Authors: Marita Conlon-Mckenna
In Deep Dark Wood (12 page)
D
uring the night Mia returned to the map room, anxious to search it one more time. Bella had been so insistent that she should never again go in there, she believed that the room must hold some important secret!
The door was locked. She tried with all her might to open it. It wouldn’t budge. Not willing to give up, she decided to try one of the tricks she had learned from the Olde Magick book. She pulled a clip from her hair, and holding it in her hand stared hard at it. She must use the power of her thoughts to convince the old metal hair-clip that it was a key, the exact key for this lock, the key that would open this door and let her in.
Not relaxing her mind for a single second, she felt the clip grow heavy, its shape slowly changing as it became the key of the map room door. She put the key in the lock and almost whooped for joy when the door swung open before her.
It took her only a few minutes of rooting around to discover
that the map room did not contain the flying coat. Disappointed, she looked around her, and was drawn once again to the glass ball on the table.
By the faint glow of candlelight, the glass looked dull and insignificant, nothing special at all. Maybe if she opened the drapes slightly? A crescent moon peeped in through the gap in the heavy, damask cloth. The glass ball slowly turned a pale cream colour. As Mia lifted it up to look at it, the liquid inside turned milky. All she could see in it was her own face, her large eyes and nervous mouth and loose, tumbling hair. She sighed with vexation and disappointment. The ball wasn’t magic at all!
She thought of home, a picture instantly filling her mind. The ball became warm in her hands, she could feel the liquid inside it moving. She almost dropped it with shock on seeing her house appear in its glassy curves. It was raining lightly and she could see the raindrops running down the window of her own bedroom. But the house looked dark and empty! Thoughts of the house next door, came, unbidden, into her mind and she was shocked to see Bella’s old house, covered in a rampant green and yellow ivy that almost covered the front of the house. Roses had appeared around the windows and doors, pink dusky blooms heavy with rain, while a huge daisy bush almost blocked the path to the porch.
What was the ball telling her? she wondered. In a panic she thought of her Mum and Dad. Please let me see them, she wished. The colour of the glass began to change, becoming almost clear as her mother’s puzzled face appeared. Mia could
see her so clearly, the freckles on her forehead, the way she wrinkled her nose when she concentrated on something. She was sitting at a dining table, surrounded by people. The man next to her was trying to talk to her, but Mum was ignoring him. She looked up from the table, turning her head this way and that and then looked straight ahead, worried, frowning, before resuming conversation.
‘Mum, it’s me!’ sobbed Mia, as she watched her mother turn and make polite dinner conversation. Her Dad sat across from her. Matthew Murphy suddenly sat bolt upright as if seeing her, his eyes staring straight ahead of him. Mia concentrated on her Dad. ‘Mia’ – she could read his lips saying the word. Then the ball changed again, becoming a swirling mass of colours, the images disappearing. She took a deep breath – what about Rory and Granny Rose? The ball was useless, no help at all, showing her some kind of woods, the trees too thick for her to see anything in the darkness, and then just a rose. Annoyed, she put the glass ball back down, watching the liquid inside settle.
At least she had seen her parents, but as they seemed to be still in America, they must be unaware of her disappearance.
Mia felt utterly lost and alone. Without the flying coat, she would never be able to find her way home again, and in time her family would forget about her and get on with their own lives. She would spend the rest of her life imprisoned here in the castle with Bella, training to be an apprentice mage or wizard, or whatever the old woman wanted her to become, her only consolation the dragons whom she cared for.
Making sure the room looked untouched, she closed the drapes and locked the door behind her, slipping silently down the stairs and back to her room, where Trig waited patiently. The blue dragon nuzzled her with his snout and licked her with his rough, scratchy tongue.
‘Oh, Trig! What am I going to do?’ sighed Mia. ‘I just want to go back home!’
T
he morning air was deliciously cool and crisp. The other dragons were still sleeping as Trig and Mia crossed the courtyard. The blue dragon looked towards the sky wistfully as Mia led him to the training pen. Suddenly, she stopped and, guessing what he was thinking, she led him towards the open courtyard.
‘You want to fly free like the rest of them, Trig, don’t you? Well, now’s your chance!’
Trig stood obediently, his legs planted firmly on the ground, his thick, curving tail lashing back and forth with excitement as the stiff, spiked scales along his back stood erect. His wings began to flap. Mia patted his neck. His ears were raised in attention and his eyes eager.
‘You can do it, Trig! You can fly just as well as the others. ‘Off you go!’ she ordered.
The dragon took a few quick running steps, then lifted off
into the great, wide, blue above.
‘Fly!’ She shouted as she ran along the ground beneath him.
The young dragon’s nervousness disappeared as he flew higher and higher. The sun’s rays caught his scales, the light making them sparkle like a sapphire, his wings and tail and head touched with glistening gold. Mia had never seen anything so perfect as Trig, her dragon. She gazed at the beautiful creature as he flew out over the castle and across the lake and surrounding countryside. Her eyes shone with pride.
For half an hour she watched him, so engrossed that she didn’t hear Bella’s footsteps as she came up the stairs and across the stones.
‘So this is the work of my apprentice! The treachery! I’ve been betrayed by a trusted child!’
Mia’s heart froze. She turned around to see Bella, still in her night-dress, her hair streaming from her head like a banshee.
‘Why, Mia? Why did you deceive me?’ asked the old woman angrily. ‘Have I not been kind to you, looked after you?’
Mia nodded miserably as Trig circled above her.
‘I have a mind to turn you into a mouse or a rat and feed you to your precious dragon,’ threatened the sorceress.
‘I just wanted to surprise you, Bella, show you that Trig can fly,’ Mia tried to explain. ‘His injuries have healed and I’ve been working with him and training him for the past few days. Just look at him! He’s the most beautiful dragon ever!’
But Bella’s cheeks were flushed with temper. ‘You disobeyed me! I was willing to share my secrets with you, and you dared to defy me, an all-powerful mage! This is how my
kindness is rewarded, with lies and deceit. I will not tolerate it, Mia! As for the blue, you have practically made him untrainable.’
Mia didn’t know what to do or say, or why Bella was so angry with her.
‘You were the one who lied to me!’ she said finally. ‘You promised you’d let me return home once I’d helped you with the dragons. You promised me!’ Mia stood in the centre of the courtyard, a small, determined figure, speaking her mind, her hair blowing in the breeze, her eyes serious. The blue dragon landed softly behind her.
‘I want to go home!’ she said defiantly.
‘Home! What is home and family compared to the powers of magic and sorcery? To the wonders of being a dragon keeper? The woods below, Arbor, even perhaps, the kingdom itself could be yours in time, Mia child. Trust me!’
‘I don’t trust you. You’re a liar! All I want is to go home and see my family. You promised me, Bella, you promised me!’ Tears filled Mia’s eyes and she blinked them away, not wanting to give the old woman the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
Bella stood in the morning light, confronted by the truth of Mia’s feelings.
‘Come here to me, child!’ ordered the old woman softly, her voice coaxing.
Mia stood uncertain.
‘Come, child! Come!’
Mia walked forward, trembling.
‘These things are causing you pain. I will not have my favourite child upset so!’
‘I want to go home! Please, Bella, let me go home!’ Mia begged, almost hysterical.
‘Hush, child! We will speak no more of it!’ The old woman put her arm around Mia and held her close. Then she tilted the child’s face upwards and Mia felt compelled look into the depths of those ancient eyes, unable to break the spell.
‘All words and pictures of the past and the world you’ve left behind are banished from your troubled mind,’ intoned Bella. ‘There will be no more tears or upsets, my young apprentice, for there is much work to be done.’
Frantic, Mia realised what Bella was doing and desperately tried to put her secret thoughts in a sealed box locked away in the most hidden part of her mind. But, like wool unravelling, memories and images of everything and everyone she cared about began to disappear. Mia could feel herself slipping away, the grey stones beneath her rushed to meet her as she fell to the ground.
‘Mia! Are you all right?’
Mia sat up groggily. Gwenda was kneeling beside her, helping her up.
‘Is the child all right?’ she said. ‘She must have fainted. Poor little thing, out here so early in the morning with Trig. Take her inside, Gwenda and give her a big bowl of your hot porridge and honey.’
Mia stood up. Trig leaned forward, sniffing at her worriedly. She could see great love for her in his eyes. The old woman
was staring at her intently as Mia rubbed her aching head and eyes. She felt strangely tired. What had happened? She remembered the old woman coming out to the courtyard, discovering herself and Trig, but nothing more after that. Feeling rather dizzy she followed Gwenda to the kitchen. The dwelf girl was unusually quiet as she served breakfast.
Mia stared into space, trying to figure out why she suddenly felt so different and afraid, as she ate spoonfuls of the hot, steaming porridge.
T
he Silver Lake stretched out before them. A shimmering pool of silvery blue sparkling water, which rippled in the breeze, surrounded by shady trees. Across on the far side of the lake stood a grey, stone castle, its tall towers and turrets
reflected
in the water. This was the castle of the sorceress, the place where Bella had taken his sister and imprisoned her, Rory was sure of it.
He and Conrad walked along the shoreline, trudging through tall bulrushes and reeds that stood at the water’s edge. The lake formed a natural moat around the castle. There was no sign of a bridge of any kind.
‘We could swim!’ suggested Rory.
‘It’s deep, far too deep,’ admitted Conrad, ‘and likely there’s currents and water weed to contend with.’
For an hour they scouted around the lake, searching for some means of crossing that vast tract of water. It was Conrad
who spotted a small punt approaching, the occupants rowing busily. The two boys hid in the tall reeds as the boat came closer. It was a dwarf father and son returning from a fishing expedition. They tied up their boat, and then lifted out their catch and fishing tackle before setting off home.
When the boys were sure the dwarves would not return, they ran down to the narrow, wooden jetty where the tiny boat was moored, waves lapping gently against it.
‘Do you think it will hold both of us?’ asked Rory.
It was a small craft, but Conrad reckoned that they could both just about squeeze into it.
‘I feel like we’re stealing it,’ sighed Rory.
‘We’re not! We’re just borrowing it!’
Rory wasn’t so sure, but there was no other way to get across. Slipping the mooring rope, the two of them clambered in, the small boat, which was rocking giddily as they began to row. They sat one behind the other, each taking one of the short oars, the boat low in the water with their combined weight. The lake was choppy and they both had to pull at the oars to get the boat to move, trying to avoid strong currents near the centre of the lake.
‘Look at the fish!’ Rory had never seen anything like it.
All around them, the water turned to silver as fish swam around the boat, the water splashing wildly, the glinting shapes appearing and disappearing. Conrad stopped rowing He had never seen fish like this before. You could almost put your hand down and catch one, they were so plentiful.
Rory leaned over the side of the boat, trying to get a closer
look, perhaps even to touch one. They were quick, swimming in formation, like silver ribbons weaving and darting back and forth.
‘They’re huge, Conrad, absolutely huge. They’re almost the length of the boat.’
He had hardly said the words when the first silver eel tried to throw itself onto the small boat.
‘They’re eels!’ started Conrad ‘Silver eels! We’ve got to stop them, Rory, or they’ll capsize us!’
As if by some unseen command the small craft came under siege from all sides as hundreds of winding, giant, wormlike eels flung themselves into the boat, destabilising it. Water poured in over the sides and filled up the bottom.
‘Get them off! Using their oars, the boys tried to batter them back, pushing them down into the water only to see them return instantly on the attack again.
‘You try and row, Rory,’ yelled Conrad, ‘and I’ll try and get rid of them!’
The eels kept coming, a fierce, fixed gaze in their fishy eyes. Conrad hit and kicked them and, getting braver, caught them and flung them high in the air. But a few seconds later another wave of eels would appear.
Rory rowed as hard as he could, but the boat was weighted down by the hundreds of squirming eels that latched on to its sides and by the water that sloshed around their feet as the little boat began to flood. Conrad took a small blade from his side pocket and began to nick the skin of every eel that managed to get over the side. Shocked, it would wriggle back
down to the watery depths, hopefully never to reappear. The boys battled on for hours, scarcely moving, until the eel attack began to ease. Then, Conrad started to row again, the silver eels moving with them as they pulled through the current. Putting their backs into it, the boys rowed in a strong rhythm, heading for a rocky promontory beneath the castle walls, hoping that the water would become too shallow for the eels to follow them.
Finally, they ran the small boat aground. The waters of the lake turned to a burning crimson as the sun began slowly to sink in the sky. The exhausted boys had reached the weed-covered rocks, under the shadow of Blackwell Castle.