Authors: Marita Conlon-Mckenna
In Deep Dark Wood (10 page)
M
ia learned more and more about the dragons with each day that passed. Oh, how she loved to watch them fly, see them getting braver and stronger. Arznel and Rana and Oro soared confidently over the woods that lay below the castle. Flett, Frezz and Gosha needed a little more patience and
understanding
, but in time they too would master the sky.
‘Bella, when do you think Trig will be able to start flying with the others?’ she asked, concerned for the young dragon who, she sensed, felt left out and neglected.
‘It will be weeks before the blue is fit for anything, Mia!’ Bella replied disdainfully.
Mia didn’t dare argue with her, but even to her inexperienced eye Trig seemed much better. Still, Bella was the judge, the expert.
One morning, when Arznel flew far away over the woods, a stray, frightened bird flew across his path and in an instant,
before their very eyes, the dragon caught it and ate it. Bella jumped up and down with excitement.
‘He’s become a hunter! Arznel will soon be able to hunt his own prey! The woods below are teeming with wildlife.’
Mia felt strangely uneasy as she watched the black dragon set off again, his eyes flashing mischievously.
Every afternoon, Bella insisted that Mia study with her in the library. The musty room was packed with shelf after shelf of mysterious books.
‘You have much to learn, Mia child, and these books will help to feed your brain. Knowledge is a powerful magic in its own way!’ she declared.
The Apothecary’s Book of Herbs, A History of Aland, Dragon Lore, The Geography of Arbor, A Beginner’s Guide to Sorcery, were just some of the many tomes that Bella expected Mia to read.
The old woman sat with Mia, explaining things or making her write down notes. The little girl tried to concentrate, all the time wishing that she was back in school with her friends.
She found a book on dragon anatomy and, looking at the detailed pictures, she began to wonder about Trig. Going by the diagrams and detailed sketches, Trig’s wing and tail seemed healed, so why would Bella not let him fly?
At night, in the secrecy of her room, Mia held training
sessions
for the young dragon, letting him jump down from the bed and then, when he’d mastered that, progressing to the top of the wardrobe and the inside window ledge. There was very little space and she was always worried that he would injure
himself again, or that Bella would discover them. She planned to take him out one morning to the courtyard, before the old woman woke, and let him try out his wings properly in the smallest training pen.
She was learning to be careful around Bella. Any mention of home or family or Glenkilty put the old woman into a ferocious temper.
‘She promised me that I could go home!’ she complained to Gwenda. ‘Why won’t she let me leave?’
But the dwelf girl simply kept on working, not wanting to tell her that she should forget about going home, forget that she ever had another home. Bella’s apprentices were always homesick and miserable for the first year or two, until finally they forgot their families and homelands.
‘The sad feeling will pass, Mia. In time you will forget,’ she said.
Mia blinked away her tears. She would never forget her Mum and Dad, her brother Rory and Granny Rose, and her little dog, Jackie, no matter what Bella did or what spell she cast over her!
M
ia could scarcely believe it – Trig was able to fly! The blue dragon flew smoothly from the ground right up to the top perch, then swooped skywards, almost crashing into the net that prevented him escaping or falling out over the castle walls. She had never seen anything like it as he shimmered blue in the dawn. Their secret, early morning lessons had worked!
‘Oh, Trig!’ she laughed, hugging him tight. His eyes shone proudly as he nuzzled playfully against her cheek. Again and again the dragon flew, determined and excited. Mia wished that she could let him fly out into the open sky, but she knew it was too dangerous yet to risk that. They were both imprisoned by the whims of the Dragon Woman, unable to escape.
Trig had managed to learn to fly in secret, and she too was determined to find a way to escape from Bella and the castle. If only she knew where the old witch had hidden the
feathered flying coat.
She remembered a story her Granny had often told her about a fisherman who had fallen in love with a Selkie and married her. Fearful of losing his bride, he had hidden his Selkie wife’s sealskin so that she could never return to the sea. One day, after many long years, one of her children found the strange, rolled-up bundle of skin, and the Selkie wife put it on and joyously returned to the sea and her own Selkie folk. It was a good story. Mia decided that she would search the castle until she found the flying coat that would help her get back home where she belonged.
That morning, Bella had given Mia a list of cleaning jobs to help Gwenda with, as she had other matters to attend to. Grumbling, Mia carried a heavy bucket of water and a mop all the way up to the top of the enormous staircase.
‘You can start with my bedroom!’ Bella had ordered, and Mia couldn’t help but wonder why she didn’t just use some magic spell or other to make the room spick and span herself.
‘Good, old-fashioned elbow grease is what is needed,’ answered the old woman firmly, reading her thoughts.
Bella’s room was in the large corner turret of the castle, with three enormous windows that looked out over the woods and the lake. A large, four-poster bed stood in the centre of the room, an embroidered coverlet of multicoloured dragons spread across it. The colours were faded now, but Mia searched for any blue ones that might resemble Trig. A washstand, similar to the one in her own room, stood in one corner, and on the opposite wall hung a stiff wall tapestry
depicting a solitary green dragon who towered above a beautiful young girl. The dragon seeming to be listening to the flaxen-haired maiden. Between the wall and the bed lay a tower of books, some precariously balanced, some covered in dust. Getting out her cloth, Mia began to dust them. She glanced at the titles: Sorcery of the Middle Ages, Potions and Portents, The New Alchemist. Four or five books were strewn on the ground under the bed, forgotten most likely, and cleaning the dust off them she put them back on the stack. She was about to replace the very last one when she read the illuminated lettering on its side. Olde Magick, it read simply. It smelled of mould and its pages were stiff and yellow with age. Intrigued, Mia turned over the pages. This might be the very book she needed. Out of some strange instinct, she hid it in the deep pocket of her apron, and she continued cleaning.
‘Mia, I’ll finish up here,’ offered Gwenda, appearing with fresh bed linen. ‘You could perhaps start on the room at the end of the corridor.’
The door to the room was stiff when she opened it and the dust made her cough. Heavy, purple drapes covered the window and when she opened them a flood of light swept across the room, the dust spinning and hanging in the air. It was some kind of map room, every wall was covered with huge maps of places that lay outside the castle. Dark Wood, Giants’ Valley, she read. Two maps contained pale sketches of mountains, showing the locations of towns and villages, and heavy gold paint traced out flying routes. Reading the cartographer’s words, Mia realised that a vast world existed
beyond the castle and its walls.
Perhaps the flying coat was hidden somewhere in this room, she reasoned. She began to search. Charts and heavy, leather-covered volumes filled the tall shelves that stretched to the high, wooden-beamed ceiling. What a collection! The dampness of the room had made spots of mould appear on the yellowing cloth and paper. The map room certainly needed attention.
A heavy, gold compass lay on a table in front of the window, and beside it one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen a curved glass ball. A true craftsman had cut the glass with fine, intricate patterning, yet the ball was filled with a dirty-looking liquid. How did such a beautiful piece get to be used for stagnant old water, she wondered. Sunlight shimmered through the window, releasing from the sphere of glass a cascade of wildly coloured reflections, diamonds and stars and whorls of blue, green and yellow danced around the dull room. Before Mia’s eyes, the water inside the bowl changed to a sparkling blue-green colour. Staring into it in astonishment, she could see her own face reflected, then the water became greener, a dash of blue appeared above, and a scene appeared in the glass globe that looked like a forest with the sky above it. How did it catch that reflection? She could see a flock of white birds flying across the tops of the trees, wings outstretched as they glided on the wind. Through the window, there was no sign of such a flock. Looking closely, she could make out two figures moving through the dense growth. One wore a bow slung across his shoulders, the other had his
head down, concentrating on trying not to stumble. She leaned closer. They were unaware that she could see them.
‘No!’ A loud scream made her jump with fright. The old woman flew across the room. ‘What are you doing, stupid girl?’ Bella flew at her, pulling her hair. ‘This room is forbidden to you. How did you get in here?’
‘But I was going to clean it for you!’ Mia didn’t want to get Gwenda into trouble and said nothing else.
‘Look at this light! Do you know what sunlight would do to these valuable charts and maps?’ Bella shouted.
Mia shook her head miserably.
‘It would turn them to dust.’ Taking a pinch of dust, the old witch flung it in Mia’s face.
‘Did you touch anything, play with anything in this room?’ she demanded.
‘No!’
‘Are you sure?’ Bella looked around before pulling the drapes closed.
Mia nodded, and noticed that the glimmer of the crystal glass ball was extinguished. She tried to clear all thought of it from her head as Bella swung around to stare at her.
‘Have you nothing to tell me?’ she asked slyly. ‘You have a guilty look on your face.’
Mia stared at the wooden floor, counting how many pieces of timber the carpenter had used, hiding her thoughts from the sorceress.
Bella stared at her intently for a long time.
‘I am sorry, child!’ she said finally. ‘I shouldn’t have scared
you so, it’s just that no one is permitted in this room because of these fragile, ancient maps. Do you understand?’
Mia lifted the bucket and mop and cloth.
‘Leave the cleaning, Mia. Go to your room and rest! You look tired, child.’
‘Thank you!’ said Mia softly, and she went back downstairs.
Returning to the map room, Bella touched her precious crystal ball and reopened the drapes to let the light catch the glass. She gazed angrily as the waters cleared and stilled. The boy and his companion had covered much ground, journeying further than she had anticipated. Creepers were stupid creatures! She would have to put fresh obstacles in their way. That boy must never reach his sister!
R
ory was glad of a companion on his journey. Conrad wasn’t the talkative type, but Rory definitely felt safer having the young woodsman around. He was tired and fed up of the trees and the silence, and he could feel a large blister developing on his foot.
‘Look, Rory!’ whispered Conrad suddenly, pointing to a flock of large, white birds that flew almost over their heads. Pulling an arrow from his quiver, Conrad shot it high into the air, killing one of the birds.
‘What is it?’ asked Rory, who’d never seen a bird like it before.
‘’Tis a gullion. They taste very good roasted.’
Conrad set Rory the task of lighting the fire and providing all the kindling, while he plucked and cleaned the bird, a job Rory was glad not to do. The fire eventually flamed into life and Rory was glad to flop down and rest, taking off his shoes to let the air cool his feet. His socks were soaked with sweat and
smelled awful, so he hung them out on a branch to dry.
Conrad speared the bird on a triangle of branches which he placed over the fire, then he skewered what looked like huge mushrooms, purple-coloured onions, and chunks of white turnip, turning them over and over again, like kebabs. Rory’s mouth was watering by the time the food was cooked and he almost burnt his lips eating it.
‘Mmmm, it tastes good!’
‘An army marches on its stomach. That’s what my father always used to say!’ grinned Conrad, chewing on a meaty piece of leg-bone.
‘I’m not sure that we’re much of an army!’
‘Well, that’s no matter.’
‘Where’s your father now, Conrad?’ Rory asked hesitantly.
‘My father’s dead, Rory. He died two winters ago when the high snows came. He went out hunting for boar but he disturbed one and it killed him! My Uncle Vern found him a month later, when the snows melted, frozen solid. He was a good man,’ said Conrad, poking at the fire with a stick. ‘My father taught me to hunt and fish and look after myself. My mother passed away when I was a small boy with a sickness we call River Fever, so my father raised me on his own. Now my uncle and aunt care for me. They’re the only family I’ve got.’
Rory could see the pain and loneliness in the other boy’s face. It must be awful to be so alone.
‘Enough of my sad stories. Tell me about your family, Rory!’
‘Well, there’s just the two of us, Mia and me. Dad works in
a bank and Mum has a part-time job in the local chemist’s shop. We live in a place called Glenkilty. We share the house with my Granny Rose. It’s near a small village where nothing much happens. We’re just an ordinary family, very ordinary people!’
‘You’re lucky, Rory, to belong to such a family. I envy you.’
Rory reddened. He had never thought of his family like that at all.
Conrad tossed the bone away. ‘But, what I can’t understand is why Bella chose you and your family. What brought her to your village?’
Rory shrugged. ‘Bella told Mia that she’d found an ancient dragon’s nest in the woods near our house. Mia believed her. Mia told me she’d seen the young dragons with her own eyes. I thought Mia was just making the whole thing up. As well as that, she went and told the old woman that Dad is a magician.’
‘A magician?’
‘But he isn’t! He works in a bank, looking after other peoples money, their accounts. That’s his proper job. The magic is just a hobby. He’s not even that good at it! Anyway, Mia told Mrs Blackwell all about him being an amateur magician, and then that barmy old woman kept on saying that Mia was a magician’s daughter and she wanted her to become an apprentice dragon keeper, or some kind of nonsense like that.’
Conrad was staring at him with a wild, excited look in his eyes. ‘A magician’s daughter? Your sister is a magician’s daughter!’
‘No, Conrad, she’s not! She’s just ordinary!’
‘Rory, you don’t understand. Only a great magician or one of his kind has the ability to communicate with and understand dragons. They are the rarest and most intelligent – and most special – of creatures. He or she who controls the dragons has immense power. They say that the days of old magic will return when the dragons come back to the woods of Arbor. The sorceress has grown old and weak now, and she would need an apprentice, someone to learn the powers of deep magic before it’s too late. That’s why she has taken your sister! This is not ordinary, Rory. This is more special than you can imagine.’
Rory stared at the crackling wood on the fire. He didn’t want to believe this old mumbo-jumbo about Mia. What did this stranger know, anyway!
‘If Mia is a magician’s daughter, Rory, you do realise what this means?’ asked Conrad, leaning close to him.
‘What?’
‘That makes you a magician’s son, my friend. You must be able to learn the old magic too!’
‘Don’t be stupid! I’m not a magician and never want to be one either!’ Rory shouted, pushing Conrad away from him and jumping to his feet. He’d had more than enough of this kind of nonsense and stomped off under the trees to calm himself down. When he returned, Conrad lay fast asleep beside the embers of the fire, and Rory settled down across from him.
‘Rory! Wake up!’
The dark woods were filled with the lonesome howl of an unseen animal. It hung in the silence like a mournful echo before another howl followed it, and then another.
‘Wolves!’ breathed Conrad.
Fear punched Rory’s chest. Wolves. Their eerie howling sent chills down his spine. He had never heard a sound like it.
‘We must be swift and silent or they will get us! Come on, move!’
Rory grabbed his backpack and pulled on his shoes. Conrad was already up and running.
Rory had never run so fast in all his life. His ribs and lungs ached painfully as he followed the other boy, racing helter-skelter through the dense undergrowth, briars and thorns tearing at his skin. The blood was pounding so loud in his ears that he could hear the thumping of what seemed like a hundred paws inside his own head.
‘Climb!’ ordered Conrad, who had stopped and grabbed hold of Rory. He pointed towards the thick base of an oak tree.
Rory scrambled frantically, searching for footholds or branches to grab on to. He kept falling back, but finally, with Conrad pushing him up from beneath, he managed to grab a sturdy branch and swing himself up into the tree. He reached back to pull Conrad up, only to discover that his companion was gone. Seconds later, the first grey wolf appeared, crashing through the undergrowth, followed by the rest of the pack. Transfixed with fear, Rory watched as they circled the tree. He could see their green eyes and open jaws, as they panted and
sniffed the ground below him. Then the lead wolf took a huge leap, snapping and snarling at the boy above him. Rory tried to move higher, terrified the wolf would reach him. His backpack tumbled to the ground. Yelping loudly, the wolves tossed it between them, ripping a part of it before losing interest and turning their attention back to Rory.
How long would they stay below him, waiting for him to fall? Rory didn’t know what to do. If only Conrad were with him.
He felt exhausted and tense, watching the waiting wolves below. He forced himself to stay awake and alert, as the dreadful howling went on and on. Suddenly, he heard a crazed yelping and snapping below him, and the wolves began to snarl at each other in a frenzy. Peering down, Rory saw the enormous frame of another wolf which seemed to be attacking them. It had powerful legs and a large, almost square head.
The leader of the pack leapt at the stranger, biting and snarling. The fight went on for a long time, neither animal willing to give up. Teeth marks punctured their bodies as they yelped with pain. Then one cried harder and longer than the other, his coat matted with blood, before slinking away into the darkness of the wood. The rest of the wolves howled balefully at the moon, then retreated, leaving the winner standing alone. Rory gasped in disbelief – below him stood the Shadow Hound, he was sure of it! Once again the great hound had come to his rescue. He tried to climb down to it, but by the time he reached the ground the huge wolfhound had disappeared.