The Moon Stealers Box Set. Books 1-4 (Fantasy Dystopian Books for Teenagers)

by Tim Flanagan

  Edgar took the opportunity to try and make some sense of Hadwyn’s riddle. He collected as many of the tourist information leaflets from the entrance to the pub as he could carry and spread them out on the floor, cross-checking what he was reading with the riddle written in his note book. Lying on the floor next to him was Ethera, the magical sword given to him by Nimue, The Priestess of Avalon. The indestructible white blade had earlier saved Max from the creature the children had nicknamed a Moon Stealer. The candle light flickered in the draft that came up through the gaps between the floorboards and reflected sparkling dots of light like dancing glitter from the diamond dust imbedded in the metal blade.

  The first leaflet that Edgar had started reading immediately caught his eye. It had the bold heading of “Arthur’s Seat” written on the front and told the history of a group of hills to the east of Edinburgh. It mentioned in the leaflet that Arthur’s Seat was thought to be one of the possible locations for King Arthur’s castle, Camelot; however, Edgar knew from his own experience that this was not true. Reading the leaflet further he came across an old Scottish name for the hill. It used to be called “Àrd-na-Said,” which translated to “Height of Arrows.” Looking back at Hadwyn’s riddle he re-read the beginning:

  ‘Where flights of arrows descend from a height’

  There were similarities between the Scottish name for Arthur’s Seat and the wording of the first line in the riddle. Because the height at the top of Arthur’s Seat was over 250 meters, anything below that could be classed as ‘down’ from there. It seemed likely that Edinburgh was where the Silver Bough was hidden. He read the second line:

  ‘And Stevenson’s treasure is hidden from sight.’

  Edgar wondered what this could mean. They weren’t looking for Stevenson’s treasure. The Silver Bough had orginally belonged to a wise Druid called Arawyn Claremont so why, wondered Edgar, would his brother refer to someone else’s treasure? The name Stevenson must have more relevance than it appeared to at first.

  Although it was getting late, Edgar stayed up as long as his eyes would allow. He scanned through the remaining leaflets trying to understand more about the history and architechture of Edinburgh but in the end he couldn’t stop the tiredness that fell over him like a heavy blanket. He dreamt of the white eye staring out at him through a dark swirling mist, like black ink dispersing in water, before the eye consumed Edgar in a bright blinding light. The next thing he knew he was standing on the edge of a mountain, the wind whipping around and blowing his white hair causing it to stick to the sweat on his face. Suddenly there was a weightless feeling like he was flying, but he was falling down the mountain side, the black stone passing quickly in a blur. He closed his eyes and waited to hit the bottom of the mountain. Then there was total darkness.

  He awoke curled up on a hard wooden floor, leaflets scattered around him and daylight coming through the window.

  Joe and Scarlet were standing beside Edgar and hadn’t noticed that he had woken. They were holding Ethera, Edgar’s sword, and looking closely at the markings along the blade.

  ‘Be careful with that,’ murmured Edgar from the floor.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Joe, placing it carefully back on the floor next to Edgar. The knight walked over to the mattress that Max was still sleeping on and pulled the blanket back to look at his ankle. Not wishing to wake him he gently examined it; thankfully a lot of the redness had dissappeared and there didn’t appear to be any permanent damage.

  ‘Did you stay up last night trying to solve Hadwyn’s riddle?' asked Scarlet looking at the spread of leaflets on the floor and the pool of wax from the burnt out candle.

  ‘Yes, but I didn’t get far,’ he replied rubbing his eyes. ‘All I worked out was that the Silver Bough is probably in Edinburgh. The hills above Edinburgh are often called Arthur’s Seat or Àrd-na-Said as they say in Scotland, which also means Height of Arrows. But I don’t understand the bit about Stevenson's treasure.’

  ‘What about this third line, Amongst the thistles and under the crown?' asked Joe who was reading over Hadwyn’s riddle. ‘The crown could refer to royalty. Does Scotland have a royal family?’

  ‘Not any more. The queen is the head of royalty for all of the British Isles, including Scotland,’ explained Scarlet.

  ‘I found a leaflet about Holyroodhouse Palace,’ said Edgar as he started shuffling the papers in front of him trying to find the right one. ‘The queen stays at the palace when she visits. It’s at the opposite end of the Royal Mile to the castle. Maybe our next clue is there?’

  Joe picked up some leaflets and began to read them. ‘Listen to this: The High Kirk of Edinburgh with its famous crown spire stands on the Royal Mile between Edinburgh Castle and Holyroodhouse Palace. It is home to the Chapel of the Order of the Thistle; Scotland’s company of knights.’

  At this point they all turned round to see Max sitting up on his mattress rubbing his ankle.

  ‘I feel so tired,’ he said dreamily. ‘What’s the Order of the Thistle?’

  ‘As far as I know,’ replied Edgar, ‘the order is made up of the English queen and sixteen Scottish knights and ladies. They are represented by the Thistle, the national flower of Scotland.’

  ‘So it’s a bit like a modern day version of King Arthur and his knights?’

  ‘In a way,’ nodded Edgar.

  ‘So the crown could refer to the spire above the chapel of the Order of the Thistle,’ Scarlet said excitedly. ‘It fits. Where’s the High Kirk of Edinburgh?' she asked Joe who turned the leaflet over and read the title printed on the front cover.

  ‘St Giles’ Cathedral. It looks like its near to the train station we came to yesterday.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Edgar with renewed energy, throwing Max his coat to cover him once again. ‘Let's get some breakfast, then we’re off to the cathedral.

  ‘Can I get some trousers first?' pleaded Max.

  20. The Pathology Report

  Steven and Georgia sat together at a wooden table inside The Fox and Hound tucking into bacon and eggs.

  Yesterday, after discovering that the box of meteorites had been stolen, Steven drove them back to the pub. Georgia was still feeling shaken and hadn’t wanted to be left on her own, so she stayed in Steven’s room. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she had gone straight to sleep leaving Steven sitting quietly at his desk writing his notes about his investigation so far. He then accessed the secure MI6 internet site via the many coded log in pages and drafted an email to Sir Adam. He mentioned Mr McRae’s box of Meteorites that had been stolen, concluding that there was no reason to suspect anything more than an opportunistic car thief. He also wrote about the other meteorites that they had found in the woodland which were now safely stored inside his room. He mentioned the acid style burns on the flesh of the arm in the river. He concluded by highlighting the similarities between what he had heard from Doctor Carter to what had been said in the meeting about the flesh-eating bacteria. Steven suggested that Sir Adam contact Harrogate Mortuary to get the pathology report done as soon as possible. He then clicked send and decided to catch up on some sleep, so made up a bed on the sofa with some extra pillows and sheets he found in the wardrobe.

  By the morning his back was stiff and achy but eating a large breakfast was starting to make him feel better, especially as it was washed down with endless cups of strong black coffee. Georgia also seemed to be feeling better and was eating her second helping of bacon which she had placed inside a soft bread roll together with a splash of tomato sauce.

  ‘Morning, Sergeant Allen,’ said the landlord who doubled up as a waiter this morning.

  ‘Coffee please, Graham,’ he replied as he pulled a chair up to Steven’s table. ‘Do you mind if I join you?' he politely asked Georgia, who shook her head.

  ‘Mr Knight, you obviously know some very well connected people. I had a phone call from Doctor Carter last night; unknowingly he had been assigned two other pathologists to assist him with the examination. By all accounts they
had been sent from London. Colleagues of yours, I presume.’

  He paused, waiting for Steven to respond, but as he didn’t know anything about what Sir Adam had organised he continued to eat his breakfast.

  Sergeant Allen held out a folder for Steven to take. ‘In such a short space of time, I'm sure you can appreciate that it’s not complete yet. We are still searching the river but this report will give you a lot more information about the arm you found. We’ve also identified who it belongs to: Bob King, an unmarried security guard who does the night-shift at the Paper factory further up river from where the arm was found. He failed to arrive for work last night and there are signs of a struggle next to the edge of the river at the back of the factory.’

  Georgia was quiet again, but at least this time she wasn’t shaking.

  Steven opened the report and skipped through the police jargon until he found a section he was interested in. Sergeant Allen sipped his coffee.

  “Outer skin swabbed, paying particular attention to the areas underneath the folds of the skin on the palm of the hand which appear to hold an as yet unidentified substance. Clothing fabric removed and taken for further analysis. Sections of the skin appear to have been melted away, more where the fabric from the shirt-sleeve had not been protecting it. The edge of each hole was raised and uneven. No obvious sign of bites or teeth-marks. General pH tests indicate an overly acidic nature to each wound. Overall skin colour is pale with patches of brown discolouration. Skin slightly swollen. Within each wound the layers of skin were dissolved away to expose the muscles beneath, some of which, from the pitted appearance, have also begun to dissolve. Wounds all at varying depths. Muscles are in a state of early decomposition which appears too quick for the approximate length of time the arm had been in the water. Apart from water, the wounds ooze a smelly, yellow liquid. Bone exposed on two knuckles, also degrading.”

  ‘How long before the results of the samples come back?' asked Steven who was wondering if Mr King’s body had become infected by the alien bacteria whilst in the water, or more worryingly before it even entered the water.

  ‘It could be a week if we’re lucky. It depends on what they’re looking for. Maybe you should ask that question to your colleagues - all samples, together with the arm itself, have been commandeered by MI6 and taken away.’

  ‘Have you found the rest of Mr King’s body?’

  ‘Not yet. We found his wristwatch in the river near the factory and several torn bits of clothing have turned up at various places further downstream. We identified them by the name badge attached to one of them.’

  As Steven and Sergeant Allen were talking, Georgia noticed the landlord pointing in their direction; he seemed to be telling another man who they were. The man was elderly and short with a balding head. He walked towards the table and stood slightly away from them, almost not wanting to be impolite and disturb their conversation.

  Steven became aware of the man, as did Sergeant Allen who stopped talking and turned in his direction.

  ‘Mornin', everyone,’ he said to the three of them. 'Sorry t' interrupt your breakfast,’ he apologised to Georgia in his gentle Scottish accent as she bit into her bacon roll.

  Steven stood politely as he recognised who the man was.

  ‘Mr McRae, how nice to see you again,’ he said.

  ‘Mr Knight, glad y' still here. I don’t know if I’m doin' right by coming t' you or not, but I thought y' may want t' see somethin' else that I found.’

  ‘More meteorites?' asked Steven excitedly, thinking that he could replace the ones that had been stolen, before looking nervously at Sergeant Allen, knowing that he had just given away some information about the investigation he was undertaking, but his full attention seemed to be on Mr McRae and the black bin liner that was hanging by his side. From the way it hung, it was obviously heavy.

  ‘No. Not meteorites, somethin' else. It might be better if we go outside so I can show you.’

  They filed out behind Mr McRae and stood on the grass in front of the pub. He placed the black sack on the ground and picked at the knot. They all crowded around the bag silently waiting for the knot to untangle and the contents to be revealed. Once the bag was untied, he pulled the side of the bag up and something slid out onto the grass.

  There was an overpowering smell of compost from what appeared to be nothing more than a pile of grass cuttings and brown leaves.

  ‘What is it?' asked Sergeant Allen impatiently.

  ‘I was turnin' my compost last night and I found that,’ he pointed at the mess on the grass. ‘Didn’t know it was there 'til it was too late and I saw one of the prongs of my garden fork stickin' through it. It’s some sort of animal I think.’

  Steven knelt down and was now taking a good look at Mr McRae’s deposit. ‘Have we got any gloves in the field kit?' he asked Georgia who nodded and walked across the grass to the car, opened the boot and took out a pair of latex examination gloves from the fabric bag she had been using in the woodland yesterday.

  Steven slipped them onto his hands and began to carefully remove grass and leaves from whatever was in front of him. It felt firm and cold under his hand. He slowly revealed what looked like black flaps of skin. Steven suddenly jumped backwards with a sharp intake of breath.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Georgia who couldn’t see what Steven was looking at.

  ‘It,’ he stuttered. His breathing was shaky, ‘It… it looks like an eye.’

  ‘What do you mean?' said Sergeant Allen as he too crouched down next to Steven.

  ‘It looks like whatever this is has an eye,’ Steven replied, ‘and only one.’

  He reached forward once again and lifted the flap of skin to reveal a single milky white eye which was about the size of a golf ball with no central pupil.

  Georgia cupped her hand to her mouth and let out a small gasp.

  21. St Giles’ Cathedral

  After they had packed up their belongings, Edgar and the children left their attic room and made their way back into the centre of Edinburgh and down the Royal Mile until they came to the front of St Giles’ Cathedral. Although the rain had stopped, there was darkness in the sky that continued to cast a depressing cloud over everything. They had approached the cathedral from the direction of the Castle and could see the crown spire standing proudly above the cathedral building that had been mentioned in the leaflet Max had read. They passed a tall green stained statue and walked up the stone steps to the west entrance. There were two ornate doors, one to let visitors in, the other to let them out, both were dwarfed by the grand archway. Stone carved gargoyles projected their heads from the ledge above the entrance watching their approach.

  Edgar paid their entrance fee and they entered the cathedral in single file. Max appeared to be even more nervous than usual after his close encounter with the Moon Stealer the previous night. As they walked into the enormous space of the cathedral, they were immediately dwarfed by the stone columns that stretched high towards the ceiling before dividing into complicated finger like arches that reaching over to touch other pillars. Long thin colourful banners hung down from each column, decorated with golden winged angels that seemed to trumpet their arrival. Above them hung smaller flags stitched with crosses and crowns, horse heads and stars. At the far end was a large blue stained glass window that towered high over them as they made their way further inside the cathedral. They had not thought about what they were going to do once they had arrived at the cathedral, but they all seemed to gravitate towards the stained glass window, with their heads looking upwards not knowing what their feet were treading on.

  'What are we looking for?' whispered Max to Edgar, scared to break the peacefulness inside the cathedral, but desperate to ask the obvious question.

  'I’m not sure. Maybe we should start in the Thistle Chapel as it’s mentioned in the riddle,' replied Edgar who had noticed a sign pointing them in the direction of a separate chamber.

  Edgar strolled off to his right and the children automatica
lly followed.

  Through another stone archway they entered a much smaller room. Along the lengths of the room were elaborately decorated wooden seats with highly detailed canopies that looked like crowns stretching to the ceiling. On each backrest was the coat of arms of the knight that the seat belonged to, like a name badge. On the ceiling the stone work was so fine that it looked like a fragile veil of lace that hung from each corner. The grey stone detail seemed to be alive with thistles in bloom and gold painted angels holding shields.

  Once again, all they could do was look in amazement at the carvings of animals and ornate paintings on some of the wooden panels. Edgar went over to the first chair and started looking at each coat of arms in turn. Some had more shields on than others, but there were none that he recognised. Thick wooden carvings projected from the sides of the room and towered above where the knights' heads would have been. On top of each of these was a carved painted animal. At the far end was a separate seat that bore the British royal coat of arms.

  'This must be where the King or Queen of England would sit,' Joe gestured to the large chair at the far end which was more prominent than any of the others.

  'Do you see anything to do with Hadwyn in here?' asked Max.

  'No. I don’t even recognise any of the coats of arms that are on the chairs,' Edgar replied with a sad shake of his head.

  Scarlet had been silent up till now. She had been thinking hard about the meaning of the words in the riddle. 'The Thistle is only referred to in the third line of the riddle,' she said. 'What about the second line, And Stevenson's treasure is hidden from sight, maybe that’s the clue that we should be looking for?'

  'But who is Stevenson?' asked Joe.

  'I’ve been thinking about that and I have an idea. At school last year we had to do a project for English Literature about a famous author. My dad used to read Treasure Island to me when I was younger, so I chose its author for my project. His name was Robert Louis Stevenson and he’s a Scotsman. What if the line in the riddle refers to Treasure Island, so Stevenson’s treasure could be a book?'