Chapter 17

Quatre-quarts

The path leads off into the trees for a while. Me and Alice walk silently, eyes on the ground, each scanning for signs of bluebells. We reach a fork and stop. “Where now?” I ask.

Alice rubs her chin, head turning first one way, then the other. “Look!” Her hand shoots out, index finger pointing to the right.

My heart leaps. There it is: a single solitary bluebell at the side of the path. A shudder passes through me, nice but eerie too. All the times I’ve seen bluebells in woodlands when out walking with my parents, I never knew that the Fae King himself had trod the same paths as me.

There’s a strange stirring in my chest as tons of emotions mix together, a bit like Hazel’s cauldron. One drop of fear, two drops of strength, a squeeze of bravery and a big dollop of friendship. “Let’s do this,” I say.

Alice touches a hand to her foil and nods.

As we walk the bluebells become thicker and denser, spreading out in a beautiful chaos, but always respecting the line of the path. In fact, the path is so subtle that after about five minutes walking, there’d be no path without the bluebells marking its edge.

The sound of rushing water grows steadily louder and I turn to Alice. “That must be the River Angel”

She nods.

We carry on, sunlight streaming through the branches overhead casting crisscross patterns that remind me of the dreamcatcher. The bluebells begin to thin out, then taper down to just one line along the edge of the path. They run a short way more before spreading out to the left and right in a single horizontal line a metre or two away from - but perfectly following - the bank of the river.

It seems like a dead end. The Angel curving around on both sides in front of us.

Just beyond the bluebells, nestled right on the bank of the river is a bush with odd, egg-shaped leaves at its base and thinner pointed leaves higher up. The higher leaves resemble swords; all pointing downwards, like Lodinitus’s sword, ready to be driven deep into the river. And above these, one single flower. Deep-purple, star-shaped, otherworldly.

My heart begins to thud. “This must be the place where Lodinitus split the river!”

Odd piles of sticks lie here and there, like someone placed them there for a purpose.

5,6 pick up sticks.

I step up to where the bluebells stop and hear, as if far off in the distance, the sound of tinkling shards of glass: the same sound I heard as we entered De Silva’s room at the Dragon’s Tail Inn. Magic is in the air here. I turn to Alice and whisper, “I think this is the place.”

I draw my foil and run it through the grass in front of my feet, drawing a thin line of golden light. A smile touches my lips and I turn to Alice. “Ready?”

“No turning back.”

I bend down and loosen one lace on my trainers then stand and wait till Alice has done the same.

The line glows brighter as we cross it. I take a deep breath. “1,2 buckle my shoe.”

I bend and tie my lace. Alice does the same.

“3,4 knock on the door.”

Standing, I raise my foil and trace the line of the star-shaped flower in the air. My heart thumps wildly as the air crackles and sparks, the shape I drew actually appearing in front of me. Rendered in golden lines of light, it looks like a shape made with a sparkler on bonfire night; but unlike those fleeting images, it doesn’t fade.

“5,6 pick up sticks.”

I bend and grab a stick from the floor. Alice does the same.

The glowing flower shape starts to move backward, towards the water’s edge, growing larger and larger until each petal is the size of a door.

“7,8 see the gate.”

The flower rotates once then locks into place, one of its petals pointing straight up. The others fade away, but this one glows around the edge, pulses, and ripples.

I swallow, trying to release the pressure in my head. It feels well uncomfortable: like when you dive down too far in the swimming pool.

The strange sound of tinkling glass fills the air. Louder and louder and louder.

I have to really focus; to force the words out of my throat.

“9,10 In the Fae’s den.”

Inside the petal, a pathway appears. A large hedge grows up on our left, trees rise from nowhere on our right, growing like a time-lapse movie in a nature documentary. The hedge curls over and above us finally meeting the branches of the trees on the other side, forming a natural archway.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

It reminds me of the path behind my old school that led to the apple orchards.

My head feels like it’s about to implode from the pressure. I take a step forward. It’s like wading through the shallow end of a swimming pool, each step an effort, but I push on. The scene inside the flower grows with each treacle-thick step until we pass over the glowing threshold between Angelmere and Fae.

A cool breeze sweeps across me. Lightheaded I stumble from the sudden release of pressure. I blink, and in that moment the world swirls like dust in moonlight. Day changes to night, the sky from bright blue to day-old-bruise purple. The canopy above is blue-black in the twilight and unseen creatures flit, rustling the leaves.

Fear crawls across my shoulders like a spider.

Alice is breathing hard, the air steaming as it leaves her mouth. Behind her the path is blocked by a large bush with a single purplish flower on it. A spark in my belly pushes the fear away. We could go back right now. I’ve got the key, I know the way, but knowing this makes going on easier.

Something skitters on the other side of the hedge and we both jump. The leaves rustle a second longer and then it’s quiet.

“We can’t stay here,” I whisper. “Let’s go.”

We move silently through the tree-lined passageway until it suddenly opens out onto a gently upwards sloping field with rows and rows of trees in neat little lines, enough space between each for us to easily pass. They’re completely bare: no leaves, no blossom, no fruit; branches twisted, reaching up to the sky like the hands of someone in pain.

Beyond, high on a hill sits a castle. It looks every bit like a fairytale castle should, except it’s in a bad way, like the Addams family just moved in and redecorated. All it needs is a crack of lightning to finish the picture off.

My stomach twists. I draw my foil, remove the safety cap, and shove the little bit of rubber in my pocket.

Alice nods to me and does the same. “Maybe that’s where Sir De Silva is,” she says, flicking her chin towards the castle on the hill.

I shrug, sending a shiver down my spine. “Maybe. We should go check it out.”

Alice narrows her eyes. “Let’s just be careful.”

As we move up through the trees the branches creak and crack even though there’s no wind at all. We’re halfway when the ground shudders. The branches begin to knit together, weaving super quick around us and down to the ground. I duck under one but then turning find myself in a cage of branches. I can just make out Alice through the ever-shrinking gaps.

“Brad,” she yells.

I raise my foil. “Alice, you cut on your right, I’ll cut on my right. Ok?”

“Ok,” she shouts back, her voice wavering.

“Nexum proxi futuro est.” I bring my foil down and slice through the twisted branches like they’re made of jelly.

Alice’s foil slices on the other side and the branches begin to drop to the floor in a large twisted rectangle. It topples towards Alice, but I stick out a hand and steady it.

“Thanks, B.” She steps back slightly, raises her foil again. “Pro nuquam oblivis.” She makes two more cuts, and the weight lessens as branches fall away.

I lob the last bit to one side. Then look around. I’ve lost my bearings and the trees have knitted together so tightly I can’t see anything past. Pulse bouncing in my wrist I try to peer through the branches to my right. Beyond is just another tree cage.

Alice taps me on the shoulder. “It’s over there.” She points to my left.

“You sure?”

“Positive. If there’s no path,” she raises her foil up high. “We make one.”

I grin.

Working together we cut through branch after branch, move forwards though box after box until an orange glow off to the left stops me. Shadows skitter. I put my eye to the branches and peek through.

An old man is sat on a tree stump warming his hands around a fire. His back is so bent he looks like an upside-down letter L. On his head is a brown cloth cap, his clothes are dirty and dishevelled and he holds a gnarled staff across his lap.

“I feel like I know him,” Alice whispers.

The old man lets out a chuckle that sends a chill right through my bones. “What a tale I have spun this time. More than a thousand years in the making.” He chuckles again then sings to himself:

“Some know me as Sorg.

Some as Pikellim.

Just call my name and you’ll let me in.

Once called I’ll steal your tomorrow,

Your companion forever,

Will be Old Man Sorrow.”

Alice gasps at the sound of his name and the old man turns. “Who’s there?” He raises his cane, sniffs the air. “If I’m not mistaken, my two main players have arrived. The tale continues.”

A wave of cold travels through me from head to toe. Alice shrinks down next to me, stares at the floor.

I put a hand on her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s face him together. He might think he started this tale, but we’re the ones that are going to finish it.”

My foil slices through the last wall of branches that separates us from Sorrow, and I kick at it sending it crashing to the floor.

Old Man Sorrow grins horribly at us. “Ah. So it is you. And right on cue too. I have woven such a tale!” He gestures to the log opposite him. “We have spent many an hour together recently, have we not? It seems fitting that you should both play the lead read roles in the final act.”

Heart pounding, I take Alice’s hand and together we step into the clearing. Her fingers squeeze mine tightly. “It’ll be ok,” I whisper.

Slowly, not taking my eyes from him I lead Alice to the log opposite, and we sit. The fire blazes but seems to give off no heat at all. Alice shivers beside me. She lets go of my hand, crosses her arms over her chest and rubs at her shoulders.

Old Man Sorrow taps his cane against the palm of one hand and stares at us. “You cannot save De Silva.”

Alice’s head snaps up, her eyes burn bright. “We’re going to try.”

The old man shakes his head. “He is too far gone now. Romalesque has him in chains.”

I feel like I’ve swallowed a lead weight. “Romalesque?”

“Yes. The Fae Queen has him. De Silva’s birthday is tomorrow. His curse must be lifted by then or…”

Alice’s voice rises in pitch. “What’s she going to do?”

Old Man Sorrow leers at us. “She will not go easy on him. He has failed as I knew he would.” He sighs. “I have sat on his shoulders his whole life. I have stopped him from being what he could. He found too much comfort in my companionship. This parting will be a sweet sorrow.” He laughs coldly. “The sweetest.”

I grip the handle of my foil. “Where is he?”

Old Man Sorrow points to where a small gravel path heads off into the trees. “At the castle. The Uncertain Path is the only way out of The Forest of Doubt.”

“So, if we go down there, we’ll get to the castle.”

“The path is not set. If you want it, it may take you there. Most start heading for somewhere and find themselves in another place entirely. Some wander these woods endlessly. Forever lost in Doubt, they eventually find me.”

I stand. “We’ll find him.”

He inclines his head. “As you wish. But Alice, stay a while and talk to me. You come to me less and less these days and I miss our nightly dance.”

Alice swallows noisily.

“Ignore him,” I say.

She gives me a thin smile before standing and leading me by the hand towards the path.

“I will see you at the castle then…if you make it,” the old man calls after us.

But I’m not listening to him anymore. His words can’t touch me. De Silva needs us. That’s enough for me and I’m pretty sure it’s enough for Alice.