by Roz Marshall
Footsteps echoed along the corridor towards the front of the house, then a minute later she was back, bearing two large, dusty books. Old-fashioned, hard-backed books, with well-thumbed pages and tattered covers.
"Scottish Myths and Legends," Phemie announced, setting the largest book on the table with a thump. "And Fairyland and the Fey." She glanced at Corinne from under her eyebrows. "Borrow them if you want."
CHAPTER 11
AS MRS MACARTHUR'S car roared into the car park at the farm, Phemie shaded her eyes and checked the position of the sun in the sky. It was already riding high. Time to go, if we're to get to the auction in time. She propped her broom against the garden wall, and wiped her hands on her trousers.
The passenger door flew open, and Corinne spilled out, the strangest look on her face. On the drivers' side, Corinne's mother stepped out and hurried across to Phemie.
"Are you sure you're okay to do this, Miss Irving? I feel like it's a terrible imposition. You've been so good to Corinne, letting her work at the farm and keeping her busy since…" The woman gazed back at her daughter, her mouth in a line. "It's just this horse seems to mean a lot to her, and after she lost Midnight—"
"Aye, I understand." Phemie nodded. "I'll make sure we get him." She caught Corinne's eye. "He's a special horse, that one."
The girl's face was white and drawn; her hands stuffed into the pockets of the hoodie she wore like a uniform.
"Here—" Mrs MacArthur pressed a credit chip in to Phemie's hand. "There's five thousand on there. That should be enough."
"Aye. And if our luck is in he'll be a lot less." Phemie handed the chip to Corinne. "You keep a hold of that for now."
Mrs MacArthur smiled briefly, then glanced at her watch. "Let me know how it goes. Now, I really must get away to work. Prof will have my guts for garters if I'm not ready to demonstrate our research to the sponsors."
As the guttural roar of Mrs MacArthur's car engine disappeared up the lane, Phemie turned to Corinne. "What's up wi' you? You look like you've seen a ghost."
The girl took a deep breath. "Miss Irving, do you have a brother? Or did you have?"
Where has that come from? Phemie blinked and cleared her throat, stalling for time. "Aye. I did. But—"
"Is his name Elphin?"
Phemie's legs went weak. It had been years since she'd heard that name from another's lips. "Was," she whispered. "But where did you hear…" She put out a hand to steady herself against the wall, and swallowed hard. "Who's been talking about him?"
Now the girl was agitated. "Nobody's been talking about him." She took a step closer. "I've met him."
Phemie's head swam, and as her legs gave way again, Corinne grabbed her under the armpits and propped her on the garden wall.
Blood pounding in her ears, Phemie leaned forward and put her head between her knees.
As if from a great distance, she heard the concern in Corinne's voice, "I'm so sorry Miss Irving, I didn't mean to… Are you okay? Can I get you a glass of water?"
"Aye," she croaked, and staggered to her feet, clutching at the wall for support and heading for the garden gate.
A minute later, she was sat at the kitchen table sipping iced water as her pulse returned to normal.
The girl sat opposite, chewing her lip and sitting on her hands.
Phemie could hold the question in no longer.
-::-
"How do you know about Elphin? Where is he? Who is he?" Phemie's tone was strange.
"I read about him last night." At the older woman's mystified look, Corinne continued, "I was reading one of those books you gave me, and it talked about stone circles, and I went online to look up about Chessaig—"
"Ah."
Corinne nodded. "And I read about how he'd gone missing. An article from decades ago about a boy who'd been lost at Chessaig in a fierce storm." She took a deep breath. Phemie wasn't going to like this. "But Elphin is my friend in my computer game." At Phemie's mystified look, she added, "Feyland."
"Feyland? But I thought that was just a game?"
"So did I. But…" She trailed off. Would the farmer think she was mad if she admitted she thought that Feyland was somehow real?
As if Phemie had read her mind, she said, "But there are things from the game that seem real. Like your horse?"
Corinne gasped. "How did…" She looked up at the farmer, whose head was cocked to the side. "Yes. It's like, somehow, things from the game get into real life. Like I rode a unicorn in the game, and then he disappeared through a circle of rowan trees, and I found Ghost in the standing stone circle on Chessaig that night in real life." She swallowed. "I—I'm sorry, you must think I sound mad."
"No… But tell me about Elphin." There was a note of eagerness in Phemie's voice.
"Elphin—He's my friend in Feyland. He saved me from the Kelpie. And I rescued him from the Wild Hunt—with Ghost's help. The unicorn's help. Elphin is such an unusual name, when I read about him last night it all kind-of made sense, that he'd been taken by the faeries."
-::-
Phemie's head was spinning. Could this be… Could it really be him, after so long? "Aye. But—what does he look like? It might just be a coincidence, with the name."
Corinne made a face. "The first time I met him, I was scared of him." She lifted a shoulder. "He's…ugly I guess. Orange hair, leathery skin. A bit dumpy. But he's a really nice person, once you get to know him. And brave."
That didn't sound like the brother Phemie had lost all those years ago. She glanced across to the dresser and the framed photograph of Elphin, standing with his violin at the end of a triumphant concert at the Conservatory, hair burning copper-bright under the spotlight and freckles gilding his high cheekbones. The photo she'd kept, all those years, as a memento of the twin who'd been like another half of her. The photo she stood and hugged, sometimes, when nobody was there to judge her and think she was insane.
But Elphin was an unusual name. I suppose he might have changed, after forty years. She took a deep breath. "As you probably read, my brother disappeared, eh, forty-odd years ago in the middle of a storm. When he went to rescue some sheep. From Chessaig. Faerie Hill."
Corinne gasped. "Faerie Hill?"
"That's what they call it round here. Did you no' know that?"
"No." Corinne's face had gone white as a sheet.
"I always thought the wee folk had got him." Phemie quirked an eyebrow. "Looks like I might've been right. But I was a fanciful teenager back then, always had my head in a story book. Nobody took any notice of my ideas. Fantastical notions, they called them." She sighed. "I had to grow up pretty quickly once Elphin disappeared. Our parents had died, you see, and left us the farm. So with him gone it was just me left to run it, and…" She looked down at her hands, then took a deep breath, "it just seems like a coincidence. Even if your Elphin doesn't look like mine."
-::-
"Yes." Corinne nodded slowly. "I suppose after forty years he might have changed. But…" She glanced at the kitchen clock and a knot of anxiety formed somewhere above her stomach. "Should we not be getting to the auction? I don't want to miss Ghost."
The old lady gave her a long look. "I'll do you a deal. I'll go to the auction and get Ghost, if you'll go to the sim café and rescue Elphin for me?"
CHAPTER 12
CORINNE CHECKED THE clock in the middle of the land-rover dashboard. Ten to. Nearly time for the start of the auction. "Do they let you in, if you're late?"
"Yes." Phemie's face was grim. "Just have to hope your horse isn't the first lot into the ring."
The tightness in Corinne's chest grew, and she glanced down at the credit chip in her fingers. "Will five thousand be enough for you to buy him?"
"Should be." Phemie pulled the car to a stop outside the sim café and looked sideways at her. "Don't worry. I'll get him for you."
Corinne handed her the chip.
"And you go get Elphin for me." Phemie dug in her pocket and gave Corinne a handful of notes and coins.
Old fashioned money. Not those new-fangled chips. Phemie didn't trust the new technology. She'd been brought up with money that looked like what it was, not a poker chip. And she'd heard too many scare stories of hackers and scammers. "Will that be enough to let you into the game?"
Corinne counted quickly. "For an hour or two, yes."
Phemie leaned over and scrabbled inside the glove compartment, dislodging sheafs of receipts, broken sunglasses and a burst packet of peppermints. "Here," she said, handing Corinne another twenty. "I'll pick you up at twelve. Or message me." She held Corinne's gaze. "Go get my brother." She jerked her chin. "And I'll get your horse."
-::-
A short time later, Phemie pulled the land-rover into the busy auction-house car park, full of mud-splattered four-wheel drive cars much like her own, or shiny status symbols that looked out of place in the country setting. More money than sense, Phemie thought, scowling at a particularly pimped-out Mercedes. The auction would be mainly attended by country folk like herself. But there were always a few well-off businessmen with money to burn and a hobby-farm to populate. Just have to hope they're not looking for a white horse…
She pulled the chip out of her pocket. The small piece of plastic seemed flimsy. Insubstantial. Cheap.
What if it wasn't enough?
Clenching the chip in her fist, she got out of the car and hurried towards the entrance, long strides eating the ground as worry niggled at her stomach.
It would need to be enough. A vision of Corinne's white face swam in front of her eyes. It had to be.
-::-
Corinne settled herself into the padded leather of the sim chair, flexing her hands in the gamer gloves and rolling her neck to ease the tightness in her shoulders. She took a deep breath, and pressed the 'start' button. Time to go rescue Elphin. And time to make the old lady happy.
-::-
Phemie settled herself into the hard plastic seat in the third tier by the ringside. All around her were tweed-clad horsey types wearing green wellies and flattening their lips as each new animal paraded around the sale ring. The current lot was number one hundred and five. She skimmed the catalogue she'd picked up on the way in, and breathed a sigh of relief.
Ghost was lot one hundred and eight — although he was just described as "NAPC #2. Grey 16h horse. Breeding unknown". She'd made it just in time.
While she waited for Ghost to appear, she sized up the opposition; scanning the crowds seated around the ring to see who was bidding, and who was just here for entertainment or a day out.
There looked to be a couple of dealers bidding on this current horse, but they'd have a ceiling of around two or three thousand as they'd need to be able to make a profit. She discounted them, and quickly scrutinised the rest of the audience from under her eyebrows.
Then her heart stopped.
In the top corner sat a well-dressed middle-aged man and his daughter. A daughter she knew all-too-well.
Sonya Tavish.
Her most demanding—and annoying—customer at the livery yard, and bane of Corinne's life. What could they be doing here? Could they be planning to bid on Ghost? Surely not. Since Maestro had gone the girl was no doubt looking for a new horse, but she wouldn't take Ghost from Corinne, would she?
Phemie's throat went dry.
Of course she would. And she'd take great delight in doing it, the bissum.
Phemie glanced down at the credit chip clutched in her clammy fingers. Suddenly five thousand didn't seem like nearly enough.
CHAPTER 13
CORINNE STEPPED HER avatar out of the mushroom ring and looked around her. She rubbed her lip as she took in her surroundings. This area seemed unfamiliar—she didn't recognise the clearing, nor the mossy path that led between the pale trees. Forehead wrinkling, she took a tentative step forward. If she couldn't find Urisk's pool, how would she be able to find Elphin and get him back to Scotland?
Stopping short, she looked down at her body, as if expecting to see the gamer gloves and headset she wore. How was she going to rescue Elphin, anyway? She was here in a sim café, and he was…in the faerie realm, if her guess was correct. How would she get him out of here? Would a mushroom ring work as a portal for him?
She frowned, remembering how Merlin had helped her escape from the Bright Court to the unicorn's hill and back to real life. Perhaps that will work for Elphin. Hadn't he said the Chessaig stones were some sort of a portal?
-::-
Phemie frowned as Ghost paced around the auction ring, looking tense but proud. He's lost weight. I thought those charity types were supposed to know how to look after animals?
The auctioneer introduced the horse, and Phemie leaned forward in her seat. This was the moment of truth. She needed to live up to Corinne's faith in her, and buy the horse back. It was the least she could do, since Corinne was away to retrieve Elphin from fairyland.
Her heart fluttered. She still couldn't believe it—that Corinne would be playing a computer game and end up in the faerie realm. And that Elphin—her long-lost brother Elphin—would be there, safe and well, after all these years! But Ghost was proof that creatures could escape from the realm, and she sincerely hoped that Elphin would be able to escape too. In only a few more hours and she'd find out if Corinne had managed to save him…
She quashed her fanciful thoughts and turned her mind to the matter on hand. She'd need to concentrate and use all her savvy if she wanted to win this horse for Corinne.
"Who will start the bidding at one thousand?" The auctioneer tilted the pork-pie hat onto the back of his head and surveyed the watchers. "One thousand anyone? Only one thousand pounds for this magnificent beast."
Around the ring, people muttered out of the sides of their mouths or riffled papers but nobody bid. Phemie's spirits lightened. Maybe she'd get him after all.
"Who'll give me five hundred?" the auctioneer suggested, his voice tinny compared to the steady clump of Ghost's hooves on the sawdust-covered ground.
Phemie stuffed the chip into her inside pocket, and pulled her bidding paddle from the sheaf of papers on her lap.
But someone beat her to it. "Five hundred I'm bid!" The auctioneer pointed at one of the dealers. There's a surprise. "Six hundred, anyone?"
Another dealer raised his paddle, and she let them fight it out until the bidding petered out at nineteen hundred. Then she raised her paddle.
"We have a new bidder!" The auctioneer pointed his catalogue in her direction and she nodded in acknowledgement. "Two thousand I'm bid!"
For a moment there was silence, and she looked across at the horse, who was gazing in her direction, as if he recognised her. Don't bid. Nobody bid.
But then a man's voice sounded from the shadows in the top corner. "Two thousand five!"
Phemie's chest tightened. Mr Tavish.
Sonya's milk-white face turned in Phemie's direction, and her black eyes narrowed malevolently.
Uh-oh. Phemie turned back to the ring, and made a conscious effort to give no sign of emotion.
The game was on.
And she meant to win.
-::-
The forest around Corinne thinned, revealing rich meadows and a line of small green hills beyond the tree-line. But right at the edge of the wood, nestled in a mossy hollow, she spotted a thatched cottage with whitewashed walls, diamond-paned windows and a particularly ugly brown goblin sitting on its doorstep.
As she approached, he glared balefully at her, enormous ears twitching and eyes darkening above a huge beak of a nose.
The closer Corinne got, the stronger the smell of mouldy earth and old wood-smoke became. It seemed to emanate from the coarse brown hair that covered the goblin. Not a goblin, a brownie.
Or perhaps the smell came from his tattered, dirty tunic. She tried not to breathe. "Uh, hello. I'm looking for Elphin."
"Greetings." The creature's voice sounded creaky, as if he hadn't used it for years. "Did you bring me milk?"
Milk? Corinne wrinkled her brow. This wasn't
the Feyland she knew and recognised. Where was the blue pool or Urisk's meadow or even the Faerie Mountain? She put a hand to her face, covering her mouth like an impromptu mask to dilute the cloying odour that surrounded the brownie, while she took another breath.
Perhaps this is another quest? Maybe the strange creature would lead her to Elphin if she brought him some milk in exchange. "Okay. Where will I find the milk?"
As if from nowhere, the brownie produced a wooden bowl and held it out to her, knobbly fingers trembling slightly as he did so. "Fill this with milk from the black cow over yonder." He jerked his chin in the direction of the green hills.
"Okay." The bowl was smooth and well-worn, but small enough to tuck under her arm. Giving the strange creature a quick nod, she turned and hurried up the rise beyond the cottage. Anything to get away from that smell.
-::-
"Ten thousand two fifty!" Phemie shouted. Surely that will be enough?
It would need to be. That was the chip from Corinne's mother and all Phemie's savings towards a horse transport lorry. She was cleaned out now. If Sonya's father bid again, they were done, and Corinne would be devastated. But hopefully ten thousand was his limit. Hopefully.
Phemie clenched her teeth and stared straight ahead. Don't bid.
Don't bid.
Don't…
"Ten five!" Mr Tavish's cultured voice echoed from the back of the hall.
Phemie's shoulders slumped, and she shook her head sadly when the auctioneer looked questioningly in her direction. A well of disappointment burned in her chest. We lost him.
How would she ever tell Corinne?
And how could she bear to look at that selfish witch Sonya ever again?
As the auctioneer's cry of "Sold!" echoed around the ring, Phemie straightened her back and stood up. Time to go collect Corinne. And work out how to tell her. Her jaw tightened.
They said bad luck came in threes, and Phemie was not minded to believe in superstition. But with a brother in the faerie realm and a unicorn parading round the ring in front of her, she might have to start giving credence to the old stories of myth and magic.
