The Traveller's Stone

by S J Howland

  The hobgoblin reached into a pocket of his thin robe and withdrew the blackened, broken orb which Xander had last seen at the little shop. He ran a spindly finger gingerly over the top of the stone.

  ‘We have lost so much, so many memories, but this is not the first time destruction has threatened us. We still have fragments, pieces of lore given to help a remnant survive and we remember the truth of a bloodline who will return when the times are darkest.’

  His creaky voice trailed away at the final word and he stood staring at Xander as if he expected him to wave his hands and fix everything on the spot. The silence grew too long and Xander saw Ollie eying him, looking worried.

  ‘I’m really sorry that all this has happened to you,’ he began, although that seemed like a ridiculous understatement. ‘The only thing is,’ he said haltingly, ‘I don’t think I’m the one you’re looking for. I mean, I’m just a normal kid, there’s nothing special about me, honestly. Some weird things have happened over the last few days but I don’t think I have any powers to fix things for you. I don’t even know why I’m here – I don’t belong in Haven. I’m an outlander.’

  The hobgoblin’s expression did not change.

  ‘If you truly do not believe that you have this potential, then come here and place your hand upon our Core,’ he said, waving at the ruined crystal face behind him. ‘If it is as you say, then nothing will happen and the stone will be silent. There is no reason for concern.’

  Xander felt privately that there was every reason for concern, particularly as that sense of wrongness was still rolling off the shattered crystal like a mist; however he could not think of a sufficient excuse that would get him out of doing what the old hobgoblin wanted. Biting the inside of his lip to control his grimace, he stepped forward and tentatively touched the crystal with the ends of his fingertips. Before he had even touched the stone, a flare of sickly yellow light bloomed hesitantly near his hand, and then sparked outwards as he hastily pulled away. The crystal face felt oily and he surreptitiously rubbed his hand on the leg of his trousers. There was a stir among the surrounding hobgoblins and the old one drew in his breath with an audible hiss; his eyes held a knowing gleam as he looked up at Xander.

  ‘What did you do?’ demanded Len in a plaintive mutter.

  ‘Nothing,’ Xander whispered back to her, with a faint tinge of panic.

  ‘Again?’ asked Ollie with a quizzical lift of his eyebrows and Xander flushed.

  The hobgoblins were murmuring amongst themselves with many sideways glances being thrown at Xander. The old hobgoblin lifted a long, thin finger with great deliberation and ran it down the shattered crystal, and a sluggish hint of light bloomed again. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together as if they were slippery. His eyes lingered on Xander, who wished deeply that they could just leave this creepy place before anything weirder might happen.

  As if he had heard Xander’s unspoken thoughts, the old hobgoblin gestured and the little procession made its way back through the dim maze. Xander tried to ignore the mutterings from their escort as they walked, but when he heard Len’s sharp intake of breath he glanced around him; tiny sparks of sickly light were blooming tentatively in the crystal walls as he passed. Swallowing, he decided that the best course of action was to ignore it all, and he was ignoring his surroundings with such determination that only Ollie’s swift grab at his arm stopped him ploughing into the backs of the hobgoblins. He stumbled back, and only then did he realise that the old hobgoblin was no longer among the group. Xander looked around in confusion.

  ‘Where did he go?’ he asked.

  A hob brushed past him, ignoring his question and waving them onwards towards a blank rock wall. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘You must leave now.’

  He stroked the wall in that odd gesture and it turned translucent again.

  Xander did not need a second invitation. He hurried forward, with Ollie and Len only a step behind him. Whatever the old hobgoblin had said to him about speaking to stones, he did not feel at all comfortable here. It felt utterly alien to him and he was suddenly desperate to get above ground again and to breathe cool, fresh air. This time the rocky tunnel which linked the Nexus to the Core seemed much shorter and the hob brushed past them to reactivate the exit. Xander felt like he should say something before leaving but could not think of the right words.

  ‘Er, thank you,’ he said awkwardly. It came out sounding more like a question.

  The hobgoblin just stared at him with coldly gleaming eyes. ‘We will be waiting,’ he grated out.

  Swallowing nervously, Xander plunged through the rippling rock, Ollie and Len at his elbows. As soon as they were all clear, the wall solidified again and Ollie’s eyes widened as he glanced back.

  ‘Seriously, how weird was that?’ he asked.

  ‘I think we would all like to know the answer to that question,’ said an irritated voice.

  Xander spun around to see Flint, Reeve and Petros standing by the small table, where Ollie’s cards were still spread out; Flint with an expression to match his tone. Reeve was holding one of the cards in his hand, staring at the three teenagers with a stunned face. He threw the card aside and hurried over, running his hands across the wall inside the alcove. Then, with an explosive breath, he turned around.

  ‘They let you in?’ he demanded eagerly. ‘They actually brought you through?’

  Xander and Ollie exchanged glances, acutely aware of Flint’s annoyance and the fact they had not exactly done as they were instructed.

  ‘They were pretty insistent, actually,’ said Ollie apologetically, as Xander remained silent.

  ‘That’s amazing,’ burst out Reeve, his eyes wide. ‘They haven’t let anyone in there for years, not since –’ he cut that thought off. ‘It’s astounding though, isn’t it? Incredible. They used to train some of us engineers, back before –’

  His voice trailed off again, a pained look crossing his face.

  ‘So what exactly did they want you for?’ broke in Flint. Xander did not think it was his imagination that the ‘you’ sounded rather accusatory, as Flint’s cool blue eyes settled on him.

  ‘There was this really old hobgoblin,’ explained Ollie. ‘He was sitting on this throne thing and he wanted to see Xander.’

  All of the adults were now staring at Xander in astonishment.

  ‘The Elder Goblin,’ said Reeve in a choked voice. ‘The Elder Goblin wanted to see you?’

  ‘Why?’ demanded Flint, as ever straight to the point. ‘What did the Elder want with you?’ The unspoken ‘of all people’ hung in the air, and Xander thought he might have been offended if he did not secretly feel the same way.

  ‘He told us about all of the sickness and how they were so few now, and then he said that I could speak to the stones and that I might be related to someone who could do that a long time ago, something about a bloodline,’ said Xander, rather incoherently. ‘I have no idea what he was talking about but he wouldn’t listen.’

  ‘Then they took us to the centre of their Core,’ burst out Ollie, as though he could not hold it in any more. ‘It was seriously funky-looking, all dark and broken up. They said it was humans’ fault. They really don’t like Thorne.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Reeve, leaning forward in his interest. ‘They think the damage started here? What do they think caused it?’

  Suddenly Petros, who had been silent up to now, began flapping one hand urgently. A moment later, a loud voice rang out.

  ‘They’re here, sir. Doing nothing useful at all, it would appear.’

  Latchet, the owner of that voice, sidled around the corner and Xander was surprised to notice that his former striding and arm-waving had been replaced with an obsequious air.

  Then, emerging from behind Latchet, a personage appeared who made Xander blink his eyes in wonder. He was soft-looking, with thinning blonde hair and bulbous eyes, but it was his clothes that were most striking; the man looked quite extraordinary. His long jacket and wide trousers were pin-stri
ped in a garish shade of pink on blue, and he wore a velvety waistcoat in a clashing shade of pink. Completing his outfit was a striped silk cravat and highly polished black boots, heeled to give him additional height. He wore an extremely self-satisfied expression and Latchet was gazing eagerly at him for approval, like some particularly unattractive lapdog. Confronted with this startling vision, Xander almost did not notice the small, nondescript looking man standing quietly behind them, pre-occupied with checking off some papers on a clipboard. He did not look up at Xander or the others.

  ‘What in Haven are you doing back here, Reeve?’ demanded the peacock, in a shrill voice. ‘You’re supposed to be Chief Engineer and you’re gossiping with Travellers,’ his protuberant eyes rested with disfavour on Flint, ‘and children. Have you found the source of the contamination yet?’

  Reeve did not react.

  ‘Narrowing it down, I think,’ he said, in a calm voice. ‘Although something interesting has come up. I’ll let you know when there’s anything definitive. I’m not going to jump to conclusions, Simm, no matter how much he yaps.’ Reeve sent a contemptuous look at Latchet, who bristled with indignation, and then jerked his head to Flint and the others. ‘Come on, we’re done here. I’ll walk you out.’

  Simm looked most dissatisfied, and his mouth twisted petulantly.

  ‘Make sure that you do, Reeve. I’m a very busy man, and I don’t have time to keep running over here every time you engineers miscalculate and blow a section. When you have an answer, let Latchet here know. He’ll get it straight over to me.’ Latchet swelled up with pride, but Simm had already turned away. ‘I shall be over at the Council Chamber if I am required.’

  He spun around on his high heels, long jacket flaring out behind him, and swept away, his exit only slightly marred by the fact that he had headed off the wrong way and had to be discreetly steered by his quiet shadow. Xander frowned as his eyes followed the small, unremarkable figure of the third man, still unnamed.

  ‘Funny,’ he murmured to Ollie. ‘There’s something a bit weird about that guy.’

  ‘Who, Simm?’ said Ollie, with an incredulous look. ‘You think?’

  Xander did not have a chance to correct him as Reeve and Flint indicated firmly that it was time to go, leaving Latchet glaring impotently after them. Filled with relief he was going to get out of this place and back to fresh air and sunlight, Xander decided that it was probably not that important and hurried after them as they headed through the looming crystal slabs.

  Chapter Six

  Xander had half-expected a further interrogation by Flint about the events in the Core once they had emerged from the echoing vestibule at the Nexus, but the Traveller appeared to be deep in thought and said nothing further to any of them. He hurried them through the gates and then back up the winding lane to Woodside, the forbidding frown on his face discouraging Xander from raising questions of his own. The faint rumble of many voices in the kitchen was discernible as soon as they entered the house and Flint strode ahead of them, pushing open the heavy door.

  Xander, Ollie and Len paused in the hallway to exchange glances.

  ‘Communicative as ever,’ said Len and Xander nodded in agreement, that sense of frustration rising again.

  ‘Might as well see what’s causing all the bother this time,’ suggested Ollie, before adding with a hopeful expression, ‘and it has to be lunchtime by now. I’m starving after all that.’

  Xander realised that his stomach was also feeling empty, not to mention rather uneasy after the events of that morning. It was a feeling that was becoming all too common for him. Following on behind Ollie, he saw that once again the kitchen was full of Travellers, and Flint was already deep in conversation with someone that Xander had not seen before, a tall and strikingly handsome man, with tousled black hair and grey eyes. Len had wandered into the kitchen behind Xander and her eyes fell on the man talking with Flint. Xander saw her stiffen and, for just a moment, a hopeful expression crossed her face. As if sensing her eyes on him, the man glanced over and saw Len standing by the door. His flinch was almost imperceptible but Xander saw it and so, it seemed, did Len. Her face shifted immediately into its usual unconcerned look and her mouth tightened. Without another glance at the man, she walked over to the sink and poured herself a glass of water.

  The man hesitated and then walked over.

  ‘How are you, Len?’ he asked stiffly.

  ‘Fine,’ said Len, without turning around. She paused, then reluctantly, ‘you?’

  ‘Yes, good,’ he said ‘I mean, I’m fine.’

  ‘Good,’ replied Len. There was another awkward silence. Len drank her water and then rinsed the glass and put it to drain. Without another word, she turned and left the kitchen. The man stood for a moment, staring at the glass that Len had left on the draining board, and then turned and walked back to the fireplace.

  Xander’s gaze followed him curiously and so he caught Mrs Stanton also watching, with an exasperated expression on her face. She glanced around in time to meet Xander’s stare and then bustled over to where he and Ollie stood, lifting a large jar down from the dresser as she came.

  ‘Lunch isn’t ready yet,’ she said. She thrust the jar at Ollie, who was very obviously trying to overhear the quiet conversations at the fireplace. ‘If you have nothing better to do than hang around here, you two had better take this and feed those nixies. I can’t remember when you last did it and Katie will be devastated if they leave.’

  She shooed them outside, ignoring Ollie’s mutinous mutterings, and shut the back door after them. Ollie paused, eying the kitchen window, but a moment later Mrs Stanton’s face appeared as she pulled it closed. She gave him a knowing look and insistently flipped her hand.

  Ollie heaved a sigh. ‘She’s always so untrusting,’ he said dolefully. ‘I suppose we’d better feed the repulsive things.’

  After a final reproachful glower over his shoulder he began to trudge down the garden. Xander followed him across the smooth lawn.

  ‘What are niskies?’ he asked.

  ‘Nixies,’ corrected Ollie, gloomily. ‘They’re Katie’s idea of a pet. They’re nasty, they bite and they generally have no redeeming qualities whatsoever, other than being ‘sparkly’. Unfortunately, they’re the latest craze, so Katie has to have some – and now we’re stuck with the foul little things. And by ‘we’, of course, I mean me; Len claims she’s allergic to them.’

  Ollie sighed again, looking thoroughly ill-used. Xander, on the other hand, was keen to see what passed for a pet in Haven, and he looked around for some sign of them. They headed down to the far end of the garden, walked past a group of flowering shrubs, and stopped in front of a large, rather murky-looking pond.

  ‘Don’t get too close,’ warned Ollie as he twisted the top off the jar, and then grimaced as he pulled out a handful of what looked like blue rubber worms. ‘They can jump right out of the water.’ He threw his handful of worms into the pond, where they floated for a moment before slowly sinking.

  Xander watched from a safe distance, but he couldn’t see anything moving. Ollie leaned slightly further out. ‘Maybe they’ve all cleared off,’ he said hopefully, scattering another handful of worms. With barely a splash, a glittering shape launched itself out of the pond, its teeth snapping inches from Ollie’s fingers. He jerked his hand back with a furious yell but the thing had already disappeared again, slapping its tail maliciously on the surface so that Ollie was showered with pond water.

  ‘Ugh,’ he said, wiping his face and glaring at the nixie that had just re-surfaced. ‘I told you they were foul.’

  Several other heads broke the surface, and they all stared avidly at Ollie, mouths agape to reveal hundreds of tiny serrated teeth.

  Xander prudently backed up several more paces from the water and stared at the strange creatures; they did not look like anything he had ever seen before in a garden pond. Their bodies were lizard like, with long spindly limbs and thin webbed fingers that paddled the surface of the w
ater. The most disturbing thing about them, however, were their large, round heads with vaguely humanoid features – wide, unblinking eyes, thin blue lips and no nose. As Ollie had said, their only redeeming feature was their glittering skin, shading through rich jewel tones and overlaid with a faint golden sheen so they appeared to sparkle in the water. They snapped at each other and stared at the jar in Ollie’s hand with a voracious hunger in their flat green eyes. Xander grimaced. Sparkly or not, they were quite repulsive.

  ‘They’re horrible,’ he said in disgust.

  ‘Told you,’ said Ollie grimly. ‘I cannot believe that Katie actually thinks they’re cute. She must be completely deranged.’ The nixies snapped their jaws at him as if they understood what he was saying and Ollie chucked another handful of worms to them. They flung themselves about in a frenzy of snapping teeth, clawing at each other with their webbed hands as they fought over the food.

  ‘Ollie, who was that man in the kitchen?’ asked Xander, with one eye on the nixies in case they tried to savage him instead. ‘The one who spoke with Len at the sink.’

  ‘You mean Uncle Jasper?’ asked Ollie. ‘Len’s father.’

  Xander swivelled to stare at him.

  ‘You’re kidding,’ he said. ‘Why do they act like that to each other?’

  ‘Dunno, really,’ replied Ollie, after some thought. ‘They’re always like that, so I don’t notice it anymore. I suppose it was a bit awkward.’

  Xander thought that was the understatement of the year.

  ‘A bit?’ he said incredulously.

  Ollie shrugged. ‘It’s not like he’s around that much, being a Traveller and all.’ He didn’t seem to think there was anything else to add. Xander shook his head but decided to change the subject.

  ‘Did you hear what they were talking about in there? What’s got everyone all riled up now?’ he asked.

  ‘Nope,’ said Ollie, answering the first question. ‘They were all talking too quietly. Something must have kicked off though; maybe there’s been another breach?’