You know what I am?” Shadlok asked, looking at William. The fay was armed: A sword and long-bladed knife hung from his belt, and there was a bow and a quiver of arrows on his back.
William nodded. He glanced down at the hob. “He told me. You’re a Seelie fay, from the court of Queen Yarael.”
A fleeting look of pain crossed the fay’s scarred face. “That was a long time ago.”
“What do you want with me?” William asked. “You followed me here, so you must want something.”
“You know full well what I want.”
The words, spoken softly, sent a chill through William’s chest.
“You want me to help you find the hill in the drawings. I already told you, I don’t know where it is.”
“Lie to me and it will be the last thing you do,” Shadlok said. “You know about the angel.” It was not a question.
William swallowed a couple of times, his throat suddenly dry and tight, but he lifted his chin and looked the fay in the eye. Inside, he was shaking with fear, but outside, he tried to appear calm. “A little,” he admitted.
“At last, we are getting somewhere,” Shadlok said. He glanced down at the small disheveled figure of the hob. There were still bits of thatch in the creature’s fur. “Do you trust this mortal?”
“He saved my life.” The hob was visibly trembling.
“But do you trust him?”
The hob nodded. William smiled briefly, oddly touched by this.
Shadlok suddenly stiffened and for a moment he seemed to be listening to something that William could not hear. He turned quickly and stared into the woodland, his pale eyes wide and his expression sharp and alert.
“Into the hut,” he ordered. “Now.”
William did not argue. The hob limped ahead of him but hesitated for a moment by the doorway, as if reluctant to go through. He took a deep breath and hunched his shoulders up to his ears. He almost threw himself through the doorway and scuttled over to crouch down in a corner of the room.
William stood by the fire pit and watched as Shadlok closed and barred the hut door. There was a tightness around his mouth, and William noticed he flinched when he touched the door. It seemed the iron nails were doing their work.
William opened his mouth to ask what was happening, but the fay held up a hand to silence him.
Shadlok closed his eyes. His lips moved as if he were speaking, but he made no sound. He raised his hands, palms out toward the door, and stood like that for the next few minutes.
William looked down at the hob with a questioning frown, but the hob’s full attention was on Shadlok. There was a look of terror on the creature’s face, but William did not know if it was because of the fay’s strange behavior, or if something else had frightened him.
The atmosphere in the hut began to change. The smoky air freshened and grew colder. William felt an uncomfortable prickling sensation where it touched his bare skin.
At last, Shadlok lowered his arms and the tension left his body. He turned to look at William.
“You are not safe in these woods. You should go back to the abbey.”
“I can’t,” William said. “I was told to bring the pigs here to forage for acorns. The prior will be angry if I disobey him and return before he sends for me.”
The fay’s eyes flashed with sudden anger. “You would prefer a slow and painful death to a few hard words from your prior?”
William stared at him. When had death of any kind, painful or otherwise, been mentioned?
“Is that a threat?” William managed to ask, his throat tightening.
“A warning,” Shadlok said, with a touch of impatience. He nodded to the hut door. “Out there, now, are creatures who would not think twice about peeling the skin from your body with their nails and teeth while you are still alive. They would rip the beating heart from your chest and smile while they did it. Do you fear your prior more than you fear them?”
William, unable to speak, shook his head. Behind him, the hob whimpered softly.
“I have hidden the hut from their eyes twice, but they can sense human blood close by and are suspicious. They have moved deeper into the wood and for now you are safe, but they will be back. We do not have much time. Tell me what you know about the angel. Help me now and I will answer all your questions later.”
William struggled to control the fear rising inside him. “Whatever is out there is after you, not us. They followed you to the abbey.”
“You think that will stop them from killing you?” the fay said softly, a grim smile just touching his mouth. “They are creatures of the Dark King. Killing is in their nature.”
William decided he had no choice but to trust Shadlok. The fay had just saved his life, after all.
Hesitantly at first, William told the fay what little he knew, about the angel’s death in the snow and its secret burial on Christmas Eve, a hundred years ago. “The hill you are looking for,” he finished, hoping he was not making a terrible mistake, “I think it is Gremanhil, north of the track to Yagleah.”
“Is that where the angel is buried?”
“I don’t know,” William said. He saw the fay’s eyes narrow and added quickly, “I really don’t know. I think there are clues in the drawings, though.”
“Such as?”
“The sheep behind the angel in the first picture, that means Sheep Brook, on the road to Yagleah, where the angel’s body was found. The crows are for Crowfield Abbey, but you must have known that or you wouldn’t be here.”
Shadlok said nothing. He waited for William to continue.
“I don’t know what the acorn or the hazelnut mean. If they give clues to the whereabouts of the grave, then it could be just about anywhere. Half of the trees in Foxwist Wood are either oaks or hazels.”
It was hard to say if Shadlok was disappointed by this or if William had merely told him what he already knew.
“The angel saved a hob from the Dark King,” Shadlok said, “but the creature does not appear in the drawings, so how did you find out about it?”
William hesitated. He glanced at Brother Walter. “He told me.”
The hob stood up, grabbing a corner of William’s jacket to steady himself. “The Old Red Man was a hob, like me, but he was a house fay, not like me. The king hung him from a tree and his followers started beating him with the flat of their swords. They cut off his tail.” The hob’s voice quavered and he paused for a moment. “The nangel came out of the hillside and cut him free. The king was angry and shot the nangel with an arrow.”
William looked down at the hob, startled. “Out of the hillside? Out of Gremanhil?”
The hob nodded. “There was a bright light and the hillside opened, and there was the nangel. So the Old Red Man told me and he had no reason to lie.”
William thought for a moment. It explained why Shadlok and Master Bone were so interested in the hill.
But it didn’t make any sense. What was an angel doing inside Gremanhil?
A faint smile touched the corners of Shadlok’s mouth. William had the feeling the fay was pleased by what the hob had told him. He also knew he would be wasting his breath asking why that was.
“This hob, where is he now?” Shadlok asked.
The hob hesitated for a moment. “In a house in Weforde, the last I heard of him.”
“Perhaps he saw where the monks buried the angel,” Shadlok said.
“He hid until the Dark King had gone. He saw the monks carry the nangel away, but he did not follow them. He had lost much blood and was in pain and there was nothing he could do to help the nangel, one way or the other.”
“Which way did they go? Was it toward Yagleah or Weforde?” William asked.
The hob shook his head. “He did not say.”
“Then we must ask him,” Shadlok said. He turned and, after the briefest hesitation, opened the door. He stepped outside and glanced back at William and the hob.
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
“You want us to come with you?” William asked, startled.
“Unless you would prefer to be here alone when the Dark King’s warriors return, then you will be safer with me.”
“But I can’t just leave the pigs,” William said.
“Then stay,” Shadlok said coldly. “It is your choice. But the hob comes with me.”
The hob shook his head and whimpered softly. He looked up at William with fear-filled eyes.
William thought quickly. He could not let Shadlok take the hob, and Mary Magdalene and the two pigs would be safe enough in their pen for the next few hours. “If I go with you, will you come back here with me afterward?”
Shadlock nodded. “I will escort you to the abbey.”
William decided he would worry about what to say to the prior later. But however angry the prior might be at William’s disobedience, he would sooner take his chances with Prior Ardo than the Dark King; at least the prior was not likely to skin William with his nails and teeth, or rip his heart out.
“Very well,” William said, nodding. He saw the look of relief on the hob’s face. William followed Brother Walter to the hut door. Something small and whitish lay on the floor, half hidden beneath a frond of dried bracken. He leaned down and picked it up. It was the fold of parchment with the four-leafed clover still tucked inside. It must have fallen from his sleeve when he jumped out of bed earlier. He pushed it back inside the cuff of his sleeve.
William took the pig-stick from where it was propped against the hut wall and nodded toward the stream. “Weforde is that way.”
Ignoring the hopeful grunts from the pigs, and with a wary glance around the clearing and the wintry woods beyond, he set off after the two fays.
The hob limped along, his face tight with pain, and quickly fell behind. William went back for him and lifted him onto his shoulders. Shadlok waited for them to catch up with barely concealed impatience, then turned and continued on his way. He looked around all the time, eyes sharp and watchful. He took the bow from his back and carried it in his hand, as if ready for trouble. His brown jacket, tunic, and trousers blended with the woodland colors around him, and his silver-white hair gleamed like a shaft of sunlight through the branches.
Even though he was walking just a few paces behind the fay, William found it curiously difficult to see him, and at times, Shadlok seemed to disappear altogether. If he had not known the fay was there, he might not have noticed him at all.
“Why is it,” William asked the hob, keeping his voice down, “that he doesn’t mind people knowing his name? You wouldn’t tell me yours, because it would give me a hold over you. Why is it different for him?”
“There are few fays more powerful than him,” the hob said softly. “Merely knowing his name would not help you against him.”
They reached the park pale and climbed the bank to a gap in the sagging wattle fence.
“Weforde is an hour’s walk this way,” William said, pointing to a narrow path leading down into a stand of young oaks.
Shadlok glanced at him over his shoulder, a look of contempt on his face. “I know.”
“I’m only trying to help,” William muttered, glaring at the fay’s back.
“The day I need the help of a human to find my way through woodland, or indeed anywhere else, is the day I will lie down and die,” Shadlok said.
William felt his face grow hot with mingled anger and embarrassment. Of course Shadlok didn’t need his help, but he didn’t have to be so unpleasant about it. The hob patted William’s cheek in silent sympathy.
Shadlok set off between the trees, moving quickly. William had to walk and sprint in turns just to keep up. The hob grabbed his ears and clung on.
“Can you please let go?” William said, trying to shake the hob’s paws free.
The hob put his paws on William’s forehead instead, which was marginally better, though he managed to poke William in the eye a couple of times as he bounced around during one of their faster sprints after Shadlok.
The hob patted William’s head and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Why are Shadlok and Master Bone trying to find out where the nangel was buried, do you think?”
William had been wondering about that, too. “I don’t know. Unless they mean to dig it up,” he said. He made the suggestion flippantly, but as soon as he said it, the appalling possibility that this was exactly what they intended to do hit him like a hammer blow. “They couldn’t really mean to do that, surely?”
“Perhaps they want to grind its bones down to make a spell,” the hob said. He rubbed his paw in a circle through William’s hair. “Grindy, grindy. Round and round, strong fay magic.”
“Stop doing that!” William grabbed the hob’s good leg and shook it. “What kind of spell?”
“One that will cure Master Bone of the sickness that eats his flesh. Perhaps the bones of a nangel are magic enough to do that.”
He gazed at Shadlok, walking a little way ahead and hopefully out of earshot. It made sense, he thought, after considering the possibility for several moments. He could not blame Master Bone for wanting to try to find a cure, but was any magic strong enough to make his fingers grow back again?
The early morning mist still drifted in hollows and hung over the brackish water of a pond near a charcoal burner’s hut. Wood smoke hazed the cold air between the trees, and somewhere in the distance William could hear voices and the sound of someone chopping wood.
They reached the track to Weforde and turned west. The track was broad and if they kept to the edges, away from the deep muddy ruts, the ground was firm and the walking was easy.
“The fays following you,” William said when he caught up with Shadlok, “are they trying to kill you?”
“No,” Shadlok said.
“So what do they want with you?”
“They are merely watching where I go.”
“Why?”
Shadlok frowned and there was a trace of impatience in his voice when he spoke. “The Dark King likes to know the whereabouts of his enemies at all times.”
“Where is the king? Is he somewhere close by?”
“I do not know.”
“Doesn’t that leave you at a disadvantage?” William persisted. “He knows where to find you, but you don’t know where he is?”
“Just stop talking!” Shadlok snapped, turning to glare at William. “Humans! You always have to be talking, even when you have nothing to say. I told you, I will answer your questions when we find the angel. Until then, keep silent.”
The fay walked on ahead. William made a face behind his back and stuck out his tongue. It was hard to like Shadlok and harder still to understand him. What William could not puzzle out was why, if Shadlok was such a powerful fay, did he choose to be the servant of a human, albeit an immortal one, when he clearly despised humans?
There were dark undercurrents here that William found disturbing. All he knew for sure was that he would be very glad indeed when Master Bone and Shadlok left Crowfield Abbey for good.