Tad Williams - The Secrets of Ordinary Farm

“No.” The storm had slackened a little. In the intervals between thunderclaps Lucinda heard strange noises drifting to her from several different directions, muffled shouts and the squeals of frightened animals. She inched farther away along the top of the fence, trying to keep some distance between her and her pursuer. The lights were still out all over the farm, but there was enough moonlight to see Kingaree’s long, pale face and the gleam of his knife, which he was making to keep in view. “No,” she said again, louder. “I’m not coming down. Mr. Walkwell! ” she shouted. “Ragnar! It’s Kingaree! He’s here!”

The tall man laughed. “Neither of them two are coming, and I ain’t afraid of either of them, anyway. Walkwell’s wiry enough, but he won’t hurt me… because I’ll have you!” At the last word he strode forward and leaped up onto the fence, his coat flapping like dark wings. Panicked, Lucinda tried to jump down but one of her feet caught in the diamond space between the fence wires. As she struggled to free herself the man in the long black coat climbed toward her as quickly as a spider on a wall. He snatched at her; for a moment his grasping fingers closed on her shoe, but it came off and she was just able to swing her leg over and jump down on the creek side of the fence. She kicked off her other shoe and ran along the levee beside the dark water. Kingaree swung himself down onto the concrete and began to lope unhurriedly after her. “You can’t outrun me, child. I’m twice your size and strong as vinegar!”

She was hemmed between the creek and Kingaree. The levee extended a long way before her, but she knew she could not outrun him on open ground. She stopped and turned to face him, so frightened of the man that she could barely breathe. Better to give up, she told herself. He wouldn’t hurt her-he needed her. But her speeding heart didn’t entirely believe that.

“Now that’s a good girl,” he said, slowing to a walk, approaching her along the concrete levee with the knife hand at his side and his other hand out.

“Stop there,” she said. “Why should I trust you?”

He stopped and cocked his head to the side. He had lost his hat somewhere and the rain had plastered his black hair close to his skull. “Trust me? Trust got nothing to do with it.” He shook rain out of his eyes. “You’re going with me until I’m safe off this property, and you’re going to mind me just how I say or I’ll cut you. I don’t have to kill you to make you wish you’d never crossed me, you know.”

Lucinda’s attention was distracted by movement in the shadows behind Kingaree, something rising out of the darkness of the creek. As she stared, trembling with cold and terror, she saw a large shadow separate itself from the rest. For a moment Lucinda thought that the reeds and long grasses and weeds of Kumish Creek had uprooted themselves and crawled up onto the levee, until she saw two huge eyes glinting in the moonlight, circles as big as softballs rising behind the unsuspecting Kingaree like twin moons until they hung a full half a foot above his head, the only glimmer in a dark, dripping mass like a moving haystack.

Uncle Gideon’s river monster, she thought. With the crazy name. Then she remembered. Bunyip.

Kingaree’s wet face wrinkled in puzzlement. “Why are you staring like that? That’s an old, stupid trick, child. There’s nobody behind

…” Then he heard a noise and turned. Jackson Kingaree didn’t even have a chance to cry out before the huge shape was wrestling him backward into the tall reeds. He found his voice at last, shouting in raw-throated horror as he stabbed at the sodden mass over and over. The two of them, man and mythical beast, fell and rolled down the side of the levee as Kingaree’s terrified curses peppered the air, then they splashed into the dark creek.

Lucinda did not wait to see what happened. She climbed back over the fence as fast as she could, ignoring her cuts and scrapes. She slipped getting down, landing so hard that for a moment she thought she’d broken her ankle. The sky went white and thunder rolled again as she forced herself up onto her feet. The struggle was still going on behind her, but the weird, intermixed noises of Kingaree and his attacker fell away as she limped back toward the house across the dark, rainy farm.

Steve looked up the dark stairway in horror. “What are you talking about? Why should we go up there? You said the witch’s rooms are up there!”

In another part of the house, nearer to the front door, unfamiliar voices were raised in loud argument. Tyler’s heart was beating hard: at any moment someone might walk in and find them. “That’s where the mirror is now,” he said with quiet urgency and pushed again, but Steve Carrillo was big enough not to be moved if he didn’t want to. “I’m serious! Mrs. Needle took it. Gideon’s wife Grace is stuck in there just like you were and we have to save her.”

“That’s totally different than what you said before,” Steve accused him. “You told me we had to stop Colin-that he had this Continnyscope thing and he was going to take over the earth or something if we didn’t get back here and stop him. That he could destroy time like some kind of supervillain.”

“Exactly!” said Tyler, shoving him again. “So we have to get Grace out of the mirror and then Gideon will… I don’t know… it’ll snap him out of whatever’s wrong with him! We need Gideon to get well so he can stop Colin.”

“What? That totally doesn’t make any sense at all! Forget it-I’m not going near that mirror. It’s crazy in there, and I felt like I was in there for years last time!”

“Nobody’s going to make you go in the mirror. You can wait for me.”

“Yeah, great. Wait around in the witch’s room in your big old scary farmhouse. Good plan. No way, Jenkins.”

“Look, if we stay here, the witch will definitely find us.” Thunder boomed outside, and as it died away Tyler heard the loud voices again. One of them sounded like Patience Needle’s. “There she is now. Get the hell up there!”

Steve Carrillo moaned in protest, but allowed Tyler to hustle him up the stairs. Tyler slipped in through the open door of the witch’s office, then turned to beckon Steve after him. The room was tidy, as it usually was, everything on the desk and in the tall stand of apothecary shelves neatly stacked, potted plants arranged along both edges of the desk in rows with each pot carefully labeled. The only thing that didn’t seem to fit was a pile of papers scattered carelessly across the desk as if a powerful wind had swept through the room and touched nothing else. On the far side of the little room stood the hand-carved wooden washstand and the tall, shiny rectangle of the mirror.

“It really is here,” Tyler breathed. He felt a kind of fierce joy, as if he had been rewarded for a stubborn defense of the truth.

“I told you,” Steve began, “I’m not… ”

All the lights went out.

“Wh-what…?”

“It’s okay,” said Tyler, but he was shaken himself. “I’m still here!”

“What’s going on?” Steve Carrillo sounded like he was working up to a major panic attack. “What’s happening?”

“The power went out, that’s all,” Tyler said. “We’ve got flashlights. It’s okay.” He flipped his on, swept the light around the room. The noise of the storm seemed louder now in the deep shadows, the witch’s room larger and even more unsettling. Tyler leaned over the desk, sweeping his light back and forth across the scattered papers, but they seemed mostly ordinary, bills and other business documents.

Bang! The muffled explosion from downstairs made them both jump.