by Roger Hurn
‘No it isn’t, mate,’ muttered Ritchie. ‘The highlight’s definitely going to be when Ezra and his crew chuck you in the Wraith Pits and throw away the key.’
‘Hey, Ritchie, look!’ Lizzie tugged at Ritchie’s sleeve and pointed. A battered and very dirty car had pulled up alongside Mr Davies and he was climbing in.
‘Come on,’ said Ritchie. ‘Let’s see who’s giving our pal a lift.’
He dashed down the road but the car was already pulling away from the curb. The driver crashed the gears and with a squeal of tyres it roared off before Ritchie could close the gap enough to see who was behind the wheel.
‘Blast! That was a woman driving that old heap. I’m sure of it. Well, someone with long hair anyway,’ he said to Lizzie when she walked up to him.
‘Yes it was. And I know which woman.’
Ritchie paled. ‘Do you reckon it was Celandine, the Hooded Lady?’
‘I don’t know about that,’ replied Lizzie. ’But I do know it was Miss Carter.’
Ritchie gaped at her. ‘How do you know that?’ he demanded. ‘You were too far away to see her face.’
‘Yeah, but that was her car all right. You must have seen it parked outside our house when she comes to give me flute lessons. She always leaves it blocking our driveway. It drives Dad nuts. He can’t bear anyone thinking that it might belong to him.’
Ritchie nodded thoughtfully. ‘OK, now we’re getting somewhere. Mr Davies will have given her the Crystal Beast by now to save his own skin and so she’s helping him to catch us.’ Ritchie’s voice grew more enthusiastic as he warmed to his theme. ‘I bet you any money you like she’ll turn up at the Randy just as he whisks us off into Piper’s Wood. Then they’ll both give us the third degree about Will and Alice when they get us back to Elfhame.’
‘Only that’s not going to happen,’ said Lizzie. ‘CM 9 will be taking them in for questioning instead.’
‘You’re bang on, Lizzie. We’re going to drop those two bozos right in it.’
But unfortunately for Ritchie and Lizzie there was a nasty hurdle to be overcome before that longed for moment could happen. Without consulting them, Mrs Brown had hired two medieval costumes for Ritchie and Lizzie to wear at the show. She produced them with a flourish on Saturday lunchtime. Ritchie’s consisted of a brown tunic, green tights and a hat with a long black feather sticking out of it at a jaunty angle. He took one look at himself in the mirror and refused to leave the house.
‘But Mum I look like a complete plonker.’
Mrs Brown smiled indulgently. ‘Nonsense, Ritchie, you look very dashing. Doesn’t he, Lizzie?’
Lizzie, who was dressed in a white cap, a long smock dress and a bright red apron with deep pockets, scowled. ‘No, he looks like a total wazzock! But as I’m a cross between Little Red Riding Hood and Bo Peep, what do I know?’
Mrs Brown folded her arms and simpered. ‘Well I think you both look charming and just perfect for the Randy. Don’t they Harry?’
Mr Brown peered over the top of the car magazine he was reading and gave his two offspring a long look. ‘Well, if it isn’t Hansel and Gretal. Take my advice kids – don’t go wandering into any gingerbread houses.’ He snorted with laughter then ducked his head back inside his magazine when Mrs Brown glared furiously at him.
‘Thanks for the support, Harry,’ she snapped. Then she switched her attention back to Ritchie and Lizzie. ‘Now off you go. Mr Davies said he wanted you there in good time. He’s having a last rehearsal with you and the other actors and he doesn’t want you to be late.’
‘Yeah, and watch out for the wicked witch,’ called Mr Brown as the two children left the house.
‘Dad is such a prat sometimes,’ said Lizzie.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Ritchie. ‘I bet he wouldn’t be so smug if he knew what a couple of evil creeps we were really up against.’
They stopped short and looked at each other, their faces tight with anxiety as the cold reality of the danger they were in hit them.
***
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ritchie and Lizzie’s feelings of fear mixed with embarrassment about their clothing faded a little as they approached the carnival grounds on their way to Whitley Meadow. There were plenty of other people who had entered into the spirit of the Randy and finely dressed lords and ladies mixed with minstrels, jugglers, fire-eaters, pedlars, squires and knights everywhere they looked. Stalls selling all kinds of exotic and colourful merchandise surrounded the carnival attractions. The sweet smell of candyfloss wafted through the air and mingled with the musky scent of incense before fighting a losing battle with the pungent odour of fried onions from the hot dog stands.
‘Hmm, I could murder a burger and chips,’ said Ritchie.
‘Oh that’s like so totally medieval – I don’t think,’ replied Lizzie. ‘What’s wrong with a slice of suckling pig? They’ve got one roasting on a spit over there.’
‘Ugh. Gross!’ Ritchie shuddered with disgust. ‘I hate food when you can see what it was. It’s not natural.’
Then Ritchie groaned. ‘Oh no, there’s Rona. She’s seen us and I’m dressed like a wally.’
Lizzie grinned. ‘No change there then.’
Rona sauntered over to them. Her copper coloured hair shone like the sun and her impossibly blue eyes dazzled everyone she looked at. Lizzie felt a surge of jealousy. Jeez, I’d give anything to look as good as you, she thought. I bet you’ve never had a zit in your entire life. But she forced herself to smile at Rona as she approached.
‘Hi guys. Cool costumes.’ Rona’s perfectly manicured eyebrows twitched slightly and she bit her lower lip as if to stop herself smiling. Ritchie felt his tongue grow at least three sizes too big for his mouth. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
‘Yeah, well we’re taking part in the re-enactment of the Piper legend. So we’re like trying to be realistic.’ Lizzie explained.
Rona kept a straight face. ‘Very realistic, I’d say. But did the turkey squawk when you pinched its tail feather for your hat, Ritchie?’
Ritchie’s cheeks flushed bright crimson and there was nothing he could do about it. ‘It was my Mum. She made me wear this stupid ...’ he began before hearing what he was saying and snapping his mouth shut. Mischief sparkled in Rona’s eyes.
‘Bit of a dragon is she, your Mum? Keeps you tied to her apron strings?’
Ritchie didn’t answer and Lizzie watched her brother flounder under the older girl’s gaze. ‘She’s OK but she gives Ritchie a hard time, sometimes.’ It was the best she could do to try and get her brother off the hook of Rona’s teasing.
‘What - a big lad like you?’ There was a faint hint of mockery in Rona’s voice. ‘You should tell her where to get off.’
‘I do.’ Ritchie jutted his chin out defiantly. ‘I don’t let her nag me like she nags Dad.’
‘Good for you. You’ve got to live your own life the way you choose. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.’ Rona winked at him – one free spirit to another.
Ritchie felt himself stand taller. ‘I won’t,’ he said. ‘You can count on that.’
‘Top man.’ Rona seemed genuinely impressed. ‘Now listen, when you guys have finished with all that malarkey in Piper’s Wood why don’t you come back here to the carnival and we’ll have some fun? Jed’s in charge of the ghost train today. He’ll let us ride for free.’ She looked at them expectantly. ‘What do you say?’
‘I don’t know, Rona,’ said Lizzie. ‘I think Mum wants us back straight after the show in case we mess up the costumes she hired.’
‘Hmm, it sounds like Ritchie’s not the only one tied to mummy’s apron strings.’ Rona softened the comment with a smile. ‘Well, if you’re worried about what your Mum says then I guess you can’t.’ She pulled a face and shrugged. ‘It’s a pity. It would have been cool.’
‘Stuff that, Lizzie.’ Ritchie was adamant. ‘Mum can lump it. We deserve a bit of a laugh after everything we’ve been through lately.’ He grinned at R
ona. ‘We’ll be there so catch you later,’ he said making a pistol shape with his fingers and thumb and pointing it at her.
‘Bang, bang, you shot me right through the heart.’ Rona giggled and turned away leaving Ritchie standing with his fingers still in the air.
‘Could you be any more of an idiot?’ Lizzie was shaking her head in disbelief.
‘Well, maybe I overdid it with the pistol gesture but she seemed to like it.’ Ritchie preened.
‘No dummy, I mean we’re not going to be around after the re-enactment are we? We’re going to be in Elfhame. That’s why I said that stuff about Mum and the costumes.’
‘Oh yeah, right.’ Ritchie was crestfallen.
‘Oh, and Ritchie, no girl thinks that silly finger gun move is cool. Especially not a drop dead gorgeous sixteen year old who, in my opinion’s also a bit of a bitch. Face it, bro’ she’s just playing with you.’
‘Says you.’
‘Whatever. But she isn’t going to be too impressed when a twelve year old stands her up.’ A surly look passed over Ritchie’s face and he glowered at his sister. Lizzie was unfazed. ‘Hey, don’t worry, Ritchie, you could always tell her you were living your life the way you choose.’ Then she took to her heels as her brother gave a bellow of anger and chased after her.
***
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ritchie was no match for his fleet-footed sister who almost collided with Mr Davies as she dodged out from behind a stall and into Whitley meadow. He was resplendent in tunic, tights, hat and boots of bright yellow and red. His silver flute gleamed and glistened in the afternoon sunlight. Long dark hair fell in waves down to his shoulders and he looked as if he had just stepped out of a picture in a book of fairy stories.
‘You’re both late,’ he grumbled as Ritchie came lumbering after his sister. ‘We were about to start the rehearsal without you and that would most definitely not have been satisfactory.’
‘Sorry,’ murmured Lizzie. ‘But we did run all the way.’
‘Yes, well you’re here now, so let’s make a start.’ He turned his back on them and called the motley collection of actors over to him.
Mr Davies’ idea of directing was to order everyone about and he put on such a fine display of fussiness that he soon attracted a group of youths who drifted over from the carnival sideshows to hoot and catcall at his efforts. This only served to drive him to new heights of peevishness – which was a bad move on his part. The small children in rats’ costumes were already very hot and fretful. They didn’t take kindly to being told they weren’t squeaking loudly enough and that they were jumping and scampering in all the wrong places. Several burst into tears and had to be led away by their disgruntled mothers.
‘If he keeps on like this he won’t have to drown the rats, they’ll all have gone home with their mums,’ said Lizzie. But before this could happen one of the organisers of the Randy came running over to tell Mr Davies to hurry up and take the actors to Newtown Town Hall where the re-enactment was scheduled to begin.
A crowd had gathered outside the old building and a man with a loudhailer announced that the show was about to start. The retired librarian who was acting as the narrator stepped forward and began declaiming his rhymes in a booming voice that could be heard halfway to France. The audience fell silent and settled down to enjoy the spectacle.
Lizzie and Ritchie watched Mr Davies’ every move but he threw himself into his role, prancing and dancing and generally acting like a villain from a fifth rate pantomime.
‘Can you believe this guy?’ whispered Lizzie. ‘He can’t act to save his life.’
‘Yeah, well that’s because he’s not an actor,’ replied Ritchie. ‘He’s the real deal. So don’t be fooled by him. This bloke’s a killer.’
At that moment Mr Davies twirled his flute between his fingers and cackled like a maniac at the full moon. He beckoned to the children and then began to play the tune Lizzie had worked out was the one guaranteed to open the gates between the worlds. He skipped off along Gold Street towards Whitley Meadow and Piper’s Wood with Lizzie, Ritchie and the other children dancing a clumsy jig behind him.
As they re-crossed Whitley Meadow, Ritchie felt the tension inside him stretch so tightly he thought his stomach muscles would snap. Lizzie gripped onto his hand with a strength born of fear. Ritchie winced but said nothing.
‘What if Ezra and CM 9 aren’t there when we get to Elfhame? What if we go back into a different time?’ Lizzie’s voice was shaking so badly that Ritchie could barely understand her.
‘They’ll be there,’ he replied with a confidence he didn’t feel.
By now, they had reached Piper’s Wood. Mr Davies led the gaggle of children some way into it until the trees and bushes blocked them from the view of the spectators who had stopped at the edge of the Wood. The children were at his mercy. He turned to face them and played the strange little tune once more.
‘This is it. Let’s get it on.’ Ritchie clenched his fists. ‘You’re in for a right surprise, mate,’ he muttered as he stared at Mr Davies while the music swirled and echoed all around the shadowy glade.
***
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The surprise was on Ritchie. With an extravagant flourish, Mr Davies swept the flute away from his lips but the air didn’t shimmer and melt. The world didn’t turn itself inside out. Time didn’t crack open and allow them to slip through the shadows into Elfhame. Instead, all the children stood there shuffling from foot to foot looking slightly embarrassed and not sure what to do next.
Mr Davies ran his hand through his long hair and his thin lips curved upwards into one of his chilly smiles. ‘Well, boys and girls, I think we’ve teased our audience for long enough. Let’s return to the Meadow and receive some well–merited applause.’
The children turned to go but then a woman erupted from the bushes and stumbled onto the path in front of them. It was Miss Carter.
‘Oh I don’t think so,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Just stay where you are.’ Lizzie and Ritchie swapped panic stricken glances while the rest of the children groaned.
Miss Carter beamed at Mr Davies. ‘The performance was a triumph and you were inspirational as the Piper, Gareth.’
Mr Davies bowed from the waist in acknowledgement of the compliment.
‘Gareth?’ whispered Lizzie to Ritchie. ‘I thought his name was Bogan.’
Miss Carter turned her attention to the children. ‘I don’t think any of you realise how lucky you are to have such a gifted artist as your director and leading actor.’
This gushing tribute caused eyebrows to be raised and barely suppressed fits of giggling. Miss Carter fixed the long – suffering children with a look so sharp that it could have pinned a butterfly to a board.
‘Anyway, I think it would be a more fitting end to the pageant, Gareth, if you appear from the Wood on your own and stand there playing the pipe. Then, when the suspense has built up, I’ll send the children out a few at a time. That should ensure a really dramatic climax and lots of applause for you.’
Mr Davies agreed that this was an excellent idea and hurried off back out into Whitley Meadow. His arrival was greeted by a smattering of applause from the handful of onlookers who still remained as well as from the group of bemused parents who were expecting to see their children emerge from the Wood. Mr Davies launched into a jig and Miss Carter selected several of the youngest children to go dancing out into the Meadow. Their appearance was met with a volley of clapping and relieved cheers. Ritchie and Lizzie made to follow them but Miss Carter grabbed their hands.
‘You two can wait ‘til last,’ she snapped. ‘You’re the oldest.’
‘Dream on.’ Ritchie and Lizzie snatched their hands away from her. ‘Come on kids,’ Ritchie yelled. ‘We’re out of here!’
The remaining children followed his lead and ran whooping from the Wood leaving Miss Carter fuming behind them.
***
Chapter Thirty
Ritchie and Liz
zie were crouched down behind a stall pitched at the edge of the Meadow. They were squinting out at Mr Davies and Miss Carter who were standing about 50 metres away having an animated conversation.
‘I wish I knew what those two were saying,’ said Lizzie. ‘Yeah,’ said Ritchie. ‘I mean what was that all about in Piper’s Wood? Why didn’t the Piper just whisk us all off to Elfhame like he was supposed to?’
Lizzie scratched her head. ‘That’s what we thought he’d do but I don’t think that was ever their plan.’
Ritchie looked at her blankly. ‘What are you on about? They wanted us all for sure.’
Lizzie chewed on her thumbnail and thought some more before answering. ‘No. Celandine and Bogan never wanted the other kids – just you and me. They must have figured that a whole bunch of us vanishing at the Randy would have caused too much of a stir here and back in Elfhame. You see, now they’ve got the Crystal Beast the last thing they need is to give the Chronomages another reason to get on their case.’
‘So what were they up to, then?’
‘Remember Ezra told us that Celandine’s discovered a new way of moving between the worlds? Well, I reckon she was going to use that on us when all the other kids had gone.’
‘Gotcha!’ exclaimed Ritchie. ‘So that’s why she was holding us back.’
‘Yep, and now they’re trying to work out what to do next.’
‘That makes sense,’ said Ritchie. ‘And, by the look of things, I’d say they’ve decided. They’re coming this way.’
Ritchie and Lizzie ducked back out of sight until Mr Davies and Miss Carter had passed.
