The Witch's Revenge (12 page)

At last all four were climbing. Up the relentless rock face they rose, slipping and sliding on the crags. They were soon scraped from falls caused by ill-placed fingers, claws and paws. Still, on they went, ignoring the smash of the spray on the rocks. When Morag looked down at Bertie and Aldiss she saw how high they now were above the incisor-sharp rocks. One mistake, one slip, and the rocks would all plummet down on top of them.

At last, when every last ounce of strength seemed used, when each thought they could go on no more, they saw Shona grip the edge of the cliff face and haul herself up and over the plateau. She stood and pulled the rope taut until Morag scrambled up beside her. Together they drew up Bertie and Aldiss, then fell exhausted to the ground. They stayed there for a few minutes, enjoying the soft damp grass beneath their bodies and the soothing, earthy scent of the land. They had made it. They were alive and had a chance of saving Montgomery.

After a while, Shona sat up and looked around. It had been years since she had been on this part of the island and it had changed dramatically. When she had been a dragonlet—an infant dragon—it had been a mass of ferns and bushes. Now there was a neat patchwork of fields containing what looked like root vegetables and wheat. Each was marked into squares by stone dikes. The friends found
they were sitting at the side of a neat pathway running the length of a field of raspberry bushes, their fruit long plucked and their leaves battered by the elements. Just beyond the fields was a village of peat-roofed houses. A dirt track ran to a fork in the road. To their left the track led to the fields; to their right into a large, wild forest full of ancient trees. Shona was shocked to see how much the forest had grown in the thirty years since she had last been here. It was sprawling westward, almost to the coast. Looming over it all, menacing and shrouded in the dank mist that often swallowed the island whole, was Ben Murst, the island's only mountain.

“Glad to be home again?” Morag asked her.

The dragon smiled wanly. “It's not the home I remember. Not now that all the dragons are gone,” she replied, then with a sigh added, “Come on, you lot, let's get going, we've got a long way to go. We need to take the forest path to the castle. It's a few hours' walk and we have to get there before the night draws in again.”

“But it's only morning now!” Aldiss said before anyone else could.

“Yes, but night falls early in the forest,” Shona said mysteriously, “and there's a lot of nasty creatures in there that would like to have us all for dinner.”

Aldiss squeaked in fright. “I-isn't there another way round?” he said, black eyes wide.

“We don't have any choice,” Morag said, getting to her feet. “Come on, let's go. We've got a friend who needs our help!”

“Stay clear of the village,” the dragon warned. “We don't
want anyone knowing we're here; you never know who is on Mephista's side. Surprise is the only advantage we have. So long as we can keep our presence here a secret—”

“Um, Shona,” Morag interrupted. She pointed at something behind the dragon. “I think it's a little bit too late for that.”

Shona scowled. “What do you mean? We've only just arrived. No one should know we're here.…”

She turned to see what the girl was pointing at. In the distance, carrying pitchforks and other crude weapons, villagers were streaming out of the houses and heading in their direction.

“What do we do?” squealed Aldiss, running around in circles and tying himself up in frantic knots of anxiety.

“We run from them!” said the dodo, flapping his wings.

“We fight them!” the dragon growled.

“We talk to them!” said Morag.

“Talk to them?” cried the others in unison.

Shona snapped: “Do you really think talking's going to stop them from capturing us and handing us over to the castle?”

“Yes, talking is the best way out of this,” replied Morag. “They are only doing this because they are frightened of
us.
”

“The girl talks sense,” Henry interjected from the folds of Morag's coat.

“Besides,” she continued, “they might be able to help.”

As the crowd advanced, Morag began to doubt her sensible suggestion.

What if Shona, Bertie and Aldiss were right and this wasn't a good idea? What if the villagers were out to harm them? She swallowed hard. She could only trust her instinct and hope for the best as the large group of armed, angry villagers drew closer.

They were a motley crew of muddy-clothed farmhands and women in aprons and head scarves. They advanced, brandishing their weapons.

“Are you sure about this, Morag?” Bertie whispered nervously.

“I … er … think so,” she replied. “Listen, everyone, let
me
deal with them. Humans are not used to talking animals.”

Shona snorted. “Well, these humans will have to get used to it quickly! I've got a lot to say about them being here. This is a
dragon
homeland. They're the ones who shouldn't be here!”

“Please, Shona, let me do the talking.”

“Fine!” the dragon said moodily, and uttered not another word.

Morag waited until the crowd were nearly upon them
before walking forward, her hand outstretched in friendship as she'd seen nice adults do. The nearest villager, a woman, jabbed a pitchfork at her.

“Who are you?” she demanded, her long wild hair billowing in the cold morning wind.

“Morag MacTavish,” replied the girl. “Pleased to meet you …?”

“And what are
these
?” the woman snarled at the dragon and the dodo standing behind Morag.

“These are my friends—” Morag began, but she got no further, for the woman interrupted her.

“Friends? You've brought vermin to our island!” She glared at Aldiss, who bristled visibly at this insult. “Who are you? And what do you want on this side of the DarkIsle?”

“If I could just explain …,” tried Morag.

“Are you spies from the castle come to check we are working? Eh? Is that what you're here for? Are we all supposed to quake at that giant lizard?”

“No, no! We've come in peace,” replied Morag, feeling Shona snort a cloud of disgruntled smoke on the back of her head. “You can see we have no weapons,” she added quickly as the woman took another step forward. Her pitchfork was now almost touching Morag's nose. “We … we …” Morag's thoughts raced around her head furiously as she tried to come up with an excuse as to why they were there. “We've been shipwrecked,” she lied. “We were washed ashore on the rocks. Can you help us? We need food and dry clothing.”

The woman eyed the girl suspiciously. She turned to her
fellow villagers to garner their thoughts, but they didn't seem able to offer anything other than a few menacing grunts at the newcomers. She turned back and threatened Morag again with the pitchfork. “I don't believe you,” she snarled.

There were shouts of “Go get her, Esmeralda!” from the crowd, which only served to strengthen the woman's conviction that Morag and her friends were dangerous.

“I say we skin the lizard and kill the rat, roast the bird and sell the girl back to the castle! That'll teach you to come spying on us,” she shouted.

There was cheering and clapping all round.

“No! No! You've got us all wrong,” protested Morag, but her cries fell on deaf ears.

“Let them go, Esmeralda,” said a thin, wavering voice that rose from the jeers and silenced the crowd.

Morag peered behind the woman with the pitchfork to see who had spoken. At first she saw no one, but then people began to move out of the way, allowing a little elderly woman wrapped in a woolen cloak to shuffle forward. She had short gray hair and wore broken glasses.

“This is no way to welcome visitors to Dragon's End,” she said, addressing Esmeralda.

“But, Mother, they could be dangerous. Things are bad enough without us trusting complete strangers.” Esmeralda scowled. “After what happened, I would have thought you of all people would know that.”

“After what happened we need all the friends we can get,” the old lady snapped. The younger woman made to say
something back, but thought better of it, for she folded her arms and kept her mouth closed tight. Her mother smiled at Morag, revealing a set of yellowing teeth as she held out her hand.

“Now, dear,” she said, “you must remind me … is this what we do to welcome you to Murst? Shake hands? It's been so long, I almost can't remember.”

Unsure what else to do, Morag took the old lady's hand and shook it gently. The hand was warm, but the skin was leathery, as if the woman did a lot of hard work.

“Welcome to Murst,” she said. “My name is Ivy. You've met my daughter, Esmeralda, and these are our neighbors and friends. Now, who might you be and how did you get here?”

Morag hastily introduced herself and her friends, and repeated her story that they were victims of a shipwreck. Ivy listened carefully and then chuckled.

“What's so funny?” Morag asked.

“I know you haven't been shipwrecked. I know why you're here,” Ivy replied. She turned to the villagers and said loudly, “Friends! The Ancient One has arrived! At last!” A huge cheer went up from the villagers and they waved their weapons in the air. “Prepare some food to welcome our guests!” She turned back to Morag. “You'll stay and eat.” It was an order, not a request.

“Ancient One?”
Morag whispered to the others as they followed Ivy up the path to the village. “What does she mean?”

Aldiss looked at Bertie accusingly.

“She wasn't referring to me!” said the dodo petulantly.

Morag smiled at this, but Shona looked worried.

“We shouldn't go with them,” she said, covering her mouth with a claw. “If we hang around here, word will get back to the castle in no time.”

“But what can we do?” replied Morag under her breath.

“Leave!” hissed Shona.

“Your friends will be free to do as they wish once you've eaten,” Ivy called back. “But not before then.”

The dragon scowled.

The village of Dragon's End consisted of a mud track lined by identical stone houses with peat roofs. Single-storied and small, they had no front garden, only a large stone step that led up to the front door. Smoke curled from the chimneys, rising white and ghostlike into the gray Murst morning. There was one shop, which looked like the houses except that it boasted a sign painted with bright red curling letters:
Dragon's End Municipal Stores
. In the middle of the village, next to a stone well, was a squat roundhouse, and it was here that Ivy led them.

“Come, Ancient One,” she said, pushing open the door. “And friends. Please enter and make yourselves comfortable. The food will arrive shortly.”

Inside, the large circular room was softly lit by a ring of small windows set just beneath the roof. It was empty save for a pile of earth-colored cushions heaped in the middle. This, Ivy explained, was where the villagers held
their council, where they passed laws and where the court sat.

“We used to have parties here too,” she confessed, then added sadly, “Although we've not had much to celebrate recently.”

As she wandered around, Morag noticed the intricate carvings on the posts that held up the roof. Someone with obvious skill had carved rabbits and deer and other animals into the wood. There were birds and berries and … Morag frowned … was that an aeroplane? A train? A rocket? How, when they were so cut off, did the Dragon's End villagers know about life in the human world? Ivy saw her looking.

“Ah,” she said, taking a tray of bread and cheese from a young boy, “you're admiring our posts. Adam carved those from memory. He got here two years ago, but some of us have been here much longer. He was quite a talented artist.” She sighed and looked pained.

“Was?” Bertie asked, accepting a hunk of bread from Ivy's tray.

Tears formed in the old woman's eyes. “The big apes took him away. Anyone who is taken away is never seen again.”

“What happened?” Morag asked. Bertie pulled a cushion nearer as Aldiss curled up beside him. Only Shona, who was a little way away, did not move.

“It was about a week ago,” Ivy explained. “We have very little food because the people in the castle take nearly everything we grow, so the men went hunting in the forest.
Within half an hour they came running back, chased by a group of strange creatures.”

“What did they look like?” asked Bertie.

“They were like gorillas. Silver-haired gorillas. Only they had four arms each,” she said, leaving Morag to exchange looks with Bertie and Aldiss. “They were dressed like hunters and came right into the village. They took our strongest men.”

“Didn't you try to put up a fight?” Shona asked.