Searching for Arthur (The Return to Camelot #1)

by Donna Hosie

  I shook my head. Slurpy rolled her eyes.

  “It’s not my fault,” I hissed under my breath. “I was just running through the woods after mum started having a go at me about the school dance. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, and I certainly didn’t expect to fall into a grave.”

  Slurpy made a humph sound in the back of her throat. I wanted to slap her on the back to dislodge it.

  Slap her hard.

  “Well, at least I’m organised,” she said sarcastically, grabbing hold of my shirt and pulling me along to the long-slatted gate that Arthur was last seen vaulting over. She patted her backpack. “I’ve got food, drink, my mobile, cigarettes, gum, and a torch.”

  Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. What the hell were we going to need cigarettes for? We could hardly kill them with cancer.

  “I think it’s that way,” I said, pointing east away from Avalon Cottage. As we followed a well worn path, I allowed myself one last look behind. There was a figure at my bedroom window; I could see the glint of something silver, like jewellery, but the leaded glass was too dark to determine who it was.

  It never occurred to me that it was someone who didn’t belong here.

  We met the first search party within twenty minutes. They were hacking at the undergrowth with large knobbly sticks. Several nodded at the sight of us. My only thought was that if Arthur was lying underneath the brambles and dead logs, then he would probably end up with a fractured skull if they continued to smack away like that.

  I didn’t say anything to stop them though. I knew Arthur wasn’t going to be found there.

  Hours passed. The further we went into the wood, the denser the trees became as the ground became more difficult to navigate. Twice Slurpy went head over arse as she tripped over hidden tree roots, but at least I didn’t laugh the second time it happened.

  Eventually we came to a small clearing. The green grass was long and fine, and scores of thick toadstools and wild mushrooms carpeted the ground like miniature stepping stones.

  “I think we should stop for something to eat,” suggested Slurpy, lighting up a cigarette.

  “I think we are hopelessly lost,” I replied, snatching the unlit cigarette from her lips.

  “What did you do that for?”

  “You can’t smoke in an uncleared wood. It’s a fire hazard.”

  “Fire hazard? Are you kidding me? There was enough rain dumped on this place yesterday to dampen hell. This is Wales, not the Australian Outback.”

  “You’re not smoking around me,” I replied angrily. “It’s a disgusting habit, and Arthur hates it. He says it’s like kissing an ashtray.”

  “Doesn’t stop him though,” sneered Slurpy.

  That was enough for me. I didn’t know what had possessed me to think that the two of us could actually work together to find Arthur. If I had to go into the hole alone, I would. Give me a tomb of rotting warrior zombies over another minute in the company of Slurpy Sammy.

  Without another word, I stormed off - or at least attempted to.

  I had gone four strides when I saw him. Just like the day before, Mr. Rochester had suddenly appeared like a magician’s rabbit out of a hat. He was nibbling at a ring of velvety-looking toadstools. The effect of his twinkling eyes had not been lessened by daylight, and I felt myself drawn towards him. Hypnotised.

  “Can you see him too?” whispered Slurpy, drawing level with me. Her voice had taken on a strange deep accent, and her eyes looked glassy, almost white.

  “Do you think we should follow him?”

  But Slurpy was already treading a path towards the rabbit. Teasing us, Mr. Rochester bounded away. Then he stopped, deliberately looked back at us, and then jumped away again. His gold and white fur appeared impervious to the black wet sludge on the forest floor.

  He was playing a game.

  This is stupid. You need to go back to the cottage.

  I ignored my inner voice, choosing instead to shadow Slurpy’s footsteps.

  Forget stupid then, you stubborn idiot. This is downright dangerous.

  “Will you shut up,” I snapped, smacking my forehead with the palm of my hand.

  “I didn’t say anything,” said Slurpy.

  “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  “More voices?” asked Slurpy sarcastically.

  “Yeah, mine if you must know.”

  “You really are weird, Natasha.”

  “Just shut up.”

  “Voices not playing nicely?”

  “Actually I was talking to you this time.”

  Our bickering had led us away from the clearing and into the densest part of the wood so far. Twisted tree trunks encased in thick flaking bark, rose out of the ground. The rain and wind of yesterday had felled several branches, and we had to clamber over them as we followed my baby rabbit. The smell of damp dirt and wet foliage filled my nostrils, but there was also an unpleasant dirty smell, like recently laid fertilizer.

  “Can you remember this place?” called Slurpy.

  “No,” I replied panting. “I’m sure the trees weren’t this close together.”

  The lack of air in the wood was suffocating, but there was an unnatural stillness too. No wind, no birds, no rustling in the carpet of dying leaves that had been shed in the storm. And then I remembered.

  “Wait a moment,” I called, as Mr. Rochester disappeared behind a tree. Slurpy stopped.

  “What…is…it?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Can you hear that?”

  “I can’t hear anything above your breathing,” replied Slurpy, who was now making the same noise as a steam engine.

  “Exactly,” I replied, taking two steps forward. The sound of snapping twigs magnified.

  “It’s too quiet,” said Slurpy slowly.

  I could feel a chill in the air that hadn’t been there before, like the blast you receive when you open the freezer to get an ice-cream. The hairs on my arms were rigid; I could sense the stubble on my recently shaved legs as well. It felt prickly against my jeans.

  “I think we’re close,” I whispered. “I had this feeling after I escaped from the grave.”

  “Arthur,” yelled Slurpy, in her screeching Welsh accent that was like nails down a blackboard. “Arthur, can you hear me, babe?”

  I was expecting an echo, but the sound of Slurpy’s voice dropped like a stone weight.

  “Arthur,” I screamed, “Arthur, its Titch. I’m here with SS. Yell if you can hear me.”

  Slurpy yanked my arm around so hard my body had no alternative but to follow. She stared at me with her mouth open, and her tired, bloodshot eyes wide.

  “What did you just call me?”

  “Nothing,” I mumbled.

  “SS,” screeched Slurpy. “Were you calling me a Nazi?”

  The Schutzsstaffel may have been the inspiration, but I was certain that she didn’t want to know that the full nickname was Slurpy Sammy either.

  “It’s just a joke,” I mumbled again, as my cheeks flamed. Despite my occasional snarkey attitude, I really hated confrontations.

  “You’re on your own, freak,” spat Slurpy, and she let go of my arm, but only after her nails had left their mark. She turned on her heels and marched away. Feeling ashamed, I didn’t have the heart to laugh when she tripped and disappeared from view with a muffled scream.

  Then it registered: Slurpy had disappeared.

  Completely.

  “Natasha…Natasha…” screamed Slurpy. Her voice was suppressed, like someone had placed a pillow over some speakers.

  I reached the hole, and on my hands and knees, peered down. Slurpy was lying sprawled on her back. I knew she was conscious because she was making an awful lot of noise.

  “Hang on, I’m coming down,” I called.

  “Don’t come down,” screamed Slurpy, “I want to come out.”

  But it was too late. I grabbed two thick roots and lowered myself into the hole. Slurpy was still sprawled on her back.

  No differe
nce there then.

  A quick scan of the tomb was enough to confirm it was the same one I had fallen into six days earlier.

  With one exception: it was completely deserted.

  The blind warrior and his sleeping friends were gone, and by the deep tracks in the earth, it was clear something, or someone, had unwillingly gone the same way as them.

  I looked up and saw two twinkling stars peering down at me. Then, with a goodbye twitch, Mr. Rochester was gone, having led us like the White Rabbit into the hole.

  I never saw my baby rabbit again.

  Chapter Five

  The Lady and the Bell

  An unfamiliar sense of bravery had me in its grip. In the past week, I had come face to face with ancient zombies with swords, whispering ghosts and a baby rabbit that had come back from the dead. Nothing could faze me now.

  As Slurpy scrambled around in the dirt, I grabbed her backpack and unzipped it. I wanted the torch, which I eventually found under several silver boxes of cigarettes, and enough Jaffa Cakes to turn a person into an orange Oompa Loompa.

  A weak white beam illuminated the tomb as I flicked it on.

  “What are you doing?” gasped Slurpy, who was now standing, albeit bent double, trying to catch her breath.

  “We have to follow the tracks,” I replied, scanning the tomb with the beam.

  “I’m not following any tracks. We need to get out and find help.”

  “Then go,” I said quietly. “I won’t stop you.”

  “I can’t leave you now, and you know it. Arthur would never forgive me if you got lost, which knowing your track record, would totally happen.”

  “Then shut the hell up and come with me,” I replied, “but I am going to find my brother, whether you follow me or not.”

  I meant it. I really didn’t care what Slurpy did, but I intended to follow those tracks in the dirt. Slowly, I started to walk to the back of the tomb, passing scores of empty stone plinths.

  There really had been an entire army of warriors, just waiting to feast on my tender – slightly spotty – flesh.

  A noise from behind was enough to tell me that Slurpy was shadowing my footsteps. The smell of cigarette smoke started to fill the air which had been surprisingly clean and clear, despite the fact we were underground.

  “Do you have to smoke?”

  “It calms my nerves.”

  I decided to let Slurpy kill herself. At least that way I could eat all of the Jaffa Cakes and drink all of the Red Bull without feeling too guilty.

  The further we walked, the narrower the tomb became, so much so that after a while it had morphed into a tunnel. The bravery that I had embraced so wholeheartedly deserted me, as the dirty terracotta walls closed in around us. It was claustrophobic, dark and scary. My imagination started to fill with thoughts of the roof collapsing in on us, burying us alive under a mountain of heavy earth.

  Every so often one of us would squeal as something fine brushed against our skin. Spiders I could cope with, but I was starting to pray under my breath that bats never entered the equation. I don’t like things that flap. It was why I didn’t complain when my mother got rid of the chickens.

  The tunnel eventually came out into a circular opening. It was still earth-made, but the soil was a lot darker, like it was wet or stained with something that I hoped wasn’t blood. It wasn’t wide, about six metres at most, and it was completely empty, apart from a thick wooden beam that arched across the roof of the earth cave. Hanging from that was a pulley, which in turn was attached to a bell.

  At first glance it looked like an ordinary church bell: cup shaped with a thick rim. Inside was a long metal clapper, hung like an engorged uvula. Whether it was made of copper, brass or silver was impossible to say, as the metal surface was badly tarnished with a grey-green coating. It looked hundreds of years old, and unused for all of them.

  “Can you read what it says?” I asked Slurpy, who was examining the thick rim closely. There were letters and symbols stencilled into the metal, but it was too hard to decipher.

  A musical voice in the dark made us both scream and fall back against the earth wall. I dropped the torch in my panic.

  “Sleepers of the cave awaken, for glory has come to the Kingdom of Logres once more.”

  I had bitten through my tongue in fright; I could taste the metallic saltiness of blood. Slurpy was crouching beside me, shaking with fear, as the strange female voice swept through the circular cave, like a gust of warm wind.

  Someone, or something, had finally had the decency to scare the absolute crap out of me.

  “Do not be afraid for now,” said the voice, “for I know of your quest.”

  The white beam of the dropped torch was fixed on a thick tree root that had grown out through the earth wall. I threw myself forward, grabbed the only source of light we had, and then lurched back towards Slurpy, landing on her in the process. She quickly secured her arms around my waist - not for comfort, but because she clearly intended to use me as a human shield.

  I scanned every inch of that circular cave with the torch, but could see nothing. A chuckle echoed back in the dark, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead, as a dizzying wave of sickness swept over me.

  “It’s a ghost,” whispered Slurpy, digging her nails into my stomach. “We’re going to die.”

  “I am not a ghost,” said the voice, “although it is true that my spirit has been waiting a long time for his glorious return.”

  A fuzzy ball of pale blue light started to rapidly expand in front of us. It grew taller and taller, stretching like elastic, as the form of a woman appeared. Slurpy was swearing rapidly under her breath; I had stopped breathing.

  Then the torch failed.

  An eerie blue sheen now bathed the entire cave. Slurpy and I were trapped in the shadow cast by the bell. The earth started to vibrate, and powder dry pockets of brown earth fell from the roof, sprinkling us with layers of dirt.

  “We should never have come down here,” cried Slurpy, dry sobbing. “This is all your fault, Natasha.”

  The woman raised her arms and held her palms flat against the circular walls. The earth stopped shaking.

  She was dressed in a long, pale blue dress. It looked like silk, but it rippled like water. Around her slim waist was a golden belt, woven and plaited. She had long blonde hair which fell to her waist, but it contained a natural wave which gave it the appearance of air.

  “My name is Nimue. Do not be afraid, for now.”

  Easier said than done, I thought, almost heaving with fear. I had never realised that rigor mortis could actually set into a body while it was still alive.

  “You are searching for Arthur,” said the apparition. It was a statement, not a question.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She was achingly beautiful. Even in the blue haze, her skin reflected with a warm buttermilk colouring. I felt the rigidity starting to slowly leave my limbs.

  “Do you know where my brother is?” I asked bravely.

  “He has been taken,” said the lady, Nimue.

  “We knew that already,” I replied without thinking. I gave myself an internal brain slap.

  Do not provoke her. Not unless you want to be turned into a slug.

  But to my surprise, the lady laughed. It was musical, like wind chimes.

  “Your spirit amuses me, Natasha,” said Nimue smiling, although her eyes looked like ice.

  “She knows your name,” squealed Slurpy. “How does she know your name? You never told her your name. We’re gonna die. We’re gonna die.”

  “I have been waiting a long time to reclaim what was mine,” repeated Nimue, “but the knights have been complacent in their sleep, and now they have been punished. You, Natasha, must ring the bell until it sounds in all four corners of the realm of Logres. The knights must be rallied to your call.”

  “The who must be what now?” I spluttered, not having understood a single word the beautiful lady had said.

  “Ring the bell, Natash
a,” said Nimue, “and then travel onwards, until you find the knight you met before. Be forewarned though, for he has changed and he may not see either of you for what you are, or what you will become.”

  As she spoke, I realised the edges of her pale blue gown were becoming blurred. The haze was thickening, like blue fog. The lady was dissolving away.

  “Don’t leave now,” I cried, jumping to my feet. “The old men I saw before, the ones who were sleeping back there. Did they take Arthur?”

  “Find them in their true form,” whispered Nimue. “Now ring the bell, Natasha. Ring the bell and awaken all of Logres.”

  Her wind chime voice faded with one last burst of air that filtered through the earth chamber. The hair on my head fluttered in the breeze, and then fell flat. The bell rocked slightly, but not enough to ring out. The torch illuminated again, and so I picked it up and started to walk towards the rope.

  Slurpy cried out.

  “Don’t touch it. If we ring that bell, a thousand things could happen, and I bet not one of them would be good for me.”

  “The lady said we had to ring it,” I replied.

  Slurpy started choking.

  “A lady who magically appeared and then disappeared again,” she screeched with a voice pitched high enough to shatter glass. “How can you be so calm about all of this? This sort of insanity doesn’t happen to normal people. I’M NORMAL,” she wailed loudly. “Your brother is normal. It’s you…” now her finger was jabbing perilously close to my face, “…it’s you. You’re the weirdo. You attract weirdness. You live on Planet Freak. You’re like a freak beacon, a magnet for freaks.”

  Even in the pale beam of light, I could see Slurpy had turned the colour of stewed beetroot.

  “Have you finished?” I asked calmly, as Slurpy started to breathe again.

  “I haven’t even started yet, you freakoid from hell,” yelled Slurpy.

  “In that case, you won’t mind if I do this then,” and I grabbed the rope and pulled it down hard.