my question. How do you know me? And what manner of creature are you?’
‘I’m not a creature. I’m just a girl.’
Jack looked her up and down. ‘You are not clad as a girl.’
‘Well, I am a girl. You’re going to have to take my word for it. I’m not … I’m not from around here. And as to how I know you –’ Merry paused, thinking quickly – ‘I have a friend who knows you. She’s called Meredith.’ Meredith, her ancestor, the witch who had placed both Jack and Gwydion into the enchanted sleep. The witch who had sworn the oath that had got Merry involved with Jack in the first place. Merry peered into Jack’s eyes, looking in vain for a reaction. Perhaps in this reality he hadn’t met Meredith yet, or perhaps she didn’t even exist in this world. Or maybe he did know her, but he had a really excellent poker face. ‘Finn’s my friend too, so if you could just—’
‘What are you doing here? Were you following me? Spying on me?’
Merry pinched the bridge of her nose; she was starting to develop a headache.
‘No. We’re not spies. I’m looking for my brother. He was taken against his will, and I think he might have been brought here. Maybe a few days ago.’ She glanced at the brooding forest around them, hoping for some sign that she was right, that Leo had been here too. The daylight was fading quickly, and the darkness of the forest was nearly impenetrable. Merry shivered, wrapping her arms round herself; she had two jumpers and a long-sleeved T-shirt on, but still the chill was worming its way into her bones. ‘Please, Jack. I need your help.’
Jack gazed at her for a few seconds. Then he let go of Finn and stepped away. But he kept his knife drawn, his stance suggesting he could spring into action in the space of a breath. Finn sagged forward, clutching at his neck.
Merry edged closer. ‘Do you need help?’
Finn pushed himself upright and staggered over to stand next to her. He was trembling. She took his hand, peering up into his face, but he avoided her gaze. ‘Finn?’
‘Just, um … just give me a minute. I’ll be fine.’ Sliding down against the trunk of a tree, he dropped his head into his hands.
Merry turned back to Jack. ‘Leo, my brother – he’s blond, like you, and he’s wearing trousers, and has this strange mark on his chest …’ She winced, remembering the ugly scrawl that Ronan had burnt into Leo’s skin. ‘And he was with another guy who has dark, curly hair, and he calls himself Ronan, but—’
‘Ronan?’ Jack laughed, but there was no humour in it. The sound seemed dead in the cold air. ‘I know of Ronan. Everyone does. There’s neither a village nor a hamlet in the land that has been left untouched by him and his … creatures. He turns all to darkness and ruin. The kingdom was cursed from the moment he came here.’ He thrust the long knife back into the scabbard that hung at his waist. ‘I am sorry for you. Truly. But if Ronan has taken your brother …’ He shrugged. ‘There is nothing you can do. Apart from pray to whichever gods you serve that your brother is already dead.’ He brushed his fingers across marks tattooed on to the insides of his wrists. Runes of some sort, Merry thought, though she couldn’t see them clearly. ‘You should leave whilst you still can. The borders are closing fast as the black holly spreads.’ Jack turned and pulled something out of the undergrowth: Finn’s bag. ‘Here.’
Merry made no move to take the bag. Jack had to be mistaken. He was making it sound like Ronan had been here – wherever here was – for ages. But Ronan and Leo had only left Tillingham and their own world a few days ago …
‘You must go.’ Jack thrust the bag into her arms. ‘The king …’ Jack’s voice faltered for a moment, ‘King Aidan still holds Helmswick. But Helmswick has been under siege from Ronan and his forces these two months past. The citadel cannot hold out much longer.’
Two months?
‘But – but what about Edith?’ The Helmswick Merry knew of, the place Jack had told her about, had been ruled by a queen: by his mother, Edith, not by his father, Aidan.
There was a pause. Merry heard a shriek in the distance – some sort of animal, or bird. The first living sound she’d heard in this place apart from their own voices.
‘The queen is dead: Ronan murdered her. A few weeks before the siege began.’
Merry stood there, struggling to comprehend. Jack’s voice was flat, emotionless, almost as if he didn’t care. Didn’t he know that the queen was his blood mother? Or was he just as heartless as he seemed?
He swung away from her. ‘The road to the Kentish border lies there. I suggest you take it.’ Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, he began striding in the opposite direction.
‘But you’re wrong: the Ronan I’m talking about can’t possibly be the same person who’s attacking your lands,’ Merry cried out. ‘He isn’t that powerful.’ She’d fought with Ronan at the lake and had almost destroyed him – until Finn had got in her way. Finn had been trying to save his own brother’s life; she knew that now. But still, Ronan had escaped and he’d taken Leo with him. ‘And besides, Ronan would only have arrived here a few days ago. Days, not months.’
Jack didn’t respond – he just kept walking.
In desperation, Merry hurried after him. ‘Wait!’ She hooked the necklace out from beneath her T-shirt and opened the locket that was hanging from the chain. ‘This is my brother. Are you sure you haven’t seen him?’
Jack glanced at the photo in the locket. His eyes narrowed. ‘I have seen him. I saw him with Ronan.’ He ripped the chain from her neck and hurled it away from him. ‘Standing next to Ronan, as a free man.’
Merry raised her hands and started to back away.
‘No, it isn’t like that: my brother isn’t with Ronan through choice. He was kidnapped! Whatever you think you saw, you’ve got it wrong.’
‘You’re lying.’ Jack drew his knife again.
In the next instant Finn was at her side. He looked ill, and there was a streak of blood on his neck, but he held Leo’s sword – the one they’d brought with them – firmly in front of him.
‘Merry, I don’t understand whatever language he and you are speaking, but this … this isn’t the Jack you described to me. He isn’t kind, or compassionate. Hit him with a binding charm, quickly!’
Merry still hesitated.
‘But we need him to help us –’
‘He can’t! Or he won’t.’ Jack was circling them, looking for a way past Finn’s blade. ‘Hurry up!’
An unearthly wail split the stillness of the forest. Jack swung around, scanning the treetops. Finn grabbed Merry’s hand.
‘If I didn’t know better,’ he murmured, ‘I’d say that was a banshee.’
‘A banshee?’ Merry peered into the shadows around the edge of the clearing. ‘But they don’t exist.’
Another long, drawn-out shriek, nearer this time. Finn shifted so he was back to back with Merry.
‘Are you sure about that?’
As he finished speaking, a creature exploded out of a clump of dark fir trees. Merry gasped and flinched, raising her hands in defence even as her brain clamoured in denial. She recognised this creature. She’d seen it in a school library book about ancient Greek myths. Wide, bronze-feathered wings, monstrous sickle-shaped talons, and the head – the head of a woman, with feathers for hair. Its mouth was open, screaming, revealing razor-sharp, needle-like teeth.
Not a banshee. A harpy.
The creature swooped towards Jack. He threw his knife at it, but the blade missed. Screeching with rage the harpy banked and descended again, raking Jack’s up-flung arm with its claws, forcing him to his knees.
Finn