by K T Durham
Goldie sighed with relief, welcoming the renewed silence. “Thanks,” she said gratefully, and Sebastian shrugged and flopped back onto his chair. Glancing down, she noticed a textbook titled It’s All in the Physics stashed at the foot of his chair. To her surprise, it was crammed with yellow Post-It notes covered in his trademark scribble. He had been studying, after all.
Then Goldie remembered: Sebastian’s A-levels were coming up. Last week, the exam board official had expressed total bafflement that Miss M had not hired a specialist tutor for his A-levels. “Why get a tutor when I can help him?” she’d said calmly. Oxford and Cambridge accepted homeschooled applicants that took formally recognized examinations, and she was confident Sebastian was smart enough to get into either prestigious university.
Goldie stretched out her legs and took a sip of tea. “How’s exam prep coming along?” she asked casually, giving Sebastian a sidelong glance.
He shrugged and crossed his long legs as he gazed up at the sky, the golden and pink threads fast disappearing. “It’s going OK,” he replied, flipping open one of his thick textbooks and taking a sip of tea. Goldie knew that he wanted to become a space engineer. He was good at building things with his hands, and he was even better at building ideas. And space had always intrigued him. “There must be something out there, something bigger than us. Otherwise, it’ll be an awful waste of space, don’t you reckon?” he had declared.
Then Miss M’s voice drifted up the stairs. “Kids! Where are you?”
A moment later, Miss M appeared head first from the stairwell. She raised her eyebrows at them and smiled. “There you are! I should’ve known.”
Goldie and Sebastian grinned and waved at her. “Hi, Miss M!” they chimed.
Bundled up in her old trench coat, she briskly walked over holding a plate of supermarket-bought butter cookies, with Saffy tottering at her heels. She ruffled Sebastian’s hair affectionately and gave Goldie a squeeze on her shoulder. “Oh, Goldie, earlier this afternoon while we were out, someone came looking for you. Mr Banksby just told me.” Mr Banksby was their neighbour, an elderly retired classics professor from Leeds with a penchant for caramel-flavoured sweets who stayed home most days watching reruns of soap operas.
Goldie raised her eyebrows. It must have been Roy. He had mentioned wanting to leave a book with her. It was written in Italian, and he had asked if she could translate a few passages for him. Goldie’s extraordinary gift for languages enabled her to translate practically any language. Nobody had ever figured out how she could be so linguistically gifted, especially since she had never been out of Hemlock – until her great escape a year ago, that is. Once Miss M discovered her extraordinary talent, she became giddy like a kid with cotton candy. “You’re either a savant or a godsend,” she had declared. “Maybe you could even become a translator for the United Nations. Or you could become an anthropologist and translate all those ancient texts that get displayed at the biggest, most distinguished museums,” she gushed excitedly to Goldie, whose greatest wish for now was to never see Veronika again.
“Did Roy leave a book for me?” Goldie asked, crossing her legs and scratching Saffy behind her ears.
Miss M looked surprised. “Oh, it wasn’t Roy, dear. Mr Banksby said it was a tall blonde woman with these striking blue eyes, very beautiful. She was with a short bald man, but he couldn’t quite recall his face, for the life of him …”
What Mr Banksby did not tell her was that the beautiful blonde woman also gave him the willies, and the man looked like he hadn’t slept in days, his gaunt face covered in old stubble and his forehead shiny with sweat as he fiddled with a dirty-looking blue handkerchief. Mr Banksby thought she overheard the blonde woman call him “Truman” in her soft voice, but he couldn’t be sure, his hearing wasn’t so good these days.
Sebastian was munching on a butter cookie. He froze at the stricken look on Goldie’s face.
No. No. No. It can’t be.
Goldie had no idea who that short bald man was, but she knew in her gut who that tall blonde woman was.
Veronika.
Goldie stared at the two people who meant the world to her, and a wave of nausea crashed over her. Saffy’s ears drooped, and she started whimpering. What’s wrong, Goldie?
“What is it?” Sebastian demanded, sitting up and grasping her by the shoulders. Miss M narrowed her eyes and took a step closer to Goldie.
“I can’t stay here anymore,” Goldie said in a whisper, and her hand gripped the small silver ball that she always wore on a chain at her belt. Sebastian had once asked her what it was, thinking it odd that a girl would carry something like that around, for it was neither a pendant nor a pocket watch. Goldie had shrugged and mumbled something barely audible, but he caught the words “parents.” He never asked again.
Now, he put his hand over her small fist, and he was surprised when she sagged against his chest. “What’s wrong?” he repeated, suddenly scared. He had never seen her look like this.
Miss M spoke up. “Let’s go downstairs,” she said brusquely. Her expression was grim as they walked in silence down the stairs back into the kitchen.
Goldie had not divulged much, but she did offer up fragments of her past as time went by, as if each piece of new information signified increasing trust. She had muttered something about an orphanage, foster homes, and something about living with rats in a basement. Piecing it together was not too difficult, and the picture looked far from pretty. Though Miss M did not know the specifics, and she certainly did not know who that blonde woman and the short man were, one look at Goldie’s pale face told her it was bad news.
Quickly, she retrieved notepaper from a drawer, bent down over the counter, and started writing. Then she handed the note to Goldie. “Go put on some disguise and leave for this address at once,” she commanded.
Goldie looked at her blankly. “Go through the back door,” Miss M continued. “I will call a taxi, but it won’t pick you up here. Go to the Chinese corner store three blocks away. Sebastian shall escort you. Keep your mobile phone with you in case I need to call.” She frowned and pointed towards the door. “Go, now!”
Goldie blinked, finally snapping out of her daze. Sebastian had put his arm around her protectively. “I’ll make a telephone call right away,” said Miss M, shooing them away. Sebastian scowled, wondering what in the world was going on. But he would do as Miss M instructed – she was the only one he trusted in the whole world, next to Goldie. Everything Miss M did, she always did for a good reason.
Miss M gestured at the note in Goldie’s hand. “This place is on the other side of town. My mother used to work as a nanny in this household, just like her mother did. I used to help babysit their little boy, Charlie. We have kept in touch over the years.” She paused to take a breath. “They are good people, Goldie. Trust me.” She propped up Goldie’s chin. “Don’t draw attention to yourself, OK?”
Goldie took a shuddering breath and nodded wordlessly, then stared down at the note that was written in a cool and purposeful hand:
Horace and Miriam Cobble
8 Adelaide Drive
Edgware, London
PART TWO
Ellanor
CHAPTER FOUR
The Untimely Summoning
“Go, Aron!” Elly bellowed, her voice drowned out by the thunderous shouts and screams that engulfed the arena where the archensoar semi-finals were playing out. Ribbons of red and gold were strewn across the darkening sky, but the sunshine was still going strong.
In the distance she spotted his silver hair gleaming, and she jumped up and whooped some more, even though she was exhausted after yet another gruelling training session with the Order. Blessedly, the session had been cut short, thanks to Grandpapa for vouching that Elly be released earlier just so she could make it to the match in time. She had been ecstatic, and in her excitement she almost forgot how sore she was from having complet
ed the two-hundred-mile run with half a dozen rocks tied to her ankles while the Vierran barked at her: “A turtle could go faster! Crank it up, or I’ll get a warfling to chase you down!”
Elly looked forward to collapsing into her hammock tonight and falling into a delicious, uninterrupted sleep. It was a good thing she’d stopped having the cryptic dreams of the strange girl with the green eyes and short black hair. The dreams stopped shortly after she returned home from Gaya nearly a year ago. In truth, she really didn’t need any distractions. The dreams had made her restless and absent-minded. But if she must admit it, a part of her missed seeing that mysterious girl, though she could not explain why …
As she watched Aron riding on his griffin, her heart swelled with pride. She had never before thought that her best friend – her bookish and goofy Aron, the one who used to scoff at the sport and tackily proclaimed, “It’s better to exercise one’s mind than one’s muscles!” – would one day become a budding archensoar player, let alone hawk-eye for their house team, Seaul. Aron looked formidable in his blood-red armour and dark cloak billowing in the wind, pitched against blue-coloured Lorne.
If Elly hadn’t stayed back in Alendria and had instead gone off to Gaya soon after her return a year ago, it would have taken her a moment to recognize her best friend. Aron had grown an astounding five inches in the past year, and he was fast catching up to Elly’s papa, who was considered exceptionally tall even next to the mighty Vierran. All that archensoar practice had sculpted him, and he’d grown so much that his face had lost almost all boyish roundness.
To her immense relief, she had grown a couple of inches over the past year. Pharowyn, indeed, was a prolific time for physical maturation. But compared to everyone else in her age range she was still the smallest. She now stood just below Aron’s broadening shoulders, and she couldn’t help but feel dwarfed next to him. She wondered how puberty, the human version of pharowyn, had transformed Lily, Maddy, and Teddy …
She smiled nostalgically. It had been a year since she’d seen her human friends. She often thought about them: the kindly shoemaker and his wife, Horace and Miriam Cobble (Horace’s grandfather was the first human to encounter the two rogue Alendrian elves that inspired the famous folk tale The Elves and the Shoemaker); her first human girl-friend, Lily Wong, who inspired her to stand up to the bullying Three Flamingos and whose mother made the most delicious pineapple buns; Maddy and her sweet, autistic brother Teddy and how Elly had finally found the elusive Organoth blue amber in the most unexpected way, thanks to their well-intentioned but scatterbrained mother, Victoria.
Then there was a collective gasp, and Elly snapped back to attention. Lorne’s hawk-eye named Graeyson Blackwood had just dodged an arrow shot by one of Seaul’s arsenals, Emmilia Thingol. She glanced up at the scoreboard and bit her lip: 280–200, to Lorne.
Her Royan, Greymore, rumbled at her belt. There is no other sport quite like archensoar, is there? Especially not in the human realm. Aron is certainly a competent player.
She scoffed. More than competent, Greymore, and you know it!
Elly had never been athletic. In fact, she had always been less agile than others, and that was why she had never wanted to try out for archensoar, and she’d thought she would never, ever have anything to do with archery or any strenuous physical activity for the rest of her life if she could help it. After all, there were protectors and guards to defend Alendria. Certainly, a klutz like her wouldn’t ever be needed.
But that was before her life was turned upside down, when she learned of the sinister secrets that threatened her beloved homeland. A year ago, on the eve of her twelfth birthday, the Beast that lay underneath the Tree of Alendria secretly sent Gutz the goblin to poison the luthains, the four orbs of power that sustained the Tree that was the realm of the elves. Gutz was the first goblin ever known to be able to shape-shift, disguising itself as a beautiful elfling named Edellina Rosebane, who befriended Elly and lured Elly into a trap wherein she unwittingly led Edellina to the portal that connected with Gaya, the human realm.
Though Edellina had been exposed as a goblin and failed to teleport to Gaya that time, Elly herself got pushed through the portal and ended up stranded in the human realm for a month. It had been an adventure of a lifetime, and it transformed her. But there were times when Elly wished it had never happened … because that would mean Alendria wasn’t in danger from being annihilated by the Beast and the goblins…
Greymore broke into her thoughts. If only the humans could watch a match of archensoar, they would probably do something to spice up their sporting games.
Elly giggled as she thought about Horace watching English football on his ancient television. Archensoar was, without doubt, infinitely more thrilling than that tame-looking human sport called football … not to mention the even more ludicrous golf, where players competed with each other, putting tiny balls into holes with sticks. She couldn’t imagine a better way to put oneself to sleep under the sun.
Whoooosh! Arrows whistled by, and the ferocious flapping of wings roared past as griffins swept by carrying their riders, weaving in and out. Elly sucked in her breath when she saw that Darrius had blocked Aron’s way just as he was preparing to take aim at the morgons, the black shadows huddled at the Cluster, the centre of the arena. Elly’s heart leapt to her throat; she knew that look of concentration only too well. Aron must have spotted the golden apple of Eris! He could score the granduin! If he succeeded, Seaul would gain five hundred points, and victory would be theirs.
There were more shouts, and Elly frowned at the score. She groaned; an arsenal from Lorne had just shot down another morgon, and Lorne was now one hundred points ahead of Seaul, at 300–200. Nervously, she glanced at the gigantic crystal hourglass that hovered high above the arena. There was only a quarter of an hour left to go. This wasn’t looking too good …
“Aron’s not bad,” said a deep voice, startling her. A tall boy with a long golden braid down his back had taken the seat next to her with a smile.
“Hello, Kaelan,” she said, smiling back and unconsciously fingering the bracelet he had given her.
Over the past year, their friendship had blossomed. Elly had been surprised that she so enjoyed Kaelan’s company, though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone, especially Aron. She had met Kaelan at the purple weeping willows a number of times, where they talked about all sorts of things – school, the antagonizing Three Flamingos who were still the most powerful clique at Arvellon, their aspirations (Kaelan was already training to become a protector), and even about his mother who was taken by goblins when he was young and presumed dead. His father, Maelakan Tuniveer, became a recluse after his wife vanished. An accomplished craftsman, Maelakan had once been contracted to forge luxury jewels for the descendants of the royal family but had since retreated into his dark house, taking up odd jobs here and there. Elly had spotted him on a few occasions, but the man walked with head bowed, avoiding eye contact with the outside world. Kaelan did not like to speak of him.
Like Aron, Kaelan had also shot up like a stalk in the past year. Now both stood at comparable heights. For three years in a row, Kaelan had been the star archensoar player for Cephrin. Aron and Kaelan, both hawk-eyes for their teams, had yet to face off for the first time. If Seaul beat Lorne, Aron would be playing against Kaelan in two weeks, and the winning team would snag the Archensoar Cup. Elly wouldn’t miss the big match for the world, even if it meant she had to train twice as much that week …
There was a high-pitched cry followed by an uproar in the audience. An arsenal from Seaul had shot down a morgon: 300–220. Elly whooped and clapped, and Kaelan grinned. Darrius’s sidekicks, Morganai and Lorelana, threw her withering looks from several benches away, dressed in blue for Lorne. Elly pulled a face at Darrius, who was grinning smugly as she continued to block Aron, her long auburn hair flickering like a flame in the wind. Elly hated to acknowledge it, but Darrius was a formidable de
coy and an exceptional rider. Then she caught sight of Aron muttering at Darrius, and when she made out what he was saying, she laughed at her best friend’s brazenness. “Bravo, Aron!” she cried.
There was a booming shout. Elly gasped as Aron found a way to swerve past Darrius. Elly shouted, “Go, Seaul!” along with the tumultuous applause and whooping cheers that came thundering from her red-clothed peers. Darrius shrieked, and in the blink of an eye, Aron was sitting up on his griffin and taking aim with his bow and arrow towards the Cluster, squinting into the sunshine and calculating in a split second whether there was a good chance at taking down the golden apple, which he could glimpse in between two writhing morgons.
Whooosh! An arrow shot towards Aron from one of Lorne’s arsenals, and Elly screamed, but a shieldan from Seaul had lurched forward just in time and deflected the arrow, grunting as it made contact with his armour. Then there was a collective hush as Aron released the arrow, and it shot forth like a shooting star over one hundred yards. Elly held her breath.
“Granduin!” bellowed the shrill voice of the commentator, which Elly recognized as belonging to a boy in Graille named Jademillen Domiah. The roaring was so thunderous that she could not hear her own voice screaming, “Go, Aron! Go, Seaul!” Aron had pierced the golden apple! Seaul had earned the granduin! They were now four hundred and twenty points ahead of Lorne! Elly jumped up and down, laughing and clapping her hands as she looked at Darrius in triumph. Darrius, still airborne on her steed, was glaring at Aron. She was not a good loser.
Then there was a deafening ringing of bells as the last of the sand in the hourglass dipped down. In the air, the scoreboard glittered and flashed, eliciting a cacophony of ecstatic cheers that drowned out the woeful moans wafting from Lorne. Cephrin still held first place; Seaul now ranked second, followed by Lorne and Graille. The next match pitched Seaul against Cephrin. Both Aron and Kaelan would be battling for the Archensoar Cup.
