by Tim Flanagan
By morning, with the presence of daylight, Steven hoped that the attack would have eased.
35. A Message from Afar
Steven stretched his legs as he woke early the next morning. It took him a few seconds to remember what had happened during the night but it soon flooded back to him. He then sat silently listening, waiting for any sign that the creatures were still attacking the house, but apart from the heavy breathing of Georgia and Tracker, the house was silent. Georgia was slumped over the kitchen table, her head resting on top of her arms, whilst Tracker sat on his own in a single armchair in the corner with his shotgun across his knees.
He stood and walked around the kitchen, stopping at a cupboard where he took out some bread and strawberry jam. As he ate a thick wedge of bread he noticed a small battery operated radio on the counter top. He turned it on but all he could hear was static crackling from the speaker. Checking round the radio he found the tuning knob and started to rotate it. It moved from one piece of static to another, a whistling noise indicated the change in frequency, but all he picked up was the fuzz of static. Steven didn’t think anything of this; after all radios often had difficulty picking up stations in different areas of the country, but then he came across a clearer gap in the static where a voice was coming out of the silence. He had to turn the volume up as loud as it would go to be able to hear it clearly. The voice was deep and rough with an American accent and seemed to almost growl from inside the radio.
‘Last night the human race was attacked. Many people have already died and many others are, we believe, trapped or in hiding. If anyone can hear this message come and join us. We are a small band of survivors in London. Our strength is in numbers and organisation. At the moment we are safe, we have food, water and weapons and our building cannot be penetrated by the creatures. We will continue to broadcast on this frequency for another seven days, after which we will move to another location in an attempt to create a colony of human survivors.’
‘Who’s that?' asked Georgia as she lifted her head from the kitchen table behind Steven.
‘I found it as I was tuning the radio,’ he replied. ‘It sounds like the whole country has been under attack during the night. A group of survivors is in London trying to bring people together.’
‘We are planning to send out regular scouting parties to find more survivors within the boundaries of London. If anyone hears this broadcast, please make your way to the American Embassy in
Grosvenor Square, London. We intend to fight back and create a secure area of the country to live in.’
‘At least we know we’re not alone,’ said Tracker from the armchair. ‘If we want to survive we had better make our way to London. Like the man on the radio said, there is safety in numbers and I certainly don’t intend to stay here and wait to be eaten by one of the creatures. Let’s pack up as much food and weapons as possible and plan a road trip to London.’
‘The human race needs you. It must survive at any cost….’
THE END
1. Into the Underworld
Entering a new world is not something most people get to experience during their lifetime, the entrances to the Underworld had been closed by King Arthur to protect England from the creatures beyond the portals.
Joe gripped the Silver Bough, an ancient musical pipe, tightly in his hand, not completely understanding what had just happened. He remembered blowing into the mouthpiece but instead of hearing a breathless note he seemed to be playing a beautifully enchanting melody. It was like angels sang for him. All other sounds vanished from his ears. There was a strange weightless feeling that came over him, like he was a visitor in his body, with no control over his mind. The pipe played itself and all he had to do was hold it and blow. Around him he recalled the panic created by the Moon Stealers that attacked them from the sky, but he wasn’t scared or worried; he just felt an overwhelming feeling of happiness, like he was floating through the air. In front of him, the night sky seemed to twist and distort, swirling like a whirlpool made from white smoke. A brilliant white light flashed in the corner of Joe’s eye, then he was being pulled by his arm into the whirlpool. Sir Edgar and the children had taken a leap of faith into the unknown, they believed they were going into another world, but it was quite possible that they had just jumped into the air to land back exactly where they had stood: in the centre of the faerie ring under attack from the Moon Stealers.
As soon as they leapt forward, Joe saw the swirling mist of smoke, twisting and turning around them. There didn’t appear to be any more sound coming from the Silver Bough, instead he could hear a distorted whooshing sound like they were speeding through the air, but the more he listened the more he began to distinguish voices muttering all around him. Ghostly faces began to form in the smoke then disappear in a breeze to be replaced by another. Joe felt an unnatural pull towards them, like he was sinking; they beckoned to him, tempting him to join them, but the Silver Bough led him away.
Joe saw himself land on the ground before getting sucked back to join his body. He blinked hard and, remembering the scene they had left only seconds before, he looked desperately around to see if the Moon Stealers were still there.
Although there were no creatures diving down at them, the sky seemed to be filled with something equally terrifying.
The dark sky was alive with static and electricity. Wherever they now were, the night sky was flashing various shades of red. A large plume of grey volcanic ash folded and turned upwards into the sky whilst electric lightening crackled, illuminating the night in a dramatic display. The ash cloud seemed to come from a volcano some distance away, but a gentle rumbling sound carried on the wind towards them.
They had landed in the middle of a clearing beside a forest. The bursts of electrical lightening lit up the sky illuminating the tallest trees that Joe had ever seen. As he looked around him, he could see thick red tree trunks, bark splintered upwards. They were sat amongst soft green ferns and mosses and, from their high vantage point, Joe could see the forest quickly dropped down in the distance. The rough outline of the tree tops silhouetted against the blood red sky as another crackle of lightening erupted from the volcanic ash.
‘We did it,’ Joe said with some amazement.
Sir Edgar was already on his feet, his white bladed sword, Ethera, still drawn and hanging down from his hand. He was cautiously looking around, listening intently to the sounds of the forest.
‘Where are we?’ asked Max with an element of fear in his voice.
‘The Underworld,’ muttered Edgar.
‘But where did the stone circle go and all those Moon Stealers?’
‘We left them behind. The Silver Bough opened the portal to allow us through into this world. This is where Peter came. We have come from our world, one inhabited and controlled by humans, to this.’ Edgar held his hands open and gestured to all that was around him. ‘Here you will find that faeries rule with magic. Here there are many different animals, even the trees around us are alive and will be listening to us right now. If you need proof, all you need to do is look at the Silver Bough, to see that the magic in this world is much stronger and is already working around us.’
Max and Scarlet turned towards Joe and looked at the Silver Bough in his hand. Although it still appeared to be highly polished metal, there were now beautiful carvings along the shaft of the pipe that hadn’t been there when they left the human world. It shimmered more brightly like light reflecting off the surface of a running stream.
‘The magic in this world has brought the Silver Bough alive.’
‘I felt it as we came here,' said Joe excitedly. 'I had no control once I blew into it.’
‘There are things in our world, as well as in this that have a will of their own. Sometimes we are simply their tool to take them to their path of greatness,’ Edgar began explaining. ‘This sword, for example, is not merely just a flat piece of metal. This is Ethera, one of the ancient twelve swords of power. It was constructed in the furnaces of
Avalon by the most skilled and gifted Bladesmith, Nimue, the Priestess of Avalon, who cast many layers of magic upon it. But despite this, if the sword doesn’t suit the user then it is just a piece of metal after all. Ethera knows my style of fighting and can even predict what I will do before I know. Back there when we were in the faerie ring, it was Ethera that guided me to form the shield above us. I need her as much as she needs me and together we are stronger than apart.’
‘So you mean the Silver Bough is using me for its own purpose?’ asked Joe.
‘In a way, yes. But don’t fight against it. Let it lead you.’
‘It pulled me away from those white faces,’ said Joe.
‘I didn’t see any faces,’ replied Max as another dance of electricity flickered from the deep red cloud above the volcano.
‘They were like white ghosts staring at me, muttering in strange languages. It seemed like they were calling to me, tempting me towards them, but the Bough pulled me through the mist and we landed here,’ explained Joe, embarrassed that the others hadn’t seen the faces.
‘They were the ghosts of the dead, trapped between this world and ours, not completely dead, but not alive either, just breaths of their former selves,’ Edgar explained. ‘Legend says that the ghosts in the mist were warriors who committed unforgivable crimes during their lives and cannot completely become dead until they obtain a soul that is untouched and cleaner than their own. In the past there used to be many more travellers between our worlds, many more souls to tempt and steal but not any more, not since the portals were closed.’
Edgar paused as he looked around them once again. ‘We should find a place to shelter and rest for the night. The sky has eyes and the trees have ears. There will be many questions you have about this world and I will do my best to answer them as we make our way to the Twisted Tower of the faerie queen.’
Edgar led them into the forest and very soon the dense canopy of fern-like leaves high above covered them in darkness.
They continued walking in silence for several minutes until Edgar stopped, satisfied that they had gone deep enough in the forest to be hidden. Lightening continued to crackle in the distance, lighting up the forest. Edgar chopped some stems away from a clump of giant leafed plants and created a small tunnel into which they could crawl. Once they had moved deeper amongst the plants, Edgar cut a small chamber, the roof made up of the biggest leaves they could imagine whilst the ground was mossy and spongy. Edgar left the children to rest and went back out onto the path where he gently peeled layers of bark from some of the trees. After acquiring an armful of bark he crept back into the plant house and laid the bark on the ground to keep them dry.
As soon as they sat down and huddled together, tiredness caught up with them and all of the children nodded off to sleep. Edgar forced himself to stay awake. He kept his sword constantly drawn ready to use if danger threatened. He had not told the children the true extent of the dangers that awaited them in the Underworld and since they had managed to come this far, he knew he had to protect them at all times.
2. The Golden Hall
Scarlet was the first to wake in the morning. She could hear the repetitive beating of rain drops falling onto the thick skinned leaves above as they hid beneath the giant gunnera plants. She could also see a small trickle of water that ran down the centre of one of the leaves and onto the ground forming a pool of crystal clear water. She leant forward and cupped her hands under the small trail of water, then poured it into her mouth. It was cold on her tongue and, although it tasted good, there was a faint smoky flavour to it that she presumed was from the ash cloud in the distance. She drank some more then splashed some onto her face. Above her the sunlight shone through the lush green leaves, highlighting the veins in the leaves like a coarse veil of lace. Shadows of other leaves shook as rain drops struck them before bouncing onto another leaf. Where the children sat was a soft red carpet of bark that had flattened beneath the weight.
Max and Joe continued to sleep quietly. Joe held the Silver Bough in his hand against his chest; keeping it close to him like a baby would a favourite teddy bear. Scarlet felt a strange urge to touch the Silver Bough, but she remembered the awful sound it had made at the railway station in Edinburgh when Max had touched it. Although she felt confident that she could resist the need to touch it, she couldn’t help but look at the surface, following the intricate shapes and carvings with her eyes. She wondered why Joe was the one the Silver Bough chose to reveal itself to. What would their journey actually hold for them and how much danger were they in? She was glad they had Sir Edgar guiding them.
As she thought of Edgar, she became aware of a heavy crunching sound coming from the tunnel that led towards them and the inner room. The gentle and wise face of Edgar ducked through the tunnel. In his hands he cradled a large leaf that was folded slightly and held a collection of small fruits in the centre. He placed the leaf on the ground then took a bundle of green stems from under his arm and placed them next to the selection of berries.
‘Good morning, Scarlet,’ he said gently. ‘For breakfast we have a small selection of blackberries, salmonberries, thimbleberries, and one or two strawberries.’
‘They look lovely,’ she replied amazed at the brightly coloured red, pink and black fruit. ‘What about those?’ she pointed to the small bundle of green stems.
‘They’re the stalks of the plant we’re living underneath. Tastes a bit like rhubarb,’ he added unconvincingly. He had already tried one and could honestly say that he was not a big fan of gunnera stalks.
Scarlet decided to politely wait for the other two to wake up before she tucked into the berries. Edgar reached over to the silvery trickle of water that fell from the leaves above and took a drink.
‘What… what do you think has happened to our parents?’ Scarlet asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer.
Edgar paused while he thought about his reply. He was unsure how best to put it, but whichever way he thought, he couldn’t make it sound positive. There was no escaping the cold reality of the truth.
He turned away from the line of water and looked Scarlet straight in the eye. As much as he didn’t want to see the pain and hurt his answer would cause, he didn’t want her to feel abandoned. All of the children relied on him and needed him, not just to take them safely through the faerie world, but to be their guardian and guide just like their own parents were in the human world.
‘I can’t be sure what's happened to your parents, I’m afraid. Last night we left Parsley Bottom to the mercy of the Moon Stealers. From what I could see, it looked like they had already attacked the village and it’s possible that your parents, as well as Max and Joe’s, could have escaped, but they may also have died. I’m sorry, Scarlet, I just don’t know. But one thing I promise you is this: once we are back in our own world and the Moon Stealers have been washed from our planet, I will help you find your parents.’
Scarlet turned away. She had known inside her what the possible fate of her parents was, but part of her didn’t want to admit it. She had needed to hear it from Edgar and she knew that he genuinely meant what he said and would not leave them alone. Silent tears slowly fell down her cheeks like the water running off the broad green leaves in the canopy above their heads. Scarlet reached out and held Edgar’s rough leathery hand, taking in deep lungs of fresh air to restore her strength. Edgar gently gave a reassuring squeeze of her hand; no other words of support or sympathy were needed. Scarlet looked up into Edgar’s blue eyes and gave a small nervous smile understanding that she needed to be strong.
They sat in silence for a few minutes listening to the rhythmic drumming of the rain against the leaves above. Despite the rain, the sun still seemed to shine through the green skin of the leaves giving the chamber a calm glow. There was a distant call of birds outside which reminded Scarlet of Seagulls.
‘Are we close to water?’ she asked Edgar.
‘Pollwiddon Cove is beyond the edge of Firewood Forest, where we currently are.
Today we need to reach the coastline and find a way to cross the water to the other side, then we are truly in faerie territory. Many years ago there used to be a ferry crossing at the water’s edge, but we will have to see if it still remains. First we need to eat then make our way cautiously through the forest.’
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by Max:
‘Did someone say eat - I’m starving.’
Edgar gently woke Joe and they began eating the berries and sipping the cool fresh water. Although they all tried the gunnera stalks, none of them seemed to enjoy them or went back for more.
They waited until the heaviest of the rain had past before leaving their shelter and heading deep into the forest. They followed a slightly worn path between the giant tree trunks that moved downhill, away from the portal and their own world. They felt small in comparison to the massive tree trunks that rose high into the air. Occasionally the path would drop down steeply in places so that the roots of the trees became exposed, looping over the path like snakes trying to snare one of the children’s feet. Edgar kept his sword drawn as he led the way, keeping a reasonably fast pace throughout the morning. Although they couldn’t see the Volcano from inside the wood, they could still hear the deep rumbling sound echoing within the clouds above them. Edgar shaped a thick wooden stick for each child from fallen branches that they came across, to give them something to lean against as they walked.
By lunchtime the children were beginning to feel weary and although their legs continued to move, their feet began to drag on the ground. Edgar noticed a change in the landscape: the trees seemed to be thinning slightly and the ground was becoming stonier. He knew that the children would not be able to continue for much longer without a rest so chose a rocky overhang below the edge of the path where they would be protected on all sides. The children sat huddled together with their knees under their chins, grasping their walking sticks for protection, too exhausted to talk.
