The Wee Free Men

‘Aye, we’re very resilient in the heid department,’ said Rob Anybody.

‘Have you seen a woman with a small boy?’ Tiffany demanded. She hadn’t much liked ‘spawn’.

Hamish gave Rob Anybody a panicky look, and Rob nodded.

‘Aye, I did,’ said Hamish. ‘Onna black horse. Riding up from the lowlan’s goin’ hell for—’

‘We dinnae use bad language in front o’ a hag!’ Rob Anybody thundered.

‘Begging your pardon, mistress. She was ridin’ heck for leather,’ said Hamish, looking more sheepish than the sheep. ‘But she kenned I was spyin’ her and called up a mist. She’s gone to the other side, but I dinnae ken where.’

‘‘Tis a perilous place, the other side,’ said Rob Anybody, slowly. ‘Evil things there. A cold place. Not a place to tak’ a wee babbie.’

It was hot on the downs, but Tiffany felt a chill. However bad it is, she thought, I’m going to have to go there. I know it. I don’t have a choice. ‘The other side?’ she said.

‘Aye. The magic world,’ said Rob Anybody. There’s… bad things there.’

‘Monsters?’ said Tiffany.

‘As bad as ye can think of,’ said Rob Anybody. ‘Exactly as bad as ye can think of.’

Tiffany swallowed hard, and closed her eyes. ‘Worse than Jenny? Worse than the headless horseman?’ she said.

‘Oh, aye. They were wee pussycats compared to the scunners over there. ‘Tis an ill-fared country that’s come callin’, mistress. Tis a land where dreams come true. That’s the Quin’s world.’

‘Well, that doesn’t sound too—’ Tiffany began. Then she remembered some of the dreams she’d had, the ones where you were so glad to wake up… ‘We’re not talking about nice dreams, are we?’ she said.

Rob Anybody shook his head. ‘Nay, mistress. The other kind.’

And me with my frying pan and Diseases of the Sheep, thought Tiffany. And she had a mental picture of Wentworth among horrible monsters. They probably wouldn’t have any sweeties at all.

She sighed. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘how do I get there?’

‘Ye dinnae ken the way?’ said Rob Anybody.

It wasn’t what she’d been expecting. What she had been expecting was more like ‘Ach, ye cannae do that, a wee lass like you, oh dearie us no!’ She wasn’t so much expecting that as hoping it, in fact. But, instead, they were acting as if it were a perfectly reasonable idea—

‘No!’ she said. ‘I don’t dinnae any ken at all! I haven’t done this before! Please help me!’

‘That’s true, Rob,’ said a Feegle. ‘She’s new to the haggin’. Tak’ her to the kelda.’

‘Not e’en Granny Aching ever went to see the kelda in her ain cave!’ snapped Rob Anybody. ‘It’s no a —’

‘Quiet!’ hissed Tiffany. ‘Can’t you hear that?’

The Feegles looked around.

‘Hear what?’ said Hamish.

‘It’s a susurration!’

It felt as though the turf was trembling. The sky looked as though Tiffany was inside a diamond. And there was the smell of snow.

Hamish pulled a pipe out of his waistcoat and blew it. Tiffany couldn’t hear anything, but there was a scream from high above.

‘I’ll let ye know what’s happenin’!’ cried the pictsie, and started to run across the turf. As he ran, he raised his arms over his head.

He was moving fast by then but the buzzard sped down and across the turf even faster and plucked him neatly into the air. As it beat at the air to rise again, Tiffany saw Hamish climbing up through the feathers.

The other Feegles had formed a circle around Tiffany, and this time they’d drawn their swords.

‘Whut’s the plan, Rob?’ said one of them.

‘OK, lads, this is what we’ll do. As soon as we see somethin’, we’ll attack it. Right?’

This caused a cheer.

‘Ach, ‘tis a good plan,’ said Daft Wullie.

Snow formed on the ground. It didn’t fall, it… did the opposite of melting, rising up fast until the Nac Mac Feegles were waist deep, and then up to their necks. Some of the smaller ones began to disappear, and there was muffled cursing from under the snow.

And then the dogs appeared, lumbering towards Tiffany with a nasty purpose. They were big, black and heavily built, with orange eyebrows, and she could hear the growling from here.

She plunged her hand into her apron pocket and pulled out the toad. It blinked in the sharp light.

‘Wazzup?’

Tiffany turned him round to face the things. ‘What are these?’ she said.

‘Oh, doak! Grimhounds! Bad! Eyes of fire and teeth of razor blades!’

‘What should I do about them?’

‘Not be here?’

‘Thank you! You’ve been very helpful!’ Tiffany dropped him back into her pocket and pulled her frying pan out of her sack.

It wasn’t going to be good enough, she knew that. The black dogs were big, and their eyes were flames, and when they opened their mouths to snarl she could see the light glint on steel. She’d never been afraid of dogs, but these dogs weren’t from anywhere outside of a nightmare.

There were three of them, but they circled so that no matter how she turned she could only see two at once. She knew it would be the one behind her that attacked first.

‘Tell me something more about them!’ she said, turning the other way to the circle so that she could watch all three.

‘Said to haunt graveyards!’ said a voice from her apron.

‘Why is there snow on the ground?’

‘This has become the Queen’s land. It’s always winter there! When she puts out her power, it comes here too!’

But Tiffany could see green some way off, beyond the circle of snow. Think, think…

The Queen’s country. A magical place where there really were monsters. Anything you could dream of in nightmares. Dogs with eyes of flame and teeth of razors, yes. You didn’t get them in the real world, they wouldn’t work…

They were drooling now, red tongues hanging out, enjoying her fear. And part of Tiffany thought: It’s amazing their teeth don’t rust—

–and took charge of her legs. She dived between two of the dogs and ran towards the distant green. There was a growl of triumph behind her and she heard the crunch of paws on snow. The green didn’t seem to be getting nearer. She heard yells from the pictsies and a snarl that turned into a wail, but there was something behind her as she jumped over the last of the snow and rolled on the warm turf.

A grimhound leaped after her. She jerked herself away as it snapped, but it was already in trouble.

No eyes of fire, no teeth of razors. Not here, not in the real world, on the home turf. It was blind here and blood was already dripping from its mouth. You shouldn’t jump with a mouthful of razors…

Tiffany almost felt sorry for it as it whined in pain, but the snow was creeping towards her and she hit the dog with the frying pan. It went down heavily, and lay still.

There was a fight going on back in the snow. It was flying up like a mist, but she could see two dark shapes in the middle, spinning around and snapping. She banged on the pan and shouted, and a grimhound sprang from the whirling snow and landed in front of her, a Feegle hanging from each ear.

The snow flowed towards Tiffany. She backed away, watching the advancing, snarling dog. She held the pan like a bat.

‘Come on,’ she whispered. ‘Jump!’

The eyes flamed at her, and then the dog looked down at the snow.

And vanished. The snow sank into the ground. The light changed.