She reached the knot of people, but she was too short to see what they were looking at. Curious now, she wormed her way forward between bodies and elbows until she got to the front. But when she saw the board a horrified gasp escaped her lips: there on the board was a poster of a girl. A girl with one eye and long braids. Her. But that was not what made her gasp. It was the word printed in large letters at the top: WANTED.

  Freya spun around to push her way back through the crowd, but as she did so, she tripped over someone’s foot and fell. A man gave a surprised cry and reached down to help her. As she took his hand, she looked up and her hood fell back, revealing her face.

  “Hey, it’s her! It’s the wanted girl!” the man yelled, grabbing her hand and yanking her to her feet.

  Before she knew it, there were hands everywhere grasping and pulling, voices shouting, yelling. Somebody tied her hands together in front of her with some rope, and next thing she knew she was being pushed and shoved towards the Office of the Master. But nobody was there.

  After a moment of indecision, the man who’d grabbed her first shouted, “To the stage!” Rough hands pushed her onto the wooden platform.

  The commotion had attracted more people, and they crowded around her now, shouting and jeering. Somebody threw a cabbage, which whistled within inches of her head, eliciting some booing from the crowd. But what happened next was even more unexpected: Freya simply disappeared into thin air before their very eyes!

  Chapter 9

  The Visions

  The paper that Leena had wrapped the herbs in was, indeed, the very same ‘Wanted’ poster of Freya that Freya herself had seen in Elmwood. Now that they knew Freya was alive, Martha and Thomas were like different people. No longer dragged down by their misery, they had renewed determination and purpose: their Freya was alive and, somehow, they would find her! But how?

  That evening, when Leena had brought the herbs wrapped in the poster, Thomas, Martha, and Jack had immediately gone to Leena’s house to meet Hank and talk with him. Hank was a grown-up version of Sam: the same mop of unruly brown hair, sparkling green eyes, and friendly grin. But rather than lanky and skinny, he was strongly built, and had a mass of facial hair such that it was hard to tell where his hair stopped and his beard began.

  Thomas and Martha were so excited that, without so much as introducing themselves, they demanded to know why the posters had been printed. Confused, Hank could make neither head nor tail of what they were talking about. Chuckling at their eagerness, Leena made them sit down, and recount their story from the beginning.

  Once they were through, Hank stroked his beard. He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sorry to say I don’t rightly know why those posters were printed, ma’am. You see, we just get told to print something, and that’s that,” he apologised, nodding to Martha. Seeing the disappointment in her face he hurried on. “But that is one strange story. Very strange indeed. You say that woman was from Yawbridge?”

  Both Martha and Thomas nodded in agreement.

  “Have you heard the rumours about what happened in Yawbridge? About fourteen years ago?”

  Thomas and Martha glanced at each other, and Martha let out a gasp, clapping her hand to her mouth.

  Her eyes wide, a look of horror on her face, she breathed, “So those rumours are true then?”

  Jack leaned forward in anticipation. He could tell that he was about to learn something very interesting.

  Thomas nodded slowly. “Nob is such a remote part of Medar that we don’t get many travellers coming through. Some of our people travel to nearby villages to trade, and they brought back stories. But they sounded so awful, so far-fetched, that we figured they couldn’t possibly be true.” He looked Hank searchingly in the eye. “You think they’re true?”

  Hank returned his gaze, and Leena placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder as he answered. “I don’t think they’re true. I KNOW they’re true. You see, we’re from Yawbridge, and we were there when it happened.”

  In a small voice, Martha asked, “Can you tell us about it, please? It might help us understand about Freya.”

  For a moment there was silence, as both Hank and Leena withdrew into themselves. Then Leena sat down next to Hank and gripped his hand.

  Nodding abruptly, as if making a decision, Hank said, “Even though it was so long ago, I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the strangest thing. One night, I had a very vivid dream, a vision. When I woke up, I told Leena about it ... and she had had the exact same dream! Then we found out that many, many other people in Yawbridge had also had the very same dream.”

  Eyes wide, Jack blurted out, “What was it?”

  “It began with an image of the gates of Yawbridge: the beautiful, tall gates shut tight. Then they swung open and a baby crawled out. Next thing, the baby turned into a girl, and the girl grew into an enormous giantess. She grew so tall, that she towered over the Land, and even dwarfed the Golden City! Then she turned towards the city gates, stepped over the city of Yawbridge, towards the Chasm, and in a single motion, kicked down the Wall! And that was the end of ‘the Vision’.” Hank gestured with his free hand. “It was soon the talk of the city—what did it mean? Why had everybody had the same dream?”

  Thomas, Martha, and Jack all nodded, and glanced at each other with raised eyebrows.

  Without pausing, Hank continued, “It was apparent that it was prophetic. A girl born in Yawbridge would destroy the Wall, impossible as that might seem. It was the talk of the town, and it was not without some excitement that those women who were pregnant wondered whether it would be their child that might achieve this unlikely feat. It soon became apparent that the Master was not so keen on the fulfilment of this dream.” He gripped Leena’s hand tighter. “Not long after that, the disappearances began.”

  Jack held his breath.

  “There were suddenly a lot more Guards in Yawbridge. New rules were made about women having to go to special centres to give birth, instead of delivering at home with the midwife as was usual. Most women weren’t too happy about that, and a group of midwives went to the council to complain. They were never seen again. So, the pregnant women complied, and went to the centres to give birth ... but all the girl babies were taken away from them, never to be seen again. Word got around, and some women tried to give birth in secret, but there were huge rewards put out for people to turn in those baby girls. And they did. Neighbour turned on neighbour, just for some money. Midwives involved in assisting secret births disappeared. Even some pregnant women disappeared. It was an awful time. And then ...” – Hank paused to take a deep breath and, turning to Leena, put his arm around her. Holding her tight, he continued – “... and then, we found out Leena was pregnant.”

  Martha couldn’t help herself. She gasped and her hands flew to her mouth.

  “Oh, I am so sorry!” she said, reaching towards Leena. She had done the calculation in her head, and realised that Hank and Leena did not have a child that was fourteen years old.

  Leena shook her head, as if shaking her hair out of her eyes, and said defiantly, “No, don’t be sorry. You weren’t to know.”

  Hank continued in a low voice, “That’s right. She went to the centre to give birth, and it was a girl. They took her and killed her.”

  Even though Jack had guessed that that was what had happened, hearing it stated so baldly still shocked him. Hank stopped talking, and no one dared break the silence. After a while, he sighed and said, “It went on for two years. Every single girl baby was taken and killed. Or so we thought ... until now!” His eyes flashing, he leaned forward as he stated, “But obviously, your daughter—Freya, was it? She was born of a woman from Yawbridge who managed to escape. She could be ‘the One’ the dream was about. In fact, I am sure of it. That is why she was sent to the Pit. And then she must have escaped, which is why the Master has ordered the poster to be printed: so she will be captured and killed, so the Vision cannot become reality!”

  There was a stunned silence, as they all processed this information. Then they all reacted at once.

  Martha burst out crying, wailing, “Oh, my Freya! She is only a little girl. How can she possibly escape? Ohhh ...”

  Thomas glowered, his lips pressed together, as he slapped his knee and barked, “We have only one choice. We must try and find her first.”

  Jack nodded vehemently.

  But Hank jumped to his feet, shaking his head furiously. “No!” he shouted. “It’s impossible to get out—think about the injection. It stops you from going beyond the boundary of the fields. If you go any farther, you will die trying—I have seen it. And even if somehow you did manage the impossible and get out, where would you look?”

  At that, Martha’s wails became even louder, as she grasped the hopelessness of the situation.

  By now Leena, too, was on her feet, but she was frantically trying to hush them all, as she glanced over her shoulder to the doorway, beyond which, a small, brown-curly-haired eight-year­old boy was standing, rubbing his eyes sleepily. It was too late; the noise had already woken him. The sight of Sam standing in the doorway did the trick, and they all quietened down at once.

  “It’s all right, my love,” Leena reassured him, beckoning him into the room. “We’re just having a bit of a discussion.”

  Sam went to his mother and climbed into her lap saying, “It was a rather loud discussion. Were you talking about the Games? I heard Da say that somebody might die!” His eyes shone with the thought of the dangerous games, the concept of death more heroic than awful to his eight-year-old brain.

  Hank blushed as he said, “No, no, we weren’t talking about the Games, son.” He reached over and tousled his son’s unruly hair. Then he paused, as a thought struck him.

  He wagged his finger at the others. “No, we must not make any rash decisions, or act without thinking. We must try to glean information, and glean it carefully. I’m thinking there must be some Guards that know something about the poster. We must try and overhear conversations amongst the Guards. And where better than at the Games?”

  Leena smiled and nodded, but the others, having never attended, just stared at Hank.

  Putting their bewilderment into words, Jack asked, “How do you mean?”

  Hank explained how, at the Games, merriment was not confined to only the people; the Guards, too, were prone to getting into the liquor, which as everyone knows, leads to loose lips.

  “Won’t it look rather obvious if we’re all just hanging around near Guards when we’re not competing?” Leena pointed out.

  Hank had to concede that was a problem, but Jack leaned forward excitedly and said, “But what if we were competing? I mean, if I competed?”

  Martha’s cries of protest were swept aside as Hank said loudly, “The lad has a point. It would be the only way to remain inconspicuous. You and your wife,” he inclined his head towards Martha, “would then have an excuse to be wandering around in there—when you see it, you’ll know what I mean.”

  “There is another way,” Leena mused.

  “Well, spit it out then woman!” Hank sputtered.

  “What about the folks serving the drinks to the Guards?” she asked. “Wouldn’t they hear them talking?”

  “By the Master, she’s right!” Hank exclaimed, slapping his leg. “That could work. But of course, you would need to go through the right channels to get the job,” he said to Martha.

  “Me?” she squeaked in surprise. “Why me?”

  “Well,” Hank responded, “it’s not like men serve liquor to the Guards now, is it?”

  “Don’t be so hard on her, Hank,” Leena chided her husband gently. “They’re just new here, remember? They don’t know how things work yet. But he’s right,” she went on, turning to Martha. “It is women who serve the liquor. And I think we ...” —she winked at Martha— “... could well have a good chance of being accepted. Let’s give it a try tomorrow, shall we?”

  “Yes, I agree,” said Hank. “And you, Jack, will need to pay close attention to the various games tomorrow to see what you think you will do well at. My friends,” he continued, beaming about at them all, “we have ourselves a plan.”

  Chapter 10

  The Plan

  The following morning dawned as beautiful a day as there could be in Medar: the skies a clear light-grey without a hint of rain. A good day for the Games. But first they completed the daily routine of getting their rations from the storehouse and eating their breakfast. Then, before the third bell, they met up with Hank, Leena and Sam, and set off towards the arena. Others, too, were already making their way in the same direction, and the closer they got, the more people joined them. Everyone was in a good mood, with happy chatter and laughter already filling the morning air.

  A crowd had gathered outside the arena, but this was merely due to the constriction of the by-now familiar archways, which only allowed one person to pass at a time, and somehow caused the blood to throb in their veins. Stern-looking Guards were posted between the archways, each holding a long, pointed spear. They looked so foreboding that Martha suddenly doubted whether they would possibly be chatting idly about Freya, let alone any of them being able to get close enough to overhear it.

  However, those thoughts were driven from her head, the minute they had passed through the gates and entered the arena. Martha gazed in wonder at the vast, circular stadium. Row upon row of seats towered above the spacious central games area. This open area had been divided into numerous fenced enclosures of varying size and shape, and was already humming with activity. She followed Hank and Leena around the outer edge of the field. Competitors were already warming up or practising their particular skill.

  They climbed up into the first few rows of seats and settled themselves near the wrestling ring. It was obviously a popular sport, as the seats in this part of the stadium were filling up fast. Sam, who had spotted several of his friends, begged his parents to be given leave to go with them. After promising to meet them back at the seats at the tenth bell, he was given permission and scampered off without any hesitation. Leena smiled fondly at the direction he had gone. Vendors selling refreshments were already moving among the crowds, touting their wares. Even though they had recently eaten, the aroma of freshly roasted chestnuts made Martha’s stomach grumble. She gazed around and drank in the sights and sounds. After a few minutes, Leena squeezed her arm gently.

  “Come on, let’s try our luck at the Guards’ refreshment tent, then, shall we?” As she slid out of the row of seats, she paused to lean towards Hank in the row below them. “Keep an eye on our basket now, won’t you?” she instructed. They threaded their way through the throng, leaving the menfolk to enjoy the spectacle.

  Martha followed Leena to the Guards’ refreshment tent, which, despite it still being early, was already full of Guards determined to make the most of their only rostered rest day in the week. Avoiding the main entrance, Leena walked to the rear of the tent where the serving area was. A dozen kegs of ale were stacked against the canvas on one side, but there was nobody to be seen. As they stood, uncertain what to do next, an almighty crash emanated from inside the tent, followed immediately by a yell of reprimand. A wooden tankard rolled out from under the tent and came to rest at Martha’s feet. Reflexively, she bent down and picked it up.

  The same moment, a barrel of a man with a flushed face pushed aside the tent flap and came storming out. Upon seeing the two women standing there he stopped short with a look of surprise. Then obviously making an instant decision he barked, “Well, don’t just stand there. Come in and make yourselves useful!” With that, he spun on his heel and held the tent flap open for them to enter the serving area.

  Martha was so stunned that she stood rooted to the spot, but Leena grabbed her elbow and dragged her into the tent, with the burly man right behind them. They were in!

  It was gloomy in the tent and it took a few moments for Martha’s eyes to adjust. They were behind a bar that ran the width of the tent. Half a dozen serving women were there already, including one who was still on the ground picking up the various tankards she had scattered when she dropped her tray. A few of them glanced curiously at the newcomers, but the rest of them continued diligently with their tasks. There were several kegs at intervals along the back of the tent with hoses coming out of them, which the other women were using to pour ale into the tankards.

  “Hey, you!” a Guard yelled at Martha, waving his tankard over the bar towards her. “Get me an ale, will you!” He threw a few green tokens down on the bar.

  Finally coming to her senses, Martha smiled at the Guard, hastily put the other tankard with the rest under the bar, took his tankard and scooped up his tokens. Unsure where to put them, she shot a questioning glance at Leena. The latter grabbed a basket from under the bar and held it out to Martha. Seeing that it already contained some tokens, she dropped those she had received into it and Leena put the basket away. Then Martha turned to the nearest keg and pretended to be busy filling the tankard, whilst she observed the girl next to her to see how it was done. She handed the tankard back to the Guard with a big smile, but he didn’t spare her a second glance and grabbed his drink without so much as a ‘thank you’.

  Leena laughed and shrugged the rudeness off. “May as well get used to it,” she said over her shoulder, as she turned to serve her first customer.