Mist & Whispers (11 page)

‘Well, what do we do about this riddle now that we know there are no peacocks around here?’ Michael said, kindly changing the subject.

‘They don’t even think peacocks exist,’ Tim said, looking out at the camp from the windows. ‘These people must just be like those tribes in the rainforest, completely unaware of the real world.’

‘And since when did our real world have magical butterfly men and man-eating trees?’ Anya said. ‘Not to mention the rest of the insane things this place has lurking around.’

‘What are you saying; that you think somehow we’ve left our world and entered some sort of alternate reality?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying, or even what I think happened to us at Burrow Mump. One minute we were there, and the next...’ she sighed. ‘Look, all I know is something happened when the sun came up that day, and somehow we were transported here, whether it’s just another part of our world or a completely new one. Is it so far out there to believe there could be another world alongside ours? Think, how many stories have we read that have taken place in other worlds? Maybe they’re real? Maybe Weaver found out that this place existed and thought it would be the best place to hide his books?’

‘I don’t know, Anya,’ Michael said. ‘It does sound a little farfetched, doesn’t it? I mean, why did he even want to hide his books in the first place?’

‘Why don’t we get some sleep and talk about it tomorrow? We can’t leave this place without solving the riddle, and to search for the answers safely we need to get rid of the Darkness, which means we are stuck here for the time being anyway.’

Steph and Tim agreed with Michael, but after they’d all turned in beneath their blankets, Anya couldn’t sleep. The events of the last two days plagued her, and as a bid to displace them from her mind, she went for a walk around the camp.

She passed the Prince’s quarters. Two soldiers were guarding the door, and they didn’t look as if they were going to let anyone in, or out, anytime soon. She hadn’t seen Harrion since the Potentilla incident, but wanted to apologise for forcing him into taking her along. If it hadn’t been for her, Michael wouldn’t have followed them and none of it would have happened.

As she walked around the camp, she also wondered what had happened to Lorcan. Steph said that he’d gone mad, screaming about getting to her, Anya, but how could he have known where she was, or that she was in danger? And why would he want to save her when he was a murderer?

As soon as the word appeared in her thoughts, she felt torn. She believed the King’s story about the day he lost his wife, but something wasn’t right. Granted, she’d spent little time with the Dragon-Boy, but from the interactions they’d had, he’d come across quite gentle. A little haunted, perhaps, but certainly not your average genocidal maniac.

Killer or not, there were questions she needed answering, so she made her way to his cell.

The cell was so dark inside it appeared almost unoccupied.

‘They won’t like you talking to me, you know,’ Lorcan said. His tone was stolid and he made no attempt to move or look up at her.

‘I don’t think they’d have liked me being turned into tree sap much either. I’m sure they can allow me a moment to say thank you,’ she whispered.

‘Thank you? I’d almost forgot those words existed.’ He stood and moved into the light, glancing down at her body, an ashen expression on his scale-patched face. ‘I didn’t burn you, did I?’

‘Oh, no! At least, I don’t think so.’

‘I suppose they would have healed you anyway. I am sorry though, if I did hurt you – ’

‘Are you kidding? You saved my life!’ She smiled at him, but he didn’t notice. ‘I don’t understand though. How did you know?’

He stepped closer so only the bars were between them. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never had anything like that happen to me before, even when I wasn’t...’ His eyes fell to the ground. ‘Well, when I wasn’t like
this
.’

‘You’ve not always been...’

‘A monster?’

‘That wasn’t the word I was going to use.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ve been called far worse.’

Despite his past, he was drawing on her sympathy. Being called names was a pain she’d endured the majority of her life.

A memory about Katherine Adams surfaced from a place in her mind where her thoughts tried not to venture too often. She was a girl who’d spent a year at Piddling’s and shared a bedroom with Anya when she was eleven. For weeks, all sorts of things had been going missing from the other kid’s bedrooms. Phones, money, jewellery, make up – things that Anya had never cared for. One afternoon, a crying Katherine was accompanied to their bedroom by Freya, Simon’s assistant manager at the home. Anya was sitting on her bed reading when Katherine burst out sobbing.

‘Only
she
knew where I kept it, she must have it!’

‘What?’ Anya demanded, jumping up from her bed. ‘I don’t have anything of hers!’

Freya didn’t listen though, and sure enough when they searched under Anya’s bed, there was Katherine’s diary, along with all the other missing things the other kids had reported stolen.

‘I swear I didn’t take any of that stuff!’ Anya pleaded as her punishment was carried out. All her books were confiscated for a month and she was moved to the damp attic room on her own. Later that night Katherine appeared in the doorway, arms folded and looking rather pleased with herself.

‘It’s
soooo
much better having that nice, big room all to myself. No
freaks
hanging around like a bad smell!’ Katherine taunted.

‘It was you! You took that stuff and made it look like me!’ Anya shouted, not that anyone else could hear from the attic.

‘Well, how else was I going to get you out of there?’

The wicked laugh that followed Katherine out of the room made Anya’s anger resurface, snapping her out of her reverie and back to the camp.

‘You didn’t really kill those people, did you?’ The words fell from her mouth.

‘What?’ He looked up abruptly, shocked.

‘Did you?’ she asked again, searching his eyes for the truth.

‘What does it matter? They believed what they wanted to. I’m sure you will too,’ and he stepped back out of sight.

‘Look, I owe you. You didn’t have to save me but you did. If you really didn’t kill those people then you deserve to be free.’

‘Free?’ he griped. ‘I can never be free, even if they allow me to leave this cell.’

‘Tell me what really happened?’

‘What good will it do? They don’t listen. They never have and they never will. They see a monster on the outside and expect a monster on the inside. How could they see anything else? How could
anyone
see me as anything else?’ His words were filled with hatred, every bit directed at himself.

‘I don’t think you’re a monster,’ Anya said softly.

‘The only thing I’m guilty of was telling the Princess how beautiful she was. I was young, how was I to know she didn’t like compliments? She cursed me for my
“wickedness”
, saying I was just like Morcades
– whoever that was. Then she said at least there was something she could do about me,
and this is what I became. I couldn’t go back home to my parents looking like this; I’d have scared them and the entire village, so I went to live in the woods. There were so many times I wanted to go see them, just to tell them I was still alive, but the truth would have hurt them more than my disappearance. I would stand at the forest edge and just watch over the village, hoping I’d see my parents, and sometimes I did. That day, the day the Darkness came, when I got to the forest edge, the village was in flames. There were bodies everywhere, littered all over the ground. I ran to my parent’s house, but I was too late. I carried them out of the house so that I could give them a proper burial. As I placed my mother’s body on the ground, I heard a cry. When I turned around I saw a baby, swaddled in blankets and just lying there in the dirt next to a burning cart. There was no one else around, no one alive anyway, so I quickly lifted him out of harm’s way, and that’s when it all hit me. Someone had come along and taken away everyone that I loved, and I felt as helpless as that tiny baby. I roared in anger, and the next thing I knew, the King and his soldiers were there. Then everything went dark.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Anya whispered.

After a few slow breaths, Lorcan cleared his throat, as if to force his mind back into the present day. ‘Well, now you know the tale of the Dragon-Boy. Do I get to hear yours?’

‘What did you say?’ she said, her eyes flicking up the instant he said it.

‘When do I get to hear your story?’ he said, looking slightly puzzled.

‘
Tale
as in story
–
of course! I’m such an idiot! Lorcan, thank you. Listen, I promise I’m going to find out what happened that day and I’m going to get you out of here. I’ll come back again soon, but I have to go now.’

She raced back to the hut where Michael, Steph and Tim were all fast asleep.

‘GUYS!’ she shouted, and each of them sat up, eyes half open and yawning out a medley of muffled responses.

Anya took the riddle from her pocket and read aloud.
‘Once through, cast eyes on the peacock’s tale
– we’re not looking for the tail of a peacock! We’re looking for a story about a peacock!’

Michael rubbed his eyes and reached for his back pack. He threw two flasks and a notebook on to the floor, then pulled out the copy of the Weaver’s book that James George had left at Scott’s.
‘The Princess and the Peacock.’

E
IGHT HUNDRED YEARS
ago, in a land known then as Fora, a Prince named Marcellus was born. His parents, the King and Queen of Fora, were good friends of the royal family of Cameera, two kingdoms over, and often joked with the King and Queen that they needed to hurry up and have a baby of their own; a princess for their son to marry when he came of age.

As the story went on, Marcellus’ parents got their wish, and the Queen of Cameera gave birth to a daughter the very next year. They called her Cellastar, and a contract was drawn up between the two families, entwining the children’s futures together as husband and wife. As the children grew, both Kingdoms looked forward to the union, as did young Cellastar, but Marcellus felt as if he was doomed.

One afternoon, whilst riding through the forest, Marcellus’s horse was struck by a falling tree branch, and both he and the horse fell, tumbling into a nearby river. The Prince collided with a rock, knocking him unconscious and, as the rough waters dragged his body downstream, his untimely end looked certain. But something saved him, for the next thing he knew he was on the river bank, wincing at the sunlight as it tore through the trees.

It was then he saw something that would change his life forever. A girl leaned over him, a girl so beautiful, the sorrows of his soul fell silent. In that moment his heart pounded faster than his breath could keep up with, for he realised that love at first sight was not just for fairytales.

‘What is your name?’

‘Anais,’ she answered.

For months, Marcellus and Anais tried to fight their feelings, knowing he was betrothed to another, but the fates seemed to always bring them together. Eventually, true love won out, and Marcellus devised a plan to run away with Anais.

However, Cellastar became suspicious of their feelings after catching them talking together one afternoon at the palace gates. She followed the Prince the next day and watched as her fiancé found love in the arms of another. Raging with a broken heart, Cellastar ran to the shore where she sought out the mermaids. She had heard stories about them using their magic to dabble with the hearts of men. She met a mermaid named Allura, and told her this girl had stolen her love. Together they hatched a wicked scheme to get rid of Anais and help Cellastar seduce the Prince using a love potion.

Allura gave the Princess a magic shell, wrapped in a blanket of woven seaweed. It would transport any who touched it back to the mermaid.

‘I don’t want her dead, Mermaid. I want her to see Marcellus extremely happy with me. I want her to feel the pain I felt when I saw him with her. I want her to live the rest of her days with that pain.’

‘Don’t worry, Princess. I will not let her die. Only the living suffer, the dead are at peace. She will be haunted by her thievery for the rest of her sorry life.’

That night as the Kingdom slept, Cellastar snuck into Anais’s bedroom and took her hand. As Anais woke, she saw the Princess place both their hands on the uncovered shell and together they disappeared into the night.

Next morning, Prince Marcellus was getting ready to make his escape when Cellastar arrived, holding a glass of what appeared to be whiskey.

‘I know of your betrayal, Marcellus,’ the Princess said, an evil simper penetrating her mask of innocence. ‘But your fun and games are now over, for the poor girl is gone.’

‘Gone?’ the Prince cried in a panic. He seized her arm and demanded, ‘What have you done to her?’

‘Me? I have done nothing. It was her. She couldn’t take the guilt of you both carrying on behind my back, so she went out to the sea this morning and drowned herself. I’ve brought you a drink; no doubt you could use one after the bad news.’ She held out the glass to him, her eyes wide with excitement, for she knew that it was full of the mermaid’s love potion. ‘Such a pity,’ she added.

Numb with shock, the Prince took the glass and raised it to his lips. Then a look of fury swept his face.

‘No!’ he shouted. ‘This cannot be! She cannot be dead!’ He threw the glass to the floor and raced out of the castle, leaving Cellastar beside herself, the plan to capture his heart shattered.

The sound of his steed thundered through the Kingdom as he rode out to the sea, desperate to find his love. Sand erupted about his horse’s hooves as they pounded the beach, right to where the waves were rolling in.

The Prince jumped down into the sea. ‘ANAIS!’ he cried out across the ocean, but his love was nowhere to be seen. He fell to his knees and sobbed.

‘You’re too late,
Your Highness
,’ came Allura’s voice from out of the water. ‘The one your heart truly belongs to is dead. I saw it myself.’ She swam closer to the weeping Prince and whispered in his ear. ‘And it was I that took her life. Lesson learned, rat! Never betray a woman whose heart is offered to you on a platter, for they leave it there whilst seeking out their vengeance.’ She cackled with venomous delight and turned to swim away.

Overcome with rage, Marcellus leapt into the sea, taking hold of the mermaid in one hand and unsheathing his sword with the other. He sank the blade into her chest.

‘Lesson learned, Sea-Witch! Take my love from me, and I will take my vengeance on you. Destroy my heart and I will obliterate yours.’

He watched the light disappear from her eyes then withdrew his sword, leaving Allura to sink to her death bed. The water surrounding him turned scarlet and he staggered back to dry land.

Lying there, completely broken, time ceased. It may have been hours later, it may have only been moments, but eventually, he heard the rustling sound of tiny feet on the sand. He turned his head and saw a peacock, brilliant white with tail feathers so long they rivalled the train of any Princess’s wedding dress. When it reached him, the bird lay its head softly on Marcellus’s chest, as if to comfort him. The Prince was stunned, and felt as if he knew the peacock somehow, as if their souls were joined in some way. Then, he noticed the green of its eyes, the exact same green of the eyes his heart would love beyond eternity.

‘Anais?’

The bird lifted its head and gently nodded.

Tears streamed from the Prince, glad she was alive but despaired by what she had become.

‘Did she do this to you, the Sea-Witch?’

Again, the bird nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek.

The Prince marched back to the crashing red shore and cried out across the ocean once more.

‘Issyk! Issyk! Rise from the depths of your murky Kingdom and put right the wrongs of your kind! ISSYK!’

Not a moment later, a tidal wave came over the horizon at top speed and crashed at his feet, bringing with it the King of the Merfolk and his great, glass trident. In an instant, the sea was calm again.

‘You summoned me, boy?’ King Issyk said, looking down at the Prince.

‘I am Prince Marcellus of Fora and you would do well to address me so.’

King Issyk rolled his eyes. ‘What do you want,
Prince
of Fora? I haven’t all day.’

‘One of your Sea-Witches has cast a spell upon my love,’ he pointed over to where Anais was standing on the beach, still a breathtaking white peacock. ‘I want you to return her to her natural form.’

Issyk looked at the girl for a moment then sighed. ‘I cannot change her back, and it seems you have killed the only Mer that could.’

‘Don’t take me for a fool, Issyk! I know all your kind can perform magic, my father has told me all about Merfolk.’

The King shook his head, and looked upon Marcellus with regret-filled eyes. ‘It’s easy for folk who do not possess the gift of magical art to assume that one can just do anything. Bend the very laws of nature. What you need to understand is that magic has its own boundaries, limits that no one can cross. Your love has been cursed.’

The Prince blinked at the King, failing to comprehend.

‘Curses must be cast with hate to produce the desired effect, and hate, in the case of magic, is like venom. Remorse is the only antidote to hate, and remorse can only come from the one who cast the curse. I’m sorry, but you killed her one and only chance of becoming human again.’

Anger took a hold of Marcellus and he ordered Issyk to change her, threatening to rage a war like no other against all the seas if he didn’t. Issyk could see that Marcellus truly loved the girl, so out of understanding, he tried everything he could to change her back to her original self. Each attempt yielded a different result until finally, whilst her upper body was human but her lower body was still that of a peacock, she cried out to the Prince.

‘Please, Marcellus!’ she pleaded. ‘Please stop, I can’t take it anymore.’ Her face was pained and her eyes full of sorrow. The Prince ran to her, and they shared a loving embrace.

‘I do not care what you look like, my sweet Anais, you shall be my Princess just as you are.’

But the sorrow didn’t leave her eyes. ‘How can I? Our people will never accept me like this. We will be thrown out of the Kingdom as outcasts, you know in your heart we will. And I won’t let you give up your life for me like this, I love you too much.’

‘Issyk,’ he called back to the King. ‘Is your magic powerful enough to curse every man, woman and child in our Kingdom to look like Anais does now?’

‘Half human, half peacock you mean?’

Marcellus nodded, and the King thought upon it for a moment.

‘Could you live with yourself if you do this, young Prince? You must think it through.’

‘I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed her to be cast into the world alone as a mutant. At least if we are all the same, we can live as together as one. Work your magic please, Issyk.’

The King searched his soul and invoked all the hate it possessed. Then, he lifted his trident, holding it to the skies, and as he brought it back down into the water, Marcellus became half-human, half-peacock, just as he’d wished.

Then, in a dark twist of character, Marcellus reached out his hand to thank Issyk, but plunged his sword straight through his heart and watched as the King of the Merfolk fell back, void of life, into the ocean.

‘Now no one can change us back, and you shall be my Princess forevermore.’

And so Prince Marcellus returned to his Kingdom, married his true love and was handed the throne on their wedding day (as was the traditional wedding gift to the heir of Fora). He declared the Kingdom a new, and from that day fourth, as a tribute to his new bride, it was known as Annafora.