In The Grip Of Old Winter (30 page)

***

Wulfwyn’s hand pressed on
Peter’s shoulder. All three stood in the dark as the shallow water swirled
around their feet.

“We cannot pass further this
way,” said Wulfwyn. “We are up against the bank and the rise is sheer.”

Peter listened for sounds of
pursuit or for any clue that hinted at the spae-wife’s intent. Did Bosa take
Leonor? Where and how? Did he have the strength to carry her away?

Wulfwyn said, “We must
return. Be wary.”

Peter turned around and
followed Wulfwyn back along the stream. Godwine came behind. Ahead, the
curtains of moss flickered with an orange glow and the fire cracked and roared
as the old oak burned.

Wulfwyn halted at the first
strands of moss and with slow care pushed them aside. Each curtain hung longer,
wider and deeper than the one before and after he’d lifted it, Wulfwyn waited
for a long time before he moved on to the next.

The fire’s orange light pulsed
and the shadows shifted and darted. The moss brushed against Peter’s face, cold
and damp.

At the last curtain, Wulfwyn
took his knife and with the tip, pierced the moss and drew the knife down to
part the strands.

Peter held his breath as he
watched Wulfwyn’s immobile back. He’d have to run if he needed to escape and
none of them stood a chance once they reached the bank. The distance, though
short, didn’t give them time to hide amongst the trees.

Wulfwyn’s back straightened
and, with his knife poised ready to thrust, he pushed back the curtain’s edge
and stepped out from behind the moss.

Godwine’s hand rested on
Peter’s shoulder, a silent signal to make him wait. Wulfwyn’s outline, blurred
and indistinct through the moss, stayed still as a statue. Peter’s heart
thumped and he drew a long deep silent breath. His feet chilled as the water
washed over his boots. If Wulfwyn didn’t dart straight back, then the spae-wife
must have gone. She wanted Leonor, so she’d chase Bosa. She didn’t need to hunt
after the seal-amulet any more.

Wulfwyn eased the moss aside
and whispered. “Come. They are not in sight, but they must be close. Do not
speak or make any sound.”

Peter lifted each foot clear
of the water and walked as if he tiptoed on his heels. That way he reached
Wulfwyn’s side without a single loud splash.

Flames burned on every part
of the dead oak and black smoke pumped from its broken crown. Hot ashes spattered
into the stream and
hiss
ed in a puff of white steam as they went out.

Wulfwyn peered left, then
right, then all around. With a flick of his hand, he gestured that Peter and
Godwine follow as he stepped across to the bank where Bosa and Leonor had lain.

“Keep watch,” said Wulfwyn
and he crouched to study the ground.

With a crack that made Peter
jump, a branch snapped high up on the oak and tumbled into the water in a
flurry of fire and sparks. The hot bark steamed and smoke, thick as a cloud,
rolled across the surface.

Wulfwyn stood and strode up
the bank. “They came this way. Follow.”

“We shan’t be able to see,”
said Peter. “It’s still dark and the firelight won’t reach that far into the
trees.”

Wulfwyn climbed higher. “It
is clear that the path they take leads to Eorl Oswald’s. Stay close and
silent.”

Peter scrambled after Wulfwyn
and Godwine followed. With a terrible rending of splitting wood and a jolt that
shook the earth, the old tree broke in two and one half toppled into the stream.
The water bubbled at the oak’s fiery demise and extinguished the flames that
charred the bark black. The fire’s orange light diminished and darkness on both
sides of the stream thickened.

My backpack and knife and
granddad’s thermos are lost for ever. Weird, that the backpack and thermos
burned up centuries and centuries before they were made. The torch too, lost
underground and left to rust
. He
reached Wulfwyn where he waited at the top of the bank.
I’ve lost everything
that might be of any use.
All I can do is follow and do as I’m told.

“Their path leads towards our
old glade and that is our way too,” said Wulfwyn. “They must be close, so move
with stealth.”

Peter followed Wulfwyn and
blinked to adjust his eyes to the dark. Their steady pace as they brushed past
bushes and low hanging-boughs gave them a chance to stay quiet, though twigs
cracked underfoot and dead leaves rustled. Wulfwyn’s direction never faltered
except to move around trees and the roots that blocked their path.

Ahead, with sudden brightness,
white light flared. All three halted and peered hard as if they might see the
cause.

The spae-wife activated
the seal-amulet. To give them light, or for some other reason?
The brightness diminished, though it didn’t go out.

“It might be a trap,” said Wulfwyn.
“To see if we follow.” He drew his knife and Peter heard the soft sigh as
Godwine released his sword from its scabbard.

The white light glimmered,
distant and dim through the trees, and Wulfwyn followed, slower than before.

Peter glanced from side to
side.
At this pace,
it will take hours to reach the glade. The dark
makes it hard to know how far we’ve walked. If we’re attacked, I’m dead. The
spae-wife came this way when she chased me and Wulfwyn. She didn’t have the
seal-amulet then to make a light, so she must know her way through the trees
too, even in the dark.

Did Bosa mean to take Leonor
back to Oswald’s?
He must be mad to think he stands a chance of escaping.
Now that she has the seal-amulet, the spae-wife’s power is complete. How can
any of us hope to fight her - or save Leonor?

Wulfwyn halted in mid-stride
and Peter stopped just before they bumped. The white light flickered, like the
lights in The Hall before the power cut, and then went out. Peter stared and
listened at the darkness and the silence and they muffled his senses as if he
dreamed.

Wulfwyn whispered. “Follow.”

Patches of snow gleamed where
it gathered in hollows between the trees. The cold cut against Peter’s cheeks
and he pulled his hood up to keep his ears warm. His feet slipped inside the
too-big boots and his right heel chafed where it rubbed. On and on they crept.

Peter didn’t notice when the
darkness lifted. The trees outlines became clearer and the shapes and sizes of
the bushes stood out darker against the dawn’s grey light. His legs ached.

The old tree and the fire
that almost claimed their lives already shimmered as a distant memory, as if it
happened to someone else, though he still smelled the smoke where it lingered
on his skin and clothes.

Far away, a rook called its
raucous note and the daylight brightened. As if Wulfwyn timed it to happen this
way, the three of them stepped into the glade and halted.

Fresh snow covered the ground
and the clear imprints of the spae-wife and her two companions proved easy to
spot.

Wulfwyn crouched and pointed.
“See, Eorl Bosa came this way.” A boot print showed amongst the scuffed snow.
“He might move before them or be captured.”

Peter leaned over Wulfwyn’s
shoulder to study it closer. “Can you tell if he still had Leonor?”

The trail crossed the glade
and into the ravine. Wulfwyn stood. “I cannot. Some charm makes her sleep and
these marks do not reveal which of them holds her captive.”

“The spae-wife can follow
Bosa because he wears that green stone,” said Peter. “He’d never move fast enough
if he had to carry Leonor.”

“He means to join his
knights,” said Wulfwyn. “A man who is scared may have renewed strength when
fear chases at his heels. At Eorl Oswald’s, with a horse, he might make his
escape.”

A lump, large and heavy
filled Peter’s chest. “Then what’s the point in chasing him anymore. We can’t
fight the spae-wife...” The charred branch, if he managed to reach it, might
that help? He didn’t know how, but Bear and the skin-walkers fought the
spae-wife before and though she hadn’t been defeated, they’d imprisoned her for
many centuries. The heaviness in his chest lifted. The skin-walkers gave him
hope.

“I will not give up this
chase,” said Wulfwyn, “for Leonor’s sake. I must know her fate, even if it is
mine to die.”

Peter nodded. “I understand.”
He wanted to help Leonor too. He didn’t want her to be a ghost for ever. Nor
Wulfwyn either.

“We are easy prey for eyes to
see,” said Wulfwyn. “Our way is clear. Let the fates guide us this day.”

***

They crossed the glade and
entered the ravine. As they reached the far end, Wulfwyn slowed and crept out
onto the common way. Fresh snow covered the frozen mud and the spae-wife’s
tracks followed the way towards Oswald’s manor.

Wulfwyn increased their pace
so that sometimes Peter had to run if he didn’t want to be left behind. At
every turn, Wulfwyn slowed and he didn’t hurry on again until satisfied that no
ambush threatened.

Peter pulled a long branch
out of the undergrowth. Placed upright, it reached above his head, though its
circumference fitted his hand well. Not much of a weapon, but it gave him
something to fight with if needed.

The grey dawn lightened into
another grey day and still the snow fell. They kept to the side of the common
way where the flat frozen mud made their progress easier. A sudden cascade of
ice crystals showered their heads and they all ducked.

“Snow from a bough,” said
Wulfwyn as he peered up into the trees. “Ill-chance that it falls as we pass.”

“We haven’t seen the
spae-wife at all,” said Peter. “She moved really slowly when she attacked us in
the glade. I’d have thought we’d have caught her up by now.”

Wulfwyn said, “The
seal-amulet might give her strength.” He shrugged. “Though I cannot tell.”

The common way rose and then
curved down behind the left-hand bank. Wulfwyn approached it with the same care
that he’d taken with all the twists and turns along the way.

Peter and Godwine waited
until Wulfwyn beckoned them forward. The common way dipped and further down,
where it straightened out, the cut appeared between the right-hand banks where
the track led up to Oswald’s manor.

No sign or sound of any
knights or the spae-wife or her companions and relief surged through Peter’s
chest, for in just a few more minutes he’d be able to reach the charred branch.

Wulfwyn beckoned them off the
common way and up the left hand bank. “Our way is not barred by any knights.
They might have perished at the spae-wife’s approach or hidden from her fury.
Let us pass the track and reach the manor through the trees beyond.”

Peter’s excitement bubbled.
“There’s a place in the trees where I can find some help. It’s not far from the
track.”

Wulfwyn frowned. “Some cave
or den?”

Peter shook his head. “No,
it’s better than that, but it’s... but it’s difficult to explain.”

Godwine shrugged when Wulfwyn
glanced across to see if he might know this ‘place.’

“Bring us there,” said
Wulfwyn. He led the way forward. “Be wary. I do not trust this stillness.”

Peter’s branch snagged in the
undergrowth and caught against the roots, so he took hold of it with both hands
and lifted it high across his chest. Then it hit a low branch and another
shower of ice crystals pattered onto their heads.

“Sorry,” said Peter.

Godwine drew his sword, took
the staff and with a single blow, cut it in two. He handed one half back to
Peter.

“Thanks.”

As they approached the cut in
the banks, they moved, one at a time, from bush to tree to hollow, until they
all crouched opposite the track.

Wulfwyn whispered. “Thunder,
before it breaks, oppresses the spirit. There is something of thunder to this
stillness. Nothing moves upon the track. Nothing lies upon the track. Yet I am
fearful that some doom waits to strike.”

Peter sensed it too, a
heaviness in the head that came with a desire to lie down in some hidden place
and sleep. If he concentrated too hard his temples throbbed, like the start of
a headache.

Wulfwyn and Godwine moved on
and Peter followed. Once they passed the track, they trod with less care and
more speed and scrambled back down the bank onto the common way.

Peter scanned the trees on
the opposite bank as he tried to spot the place where the knight had seen him
and attacked, for just beyond that, further into the trees, stood the charred
branch. The knight’s blood might still stain the snow and he scraped the end of
his stick backwards and forwards.

It might be easier to judge
where the knight fell if he gauged the distance back to the track and he
checked over his shoulder. “Oh no!”

Wulfwyn and Godwine spun
round. Behind them, on horseback, rode Eorl Bosa and six knights. They came down
the common way at a steady trot, past the track and straight towards them. The
knights couched their spears, ready to charge.