The slope was steep, and her face, arms and legs were getting tangled and cut by brambles as she pushed through the undergrowth. Lizzy put all her effort into climbing upwards, away from her pursuers, hoping that somewhere there would be a place to hide. She was faster than the men following her - her small size allowed her to squeeze through narrow paths and breaks made by animals. Behind her, cursing and shouts from her pursuers were getting quieter. Already her legs were complaining, burning with the effort of running. She wasn't sure how much further she could go without stopping to rest. It was still dark, but above her, beyond the autumnal canopy of trees, Lizzy could see the first light of dawn brightening the sky. 

A path, slightly larger than any animal trail she had so far come across, ran across her route through the trees. Lizzy took it, following it to the right where it looked to head more inland. Her feet slipped on leafy mulch, but the way was faster without all the brambles and ivy underfoot. She began to fear that the woods would end at the top of the rise, and she would be left in the open, with no place to hide. Thinking that she might soon have to climb a tree, she glanced upwards to see how well that might work and tripped as her foot caught on something, falling hard and winding herself badly. The chronometers in their box flew out of her hand and landed somewhere out of sight.

In the sudden absence of noise from her headlong dash through the woods that her fall had produced, Lizzy heard a regular thumping. It took her a moment to place the sound, then remembered it from a time she had visited the dockyards in Boston with her father before the voyage to New Britain - it was an axe being worked on wood, and it was coming from somewhere ahead. Her feet were still tangled, and when she tried to pull herself free, she found that it was a thin wire snare that had tripped her. The wire cut into her ankle, and Lizzy couldn't get her trembling fingers into it enough to free it from her legs. Reasoning that none of her pursuers would have gotten ahead of her and then stopped to chop wood, she had nothing to lose in alerting whoever it was to her presence. 

"Help me!" she cried, as loud as she dared. 

The thunk of axe on wood stopped. Lizzy sat up and looked in the direction the sound had been coming from. A few seconds later a man stepped out from the trees. Lizzy waved, not wanting to make unnecessary noise. The man walked quickly towards her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion and his stance betraying the extreme caution with which he approached. In his right hand he held the axe raised halfway to strike, as if he couldn't decide if she was a threat or not. He was in his fifties, Lizzy supposed, stocky in build and still fit and strong, despite his obvious age. He had stripped to the waist to work, and in the cold air a thin veil of steam was coming off his skin. 

"Who might you be?" he asked, stopping a few feet away, poised ready to flee. His eyes took in her face and hands, cut and bleeding from thorns, and lingered a moment at the swords strapped to her waist, before snapping back to stare wide eyed at her face. Strange, thought Lizzy. It's almost as if he recognises me. But before Lizzy could say anything, a sudden shout from down-slope drew their attention. 

"Would they be looking for you?"

"Yes," said Lizzy. Then added, desperately, "And if they catch me, they'll kill me!"

For a heartbeat, the man stood still. Lizzy could practically see his mind turning over the problem. Then, with sudden swift motion, he brought his axe down hard on the line of the snare. Lizzy suppressed a yelp, then found herself being yanked off the ground. Free of tension, the line loosened and Lizzy quickly untangled her leg from the line.

"Can you run?"

"I think so." 

"Then keep up. If you cannot, then I don't stay and wait." 

"The box! I can't lose the box!" Panic swelled in Lizzy's chest, as the man strode of without looking behind, pushing through waist deep brambles and thickets like it was water. There would be no hope of finding the chronometers again if she couldn't find her way back to the snare.  

Over his shoulder the man called, "No time. If you do not come now, I go without you and those men catch you." 

Lizzy looked about her frantically, but there was no sign of the box containing the chronometers. It must have bounced off into the undergrowth and rolled downhill. Suppressing a groan of dismay, she turned away from the path and ran to catch up. Her left ankle stabbed with pain each time she stepped on it - she must have twisted it badly when she fell - but she forced herself to keep up so as to not lose sight.  

From behind came more shouts, getting closer. Axe-man was leading Lizzy upwards still, but also slanting across to where the ground was even steeper. Just when she thought her legs couldn't carry her any further, axe-man stopped and reached for something on the ground. To her amazement, he lifted a square of undergrowth - a hatch, covered in ivy and invisible to anyone passing by when closed - leading to a hole in the ground. 

"In there," said axe-man, pointing to emphasise the command. Lizzy didn't wait to be told twice. Trusting that axe-man knew what he was doing, she dropped into the hole, a small space just large enough for her to squeeze into. 

"Stay here, stay quiet. I come back for you later."  

He let the lid drop shut and stamped it firmly into place. Lizzy was left once more in a small, dark, airless hole. This is becoming a habit, she thought, wryly. Lizzy rubbed her ankle to ease the pain and shifted around to free up her swords should she need them. She began shivering as her wet clothing leached away all the warmth gained from running through the woods. It was doubtful anyone could find her in here, but all the same, like before, she felt trapped and vulnerable. For several minutes she heard nothing, but just when she thought it would be safe to peek, a shout from one of her pursuers came from close by.  

"Over here Karl. Bring me your water, I'm parched." 

"You drank too much. It's your fault you suffer," came Karl's reply. 

The sound of water being gulped down made Lizzy realise just how thirsty she was herself.  

"How much further do we need to go?"  

Lizzy thought Karl sounded annoyed. Perhaps he didn't think a child worth chasing through woods on a cold October morning. Privately, Lizzy agreed, although the fact she'd killed one of her captors did make for a compelling reason, she supposed. 

"Well I ain't going anywhere but back to the boat. Even if she gets away from us, sooner or later she'll run into a ghost, and that'll be the end of it." 

A ghost? thought Lizzy. The man had sounded full of meaning when he said the word, and she got the impression it came with a knowing look. Then he spoke again, and his words sent a jolt of disappointment through her. 

"What's that box you got there?" 

"Found it by the path. Reckon she must've dropped it." 

"Lemme see." 

Lizzy resisted the urge to leap out and snatch the box from the men, knowing that would be foolish. There was an exclamation of surprise. 

"Blimey, would you look at that!" 

The two men fussed over the chronometers for several minutes, before deciding this made for a good excuse to return to the boat as soon as possible. Lizzy heard them tramping off and all went quiet again. In frustration she kicked at the side of the hole with her good foot and received a stubbed toe for her efforts. She cursed quietly using as many swear words as she could remember from listening to sailors like Keevan and Carver, but all that left her with was a longing for them to be back together again. And that led, inevitably, to thinking of her father, and the possibility of his being dead.  

Somewhere beneath her feelings of dread, loss and abandonment churning around and around in her belly, there was a knot of cold, hard anger forming. She was furious that someone had done this to her - had done this to her father, the crew of the Guillemot - her family!  

She focused on that anger, nurturing it so that it grew, and at the same time turning it into determination to take some kind of action. She was going to find those responsible for the capture of the Guillemot and its crew, and she was going to make them pay for their piracy. And if along the way she could avenge her friends and her father, then that was all well and good. But in order to do that, she would need help.  

More than that, she realised with dismay, she would probably need an army. 

A couple of hours later, Lizzy had hardened her resolve to seek out her failed captors and attempt to rescue her father, who she decided was not dead - there was no room in her emotions to harbour that thought and still carry out what she intended to do. She was frightened enough at being alone in a strange country with no real idea of where she was or how to find her enemies. As for what she was going to do when she found them... 

When axe-man came back for her, he brought some friends. Lizzy didn't hear them coming. The lid to the hole was opened without warning, startling her. On reflex, she yanked the wakizashi from its sheath and brandished it at the men looking down on her. At first, a few of them laughed, but the fierceness of her gaze and the dried blood and gore adorning the blade quickly stilled their mirth. There were six of them, all carrying axes, and each had a knife hanging from a wide leather belt.  

The one who'd found her had put on a dark green jacket, from which hung numerous objects. Lizzy recognised bird skulls and other animal bones, strips of what looked like dried skin, numerous rabbit feet and other indecipherable pieces of small animal. There didn't seem to be any pattern or purpose to them, but he was the only one dressed as such, and she had the feeling it meant something more than just a personal liking for macabre decoration. None of the others wore anything similar about their person, she noticed.  

When she climbed out of the hole, stretching her back and stamping her feet to combat pins and needles and warm up a little, Lizzy found them all staring at her, all trace of humour gone, replaced with intensely meaningful looks shared between them. Lizzy looked at each in turn, wondering what it was about her appearance that made them all so suddenly solemn. 

"What?" she asked, with a little more accusation in her voice than she'd intended. 

They ignored her challenge, one pulling a flask out from inside his jacket and holding it out to Lizzy. "Drink. You must be thirsty." 

Lizzy took the flask and sniffed suspiciously at the contents. It seemed to just be water. She took a sip, then gulped down the cool, refreshing liquid until her thirst was satisfied. 

"Eat this," said another, pressing a chunk of bread and dried strips of meat into her hands. She didn't wait to be asked twice, and gratefully took the offered food, stuffing  the bread into her mouth with a grunt of satisfaction, realising for the first time since escaping the Guillemot just how hungry she was.  

"You will come with us, please," said axe-man, inviting her to follow with an outstretched arm. His companions had already begun moving off through the trees. Lizzy fell in step beside him. 

"Where are we going?" she asked through a mouthful of bread. 

"We take you to our place. You will be safe there. Then we talk." 

"How far is it to your... place?" 

"Not far." 

"What's your name, sir?" Lizzy thought it might be best if she addressed her saviour formerly. It was what her father would have done, and would expect her to do. Axe-man gave her an odd, quizzical glance. 

"Do I look like a knight to you?" he asked. 

"No. Sorry." Lizzy remembered her father telling her that in some New Britain kingdoms, knights had come back into fashion, just another name for soldiers whose purpose was to serve and protect their king. Odd people, these British, thought Lizzy. "I was just being civil." 

"My name is Venyamin. I am woodsman of the Clan Seaward." 

"My name is Elizabeth, but you can call me Lizzy. everyone does. Venyamin you say? Not a British name?" 

"No. My people came to Britain from Russia soon after the plague, when the madness that overtook the continent was just beginning. They settled some way north of here, joining with the people of the place where my ancestors landed, to defend our lives from the wraiths and unnatural animals that roamed the countryside." 

"Unnatural animals - you mean chimeras?" 

"Yes." Venyamin did not expand on that simple affirmation, and lapsed into silence.

As they walked, the trees thinned and the land levelled out. On her right, half hidden by trees on the slopes of the rise was a sheltered bay, bounded on the north side by a rocky shoreline. At the head of the bay, to the west, the land sloped down into a small valley with a sandy beach. Lizzy could make out shapes in the valley that might have once been buildings, many of them in the process of being swallowed up by the beach, half swamped now by rising sea levels. 

"What happened to the Guillemot?" 

"You mean the ship?"  

Lizzy nodded. 

"It has sailed away, there."  

Turning to look where Venyamin was pointing, Lizzy could just make out the Guillemot sailing away up the natural harbour of Haven. The large, three-masted vessel of the night before was in company with her, she saw. She felt a pang of unease at the sight, but quickly pushed it out of her mind. She had to concentrate now on finding a way back to her father, and wallowing in pity wasn't going to help. 

Lizzy kept up a constant stream of small-talk while they walked, all the while noting where they had been so that she could find her way back if needed. Venyamin didn't seem willing to say much, however, and the others stayed mute, preventing Lizzy from gaining further knowledge of her new friends (if that's what they were) or where they might be heading. As best she could tell they were going north and west, never too far from the coast. They had crossed the little valley she had seen earlier and on the other side skirted the ruins of what had once been a large house or castle, now collapsed and overgrown, before coming out onto a plateau of gently rolling hills and small hollows. There was open water now on her left - the Atlantic, the other side of which was home.  

Thoughts of home occupied her for some time, and with them she fell silent, so it was with a small jump of surprise that she heard Venyamin call out loudly. The path they had been following had weaved steadily inland for the last hour, eventually meeting with undergrowth that had thickened and increased in height, giving way shortly after to a forest of mature trees, still thick with leaf cover. Evening was drawing in, and under the trees it was already dark, so at first Lizzy couldn't see what had caused Venyamin to shout out. They all stopped. Ahead of her there was a change in the pattern of light formed by ivy covered trunks and branches, and it took her a few seconds to realise that the trees ended abruptly a short way ahead, and what she had taken to be a thickening of the woods beyond was in fact the ivy covered wall of a holdfast. A man's voice returned Venyamin's hail, saying something in a language unlike any Lizzy had heard before, to which Venyamin replied likewise. A hole opened up in the wall, and Venyamin indicated Lizzy should go through. 

As she walked up to the opening, Lizzy glanced up at the holdfast wall. From what she could see behind the ivy it was wooden, made up of thick round uprights driven into the ground and extending to a height three times that of a grown man. Hidden in the ivy near the top were spikes as thick as her arm and about as long, angled downwards to make any attempt at climbing up difficult, if not impossible. There was something odd about this structure she thought, but couldn't form a definitive reason for thinking this. Once through the opening though, nodding a greeting to the man who had let them in, her confusion increased. Behind the outer wall was another, equally tall inner wall some twenty paces back. This wall was clear of ivy, and had people at the top watching them come through, some armed with crossbows. Between the two walls was a small forest of wooden spikes, each as tall as a man and set at various angles, ensuring that anyone that managed to scale the outer wall would likely impale themselves should they fall awkwardly into the gap between. But still... The feeling Lizzy had - that this whole set-up was wrong somehow - just wouldn't leave her. 

Venyamin and the other men shepherded Lizzy through the inner wall and into the holdfast proper. Once inside, Lizzy could see that the structure was of modest size, only around four hundred feet across its circular layout. A number of low buildings occupied much of the interior and at the centre, a modest stone keep stuck up above everything else, albeit only as far as the surrounding tree tops of the forest. Small enclosures here and there held domestic animals - pigs and goats mostly - nothing larger, and what looked like a hall or large house took up most of one quarter of the available space. Many faces stared at Lizzy, some with puzzlement, others with suspicion, and a few with outright hostility, and not a word was spoken. There were no children to be seen. Lizzy stared around her in the silence and found Venyamin looking at her with a slight smile playing on his lips. 

"Welcome," said Venyamin, "to the Clan Seaward holdfast. We call it, Ghostwood." 

The words she overheard the sailor say in the woods above the cove came back to her: "...sooner or later she'll run into a ghost, and that'll be the end of it." 

"Uh huh," said Lizzy, letting her hand drop to the handle of the Katana sword. 

Just great.