Krysta folded her arms and stopped walking. "I'll freaking well write what I want to write!"

"Yes! Finally!" Flower did a little jump of joy, but her jubilation was short-lived. She felt a tug on her presence, and then an excruciatingly painful yank.

She said the very baddest word she knew.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

An ocean of trembling leaves stretched from horizon to horizon, green, dense, healthy and as high as Nikifor's waist. His boots were soaked from the mud. His back ached from the dead weight of the unconscious muse in his arms. Sweat trickled down his face, even though the air was icy cold.

But physical discomfort was nothing compared with the effort of keeping up with the Bloomin Fairy, whose labyrinthine progress could only be tracked by a slight shifting of leaves and a tuft of knotted hair sticking out above them. The fairy tracked first left, then right, then traced a big curve before making twelve sharp turns. Nikifor spotted two more wooden signposts under the leaves, both of them pointing vaguely at the sky, but apart from that he was utterly mystified as to how his guide knew where he was going.

Then the tuft of hair disappeared completely.

Nikifor yelled in fright and broke into a run, made even more awkward when Flower's head fell back and he almost dropped her. The colour drained from her face and her lips developed a blue tinge. "Come back!" he called. "Please don't leave me here Fairy, you will doom my friend to an agonising death and then I will be forced to go completely mad!"

The fairy tapped him on the kneecap. "Don't be weird, man." He held up two big, purple bunches of carrots. "I had to get these. Come on, we're almost in Pumpkin."

"Pumpkin?" Nikifor followed the other man, this time keeping right on his heels until the crop came to an abrupt end and they walked into a giant vegetable garden.

He halted in astonishment, right in front of a pumpkin at least the size of four Freakin Fairy huts, with a door, windows and a chimney all built into it. Smoke trailed merrily from the chimneys of many smaller giant pumpkins. Little gardens bursting with bright-coloured vegetables and strangled with choko vines climbed and trailed and crept everywhere.

The Bloomin Fairy cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered. "Hey everyone! I found two giant Freakin Fairies and one of them's still alive!"

Nikifor winced at the piercing pitch of the little man's voice. His nerves were already wound so tight he was sure something idiotic would explode from his mouth any second. He clamped his lips together. He mustn't frighten them.

Two hundred Bloomin Fairies swarmed out of the giant pumpkin houses. They tugged on Nikifor's clothes, pulled at Flower's hair, stared and chattered and yelled all at the same time. Nikifor froze, terrified. There were so many voices he couldn't make out a single word. He took a backward step, intending to flee back into the relative safety of the purple carrot fields.

"Come on! Come on!" His guide tugged on his elbow and pulled him toward the giant central pumpkin. The others quickly got the idea and hustled him along, almost lifting Flower out of his arms in their efforts to help support her.

Nikifor bent almost double to get through the door, but once inside he was able to stand up straight with his head just scraping a ceiling made of dried mud daubed over pumpkin shell. The fairies streamed in after him.

They gathered in around the centre of the floor, where fresh leaves and flowers were strewn around a table made entirely of pumpkin seeds. On the table, resting in a bed of fresh purple carrot leaves in a wooden stand, was a shrivelled, dried brown gourd. A big bundle of faded red cloth shivered in an alarming fashion on a deep wooden chair with a high back and sides. Even above all the noise, the sound of snoring could be heard.

The fairies' chattering reached a pitch. The guide pushed his way to the front of the crowd, leaned over and poked the cloth. "Lord of the Gourd!"

The cloth yelled, moved and shivered. Then it sat up to reveal itself as a shrivelled old woman with bright white hair matted into one big knot at the top of her head. A rounded and unusually large nose dominated a face covered in deep wrinkles. "What?!" she yelled. "What do you lot want now?"

The guide pointed. "I found two giant Freakin Fairies!"

The Lord of the Gourd looked Nikifor and Flower up and down. "What'd you bring them here for?"

The guide puffed his chest up. "I was like totally just out looking for new seeds when I saw these two bashing a giant cloud of stinkies!" He swooped his arms out and jumped, miming the fetches. "There must have been a million of them! But the giant Freakin Fairies were not afraid! They slashed-" He flung an arm out and caught another fairy on the headand they bashed-" he brought two fists down, and the fairies around him jumped out of the way "and they turned every stinking one of them to stinking smoke! It was the most amazing thing I ever seen!"

The Lord of the Gourd gave an irritable grunt. "Yes, but why'd you bring them here?"

"Cos that one's dead and the other one wanted us to help."

The Lord of the Gourd glared at Nikifor. "Come here."

Nikifor approached; the fairies moved aside to let him through. He knelt down to be on eye level with them all, then gently laid Flower on the ground and eased his aching muscles. "She's not dead."

The Lord of the Gourd scoffed. "Any fool can see that. Except maybe Pumpkinhead here." She cuffed the guide on the back of the head.

Pumpkinhead shrugged, unperturbed.

"Who are you?" The Lord of the Gourd demanded. "I never heard of a giant Freakin Fairy."

"I am Nikifor, and this is Flower." Nikifor hesitated. Flower was much better at this kind of thing. "We're muses."

The fairies broke into excited whispering. The Lord of the Gourd narrowed her eyes at him. "You'd be better off as giant Freakin Fairies."

"But why?" Sweat broke out on Nikifor's forehead again. He wiped it off and tried not to panic or say anything stupid.

"Because we're not leaving our village. Nothing will make us."

"Of course not. Why would you? You have magnificent pumpkins!"

The boom of his voice died away in the room. Fifty sets of fairy eyes stared at him.

"He's being weird again," Pumpkinhead said in a loud whisper.

Nikifor buried his head in his hands and took several deep breaths, but instead of calming him, they only made him dizzy. "Look," he said, "We don't mean you any harm, I swear it. I need help for my friend, she's been bitten by a fetch. If you will only help her, we'll be on our way."

The Lord of the Gourd glared at the crowd. "Who knows how to cure the giant freakin dead muse?"

Noise burst out again as everyone yelled and jumped up and down at once.

The Lord of the Gourd raised a hand. Silence fell. She pointed to a red-headed fairy. "You, Carrots. What's your cure?"

"Mash up the seeds of a mushroom under the full moon and feed them to her with a worm paste!" he yelled.

"Don't be bloomin stupid. You, Ivyface, what's yours?"

Ivyface straightened up to her full height of three foot eight. "Make a hot broth from caterpillar tongues and broccoli flowers and rub it in her ears!"

"Go eat a snail, you ridiculous girl. You, Cauliflowerhead, what do you think?"

Cauliflowerhead stared blankly. "I didn't have my hand up. I was pointing at the roof."

The Lord of the Gourd grunted. "Anyone got a suggestion that's not plain stupid?"

"Ask the Great Clip Clop!" someone yelled from the back.

The rest of the fairies took to this suggestion straight away and yelled their agreement for a full three minutes.

The Lord of the Gourd rose from the chair to an imposing height of three feet. She leaned over, rolled the shrivelled gourd under her hands for a minute or two, then made an imperious gesture. "Fetch the Great Clip Clop here. The Gourd has decreed he will help."

The fairies all rushed out at once, leaving Nikifor and Flower alone with the Lord of the Gourd. Nikifor was unsure whether to be relieved or more afraid. Whatever the Great Clip Clop was, the name wasn't the least bit reassuring. He knelt over Flower and checked her pulse. It was faint, but regular. Her skin was still too white. Terror gripped him afresh. Flower must not die. She'd saved his life, kept himso farfrom sliding back into madness, and besides, she was the only one who really knew what they were doing and where they were going. Without her he was just a madman prey to dangerous memories. His head dropped. Exhaustion, his shadow and companion for days, followed terror like a great weight. It was all he could do not to fall to the ground right there.

"There there."

Nikifor looked up and blinked rapidly to hide the tears pricking at his eyes. The Lord of the Gourd stood over him and patted him on the shoulder.

"Madam?"

"A little fetch bite never killed anyone," she said. "Did send young Mudface a bit crooked. She stayed under a turnip dead for a week. Came back, started wearing all black clothes and wanting to be alone all the time. Next thing we know she moves into her own pumpkin and instead of carving nice square doors and windows like a civilised Bloomin Fairy, what does she do? She puts in creepy eyes and a big jagged mouth for a doorway!" The Lord of the Gourd's face went bright red and her lower lip quavered.

"But that's hideous!" Nikifor boomed. He sighed, lowered his voice and continued. "What happened to her?"

The Lord of the Gourd shrugged. "Nothing. She just lives in that pumpkin and draws pictures or some such rubbish. Silliest Bloomin Fairy of the lot, if you ask me."

The noise of the returning fairies saved Nikifor from having to think up a reply. They poured back into the room, bringing with them a cloaked man who towered over them all and had to stoop to get through the doorway.

He wasn't as tall as a muse by any means, but he was definitely no fairy. When he was inside he removed his hood to reveal a head of tightly curled hair with generous grey streaks in it. Black and grey mixed in fascinating patterns through a full beard and moustache that flowed from under pointed cheekbones.

He looked Nikifor over, gave him a curt nod and then smiled at the fairies. The smile changed his whole visage from forbidding to friendly. "I may need some things," he said. "Boiling water. Potatoes, turnips, carrots, cauliflower and parsley. Off you go. Mudface, you stay here."

Excited chatter burst out. Within moments the fairies had exited, all except one girl whose baggy tunic was stitched together out of countless black patches. She slunk over to a wall, crouched down and stayed there, watching them all with suspicious eyes.

The Great Clip Clop breathed a sigh that could have been relief, then returned his attention to Nikifor. The friendliness fled. He gave the Lord of the Gourd a low, grave bow. "At your service."

When he walked toward them, his footsteps rang on the hard earth in a rhythmic way that could only mean he had hooves instead of feet, and was therefore one of the reclusive forest people. Nikifor tried not to stare. He wished Flower would wake up and explain how a forest person could be living in a fairy village. The two tribes didn't mix. Ever.

The Lord of the Gourd drew herself up. "This don't mean we changed our minds," she said.

"Of course not."

"Just so it's clear." She jerked her head at Flower. "Can you help this giant freakin muse? She's been bit by a stinky."

"I can help." The man knelt by Flower, but turned his attention to Nikifor. His first question was abrupt. "Who are you?"

"Niki-" Nikifor cleared his suddenly dry throat. The Great Clip Clop made him nervous. Flower would laugh if she knew. "Nikifor."

The name sparked some interest in the man's eyes. He studied Nikifor intently. "Prove it."

"How can I prove it?" The intensity in the man's eyes held him in place.

The man gave a thin smile, then grabbed him with one hand around the throat. "Vanish in a puff of smoke before I have a chance to kill you."

Nikifor wrapped his fingers around the man's wrist and pulled. The man was strong, but Nikifor stronger. He slowly, surely removed the hand from his throat. "I'm not one of them."

The man nodded, apparently satisfied. "So it would seem." He glanced down at Nikifor's hand, still pushing away his own, and grasped his wrist. "What's this?"

The Great Clip Clop's fingers rested on the brand on his wrist. Nikifor couldn't breathe. He looked about wildly, but the Tormentor was not there. He knew he had to keep it together, because Flower couldn't do it for him right now. He drew his hand back and pressed it to his side. "Nothing."

The man inclined his head to the Lord of the Gourd. "With your permission I will take these two to the dwelling you have graciously given me, and help them."

The Lord of the Gourd scowled. "I can't watch?"

"You honour my humble efforts, but I fear there is not much to observe."

"Go on then. Get on with it." The Lord of the Gourd waved them out.

"We'll have to carry her between us," the man said.

Nikifor was relieved to hear it, since his arms still ached. They hoisted Flower up, draping her arms over their shoulders, and left the giant pumpkin. The Great Clip Clop nodded at Mudface on the way out, who trudged after them.

They went quickly though the campsite, where the fairies were scurrying around busily preparing dinner in a huge pot.

"Mudface, get me some boiling water," the Great Clip Clop said. "And some of those little pink flowers that grow out behind the cauliflower patch."

Mudface trudged away.

He didn't speak again until they'd cleared the fairies and were nearing a pumpkin house perched some way from the edge of the village. "My name is Fitz Falls," he said.

"But that is magnificent!" Nikifor boomed, then silently chastised himself when Fitz looked at him like he might be a madman. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I can't control the shouting. I was cursed by a Freakin Fairy. I only meant that we were told to seek you out."

"I see." Fitz pushed open the rickety wooden door to the pumpkin house with a foot, and they both stooped to bring Flower inside. There Fitz laid her on a bed so short her legs hung off the end.

Nikifor knelt by Flower and smoothed the hair out of her face, a gesture he'd never have dared to make were she awake. "Can you help her?"

Fitz busied himself stirring up a fire in a low stove built of mismatched mud bricks. "Fetch bites are not lethal, although they can knock a fairy out cold for a good week or two. I don't know about muses, I've haven't dealt with you people in a long time."

"What are you saying? She's just asleep?"

Fitz nodded. "They're not there to kill. They're there to stun. I've seen whole villages of Bloomin Fairies unconscious, and then you know the Moon Troopers are on their way to take the victims."

"But that's dastardly!" Nikifor clapped a hand over his mouth, and continued in a much lower tone. "Sorry. I mean, that's terrible. What do they want with the Bloomin Fairies?"

Fitz gave a philosophical shrug. "No doubt the same thing the Guild wants with all the missing fairies, but I've yet to discover just what that is."

Mudface came through the door at that moment, carrying a pot of steaming water in one hand and a basket of flowers in the other. She scowled at Fitz when she passed him by. "Pink," she said, as though it were a bad, bad word. She put the pot on the fire and the basket next to it, then slammed back through the door and disappeared.

Fitz chuckled and put some flowers in the hot water to steep. "Young Mudface is not a big fan of pink. She'd much rather gather black flowers." He took up a wooden spoon and began to stir. "Pumpkinhead told me he found you two fighting seven million fetches."

Nikifor smiled. "He gravely overestimates my valour. It was perhaps five hundred."

"I heard Nikifor the Muse Champion killed thousands of vampires every night of the Vampire Wars."

The smile dropped away. Nikifor looked at Flower's hand lying across her stomach and wished she were awake to do the talking. He remembered those battles well enough. Perhaps, if it had not been for them, he might have resisted the vibe. Or perhaps the vibe had taken him back to that space, that nothingness, that perfect, terrible stillness he only ever found on a battlefield when pitched against a thousand foes. But even that was a lie.

"Did he not?"