Charlotte Stone and the Children of the Nymet (18 page)

Govinder gave her an evil grin and went to help Olly set up his guitar and mic.

‘Isn't this exciting?' Sissy chirped as she arranged and rearranged the petition forms and stickers.

Exciting wasn't the word Charlotte would use but then, Sissy didn't have the extra pressure of hundreds of lives in her hands so she just smiled encouragingly.

Things were soon underway with Olly, Govinder and the McNamara twins drawing in the crowds. There was a carnival feel in the air and people actually started dancing when Connor and Olly played a lively duet. Wykenhall was busy this morning and the local press and radio station, Wyked FM, were about too. By ten o'clock they had already collected eleven pages of signatures.

‘That's thirty-two in total from what we already have.' Isla handed the sheets to Charlotte. ‘That's a really good result, you know.'

‘I couldn't have done it without everyone behind me.'

Isla smiled graciously at the compliment.

Sang was in the middle of a dance when PC Taylor turned up.

‘Do you have a permit for street entertainment?' PC Taylor asked them.

Charlotte could have kicked herself, why hadn't she thought of that, though she was surprised Olly hadn't.

‘Technically you should have. You've got quite a crowd here.'

‘So, are you going to arrest us?' Govinder winked cheekily at the officer.

The officer smiled. ‘I'm just here to keep the peace. As long as you do, there will be no issue.' Looking around to see there was no one else around, PC Taylor leant in and whispered, ‘So how many signatures have you got then?' He nodded with approval when Charlotte told him. ‘Keep up the good work.'

Behind PC Taylor, Charlotte could see Julian Ransell making his way across the road like an angry bee. Before she had a chance to warn PC Taylor, he was at the officer's shoulder.

‘I demand you remove these children at once, Officer.'

‘For what reason?' PC Taylor asked calmly.

‘They are causing a scene.'

‘Everything is calm and good-natured here, Sir. And people are enjoying it.'

‘I pay my taxes which, I should remind you, pay your wages.' Mr Ransell gritted his teeth.

‘As do I, Sir, as do I,' the police officer responded wearily. ‘The thing is, my job is to enforce the law and, as I see it here, there is no law being broken. I can't simply go about removing people without cause – that would be corrupt.'

PC Taylor seemed to be daring Mr Ransell to say another word judging by his intense stare and the teacher let out an annoyed grunt.

Some of the crowd were now watching Mr Ransell's little outburst with amusement and some even gave a pantomime boo.

‘Why do you even care about this, Miss Stone? Do you realise what you are cheating the local people out of? All for the sake of a bloody tree.' Mr Ransell could barely conceal his frustration.

Charlotte shrugged. ‘I've been a rootless nomad all my life, Sir. Now, I finally feel like I belong somewhere. My family is from this village and I have as much right to fight this as anyone.'

‘Fine. It won't do any good anyway. That tree is still coming down.' Mr Ransell flounced off down the street.

‘As you were, kids.' PC Taylor winked before strolling to the back of the crowd as Olly began his rendition of ‘The Tale of the Lightning Struck Oak'.

Just before midday, Irving Batterbee arrived at the town hall.

‘Well, it's the moment of truth, kids. Have you got the petition?' Charlotte handed him forty sheets of paper. ‘Excellent, now we just need a little common sense to prevail and this will all be over.'

*

It seemed like hours before the council meeting was over and the wait was agonising. Unfortunately, the look on Mr Batterbee's face did not offer hope.

‘I'm sorry, Charlotte, I really am, but there was nothing I could do, the board was stitched up like a kipper,' Irving fumed. ‘I wasn't a lone voice, you managed to convince quite a few so you should feel very proud, but that rascal Marcus and his brother, well… it was an inside job! Nothing would trump the health and safety card.' Irving Batterbee looked genuinely disappointed.

‘So that's it?'

‘I'm afraid so. The tree comes down after the weekend.'

*

Charlotte was stroking the branches and leaves of the Nymet when Tar'sel arrived and though she had her back to him, he could tell something was wrong.

‘I take it “media” didn't work then?' he said with a tone of disappointment.

Charlotte smiled weakly at his faith in ‘Albion magic' as he saw it. She turned to face him and shook her head. They sat together under the now full canopy of fresh, though still sickly looking, leaves as Charlotte relayed the events of the past few days, including the Seelie Court proceedings, petitions and speeches.

‘It's just not safe for you to be here; if the courts work out it's you who taught me to weave they will come after you,' she concluded.

‘Languishing in Fey jail might just make me the last surviving Tree Weaver,' Tar'sel laughed bitterly, ‘but it sounds like weaving won't do any good anyway. Now what then?'

Charlotte considered the message Sang had given her. Tar'sel wasn't going to like it but she didn't see what else they could do.

‘We go and see the Manush de Bar.'

Tar'sel paled. ‘Are you mad, they're just… a children's story… they're not real.'

‘Then why are you so scared?' Charlotte challenged him. ‘Look, Sang said my sister told her that's where we need to go and I trust her with my life.' Charlotte didn't mention that saving the Nymet was not her only motivation.

‘It's not just your life though, is it,' Tar'sel replied flatly. ‘I'm sure your sister has the best of intentions but what can she possibly know about the Vorla? They are likely to kill us before we get anywhere near them.'

‘Quite impressive for a make-believe creature.' Charlotte couldn't help the sarcasm, she was as nervous about this plan as Tar'sel was. ‘What choice do we have?' she added more gently.

Tar'sel was still unconvinced, but he couldn't argue. ‘To the Vorla it is then. I'll make the arrangements.'

Charlotte wasn't looking forward to biology class. Since the incident outside the town hall, she suspected Mr Ransell would still be in a foul mood in spite of his win, and she wasn't wrong. The sight of packets of seeds, plant pots and compost on the desks made her even more anxious.

‘In keeping with the theme of the year that seems to have been set by Miss Stone, today's lesson will see us exploring the world of plant growth, starting with the analysis of positive and negative tropisms. In front of you, you have the ingredients to design your first experiment.'

Charlotte could feel cold fear creeping through her torso as she stared at the offending packet of seeds.
This could be over very quickly
, she thought, thinking of the skills Tar'sel had taught her.

‘So who can tell me what a tropism is?' Mr Ransell continued, oblivious to Charlotte's discomfort.

‘Something that stimulates plant growth, Sir.'

‘Very good, Miss Hickling. And can anyone offer some examples?'

Mr Ransell added the answers to the board – light, water, gravity, heat, chemicals.

‘Miss Stone? Do you have an example?'

‘Sound, Sir?'

‘And I half expected you to say lightning.' Mr Ransell nodded with approval. ‘Not a conventional answer, well done, and it will make an interesting experiment. I look forward to seeing your results. Right, class, choose a tropism and begin preparing your samples.'

Charlotte pushed the seed packet around the table with the end of her pencil. Perhaps it was just paranoia but she could swear she saw a shimmering by the window. Was she being watched?

‘Miss Stone, Earth to Miss Stone. Just as you start to show some promise… the point of an experiment is practical application. The seeds aren't going to grow by you simply staring at them, girl.'

That was not exactly true. Charlotte was relieved she managed to bite her tongue on that sentence. There was nothing for it but to lie.

‘I… I have a condition, Sir.'

‘That I don't doubt.' Mr Ransell was clearly beginning to lose patience. ‘However, unless it involves an allergy to compost you will desist in holding up your classmates' education and get to it.'

Charlotte seized on the idea. ‘Actually, Sir, I do. Compost brings me out in hives.'

‘And do you have a sick note to excuse you?' Mr Ransell said in a well-practised tone of sarcasm.

Charlotte couldn't help but retaliate. ‘I have an A.K.O.R.N from the elves!'

Mr Ransell was turning more beetroot by the minute and his glasses quivered precariously on the tip of his thin, aquiline nose.

‘I suppose that is what passes as a joke where you're from, young lady, but here it will earn you detention. Now enough of your so-called wit. Proceed,' he snapped.

Charlotte rearranged the seed trays, slowly filling them with soil and hoping to enlist Sang's help once Mr Ransell turned his back but he was watching her like a hawk.

‘Quickly, Miss Stone. We don't have all day.'

The shimmering was now inside the room as Charlotte ripped open the seed packet. Taking a deep breath, Charlotte sprinkled the seeds, ‘accidentally' letting them spill on the table. Sang, who had cottoned on to her plan, made to pick up the seed but a glare from Mr Ransell stopped her in her tracks.

‘If Miss Stone wishes to pass this class, she must do her own work, Miss Lei.'

Reluctantly, Charlotte scooped up the seed. Light rippled to her left, exploding into a firework display, as Charlotte dropped them into the soil.

‘Drop the seeds and step away from the compost.'

Charlotte found herself looking down the barrel of a NETEL stun gun and into the face of an angry-looking Fey, his uniform catsuit bulging in some very unflattering places.

‘We were lenient with you last time,' Malik roared, ‘but it's instant incarceration for this infraction. Queen Mab to Blue Fairy – Code Sandman, I repeat Code Sandman. Over.'

‘Blue Fairy received.'

The voice on the speaker sounded suspiciously like Luned but Charlotte didn't have time to think about that as she, and the rest of her class, fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

*

As she came to, something about where she was didn't feel right, then Charlotte realised, with her knees pinned under her chin, it wasn't the place; it was her. The court cells were hard, wood-lined boxes, ringed with iron and suspended from the dripping, dank ceiling of a cave. They were designed to be cold, uncomfortable – and for fairies. She had been given no food or blankets and was just wondering how long they were planning to keep her there when the rusty screech of a key in an iron lock broke her thoughts.

‘You will be seen now,' a gloved guard elf barked at her and, with a wave of his hand, the bottom fell out of her cage. She hit the stone floor with a thud, jarring her shoulder in the process.

‘You are to be taken to the chambers,' the guard said with a malicious smile, ‘and you're not going to like it.'

*

Luned took regular deep breaths and tried not to think of the vast amounts of rock and soil just yards above her head. She had to consciously stop herself from running through the corridors, which would have drawn attention to the fact she did not belong here, and focus.

Charlotte was in trouble. Dijin had convinced the Seelie Courts to remove her to the chambers where she would be bound by the roots of the Great Tree till he deemed it acceptable to release her; and he would not calculate for a human lifespan. It was a fate reserved only for the worst criminals and if Luned didn't intervene before Charlotte was moved, no one would be able to get to her again.

Luned told herself that she was acting purely out of duty, this was a definite contradiction of the P.O.D charter. She tried to ignore the disturbing realisation that she actually quite liked this human.

Luned was just assessing which way to the cells at one of the numerous crossroads, when a tremor shook the underground.

‘Why does this always happen when I'm here,' she grumbled to herself.

A second tremor hit, shaking earth and stones from the walls and ceiling and exposing a minor root system of the Great Tree. In spite of her fear, Luned couldn't help being mesmerised by the glowing root.

It didn't look very healthy and she was pretty sure it shouldn't be such a dull red colour. What had Davlin said? Luned couldn't remember but, red had to be danger – it was always danger.

As if to reinforce her convictions, a cold wind blew out the lights in the corridor and a low rumbling blossomed in the darkness. The hairs on her arms began to prick up and panic threatened to overwhelm her. This was more than her phobia; there was something out there.

Was this what the human girl Sang had been talking about? How had the frog-legged lady interpreted it, ‘the Echo'? Luned hadn't fully understood what the girl had meant, but she sensed for herself the peril Charlotte was in. It didn't bear thinking about that the Echo might have been released but if it had, they were in more trouble than they realised.

The rumbling seemed to be getting closer, travelling through the tunnel towards Luned, full of menace. Suddenly, a bolt of red lightning cracked and bounced off the walls before leaping at the Undine. Steam rose from Luned's body as she began to slowly but painfully evaporate. Just as she thought she couldn't stand any more, the lightning grounded and disappeared into the floor. In the dying light, the imprint of a face twisted in rage formed in the dirt before melting away.

Luned's throat was so dry she couldn't have screamed even if she had wanted to. Instead, she desperately searched for water as her body trembled with shock.

‘And breathe,' Luned reminded herself as she tried to clear her light-headedness and nausea, grateful for the nearby fountain.

*

Mercifully, the cells were no more than a couple of twists away. Luned cursed herself for not bringing gloves, she would never be able to touch the toxic iron door handle, but was relieved to see the cell doors wide open. Charlotte was sprawled on the floor; it looked like Luned was just in time.

‘Stand down, Guard Noske, I have this,' Luned croaked.

‘This is against protocol…' The guard glared, annoyed that his fun had been spoiled.

‘This is no ordinary prisoner and I am the expert – appointed by Officer Malik himself to oversee this human. I assure you, everything is above board.'

The elf guard bowed and retreated with a certain reluctance.

Charlotte was rubbing life back into her limbs. She had never been so pleased to see Luned as she was now.

‘Am I glad to be out of there. I was beginning to cramp up.'

‘What are you talking about, they gave you the most spacious cell there is. Be grateful they are into high ceilings here or we'd never get you through the tunnels.'

‘Ah, but then they wouldn't have been able to get me down here in the first place.'

‘Don't be so sure. You think you are the first human the Fey have taken underground?'

Luned wrinkled her nose automatically as she recalled the rumours she had heard the last time that had happened.

‘Hurry up, we don't have all day,' Luned urged Charlotte to her feet. ‘We need to make a move, it won't take them long to realise you've escaped. They'll have all the main entrances covered. The only thing for it is to head to the Tap Room. Davlin will help us, I am sure.'

‘I hope you're a little bit more than “sure”. Isn't this supposed to be a well planned rescue?'

‘When did I say that? It's a spontaneous “I must be out of my mind” rescue, actually,' Luned retorted.

A low rumble filled the room and put a stop to their bickering and the ground shook.

‘What about Boris?' Charlotte suddenly remembered the little Veshengo being dragged off by the elfin guard.

‘Oh he's long gone, a regular escape artist he is.'

The ground shook again and red lightning formed at the other end of the room, crackling menacingly.

‘We have to get out of here.' Luned was now wide-eyed with fear.

‘What's that?'

‘Charlotte, meet the Echo… I think. Now move.'

‘Isn't that what Sang was talking about?' Charlotte asked as she made for the door as quickly as she could.

‘Less questions more crawling.'

The lightning crept across the room, bouncing off the walls and the wooden floors of the hanging cages. It seemed to be playing with them and the faster they moved, the faster it followed. As they threw themselves into the corridor, Charlotte slammed the iron door with her foot.

The lightning hit the metal and the walls trembled with a wicked roar as the metal absorbed the fiery light.

‘That will have slowed it down but it'll be back. We need to keep moving.' Luned winced at the memory of her last encounter with the Echo.

Charlotte tried her best to keep up with Luned but the air in the tunnels was thin and her knees ached from the stones that dug through her light school trousers. She didn't dare stop though, the fairy underground was a maze she would never be able to find her way out of on her own. She was relieved when they came to a large chamber where she could stand up.

‘We go through that door over there.' Luned pointed to a heavy, elaborately decorated wooden door. ‘It leads to the living quarters of the comms room staff. There's another tunnel.' Luned looked at Charlotte apologetically. ‘But from there we're not far from the hanging gardens and a way out. Davlin should be waiting for us.'

‘Hanging gardens?'

‘It's the nick-name for the complex root system of Fargale.'

While they had been talking, they hadn't noticed a ferocious-looking blue dragon staring hungrily at them from the chamber ceiling – not until it growled.

‘So how do we get round that?' Charlotte whispered, frozen to the spot and not daring to take her eyes off the creature.

‘Just give me a minute, let me talk to it.'

‘To a dragon?'

‘It's water like me.'

‘Are water dragons not just as deadly then?' It was a genuine question with not a single hint of sarcasm.

In answer, the dragon snarled so loudly it made the hall shake, before letting out a huge plume of cool, blue flame that spiralled round the hall before setting the door aflame. The remains of the tapestries and wooden benches that had lined their only escape route were evidence that water fire was every bit as effective as the regular kind.

‘It seems to like its food chargrilled. I really don't think talking to it will help.' Fear cracked Charlotte's voice.

‘It should recognise me as one of its own,' Luned insisted. Charlotte was not convinced, but she was pleased to see the Undine had forgotten her phobia of being underground.

Suddenly, Charlotte realised she still had the almond-shaped seed Andarwen had given her. ‘We could try this?'

‘Do you have any idea what that does?' Luned eyed the seed suspiciously.

‘None whatsoever, but Andarwen said I would know when to use it and it's looking like a really good idea right now.'

Luned nodded reluctantly. The dragon seemed to know what they had in mind as well. Dissolving into a bubble of water, it flew across the room like a torrent of rain.

Charlotte took careful aim then threw with all her might; their lives depended on this. The seed arched through the air and Luned watched its trajectory. Just as it passed through the form of the re-materialising creature she shot a growth spell, the green-blue sparks like deadly rain. At the exact moment the spell connected with its target the creature solidified, letting out an ear-splitting roar of confusion. Inside it the seed grew at monumental speed, sending out more and more new shoots that twisted and compacted in the creature's belly.

Charlotte was riveted to the spot with horrified fascination as a tendril of the plant sprouted from the creature's left nostril. Unfurling and thickening in seconds, a blood-red flower sprang into bloom at its tip and several thorns matured from green to brown before plunging themselves deep into the creature's flesh. Another roar filled the cavern, this time the vibrations loosening a number of stalactites which thundered to the floor below, shattering with force in all directions.