by Fahy, James
“But it was you who sent him to spy on me at Erlking, wasn’t it? And it was you who sent me that letter?”
“Yes and yes. Someone had to keep an eye on you, didn’t they?”
“Well, Henry and Phorbas didn’t leave the grounds and they still got kidnapped, didn’t they? I thought no one was supposed to be able to get hurt there?”
Karya stared into the fire, eyes narrowed. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about that. Very puzzling. I don’t suppose the old girl can watch over much with eyes made of stone. Clever little loophole. Strife has a mind like a corkscrew.”
Robin poked the fire with a stick for a while, looking around at the alien shapes of the ancient forest.
“So, Woad is bound to you? What does that even mean?”
“I saved his hide,” Karya explained. “We met earlier this year. I was … well … let’s just say I had just left home and I was – still am – trying very hard not to be found. I was travelling and I came across an extremely loud faun stuck in a bog. He was sinking quickly – his own stupid fault for not looking where you’re going, but that’s beside the point. The short version of the story is, I helped him get free and since then he says he owes his life to me.”
She glanced up at Robin, one eyebrow raised, “I can’t seem to shake him,” she said. He thought she was joking, but it was hard to tell.
Robin grinned. “He seems alright to me,” he said. “He certainly likes living with us at Erlking, I mean.”
“Well, he’s got no one else but us,” Karya said. “He’s an outcast from his tribe.”
Robin looked up at her through the crackling ashes of the flames. “Why?”
She shrugged. “That’s for him to tell you, not me. Point is, he’s all on his own … same as me.”
“And me,” Robin reflected.
Karya snorted with what might have been amusement, muffled as she was in her huge coat. “That’s three of us alone,” she muttered.
“Well then,” he said. “Perhaps we call all be alone together then … and that won’t be so bad.”
* * *
Robin had evidently dropped off at some point as he was abruptly awoken by Woad kicking at his legs. The sky seemed lighter, the promise of dawn not far off.
“Come on. We have to get going. They won’t open up in full daylight,” he said.
Robin struggled to his feet, aching everywhere. He had never slept outside before; Gran had never really been big on camping. The closest she had ever come to the great outdoors had been a cup of tea at the local garden centre. “What time is it?” he mumbled, shouldering his pack and checking that Phorbas’ dagger was still tucked into the belt of his jeans.
“Time to go,” replied Karya bluntly, shouldering her own knapsack. She turned and swept out of the clearing, followed by Woad.
Robin sighed, and set off after them.
The sky, glimpsed through the interlocking branches above, was turning a scarlet-gold when they eventually came to a stop.
“Finally,” Karya breathed. Robin noticed, with some small satisfaction, that the girl was as out of breath as he was. “And not a moment too soon.” She looked at the burning sky. “The sun will be up any minute.”
Robin came up beside her. They’d reached a large clearing, empty of trees. In the centre rose a towering grassy mound. It looked as though someone had buried a giant in the woods and the grass had grown, lush and green, over the fallen form. An archway was set in the side, sealed with a round slab of old stone, and several small towers poked out of the huge mound at odd angles, some issuing wisps of blackish smoke. It was a moment or two before Robin realized that these were chimneys.
Frankly it looked like the creepiest, most uninviting Hobbit-hole he could imagine. “This is where the redcaps live?” he asked, staring.
“Underground,” Woad replied. “In the dark with the grit and the worms. This is just the entrance.”
“Let me do the talking,” Karya said. “In fact, you two wait here by the trees until I call for you.”
She walked off without waiting for a reply. At the door, she placed her small hand in the centre of stone and muttered something Robin couldn’t hear. For a moment, nothing happened. Then he heard a chittering noise deep in the earth, growing louder.
He was just considering how much he really didn’t want to meet these redcaps, when the large slab rolled aside with a gravelly roar and, over Karya’s shoulder, he saw one for himself.
The creature was small, smaller than Woad even, and skeletally thin. Its head was much too large for its body and wrinkled like old fruit. The fingers were very long and ended in sharp claws. The redcap’s ears were tall, pointing straight up above its head, and it had blood-red skin, making it look like an evil lobster.
He watched the redcap peer at Karya with tiny black eyes. It chattered something harshly, too quiet for him to hear, and Karya replied.
“That’s a redcap?” Robin hissed to Woad, who nodded, scowling. “It’s hideous.”
“So would you be if you lived your whole miserable life deep underground with dead bones,” the faun muttered. “It’s not really red. They paint themselves that colour. They’re as white as fish bellies naturally.”
Karya was gesturing back at Robin and Woad. He felt the redcap’s flinty eyes fall upon them from across the clearing. Then the creature was gone.
Karya waved them over encouragingly.
“What’s happening?” Robin asked as they approached.
“He’s gone to tell the Chieftain we’re here. We’re going inside,” she replied.
“Into the big grave full of monsters?” Robin said as cheerfully as he could. “Sounds great.”
“They’re … interested in you, I think,” Karya mused. From the sound of her tone, this didn’t seem very reassuring. “Put that knife away, though. If they see it, they’ll want it. They always want something.”
Before he could say anything, the demonic-looking creature reappeared, a spluttering torch grasped in his bony hand.
“In,” it snapped. “Big feast today. You come at good time, soft ones. You are guests of Chieftain today. Hurry though, sun up soon, light too much for open doors.”
It turned and disappeared into the darkness.
“Watch your step,” Karya said and followed it inside.
Inside the mound, a low, dark corridor of musty-smelling earth led deep into the hill. It went down forever and ever, or so it seemed to Robin, corkscrewing into the earth.
Eventually, the passageway opened into a gigantic, vaulted chamber. An echoing underground crypt the size of a train station. Twisting stone columns supported the roof and countless chambers led off here, there and everywhere. Steps went up and down from every conceivable opening. From the ceiling, bridges connected the upper levels in a mad cat’s cradle of flying traceries.
And everywhere Robin looked, there were redcaps – hundreds of them, all hurrying about their business like alien red ants. The place was like a maze.
No, not a maze, Robin thought. It’s a hive.
Their guide hurried them on to the far end of the subterranean hall where, upon a raised stone dais, sat a particularly wizened and ancient-looking creature. Unlike the other redcaps whose skin was as scarlet as blood, this one’s was the deep purple of an old bruise. It wore a filthy-looking robe of gold and black, and a tall black rimless hat. All of its teeth were gone, giving its face a caved-in, mushy look. It looked fast asleep. Or worse, Robin thought.
As they approached, Karya gave a deep and graceful bow, gesturing at Robin and Woad to follow her lead.
Their redcap guide scurried up to the stone throne and chattered something into the ancient one’s ears in its strange clicks and pops. The old creature’s eyes snapped open and peered at the three children, lingering on Robin as if he were a particularly tasty morsel. Its eyes were wide and yellow.
“A strange selection of creatures here in our barrow,” the redcap chieftain said, its voice a dry whisper. “Two outcasts w
e see here … and a fae from the human world. A fae indeed. It has been an age since we have seen your kind abroad in the Netherworlde, child.” It beckoned with a long and trembling finger. “Come closer, Faechild, so that we can see you clearer.”
Robin looked sidelong at Karya, who nodded almost imperceptibly. He warily approached the stone, uncomfortably aware that countless redcaps had stopped what they were doing and hundreds of gimlet black eyes were now trained on him.
The redcap chieftain grabbed him by the chin as soon as he was within reach.
“A fae … with no horns … and blue eyes?” it rasped in a wondering whisper. “Rumours had come to our barrow that such a creature was abroad in the Netherworlde. News travels fast for our kind, but we would never have believed it, had we not seen it with our own eyes.”
It turned Robin’s head from side to side, beady eyes studying every inch of the boy’s face as though considering buying him at a cattle market.
“Umm…” Robin said uncertainly, wishing that Karya would say something. He didn’t want to seem rude by wrenching his head free. He had no idea what customs he might be offending, but he didn’t like the feel of the creature’s leathery fingers on his face. Its grip was surprisingly strong.
“What mana does it possess, we wonder?” the redcap hissed to itself. “What stonework?”
“He carries Seraphinite,” Karya said conversationally.
The chieftain gave a quick inhalation of sour breath, releasing Robin’s face so suddenly that he almost toppled backwards. The redcap’s eyes flicked to the mana-stone strung about Robin’s neck.
“Seraphinite…” it mused. “Well, we are most surprised. Many years has it been since such a stone was seen anywhere west of the Whispering Sea.”
Robin’s hand came up to cover his mana-stone reflexively. The redcap did not seem to notice. It held up its gnarled old hand, displaying a heavyset and very ornate gold ring. It was set with a large black stone, glittering in the torchlight.
“Jet we have,” it declared. “Jet is strong and wise, good for Earth Tower. Good for tunnelling. You surface folk, your mana stones are weakened by the sun. Seraphinite? Good for ghosts, no good down here.” He sounded smugly self-satisfied.
Karya stepped up onto the dais beside Robin, gripping his elbow companionably. “We need information, Deepdweller,” she said, in her most respectful tone. “You see and hear much. We have lost our friends and think they may have passed through the Barrow Wood. Have your people heard anything?”
The chieftain sat back slowly on its stone throne, gathering its dusty robes around itself.
“Our people hear everything,” it said. “Every footstep echoes into the earth, every shadow falls upon the ground, and we are under it, and we listen well.” It looked from Robin to Karya in a calculating manner.
“What will you trade for the information you seek? We do not work for renegade panthea or outlawed fae, or for your kind girl. Not without…,” it spread its long fingers like purple twigs, “… compensation.”
“I have a little money,” Karya replied. “Not much, but it’s brass and unmarked, and I can get more, maybe silver? It will depend how useful your information is.”
The chieftain sneered. “Brass, silver, what use are shiny metals to us? They run through the body of the earth, and so do the redcaps. We can find our own metals.” It snorted dismissively.
“What is your price then, Deepdweller?” Karya asked, her voice straining to remain polite.
“Surface things. Things we can trade.” Its eyes flicked momentarily to Woad. “Things we can eat.”
“We have some food and drink,” Robin suddenly remembered. “Hestia made us some, I think she put some kinds of herbs in our packs too.” He began to unshoulder his rucksack.
“The pelt of your faun would fetch a pretty price in the Agora market-town,” the redcap chieftain said, ignoring Robin, his voice greedy. Several of the redcaps around them were eyeing Woad’s bare blue skin with hungry calculating eyes. “Soft and supple, especially from one so young. It would be a fine hide for any redcap to possess.”
Woad made a low growling noise in the back of his throat, flexing his small claws slowly.
“Unfortunately,” Karya said as politely as she could manage, “our companion is currently using his skin and cannot spare it. He would be awfully inconvenienced by its loss. Perhaps there is something else we could trade?”
“There must be something else,” Robin said, trying to draw the chieftain’s glossy eyes away from the faun. “I mean, we don’t have much, but we really do need to find our friends. They were kidnapped, you see. We can’t track them. If you know anything, anything at all, we’d really owe you one.”
Karya and Woad both gasped. The redcap chieftain snapped its eyes back to the boy.
Utter silence had fallen throughout the hall.
“Owe us?” it hissed slowly.
Robin had the horrible feeling that he had just said something very wrong indeed. Karya was staring at him in mute horror.
“Yes … yes that will be a most agreeable arrangement to us,” the chieftain replied, smiling its toothless grin. It seemed very amused. “A good turn … to be repaid. Too long has it been since the trading of favours has passed between the redcaps and the fae. Truly you are an unusual specimen of your people, hornless boy.” A murmur of whispering passed through the hive in a chittering wave.
“Here are the terms of our accord.” The creature leaned forward on its throne. “The redcaps will discover if your companions have indeed passed this way, and if so, to where they were headed. We will share with you what information we have, and in return, we will hold a favour in trust, to be recalled at a later date.”
“What favour?” Robin said carefully.
“We do not know yet,” the chieftain replied. “There is nothing we want from you … at present.” It looked at its own hands, examining the ring’s jet stone. “But there will come a time for a debt to be repaid.”
Robin could feel Karya and Woad both watching him, but neither of them spoke up. He got the feeling that this was his responsibility alone. But what choice did he have? In his mind he saw the stone faces of Aunt Irene and Mr Drover. He remembered Hestia describing Henry yelling and the finding of Phorbas’ broken horn. He had to find them, no matter what the cost.
“Okay,” he said, swallowing. “That sounds fair.” He held out a hand to shake. The redcap gripped it in both his strong claws, grinning toothlessly. Robin’s skin felt as though it wanted to crawl off.
“An addendum to this deal of yours,” Karya suddenly said, “is the safe release of all three of us from this barrow.”
The redcap’s eyes flickered with annoyance, but it nodded in acceptance. “Very well, little girl. None amongst us will prevent you from leaving this barrow.” It held up a long finger. “At nightfall.” He looked to Karya. “The sun is up now. The sky is bright. The doors remain fast until the shadows return.
Karya nodded. Woad shivered at her side, tail twitching, clearly uncomfortable with having to spend the whole day down here. Robin was frustrated. Every moment they wasted was time for Strife to get further away from them.
“Agreed then.” The chieftain released Robin’s hand. He resisted the urge to wipe it on the leg of his jeans.
A smaller, scarlet-skinned redcap appeared at the old creature’s side. There was an exchange of chittering commands, then the drone scuttled away across the hall to a large carved stone. Intricate spirals and whorls made a dizzying pattern there. The redcap picked up a pair of small sticks and began to beat a complicated tattoo on the stone. It echoed strangely through the cavern.
“We are spreading the word,” the chieftain said. “The gong is connected to our next barrow, and from there to many others. They in turn will spread the message. If your friends are to be found, we will find them.”
Karya nodded and bowed again.
“Hospitality has laws,” the redcap continued. “We shall feed and enter
tain you while we wait.”
* * *
It was something of a relief when Karya, Woad and Robin were ushered out of the chieftain’s presence and taken to another shadowy cavern. Robin’s stomach had been growling all night and the supplies Hestia had provided were meagre enough that he was already considering rationing. They were seated at one of many long low tables on a soft cushion. Redcaps swarmed around them, chattering and piling food high on the tables. Robin had half-expected the meal to consist of bugs and grubs, but in fact there were platters of sausages, mashed potato, roast chickens, sliced hot hams, and goblets filled with a strange wine. Karya ate sparingly, trying to look relaxed and aloof. Woad on the other hand, showed no such restraint, piling his plate high over and over again. Food, Robin was coming to realise, was clearly a faun’s weak spot. As long as none of it had been cooked in the human world.
“I can’t believe you did that!” Karya hissed at Robin quietly.
“Did what?” Robin replied out of the corner of his mouth.
“You put yourself in the redcaps’ debt! It’s one thing to trade with a redcap but to offer your services? You really shouldn’t have done that … It’s simpler to bargain with a demon than a redcap!”
“Well, what was I supposed to do? We don’t have anything else to go on. We need their help, don’t we? That’s why you brought us here in the first place.”
“I’d rather have given them Woad’s skin that agreed to some ill-defined future ‘favour’ like you did.” Karya shook her head in bewilderment.
“Oy!” Woad mumbled indignantly, his mouth full of sausages.
Karya narrowed her eyes at him “Oh hush, Woad, you know what I mean. The Scion has put himself in the debt of the redcaps!”
Woad only glanced at Robin and rolled his eyes.
“Well, I don’t know what else we could have done,” Robin snapped. He was getting fed up of this strange girl bossing him around. “They said they’ll help us at least. All I care about is finding Henry and Phorbas. We’ll worry about the rest later.”