“Fanny?”
Fanny awoke abruptly. She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep in her prison. Perhaps it was exhaustion, or a hangover of some sort from whatever the Kobalds had used to bring her here unconscious in the first place.
She looked about herself.
Everything was much the same as it was, except the candles sputtered quite a bit lower in themselves than before. And the door was open.
And peering from around the door were the small, anxious faces of two boys.
Fanny’s own brothers.
From there, everything happened as if in a whirlwind.
Fanny was immediately pounced upon by the two young savages, piled high with a contradictory mix of hugs, kisses, tears, and triumphant exultation. It took a brief and ponderously strained moment before Fanny could set her diminutive relatives to order and get some sense out of them. It was with no small amount of concern that she demanded to know what on earth they were doing here, in the tunnels of the Kobalds.
“We’re here to rescue you, that’s what! And a jolly fine job we’ve done of it too, eh Peter?”
“Swimming job! Isn’t it Fanny? We’ve rescued you right out from under their big ugly noses!”
“I don’t know about that yet, we’re not out of their keep yet. Now be quiet both of you! Here, one of you untie my ankles. The knot is very stout, I haven’t been able to work it at all. You little savages usually have knives (at the very least) about you, don’t you? Here, careful now! Don’t cut yourself, or me either, for that matter. Well done there! Now then, do either of you know the way out?”
“Of course we do, what sort of rescuers do you think we are? We’re not babies!”
“It’s right this way! Turn that way...no, this way. Careful Fanny! Don’t knock over the little barrel on the left, there’s a Kobald inside it. We put him there.”
Fanny crawled out through the low door into a tunnel about five feet tall and six across. There were several barrels of varying sizes arrayed haphazardly about, and one them was shaking violently back and forth as an angry soliloquy of muffled curses came from somewhere inside. Abruptly, it fell over and a Kobald tumbled out, tangled and tied up in the boys’ coats.
“Help help help help help! Invaders! Intruders!”
One of the boys reached into his pocket and plucked out a small stone, which he hurled at the Kobald, who ducked only just in time.
“Terror and mayhem, murderous children! Help, help! Alarm, alarm, all alarm!”
The Kobald bolted off deeper into the tunnels, stumbling about with his limbs still entangled in a pair of adroitly applied jackets.
“Quickly Fanny, the entrance is this way!”
Fanny crawled and stumbled faster than she would ever have thought possible. Her prison was apparently not at all deep within the abodes of the Kobalds. A few dozen yards of winding passages later, and they were at a small dugout cave mouth.
Several Kobalds were silhouetted against the bright afternoon light, peering alertly out in the woods beyond, without any regard to what was behind them. Fanny was about to take charge when her brothers leaped forward before she had a chance to reign them in.
Their tactics were winningly effective, however. With a yell that would have terrorized most anyone caught unawares and likely driven a harried chambermaid to swooning, the boys hurled themselves forward while releasing a fusilade of small stones.
The Kobalds scattered in all directions, squeaking madly as they fled from unexpected assault. In a moment there was not a brown nose or phrygian cap to be seen, and the boys breached the outdoors with a shout of triumph.
“Ha ha! Weren’t we just splendid, Fanny?”
“Well done my loves, but we haven’t a moment to lose! Run quickly!”
With a barbarian in each hand, Fanny fled into the woods with as much speed as her bare feet and stiff legs could manage. All around, small horns were beginning to sound.
An hour passed. And then two more. It was twilight now, the sun only shortly retired before the horizon, having yielded the sky not to the cheer of an argent moon, but to ill tempered grey clouds laden with cold rain, anxious to unleash their wearisome burden as soon as possible so as to be done with the business.
Deep in the woods, Fanny and her juvenile charges huddled closely together under the dubious shelter and camouflage of a cavernous shrub. Torrents of rain had left them all soaked to the skin, Fanny in only her thin nightgown and the boys without coats or hats. They didn’t dare build a fire (even if they could have managed it under the circumstances) for fear that they should give themselves away to their fey pursuers who were no doubt looking for them.
Still, the young boys were in fine enough spirits as they cuddled up to their beloved sister, and eagerly they related the adventure which brought them to the achievement of Fanny’s liberation.
Through a haze of excited interruptions, distracted deviations, and omitted details, Fanny eventually garnered the jist of this fortuitous exploit.
It was the conclusion of the barbarians Howard that, despite their high regard for Black Abraham, abducting young women just wasn’t all that sportsmanlike, all things considered. They resolved that no young women would be permitted to be abducted from their domain, and with that in mind they determined to exert their protection over their beloved Fanny, as although she was a splendid sort she was still a girl and girls are not sensible about such things. They just don’t understand war, you know. And this was going to be a proper war.
The boys had therefore extended an unshakable vigilance each night over their favorite sister, armed with an imposing arsenal of pen knives, stones, small cakes stolen from the larder for emergency rations, and so forth. Keeping watch turned out to be a bit of bother after a while though, and they usually wound going to bed earlier than later. Especially since in the general mobilization of the neighborhood most of the domestic servants of the larger houses had been tasked with guarding the families of their employers, so there was usually at least one of the male servants awake on watch each evening. Although six eyes are still better than two, the boys usually concluded before the night was far gone that there was no need to triple the guard, especially when the boys were feeling sleepy.
But last night they had noticed that the footman who was supposed to be on watch was asleep….while standing, no less!. The boys decided this was not a proper circumstance at all, and that something seemed to be rather afoot!
It was then, from the vantage of their usual guardpost behind an urn outside Fanny’s room, that they witnessed her abduction.
It was a profound tactical error on the part of the Kobalds which gave them away. Whether they had come in through the window, the chimney, or some other eccentric route was not known. But upon entering Fanny’s bedroom one of their number had been sent to inspect the hall outside, and it was then that the boys saw the queer creature in a pointed cap peering out from their sister’s bedroom door. This gave the boys a start, to be sure, and for a moment they were a bit bewildered at the circumstance before them. However, if nothing else it was clear that there was an intruder of markedly dubious character trespassing within their sister’s bedroom, a situation which demanded prompt response indeed. The two striplings tumbled into Fanny’s room only in time to see that their revered sibling had been maneuvered out the window (presumably drugged or something), and was just now being carried across the lawn by a veritable horde of small beings in pointed caps. This, they immediately perceived, was a wholly unacceptable circumstance, and so the boys grabbed their sacks of supplies and gave chase!
The boys were stoutly unanimous in their assertion that they are jolly good at tracking, of course, and contrary to the strenuous criticism of not a few in the household can manage to keep dreadful silent when the need arises. In addition, the Kobalds (for that is what the boys deduced that these creatures must be) seemed over confident and weren’t watching their rear flank properly at all.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
Furthermore, the Kobalds apparently did not frequently absconding with objects as large or cumbersome as a twenty seven year old Gandish woman, for at first they did not employ any of their usual tunnels, but instead carried their fair hostage across the surface of the land, keeping to the shadows as much as possible until they could reach a tunnel big enough to fit her.
The boys followed as the Kobalds traveled in this fashion for some distance. How far Fanny could not ascertain with certainty, other than it was “simply miles and miles”, although the boys were fairly certain they were somewhere deep inside a forest (Crickwood perhaps) before the Kobalds at last took the sleeping Fanny into a great hole at the base of a dead tree. It was quite clear by now that the Kobalds were wholly confident in the stealth of their enterprise. They didn’t even bother to leave a rear guard! Shoddy work that, the boys felt. The Kobalds must not be very good at kidnapping (like Black Abraham was). It was a simple matter to follow them into the tunnel.
Although the boys still didn’t dare follow too closely, it wasn’t until they had locked Fanny in a nearby side room that the Kobalds finally bothered to leave a proper guard; some half dozen of them milling about the sealed door. At this point the boys were a bit stumped. What to do about the guards? The boys sat there in hiding for “simply ages”, watching. Fortunately, the Kobalds had plenty of empty barrels lying about, which the boys knew from experience to be splendid things for hiding in, especially when you want to scare the servant girls. How long they remained ensconced in the receptacles they weren’t quite sure, as they rather fell asleep actually, being so dreadfully tired and all. But they woke up when someone abruptly blew on a nasty horn. They watched as a big crowd gathered about the room and a pompous tick in a metal hat went in to the room where Fanny was a prisoner. He came out a little while later, and then most of them left. There were still plenty of guards though. Again, the boys watched.
After a time, another Kobald came around looking rather a bit concerned (at least so far as the boys could tell). He spoke urgently with the guards and then left, taking most of them back with him towards the entrance of tunnel. In hindsight, the boys conceded that they had probably left evidence of their presence outside, such as tracks and other such things (to say nothing of the colored handkerchief they had tied to a tree to “mark the way home”). Upon seeing this, the Kobalds had perhaps finally begun to suspect that they might possibly have been followed, and hence immediately transferred the substance of their guards back to the entrance, in the erroneous assumption that any threats would likely be coming from the outside.
Meanwhile, the lone remaining guard had taken a comfortable seat, and in the absence of his superior promptly closed his eyes for a nap. The significance of this gross tactical error was not lost on the barbarians Howard, and they reacted with swift and expert precision, creeping up softly and then throwing their coats over him, wrapping him all up and stuffing him in a barrel before the fey creature knew what was upon him. They then opened the door, extracted their sister, and now here they all were sitting under a tree in the rain.
It had not been raining very long, and the boy’s spirits were as yet undamped even as their bodies were in a markedly opposed state.
“This is splendid! We could live positively forever out here! There are so many roots and plants and things, and we could build wigwams! We’d have no lessons at all and hunt small animals all day and you would cook them for us, Fanny.”
“Except of course we’re all wet, but that’s what wigwams are for. Have you ever made a wigwam, Fanny?”
“In point of fact yes, and I’d much rather live in a proper house, thank you.”
“But out here in the wood is so much better! There are no rules, and no punishments.”
“Not if I don’t make them, you mean.”
“You would never be so rotten unsporting like that, Fanny!”
“Sh! We can talk all about living in the woods later. But right now we must all be very sensible, and very quiet. You may have easily fooled the Kobalds once, but I doubt you will be so fortunate twice, and they surely know this wood much better than ourselves. They are undoubtedly looking for us this very moment, and I for one do not at all wish to be their captive again.”
“We’ll not have any of that! We’ll throw stones at them until they run away squawking, just like before.”
“I pray it were only as simple as that.”
Hours passed. The wind was had picked up a cruel edge of cutting chill, and the downpour continued unabated and without mercy. Fanny and the children remained huddled ever closer; cold, fearful, and utterly lost.
And out in the wood, somewhere out of sight, small beings crept persistently through the brush, peering into the deepening night with eyes suited best to searching out the darkness, stealthily combing every tree and fern for their prisoner who would be restored to their grasp yet.
Misfortune has a way of being shared over long distances in a perverse way that denies beleaguered people even the blessing of commiseration. So it was that in another part of the forest, Harlow and Gates were likewise crouched under a large shrub which formed a remarkably inadequate umbrella.
“Mr. Gates, I think I am not being overly critical in observing that this is positively miserable.”
“Indeed yes. Though where on earth has that good cheer of the Barnstabrakes gone? I feel I could use a ration of it at the moment.”
“The good cheer of the Barnstabrakes is at home in bed, I should suspect, right there with all my worldly thoughts and desires at the moment.”
“How dreary. I was hoping you’d kept it about you for a bit longer.”
“Hang it all, Gates, must you always be so flippant?”
“In point of fact my life has been rather starved for lighthearted diversion for many years, so I tend to be aggressive in embracing as much of it as comes my way and can be exploited sensibly. But hullo, what is this?”
“That’s my foot you’re stepping on, or at least it was last I checked; it might have dissolved in the mud by now.”
“No no, that dashed light up there! Looks like it’s on a hill or something, or else hovering in mid air. Bless me if someone hasn’t managed to light a fire in the midst of all this downpour. A nice trick that, and all the easier with a bit of magic at hand…especially if I was wrong about being on a hill and it really is floating in the air or something.....do you think it might be the work of our nefarious friend?”
“Why the deuce should he light a fire? He knows we’re looking for him.”
“A sound observation, Barnstabrake, there is hope for you yet.”
“Bah!”
“But indeed, as you say, he knows we’re looking for him. Who could it be, then? Or if it is Kador after all, then what could he be up to?”
“Well, we might as well have a look at it as not. You lost the trail hours ago.”
“There’s no need for recriminations, I think. I am not an owl, I don’t see any better in the dark than the next man, and contrary to the unkind observations of some, neither I am a dog nor do I smell like one, in either sense of the expression.”
“That indeed might be debatable.”
“Oh dear, you really have misplaced you good cheer, haven’t you? Anyway, so why not have a look at our mysterious little campfire?”
“That’s what I just suggested!”
“Correct, and I’m speculating as to why or why not. Who else would be in Crickwood besides ourselves and our adversary?”
“Other search parties.”
“True. Tell me, if we were to come upon another search party unexpectedly, I suppose they wouldn’t shoot me on sight if I told them I was with you?”
“They would if I likewise told them to go ahead and shoot anyway.”
“Now you’re just being flat out ill tempered.”
“Well, suppose it is another search party, what then?”
“Perhaps they’ve run across some sound intelligence that has hitherto eluded ourselves. I am fairly confident we’re in the right area. Perhaps pausing to combine our knowledge with that of others would be worthwhile at this point (assuming they don’t shoot me that is).”
“Fine. Let’s go then!”
“Not so hasty. It may be our friend Kador after all, in which case, what is he up to? Is he just being his usual idiot self, or is he attempting to be clever? Is he setting us up for a wild goose chase I wonder? Or trying to draw us into an ambush?”
“What sort of wild goose chase?”
“Putting up a fire somewhere irrelevant to distract us. Still, that might not hold us for very long in the end, would it? I wonder if he has gone and conjured up a wisp that will lead us away bit by bit until we are wholly lost and far away from wherever Kador is really hiding? No, I can’t be sure, but I have a mind that’s not what it is. The light looks very much to be a natural fire, and that wouldn’t be his style anyway. Too circumspect, and far too discreet. Kador rather prefers the spectacular.”
“As does yourself, or do you think stepping through the front window of a public house in sight of the whole neighborhood to be the inclination of the bashful?”
“And what if it is a trap, I wonder? What if he is deliberately baiting us to some doom or other? He probably won’t try to face us alone again, not after this morning. He’d bring help. But then that would leave his encampment unprotected, mightn’t it? And him with a prisoner to guard. Unless that hill really is his encampment, and he has chosen to set the trap there so as not to divide his forces. Would he take such a risk, I wonder? Indeed I wonder.”
“I for one wonder how many angels there are in heaven who are assigned to forever minister to the inventor of the umbrella.”
“There’s nothing else for it but to take a chance, I suppose. And to keep our wits firmly about ourselves. You did manage to keep your wits, I hope, even if you’ve misplaced your optimism?”
“As you say. I’m heartily tired of this whole bedratted escapade. I’ll be as witty as it takes to catch that rat, and then I’ll make him eat his own tail and swallow himself whole in the process.”
“Oh dear. Is see Kador has rather earned your distinct displeasure. Still, that’s a good thing, really. Better to know a witch for what it is than to mistake it for what it isn’t. Just do try to keep a cool head about it all and avoid doing anything preposterously foolish? That’s a good fellow. Come on, Barnstabrake! We have a fire to follow, and a fate to be met. Let’s hope it’s a good one. The fate that is, although a good fire would hardly be amiss either.”
Through the soaked detritus and weeping trees, the two men pulled themselves wearily onward into the night, ever towards the distant ember that beckoned to them across the darkness, while somewhere in the distance the clamour of the wind was mixed with the howl of wolves.