The Boy in the Dark

by June Wilson

  “Sit yourselves down and I’ll make some tea. You’ll be fair frozen after that, Hilderinc or not.”

  Alice sat down gratefully. She felt slightly nauseous and out of kilter. She didn’t know what it was like to feel drunk, but she suspected it was something like this. And Toby and Josh hadn’t said a word, so they probably felt the same. She reached for Toby’s hand across the table and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

  “Still glad you came?” she whispered.

  “Can I tell you tomorrow?” Toby managed a smile.

  “What about you Josh?” She looked across at her friend, who was sprawled across one chair, feet up on another. But he’d already fallen asleep and was snoring gently.

  “Poor lamb. Tired and not surprising neither,” Martha said, setting a massive teapot on the table and a plate of scones. “Now get this down you. It will warm you up.”

  Alice had never heard Josh described as a lamb before but thought it kind of suited him. And it was a shame he was missing the tea. It was strong and wonderfully sweet. Even Toby drank it without protest, even though he never touched it at home. As for the scones, they were best she’d ever tasted.

  “Feeling better now? Good.” Martha drained her own tea and looked at them curiously. “I’ve never seen young Hilderinc before,” she said. “You don’t look like Stanor.”

  “That’s because we’re not Hilderinc,” Toby said. “We’re part human, like you. Or at least I am.”

  He gave Alice an apologetic look but he needn’t have worried. She’d stopped thinking about what she was – it was too crazy. Her parents were the Children of the Dawn – children of the Aetheling themselves. She had no human blood at all, though as far as she was concerned, she felt human.

  “Anyway – how come you know about the Hilderinc?” Toby went on. “I thought Middengard was some great secret – one that humans knew nothing about.”

  “Ssh!” Martha put a finger to her lips. “We don’t speak of Middengard – ever. Do you understand?

  “Sure.” Toby shrugged. “But it’s not like there’s anyone here. It’s just us.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Martha said. “Names have power. Especially that name.”

  Martha poured herself another cup of tea, sipped it, and put it down again. Now she could see her close up, Alice could see the Guardian was older than she’d thought. Thirty maybe? Her face was homely, but her eyes were sharp. She had a feeling nothing would get past her.

  “Stanor didn’t tell us what a Guardian was Martha. What do you do exactly? Not that we’re not grateful for you coming to meet us and everything,” she added hurriedly.

  “It’s a fair question - and one I was expecting, of course.” Martha lowered her voice. The house was small, and the front door was firmly shut, but suddenly there was tension in the air, as if whatever she was going to say, it brought danger with it.

  “We’re Freya’s servants,” Martha said. “There’s a long line of us, going back through time. We’re generally long-lived and everything I know, I learnt from my mother. And she learnt everything she knew from her mother - and so on and so on.”

  “Oh, right. I see,” Alice said. She’d encountered Freya on Mount Odin and it had been a frightening experience. She couldn’t help wondering what “servants” actually meant, given Mount Odin was in Middengard.

  Martha smiled knowingly. “You’re wondering how we carry out our work, aren’t you? The Goddess talks to me – in here.” She tapped the side of her head. “I know how it sounds, so of course I never let on. People get locked in the asylum for less.”

  “So has Freya told you why we’re here? Or said anything about ghosts?” Toby said before Alice had chance to ask anything else. He looked all innocence but she knew he was teasing. But Martha didn’t take the bait.

  “I think that’s a conversation for another time young man,” the Guardian said. “I can see you’re tired. And since we’ve all to be up early it’s time for bed.”

  *

  Toby looked round the small room in dismay. There was only one bed, a fancy brass affair that took up most of the space. There were sheets and blankets folded neatly on top. Other than that there was a washstand, complete with jug and bowl, and a wooden chair.

  “I kind of assumed there’d be beds for all of us. How are we going to fit in that?” he said.

  “You and Josh can share,” Alice replied, taking up a blanket. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  Toby tugged the blanket out of her hands. Alice was a good sport but that didn’t seem right. “No way. Josh and I will take the floor – you have the bed.”

  “Now that’s just plain silly. There’s no need for two of you to be uncomfortable, is there?”

  “Yeah – listen to Alice, will you?” Josh flopped onto the bed. “I’ll never get to sleep on the floor. And what did Martha mean about a privy?”

  “It’s the toilet, you idiot.”

  “Why is it down the street?”

  “We’re in 1856 - remember? What did you expect – an ensuite?”

  “Have you two quite finished?” Alice retrieved the blanket and laid it on the floor. “We need to go to sleep. Martha said we had to be up early.”

  Toby knew there was no point arguing with Alice once she’d made up her mind. He consoled himself with the thought that they’d all slept in worse places.

  Once he’d made sure Alice was comfortable, he wriggled into place on the bed. He really was tired and his head felt kind of fuzzy.

  But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get to sleep. All his former doubts crept into his mind. What was he doing here? Why hadn’t he stayed in Melbourne and carried on with his training? Worse, what if they got stuck somehow? It had always been okay before, when they’d travelled between worlds, but this was different, this was travelling in time and you couldn’t interfere with history - even the smallest of actions could have a consequence in the future. Toby was no science buff but he had a vague recollection of seeing something on TV about it. So the fact they were here, in 1856, where they didn’t belong, could be a problem. Maybe a big problem…

  “Toby – are you awake?”

  Alice’s voice sounded small in the darkness. He rolled over and saw she was awake too, staring at the ceiling. Josh, on the other hand, was already snoring again.

  “Yeah – I’m tired but I feel weird. Like I’m myself but not myself at the same time. Does that make any sense?”

  “Kind of. Maybe it’s just Gate fever.” Alice sighed. “I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to come. We promised we’d have a year being normal. And it’s not been a year, has it? We’ve barely had six months. And now we’re mixed up in something really weird.”

  “Not like last time then - because finding a hidden world was perfectly understandable.”

  Alice laughed, which was a good sign. Despite his own misgivings, he didn’t want her to feel guilty.

  “Do you believe what Martha said – about Freya?”

  “Yeah – kind of. I mean it’s no crazier than some of the other Middengard stuff is it?” He knew that was what Alice wanted to hear. But he hadn’t made up his mind about Martha, not yet. He wanted to see what else she had to say for herself.

  “I guess not,” Alice said. “But I wish Stanor were here. Or even Iris. It’s like you said before, we’re used to having them around. And now it’s just us.”

  “What? You don’t think we’re good enough on our own? I’m hurt.”

  “Oh stop teasing – you know what I mean. And Josh is hardly trained at all. He won’t be much good in a fight. I should have thought of that.”

  Toby snorted. “Like we could have left him behind. Anyway, don’t worry about him - he’s stronger than you think.”

  “That’s true, I suppose. And it’s not like there’s going to be any battles – at least I hope there isn’t. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. Not again.”

  “No one’s going to get hurt,” he said firmly. He could tell she was think
ing about Jess. She still blamed herself for her death, even though they never discussed it. “You’re the Stone Keeper. You can kill huge ugly things like barogs. I don’t think a few ghosts are going to cause you too many problems.”

  “They’re spirits, not ghosts.”

  “Whatever.” He couldn’t see the difference personally, but perhaps that was something else Martha was going to explain to them. He reached down and clasped his hand in hers. “Everything will be okay Alice. We’re here now and we’ll do whatever it is we have to. Then we’ll go home and I’ll run in the trials and hey – then it will be Christmas.”

  She seemed happy with that. And he almost believed it himself.

  MIDDENGARD

  Chapter 7

  The twins arrived in the village of Middle Fell on the second day of their journey to the Vale. They’d left Orla and Lady Eleanor in the woods downstream, where they were collecting healing plants. In the last village they’d been through, they’d sold dozens of herbal cures and learnt all manner of interesting things. Mostly gossip, but strange tales too - stories of children wandering off, only to be found miles and miles away, with no memory of how they got there. Daisy said strange things always happened in the country, but Rose wasn’t so sure. It sounded suspicious to her.

  As for Middle Fell, it was a pretty enough place, with the sun shining on a cobbled square and an ornate meet house at its centre. The cottages were painted bright colours, with well-tended gardens to front and back.

  “Where are all the people?” Daisy said, jumping down from the wagon.

  “Maybe they’re asleep?” Rose looked round. It was eerily quiet.

  “Don’t be silly - it’s almost midday! No one sleeps that long.”

  She was right. The villagers should be out working in the fields, or setting up market stalls, or even gossiping in the streets – but there was no one in sight.

  “I don’t like it Daisy. It doesn’t feel right.” Rose shivered. “Maybe we should go back and tell Lady Eleanor.”

  “No need,” Daisy said. “We’ll take a look round first.”

  Rose was about to argue, but Daisy was already heading for one of the alehouses. Sometimes Rose suspected her twin felt guilty that she hadn’t protected Rose from the dark elf that had broken her arm in the battle for Skellstor. She was always rushing off these days - which would have been annoying, if Rose didn’t think the world of her. And vice versa, of course. Wherever one went, the other followed.

  Which in this case, was into the taproom of a glaringly empty alehouse. There were signs of recent activity – tankards of ale on the wooden tables and even a half-eaten pie on the counter – but not a single person.

  “Well, I’ve never seen so much ale left behind before,” Daisy said, peering into a glass. “Maybe there’s some sort of emergency?”

  “I can’t imagine what.” Rose looked round dubiously. “There’s no sign of a fire, is there?”

  “Maybe dark elves,” Daisy said, drawing her sword. “We need to be on our guard.”

  Rose shook her head. “They’ve all surrendered – and anyway, they would never come in this direction. It’s too near the Vale and they’re very superstitious.”

  Daisy sighed, looking disappointed. “I suppose you’re right. Come on – let’s try one of the cottages.”

  But the first house told the same story, as did the one after that and the one after that: half-eaten breakfasts on tables, chairs overturned, doors left open to creak in the breeze. Perplexed, they went back to the wagon to share a loaf of black bread. All the searching had made them hungry.

  “They must be somewhere,” Daisy said with her mouth full. “Whole villages don’t just disappear do they?”

  “Course not.” Rose bit into an apple and chewed thoughtfully. “Maybe there’s a feast somewhere. Maybe they were late getting the news and that’s why everyone left in a rush.”

  “Maybe.” Daisy didn’t sound convinced, even though Rose thought this was a perfectly reasonable explanation, now she had time to think about it. Everyone loved a feast and would travel for miles to attend one.

  “Listen - what’s that noise?”

  “What noise?” Rose abandoned the apple and turned round. She couldn’t hear anything at first. Then a faint cry; carried on the breeze. It seemed to be coming from down river – the same direction as the woods.

  “Orla!” Rose grabbed Daisy’s hand. “Something awful’s happened!”

  “No – listen. It’s too loud for one person.”

  Daisy was right. The cries were much louder now - a collective wailing. Rose had never heard anything like it.

  “You don’t think it’s the spirits do you?” she said, huddling closer to Daisy. “What if they’ve come to get us?” She screwed her eyes tight shut. If spirits were coming, she didn’t want to see them.

  “You’re being silly again,” Daisy put her arm round her. She was trying to sound confident but Rose could tell she was scared too.

  “I’m not sure if I believe this stuff about spirits anyway,” Daisy went on. “Iris would say it’s all nonsense and…oh, look, what did I tell you? It’s some of the villagers.”

  Rose opened her eyes to see a group of women making their way up the road towards them. They were all weeping, the younger ones supporting the older. The sight sent a shiver down her spine. “What do you think’s wrong with them?” she whispered.

  “Don’t know. Let’s find out.” Daisy jumped up and sped off down the road. By the time Rose caught up, she had already stopped the women in their tracks.

  “Are you from this village? Why are you crying?” her twin demanded.

  A woman of middling years, her eyes swollen, stopped sobbing long enough to say, “They call me Nereid and my husband is Yeoman here. She’s taken the children and we’ll never get them back – never.” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed even louder.

  “Stop that!” Daisy snapped. “It’s not doing any good.”

  Rose glared at her sister. It was clear these women needed sympathy more than anything – not a dose of Iris–like common sense. “Who’s taken them?” she asked gently.

  Nereid took a breath and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “The Lady. She’s taken my son – and the sons of all these others. Our men have gone down the valley, to search for tracks, but the Lady cannot be followed. There is no hope. No hope at all.”

  “What do you mean, she can’t be followed?” Daisy said. “Everyone leaves tracks you know, no matter how careful they are. We can help – we’re pretty good at tracking, aren’t we Rose?”

  “We are - but I think we need more information first.” Rose took the woman’s hand, which was shaking terribly. “Nereid, why does this woman want your children? Who is she?”

  “The Lady from the Lake,” Nereid whispered, turning pale. “She only wants the boys. Our daughters are safe in the meet house, under Freya’s protection.”

  At the mention of Freya’s name, a ripple of gratitude passed round the group. No matter how large or small the village, every meet house held a statue of the goddess.

  “But we looked in the meet house,” Daisy said, frowning. “There was no one there.”

  “There’s a hiding place beneath the statue.” Nereid gave a faint smile. “The Lady will not approach Freya.”

  “You’d better let them out then,” Daisy said. “We’re here now as well as Lady El…” She broke off as Rose kicked her soundly on the shin.

  “Ouch! What was that for?” she hissed as the women headed towards the meet house.

  “We’re farm girls, remember? You can’t mention Lady Eleanor.”

  Daisy clapped her hand over her mouth and giggled. “Oops! Sorry, I forgot. But they need our help to find these missing boys. Lady Eleanor’s bound to agree.”

  Rose wasn’t so sure. It was still a good two days journey to the Vale and they couldn’t afford to get sidetracked. On the other hand, it didn’t seem right not to help. In any event, she didn’t have time to d
ebate it any further, because Daisy had run off again – this time to meet Orla, who was staggering up the road with a basket laden with plants.

  *

  The band of villagers had taken them by surprise. Orla had just located a particularly rare form of comfrey when a scrawny man, cudgel in hand, burst through the undergrowth.

  “Soren - two women! Over here!” the man shouted. He stepped closer, menacing them with the club. “Throw the knife down girl. And get up against that tree. You too old woman, where I can keep an eye on you. Soren will want to talk to you.”

  Orla did as she was told and Ellie cursed under her breath. She’d been so focused on the plant gathering she’d not heard the man’s approach. Stupid of her, letting her guard down like that. And although she could disarm him in the blink of an eye, it was probably better to play along.

  “Who’s Soren?” she said.

  “Yeoman in these parts, so you must answer his questions.” The man tightened his grip on the cudgel but his eyes slid away from hers. He was scared. That was interesting. Of them or something else?

  Just then two other men rushed into the clearing, armed with an assortment of weapons: one held a long-handled knife, the other had a bow slung across his back.

  “Where are our children?” the man with the knife yelled. “What have you done with them?”

  The man with the bow silenced him with a look and stepped forward. “I am Soren, village elder and Yeoman. We’re looking for a woman: tall, fair-haired - younger than you, old woman, but older than your daughter. Have you seen her?”

  “We’ve seen no one sir,” she said. “Neither in these woods nor on the road before.”

  “What about you girl? Got a tongue in your head?”

  Orla shook her head. “No one sir, I swear.”

  “They could be lying.” The man with the knife thrust it under Orla’s chin. “They could be in league with the Lady. Answer crone, lest this knife slips and you lose your girl here.”