Legend of the Lost

by Ian P Buckingham

  Within a few seconds, it was like they had never been there.

  Then, with a sigh of relief, a quick wipe down, a tap or two on the engines and an urgent re-crank, they were soon on their way again.

  The experience had been a shock.

  “Nice work, Savannah,” called out Madame Rebecca, who had seen her take mermaid form to enter the filthy water and perform the spell that returned the creatures to their watery home.

  Her Moonstone necklace still throbbed and glowed about her neck like the barrel of a smoking gun.

  Savannah smiled back, although the effort had clearly taken a toll.

  “At least some good came of that sneak attack,” said Madame Rebecca, opening the large cooking pot boiling in the galley. She then dropped in a couple of the soon-to-be tasty beasts.

  This did instinctively make Savannah wince a bit for she had such a close bond with all creatures that live in the water.

  “Sorry, luvvie. But nowt blesses a Marine Gypsy’s ’art s’much as a feisty eel,” she explained with a grin. “Now les juz ’ope the next attack iz monkeys or some such an they’z frowin luvly fat tatties. Bout time we ’ad some decent veg.”

  They all fell about laughing at this prospect, missing the fact that the glowing on the horizon was starting to intensify from russet to blush red.

  Nelson, however, had not taken his eyes off the horizon for some time.

  Only once had he seen the sky take on such an unnatural colour. And that was many, many moons ago and all the way down in their ancestral village of Mousehole during that fateful night.

  He was finding it hard to conceal his concern and noticed that his hand was shaking as he steered the travellers straight into the oncoming storm.

  Still camped under the Sentinel Tree, three of the nymphs were trying to get the cauldron to work, while Alice studied the book, in quiet concentration.

  “You do what?” shouted Sylvie in marked disgust at Nimbus’s suggestion that they had to swallow a phial of the rank potion then regurgitate into the bottom of the dark pot.

  “We vomit it? Are you sure this will make us able to track them?” asked Dianah, clearly not convinced.

  “Yes, I took some of her hair from her brush before I left so it will focus on her. And, yes… that’s how you get the spell to work, Sylvie. I saw her do it.”

  Sylvie was holding up the phial of nasty-looking, sludgy soupy stuff when Alice looked up from the book.

  With a wave of the Willowand, the phial spun in the air, circled the pot half a dozen times then emptied itself into the cauldron, on top of the hair that was already in there.

  “That should give us a good few hours of viewing time,” said Alice with a smile.

  “How do you know that?” asked Nimbus, puzzled.

  “The recipe is written down in here, silly, in invisiscribe, along with several other spells that might come in handy. Always pays to do your research properly. The pukie bit is optional, by the way. It just saves on the effort of mixing and shaking.”

  Then they all laughed as Sylvie’s face turned a green to match her pretty slippers.

  No-one was brave enough to ask Alice what “invisiscribe” was or how she knew.

  All eyes were soon drawn, however, to the surface of the cauldron, which bubbled and then moaned. It then gradually became clear, like the surface of the water on a clear, windless day.

  At first they couldn’t make sense of what they were seeing. And then it became obvious that they were watching hundreds of werebeasts of all shapes and sizes filing down what appeared to be a very long and dank tunnel.

  It was lit by a greeny-orange glow that made it hard to see until your eyes adjusted. But the monsters were obviously in a hurry and very excited, judging by the snarls, snickers, cackles, growls and other bestial noises coming off them.

  “That must mean there’s some sort of passageway leading from the quarry…” started Dianah.

  “Under Ashridge Forest itself,” finished Sylvie.

  “Which means they could enter the town, where the humans live without any of our magical kind being able to stop them,” said Nimbus, the implications suddenly dawning on them all.

  “And if that happens, the ancient and fragile understanding between faerie and human folk will be broken,” continued Dianah.

  “I’m afraid so,” said Nimbus.

  “If something happens that not only tells all humans that we exist but also harms and threatens them, it will only mean one thing for us.”

  “Yes,” said Alice.

  “There will likely be a war between faerie folk and people.

  “Just as we’ve discovered each other again after so very long, that would be a disaster for all of us.

  “And the damage will be even worse than the pollution pouring from this nasty pit, that’s for sure.”

  From their vantage point on the hill they could all see the orange, red, greeny light throbbing from inside the ancient factory doors.

  It was an ominous sight, firstly because it most likely meant that nasty substance was probably bubbling out and scorching more of the earth, as well as causing untold other problems.

  Secondly, and even more scarily, they all knew that, at some point soon, they would have to face what had just snaked through those gaping jaw doors, the pack of monsters marching through some sort of hell to start a war.

  But even a magical cauldron couldn’t possibly predict the fate that would be waiting for faerie folk and mankind alike at the end of that dark tunnel and, indeed, this tale. For, if they went to war, everyone, but everyone, would lose and their world would be cast into darkness forever.

  Sea Gypsies are a tough and loyal breed.

  They are, after all, the descendants of the only villagers to remain true to the family when the frightened villagers cast them adrift in the magical storm.

  They are the only people to have fought the prejudice of those villagers down the years, believing in the true heart of Lord James Trelgathwin, trusting that he somehow survived and questing to reunite with him and his family.

  But when the third and most devastating attack came on their route to meeting at the castle, it tested even the famous resolve of the Gypsies.

  The first of their crew was taken around 2am.

  She was on the landward side of the lead barge and was walking to the stern when something snarled and burst from the shadows, dragging her into the hedgerow and then bushes.

  Before the rest of the crew could react, she had simply disappeared screaming into the dark.

  The second attack came about ten minutes later when two men were knocked from the stern of the rear barge.

  One alone just managed to claw his way free from the tentacles of something he never saw thanks to the quick thinking of Savannah, who threw a shell into the water and blinded the attacker with an intense ray of magical light.

  The poor crew member almost lost his senses and was now lying below decks whimpering with fear.

  Nelson then doubled the guards leading the ponies.

  He instructed everyone else to light more torches to ensure there were as few shadows as possible in which evil could hide.

  Savannah took to the water again and soon recruited a small navy of otters, water rats, mink, weasels, crayfish and even pike.

  They patrolled the boats, just beneath the surface.

  Holly, assuming her faerie form, cast enchantments on the lamps so they shone as bright as daylight.

  She also warmed the hearts of her companions with delight spells that uplifted their spirits by thinking warm thoughts, which kept them positive.

  But, despite all of those precautions, no-one anticipated the fires.

  As they began what Nelson believed to be the final five miles of their journey, they had to pass an area where aged wooded growth overhung the canal on bot
h sides.

  Holly flew into the boughs, scouting ahead, to investigate. But, seeing nothing suspicious, the barges moved forward, bunching a little on the water, where it was made narrower by the overhanging branches.

  Suddenly, what looked like several shooting comets plunged into the bushes on both sides.

  It soon became apparent that they were, in fact, some sort of flaming insects and in seconds the dry brush was ablaze all about them.

  The instant inferno caused even the brave piebald ponies, terrified of the flames, to panic, break free from their harnesses and gallop off across the fields.

  All the barges in the flotilla were now stationary, sitting ducks, as there was no current on the canal and not a breath of wind.

  Cinders and flaming shards rained down on the barges, setting fire to anything flammable and forcing all hands to scramble with buckets and wet rags to fight the flames.

  While they were distracted, about a dozen macabre beasts leaped from the canal banks and onto the decks of the boats, howling and slavering as if possessed.

  The pirates fought bravely, as expected, with Nelson and Ziggy dispatching three of them that had clambered onto the roof of the middle barge.

  They used the punting poles as spears and forced the creatures into the canal, where Savannah’s many water creatures made short work of them.

  The fallen soon scrambled desperately back onto the banks and sank back into the darkness, tails between their legs, missing much of their fur.

  Several of the abominable beasts had, however, managed to force their way through the wooden doors into the lead cabin where the ladies had been resting.

  As others rushed to help they heard two gun shots rise above the sounds of desperate struggle coming from within, then several loud yelps and then silence.

  Holly flew to the entrance as fast as her wings would carry her.

  She arrived in time to see a pile of bodies in the sleeping area, including at least two of the werebeasts, one a twisted badger and the other some sort of dog-like creature.

  But her heart dropped when she noticed what appeared, judging by her bright clothing, to be Madame Rebecca.

  She wasn’t moving.

  Nanna Jo, on the other hand, was still wrestling noisily with one of the twisted animals.

  She was clutching in both hands the barrel and stock of a shotgun that one of the foul creatures had bitten down upon, missing her face by inches and spraying her in beastly black dribble.

  Without needing to think, Holly threw back the red cloak and, surging with the sense of courage it gave her, held up the hand on which she had earlier slipped the Ravenring. At the same time, in her mind, she pictured the monster flying through the air.

  No sooner had the thought formed in her head than dark shapes emerged from the shadows beneath the bunks. For a fraction of a second, the room went deathly quiet. Then the shadows promptly set upon the beast.

  The spectres formed by the ring adopted the shape of a flock of corvids: ravens and jackdaws and crows that filled the room with flapping confusion. This startled the angry creature.

  In a blink of an eye they set upon and then pecked the werebeast into submission. The terrible flock pecked away mercilessly until the beast just disappeared into thin air.

  Then the phantom birds themselves slipped back into shadows.

  “Nanna Jo,” cried Holly, resuming her normal form as she spoke.

  But Nanna Jo had thrown the shotgun to one side and was now cradling the seemingly lifeless form of the incredible woman who had been such an inspirational character in the little time they had known her.

  “No, not you, Mother, not you,” cried Nelson in a desperate voice as he suddenly slumped, breathless, through the barge door, clearly too late to help.

  “She’s still breathing,” answered NJ. “But it’s very laboured and shallow. Get these vermin off us and let’s make her comfortable.”

  A couple of the crew threw the beasts’ bodies overboard and between the three of them they managed to manoeuvre Madame Rebecca into one of the abandoned bunks and to make her comfortable.

  The whole time they did this, battles continued to rage outside.

  They were especially conscious of the continuing crackling of the flames both in the bushes and aboard the barges.

  “I am going to have to get back out there or the same fate awaits all of us,” said Nelson before kissing his mother gently on her forehead.

  “We will do everything we can, son, she’s in safe hands with us,” said Nanna Jo, more in hope than confidence.

  Then, with one backward glance, concern written all over his face, Nelson picked up the shotgun and then a blunderbuss from the locker before disappearing back onto the deck.

  They could hear him shouting orders to the Gypsy Pirates to tend to the fires and then they heard several ear-splitting bangs as he put the weapons to angry, renewed use.

  NJ gestured for Holly to rejoin the others as she busied herself with boiling water and the curious medicine cabinet in the galley area.

  When Holly returned to the fray, she was shocked by what she saw.

  One of the barges was so fearsomely ablaze that the crew were abandoning it, some still wrestling with mangy attackers on deck and in the water.

  Several dark shapes lay slumped on the barges and banks. Here and there, members of the crew were tending to wounded colleagues covered in bites or vicious scratches.

  Others were fighting fires or grouping together to drive off the most persistent of the monsters. And so it continued for some time until, eventually, the last of the evil beasts fled.

  When the battle was finally over, the battered band gathered at the safe side of the canal, flanked by a long, low field with only a lock-keeper’s cottage on the horizon.

  Just the quiet calls of the night birds and the muffled moans of the injured disturbed the still air for a few good minutes until eventually Nanna Jo broke the silence.

  “Well, there’s some good news, at least. We wrapped Madame Rebecca in the Rubyrobe and her condition has improved hugely. She’s sitting up now and cursing about the pottage potion we’re making her drink. Her own recipe, I might add.”

  Although she managed a weak smile, Nanna Jo looked completely drained as she spoke, echoing how they all felt.

  They were all acutely aware that they still had a fair way to go to reach the castle meeting point and unpredictable danger on all sides.

  But, worst of all, none of them had a clear idea of what was waiting for them when they got there and, based on what they had encountered so far, they were starting to suspect the worst.

  It was, however, clear from the attacks so far that someone or something really, really wanted to stop them getting to their rendezvous.

  Someone was desperate to prevent the family and friends from reuniting, from reconnecting, from regaining the power of the love that was lost.

  But Holly had a pretty clear idea now who that dark, dangerous and disturbed someone could be. And she was determined to overcome those plans.

  The werewytch’s senses were alive with the dark energy pulsating from the macabre army surrounding her.

  Illuminated by the luminous, almost atomic light of the poisoned walls, they made fast progress through the gloom where miners had once worked like human moles.

  Everything about the beautifully twisted creatures at her command reeked of her malevolence and bleak revenge. They embodied her thoughts as they snickered, snarled and howled their way down the long-forgotten passageway connecting the darkest part of the dark downs to the centre of the castle, the former home of the Black Prince.

  This vengeance had been decades in the making. And it would be all the more fulfilling for the torturous wait.

  This would be justice for the outcasts, revenge against the race that had treated her own mother so cr
uelly, that had destroyed her own family and that had now abused, polluted and neglected the creatures of the forest and the fields where they lived.

  This was payback for the people who had forced her to live in exile, shunned by so-called normal folk.

  The age of normal would soon come to an end.

  Soon it would be the time of the misfits, the underdogs and the abused.

  Once they announce themselves with great victory at the ancient castle, more and more of their tortured kind would join them, more would come.

  Soon their army would grow to a force and then swell to the size of a nation.

  Soon the abusive, cruel, greedy and neglectful reign of humankind would be over, once and for all.

  Soon her long-awaited vengeance would be complete.

  Alice and the little group of watching woodland nymphs had seen enough.

  It was clear that they were going to be needed at the grounds of the castle, where this monstrous horde was heading.

  Having spent some time studying the story and spell book, while it was difficult to decipher what everything meant and how it applied to these troubled times, it was apparent to Alice that the Willowand had an important part to play in what was to follow.

  It was also clear that there may well be more to her little family than she had thus far realised.

  This was something she had always secretly suspected.

  She was also a little relieved by the legend. Her faith in her own mother had been sorely shaken by the events of the past few nights. It was causing her a lot of distress to see her at the head of the evil army.

  What the book gave her was hope, hope that more was happening to them than simple good vs evil, that there was more of an explanation than was currently meeting the eye.

  Sylvie, meanwhile, had summoned a small flock of long tailed tits as they were making plans. With that group of birds she had sent word of what they had seen and what they believed was taking place.

  It was a small flock but they were many and they were very nimble. So she was pretty confident that the message would get through with them.

  How Hearne and the elders responded, however, only time would tell.