“I know. You sent me in there first.”
“Really?” Chanute rubbed his fleshy nose. He’d convinced Jacob that the Witch had flown out.
“You poured liquor on my wounds.” The imprints of her fingers were still visible on his throat. It had taken weeks for the burns to heal.
Jacob threw the knapsack over his shoulder. “I need a packhorse, some provisions, two rifles, and ammunition.”
Chanute didn’t seem to have heard Jacob. He was staring at his trophies. “Good old times,” he mumbled. “The Empress received me personally three times. How many audiences have you clocked up?”
Jacob closed his hand around the handkerchief in his pocket until he felt two gold sovereigns between his fingers.
“Two,” he said, tossing the coins onto the table. He’d had six audiences with the Empress, but the lie made Chanute very happy.
“Put that gold away!” he growled. “I don’t take no money from you.” Then he held out his knife to Jacob.
“Here,” he said. “There’s nothing this blade won’t cut. I have a feeling you’ll need it more than I will.”
6. Lovesick Fool
Will was gone. Jacob saw it immediately as he led the packhorse through the collapsed gate of the ruin. It lay as deserted as if his brother had never followed him through the mirror and all was fine and this world was still his, all his. For one moment he caught himself feeling relieved. Let him go, Jacob. Why not just forget he ever had a brother?
“He said he’d come back.” Fox was sitting between the columns. The night turned her fur black. “I tried to stop him, but he’s just as pigheaded as you.”
Another mistake, Jacob. He should have taken Will with him to Schwanstein instead of hiding him here at the ruin. Will wanted to go home. Just go home. But he’d take the stone with him.
Jacob led the packhorse to the other two horses already grazing behind the ruin. He walked toward the tower. Its long shadow wrote a single word on the shattered flagstones: Back.
A threat for you, Jacob, but a promise for Will.
Ivy grew up the scorched walls so densely that its evergreen vines hung like a curtain over the doorway. The tower was the only part of the castle that had survived the fire nearly unscathed. The inside was swarming with bats, and the rope ladder Jacob had installed years earlier shimmered through the darkness. The Elves always left their dust on it as if to remind him that he had once come down here from another world.
Fox looked at him apprehensively as he reached for the ropes.
“We leave as soon as I get back with Will,” Jacob said.
“Leave? For where?”
But Jacob was already climbing up the swaying ladder.
The tower room was bright with the light of the two moons, and his brother was standing next to the mirror. He was not alone.
The girl stepped out of his embrace as soon as she heard Jacob behind her. She was prettier than in the photos Will had shown him. Lovesick fool.
“What’s she doing here?” Jacob felt his own rage like frost on his skin. “Have you lost your mind?”
Jacob brushed the elven dust from his hands. It worked like a sleeping potion if you weren’t careful.
“Clara.” Will took her hand. “This is my brother. Jacob.”
He said her name as if he had pearls on his tongue. Will had always taken love too seriously.
“What else has to happen before you realize what kind of a place this is?” Jacob barked at him. “Send her back. Now.”
She was afraid, though she tried hard to hide it. Afraid of the place that could not be, the red moon above her—and of you, Jacob. She seemed surprised he actually existed. Will’s older brother, as unreal as the place she found herself in.
She took Will’s blemished hand. “What is that?” she asked in a halting voice as she stroked the stone. “I have never seen a skin condition like this.”
Of course. A medical student…. Look at her, Jacob! She’s just as lovesick as your brother. So lovesick that she even followed him into a whole other world.
From the rafters above came a scraping sound, and a scrawny face peered down at them. The Stilt who had bitten Jacob on his first trip behind the mirror could not be driven from the tower, but its ugly face quickly disappeared behind the cobwebs as Jacob drew his pistol. For a while Jacob had borrowed guns from his father’s collection, but at some point he’d had a gunsmith in New York put the workings of a modern pistol inside one of the old-fashioned shells.
Clara stared, dumbfounded, at the glinting muzzle.
“Send her back, Will.” Jacob tucked the pistol back into his belt. “I won’t tell you again.”
Will had by now encountered things that were more frightening than a big brother, but finally he did turn around. He brushed the fair hair from Clara’s forehead.
“He’s right,” Jacob heard Will whisper. “I’ll come after you soon. It will heal. You’ll see; my brother will find a way.”
Jacob had never understood where all that trust came from. Nothing had ever been able to shake it, not even all the years during which Will had barely seen him.
“Let’s go.” Jacob turned around and went toward the hatch.
“Go back, Clara. Please,” he heard Will say.
But Jacob had already reached the bottom of the rope ladder by the time his brother finally caught up with him. Will climbed so slowly, it seemed he never wanted to reach the bottom. Then he stood there, looking at the elven dust on his hands. Deep sleep, enchanting dreams—not the worst gift, but Will wiped the dust from his fingers as Jacob had shown him. Then he touched his neck. The first traces of pale green were already showing there, too.
“You don’t need anybody, right, Jake?” His voice nearly sounded envious. “You were always like that.”
Jacob pushed aside the ivy.
“If you need her so much, you should leave her where she’s safe.”
“I just wanted to give her a call. She hadn’t heard from me in weeks. I didn’t think she’d follow me.”
“Really? And what were you waiting for then up there?”
Will had no answer for that.
Fox was waiting by the horses, and she didn’t like it at all that Jacob had brought Will back. Nobody can help him. Her gaze still said it.
We’ll see, Fox.
The horses were agitated. Will soothingly patted their nostrils. His gentle brother. Will would always bring home every stray dog and cry bitter tears over the poisoned rats in the park. But what was growing in his flesh was anything but gentle.
“Where are we riding to?”
He looked up at the tower.
Jacob gave him one of the rifles from the panniers of the packhorse.
“To the Hungry Forest.”
Fox lifted her head.
Yes, Fox, I know. Not a very pleasant place.
His mare shoved her head into his back. Jacob had paid Chanute a whole year’s earnings for her, and she was worth every farthing. He tightened the strap on her saddle as Fox uttered a warning growl.
Steps. Hesitant. Then they stopped.
Jacob turned around.
“No matter what kind of place this is”—Clara was standing between the blackened columns—“I will not go back. Will needs me. And I want to know what happened.”
Fox eyed her incredulously, like a strange animal. The women in her world wore long dresses and kept their hair pinned up or plaited, like peasant girls. This one was wearing trousers, and her hair was as short as a boy’s.
The howl of a wolf pierced the darkness, and Will pulled Clara away. He talked at her, but she just took his arm and traced the stone veins in his skin with her fingers.
You’re no longer the only one looking after Will, Jacob.
Clara looked at him, and her face briefly reminded Jacob of his mother. Why hadn’t he ever told her about the mirror? What if the world behind it could have wiped at least some of the sadness off her face?
Too late, Jacob. Much too
late.
Fox hadn’t taken her eyes off the girl. Jacob sometimes forgot she was one, as well.
A second wolf howled. They were usually quite peaceful, but there was always a chance that there was a brown one among them, and those did like to eat human flesh.
Will listened anxiously into the night; then he again pleaded with Clara.
Fox lifted her muzzle. “We should leave,” she whispered at Jacob.
“Not before he sends her back.”
Fox looked at him. Eyes of pure amber.
“Take her along.”
“No!”
She’d only slow them down. Fox knew as well as he that his brother was running out of time, though Jacob hadn’t explained that to Will yet.
Fox turned.
“Take her along!” she said again. “Your brother will need her. And you will, too. Or don’t you trust my nose anymore?”
With that, she disappeared into the night as if she was tired of waiting for him.
7. The House of the Witch
A thicket of roots, thorns, and leaves. Giant trees, and saplings stretching toward what scant light trickled through the thick canopy. Swarms of will-o’-the-wisps above putrid ponds, and clearings where toadstools drew their poisonous circles. Jacob had last been in the Hungry Forest four months earlier, to find a Man-Swan wearing a shirt of nettles over his feathers. But after three days he’d abandoned the search, for he had not been able to breathe under the dark trees.
It took them until midday to reach the edge of the forest, because Will had been in pain again. The stone had now spread all over his neck, though Clara pretended not to see it. Love makes you blind—she seemed intent on proving that proverb. She never budged from Will’s side; she wrapped her arms around him whenever the stone grew a little further and he doubled over in the saddle with pain. But when she felt unobserved, Jacob saw his own fear on her face. When she asked him what he knew about the stone, he gave her the same lies he had given his brother: that it was only Will’s skin that was changing, and that it would be simple enough to heal him in this world. She hadn’t taken much convincing. Both she and Will were only too happy to believe whatever comforting lies he told them.
Clara rode better than he’d expected. Jacob had bought her a dress from a market they had passed along the way, but she made him swap it for a man’s clothes after trying in vain to mount her horse in the wide skirt. A girl in men’s clothes, and the stone on Will’s skin—Jacob was glad when they finally left the villages and highways behind and could ride under the trees, even though he knew what would be awaiting there.
Barkbiters, Mushroom-Wights, Trappers, Crow-Men. The Hungry Forest had many unpleasant inhabitants, though the Empress had been trying for years to clear it of its terrors. Despite the dangers, there was a lively trade in horns, teeth, skins, and other body parts of the Hungry Forest’s creatures. Jacob had never earned his money that way, but there were many who made quite a decent living of it: fifteen silver dollars for a Mushroom-Wight (a two-dollar bonus if it spat real fly-agaric poison), thirty for a Barkbiter (not a lot, considering the hunt could easily leave the hunter dead), and forty for a Crow-Man (who at least only went for the eyes).
Many trees were already shedding their leaves, but the canopy above them was still so dense that the day beneath it dissolved into a checkered autumnal twilight. They soon had to start leading the horses on foot, for they kept getting caught in the thorny undergrowth. Jacob had instructed Will and Clara not to touch the trees. However, the shimmering pearls that a Barkbiter had left sprouting as bait on an oak limb made Clara forget his warnings. Jacob barely managed to pluck the foul creature from her wrist before it could crawl up her sleeve.
“This here,” he said, holding the Barkbiter in front of Clara’s face, close enough for her to see the sharp teeth above the scabbed lips, “is just one of the reasons why you shouldn’t touch the trees. His first bite will make you drowsy. A second one, and you’ll be completely paralyzed. But you will still be fully conscious while his entire clan starts to gorge itself on your blood. Trust me, it’s not a pleasant way to die.”
Do you see now that you should have sent her back? Will read the reproach on Jacob’s face as he pulled Clara to his side. But from then on she was careful. It was Clara who pulled back Will in time when she saw the glistening net of a Trapper stretched across their path, and it was she who shooed away the Gold-Ravens trying to squawk dark curses into their ears.
And yet…. She belonged here even less than his brother did.
Fox gave him a look.
Stop it, her eyes said. She is here, and I am telling you again: He will need her.
Fox. His furry shadow. The will-o’-the-wisps, drifting in thick iridescent swarms among the trees, had often led even Jacob astray with their alluring hum. But Fox just shook them from her fur like troublesome flies and ran on unwaveringly.
After three hours, the first Witch’s tree appeared between the oak and ash trees, and Jacob was just about to warn Will and Clara about their branches and how they loved to poke at human eyes, when Fox suddenly stopped.
The faint sound was nearly drowned out by the hum of the will-o’-the-wisps. It sounded like the snip-snap of a pair of scissors. Not a terribly threatening sound, and Will and Clara didn’t even notice it. But the vixen’s fur bristled, and Jacob put his hand on his saber. He knew of only one creature in this forest that made such a sound, and it was the only one he definitely did not want to run into.
“Let’s get a move on,” he whispered to Fox. “How much farther to the house?”
Snip-snap. It was coming closer.
“It’s going to be tight,” Fox whispered back.
The snipping stopped, but the sudden silence was no less ominous. No bird sang. Even the will-o’-the-wisps had vanished. Fox cast a worried glance at the trees before she scampered ahead again, so briskly that the horses barely managed to keep up with her through the dense undergrowth.
The forest was growing darker, and Jacob pulled from his saddlebag the flashlight he had brought from another world. More and more often they now had to skirt around Witch’s trees. Hawthorn took the place of ash and oak. Pines sucked up the scant light with their black-green needles, and the horses shied when they saw the house appear between the trees.
When Jacob had come here some years earlier with Chanute, the red roof tiles had shone through the undergrowth so brightly, it had looked as if the Witch had painted them with cherry juice. Now they were covered in moss, and the paint was peeling off the window frames. But there were still a few pieces of gingerbread stuck to the walls and the steep roof. Sugary icicles hung from the gutters and the windowsills, and the whole house smelled of honey and cinnamon—as befitted a trap for children. The Witches had tried many times to banish the child-eaters from their clans, and two years ago they had finally declared war on them. The Witch who had plagued the Hungry Forest was now supposedly living out her life as a warty toad in some silty pool.
The wrought-iron fence that surrounded her house still had some colorful candy stuck to it. Jacob’s mare trembled as he led her through the gate. The fence of a gingerbread house would admit anyone but would not let anybody out. During their visit, Chanute had taken care to leave the gate wide open, but now Jacob was more worried about what was following them than about the abandoned house. As he closed the gate behind Will, the snipping could again be heard clearly, and this time it sounded almost angry. But at least it didn’t come any closer. Fox shot Jacob a relieved glance. It was just as they had hoped: Their pursuer had been no friend of the Witch.
“But what if he waits for us?” Fox whispered.
Yes, what then, Jacob? He did not care, just as long as the bush Chanute had described to him was still growing behind the house.
Will had led the horses to the well and lowered the rusty pail to draw water for them. He eyed the gingerbread house as if it were a poisonous plant. Clara, however, was running her fingers over the icing as if she
could not believe what she saw.
Nibble, nibble, little mouse, who’s been nibbling at my house?
Which version of the story had Clara heard?
Go Beyond the Mirror...
Reckless
by
Cornelia Funke
Coming September 14, 2010
Table of Contents
Copyright
1. Once upon a Time
2. Twelve Years Later
3. Goyl
4. On the Other Side
5. Schwanstein
6. Lovesick Fool
7. The House of the Witch
Go Beyond the Mirror...
Cornelia Funke, Reckless
(Series: Mirrorworld # 1)
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