by S L Ager
Dizzied by the magnitude179, like a baby crawling in reverse180, she backed away from the edge, when suddenly Jack’s loud barks caught her attention. She was still on all fours when she turned to see Gwilym striding towards her, Jack at his heels. Shocked, and now clear of the edge, she jumped to her feet.
‘How come you left me?’ Claire shouted. ‘What happened to you and the other bloke181 I was supposed to be following? Some lad182 dragged me down the hill; he could have killed me!’ she yelled even louder, pointing an accusing183 finger. ‘Who was that boy, anyway?’
‘But he didn’t kill you, did he?’ replied Gwilym calmly. That boy is a Mal-Instinctive; he was on one of the motorbikes. How did you escape him?’
Still angry, Claire thought about the vulgar184 excuse with which she’d outwitted185 the boy, but embarrassed, she desisted186 from divulging the full details to Gwilym.
‘I threw Jack’s lead at him,’ she answered flatly187.
Only as she spoke did the enormity of what she’d done hit her. ‘It hit him on his forehead,’ she mumbled, looking at Gwilym’s impassive188 face watching hers.
‘I didn’t think I’d get away from him,’ she cried, covering her face with her hands in horror at the memory of it.
‘Clearly, you could,’ replied Gwilym.
She looked up at him. ‘Clearly, I had no choice,’ she retorted189, with more than a hint of sarcasm190 in her voice.
‘Today has been all your choice, Claire,’ replied Gwilym softly as an unusual sound cut through the air; a low whining noise, increasing in pitch and volume by the second. A blast of wind whipped up, blowing Claire’s hair everywhere. Pushing strands from her eyes and mouth, she turned towards the noise.
Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. On a flat area, roughly191 a hundred metres away, stood a massive bright yellow helicopter. Big, bold192 letters on the side spelt ‘RAF’.
‘What the heck?’ she shouted as its blades continued to pick up speed.
‘Claire, this way, we must leave quickly; they will hear the helicopter, and there may be more of them,’ shouted Gwilym, running towards the aircraft, beckoning above the din193.
‘Wow! I’ve always wanted to go in a helicopter,’ she yelled, her words completely lost in the noise.
Jack ran alongside her, barking.
Gwilym donned194 a helmet identical to the other pilot, who she could now see was Owain. Jack leapt in with ease, as if he was used to helicopter travel. To think she’d been stressed about him travelling on a tram! The terrier seemed perfectly at home as Gwilym helped Claire in and strapped her into a safety harness.
‘Put this headset on, Claire. Owain and I can talk to you from up front. Jack will stay safe on board; it’s a short journey,’ instructed Gwilym.
‘OK,’ Claire nodded seriously.
Her stomach flipped with excitement and apprehension. The gyrating195 blades caused so much noise and turbulent196 wind they resorted197 to rudimentary198 sign language until her headset connected.
Gwilym closed the doors and took his seat next to Owain. Jack’s ‘safe place’ was on her lap, one strap from her harness looped across him. As the helicopter lifted off the ground, she squealed with delight, gripping Jack so hard he squirmed199.
‘Are you all right back there, Claire?’ Owain’s voice crackled into the earpiece of her headset.
‘I’m great! It’s fun! Jack’s fine too!’ she yelled into her microphone.
‘Claire, speak normally; there’s no need to shout,’ Gwilym said as his co-pilot shook his head and pointed to his ears.
‘I can’t believe you’re a pilot, Gwilym,’ marvelled Claire, watching him handle the helicopter’s controls. ‘I thought you were a farmer,’ she said.
‘Owain and I are Knights Hawk, Claire. We once rode the best horses; now we pilot the best aircraft – and can still ride horses if called for. Our modes of transport are more sophisticated and varied200 today, by necessity201,’ replied Gwilym.
‘Wow, what is this place?’ she asked, looking out at the scenery as they ascended. ‘It’s like another planet!’
‘It’s a disused copper mine. You’ve climbed out of a man-made crater. It’s a barren202 environment203 up top, but by using clever means to help cultivate204 the grass and trees inside the crater, it provides an excellent haven205 for the farm at the bottom of it.’
‘A copper mine? That’s crazy; it looks like a quarry206, but on Mars,’ she exclaimed.
The house where she had drunk tea with Gladys was completely undetectable207, screened208 by an impassable mass209 of green and brown.
‘Where are we going?’ asked Claire, trying not to shout.
‘To a museum,’ replied Gwilym.
6. Above and Below the City
‘The gem must be protected. It rests in a museum in Manchester. There’s a plot afoot1 to steal it,’ declared2 Gwilym over the headset.
Rebecca’s school trip is to a museum, realised Claire.
Despite the headset, the engine vibration and spinning rotor3 blades roared above Gwilym’s voice. ‘The Mal-Instinctives who stole the gem from Llywelyn want it back; we cannot allow that.’
‘What would happen?’ Claire asked from the back, but Gwilym didn’t answer. ‘How’s Rebecca involved in this?’ asked Claire, the thrill of the flight dwindling4 at the prospect5 of what Gwilym might say next.
‘Mal-Instinctives have lured Rebecca into their web, preying on her weakness and vulnerability6. We brought you to Wales to initiate your Instinct, but also to ensure they didn’t take you.’
‘Take me?’ she spluttered.
‘The Mal-Instinctives have your sister. They are sceptical7 of your Instinct, and we encourage their misconception8. Their uncertainty of you increases your safety. Although they will surreptitiously9 watch all Cadwalladers, good Instinct is not always obvious to them.’
‘Watch us how? How can you be so sure I can do anything at all?’ asked Claire.
‘I’m not sure,’ he replied. ‘Success is not about being the best, but about trying your best.’
Gwilym’s words resonated with her; a warm sensation10 permeated11 her chest – a prickle of pride12. When she had escaped from that boy and climbed that insurmountable13 mammoth14 hill, success had astonished and inspired15 her. For the first time in her life, she felt liberated16 and not like the unfit kid nobody picked for their team.
Claire squinted through the helicopter’s small, scratched window. The city lights beneath blinked and twinkled, distant and picturesque17; no dust and grime18 up here. The glittering display reminded her of a Christmas scene.
She scoured the extensive skyline19 for landmarks yet, as far as this window would permit, recognised none. None, that is, until they began to fly lower. Gradually, looming closer, she could make out a huge, expansive20 rectangular structure. Its metal corners artfully21 smoothed and proportioned22 into wide, elegant23 curves. Multiple tubular24 supports layered25 the top, bent and bonded26, an intricate amalgamation27 of white and grey girders28. She strained to see more. The rectangle’s vast base29 shone a vivid30, fresh green, edged31 with red. The lower they flew, the greener it glowed.
‘Wow!’ she slapped her hand to her mouth; her eyes ogled the scene. ‘It can’t be!’ she exclaimed.
She could just make out what bordered32 the red areas; some sort of banner33 with letters written on plastic panels. Large white capital letters printed onto the back of upturned34 seats. They spelt out one word in capitals: ‘UNITED’. As the helicopter hovered35 above, pirouetting36 in a neat, agile37 circle, then gently touching down, she clearly saw the name ‘MANCHESTER’. The helicopter had landed in the centre circle of the pitch at Manchester United’s football ground – Old Trafford.
‘I don’t believe it! I don’t believe this!’ she shouted at Jack. ‘Wait until I tell Pete and my dad!’ she yelled. ‘They just won’t believe it!’
Exchanging38 a warm glance in response to Claire’s reaction, the pilots shared a short-live
d look of sentimentality before shutting off the engines and jumping out. Jack leapt out as the two men climbed into the back. They threw down their helmets and peeled off their flying suits to reveal normal clothes. Replacing their boots with trainers, they passed as two ordinary men from Manchester.
‘I can’t believe it! We’ve landed on the pitch at Old Trafford. How come you’re allowed to do that?’ she babbled39, waving her arms ecstatically40.
‘We have loyal comrades41, Claire. Helicopters fly in frequently42 here; we won’t stand out,’ answered Gwilym. ‘We are also welcome at the other prominent43 ground, in the city’s east, but today this location is more convenient44.’
‘Come now, hurry.’ Gwilym motioned45, striding across the pitch with Owain.
Chasing after the men with Jack by her side, Claire wished she could have had a moment to take a photo for Pete and her dad.
No way will they believe me, she thought. I can’t wait to tell Ben too, even though he’s a City fan.
Dumbfounded46 by her surroundings, she followed the men through the players’ tunnel, into a spacious rectangular room. Rows of lockers lined the walls, simple, plain benches beneath. The floor was tiled, and a faint whiff47 of chlorine48 reminded her of school swimming lessons.
‘Claire, this way.’ Owain held open a narrow door that led into a dark tunnel. He flicked on a torch so bright it dazzled49 Claire, lighting their way. Jack raced off ahead, nose glued to the ground. Owain led the way, and Gwilym stayed behind her.
As speedily as they’d entered the short tunnel, they exited through another door, into a vacant50 car park. The magnificently lit stadium towered palatially51 behind them. They hadn’t seen a soul52.
In the distance, on the car park’s far side, Claire noticed a flashing blue light. Both men appeared unperturbed53 as a police car approached.
Claire thought they were about to be arrested54.
The car screeched to a halt just centimetres from them. Owain yanked open the passenger door and jumped into the front. Gwilym ushered55 Claire into the back, and Jack hopped in after them.
‘Seat belt, Claire,’ said Gwilym.
The caustic56 smoke of scorched57 tyres and black telltale58 tracks left the only clues they had been there as they hurtled towards the city centre, lights and sirens59 blazing.
‘Sir,’ said the young female driver, ‘we have cleared the entrance and lit the tunnel through to the room for you. Our estimated60 time of arrival is ten minutes,’ she said, running61 a red traffic light. Claire thought she looked roughly Rebecca’s age, yet she drove like a racing driver.
‘Claire, listen carefully.’ Gwilym’s tone was now more serious than before. ‘Once in the museum, stay close to me. Owain will be inside too, as will our fellow knights Evans and his wife. Your help with the Rebecca situation will be invaluable62 to us. Felicity, our driver, will guard the tunnels for us.’
The young driver looked in her rear-view mirror and gave Claire a brief nod before fixing her concentration63 back on the road as she sped along at frightening speeds.
‘What tunnel?’ asked Claire, clutching the edge of the seat as they squealed around an appallingly64 tight corner. Wedged between Gwilym’s feet, Jack couldn’t move.
‘Our way in and out,’ replied Gwilym matter-of-factly65.
In half the normal time it would have taken to reach the city centre, the police car skidded to a halt outside a classic66 Georgian67 building.
‘This way, sir.’ Felicity jumped out of the car. ‘Round to the side, please.’
Efficiently68 Felicity directed them to an unremarkable wooden door, its blue paint flaked and peeled. She pulled out a rusty key from her pocket and turned it in the lock.
She waved them forward into a tight holding area69; a square wooden landing70 stood at the top of a steep flight71 of stairs upon which they now stood, squished together in single file. An eerie, echoing slam emanated72 from the bottom of the staircase just as Felicity, with a final, unpleasant clunk, turned and locked the door behind them, unsettling73 Claire.
What if all this is a trap? Claire thought, panic rising in her. What if these men are the bad ones in all of this, and it’s me they’re really after? Choosing to dismiss the chilling thought, but still feeling uneasy, she thought of Ben instead.
‘I’ll lead the way, sir,’ said Felicity, squeezing past them. She held the same type of torch Owain had used. ‘Jack, go in front,’ she ordered.
Obediently74 he scuttled75 past them down the steps, his tail waving in the air, Felicity after him. Hesitating, Claire followed Owain with tentative steps; she detested76 small spaces. Gwilym stayed so close behind she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck. Not sure if she should be comforted or panicked by this encroachment77, she tiptoed on.
The steps pitched78 down steeply, and the temperature plummeted79 to the chill of a fridge. At the foot of the stairs, Felicity stopped at another door, similar to the last, and inserted80 the same key into the lock. It was so rusted and corroded81 she struggled to twist the key in it. She jiggled it laterally82 with small movements back and forth, encouraging it to open, yet, resisting83 her endeavours84, it wouldn’t budge. Owain stepped forward to assist, when Claire, surprising herself, interrupted.
‘Let me try; I might be able to do it.’ She held out her hand to Felicity for the key.
Owain squashed up against the wall, allowing her to squeeze by as Felicity passed her the key. Claire slowly fed the key into the keyhole and tried the lock – but it stuck fast85. She tried again, jiggling it randomly86 as a rash of embarrassment flushed her cheeks.
Focusing87, and with her ear close to the lock, she held the key still. Sensitively88 she moved it a millimetre to the left, then back to the centre, then a tad to the right, trying to feel the mechanism89. She lingered90 and pulled back the metal key slightly, with such delicacy91, until it balanced and clicked. It yielded92 so marginally93 she feared it didn’t fit at all. Willing94 the rusty key to turn, she minutely95 adjusted her hold again; then it gently gave way and rotated96 freely97, and the door unlocked. She pushed the door, its discoloured98, stiff hinges99 creaking laboriously100 open. She’d done it! She’d opened the door!
She turned around to look at Gwilym with pride. ‘Well done,’ he said, almost breaking into a smile. With that, Felicity and Owain moved swiftly back in front, and before she knew it, she was following them into a dimly101 lit corridor.
Cold, windowless grey metal doors lined the corridor’s walls. Their feet fell in thumping, dull echoes, which sounded deafening in the stark space around them. A waft of disinfectant102 and stale food hung in the air. Claire recognised the doors as the entrances to prison cells – she’d seen them on TV. Felicity took out another bunch of keys and opened one of the thick, weighty barriers. It creaked open, like a predictable103 introduction104 to a horror movie, and they all stepped into the cell behind her.
Appalled105 at the cell’s paltry106 size and emptiness, Claire recoiled107 at the metal toilet and thin, hard bench. The smell reminded her of lifts in the flats where her friend lived. A brown blanket lay folded on the bench, a thin grey pillow on top. She shivered, spooked by the cell’s claustrophobic108 starkness.
Felicity knelt and reached under the bench, feeling for something against the wall. She stood up and waited. Nothing happened initially, not for a few seconds; then slowly the grim109 bed lifted and retracted smoothly, slotting flush110 and unseen into the wall. It unmasked111 an opening – a dark, uninviting112, poky113 hole.
‘I’ll wait here, sir,’ said Felicity. ‘I’ll ensure all the cells are clear and your exits are not impeded114.’
As she spoke, it struck Claire how pretty Felicity’s features were.
‘This tunnel leads directly from this police station to the museum where the Gwalch bracelet rests,’ said Gwilym to Claire, kneeling in the earth, about to crawl into the space.
Jack rushed past him as he spoke to lead the way, his mischievous115 terrier instincts taking o
ver as he darted into the giant burrow116. Owain waited behind Claire this time, but she froze at the entrance. Staring into metres of darkness, she swallowed as a feeling of rising nausea117 threatened her throat. Kneeling at the precarious entrance, her palms pressed down into the tunnel’s damp earth. She pulled back violently118, as though touching a naked flame.
‘I’m not going in there,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘No way.’
The prospect of slithering119 into this unknown lair120, too low to stand, petrified121 her.
Jack was nowhere to be seen, and Gwilym’s short-lived outline122 was quickly fading away in the distance.
She stayed there, rigid, stuck for what seemed like an eternity123, Owain waiting behind, neither cajoling124 nor forcing her. The tunnel stank, musty125 and wet, like the school’s stagnant126 gardening shed. Visions from a terrifying potholing127 documentary128 she’d seen flashed vividly129 into her head: curious, daring people who voluntarily130 sandwiched themselves between slime-dripping rocks, with torches on their heads, navigating suffocating spaces.
‘I won’t do it,’ she said again, her fertile131 imagination arousing132 more horrific133 scenarios134. ‘I’m not going in.’
Fighting the urge to faint, she flopped down and pleaded135 pitifully136 up at Owain.
‘I can’t do it,’ she whispered.
The knight’s face remained expressionless137. ‘You will have to wait here, then,’ he said, not moving.
She peered into the dark hole again.
If I don’t go in after Gwilym and Jack, what will happen? she asked herself. Would I ruin everything?