by Amy Wilson
‘So?’ I ask after a while, my voice shaking.
‘I get it,’ she says. ‘I think I get it.’
‘Are you coming then?’
‘Yes!’ she says, running a finger through the frost on her headboard. ‘Will your mum let you, after the other night?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘I’ll have to sneak out. Are you up for that?’
‘Absolutely,’ she says. ‘But what’s wrong? You look awful . . .’
‘It’s tiring,’ I say. ‘And you staring like that makes me feel weird. Also, I’ve kind of made your room wet . . .’
‘Oh, it’ll be OK, I’ll chuck some towels around in a bit,’ she says. ‘Don’t worry about that. And I’m sorry for staring – it’s not because it’s weird, Owl, it’s because it’s magical!’
I snort; she sounds like a five-year-old. Then she shoves me and I shove her back and we’re laughing and we’re us again, even if the conversation is different now.
I just hope it’s the right thing, to take her. I know it’s the right thing for me, for our friendship. I’m just not sure how good it’ll be for Jack. I mean, if he’s in trouble for consorting with a half-human, how’s he going to fare if I take a whole one along with me for his court appearance?
We make our plans anyway, and then the subject strays on to Mallory’s parents and I see how desperate she is about them, how hard she’s trying to lose herself in other stuff because there’s nothing she can do to fix their problems. It’ll be good for her to come. If I can get Alberic to tell me where the court meets, that is.
Alberic still looks tired when he walks into the form room in the morning. He gives me a quick half-smile before marching over and sitting at his usual desk, glaring at Conor when he arrives and starts being deliberately annoying, flapping his coat around and taking an age to sit down.
‘Alberic doesn’t look very happy, does he?’ Mallory whispers, as Mr Varley bursts into the room and starts shouting at Conor for being a clown. Conor is unfazed as usual. He just grins and takes his seat, and then he looks across and winks at Mallory, who goes a very interesting shade of pink.
‘Ooh, Conor’s happy to see you though,’ I say with a grin.
She raps me on the knuckle with a pencil.
I can feel Alberic’s gaze boring into me for the whole of tutorial, though every time I turn around he’s looking straight ahead at Mr Varley. I loiter outside the classroom when the bell has gone, waiting for him.
‘Hi,’ I say, standing in his way.
He looms over me. ‘Hi.’
‘Is everything OK?’ I ask. He looks completely surprised by the question. ‘I mean, the other night, you were a bit stressed out . . .’
‘I’m fine,’ he says. ‘Have you told Jack what you heard?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Honestly he didn’t seem that worried. And we met the man who was speaking. I don’t suppose he’s really a man at all, actually, more of a creature . . . the Earl of October.’
He stares at me. ‘You’ve met the Earl?’
‘What’s the problem?’
‘Nothing.’ He looks away. ‘Just . . . the Earl has a bit of a reputation. He’s not so keen on the human interactions . . .’
‘Well, I only saw him for a moment. Then I told Jack he was the one scheming, and now the Earl has summoned Jack to court, and I promised I’d be there . . .’ A bunch of year sevens swarm around us as we pass through the main entrance, breaking my concentration. ‘So, yes, I said I’d meet him there but he didn’t tell me quite where to go . . .’
‘Seems strange, if he wanted you to be there,’ Alberic says as we get to the humanities corridor.
‘Well, he is who he is . . .’
‘I shouldn’t tell you.’
‘But I could swear on a tree never to tell. Or, you know –’ I look around desperately – ‘on a book, perhaps? Made of the same material, essentially . . .’
‘As the Great Oak?’ he shakes his head. ‘You’re such a novice.’
I hesitate outside the classroom door while people start heading in. ‘I need to be there,’ I say, putting my hand out to stop him. He’s rolled up his sleeves and his forearm is covered in minuscule golden freckles. ‘I’ll be careful . . .’
‘What do you think you can do there anyway?’
‘I know the truth! I know they’re scheming against him. If it all goes wrong for him then I’ll be able to explain . . .’
‘It’s not a good idea,’ he says.
‘It’ll be fine,’ I insist. ‘I won’t do anything unless I really have to. Besides, don’t I have a right to be there? Just as much as you do?’
His nostrils flare as he considers me.
‘I can’t help you,’ he says finally, looking down at my hand on his arm with a strange expression. I remove it hurriedly, giving myself a mental slap for being so weird. ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t. You don’t know what you’re walking into.’
With that he strides ahead of me into the classroom, leaving me gaping stupidly after him, completely stung by his response. Maybe it’s not such a good idea to go to the court, or to take Mallory for that matter, but I’m not about to let him stop me. What an ass. We’ll just have to do it without him, I can’t let Mallory down now; she needs the distraction. It can’t be that hard to find, and I need to see it, whatever it might be like. A little shiver of apprehension breaks out on my skin as I settle myself in my usual place, Alberic just in front of me, and I keep my coat on for the whole lesson, just in case it shows.
‘I can’t believe we’re doing this,’ Mallory whispers as she meets me in the lane, her breath puffing out in the cold night air. ‘I’ve never done anything like this before!’
‘Not sure many people have,’ I say with a smile as we start walking. I feel really nervous. Alberic was so weird about it earlier, it’s made me worry. Several times I slow down, wondering whether to tell Mallory we should go back – we still don’t know where the court is meeting, and the Druid Wood is enormous – but she’s charging on by my side, wrapped up in heavy coat, scarf, hat and boots with thick socks, happily chatting about whether we’re going to see any ‘real’ pixies or elves.
I guess she’s thinking of Enid Blyton stories.
‘I don’t think it’s going to be quite like that,’ I hiss as we climb the stile into the sloping field between the school and the wood. The ground is hard with a crisp white frost. I look at my watch: 11.45 p.m.
‘It’s so cold,’ Mallory says, slipping as she tries to hurry up the hill. ‘I guess you don’t feel it, but man—’
‘Mallory, shh,’ I whisper, my voice tight as we get closer. The trees cast long shadows in the light of the moon, which is just off full now. ‘I don’t know what this is going to be like, it might be dangerous. Maybe you should wait . . .’
‘What, all alone in the dark in this field?’ she hisses. ‘Not likely! I want to meet your dad, anyway. Ja-a-ack Frrrrrossstt,’ she intones.
I’m not sure I want to see him, though; I’m not sure I’m ready for this court thing at all. Having seen Jack and Boreas and the creepy Earl of October, I can hardly imagine what the rest of them will be like. We reach the edge of the trees and I look around furtively, but I can’t see much in the darkness.
‘How’re we going to find it?’ Mallory demands, tripping over dry twigs. ‘It’s so dark!’
I’ve half a mind to turn around right there and pretend none of this is happening at all, but just as I go to say it a tall figure steps between us and grabs us both by our arms, dragging us further into the tangled undergrowth beneath the trees.
‘Are you completely raving?’ Alberic barks at us, shoving us into the shelter of an enormous ash tree. ‘Do you know what you’re doing, coming here?’
‘I said I was coming!’ I retort. ‘And I was hardly going to come alone.’
‘Besides, surely anyone’s allowed into the woods. It’s public land, after all,’ chimes in Mallory. Alberic stares at her. She stares back.
‘It�
��s not safe,’ he says, his eyes roaming, searching the woodland around us. ‘This isn’t some cosy fairy land! Humans aren’t allowed to the Royal Court. You might get away with it,’ he says looking at me. ‘But I’m not sure it’s even possible for Mallory to get there. And if you’re here for Jack it’s about the worst thing you could do, to bring her with you . . .’
‘Well, we’re here now,’ I say, folding my arms. ‘And I’m guessing you’re not king of the wood, so you’ve no choice in it. You should go. We’ll make our own way. You didn’t want to be seen with me, remember?’
He draws me to one side. ‘Seriously, Owl, stop this. It’s not safe for either of you, especially not for Mallory.’ He looks me up and down, his eyes softening. ‘Even you won’t be able to fight them all off, if they discover you.’
‘Would they really attack us?’
‘I don’t know,’ he says, shifting his feet, his eyes constantly on the lookout. ‘I don’t know what will happen. I just know some of them won’t like it. And, as I say, she might not even get through.’
‘Get through where?’
‘There’s a barrier. A spell, I suppose. It stops humans seeing what they’re not supposed to see.’
‘So she’ll be there but she won’t see anything?’
‘I don’t know!’ he hisses, his shoulders tense. ‘Anything could happen. Are you really willing to risk it?’
The branches of the trees rustle around us and there’s a low scurrying noise, things stirring in the undergrowth. Alberic looks back to the deep darkness of the wood.
‘The trees are waking,’ he whispers. ‘Go home, Owl. There’s nothing for you here.’ His eyes blaze and the trees around us lower their branches with a shuffle and a cascade of leaves, snapping upright once more when he waves his hand at them with a frustrated huff. ‘Please,’ he says. ‘This isn’t a place for humans – just go.’ And with that he’s off, darting through the trees as if he’s been doing it all his life. He probably has, I think with a shudder as I turn back to Mallory.
‘Wow. Was that, with the trees . . . Did he do that? Did they bow to him, Owl? Is this place really full of strange creatures?’ she asks, her voice hushed.
‘I did try to tell you,’ I whisper, a knot forming in my stomach as I look around us.
The trees seem closer together now; they’re so tall they could be endless. The light is dim already and further in, darkness clings to every limb.
We tread through thick bracken in the direction Alberic went, trying to steer clear of the trees. It gets darker as we go, and the night sounds grow louder: the scuttling of unseen creatures, the creak of the trees in the wind. I forge through, Mallory following, her hand on my jacket. My eyes are quick to adapt to the darkness, every sense on alert, but Mallory blunders behind me, her breath quick and hard.
‘Owl!’ she hisses suddenly, as a whisper of wind breaks over my skin.
‘Mall?’ I turn as she breaks away from me, blinking and searching out with her hands.
‘Where are you?’
‘Right here!’
‘I can’t see you,’ she says, panic edging her voice. I take a step towards her, feel that same murmur against my skin. ‘There you are! It’s so dark . . .’ Mallory breathes.
‘I don’t think it’s that, Mallory,’ I say, searching for a sign of the barrier. It’s invisible, whatever it is. ‘It’s a spell, meant to hide the court from humans. Can you get through?’
I step back through the barrier and pull her with me, but her hands are ripped from mine as she bounces back.
‘Oh, my goodness,’ I whisper, helping her up. ‘Mallory, it’s not going to let you through!’
‘So . . . I’ll wait here for you then. You go on.’ She looks very pale as she says it, though her jaw is set with determination.
‘I can’t do that, Mall!’
‘Yes you can,’ she says, her voice stronger. ‘I’ve got a torch, and my personal alarm, and a bit of chocolate . . .’
‘I’m not sure . . .’
‘Seriously, Owl, go. This is important. I’ll be fine. I’ll just sit in this pile of leaves here –’ she shuffles them together and plonks herself down in the middle – ‘and eat my chocolate.’
I stand for a few minutes watching her, making sure she’s OK, and when I can see she’s absorbed in a game on her phone I force myself to go on through the barrier. The creaking of trees is louder on the other side, and there’s a charge in the air, as if the whole place is alive with magic. By the time I come out into a small clearing, the telltale tingling of my skin has started. I look down at my hands to see they’re covered in frost that glitters beneath the clear moonlight.
And then I look up.
And any doubt I might have had about everything that’s happened disappears, blown to pieces by the scene unfolding before me.
FABLES & EARTH SPIRITS
The Lady of the Lake
Deep down in the murk of underwater, and the girl thought that she was drowning. She thought that she had taken a wrong turn somehow in the incantation and her adventures in the magical lands of the fay folk were over. Her chest burned as she breathed in water, and she fought to push herself up to the surface, but she fought in vain; her feet were tangled in the rough, grasping roots that twisted through the riverbed.
‘No, child, forget your struggles,’ came a voice, and it seemed that it rang within her head, and there was a bright light and she thought that surely this was the end. Then pale hands clutched her shoulders and pulled her forward through the water until, with a kiss that broke upon her face, the underbelly of the lake revealed itself to her: a vast bubble of air within the water, and within that bubble such a place that for an instant she wondered if she had perished after all, and this was heaven.
She stood in a puddle of water, breathing hard and so very aware of her sorry, bedraggled state, and she could find no words to explain herself, though the question was in the eyes of all the assembly before her. They were fairies and water-sprites, and other, taller figures that she could not name, with gills upon their slender necks. Their glittering skin was bright beneath the chandeliers that dangled from the roof of the cavernous hall. Quartz had made this place, and a million points of pink light shone out from every corner.
‘Well, child, and what mischief have you found yourself in this time?’ came the voice once more. ‘Come forward to me, I would see your face . . .’
The otherworldly figures parted to reveal a pale, marble throne, upon which sat a pale lady more beautiful than words could ever tell. The girl forgot that she had nearly drowned, forgot her dripping hair, her chilled skin, for the lady was heat and light and peace.
‘I have heard of you,’ she said with a gentle smile. ‘You are our traveller, our human interloper. You shall find trouble, sooner or later, if you carry on with your little spell. I wonder how you came by it . . .’
The lady looked at her straight in the eye and in that moment it was as if she read the whole of her being.
‘It does not offend me to have you here,’ she said, almost as if surprised by that. She waved an elegant hand at the crowd and it dissipated. ‘Will you write of your adventures, traveller?’ she asked, when they were alone.
The girl could only stare. She could no more think of writing at that moment than she could have wielded a fish to fight a sword.
‘I think perhaps you should,’ the lady said, her silver eyes bright with the thought. ‘Write it, and hide it well, and we shall see if your adventures one day might have a purpose. They say all things have meaning . . .’ She stepped forward, over the pale shell floor, and then was in front of the girl. She stooped, and breathed upon her. ‘Now,’ she said. ‘Begone, and if you should continue with your travels take heed of my warning. Not all will welcome you.’
Mum’s read those legends all my life – about the figures who watch over nature, about the beauty and the danger of the elements – but they were bedtime stories, and they never frightened me. Those fairy-ta
le characters were magical, vivid beings who lived in another world, a world of books and films and imagination. They weren’t living, real creatures.
Except they were, and they’re right before me now. The trees have opened out into a clearing that dips down to a lake I’ve never seen here before. It’s like the whole place has been transported from Mum’s old storybook. The water is still, shining silver beneath the moon, and all around it, between pale globe lights that rise out of the moss-covered ground, are strange, almost human figures that my mind is fighting to accept.
The Earl of October sits on a great stone bench overlooking the lake, his long knotted limbs all awkward angles. Next to him sits a curvy woman in a hooded robe, her green eyes glinting like metal as she looks around the gathering. Beside her is an old man, thick-set and dark skinned, his iron-grey hair in matted strands standing up around his head. On the other side of the Earl is a tiny woman, perhaps a sprite, her knees drawn up to her chest, and a man, hardly bigger. He turns to talk to her and I notice with a shudder that his teeth are mirror-bright and sharp as knives.
Gathered around the edge of the lake are dozens of other figures. Most of them are sprites like the tiny figures on the bench, their skin sparkling in the light in shades of green and tawny brown. There are more of the shadowy goblins, and other, pale, winged creatures, perhaps fairies, in the branches of the trees, their faces sharp, bright hair standing out around their heads in wild ringlets. They’re beautiful and somehow terrible too; the air rings with a cold steel as they move from one tree to another with a blur of silver wings. The trees themselves are no more comforting, standing tall and slender all around the court, moving in apparent conversation with each other, roots twisting beneath the earth, branches sweeping low as they gesticulate. Deep in the undergrowth other creatures stir: a hedgehog, and what I think might be a weasel, its eyes gleaming in the darkness.
As I watch, spellbound, a giant white owl swoops down over my head towards the clearing, landing on the lake in ghostly grace, its talons outspread, and then a pale woman with long, silver hair rises through the water, the owl perched on one narrow wrist. The Lady of the Lake, it must be. She stares around the clearing, and there’s a sudden stillness; many of the figures lower their heads at her arrival, though I notice the Earl doesn’t, and neither does the woman sitting next to him.
