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Tom lay holding his breath for precious seconds, his face against the ground, hoping he had entered undetected. He heard the sprites’ raucous cries, and one of them shouted, “Take her to the store rooms by the kitchen. They’re close to the rear gate!”
As their shouts faded, Tom sat up, his back pressed against the doorway.
If he had given any thought to what was inside the mound, he would have imagined a warren of corridors made from earth and rock. But it was far from that. Veins of gold and silver illuminated the walls with a dim light, revealing an ornate, richly carved passageway stretching to his left and right. The roof arched high overhead, from which clusters of glowing, jewel-like stones hung like tempting fruit, while the floor beneath him was shiny black marble. Directly ahead was a broad set of stairs climbing steeply upwards into darkness.
The sprites had headed left, so that was the way he must go. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself and started creeping down the passageway, which followed the curve of the hill. Before long, the light became brighter, and he heard voices and laughter. Peering cautiously around a bend, he saw a small group of wood sprites talking, with no way of going around them. He’d have to turn back and find Brenna another way. She should be safe for now; he had a feeling that if they’d wanted to kill her, she’d be dead already. He decided to try to understand the layout of the mound so that when he found her, he’d know how to get out.
He retraced his steps, following the path to the right. Steps ran off the passage to lower levels, but he ignored them, and soon came to an antechamber with three doors leading off it. He cautiously opened one, and saw that the room beyond glowed with the same faint light. There was no one in sight, and he slipped inside.
The room was magnificent. There were shelves full of books, and more were stacked on the floor, on desks, and on chairs. He ran his hands along their covers and wondered what the strange, curled writing meant. On the walls were carved wood panels and richly embroidered tapestries, but the room had no other doorways—it was a dead end.
The second room was equally magnificent. It was like a reception room, with sofas and well-padded chairs. The third door led to another corridor, but this became so winding and twisted, and there were so many turnings off it, that Tom became afraid he would get lost, so he carefully retraced his steps.
Back in the antechamber he followed the original corridor to the entrance, and paused at the bottom of the staircase, debating if it was wise to go any further. But he had no choice. He had to find a way to get to Brenna. Fortunately, there was no sign of the wood sprites, and Tom was so intrigued at what appeared to be a palace under the hill that he forgot to be afraid. He headed up the stairs, and at the top found another antechamber and an ornate double doorway. He passed through it and entered a huge, mirrored ballroom barely lit by the pale silvery light. He pulled a torch out of his backpack and shone the beam around the room, angling it quickly downwards when shattered light sparkled at him from all directions.
Piles of clothing were strewn across the floor. He picked his way through, and then, stooping to take a closer look, nearly dropped his torch in shock. He leapt backwards, his heart pounding.
These weren’t just clothes. There were people inside them.
At first, Tom thought they were dead. But as he looked closer, he realised they were sleeping. Hundreds of them—not actual people, he realised, but faeries, with high, arched eyebrows and a slight point to their ears, lying where they must have fallen, in a deep, enchanted sleep.
Dust lay across their clothes and faces, and flew up from the floor as he walked. He tried not to sneeze. This was the creepiest thing he’d ever seen. With every step he took, he thought one of them would awake and grab him, but he kept moving, his heart pounding and his mouth dry. He could see doorways leading off to other rooms, also filled with enchanted faeries. They had fallen asleep upon chairs and tables, their faces landing on plates of food, their drinks abandoned.
His ears were playing tricks on him, too; he thought he heard whispers as soft, violet-scented breezes caressed his face. He repeated to himself, they’re asleep, they’re asleep, keep going.
Tom crossed to doors on the far side of the room and found that they opened onto a long, broad balcony with stairs at either end. The balcony was also filled with sleepers, and it was here that Tom nearly gave himself away.
Below him was a vast hall, dominated by a cavernous fireplace in which blazed a huge fire, and it was filled with wood sprites—dozens of them. At the edges of the rooms were more sleepers, piled unceremoniously into heaps. Quickly turning off his torch, Tom dropped down next to the sleepers and crawled forward to peer through the carved railings.
They seemed to be celebrating, probably because they’d captured Brenna. They passed around drinks, shouting and singing, while a smaller group clustered together, their heads close. Tom could smell roasting meat, and his stomach rumbled. A couple of sprites emerged from a door to the right of the fireplace, close to the corner, and they rolled in a large cask, which they manoeuvred to the rear wall.
One of the wood sprites stood and banged his fist on a long table that ran the length of the room. When he had the others’ attention, he shouted, “At last we have someone to offer the Queen. We will leave at dark to take her subject to her, and then we will be assured of her help!”
At this, they roared with pleasure.
“Are you pleased, Duke Craven?” He looked to a faerie standing in their midst, dressed in black and with an unpleasant smile on his lips.
“I am, although it is unfortunate it has taken so long. To change!” He raised his glass in a toast, and everyone roared again.
Tom needed to find Brenna and get her out of there, fast. The sprite earlier had mentioned keeping her in the store rooms, and he looked at the cask that was now being emptied rapidly. Casks were generally kept in storerooms, which must mean Brenna was somewhere beyond the door in the corner. But to remain unseen he needed the sprites to stay clustered around the Duke in the middle of the room. Fortunately, the stairs to his right were well away from the crowd. He crawled, belly low to the floor, sniffing dust and grime, down the staircase. He paused for a moment at the bottom, making sure the sprites were still occupied, and then wiggled his way between the sleepers until he reached the deeply shadowed far wall. The sprites were a rowdy bunch, and while they continued to drink and cheer, Tom advanced, trying to ignore the deeply unpleasant feeling of limbs squashing beneath him. Every now and again he paused and flopped, feigning sleep, until he was finally close enough to stand and slip through the doorway.
Tom froze on the other side, pressed against the wall. He glanced around, and satisfied there was no one there, ran along the corridor until he came to steps leading downwards. At the foot of the steps he walked softly down the poorly lit passageway. The ornate decoration of the upper corridors was gone, and through half-open doors he saw storerooms housing boxes, bags of flour, jars, and bottles. Eventually, he came to a closed door. Trying the handle, he found it was locked, but fortunately the key was still in the hole.
He pressed his ear to the door, but it was silent within. “Brenna, are you there?” he called softly.
“Yes, yes, it’s me! Tom?”
He unlocked the door, pushed it wide open, and found Brenna already waiting, some rough canvas sacks on the floor behind her. She looked rumpled and slightly grubby, not to mention genuinely shocked to see him, but quickly joined him in the corridor, holding her shoulder stiffly. “How did you find me?” Her sword was gone, and she looked vulnerable without it.
“Long story. Are you injured?” He pointed to her shoulder.
“Yes, but it’s not serious.”
He nodded. “Good. We have to get out of here. They’re coming for you.” He locked the door behind them so it looked undisturbed.
She laid a hand on his arm. “No, we can’t go yet.”
“What? Why not?”
“There’s another prisoner, right next door. I heard them speak to him.”
“Brenna, we haven’t got time! Didn’t you hear me? They’re coming for you! They’re taking you to some Queen as an offering!”
Brenna went horribly pale, and fear flared behind her eyes, but she still shook her head. “I don’t care. We can’t leave him. You know we can’t.”
“He could be a mad man!”
She just frowned at him. “Or he could be just like me!”
He sighed with exasperation. “But we could be caught any second!”
“We are not leaving without him. Here,” she said, removing the key from the door, “I think they used the same key.”
They headed to the next room, where the door was once again locked, and she slid the key in, turning it easily.
Inside was a sleeping faerie. He was tied to a chair placed against the far wall, his body secured by rope that wrapped around his arms, legs, and torso. He had long, white-blond hair that shone with a pale light, and wore clothes that had been fine once, but which were now dirty and torn. Tom shook him gently.
The faerie's head shot up and he shouted, “Get away! How dare you touch me!” His eyes were a deep, midnight blue.
Tom jumped back, his hands in the air. “I’m here to help!”
The fey took a long look at him, and then at Brenna behind him. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“I am trying to rescue you.”
He shook himself awake, his eyes bright and eager. “Really? At last!” Then he looked down at the rope wrapped about him. “But I can’t leave unless we can remove this!”
“Well, we need to go now, so unless we can do this quickly, we’ll have to leave you here.” Tom thought through his options. “Maybe I can find a knife.”
The faerie shook his head. “No, this may look like ordinary rope, but it’s not. My restraint is made from smoke. It’s a type of magic, and these coils have to be unlocked. But I know where the key is. I have just enough power left to disguise you so you can get it for me.” He looked pleadingly at Tom.
Tom examined the coils and realised they did have a smoky quality up close, but he couldn’t see where a key would fit. He looked back towards Brenna, and she nodded. “Tom, we have to!”
He grunted, not entirely seeing the ‘we’ in this. “All right, fine! Where’s the key?”
“Around the neck of my treacherous rat of a brother, the Duke of Craven.”
Tom nearly choked. “He’s your brother? I’ve just seen him in the hall, surrounded by murderous wood sprites! It would be impossible to get close enough.”
Panic shot across the faerie’s face. “I can disguise you, I promise! Please. If I don’t get out of here soon, he’ll find out how to use the Starlight Jewel, and then he’ll be too powerful for me to stop! And he’ll kill me.”
Tom felt his heart sinking. He just wanted to get out of there, but felt he didn’t really have a choice. He looked at Brenna where she stood in the doorway, watching their exchange. “If I do this, I’m going to have to lock you back in the room.”
“I understand.”
Tom sighed. “All right. What do I have to do?”
