by Sam Short
I agreed. “We’ve still got hours of daylight left, we’ll travel until dusk and find somewhere to moor up for the night.”
Maeve got to her feet. “Although The Haven is a safe place,” she said, “be aware of your surroundings. There are dangers here — some I’m aware of and, others I’m yet to experience.”
“What sort of dangers?” said Willow.
“When I magicked this land into existence,” said Maeve, “everything I knew about the world was recreated here, and you must understand that back in those times, we had a very different understanding of your world.”
“She means she believed in dragons,” sniggered Granny, “and dwarfs — and I don’t mean real dwarfs like Big Jim back in Wickford. He’s harmless enough when he’s not drunk and angry. I mean dwarfs like the ones in books — the type who live in mines and chop people’s heads off for looking at them wrong.”
“I’m afraid it’s true,” said Maeve. “Everything I believed in during my time in the other world, now resides here. Don’t be alarmed though. The last dwarf war ended three-hundred years ago, and no dragons have ever been seen — their existence is pure speculation based on my belief system when The Haven was conjured into being.”
“Could any of these creatures be responsible for the disappearance of the witches?” said Barney, his voice catching in his throat. “Because I’m a policeman, not a dragon slayer, and I’m far too tall to pick on a dwarf. It wouldn’t be fair!”
“It would be oppressive,” agreed Granny.
Maeve put a reassuring hand on Barney’s arm. “Be calm, lawman. If that were the case I would know. The missing witches have the magic to protect themselves from such creatures, as do the witches you travel with. The answer to the mystery of the missing witches will be found among other witches. Of that I’m sure. Worry not, Barney. The creatures spoken of are rare, and most of them mean no harm anyway. Go now, and travel well. Find my missing witches.”
Chapter Four
Maeve, Aunt Eva, and Derek waved us off, with Maeve reminding us that if we needed her help all we needed to do was think about her while holding one of the stones she’d given us. Derek and aunt Eva headed back towards Aunt Eva’s garden as soon as the boat was a few metres downstream, but Maeve remained on the bank-side, watching us until we’d rounded a bend in the river.
“Brandy time!” said Boris, as the river widened and the banks thickened with trees. “Gladys, my good lady, would you do the honours please?”
It seemed that Granny and Boris had put their differences aside, and Barney helped Granny onto the flat roof of the boat and lifted Boris up after her. Granny moved a few of the potted plants and herbs aside, and laid a blanket on the sun-warmed roof for the two of them to sit on. With a bottle of brandy between them, and clouds of smoke billowing from the cigar which was clamped safely in the vice which had once been used by my grandfather to tie fishing flies, but had been commandeered by Boris as a smoking aid, the two of them laughed and joked as The Water Witch swallowed up the peaceful miles.
“This is nice,” said Barney, standing next to me at the steering tiller.
He’d changed out of his police uniform on the sage advice of Maeve. Contrary to what Granny had said, Maeve had explained that it would be better if Barney drew no attention to himself in The Haven. People had an innate nervousness around anybody who represented authority — in our real world, and in The Haven, she’d said. He looked far more suited to a trip along a river on a sunny day while dressed in a t-shirt and shorts anyway. His stab jacket had begun to make him sweat, and his boots had trampled dried soil all over the boat’s clean decking. The flip flops which adorned his feet would necessitate a lot less sweeping up after him.
“It is nice,” I agreed, raising my voice to compete with the throb of the diesel engine beneath our feet. I took a sip of wine and enjoyed the warm tendrils which spread through my limbs. My homemade elderberry wine was strong, and I’d never have drunk any while driving my boat in the mortal world, but despite the fact we were on a journey to look for missing witches, we were all in vacation mode. Besides, the river was a lot wider than the canals I was used to navigating, and I was certain that I’d be able to polish off a whole bottle of wine before I turned the boat into a collision risk.
Mum and Willow were below deck, finalising the sleeping arrangements, and their raised voices could be heard every now and again as each of them tried to assert dominance over the other. It would be hard for Willow — she’d only been living on the boat for a few weeks, and already she was having to give her bedroom up for somebody else. We’d decided that Granny and Mum would share Willow’s bedroom, and Willow would sleep with me. Barney would have to make do with the fold down dinette furniture, and Boris would be happy to curl up on a blanket.
Barney pointed into the distance. “Is that a village?” he asked, squinting his eyes against the bright light of the sun.
He was right. It was a village. The riverbanks had been steadily opening up into rolling pastures on one side of the river, as the opposite bank gave way to the foothills of the looming mountains, which had been getting nearer as every minute passed. The slight silver colouration of the rock formations gave us a clue that we were approaching the Silver Mountains which Maeve had told us about.
The small village was comprised of a handful of thatched cottages, some of them with smoke pouring from the chimneys, unchallenged by wind until it reached high into the sky. Children gathered on the sandy beach, shouting greetings and waving at us as we passed.
An elderly man in a fishing coracle paddled out of our path and tipped his hat as he reeled in a trout, which he tossed at his feet to join the others which were soon going to be somebody’s dinner.
“I’d have thought it would be a little more magical here,” said Barney, as we left the village behind. “Everyone seems to be living normal lives, surely they could magic the fish out of the river if they wanted to?”
“Where would the fun be in that?” said Granny, watching us from the roof of the boat. “These people accept magic as normal, it’s more of a novelty to them to do things without magic. That’s why handmade things and food grown from scratch rule the economy. If anybody can conjure up a nice hat, then one that’s been handmade is worth a lot more. Possessing a practical skill goes a long way in The Haven. They’ll enjoy eating those fish far more than they would if they’d blasted them from the water with a spell.”
Barney sipped his wine. “I understand that,” he said. “There’s something primal about catching your own food. I used to love fishing when I was a child. I kind of miss it.”
I smiled. “In the storage compartment on the roof, there’s a fishing rod and tackle. It was there when I bought the boat. I’ve never used it, why don’t you try it out?”
Barney’s eyes lit up. “I’ll catch us some trout!” he said. “We can cook it over a campfire when we moor up for the night!”
He scrambled onto the roof and opened the storage box, the hinges giving a squeaking protest. “I’ll use bread as bait,” he said, jumping down next to me with the rod and tackle.
As Barney went about assembling the rod, I glanced at the sky. Dusk was falling and the mountains to our left cast a dark shadow over the river. “I’m going to take us ashore when I find a suitable spot,” I said. “We’re at The Silver Mountains. We’ll stay here tonight and if we leave early enough in the morning, we’ll be in The City of Shadows by midday.”
A large flat rock made a perfect natural jetty to moor the boat alongside, and a sandy beach surrounded by ancient trees with an open pasture beyond, made the perfect spot to relax in. The Silver Mountains rose from the ground about a mile away, and the river gurgled gently as it meandered past. Barney had dug up some worms when it quickly became obvious that the trout in the river weren’t big fans of bread, and he’d proudly delivered three fat fish which he’d cleaned and de-scaled ready for cooking.
Mum had been the first to try and light a fire using magic
, and then Willow and I had both tried, none of us being able to conjure a single spark from our fingertips.
“Remember what Maeve said,” commented Boris, watching us with amusement. “Magic doesn’t work in the Silver Mountains. You’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way.”
With firewood collected and with the use of matches from the boat, we soon had a roaring fire lit, which we sat around watching the fish cook on spits while we drank.
“Would anybody like some elderberry wine?” I offered, as dusk gave way to a starry moonlit sky.
Several bottles of my homemade wine still filled a storage rack aboard the boat, and it seemed that it was only me who truly appreciated its deep natural flavours. The berries had been picked under a full moon, and I was beginning to think that my sense of taste was vastly more advanced than the people’s around me.
Boris snorted and looked up, the reflections of the flames dancing in his eyes. “I’ll stick with my brandy, thank you, Penelope,” he said.
Granny giggled, the brandy she’d been drinking all day cheering her up. “I’m very proud of you, Penelope, you know that, don’t you?”
I raised an eyebrow. “I think so.”
“You’re a trier,” she said, “but please don’t try your hand at wine making again. That stuff is just filthy.”
I ignored everyone’s laughter and took a long swallow of wine. It meant more of it for me, and I was sure it was healthier than the array of drinks which everyone else was sipping.
I licked my lips as Barney turned the trout, the skin splitting and browning as the flesh softened. It smelt better than any shop bought fish I’d cooked. Barney glanced behind me at the open grassland at the foot of the mountains. “What are they?” he said, standing up for a better view. “Fireflies? I’ve never seen a firefly!”
I turned to look. Rising from the grasses and floating from the shadowy silhouettes of trees were dozens of bright lights which dropped, rose and bobbed left and right.
“Do they bite?” said Boris. “They’d better not bite! It’s no fun being a goat when there’s biting insects around.” He looked at Granny. “Did you bring my antihistamine cream, Gladys? I really don’t want a repeat of the horsefly incident, and I truly don’t relish the thought of you slavering ointment on my… you know whats again.”
“You should have seen how the bite swelled up,” said Granny, smiling at us. “It was like he had three balls, wasn’t it, Boris?”
“Thank you, Gladys,” said Boris. “You’ve painted a pretty picture in the minds of my peers.”
“You’re welcome,” said Granny, ignoring Willow’s laughter.
“Wait!” said Mum, sitting up straight and staring at the lights which were slowly approaching. “Those aren’t fireflies. They’re… fairies! I’d heard they lived in The Haven, but I’ve never seen one before!”
Glee bubbled in my stomach. I’d spent hours as a child searching for fairies at the bottom of Mum’s garden. “Fairies! Really?” I said. “Oh, my goddess!”
The lights stopped moving when they were less than ten metres away, and when I squinted I was able to make out the blur of tiny wings through the bright lights. A small female voice called out to us, the vowels in the words rising and falling in pitch like a song. “May we approach?”
Boris leapt to his feet and clamped his rear legs together. “Do you bite?” he asked. “Because if you do, there’s a fly swat aboard the boat which Gladys won’t be afraid to use!”
A gentle sing-song of murmurs spread between the fairies. “We are not heathens,” said the female voice. “We are the fairy clan of the Silver Mountains, and we’ve been drawn to you by the fragrant perfume you possess.”
“That’ll be my Chanel number five,” said Granny, sniffing her wrist. “I won it in a bingo game on holiday, didn’t I, Boris?”
“You pulled the chair from beneath the old man sitting next to you and stole his full house ticket, Gladys,” said Boris, “but if we’re not splitting hairs, then yes, you won it.”
Granny stood up. “You may approach, fairies of the Silver Mountains, and appreciate my perfume further.”
More murmuring spread through the swarm of fairies, until two small shapes broke free from the rest of the group and tentatively approached us, heading in my direction. As they neared, their forms became clearer, and I swallowed a delighted giggle when I realised they were just how I’d always imagined fairies to be. One fairy was female, her skin a silvery blue and her tiny dress sparkling with incandescent light, and the other was male, dressed in a silver robe which flowed behind him as he flew. Both wore delicate necklaces of intricate designs, and the female’s golden hair was adorned with tiny jewels. Their shimmering light dimmed as they neared me, and their wings buzzed slower as they came to a halt. They stopped inches from my face and studied me, their smiles wide and their small eyes kind. The female bowed in the air. “I am Breena, queen of the Silver Mountain fairies, and this is my king, Trevor.”
“Trevor?” said Boris. “Is that even a fairy name? That’s the name of a pub landlord, or a used car salesman.”
The king span in the air and pointed at Boris. “Your livestock insults me,” he said. “Silence the beast. Or he’ll be on my spit before this night is over.”
“How dare you!” said Granny. “You jumped up little flying bastard! Boris isn’t livestock, he’s a wonderful and kind spirit.”
Breena put a small hand on Trevor. “Don’t start arguments, Trevor, or you’ll be sleeping on the chaise lounge tonight. Apologise to these people and their goat right away!”
Trevor blushed a pinky red. “I’m sorry,” he said, lowering his voice. He cast a glance at the fairies who still hovered a short distance away. “I have to look the part in front of my clan,” he nervously explained. “I was showing off. Please accept my humblest apologies.”
“Accepted,” said Boris.
“Y’all are forgiven,” said Granny, slipping into the American slang she had a habit of using when she was drunk.
Breena raised her voice and addressed the other fairies. “Leave us, clan. We are safe among these kind people and their spirited goat. Go about your night, and know we are safe.”
“You’ll bring some back for us, won’t you?” came a male voice, which was surprisingly deep for such a small life form. “It was me that smelt it in the first place. I should get a share!”
“We’ll see!” said Breena. “Now go, and be on the lookout for the horsemen of the deep. They may travel tonight.”
The remainder of the clan did as their queen asked and their lights dimmed as they flew into the distance.
“Urm,” said Barney, staring at the two fairies with childlike wonder in his eyes. “The horsemen of the what now?”
“Horsemen of the deep,” said Trevor, his eyes on my glass. “Dear lady,” he said, bringing his eyes to mine. “Would it be rude of me to ask that my queen and I may sample some of the fragrant perfume you possess?”
“Urm,” repeated Barney. “Horsemen of the deep? They sound…scary?”
“The worse,” said Breena. She dropped from the sky and landed on my knee, standing next to my wine glass. “May I taste some?” she said. “It smells divine.”
“It’s alcoholic you understand?” I said. “It’s a drug.”
“Horsemen?” said Barney.
Breena looked up at Barney. “We will speak with you of the horsemen of the deep when our mouths have been wet with the divine liquid captured within this good lady’s drinking receptacle.”
Trevor dropped from the air and joined his queen on my knee. “I’m gagging for a taste,” he said. “It smells so good. May I partake?”
“If fairies can handle alcohol, you’re welcome to some,” I said.
Trevor laughed. “How else are we supposed to get shit-faced?” he said.
“Language, Trevor!” snapped Breena. “These are refined people. They won’t enjoy your foul mouth.”
Willow laughed and passed me the lid from a bo
ttle. “Pour some in here for them, Penny,” she suggested.
The two fairies fluttered to the floor as I filled the lid and laid it on the sand. Trevor tasted the wine first, dipping his lips to the surface and taking a long swallow. “Delicious,” he said. “Who is the winemaker responsible for this drink of the gods?”
Breena took a sip and sighed. “This is fine wine indeed. It was made by the hands of an expert.”
“I made it,” I said, brimming with pride. “I picked the berries under a full moon!”
Granny snorted, and Barney put an arm around my shoulder.
“I can taste the moonlight,” said Trevor, licking his lips. “And a hint of vanilla?”
“Yes!” I said, smiling at Barney. “Can you taste strawberry too? I added a little to sweeten it.”
Trevor took another long gulp. “The strawberry makes it what it is, young lady. You possess a remarkable skill.”
“Good grief,” said Mum. “The wine tastes vile. What’s wrong with you, fairies?”
Trevor and Breena ignored her and continued to sip the wine, making appreciative sounds and smiling up at me.
“The fish is done,” said Granny. “Who’s hungry?”
As Granny passed plates of fish around, including a small portion for Breena and Trevor to share, an echoing horn blew in the distance, startling the two fairies and making the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“The horsemen of the deep!” shouted Trevor, a tremor in his voice. “Tonight, they hunt!”
Chapter Five
“We must leave,” said Breena, taking a last sip of wine. “Would you be so kind as to send us on our travels with a little of your fine wine? The rest of the clan would truly appreciate it.” She flew to an unopened bottle of wine which lay in the sand, and landed on the cork. “This bottle would do nicely. It would last us for days.”
“I’m not sure you could carry it,” I said. “It’s very heavy.”
