by Lari Don
“Thomas wasn’t a faery. He was just the Faery Queen’s consort.”
“Yes, and when she was finished with him, she gave him a really dodgy gift. He could only tell the truth. That was his true power. A faery power. I wonder if that will open this door. Some truth … from a faery.”
“Truth?” said Lee. “Truth like … em … I was really scared when I jumped over that wire?”
They looked at the rock wall. It didn’t do anything.
Helen said, “Maybe that’s not hard enough truth.”
“I don’t find it easy to admit being scared.”
“But you’re not telling me anything I don’t know. I know you’re scared of iron. Let’s try more painful, dangerous truth.”
Neither of them spoke for a long moment.
Then Helen said, “Lee, tell me this truth. Do you plan to take me from my home and my family to play music for you in the faeries’ lands?”
Lee looked away. He looked at his clean boots. At Helen’s muddy boots. At the rock, at his swords, then back at Helen.
He put his hand on the rock. “For Yann, I will speak the truth. Yes. Yes, I do plan to take you from your home to play music for my people. Your music is the most powerful that I’ve ever heard, that our King or Queen have ever heard. The faery who brings your talent to our lands will gain far more influence than a swift sword can ever bring. So yes, I do plan to steal you, take you to our lands and keep you there for hundreds of years, knowing that if you ever come back to your own world, you will crumble into dust.”
The rock creaked.
Lee put his other hand on the rock and spoke clearly. “And I haven’t taken you yet, Helen Strang, not because I think it would be wrong; not because I know you’d miss your parents, your sister and your friends. It’s simply because if I stole you, then I could never come back to this Scotland, because I’d be afraid of the revenge your friends would take.”
The rock rumbled.
“I want to steal you, because I’m selfish and ambitious; I haven’t stolen you, because I’m a coward. That’s the truth, and I’m not proud of it.”
The rock slid open.
Helen stared at Lee. He didn’t look at her; he stared into the black hole in the hillside.
Helen whispered, “I need to ask one more question. Does this door really lead to a hollow hill in this world? Or does it lead to your lands?”
“This is not a faery door, Helen. You will be safe in here.” Then he smiled. A thin, tight smile. “Well, you’ll be safe from me. Neither of us will be safe from your human knights.”
He took a step in.
Helen hesitated. “Was that the truth?”
“You won’t know unless you step inside.” Lee walked into the hill.
Helen followed him.
Once she was inside, the rock door crashed shut. The slam echoed into the deep cold darkness. Lee and Helen looked at each other in the small pool of light they’d brought in with them. They didn’t speak. Then Helen stepped in front of Lee, so her torch lit the way ahead and his cloak lit the tunnel behind them. And she walked forward.
Helen knew she should be pleased they’d found the key to open the door, to lead them to the healing token that could save Yann’s life. But she was too shocked by Lee’s answer, too upset because she knew she could never trust him again.
She had hoped he would answer “no” and the door would open, proving that he was telling the truth. But the truth he had told wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Or was it?
In the soft echo of their footsteps, she heard her mum’s voice: “Don’t you have any proper homework to do?” and she wondered what answer she’d really been hoping Lee would give.
The stone tunnel was wide, with a cobbled floor, smooth walls and a high arched roof. The floor sloped downwards, deep into the ground, then it curved left, flattened out and headed for the larger Eildons.
When the noise of their footsteps changed to a broader echo, Lee drew his sword and moved in front of Helen.
They walked forward into a stable, stalls cut into the hill on either side. Each stall had a trough for water, hooks for hay and grooves in the floor worn by heavy hooves.
Helen stepped into the nearest stall. The trough was dry. Wisps of straw made dirty yellow lines on the floor. She picked one up and it crumbled in her fingers. Crumbled into dust, like a human returning from the faeries’ parties.
She swallowed her sudden panic and continued down the long tunnel, checking every stall. But they were all cold, dusty and empty.
At the end of the stalls, the tunnel opened out into a dark chamber. Helen put her fingers over the torch beam so it didn’t shine so brightly, and walked forward.
There was a smell, a warmth, a feeling of life, and Helen wondered if the horses from the stable were now in here.
She heard Lee whisper in her ear, “Pull back, now.”
They both took a few paces back, and he stepped with her into the last stall. “Helen. We have to work together. We have to trust each other. Can you still do that?”
She nodded. “Yes. For Yann.”
“Good. Turn off your light. We’ll use my more subtle glow to find Arthur.”
Helen switched off her torch and tried to think about the scabbard. “Let’s walk straight towards the middle of the hollow hill. Arthur will be in the centre, won’t he?”
“I’m not sure. He had a round table so none of his knights sat above or below anyone else. Perhaps they’re all sleeping round the sides in a circle. Anyway, how will we know which one is Arthur?”
Helen shrugged. “He’ll have the fanciest armour and fanciest clothing. You’re the expert on overdressing, so I’m sure you’ll recognise him.”
Lee frowned and opened his mouth to respond, but Helen continued, “The simplest plan is to walk straight across, and if we don’t find him, then when we get to the other side, we split up and come back here round opposite walls, searching as we go.”
“No,” said Lee firmly. “We do not split up. We stay together.”
“Why? Are you planning to kidnap me on the way home?”
“No.” He tried to smile. “No, I just need you to stamp down barbed wire on our way back. So we stay together. We can go straight across, and if we don’t find him, we’ll walk round the perimeter together. When we find him, you take the sword out, and I’ll untie or cut the scabbard free.”
Helen nodded. “Are you ready?”
“Always.”
They moved out of the stable into the hollow hill.
It was impossible to tell how big the chamber was. The blackness was so absolute, outside the gentle glow of Lee’s faery light, that the walls could be as close as an arm’s length or as far as a stone’s throw.
They walked slowly side by side. The light shone far enough ahead that they wouldn’t bump into anything and nothing could approach them without being seen. But anyone awake would see them outlined in the darkness.
They kept moving forward.
The floor was paved with massive flagstones, worn smooth and clear of dust.
They moved deeper into the hill.
A dark shape appeared ahead of them.
Helen and Lee moved closer together. Lee swirled his cloak outwards, bouncing a curve of light off the shape.
It was a large block of stone, with a crumpled heap of fabric on top.
“Arthur’s bed,” Helen whispered.
She leant even closer to Lee. “Take one more step so I can see clearly, then stay out of the way while I remove the sword.”
Lee squeezed her arm and whispered back, “Be careful, Helen. He’s not a courtly king, he’s a violent warrior.”
They took one more step together, then Lee stopped and Helen went on alone.
The bed was cut from a chunk of red stone and covered by a cloak: not smooth golden silk like Arthur wore in pictures, but knobbly brown wool.
Helen stepped even nearer.
If Arthur was under there, he was huge. She couldn’t tel
l which end was the head and which the feet. But the cloak was moving softly and regularly, as someone underneath breathed in and out. Arthur was asleep.
Helen grasped the edge of the cloak, lifted it a few centimetres, then peered underneath to see if the sword was there.
But the cloak kept moving upwards.
The figure on the bed was sitting up.
Helen scrambled backwards.
Suddenly there was a blaze of light behind the bed, the cloak flew into the air and a tall figure leapt off the bed.
Helen crashed into Lee.
The figure in front of her shouted, “You are not Arthur!”
Helen replied, as calmly as she could, “You’re not Arthur either!”
Chapter 11
Lee steadied Helen, and they stared at the massive man ahead of them.
He was dressed in rough-cut pieces of fur. And he was hairy: hairy hands, hairy feet, hairy chest, hairy ears, hairy eyebrows, hairy head. He even had black hairs poking out of his nostrils.
But his chin was bare.
The skin on his chin was pale and hairless, grazed and scabby. It had been badly shaved, and it looked cold and sore in the tangle of hair covering the rest of him.
“You are not Arthur!” he roared again. “Who are you?”
Helen answered carefully, “We’re two companions on a quest. Who are you?”
“I am the giant Ysbaddaden. I wait here for revenge! We all wait here for revenge!”
The light behind him lurched closer. It was a line of lanterns, held in hairy hands, scaly hands, paws and claws.
The giant spoke again. “Arthur and his knights shaved me, to humiliate me! They used a razor stolen from my companion Twrch Trwyth.”
A huge boar stepped into the light, with bristly shoulders as wide as a car and long yellow tusks jutting up out of its black jaws.
“When we heard that Arthur slept here,” the giant rumbled, “we came, bringing others who hate the knights of the Round Table, to have our revenge.”
“To kill them,” said a voice from the darkness.
“To eat them,” whispered another.
“But they’re not here,” continued Ysbaddaden. “So we’ll wait until they return.”
Helen looked at the shapes behind the lanterns. In the gloom, she saw a long low beast with a snake’s head on a spotted cat’s body, more tall hairy men and a wrinkled dragon’s wing.
“But didn’t Arthur and his knights kill everyone they fought?” she asked. “Aren’t you lucky to be alive?”
“Lucky?” spluttered Ysbaddaden. “Was it lucky to be stolen from, to be left beardless and weaponless? Some of us they drove away: my friend the boar was chased into the sea. Some of us they made fun of.” He touched his chin and shivered. “But many of us here are the mothers and sons of those they butchered in their pointless quests. We all wait here for revenge. Why are you here?”
“We’re here to steal Arthur’s scabbard, like he stole from your boar,” said Helen. “Did they leave the scabbard behind?”
“They left nothing behind but dust and horse droppings.”
“Then we should leave you in peace,” said Lee in his most charming voice. “We wish you patience and good company while you wait; swift and satisfying revenge when your enemies return.”
Lee took a smooth step back, pulling Helen with him.
“I’m hungry!” whined a voice.
There were screeches and growls from beasts Helen couldn’t see and couldn’t understand.
Lee whispered, “If we have to run, get ahead of me. Don’t stop to help me. Don’t wait for me.”
They kept walking backwards through the hollow hill.
Helen spoke directly to Ysbaddaden, hoping he was in charge of the creatures behind him. “Where have Arthur and his men gone? When will they come back?”
“They’ve gone to water their horses, obviously. They will be back before morning. Did you see them on your way here?”
“Oh yes,” said Lee, sincerely and convincingly. “We saw horses at the reservoir. They’ll be back soon. We’ll leave now, so we’re not in your way when they arrive.”
“How long have you waited?” asked Helen, as they moved further from the claws and fingers clutching the lights.
“One long night. It seems to have lasted centuries,” moaned Ysbaddaden. “But they will be back soon, so get out quickly.”
Helen and Lee walked faster.
But a voice rumbled, “No, Ysbaddaden. These children might warn the knights. And anyway, we are hungry!”
The line of lights broke, dark shapes rushed past the shaggy giant, and Lee shouted, “Run!”
Helen turned and sprinted through the cave towards the stables. She knew Lee was close behind; she could see the cloudy glow of his cloak on the stones at her feet. But she also knew Arthur’s enemies were following; she could hear them clattering and cursing.
She reached the tunnel and ran straight into the darkness, fumbling for the on-button of her torch. She found it in time to stop herself running into a horsebox. So she kept going up the tunnel, hoping the footsteps behind her were Lee’s.
Then she saw a flick of velvet at her side.
“It’s just a shame,” she panted, “that everything Arthur annoyed is so big.”
“It’s not a shame at all,” said Lee. “Look back.”
She swung round and her torch beam shone on a tangle of legs, arms and wings stuck at the entrance to the tunnel. They were too big to fit through together.
She slowed down.
“Keep running!” Lee urged. “They’re not all stupid. Someone will sort them out.”
Helen heard Ysbaddaden roaring, “Dragons and giants get to the back! Let the questing beast and the boar go ahead!”
Lee and Helen ran round the curve in the tunnel and up the slope. Helen’s torchlight slapped against the rock door. It was still shut tight. How were they going to get out? She didn’t want Lee to tell her more terrifying truths.
“How do we open it this time?”
“Your turn, human girl. You tell me the truth.”
Helen tried to think of something hard to admit, something embarrassing or dangerous. “I lie to my mum about where I go at night!”
“Of course you do. We’ve all done that. Something else, something more.”
Lee stood at her back, facing the darkness, and lifted his sword.
Helen could hear the claws and feet of Arthur’s enemies racing up the tunnel. “I can’t think!” She smacked her hand against the cold rock.
Lee called, “Come no closer, Ysbaddaden, my sword is sharper than any razor.”
Helen shouted over the stamping from the tunnel behind her. “Lee! Ask me a question.”
“With pleasure, Helen. Would you play your music for my people and my followers, if I asked you to?”
Helen knew the truth before he’d finished asking. But she didn’t want to say it out loud.
She kicked the door. It didn’t move. She would have to answer him.
Arthur’s enemies had almost reached them. “Stay back, Ysbaddaden,” warned Lee, “unless you want such a close shave that you lose your head as well as your whiskers.”
Helen could hear the creatures shifting and slithering nearer. Perhaps only Ysbaddaden was afraid of Lee’s blade.
“Quickly, Helen! Tell me the truth. Would you leave your world to play music for the faeries?”
As they stood, back to back, Lee facing Arthur’s enemies and Helen facing the rock door, Helen told him the truth. “Yes. Yes, I would.” The rock shifted under her fingers. “Because the faeries value music more than anyone else does. And because music matters more to me than … anything.”
The rock creaked and rumbled.
Helen gasped. “That’s so selfish of me! I can’t put music before my friends and family. I don’t want that to be true!” But she knew it must be true, because the rock opened.
Lee was standing his ground behind her, holding back the line of Ysbadda
den’s angry companions. Helen could run out and leave him there. She could signal Sapphire and get away from him.
But Lee was here to help Yann, and he was standing between her and danger. Helen grabbed his cloak. “We stay together, remember?” and she pulled him out with her.
As she scrambled up to the summit, she looked down. Past Lee’s glimmering cloak, she saw giants, boars and the snake-headed beast squeezing through the door.
Ysbaddaden was at the front, his white chin leading the way.
“Sapphire!” screamed Helen. She switched her torch off and on, three quick flashes, aiming the signal towards the moonlit water below. But she couldn’t see Sapphire, and the mob was already climbing after them.
“Sapphire!” Helen shrieked again and ran off the summit the only way she could, down the ridge. Lee followed her, but only for a few steps. Helen glanced back. The faery was now facing the white-chinned giant, who pulled a huge wooden mallet from his fur waistcoat and stepped towards Lee. But suddenly Ysbaddaden vanished. His feet flew into the air, he dropped the mallet and slid down the hill.
Helen heard him moan, “Sheep droppings! Sheep droppings on my boots and on my chin! These children have humiliated me too!”
She was about to yell for Sapphire again, when her torch beam bounced off a blue shape flying fast through the night air. The dragon blasted an arrow of fire at the creatures swarming up the hill, then swooped towards Helen and Lee, claws outstretched.
They ducked and Helen yelled, “Not from above! Fly lower and we’ll jump!”
She and Lee stood together on the ridge, watching as Sapphire swerved round a single tree on the slope, sent a bolt of flame at the snake-headed creature, then sprinted along the side of the ridge below them.
“Too fast!” called Helen.
Sapphire swerved again, then flew past slowly enough for Helen to jump off the Lucken Howe onto her broad back.
But Lee didn’t jump. He turned at the last moment to protect Helen’s leap from the bristling boar.
The faery stood on the ridge, facing an opponent with two curved tusks as long and sharp as his one sword. Sapphire flew past again, but Lee didn’t jump. He just pulled another sword from his belt and threatened the boar with both, one in each hand. The boar hunched its shoulders and took a step forward.
