He turned to Daniel and Freya. “I would like to inspect Gad’s body myself.”
“No, Ecgbryt,” Freya urged. “You have to help us get out of here first. There might still be yfelgopes around here.”
“Very well,” Ecgbryt said. “Which way did you think was the passage out?”
7
Swi?gar’s body, though it would have been almost cripplingly heavy to anyone else, did not slow Ecgbryt down much at all. He walked silently behind Daniel and Freya as they moved down the new passage, which wound on with many curves and corners but was brick and piping all the way along.
This was the way that Gad had directed Freya to go, and she prayed that it wouldn’t be another trap. The possibility that it was actually the way home, however, pulled her onwards, walking quickly ahead of the other two, pausing to wait for them at the turns so that they wouldn’t lose sight of her. At one corner she paused long enough to talk to them.
“Do you see something up ahead?” Freya asked.
“I can’t tell. Yeah, maybe. Something shining.”
As they went farther, Daniel could start to see the ghostly image of a wall in the distance. “We’re almost there,” said Freya.
They kept their feet and moved onwards. White light was streaming past the wall-daylight, Freya realised with awe. For the first time in a month or more, they were seeing daylight, projected onto the brick wall of the corridor.
They rounded the corner and had to stop, their eyes dazzled by the light that fell through a large grille. They both gasped and shielded their eyes.
“The sun . . . ,” said Freya, wiping tears off her cheeks.
“It hurts!” said Daniel, surprised.
Ecgbryt flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. “I have not seen the sun in over one thousand years. I do not remember that it stung so.”
They moved forward, out of the direct path of the light, and stared up through the grille.
“Can you see anything?”
Daniel jumped up and down a couple of times to try to get a better view. “No, just the sky . . .”
“Feel that fresh air.”
They stayed underneath the grille for several short seconds, fixated, before their fears pricked them onwards.
“Come on,” Freya said. “It can’t be far now.”
But the next turning revealed a plain brick wall and nothing else.
They stared at it blankly and it stared back at them, just as blankly.
“It’s like a bad joke,” Daniel said.
Freya was in turmoil. Gad had lied to her. She had wanted to believe in escape so badly; she had wanted to put this terrible world and all that had happened to them far, far behind her. But now-now there was no telling what else they’d have to go through in order to get back home again.
“Maybe we can break through the grate,” Freya said. “Maybe we can call out to some-”
A high, piercing scream cut through the air.
“Yfelgopes,” Ecgbryt said. “We need to turn around and prepare ourselves. No good can come from fighting in a corner.”
“Wait,” said Daniel. “Where’s the mortar?”
“What?”
“There’s no mortar between the bricks. It’s just a pile of stacked bricks. I think we can break it down.”
Skittering footsteps and scraping clatter was heard from down the zigzagging corridor. Ecgbryt set Swi?gar’s body down, propping it against the wall. He unslung his shield from his back and hefted his axe. He hunkered down, ready to meet any attackers.
“Be mindful,” Ecgbryt said. “I shall protect you as best I can, but I may not be able to halt them all.”
Daniel drew his sword and shoved its point in between the crack of two bricks. It slipped in easily enough, all the way down the long tip. He wriggled it gently from side to side, causing the wall to bulge towards him. “It’s coming . . . !”
He pulled his sword back out, and with it, a stream of bricks and damp soil. He felt a hand on his arm and he was yanked backwards sharply, losing his balance and falling lengthways on the ground as the large old bricks fell to a crashing heap at his feet.
Freya was lying beside him. “Thanks,” he said, picking himself up. Dust was billowing around them. The upper half of the wall had given way, turning into a large pile of bricks and dirt. Behind the wall was . . . more dirt. Dark, brown, muddy earth.
“No,” Freya said quietly, despair finally sinking into her heart.
“It’s not fair.”
“Never mind, Freya,” Daniel said consolingly. “We’ll find-”
“Hold on,” said Freya, climbing forward on the dirt heap. “I can see light.”
“What?”
“Up through here . . . it’s-” She thrust her arm into the dirt and pulled. A small clump of mud and grass came with it, revealing a dim blue corner of sky. “Hurry, help me!”
They dumped their packs and leapt forward, clawing clods of dirt away. Freya’s fingers dug into a mesh of fine white fibers, which turned out to be the roots of grass that hung like a curtain in front of her. She started ripping through it, tearing it apart as much as she could.
“Ecgbryt,” Daniel said, turning to the knight who still stood, weapons at the ready. “Come on, help us!”
“Not today, young Daniel, young Freya. This is where our paths part.”
Daniel also stopped. “What? Why?”
“Your work under the skin of the earth may be finished, but mine is not. I must toil in the darkness awhile longer yet.”
“No, Ecgbryt-” Freya moaned, the image of Gad stabbing Swi?gar played over in her head. “If you stay here-” she choked.
“I’m not leaving!” Daniel exclaimed. “Ecgbryt, I want to stay with you.”
“Daniel, you can’t-”
“Shut up, Freya, this was always the plan. I was going to help you get home and then stay myself. I want to be a knight. I want to destroy evil!”
“Daniel, that’s not-”
“I hate the world. Hate it! I’m not going back! I refuse!”
Ecgbryt knelt in front of Daniel.
“You must go,” he said. “You do not belong here.”
Those words cut Daniel to the heart. “Don’t say that.”
“I would not want you here.”
“I don’t care,” Daniel said, eyes hot with tears. “I want me here.”
Just then, the first of the yfelgopes rounded the corner at high speed, howling at them. Ecgbryt rose and with a swift motion brought his axe up and into its jaw.
“Go!” Ecgbryt commanded them.
Daniel drew his sword and went to stand near Ecgbryt. “You better hurry, Freya.”
Freya looked beseechingly at Ecgbryt, who nodded at her and then turned his back.
Gritting her teeth, Freya dug up towards the light. She pushed with her legs and pulled herself forward just as a shower of loose dirt and pebbles fell upon her head. She was completely buried except for her forearms and ankles. She couldn’t move her legs enough to kick herself forward, nor could she move her shoulders to pull herself out. Worse, she couldn’t breathe-cool, damp earth completely covered her face. She flailed her arms as much as she could, trying to find something to grab, but found nothing.
Twisting, turning, and scrunching herself together and thrusting herself forward like an inchworm, she finally managed to get her head and shoulders out into the open air and blinding light. Her arms were next and then the rest.
She stood, blinking. Although bright to Freya, the sky showed it was only evening. She was in a field with a small clump of trees nearby and a large stone building just beyond that. She looked down at her feet on the ground and the loose earth that she had climbed through. She could hear nothing but the sound of the birds in the distance-no sound from Daniel or Ecgbryt.
And then with a lurch, the ground beneath her collapsed along the line of the corridor they had been walking down. It made an almost indescribable sound-a sort of muffled, basso profundo crump.
&nb
sp; She watched the caved-in earth for any further movement and spied something pale and wriggling frantically. It was Daniel’s arm.
Fast as a shot, Freya was over there and pulling at him with all her might. She wasn’t strong enough to shift him much at first, so she started desperately to dig and claw away the dirt around him.
She managed to uncover his face-she had almost been standing on it-which allowed him to breathe, with huge, grateful gasps, and from there they worked together to extract him completely.
“Ecgbryt-” was his first word, still spitting dirt from his lips.
“Ecgbryt-”
“Is he still down there?” Freya asked, alarmed. She wasn’t sure she had the strength to dig again. “Where do you think-?”
“No-” Daniel sputtered. “He pushed me. He pushed me away. When the walls started caving in . . . he could have pulled me towards him instead.”
“Maybe not, maybe . . .”
As Freya searched for words, Daniel shook his head. “I saw his face, his eyes. He didn’t want me with him. He didn’t want me.”
“Excuse me,” came a voice from behind them. “But who might you be?”
They spun around and found a boy, a tall, lanky teenager with dusty-brown hair, staring at them in amazement. “Where did you come from?”
“Freya,” Daniel whispered, “what do we do now?”
EPILOGUES
1
Now . . .
“So, Freya-where do we go?” Daniel asked, studying the board that had the train timetable posted on it.
“It looks like we take . . . this one, here,” said Freya. “That’s the village that the church is in, at least. We’ll have to ask around after that.” They stood, still staring at the map, both thinking the same thing. “I hope it works,” Freya said, voicing the thought.
“The knights had to negotiate a labyrinth just to get to Ni?ergeard in the first place, remember?”
“Well, we’ll just have to see. It may be a moot point anyway- we may not be able to get under the arch.”
“We’ll manage it somehow,” Daniel said. “The other option I see is to head back up to Scotland and try to find where we came out. We’d have to navigate the Wild Caves again, which may be hard, but still possible . . .”
Daniel looked at the clock underneath the departures board.
“We’ve got about forty minutes. Shall I grab some food for us?”
Freya nodded and gave him some money. “I’ll be on the platform,” she said. “Get me a coffee as well.”
Freya stepped through the automatic doors and found an empty bench. She sat and bent over, putting her head in her hands.
She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples, still not quite believing that she was about to do what they were doing-going back to Ni?ergeard. All the years of her life from now to the last time she was there were about trying to put it behind her-literally and figuratively.
And if it didn’t work? She’d go back home. After seeing the date, she’d found that she’d been under Stowe’s influence for over a week. No doubt she’d been reported missing. If, that is, she was even enrolled at Oxford University. She realised now that she wasn’t sure where Stowe’s enchantments started and where they ended. It was possible that every tutorial that she’d had with him, and every other student she’d shared them with, had been illusions.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the dreadful thought from her mind. It’d be worth getting in contact with her parents somehow, though. She just couldn’t think of a way to do it without jeopardising their mission-what she’d come to think of as her mission. Everything was traceable these days, and they were probably already on a dozen CCTV recordings, although Daniel had, he’d said, taken her along routes where there was less risk of that.
How and why he’d come to consider and accommodate for that, she meant to ask him . . .
“Excuse me, miss?” a female voice asked.
Freya looked up, squinting at an officious-looking form silhouetted against the sunlight. She raised a hand to shield her eyes.
“Yes?”
“Are you Freya Reynolds?”
Her eyes fell upon a badge that read Thames Valley Police. “Um, no, sorry, I’m not. Sorry.”
The policewoman nodded. “Could you step this way, please?” She held up an arm, indicating the station forecourt.
“Um, what’s this about, please?”
“Step this way, if you don’t mind.”
“I’m waiting for someone, and our train will be here soon.”
“I understand. Step this way.”
No options left to her, Freya stood with legs that shook like jelly. It would be a mistake to say too much without knowing what the police knew. She had to keep her story-whatever that would be- simple and opaque. It would be work, but she had spent most of her life keeping secrets. The trick was to always keep a few things in reserve, so it seemed like all her lies had been broken through when it was really just a single layer of them. If need be, she would throw them Stowe and the abduction. She would have to rewrite that, however, but she was certain that she could play the traumatised victim, in shock after her abduction, who was irrationally trying to escape to anywhere. It didn’t have to make sense-she just had to stick to it.
She thought all of this in just the few steps it took to get back into Oxford’s main terminal building.
Once inside, though, she stopped and drew a breath, trying to hide the plunging feeling that she felt in her stomach.
Daniel was standing in the middle of the forecourt flanked by two security guards, another jacketed policeman, and another, younger man in a cheap grey suit and short, military haircut-a police detective straight from TV. He was standing next to a man in a white shirt and tie with a nervous look on his face. Daniel wore a placid, resigned expression, but his clothes and hair were ruffled, showing signs of a struggle. His hands were behind his back, presumably handcuffed.
Freya felt the policewoman at her side grip her arm just under the armpit and at her elbow.
“What’s this about?” she asked.
“Right this way.”
“Who’s that? I don’t know him.”
The man in the cheap suit turned to the nervous man in the necktie. “Is there a place we could talk in private?”
The man, his eyes wide and blinking at Daniel and Freya, nodded and turned. They followed him to a door marked Staff Only.
This led them to a narrow corridor with many doors branching off. The nervous man opened one of them using a key. The detective put a hand on his shoulder. “It may be a little crowded in there,” he said, with a slight Scottish lilt. “You all better wait outside. I’ll call when I need you again. You two,” he said, indicating Daniel and Freya, “inside, if you please.”
Exchanging a glance, they entered the room, which was mostly bare except for a stack of chairs and two tables, one upended onto the other. A coffee vending machine that also advertised soup leaned dusty and in disrepair against the committee grey wall. All of this was lit by two luminous strip lights.
The detective pulled a couple chairs off the stack and placed them before Daniel and Freya. “Please, take a seat,” he said, taking a chair for himself.
“It’s hard to sit with my hands cuffed,” Daniel said.
“Don’t be a baby,” the detective said. Daniel sat.
“Isn’t this odd?” the detective asked. “All these sorts of buildings have odd little rooms like this. Would’ve been an office, in more prosperous times, or more likely a break room for the ticket tellers. But money gets tight, ticket telling becomes automated, and the room is forgotten about. I blame the Tories. Socialism is a small price to pay to keep everyone fed. What use is the free market economy if children go hungry? Economists don’t know a thing about economy. Economy is feeding three children on the dole.” He sniffed and looked around him. “Funny thing is, they can’t even use this space for storage. Regulations only allot a certain percentage of space for s
torage and janitorial. If they wanted more space to store things, they’d have to build an extension or get an act of parliament. Isn’t that mad?”
Daniel and Freya just sat looking at him blankly, Daniel sitting forward slightly in his chair.
“Sorry,” the presumed detective said. “I do tend to rattle on when I get nervous. Gotta bit of Irish in me. Do you two still not recognise me?”
They stared harder at him.
“Are you a . . . detective, or something?” Freya asked, his face not even vaguely familiar.
“Ah, no, there you have me. I’m not a detective, but then I never said I was. But I am a policeman. Just a little outside of my jurisdiction. Ha, that sounded very Hollywood. But seriously . . . ,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket. He produced a flat black wallet and showed them the silver badge that displayed a thistle, which was clipped to the outside. “Here’s my badge and my ID, which is going to give the game away, unless you have any more guesses.”
He seemed to want an answer, so Freya shook her head.
The “detective” flipped open the wallet and held his identification card up close to them. They peered forward and read his name. “Think back, about eight years ago . . .”
“Alex Simpson,” Daniel said. “Yes . . . yes! Of course! You!”
“Aye! I only bloody found you, didn’t I? Wandering in our backfields, covered in dirt . . . the famous lost English schoolchildren. We all had to sit through a forty-five minute talk by a policeman about stranger awareness because of you two. I wasn’t much older than you, so I’m not hurt that you didn’t recognise me.”
“But what are you doing here?” Freya asked.
“Been looking for the two of you, haven’t I? And it’s-here, Daniel, stand up; I can take those off of you now.” He fished a key ring out of his pocket and unlocked Daniel’s handcuffs. “Next time an officer of the law asks for a word, don’t take a swing at him, alright? As I was saying, it’s been bloody hard tracking you both down. Daniel, you were off the grid, naturally, but, Freya, you were in the system, but unlocatable. A week we’ve been hunting for you. I’ve managed to keep it quiet, but your parents are beside themselves. What happened to you?”
The Realms Thereunder aet-1 Page 35