Pip and the Twilight Seekers (13 page)

“Is there something bothering you, Bodkin?”

“Oh, its nuffink, Misser Roach.”

“No, do tell me, Bodkin. What on earth is troubling that pointy little head of yours?”

Bodkin turned to Roach and fixed his troubled gaze on him. “Well … da fing is, Misser Roach … beggin yer pardon me askin, but, when did Misser Jarvis fix ’is ’and?”

“When did … Mister Jarvis … fix his hand?”

“Yes, sir! When did Misser Jarvis fix ’is ’and?”

“Bodkin, I have no idea what you are talking about, but please do explain.”

“Oh, it dunt matter. Bodkin gets easily muddled,” said the strange little figure, and he stared downward at the floor, as if embarrassed by his own stupidity.

“Please …” urged Roach, “carry on.”

“Well, sir, yer see, when Misser Jarvis give me da torchlight back he had two ’ands, sir. One ’and was takin’ der reins, sir … and … (He paused to think a moment).

“Yes, Bodkin, do go on, I’m intrigued,” said Roach as a realization began to dawn over him.

“And … da uvver one pass me da torch. Misser Jarvis not got two ’ands, sir. Misser Jarvis got one ’and on der right and a ’ook on da left!”

Roach closed his eyes as he took a large intake of air in through his nose and then heaved a great big sigh.

“Whassa matter, Misser Roach? You no look too well.”

“We’ve been double-crossed, Bodkin. Bring the dogs. Call the bark demons and tell the others to gather at the undergate. And hurry. We won’t be foiled again.”

“Yessir, Misser Roach,” said Bodkin and he hobbled off at high speed, waving his torch as he went and calling out at the top of his voice. “We’s been double-crossed.” And as he ran, he wondered what on earth being double-crossed was, and why it had made Mister Roach so angry. But Bodkin suspected he was probably muddled again and so he thought nothing of it, and of course, he wouldn’t ask another stupid question.

In less than no time at all, the foresters were gathered, howling and whooping at the undergate, waiting for the signal to head out and begin the short hunt. The herd of cackling and cawing beasts were thundering in a swift procession toward the black pumpkin.

A flock of witches stayed behind. They had other methods. They were assembled, all of them, around a small fire. Hogwick spoke up, whispering strange words and calling up the curse of the Spindlewood forest to work its magic.

Pip and his companions were ambling along nicely into the snowy depths of the forest, the wheels rolling comfortably across the ground.

“We did it,” said Toad, poking his head out from beneath the cloak and wearing his best grin.

And then Frankie popped out. “Well done, boys,” she said. She had been surprised at her own bravery.

A distant assembly of cries interrupted their mood. They had begun to grow almost relaxed, knowing that they were reaching the safety of the city. But the noise that came from behind them stirred them into anxiety.

“What’s that?” asked Pip.

“Some kind of excitement among the woodsfolk, Pip. You’d best step up the pace,” said Toad.

Frankie and Toad had emerged and were sitting alongside Pip at the front, the cover pulled across them to shut out the worst of the weather. Frankie stood up and looked back over the top of the pumpkin. Something moved in the distance—shapes swiftly passing between the trees. Pip pulled on the reins but they were without torchlight and the journey was much harder at a swifter pace. The wheels were slipping as they sped up over the packed snowy ground and they shifted from side to side as they steered between the trees. Pip could feel the weight too. It made it twice as difficult to drive the carriage.

Somewhere nearby the trees began to stir. Something shifted in their makeup—a stirring that came from the tips of the roots and filled the whole of the trunk and branches. It was as if they had come to life. The desire to move and flex their long limbs stirred around in their woody souls.

Distraction came to the children in the form of whooping and hollering, howling and squawking. Something flew parallel to the carriage in the distance, darting, bat-like, between the uprights. Pip looked to his left and then to his right. The twilight seekers were on them, and very quickly, they were surrounded.

Crunch
. The carriage had hurled itself into a dip and was almost turned on its side, its front end speared into the ground. The back wheels were in the air and spun slower and slower until they too came to a stop. The horse was still attached to the carriage and scrambled with its front legs as if to climb from the dip, but there was no way it could release itself. If Pip could have freed it, he could have used it to flee the forest, but it would take too much time to dismantle the frame. They had to leave her there in the ditch, struggling to get back on to her feet.

“Quick,” said Frankie. “On foot, we can make it to the city.”

They hurriedly pulled the others out from inside the carriage. The door was jammed and so their skinny figures were yanked out through the porthole window like stubborn weeds pulled from the ground.

Together they stumbled through the forest. They ran and ran and ran, their breath heaving, their hearts thumping. It seemed like perhaps they were far enough ahead to make it. Were they being too hopeful? Time would tell.

Hogwick’s curse began to stir. The roots of the Spindlewood trees squirmed upon the ground like worms. Their snow-covered tendrils emerged like spring buds and then, as if life poured into them, they began whipping and winding. The lofty branches felt the same ripple of movement. The soft breezy waft of their limbs became a powerful, full-blooded swing.

Crack!
Pip was clutched around the waist by the grip of a low-lying branch.
Whip!
Toad and Frankie were snatched by the vicious roots from the same tree. Birds lifted from the branches as they took on their own life and grabbed at the little ones. The others were subject to the same fate, almost as if the forest itself had turned on them. The McCreedy boy screamed. He was quick and almost got away. But the trees seemed to move in on him and blocked his path, sending him this way and that, until finally, he fell to his knees in exhaustion. Mister Brice’s boy was held aloft, tied with lashings of spindly branch wood. And then much the same became of the others. The forest tied itself around the children until they remained suspended against the trees, waiting for their captors to arrive and return them to their prison. The foresters came to find the children waiting for them, like flies trapped in the webs of spiders, held still by the full and frightening force of the Spindlewood Forest.

With the carriage pulled out from the ditch the creatures howled excitedly as the children were released from the trees and pushed inside. The horse was steadied on her legs by Roach and adjusted back into her frame. She brayed awkwardly and stamped her hooves into the snow, breathing clouds of hot air.

“Steady, girl,” said Roach as he used his four arms to nurse her.

Something clawed its way onto the roof and settled into position, ready to alert the flock to any movement from within. Small bark demons hung at the portholes on the doors and peered menacingly at the screaming children. A flock of crows hovered overhead like a cloud of black rain waiting to descend. And the carriage was herded back toward the undergate by screaming, hysterical woodsfolk while the children awaited their fate.

Pip didn’t think that he had ever been more frightened. He could barely make out the faces of the others but they were shoved in tight together. Toad was next to him and he could hear Frankie reassuring the young McCreedy boy.

Faces peered inside the black pumpkin. Beaked and long-snouted, they poked their excited heads into the portholes. And as they did, they squawked and squealed and argued amongst themselves while trying to take the best view. Their clawed hands and feet clamped themselves inside the window, scraping and scratching at the panels of the carriage.

Pip’s heart was beating furiously. Toad seemed to have no fear. He edged toward one of the windows and began to lash out at the woodsfolk. “Let us out, you freaks!” he called, bashing at their clawed hands as they edged inside.

Torches shone in the darkness of the woods. They must have been back at the undergate. But no, the children could sense that outside the animals had become quiet. They were puzzled at the lights ahead.

Voices came—distant inaudible voices, shouts and hollering that seemed like they came out of anger. The carriage had slowed to a halt now and the woodsfolk stood silently watching as the bedlam approached. A group was visible. They held flaming torches aloft. Some were on horseback and some on foot. But someone ran ahead of them and he had almost reached the woodsfolk when he began shouting. His cloak flapped in the wind and as he drew close to the orange light his hook could be seen glinting in the darkness.

“Draw your weapons, you fools, and be ready for battle. City folk approaching.”

At this, Pip’s heart thumped harder. It was Jarvis, with Esther flying on behind. Escaped from his hole with the city following in pursuit. War was about to be waged on forest turf. In a breath, the plight of the prisoners had been forgotten. The bark demons howled out for support and the air grew blacker still with flocking witches. Panic broke among the four-legged ones and the gathering of weapons ensued.

Pip called to his brethren through the noise and darkness. “This is our chance. Stick together and keep going.” And with that, he pushed down gently on the door handle and led the others to safety while the distraction allowed him the opportunity.

The whole earth seemed to shake as horses thundered toward the foresters. The shouting grew louder and the howls of the forest pierced the night air like sirens.

“And where do you think you’re going?” came a voice. But whatever it was received his answer in the form of a branch across the back of the head as Toad delivered a blow from behind.

“Come on,” said Toad. “We need to move quickly.”

A herd of lost children made haste across the forest floor. The only sound for now was the breathless gasping and heavy breathing coming from their mouths. That and the crisp crunch of the snowy surface breaking beneath their feet, twigs and branches snapping beneath them. They were running hard and their trail could be picked out by the puffs of foggy breath and a peppering of footprints in the icy white ground.

They did not know where they would head. Only that they should escape while the fighting between city and forest continued and the distraction was enough to allow their getaway.

In the distance makeshift weapons clashed and blood spilled across the clear white of the forest floor. Screams of pain and effort echoed between the uprights of the trees. Blades and shields crashed against the woody bark and the cries of the forest cut the stillness of the air in two. Horses reared upward onto their back legs.