Guest, p.11
Guest, page 11
Turning to me, Madog thrust a heavy pouch into my hands. “Open it and throw the contents at them. Be quick.”
I fumbled with the cord and then hurled the sack at the Kinde Folke. Its contents exploded in a flash of lightning. Small iron balls shot into the Kinde Folke crowded around us. They screamed in pain and tried to shield themselves. Horses rose on their hind legs, and their riders fell from their backs. Many lay still on the ground. Others turned their horses and galloped back the way they’d come. Riderless horses followed them. The hounds scattered, howling in agony.
Untouched by the iron balls, the queen mounted her horse. “Curses on you, Madog,” she screamed. “May you die the death of the miserable cur you are!”
Still shouting, she rode after her warriors.
“Go!” Madog cried to Aidan and me. “Go!”
Our three horses ran through the forest, leaping streams, striking sparks from stone, traveling with a speed no mortal horse could match. It was as if I rode the Pooka’s back again. At any moment, I expected to soar above the trees.
When we’d put a great distance between us and the queen, Madog slowed the horses to a walk.
“Is it safe to go so slowly?” I asked. The baying of the hounds still rang in my ears, and I couldn’t believe we’d truly left them behind. Or the queen. Her angry face hung in my memory like a death mask.
“The queen’s huntsmen are in pain from the iron. They’re not fit to pursue us.” He smiled. “Even the Kinde Folke have their weaknesses.”
“It’s lucky you got such noble horses for us,” I said. “Wherever did you find them?”
He winked. “That’s not for you to know.”
“Tell the truth, Madog. You stole them from the Kinde Folke. You must have. No mortal horses can run as fast as these.”
“They are indeed a rare breed.” He patted the stallion’s neck. “And that’s all I have to say on the matter.”
“What about the sack of iron balls?” I asked. “How did you come upon that?”
“You ask too many questions, Mollie-o. I’m certain you know the fate of curious cats.” He smiled. “And remember, unlike them, you have only one life, not nine.”
Thomas moaned and lay back against Madog’s chest. His face was pale, his closed eyes heavy with sleep. Thinking he had a bad dream, I leaned toward him to smooth his tangled curls.
Madog stopped me. “Don’t wake him. Perhaps sleep will restore him to the boy he once was.”
“But what if the boy he once was is gone forever?”
“It may take time. He’s been with the Kinde Folke nearly all his life. You must be patient, Mollie.”
We rode on in silence. From the soft warmth of his body, I knew Guest slept as deeply as Thomas. I’d never been so weary in my life, but I was too worried to let myself sleep.
I glanced at Aidan, who rode alone, looking straight ahead, his face no happier than usual.
“I’m so glad to be safe from the queen,” I said. “Aren’t you?”
Aidan glanced at me. “We won’t be safe until the Dark Lord destroys their power and makes them mortal like us. They’ll have no home. They’ll be beggars and thieves, hated wherever they go.”
“But what of Aislinn and Duatha? Will that be their fate?”
Aidan turned his face away. “I know not. Nor do I care. Lady Duatha should not have lain with Madog.”
“You have a hard heart, Aidan.”
“At least I’m not stupid.”
“I’d rather be stupid than heartless.”
“Well, then, you have your wish, don’t you?” With that, he tapped the horse’s sides with his heels and rode away.
Behind me, Guest stirred restlessly, half-awake, but Thomas slept on. Madog hummed softly and guided the stallion gently so as not to wake him.
No one spoke to me. And I spoke to no one. It was a long, silent ride.
15
* * *
THAT EVENING WE PASSED the signpost pointing to Port Riverton. We were out of the Dark Lands at last. As night fell, we made camp in Mirkwood.
Madog laid Thomas on the ground and covered him with a blanket. My brother didn’t open his eyes and slept as if he never meant to wake up. Aislinn must have poured a powerful potion into his wine.
Aidan built a fire, and we gathered around it to share a meal of apples, bread, and cheese. I put a portion aside for Thomas in case he awoke, but he lay motionless under his blanket.
As soon as I’d eaten, I bedded down next to Thomas, and Guest snuggled beside me. As usual, he fell asleep at once, and I lay awake listening to the night sounds. Every twig that snapped, every leaf that rustled frightened me. We weren’t very far from the Dark Lands. What was to stop the queen from sending her men after us?
I reached for my cloak, thinking I’d sleep better if I was invisible. Although I was sure I’d clasped it around my throat, the cloak was gone. I sat up and began searching for it.
“What are you looking for?” Madog asked.
“The cloak Aislinn gave me. Have you seen it?”
“Surely you didn’t believe you’d be allowed to take a cloak of invisibility home with you? Imagine the mischief you’d cause.”
“I was cold,” I fibbed, “and the cloak would have kept me warm.”
“You have the same blanket you’ve always had and a fire to keep you warm. Go to sleep now, and let me rest.”
Long before dawn, quarreling voices awoke me. Aidan and Madog sat a few feet away, their backs to me.
Suddenly Aidan jumped to his feet. “I cannot abide this foolishness another moment,” he said. “I want no more of the girl and her brother and the changeling. Stay with them if you wish, but I’m going home.”
“Aidan, will you be a fool all your life? Guest is my son, and Mollie has proved to be a brave girl and a wise one, far wiser than you. I must see them home, a day’s journey from here. Stay with us. You and I—”
“You and I are nothing,” Aidan said. “I came here for one thing. To beg you to return to my mother, who is your wife. If you will not do that, I have no use for you.”
“Go, then. But I’m sorely disappointed in you. A jealous child is what you are.”
“If you wish to see me again, come home to my mother and me.”
With that, he mounted his horse and rode off into the forest. Madog watched him, head cocked as he listened to the horse’s hooves long after he lost sight of his son. With a sigh, he sat down by the fire’s embers, his head bowed.
Even though I wanted to go to him, I lay still. I’d witnessed something I wasn’t meant to see. It was best to leave Madog with his thoughts for now.
Closing my eyes, I slipped back into sleep.
The next time I opened them, morning had come. Madog was roasting potatoes over the fire, and Guest squatted beside him. Thomas slept, curled into a ball with his back to me.
“Thomas?” I leaned over him to make sure he was breathing.
His eyes opened a crack and closed again. Shifting his position, he sighed and slept again.
I tuned to Madog. “Thomas should eat something.”
“Let him sleep until we leave Mirkwood. He can eat then.”
After we’d had our fill, Madog lifted Thomas onto the stallion, climbed up behind him, and signaled me to follow with Guest.
We hadn’t ridden far when a strange darkness fell upon us, turning Mirkwood as black as night. Thunder crashed so loudly the earth seemed to shake. Lightning exploded across the sky with a force that split clouds. The wind rose in a gale so strong that the woods’ ancient trees bent before it. The air filled with leaves, and limbs of enormous size broke and crashed to the ground around us.
This was no ordinary storm. Terrified by its force, I crouched low on the mare’s back. Guest tightened his grip on me until I feared my ribs would snap. The horses stamped and whinnied, and their manes blew in the wind like unraveling strands of rope.
Then, as quickly as it came, the storm ended, leaving behind a dreadful stillness.
From somewhere, perhaps the sky itself, a mighty voice roared, “You broke your vow to me. Begone!” Tiny cries answered, their words lost in the distance. The voice shouted with rage, “Live in misery and die in pain! You are lost to me and I to you!”
The wind returned in wild gusts, carrying with it a horde of dry leaves. They flew past us and scattered in all directions.
I didn’t raise my head from the horse’s neck until the wind died. Then I looked at Madog. His head down, he hunched on the stallion’s back, and Thomas slept undisturbed in his arms.
With Guest clinging to me, I nudged the mare closer to Madog’s horse. “Was that him?” I whispered. “The Dark Lord?”
Madog patted my shoulder comfortingly. “I believe he’s destroyed the Kinde Folke just as I said he would.”
I remembered the leaves flying past me in the storm and the cries I’d heard. “Are we safe from them now?”
“Nothing about the Kinde Folke is ever certain. Even though they’re now scattered across the world, those ones will search for other tribes and seek to join them.”
“But those other tribes are far from here, are they not?”
“The Folke are wanderers just as travelers are. They never stay in one place long. Who’s to say whether they’re far or near?”
He looked at me and guessed my fear. “Don’t worry, Mollie. They’ll be too busy learning to live as mortals to hunt for you or your brother.”
“But suppose the queen regains her power? She might—”
“She won’t. She can’t. Her power and her magic are gone.”
“But are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be, Mollie. Stop your fretting, and keep your thoughts on Thomas and how to wash the Kinde Folke from his memory. And from your memory as well.”
“But what of Duatha and Aislinn? Where will they go? What will become of them?”
Madog lowered his head and hid his face from me. “I know not, Mollie. Don’t ask again.”
I said no more about Duatha, for it was clear it gave Madog pain to speak of her. In silence, I pondered their fate, as well as that of the children I’d seen. Duatha and Aislinn were strong, but what of Kaelyn and Sebilla? They were little and helpless. How would they fare begging on the roads?
Slowly Mirkwood became sunnier. Birds called overhead. I tilted my head back to search for them among the leaves. Mockingbirds, robins, thrushes, larks—the first I’d seen for a long while. Gradually the trees grew farther apart, and more light poured down through their leaves. Shadows lost their menace, and I glimpsed patches of blue sky.
At first, my mood brightened with the day, but as we came closer to the end of Mirkwood, I lowered my head and watched the mare’s dainty hooves. Every step took me nearer to home. Although I longed to feel Mam’s arms around me and smell Dadoe’s pipe smoke, I was worried about Thomas.
He still slept, his head bumping gently against Madog’s chest. His eyelids twitched, and his hand brushed at his face as if the sunlight bothered him.
What would he say when he woke up?
16
* * *
IN THE AFTERNOON, WE came to the top of a hill overlooking Lower Hexham and the farms surrounding it. In the distance, I spied our cottage. Mam was hanging out the wash, and Dadoe was working in the garden. From where I stood, they were no bigger than my thumb.
Guest leaned around me. “Do you see your house?”
I pointed. “It’s there, where Mam is hanging clothes on the line. See?”
“I see her, I see her. And the man—is he Dadoe?”
“Yes, that’s Dadoe.”
I turned to Madog. “Are you coming with us?”
“I think not, Mollie,” he said. “It’s best for you three to go alone.”
“But what if they welcome Thomas and me, but not Guest?”
“Should things go badly, I’ll be near. I give you my word.”
With Thomas still dozing in his arms, Madog slid off his horse. Speaking softly, he told me to dismount and help Guest down. Gently he set Thomas on my horse and fashioned a bridle from his belt. Looping makeshift reins around Thomas, he did his best to secure him on the mare’s back.
Then Madog whispered into the mare’s ear. She nodded her head as if she understood.
“Now, my lad, it’s time to say goodbye.” Madog lifted Guest above his head and laughed. “Look, you—this is how far you’ll see when you’re a man. Between now and then, I mean to visit you often and watch you grow and prosper.”
Turning to me, Madog bowed.
“Farewell and good luck, Mollie,” he said. “You’ll see me again before long, but until then, it’s been a pleasure and an honor to know you, stubborn though you are.”
“But what of this horse? How am I to return her to you?”
“Don’t you worry. As soon as Thomas puts his feet on the ground, the horse will return to me.”
Tipping his hat, he leapt on the stallion and rode back toward Mirkwood.
With sorrow, I watched him ride away. A man you don’t meet every day, he’d once said of himself. And I knew it was true. I’d never see Madog’s like again, I was certain.
With the mare following close behind, Guest and I walked down the path and across the fields. I had no wish to pass through the village. Men, women, and children would stop us on every street to ask about Thomas and stare at Guest.
Grasshoppers leapt out of our way, and a raven watched us from a fence post. Guest chased the grasshoppers but never managed to catch one. Thomas slept on the mare’s back.
“We’re almost home,” I told Guest. “Do you remember anything?”
Guest hopped from one foot to another and laughed. “I was little-bitty babby then. I doesn’t remember nothing, except I were bad—bite, scratch. I were nasty. Mam was hating me, Mollie, too. I were lonesome, I were scared, my belly were aching.”
He laughed again and clapped his hands. “I are not bad now like then, Mollie. True? No more biting, no more scratching, no more hitting, no more kicking. I talks now. I walks. I chews food with my teeth. Mam and Dadoe will see me changed so much. They will lets me stay.”
Guest’s words tumbled out so fast, I had trouble keeping up with what he was saying. Crossing my fingers behind my back and hoping it was true, I said, “Mam and Dadoe will love you like I do. Just wait and see.”
“Good.” Waving his skinny arms and almost tripping over his own feet, Guest chased a butterfly in circles.
Behind us, Thomas muttered something. I went to the mare’s side and peered up at him. His eyes opened slowly, and he stared about in confusion.
“Don’t worry, Thomas. You’re safe now. The queen is far away. She cannot take you again.” I spoke soothingly, thinking to comfort him, but he stared down at me with anger.
“You! It’s you, isn’t it? You’ve taken me from my people and brought me to your land! You must return me at once.”
“No, Thomas, you don’t understand. I’ve saved your life.” In a rush of words, I told him the truth. “The Kinde Folke never meant for you to be their king. You were to be their tithe to the Dark Lord.”
“Liar! Take me back to the Dark Lands. I demand it. You cannot keep me here.”
“Thomas, please, this is your home. Our cottage is under that tree. Soon Mam and Dadoe will see us and come running.”
In anger, Thomas jumped off the mare. As soon as his feet touched the ground, the mare turned and galloped back the way we’d come. At the same moment, Thomas’s fine velvet suit turned to tattered leaves. The gems on his jacket became acorns, and the gold trim became moss. All that remained of his fine leather boots was mud caking his legs and feet. Instead of a sword, a crooked stick hung by his side.
Thomas stared at himself in dismay. “What have you done with my suit and my boots?” He raised the stick as if it were a sword, saw what it was, and threw it to the ground. “You’ve stolen everything from me, even my sword.”
“I stole nothing from you, Thomas. Your fancy clothes were always what you see now—leaves, sticks, acorns, mud, and moss. You’ve been sorely cheated by the Kinde Folke. Not by me.”
“I was their prince,” he insisted. “They loved me, I tell you. They loved me. They gave me everything I asked for. They did whatever I told them to do.”
“Thomas, you must believe me. You’re my brother. I love you. Mam and Dadoe love you. Don’t make them unhappy. They’ve longed for you to come home.”
But Thomas refused to listen. “My name is Tiarnach. You are not my sister. The peasants who live in that hovel are not my mother and father. They mean nothing to me. Less than nothing. I will never love them or you or anyone—especially not the toad.”
Thomas turned his angry eyes on Guest, who had crept close to me. Raising his fist, he aimed a blow at the changeling, but I grabbed his arm to stop him.
“You will not hurt Guest. Not now. Not ever.”
Thomas stared at me in confusion. “Why did you bring me here? The light is so bright, it hurts my eyes. There’s so much noise, I cannot hear myself speak. I hate you and everyone else in this miserable place!”
He turned and began running across the field toward Mirkwood, now a distant line of trees on the horizon. I ran after him and caught him. Thomas lacked the strength to fight, so I pulled him step by step toward the cottage. With every move he made, more of his clothing disintegrated. He looked like a small tree shedding leaves.
With a worried face, Guest watched Thomas and me struggle. “Thomas is the changeling now,” he said. “Kick, bite, hit, scream, and cry.”
“How dare you?” Thomas tried to break away from me, but I had a good tight grip on his arm.
We finally reached the garden gate. From the kitchen came the smell of fresh-baked bread.
Thomas stared past me at the cottage. “The Kinde Folke wouldn’t keep pigs in a hovel like this.”
Too angry to answer, I pushed open the gate. The daisies by the door were in bloom, and a morning glory vine climbed the walls, filling the air with sweetness.
