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Chapter 12: The Lakeside

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For a few minutes, Beansprout stood watching as Tom disappeared into the mist, heading to some distant place she would never know.

A chill swept through her. The boat was clearly ancient; it reminded her of images she had seen in history books. Its familiarity scared her—it was as if the past had crossed an invisible barrier and was suddenly right next to her. It challenged everything she had ever known.

Trying to shake off the feeling, and realising there was nothing she could do now to help Tom, she hurried across to where the others stood, still motionless. She stopped in front of her grandfather. His eyes were filled with tears and he gazed beyond her, into the distance. She hesitated, wondering if it would be dangerous to disturb him and the others, but decided she couldn’t just leave them standing there.

She reached out her hand and laid it gently on his arm. “Granddad, wake up.” He remained motionless, so she shook him, watching his eyes carefully. “Granddad, can you hear me? It’s me, Beansprout.” She thought she detected a flicker of movement in his eyes, but then it was gone.

She sighed and moved to Woodsmoke. He was much taller than her, so she couldn’t see his eyes properly. Feeling self-conscious, she touched his sleeve and then his hand, shaking it. “Woodsmoke, wake up.”

He didn’t stir and she sighed again. With her back to the wide expanse of grey water, she looked at the desolate moor, the windswept grass, the trees, knotted and bent, and the tall standing stones, mysterious and indifferent to her needs. She felt overwhelmingly lonely.

She panicked. “Woodsmoke, I’m scared. Don’t leave me here alone!” She shook him more aggressively, and felt a pressure on her hand as he squeezed back. He shook his head as if emerging from a deep sleep, blinked a few times, and then looked down at her. She suddenly became aware that she was still holding his hand, and released it quickly, asking, “Are you okay?”

“I think so. I had the weirdest dream.” He looked around. “What’s going on? Where is Tom?”

“Gone. With her. And you’ve been bewitched. All of you.” She nodded at the others. “I couldn’t wake Granddad.”

“And what are we supposed to do?” He moved in front of Jack, Fahey, and Brenna, looking at their frozen faces.

“We have to wait for Tom. Shall we try and wake them? And then we can set up camp.”

Brenna and Jack roused more quickly than Fahey, who seemed to be in the deepest sleep. Slowly, smiles played across his face, and it was with the greatest reluctance that he finally woke up, annoyed to leave a perfectly good dream.

It seemed wrong to set up camp within the standing stones, so they found a spot to the side of them, behind the narrow beach. They rigged up a waterproof shelter and built a fire of dry brushwood collected from along the shore. It was mid-afternoon by the time they had finished, and they sat around the flames together, warming their hands and drinking a strange herbal tea that Beansprout didn’t really like, but had managed to get used to.

Beansprout asked Fahey, “What did you see while you were bewitched? It took ages to wake you!”

He shook his head with wonder. “I saw all the old tales I know, right in front of my eyes! They seemed so real that I didn’t want to wake. I saw details that I never knew, and that I can now share with others!”

“What about you, Granddad?”

“I floated over the Realm of Earth,” he told her, a faraway look in his eyes. “So many amazing places that I haven’t seen.” He looked at Fahey. “Places we should go when we have the chance.”

Fahey nodded. “Why not? Sounds fun. What about you, Woodsmoke?”

“I was hunting in the Old Forest, a place I haven’t been for years. It was good to be back there, and it woke many old memories.” He turned to Brenna. “And you? You were upset when you woke.”

She shuddered. “I dreamt I’d lost my wings. It was horrible. I couldn’t fly anymore. That’s why I took off as soon as I woke. I needed to feel the air again.” She shrugged, as if fluttering her wings, even though they weren’t there at that moment. Beansprout wondered if she was always aware of them, as if they had an unseen presence on her human form.

Retelling their magical visions made them uneasy, and the group shivered in unison, drawing closer to the fire.

“How long do you think this will take?” Beansprout asked.

Fahey still seemed caught in the tendrils of his dreamlike trance, gazing out at the mist as if hoping to penetrate its secrets. He murmured, “It could take weeks. We have no idea of what Tom has to do or where he must go. I wish I was with him.”

Woodsmoke frowned. “Or it could take just hours. He might be back here before nightfall.”

“I’m sure it will take longer than one night, Woodsmoke,” Brenna suggested. “We may as well make ourselves comfortable. We should start cooking.” She stood up and rolled her shoulders. “I’m going to see what else is happening out there.” She nodded across the moor. “I’ll see you later.” In a blink she had gone, soaring upwards until she was only a black speck.

Woodsmoke laughed dryly. “I guess that means I should cook.”

“We’ll help,” Jack said, volunteering himself and Fahey.

Beansprout left them to it, and headed to the standing stones. They fascinated her, and she walked around them, her fingers tracing the carvings, feeling the warmth of the stone against her palm. How long had they stood here, unchanged by the wind, rain, and burning sun? Who had made them? It must have taken a long time to carve these beautiful shapes and figures, with their detailed expressions of fear, wonder, and horror. She recognised some of the creatures from the carvings they had seen on the gateways, and in the great cavern in the Realm of Water, but others were strange and unnerving: creatures with tentacles, multiple limbs, large eyes, pointed teeth, snarling expressions, and sharp claws. She should have been frightened, but instead felt wonder at being in such a place; that such a place could even exist. Beansprout felt suspended at the edge of the world, hovering between the known of her past and the unknown of her future. She had moved from one set of expectations to another, and should have been scared at this uncertainty, but felt only excitement.

She looked over to where her grandfather stood talking to Fahey, gestures filling the space between them, and understood why he would want to stay here. The limits of his life had shifted dramatically. His best friend was a bard, a dreamer and spinner of magic. His words conjured worlds and images, desires and hopes; they chased away the old normality, replacing it with breath-taking strangeness and wonder. In fact, this whole place was a breath-taking wonder.

Beansprout realised she didn’t care how long they had to wait for Tom. It didn’t seem to matter anymore. The important thing was being here, to witness whatever happened. She wondered if this was the spell the Lady of the Lake had cast upon her, but then admitted to herself that this feeling had been growing for some time; it had just taken until now to recognise it.

It felt like a lifetime had passed since they had crossed through the portal. She had no idea what was happening at home, and wasn’t sure that she really cared. Hopefully, no one was frantic with worry. Perhaps their absence hadn’t been noticed; maybe some mysterious magic had taken care of that. She nodded to herself. Yes, that would be for the best.

She looked up to watch Brenna high above, a speck against the grey sky. A bird-shifter. How amazing was that? There must be more of her kind, but where were they, and why was she living with Woodsmoke’s family? She remembered Brenna’s awkwardness sometimes, her reluctance to share too much, and the worried looks that passed between her and Woodsmoke. She had a feeling that it was something to do with this mysterious Queen, but she was reluctant to pry.

Suddenly, Brenna swerved overhead, pulling out of her lazy swooping circles, heading back to where they had come from. What had she seen to make her move so quickly? Beansprout turned to watch her progress, but she disappeared from sight. She watched anxiously for a few more minutes, relieved to see her finally return and land next to the camp where the others were gathered around the fire in the thickening dusk, and she ran to join them.

“Prince Finnlugh is coming, with a small retinue of guards,” Brenna announced.

Woodsmoke was so shocked that he stood up and looked back over the moor. “What? How close are they? How big is the guard?”

“About two dozen. The Duchess of Cloy was with him, too. At present, they are only at the edge of the moor, but they travel far quicker than we do and will be here in another day or so.”

“Herne’s horns! What does he want? It can’t be good!”

“Not necessarily,” Fahey said. “They may be here to help. Historically, they’re not fans of the Queen.”

“And Tom did invite him,” Brenna reminded them.

“I don’t trust them,” Woodsmoke said, “but there’s really not much we can do against so many, is there?” He sighed with exasperation. “I suppose a day gives us a little time, let’s hope it’s longer, and Tom will be back by then.”

“Even so, we can’t outrun them,” Brenna pointed out, settling by the fire to warm her hands. “We just have to wait and be ready for whatever happens. I’ll take first watch later, but hopefully it will be an uneventful night.”

Beansprout was still standing, watching the inky darkness spread across the moor, and she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement at the prospect of meeting Prince Finnlugh and his retinue.