We’re falling too fast!

Clinging to Wyvern’s back, plummeting from a star-filled sky, Alfie and Hayley were both thinking the same thing. It’s not like they hadn’t planned it this way. Reaching the cover of the small tower on the isolated hilltop without being spotted would not be easy, they knew that. Approach too slowly, and someone was bound to see them. Dive too fast, and the Defender’s ghostly horse wouldn’t be able to hit the brakes in time. Alfie wasn’t so worried about himself; his magical armour would save him if they crashed. But Hayley, gripping on to his waist from behind, had no such protection.

Wind knifed into Hayley’s eyes as she lifted her head to check their target. She wished she hadn’t. Stone walls rushed up to meet them, and they seemed to be headed straight on to the top of the tower itself! This was going to hurt. But then, a split second from impact, just as they dropped through the roofless tower and into the shadow of its narrow walls, Wyvern lifted her nose and extended her legs, pinning her passengers flat against her back as she glided into the softest of landings. She shook her wispy mane and whinnied proudly, as if to say, “Don’t know what you were so worried about.”

Hayley laughed with relief, and patted the horse on her flank. “Never doubted you for a second, girl,” she whispered.

Wyvern snorted and reared up, sending Hayley tumbling on to the ground.

Alfie stifled a smirk and thought Spurs, making Wyvern spiral back into his boots. He reached out his hand to Hayley. “We’re lucky she lets you ride her at all. You should feel kind of honoured,” said Alfie, voice muffled beneath his helmet.

“Honoured? Yeah, right,” said Hayley, ignoring Alfie’s hand and brushing the dirt from her jeans as she stood up. “Remind me to get the bus next time.”

From somewhere in the valley below they could hear the sound of chanting voices and a thousand feet stamping, like a great army on the march.

“It’s started,” said Alfie, nervous but excited. “Come on.”

Together they crept out through a small archway, crouching low to avoid their silhouettes appearing to anyone who might be gazing up at the lonely tower from the surrounding countryside. It was yet another swelteringly hot, cloudless night and the moon was bright. Filling the fields below the hill was an endless sea of tiny lights, as if a thousand constellations had fallen from the night sky. Beyond that was a huge white tent illuminated by powerful, restless spotlights. A long cheer erupted from the crowd beneath the blinking lights and a deafening sound filled the air.

Music.

Alfie reached up and whipped off his armour, which shrank back into the form of the Shroud Tunic lying limp across his hand. He opened his backpack and stuffed it inside along with the golden spurs. To anyone who didn’t know they would have looked just like a scruffy old T-shirt and a pair of novelty bottle openers. But in reality they were among the most important items of the United Kingdom’s priceless regalia.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Glastonbury,” Hayley said as she settled down to watch the gig.

“And here we are. Well, near enough,” replied Alfie, sitting next to her.

On stage the lead singer launched into the chorus and the crowd joined in, swaying their mobile phone lights in time. Alfie hadn’t heard of this band until earlier that day when Hayley had shown him a newspaper that said they were headlining the festival. To make up for his embarrassment he’d suggested they sneak out that night and fly to Glastonbury Tor, the name of the old church tower on the hill, which he figured would make a safe vantage point.

Neither of them had had much time off in the three months since the coronation. By day Alfie had been attending to his duties as the new King Alfred the Second of the United Kingdom, while by night he had been busy as the Defender, secretly investigating Professor Lock’s escape during his transfer to the Tower of London. From what they could tell, his treacherous old teacher had somehow turned into the Black Dragon again and overpowered his guards – even though they’d been sure his monstrous side had been destroyed during the battle in Westminster Abbey. But now the trail had gone cold, and the Lord Chamberlain seemed happy to give Alfie the night off. Not that he knew Alfie had a secret Defender outing planned with Hayley; the fussy old man would NOT have approved.

As for Hayley, she had been busy reorganizing the information-gathering and communications side of the Keep’s operation to drag it into the twenty-first century. The Lord Chamberlain wasn’t too thrilled about everything she was changing – she could tell that by the way he kept shouting, “Stop changing everything!” By contrast, Brian, the king’s bodyguard and the Defender’s armourer, and the Yeoman Warders seemed up for a little modernizing, although they weren’t that keen on Hayley’s latest idea – Thursday night “Zumba” class. She wanted to encourage the beefeaters to lose some weight. Plus if she really had to spend every night cooped up in a cold, secret underground base, she figured she might as well try to liven the place up a little – although the way everyone suddenly found some urgent errand to go and run every time the class was about to start told her that she might have her work cut out for her. But besides terrorizing the Yeoman Warders with threats of compulsory exercise, the one thing there had not been much of in the last few weeks was FUN. Tonight was all about putting that right. At least, it was supposed to be.

“What’s wrong?” asked Alfie. He could tell that Hayley was brooding about something.

“My gran. She’d love this.”

“Your grandmother likes this band?”

Hayley scowled at him with half a smile. “No. Idiot. I mean being here. Somewhere with all this history. She’s stuck in that stupid old people’s home, and I’m out having fun. It’s not right.”

“Well, I’ll ask Wyvern, but she’s only just got used to letting you hitch a lift. I’m not sure she’d be up for another freeloader—”

Hayley grabbed Alfie’s arm and twisted it behind his back.

“All right, all right! No more jokes!” promised Alfie.

Hayley released her grip. “You know, for a superhero, you’re kind of a pushover.”

Alfie rubbed his arm, regretting taking off his Defender armour so soon. “Yeah, well, you’re supposed to be on my side. I could have your head chopped off as a traitor.”

“Uh-huh.” Hayley had turned her attention back to the festival far below. The band was playing their next song.

“If it makes you feel better, I probably shouldn’t be here either,” continued Alfie. “I should be trying to see Richard.”

He hadn’t spoken to his brother for weeks. They always used to reply to each other’s messages, no matter what, but ever since the coronation Richard had become more and more distant. He never came back to the palace for weekends any more, and he’d even stopped answering Alfie’s calls.

“What’s the matter?” asked Hayley. “Little brother still annoyed about the whole humiliation-in-front-of-the-entire-world thing?”

“I did him a favour!” replied Alfie. “He has no idea how lucky he is.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that, does he? Anyway, he’ll come round. You’ve got that whole twin thing going on, haven’t you?”

Alfie smiled. Hayley was right. Richard couldn’t stay angry with him for ever.

“Make you a deal,” he said. “Soon as we get back, you go see your gran, I’ll go and see Rich. Bit of quality family time.”

“Deal.” Hayley listened to the crowd cheering the band. The sound of the bass drum was thumping around the hills. “This is nice, Alfie. But it’s not the same, is it?” She sighed.

“Same as what?”

“Being down there.”

Alfie jumped up, swung his backpack on to his shoulder and pulled Hayley to her feet.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Where do you think?”

Laughing, Alfie and Hayley ran down the steep, grassy hill in the dark, hand in hand.

Soon they were in the throng of the crowd, jumping up and down to the music with their hands in the air. Alfie had put a cap on, just in case, but no one here was expecting to see him; he was just another kid in a whole field of happy faces. The throbbing bass beat filled their bodies, from the soles of their feet all the way up to their beaming smiles. In that moment he was no longer King Alfie, the secret superhero, and she was no longer Hayley Hicks, the runaway from the estate. Tonight they were part of something bigger than themselves, a joyous mass of humanity dancing as one, and it felt incredible.

Alfie sensed eyes on him. A growing unease jangling at the edge of his mind. Had someone spotted him? He scanned the crowd. It was OK, everyone was facing the stage. No, wait. There. Through the heaving forest of bodies, a hooded figure standing still, wearing a long red robe. Whoever it was, they looked like a monk with a cowl and while everyone around them watched the band, this Red Robe seemed to stare back, straight at him. Alfie blinked and suddenly the figure had moved, about ten people to the right. How did they do that? Alfie was unnerved – even though he couldn't see Red Robe's face beneath the hood, he could feel the strange figure's eyes boring into him. Spotlights swept across the crowd and blink Red Robe had moved again.

“What’s wrong?” Hayley yelled in Alfie’s ear, startling him out of his trance.

“Someone’s watching me.” Alfie pointed through the crowd, but Red Robe had disappeared.

Alfie looked around. There were plenty of other people wearing costumes, silly hats, faces painted. And with the confusion of flashing lights, maybe he was just being paranoid.

“Forget it. It was nothing.”

Hayley grabbed his shoulder. “Alfie! Your backpack!”

Alfie spun round, clawing at his back, finding nothing but a loose piece of strapping – it looked like it had been cut. It was gone and with it, the Shroud Tunic and spurs!

“Wyvern!” gasped Alfie.

They both scanned the ground, frantic. Alfie pushed people back and crawled on his hands and feet, desperate to find his bag. “Where is it?!”

People around them had stopped dancing and started staring at them. Hayley tried to pull Alfie up. “You’re attracting attention,” she hissed.

A high-pitched whinnying pierced Alfie’s ears. He winced and held his head. It was Wyvern. She was scared, crying out. He could hear her. He jumped up and pulled Hayley back through the crowd. “This way!”

Alfie hated the noise Wyvern was making in his head, but he was sure it was her – somehow calling for help, urging him to find her. He fought to block out everything else – the music, the yells of people he was pushing past. As they broke clear of the scrum near a long line of portaloos, Hayley yanked at his arm.

“Where are you going, Alfie? We have to find your bag!”

“I can hear Wyvern – don’t ask me how. She’s calling to me. She’s close!”

Hayley’s eyes swept the dark corner of the field. People were milling about in all directions – carrying drinks, dancing in small groups, eating, heading back to their tents. Suddenly she spotted a tall man with long matted blond hair lingering near the queue for the toilets. He was looking around nervously and holding something tight under one arm – Alfie’s backpack!

“THERE! STOP!” Hayley shouted and set off at a sprint. Alfie scrambled after her.

The man heard the yell and saw Hayley bounding towards him. He shoved his way through the queue and ran. The ground was uneven and Hayley stumbled, but she was soon back on her feet, eating up the space between her and the thief. She was confident she could catch him, as long as she reached him before he made it back into the main crowd. The man gripped Alfie’s bag as he weaved his way past a guy on a unicycle and a pair of stilt-walkers. Then he stopped, turned back and kicked the unicyclist into the stilt-walkers. All three cried out and tumbled over in a heap, just as Hayley and Alfie reached them. By the time they’d dodged past the chaos of arms and legs and stilts, the thief was far ahead of them, nearing the main crowd. They were going to lose him!

But as the man looked back and grinned, the door of the very last portaloo in the row snapped open with ferocious force and smacked into him, knocking him out cold. Hayley ran up and knelt down, wrestling the backpack from the man’s limp hands. When Alfie arrived a second later, he thought he caught a glimpse of red cloth through the crack of the open portaloo door. He heard a faint POP from inside and a felt a rush of warm air pass over him.

Hayley stood up and held out the backpack to Alfie. “What would you do without me, ’eh, Alf?”

But Alfie was holding the portaloo door open, staring at the empty space inside. “How did it open like that? I thought I saw—”

“Who cares?” said Hayley, holding her nose. “Shut the door before I pass out.”

Alfie couldn’t explain what he’d just seen without sounding crazy, but he was sure that whoever Red Robe was, they’d just helped stop the thief. Alfie took the backpack from Hayley, checking inside. The Shroud Tunic and spurs were both there, safe and sound. He touched the spurs and Wyvern’s cry faded from his head, calm once more.

“That’s it. I’ve got you, girl,” whispered Alfie.

He couldn’t believe he’d come that close to losing her, not to mention his armour. He had put a thousand years of his family’s history at risk for five minutes worth of fun. His father would never have done that. As the thief slowly woke up, rubbing his head and groaning, Alfie and Hayley walked away.

“I guess we should call it a night,” said Alfie.

Hayley took a look round at the dancing crowds, the food stalls, the tents full of life and laughter. She cracked a mischievous smile. “Are you kidding? We only just got here.”