by Paul Cornell
“I was rained on too. Why don’t I have these extra senses? I want my money back.”
“No idea,” said Autumn. “There must be some good reason why they attacked you as well as us.”
“And they went north and might have attacked someone up there,” added Luke.
“But nobody else appeared in the dream world,” said Zoya. “Not while I was there, anyway.”
“Good point,” said Autumn. “If you are a target, we think it’s because you might be able to hurt them, so could we please ask—?”
“No magic powers.”
“Not even with the rain,” said Autumn. “That is weird. But we need to make sure you’re okay. Can you stick with us?”
“If I can bring Jas,” said Zoya, “I’m with you ladies. But what can we do about that twat in dreamland and all these . . . bad elves?”
Lizzie realised that Autumn had been staring over at where the teachers were filling the kettle. “Where,” said Autumn, “is that water coming from?”
* * *
Autumn, going after a sudden new hope with the thought in her head that it might evaporate, quickly found a teacher who was in charge of the school garden, and had an allotment, and knew all about water tables and where the reservoirs were. “Nearest of those,” he said, “is over in Faringdon. We’re connected to the mains running down from there. Nothing to do with the river.”
“So,” said Autumn, feeling very pleased with herself. “We’re not actually trapped.”
“Why?” asked Luke.
“Because the wall hasn’t cut off the pipes underground. So it’s a dome, not a sphere. So if I dig down . . . and I’m guessing the water pipes need maintenance, so they can’t be very deep . . .”
“Do you mean we can get everyone out?”
This was going to be the hard bit. “No. When he wakes up, and I think we should assume he already has, Cummings would notice. His surveillance isn’t great, judging by what Lizzie saw, but it’s good enough to see that. He’d get his boss to send the archers to fire at the escapees. Because yeah, part of his plan does seem about taking the three of us out, but he also seems to want to keep everyone else here. I’m talking about one person sneaking out. Me.”
“And going where?” asked Lizzie.
Autumn pointed at Trill. “You told us your king was the heart and soul of fairies.” She pointed at Lizzie. “You felt the king was there in the dream world. But we can’t get to him there. So I’m going to go into the land of fairy, find his physical form, and wake him up.”
* * *
Lizzie helped the teachers get the remaining children to their parents, though half a dozen were left with all their carers presumably outside the wall and not able to answer calls. Lizzie hoped that was the case, anyway. Those children were going to be looked after here by the staff, and presumably taken home with them at the end of the day. Lizzie had watched these wonderful people do their absolute best to keep things as normal as possible while the impossible had invaded their town. She could hear the sounds of a Pixar movie playing on a screen in the main hall. That was where Zoya had gone to find her daughter.
These people were professionals, though. And even among their number there had been some who weren’t dealing, some whose idea of support was to pile pressure on herself and Autumn. What the people of Lychford thought they deserved . . . well, the extremities of that were something she’d been navigating ever since she came here. A tiny part of her was glad that the locals were going to have to deal with whatever came next. Perhaps it would bring the wisdom that she’d thought the rain would have brought. But that thought was an entirely unworthy one, born of stress and danger and . . . whatever was gnawing away at her.
Autumn had told them she was going to go to the school science lab to prepare a few things for . . . for this incredibly dangerous mission she’d decided she was going on. Now, Lizzie went to find her. She entered without knocking because if she had, Autumn would have yelled at her to go away. There was her friend, busy at the sink. Lizzie took a moment to really look at her. She was mixing some concoction, which had, as usual, put a powerful smell in the air. Only this time that smell was . . . the strongest scent of coffee that Lizzie had ever encountered. And, given her own predilections, that was saying a lot. “Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” said Autumn, not looking round, tolerating her presence.
Lizzie went to sit on a stool. “So you’re going into the land of fairy.”
“Yep.”
“The place that once scared you so badly it changed the course of your career and entire personality.”
“I guess.”
“And you’re going right into the middle of it, to see the king, who was the single biggest reason for how terrifying the experience was last time.”
“Lizzie, if you’re just here to remind me of my fear, I don’t need that, okay?” She still hadn’t looked round.
“You do, because you’ll face it better if you’ve thought about it beforehand. You know that’s true.” Lizzie knew where this was heading, but she couldn’t help it, and the little dismissive noise Autumn made now finally set her off. “And don’t treat me like I’m an amateur who hasn’t been standing right beside you as you’ve dealt with all this shit.”
Which finally made Autumn stop and turn around. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Lizzie put a hand to her own head, immediately regretting her anger. “Sorry. You saved my life. You rescued me. When I was told that was impossible. I don’t have the right to—”
Autumn put down the saucepan she was holding and marched over and embraced her.
Lizzie held on for a long minute.
“What is it?” Autumn finally said. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know.” Lizzie was being as honest as she could be. “I don’t know what it is.”
Autumn paused. Like she had some ideas as to what the problem might be, but didn’t want to share them. “Don’t you?”
“Maybe it’s because you’ve got someone. And it’s been a long time for me. And that’s an awful selfish thought. I really am glad for you. And please stop saying it’s because I’m worried about sex before marriage because my whole belief system is about not being judgmental, whatever a lot of my people are actually like, because we’re all just stupid human beings and please don’t argue with me about that right now.”
“Okay.” Autumn was silent again for a while. Then she said, carefully, “You know me doing this is our only shot?”
“I don’t know that. Neither do you.”
“They’re going to make some sort of bigger move soon. This is our move. This is our chance. I have to take it. I need to be brave. I need to do what needs to be done.”
“At least let me come with you. I’m better than you at being brave.”
“No you’re bloody not.”
“The two of us could do this better.”
“Then who’s going to look after the innocent bystanders when the shit goes down?”
“Damn it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry we’ve been . . .”
“That’s over now. Probably. Or we can deal with it later. Just let me finish making this—” She meant the concoction in the beaker by the sink.
“What is it?”
“Every stimulant I can find, and I’m going to add some from the chemist on my way out of town, packed into a bottle that I’ve enchanted for alarm and emphasis. It’s a wake-up potion for the king.”
“Keep some for me when you come back.”
“No.”
“Just come back.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Lizzie grabbed Autumn’s face and made her look her in the eye. “If it all goes pear-shaped, you run out of there and you get back to me. To us. You promise me.”
She was suddenly on the verge of tears. And so was Autumn. “I promise.”
“I lost you for too long. I was apart from you too long.”
“I promise.”
Lizzie was at least co
nvinced she was going to try. She held her again. “How has Luke reacted to your plan?”
“He thinks he can persuade me not to go. Which is why I’m going to sneak out without telling him.”
“No,” said Lizzie, with the patience of someone who knew she was going to win an argument, “you’re not.”
* * *
From a distance, at the end of a corridor, Lizzie watched that parting play out. Luke made big gestures with his hands. No, absolutely not. Okay, so if she was determined to go, he was going to go with her. Autumn touched him, implored him, held up her bag to show him she was prepared.
“What are they doing?” said a young voice beside Lizzie.
Lizzie looked down to see that Jas, Zoya’s daughter, was standing there. “My friend Autumn is going to do something very brave,” she said. “Her boyfriend doesn’t want her to. He wants to come too. But that wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“She has to go,” said Jas, as if it were the most obvious catchphrase from a beloved storybook.
Zoya poked her head out of a door, saw what was going on, and came over. “Jas, are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
Zoya looked at Lizzie. “Are you okay? Reverend.”
Lizzie wished she’d stop calling her that. The way she said it was a barrier between them, but obviously the background she came from made her say it every time. The worst of both worlds. And she felt they’d already shared more than that. In both worlds. “Jas here was just telling me something that’s true,” she said. And she watched Autumn finally detach herself from Luke, look meaningfully at her for a moment, and then go on her way.
Lizzie sent all her prayers with her.
* * *
Autumn met with Trill at the edge of the school playground. “Thanks,” she said. “I want you to come with me down by the river, under the bridge, and up into the woods. You’re my fairy assassin detector.”
“And I suspect my invisibility to fairies covers those nearby too. So I’m doubly handy. Hey, I could come with you into the land of fairy. I can lead you straight to the throne.”
Autumn really wanted him to, but she shook her head. “I’ll be able to sense the way. I want you back here, letting Lizzie know when there are fairies around. I’ve told her you’ll come to find her at the church.”
“The church?”
“The big pointy building with the bells.”
“Oh. That thing.” Trill, looking uneasy, nodded, and they set off.
* * *
The staff and teachers of the school locked up as quickly as they could and headed for home, taking the children with them that didn’t have anywhere else to go. Lizzie asked Luke, Zoya, and Jas to come back to the Vicarage with her. “I’m trying to reach out with my extra senses,” she said, “to see if I can feel even a slight flutter from any fairies. Trill gave me the same vibes Finn always did, but that was only when I was in the same room with them. At least I know what I’m trying to sense.”
“What does it feel like, to have extra senses?”
“You get used to it,” said Luke. “Handy around the house. Particularly for fixing plumbing.”
“I can always feel something in the distance. And I feel like something good is watching over me.”
“Me too.” Which Lizzie realised had come out sort of wry.
“I didn’t mean . . . I’m not religious.”
“People do feel able to say two things like that back to back, don’t they?”
“Let her off the hook,” said Luke.
“Yes, let me off,” agreed Zoya, who was studying Lizzie like she’d seen her for the first time. “Reverend. So, hey. Why didn’t I get the whole deal with the rain?”
“I think,” said Lizzie, “finding out why you weren’t affected might turn out to be very important.” Her phone buzzed with a text, and she looked at the screen. It took a moment of effort, knowing that a child was within earshot, to moderate what she said next. She scrabbled to hit the phone button.
* * *
Autumn was marching through the forest. She’d left Trill a few minutes before. He’d given her a last long-range forecast and all-clear. So it looked like they were right about this not being a mass invasion. They’d be massing on the border otherwise, right? She was, by her own reckoning, about half a mile from the point where the paths ahead were only perceptible to those with extra senses, where true fairy began. The invisible wall should be a lot closer, and indeed, now she was looking, ahead she could see a line of split and ragged trees.
Her phone rang. The display said it was Lizzie. Autumn had a momentary pang of awkwardness. They’d had such a nice parting, she hoped this wasn’t going to be Lizzie telling her of all the extra reasons she’d thought of why she shouldn’t go. She answered it. “Hi.”
“You have to get out of there.”
“Lizzie, there’s nothing you can tell me—” There was a sound approaching, an enormous sound. What was that? Autumn put a hand over one ear and tried to concentrate on what Lizzie was yelling at her now. “What?” The sound was now getting closer, forcing her to look up. In front of her, she realised, the enormous trunks of the trees were bending, being forced to bow in her direction. As she watched, their branches began to explode like firecrackers.
“The wall!” bellowed Lizzie from the phone. “It’s moving inward!”
Autumn realised that in a few seconds she’d be in danger from flying wood splinters. “Okay, got it!” she yelled, switched off the phone, and ran back the way she came. She stopped, panting, after a hundred paces or so, and looked back. Wait. The wall was moving slowly, seemingly being given pause as it pushed itself against trees and either heaved them over or made their trunks crumble with that weird explosive force it had.
So standing here she had a few minutes.
This . . . this was actually better. Now she didn’t need to go sideways. Just down. She quickly pulled from her bag the camping spade she’d been given by the outdoor goods shop, extended its handle, and started to desperately dig.
* * *
“What’s at the centre of the town?” asked Lizzie, still staring at her phone and trying not to panic. In his text to her, the one that had made her call Autumn, Shaun had said he’d already told the Lychford WhatsApp and Facebook groups about the contracting wall, but she worried that still left literally hundreds of people at risk, in all directions. What happened when the wall started to hit houses?
“The church, of course,” said Zoya. “Isn’t that how it works in Britain too?”
“Oh,” said Lizzie. “Yes, that’s . . . probably true. Okay. Change of plans.”
She found the first in her list of people to call and started sending out the word.
* * *
Jake Tasker was one of the two burly sons of Erica, who was the landlady of the Folly pub, at the edge of town. He was a member of the rugby club, worked behind the bar, there and here, and was also a DJ for hire. He had a way with the crowds and he knew it, unafraid to play the whole of “Bohemian Rhapsody,” yeah, from the start, when the mood was right. At this moment he was sitting at his mum’s kitchen table, exhausted, quickly munching a bacon sandwich he’d thrown together while Mum took her turn with the crowds outside. They’d started using the chalk display boards to communicate with the masses, and now the authorities, the serious authorities, including someone yelling that he was from the Ministry of Defence, were out there. So they were a bit taken aback at what to do. When Jake had left it, Mum was trying to get through to the vicar and the witch to ask one of them to come down here. Jake still couldn’t get his head around the idea that either of those two were the experts about all this. He felt that what the man from the ministry was probably going to reveal was that this was all some military operation gone wrong, some secret weapon that had misfired. All this stuff about invisible arrows . . . well, he didn’t know anyone who’d got shot at. There was a USAF base a few towns away, you sometimes saw the bombers going over, and it was probably summat t
o do with them. That rain had probably been them all being gassed. Mind you, that might not be what anyone was revealing right now. That might take a big lawsuit. He’d argued about this with his elder brother, Nate, who believed in any old shit that drifted into his head, Jake often thought. He was absolutely on for this being magic and elves and ancient powers. Jake had told him to tell it to the dolphins when they showed up, ’cos it couldn’t be long before they got in on this action.
Jake was just taking the first bite of his sandwich when he heard the weird sound from the wall behind him. It was as if it had started singing. It was sustaining a sort of high-pitched warbling. He looked over to the hearth. It was an old building, but he’d lived here all his life and he’d never heard anything like that. He put down his sandwich, went over to the fireplace, and put a hand to it. He could feel a tingling sensation, moving slowly up his arm. Not the whole arm, just a tiny bit, like his arm was moving through a scanner at the airport, though you couldn’t feel those.
That was when his mum and his brother burst in. “Jake, get back!” shouted his mum, “It’s the invisible wall, it’s moving through the house!”
Jake realised that he could feel it on the front of his body now. It washed over his face. It must be a few feet in now, back from the fireplace. He wasn’t afraid, because there was nothing to be afraid of. “It’s all right,” he called. He took an experimental step forward and felt the sensation wash completely over and past him. “I’m through,” he said. “I’m on t’other side.”
His mum and brother looked at each other, not sure they could trust this. “Well, stay there,” said his mum.
“I’ll walk behind it,” said Jake. And began to do so as it crept forward. “It’s not hurting the house, then?”
“No,” said his brother, “it’s gone straight over the stones we put down in the road, but it’s messing up the grass on either side, so I dunno what the difference is.”
“I’m hearing that from all over,” said his mum, looking at her phone. “It’s the same, the houses are fine.”
“And I’m fine,” said Jake. “Maybe we should all just walk through while we can?” He heard another sound from the chimney and turned to look. A cloud of debris had started to drift into the room. “We’d better keep a record of all the damage. So we can get the insurance onto this.”