Part Two

Misthaven

Elves

 Sara rolled over and sat up. To her surprise the air was warm and the sun well up in the sky. Ruth brushed herself off and grinned at Sara.

‘Now the adventure really starts,’ she said as she looked around. ‘Let’s go find ourselves some pesky elves.’

Sara smiled to herself. If they were all like Kelp, Ruth would scare them witless with her forthright behaviour and uncompromising views.

They spotted two small individuals heading to where she could see a girl kneeling over someone who lay motionless on the ground.

Sara pointed to the ones walking. ‘That must be Thistle and the one dancing Rebe, and the ones on the ground Poppy and Kelp.’

Ruth stood, hands on hips, watching them.

‘Tiny, aren’t they.’

Sara had to agree as she watched Rebe dancing around, his stripy hat pulled over his head. Yet Poppy had told her they were thirteen years old, two years younger than Ruth and herself. Thistle resembled Kelp and was larger than Rebe. Only his ears made him look odd. They all seemed to be wearing plain blue leggings, tunics and heavy winter capes.

‘We had better go and introduce ourselves,’ suggested Sara. ‘Goodness knows how we are going to manage if Kelp is sick.’

Ruth sighed. ‘I’m more worried that we are going to have to watch over some small children.’

Sara shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, they have fought wizards and survived and they will know a lot more than us about surviving these sorts of worlds. I don’t think we should underestimate them, Ruth.’

When they arrived Thistle and Poppy were kneeling beside Kelp, who appeared to be unconscious, with neither Poppy nor Thistle seemingly knowing what to do. When Poppy looked over at Sara she was apologetic for ignoring them. Sara introduced Ruth and knelt down beside Kelp. So here he was. It seemed unfair that after all he had gone through to organise everything he now lay unaware of anything around him. Ruth and Rebe quickly disappeared to listen to music while Thistle wandered back up the hill. The elves were very formal and polite but they also had an air of confidence. Considering their brother lay unconscious and they were all in a strange land they seemed very calm. Poppy explained their close brush with a Black Wizard, leaving Sara feeling quite guilty at how easy their journey had been.

When Thistle returned he suggested they move down to the village below. She was surprised by his natural leadership but had to laugh to herself when they lifted Kelp with their magic. They had no insight into how non-magical people would view such a sight coming into their village.

With Kelp in a makeshift stretcher they finally started to walk towards the village. Sara noticed Thistle watching her and she wondered what he made of them, in their jeans, open sandals and brightly coloured low-cut tops. Thistle carried a staff made of a light-coloured wood which had been beautifully carved. It looked just like Father Wisby’s, which made her wonder if he used it with the same skill as Father Wisby.

They were soon spotted by children and quickly agreed on a story as they were approached by villagers. Sara realised that they were in a land with no technology and possibly no magic. The villagers looked like settlers from the American frontiers.

‘Ruth, I suggest you put that MP3 away,’ she said, without turning to her.

‘Already done,’ mumbled Ruth. ‘Have we gone back in time as well, do you think?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Sara breathed, ‘they are just more backward than us. Let’s be careful not to scare them. Just remember what happened on Earth when people were suspicious of witchcraft.’

Ruth cursed, much to Thistle’s shock and Rebe’s amusement.

Sara was about to step forward to meet the village leader, who had walked out to greet them accompanied by several other people, but Thistle beat her to it.

Thistle looked confident as he addressed the head villager by bowing formally and introduced each of them. The headman, however, was unimpressed, and Sara felt her hands shaking as Thistle worked hard to appease him. It was the intervention of a lady that took Sara’s interest. She had an air of confidence that Sara now recognised, and it was clear that she had influence in this village. Eventually they were led to the lady’s hut, a bare mud roundhouse.

The lady immediately went to check on Kelp, working in the same way as Emma had. Sara relaxed; she now knew for certain that this lady was not like the other villagers.

The lady looked up, her piercing eyes appraising each of them.

Poppy tried to explain that although she was a healer she couldn’t help him, and after quizzing Poppy about herbs the lady turned to Thistle and Rebe, wanting to know what they were good at. Thistle tried to be evasive and Rebe was upset when asked to remove his hat. His hair had been poorly cut leaving tufts sticking out between nasty looking sores, and exaggerating his pointed ears. She replaced his hat and turned to Ruth and Sara.

‘And what do you bring to this group?’ she asked.

Sara no longer felt intimidated. ‘We bring companionship and common sense,’ she replied.

The lady smiled, as if happy with her assessment of them.

‘You are an interesting group and I must wonder why you are here,’ she said, as she started to organise them.

Poppy helped prepare some herbs for Kelp while they went outside to start a fire. Suddenly the wood burst into a mass of flames, making Ruth jump back. Rebe laughed, pleased he had impressed them.

The lady had introduced herself as Hilldra, the village Wisdom, but Sara was sure she was a sorceress; everything about her reminded her of Mrs Budd. She had made her assessment of them and Sara was sure she understood that Ruth and herself were different from the others. So when she invited Poppy to join her to help heal a boy, Sara went along. They passed the others, who were watching the village boys practise sword fighting with wooden swords. Sara slowed slightly to watch. This was it, then - the locals learning to fight with swords. Here there was no National Health Service or police, no electricity or flushing toilets, no transport, brick houses or shops. They were back in the Dark Ages. She looked over at Ruth, who was talking to Rebe, and wondered how she was coping.

Ruth climbed the railings around an arena where several village boys were practising with wooden swords.

‘They are poorly trained,’ whispered Rebe to Ruth. ‘Our Educators would be appalled if any of us worked out like that. They have no control or discipline. Thistle could better them without any sweat.’

Thistle kicked Rebe. ‘Quiet, Rebe, they might hear you.’

‘It’s true, though, isn’t it?’ Rebe winced indignantly.

‘Are you trained to fight?’ Thistle asked Ruth.

‘Not normally, there isn’t any need. No one in our country is allowed to carry weapons. But Sara and I have had some training so we can defend ourselves if necessary.’

Ruth decided to leave them to watch, and wandered off to look around the village. Small mud huts were scattered around a central square. Each hut had a small fireplace just outside. Children sat playing in the dust while women sat in groups on small wooden stools, weaving or preparing food. Closer to the river and on a downward slope she found the washrooms, which consisted of a well, a few screens and large pottery bowls. There were toilets of a sort, dugout holes with loose earth piled to one side.

Ruth followed a path down to the river. It was hot and dusty so she bent down and splashed water over her face. Letting the water settle, she looked at her reflection. People had always considered her reasonably attractive. She was tall and naturally slim, with a slightly angular face. Her mother dearly wanted her to wear sensible ladylike clothes that would enhance her dark brown eyes and her long, thick, curly hair. So Ruth had done the opposite, dyeing it bright colours and braiding it. Even more distressing for her mother were Ruth’s studs in each ear, together with a tongue and a nose stud. She shuddered when remembering the pain and bleeding caused by her tongue stud. The effect on her mother, however, had made it almost worth the pain.

When she saw her face reflected in the water she just wanted to wipe it out, it wasn’t really her. No one knew who she really was. Maybe she didn’t know herself any more. No one really cared about her, and if she didn’t return, who would really be upset? Maybe she was a bad person, but she didn’t want to be. Then she thought back to what Father Wisby had said to her as he had given her a book with gold writing on the front.

‘Ruth Williams, Keeper of the Keys.’

She bit her lip when she remembered what he had said.

‘Ruth, I hope you will accept this. Sometimes the records of history are in the form of drawings. Your drawings of us yesterday were more than pictures, they told a story about us. I know you have had so much sadness in your life, but try and turn around those bad experiences in a way that makes you stronger and more determined. I believe in you, Ruth. You are stronger than Sara. Please look after her for me. If you would be willing, I would ask you to draw your journey for us.’

Ruth felt her throat tighten as she remembered. No one had ever asked her to do something important before, no one had ever cared. Her parents felt that drawing was not a proper career and had forced her to drop it when selecting her GCSEs, yet it was what she was good at. She could talk through her pictures.

Ruth stared at her reflection.

‘I promise I won’t let you down, Father Wisby. Today is the first day of the rest of my life,’ she whispered, and for the first time for many years she realised she was happy to be alive and to have a real purpose. She wanted to know who she really was and she wanted people to be proud of her.

‘ Ribastra, High Lord of the Sky, if you can hear me, help me find my way,’ she called across the water to the distant mountains.

            A warm breeze rippled the water and swirled around her, and for a second Ruth thought she could hear a low chuckle, but then maybe it was just the breeze in the willows. She looked around, but the trees stood still and the only sound came from the birds.

Suddenly deciding it was time to go back she quickly made her way up to the hut, where she found the others talking about how best to help Kelp.

Hilldra explained that she was indeed a sorceress and Guardian of the Gate and that she recognised them as the Keepers of the Keys. She was worried about Kelp and believed that the stone around his neck was protecting him. How to break through the protection seemed to be the problem. There was a strange debate which Ruth didn’t fully understand in which the elves talked about linking to his mind. All Ruth could offer were her headphones and soothing music, and she was surprised when Hilldra approved of this. Sara and Ruth sat back as the elves closed their eyes and sat quietly.

Ruth whispered to Sara, ‘Told you they can think to each other, I bet they can all do that at Whitberry Hall.’

Sara nodded. ‘They call it minding. They can use their minds to heal people as well.  I’ve just watched Poppy and Hilldra cure a boy with appendicitis. Can you believe that?’

Ruth shook her head. ‘I think you were right, they might be small but they certainly aren’t helpless.’

Much to everyone’s relief Kelp gradually regained consciousness and Hilldra stayed with him while they went to sort out some food. Rebe and Thistle wandered off to find wood while Sara and Poppy sorted out their supplies. Ruth sat under the shade of a large tree and opened her sketchbook. She pulled out a pencil and looked around her, allowing the scene to form in her mind.

‘So the story has started,’ she whispered to herself.