Joan stared into his eyes and Arlo nodded, feeling strangely guilty even though he couldn’t think why.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘There is a second tunnel.’
‘And where there are tunnels,’ Joan said, ‘there is Haven. Of that you can be sure. And where there is Haven, there is danger. If Haven were ever to escape through that tunnel, then whatever spells that have been used to subdue him would no longer hold. I cannot overstate the harm Haven can do to us all, my world and yours as well. Harm is his nature and it is his great talent too.’
And with that she was finished, and she stood in silence, while Arlo’s head buzzed with new questions, new puzzles to prod at, new problems to solve. All around him, the pixies sat silently too, as if they were waiting for him to respond. He cleared his throat, feeling suddenly nervous and self-conscious.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I did not ask you the right questions, but thank you for answering the ones I did ask.’
‘The thing with questions,’ Joan replied, ‘is that the best ones lead to more questions. It would not have mattered which questions you asked, because the help you seek I cannot offer you. These are confused times, dangerous times, and you have discovered today the limits of my knowledge. I am glad to have met you, Arlo. You have a good heart and a strong will, and you will do the best you can. I can sense that in you. Before you depart, it is our tradition that there be an exchange of gifts.’
Arlo couldn’t think of anything he had that he could give Joan, but she raised her hand, smiling.
‘It is all right, Arlo, we need nothing more from you than a song. You do sing, don’t you?’
Arlo nodded. He loved to sing, and each year he looked forward to the school talent quest, not because he thought he might win, but because he enjoyed performing. This though was a different audience; he had heard their voices on the way in and knew he had nothing to match them.
‘Stand up and give us a tune from your world,’ instructed Joan. ‘And we will give you a little something in return.’
Arlo stood up carefully and the pixies moved quickly back, to avoid his huge boots. His mind went completely blank. Given time, and a pen and paper, he could have drawn up a list of fifty songs he knew from beginning to end, and could then have selected the perfect one. But all he could think of was a song his father liked to play on car trips, in a way that was either fun or annoying, depending on the twins’ moods.
He breathed deep, relaxed his shoulders and let his belly fill with air, and he sang: ‘They say, when the light shines too dimly, the trick is to look slightly away…’
And as the words twisted their way through the air, his sounds became colours, just as the words of the pixies had, a popping fireworks display of lyrics and tune. Tiny instruments were produced from nowhere—drums, cymbals, even a mandolin—and the pixies began to play along with delicate precision. But most splendid of all, by some magic Arlo could not understand, every voice in the valley joined in the chorus and for a precious few minutes he was leading the most beautiful choir of voices he would ever hear. So perfect were the sounds that they carried their own sadness, for he knew his memory would never properly hold them and so each note reverberated with the weight of passing. Arlo had never felt more connected to other voices, other hearts, to the very air around him. His skin prickled and shivered and he felt tears of pure joy in his eyes. His chest puffed with pride, his breathing deepened, and he sang like he had never sung before.
When the song finally ended he felt completely empty, but in the way of lightness, not exhaustion. Light enough to fly. Joan stepped forward and hugged his leg, and then what felt like a hundred pairs of hands were grasping at him, and lifting him off his feet so that he fell backwards onto a stretcher-bed of pixies, while the rest of the crowd cheered.
‘Thank you,’ Joan said. ‘None of us will ever forget this day. And now it is only fair that we offer you something in return.’
She led Arlo to one of the cauldrons and scooped out a spoonful of the bubbling liquid. It was surprisingly cool and smooth and it had a sweetness that danced on Arlo’s tongue and a spiciness that at first he didn’t recognise. Then he realised.
‘Gottacake!’ he whispered.
‘Gotta syrup,’ Joan corrected. ‘The humans use it to make their precious gottacakes. We prefer to sip the pure syrup, but that’s the way the world is. There are different ways of doing things, neither better nor worse, just different, and that is simply that.’
‘Where does it come from?’ Arlo asked.
‘From the forest. From the sacred gotta tree. But there’s no use looking for it, because it’ll just look like any other tree to you, and even if you knew which tree to choose, it would only ever give up its liquid to a pixie.’
Arlo remembered the way he had felt when Alice gave him the gottacake, and how she had told Stefan to only eat it when he needed help. ‘Does it give you magic powers?’ he asked.
Joan shook her head. ‘If you have no magic to start with, gotta will make no difference to you. But for those that do have magic, it can make that magic easier to find.’
‘So why do you give it to the people in the town? Why not keep it all for yourselves?’
The queen raised a single eyebrow. ‘It is the way to keep peace between town and forest. We give them a little, and they leave us well alone. That is the deal we have made with them. Never too much, or the liquid will lose its preciousness to them. And not too little, or they will come looking for it themselves, and the beautiful village risks being destroyed. It is a balance, you see. All things are a balance.’
Arlo smiled.
‘What?’ she asked. ‘What are you grinning at?’
‘I had run out of questions,’ Arlo replied, ‘but you just answered three more.’
Joan laughed, a sound that bounced and echoed like a mountain stream. The light around her frothed and popped with the joy of it.
‘Yes, you are right. But we are friends now. We have sung together and shared the gotta syrup. And now we must part as friends and carry our memories in the warmest part of our hearts. Take this flask of syrup with you, for what magic you possess will soon be sorely tested, but use it wisely. Choose your moment. And be careful, Arlo. When you encounter doubt look inside your heart. Not everybody you have met on this adventure is exactly as they seem.’
‘Thank you,’ Arlo said. He wanted to hug her, to show how pleased he was to have met her, but he wasn’t sure it was allowed.
Two pixies showed him the way back to the top of the ridge. The villagers lined the path and watched his departure in sombre silence. It had been a most beautiful meeting, but Arlo carried a new darkness with him now. The darkness of Haven’s power, and the warning that had for a moment sent an icy chill through his veins: Not everybody you have met on this adventure is exactly as they seem.
WHEN ARLO RETURNED to the camp site Alice was too furious to listen to any of his tale. She took hold of his arm and dragged him into the tree, forced him to sit on his uncomfortable bed and then shouted at him about the reckless stupidity of venturing out into the world in daylight hours and going anywhere or doing anything without her knowing. Arlo put his head down and weathered the storm. He knew from experience that such anger would blow itself out.
‘Well?’ Alice finally demanded. ‘What do you have to say for yourself?’
‘That I haven’t actually been—’
‘Are you going to say sorry?’ Alice interrupted.
But something had changed in Arlo. Walking back he’d had time to think, and to see his position here in a new way. He was taking a great risk. Stefan was too. They were doing it out of kindness, because they truly wanted to help. Yes, Alice knew more about this place than they did, and she had many skills that they didn’t have, but that didn’t mean she was always right and it didn’t mean she never had to listen.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going,’ Arlo said. ‘But you don’t always tell me where you’re going e
ither. And I have come back with some important information.’
Alice opened her mouth to interrupt but he held the flask in front of her nose and curiosity did the rest. ‘And I brought back this.’
‘What is it?’ Alice asked.
‘Sniff it,’ Arlo said, uncorking the bottle.
Alice leaned forward and sniffed. Her face twisted into disbelief.
‘But, that’s—’
‘Gotta syrup,’ Arlo said. ‘So, really, I think you should listen to what I have to say.’
Arlo could see Alice was torn. Her anger was still there, churning beneath the surface. But she was curious too, desperate to know anything that might help her to rescue her sister.
‘All right,’ she nodded, settling back against the inside of the great tree. ‘But you don’t go off again without saying. Anything we decide to do, we discuss it first. Do we have a deal?’
‘We have a deal.’ Arlo smiled and he saw Alice’s face soften. She leaned forward, eyes sharp, ready to listen.
Arlo described the morning as best he could, and all the while Alice sat silently, barely moving. When Arlo finished, Alice nodded and looked down at her feet. Her first question was quiet, barely audible.
‘Do you think it’s me?’ Alice looked up, fixing him with her stare. Arlo didn’t understand.
‘She told you not everyone is what they seem to be,’ Alice explained. ‘Do you think she was talking about me? Be honest. I need to know whether you trust me.’
Arlo looked into her eyes. The truth was he didn’t know. Couldn’t know. But that was the point of trust, putting your faith in something unknown.
‘She also told me to trust my heart,’ Arlo reminded Alice. ‘And my heart says I can trust you.’
Alice nodded. ‘You can.’
‘I want to talk to Stefan,’ Arlo said.
‘Yes,’ Alice agreed. ‘So do I.’
They rested until nightfall, then ate silently, lost in their own thoughts and confusions. Alice was worried about the gotta syrup, not wanting to leave something so valuable unguarded, but not wanting to be caught with it either, for there would be no way of safely explaining how they had got it. In the end they decided that hiding it in the camp was the best option.
By now Arlo was able to keep pace with Alice in the forest, even when he could tell she was pushing herself. They were just about to leave the cover of the tree line when he called out for her to stop.
‘Why? What is it?’ Alice’s voice was sharp.
Arlo could see it was going to take a while before she got used to sharing the lead.
‘Listen!’
Alice moved quietly back to stand beside him and listen.
‘I can’t hear anything. Just that ruru.’
The low two-toned hoot of the owl travelled mournfully through the trees.
‘Yes, but listen to what it’s saying.’
‘I can’t talk to animals, remember?’
‘Do you even try?’ Arlo snapped. His temper broke more quickly when he hadn’t had enough sleep.
‘I wouldn’t know how to try,’ Alice replied. She looked at her friend, sighed and added, ‘Okay then. Tell me what it’s saying.’
‘It’s in pain. It’s trapped. It needs help.’
‘The forest is full of animals in trouble,’ Alice pointed out. ‘If we start getting involved in that, we’ll never do anything else. Come on. We have to get to the Academy.’
She turned to move off, but Arlo didn’t follow. What she said made sense, but…‘I’m sorry. But I just have a feeling. It feels like we’re meant to stop.’
Arlo couldn’t tell if Alice stopped because she believed that such feelings mattered in this world, or just because she knew there would be no moving him otherwise.
‘All right. I’ll stay here. If you’re not back in five minutes I’m going on without you, and it’ll be your own stupid fault if you get lost.’
Arlo wanted to say that he could find his way around the bush just as well as she could now, but that would have taken up time they didn’t have. He turned towards the sound of the ruru and listened again.
‘Help me!’ it called, in those familiar two notes. ‘I’m trapped. I’m here. Help me!’
Arlo followed the sound through the darkness. The forest was so dark that he almost tripped over the bird before he noticed it. Arlo knelt beside it and held out a hand.
‘I’m Arlo,’ he whispered reassuringly. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
The ruru went still for a moment, its head turned slightly to the side to better see its rescuer. Then slowly, carefully, it leaned its head in against the palm of Arlo’s hand.
Arlo felt the bird’s beak rub softly against the skin, once, twice, three times, as if in greeting.
‘Hello, Arlo. I don’t have a human name to offer you but you can give me one if you wish to.’
‘How about Seymour?’ Arlo asked.
‘All right then. I am Seymour, and I’m trapped in this snare.’
Arlo felt along the bird’s leg and found the loop of thin rope that had it trapped.
‘What were you doing on the forest floor?’ he asked.
‘Picking up a juicy mouse,’ Seymour answered. ‘Just bad luck, I suppose.’
‘Or good luck that I was passing,’ Arlo replied. ‘Sorry if this hurts.’
He dug at the knot with his fingernails and then pulled the loosened loop as carefully as he could over the ruru’s talons.
‘What happened to the mouse?’
‘It got lucky too,’ Seymour answered. ‘Thank you, Arlo. Animals are already speaking of your kindness. You know we must not interfere, but you have friends when you need us.’
And in a flapping of wind and feather, the bird rose into the night.
Alice and Arlo moved quickly after that, Alice leading at a dangerous pace, as if trying to punish him.
She finally came to a halt at the ridge at the edge of the farmland, dropping and crawling forward. Arlo did the same, close beside her. Below them the Academy compound stood squat and forbidding, its sheer walls too high to climb.
‘Now what?’ Arlo whispered.
‘We go in,’ Alice said. She looked up, scanning the dark sky.
‘How?’ Arlo asked.
‘Carefully.’
Apparently satisfied that nothing overhead posed them any danger, Alice rose to her knees and explained her plan. ‘We’ll go down to the left-side corner. There’s a passageway that the students sometimes use, when they want to sneak out into the town unnoticed.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I watch them,’ Alice replied.
Arlo tried to imagine just how many hours she must have spent observing the Academy, to have gathered the information she had. Not for the first time, he was glad they were on the same side.
‘What’s it like inside?’ Arlo asked.
‘I don’t know. I’ve never been in,’ Alice answered.
‘Then how will we find Stefan without somebody seeing us? Shall I send him a message?’
‘No, it’s too risky,’ Alice said, as certain as ever. ‘Come on, it’s time to move.’
They hurried down the dark bank. Arlo hoped an unseen rabbit hole wouldn’t leave him with a broken ankle. Alice found the hidden passageway, built cleverly into the corner of the thick stone wall so that from every angle it appeared to be nothing more than a deep crack. It was only when you got up close that you realised there was a small hidden alley running up the middle of the seemingly solid wall. It was small enough that children, but not adults, could enter. Alice dropped to the ground, where the passage was widest. Arlo switched on his headlamp.
‘You can’t use that,’ Alice whispered. ‘Someone will see the light.’
Arlo clicked it off and returned it to his pocket. He didn’t quite see how a light could shine through solid rock, but he knew there was no point in arguing. If Alice was prepared to lead the way into the blackness, he would follow.
The narrow passage c
ontinued through the wall for less than five metres, before turning sharply left. A pale glow ahead warned them they were about to emerge into the Academy compound.
‘Okay,’ Alice instructed. ‘Close your eyes, and tell me which way we should go once we’re out.’
‘How can closing my—’
‘Use your magic.’
‘I don’t think it—’
‘Then pretend,’ Alice said sharply, ‘and see what happens.’
Arlo closed his eyes and wished they had a better plan than this. He considered the directions ahead. Left or right? he asked his magic self. He waited. There was no reply.
‘Well?’ Alice demanded.
Arlo shrugged. ‘Straight ahead.’
Alice nodded curtly and moved forward. Inside the compound, the darkness gave way to puddles of lantern light. The shadows between them were even darker in contrast. Alice put her head down, and rushed hunched into the nearest patch of darkness. There was a sudden clatter of chains, and a low, menacing growl.
Alice froze. Arlo didn’t dare move either, even though he knew he was still half in the light.
‘What is it?’ he whispered.
‘A dog,’ Alice replied. ‘You didn’t tell me there was a dog.’
‘I didn’t know.’
‘You said straight ahead.’
‘And I also said my magic wasn’t—’
Again the dog growled.
‘Is it chained up?’ Arlo asked.
‘I hope so.’
‘So let’s go left,’ Arlo said.
‘No, you were right the first time. Why have a guard dog if that isn’t the way in?’
Arlo could see her logic. He could also see that moving directly into the path of a fierce dog was madness. Alice crouched down and held out her hand, edging slowly forward. Arlo edged closer, into the shadows.
‘Good boy,’ Alice murmured. ‘Yes, that’s right. Good boy.’
‘It might be a girl,’ Arlo said.
‘This is a good time for you to be quiet,’ Alice replied, her hand still outstretched. She took another half step. The growling faded and out of the darkness emerged a huge canine head, with floppy ears and bloodshot eyes, and a pool of sticky drool suspended between its mouth and the ground. Its teeth were huge, its lips curled back in anger. If Arlo had been in front, he would have already turned and fled, but Alice held her ground.
The Tunnel of Dreams Page 10