Alfie Bloom and the Talisman Thief (18 page)

The Impostor

Alfie's heart was thumping so hard he was sure it would give them away, but the elf slumbered on as they crept closer. Madeleine stopped a few feet in front of the sleeping figure, arrow aimed at his forehead. Alfie took up a kneeling position by the chair. He held the string in one hand and gently grasped the bow lying across the elf's lap with the other. Amy crept around to reach over the back of the chair, her scarf held taut between two hands. She lowered it carefully until it was level with the elf's mouth, and then looked at Alfie. He nodded.

The elf sprang to life as Amy dragged the scarf between his lips, pulling his head tight against the
back
of the chair. His hands immediately grasped for his bow, but Alfie had pulled it from his lap and thrown it back across the room. He grabbed one of the elf's arms but the other hand was already closing around the hilt of a dagger at his hip.

Madeleine whistled.

The elf looked up to meet her eyes and froze at what he saw there. She shook her head and the elf slowly let go of the dagger and offered his hand to Alfie, who bound his wrists tightly together with the twine. With the elf subdued, Amy tied the ends of her scarf behind his head to complete the gag. He didn't take his eyes off Madeleine as they worked.

“Get up!” Alfie addressed their prisoner. The elf shot him a cold glance and remained seated.

“Maybe he doesn't understand English,” said Amy.

“Stand!” Alfie mimed an upward motion with his hands. The elf scowled, but Madeleine made a slight movement as though about to release the arrow, and he sprang to his feet.

“This way,” Alfie pulled on the twine and the elf grudgingly began to move, then froze as an ear-splitting yowl echoed around the room. A hissing, spitting ball of fur and claws launched
itself
through the air, knocking Madeleine's arm as it passed. Her fingers slipped on the bowstring and she let loose the arrow, sending it thudding into a bookcase.

“Leo!” yelled Alfie, as Amy grabbed the cat in mid leap, its claws raking the air in front of the elf's face. Before Madeleine could string another arrow, the elf made a dash for the library door. Alfie yelled as the twine whipped through his hands, burning a red line into his skin.

“Artan, fetch!” he called. The words were barely out of his mouth when the bear shot through out of the study and across the library, loose papers flying in his wake. The elf was reaching for the door handle as Artan barrelled into him, swiftly wrapping around him so that his head and shoulders were sticking out of one end, his feet from the other.

“Quick, get him inside,” said Alfie. “They might have heard us.” Artan carried his carefully wrapped package through the air and into the study after Madeleine and Amy. Alfie grabbed the elf's bow and chased Galileo back through the secret entrance, closing the door carefully behind them. Grabbing the mirror, he checked the hallways and heaved a sigh of relief to see that none of the elves
seemed
aware there had been any commotion in the library.

“Well done, Artan,” he said, patting the grinning bear on the head as Amy and Madeleine high fived over the squirming elf. “Hold him there while I get his clothes.” Alfie pulled off the struggling elf's boots and trousers then tied his ankles with the twine. Galileo sat nearby, cleaning behind his ears as Alfie worked. “And you!” he pointed one finger at the cat. “When we get out of this there'll be no tuna for a whole year!” The cat stretched nonchalantly and slunk away to curl up by the fire.

“I'm done here,” said Alfie when he was satisfied with his knots. “Put him in the chair by the writing desk.” Artan deposited the bound elf and Alfie passed the twine to Madeleine to tie him to the chair, which he noticed she went about none too gently. Alfie unbuckled their captive's leather breastplate. He had to untie the elf's hands to get the tunic he wore under his leather armour, but Amy and Madeleine held his wrists tightly and Artan floated in front of him, growling so menacingly that the elf didn't move a muscle to resist. Soon he was tightly bound to the chair in his long undergarments. Alfie changed into his clothes
in
the garderobe. He felt uncomfortable removing the chain-mail shirt, and losing the protection it offered against the elves, but if his plan was to work he couldn't be discovered wearing it.

“Are you sure you can do this, Al?” said Amy as Alfie shuffled into the room, feeling slightly ridiculous in clothes and boots that were far too big for him.

“Yes,” said Alfie firmly. If he was going to protect his home and his family, he had to use the change magic. “How long have we got?”

“Nineteen minutes,” said Madeleine. “Providing she's going to stick to one hour.”

Alfie positioned a chair just far enough away from the elf that he could take in his whole form at once and sat down. The elf watched him as if he wished he could burn him alive with his glare. He took some calming breaths and stared at the elf, taking in every aspect of his appearance. Orin wouldn't be happy about what he was doing, but he didn't see any other way. It wasn't as if the druid had offered any other solution.

It was difficult to concentrate with the elf's malevolent eyes burning holes into him, but he reached deep inside and prodded the change magic awake, letting it rush through him until the skin all
over
his body began to tingle, as though awaiting instructions.

He remembered Emily's training. Instead of trying to force himself to change, he imagined he was a mirror reflecting back the figure sitting in front of him. Wearing the elf's clothes made the job easier. All he had to get right were the head, hands, height and body shape.

He knew it was starting to work when his ears began to tingle. He felt them change shape, becoming slightly larger and pointed, amplifying Amy and Madeleine's gasps and amazed whispers. Alfie blocked them out as he focused. The clothes he was wearing started to feel more fitted as he grew taller and broader; his feet seemed less lost in the soft leather boots. His scalp tickled as his hair grew longer, flowing down over his shoulders in pale blonde locks. He scrutinized the elf's face, feeling his features becoming more angular. Finally, he concentrated hard on turning his irises pale gold. The elf's face twisted into an even darker scowl, and Madeleine and Amy burst into applause. Alfie knew his disguise was complete.

“How do I look?” he asked, his voice strangely distorted in his new larger body.

“Perfect,” said Amy, slapping him on the back.
“
Apart from the expression. Try imagining that we're all something nasty you just stepped in.” Alfie glared down his long nose at her. “There! You've got it!”

“Alfie, you forgot something,” said Madeleine from behind him.

“What?” said Alfie, turning to see her fist flying towards his new face. It connected with his jaw with a
smack
that made his teeth clack together painfully. “OW! What did you do that for?”

“Sorry,” said Madeleine, squaring up for another punch. “I thought it would be easier if I didn't warn you. You can't speak Elvish, so there should be a reason why you can't speak. Hold still, I hardly got you there. You need a much more believable bruise than that.”

Alfie caught Madeleine's fist. “Maddie, you idiot!” he said, rubbing his jaw. “You just watched me transform into an elf. Didn't you think I could manage a little bruise the same way?”

Madeleine's face dropped. “Oh! I'm so sorry, Alfie.”

“It was actually a great idea,” smiled Amy. “But maybe share the plan with us first next time.”

Alfie shook his head crossly, then looked into a mirror on the wall and let his cheek and jaw swell and turn a spectacular shade of purple.

“
Nice!” said Amy when he had finished. “No one could expect you to speak with a face like that. So then, which of us is coming as your prisoner?”

“Me!” said Madeleine firmly.

“What do you mean?” asked Alfie, stringing the elf's bow and quiver over his shoulder.

“Wait … you weren't planning on going down there on your own and trying to grab Robin in a room full of elves, were you?” said Amy.

Alfie shrugged. His plan hadn't really progressed much further than that. “I thought Artan could swoop down to the window behind where the Queen is sitting. I'll hang about there and look for a chance to grab Robin and we'll jump out of the window on to Artan. He can take us up to the eastern tower. They haven't found the way up there so we'd be safe until Ashford wakes up and does whatever he was planning to do to stop them.”

Artan clapped his paws. “Excellent plan, lad. We'll be up and away before they know what happened.”

“I don't think so,” said Madeleine, showing Alfie the Great Hall in the mirror. “Who do you see standing next to the Queen?”

Alfie's heart dropped. “Merioch.”

“Exactly,” said Amy. “It looks like no one gets
close
to her except her right-hand man. You're not going to be able to hang around near Robin looking shifty. But if you had a prisoner with a penknife hidden in their sock…” she grinned, “they'd be put with Robin and could cut their ropes and untie him too.”

“Yeah, then you could make a distraction and I'll get Robin to Artan,” said Madeleine.

“What makes you think it should be you?” said Amy.

“He's my brother,” said Madeleine.

“But I'm faster at running.”

“No you're not!”

Alfie watched them bicker, amazed that they were fighting over taking part in a plan which was making his blood run cold. He had to admit that their idea was better than his, providing he could slip away unnoticed after the rescue.

“We don't have time for this,” he said at last. “Amy, you're coming with me.”

“No!” Madeleine shouted in anger as Amy grinned.

“Not because she's any better than you,” he said quickly, as Madeleine looked as if she was squaring up to hit him again. “Maddie, you need to keep an eye on our prisoner here, and if Ashford gets worse
you
can help him better than any of us. When he wakes up you need to tell him what's going on. If this goes wrong, he's our last hope.”

Madeleine grudgingly accepted the importance of her role and tied Amy's hands loosely behind her back.

Alfie slipped a small knife into Amy's sock, then removed his talisman and handed it to Madeleine. “Look after this,” he said, and then gave her his walkie-talkie. “And you're going to need this.”

Looking as cold and confident as the elf was harder than Alfie thought as he strode out of the library and down the corridor in a body that felt all wrong, pushing Amy along in front of him. Luckily the path to the stairs and down to the first floor was clear. When he reached the landing he looked swiftly around, took Amy's walkie-talkie from her belt, opened the visor of a suit of armour and dropped it inside. He knew Madeleine would be watching and hoped he could rely on her to play her part at the right time.

“Ready, Amy?” he whispered. He began to drag her down the rest of the stairs as she struggled and kicked out at him.

“Get
off
me! Let me
go
!” she hollered.

Elves ran out to see the cause of the commotion
and
laughed to see one of their number with a grossly swollen face struggling with a young girl. Remembering his character, Alfie scowled viciously at them and dragged Amy into the Great Hall.

Merioch stood up and the Queen clapped her hands with joy as Alfie brought Amy before her. He handed over a knife he had grabbed from Orin's study to indicate he had disarmed her.

“Amy!” Robin shouted, struggling to get to his feet, his face a mask of horror to see Amy captured too. Merioch pushed him back down and prowled around Alfie and his prisoner. Alfie couldn't tell if he was suspicious or just trying to intimidate. He barked something in Elvish. Alfie shook his head and pointed to his swollen jaw, but Merioch wasn't satisfied. He spoke again and Alfie let out an indistinct mumble. This only seemed to make him angrier.

“He can't answer you,” shouted Amy, looking up at the elf defiantly. “You wouldn't be able to talk either after an iron glove to the face.”

The corner of Merioch's mouth turned up into a humourless smile as he regarded Alfie.

“I've always said Loth was too slow to catch his own breath,” he sneered, waving Alfie away. Alfie took a seat at the closest end of the table trying to
hear
what was being said over the derisive laughter of the elves around him. Either Loth wasn't popular, or the other elves wanted to ingratiate themselves with Merioch. Alfie suspected it was both. He glared at them, glad that they seemed to have accepted his disguise completely.

“Time is up,” said the Queen. “Have you brought the lens in exchange for your friend?”