Chapter 23

Pocket Kingdom

The party assembled in the morning light.

"Fuck," said Alice, looking around. "Fred didn't turn up?"

"No," said Joan.

"Do you think he died?" said Epic, her face pale.

"No," said Joan, "No. No, I don't. He would just respawn and meet us here. He must be ...stuck doing something."

"You don't think he left us..." said Epic.

"No!" chorused the rest of the party.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Hugo. "You know he loves us. Well. He loves me anyway."

"He loves Joan you self-obsessed butt munch," said Alice.

"Whatever," said Hugo. "Let's go and get him."

"Where?" said Epic. "How would we even know where to look?"

"We'll try and track him," said Joan, picking up her bag. "Let's go back to the Meadow. He went south, I saw him go. We can strike out in that direction. We'll find someone who saw something or find some clue I'm sure."

The whole party traipsed back up to the Meadow of Beginnings and set off in the direction that Fred had gone. A short while later they were fanning out through the woods, calling Fred's name. None of them had any tracking skills, and Joan was just beginning to wonder if they were wasting their time when Epic spotted something metallic and gleaming in the tall grass.

"Look!" she said, holding it up. "Fred's ladle!" Everyone rushed over. It was indeed Fred's ladle. They all recognised it. The slightly rusted round of the spoon, the wooden handle worn smooth from so much use. Epic handed it to Joan.

"That's not a good sign," said Hugo. "Fred loves his stupid ladle. Oh, look! Mushrooms! And– What the– what's that white stuff–"

In the middle of a nearby forest glade there was a perfect circle of white. Epic, Joan, Hugo and Alice crowded around it, staring down at the snow that should not be there. The dappled sunlight glinted off little ice-crystals.

"Is that ...snow?" said Joan.

"Yup," said Alice, prodding it with a finger. "Cold too. Melting."

"Look at the toadstools," said Epic wonderingly, "They are almost in a perfect circle, around the snow. Except here. This one has been trampled." She straightened looking confused. "Why is it here?" She looked about her uncertainly. The birds continued to chirp and sing. A sweet breeze flitted through the trees. "It's summer, isn't it? Or spring? Or whatever passes in this place..."

"Maybe it's another glitch," said Hugo, who was on his hands and knees examining the closest red-capped ring of toadstools.

"Pocket-dungeon," said Joan, absentmindedly. She was standing tapping the ladle against her cheek, staring thoughtfully at the circle of snow.

"What?"

"A secret level. Good for Fred, these are hard to find."

"So this... is a portal?" asked Epic. "A portal to another place?"

"Yes. I think so," said Joan, frowning. "If Fred went through it and is stuck–"

"Or was taken through it," said Hugo.

"Yes." Joan grinned suddenly. "Might be just what we need to get the edge on those blasted Knights of Cake...but how do we activate it? Right now it's just a circle of mushrooms with some damn snow in it."

They all considered the scene before them.

"What would Fred do?" asked Epic.

"Dance," they all chorused. Joan snorted.

"You are not wrong," she said. She packed the ladle away into her bag and cracked her knuckles. "Go on then."

"What?" said Alice.

"Somebody dance," said Joan. "Hugo?"

"What me?" said Hugo, aghast, "I can't dance!"

"Oh, get out of here," said Alice. She licked her hand and slicked back her hair. Ablutions taken care of she jumped in the circle and started gyrating her hips, humming under her breath. Hugo rolled his eyes while Joan watched her with a look of profound surprise.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Rude," said Alice, thrusting out her hips and wiggling her hands. "I'm dancing." They watched her in silence. "Is it working?"

"Um... no," said Joan.

"Maybe I should try twerking–"

"No!" said Hugo.

"Spare us," said Epic. "Please."

"You all suck," said Alice, pouting. She stamped out of the snow circle and mooched over to Hugo. Alice folded her arms. "So...what now?"

They all glared at the snow. The snow kept on melting without a care in the world.

"Can't you dance?" Epic asked Joan who shook her head.

"I've been a tree for the last three hundred years," she said. "Trees don't dance. And I can't remember anything much from before, although I'm sure I knew some. I must have." She frowned as the memory eluded her.

"Okay, let me try," said Epic, blushing. She hoped primly into the circle and stood very still, contemplating the ground.

"Well?" said Alice.

"I'm working up the courage, stop staring at me."

They all waited. The snow melted a tiny bit more. A bird chirped in the bushes. Crickets buzzed. Epic drew in a breath and shook herself. Then, she skipped round in a circle, kicking her legs out. She swooped down and scooped up a stick which she beat on the ground.

"What the hell is that," asked Alice, giggling.

"Morris dancing," huffed Epic. "I'm a little out of shape, and really there should be six people but–"

"Oh, sweet crustafarian crumpets on a cracker," said Hugo.

"That is never going to work," said Alice. Snow began to fall. "Oh–"

Soft flakes floated through the air, spiralling in little whirries. Softly they fell, then faster. The temperature dropped until their breath ghosted in the air. Stinkums reappeared, mewing up at the falling snow. She tried to burrow into Epic's shirt before thinking better of it and disappearing again.

"Oh no," said Epic, her hair dishevelled. "Remember I told you about the creepy elves? Yesterday? When I hid in the bush? I think... I have a horrible feeling...Oh–"

The sound of tinkling silver bells filled the clearing. Suddenly they were surrounded by elves. A pale mare stamped and snorted, shaking a glittering mane. The party stared up at the stately woman astride the milk-white mare.

"Welcome, mortals," said the stately woman. Her words were sharp as ice, and they shivered to hear them. The midnight of her hair was crowned with ice. A white velvet cloak and fur collar draped over slender shoulders, but the majesty of her appearance was slightly offset by the sour twist of her lips and her many visible bruises.

Looking around, Joan noticed many of the thronging elves likewise seemed to be injured. Arms were in slings, nasty cuts and bruises were plentiful. Every one of them looked as if they could do with a good night's sleep. The elves glared at the humans balefully. The party stared back, open-mouthed.

"What a delight," said the pale lady. "More visitors." She turned her mare. "Leave your cold iron," she said, dismissively, "if you would visit my kingdom." The party exchanged looks but the queen did not wait for their answer. "Check them."

A handful of stern-faced elven warriors rushed over and frisked the party.

"Ow," one of them said, snatching back the hand that had touched Epic's chainmail vest.

"Serves you right," she hissed.

"She is small but she is fierce," whispered a floating spirit, making them all jump.

"Damn straight," said Alice. "Better mind your manners."

With some reluctance, the party left their visible metal in a small pile next to the snow-capped toadstools. Epic glared and shivered in her cotton shirt. The elven warriors did not check their bags. Which was convenient, but short-sighted of them.

"Come," said the Queen, impatiently, turning her mare. The snow swirled. They struggled through it, following the sound of tinkling silver bells.

"What on earth has Fred been up to?" muttered Joan. Incandescent fairies zipped past them, buffeted by the gusts of wind. Other larger, more animalistic fairies gathered around them, padding after the mounted gentry on cloven hooves and hairy feet. The snow crunched underfoot. It was falling thick and fast now, the world bathed in a preternatural cold twilight.

"How do you know it's Fred's fault?" asked Epic, holding up a hand to shield her eyes from the driving snow.

"Mark my words," said Joan. She gestured to a nearby elf. He was riding poker straight, his handsome face staring straight ahead. On his left cheek was a perfect teaspoon-shaped bruise.

"Ah."

The light dimmed to full night, the wind gathered strength, howling and ripping at their clothing with icy fingers. Freezing and uncomfortable, the party joined hands. Clinging to each others' warmth, they ploughed their way forward.

Just as the cold was becoming unbearable the swirling vortex of snow fell away. They emerged, blinking, into still air and bright moonlight. Rubbing at their frost encrusted eyelashes, the party stared at the world before them.

They were still in a forest, but this one was utterly unlike the one they had just left. It was night. A thick blanket of white-coated the ground, and it was eerily silent. Gleaming icicles hung from the branches of the nearby trees and shards of ice sparkled in the cold, distant light of the moon. The forest was alive with quiet movement. Bobbing lights, fairies and pixies hovered beneath the branches. Pale flowers poked their heads through the snow, all of them white and crisp. The heady scent of their perfume hung in the air, making it hard to concentrate.

"Welcome to Fairy," said the Queen from astride her mare. Her words were as dry as a shrivelled prune. Without further ado, she turned and rode her mare through the glittering undergrowth. Bobbing lights moved with her as she rode. Her skin glowed softly, fracturing the ice into delicate rainbows.

"Mortals!" screeched a cloven-hoofed satyr. "Move!" She prodded Hugo with a silver-tipped spear.

"Ow!"

"Follow the Queen!"

"I thought we were guests?" said Joan, as they were towed along. The Queen did not answer her, or look around, although her scarlet lips pursed.

"The Queen has gone off mortals," whispered the floating spirit, once again making them jump It slipped and slithered through the air, winding its way through the party. Its trailing wings were speckled with quicksilver. Its eyes were pools of deep, black madness. "Foul things. Wretches. Scheming, smelly cretins. She doesn't like you..."

"If she doesn't like us," said Alice in a loud whisper, "why did she invite us to her court?"

"The contract," hissed the shade. "She is bound, as are we all. The tithe must be honoured."

"Quiet down!" bellowed the cloven-hooved maiden. "I said walk!"

The party shrugged and followed the rather bedraggled looking fairy court wending their way through the wintery scene. Hooves and shoes crunched on the snow. Inquisitive spirits hung in the air, staring down at them. Eyes flickered in the bushes, gleaming then disappearing into the shadows.

"It's so beautiful," Epic breathed.

"Hmm," said Joan. "Beautiful like a great white shark is beautiful." She frowned. "Actually, that's unfair."

"Why?"

"A shark will only eat you by accident, thinking you are a fat seal."

"Oh come on," said Alice, " they are fairies. What are they gonna do? Smother us in fairy dust and feed us cake?"

"Alice you nonce," said Hugo. Several pixies hissed and giggled at him, swooping past his face. He swatted them away. They turned on Alice. One of them bit her face.

"Ow," she cried, slapping her hand to her cheek. It came away bloody. The tiny fairies flew away chittering. "Ow!"

"I don't think these are cutesy fairies," said Hugo, seriously.

"I can see that," said Alice, wiping her hand on the dull red of her cloak. "Little shites." The pixies giggled. The elves ignored the commotion, riding as if such shenanigans were beneath them.

"Such seething brains, you mortals have," said the floating spirit. It was watching them curiously. It twisted languorously through the air. The only part of it that seemed to have substance was its mouth. "What delicious fools."

"And who are you?" demanded Alice.

"I? I am but a spirit. I wander over hill and dale, swifter than the moon's sphere. But I serve the fairy queen."

"Bully for you," said Hugo.

"Such joy it brings me," whispered the spirit.

Alice opened her mouth to say something but distracted by the view. The trees had parted and a starlit city spread out before them. At its centre was a glittering white castle on a mount, elegant towers reaching to kiss the moon.

"Wow," breathed Epic.

"Humph," said Joan.

The night was clear and they could see a long way across the steeply slanted snow-capped roofs. It might have been a quaint, medieval town in Germany, except there were way too many waterways and flowers, despite the frost. Fountains, frozen solid punctuated the pavements, and blossom-lined streams of ice gleamed next to walkways. All the windows were decked with more flowers, most of them pale and fragrant. It was strange to the flowers in the ice. It was beautiful but uncanny.

Fairies of all shapes and sizes roamed the star-lit streets. They parted before the oncoming court and stood watching the queen as she passed, eyes hooded and dark. The elfin warriors seemed alert, gripping their weapons. There was a palpable air of tension as they tramped through the streets.

"What's everyone so worried about?" Joan asked casually. The cloven-hooved fairy beside them snorted. Her eyes never left the rooftops.

"None of your business," she muttered. "Now shut up before I pop your eyeballs out and piss in the sockets."

"Charming," muttered Hugo.

"You too."

"Alright, alright."

They walked through the streets in tense silence. Joan scanned the shadows, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. The pressure built in her eardrums like the onset of a summer storm. Soon the city dwellers melted into the shadows. The empty streets were even worse. The fairy-tale castle loomed closer and closer. Down a narrow alley, they marched. The elves picked up the pace so the party had to jog to keep up. They were tired and cold. Epic was beginning to limp a little. Joan wished they had not left their weapons at the portal.

The foremost elves came to a sudden halt, the ones behind piling into them.

"What is it?" asked the queen, in clipped tones. Joan strained to see.

"He's here!" screamed one of the pixies.

"What?"

"Who's here?"

"Where?"

"The Scarlet Pimpernel!"

"Aiiieeeeeee–"

"What the hell is a pimpernel," said Alice.

A tall fairy landed with cat-like grace on the rooftop of a nearby shop. Dressed from head to toe in red he struck a pose, lifting a sword high in the air. The blade was dull. It didn't catch the light. It didn't sparkle. Iron. It was made of cold iron. The elves of the Queen's court screamed at the sight of it.

"Ill met by moonlight, you pompous pricks!" the fairy cried in a rich baritone. "Have at!" He leapt forward. At his back a horde of fairy folk came pouring over the rooftop, descending on the Queen's court in a screaming, multicoloured wave. Wings and talons and claws ripped and shredded. The elves yelled their challenge in a tongue that lifted the hairs on Joan's neck. They hacked and slashed at the newcomers, their mounts whinnying in fear. It was chaos.

Joan, Alice, Hugo and Epic stood in bemusement, trying not to get tramped. Curses, blood and glitter flew like wild-fire.

"What should we do?" shouted Hugo, over the noise. "I don't know who to hit!"

"We could hit all of them!" yelled Alice, her eyes blazing.

"No!" said Joan, "they aren't–"

The red fairy landed in front of her, crouching on impact. He bowed low, scattering little red flowers from his sleeves as he did. A red mask rakishly covered his face, red stockings encasing surprisingly muscular calves.

"Fred!" said Joan.

"How did you know it was me!" said Fred, grinning. He pulled his mask up. "Oops, no time for chatting! Come with me if you want to live!"

He grabbed her hand and towed her into the madness.