Charlotte Stone and the Children of the Nymet (22 page)

‘It's true that an Echo can only be created from twins,' Clarissa replied. ‘But they must also be full of darkness. Peter was full of fear… I hardly think that applies to you, my dear.'

‘What about guilt?' Charlotte murmured as her heavy eyes closed and she fell into an unusually dreamless sleep.

Clarissa smiled a melancholy smile. Try as she had to shield Charlotte it seemed all her potions and silence had been to no avail. The Nymet had ensnared her anyway. It was just as well Charlotte enjoyed adventure; she would be seeing much more of it.

As Clarissa softly stroked Charlotte's hair she sensed her lack of dreams.

‘Probably just as well, my dear. Luned will be very busy indeed this night,' she said as she closed the bedroom door.

*

All too soon the alarm clock by her bed was screeching its customary wake-up call and Charlotte groggily stirred from the covers before stumbling down the stairs to the kitchen. Her head was still spinning from the revelations of the previous night but she had to witness the execution of the Nymet tree. Clarissa, as always, was up and about, the table laden with bowls of porridge and honey, water whistling in the kettle for tea.

‘Feeling better?' she asked as she made the tea.

‘I think so,' Charlotte said, tucking into her porridge. The warmth of it made her feel more human and eased the cold from her bones.

‘Body swapping will do that to you. I wouldn't recommend it too often if I were you.'

‘We are going to have to compare notes,' Charlotte said through mouthfuls of porridge.

‘There's no time for that now.' Clarissa jumped off her chair and marched purposefully to the back door. ‘You need to eat, wash and dress then get yourself down to that tree. I suspect the Fey are going to be very nervous and will need a little moral support.'

‘You mean they want to pinch and punch me and moan about how this is all my fault again,' Charlotte grumbled. ‘Why can't The Morrigan just tell them the truth?'

The smile disappeared from Clarissa's face. ‘The Morrigan doesn't help anyone unless it suits her,' she said. ‘Now go.' She waved Charlotte back up the stairs.

‘The Rani… she said… I would die too if the tree fell.' Charlotte's voice wavered.

‘Stuff and nonsense,' Clarissa scoffed. ‘I won't allow it; you still belong to this world whatever they think. Now, up those stairs.'

‘And Tar'sel?'

Clarissa pretended not to hear her.

‘I can't do it,' Charlotte said flatly, her feet like lead. She wouldn't have blamed Clarissa and Jude for thinking her heartless but the truth was, she was heartbroken. She couldn't bear the thought of having to watch the Nymet fall because of her failure – Luned had made it clear it was touch and go.

It's only a blooming tree,
she told herself but she knew that wasn't true. Even aside from the fact that her new friend and all of his kin were doomed, the tree had become important in her own world. Charlotte had never imagined when she had started all this, just how her own family history was entwined with the oak or that the cause would have brought so many people together.

Clarissa, as always, seemed to know just what she was thinking and gave her a tight bear hug.

‘What ever happens today, you can be proud of yourself. You tried to make a difference and that's all anyone can ask. Now go.'

There was already quite a crowd at the park, some chanting, others holding placards, but the council and their workmen were also there and had the tree cordoned off already. Sissy was handing out leaflets but ran over as soon as she saw Charlotte arriving.

‘Can you believe how many people are here?' She was both excited and angry. ‘How on earth can they ignore us when there is this much support?'

‘Elfin Safety!' chorused Govinder and Olly behind her. Charlotte smiled in spite of herself.

‘I guess when they get something in their head, there's really no changing their minds,' Charlotte replied.

Something felt wrong. There was no sign of the Fey or The Morrigan and there was an eerie silence underneath the noise of the crowd. She had to get closer to the tree.

‘You can't come any closer, love,' the workman pointed to the yellow tape surrounding the tree, ‘we are going to be starting soon.'

‘Please, I just need a minute, to say goodbye.'

‘Absolutely out of the question, Miss Stone.' The clipped tones of Marcus Ransell came from behind her. ‘Can you imagine the headlines in the local rag if a branch fell on you?' A slimy smile perched on his lips. ‘Your health and welfare are my number one priority.'

‘It'll be good to see it go, it's a real eyesore,' said a voice behind her and Julian greeted his brother.

‘It's nice to see reason and logic prevail,' he went on and Charlotte's presence was forgotten.

She thought about sneaking past but a burly tree surgeon gave her a warning stare and shook his head. Charlotte had no choice but to move back to the rest of the crowd.

‘Do you have any idea what you had there?' Luned hopped onto Charlotte's shoulder, watching the proceedings intently and nervously rubbing her hands over and over.

Charlotte noticed her eyes were puffy from crying and the tone in her voice was still accusatory, but Charlotte had never been so pleased to see her. At least not everyone had abandoned the Nymet tree to its fate.

‘No idea,' Charlotte whispered, hoping no one was watching. ‘More to the point, did it work?'

‘We'll see soon enough, human.' Luned pointed to the workman who was now pulling something out of the council truck. ‘We've evacuated just in case.'

The chainsaw fired up with a metallic, hacking cough and the workman lifted it out in front of him. It slid through the large side branch like a knife through butter and the branch fell to the ground – the doorway to Syluria destroyed in seconds.

‘I… I don't… understand?' the Undine cried. ‘By my calculations it should have had time to take effect.'

Someone in the crowd shouted angrily as the chainsaw fired up again and bit through a second branch.

‘Where is The Morrigan?' Charlotte murmured. ‘Surely she can do something?'

‘You don't expect me to answer that do you?'

‘She has done as much as she can.' Malik's nasal tones sounded in Charlotte's other ear. ‘You do expect a lot from the Shriven, young human, remember they have much more than one little tree to look after.'

‘I can't watch,' Luned sobbed.

The second branch lay on the ground as the tree surgeon decided on his next move, making for the main trunk.

‘Well, that's the Lower Branch District gone so it's not all bad,' Malik tried to cheer them up. ‘I guess we can live without Pookas and Drakes.' Malik held Luned as the Undine's shoulders shook. ‘Think of the reduction in paperwork.'

‘This is it then, I failed,' Charlotte whispered to herself, wiping away her own tears. ‘Goodbye, Tar'sel. I am so, so sorry.'

Suddenly, a strange grating noise came from the chainsaw and bright orange sparks began to fly before smoke and… silence. The workmen looked at each other with puzzled expressions. After exchanging a few muffled words, they pulled another chainsaw from the truck. Charlotte's heart was in her mouth as the two Fey exchanged meaningful looks.

‘Would either of you two like to tell me what is going on? I mean, it's only like I trekked halfway across Syluria to help you out.'

The Fey looked at each other again before Malik finally spoke.

‘The Vorla are an ancient race that are not born and do not die, they are not made the same way as creatures of flesh,' he sighed. ‘They have the capacity for immortality if they so wish.' He paused to make sure Charlotte fully understood.

‘The Rani Johari is their mother and leader – their life and death. All Vorla business must go through her, and only with her permission can a Vorla cease to be.'

‘You mean… die? Why would anyone choose that if they can live forever?'

‘Only a human could say such a thing,' Malik replied without humour. ‘You are such fleeting creatures but eternity is a long time and can drive one mad… even those that are built for it.'

‘OK, but enough of the Sylurian history lesson, what does the death of a Vorla have to do with the Nymet tree?'

Charlotte was vaguely aware that the chainsaws had stopped again and there were murmurs sweeping through the crowd, which had grown to quite a size now. She could see Aunt Clarissa and Jude had joined the throng and even Lloyd had put in an appearance. Charlotte hadn't realised that so many people would care about the cause. Was it down to Olly and Govinder's entertaining town centre storytelling sessions?

‘The Rani doesn't just control death. More importantly, for creatures of immortality, she controls life,' Malik continued. ‘She holds in her veil all the life of the Vorla, a finite number of jewels, one for each and all Vorla souls that can ever be.'

Charlotte recalled the many strings of sparkling gems that hung from the Rani's diadem, falling over her chest and almost into her lap. She tried to work out how many there where and wondered what would happen when they ran out.

‘Have you worked out what they are yet?' Malik roused her from her thoughts.

‘The hearts of the Vorla!' Charlotte gasped as the realisation started to form in her mind, and she recoiled at the revelation, not yet able to put into thoughts why it repelled her so much.

‘Clever girl,' Malik nodded. ‘Each one a diamond; each one the seed for a timeless life.'

Charlotte felt physically sick; no wonder Durga had been so angry over her comments at the banquet table. ‘But the Rani gave me a vial of liquid.'

Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte could see her classmates heading in her direction, chattering excitedly. A cheer rose from the crowd as the workmen downed tools in defeat.

‘Seems it's not as much of a danger as thought, Guv,' one of them said to the confused health and safety officer as they packed the chainsaws into the truck.

‘Have you any idea what is going on?' Govinder asked Charlotte.

‘I've never seen anything like it,' Olly exclaimed. ‘The bark is as hard as a diamond!'

‘What was in that vial, Luned?' Charlotte stammered, half knowing the answer.

‘The blood of a diamond,' Luned sobbed.

*

The TV and radio reporters present were all talking excitedly about this latest development. They wanted to interview Charlotte but she declined. They would never believe the truth anyway. Mr Ransell was, of course, enthusiastically having his say, reporting to be very disappointed with the situation but that it didn't change anything, the tree would still come down and the new build would go ahead.

‘When is he going to realise no one wants his stupid bowling alley,' Olly said bitterly. ‘Seems we've a lot more work to do, Charlotte.'

As Charlotte was about to reply, she caught the soft notes of a melody she had first heard in her history lesson, the melody she now knew to be the song of the Nymet. At first it was so faint that she thought it was just her imagination but as the volume built, others started noticing it too.

‘What is that?' Sissy asked.

‘The song of the Nymet,'
Sang signed before anyone else could reply. She seemed just as surprised as the others were that she knew this.

‘Do you know what this means?' Olly was like a kid in a sweet shop. ‘This proves the truth in all the legends. We are first-hand witnesses to history. People will write stories and sing songs about this day, and we were here.'

Charlotte left him to it. Contagious though his excitement was, she needed to just listen. The main melody was more vibrant than before but there was a second underlying tune, something totally separate, a tune of deep sadness that she had to close her eyes in order to concentrate on.

‘What is that?' she whispered as she felt Luned landing lightly on her shoulder again.

‘A dirge,' the Undine replied simply.

A gasp from the crowd and the buzz of chatter made her open her eyes. On the branches of the Nymet, roses had begun to bloom – shining white crystal roses that gleamed in the sunlight.

The reporters were the first to recover, filming the phenomenon and recording as many reactions from the locals as possible.

‘Impossible.'

‘Stunning.'

‘I've never known anything like it.'

‘Nothing short of a miracle.'

‘Try cutting it down now,' laughed Irving Batterbee to the camera.

It was Mr Ransell's turn to refuse to comment.

Only Charlotte seemed to understand the roses' significance and tears rolled down her face. If the song was a dirge, this was the wreath; all in honour of the lives that would never be.

‘Mortal creatures mourn those who die. Immortal creatures, like the Vorla, mourn those who are never born.' Clarissa appeared at her shoulder. ‘It's quite a sacrifice, let's hope it was worth it.'

It had been weeks since the tree surgeons had come to Brackenheath Park and life was beginning to get a little more normal. Boris had escaped and was on the loose and Belleswater Hospital had called the day after Charlotte's return from Syluria to inform her of her sister's improvement. The nurse on the end of the phone sounded so excited and, while Charlotte already knew what she was going to tell her, it was nice to have it confirmed as more than just a Sylurian dream.

The newspapers had been full of their victory for a few days now – then the strange smog came. The smog that swept across England was especially bad in East Anglia according to the news and Charlotte could well believe it. The treetops were hazy and you could taste the dust in the air. Then the reporter said something that made Charlotte's ears prick up. The smog was made of Saharan sand.

Charlotte sneaked out the kitchen door into the garden. Aunt Clarissa's VW Beetle was parked by the spring at the side of the house and… covered with yellow sand. She scooped up a handful, willing this to work. Charlotte was beginning to cough already as the smog irritated her throat and she would have to go back inside soon but she was determined to get something.

The heat of the sun and a passing camel were all it revealed at first, but then another memory bubbled through. Shifting sands – her parents… somewhere in the Sahara… alive.

*

The smog had cleared in time for the new Brackenheath Summer Festival, which fell on Charlotte's birthday. Sitting in the glorious sunshine, amongst a crowd of picnic blankets, Charlotte still couldn't quite believe that the Nymet tree had survived.

‘It's not for long,' Luned warned her and Charlotte was surprised to find her guts felt like squirming ice cubes.

‘Surely they are not going to remove it now? It's never been so popular, the parish council arranged this fayre in its honour. No one is going to talk about cutting it down now.'

‘Charlotte dear, a fairy's idea of “not long” is different to a human's,' Clarissa chuckled. ‘We will get to enjoy this beautiful oak for many years yet.'

‘Ha! They'd have to dig it out by the root to get rid of it now.' Jude was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Charlotte hadn't missed Clarissa's deliberate choice of words. ‘But it won't be the Nymet, will it?'

Clarissa couldn't quite hide her look of disappointment. ‘Not as we know it, probably not.'

‘You've bought it time but it's still sick and the withering hasn't stopped,' Luned mumbled through one of Clarissa's rosepetal sandwiches before going on to explain the complex process and countless forms involved in the decommissioning of an interworld gateway.

Charlotte stopped listening at this point. Fey politics was a dry old subject and besides, she couldn't stop staring at the Nymet. Was it her imagination, or was it surrounded by the same soft, golden glow as when she had first seen it? Without it she would never be able to enter Syluria again, never see Tar'sel again. It seemed this was a year for losing so many special people in her life and she would be happy when it was over.

‘I'm going over to say goodbye,' she mumbled, more for her own benefit, not expecting or waiting for an answer.

A sea breeze meandered over the park cooling the heat of the sun; it was the perfect day to be outside.

The boating lake had been cleaned and new plants added which had attracted a family of swans, while the bandstand had been transformed with bright paints, the inside decorated with a mural by the local primary school.

In the bandstand a local band played while people with picnics were dotted across the now lush green lawns and the Nymet tree still stood proudly, on its little hill above the scattering of birches, presiding over it all.

The sounds of the crowd were instantly dulled as she entered the tree line and made her way up the small hill. For a moment it felt like hers again but a group coming down the path ahead of her shattered that illusion and she realised the place would never be quite the same again. She smiled politely and was grateful they didn't want to talk.

The Nymet looked different these days. Olly's songs of the wishing trees seemed to have captured the imagination because the tree was festooned with colourful ribbons, hanging crystals and corn dolls. This was the first time she had been alone with the Nymet for weeks so she hadn't noticed it before but, despite the positive buzz in the air, Charlotte could sense a tinge of sadness underneath; and it wasn't hers.

‘I oooowe you a debt of thaanks, Chaaarlottte.' The wind sylphs danced through the branches, lending a voice to the Nymet. ‘Yoou haaaave done sooo much moooore than you reealise.'

Charlotte gently stroked the rough bark of the oak. Since Tar'sel had shown her how to weave plants, she could feel the subtle flow of their sap and even hear their song if she was still enough. She had learned patience too living in Brackenheath; and trees always spoke slowly.

‘I have ssomething for yoooou, little one.' The voice was so low the sudden rustling of leaves made Charlotte start. A catkin unfurled from a branch in front of her and a small flower behind it matured into an acorn before her eyes, before developing a golden sheen.

Charlotte gasped.

‘A gooolden aaaacorn. For you, and you alone, consider it a thank you and a birthday gift. Plant it soooomewhere discrete aaaand prooootect it; thaaaat is important. This gift haaaas the condition thaaaaat you tell no one.'

‘But Tar'sel, Aunt Clar…'

‘Noooooo one.'

‘And Syluria? Will I be able to return?'

‘Thaaat is down to yooooou, little one. Yoooouu haaaave always beeeen the link, I am sssssure you caaan find a waaaaay.'

Charlotte pocketed the acorn. She wanted to stay and speak with the Nymet some more but she could tell it had already retreated. She was about to return to the park when the sound of drums stopped her in her tracks. It seemed to be coming from the other side of the hill, getting louder the closer she got to the wilds of the heathland.

‘There you are, we were wondering when you were going to show your face.'

Tar'sel gave her a reassuring smile as she emerged from the woodland on the opposite side of the hill. His ethereal body shimmered in the midsummer sunshine and he was dressed in his usual simple woven tunic and trousers except they were now coloured gold and his green skin was covered in gold paint.

‘I could say the same about you,' Charlotte smiled. ‘I've been worried sick.'

‘It took Anya and me a week to walk back to the Nellpa Barra.' Tar'sel pulled a face at the memory. ‘She was interrogating me the whole way.'

‘Sounds like I might have had it easier for a change,' Charlotte laughed.

Though she hadn't known Anya very long, she already knew she was a force to be reckoned with.

‘I didn't think I'd be able to get back,' she added, her mouth dry and her heart racing at the idea.

‘You're not back yet,' Tar'sel said, ‘but this is midsummer, the solstice day. Even the most
dilino
human could stumble through the veil at this time of year.'

‘Even Giles or Mr Ransell?' Charlotte shivered at the thought.

‘Afraid so, but they would have to know what they were looking for, so I think we're safe… besides, things have changed since the withering. The Morrigan herself is performing the incantations to keep the worlds joined for now… not for our benefit of course. Once the Fey have done their thing, the pathway will fade forever.'

Charlotte hung her head; this might be her last chance to speak to him but she didn't want to be saying goodbye just yet.

‘The Nymet is fading in my world, Tar'sel.'

He seemed to realise what she was telling him and they walked in silence for sometime. Only the sound of the drums kept them moving. They were well and truly in Syluria before they spoke again.

‘It's the festival of Son'kai, our festival of thanksgiving and we have a lot to be grateful for right now.' Tar'sel beamed at her and Charlotte could feel herself flush.

‘Look there goes the Procession of Gold.' Tar'sel gestured towards the train of people making their way across the valley towards the river delta.

Each one of them was covered head to foot in gold just like Tar'sel – gold jewellery, gold clothing, gold skin and hair. Even the drums were painted gold. In fact, the only thing that wasn't, was a statue of a beautiful woman with pale skin and long verdigris hair that was wrapped around her body.

‘It's Mother River, we are taking her to bathe in the Nellpa to let her know we remember her and are grateful for her gift of life.'

‘Don't you think she looks familiar?' Charlotte smiled.

‘Mother River has many sisters,' Tar'sel replied cryptically. ‘Come and join us, I know the elders would love to meet you, you are the guest of honour after all and the feast is to…' Tar'sel paused as Charlotte waved at her opaque body. ‘Oh; well, just come for the dancing.' He smiled, charging down the bank as Charlotte floated after him.

Unnoticed, in a small field of lotus grain, a grey vortex opened up and red lightning flickered through its centre. At the edge of the field a hedgerow filled with wild roses withered and died.

*

Charlotte was famished on returning to Brackenheath Park. Tar'sel had made sure she hadn't missed too much of the fayre, in fact she was just in time for the show.

Govinder's family were already on the bandstand dancing a traditional Indian stick dance as Charlotte made her way back to the picnic. Edessa would have been in heaven right now, trying to find a way to join in. Charlotte giggled to herself at the thought. The sting of remembering her sister was less painful these days and she felt closer somehow since their adventures in Syluria.

Aunt Clarissa had prepared a delicious spread for them all from her garden and Charlotte and Luned had helped her. There was a salad of lettuce, tiny tomatoes and cucumber cubes with a creamy cheese made from Obadiah's milk, all topped with summer flowers.

Charlotte remembered with a smile her indignation the first time Clarissa had fed her flowers; how much she had changed since then. She was particularly impressed by the homemade potato and rosemary rolls she'd helped Aunt Clarissa to make, with their basil-flavoured olive oil oozing out of the centres.

No one seemed to register the extra, empty place Aunt Clarissa had laid out, and certainly didn't see the cheerful little Undine, happily munching away and enjoying the strange human spectacle. Sang and her father had now taken to the stage to perform a fan dance, while Olly, who was on next, practised his latest song at the side of the stage. Isla and her family were there too of course, simply relaxing and watching the show complete with camping table and a wicker basket of goodies. They were not ones for roughing it.

‘You're back then?' Clarissa quizzed her. ‘They will be celebrating Son'kai I suppose; it will be a particularly special one this year with the excitement of recent months.'

‘Do you think I'll ever be able to go back?'

‘Already planning your next adventure, eh?' Clarissa fixed her with an intense stare, much like the one at the train station when they first met. ‘Why don't you enjoy the moment, Charlotte, and let the future take care of itself for a while.'

Charlotte knew there was no point asking any more questions; Clarissa had said all she was going to say on the matter. For now, Charlotte poured herself a glass of elderflower cordial, which was fast becoming her favourite drink. It reminded her of the first day she'd arrived at Brackenheath.

Sang, Olly and Govinder joined Charlotte's birthday feast as their head teacher made his way onto the stage flanked by a girl Charlotte hadn't seen before.

‘And now ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat,' Mr Thomlinson announced. ‘This is a last minute addition to the programme from a very talented young lady who will be joining Wykenhall High in the autumn. Please put your hands together and give a warm welcome to Bonnie Fonteyn performing a sequence from the Russian ballet, “The Firebird”.'

Charlotte's skin prickled with goosebumps. She had forgotten all about the Benu egg in the race to save the Nymet but now she recalled the Rani's interest. She wondered how the egg of a firebird was linked to Syluria and the Vorla.

Even Charlotte was mesmerised as Bonnie pirouetted across the stage at lightning speed in her sparkling red tutu, her curly blonde hair trailing behind her like a comet's tail. Her performance gained a standing ovation. She bounded across the grass, beaming and chatting to her new fans before heading towards a blanket next to Charlotte.

‘That was awesome, I reckon you could give my sister a run for her money; she loves ballet too,' Charlotte said, introducing herself.

‘Bonnie Fonteyn.' Bonnie shook Charlotte's hand enthusiastically.

‘Why don't you join us for dessert?' Clarissa offered, throwing Charlotte a knowing smile. ‘We've got strawberries with vanilla cream and a Victoria sponge birthday cake!'

Charlotte finally followed her aunt's advice, enjoying the moment as she chatted and laughed with her new friends while the sun went down over Brackenheath-on-Sea.