She leaned one hand on the mantelpiece and a bubbling sound interrupted her thoughts. The roses in a vase next to her hand were wilting while the water they stood in boiled steadily. Quickly she looked around, glad that she was alone. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her mind, and the bubbling gradually disappeared. She had to stop doing things like that. One day she would give herself away.
She slipped out of the house half an hour before sunset and walked up Beacon Way. Other figures loomed out of the mist, heading in the same direction, but no one spoke. The mist thinned right after the last house and finally she could see the dark cliffs of Skellmore Edge – a rocky plateau that stretched for several miles. As she climbed the steep slope, a faint wordless singing began somewhere to the left, and her skin prickled. The newly formed faerie ring must be over there. She suddenly wondered exactly how this power surge from the ring was going to work.
Reaching the top, she remembered to avoid the giant footprints carved into the rock. There was a legend that said they were the footprints of a Shadow faerie who fought a battle here decades ago.
The flat hilltop was covered with faeries split into their tribe groups and some of them were already in faerie form. Many of the Greytails were prowling up and down. Tom Lionhart earned stern words from the Thorn tribe when he strayed too close to them. Claudia’s mum, Mrs Lionhart, stood at the centre of the Greytails, where she radiated a fierce authority despite being so small. Claudia was hovering just above the ground, her amber wings moving like a dragonfly’s. The Thorns stood a short distance from the other tribes, none of them moving or speaking. Laney glanced at Mr Thornbeam and thought his face looked as if it was carved from stone.
The Mists were there too, standing close together as they murmured and cast looks at the other tribes. Now and then one would rise into the air in one smooth movement and then gently float back to the ground. Only Joe Fenworth smiled when he saw Laney; the others glared at her and resumed their furious whispering. Laney kept her head turned away. They needn’t think she wanted to be with them – that was the last thing she wanted. She made for the far side of the plateau, hoping to find a place where she could stand alone and unseen. But Frogley left the Mist group and blocked her path. He frowned at her over the top of his half-moon spectacles. “This is a tribe event.” He kept his voice low but his bony fingers were clenched. “It’s only meant for those belonging to a tribe.”
“I’m just…” Laney pointed to an empty part of the hilltop. She wanted to explain that she wasn’t trying to stand with the other Mists but the words stuck in her throat. She tried to skirt round the Elder but Frogley grabbed her wrist. Instantly her hands grew hot. “You can’t stop me being here,” she hissed.
Frogley’s eyes bulged but he let go of her arm.
“I see the Mist tribe are continuing their tradition for tribal unity,” said Mrs Lionhart sharply. “Perhaps we could watch Saturn Rising in peace? There’s only a few minutes to go now.” She raised her arm towards the western horizon.
“Mind your own business!” muttered Frogley, but he let Laney pass. Most of the Mists ignored her, but Laney caught sight of Simon’s shocked face. Obviously her dad hadn’t told his workmate how bad things had got at her last training session.
She stumbled, knocking into someone. “Sorry,” she mumbled, before realising she’d walked into Jessie. The girls’ eyes met before Jessie turned away. Laney carried on, confused. She’d expected to see something else – triumph maybe – but Jessie just looked worried. She glanced back. Jessie’s mum was holding on to her daughter with a scrawny arm, her bedraggled hair hanging over her thin shoulders.
“Stand up, Mum,” whispered Jessie. “Just for a few minutes.” Her mum tried to straighten before slumping against her daughter again.
Laney found an empty place on the hilltop behind the motionless Thorns. The countryside below glowed orange in the light of the setting sun. Little fields spread out in a rectangular pattern, split up by the ribbon-like roads. A patch of mist hung over Skellmore, and smaller patches further afield marked where Gillforth and Pyton lay.
Laney scanned the tribes and swallowed, wrapping her arms round herself to keep off the cold evening air. She felt a movement at her elbow and Fletcher was there.
“Won’t your tribe mind you standing with me?” whispered Laney.
Fletcher shrugged. “Not sure I care right now.”
Laney flicked a look at where the Thorns were standing as still as statues. Two figures were missing. “Gwen and Stingwood aren’t here.”
“Stingwood told the tribe that he would stay near a faerie ring in Hobbin Forest. He said he didn’t have the time to come up here,” said Fletcher in a low voice. “Gwen must be in her house.”
Laney thought of Gwen all alone, fighting the memory spell, and stifled a shiver.
“As soon as this is over, we must go straight to the forest to get the you-know-what,” muttered Fletcher.
Laney nodded.
The lowest edge of the sun touched the horizon. The tribes fell silent and Laney found that she was holding her breath. Then voices came from below and two strangers climbed up on to the Edge. The man and woman moved with the unmistakable air of Mists, and their short fair hair and identical features made them look like brother and sister. Frogley started forwards and clasped hands with both the visitors. “We didn’t know you were coming! Is anything wrong? I mean, it’s a great honour to have you here—”
“Our predictions told us that your region will have a particularly strong yield from the rings,” said the woman. “We have come to enjoy the advantage of your good fortune. Is this the closest one?” She pointed down the slope.
“Yes, just over here.” Frogley led her past the Thorns. “This ring formed very recently and we hope the updraught will allow us all to benefit from a strong boost of magic.” He frowned at the silent Thorns, as if they were in the way.
Laney looked over the cliff edge. She could hear the faint singing of the faerie ring again. This time there were words inside the song, words that told that a great wonder was approaching. Laney hunched her shoulders. She didn’t know if she could trust a faerie ring completely. She had once crept close to a different ring and it had lured her inwards, promising her a better life beyond.
“Quiet, everyone, please!” called Mrs Lionhart.
“I’m afraid the Greytails here are incredibly bossy,” Frogley complained loudly to the Mist visitors. “They find it quite impossible to get along with other tribes.”
“We are fortunate not to have any in Longstone,” replied the Mist woman.
Tom Lionhart lunged at Frogley but the other Greytails stopped him. There was a deep rumbling from the Thorns and a hush dropped over the hilltop as everyone focused on the sunset. Laney found the sun too bright to gaze at so she just glanced at it every few seconds. It dropped to halfway, making a fiery semicircle on the western horizon. The singing from the faerie ring grew shriller and Laney thought she could hear someone calling her name.
Around her, those Mists and Greytails still in human form changed to faerie. She closed her eyes for a moment and switched form too. Behind the setting sun rose a pale dot that was hardly visible at first. The sun dipped further until it was just a blazing line of gold. Laney strained her eyes. Was that Saturn behind it? She’d only seen the planet on a poster at school and she knew it would look tiny as it was such a vast distance away. Any humans scanning the horizon might only see it through a telescope but faerie eyes were stronger.
The sun plunged below the skyline and the dot came into focus – a pale-yellow globe circled by its rings of dust and ice. The song from the faerie ring grew more intense, spinning across the hilltop like a whirlpool of noise. Saturn climbed steadily into the sky and then Laney felt it – a rush of power flowing upwards from the ring. It filled her eyes and throat, and made her wings pulse faster.
The power grew in waves and Laney saw that the wings of the nearest Mists were moving faster too. Fletcher
, standing beside her, was still in human form. None of the Thorns had switched to faerie form, remaining stiffly in their human bodies. Currents of air swirled around the hilltop and this seemed to increase the tumbling motion of the ring song.
Little by little, the rush of power subsided and Saturn carried on rising. Many of the younger faeries whizzed through the air, pleased with their boost of power. The Greytails chatted and laughed with each other, and began testing out the new strength of their power by summoning creatures. Soon flocks of crows circled the hilltop and foxes gambolled in the field below.
Mr Lionhart held out his arm for a barn owl to perch on.
“Let’s leave them to their zoo,” Frogley said sneeringly to the other Mists. “We have better things to spend our time on.”
With a great flourish, the Mist tribe rose into the air together. They were probably off to do some lake flying, Laney thought bitterly.
“What about her? Isn’t she coming?” The fair-haired Mist woman pointed at Laney. “She seems to be a Mist.”
“No, she’s not a tribe member.” Frogley muttered something else and Laney caught the words “bad egg”. Frogley tried to fly on, but the Mist woman swept down to Laney.
“Rivers,” she said.
“Sorry?” Laney said, surprised.
“You look like a man I used to know, Robert Rivers – are you related?” she said. “You must be.”
“He’s my dad,” said Laney.
“Is he here? And your mother too?” The woman’s eyes swept over the Mists. “I don’t think he married a Longstone girl. What’s your mother’s name?”
With the Mist woman’s eyes on her, Laney felt she had to answer. “She was Cordelia Brightsea.”
“Brightsea? I’ve never heard of that family. Did she come from somewhere near Longstone?”
Laney flushed, not wanting to admit that she didn’t know.
“We should go right away,” Frogley murmured to the woman. “We want to make the best of the evening.”
With an impatient shrug, the woman flew off with Frogley and the other Mists. Cathy and Leah swooped away without even looking at Laney. Jessie managed to help her mum into the air and they flew off after the others.
The Greytails returned to human form and prowled back down the hillside. Tom rushed ahead as if he was scouting the landscape and looking for prey.
“Can you believe that Mist woman?” hissed Laney to Fletcher. “You don’t just come up to someone and demand to know about their family. Fletch?” He was standing stiffly, his arms by his side. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” He moved his lips woodenly.
Laney put a hand on his arm. “Hey! Feel those muscles. Have you been working out?” she joked, but he didn’t reply. She noticed that none of the other Thorns were moving either.
“What’s up with him?” Claudia sprang to Fletcher’s side, brimming with energy. She knocked on his forehead. “Come on – don’t be an old stick in the mud!”
“Get off me!” said Fletcher stiffly. Then he seemed to wake up a little. “We need to get moving.”
Claudia rolled her eyes extravagantly. “Yeah! Sorry if we’re slowing you down.”
With an effort, Fletcher changed to faerie form. “Straight to the forest then.”
Laney took off behind the other two, glancing back at the Edge where the Thorns had begun moving rigidly towards the path that led back to Skellmore. How could they look so stiff and strange after all that energy had poured into them from the faerie ring? It looked as if Saturn Rising hadn’t given them any power at all.
They flew west as darkness fell and the moon appeared, crossing the main road that led to Pennington before looping round towards Hobbin Forest. Fletcher plunged down into the trees. Hovering beside a large oak, he started pulling strands of foliage away from the trunk.
“Mistletoe,” he said, passing some to Laney.
They each took a bundle of the stringy plant down to the ground. Laney rubbed a scratch on her arm. “These trees grow thicker every time I come here.”
“And thornier – look!” Claudia pointed at a cluster of thorns on an oak tree branch.
“Oaks aren’t supposed to have thorns on them,” said Laney. “Hey, Fletcher?”
But Fletcher had already moved on and they had to hurry to catch up with him. He stopped at last and pointed through the deepening twilight. “Here’s the silver birch avenue, where the Avalon project opens. Time to test out the mistletoe – our passport inside!” His eyes gleamed. Laney thought they flashed green for a second, but when she looked again they were grey with gold rings around the pupils, same as usual.
“Are you sure you have enough power?” she said, thinking how stiff and strange the Thorns had appeared after Saturn Rising.
“Yeah, I reckon so.” Fletcher walked down the silver birch avenue.
“Laney!” Claudia clutched her arm. “Look behind you.”
Hairy creatures scuffled through the gloomy clearing. “Hobgobbits,” said Laney. “Except they’re—”
“Bigger, hairier and meaner,” finished Claudia.
The creatures turned at the sound of her voice, baring rows of sharp white teeth that glinted through the darkness. Laney and Claudia sprinted down the birch avenue after Fletcher.
“Hobgobbits – coming!” Laney gasped, nearly tripping over her mistletoe.
“They won’t bother us here.” Fletcher didn’t even turn to look at the creatures. His gaze was fixed on the invisible wall ahead. “Are you ready?” He wound the strands of mistletoe around his arms and began walking with his palms facing forwards. His face froze in a look of concentration and a cloudy circle opened in the air. “You go through,” he said. “I’ll hold it open.”
Laney felt around for the edge of the invisible wall, managing to find it and climb through. Claudia leapt through after her. Fletcher followed them, keeping his hand carefully on the gap and as he let his arm fall the cloudy hole disappeared behind them. The Avalon project was just as beautiful at night as it had been in the daytime. The landscape was lit up in silver by the full moon and the pale glow from groups of flying sprites.
“Avalon.” Fletcher’s face shone. “Home to the Wildwood Arrow.”
“Don’t go all poetic on us,” said Claudia.
Laney gazed around. Privately she thought a bit of poetry fitted the place perfectly. You couldn’t even call it countryside. It was nature, pure and simple. Nature as it would have been without people. Meadows of flowers covered gentle curving hills. In the centre rose a towering rocky outcrop crowned with more silver birches. “Does Stingwood want all the Thorns to come and live here?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Fletcher’s face was calm and still. “But I know I’d live here.”
“It’s nice,” said Claudia, “but it just seems wrong without any animals.”
Laney knew what she meant.
Fletcher spread his wings and glided upwards.
“Where are you going?” said Laney.
“To Spine Tree Ridge,” he called back, flying towards the rocky outcrop.
The girls soared upwards too and Claudia swooped close, saying into Laney’s ear, “We should watch out for Stingwood. I bet he’s here somewhere.”
As they flew closer to Spine Tree Ridge, Laney could feel the air buzzing with power. “The arrow has to be here, giving out all this energy,” she told Claudia. “And Stingwood must know that.”
Claudia looked doubtful. “If he knew he’d found the Myrical, wouldn’t he have told the other Thorns?”
Fletcher stopped short in the air and Laney had to throw herself sideways to avoid hitting him. He plunged into the trees growing on the rocky outcrop, flying in and out of them as if he was following a trail.
“I’ve seen dogs do that,” Claudia grinned. “Not while flying, obviously.”
“It’s here!” Fletcher put his hand on the trunk of a silver birch.
“Really? You mean the arrow’s inside the tree?” La
ney flew down and touched the smooth white bark. “I can’t see anything different about it.”
“It’s well hidden,” said Fletcher. “It looks like there was a concealment spell but it’s worn away over time. Stingwood must have put magic there to stop other people finding the Myrical.”
“Go on then! Grab it.” Claudia looked round nervously. “And then we can get out of here.”
Fletcher put his palm on the tree and frowned. “I don’t know if I can … no, wait!” He pulled with his thumb and forefinger, drawing a beautiful arrow with a shining silver tip out of the tree.
“Wow! It’s almost like it was meant to be you that got it out,” said Laney. “Like in a legend or something – like King Arthur! You know, with the sword in the stone.”
“It’s not really like King Arthur, because he was a Kestrel faerie,” said Claudia.
Laney rolled her eyes. “Yeah, very funny!”
Claudia looked offended. “He was! King Arthur was a Kestrel. Kestrels always fancy themselves as leaders.”
Fletcher admired the shape of the arrow. “My dad said in the olden days we used to hunt with arrows like these and that’s why they used one to hold the essence of our tribe.”
“Can I?” Laney reached for the arrow.
Fletcher frowned. “You can’t hold it.”
“It’s OK. I’ll only touch it for a second.” Her fingertips brushed along the smooth wood, stopping at the feathers on the fletching. The moonlight dimmed. The trunk of the silver birch turned black and its branches twisted into claws. Laney whipped her hand away and the tree went back to normal. “What was that?” Her heart pounded.
“What was what?” said Fletcher.
“I don’t know.” Laney stared at the arrow. “It was bad. We should go.”
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