The Necronomicon

Chapter Thirty Two

Meredith was finally there. At the rebel base camp — where Frederick was waiting, somewhere inside. Meredith couldn't stop her heart from racing; it was beating, it seemed, at the speed of light. Pippa stood a little way ahead of them, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "We need to take The Necronomicon from him. We need to." She sighed, turning to Alfred and Meredith. "I'll go in first — to the camp, I mean. You wait here."

"Wait for what?" Meredith asked, but Pippa simply paused to wait for Alfred's nod before striding away from them, her bag clutched tightly in her right hand.

"Alfred —" Meredith began, but he shook his head.

"We have to be quiet. Everyone believes you dead." He told her in a low voice, and she looked away from him.

There was a loud voice — a deep one. It wasn't Pippa's. Alfred glanced at Meredith — there was something in his eyes: fear. They drew back, into the shadows of the trees. The voice was brisk; Meredith closed her eyes. Unmistakably, the voice belonged to Frederick.

After a few minutes Frederick's voice quietened. They heard someone yell — but it was quickly stifled. "Pippa —" Alfred whispered, before trailing off, and looking Meredith in the eyes uncomfortably.

"Is she okay?" Meredith chanced a question — Alfred held a finger to his lips mutely. He looked out, alert: but it seemed Frederick had not heard her inquiry. The voices were faint now.

Alfred stood. "Let's go, Meredith."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Come on." He pulled her up almost silently, before slinking away through the trees. She stumbled behind him, and he put up a hand to stop her. "Can't you walk any quieter?"

"You sound just like Frederick," Meredith said, before stopping abruptly. Thinking about him hurt, and badly — she shouldn't do it. "Sorry. I'll try." She managed a wan smile.

"I'm sorry. It's just — we've already lost Pippa. If we get caught, it'll all have been —"

"A waste," Meredith interrupted. "I know."

"Yes. A waste of time and energy. He tried to kill you once already, Meredith. He won't hesitate to deliver the blow again." Alfred stared at her unblinkingly, and she didn't look away from his stern gaze. "We can do it. We can sneak in. I promise you we can."

Meredith didn't believe him — but she inclined her head gently, and he grinned. "I know you don't have faith that we can — but I trust you, Meredith. And I believe in you. Wholeheartedly." He informed her, and she found herself agreeing. She could do this. Alfred believed in her — so she believed in herself.

They were quick, streaking past the huts. Alfred led her through the greenery, and Meredith hurried after him, as fast as she could go. Speedily they went — avoiding the hubbub of voices rising from the left.

Without warning, Alfred halted — and Meredith followed suit. They could hear someone — someone thundering along ahead of them. "Where's Alfred?" That someone boomed — Meredith couldn't help but jump.

"It's him," Alfred said, his tone higher than usual, and he dived to the right, bringing Meredith with him. They lay, tangled together with the grass and reeds above them, and as she opened her mouth to speak he covered it with his slender fingers. They could hear booming footsteps — scarily close: Frederick's. His voice, sonorous, soared above them, above the trees. "Dmitri. Where's Alfred?"

There was a response, in lighter tones. Dmitri's voice — slightly childish, too high to be natural — perhaps it was fear that heightened it — but still a man's voice. "I– I– I don't know." He fumbled over the words, as if they were a rock he was tripping over.