by Kate Forsyth
The coracles bounced from wave to wave, making Tom’s stomach drop sickeningly each time. It seemed impossible that the four tiny boats could stay afloat in these wild and treacherous waters. Woven simply from willow twigs interlaced together and covered with snakeskin, the coracles were so light that they could each be lifted and carried by a single person. Tom gripped the wicker rim as tightly as he could.
Slowly the line of light along the eastern horizon spread. The sea-serpent’s head and sinuous neck were silhouetted against the silvery-pink sky.
‘Are you … are you sure that thing is safe?’ Tom called to Quinn.
‘Don’t call him a “thing”!’ she retorted at once. ‘He’s a perfectly beautiful sea-serpent. And he’s not safe, of course he’s not. He’s wild and magical and dangerous, just like your griffin. But right now, he’s helping us. We can’t get to Wolfhaven without him.’
Tom gazed upwards. He hoped Rex was safe up there. As if in response to his thoughts, he heard the griffin’s high shriek, far above him, and saw his dark winged shape swoop past.
‘Are you sure we’re still headed east?’ Tom heard his voice shake. ‘The serpent could be planning on taking us far out to sea and abandoning us there.’
‘Toadspit! If he wanted to kill us, he would have done so already,’ Quinn snapped back. ‘I tell you, he’s our friend. And without him, we’d have had to paddle all this way. You should be grateful.’
Tom bit back a wry grin. It was easy to forget that Quinn was really a queen when she was so cranky.
‘Well, if he’s your pet now, you’d better find a name for him,’ he called to her.
Quinn laughed, startled. ‘I don’t think he’s really a pet. But yes, we should give him a name. It sounds rude to just call him “him” all the time.’
‘How do you know he’s a “he”?’ Elanor shouted.
‘He has the markings of an adder,’ Quinn called back. ‘I suspect the sea-serpents were adders which were transformed into giants by Githa’s magic. Then when the kingdom drowned … well, they adapted. Anyway, he’s silver. Female adders are brown.’
‘You could be right. The islanders did call the witch’s island Adderwell.’ Sebastian cupped his hands about his mouth to shout back.
‘Of course I’m right. I’m always right.’
‘Yes, your Grace, of course, your Grace,’ he hollered mockingly.
‘Don’t call me that!’
‘Sorry.’ Sebastian grinned at Quinn. ‘Well then, what are you going to call your sweet little pet? Slayer?’
‘No!’
‘How about Slinky?’ Tom teased her.
‘No.’
‘Sir Hiss?’ Elanor suggested.
‘He does look like a knight in his silver chain mail,’ Quinn said.
‘And he has a pair of very sharp swords.’ Tom looked down at his foot, and flexed it gently.
‘Or sabres … that’s what I’ll call him. Sabre.’
‘It’s a perfect name,’ Elanor said.
The newly named sea-serpent sped straight as an arrow, and the sun swung over their heads and then began to sink down into the west. The children were glad of their water skins and the food that the islanders had given them. Beltaine swooped down to perch on the edge of Sebastian’s coracle, almost capsizing it. Little sparks blew in and out of her flared nostrils, and Sebastian had to quickly stamp out a few that landed on the wicker.
The sea glittered golden, then orange and then slowly turned an intense violet-blue as the sun sank.
The four friends sat in their tiny basket-boats, staring out into the night. Quickthorn was curled uncomfortably in the bottom of the coracle. Elanor rested her back against him. He was warm and strong, and smelt of the forest, of damp leaves and wild sorrel. Comforted, Elanor drifted off to sleep. She woke in the early hours of the morning, to see the thin moon rising in the sky. Ahead were dark peaks, piled high like clouds. ‘Look! Land!’ she cried.
The towering cliffs gradually gentled to the softly rolling hills of Wolfhaven. Green meadows were divided into patchwork squares by hedges of hawthorn, elder and cherry plum.
All around the coracles, the sea heaved and rolled. Elanor twined her fingers in Quickthorn’s tangled black mane. The unicorn was restless, and Elanor’s touch calmed him. Elanor felt anxious about the task that lay ahead of them. It all seemed so impossible. Even if they did manage to raise the four sleeping heroes, how were they meant to stand against the might of Lord Mortlake and the bog-men, and the dark magic of Lady Mortlake and Mistress Mauldred?
Quickthorn whickered and nudged her shoulder with his velvety nose. Elanor smiled a little shakily and dug in her pack for a small, wizened apple. The unicorn chomped it down greedily. Elanor wrapped her arms about his neck and buried her face in his mane. ‘I hope you stay with me always,’ she whispered.
Quickthorn neighed softly. A lump came into Elanor’s throat. She knew she could not keep the unicorn forever. He was a wild creature of the woods, not meant for saddle and bridle. The closer they came to Wolfhaven, the closer came the time of their parting … Elanor felt she couldn’t bear it.
As the sun passed overhead and began to sink towards the west, Quickthorn became restless. ‘We need to go ashore,’ Elanor said.
‘We can’t head into Wolfhaven Harbour until it’s dark, anyway,’ Tom said. ‘Let’s go ashore and gather some food and have a rest before we tackle the next part of our quest.’
Eventually Quinn saw a small, rocky bay where they could splash ashore and drag the coracles up onto the pebbly beach.
A narrow track led up into a wood where the sun fell, dappled, through the green leaves of oak. Quickthorn began to munch grass hungrily and the children drank from a small spring. Fergus and Wulfric drank too, the wolf cub crouched between the wolfhound’s shaggy paws. Rex took roost on a rock shelf, wings folded back along his lion haunches.
‘I’ll set some snares and see if I can catch us something for supper.’ Tom dug around in his pockets for some string.
‘I’ll gather some herbs,’ Quinn said. ‘My pouch is practically empty.’
Elanor found an apple tree and filled the tattered skirts of her dress. Sebastian gathered an armful of firewood and built a fireplace from stones. The dragon gambolled at his feet, smoke puffing around her head.
‘Quinn, can I borrow your dagger to cut some branches?’ he asked. ‘How I loathe being without my sword!’
‘Sure,’ Quinn answered, passing him the long silver dagger she wore in a sheath buckled to her belt. Then, as Sebastian went to hack at a small, crooked tree beside the spring, she cried, ‘Not that one! You can’t cut that tree.’
Sebastian turned to stare at her. ‘How come?’
‘It is an elder tree. It’s the worst of bad luck to cut branches from an elder.’
Sebastian paused. ‘Don’t tell me. It’s a magic tree.’ He rolled his eyes at Elanor, who smiled. Quinn was funny about trees.
‘It is one of the most magic trees of all,’ Quinn answered seriously. ‘Elder trees are sacred to the Lady. Arwen says it is a threshold tree, and so is a kind of gateway between worlds. It’s said that a flute made from elder, like Tom’s, will call the faery folk to you.’
‘Really?’ Tom looked up from his snare-making.
Elanor examined the tree. It was old, gnarled and mossy, but not very tall. Delicate clusters of black berries hung below serrated green leaves.
‘Elder is the Lady’s Tree, burn it not or cursed you’ll be,’ Quinn chanted, then added in a very different tone of voice, ‘the berries are delicious cooked with apples and honey.’
‘Then I’ll cook some for us,’ Tom said, reaching out to pluck a branch. Then he paused. ‘Shall I be cursed if I pick the berries?’
‘Not if you ask nicely,’ Quinn replied. She bowed to the crooked little tree. ‘Dear lady of the elder tree, please bless us with your bounty.’
Quinn picked several heavy sprays of berries and passed them to Tom, who washed them
in the spring, then set them to steep in water. She then took one of the apples and laid it among the knobbly roots. ‘In payment,’ she told Elanor. ‘One should never take from the Lady without giving something in return.’
Elanor was searching for mushrooms when she heard Sebastian call. ‘Come and see!’
She hurried up the track and onto a high headland. Sebastian stood, shading his eyes with his hand as he stared to the south. Elanor joined him, with Quinn and Tom coming up behind. They all stared where Sebastian pointed.
Wolfhaven Castle stood on its hill, wrapped in thick mist.
‘We’re almost home,’ Elanor breathed. Quinn put her arm about her shoulders.
‘At least we know for sure that the magical mist is still there,’ Tom said. ‘What those witches spun to conceal the castle from the eyes of others will work to conceal us from them.’
‘I feel so sorry for everyone in the town,’ Quinn said. ‘Living in that suffocating fog all this time.’
‘Tomorrow …’ Elanor said. ‘Tomorrow, the sun will shine on Wolfhaven again.’
No-one dared say what they were truly thinking. Elanor smiled with an effort. ‘Come on, then. Staring at the mist won’t make it go away.’
Subdued, the four friends made their way back down to the clearing. The sun was slanting in long lines through the trees. ‘Let’s eat and rest a little,’ Tom said. ‘It’s going to be a long night.’
Tom had managed to snare two fat wood pigeons and he set them to roast over the fire, then sliced the mushrooms and tossed them into a pan with wild garlic and butter, which the people of the Lost Isles had given them. In another small pot, Tom set the elderberries to simmer with apples and honey. While it all cooked, the children sharpened their weapons.
‘Supper’s almost ready,’ Tom said. He doled out the mushrooms and wild garlic, and used his dagger to carve up the roasted pigeons. Fergus and Wulfric sat very close to him, staring at him with imploring dark eyes, and he tossed them some of the meat.
‘This is so delicious,’ Quinn said, eating hungrily. ‘The best meal we’ve had in weeks!’
‘Tom is the best cook,’ Sebastian said.
A shadow crossed Tom’s face. ‘No, that’s my mam.’
‘Well, one day you’ll be the castle cook and everyone will say you’re the best cook in the land!’
The shadow on Tom’s face deepened.
‘It really is good, Tom,’ Elanor said. ‘Thank you.’
‘It’s the butter,’ he answered shortly, and got up to wash his plate in the spring.
Elanor rose to do the same. As she bent, her hands in the cold water, she heard a faint rustling from the tree nearby.
She looked around sharply. The elder tree stood, hunched and still in the shadows. Elanor bent to the spring again, and then noticed something strange.
The apple left in the gnarled roots was gone.
When the western sky was red and a single star shone in the violet-blue east, Elanor said, ‘It’s time to go.’
‘We’d better make our final plans,’ Tom said. ‘We’ll take only what’s necessary.’
‘We’ll need weapons,’ Sebastian said. ‘If only I had my sword!’
Elanor took the long, black unicorn’s horn from her pack. ‘I’ll need this.’
‘And I’ll need Bel’s tooth.’ Sebastian took out the curved dragon’s tooth, sharp as an ivory blade.
Quinn picked up the sea-serpent’s scale, big and round as a silver shield.
Tom flourished a handful of golden griffin feathers. ‘Every time Rex dropped a feather, I picked it up,’ he said. ‘Just to make sure.’
‘So all we have to do now is get into the caves under the castle and find those sleeping heroes,’ Elanor said, pretending she felt brave and certain.
‘We’ll wait till it’s fully dark,’ Tom said. ‘Under the cover of all that mist, we can slip into the harbour and find the secret entrance under the bridge.’
‘How will we stop the mist from making us sick and stupid?’ Quinn asked.
‘Let’s tie a cloth over our mouths and noses,’ Tom suggested. ‘And keep an eye on each other. If anyone looks like they’re getting drowsy, we’ll have to shake them awake.’
‘We’ll need to be as quiet as possible. The harbour and the town will be well-guarded by those bog-men,’ Sebastian said.
‘If we sneak into the harbour around midnight, that’ll give us the rest of the night to find the sleeping heroes, if we have to awaken them at dawn,’ Elanor said. ‘I hope that’s enough time.’
‘Sure it is,’ Sebastian replied with gusto, wrapping his cloak about him and securing it with the brooch Arwen had given him at the beginning of their adventures. The carved wooden dragon had once held a lump of amber in its claws, which had proved to be a dragon’s egg. The dragon within had hatched in the Beast of Blackmoor Bog’s fire and now lay curled beside Sebastian, tendrils of smoke rising lazily from her nostrils. Sebastian had rescued his brooch from the flames. It had been charred black, but it still did its job securing Sebastian’s cloak … and he could not bear to part with it.
‘What are we going to do with the beasts?’ Elanor asked. ‘We can’t take them into the caves with us.’
Everyone looked at her in sudden realisation.
‘I guess I’ll have to say goodbye to Sabre,’ Quinn said, looking down to where the weary sea-serpent rested in the bay. She looked sad. ‘But I’ll ask him to tow us to the mouth of the harbour first.’
‘Well, I always knew Rex couldn’t come into the caves with us,’ Tom said. ‘But he’ll find somewhere to roost overnight. I think we’ll need him in the battle, once we’ve woken the heroes.’
‘I’m taking Beltaine,’ Sebastian said stubbornly. ‘I’m not leaving her behind.’
‘I don’t think she’ll like the caves,’ Elanor said. ‘They’re so cold and dark and cramped. She won’t be able to fly about very easily.’
‘She won’t want to leave me.’ Sebastian scratched the baby dragon under the chin, and Beltaine slitted her eyes and purred deep in her throat, smoke puffing from her nostrils.
Elanor looked over to the shadowy trees. ‘Well, I can’t take Quickthorn into the caves.’
‘Yes,’ Quinn said, after a long pause. ‘You’ll have to leave him here. You’re right. He’s not made for caves.’
Elanor pressed both hands against her eyes and swallowed hard. ‘Do you think he’ll be safe?’
‘He can protect himself,’ Sebastian said staunchly. ‘Don’t worry.’
In silence, the group made the last of their preparations. The shadows deepened.
‘We need to get going,’ Quinn said.
‘Let’s just say goodbye to Quickthorn,’ Elanor said. The unicorn lifted his head and blew gently through his nostrils. The four children stood around him, stroking his velvety coat.
‘You’ve been such a faithful friend. Thank you,’ Elanor whispered. She had a hard lump in her throat.
Quickthorn put his ears back.
‘Stay safe, hide in the trees,’ Quinn said. ‘We don’t want you to be caught again.’
Quickthorn tossed his black mane and pawed the ground with one enormous hoof. His spiralling horn glinted, its point as sharp as a skewer.
‘It’s been a grand adventure,’ Tom said. ‘We couldn’t have done it without you.’
Sebastian contented himself with patting the unicorn’s silvery-brown back so hard, clouds of dust rose up and stung his eyes. ‘Stupid dust,’ he choked, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.
‘I’ll come looking for you as soon as I can,’ Elanor promised. ‘I … I do hope you’ll still be here.’
Quickthorn harrumphed and nudged her with his nose. Elanor hugged him one more time, then left the unicorn and made her reluctant way down the path to the pebbly beach where the coracles had been left.
The others kept close, though nobody spoke.
Quickthorn whinnied and trotted after them. ‘No, boy. Stay here,’ Elanor said.
‘Please.’ He shook his horned head and came down the path behind them. ‘You need to stay, Quickthorn. You can’t come to the castle with us. There’s water and grass here. You’ll be safe.’ Elanor’s voice was unsteady with tears.
The griffin soared away into the twilight sky and the dragon spread her wings and flew up to join him. Quickthorn’s hooves crunched loudly on the pebbles as he reached the beach.
Sebastian pushed the coracles down to the water’s edge. Quinn called to Sabre, who came slithering through the waves so that she could loop the ropes around his neck once more.
Tom jumped into his coracle, Wulfric tucked under his arm, and seized a paddle. Fergus leapt in, setting it rocking violently. Quinn and Elanor scrambled into their crafts. As Sebastian pushed the first coracle out into the waves, Quickthorn cantered down to the water’s edge, neighing frantically. ‘Quick, Sebastian!’ Tom called.
Sebastian heaved into his coracle, dripping wet, and Elanor pushed off the shore with the paddle. ‘I’m sorry, boy,’ she cried to Quickthorn. ‘You have to stay.’
As the serpent began to swim strongly out to sea, the unicorn reared and neighed, then began to gallop along the beach, following them. ‘No, boy,’ Elanor wept. ‘Please! Stay!’
Quickthorn reached the rocky end of the beach, wheeled about and galloped back, pebbles spraying up from his hooves. He reached the place where the coracles had been launched and galloped into the water after them.
‘Go back!’ Elanor cried.
For a moment, it seemed as if the unicorn would swim after them, but as Quickthorn reached deeper water, he stopped, rearing up again and again, neighing, water frothing about his hocks. Then he turned and cantered back to the shore, mane and tail streaming. He disappeared from sight as the coracles were towed around the headland.
Elanor rubbed her eyes. ‘Will I ever see him again?’
‘Of course you will,’ Sebastian answered stoutly, but he could not look at her.
Mist coiled around the coracles in clammy white tendrils. Quinn shivered at the touch on her face. She drew a torn piece of fabric up over her mouth, remembering all too well how the mist had numbed her mind and lulled her into an enchanted sleep last time she had been here.
