Faerie Wars

by Herbie Brennan

  Captain Pratellus’s dark eyes bored through her, turned to Kitterick, then back again. ‘Do you have an authorisation from Mr Chalkhill for your visit?’

  ‘Well, no,’ Blue said, ‘but –’

  ‘Do you have identification papers?’

  ‘Well, actually – ’ Blue began.

  Kitterick turned and bit the hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Is he dead?’ Blue asked, staring down at the prostrate body.

  Kitterick shook his head. ‘No, but he will remain in a coma for several hours. And there will be a substantial headache when he wakes up. And tremors. Something of a limp. Blurred vision. Impaired hearing. A few facial tics. Some nausea, loss of appetite, occasional hallucinations, flatulence, a weakness in the back. The nerve damage will repair itself in a few years. Providing he rests, of course.’

  ‘What are we going to do with him?’

  ‘Perhaps you would be so kind as to help me drag him underneath those bushes. I doubt he will be missed for an hour or so. By which time we shall have finished our business with Mr Chalkhill. One way or another.’

  Blue’s heart was pounding as they stepped out on to the patio surrounding the pool. Chalkhill spotted them at once.

  ‘Why, visitors!’ he exclaimed. ‘How unexpected. How intriguing.’ He removed his sun-glasses and stared at Blue. ‘A young man – how delightful.’ His glance moved to Kitterick. ‘And a small orange person.’ He struggled from his lounger. ‘I was just about to go inside. Will you join me? I find too much sun so destructive to the skin.’ He hesitated, looking at Blue.

  ‘Unless you’d prefer to stay out here?’

  ‘No thank you,’ Blue said quickly.

  ‘Quite right,’ said Chalkhill. He belted on a towelling dressing-gown. ‘We shall go inside and Raul shall bring us iced tea with lots of sugar.’ He smiled and his teeth sparkled and glinted. ‘Then you can tell me who you are and why I have the pleasure of your company today.’

  Blue glanced at Kitterick and found he was examining his fingernails. It looked as if she was on her own. They followed Chalkhill into a room dominated by a pink piano and several off-white singing chairs. ‘Mr Chalkhill,’ she said. ‘I am Sluce Ragetus and this is Mr Kitterick. We represent Panjandrum Products, the well-known cosmetic manufacturers. The reason we are here is that our wizards have developed an astonishing new skin cream based on natural tachyons that generate a field capable of permanently reversing time.’ She drew a deep breath and launched into her fake sales pitch.

  Chalkhill sat entranced, twittering with delight and giving trills of pure excitement as she outlined the benefits of her imaginary cream. She had two sample jars, made mainly from suet, in case he asked to see the miracle, but he did not. ‘This cream,’ he said. ‘It’s not just for my face?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Blue nodded brightly as Raul returned with a tray of iced tea. He set it down on a little table in front of Chalkhill and a strange look passed between them.

  ‘Well,’ said Chalkhill as Raul left again, ‘aren’t you the practised little liar.’

  Blue blinked. ‘I’m sorry?’ But Chalkhill was changing before her eyes. He still looked the same man in his ludicrous bathing costume and fluffy white robe, but he seemed straighter somehow, taller, and his eyes had taken on a steely glint.

  ‘You’re not – what was it? Sluce Ragetus? You’re not even a boy, however prettily you dress. Unless I’m very much mistaken, you are Her Serene Highness Holly Blue Iris, the Princess Royal, out on one of her famous slumming jaunts. Oh, don’t look so surprised. I may not have recognised your reclusive brother, but it’s well known that you like mixing with hoi polloi in various ridiculous disguises. Don’t tell me you believed your subjects were too stupid to recognise you?’ He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and smiled broadly. ‘My dear, in certain quarters you are positively a laughing stock.’ The smile died abruptly as a Halek knife emerged from the folds of his robe. ‘Tell your dwarf to sit still, Serenity. I’m perfectly well aware what it means to be bitten by a toxic trinian. Oh, and in case you feel I would hesitate to use this, let me tell you this is a reinforced blade. It cost me a king’s ransom, but the Halek guarantee it never shatters. The ultimate weapon, you might say.’

  Kitterick looked as if he might be prepared to risk it, but sat back warily at Blue’s warning glance. ‘Mr Chalkhill – ’ she began.

  ‘What now?’ Chalkhill asked. ‘Try to persuade me I’m mistaken? Oh, no, Serenity, this game is well and truly over. You know, it will be something of a relief to finish with this pose.’

  ‘Pose?’ Blue echoed.

  ‘The fool with more money than sense. Here is a riddle for you, Princess Holly Blue: if a fool and his money are soon parted, how did he get it in the first place? You’ve seen my home. You’d have to be blind to believe it didn’t cost. Where do you think I found it?’ He stared at her, his eyes a piercing blue.

  Blue decided to drop her pretence. ‘I was told you poisoned your aunt,’ she said coldly.

  Chalkhill smiled and now his teeth no longer fizzed and sparkled. ‘Ah, poor Matilda – she was like a mother to me. But then you should have seen my mother. Indeed I did poison my aunt – how word gets around – but that was not the source of my income. She only left me a small property. Everything else was provided by Lord Hairstreak.’

  ‘Hairstreak!’ Blue breathed. She felt a sudden chill crawl up her spine. ‘Why would Black Hairstreak give you money?’

  ‘Because,’ Chalkhill said proudly, ‘I’m something you could never be, despite your amateurish bunglings. I am Lord Hairstreak’s most valued secret agent.’

  It was Kitterick who broke the silence that followed. ‘Past tense, surely, now you’ve told us.’

  ‘I think not, trinian,’ said Chalkhill. ‘And I plan to tell you more.’ He turned his attention back to Blue. ‘You see, Serenity, I’ve always claimed a deep and lasting friendship with Lord Hairstreak. Of course nobody believed me. It was the perfect cover. People were always so busy laughing they never thought to suspect the truth.’

  ‘A cover for what?’ Blue asked contemptuously. ‘Your interest in a glue factory?’

  Chalkhill looked genuinely surprised. ‘You of all people ask me that? I assume you’re here because of your poor, dear, missing brother?’

  After a long moment, Blue said, ‘What do you know about Pyrgus?’

  ‘What do I know? What do I know? Let’s see ...’ He glanced upwards as if lost in cheerful thought. ‘I know he’s next in line for the throne. I know that if anyone planned to overthrow the Purple Emperor and, let’s say, replace him, it would make things tidier if the immediate heir was eliminated as well. I know –’

  ‘You’re planning to overthrow my father?’

  ‘Not me, Your Serene Highness – Lord Hairstreak.’

  She stared at him, unable to speak. It was all beginning to make a horrid sort of sense – the negotiations that had turned sour, the threat of war, Pyrgus’s disappearance ...

  But Chalkhill was talking again. ‘You look surprised. I’m glad. You would not believe the care we took to hide what was really going on. Do you know, our first plan was to have my fool of a partner kill your brother? Dear old Brimstone, always playing with his demons. He thinks he controls them, but they’ve been leading him a merry dance for years – especially the ones in Lord Hairstreak’s pay. Anyway, I arranged for some thugs to chase Prince Pyrgus down Seething Lane. Do you know the area by any chance?’

  ‘Yes,’ Blue said stonily, without bothering to explain.

  ‘Then you’ll know that when you reach the bottom, the only place to go is into the factory. Cunning, eh? I forced Pyrgus to trespass on our premises. He stole some glue kittens as well, but that was a bonus. Once he was in the factory, it was only a matter of time before our security people caught him and delivered him to me.’

  ‘Is there a point to any of this?’ Kitterick asked.

  Chalkhill ignored him. ‘I, in turn, delivered him to Brimstone. L
ord Hairstreak had already primed one of his demon friends to ask for a human sacrifice. The idea was Brimstone would murder Pyrgus in one of his revolting rituals, then we – well, I really – would denounce Brimstone. What a show trial that would have been. It would have taken everybody’s attention off what we were really up to.’ He spread his hands sadly and sighed in a parody of his former self. ‘But Brimstone messed it up. I’m afraid the old boy’s well past his sell-by date. Some of your father’s guards arrived on the scene and he panicked.’

  Blue kept her face expressionless, but she was chill inside. She’d been the one who’d insisted the guards start looking for Pyrgus, but until now she’d had no idea how close a call it had been when he was rescued. Typical of Pyrgus not to mention how much trouble he’d been in. She fought down her own surge of panic and said, ‘So you sabotaged the portal and poisoned him?’

  Chalkhill shrugged. ‘I don’t know about poison, but we certainly sabotaged the portal. What else could we do? And now he’s out of the way, we can get on with the really important business of assassinating your father.’

  ‘And you don’t think we’ll warn him?’ Blue asked.

  Chalkhill pushed himself to his feet and smiled. ‘You disappoint me, my dear. I would have thought you’d have worked out by now that you’re in no position to warn anybody. I shall kill your trinian at once, of course.’ He shuddered. ‘I loathe dwarves – they’re so small. But I plan to keep you safe, Princess, at least for a while ...’

  Blue flushed, but before she could reply, Kitterick said quietly, ‘You won’t get near me, even with a Halek knife.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ Chalkhill nodded. ‘But as it happens, I don’t plan to try.’ He raised his voice. ‘Now, Raul!’ Five burly guards marched into the room, armed with flexible obsidian swords and stun wands. ‘You may poison one of them, trinian, but the others will have your bowels on the floor before you have time to release your teeth.’

  Blue glanced at Kitterick, then looked at Chalkhill. ‘Have you ever heard Mr Kitterick whistle, Mr Chalkhill?’ she asked casually.

  Chalkhill blinked. ‘Whistle?’ He looked confused.

  ‘Whistle for the nice men, Mr Kitterick,’ Blue said.

  Without bothering to purse his lips, Kitterick emitted a piercing whistle. It seemed to emerge from the slot in his head. At once a stream of burly palace commandos smashed through the window while more descended on ropes in a shower of broken glass from the skylight. They were armed with stun grenades and lightweight rocket launchers.

  ‘You didn’t really think I’d come alone?’ said Blue mildly.

  Chalkhill dropped his knife. Despite the Halek guarantee, it smashed into a thousand pieces on the floor.

  Twenty-Eight

  Henry gawped. Stupidly, he stood trying to figure out whether he’d heard a ripping noise or just imagined it because the fabric of reality had torn apart. Then he realised it didn’t matter and tried to make sense of what he was seeing instead.

  What he was seeing was an enormous hole in Mr Fogarty’s shed. But it wasn’t like a steam engine had driven through it or anything. Actually it was the edges that were peculiar. Around the edges of the enormous hole he could still see bits of the shed – pots, tools, shelves, the big lawnmower – but stretched and twisted as if they were melting. Everything had a shimmery quality, and never mind about the ripping noise, there was a high-pitched whining noise that somehow made you think everything was about to blow apart.

  Henry hit the green button.

  The hole closed instantly. No tearing noise, no noise of any sort for half a second. Then there was the clash and clatter of earthen plant pots smashing on the floor, shelves cascading their contents, tools toppling over. The whole shed creaked as if it were about to cave in. Henry ran for the door.

  Once he was clear, he stood outside and watched the shed guiltily. How was he going to explain to Mr Fogarty if the whole thing collapsed? For a moment it shimmered and shivered as if it would indeed collapse, but then things settled down again. He watched a little while longer, just to be sure, then decided everything was going to be all right. He wouldn’t have to explain anything to Mr Fogarty. Except the breakages inside.

  Henry pressed the red button again.

  There was no ripping sound. That had just been his imagination. And what opened up outside caused far less damage than the enormous hole that appeared inside the shed. In fact it didn’t cause any damage at all that he could see. He seemed to be looking down some sort of corridor, but the edges simply blended into the rest of the world without all that peculiar melting business. It was as if somebody had just built a corridor in Mr Fogarty’s back garden. Sort of.

  There was carpet on the floor of the corridor and expensive-looking crystal chandeliers at intervals along the ceiling. There were doors in the walls and other corridors branching off. There was another world in there! It had to be a portal! Even if this looked like nothing Pyrgus had described, it had to be a portal! He was looking at the world where Pyrgus lived!

  Henry stepped into the corridor.

  He swung round at once and was relieved to find he was looking into Mr Fogarty’s back garden. The quality of the light seemed a little different now, but otherwise it was just as he’d left it. Nothing changed. Nothing broken. A single step and he’d be back again. So that was all right.

  Except he couldn’t very well leave the portal open. Mr Fogarty had gone to a lot of trouble with his codes and secret messages to hide this opening into Pyrgus’s world. And even though Mr Fogarty was a bit peculiar at the best of times, Henry could see the sense of keeping the portal thing quiet. If you left one open and somebody found it, the next thing you knew there’d be tourist coaches driving through and package holidays and things. Pyrgus would never forgive him. He had to close the portal.

  Henry pressed the green button firmly. Mr Fogarty’s back garden vanished and he was looking along a continuation of the corridor. He drew a deep breath and pressed the red button. To his immense relief, the portal opened up again. He closed it down and dropped the cube into his trouser pocket. Then, with a mounting sense of excitement, he set out to explore a whole new world.

  He was inside some large, luxurious building. There were carpeted floors, well-finished walls, decorative mouldings, tapestries and paintings, ornamental statuary at junctions. Could this be Pyrgus’s palace? It had all the trappings, but there was one thing that was really weird – it was empty.

  At first Henry was quite relieved not to be bumping into people, but after a while he began to feel spooked. He wandered through empty corridors, opened doors to look into empty rooms. There was no sign of Pyrgus or Mr Fogarty, which mightn’t be all that surprising since he’d no idea how long it was since they’d gone on ahead. But apart from them, there was no sign of anybody you’d expect to find in a palace. No servants, no footmen, no butlers, no courtiers, no sign of life at all.

  It was as if everybody had been ... wiped out.

  Henry opened yet another door and found himself staring into a linen cupboard. He closed the door, turned round and called, ‘Hello...?’ He waited. Nothing. ‘Hello ...? Hello ...? Is anybody there?’ His voice didn’t echo – there were too many carpets and curtains for that – but it managed to sound lonely all the same. Where was everybody? A palace this size should be teeming with people.

  He wandered for another ten minutes before beginning to suspect he was going round in circles – there was a painting of a unicorn that looked terribly familiar. He still hadn’t seen a living soul. He kept moving doggedly, but his unease continued to increase.

  At the junction of two corridors, he thought he heard a distant voice. Henry stopped to listen. Nothing. He waited. Still nothing. Then he heard it again: not just one voice but several. And laughter.

  Relief flooded over him like a wave. Until that moment he’d not realised how frightened he’d been in this huge empty palace. But now he knew there were people here, it was somehow all right. Was
it Pyrgus? It was difficult to tell, but he thought the laughter sounded a little high-pitched for Pyrgus, certainly too high-pitched for Mr Fogarty. But whoever it was would help him. Especially when he told them he was a friend of Prince Pyrgus.

  He started off in the direction of the sound.

  Henry had never seen a naked girl before. She was standing near the edge of an enormous sunken bath at the junction of four corridors and surrounded by nothing more than pillars. She had auburn hair and large brown eyes and open features. Several other girls – mercifully clothed – were preparing her bath and tying back her hair. She was chatting to them with an easy familiarity.

  Henry couldn’t take his eyes off her body. He knew he shouldn’t look, but didn’t know how to stop. Her body was so different from the way a boy’s body was formed. He looked at her shoulders and her arms and her feet and could not breathe properly because of what he was looking at. His face was on fire with embarrassment and still he couldn’t look away. His heart was pounding and his hands were shaking. He felt his legs begin to tremble.

  The girl stepped down into the steaming waters of the sunken bath. She was much the same age as Henry himself, maybe a year younger. She was not particularly tall, but he thought she moved with grace. He thought she moved with wonderful grace. The water came up to her calves, then her knees, then her thighs, then she plunged and actually swam a stroke or two. She returned to the edge and lay back so that only her head was above the water.

  Henry had no idea what to do. He wasn’t a Peeping Tom. He knew it was unfair to the girl to look at her like this, knew he should turn and walk away (quietly, so she wouldn’t know some ghastly pervy boy had seen her with her clothes off). That’s what he knew he should do, but somehow his legs wouldn’t work.

  He had to do something. He couldn’t stay standing here, looking and looking. It wasn’t fair on her, whoever she was. He had to stop looking and go away.

  Henry groaned.

  One of the girls looked up and saw him.