Chapter Nine
Taking turns in brain capacity

Thus we ended up meeting them again the other day. Apparently it was to “discuss our war tactics.”
I felt incredibly nervous.
‘Good morning, my dear fellow ideologists!’ Cuckoo called as soon as we entered the taproom of The Crying Prince’s Inn. ‘Glad to see you two both in healthy condition. Well, let’s not talk here - we have the perfect spot.’
They led us outside, to what seemed a small, enclosed courtyard. The tiles were round and a little dirty. A large oak threw shadows all over the place and an ancient, withered wall must once have been a well. It was a nice place, really, but the heavy rainfall and a bleak and biting wind made it about as inviting as a dungeon.
I pulled up the hood of my oiled cloak as far as possible, trying to cover myself entirely. Millie, who was taller than me, had more trouble with this, and I noticed her shivering incessantly.
‘Are you sure this is the right place to talk?’ I asked, raising my voice to be heard over the sound of the rain.
‘No one will overhear us,’ Cuckoo said loudly. ‘Now, what are your plans?’
‘Plans?’ I had no plans and nor, as far as I knew, did Millie. I heavily regretted sucking up to this lot, and added a mental note to never ever get drunk again.
The Cult of Charming Men, or rather The Rough Rebels (as I had decided was the proper name for them as long as they were not performing one of their hideous shows) were still eying us expectantly. I tried to think of something fast, but the harder I tried to think fast, the slower my thoughts went and eventually all I heard myself saying in my head was “must think of a plan. A plan. Err…a plan. Well. Err. A plan, then.”

Just as the silence began to become awkward, Millie stepped up, saying: ‘Well, we’ll go to Elm Trail first, of course. Daffodil and I have some business to attend there.’
The man standing right of Cuckoo frowned. ‘Elm Trail? That is off course. Can this business not wait?’
I opened my mouth, but Millie cut me off, saying: ‘Absolutely not! If you want to stand a chance then we must call in on Elm Trail first.’
‘Ah,’ Cuckoo said. ‘Well, if it’s really essential, I suppose… So what business is this?’
‘We cannot tell you.’
The Rough Rebels looked as if she had personally offended every one of them. Again, I opened my mouth to speak, but for the second time Millie interrupted me.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, with so much confidence in her voice that I began to think that I had missed something, ‘It’s not our intention to keep secrets from you, but this is a delicate matter. You will find out in due time, of course. It’s just that we promised her…you know, Merope’s sister, we said that we would keep this to ourselves.’
‘If we are to be a team, we do demand to be entrusted with the entire plan,’ the man right of Cuckoo spoke again. ‘What Merope’s sibling told you, you can tell us.’
‘Of course,’ Millie said. I saw her eyes moving left and right, as if thinking fast. ‘Well, if you insist. It’s for Daffodil here. She needs to retrieve a special network update, otherwise we will not be able to navigate through the castle.’
I held my breath, thinking that she had completely lost her mind.
But Cuckoo nodded, looking as if Millie’s words made total sense to him now.
I could only state at her. I didn’t even know where Elm Trail was, so how could she possibly have known?

Dying to give this meeting an early end, I said: ‘Now that Mil - I mean Princess revealed a bit of our plan, we should really go and make some last minute preparations. You too, if we are to leave soon, I imagine.’
‘Alright,’ said Cuckoo, holding out his hand to me. ‘We will meet you here in two hours from now. Don’t be late.’

I took his hand and he shook it so firmly that I had to put all my will in not wincing. ‘We won’t!’ I said, in a rather high voice. ‘See…see you in two hours.’
As we parted and went our different ways, I grabbed Millie by one arm and hissed: ‘Are you absolutely out of your mind? What’s this you all said? Where is Elm Trail anyways?’
‘Well, according to your map, it’s a long shot away from Redwood,’ Millie answered, prying her arm free. ‘I had someone from the Inn read all the places for me and I wrote the names down in my own script. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Not really,’ I said surprised. ‘But why?’
‘Well, seeing as you were drunk, I figured you would not have thought out a plan and that it might become a bit of a problem. So I made this up, just in case. And I had sort of a bad feeling about them after all, so I thought that if we just led them on a diversion, we’d have enough time to make up an escape plan or something.’
‘You thought all this up when I was drunk?’ I scratched my head. ‘Well, here’s something I never thought I’d say, but thanks a bunch. I believed I had brought us both to Mount Doom or something.’
Millie laughed shyly.

Back in our room she laid out the map for me, pointing at a dot.
‘Is that Elm Trail?’ I asked. ‘But that’s even past Low-of-the-Road! It’s completely the other way down!’
‘I picked the furthest spot I could find,’ admitted Millie.
‘Yes, but imagine all the extra travelling,’ I moaned. ‘We already spent weeks getting here, and now we have to move all the way back and then trek up here again? That’s a bit too much of a diversion for my feet.’
‘Oh, we won’t be traveling by foot,’ Millie said determinedly, rolling up the map. ‘We’ll take horses.’
‘We have no money for horses.’
‘No,’ she said, flashing a grin at me. ‘But they have. Look, wasn’t the whole point of getting them to join us so that we could enter the castle more easily?’
‘I really can’t remember,’ I said sourly. ‘I think I was too drunk and besides it was a stupid plan.’
‘Oh, it will sort itself out.’ Millie let herself drop backwards on the bed, staring serenely up to the ceiling. ‘After all, I’m the destined one.’

I rolled my eyes at the ceiling. The ceiling blankly looked back. It did not care at all. For a moment, I wished that I could be the ceiling.
‘Daffodil?’
‘Hmm?’
‘We’re a team, aren’t we?’
‘I dunno,’ I said warily. ‘You kinda forced your company upon me.’
‘We’re a team,’ she repeated confidently. ‘You use your brains when I’m not, and I use mine when you aren’t.’
‘Oh,’ I said unenthusiastically. ‘Like that. I guess we are, then.’



Chapter Ten
Sense and insensitivity

Before I begin this chapter, it might be a good idea to give you a quick introduction of the men we were now traveling with. I recall saying earlier that they were a bunch of the weirdest men I’ve ever seen, and I stand by it.
So here’s a wordy overview, though I think Millie has some sketches of them in her sketchbook. Then again, she never was a great artist.

Cuckoo
He’s the head of the Rough Rebels. He looks rough too, although in a circus-like fashion. I said he has an eye patch and two braids, plus some scars. But in all honestly, I don’t think he’s actually missing an eye, though I didn’t have to nerve to ask. But I catch him sometimes rubbing over it and really - who rubs an empty socket? Ew.
Oh yes, he claims he’s a puppeteer but we’ve already seen the dreadful creations he makes. He was the voice of the booming princess doll and also, I learned later, that of previous king, King Castelli.

Bluebell
To be honest, he’s the only guy that seems to suit his name a bit. He’s quite fair, actually, with his long braid and well-proportioned face. He might be the most handsome in the group, in terms of delicacy at least. It’s hard to notice however. He has two flashy swords that kinda distract the eyes from his face.

Ladybug
He’s Cuckoo’s right-hand man. He also has silly hair - it stands all up straight in the middle and leaves the rest of his head quite bald. It’s like there are growing spikes out of him. Oh, and he wears a tie, something I’ve never seen because it’s supposed to be outrageously out of fashion. His face is kinda hard and he rolls his eyes a lot. I don’t know why, maybe it’s just some of those silly tics? Personally, I’d roll my eyes too if I were called Ladybug (Daffodil is bad enough, but imagine this!).

Rose
Sometimes lovingly called Rosy by his friends, but I wouldn’t dare imitate them. Rose is their secret weapon. As Millie said: where circuses have a bearded woman as a peculiarity, the Rough Rebels have Rose, the bearded man dressed like a woman for reasons unknown. Probably to distract everyone in case they need to execute a sneak attack. 

Daisy:
He has no hair at all but a very crooked nose. He’s build to very much resemble a couple of three dimensional, stacked blocks.
He was the voice of the prince doll in the play we saw. I’m still not sure who that was supposed to be. I’ve also heard that he is the one sewing the dolls, and that includes creating their clothes. I think he also painted the backgrounds on the wooden planks. He doesn’t really talk much outside his performing activities.

Millie was right though. They did get us horses and so we commenced our journey to Elm Trail.
I had wondered if she’d be able to ride, but she heaved herself in the saddle far more easily than I did. I admit I was envious for a short moment, but that quickly disappeared when I noticed how Cuckoo stared at her butt as she did it.
I would have been happy, were it not for the fact that we also had to return again, making this trip quite useless. Also, I had no idea how to shake those Rough Rebels off or, failing that, what to do once we would reach Elm Trail.
I discussed it with Millie but it seemed she had run out of ideas as well. Apparently it was my turn again to use brain capacity and I wasn’t making a good job out of it.
Of course, the network update seemed like an attractive plan, with the only downside that there was no such thing as a tom-tom for the inner circles of Redwood Castle.
So I thought I might run off to Low-of-the-Road once more. We would pass it after all, none of the guys would even think of searching for me there and surely Gran would miss me by now?
Leaving Millie behind started to seem like an unfair thing to do, however, especially when I thought of leaving her behind with the Rough Rebels to explain why I had suddenly gone missing.

‘Nice day for a ride, innit?’ Cuckoo had brought his horse close to mine.
I looked at him. He grinned too much for my taste, especially at Millie and me.
‘If you leave out the constant drizzle and the sneering wind, then I suppose it is,’ I said.
‘I see, you are that kind of girl,’ he grinned, making me want to tape his mouth shut.
‘Excuse me,’ I answered dryly, ‘what kind of girl do you mean?’
‘The down to earth kind,’ he said merrily. ‘The kind that will notice how it’s raining all day, even if the autumn leafs are so brightly red and sparkling.’
‘You must be colour-blind,’ I retorted. ‘They’re definitely brown and soggy.’
‘Like I said, the down to earth type. Lacking all sort of sensitivity when it comes to nature’s beauty.’
I fell silent, feeling offended and hoping he would clear off once he noticed this.

He did not.
I spent at least half an hour feeling more and more awkward as we rode next to each other in silence.
Finally, I could no longer bear it. Clearing my throat, I grabbed the only subject that I could think of: ‘So…The Cult of Charming Men…That’s an interesting name.’
‘And true to the bone, of course!’ He let out a raw laugh.
I said nothing.
‘Oh, we have many names,’ he continued when he was done admiring his own wit. ‘Officially it’s The Cult of Charming Men, yes, but folk usually refer to us as the Rough Rebels.’
‘So I’ve heard. Don’t you think that is a bit of a giveaway?’
‘It’s all about raising awareness,’ he said, rubbing his eye-patched eye. I observed this with a sort of morbid fascination. The eye patch did not seem to give way to the pressure, thus revealing an empty socket. No, there was definitely an eye underneath hat scrap of fabric.
‘Personally,’ he continued, oblivious to my staring, ‘I prefer the Cuckoo Gang for the intimates.’
‘Oh? And who are the intimates?’
‘Oh, you know…some folks. You. Her,’ he nodded at Millie here. ‘We.’
‘So, that makes…seven of us.’
‘Caution demands us to be quite selective, of course.’
‘Right.’ As I said this, I carefully pried my horse away from his. He seemed to hardly notice, whistling a tune to himself. My ears protested, convincing me of the fact that the leader of the Cuckoo Gang was an atrocious musician.

After escaping from him, I looked sideways to see who my new companion was.
It was the braided man.
I had not heard him speak before, nor had I see him do anything remarkable, for that matter.
‘Hi,’ I said, not having a better thing to say. ‘Dreadful weather, innit?’
He nodded as a greeting, then gave another nod for agreeing with me. ‘You’d think those clouds would empty any time soon, wouldn’t you.’
‘I know! But apparently, we encountered some very stubborn autumn clouds.’
He grinned.
Taking heart, I said what was really on my mind: ‘I hate all this pointless traveling!’
‘Uh?’
‘I mean, does it ever actually add up to something?’
He looked a bit dazed at first, but then his expression cleared. ‘Yeah...why can’t the super secret weapon be close to the enemy for once, eh? Makes you wonder about the workings of the universe.’
‘Exactly!’ I said, raising a hand so swiftly it startled his horse. ‘Why do the heroes always have to travel when they could just get it over with?’
‘Yeah…not sensible is it?’
‘No…but then again…what is?’
He was silent for a while. ‘Having dinner,’ he then said contemplating. ‘I think that’s sensible.’
‘Yeah,’ I sighed. ‘I think that’s sensible too.’

It was unbelievable what distances we could cross on horseback. What had taken us weeks, with all that competing in a tournament and Camp Bleedin’, now only took days.
We reached Devilswood Forest and to my surprise, Cuckoo announced that we would be travelling through it instead of taking the longer route around it. I asked him if they had been here before, which he denied.
Not that I minded - through it was much quicker and Millie and I had only just proven that it was easy to get out of it alive.
As we prepared to make camp, Millie and I set up out tent. Of course, it was far too small to host any of the others and even if it was possible, they would not have been allowed in. They seemed not to mind a night in the open however, and I had to admit that they looked far less likely to be spooked out by giant bugs than we.
Grown wise by the experience, Millie and I waited with going to sleep for the lights to appear. We had told the Rough Rebels about it, but they seemed to think it was nothing worth staying up for.
That night, when I had just dozed off, Millie shook my arm.
‘What is it?’ I murmured, unwilling to leave this cosy warm land of sleep.
‘I think I just heard something outside our tent,’ she whispered. Her face was looking weird and shadowy in the dark. ‘It’s none of the men.’

I sat up. ‘Do you think it’s him again? The ghost?’
Millie shrugged. I tried to peek outside, but though the fabric of our tent was semi-transparent, allowing the shimmer of the dancing lights to leak inside, I couldn’t see a thing of what was outside.
I heard it too, though. The rustling of fallen leafs, as if someone was carefully trotting on them. Closer by, I heard the breaths and grunts of the Rough Rebels. No reason for them to sneak around.
‘Well, if he gets closer, at least that lot will wake up and reach for their arms. I don’t think we can be harmed.’
‘It’s creepy though.’
‘Yeah.’
We lay down again, listening to the soft footsteps.
Suddenly, I shot up again. Millie jumped, startled.
‘Footsteps!’ I exclaimed in a very loud whisper, as if I had just realised this.
Millie stared at me, nonplussed.
‘Seriously Millie - what ghost has footsteps?’
Her mouth dropped open, within the shadows making it look like a sudden dark gap had appeared. ‘But what about his face?’ she asked, after a while.
I shook my head. ‘Neither of us got a real look up close, did we? We were too scared and scampered off very fast.’
We fell silent again, remaining awake and listening as the steps died out and all became quiet once more.
The next day, when I asked the Rough Rebels whether they had noticed anything unusual, they all shook their heads.
‘Well, it was a bit chilly,’ Rose added as an afterthought, scratching in his beard. ‘But that’s not unusual.’


Chapter Eleven
What You Don't Know... Probably Knows Your Name

I had been pondering this nightly incident all day. We were making a good progress, staying on the road at all times. Our horses were fit and fast. Although we were in no particular hurry (at least, Millie and I were not - we were quite eager to prolong our travel as long as possible) we still crossed much of the forest in very little time.
I figured we would reach Devilswood town within considerable short notice.
‘I think,’ I said, reaching to a conclusion, ‘I am feeling unwell.’
This was a blatant lie, as anyone with a pair of keen eyes could see. It helped that I put up a hand to my brow, mainly to hide the clear and altogether healthy look in my eyes.
Millie looked at me in concern, until I declared that it was just that time of the month, and could we please take an early night?
‘Isn’t this a bit soon?’ she asked me, as we unpacked our things in a glade that seemed littered with rocks. I thought we must be closer to Devilshill than I had guessed. ‘I mean, wasn’t it only -’
‘Yes!’ I said loudly, drowning out what she was about to say. ‘Time flies, doesn’t it?’
She raised her eyebrows at me, but did not bring up the subject until all of the Rough Rebels were momentarily out of earshot.
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ I asked, setting up the kindling for a campfire. ‘That ghost is no ghost but a person that has been following us around. I want to know who it is.’
Millie did not look so sure this was a wise plan, but did not protest either.

When the fire was blazing and we all had crouched near it, warming our hands and feet at the flames, I spotted her often throwing nervous glances in the direction of the trees.
I acted calm, although inside I felt as though something in my belly was stretched and knotted. I had prepared a sturdy branch to make a torch.
The Rough Rebels, oblivious to the real reasons of our sudden stop, were singing a sort of song I’d imagine would be sung in pubs after a glass or three.
‘I don’t think he’s coming with them brawling like that,’ I said, muttering in an undertone. ‘I guess we’ll have to wait for them to sleep.’
It took long for them to quiet, even longer for them to go to sleep. We pretended to be deep in conversation, so they would not expect us to chat with them too much.
We did have something to discuss, of course, but we did not get past wondering what would happen if the ghost did turn up and I ran for him.
Millie became very jumpy now that the men had gone off to sleep. Every cracking in the fire made her turn her head, expecting someone to creep up behind her and slice her throat. The thought that this ghost might be an actual human being seemed to make him more sinister than anything else.
‘I mean, why would anyone do that?’ she asked me for the fourth time. ‘Not unless they have something dark in mind!’
‘I guess we’ll find out,’ I relied far braver than I felt.
Then we just waited in silence. My hands fumbled with the pocked knife tucked under my belt. I had gotten it from Bluebell earlier, saying that I wanted to cut some fire logs, then conveniently forgetting to give it back. Might the mysterious person turn out to be a psycho killer, at least I had some chance of stabbing him first.

Finally, something stirred behind the trees. We froze, watching as the figure moved about our camp. He seemed to be inspecting something and I am not at all sure that he had spotted us yet.
Millie turned her gaze to me, staring. I felt my heart plummeting against my breast. Yet I grabbed the torch, dipped it into the flames to ignite and then sprang up.
It seemed like the figure was startled. He momentarily ceased his movements at least, giving me the opportunity to dash away from the fire, crossing the glade. 

He turned about. I couldn’t exactly say that he fled, but it forced me to raise the torch high and enter the shadowy world of trees and undergrowth.
‘Wait!’ I called, as I ran after him. ‘Stop, will you!’
He glanced over his shoulder. The cloak or shroud he was wearing flapped behind him.

I stumbled and nearly fell over, almost dropping the torch. Standing still, breathing hard, I looked around. The forest seemed deserted, but I knew that he had not left. He was somewhere here, I could almost feel his watchful eyes upon me as I turned in a circle, allowing the small light of the torch to spill over trees and forest ground.
‘I don’t know what you want,’ I said. ‘It can’t be just peeking around whenever we make camp in this forest, though.
No answer.
‘If you didn’t want to be caught, you should’ve been more subtle. Surely you realise this.’
Still no reply, though I thought I heard something shuffle in the bushes. I jerked the torch in that direction.
Suddenly he was there again, dashing away from me. I followed him once more, trying to keep running without tripping a second time.
All at once, the trees parted and we entered open space. Shocked, I recognized Devilshill. It looked different in the dark; far more obscure and forsaken. The figure made no pause but made for the hill. After a moment’s hesitation, so did I.
When I reached the hillside I was forced to slow down. The rocks and stones here were easy to trip over, especially in the dark.
The figure was nowhere in sight, swallowed up by the shadows. But I realised now that he had been far from fleeing from me - instead, he had been luring me to this place.
I lowered the torch so I could ease the muscles in my arm. It was dangerous to walk here, I knew. I still remembered the cleft that had almost taken the hooded guys life. There might be a lot more of those fissures and if I did not watch my step, I surely would end up on the bottom of one of those. No wonder folk called this place Devilshill.
I looked around. The night was dark. I mean, night is always dark, it was just darker than usual, that's all.

Carefully taking a few steps, making sure that I wasn’t trotting on something suspicious, I called: ‘Wherever you are, I commend you on your excellent scheming, your magnificent wardrobe choices and most of all your virtually undetectable hiding places, but the spying is getting a little creepy!’