by LJ Rivers
“Where am I?” Brendan croaked, looking puzzled at the wolf Shifter whose arms and legs held him in a tight grip. “You mind?”
Jack grinned and released my boyfriend.
“I’ll tell you in a second, Brendan,” I said, pointing at Charlie. “Help her, Halwyn!”
Back in Jubilee Gardens, on the 6th of June, two twelve-year-old Banshees used their hypersonic screams on me and almost shattered my eardrums. When Halwyn’s drops of magical honey went down Charlie’s gullet, her shrill scream gave those girls a decent run for their money. And, as my boyfriend had wondered seconds earlier, Charlie’s first question was about her location.
“We’re on Avalon.” Jen threw her arms around Charlie and hugged her as if she were her long-lost favourite stuffed bear.
“We are?” Squinting, Charlie turned her head every which way as if trying to make sense of her surroundings.
Halwyn stepped back, and his bushy brows knitted. “No, you most certainly are not.”
Chapter Four
I dived in for a crushing hug with Brendan, who had sat up and tried to make sense of the surroundings, but Halwyn’s words gave me pause. I stared into the Goblin’s dark, round eyes. “Come again?”
His bushy brows tangled in a frown, and he tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean? I am to leave and return?”
“What? No! I mean, we’re not on Avalon?” I swallowed hard, wondering where on Earth or someplace else this cave was, if not on Avalon.
The Goblin scoffed. “By the Light, no! You would have to cross the Seohl Strait to get there, a good one awr for the lot of you.”
Charlie leaned forward, hugging her knees. “So, where are we?”
Halwyn’s nose twitched again, as if Charlie reeked of rotten fish. “Why, on Crochan Island, of course.” His voice edged with pride. “The finest, most fertile soil in all of Gwyn Fanon.”
“Holy Mother of the Saviour,” Charlie whispered. “It worked.” She put a hand on my shoulder. “Not that I ever doubted you, young Mor—I mean, Ruby.”
“What worked?” Halwyn enquired.
For a while, all that could be heard was the steady rhythm of water dripping from a stalactite. The Goblin sat patiently and waited for me to explain, but I wasn’t sure how much I could tell him. He had saved our lives but had also been ready to kill Jack, albeit in self-defence. I sat down next to Brendan, who took my hand in his.
“We have come through a portal,” I began, inclining my head back at the water and the tunnel to the cave with the portal. “As you have figured out already, we are not from Gwyn Fanon. We are, however, descendants of Avalon.”
“Not those two,” Halwyn remarked dryly, wagging a crooked, long-nailed finger at Brendan and Charlie. “Don Hekals come from the Land of Eternal Sand.”
“The Land of Eternal Sand? Where is that?”
Halwyn pointed back the same way I had indicated. “Why, on the other side of the portal, of course.” He tucked his thumbs into his belt. “But Morgana closed it when the People of Hope had gone through. Strange.” The Goblin’s mind seemed to wander.
Kit, who had been lying in front of me, went to the water’s edge. He reached his right paw out and dabbed at the surface. As he shook the droplets off, the water rings spread into the darkness. I shuddered at the thought of the beckoning creature he had saved me from. “Kit. Come here, love,” I said. He turned and ran back to me.
Charlie cleared her throat. “So, do you know about the land beyond the portal?”
“The queen’s lorekeepers tell of it, and it is said that the scriveners have drawn letters and words about them in Her Majesty’s library. Of course, a puny Goblin like myself has never been to the library.” Amusement crept into his voice. “Not that I would know what to do in there, save for smelling the scrolls. They are made from the finest bark in Emeraude Forest. I might have lived more than fifty harvests, but I have still to visit the Emeraude.”
Charlie leaned forward, fascinated by Halwyn’s words. As were the rest of us.
“So, we’re on an island off the coast of Avalon, then?” Charlie sounded like an eager child in a sweet shop. “Crochan Island. The name sounds intriguing. Powerful, I would say.”
The Goblin straightened his back. “Powerful.” He tasted the word. “Yes, I guess you could say that. You would be quite right, Don Hekal.”
“I don’t know what a Don Hekal is, but I, for one, am a Donnal. No, I mean, I’m a Don—what the fudge?”
Halwyn’s nose didn’t twitch anymore. “Fudge? I’m sorry, but there are no such luxurious foods out here. Only the nobles of Avalen have such treats on their tables.”
“Just give up, Char.” I sighed. “I tried to say Donnal … yeah, you get the picture. It won’t come out.”
Charlie took off her backpack, which had been on her shoulders the entire time, and rummaged through it until she retrieved her glasses and put them on.
Halwyn squared his eyes at the glasses but made no comment.
“I hadn’t noticed before,” Charlie began. “Maybe because I’ve been out cold for a while, but we’re not speaking our natural language. It’s like we’re… mimicking?”
I snapped my fingers. “I know, right?”
Charlie turned to Jen. “How did we contact Ruby when we were out drinking? You know, a few days before we went to visit her.”
Jen shrugged. “You mean the … the … I can’t say the word!”
“It’s because it doesn’t exist in this language!” Charlie said. She was on her feet, skipping with excitement. “This is fascinating! We’re speaking Avalonian or whatever it’s called, but in our heads, it feels like our native tongue. Jen, say something in Gaulanti.” She gasped. “See? I can’t even say the modern-day name of your language.”
“The Don Hekal is acting stranger than a three-headed unicorn,” said Halwyn. “What are you talking about?”
“My name is Charlie.”
“Yes, so your leader said.” Halwyn nodded at me.
“Our leader? Oh, right. I guess I wasn’t awake when our leader told you my name.” Charlie bit her lower lip to keep the laughter at bay as she repeated the title Halwyn apparently had given me.
“I am no leader,” I said, smiling. “My friends are quite capable of leading themselves.”
“And yet,” Halwyn leaned close, “it is you they all look at with awe and hope in their eyes. Even the moonraged, Don—sorry, Charlie. She turned to you when she woke up, and now it is you she is talking to about this language concern of hers.”
“It’s not a concern,” Charlie interjected. “It’s the purest magic of all. How many languages are there in Gwyn Fanon? I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”
“I can’t see how it could be caught, as it is but a name—Halwyn of Crochan, the queen’s loyal servant and cropkeeper. As to the number of languages, I don’t have the faintest clue. The few families on Crochan Island all speak the queen’s Avalonian tongue, of course. Then there are variants up in the north, and maybe a few other tongues in the Dewmas isles. The children of Gwyn Tala have their own, as do many other Changelings. Maybe the queen’s erudites have the number you seek.”
Charlie had stood on the tips of her toes, waiting impatiently for the Goblin to finish talking. “The exact number isn’t relevant. Only the fact that we can understand you. And you, us. We don’t speak this language, or tongue if you like, where we come from. Back on Earth, the languages are in the thousands, and ours would be called Anglanti.” Her eyes, which already shone with excitement, lit up even more as the word flew from her lips. “There is a word for it in this tongue! That’s why I’m able to say it. Don Hekal is the only way these people have to name us.” She gestured at Brendan. “Ruby is a Fae, while these three are Changelings. That isn’t the word we used back on Earth, by the way.”
Jack shook his head. “This is making my brain spin. What is your point, Charlie?”
“My point is,” Charlie began, tears streaming down her bea
ming face, “that the portal has filled our ears and mouths with the tongue of the Avalonians. We think in our own language, but we’re speaking fudging Avalonian, Ru!”
“Wait a minute.” Erica approached the Goblin. “How come Charlie can say fudge?”
Halwyn opened his mouth to reply.
“Never mind that,” I whispered. “She also said Earth. So, it must exist in this tongue.”
The Goblin shrugged. “As it should. After all, that is the realm where the Land of Eternal Sand lies.” It was his turn to stand up. “We could talk about this until the dark morning arrives, but I think it is time for your leader, Ruby, to fulfil her part of our deal.”
Kit changed his position on my lap from curled up one way to curl up the other, his purring uninterrupted by the move.
“I will honour it, of course. But I would like to ask you for a little more help if that’s not too much?”
“Ask first, and I will decide after.”
“My grandparents came through the portal moments before us. Well, it will be awrs now. And they were not alone.”
Halwyn nodded but said nothing.
“I’m scared for my grandmother. She’s not well. An earthly disease is driving her towards death, and fast, I fear. I have to find them, so I can help them before—” I stopped, not knowing how to express my thoughts about Auberon.
“There were seven of them,” Halwyn replied. “I heard a rumble on the north side of the island and went to look. I could not make out who they were, but I would assume your grandparents were among them. One man was carrying another, possibly a woman.”
“You saw them? Why in Nimue’s name didn’t you say something?”
He pulled back. “The Lady’s name should not be taken in vain, young Fae.”
“I’m sorry. But again, why didn’t you tell me about the others?”
“You didn’t ask.”
I sighed. “Fine, but I’ll ask now. Where did they go?”
“The Junipers might know. There’s an outpost only a pancemile from the northern entrance of the cave.”
“Junipers?”
The Goblin blew out a breath. “You really don’t know anything, do you? The queen’s soldiers, the Juniper Greens, are stationed at various outposts and entryways, to keep Auberon’s followers from raiding and pillaging. Not that they—”
“Auberon’s followers?” My stomach made a cartwheel. “He still has followers?” I should have guessed. After all, Nimue had a bunch of loyal, albeit completely bonkers, acolytes back in Perllanafal, a millennium and a half after their—my—kind left this place.
“Of course. Queen Morgana slew only the ones on the battlefields, sparing any who didn’t partake in the war.” He lowered his voice, looking at each and every one of us. “If you ask me, it was a mistake to let all those Northerners live. Now they are free to roam the lands of Mynydd Dewin and the surrounding area, and who knows when they will have gathered enough strength to attack again?”
Now that my father had returned, that might be sooner than the Goblin would like, I thought.
“Back to the ones you saw leave the cave. You said we could ask these Juniper guards. Could you take us there? I promise I’ll not ask more of you, Halwyn of Crochan.”
Jen held a hand up. “One thing first. About the rumble you heard. It seems the party of seven closed the entrance.”
“They did,” Halwyn said. “And I cannot say I’m happy about it. Now I have to go around Rhina’s Peak to get inside. It will take me an extra awr to get to the unsighted roots now. Like I have oodles of awrs to spare. These stumps are not made to run, after all.” He patted his legs. “I will have to ask the sentries for assistance to get the opening sorted. It will cost me an extra sack of greengrains, maybe two.” He grunted. “I should demand the seven pay me back. Two of them are your kin, you said?”
I puffed out a breath, facing Halwyn. “They are, but I can assure you neither of them had anything to do with closing the entrance. That was all on the other five. Now, can you take us to the outpost or not?”
His shoulders slumped. “As it seems I have business with the sentries too, why not? Best we get going straight away, so we get there before star-time is over.”
The six of us, seven counting Kit, followed the Goblin through a narrow tunnel, turning left and right at least twenty times before the air suddenly felt fresh and crisp. Gone was the earthy smell and taste of dust that had become familiar in the cave. Instead, the salty sea breeze filled my lungs. It was as delightful a feeling as drinking ice-cold water after a morning run around campus. Or my house in Chester.
My house.
Halwyn stepped out of the tunnel and Brendan followed next. Before long, we all stood on damp grass and tried to see through the night. I figured the wolves were the only ones able to see past the first twenty or so yards.
“What time is it?” asked Brendan.
“Another two awrs until the star-time has passed,” Halwyn replied. “We should be down by the outpost in half an awr or so. The path is narrow but free of rocks. Still, you should watch your steps on the first two hundred pances or so. Fall to your left, and you might not stop until you hit a rock fifty pances below. No Fae magic can heal you then, Brendan Hekal.”
Halwyn started walking, his short legs moving with impressive speed on the path. Like the seven dwarves—or giants, compared to Halwyn—we followed suit. One after the other. Even the wolves kept their human forms and trotted behind Charlie and me. Jen and Erica whispered something to each other, “foul stench” the only discernible words.
“Sometimes it helps to have a Donnal nose,” I said, giggling both at the joke and the fact that I was unable to use the term for humans that simply didn’t exist in Avalonian yet.
I was speaking Avalonian. It was almost too fantastic to be true. Charlie was right to be excited about it. Inside, my heart was pounding fast and loud, and I attributed it all to this magical fact.
My ancestors’ tongue, which I was sure hadn’t been spoken since the refugees of the war fled to Perllanafal, was flowing from my lips. I couldn’t help but wipe a tear, thinking what Mum would have said, had she known where I was.
As the path kept descending what I figured was the foot of Rhina’s Peak, under which the cave system dwelled, even my human senses picked up the increasing sounds and scents of the sea. Lapping waves crashed against the shore, and the saltiness mixed with the same smell of seaweed that I had got to know—and enjoy—when my father and I had walked on the beach in Perllanafal.
I bumped into Brendan’s back. “Sorry! Didn’t see you had sto—”
“I, Halwyn of Crochan, the queen’s loyal servant and cropkeeper, ask permission to approach.” The Goblin’s voice rolled through the dark night.
There was no reply from the sentries.
“I have a request, for which I will pay half a sack of greengrains.”
“Sneaky fellow,” Charlie whispered behind me. “He’s haggling already.”
But there seemed to be no one willing to respond to the Goblin’s calls, much less negotiate the price for his request.
“Sentries of Her Majesty’s Juniper! I come with—oh, by the Nethers! Hello? Whalliam? Pryke? Anyone awake? I tell you, if the queen hears you are sleeping on her watch, she will—”
“Help!” a voice wheezed. “Help me!”
By instinct, my healing magic started flowing inside me, coursing towards my hands. To my right, a grey shadow flew by. Jen had shifted, and in the darkness, the whiteness of her fur was dampened.
Halwyn and Brendan picked up speed.
“Careful, Brendan,” Charlie said. “Here.” She handed him her phone, the bright flashlight throwing a cone of light on the ground.
The silhouette of a small shack appeared, along with a pile of wood a few yards beyond it. As we approached, a fallen guardhouse also appeared in the dark. A bloodstained leg protruded from the opening, and I hurried to help the sentry. The rest of him lay inside the overturned guardhous
e. Brendan shone the light inside. I had loaded my healing magic into my hands, but as Brendan’s light filled the small space, it became clear I could do nothing for the guard. Where his head had been, only a torn stump of a neck was left. Something stuck out from under his body. A thin veil, almost translucent, held together by a silver framework. It looked like a giant leaf of sorts. I gasped as I realised what it was.
A wing!
The Juniper guard was a Fae.
By the back wall, his head had landed upright, the guard’s wide-open eyes staring lifelessly into the void. Bile rose in my throat, and I turned away in horror and disgust.
“Over here,” Jack shouted.
The area outside the shack was somewhat illuminated by the iPhone’s flashlight, and the damage became apparent. The pile of wood was not meant to keep the sentries warm in the night. It was the remains of three or four boats, all smashed to pieces.
By my father.
Brendan moved quickly, falling to his knees beside a body a few yards down from the shack. He leaned over the injured guard. “Hurry, Ru!”
I crouched next to them, placing my left hand on the soldier’s chest. As I pushed my magic inside him, he opened his eyes and gasped. In a few seconds, he would return to his healthy self.
Or so I thought.
But even ten seconds into my treatment, all the guard did was heave for air. He didn’t respond to the healing at all.
“Leaves of Eternal Sleep,” he whispered between gasps. “Your magic is relieving the pain, and for that, I am grateful. You will not stop me from going to the next life, however. The Sorcerer and his men took the largest boat, and—” He coughed, and a crimson cloud of blood sprayed from his mouth, splattering over Brendan’s hands and arms. My boyfriend responded by lifting the sentry’s head, resting it in his lap.
“Easy, friend,” Brendan whispered. “Go to the next life and be proud of your service to the queen.”