The Forest of Adventures (#1 of The Knight Trilogy) (12 page)

I skipped down the stairs,
recovering my scarf and the wellies that Mum constantly complained
were glued to my feet. She couldn’t understand how I felt something
reassuringly substantial and freeing about them; no muddy puddle
was ever going to be off-limits for a secret splash and stinging
nettles could eat my rubber. Perhaps worn with a delicate chiffon
blouse the look was a little eccentric but part of me loved that
idea too.

Thankfully, Mum was in the
studio as I walked through to the back door and it meant that I
escaped her critical stare. A light breeze tickled over my skin
causing goose-bumps to deliciously erupt over my arms and making me
immediately think of Blake in a way I’d been trying not too. I
slipped the scarf from round my neck and down over my back and arms
in an attempt to settle my tingling skin, but it was too late. The
combination of sun and breeze and thoughts of Blake had made me
wired and I felt a small pulse of electricity flow through my
veins.

Remember you’re meant to be
furious with him. You don’t like him. You certainly don’t love him.
He’s dangerous. No good for you. He’s going to break your heart.
Stand firm and fight.

The voice of reason was doing
its best but was losing the battle with my heart because even
though I knew how wrong he was, some unbelievable force was moving
me onwards, towards him and the pleasures I knew he held for me.
For the first time in my life the desire to surrender overwhelmed
me.

Perhaps it was because I was so
lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t see him at first, leaning
against a tree, his dark jeans and black shirt blending him into
the shadows. When I caught sight of him I froze to the spot, as if
I’d suddenly come across a ghost. He’d been waiting for me,
confident that I’d come. His arms, sleeves rolled up, were folded
across his chest and his eyes were closed until he registered my
approach. He swivelled his eyes catlike up from under his dark
eyelashes to fix me with a smouldering stare that reduced me to an
echo.

He didn’t smile but slightly
cocked his head as if trying to read my mood and then dropped his
hands tucking his thumbs into his pockets. I wasn’t sure if it was
arrogance or nerves. He made no move to approach, forcing me to be
the one to come to him. I was intensely aware of where the power
lay. As I walked towards him, I felt foolish as if at any moment I
might forget how to walk and land sprawled at his feet. I stopped
half-way causing us to be caught in some crazy game of chess.
Your move.

He pulled himself up, adjusted
his stance so that his legs stood solidly apart and then re-crossed
his arms never taking his eyes off me.
Check.
The crazy
compulsion to start slowly undoing the buttons of my blouse took a
hold as I imagined the feel of the hard pearls under my fingers and
the slipping of diaphanous fabric to the forest floor. I blushed,
shaking the thought from my head and instead I let out a nervous,
“Hello.”

“Hello Mina.” Blake
replied.

His voice sounded deliberate,
maybe even stubborn as though he were here under protest.

“You wanted to see me?” I said
hoping to balance out the power dynamic.

He shrugged and nodded
dismissively as if it were me who had called him. Humiliation raged
through me which quickly turned to a defensive anger. I felt my
eyes narrowing and my body tensing.

“Screw you Blake!” I spat out
before turning to leave.

Before I could get anywhere his
strong hand grabbed at my arm and pulled me roughly round.
Something flickered in his eyes and I let out a small groan as pain
flared in my arm, “Let go, you’re hurting me!” I shouted through
gritted teeth.

He dropped my arm and turned
his back to me thumping his fist on the tree.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I
forgot my own strength. I’d never
intentionally
hurt you. I
panicked. It’s no excuse.”

“If you ever lay a hand on me
like that again Blake, I swear…” I said rubbing my arm along the
patch of red.

He turned to me, pushing his
hand through his dark locks and letting out a heavy sigh before
reaching out a hand to look at the spot which he had marked.

“I’m sorry.”

“I mark easily. It’s not as bad
as it looks.” I said offering a small conciliatory smile.

He took this as a queue for
forgiveness and pulled me into his arms. I rested my head against
his chest, feeling the weight of his chin on the top of my
head.

“Let’s not fall out again,
Mina.” He sighed.

I let his scent wash over me
and felt calm for the first time since we’d fought.

“About the other day…”

“Forget it for now.” I
said.

We stood like this, listening
to the sounds of the forest, both lost in the closeness of our
bodies as if we were afraid that one of us might evaporate at any
moment. Blake’s arms tensed around me, his body telling mine that
our hug was coming to a finish. A second later Blake sprang
backwards with an almost childlike spontaneous excitement,

“Come to mine. Let me take you
home.”

“Your home?” I asked surprised
by the notion.

He laughed and nodded, “Yes.
Home - you know the place where I live with Vivien.”

His excitement was infectious,
and I found myself giggling as he took me by the hand and pulled me
through to a clearing where Lancelot had been loosely tethered to a
tree.

“We’re going on that?” I said
nervously.

“That – you mean
him
.”

“Yeh, whatever! Him
–Lancelot.”

“Something wrong?”

“It’s just - he’s a horse!”

“Yeees - he’s a horse and…” he
looked at me genuinely puzzled before laughing, “…and you can’t
ride!”

“So? Lots of people don’t ride.
They use cars and buses like
normal
people,” I said
sarcastically.

“It’s easy. All you’ll have to
do is hang on tight and press yourself into me,” he smiled
cheekily. “That is if you think you can bear it?”

I blushed with the thought of
our bodies crushed against each other. Before I had a chance to
think too much about it, he’d swung himself up on to Lancelot, bent
down and grabbed me under the arm and swept me up behind him.

“How did you do that?” I asked
genuinely impressed.

“It’s an important part of
knight training - sweeping maidens of their feet.” I felt the
laughter travel through his ribs as put my arms tightly around his
him.

17. MEADOWLAKE

After what felt like an
eternity of being placed in black box, shaken up and wanting to
vomit, Lancelot’s movements began to slow to a slight trot, and
then thankfully stopped all together. I was extremely grateful that
Blake hadn’t been able to see me, eyes shut in terror looking an
attractive shade of sick-green. It wasn’t quite the romantic
fantasy I’d hoped for.

When at last I opened my eyes,
I had to blink to check that I wasn’t dreaming. Lancelot had come
to a stop on the edge between the forest and a clearing that was so
dazzling beautiful it almost hurt to look on it. In front of us a
large lake glittered silver in the full sun and surrounding it lay
a meadow-carpet of spring flowers; hyacinths, violets, primroses
and field orchids. At the far side of the lake was Blake’s home and
it wasn’t at all what I’d been expecting. I’d known that it would
be impressive as I knew money seemed to be of no consequence, but
even in my wildest imaginings I couldn’t have conjured such an
extraordinary or awesome building.

The whole house was like
something out of a modern design magazine and it was attached to a
huge medieval tower that looked as if it had once belonged to the
corner of a great castle. It was so solid that it seemed almost as
if it had thrust itself out of the granite bedrock. The
juxtaposition of the old and the new seemed as natural as new
growth on an ancient vine.

The modern part of the house
was made from oak and the front of the house that overlooked the
lake was mainly a wall of glass that reflected the trees and the
water causing the unnerving effect of invisibility; as if the whole
house were a mirage that was about to disappear at any minute. The
house of two ages seemed to perfectly symbolise Blake’s existence
between two worlds and I realised now that the design was
perfect.

“Here we are – home,” he said
over his shoulder.

“It’s … magical.”

Blake swung himself down from
Lancelot and offered me his hand. The thought of jumping filled me
with sudden images of broken limbs and emergency rooms and I looked
down nervously at Blake who was holding up a pair of inviting arms.
All you have to do is jump.
The thought all at once sent a
shock of excitement through me.

Lancelot, glad to be home and
free from the weight of humans, playfully took himself off to the
edge of the lake for a drink. Blake flopped himself on the ground
and I sat down beside him. Although still only March, the afternoon
air was warm and it felt nice to feel sunlight on my face. I
watched as Blake pulled a long blade of grass from the earth and
pulled it between his fingers rhythmically. It seemed right for us
to talk.

“The other day, the sword you
reclaimed, why is it so important to Morgan?” The question came out
of nowhere and took me almost as much by surprise as Blake.

“What do you mean
Why is it
so important to Morgan
?”

“Well she obviously wants if
for something.”

He shrugged as if he hadn’t
really thought about there being a specific motive.

“It’s what We do, reclaim lost
relics and objects, bringing them here so they can be safe.”

I noted the capitalised
We
again and thought how naturally Blake belonged to
something bigger than himself.

“So are you saying that there
are these sorts of magical objects all over the place?” I asked
excited by the possibility.

“Yep. Real Worlders don’t often
know what they’ve actually got. They buy stuff from car boot sales
or have things passed down from random distant aunts never
realising that what they think is a pretty ornament is actually a
sacred and very powerful object.”

“Isn’t that really dangerous –
I mean having all that magic out there in the hands of people who
don’t know what they’re doing?”

“Ignorance is bliss. They don’t
know to do anything harmful with them.” He turned and smiled that
crooked smile that had its own magical powers over me. “When we
return objects, Morgan binds them with a spell so that they become
inert and then they’re placed in the reliquary, alongside all of
the other relics we’ve recovered.”

“So the sword, it’s there
now?”

His forehead suddenly crumpled
and he chewed his bottom lip, a habit I’d noticed he did when he
was thinking deeply.

“No - its not. Morgan said she
needed to keep it for a while. I didn’t think anything of it at the
time I was just so happy that she…” He caught himself mid-flow but
it was too late to take it back.

“You were happy that she
what
?”

“Oh, I’ve been so stupid that
was all a distraction,” he said whacking his palm into his
forehead.

What was?” I said with
increasing impatience.

“She told me a way to recover
Sam from the Wasteland.” He spoke almost as if this were now
inconsequential. My heart skipped in my chest at the mention of Sam
but any joy I might have felt was tinged with a horrible sense of
doom.

“So what does she want with the
sword, Blake?”

“I’ve no idea – but I have a
terrible feeling it isn’t for anything good.”

“And Sam?”

The question went unanswered as
Blake stood up and waved back at a figure standing on the deck at
the front of the house. It was Vivien and even from this distance
her beauty was radiant. The discussion was over - for the time
being. Blake offered me a hand up and as we made our way over to
the house, I was pleased that once again our hands seemed to have
naturally found a will of their own, refusing to part.

Vivien greeted us on the
decking area, and noting our hands let a broad smile spread across
her face whilst she poured out three tall glasses of homemade
lemonade, “Mina, how nice to see you again.”

“And you. I hope you don’t mind
me visiting, it’s just that Blake...”

She cut me off waving her hand,
“Of course not. It’s long overdue.”

I stared into my lemonade which
Vivien had decorated with flower petals making it look like a fairy
potion. She was even more stunning than I’d remembered from our
meetings and now in her home, wearing a maxi sundress of a deep
lazuli blue which exaggerated the paleness of her skin into
something almost luminescent, she looked like a living
Pre-Raphaelite painting.

“Would you mind if I take Mina
round and give her a tour?” Blake spoke to Vivien with a tone of
respect that I’d not heard any of my other friends use with their
parents and it made me curious about their relationship.

“Of course not Blake, make her
feel at her home.” Vivien smiled at Blake and I guessed that there
was some personal sub text going on.

It struck me as a strange
deviation from the standard response and I was reminded once again
of Vivien’s prophecy.

Blake reclaimed my hand and
there having been no excuse for us to be touching naturally, his
decision seemed a surprisingly intimate gesture. As we made our way
up to the doors, I took one last look behind me and saw that Vivien
was standing at the edge of the lake, her dress slipping to the
ground under which she was completely and stunningly naked. I
turned back, embarrassed to have caught her without her knowing and
heard the gentle splash of water as she dived into the spring-cool
waters of the lake.

At first, the inside of Blake’s
home didn’t reveal a single obvious clue about their links with The
Realm. Painted white with splashes of colour created by abstract
paintings in the blues and greens of the lake, the whole place gave
the impression of being like an expensive art gallery. Great big,
cream corner sofas, enough to seat about twenty people and a huge
wall mounted plasma screen T.V suggested that this was a luxurious
hangout for more than just Vivien and Blake. Surprise must have
shown on my face and Blake looked sideways at me smiling,