‘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.
Tiffany and the Wee Free Men were alone on the downs. Feegles were picking themselves up around her.
‘Are you fine, mistress?’ said Rob Anybody.
‘Yes!’ said Tiffany. ‘It’s easy! If you get them off the snow they’re just dogs!’
‘We’d best move on. We lost some of the lads.’
The excitement drained away.
‘You mean they’re dead?’ Tiffany whispered. The sun was shining brightly again, the skylarks were back . . . and people were dead.
‘Ach, no,’ said Rob. ‘We’re the ones who’s deid. Did ye not know that?’
Chapter 6
The Shepherdess
‘You’re dead?’ said Tiffany. She looked around. Feegles were picking themselves up and grumbling, but no one was going ‘Waily waily waily.’ And Rob Anybody wasn’t making any sense at all.
‘Well, if you think you’re dead, then what are they?’ she went on, pointing to a couple of small bodies.
‘Oh, they’ve gone back to the land o’ the livin’,’ said Rob Anybody cheerfully. ‘It’s nae as good as this one, but they’ll bide fine and come back before too long. No sense in grievin’.’
The Achings were not very religious, but Tiffany thought she knew how things ought to go, and they started out with the idea that you were alive and not dead yet.
‘But you are alive!’ she said.
‘Ach, no, mistress,’ said Rob, helping another pictsie to his feet. ‘We wuz alive. And we wuz good boys back in the land o’ the livin’, and so when we died there we wuz borned into this place.’
‘You mean . . . you think . . . that you sort of died somewhere else and then came here?’ said Tiffany. ‘You mean this is like . . . heaven?’
‘Aye! Just as advertised!’ said Rob Anybody. ‘Lovely sunshine, good huntin’, nice pretty flowers and wee burdies goin’ cheep.’
‘Aye, and then there’s the fightin’,’ said another Feegle. And then they all joined in.
‘An’ the stealin’!’
‘An’ the drinkin’ an’ fightin’!’
‘An’ the kebabs!’ said Daft Wullie.
‘But there’s bad things here!’ said Tiffany. There’s monsters!’
‘Aye,’ said Rob, beaming happily. ‘Grand, isn’t it? Every thin’ laid on, even things to fight!’
‘But we live here!’ said Tiffany.
‘Ach, well, mebbe all you humans wuz good in the Last World, too,’ said Rob Anybody generously. ‘I’ll just round up the lads, mistress.’
Tiffany reached into her apron and pulled out the toad as Rob walked away.
‘Oh. We survived,’ it said. ‘Amazing. There are very definite grounds for an action against the owner of those dogs, by the way.’
‘What?’ said Tiffany, frowning. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I. . . I. . . don’t know,’ said the toad. ‘The thought just popped into my head. Perhaps I knew something about dogs when I was human?’
‘Listen, the Feegles think they’re in heaven! They think they died and came here!’
‘And?’ said the toad.
‘Well, that can’t be right! You’re supposed to be alive here and then die and end up in some heaven somewhere else!’
‘Well, that’s just saying the same thing in a different way, isn’t it? Anyway, lots of warrior tribes think that when they die they go to a heavenly land somewhere,’ said the toad. ‘You know, where they can drink and fight and feast for ever? So maybe this is theirs.’
‘But this is a real place!’
‘So? It’s what they believe. Besides, they’re only small. Maybe the universe is a bit crowded and they have to put heavens anywhere there’s room? I’m a toad, so you’ll appreciate that I’m having to guess a lot here. Maybe they’re just wrong. Maybe you’re just wrong. Maybe I’m just wrong.’
A small foot kicked Tiffany on the boot. ‘We’d be best be moving on, mistress,’ said Rob Anybody. He had a dead Feegle over his shoulder. Quite a few of the others were carrying bodies, too. ‘Er . . . are you going to bury them?’ said Tiffany. ‘Aye, they dinnae need these ol’ bodies noo an’ it’s no’ tidy to leave ‘em lyin’ aboot,’ said Rob Anybody. ‘Besides, if the bigjobs find little wee skulls and bones aroound they’ll start to wonder, and we don’t want anyone pokin’ aboot. Savin’ your presence, mistress,’ he added.
‘No, that’s very, er . . . practical thinking,’ said Tiffany, giving up. The Feegle pointed to a distant mound with a thicket of thorn trees growing on it. A lot of the mounds had thickets on them. The trees took advantage of the deeper soil. It was said to be unlucky to cut them down.
‘It’s nae very far noo,’ he said.
‘You live in one of the mounds?’ Tiffany asked. ‘I thought they were, you know, the graves of ancient chieftains?’
‘Ach, aye, there’s some oF dead kingie in the chamber next door but he’s nae trouble,’ said Rob. ‘Dinnae fret, there’s nae skelingtons or any such in oour bit. It’s quite roomy, we’ve done it up a treat.’