Alfie Bloom and the Talisman Thief

by Gabrielle Kent

  “Looking for what?” Ashford quickly pulled his head out of a cupboard. “Oh, no-no. Still spring-cleaning, clearing up for Beltane.”

  “I don’t think you should be working yet. Why don’t you come to the festival with us?”

  “Perhaps later,” said Ashford absent-mindedly as he pulled canisters of rice and flour out of the cupboards and began to sift through them. “Lots to do here.”

  “O-kaaaay, well … we might see you there then?” said Alfie, exchanging a concerned look with the others as they left the castle.

  “That’s it,” he whispered. “I’m calling Emily and Caspian as soon as we get back. This is getting too weird.”

  They could hear music and the jingling bells of morris dancers as they headed down the hill. Alfie was proud of the spiral designs he had imagined on to his face. He had felt a little self-conscious in his costume, but if anything their outfits looked tame compared to the fantastic costumes some of the villagers were wearing. Many faces were painted blue, but Alfie could also see lots of green, white, red and multicoloured faces too. Some people had ivy and flowers wound through their hair; others wore flowing cloaks and headdresses. Several men had stripped to the waist and painted their chests with large blue swirls.

  Alfie saw lots of school friends from Wyrmwald House enjoying the festivities. Jimmy Feeney was running a hog-roast stand with his dad, and he made sure Alfie got an extra helping of crackling. Madeleine’s best friend, Holly Okoye, waved to them from where she was enjoying a picnic on the green with her family. Alfie even caught sight of arrogant Edward Snoddington and Hugo Pugsley, and he carefully avoided them as he moved through the crowd.

  Delicious scents wafted on the breeze. Alfie recognized cinnamon, freshly baked bread and cakes. From Gertie Entwhistle’s colourful sweet stall wafted chocolate and the rose scent of Turkish delight. The many craft and food stalls that lined the square were draped in spring-coloured fabrics tied with bunches of flowers.

  Alfie found his dad sitting on a hay bale tapping his feet to the music. He was watching people skipping around the maypole, expertly weaving coloured ribbons round it as they danced.

  “You can have the rest of these if you don’t tell your granny where I am,” he said, offering Alfie a bag of what looked like flat buttery scones. “Bannock cakes. Freshly baked,” he said, wiping crumbs from his tunic. “Ooh look, they’re lighting the fires.”

  It was starting to get darker now and everyone cheered as two bonfires flared up to light the square. A group of drummers began to pound out a beat that had everyone clapping along as a troupe of dancers performed acrobatics.

  Alfie thought the dances and performances were starting to get much more interesting now that it was getting dark. Everything seemed to involve fire. Jugglers sent flaming torches spinning across the square to each other, always catching them at the right end. Fire-eaters appeared to swallow flames and then spat jets of fire from their mouths like dragons.

  Amy let out an appreciative whistle as a woman threw back her head and blew a cloud of flames high into the air.

  “Don’t get any ideas,” said Alfie’s dad quickly. “Those people know exactly what they are doing. Although why they’re doing it is a mystery to me!”

  After the fire-eating there was a long drum roll as a woman dressed in red and orange took up position in front of a path of burning coals. Another performer poured a glass of water on to the coal and there was a loud hiss and a cloud of steam.

  “She’s not going to walk on them, is she?” said Alfie as the woman took off her sandals. Before his dad could answer she had walked straight across the glowing coals. The crowd burst into applause as she displayed the unmarked soles of her feet before flipping forwards and crossing back to the other side on her hands.

  “It’s not as impressive as you think,” Alfie’s dad told him over the applause. “Coal is a very poor conductor of heat and the layer of ash on top is a good insulator. Notice she doesn’t put her feet or hands down for longer than a second? There isn’t time for the heat to pass into her skin and burn it. Watch.”

  The woman had just called out for a volunteer. Before Alfie knew what was happening, his dad was over there untying his shoes and turning up his jeans.

  “I don’t believe it!” said Madeleine. “Uncle Will is going to fire-walk?” Alfie hoped his dad knew what he was doing.

  The drum roll started again. The fire-walker took Alfie’s dad’s hand and walked alongside him as he strode briskly across the coals, smiling all the way. Everyone applauded and whistled as he reached the other side and dusted the ash from his feet.

  “You were brilliant, Mr B!” said Amy as he rejoined them.

  “Nothing to it,” he grinned, casting an eye over Alfie’s shoulder. Alfie turned to see Miss Reynard a couple of metres away, clapping louder than anyone else. Amy tapped the side of her nose and Alfie suddenly realized why his dad had volunteered for the daring challenge.

  “THIS WAY, EVERYONE,” Granny called through her megaphone.

  “I hate it when she uses that thing!” said Robin, as Granny’s helpers herded the crowd into the village hall car park. At the far end was the wicker man, standing the height of five men.

  “The votes for the May Queen have been counted,” called Granny’s amplified voice. “But before we crown her, write down your hopes for the coming year and tuck them into the wicker man.”

  “Here,” said Madeleine, handing Alfie some paper. “I’m writing ‘I hope we don’t get Mr Smeadon for history classes in September’.”

  “I’m hoping Gran gets better soon, and lets me come to stay for the summer holidays,” said Amy.

  “I hope that we get really clear skies so that I can see the meteor showers in June,” said Robin, scribbling away.

  Alfie thought for a few moments, then wrote simply:

  I hope Ashford is OK

  “Alfie, come here a minute,” called Granny as he ran over to the wicker man.

  “I’ll put your paper in,” said Amy. Alfie handed it to her and then rushed back to see what his gran wanted. She was holding the gold-painted holly crown he had worn when he was crowned Winter King during the Samhain festival in October.

  “You’ll need this,” she said, plonking it on his head. “And this.” She handed him a circle of ivy intertwined with yellow mayflowers. “When I announce the May Queen, you crown her with this and give her a kiss.”

  “WHAT?” Alfie cried.

  “Just on the cheek,” said Granny “And don’t give me that look. The Winter King always crowns the May Queen and my grandson isn’t going to break hundreds of years of tradition.”

  “Yes, but do I have to—” his voice was drowned out as Granny lifted her megaphone again and announced:

  “Thank you all for sharing in our Beltane celebration. To mark the end of winter and the beginning of summer, our Winter King will now crown this year’s May Queen, who is…” she paused dramatically. “Holly Okoye!”

  Madeleine clapped and cheered the loudest as Holly climbed on to the little makeshift stage. She was wearing a bright yellow dress and had painted green ivy leaves and flowers on to the side of her face and arms. Alfie took a deep breath and planted the crown rather clumsily on her head.

  “Thanks, Alfie,” grinned Holly, pushing the crown up out of her eyes. He considered leaving it at that, but could feel Granny’s eyes boring into him. He gave Holly’s cheek the quickest peck he could then leapt back off the stage to laughter and applause from the gathered crowd. Granny gave him a look that said I guess that will have to do, and then lifted the megaphone.

  “Now, if I can ask everyone to keep to this side of the car park, the May Queen will start the countdown for the lighting of the wicker man.”

  Uncle Herb walked up to the stage carrying a flaming torch. Holly began the countdown and Madeleine and Robin stepped forwards, arrows notched to the bows Alfie had given them. There was some sort of wadding around the ends of the arrows that caught fire as soon
as the twins touched it to the torch.

  “Three … two … one,” counted Holly. The twins let loose their arrows. Alfie and Amy stood together, watching the flaming arrows fly through the air to thud into the chest of the wicker figure. The crown roared as it burst into flame. The music began again in the village square and people started to pair up and dance.

  “Not bad,” said a voice. It took Alfie a few seconds to recognize the green painted man behind them as Ashford. He was wearing one of the green curtains from his room as a robe. He pointed at the wicker man. “But shouldn’t it be filled with people?”

  Alfie laughed. “Robin already told us that’s a lie the Romans started. Glad you could make it.”

  “How did the spring cleaning go, Ash?” asked Amy.

  “I’m done with that,” said Ashford. “It sounded like more fun down here.” He gave an exaggerated bow. “May I have this dance?” Before Amy could answer Ashford was whirling her around the marketplace with the other dancers, swapping partners quickly from Amy to Aunt Grace to Holly’s mum to Gertie Entwhistle to Miss Reynard. Alfie smiled to see the butler out of the castle and enjoying himself.

  As the wicker man crumbled to ash, the food stalls finally began to pack up, and people started to drift merrily home. All of the Merryweathers were staying over at the castle that night, but the adults were taking ages clearing up and talking to the stragglers in the square. Alfie was getting very bored as they sat on the hay bales and waited.

  “How about I take the kids back to the castle while you finish up here?” suggested Ashford.

  “Kids!” grumbled Amy.

  “That would be great. Thanks, Ashford,” said Alfie’s dad, looking as though he longed to escape with them. “We’ll be up as soon as we’re done here.”

  “Remember to light the fire in the castle,” said Miss Reynard. She lit a torch from the dying flames of the bonfire and handed it to Alfie. They took turns to carry it as Ashford hurried them up the hill. Little sparks trailed through the night behind them. Ashford took Alfie’s keys and unlocked the castle door. Once everyone was inside he clicked the tag on the key ring that drew up the drawbridge and brought the portcullis clanking down.

  “Shouldn’t we leave that open for Dad and the others?” asked Alfie, looking from the sealed entrance to the butler.

  “After what happened to me, I’m not taking any chances,” said Ashford. Alfie could understand the butler being overly security conscious, but the portal was sealed and the elves had let him go. An uneasy feeling churned in Alfie’s stomach. Who was Ashford really trying to keep out – or in?

  Passing the kitchen, Alfie noticed that it was still in complete disarray and covered in Ashford’s floury foot and handprints. The butler had never left even a spoon out of place before. Taking the torch into the Great Hall, Alfie touched it to the kindling in the fireplace. The fire flared quickly, but its warmth didn’t cheer him. Robin caught his eye; he seemed to sense something wasn’t right too.

  “You found this in the tower?” said Ashford, perching on the table and tapping his fingers on the little da Vinci bird.

  “Yeah!” said Madeleine. “There’s so much cool stuff in there. You should see it all.”

  “Yes, I think I’d like to,” said Ashford, rubbing his hands together.

  “It’s getting late, Maddie,” said Alfie quickly. There was something greedy about the look in Ashford’s eyes. “I think tomorrow would be better.”

  “It’s barely dusk,” said Ashford. He hopped off the table. “Let’s go.” There was something of a command in his voice that Alfie didn’t like at all. Amy and Robin had noticed it too and were making no moves to follow. Maybe the elves really had brainwashed him. Alfie touched his hand involuntarily to the talisman under his tunic as he always did when he felt nervous. He regretted it instantly.

  “What have you got there?” asked the butler. Alfie immediately pulled his hand away and stepped back. Amy and the twins closed in protectively on either side of Alfie as the butler walked slowly towards him.

  “If you were yourself, you would know,” said Alfie. “So I’m thinking there’s something weird going on here.”

  Ashford kept coming towards him. There was something wild, almost feral, about his face. Alfie backed up until the heat of the fireplace kept them from going any further.

  “Ashford, you’re not yourself,” said Alfie. “I think the elves did something to you. Let me call Emily and Caspian. They can help you.” He made a step in the direction of the door.

  “Stay!” commanded Ashford. “The only person that can help is standing right in front of me.” The heat from the fire was making the paint on Amy and the twins’ faces run as they began to sweat, but the patterns on Alfie’s skin stayed fixed. His eyes flicked to Ashford’s perfect green skin and his heart gave a nasty jolt as he realized what it meant.

  “That’s not paint. Is it?”

  Ashford let out a shrill little laugh. “And I thought you were all dimwits,” he laughed. Something shimmered around him and suddenly they weren’t looking at Ashford any more. A thin, green-skinned man with sharp features and a crooked smile stood before them, his wide yellow eyes and sharp little teeth glinting in the firelight.

  The Queen’s Lieutenant

  “Didn’t expect that, did you?” The strange green man reached out, fast as lightning, and snatched the talisman from Alfie’s neck. He capered round the room with it, laughing hysterically.

  “The lens. You had it all along. And here I thought it would be locked away like the precious jewel it is!”

  “What did you do to Ashford?” cried Alfie. “Where is he?”

  “In our realm,” cackled the man. “Where he’s been since we took him.”

  Alfie’s heart dropped. Ashford was still a prisoner. How could he possibly have believed otherwise?

  “You’re an elf?” said Robin as the man continued to dance around the hall, leaping over furniture in glee.

  “Elf!” he spat. “I’m a sprite, you fool!”

  “Get him!” shouted Madeleine, racing towards the sprite before anyone could stop her. He leapt to one side, caught her and flipped her over his shoulder where she kicked her legs and hammered her fists uselessly on his back.

  “Nice meeting you all,” he cackled. “But I must be going. The Queen has waited too long for this to be returned.” He sprang away towards the courtyard, Madeleine bouncing over his shoulder like a rag doll.

  The sprite moved like lightning, reaching the oak tree by the time Alfie made it to the front door, Amy hot on his heels. The sprite dropped Madeleine and snaked an arm around her neck, holding her in a grip so tight she couldn’t even turn to bite him, much as she tried.

  “Move and I’ll snap her neck!” he shouted. With his free hand he placed the talisman into one of indentations on the metal bands around the tree and turned it with his index finger, careful to avoid touching the iron itself.

  “Don’t open that,” shouted Alfie, as the first band fell away.

  “Or what?” laughed the sprite. “I didn’t think Caspian would seal off my way back, but how priceless that the lens is part of the key! When you locked me up in that cage I didn’t think I’d get the portal open by Beltane,” the second band fell away. “But we’re just in time.”

  “What are you talking about?” Alfie shouted. “We didn’t lock you up!”

  Amy grabbed Alfie’s shoulder. “The mouse!” she cried. “It was him!” The last band fell away and the sprite laughed with delight. “We should have let Galileo eat you!” she shouted.

  “All coming together for you, is it?” smirked the sprite. “They left me here in mouse form in case Ashford was lying about the location of the lens. When you set me free from the cage, I sent word to the Queen of my plan to return to you as Ashford. She will be so pleased with me when I return the lens to her!”

  He passed the talisman into the hand that held Madeleine, placed his fingers on the trunk of the tree, and began an incantation.
Alfie recognized it as the same language spoken by the elves that had taken Ashford. A long vertical line appeared in the trunk, blue light spilling out as it opened wider. Caspian’s ravens launched themselves from the castle walls, one flying away as the others began to circle the oak, cawing loudly.

  “LET HER GO!” Alfie nearly leapt out of his skin as Robin’s voice bellowed out from behind him. He was silhouetted against the lit doorway of the castle, bow raised and arrow notched.

  “Better do as he says!” yelled Alfie, stepping out of Robin’s line of sight. The portal fizzed and crackled open.

  “Take your best shot,” giggled the sprite. He put one foot through the portal, dragging Madeleine with him.

  Robin released the arrow, shooting high. As it whistled over Alfie’s head he saw that the tip was bulbous. The sprite, surprised that Robin had dared to shoot, grinned as the arrow thudded into the tree above him.

  “Missed—” his jeer turned into a scream as a dark grey powder rained down from the broken arrowhead. He brushed frantically at his face, which looked as though it had been scalded, shaking his hands as the powder burnt them too. Alfie couldn’t figure out what was happening. The powder had also showered Madeleine, but she seemed completely unharmed. She seized the opportunity to wrench herself free, and then grabbed the talisman. The sprite tried to catch her but Robin whistled to catch his attention and sent another arrow whizzing towards him.

  “You’ll regret that,” the sprite screamed, leaping into the air as the arrow exploded on the cobbles by his bare feet. He dived towards the portal. “You’ll wish you’d let me have the lens when she comes through.” With that, he disappeared into the bright blue pool of light, which remained open behind him.

  “Into the castle!” shouted Alfie as Robin and Amy grabbed Madeleine.

  Alfie raced across the courtyard and snatched up Galileo from where he was cowering behind a large stone planter. The cat’s fur was bristling as he snarled at the portal. A wind was starting to pick up, blowing a cool mist into the courtyard. Another of the ravens swept away over the walls. Galileo growled and clung tightly to Alfie’s tunic as he ran back to the castle. Alfie looked over his shoulder and saw the source of the mist. It was swirling out from the tree.