The Moon Stealers Box Set. Books 1-4 (Fantasy Dystopian Books for Teenagers)

by Tim Flanagan

  ‘What were the values of chivalry?’ asked Joe.

  ‘Being a good knight is about showing mercy and courage, and protecting the innocent, the weak and the poor. You should be prepared to give your life for another and be the champion for good against all evils. They must also be gentle and gracious to women. But what truly makes a knight is what’s inside you here.’ Edgar stopped scratching at the stone-work and reached down and placed a hand on Joe’s chest. Joe could feel his heart thumping as well as the heat radiating from Edgar’s hand.

  ‘When the time comes, you will understand exactly what is inside you,’ Edgar whispered.

  ‘Quick!’ said Scarlet from the door. ‘Some people are coming!’

  Edgar hadn’t taken his eyes off Joe and as he removed his hand from his chest he nodded slightly. Joe began to wonder if Edgar knew something about him.

  Swiftly, Edgar jumped down from the wooden bench and bowed his head in prayer just as a tour guide led a group of visitors through the chapel door. All that the tourists saw was an elderly man sat on a bench, too old and frail to kneel on the floor, silently in prayer with a young boy beside him doing the same. The tour guide continued his well rehearsed speech about the history of the building and didn’t pay any attention to the old man or the stones in the archway above their heads that now appeared looser than the rest.

  Waiting patiently, Edgar remained in the same position even as the group of tourists stood behind him looking through to the stained glass window beyond. As soon as they had left the building he jumped back on the bench and continued scraping away at the ninth stone until it also become loose.

  ‘Ready?’ said Edgar to Joe with a wink.

  Joe nodded whilst holding his breath at the same time. Edgar reached out and placed his left hand on the ninth stone and his right on the twenty fifth then pushed them both into the archway at the same time. The stones slid in releasing a dry grinding noise followed by a low rumble from inside the archway. In the second tier of stones a darker keystone clicked out slightly further than the rest as if released by a spring. Edgar grasped the stone, pulled it out further, then reached inside. Once he had found what he was looking for he pushed the keystone into place and the other two stones sprung back to their original position.

  He stepped down off the bench and opened his hand for Joe to look at the key. Joe looked at Edgar with confusion. In the palm of his hand was an aged silver pocket-watch, slightly scratched and dull in colour, even the hands of the watch didn’t appear to be moving and were stuck at five o’clock. He thought they were searching for the key to Hadwyn’s tomb, but instead they had found a watch.

  Edgar quickly closed his hand and put the watch into his pocket.

  16. Sir Hadwyn’s Inscription

  Sir Edgar and the children left Saint Margaret’s Chapel and walked back through the small archway they had come and round beside the Military Prison. As they went through the doorway, they waited a few seconds to allow their eyes time to adjust to the darkness inside.

  As they descended the stone steps the temperature began to get colder the further they went beneath the castle rock. The damp stone walls were lit by electric lights that caused green algae to form. At the bottom of the steps, they walked along a narrow passage. The children couldn’t see past Edgar who was at the front of the group so they followed as closely as they could without tripping each other up. There was no sound from other tourists as this was not part of the official tour.

  Edgar held his hand up to signal to the children to stop. He was standing at a rusty iron gate that prevented anyone from going any further. Hanging across the bolt was a modern looking lock. Edgar picked it up in his hands and examined it.

  ‘Won’t your pocket watch open this then?' said Max sarcastically.

  ‘Can I borrow your pen-knife?' Joe asked Edgar as he looked at the rusted hinges fastened into the damp stone. Edgar passed it to him and with a little persuasion from the knife; Joe managed to lever out the pin that went through the core of the hinge so that Edgar could lift the gate out of their way.

  They continued along the passage once more. On the right they passed a series of rooms, one of which Max managed to look inside. It was a plain square room with a curved roof and a wooden frame along one wall which several hammocks hung from.

  ‘This leads to the vaults under the castle,’ explained Edgar.

  The corridor got narrower and lower in height as they continued along. In this part of the vault there was no electric lighting and Edgar was relying on the light from the flashlight to see his way forward. Because of his height Edgar permanently held his head low and kept ducking beneath thick stone arches.

  Eventually they came to a circular chamber which had two other exits. There they could stand upright as the ceiling was a lot higher than it had been along the passage; in fact, high above a shaft of daylight stretched down towards them.

  ‘We are directly under the Royal Palace,’ said Edgar, noticing the children looking up.

  The beam from the flashlight cast strange shapes and movements on the circular walls that surrounded them. Edgar swung the flashlight towards the ground and began kicking away at the loose dust that covered the floor. At the entrance to one of the other passageways he found what he was looking for. He knelt down to the floor and brushed the dirt away with his fingers. The children crowded round to have a look.

  ‘What’s that?' asked Joe who noticed a symbol carved into the ground stone that marked the entrance to one of the other tunnels.

  ‘It’s King Arthur’s crown and shows us the way to Sir Hadwyn’s tomb. It’s the same as the one on the wax seal on my Order to Service I showed you,’ explained Edgar as he stood and walked through the archway and into the next passage.

  The children followed without asking any more questions until they reached a circular stone fixed behind two thick but short columns on both sides. It blocked the passage.

  ‘Maybe we took a wrong turn,’ said Max with a nervous laugh.

  Edgar was now examining the circular stone as closely as he had the floor at the passage entrance. In the centre was a small hole. He blew the dust from the hole, then reached into his pocket and retrieved the watch he had found in the chapel. Carefully he unscrewed the back of the watch then blew into the mechanism releasing a small white cloud of dust that sparkled in the beam from the flashlight. Edgar licked his lips with anticipation. He then unscrewed the glass dome from the front of the watch. What he now held in his hands didn’t truly resemble a pocket watch at all. There was a silver band of metal around the edge with blackened metal cogs and gears exposed behind the white enamelled clock face. The two silver hands were secured to the clock face by a thin metal pin. Edgar gently slid the skeleton of the watch into the hole in the centre of the stone until there was a very faint click.

  ‘When the cogs at the back of the watch are put in the correct position, they should activate the mechanism behind the stone,’ Edgar whispered to the children. ‘The twenty-five Knights of the Round Table are represented by twenty-five minutes or the number five on a clock face. Nine for the Nine Valiants for the hour hand.’

  With his index finger he then carefully rotated the minute hand clockwise until it was on the number five, then the hour hand anticlockwise to the number nine. Then he held his breath.

  Everyone stared at the stone and waited for something to happen.

  At first there was a very faint clicking followed by a hissing sound like sand draining into a container. Finally the stone started to rotate to the right and rumbled into the side of the passage wall to reveal the chamber beyond. Directly ahead of them were two stone columns supporting a carved beam decorated with animals and writing. Beside the columns were two lions intricately cut into white stone that appeared to support the weight of the beam on their clawed feet. Surrounding the lions were an assortment of serpents and mythical creatures that wound their way around the borders.

  Edgar stepped into the chamber.

  The
air smelt cold and stale and the breeze he created by stepping onto the floor dislodged loose dust from the surface to swirl round his feet like smoke. Edgar walked very carefully, checking where he placed his feet, until he passed between the two columns.

  In front of him was the tomb of Sir Hadwyn; a giant stone box with five figures carved into the side supporting a life size stone carving of Sir Hadwyn, his hands peacefully resting on his chest with the hilt of his sword beneath. The blade continued down the centre of his body until it was hidden from view behind a shield which rested on his left side.

  As the children entered the chamber, Edgar knelt on one knee before the tomb and remained silent for a few seconds.

  ‘Is this Sir Hadwyn?' asked Joe gently.

  Edgar looked up and gave a nod of his head while Scarlet put a comforting arm around his shoulders. Max remained next to the stone columns anxiously looking behind him.

  ‘Look,’ said Joe pointing at the five smaller knights on the stone box, ‘one of these knights has your name engraved on it.’

  Along the side of the Hadwyn's tomb were five knights standing with their swords in hand looking strong and brave. Beneath the feet of each knight was a carved name plate: Arthur, Ceneard, Aldwyn, Hadwyn, Edgar.

  ‘King Arthur and The League of White Knights,’ Edgar said proudly.

  The figure of Arthur was different from the rest by the crown he wore as well as the more richly decorated armour, whilst the four knights seemed to be identical to each other.

  ‘Why are you the only one holding a shield?' asked Scarlet, examining the carving.

  Edgar looked at the figures, trying to work out why he was carved differently to the other knights. Each knight held a sword except for Edgar who held a shield in his left hand.

  ‘The shield must be relevant in some way,’ said Joe. ‘Do you think Sir Hadwyn left you a clue.’

  Joe leant over the top of the tomb and studied the figure of Sir Hadwyn.

  ‘Here!’ said Joe excitedly, ‘around the edge of Hadwyn's shield is a message. It looks like the same type of writing we saw on the stones in the faerie ring,’ Joe’s voice echoed inside the empty chamber.

  Edgar stood up, looked over Joe’s shoulder, then began moving his finger along the pattern of letters whispering words to himself.

  He then reached inside his back pocket and passed Scarlet an old note-book bound together by a strap of leather which was attached at one end to a pencil.

  ‘Write this down for me,’ he instructed to Scarlet who quickly unwound the note-book and found a blank piece of paper.

  ‘Where flights of arrows descend from a height,

  And Stevenson’s treasure is hidden from sight.

  Amongst the thistles and under the crown

  The trusted and pure with head bowed down

  Below the bridge, a piper alone,

  The bard’s sweet song turns water to stone.

  From one true touch the stone will part

  And only be used by the brave at heart’

  ‘What does it mean?' asked Max. ‘It doesn’t sound much like a message to me.’

  ‘It wasn’t going to be easy to find the Silver Bough,’ said Joe to Max. ‘If it was, anyone would be able to find it. The message is a clue to wherever it’s hidden.'

  Edgar stepped back from the tomb thinking of the words he had just read out to Scarlet. He wasn’t sure what it all meant yet, but he knew that Hadwyn had left the message specifically for Edgar to find so that he could discover the location of the Silver Bough.

  ‘We’d better go,’ he said quietly as he bowed his head to show respect and thanks to his dead brother. Scarlet bound the note-book up with the strap of leather and passed it back to Edgar, then they all walked back out of the chamber, between the pillars and stood once again at the entrance to the tomb.

  Edgar reached the pocket watch in the centre of the stone, turned the hands back to the five o’clock position and the stone ground its way back to its original place. Once it had stopped moving, Edgar took the watch out of the hole, replaced the front and back and put it safely into his pocket.

  As they retraced their footsteps to where the three passageways met, Edgar remained silent, thinking about his brother and the riddle he had left them. This soon changed as he stopped abruptly and turned his head slightly towards the original passage they had come down so that he could hear more clearly.

  The children stopped too.

  ‘What is it?' asked Joe in a nervous whisper.

  ‘I thought I heard something,’ replied Edgar quietly. They waited. Then they heard a squelching sound; like bubbles moving through a thick liquid and it seemed to be coming down the passageway ahead, directly towards them.

  ‘This way,’ said Edgar quickly changing direction and walking down the third passage.

  ‘What do you think it is?' asked Max.

  ‘I'm not sure, but it could be what Peter saw in the graveyard that made him run to the faerie ring to escape’ he replied. ‘Come on, we can’t stop. We need to keep moving!’

  17. The Theft

  It felt like they had been sat on the river bank for the whole of the afternoon, but it was in fact only about ten minutes before they heard the siren in the distance then saw two policemen walking towards them. Georgia was glad Steven had sat next to her; her body desperately needed the reassurance of human contact and she found it comforting to feel his arm around her shoulders. The shaking in Georgia’s body slowly stopped as she regained control by inhaling large gasps of air to calm herself down.

  Steven stood up and walked over to meet the policemen and immediately began explaining what they had found. From where she was, Georgia couldn’t hear clearly what they were saying, but she noticed that they would occasionally turn and look towards her then the hand in the water. Other police officers began to arrive, some began inspecting the bulrushes whilst others sectioned off the area with yellow plastic tape, wrapping it from one tree trunk to another to prevent people wandering off the footpath to see what was happening.

  Down by the river Steven could see other men putting on diving suits and walking into the water directed by an older looking man.

  Steven and the policeman he had been talking to walked towards Georgia.

  ‘I believe it was you who found the hand?' asked the Sergeant. Georgia stood up and nodded.

  ‘I thought it was some clothes at first. I tried to fish them out but I must have dislodged that hand.,’ Georgia looked pale.

  After taking some photographs, the officers slowly lifted the hand out of the water with nothing attached to it other than a torn shirt. Paper sheeting was then laid out on the grass and the arm placed on top. The older man then put a pair of latex gloves on and carefully examined the hand, turning it over and lifting the shirt sleeve up.

  Another policeman brought the metal detector Steven had placed on the floor when Georgia called for him, over for Sergeant Allen to see then whispered something into his ear.

  ‘Is this yours?' Sergeant Allen asked.

  ‘Yes, we had been looking in the woods for treasure,’ Steven lied. He didn’t know if he should tell the Sergeant the truth or not, but as soon as he said the word treasure he wished he hadn’t. It wasn’t a very good lie but he wasn’t sure whether his superiors at MI6 would allow Steven to talk to the police. Steven remembered what Seward had said in the white room - the information was top secret and should be protected at all costs.

  ‘Did you find any treasure?' asked Sergeant Allen sarcastically, who had not believed a word Steven had said.

  ‘No,’ he replied shaking his head.

  ‘What about the water samples you took?’

  Steven hesitated for a moment, unsure what to say without making himself look suspicious; they had obviously looked inside the fabric bag and found the specimen tubes that Georgia had been filling. Steven decided he would have to say something otherwise they could find themselves getting arrested.

  ‘I need to speak to you in tot
al confidence,’ he said to Sergeant Allen in a whisper, who now looked totally confused. ‘My name is Steven Knight and I work for MI6 in London.’ Steven took his wallet from his inside jacket pocket and slid out his identity card for Sergeant Allen to look at.

  ‘MI6? Why?’ stuttered Sergeant Allen, ‘Are you investigation something here? Is this about Peter Crisp?’ He handed the card back to Steven.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t have clearance to tell you why I’m here; all I can say is that myself and my colleague are doing some field research in this area which we will need to continue doing for a few more days and I need your total cooperation and discretion,’ Steven said in his most authoritative voice. ‘Who’s Peter Crisp?' he added.

  ‘He’s a local boy. Went missing last night,’ replied Sergeant Allen cautiously. ‘That could be him,’ he nodded towards the river and the hand that was now being carefully placed in a refrigerator box and packed with ice ready to be taken back to the Harrogate General Hospital for examination. ‘He was reported missing this morning and hasn’t been seen since. What do you mean by field research?’

  ‘I’m afraid I’m not allowed to say.’

  ‘You expect me to let you walk all over town without telling me what you are up to?' replied Sergeant Allen who clearly didn’t like the thought of MI6 in Parsley Bottom.

  ‘I expect you to cooperate with anything I ask, Sergeant Allen,’ Steven replied once again trying to appear confident and authoritative. ‘My superiors would be most unhappy to hear of any aggression or opposition from the local police force towards me and my field research.’

  Although Sergeant Allen remained silent, he held back his displeasure at being pushed around by government officials from London.

  The older man who had been examining the arm by the river walked up the bank towards Sergeant Allen. He was short with a full beard and spectacles that he seemed to prefer to peer over the top of rather than look through.