Pip and the Twilight Seekers (11 page)

Sam sat up in his chair. He was still half asleep and confused.

“Welcome back,” said Sam. “I thought I’d lost you for good. It’s not been the same without you. I miss having you around. Are you well? Did you come to any harm? It’s not safe here, you do know that, don’t you? You can’t stay, son.”

The children stared back at him. They said nothing. And then, just like before, they faded away into emptiness. They had never been there at all. It was another fevered dream. They seemed to grow more and more regular. For sure it was Sam’s anxieties that led him to his nightmares, but each night he would awake and think that they were right there before him. Then the realization of the dream would hit him like a hammer and he was devastated when he discovered all over again that they were still lost.

He got to his feet and rubbed his eyes. It was time to head up to his bed. He pulled on the shutters at the windows and blew out the candle stubs that were glowing at the table side. He took a long weary look at the slashed drawing of Toad that still hung on the wall and then he took a last look out of the window before he climbed the stairs.

Did he really see what he thought he could see? Was that the black pumpkin rolling past or was he still seeing things? It was late, even for Jarvis. Sam had a score to settle. His anger rose up inside of him. He pulled on his boots and coat and stepped out into the snow, emerging quickly from the door and taking after the trundling wheels of the carriage.

“Jarvis, I want words with you. Jarvis!” But his cries went unheard and he struggled to keep up as the carriage grew smaller and smaller. He began to pant and puff, and was quickly out of breath. He couldn’t keep going like he used to. He was angry and worn out all at the same time.

“I just want my boy!” he said to himself and he fell to his knees in the snow and covered his face with his hands as tears ran down his reddened cheeks. “I just want my boy!”

“Come on, Sam. It’s late,” came a voice. It was Mr. and Mrs. Beetry from the candle store. Mr. Beetry put his arms around Sam and pulled him to his feet, dusting him down to shake off the snow.

“Time for bed, you daft old beggar,” he said. “Don’t let this place get the better of you. He’ll be fine, your boy. He ain’t no fool.”

Mrs. Beetry gave him a hug and wiped his cheeks with her apron.

“I know, I know. You’re right,” said Sam, coming to his senses. “I just miss him, that’s all. I miss him badly.” And they helped him inside.

Something flew overhead. It looked like a small flock of witches clumped together. All Pip could do was stay calm and carry on. He steered the carriage into a bend to avoid them. There was a bridge up ahead and its archway formed a tunnel under which he could conceal himself for a brief moment. Had they seen him? Perhaps they had, perhaps they hadn’t. He waited a moment as they passed over and headed for the forest. The children hoped to avoid as much contact as possible. They knew Jarvis was an old misery so as long as Pip kept his head down and didn’t say much they would be in character.

The three of them felt the forest looming. Toad poked his head out from the cloak and called out to Pip, “Keep calm, brother. You’re doing an excellent job.”

A shiver ran down Pip’s spine. But it was not a feeling of fear—quite the opposite. It was the feeling he’d had when Toad called him brother. It seemed to give him confidence in his task and buoyed up his spirits.

They grew nervous and held on tight. Not far to go before they were in the thick of those woods. They could hear the swishing and bowing of the branches now. A stiff breeze was swaying the frailest of the brushwood.

A clattering walkway of wooden panels announced the timber bridge that crossed into the leafy suburbs of the hollow as the wheels rolled across them. There was less snow here and the ride became bumpier. Stiff roots tried their best to upturn the rickety black pumpkin.

Spindly woody fingers scratched the roof of the mobile prison as if to try and tear open the insides and pull out prisoners. Pip knew the woods would be against them. There was something about those trees he knew not to trust and they seemed to know more than you would give credit to a tree.

Howling and barking began to circle the woods. Strange night noises resounded from trunk to trunk like echoes bouncing across the landscape. Pip ran his hand over his belt where Captain Dooley was tied. Perhaps it was a mistake bringing him back into the forest, but he had not wanted to lose sight of him. He mustn’t let go of him, whatever happened.

And then to Pip’s surprise a nearby crow landed on his shoulder. “Shall I steer you to the keep, sire? Esther does not seem to be here. It is dark and I know your eyes will not be as good as mine.”

Pip’s heart leaped and he was sure it could be heard thumping. He tried to settle himself. He didn’t answer. He simply nodded and hoped the crow would not push him for an answer.

“Straight on and mind the low branches,” she said.

Toad watched her from beneath. He felt she’d taken a sneaky look down at him but he could not be sure. It was darker than he could have imagined and his eyes were still adjusting.

“Straight ahead, sire, and pull to the left in the clearing. There is a steep dip, so do hold on.”

Again Pip nodded but as the carriage dropped down, the hood of the cloak slipped and his hand was quick to pull it back across. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed in the darkness.

Something ran at the side of the black pumpkin, clawing its hands on the doors and peering in. Heavy, hot breath poured in through the barred window and yellowy eyes spied their victims.

“Down, Fenris,” pleaded the crow. “You will see them eventually.”

“The undergate is just ahead. Are you heading to the keep, sire?” it questioned.

Again Pip nodded. All three of them grew more nervous, their hearts beating in unison. This was it.

She steered them forward through the dark and a chink of orange light turned out to be fire beacons burning at the mouth of the undergate.

“You’ll find your way from here, sire,” she said, and she lifted from his shoulders, disappearing into the dark of night.

They were alone now except that howls and squawks from the woods surrounded them. The carriage dropped into a low spiraling descent, gradually becoming steeper. More torches lit the way and Pip could see the walls of the labyrinth at close hand now, and the claw marks decorating the walls.

“Look!” he said. “It’s OK, you can see. There’s no one here. Take a peek.” And their heads came out briefly for a moment.

It was quiet. It seemed there really was no one else here. It was a dark, dank, ominous-looking hole.

Soon they would be rescuing the children that were harbored in the keep. If they could escape the forest in the same way that they came in, the plan would be a simply executed success.

The black pumpkin was spiraling toward the end of the undergate tunnel and the gnarled and woody entrance to the keep. It was stony silent but Pip and the others knew that for sure, up ahead, was a prison already filling up with the children of Hangman’s hollow.

Pip watched with dread as the root-riddled walls began to move. There were things attached to those tunneled dug-outs. Creatures that had not been apparent at first sight were moving slowly, awakening to the rumble of Jarvis’s carriage. Something hung down from above with staring eyes. Pip averted his gaze and tried his best to appear unmoved by what was around him.

Unexpectedly, out from the darkness appeared the dreadful figure of Roach. His four arms poking out from his jacket. His strange glare, one dark eye and one milky white. He was a terrifying sight. He held a torch aloft and his wizened figure became apparent, all spindly and tall, an insectoid in a bedraggled ill-fitting outfit. Pip had seen Roach when first escaping from the forest, but only at a great distance. It was quite a shock to see him up close and he had a real task just to cover up his shock and fright. Pip bowed his head as if to acknowledge the man and conceal himself at the same time.

Roach beckoned him onward, waving his hand. He squinted into the porthole of the carriage as they passed through. Hopefully it was too dark for him to see that they didn’t carry any prisoners.

Up ahead was a further gateway, more like a door, constructed from steel and wood, with a small barred opening in the center. Someone or something stood at the entrance. It was small and goblin-like, hunched and skinny with pale skin and lank hair. It held a lantern and as they drew close it inserted the keys into the lock.