Pip and the Wood Witch Curse (11 page)

“It’s all just a matter of time,” he said to Roach. “I always capture them in the end. Nice work, Esther,” he added, and she sat proudly at the front of the carriage, preening herself.

But Roach wasn’t happy. He nursed what he was sure were broken fingers, tucking them under his arm and wincing in pain.

“Not to worry,” grinned Jarvis. “You still have three hands left. I only got the one!”

And they rolled along, the pumpkin rocking from side to side and Toad’s cries going unheard by the city folk.

The procession moved on, back to the market square where the stalls poured out their drinks and handed out their food. Jarvis stuck to the outside edge of the city. He was a traitor and the biggest of cowards.

Toad watched helplessly as they passed through the rusted broken gate into the forest. The streets and houses became pathways and trees. The silence of the streets became the echoing call of crows and the haunting howl of wolves through the spiny winter trees.

And now the witches came flocking to look at the caged animals. They swarmed around the carriage, pulling on the bars, and peering in.

“Ooh look, there’s a pretty one and an ugly one,” they cackled.

“Let us go,” growled Toad. Frankie had stayed quiet all along, petrified into silence. She pulled her shawl tightly around herself and leaned away from the barred window.

Gnarled fingers clung to the bars and hands reached in.

“Such beautiful hair and soft skin. These will make good prisoners.”

But Toad just yelled louder. “Let us out, Jarvis,” he yelled, and pushed harder against the sides of the carriage until it almost tipped over.

Frankie lifted her head and she was about to blurt something out, but a jolt of the carriage stopped her and the words trailed off into a scream. The coach crashed down on one side and Toad saw the rear left-hand wheel go rolling past.

“Ahh, curses,” grunted Jarvis, and his grin turned quickly upside down as he fell from his seat and he and Roach ended up on the ground tied in a knot, not knowing whose limbs were whose.

Toad’s weight had sent him hurtling through the rotten base of the carriage and he landed on the forest floor with his head still inside the cab. His eyes lit up at the opportunity.

There was much commotion as the witches found their feet in the darkness, pulling each other from the thorns and thickets.

“Quick,” Toad whispered to Frankie. “It’s our only chance. Follow me.” And they squeezed their way out from under the carriage into the dark depths of the woods.

It had not entered the mind of the forest dwellers that the children could have escaped. Quite some time passed while they pulled at the broken wheel and struggled to lift it onto the axle, all with no success. It was only a sudden realization that Toad had stopped hurling insults that made Jarvis look inside … to see that his catch was missing.

“Aaaargh … they’ve escaped. Those disgusting little city rats have escaped!”

As Jarvis’s scream echoed eerily into the trees, the carriage was soon forgotten and the searchers dispersed. But by now Toad and Frankie were already far from the scene of the accident, spilling into the thick of the forest.

Pip had no idea what Roach had done with the lock, but after minutes of trying he was sure that he couldn’t release it. Brute strength was out of the question. The solid wooden door was too much for Pip’s tiny frame. And if he hung around much longer they would return and snap him up.

Pip’s mind began to turn. When they had arrived, Frankie was in there but the door was locked. How had she gotten in there? There must be a way. He flustered around nervously, feeling the walls in the half light. And there it was, in the far corner, caked in dust: a small hatch in the floor with a lip to grab hold of and pull.

As Pip lowered himself down he found himself back on the staircase that led up to the locked clock tower doorway. Within moments he was creeping through the hollow. There was a hum of noise from the celebrations in the distance and every now and then someone would come skipping by or a group would wander past in a drunken fashion. But forthe most part it was deathly quiet.

Up above, shapes were circling. Word must already have filtered into the forest of Pip’s narrow escape, and the scouts were out. Without Toad he wasn’t entirely sure which drain holes were useful to him or indeed where they would take him. But on foot he could find his way.

He slipped up an alley that he was sure would take him back to the theater courtyard. From there he already knew the route to the tavern, and if he could get there, he could find the forest gate.

In his head he was already there, but he had not planned to stumble into someone. His eagerness had tripped him up.

At first the man apologized and tried to move past, but on realizing it was a child he grew shocked and anxious and immediately eager to help him.

“What are you doing? It’s not safe to move at night, you should know that. Where are you from?” As they passed into the light at the corner of the theater courtyard the face of a kind old man became clear.

He took Pip’s hand. “Quick,” he pleaded. “To safety!”

Pip knew the scouts would be circling above and felt he had no choice but to follow, stumbling awkwardly in the dark.

The man pulled Pip through a door and into a small low cottage with a rounded window, where he yanked on the shutters so that Pip could not be seen from outside. Inside there was a small table and a rickety chair, a fire burned gently in the hearth, and a pot bubbled over the flames. The smell was delicious.

“There, you see. Safety at last!” the man announced. “Oh, do forgive me, I have not introduced myself. My name is Crumb … Jed Crumb. Or Old Jed, as they often call me. And you are?”

“Pip, sir. My name is Eddie Pipkin, but my friends call me Pip.”

“In that case, young man, I shall consider myself a friend of yours and address you accordingly. You must be starving, Pip. All that escaping is hungry work, yes?” He returned with a plate of cakes and buns so big it dwarfed the table. And then hot drinks and more food seemed to appear from nowhere, accompanied by delicious smells that made Pip think of Sam’s food at the tavern.

“Eat up,” the man said. “There’s plenty more where that came from.”

“Thank you most kindly, sir. But I don’t have much time for food,” said Pip. “My friends have been taken by Mister Jarvis and his kin. I must reach them.”

“You mean the forest people?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How many are there of you? Where did you spring from?”

Suddenly Pip became aware that the man might not be on his side. Of course, he seemed friendly enough, but what if … No, surely not. He had helped him get to safety. But he was asking Pip for information he did not want to give. What if it meant that Sam got into trouble?

“I’ve been hiding in the clock tower,” said Pip. “The doves bring me bread and I collect water from the spouts in the dead of night.”

“Poor thing,” the man said with his head to one side. “You must stay here, and for as long as you like. I shall make up a bed for you.”

“No, really,” Pip insisted. “I cannot rest until I find my friends. Something could be happening to them right now.”

“But these streets are not safe, especially at this hour.” The man tried to place a reassuring hand on Pip’s shoulder as he moved to the door.

“I’m sorry,” Pip said, “but I have to find them.”

“No!” he roared as Pip reached for the handle. The man’s voice burned like fire. His eyes turned from green to red, then bright orange, and his white hair singed with the same fiery hot colors. His mouth opened wide and now Pip could see that his teeth were sharp and pointed. All the kindness drained from him, his features changing in a moment, his hands growing into long-fingered claws.

Pip fumbled at the door and slipped through it, realizing in that instant that the man was a creature from the forest, sent into the city to trap him. For a moment he had no idea where to turn, holding on to the door to prevent him from following outside. Then he lunged across the street into the dark alley they had come from and lost himself in darkness.

He bolted, foxlike, into the dark. His mind raced. Whose home had the forest dweller used to lure him in? Surely not his own. Perhaps he had raided the house of some poor woman and had her tied up in the kitchen. Maybe he lived in secrecy as a city dweller and a spy. Maybe other forest types could change themselves into human form and lived in the same way. How could he ever trust anyone again? All these thoughts and more invaded his head as he raced onward.

Pip’s mind tracked back. The last time he had run so fast was making his escape from Mister Oakes at the harbor. If only he had known what he knew now, he would have turned back for sure.

Old Jed followed awkwardly, bent double, his back arching upward. His wolfish moon eyes stared into the black, searching desperately. He couldn’t let go of his prize, not when he’d had him right there in his grasp.

He pulled himself into a shadow and drew his cloak around him to conceal his presence. If he waited long enough, perhaps Pip would emerge from somewhere.

But it was Old Jed who was spotted first. Torchlight rang down the alleyway, voices broke the air in two, and guardsmen in uniform appeared. The forest dweller was caught, rabbitlike, in the orange light. For a moment he was still, then he tried to dart away, but an attack ensued and a shrill cry pierced the night.

Pip was a breath away, motionless in a bricked-up doorway, watching as wood witches came flocking from above to come to the caller’s aid. Something lunged past him toward the chaos, something that stank heavily of damp and trees and moss. It was gone in a moment, and he watched it pass into the light of the torches: some kind of clawed beast that speared its long fingers at the guards from beneath a red cloak.

Pip soon realized it was a battle between forest and city. Clangs of shields and spears, claws raking walls and metal, horses trampling. He was entranced by the scene, almost unable to move, but he knew he should use the confusion to flee from sight.

He stepped out and risked being caught by the light. The bedlam was enough to distract the fighters as he moved away, still unable to understand that what he saw was real.