Evilness,” he spat. “Gubble’s Trouble, Evilness is.”
Marcus was impressed. “What about that girl — Foyce?” he said.
Gubble’s face grew even more livid. “Gubble hate girl.”
“But I’ve got to find her,” Marcus explained. “She’s got my brother! I have to rescue him — him and the others. Can you show me the quickest way to Fracture? I’ve got a map, but I’d be quicker with a guide. . . .”
Gubble tried to nod, but his shoulders got in the way. “Gubble knows,” he said. Then again, “Help Gubble!”
“I’ll do my best,” Marcus said. “I’ll have to get the spell taken off Arry somehow — so whoever does that could help you too. If someone can take the spell off a frog, it should be easy for them to swap your head around.” He put his foot in his stirrup, then paused. “Would you like to ride Glee? I’ll run for a bit. Erm . . . which way do you want to face?”
After a short experiment, it appeared that Gubble felt happiest with his body facing backward, his head looking forward. This meant that he could hold firmly on to the back of Glee’s saddle, and he felt safer than he ever had riding on the donkey. “Nice!” he said approvingly.
“Let’s go,” Marcus said, and they left the churchyard to cut across the fields, Glee trotting steadily and Marcus running alongside.
As the evening drew on, the clouds sank low and a steady drizzle made the various travelers shiver and pull their cloaks and coats tight around them. Gracie was more than grateful for the thick cloak Val had given her. Marcus wondered how Ger had managed with such a thin jacket and resolved that if he found Arry and was able to get him home safe and sound, the first thing he would do would be to buy Ger a brand-new coat that kept the rain out. Lady Lamorna, huddled in her old peasant woman’s woven wool, felt dampness seeping into her bones. Foyce, warm and dry in her fur-lined cape, lessened her pace a little as the narrow path turned muddy and slippery. Only Gubble was happy. His rumblings became a steady drone, and Marcus suspected that he was singing.
In the church tower at Dreghorn, the clock solemnly chimed midnight. There was a small rustling, and Marlon shook himself awake. “Time for a checkup,” he told himself, and flew to the window. There he let out a series of high-pitched squeaks, stopped, and listened. From Gorebreath came a clear answer, and then, after a pause, a series of relayed messages came flooding in from far and wide.
“Hmm,” he said to himself proudly. “My Millie’s a good girl. She’s doing well. At the rate she’s traveling, she and kiddo numero uno’ll be in plenty of time for the action. Kiddo number two’s doing good too.” He scratched his stomach in a thoughtful way. “We may get that dame yet . . . but it’s still early.” He yawned a sharp-toothed yawn and flew back to his beam. “Quick doze. Need to keep fresh. Don’t want any more mistakes. . . .” And Marlon slept again.
He was woken by the faint light of early morning and the flip-flap of the belfry’s resident bats making their way back to bed. After giving his fur a cursory brush, he went back to the window and squeaked again. This time there were fewer replies, but Marlon’s eyes lit up. “Thought the rain would slow ’em down,” he said, “but they’ve done well! All of them getting close. Time to make a move. Better see that the kids are OK.
Ciao,
all!” And he left the local bats to heave a sigh of relief as they got ready for bed. Having Marlon as a lodger meant far too many interruptions.
As he flitted his zigzag way over Gorebreath and up Fracture Mountain toward the village, Marlon was pleased to see that the rain had stopped. There were many footprints and hoofprints in the mud of the narrow highway, he noticed. As he soared higher, he saw Marcus and Gubble wearily picking their way up a half-hidden path that led over steep rocks but cut out many of the bends
Marcus was impressed. “What about that girl — Foyce?” he said.
Gubble’s face grew even more livid. “Gubble hate girl.”
“But I’ve got to find her,” Marcus explained. “She’s got my brother! I have to rescue him — him and the others. Can you show me the quickest way to Fracture? I’ve got a map, but I’d be quicker with a guide. . . .”
Gubble tried to nod, but his shoulders got in the way. “Gubble knows,” he said. Then again, “Help Gubble!”
“I’ll do my best,” Marcus said. “I’ll have to get the spell taken off Arry somehow — so whoever does that could help you too. If someone can take the spell off a frog, it should be easy for them to swap your head around.” He put his foot in his stirrup, then paused. “Would you like to ride Glee? I’ll run for a bit. Erm . . . which way do you want to face?”
After a short experiment, it appeared that Gubble felt happiest with his body facing backward, his head looking forward. This meant that he could hold firmly on to the back of Glee’s saddle, and he felt safer than he ever had riding on the donkey. “Nice!” he said approvingly.
“Let’s go,” Marcus said, and they left the churchyard to cut across the fields, Glee trotting steadily and Marcus running alongside.
As the evening drew on, the clouds sank low and a steady drizzle made the various travelers shiver and pull their cloaks and coats tight around them. Gracie was more than grateful for the thick cloak Val had given her. Marcus wondered how Ger had managed with such a thin jacket and resolved that if he found Arry and was able to get him home safe and sound, the first thing he would do would be to buy Ger a brand-new coat that kept the rain out. Lady Lamorna, huddled in her old peasant woman’s woven wool, felt dampness seeping into her bones. Foyce, warm and dry in her fur-lined cape, lessened her pace a little as the narrow path turned muddy and slippery. Only Gubble was happy. His rumblings became a steady drone, and Marcus suspected that he was singing.
In the church tower at Dreghorn, the clock solemnly chimed midnight. There was a small rustling, and Marlon shook himself awake. “Time for a checkup,” he told himself, and flew to the window. There he let out a series of high-pitched squeaks, stopped, and listened. From Gorebreath came a clear answer, and then, after a pause, a series of relayed messages came flooding in from far and wide.
“Hmm,” he said to himself proudly. “My Millie’s a good girl. She’s doing well. At the rate she’s traveling, she and kiddo numero uno’ll be in plenty of time for the action. Kiddo number two’s doing good too.” He scratched his stomach in a thoughtful way. “We may get that dame yet . . . but it’s still early.” He yawned a sharp-toothed yawn and flew back to his beam. “Quick doze. Need to keep fresh. Don’t want any more mistakes. . . .” And Marlon slept again.
He was woken by the faint light of early morning and the flip-flap of the belfry’s resident bats making their way back to bed. After giving his fur a cursory brush, he went back to the window and squeaked again. This time there were fewer replies, but Marlon’s eyes lit up. “Thought the rain would slow ’em down,” he said, “but they’ve done well! All of them getting close. Time to make a move. Better see that the kids are OK.
Ciao,
all!” And he left the local bats to heave a sigh of relief as they got ready for bed. Having Marlon as a lodger meant far too many interruptions.
As he flitted his zigzag way over Gorebreath and up Fracture Mountain toward the village, Marlon was pleased to see that the rain had stopped. There were many footprints and hoofprints in the mud of the narrow highway, he noticed. As he soared higher, he saw Marcus and Gubble wearily picking their way up a half-hidden path that led over steep rocks but cut out many of the bends
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