Wild Magic (15 page)

CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX

Marianna ran through the night, barely aware of the countryside she was passing. Her head was whirling with questions, her heart was hurting with untold secrets—and her belly was still demanding dinner. So when an unwary rabbit suddenly crossed her path, Marianna seized and killed it before she realized what she was doing.

“Oh!” she said, looking at the limp brown body on the ground before her. “You poor thing. You didn't deserve that.”

She picked the rabbit up gently, found a comfortable place to sit, and started to eat it. She didn't want to, but she knew her body would give her no peace if she didn't. And in a way, wasting the rabbit would be even worse than killing it. Then it would have died for nothing. So she started to pull off the fur and turned her mind to other things.

Marianna didn't know what had upset her most: the shock of seeing her father, the thought of Jakob being in danger, or the terrible family secret she had learned. It was probably the secret, she decided. That had turned her whole world upside down. Her mother had trusted her to look after Jakob. Why hadn't she trusted her with the truth?

Marianna's thoughts started to drift . . . Over the fields and the rivers, the woods and the streams. Over Hamelin Hill and on to the town. Over the rooftops and into the street where she had lived. Into the house and the attic room, where her own life had begun and her mother's life was ending. Marianna could see her lying there, in a shaft of sunlight, her soul fluttering in her breath like a trapped butterfly. And Marianna could see herself, at eight years old, holding her mother's hand, face wet with tears, leaning forward to catch her last words.

“Promise me, Mari,” whispered her mother, “you'll look after Jakob. And your father. Whatever happens.”

“I promise,” said Marianna. She felt her hand being squeezed, one last time.

“You're strong, Mari. Always remember that. Simen?”

Moller stepped out of the shadows. He was holding Jakob by the hand.

Marianna stood up and let her father take her place. He gave her Jakob. She took her brother's hot little hand in her own and vowed never to let it go.

“Protect them, Simen,” said her mother. “Love them. Fight for them.” Her voice faltered. She closed her eyes.

Her father leaned in very close. Her mother said something Marianna couldn't hear. Then he sat back, and Marianna saw a smile on her mother's face. Then she gasped—a soft, whispery intake of breath that sounded surprised, not pained—and her eyes opened one more time. And they seemed to be seeing something
wonderful
, as if the room had suddenly filled with rainbows or bright butterflies. Marianna longed with all her heart to see the vision too. To share this magical moment with her mother. But it was fading. Her mother's eyes were closing, and already the world seemed darker without them.

One last sigh, then it was over.

And Moller let out a wail of such anguish that Marianna, back in Elvendale, was truly shocked. She hadn't remembered that. She saw him fall upon the bed, his sobs coming thick and fast and unstoppable. And it was several minutes before he rose unsteadily to his feet, walked over to the tiny attic window, and opened it. Then he gazed out, over the rooftops, to Hamelin Hill beyond. And only now did Marianna understand why he had done that. It was as if her mother's soul had indeed left her as a butterfly and he was setting it free. Watching it go, beginning the long journey home to Elvendale.

Marianna chewed the rabbit and thought on. That afternoon in the attic . . . That was when everything began to change in the house. Her father had tried to cope, but it was all too much for him. The days became weeks, the weeks became months, and he fell apart like a worn-out coat. His temper frayed. His life unraveled. He burst at the seams: he was so full of emotion. Soon he was nothing but a shabby rag of a man, no good to anyone.

Promise me, Mari, you'll look after Jakob. Whatever
happens
. What had Mama meant by that?
Whatever
happens.
Marianna hadn't thought about it before, but now she had to wonder. Did her mother fear this might happen? Did she know that someone might come searching for Jakob?

“I
have
looked after him,” said Marianna hotly, through a mouthful of rabbit. “I have, Mama! I have done my best, for three years, and it's been hard. Really hard, but I've done it. And I'm sorry I didn't wait for him at the door. I should have kept him closer. But if I had, he'd be dead now, Mama, so it was all for the best. And I
will
find him again, I promise. Now I know he's here, I will find him and keep him safe forever.”

Marianna finished the rabbit. She ran her tongue around her lips to tidy herself up, then rubbed her muzzle against her leg, just to be sure. She sighed. She couldn't lie to herself anymore. There was one promise she hadn't kept. Three little words she had chosen to forget over the years.
And your father
. That was what her mother had truly said.
Promise me, Mari,
you'll look after Jakob. And your father. Whatever happens
. She had known, hadn't she? She had known that her husband would crumble without her, and it would fall to Mari to look after him.
You're strong,
Mari. Always remember that.

Yes, she was strong. Her father was weak but she was a survivor. That was why there was food in her belly while he had none.

That was why she had to go back.

Moller sat on a log, catching his breath. He had walked so hard, he had given himself a cramp. He was hot, he was tired, he was hungry, and he longed for a drink. He wouldn't deny it. Oh, but the look on Marianna's face . . . Even through fox fur, he had seen her disgust. And she was right. Look at him! Dirty, smelly, and drunk. That's how she remembered him, and he hadn't changed.

“But I
must
,” he told himself. “Jakob needs me now and I'm no use to him as I am. Get a grip on yourself, man. Be strong for once in your life. Like Mari.”

He started. There was a sound.
Pad, pad, pad
, coming toward him down the lane. He held his breath, hardly daring to hope.

Marianna. It had to be. There was a fox coming right toward him with something swinging from its jaws. A freshly killed rabbit. Moller felt his heart lurch with unexpected joy.

“Mari!” he cried. “Mari!”

Marianna dropped the rabbit at his feet.

“Yes, Papa,” she said. “It's me. And this is your supper.”

CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN

While Moller was cooking his supper, Jakob was settling down on a bed of leaves. In truth, father and son weren't that far apart, but Jakob had no idea his father was nearby, while Moller couldn't begin to guess his son's location. All he could do was hope that Jakob was safe and not too hungry.

Jakob wasn't hungry at all. He had enjoyed the best day of his life and it had ended with a delicious and unexpected feast.

He had spent the morning strolling along green lanes, delighting in the warmth of the day and the gorgeous countryside around him. He had swung his staff to knock the heads off thistles, whistled like a blackbird, picked handfuls of berries from hedges, and sat awhile to savor them. There was no hurry to him at all.

He loved his new legs. He had never imagined that walking could be so exhilarating. Back in Hamelin, he had been friendly with a peddler. Konrad sold ribbons and lace from a basket. He walked all over the country, from town to town, village to village, and often talked about “the freedom of the open road.” That had puzzled Jakob. He couldn't imagine how it would feel to walk for hours, days, weeks. But now he knew exactly what Konrad had meant. Being able to walk was a glorious gift. And with all his heart, he prayed that it would never be taken away from him.

By early afternoon, when the sun was at its highest, Jakob found a shady spot beneath some trees and enjoyed a nap. Then he walked on through the changing landscape. It started to look cultivated rather than wild. There were fields instead of meadows and the hedgerows were well tended. Then he heard an unmistakable lowing.

Jakob stood on his tiptoes, looked over a hedge, and found a whole herd of cows. Beautiful, pure-black cows with red ears and red tasseled tails. Spiral horns tied with ribbons. Ruby hooves and long-lashed eyes. Black udders, heavy with milk.

But there was something strange about the herd. There were silver buckets beneath some of the udders and, though no one was visibly milking the cows, milk was squirting out in creamy streams and landing with a satisfying
slosh
in the pails below.

When the udders were dry, the buckets picked themselves up and moved on to the next cow, where the squirting and sloshing began all over again.

“That's amazing!” whispered Jakob, wishing Marianna was there to see it with him. “It's magic!”

He walked along the lane to the next field. Here there was wheat, long and ripe, swaying seductively in the warm summer breeze.

Jakob became aware of a sound:
sssssssip, sssssssip!
Through the field came a trio of silver scythes, slicing through the cornstalks.
Sssssssip, sssssssip!
No one was holding them. The grinning scythes were working alone.
Ssssssssip, sssssssip, sssssssip!

Jakob was intrigued. “The farm can't be completely worked by invisible hands,” he reasoned. “There must be
someone
here.”

He was right. In the next field he found the farmer.

This field was a clover meadow, busy with bees that flew from one pink flower to the next. In a corner stood the beehives, but they weren't plain wooden boxes like the ones around Hamelin Town. Each beehive was beautifully carved and brightly painted—a home fit for a queen.

Beside the beehives stood an elf, and Jakob was amazed to see that he wasn't wearing any protective clothing. He had often watched the Hamelin beekeepers at work. They wore thick padded suits and hats with veils, and they always pumped smoke into the hives to clear the bees before they removed the honeycombs.

But this elf had neither smoke nor padding. He was removing the honey with his bare hands and the bees weren't bothering him at all. They seemed to be giving the honey willingly.

As Jakob watched, the elf removed the last of the honey from a hive. Then he did a curious thing. He bowed deeply, said some words Jakob couldn't hear, reached into his pocket, and brought something out. Jakob couldn't see what it was—it was too small. But whatever it was, the elf slipped it into the hive. Then he bowed again and moved on to the next one.

Jakob was drooling. The honey looked delicious and he was hungry. He smacked his lips and moved on down the lane.

Soon he came to the farm buildings: a jumble of sheds and shelters, barns and pens, with the farmhouse set a little way behind. Jakob's eyes were particularly drawn to a long, low stone barn. It had a turf roof and a wooden door, and he couldn't help wondering what was inside. So he slipped across the farmyard, opened the door, and went in.

“Aha! Goodies!”

Inside the barn there were two enormously long tables, one on each side, laden with wicker baskets. On one table the baskets were full of nuts: almonds, walnuts, acorns, hazelnuts, and a dazzling array of unfamiliar ones. On the other table the baskets were full of berries: red, yellow, orange. Bright as beads.

Countless more berries had been threaded onto strings. They hung from the roof rafters like hundreds of necklaces.

“Oh!” sighed Jakob. “Mari would
love
one of those.” He started to walk the length of the barn, wondering how he could get one down. And he was so busy thinking, he didn't see the elf children until he nearly trod on them. He heard a warning
“Aa-lo!”
and a giggle and, when he looked down, he saw two smiling faces. A girl and a boy, sitting on the floor, threading more berries.

“Sorry!” said Jakob. “I didn't see you there! I was looking at the strings.”