‘Now there’s nothing to stop us from visiting the Tree,’ said Fliss. ‘This is so exciting! I can hardly wait until tomorrow.’
Before Archie could object, Billy and Fliss agreed they would set out from the Hall first thing after breakfast the next day. They weren’t going to let him delay this adventure! He managed a smile, hoping to hide his lack of enthusiasm.
They had just let Blossom back into the greenhouse and returned to the hallway when Mum’s car came roaring up the driveway.
‘She looks annoyed,’ chuckled Billy, as Archie’s mum got out of the car and angrily slammed the door behind her. ‘We’ll leave you to it! See you tomorrow!’
They grinned at Archie and scurried down the drive.
‘How did your meeting go?’ Archie ventured, as Mum stomped through the front doorway. She threw her bag on to the floor with so much ferocity that Sherbet scampered behind Archie’s ankles for safety.
‘It was all going fine,’ she said, ‘until some meddling misery-pants stood up and said the whole thing should be banned!’
‘What?’ asked Archie. ‘Ban Unquiet Night? I shouldn’t think that pleased many people. It’s a Dundoodle tradition, apparently.’
‘He said it was “unwholesome”. What a load of nonsense! But some people in the meeting seemed to agree with him.’
‘Unwholesome?’ An alarm bell rang in Archie’s mind. ‘He wasn’t called Edward Preen, by any chance?’
He told her all about the unpleasant dentist and his N.I.C.E. campaign against the factory.
‘Nice?’ Mum said bitterly. ‘Edward Preen is anything but nice. I think he must be some kind of anti-fun robot in disguise! He even brought some biscuits that I swear tasted of dullness – I had to spit mine out into my handbag.’
Edward Preen was clearly going to be trouble and they would have to keep an eye on him. But Archie had other worries. After dinner, he tried to occupy himself with exploring the rooms off the south-west staircase, part of the house he had never visited before, but questions kept pushing their way into his thoughts. What exactly was he going to find at the Wyrdie Tree? What did the odd, little men want from him? So much was going on, just when all Archie wanted was a quiet life. The sense of dread had crept its way back inside him, chilling his bones and clouding his mood. He was beginning to feel unsafe, even inside the walls of Honeystone Hall.
Archie slept badly that night. He dreamed he was lost in a dense forest, the trees so close together he couldn’t see the sky or tell whether it was day or night. Black, claw-like branches tugged at him, catching his sleeves and scratching at his face as he tried to fight his way out. A giant slug-like creature fell from a branch on to him, its slimy mouth slurping over his face.
He woke, with a start, to find it was only Sherbet licking his cheek to wake him. Archie drew back the curtains to a bright, sunny morning and the memories of his nightmare quickly melted away, though there was still a feeling of unease that stonily refused to disappear with them.
Archie had told Mum they were all going for a hike alongside the loch, which was only a slightly edited version of the truth. Tablet tucked sandwiches, apples and, of course, a box of McBudge Fudge into a bag, along with a bottle of water and some dog biscuits for Sherbet. Practical Fliss brought a torch and penknife, whilst Billy had his research notes and some Gingerbread Dragons. He was very cross that Edward Preen was calling for Unquiet Night to be banned.
‘Whatever next?’ he said, as they packed their rucksacks in the kitchen. ‘Birthdays forbidden? Laughing against the law? Unquiet Night is meant to be unwholesome – that’s the point of it.’ He defiantly bit a Dragon’s head off.
There was the sound of a car horn from the drive.
‘Who’s that?’ asked Archie. ‘I’m not expecting any visitors.’
The children left their rucksacks on the kitchen table and went to the hallway to investigate.
Archie opened the front door as a tall, pale woman unfolded from the driver’s seat of a gleaming, silver limousine. She wore a white dress covered in an infestation of pink flowers. Large sunglasses hid her eyes but her red mouth was stretched into a sneer.
‘Oh no,’ groaned Archie. ‘It’s the Puddingham-Pyes!’
‘Those villains always turn up when they’re not wanted,’ Archie muttered. ‘Which is all the time!’
Sherbet growled as the woman approached.
‘Ah, Urchin,’ said Jacqui Puddingham-Pye, silencing the dog with a look. ‘Dear boy. And I see your friends are with you, as always. Fleas and Bilbo, isn’t it? Stuck to you like scruffy, little limpets.’ She stalked towards them on a pair of pink stiletto sandals. From the back seat of the car, two blotchy faces leered out. It was the twins, Georgie and Portia, plump and malevolent.
‘What do you want?’ said Archie impatiently. When Mum wasn’t around, he didn’t feel the need to bother with good manners towards the P-Ps.
‘I only hoped to encourage you to change your mind about the twins’ birthday celebration. My messenger service isn’t always as persuasive as I would like.’ She rapped sharply on the black handbag that hung at her elbow, from which a muffled grumbling escaped.
‘No chance,’ said Archie. ‘Why would you invite me? Unless you’re planning to roast me over the birthday candles.’
‘Dear boy. Such a sense of humour. We’re merely trying to help you. Now that you’re the Chief of the Clan McBudge, you need to be introduced to Dundoodle society. You need to be mixing with the right sort of people,’ Mrs Puddingham-Pye cast a disdainful eye over Fliss and Billy, ‘and anyone who is anyone will be at the party.’
‘Sounds like a barrel of laughs,’ murmured Fliss.
‘You might not think it, Urchin,’ said Mrs Puddingham-Pye, sliding back into the car, ‘but you and I have common interests. Common needs. Common enemies.’ She stared at Archie over the top of her sunglasses. ‘We should learn to get along. See you at the party. Next Saturday at twelve o’clock. Sharp. I wouldn’t want your mother to think you were being … difficult.’ Archie hadn’t thought of that. If Mum knew Archie wasn’t going to the party, she would ask awkward questions. She thought the Puddingham-Pyes were rude, grasping and arrogant, but Cousin Jacqui and her children were still family and that counted for something.
The silver limo swung across the drive. As it roared away, the back window wound down and Portia stuck her head out.
‘And don’t forget a present!’ she squawked, her face red with entitlement.
‘Could someone explain what that was all about?’ said Billy, as the limousine disappeared.
‘She’s definitely up to something,’ said Fliss.
‘It’s just a question of what,’ Archie agreed. He slammed the front door shut with a sigh.
‘We’d better get going,’ said Fliss, as they retrieved their rucksacks from the kitchen. ‘It’ll take us half the day just to walk around the edge of the loch to the forest.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Archie, with a grin. ‘We’ve got our own transport, remember?’ He led them to the library and reached for a book on one of the shelves.
‘Of course!’ laughed Fliss. ‘Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. How could I forget?’
Archie pulled at the book and, with a click, the bookshelf swung away from the wall. Behind was the entrance to the secret passage that led down to the edge of the loch. The three children (and the dog) clambered through the hidden doorway and into the dark tunnel that lay beyond. Steps led down to a cave that opened out on to the water. Hanging from the wall of the cave was a silver lantern, its magical light constantly aflame. Archie took the lantern from its hook and, carefully wrapping it in his handkerchief, slipped it into his rucksack. Then he rang the summoning bell that hung near the entrance to the loch. After a few minutes, a driverless boat appeared at the mouth of the cave.
‘Won’t the boat take us to Pookiecrag Island, like last time?’ said Billy, nervously stepping on board the magical craft.
‘It knows where you want to
go,’ said Archie confidently. ‘I’ve tried it out before.’
‘You’ve been on adventures without us?’ said Fliss furiously. She stamped on to the boat, causing it to rock violently and Billy to cling to its sides in horror. ‘Archie McBudge, how dare you?’
‘Only if you call going fishing with Tablet an adventure,’ Archie laughed. ‘His hands shake so much the fish have trouble catching the bait.’
Once they were all settled on board, the boat smoothly slipped away from the shore. It did indeed steer a course to the far side of the loch where the dark line of trees that marked the start of the old forest awaited them. On their way they passed close to the ruined towers of the castle of Pookiecrag Island, which hid the entrance to the tunnel that led to the honey dragons’ cavern under the mountain of Ben Doodle.
‘We should have brought Blossom with us,’ said Fliss. ‘She could have visited her friends.’
‘Not likely,’ muttered Billy. ‘In the forest she’s too much of a fire hazard.’
Eventually, they reached an inlet edged by clumps of silver-birch trees and gorse. The boat moored itself next to a large, flat rock and the children scrambled out on to the shore. Sherbet dived straight into the trees, stirred by the smells and sounds of the forest. Archie looked at the other two. There was excitement in their eyes.
‘This is it!’ he said. They pushed their way through the undergrowth and entered the enchanted forest.
A breeze – warm and pine-scented – swept through the trees and rustled a whispered welcome from the bracken. Wells of sunlight sank through the thick canopy of leaves, spreading a golden glow over the moss-carpeted ground, whilst floating pollen explored the morning air, twinkling in the dappled light like tiny, floating stars.
‘This is definitely a place of magic,’ said Archie, his skin tingling.
They soon found a path and, using the map illuminated by the magic lantern, carefully trod their way through the old forest. Tree roots carved up the earth beneath their feet or sometimes stretched out of the ground to make archways and tunnels. Sherbet ran ahead, occasionally diving into clumps of ferns to chase after squirrels (which were far too canny to be caught by a silly, clumsy dog).
‘It’s really quiet,’ whispered Fliss. ‘Eerily quiet.’
At that moment, there was a crash as Billy tripped over a root and landed in an undignified heap. A startled pheasant shot into the air, scolding the visitors.
‘It was eerily quiet,’ said Fliss icily. ‘Do you need help putting one foot in front of the other, Billy?’
‘It’s all these tree roots – they must come from the Wyrdie Tree.’ Billy picked himself up and dusted pine needles from his knees. ‘I was trying to take notes as we walked. I want to document as much of this expedition as I can.’
‘Just be careful!’ said Archie sharply. He had the same feeling of being watched that he had sensed the day before. He didn’t want to attract any more attention than was necessary.
After they had been walking a while, they noticed it was getting darker.
‘The branches are making a roof over our heads,’ said Fliss, pointing upwards.
‘The trees are changing,’ said Billy. ‘It’s certainly getting wyrdier!’
The trunks around them had grown into hunched, hulking shapes, boughs twisted and knotted into sinewy limbs, twigs spreading into spindly fingers. The craggy bark was cracked into the features of ancient, wrathful faces, bearded with lichen.
‘It’s like we’re surrounded by my grandpa and his bowling buddies,’ said Billy. ‘They look like that whenever they lose a game.’
‘I wonder why they’re so angry-looking?’ said Fliss. ‘Maybe they don’t like visitors.’
Archie was reminded of his dream and shivered. The atmosphere had become oppressive, and the bracken tugged at his feet and made him stumble. He began to feel the dread grow inside him once more, only this time it was worse and getting stronger by the second. A thick mist seeped between the trees, turning their trunks into pale, misshapen ghosts.
Archie stopped, suddenly filled with fear. In the distance, he could make out a hunched silhouette stalking through the gloom. He grabbed Sherbet and hid behind a tree, gesturing to the others to do the same. The dog whimpered quietly. He seemed to know this was not the time for barking. They held their breath and watched as the dark figure crept closer. A buzzing, whirring sound followed it as it moved, as if it were being escorted by an army of insects. Then the creature stopped.
It was cloaked. The hood slowly turned towards them, its hidden eyes searching. Archie ducked back behind the tree trunk, clutching Sherbet tightly.
Does it know I’m here? he thought, his head aching and sweat beading on his forehead. Can it sense me, like I can sense it?
The figure paused for several, horrible, silent seconds. Then, with a soft, stealthy movement, it continued on its way. It disappeared into the forest depths, and the strange insect-like sounds faded, along with the unnatural mist.
Fliss spoke first.
‘What was … that?’ she hissed. Billy was huddled on the ground, trembling.
‘A doom wight!’ he said. ‘Or maybe a bracken beastie. Or a forest fungalfreak? Whatever it was, I think I might have to invent a new Macabre Creepy Scale – that was worse than … than Auntie Doreen, with the moustache!’
Archie was quiet, relieved that the feeling of dread – and his headache – were lifting. Was that the Mirk? he thought. Just its very presence had filled him with terror.
To one side, he spotted a clearing in the forest. A patch of blue sky was visible through the leafy roof.
‘Let’s stop there for a break,’ he suggested. The others readily followed him as he led them off the path. But when they reached the clearing, they found it was far from being a pleasant spot for a picnic. Ragged tree stumps scarred the area like yellowed teeth, and the trampled ground was thick with drifts of fresh sawdust. It was desolate and dead. Sherbet sniffed the floor and whined.
‘Someone’s been cutting down the trees!’ said Fliss.
‘No wonder this part of the forest looked so angry,’ said Archie, running his hand over the sawn surface of a stump, as if stroking a wounded animal. ‘It’s been attacked!’
‘Vandals!’ said Billy. ‘Do you think it was that scary person?’
‘Maybe,’ said Fliss thoughtfully. ‘This was done with man-made tools.’
‘Let’s get moving,’ Archie said in a hushed voice. Without another word, they returned to the path.
The map guided them deeper into the forest. The air cooled and became fresher as they travelled, the heavy atmosphere left behind with the scars of the clearing, and walking became much easier. The land began to rise, and suddenly the forest ended. They found themselves on a grassy mound. Immense, moss-mottled stones edged the rise, carved with pictures and strange letters. At the centre of the stone circle, crowning the top of the mound, stood a tree.
‘Now that,’ said Fliss, ‘is very definitely a tree. With a capital T.’
‘It’s the Clan Chief of all the trees!’ said Billy.
‘This is it!’ said Archie, swallowing hard. ‘We’ve found it. It’s the Wyrdie Tree.’
It was huge, towering over the rest of the forest. Archie thought he could see clouds grazing its uppermost heights. A mountain of yellow, gold and red, the Wyrdie Tree’s canopy sprawled around a swirling mass of branches, some wide enough to support a house. Are those windows twinkling amongst the leaves? Archie could imagine an entire city of tree houses hidden up there.
As they walked into its dappled shadow, he could sense the weight of its magic, but this magic wasn’t oppressive or full of dread. It wrapped around and comforted him, like a blanket on a cold day. He walked up to the massive trunk and pressed his hand against its bark. From deep within the wood, a rumble juddered through Archie’s fingertips. Was the Tree welcoming him?
Billy dropped his rucksack on the grass and pulled out his black notebook. He began busily sketching t
he standing stones.
‘There’s so much to record for my book,’ he said. ‘I’ve got loads of questions. Is the stone circle some sort of celestial clock? Do the shadows cast by the stones tell you when to perform some important, ancient ritual?’
‘Sort of,’ said a voice from the branches above. A figure jumped down from the tree, landing on the grass in front of them. ‘We use it for our washing-up rota.’
Two more figures appeared on either side of the first. It was the little men they had met the day before! They were dressed the same, in their green hoods and leaf-covered cloaks. One had the robin perched on his head, another the red squirrel on his shoulder, and the third carried Ingeborg the mole. It seemed to be the only way to tell them apart. Sherbet ran up to them, sniffing suspiciously.
‘When you’ve been here as long as we have,’ the first man said, as the robin gave Sherbet an aloof chirrup, ‘it’s easy to forget whose turn it is to do the dishes.’
‘How long have you been here?’ Archie asked. ‘And who are you?’
‘We came here with her, when she was but a sapling,’ said another of the men, gesturing at the Tree. ‘We sailed from the Fjord of Fjurge, in the far northlands beyond the sea, many, many years ago. Our ship was crewed by the Viking Trolls of Fjurgeholm, charged with protecting their precious cargo.’
‘The Fearsome Vikings of Fjurge!’ said Billy. ‘There are legends about their savage and destructive reputation in Dundoodle – knocking over flowerpots, stealing laundry, chasing cats and generally being very impolite.’
‘The Tree was planted here?’ said Archie. It looked like it had stood there for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. The men nodded.
‘She is but a child of the original Tree,’ said one, ‘the World Tree that grew between the domain of men and the realm of the old gods. It was home to magical creatures and its roots even reached down into the hidden, underground lands of the dead. When the World Tree was threatened by war between the gods and giants, a seed was taken and grown in the world of mortals to preserve some of its power. The young tree-child was carried to safety over the sea and planted here in secret.’
The Dentist of Darkness Page 3