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The fey smiled at Tom, relief pouring from him. “As I said, Craven has my key around his neck. It’s small and looks like glass. It fits here.” He jerked his head to one of the coils that lay across his chest. “This binding has reduced my magic, but I can cast a spell that will draw some of this smoke to you and allow you to pass unseen into the hall. The enchantment will hopefully last long enough for you to steal the key and bring it back to me. Once I’m free, I promise to get you out of here.”
The word hopefully rang in Tom’s ears, and he looked balefully at the fey. “How long is long enough?”
“Half an hour or so?”
Tom hoped the Duke was still in the hall or he would never find him, and then he’d be captured, too. “Okay. Do it now.”
“Come closer so I can reach you.”
Tom knelt next to the faerie to get close to his bound hands, and he pressed his index finger to Tom’s forehead. He felt a strange sensation pass through him, and he looked down. His body was suddenly shimmering.
“What on Earth?”
“Go!” the faerie urged.
Tom ran out the door, and Brenna locked it carefully behind them.
“Tom, he’s right,” she said, going back into the room she’d been held in. “You’re barely visible. Just stick to the shadows, and you’ll be fine. Good luck!”
Barely visible wasn’t entirely reassuring, but as Brenna handed him the key, he was relieved to find he could still grip things properly.
After locking Brenna in, he ran back up the corridor. It felt twice as long as before. A sprite appeared before him and Tom froze, but it disappeared into a store room, reappearing moments later with an armful of bottles, paying him no mind. As the sprite went back up the stairs, Tom followed, treading softly, his heart hammering in his chest.
He edged into the hall, trying to get his breathing under control. The sprites were still shouting and singing, some aiming their spears at the far wall, where several figures had been drawn. There was a rhythmical thump and cheer as the spears found their mark. Tom wasn’t sure if drunk sprites were better or worse than sober ones.
Tom saw the Duke sitting on a chair in the deep shadows cast by the balcony above. He was examining a map spread out on the table before him, illuminated only by the light of a single candle.
Tom again hugged the walls, but nobody was looking in his direction. He couldn’t even see himself. He crept closer and closer to the Duke until he was standing behind him. It was uncanny—Craven looked like a photographic negative of his brother. His eyes were dark and his hair was black, with a faint, dusty sheen to it, like diamond dust. Although his features were sharper, they were virtually identical.
The Duke’s attention was completely on the map. Tom could see the glass key on a chain around his neck, chinking next to other, bigger keys. He flexed his fingers and tried not to breathe heavily. The Duke leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, rubbed his face wearily, and then dropped his hands to his sides. Tom seized his moment. He edged forward and reached over the Duke’s shoulder, his fingers inches away from the key. The Duke’s hand shot up as if he’d felt him, and Tom snatched his hand away, rocketing back against the wall. The Duke opened his eyes and patted his shoulder, confused, then sat up and looked round, scanning the space behind him. Tom stood motionless, holding his breath.
Distracted by an approaching sprite, Craven turned away.
“Duke Craven, we need to go soon,” said the sprite.
“Yes, all right, just give me a few more minutes. Are the horses ready?”
“I’ll send someone down, they can get the girl on their way back.” He strode off, shouting to one of the others.
The Duke pulled a large jewel out of his pocket. It was the size of a duck egg, and its centre glowed. He lifted it level with his eyes and gazed into it. Tom leaned forward too, peering into its depths. He thought he saw swirling stars, and mesmerised, moved closer, halting abruptly as the Duke sighed, re-pocketed the jewel, and then leaned back and shut his eyes again.
Tom’s stomach churned. He had to get the key now or it would all be over. He reached forward and pulled the key gently between his thumb and forefinger. The key melted off the chain and into his hands; the key recognised him, it seemed.
Without waiting to see if he had disturbed the Duke, Tom ran back across the hall, down the stairs, and along the corridor. He could tell the spell was wearing off, and he reckoned he only had a few minutes of invisibility left. He heard footsteps behind him and froze, but the sprite entered a doorway without noticing Tom, and he ran again, skidding to a halt in front of Brenna’s room.
He quickly released Brenna, and then unlocked the fey’s door, with Brenna right behind him. “I’ve got it!”
The fey was straining against his bonds, a look of sheer anger and frustration on his face. “Quickly, put it where I showed you!”
Tom fumbled with the key. “But there’s no keyhole!”
“There will be! Do it now!”
He placed the key over the spot the faerie had indicated. Magically, a keyhole appeared, and he slotted the key in and turned it. There was a strange hissing sound and the smoke-rope began to thin and disappear.
“Ahh, you have no idea how good that feels!” the faerie said, as he rolled his shoulders and gingerly stood up. He groaned. “Oh, I am so stiff!”
He limped to the door, where he went to turn left. Brenna was already waiting in the corridor, anxiously keeping watch.
“Not that way,” Tom said, grabbing his arm. “There are hundreds of them in the hall, and some are coming any minute now to get Brenna. Is there a back way out?”
The faerie looked thoughtful. “All right, follow me.”
He set a quick pace, despite his stiff gait, and the further they went, the faster he moved. They continued down passageway after passageway, twisting and turning until Tom was completely disorientated, before they finally entered a large room. A collection of weapons was mounted on the walls, and cloaks of varying sizes and colours were hung on a row of hooks. On the far side was a sturdy wooden door.
Tom could hear shouts in the distance and he ran over, grabbed the handle, and tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t budge. Brenna took over, her hands fumbling with panic.
The faerie looked at them with disdain. “This is a faerie palace. It won’t open just like that. Now, who are you?”
“Can’t this wait?” Tom asked. “I can hear shouting! They know you’ve escaped! We have to leave now!”
The faerie gave them a tight-lipped, unpleasant smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my palace and I shall have my revenge. No one knows this place better than me. They caught me by surprise last time, but not again.”
“But there are hundreds of them. We can’t help you anymore. Brenna is hurt, and our friends will be worried.” He glanced nervously at Brenna. “If they’re okay.”
The faerie grimaced and lowered his voice. “Don’t worry, you have done more than enough. I can manage now. If I so choose, there will be endless staircases that lead nowhere, corridors that shrink to the size of a mouse hole, doorways that lead only to a howling abyss, or mirrors that steal your reflection and swallow you whole. They will regret ever attacking us. And he will regret ever betraying me.”
As he finished, Tom saw over his shoulder two wood sprites running towards them, spears raised. Tom opened his mouth to shout a warning, but the faerie was already turning, and with a flick of his hand and a mutter of something unintelligible, the floor beneath the sprites opened to reveal a gaping mouth full of teeth and blood-red gums. The sprites fell in and with a growl, the mouth snapped closed.
Tom’s own mouth fell open in shock, but the faerie smiled smugly. He asked, “You didn’t happen to see my subjects, did you?”
“Well yes, actually,” Tom said, struggling to concentrate. “They’re asleep all over the floor, on the steps, in the ballroom, and the hall. At least, I think they’re asleep.”
The faerie looked pleased. “Good. And your name?”
“Tom, and this is Brenna.”
“And your friends?”
“Woodsmoke and Beansprout,” Tom said impatiently, wondering why that mattered.
The fey bowed majestically and kissed Brenna’s hand. “Madam, Sir. I am truly indebted. Now, how did you manage to get in?”
Brenna answered first. “I was kidnapped by the wood sprites—I was to be given to the Queen of Aeriken.”
Tom looked at her, startled. He hadn’t mentioned a name, but Brenna knew which Queen it was. Maybe there was only one. He added, “Some sort of exchange for her power, from what I overheard.”
“Really? She doesn’t normally share her power. I wonder what’s in it for her? And why you?” he mused, looking at Brenna.
Brenna flushed and answered quickly. “I have no idea. And your name?”
He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “I am Prince Finnlugh, Bringer of Starfall and Chaos, Head of the House of Evernight. Now go, quickly. Avoid the edge of Aeriken Forest. If there are any more of them, that’s where they’ll be waiting.”
Prince Finnlugh muttered and waved his hands, just as Woodsmoke had done under the tower, and Tom heard the door’s lock release. Brenna was already ahead of him, and she pulled it open. Outside, night had fallen. Tom hadn’t realised they had been in the mound for so long.
The Prince added under his breath, “If ever there was a time for the King, perhaps it is now.”
Tom and Brenna stopped at the threshold and looked at him.
“What did you say?” asked Tom.
He looked at them warily. “Nothing, ignore me.”
Tom persisted. “You mentioned the King.”
“I am merely thinking aloud. Forget I ever said anything.”
“Well,” Tom said, considering his words carefully, “we’re travelling to the lake, if you wish to see us again.”
The Prince stared at him and then gave a slow smile. “The lake? What an interesting destination. I shall bear that in mind. By the way, don’t worry about being followed. I will make certain they never leave.”
Tom nodded, and they stepped through the door. It shut behind them with a crack, leaving them halfway up the hill. Tom took a deep breath, inhaling the still night air with relief as he looked at the spread of stars that silvered the sky. “Thank God we’re out of there. That has to be the freakiest place ever. I hope Woodsmoke doesn’t live in one of those things. Are you okay?”
“Yes, apart from my shoulder. It’s really sore. I fell on it when they threw that wretched net on me.”
“The Prince asked a good question. Why you? They didn’t bother with the rest of us. What did they mean when they called you her ‘subject?’”
Brenna glanced away, reluctant to meet Tom’s eye. “I have no idea. They probably confused me with someone else. It’s nothing, Tom. Just an exchange for power.” She changed the conversation. “Didn’t you take a bit of a risk just then? The whole King thing?”
He shrugged. “It felt right.”
The grass on the hill was smooth and velvety, unlike the meadows below, which were luxuriant with waist-high grasses. Once they reached the bottom, there was no sign of the main entrance, and they searched for the spot where they had been attacked, hoping to pick up Woodsmoke and Beansprout’s tracks. The stars gave them just enough light to see, and they eventually stumbled into an area of flattened grass—dotted with the dead bodies of wood sprites. There was a moment of panic, as they wondered if Woodsmoke or Beansprout lay among them, but there was no sign of either one.
Tom took out his torch, holding it low over the ground, and eventually found a faint track leading away from the area. It was too risky to shout out, so they called in low voices, “Woodsmoke, Beansprout.”
They hadn’t gone far when they came across another dead sprite. They called again, and this time relief swept through Tom as Woodsmoke answered, “Tom, Brenna, is that you?” They saw a tall figure emerge, black against the pale silver of the grass, and ran to his side.
Brenna hugged him awkwardly, protecting her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“I am, but Beansprout is not so good. And neither are you, by the look of it!”
“It’s just my shoulder. I’ll recover. Fortunately, Tom is fine. What happened to Beansprout?”
“A spear hit her.” He led them to a ring of flattened grass. Beansprout was curled on his cloak, sleeping heavily.
“How did it happen?” Brenna dropped to her knees next to Beansprout, her face worried.
“She got caught in the skirmish, and a spear took a chunk out of her arm. I’ve bound the wound, but it bled a lot and was very painful for her. I’ve given her herbs to ease the pain and help her sleep. She should be better by tomorrow, I hope.”
Tom sat next to Woodsmoke on a corner of his cloak. Now that his adrenalin was wearing off, he felt shattered.
Woodsmoke looked at him with surprise. “I can’t believe you managed to sneak in there, Tom, never mind get out again! I tried to follow, but the door had already closed by the time I got there, and the magic was too strong to penetrate. I thought you must be dead.”
Tom related everything that happened, while Brenna curled up next to Beansprout.
“So, the Queen wants her subjects back.” Woodsmoke looked across at Brenna, but she didn’t answer. Only the glint of starlight in her eyes indicated she was even awake.
“She sounds horrible,” Tom said, but Woodsmoke only grunted, and Tom decided to change the subject. The Queen seemed to be someone neither of them wanted to discuss. “You don’t live in one of those hills, do you?”
“Oh no, they are used only by the old royal tribes.”
“Good, because it was really creepy. And the Prince was...odd.”
Woodsmoke laughed. “Odd and powerful. I have heard many stories, especially from my grandfather. You must ask him to tell you some. He’ll love it.”
Tom was intrigued. “Who are the other royal tribes?”
“There are quite a few, but locally there are Prince Finnlugh’s, the Duchess of Cloy’s tribe, and Prince Ironroot’s. Their palaces are over there.” He gestured over the river. “We don’t really see them anymore. They hole up in their Under-Palaces, dancing and feasting their long lives away.” He stopped, lost in thought.
“And how are we getting to your home?”
“We’ll head to the river, a tributary of the one we crossed today, and try to find a boat. It passes through our local village—we live in the wood close by. It will be quicker, and certainly easier. And then we shall go to the Isle of Avalon.”
