by Tim Flanagan
The road continued westward until they reached a junction beside a wide stretch of river. The other side of the land was separated by pools of blue water, yellow sand dunes and green bushes. A couple of small fishing boats had drifted in with the high tide from the bay and become stranded on the dunes at low tide. Edgar pulled over for a few minutes whilst he checked the map. Once satisfied that they were heading in the right direction, he took a smaller road that followed the river Conwy as it narrowed the further it got from the Irish Sea.
After an hour of driving the road began to noticeably climb higher. The mountains that had been hovering on the other side of the river now seemed to be within touching distance. The fields and countryside that had surrounded the road only moments before began to change into patches of densely filled woodland.
The road suddenly stopped at a junction where Edgar turned right onto a bridge that took them over the river and onto the other side. The picturesque cottages along this stretch of the road seemed to be partly consumed by the lush variations of green foliage that tumbled from the higher rock behind them. Once they had left the village the road became engulfed once again by the woodland, ferns wildly overhung the stone walls whilst spruce trees stretched up high competing with their neighbours for daylight. The road twisted left then right, like a grey snake tunnelling its way through the undergrowth. When the trees thinned, the beige coloured peak of Snowdon could be seen in the distance, whilst the banks of greenery loomed over the car, broken by craggy outcrops of stone.
Eventually, once the woodland thinned, the ground at the side of the road was covered by nothing more than stone, grass and heather allowing a panoramic view that took in the mountains. On the left, low cloud appeared to be stuck as it attempted to pull itself over the peak of a blackened mountain. To the right a wide blue lake emerged perfectly reflecting the stony peaks that towered above it. The low afternoon sunlight danced off the surface, flashing and playing across the surface of the water. Edgar squinted to see the road, turning his head away from the lake slightly so that he could see. When he blinked the tracks of light that had temporarily burnt the back of his eyes remained in front of him. He blinked again, trying to clear his vision. As the road twisted round a raised part of the mountain, Edgar steered too close to the side. Suddenly the car was filled with the frightening sound of metal scraping against rock. The wing mirror shattered as it became crushed against the immovable rock, whilst the front passenger window collapsed inside the car like a flexible sheet of plastic. Edgar quickly turned the wheel away from the side of the mountain but overcompensated as the car now lurched to the other side of the road and the low stone wall that separated them from the lonely depths of the lake. Edgar reacted once again by pulling the steering wheel in the opposite direction desperate to avoid the lake. The momentum and change in direction flipped the car onto its side. The car slid on its side until the front clipped the edge of the mountain, flipped once more then spun like a square sided wheel until it lost all momentum and settled back on to its rubber wheels.
The car creaked to rest.
Every shiny surface and square edge was now dented and scarred.
The occupants inside bruised and bloodied, sat motionless and crumpled like shop mannequins that had been tossed aside in a skip.
26. Across Tryfan
Joe was the first to wake. He opened his eyes. They felt tired and heavy and he so desperately wanted to keep them closed and go back to sleep, but there was something nagging at him from the back of his mind telling him to wake up. His first thought was that he was at home in his bed in Parsley Bottom, wondering if he had overslept and would be late for school. He casually glanced around him. He was slumped awkwardly in the back seat of a car, there were bags, food, paper, metal and glass scattered across his knees. To his left Max was sitting, head hanging limply forward, with two lines of blood extending from each nostril. The sides of the car appeared twisted and buckled making the inside appear smaller and more compact than it should have been. The glass from the windows was also missing and Joe could feel a slight breeze blowing against his cheek. Outside, a rising wall of black rock obscured the view from one side of the car, casting a long afternoon shadow across the road. Then it all came flooding back. They were in the Snowdonia mountain range when the car had flipped over and rolled.
Joe reached over to his friend and placed a hand on his arm.
‘Max?’ he said. Speech seemed to take more effort than normal; he could feel the tightness against his chest from the seatbelt that had saved him from falling out of the car. He reached down to the side of the seat and pressed the orange button. As soon as the seatbelt sprung out of the lock he took a big lung full of air.
‘Max?’ he said again, this time with more confidence, and accompanied by a shake of the arm.
Max muttered something and his head rolled slightly as he began to regain control of his neck.
‘What happened?’ muttered Max in a fragile whisper.
‘Are you ok?’ asked Joe.
‘My nose hurts. What about you two?’
Joe looked to the front of the car; he could see the tired eyes of Sir Edgar looking back at him through the twisted mirror.
‘I can’t move, I’m trapped,’ said Edgar. ‘We need to get out of the car before night falls.’
Nestled within the deflated remains of a white air bag was Edgar, his body appeared shrunken and weak. Joe noticed that the dashboard had become detached from the main frame of the car and appeared to be resting on the knee of the Knight.
Joe tried the door lock nearest to him. There was an ear-splitting noise of metal against metal. The door opened slightly, then stopped, but it left a gap wide enough for the two boys to climb out of the car and onto the road. Behind the car they could see a trail of debris including the remains of both wing mirrors and the thick black scars caused by the rubber tyres as the car had skidded from one side of the road to the other. Small beads of glass glittered in the fading light.
Both boys stretched themselves, trying desperately to ease their bruised muscles and aching joints.
‘Help me with Edgar’s door,’ said Joe to Max. The door on the driver’s side was already hanging at an awkward angle from its broken hinges and didn’t take much effort for the two boys to pull it backwards and expose Edgar. The air bag had taken the impact of the roll, protecting Edgar from colliding with the front window, but the disjointed dashboard was pinning his legs firmly to the seat.
‘Look in the back of the car,’ instructed Edgar with a weak and breathy voice. ‘Find the spare wheel. With it there will be a manual jack that you would normally raise the car with to put the wheel on. Find it and use it to raise the dash off my legs.’
Max and Joe nodded, understanding what Edgar wanted them to do. They both darted round the side of the car but stopped short when they saw the bent and buckled rear end of the car. They tried getting their fingers in through small gaps so that they could lift the twisted sheet of metal that was wedged firmly inside the car, but it wouldn’t move. There was no way they were going to be able to open the lid to the boot of the car.
Max had an idea. He suddenly left Joe and began squeezing his body back through the small gap in the rear door that they had just got out of.
‘What are you doing?’ Joe asked.
‘If the seats come down, I can climb into the back from inside the car.’
Now kneeling on the back seat of the car, Max reached up and unclipped the latch above one of the seats and pulled the seat towards him. Halfway, the back became wedged and stuck on a buckled piece of metal frame and wouldn’t come down any further. But the gap was big enough for Max to crawl through. Joe watched through the glassless windows as Max’s feet disappeared through the gap and into the boot. There were muffled noises now coming from inside the car and sounds of exertion from Max who was obviously moving things around.
‘Got it,’ shouted Max. A hand pushed a red folded piece of metal through the gap in the back o
f the chair, quickly accompanied by Max’s head. He passed the jack to Joe who reached through the window, then pulled his body back into the main part of the car. Joe immediately took the jack round to the open driver's door and a patiently waiting Edgar. He slid the metal contraption between the floor of the car and the dashboard, released the clip and inserted a metal rod into a small hole. He pushed the rod down towards the ground then allowed the spring to take it back up ready to be pushed down again. With every push on the handle the top of the jack raised higher and higher until it touched the underside of the dashboard. Pushing the rod down suddenly became a lot harder and Joe was putting all his body weight on it to make it go down. Max now joined him and gripped the rod as well. Eventually a creaking sound came from the dashboard as it slowly moved upwards. With both Max and Joe’s body weight on the handle, the jack lifted the end of the dashboard off Edgar’s knees who began to manually pull his legs out with his hands.
Edgar tumbled onto the road surface and dragged himself away from the car. The boys let go of the jack handle and rushed over to him.
‘Are you alright?’ Joe asked.
‘I think so,’ replied Edgar massaging his legs. ‘Nothing broken, but I’ve lost some of the feeling in my legs.’
‘Is there anything we can do?’ Max asked.
Edgar shook his head. He was now trying to raise himself onto his knees.
‘We must keep moving. We have wasted too much time. See how the clouds are beginning to turn grey. We must get to Avalon before night descends. Collect the weapons from the car as well as water for the rest of the journey. Bring some chocolate bars, but leave the rest of the food. There will be more food than you can imagine when we reach Avalon.’
The boys ran back to the car and salvaged what they could as quickly as possible and threw it into a small rucksack. When they returned to Edgar he was standing on his feet, but moving like an uncoordinated child trying to take its first steps.
‘That is Tryfan,’ said Edgar, pointing unsteadily to the mountain that hung over the road they were on. ‘At the peak of the mountain are the giant rocks, Adam and Eve, and on the other side, lake Idwal.’
Joe handed Ethera to Edgar who strapped the belt around his waist, letting the sword hang down beside one of his legs. Edgar threw his coat over a small stone wall that bordered the road, so that it covered the sharp chiselled edges of the upright rocks on the top, making it less painful to climb over.
Away from the road the mountain immediately banked up. The surface of the rocks nearest to the road was green with moss. Grey rocks cut through the moss and reached up to the sky making sharp vertical columns. Edgar had begun picking a route around some of the taller rocks, following the moss as far as possible; knowing that it would have been the route water would have taken as it drained off the mountain. Every now and again Edgar’s knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground. He rested momentarily on one knee whilst he allowed the blood to rush back to his leg muscles to regain control of them. Joe and Max followed.
As the green mossy ground became overtaken by black tinged boulders, the incline began to increase. Now they were picking their way forward by using the rocks in front of them as ledges to help pull themselves up. Sometimes a careful shuffle along a narrow ledge was necessary in order for them to gain access to the next tier of rocks, but slowly they continued higher and higher, breaking into the cloud that flicked off the top of the mountain. When the boys looked back towards the tattered remains of the car they had left behind it seemed like they were looking through a smeared window, aware of the colour and shape of a car, but unable to make out any specific details. Occasionally the cloud become denser as it drifted past them, obscuring their view altogether, except for the stones that immediately surrounded them.
At a larger ledge, they all sat down and had a drink of water and a square of chocolate, but Edgar was keen for them to continue. Every time the cloud momentarily cleared they could see that the sky had begun to turn darker.
‘Do you think the creatures would come all the way to the mountains?’ asked Joe.
‘There wouldn’t be much here for them to hunt,’ replied Max.
‘Unfortunately there is,’ said Edgar. ‘The mountains are populated by wild goats, as well as other animals. There wouldn’t be as much food around here as there would be in the town, but wherever there are animals, the creatures will not be far behind. That is why we must push on as quickly as we can. We have no option but to continue. The top is not far now,’ he added reassuringly.
They all stood once more. Edgar reached up to the next stone and began pulling himself up, grunting as the effort caused his body to strain. Joe followed, placing his hand in the same gap in the rock that Edgar had just vacated. The higher they went, the more they could feel a cool breeze whipping up the mountain side and stinging their cheeks. Some time later Edgar paused on a flat piece of black stone, worn smooth by numerous feet that had stood in the same spot to admire the view. On either side of Edgar were two tall stones. It seemed as if they were walking through a gateway at the top of the mountain.
‘Look,’ said Edgar, pointing into the cloud. As the wispy grey clouds dashed past them, whipped up by the wind, they caught a glimpse of a lake that rested at the bottom of the mountain. ‘Lake Idwal,’ said Edgar with a degree of pride. The adrenaline caused by seeing the lake gave him a buzz of excitement. He had successfully guided the boys to the entrance of Avalon. ‘And this is Adam and Eve,’ he added, patting the tall stones on either side of them. ‘From the cup of Adam and Eve the Elixir of Life flows to the gates of Avalon,’ he muttered, recalling something he had read many years ago.
The boys took a cautious glance over the edge of the flat stone platform they were standing on. The other side of the mountain looked slightly easier to go down. A path, carved by the feet of numerous tourists, seemed to follow a trickling path of water that increased in size as it fell further down the mountain.
‘There will be time to rest in Avalon,’ said Edgar. ‘Night is approaching and we still have to get off the mountain.’
Without a moments hesitation Edgar took the first step down. In parts the path was narrow and they had to make small leaps of faith to jump onto the next step that was lower than expected. Water flowed from every crack above them and gathered into a single white line that weaved its way around rocks then disappeared from sight before emerging over a ledge, stronger than before. At times, where the path got too close to the falling water, the rocks were slippy and covered in algae, making them progress with caution, clinging to the side of the mountain and taking tiny baby steps until their footing was more secure.
Half way down, the clouds began to clear. Max looked across at the lake. It looked so peaceful and still. Hidden in the trough between the mountains the water was motionless and reflected the sky like the highly polished surface of a mirror. The only thing that disturbed the reflection was the small black shadows that Max mistook for clouds passing over the mountain.
They pushed on. Fingernails chipped, knees sore and feet aching, but spurred on by the thought of Avalon waiting for them. Joe was beginning to feel tired. The mountain walk had drained him of what little energy he had. They had been eating a lot less food than normal and his energy levels were low. He stepped down onto a ledge, trying to follow where Edgar had already trodden, but the fading light was beginning to make it difficult. Shadows from rocks hid parts of the path and he became unsure where to place his feet. With his back against the side of the mountain, Joe nervously reached for the next ledge with the toe of his right foot. As it touched the rock and he began to feel confident, he loaded more weight onto it, but some loose gravel caused his foot to slip forward towards the edge of the mountain.
‘Edgar!’ he shouted, trying desperately to grip hold of the rock face. But his body weight was carrying him forward, closer to the edge.
A firm arm suddenly pushed against Joe’s chest holding him back from the drop in front of them. Edgar had respo
nded immediately to Joe's call, but suddenly Edgar’s hand began to shake. Joe could feel it against his chest. A look of worry flashed across Edgar’s face. He knew he didn’t have the strength in his hand to keep Joe safe for long.
‘Grab a rock!’ he shouted desperately. ‘Anything!’
Joe did as he was told and clung desperately to a projecting rock while his feet scrambled desperately to find a solid surface.
Edgar withdrew his hand. He knew he was getting weaker all of the time.
A movement from the ledge above them caught his eye. Clinging to the rock face was a black leathery shadow of a Moon Stealer, camouflaged against the dark rocks. Its red hole of a mouth stretched open releasing a low rasping breath and it leapt off the mountain. Awkwardly, Edgar managed to draw his sword with his left hand as the creatures hooked feet sunk into the flesh around the Knight’s shoulders, plucking him from the ledge and plummeted down the side of the mountain together. With a couple of strong beats from the creature's wings, it managed to control the fall and lift itself once more back into the sky, riding the currents of air that gusted up the side of the mountain, ready to take its prey somewhere to feast on. The evening sky temporarily lit up in white light as Sir Edgar Gorlois, Duke of Tintagel, plunged Ethera into the body of the Moon Stealer that carried him.
The creature no longer beat its wings.
Together they tumbled down the side of the mountain, dislodging loose pieces of rock as they fell, breaking the white foaming water that cascaded towards the lake until they landed in a lifeless, disjointed tangle at the bottom.
27. Slaves to the Community
The dock at Yarmouth was once again a hive of activity. The group that had been ferried over from the mainland were the last to be taken from the holding room, back through the labyrinth of corridors and out to the dockside. The warehouse that had been loaded the previous afternoon was now being unloaded. Men lifted boxes into the back of lorries whilst others manoeuvred some of the vehicles out, including Rhys’s motorbike and lined them up ready to be taken away.
