Free The Wildkin’s Curse by Kate Forsyth Page B

high-pitched squeals above them and the ominous flap of wings. Merry peeked his head over the last boulder and saw below him an enormous messy nest, woven of branches and roots and bark and lined with grass. Only one eaglet squatted within, though there were two broken brown-blotched eggshells. Merry, trying not to shrink away from the frantic beats of wings, saw a dead eaglet strewn at the far end, neck twisted, blind eyes bulging. Zed was crouched behind a boulder nearby.
    Then the eagle plummeted from above. Merry drew back sharply. The eagle was enormous, far bigger than he had expected. Its eye was golden and black and fierce. Its beak was made for tearing flesh. Its claws were cruel.
    Down the eagle plunged, and landed with a whoosh of air. A dead rabbit dangled from its beak. At once the baby eaglet began to slash at it with its sharp, curved beak. Its parent brooded, one claw still clasped about the dead animal, its wings spread restively.
    Zed reached out and plucked a feather from its wing. The eagle shrieked and turned its beak, darting at his hand. He snatched it back, and scrambled away over the rock, waving the feather in his hand. ‘Got it!’ he cried.
    Liliana slithered after him, one hand held out. ‘Give it to me! Rozalina is my cousin, I should have plucked the feather!’
    Zed bowed with a courtly flourish and offered the eagle feather to her. ‘With my compliments, my lady.’
    Liliana snatched it from him and stowed it away in her pack. Merry, wearily creeping down behind, saw her flash Zed a quick smile, which illuminated her face with sudden triumphant beauty.
    The heavy beat of wings filled their ears as the eagle took flight again, rising and circling above them, screeching in warning. Merry ducked his head, scrambling down with very little thought for the steep fall below, the fathoms of gravity that would gladly drag him down. Zed led the way, sliding and leaping, while the eagle soared and ducked and shrieked above him.
    Halfway down the cliff, scraping his cheek on the rock, blood trickling from his palms, Merry suddenly began to laugh. He bit his tongue to stop himself, but Liliana responded with a high, sweet trill of laughter.
    â€˜We have it, Merry, we have it!’ she called.
    And we’re alive
, he answered silently.
Although for how long, I wonder?

    Dusk fell long before they reached Stormfell Castle.
    Filthy and exhausted, Liliana and the boys trudged back up to the hidden room in darkness. The steps were old and broken, and Merry banged his shin and stubbed his toe more than once. He wished Tom-Tit-Tot was there to guide them, but the omen-imp had still not come back. Merry wondered if he found the ruined castle as eerie and unsettling as Merry did.
    â€˜It’d be much easier if I just opened my night-light,’ Zed complained. ‘There’s no need for us to stumble about in the darkness.’
    â€˜Shhh,’ Liliana hissed.
    â€˜But why? What’s your problem?’ Zed demanded.
    â€˜You never know when the castle is being watched. It’s too great a risk.’
    â€˜But there’s no-one for miles,’ Zed argued.
    â€˜Unless you count spiders,’ Merry said, fighting off an unseen cobweb.
    â€˜Shhh,’ Liliana hissed again.
    â€˜Or ghosts.’ Merry peered along a dark corridor that showed, faintly, the shape of broken arches against the starry sky. ‘It’s just the sort of place ghosts would love.’
    â€˜The only ghosts here are my kin, and they would not harm me,’ Liliana said. ‘Starkin soldiers will, though, so shut your mouth else I’ll have to knock you out stone-cold!’
    â€˜As if you could,’ Zed muttered, but spoke no more.
    The castle was indeed an uncanny place by night, keeping muscles and nerves tightly wound. The wind seemed to moan and sigh, and it was all too easy to imagine malevolent ghosts lurking in the corners. Merry felt keenly how hard it must have