The Various (18 page)

At the head of the gully, Midge once again lowered Pegs to the ground. The little horse slipped uncertainly on the wet stones and Midge grasped the base of one of his wings to help steady him. She looked doubtfully at the seemingly impenetrable mass of brambles, from which the stream trickled.

‘How will you get through there?’ she said.

Midge, you have done much for me. Now it seems I must . . . insult you
. The voice, quiet at first, became louder and firmer,
Please . . . I have to ask you to look away. Face the way we have come for a short while. Do not turn again, for the space of – a long cooling drink. Then wait here till I return – I shall make what haste I can. Please, I must ask
.

Midge reluctantly turned away. As she did so, the voice echoed in her head, loud and clear –
Briefly parted, soon united
. Midge felt slightly huffy, nevertheless. She was so curious, and she had worked so hard, that it did seem a bit mean to be parted like this – no matter how soon they might be reunited. She pulled the plastic bottle of water from the pocket of her dungarees, and stared down the path of the gully, aware of a slight movement behind her – the faintest rustle of foliage.

‘I still don’t think you’re strong enough to do this without some more help,’ she said. ‘Are you sure you can manage? Pegs?’ She unscrewed the cap of the water bottle and paused, listening. There was no sound. ‘Pegs?’ She turned round. The winged horse had gone.

Glim had watched the Gorji maid, in astonishment, as she struggled up the path of the gully, carrying Pegs on her shoulders. The archer had hardly been able to believe his eyes, and his first instinct had been to try and shoot the child, for he assumed that Pegs was a captive. He doubted, though, whether even he was skilled enough to bring down one so large with a single small arrow at this distance. He looked
frantically
around him to see if Aken or any of the other East Wood hunters were close by, but the woods were silent. He was alone.

Peering down through the leaves of the tall beech tree, he observed the girl closely as she picked her way slowly up through the gully. The horse was conscious, and by the way it lifted its head occasionally and brought it close to that of the Gorji maid, Glim judged that it was perhaps communicating with her. How could that be? Was he pleading with her? Yet Pegs seemed undistressed – injured maybe, but not necessarily a prisoner. The horse lifted its head again – and now Glim could see that it was looking up at the trees, as though searching for something, or someone . . . him? Was Pegs hoping that there would be someone waiting for him? The maid was looking down, watching where she put her feet. Glim waited until the horse’s head was raised once more, and then, taking a huge risk, he stepped into view and waved an arm briefly. He hoped that Pegs had seen him, because, by Elysse, he would not do it a second time. It made him feel too nervous. He watched the strange pair for a few seconds more. It was apparent that they would eventually reach the top of the gully – and the hidden exit of East Wood. What would happen then? This was an urgent matter.

The hunter soared quickly from branch to branch, descending in the direction of the forest spring that flowed out through the East Wood tunnel. He would get there first, follow the spring into the tunnel, then watch and wait. What could Pegs be thinking of, to allow the giant to come so close?

As he reached the low branches of the trees that overhung the source of the little freshwater spring, he spotted Raim, his fellow archer, perched in a young sycamore on the opposite bank. Glim softly clicked his fingers three times in quick succession, to catch Raim’s attention, then flapped his arms and pointed to the ground, signalling that he should descend from the tree. Raim glanced over at him, frowning slightly. He had been watching a small wagtail hopping among the wet stones at the mouth of the forest spring, willing the bird to be still for a moment, and now here was Glim, waving his arms around like a hemmed fool. What could be the matter? He sighed as the wagtail flew away, and, sheathing his arrow, he jumped lightly to the ground. He waited by the spring for Glim to join him.

‘Well, I hope you’ve meat to spare, Glim – for now I find myself shorter’n I’d reckoned to be,’ he said, ‘thanks to thee. Half a squirrel should see us square, I judge.’

But Glim had no time for idle talk. He grasped Raim by the arm. ‘ ’Tis Pegs!’ he whispered urgently. ‘Pegs is coming!’ He pointed down the wooded gully to where the spring flowed under the thick wall of brambles, which bounded the forest and shielded it from the wide world beyond. ‘He’s wrapped about the shoulders of a Gorji maid! They’re coming up the gwylie, t’other side o’ the briars!’

‘What?’ said Raim, his face blank, uncomprehending. ‘
What?
’

If the situation hadn’t been so urgent, Glim would
have
laughed – Raim looked so stupefied. Glim kept a grip on his friend’s arm and hurried him along the bank of the thin stream. They ducked beneath the undergrowth and around the bushes that grew beside the water until they came to where the trickle disappeared beneath the wild brambles.

Running through the middle of this tangled mass of thorns was a closely woven wicker tunnel, arched over the path of the little stream. As the hedge of briars had grown over the decades, so the wicker tunnel had been extended, until it was now over twenty feet long – the thickness of the hedge. There were four such emergency exits through the wall of brambles which enclosed the forest, one for each of the North, South, East, and West Woods, maintained and repaired by the woodlanders against the day when they might be needed – although the West Wood tunnel was in more or less constant use by the Wisp for their fishing expeditions.

Glim and Raim crept quietly along the East Wood tunnel, until they came to the doors at the far end. These opened inwards and were also made of wicker, culled from the Gorji withy beds. Woven into the outside face of the basketwork doors were lengths of old bramble foliage, dry grass, and bits of creeper. With a dense curtain of living brambles hanging over the front of the camouflaged doors, it became impossible to see them – they were part of the thick undergrowth.

The Ickri hunters stood behind the doors, in the semi-darkness of the tunnel, waiting and listening – Raim still struggling to understand exactly what was
going
on. Pinpricks of light penetrated the wickerwork here and there, catching the dark ripples of the trickling water at their feet. The gentle flow seemed loud in the dim seclusion of the woven tunnel. After a minute or two, Glim thought he heard the click of small hooves on wet rocks outside. He nudged Raim and put his fingers to his lips. Then came the loud, clear voice of the Gorji chi’, sounding very close – ‘How will you get through there?’ Pegs was heard to mutter some reply, but neither hunter could catch what was said. This was a dangerous business. Where was the signal? And what of the maid? Pegs spoke again, clearly this time – asking the maid to turn away. Glim glanced quickly at Raim and raised his hand, waiting for the signal.

Briefly parted, soon united
.

Immediately the two Ickri pulled gently on the wicker doors. Light flooded in to the basketwork tunnel, through the curtain of brambles on the outside. Glim and Raim moved rapidly forward, helping to silently part the brambles as Pegs stepped between them. The little animal ducked as it entered the tunnel, treading quietly and carefully along the slippery path of the stream. The hunters quickly closed the wicker doors once more – having caught a brief glimpse of the girl, standing in the bright sunshine with her back towards them, no more than a cricket’s jump away.

The winged horse emerged from the wicker tunnel and, with help from the two Ickri archers, stumbled
onto
the grassy bank beside the little stream. Pegs raised his head and sniffed the air. It felt good to be back among the familiar surroundings of the forest.

Glim and Raim were full of concern – and wonder. ‘Pegs – what’s happened to ’ee?’ said Raim. ‘And what bist doing wi’ a Gorji maid? Bist hurt? Did the giants do ’ee harm?’

Pegs lowered himself onto the grass, the effort of doing so making him catch his breath.
I am indeed injured – but I improve, thanks to the Gorji chi’. She has tended me, and I owe her my life. But listen – for I have but little strength for talk. Raim – you must go to Maglin and tell him to summon the Elders and the Queen. The forest is in great peril. The maid will explain. Glim – go back to the tunnel and open the gates once more. Then keep from sight. I am bringing the maid into the forest – aye, this very hour. I shall lead her to the Counsel – and then you shall see why. Follow us and watch, Glim, till we reach the Counsel Clearing
.

The Ickri archers stared at Pegs in amazement and disbelief. Bring the Gorji maid into the forest? What madness was this? No Gorji had entered the forest for nigh on a hundred years. The last giant to walk these woods had been Celandine, and the story of Celandine had passed so far into legend that nobody really knew the truth of it any more.

‘Pegs,’ said Glim, gently. ‘You ain’t well. You’m badly. Let us take ’ee home and we’ll hear more when you’m strong again.’

No, Glim. Do as I say. Open the gates once more and then keep a distance. Go, Raim, and summon the Queen and
Counsel
– warn all others to stay hidden till the maid has spoken. Have no fear. I will answer to Maglin
.

As members of the Ickri tribe, Glim and Raim were under the immediate command of their captain, Aken, but Maglin was their General. Ba-betts, herself an Ickri, was Queen of all the Various – yet it was Maglin who held the real power. All members of all tribes were ultimately answerable to Maglin. Pegs had no command over the Ickri archers, yet they both recognized that the horse was somehow beyond the command of all others. Not Maglin, nor the Queen, nor even Spindra, from whose herd Pegs had been bred, could be said to have control over this creature. The animal was young, yet born of another time – truly magical, in ways that were beyond their understanding. Even as a foal he had the mystifying ability to speak in soundless words – in an accent that was unfamiliar to the woodlanders, though the language was similar to their own. Like mad Maven, the horse could not be fathomed or placed. Maven-the-Green was old, old beyond all memory – ancient when the Counsel Elders were childer, so it was said – and a law unto herself. Pegs was not old, yet still seemed to belong to that same other-world. He had been born before, and had walked the earth before. Pegs was witchi.

So Glim and Raim, hesitant at first to do as Pegs bade them – decided after all to follow his instructions. Raim took a few quick steps across the mossy grass, then flapped his wings and rose up into the branches of the trees. He disappeared into the greenery, making his way from tree to tree like a flying squirrel.

Glim helped Pegs down to the stream once more, and together they crept back along the wicker tunnel. Glim quietly opened the camouflaged doors and squinted through the overhanging brambles. He could see the Gorji giant sitting on the grass just a few yards away, and he shook his head as he turned to Pegs.

‘This don’t feel right,’ he whispered. ‘Shouldn’t us wait till we’ve had word from Maglin? Bist sure?’

Pegs looked at the girl as she sat in the sunshine, winding a long piece of grass around her finger. He sighed.
I am sure
.

Glim paused, still uncertain, then turned to go. ‘I shan’t be far away, mind,’ he said. ‘And I shan’t take my eyes off ’ee, neither.’

Pegs waited until Glim had gone, and then slowly moved forward, silently nosing his way through the curtain of brambles. The Gorji child sat dreamily on the sunny bank of the gully, her grey-blue eyes staring placidly into the distance. Pegs stood still and watched her for a few moments. Everything was about to change.

Midge
. The girl was startled, and she jumped, breaking the strand of grass that she had wrapped around her forefinger.
Follow me
.

She had to crouch very low in order to enter the tunnel. The sharp ends of the interwoven withies scratched her shoulder blades as she followed the white horse along the path of the stream. There wasn’t much light, and her feet kept slipping on the wet stones. She felt the cold water soaking through her
trainers
, and realized, suddenly, that she was afraid. More than at any other time since she had met Pegs, she sensed that she had stumbled upon, and was stumbling towards, a strange secret – something hidden and dark, and perhaps dangerous. She didn’t like it, and if there had been room to turn around and go back she would have done so. Her notion that Pegs was perhaps man-made, an experiment, some zoo-bred cross between a horse and a bird, finally disappeared for good. She was in a strange wickerwork tunnel, cramped, wet and uncomfortable – and she was following a horse with a damaged wing, a horse that could speak in strange colours, a magical creature such as the world had never seen. She wished, suddenly, that she was in London – sitting on the low wall in front of Teck Mansions, swinging her legs and watching the traffic. Or in the flat, helping her mum make fairy cakes. This was scary, and she didn’t like it. The basketwork roof snagged at her clothing, and her feet were soaked and muddy. The cut end of a withy scraped the back of her head and got caught up in her hair. What was she doing in this horrible place? She ducked lower and saw that Pegs had reached the end of the tunnel. He turned to face her, framed for a moment against the light, stretching his wings as he awaited her. He looked beautiful, like a picture from the Bible, or a book of legends. Midge felt less panicky. She splashed through the last few yards of darkness and emerged into the sunlit forest.