The Book of Lies

by James Moloney

  “Oh, but she’s braver than me,” Marcel objected. “Believe me, I know as much about her as you do.”

  Long Beard laughed heartily. “I’m sure you do, but it’s time I told you something about Bea that you don’t know.”

  “How she became the way she is?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” Long Beard nodded, causing the grey cascade of hair streaming down from his chin to flop against his ample chest. With a glance at Marcel’s eager face, he sighed and began his tale.

  “I once had a daughter, a beautiful girl, who liked to roam in the forest, much further from this mountain than she should. She would sit and watch humans felling trees. One of these men caught her eye. She thought herself in love and did what no elf should ever do. She showed herself to him. The man took her to his village, where she lived as his wife until a baby was born. Soon after that, the man set out to seek his fortune, leaving my daughter and the little one with his family. But these folk were afraid of her and thought she practised witchcraft. They forced her out of their village and the baby with her. Too ashamed to come home to her own kind in the forest, she strayed from village to village, until at last she was too weak to go on and all she could do was lie down by the side of the road to die.”

  He paused, his own throat tight with a father’s grief. His next words were heavy with sadness and regret. “We know this because she was found by elves on a forest track, and before she died, she was able to tell of her trials.”

  “The baby,” Marcel breathed. “The baby wasn’t with her?”

  “No,” Long Beard answered solemnly. “All we have ever known about that baby came from my daughter’s dying words. A church, she said. She had left her baby at the door of a church.”

  Marcel gasped. “Bea, the story you told me, back in Fallside. You were found on the steps –”

  “Yes, of a church,” said Long Beard with a tear clouding one eye. “You humans called her a foundling. Well, now she has been found by her real family at last.”

  “Don’t you see, Marcel? He’s my grandfather,” said Bea.

  Long Beard put his hand lovingly on his granddaughter’s shoulder. “Bea lives with us now, in her true home, here on our mountain and in the forest where you humans are not welcome. So,” he said, putting his hands on his hips, “shall we return to your friends and see whether they are ready to leave?”

  “But Grandfather!” Bea protested. “Can’t you let them pass through the forest?”

  “Quiet, Bea. This is no concern of yours.” He led the way back to the party of humans with the other two trailing dejectedly behind, leading Gadfly by the mane.

  As they approached they heard a heated argument in full swing.

  “No, you can’t!” Damon was yelling. “It’s too dangerous!”

  “Nonsense!” returned Eleanor. “It’s the only way.” Marcel was astonished to see the Book of Lies clutched tightly to her chest. The book she was so afraid of!

  Fergus and Nicola cowered to one side, appalled by their parents’ bickering.

  “Marcel, the Book!” cried Bea. “You’ve still got Lord Alwyn’s book!”

  “Even here, where humans are not welcome, we know that name,” said Long Beard with a touch of awe.

  The Book heard him and began to glow in Eleanor’s arms, drawing a gasp from the King and the other elves who looked on.

  “Sometimes, when humans and elves are hunting in the same part of the forest, we listen to the strange tales they tell one another. That is how we know of this Lord Alwyn. He is said to be a great sorcerer. But what is this strange book?”

  Eleanor spoke up. “King Long Beard, this is the Book of Lies, and it glows whenever the truth is spoken. Let me tell you what kind of man it is we seek to overthrow and perhaps you will understand the urgency of our mission.”

  She ignored the angry stares of Damon and Starkey and locked her eyes on to Long Beard’s face instead. “Some months ago, before the entire royal court, King Pelham passed a cup of wine to his Queen, a woman he claimed to love dearly. He stood smiling as she drank it, yet only minutes later she lay dead, her lips turned blue by a deadly poison.”

  As they watched, the Book began to glow its familiar gold.

  Starkey seemed to recover from his rage and addressed the King forthrightly. “What do you say now, Long Beard? Will you let us pass?”

  Damon had also regained his composure, and added his plea to theirs. “Would you send us back to a man who murders those he loves?”

  The Elf-King was wavering but he still could not quite bring himself to agree.

  “Please, Grandfather. Won’t you let them pass?” Bea implored, startling all but Marcel why she addressed Long Beard in this way.

  Marcel could see how Long Beard doted on his granddaughter, and knew this love was their only hope. The Elf-King’s heart was softening before their eyes and it was all because of Bea.

  “Very well,” he said at length. “Since Bea pleads so hard for your cause, I will grant her a special favour. You may have safe passage through our territories. I will even send an elf to guide you.”

  The humans breathed a huge sigh of relief. But despite her grandfather’s change of heart, Bea still looked unhappy. Her eyes hadn’t left Marcel’s since she had last spoken. Now she addressed him again. “Grandfather, I want to go with them.”

  The King recoiled as though she had pushed him. “But you’ve only just come to live with us. No, Bea, I want you here with me, so that I can watch you grow up among those who love you.” A hint of hostility returned to his elfish eye, to reveal what he thought of human beings.

  “You don’t understand, Grandfather. If it wasn’t for me, Marcel would still be at the orphanage. I’m part of what is happening, whether I like it or not. I have to go.”

  After a minute’s tense silence, Long Beard spoke again. “This girl is more stubborn than her mother was,” he told them with a mixture of pride and exasperation. “I’ll let her go with her young friend here,” he said, slapping Marcel good-naturedly on the shoulder, “but I’m not ready to let her out of my sight so soon. I promised you a guide through the forest. Well, here he is,” he announced, tapping himself on the chest. “King Long Beard himself.”

  Chapter 14

  Lenoth Crag

  THEY SET OFF IMMEDIATELY. Gadfly had permitted Hector to load their provisions on to her back, replenished with extra supplies from the elves.

  “Sorry,” Marcel had whispered into Gadfly’s ear. “For the time being, you’re our pack horse. Just remember, if we left you behind they might eat you.”

  She rolled her eyes and snorted her disapproval but let him lead her into the forest all the same. Nicola, Fergus and Bea stayed with them, forming their own troop ten paces behind the adults.

  “The forest is a different place now, don’t you think?” observed Nicola.

  “I know what it is. We’re not afraid any more,” said Marcel, and the other two agreed with a smile.

  Bea grew excited when she heard these words. “Do you understand now what I felt when we first arrived in the forest, Marcel, with all those shades of green and the peaceful silence?”

  “You’ll live here with your grandfather once this is all over, won’t you, Bea?”

  Marcel couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice. Bea heard it too and the happiness slipped from her face. “Marcel, it’s my home.”

  They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Marcel’s eyes rose to their surroundings instead, first to the trees and then to the snow-capped mountains that ranged tall and imposing, so many miles in the distance.

  “How long to Lenoth Crag, King Long Beard?” Fergus called out.

  “We should reach the pass through those mountains by nightfall,” he answered.

  “But it’s so far!” objected Starkey in surprise. “Surely it’s two days’ march at least.”

  “For humans alone, yes, but elves know ways through the forest you can only dream of.”

  If they dou
bted him, they were soon proved wrong. Long Beard led them along paths that did not go round the many obstacles but effortlessly through them and over them. He charged through thick forest without any need of a track, found stones that led over swollen streams, and guided them along the rim of gaping chasms to where rocks jutted out so that even an elf’s short legs could leap across. In her long gown, Eleanor looked just as uncomfortable as she had earlier, but Marcel had to admire her determination not to show it in front of Long Beard.

  They began heading uphill, into rockier terrain where stunted trees clung hardily to barren, windswept hillsides. A long day’s march brought them to the desolate mountain pass, just as Long Beard had promised.

  As they approached they could all see a ghostly finger of grey smoke drifting between the treetops overhead.

  Long Beard sniffed. “There must be some kind of human dwelling up ahead. It hasn’t been there long or I would have heard about it.”

  Then they emerged into the narrow opening of the pass itself. Two massive granite crags loomed over them, one on either side, their soaring tops whitened by snow. Obstructing the way between the overhanging peaks sat a rough cabin built of stone and fallen logs dragged from the forest.

  “So,” observed Damon with surprise, “Zadenwolf has built an outpost here. Things certainly have changed. Maybe he’s had trouble from woodsmen, or perhaps he fears the elves.”

  Long Beard gave a quick snort to indicate his lack of concern.

  Some horses were tethered on the rough ground nearby – ponies really, their manes and tails long and untidy. “They make you look pretty,” Marcel teased Gadfly, who pretended to ignore him. Small and unkempt they might be, but they were clearly hardy beasts, bred for a harsh land. They neighed and stamped their feet at the approach of strangers, bringing men from inside the cabin – three, four, and finally a fifth.

  “Fighting men,” breathed Fergus, clearly impressed, as the men spilled out into the open. They were dressed for the cold, in heavy fur coats and leather breeches, and each of them was armed with a sword. They advanced towards the group and stopped only a few strides away.

  “What’s your business here?” asked one who was obviously their commander.

  “We wish to enter Lenoth Crag,” Starkey announced imperiously.

  “Not unless King Zadenwolf gives his permission, you’re not,” was the curt reply.

  “It’s Zadenwolf we’ve come to see,” Damon cut in quickly. “I am Prince Damon of Elster, an old friend. I fought beside him years ago. He’ll be glad to see me, I’m sure.”

  The men didn’t seem ready for this answer. They backed away into a huddle, arguing in hushed tones.

  At length their leader spoke again. “We’ll send word to King Zadenwolf immediately. Until we have his answer, I’m afraid you must stay here.”

  The cabin was barely large enough for the surly warriors. They helped the travellers get their own fire going then closed the door, leaving them to shelter from the mountain winds beside the cabin wall, much to the disgust of the Prince and Princess. They were all glad to see the sun in the morning and, just before midday, even more pleased to see a dozen riders galloping through the pass.

  The soldiers hurried from the warmth of their cabin and bowed to the tallest man among the new arrivals. He dismounted quickly and straightened the axe that hung from his belt. The fur of his coat was thicker than the other men’s and his leather boots finer. Much of his face was hidden beneath a black and unruly beard.

  “Damon!” he called with genuine feeling, as soon as he sighted his old friend. He strode towards the Prince and they embraced in a manly hug.

  “Zadenwolf, it’s good to see you again,” Damon responded warmly.

  The King broke his hold long enough to bark instructions to the men who had ridden with him. “Get some tents set up for my friends,” he called to one who led a pack horse weighed down with canvas and poles.

  Starkey stepped up to be introduced, but Eleanor held back, gathering the children around her instead. “This is men’s talk. Damon and the King will swap exaggerated stories about the great battles they fought together, but when they get tired of that we want Zadenwolf to meet you. He must see that you are with us now.”

  “Why? Does he know us?” asked Fergus.

  Eleanor stared at him for a second but her answer came easily enough. “All sorts of rumours fly from kingdom to kingdom. He may have heard that you three were Pelham’s hostages. If he asks you a question, answer him truthfully. This meeting may well decide our kingdom’s future.”

  The tents were set up, one for Eleanor, her children and Bea, a second for Starkey, Damon and Fergus, a third for Zadenwolf and then two more for Hector and the soldiers. However, the meeting that Eleanor spoke of was held in the open air, where the mountain king seemed most at ease. Long Beard was present, though he assured them he would soon be departing to return to his subjects.

  “Here are the children,” said Eleanor, as the three were brought forward and introduced by their real names, Princess Catherine, Prince Edwin and Prince Marcel. Zadenwolf’s eyebrows danced eagerly as the names were pronounced.

  “Prince Damon has told me of your adventures,” he said to them. “Tell me, is it true that you forgot who your own parents were?”

  Marcel glanced towards his mother, who gave a brief nod. “Yes, Your Majesty – until Starkey helped us free them from the palace.”

  “Yes, you freed Damon and Eleanor from the palace,” he noted with an approving nod. “Tell me another thing, then,” Zadenwolf asked with more urgency. “What do you think of Elster’s king?”

  Before Marcel could reply, Nicola answered for them all.

  “He’s a usurper!” she cried with all the anger Marcel had wanted to unleash. “He’s stolen the crown from the rightful heirs,” and in case there was any doubt whom she meant, she turned towards Princess Eleanor and Prince Damon.

  But this was nothing compared with what Fergus added. “Pelham robbed us of our memories and hid us away in an orphanage. I’d kill him if I had the chance,” he said furiously.

  Zadenwolf broke into an exuberant laugh. “Royal blood is hot, I see.”

  “Yes, truly royal blood is the hottest of all,” said Eleanor vehemently. “That’s what I carry in my veins,” and she pulled back the sleeve of her dress to expose the delicate traces of blue beneath her pale skin. “Pelham is a usurper who doesn’t deserve the crown. If it weren’t for Alwyn’s sorcery, he would still be on the streets of Elstenwyck, begging for scraps to eat. This is why you must help us, Zadenwolf. Alwyn had the old Queen under his spell when she named Pelham as her successor.”

  Zadenwolf listened intently, but he did not seem moved by her pleas. When Eleanor realised this, she tried a new line of attack. “Long Beard knows how he treats his own people, even those closest to him.”

  She let the dramatic silence that followed do its work. Long Beard took his time, aware of the weight his words would carry. “It is true,” he said at length. “Pelham has poisoned his own wife, that much I know.”

  Damon and Starkey added arguments of their own. Through it all, Zadenwolf stood with his arms tightly folded across his belly. Finally, he spoke.

  “There is one name we have heard for many years in Lenoth Crag. Lord Alwyn. We have sorcerers of our own, but they all tremble at the mention of his name. A wizard more powerful than the mountains, than the clouds and the sky, that is what they tell me. Lord Alwyn’s magic has kept the Kings and Queens of Elster safely on their thrones for as long as anyone can remember.”

  He paused and ran his thumb gently along the blade of his axe. “I am King of a warlike people, it is true, but until now they have fought only each other. To fight an army like Pelham’s, down there on the plains, would be a great risk…” He shook his head doubtfully and looked around the faces. “One army alone would not be enough. I would need an ally to weigh the odds in our favour.”

  “An ally?” Damon cried in exasperation.
“But there is no other, not for hundreds of miles!”

  The meeting fell silent as Damon’s despair infected them all. Marcel sensed Bea at his side. She took his hand in sympathy. Even she could see their chances slipping away as Zadenwolf stood firm. The warmth of her hand in his set Marcel thinking. He could feel it even though he could barely see her. There were many more like her, back there in the forest, just as hard to see. They could put an arrow between a man’s fingers or within an inch of his head. Couldn’t they just as easily shoot their arrows through a man’s heart?

  “King Long Beard, would you help us?” he begged. “Pelham’s soldiers would be helpless against an army they couldn’t see and bowmen who meet their mark without fail. If you and Zadenwolf joined forces, they’d throw down their weapons and plead for mercy.”

  The solemn meeting suddenly erupted into a chorus of eager approval loud enough to win a battle by itself.

  “Wait!” called Zadenwolf, raising his hand. “You are all speaking except the one who matters most. What do you have to say, Long Beard? Will you help us overthrow this King Pelham?”

  For once, Long Beard did not hesitate. “You have convinced me that Pelham is a cruel man with an evil heart. But he has done no harm to the elves. If we have lived peacefully around our mountain for a thousand years it is because we do not interfere in the lives of humans.” He shook his head firmly as he beckoned Bea towards him. When she was close enough, he took her hand, just as Marcel had done, and said, “No, I’m sorry, but the elves will not join your war.”

  For just a few moments, an easy victory had seemed theirs. The meeting struggled on as Eleanor, Damon and Starkey clamoured for Zadenwolf’s support, but the mountain king would not agree unless Long Beard changed his mind. And there seemed no chance of that.

  Eventually it became too much for Eleanor, who fled, in exasperated tears, towards the tent that had been prepared for her.

  “We’d better go with her,” muttered Nicola to Marcel. They followed with the slow strides of the dejected until they were only a few paces from the tent’s opening. The sounds from inside told them that Eleanor’s tears had turned to something more violent. Cautiously they poked their heads inside and there she was, kicking vainly at the sturdy pole in the centre. When this wasn’t enough for her rage, she snatched up the silver mirror and hurled it straight at the pole.