“The middle of a road hemmed in by thorns is no good place to make a stand, Lief,” said Barda grimly. “And there is nowhere here that we could hide, to take enemies by surprise. We should move on, to try to find a better place.”
They began to walk again, faster now. Lief kept glancing behind him, but there was nothing to be seen in the shadows at his back.
They came to a dead tree that stood like a ghost at the side of the road, its white trunk rising out of the thornbushes. Moments after they had passed it, Lief sensed a change in the air. The back of his neck began to prickle.
“They are gaining speed,” Jasmine panted.
Then they heard it. A long, low howl that chilled the blood.
Filli, clutching Jasmine’s shoulder, made a small, frightened sound. Lief saw that the fur was standing up all over his tiny body.
There was another howl, and another.
“Wolves!” hissed Jasmine. “We cannot outrun them. They are almost upon us!”
She tore two more torches from her pack and thrust them into the flame of the one she already held. “They will fear the fire,” she said, pushing the newly burning sticks into Lief’s and Barda’s hands. “But we must face them. We must not turn our backs.”
“We are to walk backwards all the way to Tom’s shop?” Lief joked feebly, gripping his torch. But Jasmine did not smile, and neither did Barda. He was staring back at the dead tree glimmering white in the distance.
“They did not make their move until we were past that tree,” he muttered. “They wished to prevent us climbing it, and escaping them. These are no ordinary wolves.”
“Be ready,” Jasmine warned.
She already had her dagger in her hand. Lief and Barda drew their swords. They stood together, the torches held high, waiting.
And with another chorus of bloodcurdling howls, out of the darkness surged what seemed a sea of moving pinpoints of yellow light — the eyes of the wolves.
Jasmine lashed her torch from side to side in front of her. Lief and Barda did the same, so that the road in front of them was blocked by a moving line of flame.
The beasts slowed, but still moved forward, growling. As they came closer to the light, Lief could see that, indeed, they were no ordinary wolves. They were huge, covered with shaggy, matted fur striped with brown and yellow. Their lips curled back from their snarling jaws and their open, dripping mouths were not red inside, but black.
He counted them quickly. There were eleven. For some reason, that number meant something to him, but he could not think why. In any case, there was no time to worry about such things. With Barda and Jasmine he began to back away, keeping his torch moving. But for every step the companions took, the beasts took one, too.
Lief remembered his weak joke. “We are to walk backwards all the way to Tom’s shop?” he had asked.
Now it looked as though they might be forced to do just that. The beasts are driving us, he thought.
The beasts are driving us … They are not ordinary wolves … There are eleven …
His stomach lurched. “Barda! Jasmine!” he hissed. “These are not wolves. They are …”
But he never finished. For at that moment he and his companions took another step back, the great net trap that had been set for them was sprung, and they were swung, shrieking, into the air.
Crushed together in the net, bundled so tightly that they could hardly move, Lief, Barda, and Jasmine swung sickeningly in midair. They were helpless. Their torches and weapons had flown from their hands as they were whipped off their feet. Kree swooped around them, screeching in despair.
The net was hanging from a tree growing by the side of the track. Unlike the other tree they had seen, it was alive. The branch that supported the net was thick and strong — too strong to break.
Below, wolf howls were changing to bellows of triumph. Lief looked down. In the light of the fallen torches he could see that the beasts’ bodies were bulging, transforming into humanlike forms.
In moments, eleven hideous, grinning creatures were capering on the track below the tree. Some were large, some were small. Some were covered in hair, others were completely bald. They were green, brown, yellow, sickly white — even slimy red. One had six stumpy legs. But Lief knew who they were.
They were the sorceress Thaegan’s children. He remembered the rhyme that listed their names.
Hot, Tot, Jin, Jod,
Fie, Fly, Zan, Zod,
Pik, Snik, Lun, Lod,
And the dreaded Ichabod.
Jin and Jod were dead — smothered in their own quicksand trap. Now only eleven of the thirteen remained. But they were all here. They had gathered together to hunt the enemies who had caused the deaths of their mother, brother, and sister. They wanted revenge.
Grunting and snuffling, some of the monsters were tearing thornbushes up by the roots and piling them beneath the swinging net. Others were picking up the torches and dancing around, chanting:
More heat, more heat,
Tender, juicy roast meat!
Watch the fun,
Till it’s done.
Hear its groans,
Crack its bones!
More heat, more heat,
Tender, juicy roast meat!
“They are going to burn us!” groaned Barda, struggling vainly. “Jasmine, your second dagger. Can you reach it?”
“Do you think that I would still be hanging here if I could?” Jasmine whispered back furiously.
The monsters below were cheering as they threw the torches onto the pile of thorns. Already Lief could feel warmth below him, and smell smoke. He knew that soon the green bushes would dry and catch alight. Then he and his friends would roast in the heat, and when the net burned through they would fall into the fire.
Something soft moved against Lief’s cheek. It was Filli. The little creature had managed to work his way off Jasmine’s shoulder and now was squeezing through the net right beside Lief’s ear.
He, at least, was free. But he did not run up the ropes and into the tree above, as Lief expected. Instead, he remained clinging to the net, nibbling at it desperately. Lief realized that he was going to try to make a hole big enough for them to climb through.
It was a brave effort, but how much time would it take for those tiny teeth to gnaw through such thick, strong netting? Too much time. Long before Filli had made even a small gap, the monsters below would notice what he was doing. Then they would drive him away, or kill him.
There was a howl of rage from the ground. Lief looked down in panic. Had their enemies caught sight of Filli already? No — they were not looking up. Instead, they were glaring at one another.
“Two legs for Ichabod!” the biggest one was roaring, beating his lumpy red chest. “Two legs and a head.”
“No! No!” two green creatures snarled, baring dripping brown teeth. “Not fair! Fie and Fly say no!”
“They are fighting over which parts of us they will eat!” exclaimed Barda. “Can you believe it?”
“Let them fight,” muttered Jasmine. “The more they fight, the more time Filli has to do his work.”
“We share the meat!” shrieked the two smallest monsters, their piercing voices rising above the noise of the others. “Hot and Tot say equal shares.”
Their brothers and sisters growled and muttered.
“Are they not stupid?” Lief shouted suddenly, pretending that he was talking to Barda and Jasmine. “Do they not know that they cannot have equal shares!”
“Lief, are you mad?” hissed Jasmine.
But Lief went on shouting. He could see that the monsters had grown still, and were listening. “There are three of us, and eleven of them!” he roared. “You cannot divide three fairly into eleven parts. It is impossible!”