiously bigger in the dark.
Though the basin was only a few miles across, the wooded slopes on the far
side, now murky and black, looked to be a half-day’s journey away.

“We can make up some time here. Are you able to
trot?”

“Of course,” Aedan said, already wincing, and
hating the fickle mist for abandoning him to such a fate. What followed was
every bit as unpleasant as he had feared. Whenever he was about to settle into
the rhythm of the stride, he got bounced a little too high and dropped on a
saddle rushing up to meet him, a collision that loosened every tooth. Eventually,
after he had been hammered to a tender perfection, the ground levelled out and
Kalry broke into a canter.

“At last!” he sighed, grasping the pommel and
sinking into the saddle.

The village wall was a ten-foot-high ring of stakes and
planks. It was a relatively flimsy construction by war standards, but it would
be more than enough to keep them out if they could not rouse the sentry and
persuade him to open the gate. Aedan had to hammer at the planks for some time
before there was a response. The sentry’s curses were vigorous and they arrived
at the peephole before he did, so that he was more than a little embarrassed
when he recognised Kalry, daughter of the most important landowner in the Mistyvales.

“Begging your pardon, Miss,” he stammered as he
applied himself to sliding the bolts. “I was thinking only that you would be a
– that is, somebody of the other – er – other sort, and not a lady, if you take
my meaning. No offense I hope?”

“Don’t worry yourself, Beagan,” she said with a
smile as she rode through. “I’m not going to tell, and I don’t think I
understood half of it anyway.”

“Thank you, Miss,” he said, the relief obvious in
his voice. “You always been treating us rough folks good.” Beagan, obviously flustered
by the trouble his ill manners might cause him, had completely neglected to ask
the reason for the peculiar arrival, an omission that could have landed him in
even more trouble.

Aedan had never seen the village at night. The
houses with their domed thatch roofs resembled lines of squat ogres with round
haircuts. But then his angle changed and a few chimneys and a wind vane pushed
the strange likeness from his mind. The road led past the town hall with its
high bell tower that rose over the surrounding roofs, silhouetted against the
shrouded moon. A cat’s hiss interrupted the dull tread of hooves, but nothing
else stirred. It was now late and all would be asleep.

They took the next turn to the right, passed three
silent houses, and stopped outside a large building. Here they dismounted and
tied the ponies to a rail.

Aedan’s legs were trembling. With every step they threatened
to collapse and pitch him forward into the ground. He willed his way to the
door and knocked, softly. Then, after several attempts, he knocked loudly.
Finally he slipped a small knife from his belt, set to work at the gaping edge
of the door and, bit by bit, slid the bolt free.

“We’re not going to be thrown in prison are we?”
Kalry whispered.

“Of course not … I think.”

Aedan stalked into the darkness of the room. He placed his
foot on something that rolled, throwing his balance off to the side. It caused
him to stumble and stamp on the edge of an object that flipped over with an
almost musical clang.

“What are you doing?” Kalry hissed, stepping into
the room and promptly falling. She landed with a thump and a dull crunch of
something that didn’t sound like it would be repairable.

“You have to watch your footing in here,” Aedan
said, completely unnecessarily, as he stooped to help her up. “It’s very
cluttered.”

“Why don’t we light a lamp?”

“It would take us hours to find one, even during daylight.
I’m just going to nip over to wake him. He’ll know where his lamps are. Can you
wait for a moment?”

“Happily,” she said, nursing her shin.

Aedan slipped away. Not only did he slip, he
tottered, fell, stumbled, sprawled and collided into all manner of interesting-sounding
things. A gang armed with clubs would have been hard pressed to make more
noise. He had covered about half the distance when a door opened at the top of
a stairway ahead of him and light streamed into the large space, revealing, in
silhouette, a jungle of items covering every possible description and size.

Aedan looked back to see Kalry gaping at the
strange clutter that filled the aisles between overflowing shelves. At least
she would now understand what he had just endured. Her father had never brought
her here – such a place was beneath his more refined tastes. On the shelves beside
Aedan were urns, branding irons, chipped flower pots, a millstone, rolls of
dressmakers’ linen, and a weird green suit of armour underneath a stack of frayed
parchments and a rat trap. Then, over most items was a soft sheet of dust, as
though the shelves had been tucked away to rest for several years.

“Who is the foul wretch? I’ll have your skin and
I’ll have it slowly!” The voice was chilling – thin and menacing.

“It’s me – Aedan. Don’t be angry. We need your
help.”

“Aedan? Oh, hmm, yes, it is you.” The voice had
changed completely and now gave the distinct impression of dreamy afternoons
and the lazy humming of beetles. “I thought I should try to be a touch sinister
considering that you sounded like a burglar. Perfectly useless one, I might add.”

“Nulty, we need to speak to you. It’s urgent. This
is Kalry.”

The light and its bearer advanced from the doorway
onto a wooden platform that overlooked the maze of shelves and aisles. He was a
portly little man wearing an oversized nightgown, one woollen slipper and one
sock. He had small bright eyes in a round face with side whiskers which made it
even rounder.

“Ah, young Miss Kalry of Badger’s Hall. What an
unexpected honour. Are you also a burglar?” He smiled and chuckled and turned
red at his little joke. “No, no of course you’re not. Well come along the both
of you. I’ll get some tea brewing and you can start talking.”

“Actually we are in a terrible rush –”

“Yes, yes, it’s what they all say, but my ears work
just as well whether the kettle is over the fire or not. The parlour is this
way. Hurry along before I take the light.”

Nulty was balanced on the edge of a threadbare couch,
absorbing the last details as the kettle began to purr.

“Yes, I think you two are quite right. Yes, I most
certainly do. Odd that all the adults missed it and only children saw it … but
maybe it’s not that odd. We adults are often blind to what children see. And
then you two possess the sharpest young minds in the midlands.” His gaze was
distant and he drummed his fingers together.

“What are we going to do?” Kalry asked.

“Hmm? Ah, yes, what to do … Hmm. You and Aedan are
going to put some hot tea, fresh bread and honey into your bellies. I am going
to assemble a little army. By the time you are full, I shall be back.” With
that he marched out of the building.

Aedan lost no time carving two colossal hunks of
bread and lathering them with deep coats of honey while Kalry poured the tea.
Outside, they could hear the growing sounds of shouting and banging on doors. Despite
the tightness in his stomach, Aedan finished his tea and bread in far less time
than was entirely healthy, then fell into an exhausted reverie. He lost all
sense of where he was and he looked up with a start as Kalry called his name slightly
louder than was necessary.

“Yes?” he said.

“Why didn’t you answer me the first time?”

“Oh. Sorry. Didn’t hear you.”

“Something’s worrying you, isn’t it?” she said.
“You had such a horrible look on your face.”

“I realised something. What if Quin notices that
we are missing? He knows we suspect him. He’s bound to check on us and he’s not
someone who’s going to be fooled by lumps of clothes and pillows under the
blankets. I’ve been a fool.”

“How are you the fool? You saw what nobody else
did.”

“I only made one plan. Remember the stories we
read about the border wars and the young General Osric who became so famous?”

Kalry nodded.

“Well, what made him so difficult to beat was that
he always had a heap of plans which he could choose from, like different tools.
The plan I made won’t work if Quin finds out that we left. He could change his
strategy.”

“I’m sure he won’t. He wouldn’t be able to
convince everyone to stay in the house for another night. This is his chance.
Anyway, there’s nothing we can do about it now. We just need to hope. Don’t be
upset with yourself Aedan, you’re doing better than any of us.”

Aedan ruffled his hair with honey-coated fingers, producing
a startling imitation of an upended tree, and walked to a large rack of shelves
where hundreds of little copper vials were arranged, all neatly labelled. He
began to run his fingers along them, searching.

“So he’s an apothecary too. What are you looking
for?” Kalry asked.

“Found it,” he said, snatching one, checking the
label and dropping it in his pocket.

“Hadn’t you better ask first?”

“I’ll ask, just not first.”

“Well what is it?”

“Something I might need for another plan if Quin
is still there by breakfast time. Better that you don’t know. Don’t want you to
have to lie to your father if he gets suspicious.”

Kalry looked upset. “I’m going to wait outside seeing
as you obviously don’t need me here.” She lit a second lamp and took herself,
with her barely nibbled bread, back through the maze and out onto the porch.

Aedan drifted down between the aisles. A cacophony of
banging and clattering suggested that he was searching for something. He
emerged into the open a little later with a small crossbow and a quiver of
short bolts draped over his shoulder. His little frame made them look like a giant’s
weapons. They swung awkwardly as he walked, bouncing off his thighs and jabbing
him in the neck.

Kalry was not in sight. Aedan felt a rush of fear
and darted around the corner into a narrow alley. There, crouched in the shadows,
she sat beside the young village beggar-boy who was wolfing down the last of
her bread with sticky gulps. The thought jumped into Aedan’s mind that the boy
had stolen her meal, but then he saw the soft look on her face. It wasn’t the
first time he’d seen her do this. He had once argued with her and justified eating
his whole sandwich while she had called him a greedy pig and shared hers with
the beggar-woman’s son. Aedan’s sandwich hadn’t tasted as good as he’d expected
– nothing ever did under those circumstances.

The growing sound of hooves roused them and they
walked back to the road where dozens of hastily armed men were gathering. Some
wore uniforms. Among these was the local sheriff, Lanor, who was clearly taking
charge. The group swelled as more riders cantered up from the dark streets.

Nulty returned and called to Aedan. “Listen, my boy,
there’s something that I wanted to be clear about. You happened to mention an
odd detail – that Dresbourn was showing Quin his ancestral scroll when you
walked into his office. Are you sure about that?”

“I think so. I’ve seen it once before when Kalry
showed me.”

“Listen to me,” Nulty said, leaning forward. “If
what you suspect and what I suspect line up …” the little man gripped his whiskers
and his face turned bright red. “Try not to leave her alone, Aedan. Make sure
she stays safe.”

“Who? Kalry?”

“Yes, of course Kalry! Who else?”

“But –”

“No time now. Just stay with her, Aedan.”

With that he dashed into his store and, after a tremendous
commotion, re-emerged, armed with a representative of almost every conceivable
weapon strapped somewhere to his rotund form. He clinked with chain-mail,
blades, clubs, a bow, and even a great oval shield that hung on his back,
making him look like a large tottering tortoise. He had managed to find a pair
of boots but he still wore his night gown under the many belts and straps.

There were one or two smiles as he emerged
jingling with every step and heaved himself onto his horse. It took some of the
attention off Aedan who had been hovering, waiting for a moment when he could
scramble onto his pony’s back unobserved. He saw his chance, leapt at the
saddle, and clawed his way up.

Sheriff Lanor began to speak. He was a hard-looking
man with a loud voice that commanded instant silence. “Thank you all for joining
us. There is little more to be said than what you have already been told. The
slaver threat appears to be real this time, and the ploy is a devilishly
cunning one. If we are not quick, Badgerfields may be empty by the time we
arrive, every single person there bound for Lekran slave ports. Keep your
weapons at the ready; these are not principled men. If you intend to show mercy
then it would be better that you stayed at home.”

He rose in his stirrups and cast a fierce stare
over the gathered men. He meant what he said. Only Kalry looked away. Lanor
finished his inspection, satisfied. “If anyone lacks a weapon,” he concluded, “speak
to Nulty.”

Most of the men laughed as they moved off. The
party, now numbering about fifty, thundered through the gates that Beagan swung
open while staring with wide eyes. They left the town and began devouring the
miles to Badgerfields. The mist had risen slightly, so Lanor chose to keep to
the main road where he could set a bold pace.

Aedan rode at the back with Kalry and Nulty. In
spite of the painful thumping of the crossbow, his thoughts were elsewhere, turning
on possibilities as he tried to imagine various situations. The hasty meal had
done him much good and he felt stronger, yet there was an uncomfortable nagging
at the back of his thoughts.

What if he was wrong? Could he be wrong? Nulty had
obviously repeated the tale to the sheriff with a lot more certainty than was
due mere suspicions. The little man had taken a big risk trusting Aedan’s
conclusion. So had Kalry. Even Thomas and Dara would be headed for trouble if it
all turned out to be empty imaginings.
Was
he too young to interfere
with such matters? Should he rather have just silenced his “disrespectful”
thoughts?

Looking at the large party of men roused from
their homes, galloping towards Badgerfields all because of his suspicion, made
him realise just how far he had taken his ideas this time, how high up onto his
roof he had climbed.

And how long the fall.

Gradually, one or two of the horses less
accustomed to such sustained exertion dropped behind. Only a few miles
remained. Night began to fade and a dull grey morning drifted in on a brisk
wind.

They rounded the last bend. Badgerfields came into
view.

Aedan tried to control his runaway breathing and
gripped the pommel to stop his hands shaking. The sheriff motioned for silence.
They approached the farmyard through the gate which had not been shut.

Nothing stirred.

By this time there would usually have been much
activity. First light was more than light enough for farm work. But now
everything was silent. The farmyard was completely deserted.

With Lanor taking the lead, the group walked their
horses towards the main house. Some of the men loosened their weapons; a few
held spears at the ready. They had advanced only a little way when they saw
movement at the manor house and everyone drew to a halt.

Dresbourn and Lieutenant Quin stepped out into the
courtyard and approached.

Aedan felt his heart slip into his shoes.

“Dresbourn!” said the sheriff. “We expected to
find you in a more desperate plight.”

“I have no immediate complaint besides the threat
of slavers. But we were amply warned and have taken due precaution as you can
see.” He motioned to the house from which people began to emerge.

Though the sight should have relieved him, all
that Aedan could feel now was an empty humiliation and a surge of dread. He
knew what was coming.