Door Into Faerie

by Edward Willett

  “Flish!” Wally stared up the stairs. “Mom didn’t say anything about her. I’ll bet Major told her to forget her, too.”

  “Told who to forget who? And what do you mean, too?”

  “I’ll explain later.” He turned to face her again. “Let’s just get out of here.”

  They ran out into the dark street, and across to the alley from which they had first observed the inn’s entrance. In its darkness, they stopped. “If Rex Major suspects there’s some kind of link to Great-Grandpa, too, we pretty much just proved it by taking the book,” Wally pointed out.

  “Flish made that connection anyway,” Ariane said. “At least she didn’t see inside the book. Not that there’s much there.” She quickly told Wally what she’d read.

  “He’d already hidden the treasure away but someday he’d be with it again,” Wally said slowly. “It’s almost like a riddle.”

  “Maybe he intended to retrieve it at some point, but he died first,” Ariane suggested.

  “Maybe,” Wally said. “But maybe he meant exactly what he said. Maybe, in the end, he did go to it!” He stared at her, eyes wide and white in the semi-darkness. “Maybe he buried it where he already knew he was going to be buried!”

  Ariane felt a chill. “You mean…you think it’s in his grave? We have to go dig up his grave?”

  “Maybe not,” Wally said hastily, but Ariane was pretty sure he was only saying that because he’d guessed from the sudden squeak in her voice just how freaked out she was by that idea. “Maybe it’s just somewhere close by. In the church, maybe.”

  “God, I hope so,” Ariane said. She shuddered. She’d always hated horror movies, and especially those scenes – and every horror movie seemed to have one – where the heroes had to dig up a grave and opened the coffin to reveal a mouldering corpse grinning at them, with rotting skin hanging from its bones and worms climbing in and out of its…

  “Hey!” Wally said, touching her arm with his hand. She jerked and the horrible image vanished. “It’s just a guess.”

  Unfortunately, Ariane thought, it’s a darn good one. She closed her eyes for a minute. “All right,” she said. “All right.” Her eyelids flicked open again. “But we can’t go there right away, even if we are in yet another race with Rex Major. I don’t have the energy, Wally. I really, really need sleep. Real sleep, not drugged sleep.” She remembered she was holding the bread he’d brought her; she raised first one hand and then the other to her mouth and practically inhaled the two buns. “Caffeine and carbs won’t do it this time,” she mumbled through a full mouth.

  Wally looked back at the inn. “We can’t go back in there. And we can’t check into another hotel. I’m pretty sure an under-aged couple trying to get a room together would raise eyebrows. And possibly bring the cops.”

  “I don’t need a room,” Ariane said weakly. “Just someplace with a roof.”

  Wally thought. “Can you get us back to that loch near Castle MacPhaiden?”

  Ariane sighed. “I think so. But we can’t knock on the door and ask for Alex again.”

  “No,” Wally said, “but we know we can get into that little tunnel in the walls, the one for the postern gate. It’s not very big, but at least it’s sheltered. And nobody’s likely to stumble over us there.”

  Ariane nodded wearily. “All right,” she said. She looked up – the skies were still cloudy. She took Wally’s hand. “Here goes.”

  The jump was short, the fatigue enormous. And after they emerged from the loch, they still had to find their way, in near-total darkness, up to the castle. If not for the lights still blazing on the castle’s exterior, it would have been impossible. Ariane wondered if those lights were still on because Alex was searching for them. She hoped not. Surely by now Wally’s mom had talked to him and told him she’d seen Wally at the Claymore Arms – and that Wally had vanished again.

  Ariane sighed, feeling sorry for Wally, for Wally’s mom, for Alex, and more than a little for herself. She’d never been more tired, and the moment they slipped into the tunnel beneath the walls, she slumped down with her back against the rough stone and closed her eyes. She felt Wally sit down next to her, felt the warmth of his body next to hers, but it barely registered before she was fast asleep.

  She woke an indeterminate time later sore and stiff and hungry, leaning on Wally as he leaned on her. Looking around at the cold, dank tunnel, she couldn’t believe she’d slept there all night without waking, but from the grey light seeping in from both ends, clearly she had.

  Wally was still asleep, leaning on her shoulder, mouth open a little, breathing heavily. She gazed fondly down at him. She’d thought him a homely, geeky, annoying kid when they’d met. But so much had happened since then, even though it had only been a few months, that now she couldn’t imagine being without him.

  She wished they could maybe just go for poutine or a movie sometime, go on an ordinary everyday teenager date, instead of flying through the clouds or scrambling through caves or popping up in random pools or…

  …or digging up graves.

  She shuddered. She couldn’t help it. The motion brought Wally awake. “What…?” He sat up, blinking.

  “You’re drooling,” Ariane said helpfully.

  “What…?” Wally repeated. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Oh. Sorry. Gross.”

  Ariane grinned. “Don’t mention it. Sleep well?”

  He groaned. “Barely at all. It was already getting light before I dozed off.” He yawned and stretched and scratched. “But what about you? It’s way more important that you slept well than I did!”

  “I did all right,” Ariane said. “Exhaustion is better than any sleeping pill ever invented. Knocked me out as fast as Rex Major’s tranquilizer, but without the side-effects.”

  “Does that mean you can take us back to Saskatchewan?”

  “Yes,” Ariane said. “But not straight to Cannington Manor.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t know exactly where it is,” Ariane said. “I’ll need a map.” She stretched, and found sore places where she hadn’t even known she had places. “Ow. We should start bringing an air mattress with us.”

  “Bit bulky in the backpack,” Wally pointed out.

  “Worth it,” Ariane said. Her stomach growled, and she sighed. “Also, I’m hungry.”

  “Again?” Wally said in mock surprise. “You had a nutritious meal of dinner rolls not six hours ago.”

  “Not again,” Ariane corrected. “Still.” She considered. “Actually, always, at least when I’m using my power this much.”

  “There must be something in the village,” Wally said.

  Ariane nodded. “Mom and I found a coffee shop on Mother’s Day. Let’s head there.”

  They scrambled out of the tunnel beneath the castle wall and, with the bulk of the wall and cliff hiding them from any any prying eyes in the castle, headed toward the road…

  …only to see, far down the valley, the van belonging to Jessica Knight’s production company – and her rented car.

  Wally stopped. “Clachgorm instead, maybe?” he said hurriedly.

  “Clachgorm it is,” Ariane said. She grabbed his hand and took them up into the clouds.

  A few minutes later they casually clambered out of the same pool around the ornamental fountain from which they’d departed the night before. A short reconnaissance turned up a picturesque tea shop. It was hard to believe, as she ate a couple of lovely Scottish scones, that just the morning before she and Wally had been having coffee in the good old Human Bean back in Regina.

  Yesterday afternoon, here, she thought, remembering the time difference. It’s only just past midnight in Saskatchewan.

  She wondered how her mother and Emma and Wally’s Aunt Phyllis were bearing up. They had to be terribly worried, but they also had to know that Ariane and Wally couldn’t necessarily come home every night. Phyllis at least seemed to grasp that; sometimes Ariane thought Mom didn’t, even yet.


  But at least, now that she had had both rest and food, she could once more feel, deep inside her, the shining thread of power that linked her to her mother – the thread she had relied on to not only draw her to her mother’s side when Rex Major threatened her, but which had taught her she could travel much faster…and do more with her power…than she’d ever dreamed.

  Her mother had been able to feel that link, too, and though she could not send any kind of message over it, she took some comfort in thinking that, as long as that link remained, her mom at least knew she was alive.

  Given the circumstances, that was the best they could hope for.

  “So where do we find a map in Clachgorm, Scotland, showing you where Cannington Manor is?” Wally said. He’d gone thoroughly British and ordered kippers for breakfast. Fish for breakfast was not something Ariane was brave enough to face, especially fish that still looked so much like a fish, so she’d stuck to her usual bread products.

  “There’s no rush, is there?” Ariane said, as she took up her third scone and started to butter it. “It’s the middle of the night in Saskatchewan.”

  Wally sipped his tea, then set it down again. “Well,” he said. “Except…” he let his voice trail off.

  “Except what?” Ariane said, already thinking she was probably going to dread the answer.

  “Except,” said Wally, “can you think of a better time to go grave-robbing?”

  Ariane groaned. “Are we really going to do that?” she said weakly. “Dig up your great-grandfather’s grave?”

  “Only if we have to. But maybe the hilt isn’t really in his grave, it’s just somewhere nearby, in the churchyard or somewhere else in Cannington Manor. Maybe if we just go there, we’ll be close enough for you to sense it and grab it, and then Bob’s your uncle.”

  “I don’t have an Uncle Bob,” Ariane said, deadpan.

  Wally blinked. “Um, that’s just an –” She let a hint of smile through, and he laughed. “Got me.”

  She put down the second half of her third scone. It didn’t seem as appetizing anymore. “We’re going to need tools. And a flashlight.”

  Wally nodded. “Guess we’re stuck here until the shops open. I think I’ll have some more tea…”

  Fortunately, “until the shops open,” or at least the small hardware store they were most interested in, proved to be only another hour and a half. They had the last of the money Wally had stolen from Rex Major, converted into pounds sterling before they’d taken their Mother’s Day excursion. They went in and bought two spades and a pickaxe, plus a flashlight apiece. On the theory – bolstered by considerable evidence – that Ariane would be starving again once they got to Saskatchewan, they also bought salt-and-vinegar “crisps,” thick bars of chocolate, and four bottles of sugary lemonade.

  By then the town library had opened, too, and a quick Google on the public computer terminals showed Ariane how to find Cannington Manor – and also revealed, as Wally had suspected but hadn’t been absolutely certain about, that the park wouldn’t open until the Victoria Day weekend. All Saints Anglican Church, beautifully restored just a few years before, was still used for services – but only on the second and fourth Sundays of June and July.

  All of which meant Cannington Manor was most likely to be completely deserted – well, even more likely than it was to be completely deserted anyway at 2:30 in the morning, which seemed the likely time they’d arrive.

  That didn’t mean they’d be safe from detection, though. “It’s a provincial park,” Wally said. “There must be some kind of security. The buildings will have motion sensors in them for sure, but we shouldn’t need to go inside. There could be cameras scattered around, although I don’t know who would be monitoring them, and it would take a long time for the Mounties to get there from Carlyle even if someone saw us. Still, we should show as little light as possible.”

  “While we try to find a grave and possibly dig it up,” Ariane said. “Oh, that sounds easy.”

  Wally flushed. “I know it’s not much of a plan, but have you got a better one?” he snarled. Then he blinked, and said, “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Sword?” Ariane said.

  “Sword,” Wally confirmed.

  Ariane nodded her understanding and carried on as if he hadn’t snapped at her. “No, of course I don’t have a better plan. But grave-digging…”

  “I know,” Wally said. “I know. But…” He let his voice trail off in turn.

  They walked silently through the streets of Clachgorm until they found a secluded park. Screened from any passersby by a thick hedgerow, they took each other’s hands and leaped into the sky.

  •••

  Rex Major got the call from Felicia just after the pilot of his private jet told him over the intercom that they were about to begin their final descent into Toronto. “Did you get the book?” he asked without preamble.

  “No,” Felicia said. She sounded angry. “That bitch Ariane was there. She grabbed it and just about killed me…again.”

  Damn it, Major thought. She’s alive. And that means she still has both of her shards. “Just about killed you how?”

  “With the cover of a toilet tank,” Felicia said. “Just missed my head.”

  Major chuckled despite himself.

  “It wasn’t funny!” Felicia snapped.

  “Of course not,” Major said soothingly. “It’s just that, ‘death by toilet-tank cover’ isn’t a phrase you think of very often.”

  “Ha ha ha,” Felicia growled.

  Major’s momentary amusement flickered away. “So she has the book,” he mused. “That means she and Wally know whatever it has to tell them – and clearly they think it might tell them what I had hoped it might tell us. Perhaps your mother…”

  “I asked her,” Felicia said. “She doesn’t remember anything that hints where Great-Grandpa’s ‘treasure’ might be hidden. And she’s very upset right now because Wally joined her for dinner and then disappeared again. She’s worried about him.”

  “Leave that to me,” Major said. “Is there another copy of the book?”

  To his surprise, it was Felicia’s turn to chuckle. “Not a print copy,” she said. “But Mom had it digitized. And if you look at your email right about now…”

  A familiar chime sounded from Major’s computer. He opened the email, and grinned fiercely. “Forgive my earlier doubts, Felicia Knight,” he said. “You have more than redeemed yourself for your little shopping spree. In fact, I’ll treat you to something special in that regard once you’re back in Toronto.” His smile faded. “Which now needs to be as soon as possible. I’ll make the arrangements. “

  “Mom’s expecting me to stay around now that you made me go back to her,” Felicia pointed out.

  “Leave that to me, too,” Major said. He was already scanning through ‘Grandma’s Book’…and there it was, the hint he’d been looking for. It didn’t say exactly where the treasure – the hilt of Excalibur, he was sure of it – had been hidden, but it provided enough information to get them close. And once he was close, he was sure he could find it, especially once he had retrieved his own two shards…

  …and had Felicia Knight with him so he could draw on their power.

  “Will we be staying in Toronto for a while once I’m back?” Felicia asked, clearly hoping that was the case.

  “I’m afraid not,” Major said. He read the passage in Grandma Knight’s memoirs again. “We’re going on a sightseeing trip – to Cannington Manor Provincial Park.”

  “Cannington Manor?” Felicia said. He heard dismay in her voice. “You’re dragging me back to Saskatchewan?”

  “Look at the bright side, Felicia,” Major said. He folded down his laptop’s screen, buckled his seatbelt, and gripped the arms of the chair tightly, his preferred position for every aircraft landing he had ever been unfortunate enough to experience. He closed his eyes. “If all goes well, it will be for the very, very last time.”

  “Good,” said Felicia. “Good.”


  Major didn’t respond; he was far too busy worrying about plummeting from the sky to a fiery death.

  Chapter Eleven

  Grave Robbers

  Of all the places their quest for the shards of Excalibur had taken them, a dark graveyard in the small hours of the morning was close to the top of the list of Ariane’s least favourite. It didn’t make the very top of the list only because that spot was permanently reserved for the cave in southern France, where she had crawled for what seemed endless hours through blackness, certain she would be lost forever in its stygian depths…

  She shuddered. Although she gave herself bonus points for the use of the word “stygian.” It pays to increase your word power, she thought.

  The blackness of the All Saints Anglican Church graveyard at Cannington Manor was not quite stygian. There were a few lights in the park, and more in the farms not far away. Nevertheless, they did nothing to light the graveyard itself.

  Finding a place to materialize hadn’t been a problem. There were a number of small sloughs surrounding the single street of old buildings and remnants of foundations that made up Cannington Manor Provincial Park. Better yet, the one they had chosen hadn’t appeared to be frequented by cows – always a plus in Ariane’s mind.

  They had climbed out and crossed the “street” – just a gravel path – to get to the churchyard. In the dark, Ariane couldn’t tell how many graves it contained, but after they’d crept through it, flashing their lights – dimmed by holding their fingers over them – at gravestone after gravestone, while her imagination insisted on conjuring up images of skeletal hands bursting from the ground to seize their ankles, she began to think it might be endless.

  Except, suddenly, they found what they were looking for.

  It was far from the oldest grave in the cemetery – many dated back to the very early days of the 20th century, and some to the latter years of the 19th. It had a plain granite headstone. In the dim red light that their finger-blocked flashlights produced, Ariane first saw an elaborate carved cross at the bottom of the grave marker. At the top of the headstone was a name, EBENEZER ALEXANDER KNIGHT. Below that was carved 1868–1951, and below the dates, in smaller letters, the phrase FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.