Chapter 10

Tales In The Tail

As we enter The Dragon’s Tail, the babble of half-talked, half-shouted conversations surrounds me. The door creaks shut behind us and I close my eyes for a moment, let the warmth from the fire and the laughter wrap me up like my favourite blanket.

Then a few low whispers snake through the room; the name De Silva hushed within them.

My eyes snap open and I scan the crowd. Heat rises in my cheeks. It seems like no one’s looking, so why do I feel like a goldfish in a bowl?

“Good Eventide, my friends,” De Silva calls out, seemingly unaware of the atmosphere his presence has created.

There’s a few grunts and the noise level rises, wobbling and wavering like the clamour of school assembly before the head-teacher tells us to quiet down. The feeling of being stared at fades away and I breathe out, long and slow.

Alice taps my arm. “Intense,” she whispers, touching a hand to her chest. “Did you feel that?”

“Like everyone was looking but not looking?”

“Yeah, totally.” She looks directly into my eyes. “We need to chat later.”

I nod.

To our right a large fireplace belches smoke into the room. Leant against it is a tall, thin man with a mop of brown hair. He’s holding a broken helmet made of metal and seems to be enjoying the attention of a small crowd gathered around him.

“Whatcha got there, Bilger?” someone calls out.

The man stares down at the helmet then pokes a finger through one of the holes and waggles it. “Found this on Gaggledown Marshes yesterday. I’m thinking it’s an unusual helmet.”

“Nah, that’s your finger!” someone yells.

Raucous laughter erupts from the crowd.

Bilger grins but his eyes stay sharp. He holds the helmet higher. The crowd goes quiet and Bilger casts his beady eyes over the room. “I’m thinking this ‘ere’s forged by ogres.”

A collective gasp escapes the crowd, and they shuffle closer. I move with them, my heart thumping against my ribs.

At a nearby table a man stands quickly, spilling his beer. With shaking hand he rights the mug. “An ogre’s ‘elmet. This close to Angelmere!”

“Aye,” Bilger says, clearly pleased. “And what’s more, I heard that Hardmire Caves up north were found empty.”

Another gasp from the crowd.

“What!” a worried voice calls out. “King Humfdoodle gone?”

I push forwards through the crowd.

Bilger nods to the person that spoke. “That’s right, Grimsdottir. Humfdoodle and all his followers. Gone.” He opens his left hand and blows into it. “Just like that.”

“You should take that there ‘elmet to Garvey,” an old woman next to me calls out. “If anyone’d know what broke it, Garvey’d know.”

A murmur runs through the crowd.

“Who’s Garvey?” I whisper to myself.

The old woman peers down at me. “Eh? What’s that you said?”

I bite my lip and stare at her. “Erm…I was just wondering who Garvey was?”

She cocks her head to one side. “Garvey. Of Bleeding Heart Lane. You must know Garvey. He’s only the best weaponsmith in Angelmere.”

I touch a hand to my foil.

She narrows her eyes. “Where you from?”

“Bledgley.”

“Where’s that then? North of The Swan’s Neck?”

I look round for Alice and De Silva.

They’ve disappeared: completely swallowed by the seething mass of people.

The heat from the fireplace hits me. My stomach lurches. Sweat beads on my forehead.

“Well? Forgot what home is?” the woman asks, nudging me sharply with a bony elbow.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I need to find my friends.”

“Suit yourself!” She turns her attention back to Bilger.

Pulse throbbing in my neck, I stand on tiptoes and try to look over the crowd. It’s just a sea of leather and woollen clothing.

I start to push through, ducking under huge hairy arms and twisting past tight-knit groups. It’s like swimming against the tide.

“Brad!”

Relief floods through me at the sound of Alice’s voice. Looking around I finally spot her and De Silva standing at the bar. I must’ve gone completely off course while wandering through the crowd and quickly rush over to them.

Alice bounces on the soles of her feet. “OMG! I love this place! Where’d you go?”

My eyes flick to De Silva. He’s standing at the bar with his back to us. “Humfdoodle,” I mouth. “I’ll tell you later.”

Alice’s eyes widen, but she just nods.

De Silva slaps a hand down on the dark, pockmarked wood of the counter. “Jeremiah!” he bellows. “What’s a knight got to do to get served around here!”

A gigantic man, only a little smaller than Gunwaddle, wanders over behind the bar. His skin is dark brown; his bald head glints in the firelight and his beard is shot through with strands of silver. He rubs huge hands on an apron that might once’ve been white and grins showing teeth the colour of custard. “Well, well. If it isn’t Sir Darren De Silva. I hear whisperings once more.” He leans closer, shielding his mouth with one hand. “I hear whisperings for the first time in a score of years. Not surprisingly, she wants to see you.”

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“She?” Alice mouths.

I shrug, my pulse quickening.

“Not now, Jeremiah,” De Silva says tightly. “I have...guests.”

Jeremiah laughs, a deep booming sound that seems to block out all other noise for a moment. “Any luck though? You’re running out of time.”

De Silva’s face is set rigidly in a humourless smile. “I can always take my gold to Fenwick at The Ogre’s Ear.”

Jeremiah laughs again. “I’ll take your gold, De Silva. What can I get you?”

“Two rooms for the night and some food.”

Jeremiah nods. “The Vase is yours, as usual. These two can have The Moon. Go take a booth in The Parlour. I’ll send Tedmund for your order.”

We follow De Silva through a large open archway into an even bigger room. Wooden booths line every wall. Most are filled with people chatting, laughing, eating: the clink of cutlery and the smell of food a familiar thing in this strange, new world. Finding an empty booth, I slide into it and sit back on the hard, wooden seat. Alice sits opposite but De Silva stays standing, his fingers tapping continuously on the wooden table.

A boy about my age comes over and me and Alice order two bowls of pottage, a jug of water and gingerbread for dessert.

“And for you, Sir?” the boy asks De Silva.

“A Lamb’s Stomach and a jug of Small Beer sent up to The Vase please Tedmund. That will be all thank you.”

“Very good, Sir.” The boy turns and walks away.

De Silva scans the crowd, his eyes darting continually around. “I will leave you two in Jeremiah’s capable hands. I’m tired and have much to do tomorrow.”

“Are you ok, Sir?” Alice asks.

He nods once. “Fine, Sir Werdun. Collect your key from Jeremiah after you’ve eaten. Fare thee well until the morrow.”

We watch in silence as he goes over and speaks to Jeremiah. The landlord nods and stares over at us, then De Silva takes a key and disappears through a small archway at the back of the bar.

Alice taps her fingers on the table. “What’s going on Brad?! It felt so weird when we arrived.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Her fingers beat out a rhythm on the wood. “And then Sir De Silva couldn’t wait to get out of here and up to his room. He’s acting well strange.”

I sit forward and put my hands flat on the table, fingers apart. “Gunwaddle told me that Humfdoodle has disappeared and that guy, Bilger, over there,” I point to the other room, “said the same thing. De Silva started acting strange after he found out about Humfdoodle.”

Alice’s eyes widen. “You don’t think he had something to do with…”

I shake my head. “I thought that at first – especially as he stole the treasure – but now I’m not so sure.”

“Why?”

“Because it freaked him out when I told him Humfdoodle had vanished. If he knew about it or had something to do with it, it wouldn’t have been such a surprise.” I squeeze my right hand into a fist. “We need to find out what’s going on.”

Alice leans forward. “Well, we can hardly just ask him, can we?” She turns and stares at Bilger who is still surrounded by people. “And I don’t think it’s wise to ask that guy. Not with so many people listening.”

“Yeah. Bad idea.”

“Someone else must know something though.”

We look around the room. On the next table two women in armour are drinking beer and laughing together. On another two men and a woman – all with scars on their faces – sit silently playing cards.

Alice wrinkles her nose. “There’s got to be a way…”

We sit back as Tedmund arrives with the food and starts to arrange the plates and cups.

“Anything exciting happening round here?” Alice asks.

He stops and smiles. “Always something exciting happening round here. Enjoy your food.” He turns quickly and walks off.

Alice grimaces. “That went well.”

“Let’s have a think while we eat.”

The food tastes good, and we eat in silence, each lost in our own thoughts.

Then it comes to me, kindling excitement.

I click my fingers.

Alice looks up, spoon halfway to her mouth. “What?”

“There was a lady when we first walked in, she spoke to me. Perhaps we can go and ask her.”

“Was she scary?”

“Nah. Not really.” I shrug. “A little. Anyway, she seemed to know about stuff. They were all quizzing that Bilger guy who’d found an orc helmet on the moors or something. We can start with that and see what she tells us. That way we’re not straight out asking about Sir De Silva.”

Alice pushes her dinner to one side then rubs her hands together. “Let’s do this.”

We’re almost out of the booth when the door to the inn crashes open and a man stumbles through holding a small wooden guitar. His skin is white as chalk, his blonde hair dishevelled, eyes wild and glassy.

Both me and Alice freeze, then slowly move back into the booth.

“By the gods, not Fibber Fredrickson,” one of the armoured women at the next table whispers.

“Hey! Fred!” her companion shouts. “Let me guess. You just saw a dragon on Darkling Street?”

Laughter ripples through the room.

Fibber Fredrickson twitches his head then holds up the guitar and strums a chord. Silence descends on the inn. Jeremiah moves around the bar and stands with his arms folded, watching intently.

The air is suddenly heavy.

Fibber Fredrickson strums his guitar again. “I have a song for you. Given to me this night as a gift. Another strange tale of The Shadow Time, not told in prose, but told in rhyme.”

My heart skips a beat. “Alice!” I whisper. “That’s exactly what Sir De Silva said near the clock tower!”

“I know,” she whispers back breathlessly, her eyes wide. “But shhh.” She puts a finger to her lips.

And Fibber Fredrickson begins to sing:

Another strange tale of The Shadow Time.

Not told in prose, but told in rhyme.

A score of years,

Since we saw the last Fae.

But I saw one walking,

In the woods today.

A few chairs scrape back as people get up from their tables and begin to leave the Inn. They walk slowly, heads down, not looking at the singer.

Fibber Fredrickson seems not to notice:

Hair like moonlight,

Skin pale like bone.

Long, long fingers.

All alone.

He called out to me.

I could not refuse.

My mortal skills,

His queen could use.

More chairs scrape back. The room is emptying fast. I shiver, all the warmth seeping away as the cold night air creeps in each time someone leaves. And the song continues:

Once more she looks for mortal aid,

For the knight of silver’s curse is made.

For the knight of silver’s curse unbroken.

Fourteen hundred years and still no token.

I turned my head and would not say,

If I wished to walk his way.

I feel my heart

does not wish to stray,

Into the wilds.

Into Fae.

It’s just me and Alice left in The Parlour now. Jeremiah takes a step towards Fibber Fredrickson then spots us and stops. He holds up his hand, palm out, telling us to stay still. Fred continues:

But travel it must,

From there to here,

To find a place,

Free from fear.

To find a place,

Where it’s no longer alone.

To find a place and call it home.

So perhaps we all,

Travellers will be.

When Queen Romalesque,

Holds out her hand

To you,

And me.

Fibber Fredrickson stops and bows.

I feel numb and buzzy at the same time; like a mini electric shock just wiped my brain clean.

Jeremiah edges closer and puts an arm around Fibber Fred – I’m not sure whether it’s to comfort or restrain, but Fred looks petrified. The inn is as quiet as the tomb, my breathing loud in my ears.

The music and song seem so familiar. I know the story already; like it’s my story as much as his. The knight of silver and his curse.

The knight Sir Darren De Silva.

And suddenly it all makes sense: like the bricks have dropped into place on that game Dad plays on his phone.

And now I’m not sure if I’m excited or scared.

Alice fiddles with her braids. “Brad. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“We sort of knew it already, right?”

She nods slowly. “He’s the cursed knight for sure. The one in the tale. But that means…”

My guts twist. “And Jeremiah said De Silva was running out of time. No wonder he’s been acting strange.”

Alice picks at her nails. “So, the she Jeremiah mentioned is The Fae Queen: Queen Romalesque?”

I run a hand over my face. “Has to be.” A cold shiver travels down my spine. “What will she do to him?”

Alice leans towards me; her eyes bluer than normal. “We have to do something, Brad. We have to try and help him.”

“We will.”

Still holding the terrified Fred, Jeremiah comes over to us. “Up to your room now young knights. First floor, through that archway there.” He hands me a large iron key with the symbol of the moon on it.

“What’s going on?” I ask, staring at Fred. His eyes are glazed, like he’s not really there.

Like the woman at the Kao tree.

Jeremiah shakes his head. “Many a tale told in The Tail as they say.”

“Why did everyone leave?” Alice asks.

“Enough questions for tonight.” Jeremiah’s tone is kind but firm. “Go. Now. And lock the door.”

My fingers close tightly around the key, and we head upstairs.