by T J Green
One of the wood sprites stood and banged on a long table that ran the length of the room. When he had the others’ attention he shouted, “At last we have someone to offer the Queen. We will leave at dark to meet the others and take her subject to her, then we will be assured of her help!”
At this there was a roar of pleasure from the crowd. “Are you pleased, Duke?” He looked to a faerie standing in their midst, dressed in black and with an unpleasant smile on his lips.
“I am, although it is unfortunate it has taken so long. To change!” he said, raising his glass in a toast, and everyone roared again.
Tom needed to find Brenna and get her out of there fast. He could see only one door in the room, to the right of the fireplace. He hoped this would lead to Brenna, but to remain unseen he needed the sprites to stay clustered around the Duke in the middle of the room. He crawled, belly low to the floor, sniffing dust and grime, down the staircase, then weaved his way between the sleepers until he reached the far side of the hall, which was in deep shadow. While the planning and cheering continued, Tom crawled between the bodies which had been unceremoniously pushed up against the wall. He could feel their limbs squashing beneath him, and he tried to push them out of the way, feeling for the hard floor. Every now and again he paused and flopped, feigning sleep. Finally he was close enough to stand and slip through the doorway.
Making sure there was no one on the other side, Tom followed a corridor until he came to steps leading downwards. At the foot of the steps he stopped and looked around. The corridor was poorly lit; shadows thrown by the occasional torch snaked across the floor. The ornate decoration of the upper corridors had gone, and through half-open doors he saw storerooms housing boxes, bags of flour, jars and bottles. Eventually he came to a closed door. Trying the handle he found it was locked, but fortunately the key was still in the hole.
He pressed his ear to the door, but it was silent within. “Brenna, are you there?” he called softly.
“Yes, yes, it’s me! Tom?”
He unlocked the door.
“Tom! How did you find me?” Brenna joined him in the corridor, looking rumpled and slightly grubby, but otherwise unharmed. Her sword had gone, and she looked vulnerable without it.
“Ssh, not now. We have to get out of here.” He locked the door behind them so it looked undisturbed.
“No, we can’t go yet.”
“What? Why not?”
“There’s another prisoner, right next door. I heard them speak to him.”
“Brenna, we haven’t got time!”
“We can’t leave him. You know we can’t.”
He sighed with exasperation. “But we could be caught any second!”
“We are not leaving without him. Here,” she said, removing the key from the door, “I think they used the same key.”
They slid the key into the lock. It turned easily.
Inside was a sleeping faerie. He was tied to a chair placed against the far wall, his body secured by coils of pale smoke that had solidified around his arms, legs and torso. He had long white-blond hair that shone with a pale light, and wore clothes that had been fine once, but which were now dirty and torn. Tom shook him gently.
The faerie's head shot up and he shouted, “Get away! How dare you touch me!” His eyes were a deep midnight blue.
Tom jumped back. “I’m here to help!” He looked anxiously at the door where Brenna waited.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” said the faerie.
“I am trying to rescue you.”
He shook himself awake, his eyes bright and eager. “Really? At last!” Then he looked down at the smoke wrapped solidly about him. “But I can’t leave unless we can remove this restraint.”
“Well we need to go now, so unless we can do this quickly we’ll have to leave you here.”
“These coils have to be unlocked, but I know where the key is. I have just enough power left to disguise you so you can get it for me.” He looked pleadingly at Tom.
Tom glanced at the smoky restraints and wondered where a key would fit, but only asked, “Where is the key?”
“Around the neck of my treacherous rat of a brother, the Duke of Craven.”
“He’s your brother? I’ve just seen him in the hall, surrounded by murderous wood sprites! It would be impossible to get close enough.”
Panic shot across the faerie’s face. “I can disguise you, I promise! Please. If I don’t get out of here soon he’ll find out how to use the Starlight Jewel, and then he’ll be too powerful for me to stop! And he’ll kill me.”
Tom felt his heart sinking. He just wanted to get out of here, but felt he didn’t really have a choice. He looked at Brenna and she nodded. “Tom, we have to!” He grunted, not entirely seeing the “we” in this.
“If I do this I’m going to have to lock you back in the room,” he said to her.
“I understand.” Her face was pale but determined, and he recognised that look – it was a look that Beansprout used far too often.
8 Starfall
Tom sighed. “All right. What do I have to do?”
“As I said, the Duke has my key around his neck. It’s a small key that looks like glass. It fits here.” He pointed to the centre of his chest. “This binding has reduced my magic, but I can cast a spell that will draw some of this smoke to you and allow you to pass unseen into the hall. The enchantment won’t last for long, but you can take the key and bring it back to me. Once I’m free I promise to get you out of here.”
“How long’s not long?”
“Half an hour or so?”
Tom hoped the Duke was still in the hall or he would never find him, and then he’d be captured too. “OK. Do it now.”
“Come here – kneel beside me so I can reach you.”
Tom knelt and the faerie pressed his index finger to Tom’s forehead. He felt a strange sensation pass through him. As he looked down, he saw his body shimmering,
“What on earth …?”
“Go, quickly!”
They ran out of the door, Brenna locking it carefully behind them.
“Tom, he’s right,” she said, going back into the room she’d been held in. “You’re barely visible. Just stick to the shadows and you’ll be fine. Good luck!”
“Barely visible” wasn’t reassuring, but as Brenna handed him the key he was relieved to find he could still grip things properly.
After locking Brenna in, he ran back up the corridor. It felt twice as long as before. A sprite appeared and Tom froze, but it disappeared into a store room, reappearing moments later with an armful of bottles. As the sprite went back up the stairs, Tom followed, treading softly, his heart hammering in his chest.
He edged into the hall, trying to get his breathing under control. The sprites continued to shout and sing, some aiming their spears at the far wall where several figures had been drawn. There was a rhythmical thump and cheer as the spears found their mark.
Tom saw the Duke sitting on a chair deep in the shadows cast by the balcony above. He was examining a map spread out on the table before him, in a pool of light cast by a single candle.
Tom again hugged the walls and the shadows, but nobody was even looking in his direction. He couldn’t even see himself. He crept closer and closer to the Duke until he was standing behind him. It was uncanny – the Duke of Craven looked like a photographic negative of his brother. His eyes were dark and his hair was black, but with a faint dusty sheen to it, like diamond dust. He had sharper features, but they were otherwise identical.
The Duke’s attention was completely on the map. Tom could see the glass key on a chain around his neck, chinking next to other, bigger keys. He flexed his fingers and tried not to breathe heavily. The Duke leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and rubbed his face wearily with his hands. As he dropped his hands to his sides, Tom edged closer, reaching over the Duke’s shoulder towards the key. The Duke’s hand shot up and went to grab Tom’s arm, but Tom snatched his hand back and pre
ssed against the wall. The Duke opened his eyes and patted his shoulder, confused, then sat up and looked round, scanning the space behind him. Tom stood motionless, holding his breath.
Distracted by an approaching sprite, the Duke turned away.
“Duke, we need to go soon,” said the sprite.
“Yes, all right, just give me a few more minutes. Are the horses ready?”
“I’ll send someone down, they can get the girl on their way back.” He strode off, shouting to one of the others.
The Duke pulled a large jewel out of his pocket. It was the size of a duck egg, and its centre glowed. He lifted it level with his eyes and gazed into it. Tom leaned forward too, peering into its depths. He thought he saw swirling stars, and leaned in closer and closer, halting abruptly as the Duke sighed, re-pocketed the jewel, and then leaned back and closed his eyes again.
Tom’s stomach churned – he had to get the key now or it would all be over. He reached forward and pulled the key gently between his thumb and forefinger. The key melted off the chain and into his hands; the key recognised him.
Without hesitation he ran back across the hall, down the stairs and along the corridor. He could tell the spell was wearing off – he reckoned he had five or ten minutes’ invisibility left. He heard footsteps behind him, but the sprite entered a doorway without noticing Tom.
He made it back to Brenna’s room without encountering any more sprites.
“I have it,” called Tom, as he and Brenna unlocked the faerie’s door.
He placed the key over the spot the faerie had indicated. Magically a keyhole appeared, and the key slotted in and disappeared. There was a strange hissing sound and the smoke began to thin and disappear.
“You have no idea how good that feels!” the faerie said. Colour returned to his cheeks and he stood up gingerly. “Oh, I am so stiff!” he groaned, limping to the door, where he went to turn left.
“Not that way,” Tom said. “There are hundreds of them in the hall, and some are coming any minute now to get Brenna. Is there a back way out?”
The faerie looked thoughtful. “All right, follow me. And by the way, who are you? How did a human child and another faerie arrive here?” He turned to Brenna, looking at her curiously. “Why do they want you?”
“Not now!” said Tom, giving him a gentle push. “Keep going.”
The faerie frowned at him, but did as Tom suggested. They continued down passageway after passageway, twisting and turning until Tom was completely disorientated, before finally entering a larger space. In front of them was a large wooden door.
Tom tried pushing and pulling, but it wouldn’t budge.
“My dear boy,” said the faerie, “this is a faerie palace. It won’t open just like that. Now, who are you?”
“Can’t this wait?” Tom asked. “They’ll discover we’ve gone any minute.” Tom was sure he could hear voices getting louder.
The faerie smiled. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my palace and I shall have my revenge. No one knows this place better than me. They caught me by surprise last time, but not again.”
“But there are hundreds of them. And we can’t help any more. Our friends will be worried.”
The faerie grimaced and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Don’t worry, you have done more than enough. I can manage now. If I so choose, there will be endless staircases that lead nowhere; corridors that shrink to the size of a mouse hole; rooms that seal as soft and moist as a hungry mouth; doorways that lead to a howling abyss; mirrors that show your reflection then steal it and swallow you whole. They will regret ever attacking us. And he will regret ever betraying me.”
As he finished, Tom saw over his shoulder two wood sprites running towards them, spears raised. Tom opened his mouth to shout a warning, but the faerie was already turning, and with a flick of his hand and a mutter of something unintelligible, the floor beneath the sprites vanished, replaced by a gaping mouth full of teeth and blood-red gums. The sprites fell in and with soft sucking noises, the mouth closed.
The faerie smiled smugly and asked, “You didn’t happen to see my subjects, did you?”
“Well yes, actually,” Tom said, struggling to concentrate. “They’re asleep all over the floor, on the steps, in the ballroom …”
The faerie looked thoughtful. “Good. And your name?”
“Tom, and this is Brenna.”
“And your friends?”
“Woodsmoke and Beansprout,” Tom said impatiently, wondering why on earth that mattered.
The man bowed majestically and kissed Brenna’s hand. “Madam, Sir. I am indebted. But you haven’t answered my earlier question. How are you here?”
Brenna answered. “I was kidnapped by the wood sprites – I was to be given to the Queen of Aeriken.”
“Some sort of exchange for her power, from what I overheard,” added Tom.
“Really. She doesn’t normally share her power. I wonder what’s in it for her? And why you?” he mused, looking at Brenna, “and not Tom or the others?”
Brenna flushed. “I have no idea,” she answered quickly. “And your name?” she asked, changing the subject.
“I am Prince Finnlugh, Bringer of Starfall and Chaos, Head of the House of Evernight. Now go, quickly. Avoid the edge of Aeriken Forest; if there’s any more of them, that’s where they’ll be waiting.”
He muttered and waved his hands, just as Woodsmoke had done under the tower, and the door opened.
Outside it was night. Tom hadn’t realised they had been in the mound for so long.
The Prince added under his breath, “If ever there was a time for the King, perhaps it is now.”
Tom and Brenna stopped and looked at him. “What did you say?” asked Tom.
He looked at them warily. “Nothing, ignore me.”
Tom persisted. “You mentioned a king.”
“I am merely thinking aloud. Forget I ever said anything.”
“Well,” Tom said, considering his words carefully, “we’re travelling to the lake if you wish to see us again.”
The Prince stared at him and then gave a slow smile. “By the way, don’t worry about being followed. I will make sure they never leave.”
They stepped through the door and with a crack it shut behind them, leaving them halfway up the hill.
Tom looked at Brenna. “Thank God we’re out of there. That has to be the freakiest place ever. I hope Woodsmoke doesn’t live in one of those things. Are you OK?”
“Yes, apart from my shoulder. It’s really sore. I fell on it when they threw that wretched net on me.”
“So the Prince asked a good question. Why you? They didn’t bother with the rest of us. What did they mean when they called you her ‘subject’?”
Brenna glanced away, reluctant to meet Tom’s eye. “I have no idea. They probably confused me with someone else. It’s nothing, Tom. Just an exchange for power.”
Again she changed the conversation. “Didn’t you take a bit of a risk just then? The whole King thing?”
He shrugged. “It felt right.”
The grass on the hill was smooth and velvety, clipped short, unlike the meadows below which were luxuriant with waist-high grasses. Once they reached the bottom, there was no sign of the main entrance. The grasses tangled around their calves and smelt fragrant and fresh. They searched for the spot where they had been attacked, hoping to pick up Woodsmoke’s and Beansprout’s tracks.
Keeping the river on their right, they eventually stumbled into an area of flattened grass – and the dead bodies of wood sprites. There was a moment of panic, of wondering if Woodsmoke or Beansprout lay among them, but there was no sign of either.
Tom took out his torch, holding it low over the ground, and eventually found a faint track leading away from the mound. It was too risky to shout out, so they called in low voices: “Woodsmoke, Beansprout.”
They hadn’t gone far when they came across another dead sprite. They called again, and this time relief swept through Tom as Woodsmo
ke answered, “Tom, Brenna, is that you?” They saw a tall figure, black against the pale silver of the grass.
“Woodsmoke?” Tom shone his torch, lighting up Woodsmoke’s face. “Are you OK?”
“I am, but Beansprout’s not so good. How are you two?”
“We’re okay. It’s been … eventful,” Tom answered.
They followed Woodsmoke to a ring of flattened grass. Beansprout was curled on a blanket, sleeping heavily.
“What happened?” Brenna dropped to her knees next to Beansprout, her face worried.
“She was hit in the arm by a spear. Fortunately it’s only grazed, but the spear took a good chunk of skin with it. I’ve bound the wound, but it bled a lot and was very painful. I’ve given her herbs to ease the pain and help her sleep. She should be better by tomorrow, I hope.”
Woodsmoke sat and Tom dropped next to him.
“How did you get out?” said Woodsmoke. “I’m sorry, I tried to get in but the magic was too strong. I thought you must be dead.”
Tom related everything that happened, while Brenna curled up on the blanket next to Beansprout.
“So the Queen wants her subjects back.” He looked across at Brenna, but she was silent, her eyes glinting in the starlight.
“You don’t live in one of those hills, do you?” Tom asked.
“Oh no, they are used only by the old royal tribes.”
“Good, because it was really creepy. And the Prince was … odd.”
Woodsmoke laughed. “Odd and powerful; I have heard many stories. Not least from my grandfather.”
“Like what?”
“Another time, I think.”
“Who are the other royal tribes?”
“There are quite a few, but locally there’s the Duchess of Cloy’s tribe, and Prince Ironroot’s. Their palaces are over there.” He gestured over the river. “We don’t really see them any more; they hole up in their under-palaces dancing and feasting their long lives away.” He stopped, lost in thought.
“And how are we getting back tomorrow, to your home?”