Chapter 12

No Turning Back

Alice pushes past me and sinks to her knees by the broken pieces of De Silva’s foil. Her fingers move gently over it. “Please don’t disappear too,” she whispers to herself.

A lump starts to form in my throat, but I swallow it down.

She looks up at me, eyes moist. “He’d never leave this. Never.”

I hunker down next to her and pick up the broken handle of the foil. Desperately trying to think of something positive to say I run my fingers around the leather of the guard.

Something catches against my finger, making my heart leap. “What’s this?”

Alice shuffles closer, her breathing quick and tight.

Sliding my hand under the circle of leather I slowly draw out a folded piece of paper and open it:

Market for supplies,

Cheese from Martha,

Return children via Hazel,

Meet Garvey

Finish this (one way or the other)

Alice swallows heavily. “That’s his handwriting.”

I point to the first line on the paper. “Getting supplies sounds like he meant to go away for some time.”

Alice nods, tight-lipped. “I reckon he was going to get us home; get us safe.” She taps the third line. “And then travel…somewhere. Fae maybe?”

Like ripples in a pond, the word Fae sends an uneasy wonder spreading out through my gut. “Or maybe another quest to find Queen Romalesque’s eye?”

Alice’s fingers trace the words ‘Finish this’. She takes a couple of deep breaths, her brow furrowed. “Who’s this Garvey?”

Excitement spikes, sending shivers rippling up my spine. I know this. “He’s a weaponsmith. Apparently, the best in Angelmere.”

Alice’s forehead crinkles some more. “How’d you know?”

“Remember that old lady I told you about?”

“The one we were going to speak to before Fibber Fredrickson showed up?”

“Yeah. She told me about Garvey.”

Alice points to Garvey’s name. “That’s where we go first. Whatever Sir De Silva was up to, he needed this Garvey’s help.”

“The woman said his shop is on Bleeding Heart Lane.”

“That’s just south of the market,” Alice says. “I saw it on the map earlier.” She stands and looks slowly around the room. “Woah, Brad. Look.” She runs over to the sideboard, grabs something in each hand then turns.

She’s holding two leather scabbards. One has ‘Atkins’ burned into it, the other ‘Werdun’. My eyes widen. Proper cool. I’ve always wanted my own scabbard. I breathe out, long and slow. “What a wicked gift.”

Alice holds hers up, a look of pure wonder on her face. “The best.” She smiles sadly. “I just wish he was here to give them to us.”

I reach out and take the scabbard. The leather is soft and supple. I slip it over my head. Alice puts hers down and helps me tighten it around my waist. My heart swells. It’s perfect.

She steps back and folds her arms. “Now you look like a real knight.”

Despite everything, a grin creeps over my face. “Here, let me do yours.”

Once her scabbard is sorted Alice smooths down her t-shirt and throws her shoulders back. Somehow, she seems bigger, stronger…more there than before.

“You look cool,” I say.

Her fingers trace the letters of her name. “What’s the plan?”

I take a deep breath. “I reckon De Silva told Jeremiah to watch over us in case anything happened to him.”

Alice steps closer. “You sure?”

“Just a feeling. But just in case I say we sneak out the window, drop down into The Cut and head to Garvey’s through the marketplace. If Jeremiah was going to stop us, he can’t. And if he wasn’t…”

“He still can’t.” Alice finishes, grinning at me. Her eyes harden. “I’ll go grab our foils.” She turns and rushes from the room.

I look around one last time. Whatever happened here, we’re going to find out, and put it right. A steely confidence fills my bones. I let it soak into me before picking my way across the debris towards the open window.

The roof outside is dark slate. It looks like it’ll take our weight. Good.

The air is cool and refreshing as I swing my legs over the sill and lower myself down onto the roof below. I stand for a moment and look out over the tangled mass of trees that surround Angelmere, out over the rolling green fields beyond.

De Silva could be anywhere out there.

And the world seems so big right now.

But Mum always told me a long journey is made of many little steps. I take another deep breath and focus on what’s around me.

The street is busy. People and carts loaded with goods stream past, probably headed towards the marketplace of Angelmere. I look down into The Cut. In daylight it’s not even slightly scary: nothing like the weird, fantastical place of the night.

Alice comes back with our foils. She hands mine through the window and my heart soars as I slip it into my scabbard then watch her do the same.

Right now, she’s the only person I want with me on this journey.

Alice picks up the two pieces of De Silva’s foil. “I’m taking this. He’ll need it.”

“Ok. We’ll make sure he gets it back.” I narrow my eyes. Something’s missing. Then it hits me. “Where’s the flowers for your dad?”

She hands the broken foil to me then vaults through the window. “I couldn’t keep holding onto those flowers. Proper had to let them go.” She reaches up and moves her braids to one side. Behind her ear is the small, yellow flower: nipplewort. “I decided I’d lighten the load and just carry the most important piece with me.”

“Was that your dad’s favourite?”

She shakes her head and looks down. “No. You made me laugh with what you said about Sir John having a wart on his nipplewort.” Her eyes flick to mine then away again.

Despite the weight lurking in the pit of my stomach, my heart swells. I open my mouth, but no words seem to fit.

“It’s ok,” Alice says. She looks straight at me. “Thank you.”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“For what?”

She shrugs. “For not being a dweeb.”

Warmth spreads through me from the pit of my stomach. “S’ok. It’s what mates are for, right?”

Her eyes twinkle as she smiles. “For sure. Now let’s get out of here. Destination: Bleeding Heart Lane.”

Together we slide down the roof. It’s a one storey drop. I take a deep breath. I’ve done this before, a couple of times: hung out of Josh’s bedroom window and dropped down into his garden. You got to bend your knees when you land. Take the impact out. I get onto my stomach and wriggle backwards. The scabbard makes it awkward but no way I’m taking it off again. The Cut is completely empty. Just a strip of grass running up to a brick wall. My fingers grip the edge, pressure in my knuckles then I release and drop. A second of pure weightlessness followed by the impact. I crumple my knees and roll slightly. Pushing myself up I take her scabbard and De Silva’s broken foil from Alice, place them by the wall. “Want some help?”

She shakes her head. “No.” Then does exactly like me, rolling perfectly as she lands.

We grin at each other, grab our foils and follow the crowd up to Market Square: a huge, cobbled area full of stalls. Triangles of colourful cloth are strung high above, playful cries, songs and laughter fill the air. It’s busy already and people move around us in a seething mass.

At a stall close by an old woman is setting out loops of rope, knotted together at their ends. The sign reads:

Hubbard’s Forget-Me-Knots

She steps towards us. “Anything you’d care to forget my young knights? I can solve many a problem by making you forget a thing or person ever existed.”

My heart seems to pause a second before thumping again. What would it be like to forget Josh, to forget everything before we moved? My insides bubble and roll.

“Brad?” Alice asks. “You ok?”

I bite my lip and nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”

I don’t want to forget Josh. Sure, if I didn’t remember him I wouldn’t have the heartache and uncertainty, but while it’d make it easier, it wouldn’t make it better.

I shake my head firmly. “No, thanks,” I tell the stall holder.

Alice points off to our left. “Come on. It’s down here.”

We push through the chaos as best we can.

At one stall a man dressed in a red and green outfit that reminds me of a jester seems to be arguing with some glass jars. It looks like the jars don’t like how they’ve been arranged as they keep shuffling around his stall even as he yells, “There’s an order to things! Do you not realise that? Things must be done a certain way!”

Alice pulls a face. “And I thought I’d seen it all.”

“This place could be useful” I say. “If we’re going to try and save Sir De Silva, we should take all the help we can get. I reckon there’s going to be loads of cool stuff we could use.”

“Perhaps we can use a Forget-Me-Knot on Queen Romalesque,” Alice says.

“I wish it was going to be that easy.” I catch the warm, fresh smell of baking bread and my stomach rumbles loudly. “I’m starving.”

Alice chuckles. “I heard.” She points up ahead to a stall piled high with bread and cakes. “Let’s hope it tastes as good as it smells. We can use some of the money Sir De Silva gave us.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

As we approach a man with hair that sticks straight up off his head – like he’s been electrocuted or something – is inching very slowly away from a cart holding all kinds of pastries. He’s clutching a sausage roll in both hands: holding it at arm’s length. He almost makes it to the stall when the sausage roll explodes, covering him in soot.

I put a hand over my mouth, not sure whether to be concerned or laugh out loud.

“Are you ok?” Alice asks, clearly struggling not to smile.

The man wipes a hand across his face and beams at us. “Ok? I’m better than ok. Imagine that flavour explosion in your stomach.” He licks his soot covered hand and beams. “Delishi-o-so! Just need to work on the stability.” He gestures to his stall. “Barnabus Baddlestone’s the name, exploding pastries the game. Care to try one?”

Me and Alice glance at one another.

She wrinkles her nose. “Is it safe?”

Barnabus spreads his arms wide. “I am still very much a member of The Angelmere Guild of Magical Traders, unlike that charlatan Osgorth.” He tuts. “Do you know he was selling green beans…”

“We heard,” I say, doing my best to look serious. “Terrible business.”

“Indeed it was my good knight. Indeed it was. So, what can I get you?”

I eye the stall uncertainly for a moment before making my mind up. In for a penny, in for a pound as Dad would say. “I’ll take a sausage roll.”

Alice shoots me a look then grins. “What have you got with no meat in?”

“Spinach and cheese tickle your fancy?”

Alice beams. “Perfect!”

Very gently Barnabus eases two rolls into brown paper bags then hands them to us and steps back. “I’d advise not walking with those. Best eaten here and now.”

I lift the pastry. It smells delicious, and my mouth starts to water.

“Hold!” Barnabus cries. “Gold before ivory.”

“What?”

“You pay before you eat.”

I lower the sausage roll. “Yeah, sorry.”

Alice hands a coin to Barnabus. “I’ll get this, you get the next one.”

Barnabus flips the coin over and stares at it. His bottom lip juts out then he takes the coin and bites into it, nods. “Where’d you get…oh, never mind.”

“What is it?” I ask.

He shrugs. “These are old coins from a time long past. A time of acceptance. A better time. You don’t see many is all.”

“We got…” Alice starts but he waves her words away.

“Some things are best not known. Here.” He hands Alice back her change.

I take a deep breath then bite into the sausage roll. It’s totally delicious and as it hits my stomach, I feel it explode, a strangely pleasant sensation that makes me feel full from just one bite, like someone attached a bike pump to my belly button and pumped me full.

I grin. “These are great.”

Alice nods. “Like totally delicious.”

Barnabus bows. “My iced buns are good too. They travel well, but when activated do have a little more…” He squeezes his hands into fists then quickly throws his fingers upwards and outwards. “Boom! If you know what I mean? Apparently, the miners in the Cantrel hills use them to clear blockages.”

I narrow my eyes. “And people actually eat them?”

Barnabus tilts his head from side to side. “Not as yet. Care to be the first?”

“I’m pretty full from the sausage roll, maybe later.”

Barnabus looks disappointed. “As you wish. But please, don’t go throwing them at anybody.” He winks. “They’re stable-ish, if you get my meaning.”

I stare at him gone out. “When would you need to throw an iced bun at someone?”

Barnabus’s face crinkles in a huge grin. “You’d be surprised.” He reaches under the stall and pulls out two green canvas sacks that remind me of my PE bag, then hands them to us. Both are marked with an ornate letter ‘A’ and have white corded rope to close and carry them by. “Here,” Barnabus says. “Care to take an Angelmere Market triple R rated bag. Reusable, recyclable, remarkable.”

“Remarkable?” Alice asks, gripping the bag tightly.

“Indeed,” Barnabus says. “The bag is bottomless, with a magical inventory for easy finding of all things within.”

I open the bag and look inside. It looks completely normal. “What?”

“Have these,” he says, handing an iced bun to me and Alice. “On the house.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“My pleasure. Now pop it in the bag.”

I place the iced bun into the bag. It sits at the bottom for a second before fading away. My heart leaps and I peer closer into the bag. It’s empty. I look up, eyes wide. “What just happened?”

Barnabus grins. “Amazing, eh?”

“Yeah. Little bit weird too.”

He points to the bag. “Close it, then think about the bun as you open it again.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

I pull the string shut then imagine the iced bun while I open the bag. A small laugh bursts out of me. “Woah! No way.” The bun is sat waiting for me at the bottom of the bag. I take it out and turn it around in my hands.

“It’s perfectly fine,” Barnabus says. Put it back in and it’ll get stored for you. “You can keep pretty much anything in there and it will appear when you want it.”

“Thank you!” I beam before slipping the bag onto my shoulder. It totally feels like it’s empty. Mega weird.

Barnabus rubs his hands together. “As I’m feeling generous, you can have both bags for one of those coins you’ve got.”

“I’ll get these,” I tell Alice, handing Barnabus one of my coins.

“Thank you, kind Sir. Well, I’d better get on. Lunch time rush is looming. Happy adventuring!”

He skips back to the cart and removes a bun that seems to be ticking then starts to tiptoe gently over towards his stall again.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say. “Before that bread goes off.”

Alice giggles.

As we move further down through the marketplace the air gets smokier and a sickly-sweet tang fills my nostrils. It kind of smells like meat that’s gone bad. I grimace and swallow heavily. Alice buries her nose in the crook of her arm, a look of complete disgust on her face.

As we pass the last stall my throat tightens. The entrance to Bleeding Heart Lane looks like a gateway to Hell. Thick steam belches out from a small arched entrance set into the old stone wall that surrounds Market Place, bringing that sickly sweet stench with it.

I get the same feeling I got before stepping down into the passageway under the tomb – that fear of the strange and unknown – but this time I don’t hesitate. Sure, I could turn back, but where would that leave me and Alice? Where would it leave De Silva? No way that’s happening. Living with doing nothing might seem easier right now, but I reckon it’s harder in the long run. Much harder.

As we enter the archway, I pull my shoulders in, even though the alley is wide enough for us to walk side by side. My fingers find my foils handle and grip it tightly.

The buildings here are tall and narrow, made of some kind of black stone. We make our way along without talking, breathing as little as possible; pushing past animal skins hanging on ropes strung across the lane. The constant metallic ping of hammers echoes around us.

The lane twists though the clamour and smoke as if trying to wriggle away from its environment. We cross a small bridge where the River Angel has been forced to flow in order to turn four large water wheels.

The river churns and foams. Forced down a path it never wanted to take, its waters have become clouded and muddied: impossible to fathom.

“Those wheels are proper cool,” I say.

Alice nods. “Bet they power the businesses around here.”

“Weaponsmiths for one,” I say, my insides roiling like the river.

The bridge leads onto a cobbled square where the crooked buildings that line every edge reach up even higher, blocking out all but a few of the sun’s rays. It’s a depressing site – most are boarded up, some don’t even have roofs or windows. Each and every one is decayed and unloved in some way.

Forgotten.

All except one.

A three-storey house made from hundreds of pieces of flint set in stone stands straight and tall amid the chaos around it; window ledges and door painted shiny black. And above, a sign:

ORWIN GARVEY

FINE WEAPONS AND GLYPHS

A single ray of sunshine splits the darkness like a camping torch in the dead of night. It hits the golden letters of the sign, making them sparkle. My pulse quickens. “Looks like we made it.”

Alice holds up the two halves of De Silva’s foil. “I want this fixed.” Her eyes seem to almost glow. “And I want to hand it to him once we’ve saved him.”

“No turning back, Sir Werdun.”

Alice nods. “Never in a million years.”

Heart beating like a drum, my fingers close around the large brass doorknob. I take a deep breath, then turn and push.