The World Below, page 35
There is nothing else to say that has not already been said. What Nisha left of my heart when she departed breaks as my uncle Nathanial and my mother disappear.
I take a moment to compose myself before returning to the fire and facing the gnome and elf I must accompany to the centre of the maze. Their eyes question me, but the night’s events are still too raw to be discussed with strangers.
‘Why don’t the two of you get some sleep? I will stand guard to make sure we are not disturbed by any other woodland creatures,’ I tell them as I sit on a stone across the firepit.
The princess starts to say something, but Snake touches her arm and, when he has her attention, shakes his head. She glances back at me. I let out a breath of relief when she curbs her natural instincts and nods before following Snake back to where their sleeping bags are in disarray.
‘Goodnight, Percival,’ she says as she wriggles into her bed.
‘Wake us if you need anything,’ Snake adds.
‘Of course.’ It is difficult to even force those two words from my lips as I struggle with the whirl of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
I place a couple of logs on the fire, barely holding myself together as I watch and wait for my two charges to fall sleep.
My hands clasp and unclasp as I try to manage my anger towards them. They are not my family, yet it is not their fault that I am with them and not the creatures I love. Yet to be with my family and my heart mate is always a painful reminder of all I lost through my own arrogance all those years ago. If it is anyone’s fault, it is my own. It will do no one any good to dwell on the past though. What I must focus on is what I am going to do now.
Being so close to the forest, my forest, these last few days has been difficult—more than difficult. Today, watching the gnome and his elf reunite brought on a longing so strong, I could not bear it. I miss my bond mate. Although I told myself I was going to the glade to ask my mother for help, in reality I could no longer resist the urge to be with Nisha.
I have lost count of the times I asked Nisha if she had changed her mind about breaking our bond after that first night. When Eleanora took up the post of the Witch of Wimbledon in the World Above and asked me to go with her, I really thought she would accept. Nisha is always unshakable. Tonight was the first time my visit had not ended with the question, and if I am honest, that was not totally because our visit was cut short.
I had not returned to the Wyld Woods for some one hundred years when I went home tonight. As a cat in the World Above, my tortured soul was laid to rest, replaced with the constant focus on food, warmth, and hygiene. I was content for the first time in years. That contentment led me to ensure my visits to the World Below were not long enough to visit my family, and I fell into apathy.
Being in the woods these last few days, having the trees call me, but knowing I could no longer enter their embrace, has woken my soul. For the first time in years, I want to be who I was meant to be before I was cursed, ironically, by the father of the very man who sent us on this journey.
The only way left for me to reverse the curse is if the Queen agrees I have been punished enough and asks the magical flow to release me. If I join the quest, I could petition her to show leniency and free me. Nisha and I had been discussing the possibility when Emrys returned, and we never finished the conversation.
I am wracked with indecision. The longing to be whole again has returned. This half-life is no longer enough for me. But what if it doesn’t work? To hope and then to have my hopes dashed a second time—will I survive that? Perhaps it would be better to remain a cat in the World Above than take the risk.
I jostle the embers in the fire with a stick in an attempt to raise a little heat to combat the predawn drop in temperature. As the sky begins to lighten, I am still no closer to an answer. All I know is, I must decide who I want to be soon, the cat familiar or the sprite I was born as, before there is no longer time to choose.
CHAPTER 9
Who’s That Walking on My Bridge?
As we pack up camp, taking special care to bury the fire so it can’t spark a blaze, I worry about Percival. Surreptitiously observing him, it’s obvious he didn’t sleep last night. His pale complexion is grey, but more shockingly, his hair is ruffled. I’m sure he has been running his hands through it, and, worryingly, he’s made no attempt to comb it.
Pris is chatting away, telling the sprite how we decided we will work together from now on. She leaves a gap for one of his acerbic remarks, but he doesn’t stir. I doubt he even heard a word she said.
‘We’re ready,’ Pris announces, and this brings Percival out of his daze.
The sprite reaches into his pocket to retrieve his comb and absent-mindedly neatens his hair. He then runs a hand down his clothes, using a spell to tidy himself up.
‘All right, let us go.’ He heads off down the path, not even checking to see if we’re following.
Pris raises an eyebrow as she pulls on her pack. I shrug, as I’ve no idea what’s up with Percival. Maybe it is something to do with the sprites he arrived with last night. By the time we catch Percival up, he is humming under his breath. He obviously does not want to talk.
Percival is completely off his game today as he deals with whatever is going on with him. I, on the other hand, have a spring in my step. After singing my heart out to Pris last night, albeit in front of hundreds of sprites, something has settled inside me. There is a promise of a future together, and I will not let anything get between us and that opportunity.
Pris slips past Percival and takes the lead. ‘If anything attacks us, I think I’m better equipped to handle it,’ she tells him, and Percival obligingly drops behind her, then allows me to pass him.
I wait for him to object, to say something along the lines of how he has forgotten more about these woods than she will ever learn, but he simply carries on humming. I hope he is at least aware enough to deal with anything that might sneak up on us from behind.
Fortunately, we travel most of the morning without encountering anything more dangerous than a hedgehog. I start to relax a little, but it would not pay to forget we are still in the maze and that the minotaur is still testing us.
My stomach begins to gurgle as the forest starts to thin out. Moments later we arrive in a clearing, and I am about to suggest we stop for lunch when Pris grabs my arm and points to the left. ‘Snake, look.’
Raising my head, I find the path meanders through the open space for about another fifteen metres or so before turning into a rocky edge, then drops off completely. The other side of the gorge is far enough away for me to see it is deep—very deep—with the hint of a blue ribbon of a river running through it. We have somehow ended up in a mountain range.
To my left the cavernous mouth of a cave stands near a wooden swing bridge spanning the gorge. Surely that can’t be the only way across? I peer more closely. There are slats missing, and those ropes holding it together look old and worn. I’m not usually bothered by heights, but the thought of crossing over on that bridge has me sweating as my anxiety level rises.
Something hits my pack from behind, causing me to stumble forward a step. I tense and swivel round, ready to take on whatever attacked me. Percival regains his feet and frowns at me, like the collision is my fault. At least walking in to my back has jolted him out of his daze. He rushes past me and looks around, distress written across his face.
‘Why this?’ I am pretty sure Percival isn’t talking to us as he carries on asking what he did to deserve the bridge crossing. ‘Why not the caves? Or the river?’ He grabs at his hair again, as he tends to do when he’s frustrated or stressed out. This time I’m pretty sure he’s stressed. I know I am.
Pris glances questioningly at me.
‘I’ve no idea what he’s talking about,’ I tell her.
Pris reaches out to the sprite, ‘Percival—’
She stops as a huge, shambling creature covered in matted hair emerges from the cave by the bridge. ‘Oh my goodness, is that a yeti?’
‘No, how could you insult her like that? How can you be so….’ Percival’s shock at Pris’s perceived rudeness causes him to momentarily lose his words. He recovers quickly though. ‘This is a member of the ancient race of trolls.’
Pris grins like it’s Christmas morning. ‘For real? A troll? Like in The Three Billy Goats Gruff?’
Percival stares disdainfully at her. ‘Please. Trolls are not only ancient, they are also noble creatures and are not to be confused with characters in some silly children’s story.’
I bite back a grin. ‘To be fair, Percival, The Three Billy Goats Gruff is based somewhat on truth. Trolls do guard bridges into magical areas.’
As I say these words out loud, I realise the troll is the next test the maze has for us. I hastily kick my brain into gear, trying to access what little troll lore I learnt as a child as a deep voice rumbles around the gorge.
‘Who goes there? Who wishes to cross into the centre of the minotaur’s maze?’
As she talks, the troll shuffles to stand in front of the mouth of the bridge, and the largest sword I have ever seen drags behind her, gouging a furrow in the earth. Taking a defensive position, she brings the sword up, crossing it over her chest. She cuts quite the daunting figure.
Pris stands with her jaw open, and Percival tucks himself in behind her. I sigh. I guess I’m up.
I step forward and announce with more authority than I feel, ‘I, Sneak Thief, along with Princess Priscilla Crown and Percival the Wise, seek entrance to the minotaur’s maze.’
‘For what purpose?’
I do a double take. I don’t remember that being one of the questions trolls ask. How much am I supposed to tell her? Should I spill everything? No, that wouldn’t be right, as she only needs to know what we want to take from there. Well, at least I think that is all she needs.
‘To retrieve what is held within.’ I am rather proud of my quest-like response.
‘Under whose authority?’
‘What?’ What is this, twenty questions?
I glance over to Pris and Percival for some help, but their postures scream ‘We’re leaving this up to you, mate.’
Pris does send me a smile of encouragement. I spread my hands in a beseeching ‘a little help here’ gesture, which she ignores. She nods towards the troll as if to indicate I should go ahead and answer her.
‘Who gave you leave to enter?’
I widen my eyes at Pris, subliminally sending, ‘Seriously, you’re forcing me to do this?’ She doesn’t respond, which I guess is an answer in itself. I turn to the troll.
‘Sorry, what was the question again?’
Did the troll actually sigh? ‘Did the Queen invite you? Or the minotaur himself?’ She annunciates each word clearly as if I am a total idiot.
I don’t know how to answer because neither the Queen nor the minotaur invited us. The troll shuffles her feet, and I catch a glimpse of a thin face with a protruding nose through her matted, dirty hair.
Yep, there she goes, sighing again. I don’t know what she expects. I mean, the council didn’t issue us with a questing manual or anything. We’re learning as we go.
‘You can only enter the maze by one of three ways. You are either invited by the minotaur, or the Queen grants you entrance,’ the troll repeats.
There is silence.
‘You said three,’ Pris prompts.
Finally, some help.
The troll crosses her arms over her chest. ‘You defeat me.’
‘What the…?’ Okay, so most of my words have now left my brain. I glance over at Pris and do a double take. Is she honestly considering this?
Yep, she is assessing the troll, her gaze travelling over her like she is looking for any weaknesses. Percival is stepping away from her, as if he senses her madness and is distancing himself.
After a few moments, she turns to me and shrugs. ‘I could probably waylay her long enough for you and Percival to cross, but it would likely result in myself and the troll getting badly hurt if she is intent on defending the bridge.’
‘I will defend the bridge until my death,’ the troll offers, standing taller, pride ringing through voice.
‘Okay, let’s leave that as our final option then,’ I say, pleased my powers of speech have returned. ‘What about you, Percival?
Panic crosses Percival’s face before it returns to his usual blank expression. ‘Me? You cannot ask me to do anything. I am only here to provide information about the realm, not help you overcome the obstacles.’
I smile. ‘I meant have you any ideas from your knowledge of troll law that will help us get past her without anyone dying?’ I clarify.
‘Oh.’ Then, ‘Ooh, in my role as advisor, you mean.’
‘Yes, Percival, that is what I mean,’ I confirm, wondering what was going on in his head that had him thinking otherwise.
‘Hmm, let me see. Trolls do not like direct sunlight. See how the bridge entrance is placed close to that cliff? I would think this side of the bridge is in shadow all day.’
‘What happens if they are in the sun for too long?’ Pris asks.
‘Too long in direct sunlight and their body starts to close down, and they will die,’ Percival says matter a factly.
Pris’s eyes widen. ‘We are absolutely not going to draw her out into the sunlight to kill her!’
‘Thank you for that.’ The troll’s tone is sarcastic.
We three turn as one, suddenly aware the troll is listening to every word of our plans. Hustling everyone back to the edge of the woods, we form a close group out of her earshot and continue planning. As we chat, I observe the troll’s eyes drifting to my lute.
‘Can I bribe you with my lute? Or some music?’ I ask.
She shakes her shaggy head, and an odour that reminds me of a rubbish dump wafts towards us. This troll could do with a bath.
‘No, you cannot. However, the last troll gathering was moons ago. I don’t suppose I could convince you to play a bit for me before we fight, can I?’
‘I don’t suppose you would let me cross in return for a song?’ I counter.
‘If it were up to me….’ Her shoulders move in what could almost be a shrug.
Pris tugs at my arm, and I turn my attention back to our planning committee, although Percival seems more intent on glaring at the troll than helping us. For some reason he is taking this all very personally.
Pris taps her index finger on her lips. ‘Have you noticed that in spite of water being close by, that troll is filthy and stinks to high heaven?’
What has that got to do with anything? ‘Perhaps she can’t leave her post for long enough to bathe.’
‘I don’t think that’s the reason.’ Pris frowns. ‘Percival?’
The sprite continues to stare down the troll.
‘Hey, Percy!’ Pris tries again.
He turns around, raises himself to his full height, and glares at Pris. ‘I told you never to call me—’
‘Then you should be listening and not playing mind games with the troll,’ Pris interrupts him. ‘Is it possible trolls don’t like water?’
Percival frowns at Pris, but slowly his anger leaves him, and he clasps his chin in his hand.
‘You know, I do believe there are some trolls who dislike water. It will not kill them, but it causes so much discomfort, they avoid it if they can.’
I nod, then a thought occurs to me. ‘Pris, with your type of magic, you should be able to move water up here, perhaps even enough of it to distract the troll long enough for us to dash across the bridge.’
I freeze and a coil of panic rises from my belly. Snake must be mad. I reshape things, and only just. I can’t move solid items, let alone slippery watery things.
‘I haven’t done anything like that with my magic,’ I explain. ‘I’m not sure I even can’
‘Of course you can. You made a flame, which means you’re able to draw particles together. Moving things around is the next step. You’ll probably find pushing and pulling things easier than reforming them.’
Snake probably thinks he is being supportive and reassuring. Surely he can sense the blind panic rising inside me as he speaks. ‘So, I just click my fingers and water will come to me.’ Fear forces an extra dose of sarcasm into my words.
He grins a cheeky grin that would normally set my heart fluttering, but at the moment, it just adds fuel to the fire of my fear.
‘No, of course not. It will take a bit of trial and error. Percival, can you help her?’ he asks.
Percival’s head drops to one side as he considers Snake’s request. ‘I can, but wouldn’t you be of more help?’
‘Perhaps, but I will be busy doing something else.’
Percival studies Snake, curiosity brightening his eyes. ‘All right,’ he finally agrees, ‘but only if she promises to only ever call me Percival.’
‘No can do,’ I retort almost before I think.
‘Pris,’ Snake beseeches.
I sigh. ’All right. I promise to try to never call you Percy again.’
I shake my hands, trying to loosen up. What is wrong with me? All I want to do is needle Percival and aggravate Snake. All they are doing is staring at me like I have grown an extra head. Can’t they tell I don’t want to do this? Can’t do this?
Worry and anger are clouding my mind until I have a thought that might get me out of this stupid plan. ‘It might take me a while to learn how to move water. Won’t the troll notice and think something is up?’
There, that will put a hole in his idea.
Snake grins again, and I have to resist the urge to slap that smile from his face.
‘I’ve thought of that. I’ll tell her you’re going to fill our water skins because we’ve decided to eat lunch while we consider our options. I mean we can’t fight on an empty stomach, can we? Then I’ll play some music for her, and mention we hope it will mellow her when it comes to the fight. Hopefully that will distract her long enough for you to get some water up here.’
