Читать книгу The Darkening King - Justin Fisher, Justin Fisher - Страница 21

he sun had yet to rise on a freezing Siberian morning. Benissimo got down on one knee and peered through the wood. Ned could feel the tiny hairs on his arms prickle and Mr Fox reached into his pocket.

“Soft mint, anyone?”

Despite where they were, the enigma that was Mr Fox seemed completely at ease.

“They’re not standard issue, but I do allow myself small luxuries from time to time.”

Benissimo’s moustache twitched. “Mr Fox, considering our circumstances, I would appreciate you enjoying the ‘small luxury’ of keeping ruddy quiet.”

Mr Fox stopped mid-chew. “I don’t take orders from you, Mr B. I’d remember that if I were you.”

“Actually, my unwelcome accomplice, right now I’m trying to forget you exist.”

Mr Fox put away his mints and squared up to Benissimo. In his own clipped way he looked rather intimidating and was not about to give an inch to the Ringmaster.

“Well, like it or not, here I am.”

“I think I’ve made it quite clear that I don’t—”

Ned’s eyes rolled. Clearly Benissimo and Mr Fox’s alliance was being tested.

“Will you two belt up! I don’t think any of us wants to be here, but being that we are and it’s freezing, can we just get on with it?!”

Both men suddenly looked quite sheepish.

“Zeus’s crown, you’re right, Ned. I’m sorry and so is Mr Fox.”

Mr Fox nodded reluctantly.

“Now, pup, would you be so kind as to summon your familiar?”

“Gorrn, sure, but what for?”

“Because between us and the folk I’m trying to get us to is the most dangerous stretch of forest anywhere on earth. Needless to say, I expect Gorrn will be about the only thing to keep us from being brutally savaged.”

The worst part of Benissimo’s explanation was that he wasn’t smiling and Ned still didn’t know what they were doing there.

“I’d feel a lot better about all this if I knew who we were trying to meet.”

Benissimo frowned. “If we’re separated and you or Mr Fox get caught, our contact must remain a secret no matter how long you’re tortured for.”

“Tortured? You didn’t say anything about being tortured!” spat Ned.

Ned eyed the mirror nervously. Between the two men’s face-off and the talk of torture, he was already regretting his decision to come.

“Keep your voice down! It won’t come to that if you follow my lead. Now would you please get on with it.”

Given their surroundings and the fact that he really had no choice, Ned did as he was told.

“Well, you heard him, Gorrn …”

Both of his sidekicks were uncommonly jittery at their surroundings and Gorrn at first pretended not to hear.

“Gorrn, you know I know you’re there. I can see you oozing behind my leg.” Which wasn’t actually true.

Nothing.

“Please, Gorrn, oh great and dear protector, would you kindly and in your own sweet time stop us from being brutally savaged or tortured, or even just a bit hurt?”

There was a tense moment when Ned thought Gorrn had actually fled, before he heard a low and unenthusiastic “Arr” from his foot. Inch by inch, the slovenly blob that was Gorrn began rising up from the cold forest floor, till their gloomy little spot became even gloomier.

“Thank you, Gorrn. Bene, Mr Fox, it works better if you’re ‘in’ him.”

Ned watched Mr Fox closely as he stepped into Gorrn’s ooze.

“Well, this will be different,” was all he said, though Ned noticed it was said with something of a tremor.

“We won’t be invisible exactly, but Gorrn will make us blend in. We’ll look more like a moving shadow than anything else.”

Whiskers was unnaturally quiet even for a mouse, and Ned popped the little bundle of furred metal in by his neck. Even with just his faint tick rather than a real heartbeat, his mostly faithful companion was still a comfort.

The going was painfully slow. They had to make completely sure that no part of them was outside Gorrn’s oozy embrace, which as well as making them look like a shadow, also made it harder to see. Benissimo led the strange group in total silence as Mr Fox covered their rear. The deeper into the forest they went, the more crooked and wild the trees grew. Their bark was as hard as stone and they rose up from the ground now, crowding and vast, like great armoured giants. Through the little light that made its way down here, Ned could see a wet blackness amongst the leaves and moss, as though some sickness was creeping into the forest or growing up from its roots. He had rarely visited a more foreboding place, made only worse because of its silence.

Slowly he began to notice, where long-dead trees had fallen and their bark had rotted, the telltale glint of slithering. Small creatures at first – worm, grub and beetle; then larger and more strange, black and scaly, or soft and with lidded eyes. He couldn’t see them clearly enough to tell whether they were Darklings or not, and only prayed that they couldn’t see him.

The ground began to slope downwards and Whiskers’ fur stiffened at his neck. The little rodent was worried.

“You all right, boy?” Ned whispered.

Tick.

“Whiskers?”

Tick.

Ned didn’t need to pull the perometer from his pocket. He could already feel its metal needle twitching.

Tick, tick, tick.

Finally he realised: the ticking did not just belong to his mouse.