One Wish (18 page)

‘Careful,’ said Tanya. ‘It’s slippery here. We must be passing near water of some kind.’

‘Yes.’ Turpin nodded, lifting the hem of her dress away from the slick ground. ‘Turpin remembers this from last time. We are close now.’ She scampered ahead.

Once again, the ground became drier and the air cooler. It was fresher here, too; a gust of cool air snaked round Tanya’s ankles as she hurried after Turpin. The fairy’s footsteps halted suddenly.

‘What is it?’ Tanya asked, lifting the torch. A huge, rusted gate came into view.

‘The dungeons,’ Turpin whispered, covering her nose. ‘More iron. Oh, the smell . . .’

Tanya drew closer. The gate was unlocked and stood ajar. She reached out and pulled it open wider. Turpin rushed through first and stood on the other side, panting. Tanya slipped in after her. They now stood in another underground tunnel. This one ran the opposite way to the one they had just left, and was both wider and higher.

Turpin led her to the left. ‘This is the way. Other way leads up into the castle, but is all blocked off.’

Tanya followed her along the tunnel. It was plain to see why the place was off-limits to the public. Underfoot it was extremely uneven, and the jolt Tanya had taken to her ankle in the meadow began to throb as she stepped in the dips and crevices. A short way along they came upon a row of cells, each one a tiny, empty space. Tanya shone the torch into each one, seeing nothing but hard stone floor and dark corners. In one a squeaking rat fled the torchlight and hid behind an old wooden bucket.

The tunnel ended, bleeding into another containing more cells. Again, Tanya checked each one, hoping to spot another red envelope or some kind of clue that someone had been down here. There was nothing.

They turned into a third tunnel. This was wider still, with a large area full of strange instruments, with more cells set further back. Tanya approached one of the devices. It was ancient and wooden, with leather straps attached in four places. It looked strangely familiar, like something she had seen in a book once.

‘What is this?’ she wondered aloud.

‘Wicked things,’ said Turpin, cringing away from the instrument. ‘Made by humans to hurt each other.’

‘A torture chamber,’ Tanya realised. She flashed the torch around, picking out more wood, more restraining straps and spiteful-looking spikes. She lowered the torch, not wanting to see any more, and moved away to the cells. They were as dark and gloomy as the others, and each one empty, until . . .

Tanya stiffened. ‘What’s that?’

There was something in the corner of the third cell, a dark shape. She moved closer. Could this be the mysterious clue left for Ratty?

Turpin crept into the cell and approached the object. She reached out and gave it an experimental prod.

A terrible sound sent them both stumbling back, shrieking. Turpin grabbed Tanya’s leg in panic, making her jump again and drop the torch. It spun in circles, flickering madly. The noise came again, a wretched groan that gave way to a bout of coughing.

And then a voice cut through the silence, a dry, croaking rasp.

‘Who’s there?’

15

The Prisoner

T
ANYA BACKED INTO THE WALL OPPOSITE the cell, her breath caught in her throat like a chunk of poisoned apple. Turpin released her leg and clambered up her body, burrowing into Tanya’s neck. The torch continued to spin in circles, highlighting the cell one moment and the wall the next. Finally, it slowed and went into a sluggish roll, stopping just short of the cell’s entrance. Cautiously, Tanya bent down and reached out for it.

Her hand shook as she shone it into the cell once again. Except for the rumpled sacking on the floor that Turpin had poked, the cell was empty. There was nowhere for a person to hide, and yet Tanya was sure the voice had come from here.

A dry, hacking coughing began, startling them both once more. Tanya froze, the torch beam resting on the sacking. Something small was twitching beneath it with jerky movements. It had to be another rat. She shuddered, shining the torch this way and that, but there was no one else in sight. Yet, when the coughing subsided, the voice came again.

‘Who’s there, I say?’

Tanya gulped. Had they accidentally disturbed a criminal or a vagrant hiding out here? The voice sounded particularly hoarse, as though its owner had swallowed a boot full of broken glass.

‘I— I’m sorry,’ she began. ‘We didn’t mean to disturb you, whoever you are. We were just leaving.’

‘No!’ The word came out in a rasp. ‘Don’t go – please! I need help.’

‘Where are you?’ she asked uncertainly. The voice sounded so close, and yet . . .

‘Over here,’ it croaked.

‘Careful,’ Turpin whispered. ‘Something tricksy is afoot here. Turpin can sniff it in the air.’

‘Where?’ Tanya repeated, poised to run. This was feeling increasingly suspicious, like they were about to walk into a trap.

‘Here.’ The sacking jiggled again.

Tanya’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re under that scrap of cloth?’

‘Yes.’ The voice was weak now. ‘I have a . . . a problem. It’s a little embarrassing.’

‘Maybe it’s a fey,’ Turpin said in Tanya’s ear. ‘Stay here. Turpin will investigate.’ She clambered off Tanya’s shoulder and slid down her body, approaching the cell like a cat preying on an unsuspecting mouse. She crept inside, stealthy and silent. Tanya aimed the torch at the sacking. There was a small bump in the centre of it. With her face screwed up in determination, Turpin reached over and poked it – hard.

‘Ouch!’ the voice complained. ‘I wish you’d stop doing that!’

Turpin squeaked and grabbed the cloth, throwing it clear to reveal the owner of the mysterious voice.

There, squatting on the cell floor, was a fat, warty toad. It blinked furiously and coughed, the same horrible hacking cough they had heard before.

‘Will you please get that light out of my face?’ it complained.

Tanya’s mouth dropped open. ‘You’re a . . . you’re a toad!’

‘Well spotted,’ the toad answered sarcastically. ‘And, by the way, you’re still shining—’

‘But you’re a talking toad,’ Tanya said in confusion.

‘And you’re continuing to blind me with that torch,’ it snapped, weakly lifting its clammy toad fingers to shield its eyes, then elapsing into another fit of coughing.

‘Sorry.’ Tanya lowered the torch and aimed the beam away from the toad, waiting for the coughing to stop. She crept closer to the cell, still wary. Turpin stood a little way back, also watchful. Once the coughing had subsided once more, the toad blinked repeatedly as its eyes adjusted. There was something unusual about them, Tanya thought. They were such a beautiful, familiar blue. And then . . .

‘Turpin?’ the toad croaked. It craned its warty head closer to the fairy. ‘Is that—? It is you!’

Turpin peered at the toad, seemingly as confused as Tanya was. Then a frown spread across her brow, and her eyes went huge and wide. ‘Oh, yikes,’ she said. ‘Tricksy, tricksy,
tricksy
magic . . .’

‘What’s going on?’ Tanya demanded. ‘Do you know this toad, Turpin? Because it seems to know you.’

Turpin nodded dumbly, clearly too stunned to speak. Tanya turned to the toad, waiting for some kind of explanation. Already she had a premonition of what she was about to hear.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ the toad said. ‘My name is Don. And I’m not actually a toad, I’m—’

‘Ratty’s father,’ Tanya interrupted. She stared at it in shock. No wonder those blue eyes were familiar – she had seen them in the photograph in the camper van, and they were so very like Ratty’s. For a moment, she had hoped that the search for her friend was over.

‘Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear,’ Turpin muttered, finding her voice at last. ‘This is bad. This is very, very bad . . .’

‘It could be worse,’ said Don. ‘I’m alive at least.’ He coughed again. ‘Just about. Say . . . you don’t have any water, do you? I’m parched.’

‘Yes.’ Tanya hurried into the cell and dropped to her knees, rummaging through her rucksack for the water bottle. She unscrewed the cap and tipped a little water into it, then set it before the toad.

‘I’m afraid that won’t work,’ Don said. ‘Toads don’t drink the way humans do. They absorb water through their skin.’ He crawled forward. ‘You’ll have to pour it over me.’

‘Oh,’ said Tanya. ‘All right.’ She tilted the bottle, trickling the water over the mottled green skin.

‘Ahh,’ the toad breathed, pressing itself into a little dip in the ground where the water was collecting. ‘Oooh. Keep going.’

‘Better?’ Tanya asked, when the bottle was half empty.

‘Much,’ Don agreed, sounding far less croaky now. ‘Two days I’ve been down here, without food or water.’

‘What happened to you?’ Turpin squeaked.

‘I’ll get to that,’ Don answered. His expression was suddenly grave, even for a toad. ‘After you tell me where my son is and,’ he nodded at Tanya, ‘who this young lady might be.’

‘Its name is Tanya,’ said Turpin, still staring at the toad, aghast. ‘It has the second sight. Ratty made friends with it on the pier.’

At the word ‘friends’, the toad’s mouth pressed into a disapproving line. ‘Go on.’

‘Ratty tried to take its memory of him, but it didn’t completely work,’ Turpin said, getting flustered. ‘And then things happened very quickly. There was tricksy magic to lure Ratty away, and then he was snatched by—’

‘I can guess who,’ Don cut in. ‘Solomon. But how? Henry should have been protected!’

Turpin nodded fervently. ‘There was something else, using a glamour. Turpin thinks it was not fey.’

‘Then what kind of something?’

‘Morghul,’ Turpin said hoarsely.

There was a silence as they exchanged a long look that Tanya could not interpret. Again, she wondered about the unfamiliar word, but sensed she might learn more from listening rather than asking questions just yet.

‘That’s not possible,’ Don whispered. ‘We both know that.’

‘They tried to catch Turpin and Tanya, too, but we escaped.’

‘Only thanks to Nessie Needleteeth,’ said Tanya. ‘And we nearly got eaten in the process.’

Don studied Tanya, his blue eyes shrewd in his toad-face. ‘Well, Turpin clearly trusts you,’ he said at last. ‘And Henry must have, too, or you wouldn’t be here.’

Tanya nodded. ‘I have Ratty’s letter,’ she said. ‘That’s how I knew to come here, after you went missing. I was hoping to find whatever clue you meant to leave, and then perhaps bring Turpin to you, and . . .’ She faltered.

‘And then I would know what to do?’ Don said. ‘And take over from there?’

She nodded. ‘Yes.’

Don sighed. ‘That’s understandable. You should never have become mixed up in all this – it’s why I’ve always discouraged Henry from making friends. It was simply too dangerous.’

‘But I
am
mixed up in this,’ Tanya said. ‘Ratty is gone, and you’re a toad, and Turpin is a fairy who can’t do magic. Which means . . .’

‘Which means that we need you,’ Don finished. ‘Will you help us?’

‘I’ll try,’ said Tanya doubtfully. ‘But what can I do? I’m . . . I’m just a girl. There’s nothing special about me, except maybe for the seeing fairies part.’

‘You’re not just a girl with the second sight,’ Don said. ‘You’re a girl who escaped kidnap and clambered down a well into a dungeon to help someone. That makes you extremely brave, in my book.’

‘I’m not brave,’ Tanya said in a small voice. ‘I’ve been scared the whole time.’

‘That’s exactly why you
are
brave,’ Don insisted. ‘To do something you’re afraid of, especially for the sake of somebody else, is the very definition of courage.’ He lifted a webbed foot up and studied it glumly. ‘And besides, the real question is what can
I
do, in my present form?’

Tanya fell silent, pondering his words. ‘You still haven’t told us how you ended up as a . . . well, like that.’

Don scowled. For obvious reasons, Tanya had never seen a toad scowl before. It was a spectacularly ugly thing to behold.

‘I got the feeling we were being watched,’ he said. ‘On the evening before I left, I saw someone on the bridge, just standing and staring at the thicket of trees where the van was hidden. I told myself it was probably nothing, but the next morning, before Henry was awake, I left the letter for him to find and went out. It wasn’t long before my suspicions were confirmed. I was being followed. I didn’t want to lead anyone to Henry, so instead I took a bus to the next town and collected several items that I’d hidden in various places.

‘By late afternoon I thought I’d shaken them off. I came back and stayed on the pier until it closed, then spent the rest of the evening in a tavern. While I was there, I wrote more instructions for Henry, then, once it was dark and the streets were empty, I came here.’ He closed his blue eyes for a moment before continuing. ‘I’d only been down here for a few minutes when I realised I wasn’t alone. I tried to hide and sneak back out through the well, but I was caught.’ He shook his head. ‘By Solomon and an accomplice. Whoever – whatever – it was it was strong. I never saw the face, for it wore a mask. But it wasn’t fey because it stripped me of my protection.

‘I just had time to swallow the note I’d written for Henry so they couldn’t get their hands on it before it overpowered me. Then Solomon threatened me, tried to get me to take him to Henry. When I refused, he turned me into this.’ He looked down at himself in disgust. ‘There was no way I could climb out through the well. I’ve been trapped ever since.’

‘The items you’d collected,’ said Tanya. ‘Were any of them linked to the memory that Ratty stole?’

‘No.’ For the first time, Don looked relieved. ‘They were worthless. A mere trick to encourage anyone following me to reveal themselves.’

‘But who is Solomon, and why did he come after
you
when it was Ratty that stole the memory?’ said Tanya.

‘Because he suspects I’m the one who knows where the object is hidden,’ said Don. ‘And he’s right. Now he has Henry, he’ll be back to bargain with me.’

‘Except you won’t be here,’ said Tanya. ‘Not if I get you out.’

‘But then that means I’ll stay as a toad,’ said Don, looking suddenly greener than even a toad should look. ‘I can’t stay like this forever, I just can’t!’