The Book of Lost Things(34)

There were still two Loups on the bridge, and they had somehow managed to hook their limber paws around the remaining support rope. Now, standing on their two hind legs, and keeping to the ropes on the left, they were continuing to close on David. He brought his sword down on the second rope and heard the Loups bay in alarm. The bridge shook, and strands unraveled beneath his blade. He laid the sword edge on the rope, looked to the Loups, then raised his arms and slashed with all the force that he could muster. The rope broke, and now there was nothing for the Loups to hold on to and only the wooden slats of the bridge beneath their feet. With loud yelps, they fell.

David stared over at the far side of the chasm. The Woodsman was gone. There was a trail of blood on the ground where he had been dragged into the forest by the wolves. Now only their leader, the dandy Leroi, remained. He stood upright in his red trousers and his white shirt, staring at David with undisguised hatred. He raised his head and howled for the lost members of his pack, but he did not leave. Instead, he continued to watch David until the boy at last left the bridge and disappeared over a small rise, crying softly for the Woodsman who had saved his life.





XIII


Of Dwarfs and Their Sometimes Irascible Nature


DAVID WAS ON a raised white road, paved with gravel and stones. It was not straight but wound according to the obstacles it encountered: a small stream here, a rocky outcrop there. A ditch ran along each side, and from there an area of weed and grass led to the tree line. The trees were smaller and more scattered than in the forest he had recently left, and he could see the outlines of small, rocky hills rising beyond them. He was suddenly very tired. Now that the chase was over, all of his energy was gone. He wanted very badly just to fall asleep, but he was afraid to do so out in the open, or to remain too close to the chasm. He needed to find shelter. The wolves would not forgive him for what had happened at the bridges. They would find another way to cross, and then they would seek out his trail once again. Instinctively, he raised his eyes to the sky, but he could see no birds following his path from above, no traitorous ravens waiting to reveal his presence to the hunters at his back.

To give himself some energy, he ate a little bread from his bag and drank deeply from his water. It made him feel better for a moment, but the sight of the bag and the carefully packed food reminded him of the Woodsman. His eyes grew teary again, but he refused to allow himself the luxury of crying. He got to his feet, put his pack on his shoulder, and almost fell over a dwarf who had just climbed up on the road from the low ditch on the left.

“Mind where you’re going,” said the dwarf. He was about three feet tall and wore a blue tunic, black trousers, and black boots that came up to his knees. There was a long blue hat on his head, at the end of which was a little bell that no longer made any sound. His face and hands were grubby with dirt, and he carried a pickax over one shoulder. His nose was quite red, and he had a short white beard. The beard appeared to have pieces of food trapped in it.

“Sorry,” said David.

“So you should be.”

“I didn’t see you.”

“Oh, and what’s that supposed to mean?” said the dwarf. He waved his pick threateningly. “Are you sizeist? Are you saying I’m small?”

“Well, you are small,” said David. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he added hurriedly. “I’m small too, compared to some people.”

But the dwarf was no longer listening and had commenced shouting at a column of squat figures heading for the road.

“Oy, comrades!” said the dwarf. “Bloke over here says I’m small.”

“Bloody cheek!” said a voice.

“Hold him till we get there, comrade,” said another, who then appeared to reconsider. “Hang on, how big is he?”

The dwarf examined David. “Not very big,” he said. “Dwarf and a half. Dwarf and two-thirds at most.”

“Right, we’ll ’ave him” came the reply.

Suddenly, it seemed as if David was surrounded by short, unhappy men muttering about “rights” and “liberties” and having enough of “this sort of thing.” They were all filthy, and they all wore hats with broken bells. One of them kicked David in the shin.

“Ow!” said David. “That hurt.”

“Now you know how our feelings, er, feel,” said the first dwarf.

A small, grubby hand tugged at David’s pack. Another tried to steal his sword. A third appeared to be poking him in his soft places just for the fun of it.

“That’s enough!” shouted David. “Stop it!”

He swung his pack wildly and was rather pleased to feel it connect with a pair of dwarfs, who immediately fell into the ditch and rolled around theatrically for some time.

“What did you do that for?” asked the first dwarf. He looked quite shocked.

“You were kicking me.”

“Was not.”

“Were so too. And someone tried to steal my bag.”

“Did not.”

“Oh, this is just ridiculous,” said David. “You did and you know it.”

The dwarf lowered his head and kicked idly at the road, sending a little puff of white dust into the air. “Oh, all right then,” it said. “Maybe I did. Sorry.”

“That’s all right,” said David.