Serafina and the Black Cloak - Robert Beatty Page 0,30
them. He squinted into the darkness and then he pointed. “What is that up there?” he asked. “I can’t make it out. Does the road turn?”
She looked in the direction he pointed. It wasn’t a turn in the road. A huge tree with thick, gnarly branches and a scattering of bloodred leaves lay across the road, completely blocking their path.
Suddenly, Mr. Crankshod emerged out of the darkness, trudging his way back to the carriage. “We’re gonna need the ax,” he grumbled angrily.
Serafina and Braeden looked at each other in surprise, then looked back at Mr. Crankshod.
“Where have you been?” Braeden asked.
“We’re gonna need the ax,” Mr. Crankshod said again, ignoring the question.
“I’ll get it, sir,” the assistant coachman said as he came running up from behind Mr. Crankshod.
She hadn’t noticed him before, but the assistant coachman was just a skinny boy with a mop of curly hair. He stood no taller than the shoulder of the lead horse and had thin arms and legs, bony knees and elbows, and a coltish skittishness about him. He wore a coachman’s jacket, but it was several sizes too big in the shoulders and the sleeves were too long. His black coachman’s top hat seemed ridiculously tall on his little head. The boy couldn’t have been older than ten. He ran to the rear of the carriage, opened the wooden storage box, and grabbed the ax, which looked huge in his hands.
“That’s Nolan,” Braeden said, leaning toward her. “He’s actually one of the best carriage drivers we have, and he takes very good care of the horses.”
“Give it to me,” Mr. Crankshod barked as he grabbed the ax out of Nolan’s hands and stomped over to the fallen tree.
“I can help, too, sir, I can,” Nolan said, tagging along behind him with a small hatchet.
“Naw, ya can’t. Just stay out of the way, boy,” Mr. Crankshod shouted. He seemed irritated that Nolan was even there.
Mr. Crankshod heaved the ax behind him in a great, sweeping swing and slammed the blade into the center of the trunk. The leaves of the tree shuddered with the force of the blow, but it hardly made any dent at all in the thick bark.
He swung the ax again and again, and finally cut through the bark. The wood chips began to fly. Serafina couldn’t help but notice the brute strength of the man, but it was hard for her to tell if this was the same type of strength the Man in the Black Cloak had possessed.
“At this rate, we’re gonna be ’ere all night,” Mr. Crankshod complained, and just kept chopping.
“I’m sure I can help, sir, I’m sure I can,” Nolan said enthusiastically, standing by with his hatchet ready.
“I’m sure you can’t! Now just get back and stay out of the way!” Mr. Crankshod shouted. “You’re no use to anybody here, boy!”
As the grumpy Mr. Crankshod made war on the tree, Serafina noticed Braeden looking around them, trying to figure out if there was a way to navigate the carriage around the obstacle. But the trees of this wicked forest grew so closely together that a man could barely get through them, let alone a carriage with a team of horses.
“Where are we?” Serafina asked.
“I think we’re about eleven or twelve miles from the estate, a place called Dardin Forest,” Braeden said. “There used to be an old town nearby.”
“Haven’t been any people living in that village for years,” Mr. Crankshod grumbled as he chopped at the tree. “Nothin’ but ghosts and demons left in these woods now.”
Serafina scanned the forest, filled with a sense of foreboding. It felt like they were being watched, but she couldn’t figure out why she couldn’t detect who or what was out there. Her ears twitched with nervousness. The trees slowly swayed back and forth in the wind. They were covered in strange gray lichen and strung with grayish-white moss, which hung down like the thin hair of an old dead woman. The branches buffeted and creaked, as if anxious in their plight. It appeared that many of the trees were dying.
She walked along the length of the fallen tree. She thought it was peculiar that the tree still held its red leaves this late in the year, but it was what she saw at the base of the trunk that truly disturbed her.
“Come look at this, Braeden,” she said.
“What have you found?” he asked as he came up behind her.