Legend of the Lost

by Ian P Buckingham

  Looking up again, her eyes drawn by the steady procession in front of them, she noticed, with horror, a group of forest folk suspended from the oak tree by a webbing net. Prisoners, clearly caught in a black magic trap.

  Hearne and James made their way slowly through the mangy ranks and around the hill until they eventually joined the dark wytch and her entourage near the tunnel entrance.

  They appeared to confer for a few brief minutes. Then they all disappeared into the tunnel’s black mouth.

  “Be brave and hold steady” were the first, comforting words the forest folk heard as Lord Helice, helmet under his arm, flew up and down their ranks.

  “This rabble will not hold without their leader. Hold your heads high, friends. We must have faith and bide our time. Look to your companions, your loved ones and your neighbours. We are fighting for our homes, our forest, our glade and our peace. Together we are stronger. We shall win out.”

  His words were like a warming breeze on a chilly night. Combined with the healing power of the crystal shield, the forest army was recovering fast.

  Outside, in the shadows, the werebeasts were starting to bicker and squabble with one another.

  Without the werewytch, the dark hold over them was waning and fights were starting to break out in their ranks as fear and doubt, confusion and hunger crept in.

  Around the fringes of their massed circle, creatures started to drift away and slink off into what was left of the night.

  But then, heralded by a great cloud of darkly luminescent bats and a roar like broken thunder, the werewytch reappeared atop the hill. Even from a distance, she seemed taller and bolder now than ever.

  Then, to the horror of the forest clan, she held aloft the ultimate trophy of them all.

  There, raised in her malicious fist, she held the antlers of the Monarch of the Forest Kingdom and the collective cry from his people shamed the dawn.

  “Now!” was all that Helice had to utter as a battle cry, such was their collective anger.

  Suddenly, every enraged forest creature, minibeast, bird, rodent and faerie folk charged, the rainbow shield shattering into a trillion shards of bright light that hit the mewling mob of werebeasts like sharp darts of goodness.

  Those hit by the force of light simply fell where they stood, while those behind them were so distracted by the flashing light that they barely resisted the charge.

  Soon, whole ranks of distorted beasts were falling down the banks into the moat, where all manner of aquatic creatures set about them.

  “Now!” was a cry repeated by Nelson, who appeared just beyond the moat as dozens of Gypsy Pirates ran across the tree bridges wielding swords, pikes, clubs and guns.

  They tore up the banks of the watchtower, forcing the werewytch to send Sam and her close bodyguard down the hill in the hope of heading them off.

  But Holly came with her own dark, winged army and the biggest of the werebeasts were soon preoccupied with fending off hundreds of clutching and scraping claws and stabbing beaks, defeating bulk with weight of numbers.

  In the watery moat, Savannah’s friends were fast rounding up the shivering, whimpering creatures in large groups, pinning them in a swampy area very difficult to navigate on foot.

  Alice, meanwhile, had her own mission to complete.

  While her friends were fighting for their homes and friends, her own head was spinning.

  For everything she had taken for granted about herself and her little family had been shaken from root to branch.

  She was upset, she was angry and she needed answers. Now only one person had them.

  Darting between dive-bombing bats and ploughing through a flock of angry jays with strange glowing eyes, using sharp power bursts from the Willowand to knock them from the air, she headed along the lip of the moat towards the hill her mother occupied.

  Meanwhile, approaching from the opposite direction, was the sinewy sight of Henry, but in werebeast form.

  He too wanted answers but, having lost many of his peace-loving friends in this battle, he not only wanted an explanation; he wanted to vent a great deal of pain.

  Most of the werebeasts left him alone, their minds too twisted by whatever possessed them to understand that he wasn’t one of them.

  The forest folk, however, could barely distinguish friend from foe either so he had to be fast and move in the shadows.

  Holly too was on a mission.

  She had seen her father disappear into that dark tunnel and was becoming increasingly desperate for she had not seen him, or Hearne, return and she feared the worst.

  Wrapped in the Rubyrobe, she barrelled and twisted as she flew, like a scarlet bullet.

  Anything that attempted to bite, sting or strike her simply couldn’t find their target as she sped towards the top of the mound.

  Meanwhile, the Ravenring continued to conjure shadows, illusions and tricks of the light creating the impression that their army had many more troops than it did.

  Holly flew above a gang of Gypsy Pirates, led by the irrepressible Ziggy, who, she saw, handled a cutlass with great skill.

  They were holding their own against twice as many of the monsters and creating space and time for what came next.

  Alice arrived before the werewytch first and had changed to her mortal shape without breaking her momentum.

  At first her mother, her face now twisted with an emotion she hadn’t seen before, raised her hands as if to strike her daughter.

  “How dare you approach…” she gasped, but choked down on her words as Alice met her gaze and simply cried,

  “Why?”

  Before she could come to terms with her daughter’s stinging words, her son browed the hill.

  He held the unconscious form of Sam in his strong arms. His face was rapidly shrinking and transforming from beast to boy.

  He said nothing, however, but simply placed his former friend down gently and then walked to his sister’s side, not once taking his eyes from his mother’s.

  Holly’s arrival on the hilltop platform, partially sheltered by the remains of the ancient flint wall, incurred a different reaction from the werewytch, however.

  Her attention was immediately drawn, not only to the unmistakable similarity between Holly’s looks and those of her children, but to the cloak about her shoulders and then the ring glowing dark on her finger.

  She suddenly, and for the first time since the battle began, looked terrified.

  But, before anyone could move, or even summon up a sentence, the wytch threw the antlers she had held in one hand into the smouldering cauldron.

  Within seconds, the temperature dropped, the light breeze turned to a strong westerly wind and thunder shattered the silence.

  Flashes of lightning lit up the night sky and it suddenly started to rain, then hail.

  A bolt of lightning tore through the darkness.

  It struck the oak above them and, as they dived for cover the wytch disappeared into the darkness, screaming.

  Something woke Lucy from her deep, enchanted sleep.

  It was the sound of a long, guttural scream in a voice she somehow remembered.

  No sooner did she wake but she became aware of the noises of battle just the other side of the delicate canvas tent wall.

  So it took quite an act of courage for the little girl to tentatively unzip the entrance flap and exit the tent cocoon with her tiny terrier in tow.

  As she ran to the castle wall, her senses were suddenly exploding with the sights, sounds and smells of the epic struggle.

  Groups of mangy beasts, the like of which she had only ever seen in nightmares, fought with what looked like balls of bright light.

  Up above, all manner of flying creature filled the sky, raining feathers with the hail as the storm grew in strength. And the very water seemed to be alive.

 
Instinctively, she made for higher ground to try and get above the chaos and attempt to make some sense of it all.

  She was also keen to find her father, who must have come out to see what was going on, she thought.

  Then she realised that she could no longer see the tents where she was sure they were pitched.

  Scrambling up the grassy bank on all fours, she was almost at the top when she heard something horrible behind her.

  Not stopping to look, she doubled her efforts but it was catching up to her and she could now feel the ground vibrating as it closed in.

  Suddenly, Jack the terrier hurtled towards the dark creature and, as she opened her mouth in panic to stop him, what felt like a jet of water arched in the air and slammed into whatever was following her.

  Despite lying prone, her arms over her head, she heard it cry out as it fell off the mound. Then a reassuring voice, like gently lapping water, filled her ears.

  “Hello, Lucy. We knew you were somewhere close.”

  Savannah placed her hand upon Lucy’s shoulder and helped her to her feet. Then together they climbed the last few steps where the others had gathered.

  “Look who I found,” said Savannah to Holly, who instantly threw her arms around her sister.

  Alice was just starting to realise that there was something very special about this group of children when Henry, now back in boy form, pointed at her, his mouth open.

  The small group was glowing silver in the last of the moonlight.

  The Moonstone necklace Savannah wore now connected to the Willowand with a light that crackled like an electric charge. This, in turn, connected to Holly’s Rubyrobe, which shimmered and hummed and, lastly, the light ran down her arm to Lucy, who found that, somehow, the Ravenring had passed from her sister’s hand to her own.

  The group was now connected by a silver diamond of light.

  They smiled at each other, realising that the legend had been right and recognising what this now meant for each of them.

  They were back, reconnected as siblings, almost a family.

  But perhaps most touching of all was Henry, who found himself in the middle.

  He had never felt so complete, so alive, so loved, so belonging and it was moving him to tears of quiet, tender joy.

  One of the gravest mistakes people make in life is to assume that people are all good or all bad.

  The truth is that sometimes bad things happen to people we thought of as good and great things can happen to those we formerly considered evil.

  With this in mind, now consider the fate of the werewytch and her twisted army.

  They only existed because of some very ill-judged behaviour by some very greedy people who should have known better.

  The storm that caused the people of Mousehole to cast the Trelgathwin family afloat had been brought about by their grandmother’s evil jealousy, which had twisted and corrupted nature. And who knows what had happened to her or where that evil bubbled up from to poison the old woman’s mind?

  The seas were so angry with her that they foamed and raged and swallowed the family whole before spitting them out on different shores.

  But, had it not been for her magical powers, the abilities they inherited from her, the children would most likely never have found each other again.

  Even the battle that still raged here, in the old home of the Black Prince, was happening for a reason.

  Had the wicked people who ran the mine that created the poisonous quarry in the hills cared for nature properly, they would have nurtured, not exploited, it and returned it to its original state.

  They certainly would not have left the hateful chemicals that harmed the land and so corrupted the animals that the werebeasts were formed.

  People may blame the wytch for the war and destruction. But could she really be hated for trying to defend the same land the faerie folk and humans held dear? After all, they were blissfully ignoring a problem she and her kind had to live with, daily.

  Yet now, as the children felt the power of the magical diamond surge over them, it became obvious that the war raging around them was clearly no solution to their troubles.

  Neither side was giving ground, despite the filthy conditions; both were flagging and casualties were mounting on both sides.

  But would anyone really claim victory, this night? With so many casualties, could either side triumph?

  As if to answer this question, the children soon became conscious of a low rumbling within the tunnel in the hill.

  It grew from a quiet thunder to what sounded like a series of bellows, roaring and then trumpeting, which to Lucy’s mind could only mean one thing.

  Her dream in Mermaid Cottage. It was coming to life.

  Somehow they had heard their summons and another force was answering nature’s call.

  The rest of the animals were on their way; they were coming.

  What burst into the castle clearing then was a truly bizarre sight. For soon, every form of beast of the African plains, Asian jungles or American drifts charged through the tunnel exit and down into the castle grounds.

  Stunned at the sight of lions, zebra, hippo and buffalo, galloping alongside tigers, apes, lions and oryx, both warring factions stopped in their tracks, mouths agape.

  Soon, it was impossible to raise an arm, wand or fist in anger as the area was alive with the sights and sounds of nature at its wildest, richest and finest and ill will gave way to awe.

  Bringing up the rear of this fantastical herd was James, the children’s father, riding upon a horned rhino (it didn’t look very comfortable).

  Better still, Nimbus sat on his shoulder, looking like the cat that just got the cream.

  “Should have known he would steal our glory,” laughed Zephyr, untangling himself from the reeds a werebear had swatted him into just moments before.

  He then flew to embrace his best friend enthusiastically.

  Raising their arms as one, the children on the hill sent their magical diamond of light straight up into the air.

  Here it blended with the clouds and brought the storm to an abrupt end.

  Then, arm in arm, supporting each other’s weary souls that had been through such terribly tough times, they walked down the hill to join their father and their friends.

  All around them, the werebeasts appeared to be, for want of a better phrase, thawing out.

  The wretched smoke had all but disappeared and the ugly luminescence had gone from the horizon.

  As they recovered from the effects of the storm, the deep glow in their eyes faded and their bodies seemed to straighten and gradually change.

  Eventually, werebadgers looked more like simple badgers again, wereweasels lost the were, and so on.

  Foes they had fought just minutes before greeted them like long-lost friends. And it all happened so fast yet so gradually; it’s hard to explain.

  By now, the Gypsy Pirate clan had gathered around their true leader.

  They were admittedly a little wary of his unconventional steed and the creatures surrounding him. But all laughed when a wiry terrier appeared from nowhere and started nibbling at the heels of the prehistoric beast.

  James and Nelson in particular, embraced like the closest of friends.

  “The animals of Whipsnade. So that’s what my dream was all about,” muttered Lucy to herself as she smiled at the scenes around her, the Ravenring still tingling on her index finger.

  She then bent down to take JJ’s lickyness as he worked his way round the children in turn.

  But then Lucy noticed Alice, sitting all on her own, her back to the old castle keep, shoulders hunched.

  So she wandered over.

  “What’s wrong, my sister? Aren’t you happy that our memories have returned now and we’ve all found each other again?”

  “Found each other?” snap
ped Alice. “I didn’t even know I was lost. I didn’t ask for this terrible fight and… and…”

  “What about our mother?” said Holly, who had just joined them.

  “You’re worried about her, the wytch?”

  “But you didn’t even know her. I did. We lived together in that cabin for a very long time.

  “She isn’t an evil person.

  “She isn’t the wytch people say she is, even though…” gasped Alice, feeling her temper rise and cheeks and neck redden.

  “Even though she started this war?” said the voice of the man she now remembered to be her long-lost and much-missed father.

  At the sound of his voice, Alice burst into uncontrollable sobs.

  “But now she’s gone. We’ve destroyed her.”

  There followed a few moments of uncomfortable but necessary silence while James simply held his young daughter tight in his arms for the first time in, oh, too long a time.

  They hugged each other until the worst of the ache in their bones had thawed like ice.

  She may have had her mother’s looks, but in so many ways she had his passion, stamina and pride.

  His heart swelled at the way she was standing up for his partner, despite the mess the enchanted madness made.

  But just then a quiet voice broke through the crying.

  “Don’t be sad, darling. I haven’t gone anywhere.”

  When she looked up through watery eyes, she was greeted by not just the strong, kind smile of her father or the now-liberated, peaceful face of her mother but the loving eyes of her siblings too.

  For this, above all, was her own, special family.

  Then, high on the hill that led from the castle to the forest to the Chalk Downs, a golden noise rang out as Hearne sounded his great horn.

  He was signalling another dawn.

  He was announcing another day.

  He was heralding a fresh beginning.