“Pathadwanimithochozkal, prepare for flight!”
The carpet twitched underneath them. Anya’s hand crept across Ardent’s back, hugging him closer. Smoothie inched herself closer to Ardent. Shrub let out a whimper.
The carpet suddenly rolled up. One second Anya was looking up at the sky, the next she was gasping as she was tumbled over and her nose and face were pressed against soft wool, which tickled her nose. The carpet flexed again, and Anya felt it gripping more tightly. Ardent let out a slightly disturbed whine, and Smoothie was emitting some very short, high-pitched squeaks of discomfort.
“Ask it to fly,” whispered Anya.
“Oh very nice carpet known as Pathadwanimithochozkal,” said Ardent. “Please take us safely and carefully to a place where we’ll be hidden half a league from Brokenmouth Hill in the Blasted Heath.”
“You forgot to say a safe place,” hissed Anya. “Quick, ask it—”
At that moment, the carpet took off. Rolled into a tube, it slid horizontally along the grass for several yards, then suddenly tilted back to a near-vertical position and rocketed into the sky.
Inside the carpet, everyone screamed. Anya felt herself slip a few inches down towards the lower end of the roll, but the movement was arrested by the carpet gripping everyone more tightly.
Cold air was rushing in through the open top like an arctic gale, already freezing Anya’s ears. She had no idea how fast they were traveling, but given the rush of air, it had to be very fast indeed, far faster than she had ever galloped on a horse.
“Is everyone all right?” she called out, her words muffled by the fierce blast of air and the woolen surface in her face. She could feel Denholm’s wicker cage pressed against her stomach, and Ardent’s warm dogskin, but Smoothie was on the other side of the dog and she couldn’t feel Shrub on her feet with the carpet holding so tightly.
Ardent barked, Smoothie shouted something, but there was no reply from Shrub. Or he simply couldn’t be heard over the roar of the wind rushing through.
“I forgot to ask the Wizard how long this will take!” shouted Anya. Her ears were already freezing. She turned her head sideways and pressed her left ear against the wool, but that just made her other ear and the top of her head feel even colder. She wished she’d thought to pull up the hood of her cloak. Or that the Wizard had mentioned how cold it would be.
“She said c-c-arpets are very, very fast!” Ardent shouted back.
There was no way of knowing how quickly they were traveling, apart from the howling wind that came in through the opening above Anya’s head. Soon, even though she moved her head regularly to protect one side or the other, both Anya’s ears felt completely frozen, and she was sure there were ice crystals in her hair. Even with her new clothes and cloak, the rest of her was very cold as well.
“I c-c-an’t take much more of this!” she shouted after a while to Ardent. “It’s t-too cold.”
Ardent barked something back, but Anya couldn’t hear him properly.
Then, just as Anya thought she might pass out from cold, the carpet suddenly tilted over and down. Anya felt the blood rush into her head, and cried out as a sudden pain ran from both ears to the middle of her forehead. She slid forward a little as well, and realized from the pressure behind her ears and eyes they were now plunging almost straight down to the ground.
This plummeting descent lasted long enough for everyone to get out a really good scream, before the carpet suddenly leveled out again and the gale that had been blowing through it eased. A few seconds later there was a jarring thud as they landed. The carpet slid along for several yards, spinning around as it did so, before finally coming to a stop. There was a horrible delay that seemed to go on for way too long, then it slowly unrolled, leaving Anya and her companions gasping and shivering face-down on the woolen surface that no longer seemed so soft, or woven in such a nice pattern.
Ardent was the first to get up. He sprang to his feet, shook himself wildly, and looked around, sniffing the air. The carpet had landed them in a grassy alley between two orderly rows of rather short, broad trees with purple flowers and fruits, with many more rows of trees stretching up a slight slope ahead.
It was an orchard of plums, shortly to be harvested from the look of the heavy fruit on the trees. In the distance, the bulk of a bigger hill loomed large.
Anya sat up very slowly, still shivering from cold. The sun was shining above them, and she could feel its warmth beginning to come through. But there was ice in her hair, and her ears felt like icicles. Rubbing her ears vigorously, she quickly checked that Denholm was still in his wicker cage and everyone else was all right. She could see Smoothie licking her hand-paws and then running them over her head, so she seemed fine.
But Shrub was still draped over Anya’s feet, and he wasn’t moving.
“Shrub!”
Wrapping her hands in her cloak, Anya lifted Shrub’s head. His eyes were closed, and she couldn’t tell whether he was breathing or not.
“C-c-cold,” said Ardent, sniffing the newt. “Like a lizard, needs warmth.”
“Is … is he dead?” asked Anya.
Ardent looked surprised.
“No! I would have said. You know the lizards by the old garden wall. They sleep through the winter in their holes when the ice starts on the moat. He’ll wake up when he’s warmer.”
“Good,” said Anya with considerable relief. She stood up and looked around properly. The orchard was quiet; no one was about. There were standing stones on the hill, which looked to be less than half a league away. A thin trickle of smoke was coming up from the middle, indicating the witches’ fire, or so Anya presumed.
“No water nearby,” Smoothie noted regretfully. She sniffed the air several times. “Not even a pond.”