The Dreamsnatcher (24 page)

Alfie balanced his feet on the twisted roots either side of the well, then he reached into his belt for his dagger. Thrusting it into the bottom of the well, he heaved it through the roots until
eventually water began to slip between the gaps.

In minutes, he had cut a circle nearly as wide as the well itself. More water gushed through the slits. He punched the circle with his foot and it swung away. There was a sudden rush as the rest
of the water drained from the well, plunging down somewhere far below Alfie’s feet. He looked up and grinned, then he slipped through the hole and was lost in the shadows for several
seconds.

When he emerged, he looked back up at them, wide-eyed. ‘You’re not going to believe this.’

Moll lowered herself into the well, manoeuvring her body through the hole. She couldn’t see a thing, but she could feel roots jutting out beneath her feet in downward step-like formations.
And following her every move she could feel Gryff’s near-silent steps.

Behind her, Oak struck a match.

Goosebumps bristled on Moll’s arms. ‘It’s – it’s not possible . . .’

They were standing halfway down a staircase made entirely from twisted roots which led down into a very large chamber. The room’s ceiling arched above them, so big it sprawled out beyond
the light of the match, fading away into shadows.

The group edged down the stairs, deeper into the heart of the forest. Oak’s match went out and they were smothered by the dark. Water that dripped from the well echoed through the chamber
like a leaking bath tap.

Oak fumbled in his pocket for another match, but Moll stilled his hand.

‘Wait. I think there’s a sort of light in here.’ She screwed up her eyes at the shadows. ‘A glow like the water in the well. Follow me.’

She stepped off the staircase with Gryff and ran her hand over a knobbly root that lined the chamber wall; it was cool to touch – so cool it felt to Moll like it might never have been
warm. They edged further into the darkness. A flap of wings rushed towards them and Moll felt the cold breath of a creature rustle through her hair. She shivered and Gryff growled as the bat
screeched, shaking the silence with its gristly flapping. Then it was swallowed by the dark.

‘Don’t like bats,’ Siddy muttered, caressing his pocket. ‘Even Porridge the Second’s scared. Maybe we should turn back.’

Moll scowled. ‘Shut it, Sid, or I’ll get Gryff to eat your worm.’

For a second, Moll’s mind wandered to the Dream Snatch, to Skull and Hemlock clawing for her mind. Her heart beat faster, drowning out the near-silent sound of Gryff’s footsteps as
he padded further away from her. Moll blinked. She wasn’t imagining it; they were shrouded in darkness, but further ahead the chamber ended and it was hazily lit by a bluish light, like a
winter mist.

‘Look at the walls at the back of the chamber there!’ Oak cried.

Jutting out from the earth wall, the tree roots twisted into incredible shapes. And, although every root was different, every shape was the same: the mighty head of a stag.

Moll gasped. ‘Sixteen points on each of the antlers – just like you said, Oak! They’re carvings of the silver stag, aren’t they?’

‘The oldest and wisest beast in Tanglefern . . .’ Siddy whispered. ‘The beast whose bones make up the Oracle Bones!’

Oak reached out and ran a hand over the pointed tip of an antler. ‘All this lying hidden underground.’

Siddy peered into the mouth of a roaring stag. He shivered then stepped back.

‘The blue light – where’s it coming from?’ Alfie asked.

But Moll hadn’t heard him. She whirled round and her heart quickened. ‘Gryff. Where’s Gryff?’

‘
Brrroooooo
.’

Moll jumped. ‘Gryff! Where are you?’

‘
Brrroooooo
.’

Moll scanned the wall of stag heads, feeling her way towards Gryff’s call.

And then she saw him, sitting very still beneath a head carved from the roots.

‘This one – the one Gryff’s found!’ Moll cried, running towards it. ‘It’s glowing inside! That’s where the light’s coming from!’

‘Moll,’ Oak said quietly. ‘That isn’t a silver stag’s head.’

Moll looked up at the head twisting out from the tree roots. It was much bigger than all the others and the neck was craning over her in a mighty arch. But there were no antlers. The head was
rounder, the ears larger, and the mouth opened wide, bearing row upon row of razor-sharp teeth.

This was a wildcat and its eyes were blazing with turquoise light.

T
he eyes were orbs – big and round, burning bluer than the sea amid the roots. Two clawed paws jutted out from the chamber wall either side
of the wildcat’s head, and beneath them sat Gryff, staring up at Moll with wide yellow-green eyes.

Moll’s breath fluttered. ‘Do – do you think the amulets are
inside
the wildcat? Are they what’re making the chamber glow?’

Siddy peered closer. ‘But the roots are wrapped round each other thick and fast. You wouldn’t get your hand inside one of those gaps. Not even you, Moll.’ He turned to Oak.
‘You’ll have to cut them—’

Alfie gasped. ‘No, wait! There are letters carved into the root above the wildcat’s head. None of the stags have that. Look – here!’

Moll sprang up on to her tiptoes and scanned the words: ‘It says: EMBUR.’

Siddy shook his head. ‘EMBUR doesn’t sound good – like
dismember
only shorter.’ He shuddered and looked hopefully towards the exit.

‘We should try mixing the letters up,’ Alfie said. ‘Remember, Moll? That’s what Mellantha did; this might be another clue!’

Moll’s mind raced with letters until they became meaningless squiggles. She shook her head. ‘I’m no witch doctor; I can’t crack it just like that!’

Gryff padded towards Moll and rubbed against her knees. She closed her eyes and tried again. The letters floated before her; she moved them back and forth, arranging them into different places,
and then suddenly she opened her eyes.

‘I’ve got two words!’ she cried. Her eyes were sparkling and there was a tremor in her voice. ‘EMBUR backwards – it’s RUB ME!’

Everyone looked at the wildcat made of roots.

‘Rub me?’ Oak murmured.

He ran a hand over the neck of the wildcat. The chamber was silent, as if sucked of air, but nothing happened.

Siddy tilted his head to one side and looked at the creature’s eyes. ‘Maybe you’ve got to do it, Moll,’ he said quietly. ‘Like with the coin in the door.
You’re the next Guardian of the Oracle Bones after all.’

Moll lifted her hand and ran it very slowly over the wildcat’s head. Almost immediately, a tingling sensation prickled through her, as if every hair on her body was standing on end.
Although the fur had only been carved out of roots, Moll could
feel
each individual strand beneath her fingers – and it felt soft and warm, like Gryff’s coat.

Gryff curled his tail round her leg and, at that moment, Moll felt more wildcat than girl. As if she and Gryff were linked up in something so tight not even the Bone Murmur could explain it.

She let her fingers slip over the wildcat’s nose and instead of rough tree roots the nose felt warm and alive. The warmth spread through Moll’s body and, for the very first time in
her life, she felt as if she was actually holding magic in the palm of her hand. She edged her hand into the fur of the wildcat’s throat.

Then something extraordinary happened. With a loud crunch, one of the wildcat’s front legs moved. Quick as a flash, it clamped down on to Moll’s wrist. Oak, Alfie and Siddy jumped
backwards, but Moll didn’t flinch. Neither did Gryff.

The wildcat’s eyes were blazing, then from inside the tree roots there came a voice – deep, soft, like it was part of the tree itself. And Moll recognised the voice. Because it
carried with it half-forgotten memories – memories of her beginning.

‘Moll? My darling, Moll,’ it said.

Moll trembled.
Could
it be?

‘I’m here, Moll. It’s your pa. And I’m here for you.
Right here
.’

Moll blinked in disbelief.

Again the voice sounded. ‘I’ve missed you, my girl –
so much
.’

Her pa’s voice was so real she could almost touch it. Moll glanced at Oak who stood beside her, his hands clasped over his mouth.

‘You’re bigger now.’

And Moll could tell that the voice was smiling. Because this was more than just a voice somehow. This was a voice that carried a person with it: a broad-shouldered, strong man with dark hair and
a wide smile.

Moll leant hungrily towards the voice. ‘Are – are you
real
?’ she whispered.

The voice laughed. ‘Real?’

Moll nodded.

‘I’m real, sure enough.’

‘But—’

‘Real isn’t what you see, Moll. It’s what you
feel
– what you know deep down to be true even though you’ve got no proof.’

An ache swelled inside Moll – part happiness, part terrible loss. ‘Then you must be real,’ she said quietly, ‘because I
can
feel you.’

The voice was smiling again. She could tell.

‘I’ve never stopped watching over you, Moll. I’ve been in the leaves when you’ve been climbing trees; I’ve been in the river when you’ve been swimming;
I’ve been by your side when your sleep’s been troubled.’

Moll willed her voice forward. ‘It was the Shadowmasks who – who took you and Ma away, wasn’t it?’

Her pa’s voice was silent for a second. ‘We knew it would come.’

Moll felt angry tears rising inside her. ‘You knew! And you didn’t stop them?’

‘It was written, Moll – written in the Oracle Bones before we died . . .’

Moll shook her head. ‘The Bone Murmur says nothing about you leaving.’

‘There are two lines missing from the Bone Murmur as you know it, Moll, lost over the years as it passed down through the generations. And it was the missing lines that my dear Olive read
in the Oracle Bones. There was a reason she didn’t reveal them:

Here Moll’s pa paused. And then he spoke the missing lines:

Moll’s voice was smaller than a whisper. ‘You knew all along? And there was nothing you could do?’

‘Both your ma and I thought we had more time. We thought we could fight back and find the amulets before the Shadowmasks struck.’

Oak shook his head. ‘You should’ve told me, Ferry. I would’ve helped; I would’ve fought with you and Olive.’

‘We knew it had to be so,’ Ferry replied. ‘The only way the Bone Murmur could go on was for us to die. The old magic had to stir and fight back.’

‘But the message you read in the Oracle Bones,’ Moll said, ‘the one to find the amulets:
Dew Hill Maiden
. We followed it. We searched for the heart of the forest, for
the amulets – and we found
you
.’

Ferry laughed. ‘When you look for one thing, you often find another.’ He paused. ‘And then you realise it’s the unexpected thing you were looking for all
along.’

Moll leant closer to the wildcat so that only her pa could hear. ‘I think I’ve been looking for you all along – even in my dreams I’ve been looking.’

‘I know, my girl.’

‘What happened that night by the river, Ferry?’ Oak asked. ‘There are things we still don’t know.’

‘The Shadowmasks summoned their Soul Splinter and, though it may’ve killed me and Olive, it didn’t splinter our souls like they’d hoped. We believed in the Bone Murmur
and we died for it, so our souls fought back and became the very things the Shadowmasks fear and hate. Our souls
became
the Amulets of Truth.’

‘
You’re
the amulet?’ Moll murmured. ‘And my ma . . . is she here too?’

‘It’s only me here, Moll – I’m the first amulet. Your ma’s the second and the third is an unknown soul.’

A sudden dread washed over Moll. ‘Aren’t the amulets all together?’

‘No. The search will take you much further afield than Tanglefern Forest, Moll – over wild seas and across the remotest mountains. The Shadowmasks’ power is growing and their
darkness is spreading across the lands; the Ancientwood here is just the beginning . . .’

Moll’s heart sank. The task was widening before her into a dark, forbidding valley.

Alfie shifted in the shadows. ‘How can we find the Amulets of Truth like the Bone Murmur says? You’re – you’re a soul – a voice in the dark . . .’

‘Before amulets become coins, jewels, pendants and the like, they have to have had a
story
. They have to have counted for something.’ Ferry paused. ‘Each of the Amulets
of Truth contains a soul and each of these souls is searching for a virtue needed for the old magic to triumph – virtues that define us as human beings. Once you’ve shown that virtue,
the amulet’ll be yours.’