LITMIR.BIZ

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ever this size? Its head loomed high above Marcel’s. Its body was covered in glistening black fur and its cruel mouth was drawn back to reveal a row of savage teeth. A leather thong was laced around its neck, and dangling from it was a pouch large enough to hold a dozen gold coins. Could there be any doubt? This was the beast he had heard in the tower.

      The world had gone silent except for the growls of this beast. All other things around Marcel had become invisible. He wondered whether his heart was still beating.

      Fergus too had been thrown from his chestnut stallion, which bolted, whinnying loudly, back towards Fallside. He rose to his feet unsteadily, but when he saw the beast he froze in fear.

      “Termagant, bring them both inside the gate,” cried a deep voice nearby, laced with fury.

      The beast stopped its circling and came towards Marcel, who was still lying prone on the ground. A gasp of horror rose up from the boys huddled together beside the gate. One or two screamed.

      But before the beast closed in, a desperate wail broke the silence. “No, Lord Alwyn! You mustn’t hurt him!”

      It was Mrs Timmins. She had rushed from the house when she heard the sounds of the beast, followed by the girls, who had all been working indoors. She reached the gate and kept coming until she stood bravely above Marcel, shielding him from the beast with her stout body.

      “Stand aside, Mrs Timmins. I told this boy to stay inside your boundaries. Instead, he rides a wild horse through the streets of Fallside.

      “You disobeyed me,” Lord Alwyn said to Marcel, his voice low and threatening. “You showed yourself in the village. Worse still, your name was shouted out for all to hear.”

      “But, Lord Alwyn,” Mrs Timmins interrupted, “the people of Fallside are simple folk –”

      “Enough!” he cried fiercely. Turning back to the boys, his eyes blazed, and he focused on one of the pair in particular. “I blame you, Marcel. Didn’t I warn you to stay inside these walls? You can’t imagine the misery this day could bring upon you, and many others as well.”

      “Don’t hurt him!” came an anguished cry, though which of the little girls had dared speak no one could tell.

      The wizard ignored this pleading. He considered the boy before him, his face darkening. To Marcel, it seemed that not just the old man’s face but the whole world grew blacker. This is his magic working on me, he decided, and braced himself for what was to come.

      But his concentration was quickly shattered by Fergus’s voice. “What’s happening?” he asked, looking around him in alarm. “Everything’s getting darker.”

      Sure enough, it was not just Lord Alwyn who had fallen into shadow. All around them, the ground, the house, the orchard beyond it, everything was becoming dimmer and harder to see.

      Now even Lord Alwyn was looking around him for the cause, and moments later they all saw it: a black curtain sweeping quickly over the forest, blocking out the day’s bright sunshine. Night had never come like this, marked by a black line across the sky – and it was not even midday.

      “What is it?” Fergus cried, but his voice was quickly lost amid the screeching that rained down from that writhing black canopy.

      Then Marcel knew. “Bats!” he exclaimed. “Thousands, millions of them!” Already the leaders of this mighty horde had reached the village. Any minute now, it would break over the rim of the great cliff and sweep down into the valley below.

      But Marcel’s attention was torn away from this sight by words, the old wizard’s words, though none he could understand. He turned to find Lord Alwyn with his arms outstretched, calling up to the blackening heavens above them. As he chanted his strange verses and swept his arms across the sky with as much grace as his ageing limbs would allow, that great, raucous cloud stopped its progress. More words, more waving of those thin arms, and the tide gradually began to turn back.

      It took many minutes, but at last the darkness was repelled and the bats returned to wherever they had come from. Most of them, at least. Some came to earth instead, landing on the stone wall and on the roof of the house, a few hanging upside down from the eaves as though they had come especially to watch Marcel face his punishment.

      “What happened?” cried Mrs Timmins in terror. “Your Lordship, all those bats! Where did they come from? Why would they suddenly appear like that? And so many! They almost hid the sun.”

      The sorcerer didn’t answer her. He seemed deeply troubled by what had happened. “It should not be,” he muttered, but slowly he forced himself out of his daze. His wrinkled brows weighed heavily over his weary eyes as he turned them on Marcel.

      This made the boy more terrified than ever. He would gladly ride Gadfly over that treacherous stream a dozen times rather than stand here, waiting for Lord Alwyn to unleash his magic upon him.

      Suddenly the sorcerer stretched out a hand, not to call down punishment on Marcel but to steady himself. If Mrs Timmins hadn’t rushed to his side and taken hold of his arm, he might have fallen to the ground. When he recovered, he threw her hand off petulantly, but it was clear now that the effort of turning back the strange cloud of bats had drained him.

      He motioned feebly to Marcel, summoning what little strength he had left. “You disobeyed me,” he said gravely, his voice quavering. “If you cannot do as I command, I shall need other measures. Come here, take this.”

      Marcel held out his left hand and found a gold ring lying in the centre of his palm.

      “Put it on your finger,” Lord Alwyn commanded faintly.

      He slipped it loosely on to the smallest finger of his right hand.

      “Since you refuse to do as I say, that ring will remind you. If you dare cross these walls again, Termagant will come after you, to fetch back that ring and you with it.”

      A shudder ran through Marcel’s body at these words. He felt the ring, cold and unfamiliar against his skin. His thumb worried at it, trying to push it free, but though it turned easily around his finger, somehow he couldn’t get it past the knuckle.

      “Try all you like,” said the wizard. “It will not come off.”

      “Never? Not even with your magic?”

      Lord Alwyn smiled contemptuously. “Oh, yes, there is a way.” He looked at the mud-splattered mare, still panting from her desperate gallop. “I see you dare to ride wild horses, and no doubt these children here think you a brave young man. The true test is whether you find the courage to remove that ring.”

      The wizard gazed at Marcel searchingly until it made him uncomfortable. He pulled at the ring openly now, but Lord Alwyn seemed unconcerned. He turned away and spoke harshly to Fergus. “Don’t think I have forgotten your part in this escapade. You would do well to heed Mrs Timmins and become the kind of boy a farmer would gladly take into his home.” Then he addressed Mrs Timmins. “Send them both to bed hungry.”

      Turning back to Marcel, he lowered his voice. “You have escaped unpunished this time, but disobey me again and Termagant will bring you to me…in her jaws.”

      With that, he turned and made for the house, his faltering steps among the loose stones an odd contrast to his ominous words. In a few quick bounds, the beast he called Termagant was at his heels. The orphans watched as he disappeared around the end of the house, and only then did anyone move or dare to say a word.

      

       Even as Lord Alwyn delivered his dire warning, it was too late. The name had been heard. In Fallside, when the drinkers returned to their tankards of ale, the landlord soon noticed that one had been abandoned half-full. Where was the traveller who had paid for it? No one had seen him since they had all rushed outside to watch those mischievous orphans race by on horseback.

       And they wouldn’t see him again, for at that moment he was already urging his horse along the forest road. By nightfall he would be travelling across the plains

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