The Forest of Adventures (#1 of The Knight Trilogy) (2 page)

Judging from the quiet journey
home, I guessed that Sam had already felt the first shifts begin.
He dropped me off outside home and leant over, placing his finger
under my chin and lifting my lips to his. Usually I loved to fall
into his kiss, opening my eyes afterwards to look deep into his
sea-blue eyes. They were eyes that were soft and full of the
promise of love. Tonight when I looked into them, grey shadows
flicked across the violet blue and I couldn’t shake the horrible
feeling that a great storm of sadness was about to take hold.

2. FIRE & ICE

The morning’s lessons were slow
but not slow enough; Double Art History followed by Biology. I
didn’t even know why I was taking Biology. It had seemed like a
good idea at the time and as it was the one subject that Sam and I
took together, I hadn’t found a good enough reason for chucking it
in. But even though slow, I couldn’t escape the inevitability of
lunchtime coming and after lunch my English lesson.

By the time Sam and I made it
to the canteen, the others had managed to grab a table before the
uniform wearing locusts descended. Daisy and Joe had their heads
together in deep conversation about the upcoming ski-trip and
although not an official pair like Sara and Matt, it was obvious to
all of us, apart from them, that they were made for each other.

Daisy however, was currently
wasting her time on a guy from Falmouth Art College who Sam and I
had met once, and instantly disliked. We recognised a creep when we
saw one. Sadly, Daisy was besotted with him and spent most of her
lessons staring out of the window doodling love hearts with their
initials entwined in them. I’d found it hard to hide my disapproval
and general urge to puke.

Sara and Matt had been together
over a year and because Matt was Sam’s best friend, we at first
tolerated Sara and had since, in a funny and unlikely kind of way,
come to like her. Although completely different in almost everyway
to Daisy and me, who’d been friends since primary school, Sara
added a certain glamour to our otherwise misfit group. Sara was
always perfectly preened as if she’d just stepped off of some
American High School series with her blonde hair, legs that went on
forever and light healthy tan which she had even in the depths of
winter.

We made our way through the
canteen system, grabbing limp sandwiches and machine hot chocolate,
the only thing drinkable from the vending machine, and started to
snake our way through the slightly damp-dog smelling lower school.
Before we quite made it, Joe shouted out across to Sam
urgently,

“Tell her Sam, she won’t have
it. Wasn’t I James Bonding the Blacks last year?”

“Sure Joe. Just like Bond.” Sam
nodded sarcastically and winked at Daisy causing her to collapse
into a fit of giggles.

“You’re so full of it,” she
said elbowing Joe so that his sandwich missed his mouth,
splattering mayonnaise on his cheek and furthering his
humiliation.

Before Sam could take a seat, a
small, still immaculately uniformed Year Seven, which we believed
to be Matt’s brother no matter how often he denied it, swerved in
from the side and plonked his skinny bum down on the chair.

“Oi! Out weasel head!” Sam let
out in full sixth form menace.

“No chance - You snoozed you
loosed moose nose.” Weasle boy issued this insult as he stuffed a
handful of Daisy’s chips into his mouth.

Before Sam could respond in
defence of his nose, Weasel boy dived straight into conversation
with Matt giving the impression of a small and orange talking
cement mixer and leaving Sam nothing to do but stand with his tray
in one hand and quietly feel his nose with the other.

“Matt, we wants to know if you
can help us out on Wednesday after school? Merrik says we can play
a set at the Year Seven disco but we need some help from the Sixth
Formers.”

Sam glowered at Matt and Joe
nodded his head in a dramatic ‘noooo’ action.

“Sure thing, little man.” Matt
said as he extended a clenched fist out to power-pound the ginger
haired rat, “Count us in. My man Joe will come and help out as
well.” Matt thrust two thumbs up in Joe’s face and Joe leant back
in his chair letting out a groan.

The little ginger kid moved off
the seat and as he did he looked at Joe flashing him a large
sarcastic smile of latent child menace before skipping merrily back
to his table where he was greeted with a collection of high fives
from equally rodent-like small boys.

“Matt, why do you do it man?
They drive me potty!” Joe said hitting the palm of his hand to his
head, “And they’re getting cheekier. I’m sure we weren’t that
cheeky when we were in lower school.”

“It’s the decline of man, Joey
boy,” he replied taking a swig of coke from his can as if
dramatically concluding a complex point of philosophy.

Matt and Joe had achieved an
almost unprecedented
cool
status amongst the lower school
boys because of their recent performance at the school charity gig.
Their band,
The Space Cadets,
had finished their set, rather
controversially, by performing the now iconic anthem adopted by
most of the year eight boys which included the inspired lyrics;

‘
School ain’t no place for
learning books,

Maths with Rogers really
sucks,

I like to imagine how
Smithy…cooks.

Needless to say, the young and
very pretty food technology teacher, Ms Smith, had been less than
impressed when the Year Eight boys had taken to singing it at the
top of their voice replacing the carefully crafted last word. I
suspected this had been Matt’s intention along.

Sara and Daisy had moved onto
planning our usual Friday night gathering and were in full animated
flow. I took the last empty seat by the window, which gave me a
clear view out onto the playing fields. At this time of the year,
when the day never really got going and the dawn bled into
twilight, they were eerily grey and empty. A fine layer of frost
still coated the blades of grass from the night-frost and a low
heavy fog had settled so that even the huge, black skeletal oak
trees looked more like shadows than anything of solid substance. I
lost myself in it, mentally armouring myself for my next meeting
with Blake.

I’m not sure where I was in my
thoughts when I heard it, but even though the canteen was bursting
with the noise of over excited kids there was a sound in the
distance, beyond the glass, that grabbed my entire attention and
made every other noise fall quiet.

Impossible as it was, the
unmistakable thunderous sound of a charging horse travelled towards
me on the mist. Its hooves pounded the hard winter earth like the
beating of a war drum and it beat in perfect sync with the rhythm
of my own heart. It was coming directly towards me and directly
towards the plate glass window of the canteen. Panic surged and my
body preparing itself for impact, started to fold in on itself. I
gasped in one last gulp of air and shut my eyes waiting for the
explosion of glass. Nothing happened. The sound abruptly stopped.
Opening one eye, I glanced back to the table expecting to see
everybody in the same shock and panic as me but they were all still
involved in their own conversations, totally oblivious to the
events outside the window.

“Did you hear that?” I asked to
no one in particular.

“Yeh, storm coming.”

“It wasn’t thunder,” I
whispered. “It’s the wrong time of year.” A series of disinterested
shrugs spread through the group.

Outside the window, I expected
to see the animal close up, its warm breath misting the window and
its rider in shock but there was nothing; just a shifting of the
fog through which I was sure I could see the shimmering glint of
metal.

“Mina…Mina...Earth calling
Mina! What do you fancy, blood and gore or something more
romantic?” Daisy pulled me to attention, snapping me out of my
bizarre hallucination.

“What?” I asked having no idea
as to where we were in the conversation.

“Film. Friday. Romance or
gore?”

Without taking my eyes from the
window, I responded robotically, “Gore definitely - no
contest.”

I turned to look at her
briefly.

“Really, do we have to?” Sara
chimed in, “I hate all that stalking killer stuff. It is always
freaks me out so I can’t sleep. What about the new Anniston film,
you know the one about some love triangle?”

Sara, true to form, flicked her
expensively highlighted hair as if this might somehow seal the
deal. Clearly it was a move that got Matt to agree to anything she
wanted. The very thought of seeing a film about love triangles made
me
want to freak!

“Mina?”

“Really, I don’t mind - I’ll go
along with everyone else.”

As I said it, I was already
thinking up the excuse of a coursework deadline.

By the time the lunch bell
went, I’d decided that I was going to bail on the afternoon,
ensuring no more weird aftershocks from the Blakequake. Feeling
slightly pathetic about it, I convinced myself that Blake wasn’t
the only reason I had a headache and it wasn’t entirely untrue, for
I couldn’t get the sound of the horse’s galloping hooves out of my
head. Only now the sound seemed to have altered ever so slightly so
it sounded more like the beating of somebody else’s heart nestling
along side my own.

*

I didn’t tell Sam I was leaving
early because he’d only have worried and fussed. He’d also have
insisted on giving me a ride home and I really wanted to try and
walk off the fever that seemed to be burning.

I wasn’t long into town when I
began to regret the really foolish decision to walk. The dry-ice
day had grown thick and heavy with sleet and having had a lift with
Sam in the morning, I was completely underdressed and now shivering
violently. Weighing up the very real possibility of freezing to
death before I made it home, I took a turn into the bookshop,
tempted by the warm yellow lights and the thought of the thick,
velvety hot chocolate they served whilst you lost yourself in big
saggy sofas.

Within minutes of sitting down,
hot chocolate warming my frozen hands, the bell above the shop door
went. Bent over and fleeing the miserable weather outside, Blake
entered.
Damn!
He too had obviously skipped the afternoon
lesson with Mr Dwell.

He stopped at the door, wiped
his feet and shook out the snow-rain from his dark curls before
pulling himself up to his full six foot height. With one hand he
undid his coat and the other he loosened his scarf which looked
bizarrely more like the remains of an old flag then the more usual
woollen number.

Unlike me, he was dressed for
the cold weather, wearing a simple but obviously expensive pair of
jeans and a thick black jumper beneath his thigh length woollen
coat. His clothes gave the impression of subtle wealth and,
although simple in their design, it was obvious that they were of
serious quality. Sleet hung to the fine, soft wool of his navy coat
almost like someone had threaded small diamonds into the weave.
Even at this time of the year he had a slight tan, the kind of tan
that is burnt in by wind and activity. He flashed a smile in
response to something the pretty sales assistant said and made his
way towards the literature section.

He didn’t spend long looking,
seeming to find whatever it was instinctively. His hands moved
deftly along the spines and I caught myself thinking of how his
hands would feel running themselves over my thighs. The delicious
thought of this made me blush and the sudden rush of blood to my
cold cheeks caused a strange prickling of my skin.

I watched him pull out several
versions of the same text; Tennyson’s collected works, and then
settled upon the one with the image of Waterhouse’s Lady of Shalott
on its cover. His finger traced the outline of her face and he
offered a wry smile, as if smiling at some private joke. He
suddenly went rigid, aware that this private moment was being
watched. I tried to look casual, despite my pounding heart, my
blushing cheeks and quickening breath; as if somehow, I hadn’t
noticed him and his being here and this sudden recognition was as
much of a surprise to me as it was to him.

“Hello, it’s Mina, isn’t it?”
he spoke softly, a slight lilt in his voice.

“Yes, hi!” I cringed inside as
my voice came out in a strange, almost strangulated squeak.

“Are you alright? You’re
shaking.”

I blushed as I imagined the
state I looked, red and blotchy from the cold.

“I forgot my coat,” I said as
my heart hammered in my chest.

Instantly, without a moment’s
hesitation he started to slide out of his coat. “Here. Borrow mine.
I’ve got the car outside.”

I was about to protest but
before I could he’d already deposited the coat on my lap. It
weighed a tonne. The lining was as red as blood.

“I can’t borrow your coat. You
barely know me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can
give it back to me in class tomorrow.”

“Talking of which, why aren’t
you there now?” I asked.

“Well I could ask you the same
question.” He smiled. “I guess we’ve caught each other out.”

“I guess so.” I found myself
blushing like an idiot with a smile that almost hurt.

“Well, I’d better get going,”
he said tapping the book. “I’ve got a lot to catch up on by the
looks of it. Nice to meet you again Mina Singer; I look forward to
seeing my coat in lesson tomorrow.”

With that, he headed towards
the counter to pay. In his place

lingered the smell of
wildflower meadows and the warm smell of sun kissed barley
fields.

“Sorry,” Blake’s voice startled
me, causing me to spill some of my hot chocolate, narrowly missing
the expensive wool of his coat, “- it’s started to really snow.
Would you like me to drive you home?”