Chapter 4
A Doorway
I get up early and start arranging my books alphabetically. As I place each one, as the shelves fill with colour and memories, the room seems a little less bleak, the pink walls a little less stomach churning.
When I’m done, I grab one of my favourites: The Hobbit. I flick through it, landing on page 270 and read:
This of course is the way to talk to dragons, if you don’t want to reveal your proper name (which is wise), and don’t want to infuriate them by a flat refusal (which is also very wise). No dragon can resist the fascination of riddling talk and of wasting time trying to understand it.
Smaug. Haalsbeder. Dragons.
Fear and excitement slug it out in my guts. Soon Alice will be here and I’ll show her the tomb in the graveyard where her dad is buried.
I close the book and replace it then bend down, reach under my bed and take out my kit bag. I draw my new foil from it. The polished guard has a couple of scratches on it, signs of its first battle against De Silva last night. I trace them with my finger and imagine myself at an inn, telling a crowd of folk how I disarmed Sir Darren De Silva, the dragon slayer.
A knock at the front door breaks my thoughts and I bolt downstairs, still holding my foil.
It’s Alice. She’s wearing a white t-shirt, jeans, and red trainers.
Mum comes out of the lounge to see who’s there.
“Hi, Mrs Atkins,” Alice says. She holds up her foil. “I came to see if you want to practice Brad.”
I look round at Mum. She’s smiling.
“That ok if I go out for a bit?”
“Of course. Your dad’s doing lunch for one-thirty. Just be back by then. And don’t go too far.”
I step out into sunshine. “Bye Mum.”
“Bye, Mrs Atkins,” Alice says as I close the door. She waits until it clicks shut. “About yesterday...”
“It’s ok,” I say. “I mean, are you ok?”
Her shoulders relax. “Thanks. Sorry to just dump my problems on you like that.”
My heart wobbles. I mean, how do you deal with something like that, with losing your dad? I can’t even imagine. Dealing with moving house is bad enough and that’s not even close to what Alice is going through.
“You sure you want to go?” I ask.
“Positive. I’ll show you a secret path that takes us to a side gate. I know all the paths round here. I make it my business to know the less trod paths. Dad always used to say that it’s better to walk a longer, more interesting path than to take the straight line with everyone else.”
Warmth floods my chest. “I like that.”
She smiles and leads me down the road. We take an alleyway that comes out on a grassy area with a small playground in the centre. Thick bushes line the far edge. Behind these, trees spread outwards and upwards: the edge of the woods.
There’s no way out but the way back.
And then Alice reaches into a bush and pulls upwards. A cluster of leaves rises like a trapdoor revealing an opening behind. “There’s always a path,” she says. “You’ve just got to know where to look.”
We squeeze through. The branches scratch at my face and tear at my clothes. I hold a hand up, shielding my face until finally we push out into a clearing in the woods. It’s an explosion of colour. Wildflowers everywhere. Alice starts to pick some, carefully taking only a few here and there.
I tap the compass app on my phone. We’re facing 233° South-West. I turn. My house is there: 141° South-East. I turn again. So, the graveyard should be there: 180° Due South.
Alice stops picking flowers. “What you doing?”
I hold out my phone so she can see.
She shakes her head. “You don’t need that. I’m a human compass.” She comes over and shows me her bouquet. “That one’s called St John’s Wort. Even better is this one.” She points to a small yellow flower that reminds me of a ceiling fan I once saw in a hotel. “This ones called Nipplewort.”
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I snort. “So, St John’s got a wart on his nipple? Sounds painful.”
She laughs. “Dad taught me all this. He loved the woods.”
I feel like I’ve swallowed a lead weight. “He sounds cool.”
She gulps, takes a deep breath and nods. “You going to show me this tomb that doesn’t open then?”
Guilt gnaws at my stomach. With an effort I push the feeling aside. “You mean the one that does?”
“Whatever. Maybe Bamfrees was right, and you are Weird Two.”
I wave my foil at her. “This may not be sharp,” I tell her, “but in the hands of a master swordsman it can still do some damage.”
She drops into en-garde, holding the flowers above her head. I barely have time to ready myself before she’s lunging at me. I parry her attack, but only just. She’s quick and skilled. My heart races with the thrill of battle. Her face is bright, her eyes shine, her white teeth flash. Our foils clash; the sound ringing through the woodland glade. And I forget all our problems, forget everything but the foil in my hand.
After a while Alice raises the hand holding the flowers. They sway gently in the breeze. “Enough,” she pants.
“Do you submit?” I ask, making my voice as deep as possible.
She brings her hand down, holding the flowers out like another weapon. “The Knight of Flowers never submits.”
I stare at her before breaking into laughter. “That was fun.”
“Yeah. It was.”
“We should partner up at fencing class.”
Her eyes glint. “I’d like that, but I’d need to speak to Ishaan first.”
My stomach drops and I stare at my feet. “Yeah, ‘course.”
She taps my arm. “Maybe we can do like a three musketeers thing at the next class. I’m d’Artagnan though.”
A smile pushes away my disappointment. “That’d be cool.” I point through the trees with my foil. “I reckon it’s this way. What do you think, human compass?”
###
The black metal gate to the graveyard is about as wide as a normal door. Some vine-like plant with dark leaves has wrapped itself around the railings, smothering them. Above is a metal arch with a circle in the middle. Within this, the same plant I saw inside the tomb, the one with the bell-shaped flowers. Not white here, but black. Carved in metal.
I point at it with my foil. “What’s that?”
Alice peers at it for a moment. “Lily of the Valley, I think. It smells sweet but it’s actually poisonous.”
My chest tightens. “I saw that flower in the tomb. Like a real flower.”
The skin around her eyes crinkles. “You’re either a good liar, or things are about to get interesting.” She puts her shoulder against the gate and shoves hard. It moves a bit. Another push and the gap widens.
She pokes her head through then pulls it back quickly. “Get down Brad,” she hisses. “He’s there!”
I hunker down behind a bush, my heart bumping and bouncing in my chest. Alice scuttles over to join me.
I reach up and gently pull a branch down. The tomb is just on the other side of the fence. The door looks shut tight.
De Silva is halfway down the path that runs from the house. He’s wearing fencing whites and carrying his foil.
“Does that guy have any other clothes?” I whisper.
Alice presses her lips together, but the smile still reaches her eyes. She puts a finger to her lips, shushing me.
De Silva approaches the tomb and holds out a hand. His lips move but I can’t hear what he’s saying. Then he pushes the door of the tomb and disappears inside.
The door starts to swing shut and my heart leaps into my mouth. I need Alice to see this.
And then it comes to rest, a small crack between it and the wall, from which that deep black seeps. Exactly as I found it the first time.
“Woah,” Alice whispers. “Let’s go.”
“But he’ll see us!”
She holds up the flowers. “I’m just taking these to Dad.”
We push through the gap in the gate, step over some brambles and head up the gravelled path towards the tomb, our shoes crunching loudly on the stones.
Alice eases the door open.
I paste my most innocent look onto my face, the one I use when I’ve done something bad and rehearse a ‘Hi Sir’ in my head.
But De Silva’s not inside.
For a second fear slices through me. It’s impossible. “Where’d he go?”
“Brad, look!”
On the back wall an odd symbol is glowing with pale golden light, just like when I first saw the letters on the gravestone:
(Ô/ -)
As we watch it fades to nothing.
The last rays sparkle in Alice’s eyes. “Did you see that?”
“It might be a glyph,” I tell her. “You know, like a keystone.”
“You’ve been reading too many adventure books.” Her phone in one hand, the flowers in the other, she steps into the tomb and shines the light around. The black seems to scurry away into the corners, to twist and squirm around the beam. “Wow. It’s quiet in here.”
“I know. Creepy right?”
“It’s kinda peaceful.” She bends down, sniffs the flower in the vase and nods. “Lily of the Valley.” Her hands travel across the numbers on the gravestone, and she holds up her phone to see better. The letters begin to form, just like they did for me. Alice’s face glows in the light from them. Her eyes seem full of golden stars. “OMG!” She turns to me. “You saw this?”
I nod.
Her voice rises in pitch. “And you never told me?!”
“I didn’t think you believe me.”
A small laugh escapes her. “You’re probably right. Here lies Sir Darren De Silva...” She stands quickly and goes over to the back wall where the symbol was. There’s a faint outline on one of the stones. Alice runs her fingers over it then steps back and shines her torch on it. Nothing happens. “How does it work, this glyph thingy?”
“You have to activate the glyph to open the door.”
“And how do you do that?”
“In fantasy books it’s usually with an object of great meaning or magical power.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. It’d have to be...” My eyes widen. Maybe. Just maybe. “Move out the way,” I tell Alice and she steps to one side.
I hold my foil up and move it slowly around the symbol. As I do, light begins to fill the glyph, following the arc of my foil.
Alice gasps. A grin spreads across my face.
As I finish the final stroke, the glyph glows brightly. I hold my breath, willing something to happen.
Silence.
“Do we need to push?” Alice asks.
“To be honest, I’ve never actually opened a magic door before.”
She shoots me a glance. “Very funny.”
A scraping noise makes my heart leap.
Something goes thunk.
“Holy Garibaldis!” Alice exclaims, taking a step backwards.
My excitement twists into nerves.
Stone scrapes on stone and an orange glow ripples out from a crack in the wall by the glyph. It grows, throwing waves of light over the inside of the tomb. Shadows expand and contract. A huge chunk of wall swings inwards: a hidden doorway. With a final thud that seems to shake every bone in my body it hits the wall, whumpf, and comes to rest.