Authors: Marita Conlon-Mckenna
In Deep Dark Wood (7 page)
M
ia looked around her at the old stone castle. The walls were covered in mould and the wooden beams were rotten and patterned with woodworm. The whole place smelt of dampness and of not having been used for a long, long time.
‘This dampness is bad for the dragons. It gives them dragon cough. So we must get the place cleaned and opened up properly,’ said Bella, fussing about. ‘We don’t want a lot of sick dragons on our hands!’ She showed Mia around what seemed like miles and miles of drab, grey corridors and dusty rooms.
‘Blackwell Castle was once the finest castle in Arbor, child. All the rest have crumbled and fallen away, lost and forgotten now. You’ll see, the dragons will bring life back to this place. The sky will resound once again with the sound of dragons’ wings, and magic will fill the air. Now, with the return of these dragons, the castle will regain its glory!’
Looking at the crumbling, moth-eaten velvet curtains and tapestries and the woodworm-infested furniture, Mia found it
hard to believe in the castle’s former glory.
‘Those were the days! Good days!’ sighed Bella. ‘Heavens willing, they will return.’
They walked through a huge, neglected banqueting hall, the long timber table covered with mouse droppings.
‘I can’t remember the last time a feast was served in this room,’ said Bella wistfully. She muttered something under her breath and, as they stood there, the room seemed to shift. Suddenly, a fire burst into flame, burning brightly in the grate. The table’s polished surface gleamed in the light. Goblets of gold and silver sparkled on the table that was now heavily with laden with food of every description. A whole pig, a juicy apple stuck in its mouth, lay in the centre of the table. Music played softly in the background, the sound of unseen musicians. Then, just as quickly, the image disappeared and the room resumed its unwelcoming, neglected look.
‘Come,’ said Bella briskly, ‘I will show you the courtyards!’
Mia and Trig followed her.
A whole series of courtyards encircled the outside of the castle. Some were open, others were covered by what looked like a mesh of heavy fishing nets.
‘These are the training yards.’
Trig sniffed, as if he sensed that this was something that concerned him.
‘We work under the nets at first and then later on out in the open. Each dragon is different and will have a training schedule of its own, although there will be group lessons too. You will learn, child!’ said the dragon woman, squeezing Mia’s
hand. Bella looked tired. The journey had drained all the colour from her face and even her voice sounded weary.
‘Let us go and say good morning to the dragons. They should be well rested after their journey by now.’
Some dragons lay sleeping in the sunlight, others sat, snouts pressed anxiously against the iron bars of the pens.
‘Trig, this is where you were meant to sleep,’ said Bella crossly, and ordered him inside, lifting the iron hatch. Mia could not believe how obedient Trig was – he did exactly what
Bella told him. ‘Remember, Mia, Trig is not a pet!’ Bella greeted each of the young dragons in turn, and Mia found herself hunkering down beside them, tickling one under the chin, rubbing the tummy of another, patting a shoulder and a forehead, Trig eyeing her jealously all the while. Bella watched her approvingly.
‘I knew it, child! You were born to handle dragons. They like you and it is clear that you like them. It does my old heart good to see it. Come! We must go inside and prepare some food for them. They will also need fresh water.’
The kitchen seemed miles away. It had high, barred windows that looked out across a magnificent silvery blue lake, which formed a natural moat that surrounded the castle.
‘Put that on, child! It will protect your clothes!’ Bella said, tossing her an apron.
Despite her age, Bella moved quickly about the kitchen, pulling out pots and pans and filling them with all kinds of strange ingredients. Mia had to fetch food from the shelved pantry and from the cold room, which made her teeth chatter
each time she went. Bella barked orders, ‘Cut this! ‘Chop that!’ ‘Peel this!’and Mia did as she was bid, watching steam rise from large, bubbling pots.
‘Dragons are finicky creatures, picky eaters at the best of times,’ complained Bella.’ ‘They need lots of nourishment to build up their strength.’
A strange, sour smell drifted from some of the pots, and when Mia stirred them it made her feel queasy. Yuck!
‘I’ve sent Gwenda to get some provisions for us. We will eat later.’ Bella didn’t explain who Gwenda was and Mia was afraid to ask.
The dragons gobbled up the prepared food, licking their dishes and searching for more. Only Trig left his breakfast half-finished, staring at Mia with mournful eyes.
Bella set Mia to sweeping the floor and scrubbing the big kitchen table. She worked till her arms ached and her hands were covered with big blisters. There was just so much to be done. There was probably an army of servants and maids working in the castle in times gone by, she thought, no wonder it had fallen to such decay now.
‘So, she’s set you to work already, my girl!’
Mia looked up in surprise to see a broad, hefty young woman push in the kitchen door. ‘Give me a hand, will you?’
Mia couldn’t help staring at the strong face and the high, pointed eyebrows and funny turned-up nose of this strange girl. The girl threw her packages on the table and removed her heavy, green cloak. She grabbed an apron from a hook on the wall and pulled it on over her head.
‘I do hate haggling and bartering, it always gives me a headache. Still, I reckon I got most of what the old one wants.’
Mia sat open-mouthed, unsure of what to say.
‘I’d shut that mouth if I were you, my girl, or you might swallow a flying flea. The castle’s full of them!’
‘Sorry,’ Mia mumbled.
‘I’m Gwenda, by the way.’
‘And I’m Mia.’
‘You’re Bella’s new apprentice! I’ve heard much about you, magician’s daughter.’
‘And you? Who are you?’
‘I told you already. My name is Gwenda, Gwenda Rowancroft. I am a dwelf.’
‘Dwelf?’
‘Part dwarf, part elf. You have heard tell of us, I presume!’
Mia shook her head.
Gwenda laughed in disbelief. ‘You have a lot to learn, young Mia.’
At least Gwenda was kind and was prepared to help Mia. She spoke slowly and showed her every corner of the huge kitchen and how to use the cooking range.
‘You will settle in, child, don’t fear. Bella’s not as bad as she seems. I cried for the whole of the first year that I came to work here, and that was many moons ago. Once you keep the old sorceress happy and do not cross her, all will go well, I promise.’
Gwenda kept Mia busy for the rest of the day and there was no sign of Bella till suppertime.
Despite the delicious warming chicken stew and fresh bread she’d helped to make, Mia kept yawning at the table.
‘You’d best away to sleep, Mia child,’ suggested Bella. ‘We have an early start in the morning. The dragons themselves were tired today, but tomorrow morning we will begin training them.’
Half-asleep, Mia made her way back to her small bedroom, wishing that she was not so alone and that Trig was there with her. She had barely undressed when she heard a scratching and snuffling outside her door, and opened it to find the young dragon there. Pushing past her, he made a swooping leap for the comfort of her bed.
‘Oh, Trig!’ she said, hugging him tight, and wondering whether it was Gwenda or Bella who had been kind enough to let the young dragon keep her company. Exhausted, she fell into bed, glad of the warm bundle cradled across her feet.
She wondered how long the old woman intended to keep her in the castle, how long would she need her help. Feeling lonely and scared and homesick, she cried herself to sleep.
‘A
argh!’ shouted Rory, landing with a crashing thud on the rough ground, as the huge hound came to a sudden halt, catapulting him over its shoulder. He rolled over in the dirt, hoping the animal wouldn’t stand on him by accident with its huge paws. He sat, gulping air, trying to get his breath back, his ribs and side aching.
Where was he? The early morning air was chilly and he shivered, trying not to be afraid. At least the grass beneath his fingers was green, and the sky was turning from a dusky grey to blue.
‘Where are we?’ he demanded. ‘Is my sister here, is that it?’
The hound stood, nose twitching, watching as the yellow sun warmed the sky and light began to ripple out over the surrounding fields. The hound nosed at his arms and shoulder and he patted it absentmindedly as he would pat Jackie, his own dog.
‘Come on! You’ve brought me this far, show me where to go now!’
The massive wolfhound stayed resolutely still as the sun rose high in the sky. He began to whine restlessly, then, without warning, he took off at a gallop into the distance, leaving Rory there all on his own.
‘Come back! Don’t leave me!’ Rory shouted uselessly.
He waited and waited, but the hound did not return. Finally, he stood up and surveyed the vast landscape. He decided he had to move on. Looking about him, Rory wondered what part of the country he was in – he had never seen such rich farmland, each field was bursting with crops and vegetables. Corn and wheat and rye reached to his elbows and shoulders, enormous fronds of carrot-tops and cabbages and onions burst from the ground. He’d never seen anything like it. The soil must be unusually fertile to produce such huge crops. He was glad of his water bottle, slaking his thirst as the sun beat down, burning his fair skin.
As he walked on he noticed a rusting rake flung into a potato patch. It looked strange, different, oversized. He passed field after field, wondering when he would come across a farmhouse or a village. Finally, he spotted a plume of smoke in the distance and some kind of stone-built settlement. Perhaps someone there might be able to help him.
Hiding in the long grass, he decided to watch and discover what kind of people lived here.
‘Got you!’
Rory nearly died with fright at the booming voice. Then a
long arm and big hand grabbed him and pulled him out of his hiding place. His heart thumped with fear and he struggled wildly to escape. It was a girl – a giant girl! At least three times his size! She held him firmly.
‘Well, look what I just found for myself!’ she laughed, poking him with her finger and prodding him like he was some sort of toy doll. ‘Wait till Father sees what I caught today!’
Rory blinked. He didn’t believe it. A giant standing before him – he was seeing her with his very own eyes. The girl bent down towards him excitedly. He tried to turn and run, but she blocked his escape, laughing at his attempt to get away from her. She had a big, round face and deep blue eyes and her long fair hair was in two thick plaits that hung like ropes on either side of her head.
‘Boy! You are small!’ she said, poking at him again with her finger, which felt like a thick tree-branch sticking into his ribs.
‘Are you a dwarf?’
Rory stood up tall and straight. ‘Me? A dwarf?’ he declared fiercely. ‘It’s you who’s far too big!’
She began to giggle again. ‘Thank you! That’s a nice thing to say.’
‘Where am I?’ he asked, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.
The girl wrinkled up her face and eyes, peering at him in disbelief. ‘You’re in Giants’ Cave, of course,’ she explained.
‘Giants’ Cave? Is this where my sister is? Have you seen her?
The giant girl looked puzzled. ‘I have no idea what you are
talking about, stranger.’
Keeping it simple he tried to explain about Mia’s disappearance, while the girl sat on the ground listening to him.
‘Birch!’ A loud voice broke into his story and summoned the girl home. ‘Come in here this instant, Birch, there’s work to be done before your father arrives.’
The girl hesitated, and Rory knew that she was trying to decide what to do about him.
‘Don’t be scared!’ she whispered reassuringly, lifting him off his feet and carrying him in through the cave entrance, along a stone passageway and down into the kitchen where her mother was busy attending to a huge range where pots boiled fiercely, filling the air with steam.
‘Ma! Look what I found outside!’
The giant mother turned around quickly, and almost dropped the pot she was stirring.
‘Oh, my! Birch, what is it? A nasty dwarf or a goblin of some sort? Take care, it might bite or scratch you!’ she warned, coming closer to him to get a better look.
‘He’s a boy, Ma! A small sort of one, but he’s a boy.’
‘Be careful of him, Birch, there’s no telling what he might do. You know you can’t trust them. Your father’s warned you often enough. Put that willow basket over him, then I can keep an eye on him till your father gets home.’
Rory sat totally still, the strips of the willow basket imprisoning him, as the giant mother and daughter worked at setting the table and filling a jug with a red berry juice and
chopping raw vegetables into a huge bowl. They both wore shapeless grey dresses that at times almost camouflaged them against the grey stone wall of their home.
Birch placed a large loaf of fresh, crusty bread on the table, and Rory longed for a small piece of it to fill his empty stomach.
A short time later, Rory’s heart nearly stopped beating with fright as the dwelling rumbled and echoed with the sound of huge heavy steps – Birch’s father! The moment he entered the kitchen he spotted Rory and came over to peer at him.
‘Where did you find him, Birch?’ he asked his daughter anxiously. ‘You didn’t go out across the fields mouse-catching, I hope!’
She shook her head.
‘There isn’t a pick on him, is there?’ said the giant. ‘His legs and arms aren’t even the size of chicken bones. He seems quiet enough too, not very fierce.’
Tears pricked Rory’s eyes. Perhaps the giant was going to eat him, break every bone in his body with those huge teeth of his.
‘Bran Bigg, look what you’ve done!’ snapped his wife. ‘The poor child is crying. You know I can’t stand the tears of a child.’ She plopped down on a heavy kitchen chair and blew her nose loudly.
‘There, there, Bessie love, I didn’t mean nothing by it.’
Rory wiped his eyes with his sleeve. These giants were certainly not like anything he’d expected. They seemed like gentle farm people, almost unaware of their immense size.
‘Give the boy something to eat,’ ordered the giant, pulling the stool up close by him at the table. Birch broke up a small corner of bread for Rory and her mother spooned out some thick stew which she placed on a small saucer in front of him. He didn’t know what was in the stew, but he gulped it down anyway.
‘He likes my cooking,’ said the wife, tickling Rory’s chin with her finger as if he were a baby, and insisting on giving him a second helping.
‘Where does he come from, Da? How did he get here?’
Rory’s mouth was so full of the rich gravy and vegetables that he couldn’t reply.
‘The boy will tell us in his own good time,’ said her father.
‘He said he’s looking for his sister,’ stated Birch. ‘I wish I had a sister or brother,’ she added wistfully.
‘Birch Bigg, stop that nonsense! You know well that a giant family is always just a Ma and Da and a little one, always has been and always will be. That’s the giants’ way.’
Birch looked crestfallen.
Her mother gave her a warning glare and Birch busied herself pouring out the juice into the heavy glass goblets on the table. Rory was given what looked like an earthenware eggcup to drink from.
‘What’s your name, boy?’ asked the giant, crunching on a huge piece of raw celery.
‘Rory.’
‘Rrroorrie. ’Tis strange sounding.’
‘Rory Murphy.’
‘Murrffee,’ repeated the giant. I have never heard tell of any of your folk. Are you part dwarf or goblin, or more human?’
‘All human,’ said Rory firmly.
‘That’s a shame,’ murmured the giant, ‘a crying shame.’
Rory gulped the strong-tasting juice and said nothing.
They ate the rest of the meal in silence, and every now and then Rory glanced at the girl to try and ascertain what might happen. Birch concentrated on eating and would not return his gaze at all. Afterwards, Birch and her mother cleared the table and Birch’s father produced a large pipe which he filled with tobacco, and began to smoke. He lifted Rory up and placed him on a chair beside him.
‘Now, boy, I’ve been patient with you, more than patient, you must agree. Tell me how you came to Giants’ Cave. Have you been sent to spy on us, is that it?’
Rory shook his head. ‘No sir! Honestly – no!’
‘How did you get here, then? Those short little legs of yours couldn’t carry you within miles of here!’
‘A huge hound that could fly through the sky carried me here. I don’t know how the hound found me or why he left me here in Giants’ Cave,’ replied Rory.
The giant leaned forward his eyes wide, ‘The Shadow Hound,’ he breathed. ‘That was the Shadow Hound. ‘You have really seen him?’
‘Yes, sir, I rode on him! He was the one who brought me here.’
Rory stared into the fire, wondering if the giants would believe his far-fetched story or just decide to tear him limb
from limb, or whatever giants did to unwelcome guests.
‘I am searching for my sister, Mia. She disappeared from home, kidnapped by a crazy old woman from next door,’ he confided, hoping they would believe his far-fetched story. ‘It was the hound who brought me here. We flew all through the night searching for Mia, but there is no sign or trace of her, and then when the sun came up that stupid dog just took off and left me stranded here. I don’t know what I’m going to do! I’ll never get Mia back from Bella Blackwell. I’ll never find her!’ he sighed hopelessly.
Birch had come over and was sitting on the arm of her father’s chair. ‘You saw the Shadow Hound, rode on his back! Da, did you hear that?’
The giant nodded, puffing slowly on his pipe. ‘Times are changing, the Huges and the Longs have been saying it for some time. I’ve heard tell of the great Shadow Hound, of course, but we have never actually seen him.’
‘He was outside our house back home in Glenkilty, waiting for me, and somehow I just knew what the creature wanted me to do.’
‘So you rode with him!’ gasped Birch, her eyes shining.
‘Bella! Who’s this Bella, then?’ asked Birch’s mother, wiping her hands on her apron.
‘Mrs Blackwell is an old lady who moved into the house next door to us. My mum said that we should be neighbourly, be nice to her. I used to call her the Bird Woman but Mia said that she was a Dragon Woman, that she kept dragons, baby dragons. I didn’t believe her,’ he blurted out breathlessly. ‘I
told her she was imagining it! Why didn’t I listen to Mia? Why didn’t I do what my granny told me and mind her? She was so scared … none of this would have happened if I’d only–’
‘Hold on now, young man, your words are running away with you. Calm down!’ urged the giant’s wife.
‘Dragon, did you say?’
‘Yes. Mia said she saw them in Bella’s house.’
The giant drew in his breath, taking a strong puff of his pipe. ‘I haven’t heard tell of dragons for many years, centuries even. They were all killed, destroyed, though there were always rumours that some had survived and gone into hiding – much like ourselves. Dragons, fancy that! Perhaps the old ways have not disappeared altogether, no matter what the Great Mage may have said or done.’
Rory couldn’t make much sense of this, but before he could ask the woman butted in. ‘Why has this Bella woman stolen your sister?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Rory miserably. ‘Mia thought that Bella was just a lonely old woman and tried to be her friend. She wanted Mia to be some sort of an apprentice and learn about dragons!’
‘I wish I had a dragon,’ sighed Birch.
‘Birch!’ Her mother sounded shocked. ‘Are you wishing yourself spirited away by some nasty witch or sorcerer? Sorcery is behind this, mark my words!’
The giant got to his feet and went to a heavy bookshelf above the fireplace. Pulling an ancient-looking book from the middle of a row of books, he lifted it down, and, sitting down
again, he began to turn over the heavy parchment pages.
Rory could read the title on the spine. The Giant Chronicles. He watched as Birch’s father turned over page after page.
‘Here it is!’ he said at last, stopping and lowering the book to the floor.
Rory clambered down off the chair and knelt down on the fireside rug to get a glimpse of what Bran wanted to show him.
One side of the page was covered with pictures of dragons, flying wings outspread. On the other side of the page, written in red ink were the words: The History of the Dragon Wars.
The giant stabbed his finger at the picture.
‘Look close, boy!’
Rory studied the drawing. It showed fire flaming from the mouth of an enormous black dragon, and although it was only a picture, he could see the glint of anger in his eyes. Behind him perched a crowd of smaller dragons. But it was only as Rory bent closer that he was able to make out the strange figure standing amongst them. He blinked, unable to believe what he saw there. It was Bella Blackwell, there was no doubt about it. Her face was almost hidden by a swirling black cloak, but he could still recognise her.