Chapter One

 

"Yeough."
      Davey struck again. He'd promised me the bit under the fence would be dry, but my knees felt cold. Wet, slimy mud seeped through my jeans. Aunt Ina would be sure to see it and chew me out, even if she didn't know I'd sneaked out.
      I stood, looked around, shivering though the mid-August night air on this Scottish island wasn't really cold. The chain link fence I'd crawled under should have been right behind me, but wasn't. The orange glow of the street lamps was gone. Near midnight, the wood was thicker, spookier than in the afternoon. It was light enough to read a newspaper, but the brilliant moonlight only made the shadows inkier.
      A figure straight out of my nightmares lurched from those dark caves. Its head glowed green. A hideous gash ran across the forehead. An eye dangled from the left socket. Black blood ran down to a fang at the right side of a twisted, leering mouth. The hair on the back of my neck bristled. When I turned to run, my toe caught on a root. I fell on my face. A hand clutched at my arm. I almost peed myself. My tongue was glued to the top of my mouth.
      "Good, eh, Pete?" Davey said. "I wore this last Halloween."
      "Yeah, great. I knew it was you all along, you know. I was just stringing you along." I hoped Davey wouldn't hear the quaver in my voice.
      A shriek shredded the air. We jumped.
      "That'll be Mike trying to scare us ... I bet ... I hope," Davey said, moving closer to me. He peeled off his mask, stuffed it into his pocket, and glanced round. "Where's the fence?" He spun. "All the lights are out."
      A second scream came out of the dark, then cut off as if switched.
      "Let's get to the grove," I said. "The sooner we meet Mike and the others, the sooner we can split and get out the heck out of here."
      "Which way?"
      "You're the local yokel. You tell me."
      Spiky gorse bushes clutched at our clothes. Finally we stepped clear, but not onto a neat path. A huge man stood grinning at us.
      "The gamie. Run, Pete!" Davey shouted.
      Before we could move more than a step, the man - he had to be the gamekeeper - grabbed us from behind. His thumb and second finger almost met in front of my neck. Even with both hands, I couldn't pry them loose. He pushed us in front of him at first, through more gorse and thorn. Then he snatched us up. Tucking one under each arm, he almost trotted, before dropping us at the edge of a clearing. "Kneel there."
      Mike, Colin, and Keith were already there. They knelt, staring at a man hanging upside down from a tree branch. His back was criss-crossed with bleeding stripes.
      Another man, dressed in a mid-calf-length, blue bathrobe, watched another blow fall, but the hanging man didn't even twitch. His hands dangled, lifeless.
      "Try some fire under him," Blue-Bathrobe said. He turned to us. "What have we here, Huntmaster?"
      Our captor bowed. "New players, My Lord?"
      The lord strolled towards us.
      It wasn't a bathrobe. It was a tunic. I'd seen drawings of men dressed like that in history books. I stared straight ahead, my eyes at the level of his broad leather belt. A second, slightly thinner girdle sagged to one side where a heavy-looking sword hung. He placed the end of his riding crop under my chin making me look up. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end again. For a short time, we looked into each other's eyes. I felt I knew this man.
      He shrugged then pointed at Colin. "Peel this one for me."
      Two men grabbed Colin. They ignored his protests, stripping him quickly.
      His lordship examined Colin's jacket, his T-shirt, jeans and runners with a frown before he dropped them and turned to study the boy. When he took his captive's wrist, Colin struggled.
      The lord peered at both sides of the hands. "Curious how pale it is."
      When Colin kicked and wriggled again, one soldier put an arm round his neck. He snapped the head back, and Colin slumped to the ground.
      "Stand him up," the lord ordered.
      Both soldiers bent to pick Colin up. The one who had held him by the neck trembled when he straightened. "He's dead, My Lord."
      The riding crop slashed across the man's face and he flinched back.
      "It was an accident, My Lord. His neck …"
      The second slash opened the cheek and blood spurted.
      Davey promptly threw up. My stomach knotted. It seemed too elaborate to be a game. Too many grown ups involved for that. And the blood was too real.
      His lordship glared at us, still kneeling in a row. Then, with a shrug, he turned away.
      "My Lord?" The Huntmaster waved his hand at us.
      Over his shoulder, his lordship said, "Turn them loose. We may hunt them later if there is no more robust game, but I fear it would be like spearing fish in a barrel."
      "Go then," the Huntmaster said.
      Davey was last in line. A large hand smacked his rump. "You heard My Lord. Run!"
      My final glimpse was of the man as we had first seen him, hands on hips, his face split by a grin.

 

Chapter Thirty-Eight

 

We had only been afloat a short time when we heard in the distance the baying of hounds. Bernard had kept us close to the shore and we were hidden from anyone on the beach we had just left by a small heavily treed promontory.
      "If we had stayed much longer," Mike said, "we'd have been caught."
      "Will the Duke try to follow us on the loch?" I asked.
      Bernard laughed. "No, there are but a few houses in the hamlet and only this one boat. If His Lordship wants a boat, one will have to be dragged up here from the town."
      "That would take forever," Davey said, "but he could still follow us along the shore."
      "No, as I told you, on this side of the loch between here and the North end the shore is boggy. There are no trails. Come, help me step this small mast and hoist a sail. We can make better time that way than rowing."
      I wondered what the Duke would make of our escape on the boat. Would he think we would cross to the North-West shore? Surely not, since that would take us well away from any chance of getting to the grove by dark. No, he had to guess we would go to the Northern end of the loch from where we could make it to the grove.
      "Bernard," I said, "the Duke knows we will try for the grove - that's why he has the Offislanders forming a cordon round it. So to intercept us he will want to be on the main trail North from town to be between us and the grove. Can he get there, from where he is now, more quickly than we can?"
      Bernard laughed. "No, I think not. He will have to go all the way back to town to reach the main trail North and then almost the same distance again along that trail."
      "Almost two sides of a triangle," I said. "Good."
      The sail was uneventful. I even dozed a little before Mike shook me.
      "Bernard says we should go ashore here. If we head more or less East, or just South of East, we should meet the main trial North and once we're across that we can make the grove."
      The spot Bernard had chosen had a gravel beach. We pulled the boat on shore and I looked round us. The sun was already beginning to sink in the West. If we had far to go, or if the forest was really dense, we weren't going to make before dark.
      Luckily for us, although the area was forested, the brush wasn't very thick and none of it seemed to be the thorn or bramble that made travel in other parts of the island so difficult.
      We made good time and close to sunset we came in sight of the main trail North.
      Warned by Jamie that the Offislanders were to cordon off the grove rather than beat for us, we moved very slowly and cautiously, approaching the trail from the West.
      The Offisland men-at-arms were stationed along the North trail in sight of each other. A sergeant stamped along the trail and we strained to hear what he said. "No sign yet. I think this Duke more than a little strange to worry about three halflings. At my signal, we pull back to yon rowan grove and circle it. Kill anything and anyone that moves into the grove without the word."
      When the sergeant had moved on, Mike said, "we must be inside their line as they fall back on the grove."
      "I will attract the attention of two guards," Bernard said. "While they watch for me, you three must slip across."
      "There's a bend in the trail where three guards will form a crescent almost. If you distract them to look to the centre, then we might slip across at the horns," Mike said.
      "We wait for the signal for them to fall back," I said, "then if the guards on the other sides of the horns see anything they will simply assume it is a guard moving. Once inside, we can move more quickly and quietly to the grove than they can. We know our way, and we're not afraid of this place in the dark."
      Davey was tearful saying goodbye, and even Bernard wiped his eyes on his shirt as Davey and I made for one horn of the crescent and Mike made for the other. We were barely in position when the word, "Pull back," came down the line from the North, passed from guard to guard. Bernard gave an animal call and moved the brush and shook a small tree. The centre guard and the flanking guards strained their eyes in the gloom. In that instant, Davey and Mike slipped over. The guard down the line hesitated, peered, then shrugged, and turned to bellow down the line, "Pull back," and I was also across.
      We regrouped and moved silently towards the grove, very glad now of our night exercises in the wood and the grove. Concealed in one of our prepared hideouts in a thorn thicket short of the Grove, we waited.
      "Where's your crossbow, Davey?" Mike said.
      "I gave it to Bernard. He might need it more now." Davey gulped and brushed tears from brimming eyes.
      "That's fine. If we can't finish this tonight with the silver quarrels, it won't matter anyway."
      After the events of the day the inactivity now seemed endless. It was obvious the Duke was expected in the grove. Servants had lit a small fire and there were hampers of food in the grove. We were almost dozing when we heard a shouted challenge then the voice of the Huntmaster. "Make way for His Grace, Duke William."
      The Duke, the Huntmaster and few huntsmen entered the grove. The Offisland sergeant stood before the Duke.
      "My Lord Duke, the grove and the area round it was searched in accordance with Your Grace's orders. It was clear this afternoon and no one has passed us since. There is a full cordon round the grove. No man can enter without our knowing."
      "Thank you, sergeant," the Duke said, "but I am not sure we were expecting men.
      "Huntmaster, this has been both the best and the worst Hunt I can ever remember. God's Blood, man. With an army half as skilled and cunning as those boys, I could take and hold this whole kingdom.
      "Enough. Do we have anything for fresh dogs to scent? If so, send for fresh dogs while we dine, and we will resume The Hunt."
      "What of the other quarry, My Lord?" the Huntmaster said.
      "What of them? I would as lief chase rabbits now. Call The Hunt in to the grove. All others are free and pardoned. We must find those boys. Send for the fresh dogs."
      The Huntmaster instructed servants, who moved out to the dark trail leading to town. They peered anxiously into the gloom outside the circles of light cast by the torches they carried.
      "My Lord Duke, partake of some sustenance now. See, the moon is come out from behind the clouds and is full and high in the sky. It must be close on midnight."
      The huntsmen collected round one side of the clearing, and the Duke and his Huntmaster stood to one side of the small fire while the servants bustled to open the hampers.
      We three boys stepped into the full moonlight, across the Rowan grove from the Duke. Davey in his demon mask flanked by Mike and me, our crossbows preloaded and at the ready.
      "Not quite like spearing fish in a barrel, My Lord Duke, was it?" I said, and before anyone could react, Mike and I raised our bows and loosed the silver quarrels.