The Moon Stealers and The Children of the Light (16 page)

'The current management might not treat us as well as
we would like, but every community or group of people needs a leader to make
decisions.'

Steven and Georgia looked over to Tracker, waiting to
see what he said.

‘My name is James Hallington. I am the Queen’s
cousin,’ Tracker seemed to stand taller as he said the words. ‘There has been
no contact from the royal household since the creatures attacked us. I will
lead you and, until the human race can take control of this situation and the
monarchy of
England
can be restored, I will temporarily act as your King.
I will stay on the island, we will rebuild the homes, grow our crops and live
in a society that is equal and fair to everyone. Decisions should be made by
several people on a council that represents the whole of the community rather
than just one person.’

Steven watched the faces of the survivors that all
nodded eagerly. Tracker had given them the hope and possibility of a future.

‘Will you join us and take the house?' asked Tracker.

At first there was silence which was finally broken by
the voice of one man. ‘I’m with you,’ he said, raising a hoe defiantly into the
air.

‘Me too,’ said another.

‘And me.’

Seeing this bravery and commitment encouraged the
others to agree. Suddenly the atmosphere inside the walled garden had changed
to one of optimism and hope. The survivors no longer hung their heads down or
shuffled under the weight of a chain, now they chatted and held their heads
high.

Steven and Georgia picked up the keys from the pile of
belongings they had taken from the guards and walked around the perimeter of
the garden unlocking the chains from the metal rings on the wall. They then
started removing the ankle clamps that connected each survivor to their
neighbour.

'If we are to take control of the house, we need to
have weapons?' said one of the men.

'We have some guns,’ replied Tracker loud enough so
everyone would be able to hear over the excited chatter. ‘We also have the
tools in our hands together with the passion and strength to fight. But, most
of all, we have a reason.’

The crowd nodded.

Tracker continued. ‘We cannot approach the house like an
angry mob, otherwise we will be locked out. We must get inside and quietly
spread the word amongst the other survivors. If everyone stands up against the
American and his management, we should be able to succeed. It’s time to take
control of your life and create a future for yourself.'

Edgar and the boys had spent the night inside a small room
within the transept just off the main chamber within the church. The screams
from the creatures mixed with the oppressive booms of thunder rolled on into
the early hours of the morning making the night drag on for hours. To reassure
the boys, Edgar had agreed to stay awake, his ears alert to the sounds that
managed to penetrate the thick sandstone blocks that cocooned them inside the
church, whilst his eyes remained trained on the narrow crack of light that
slipped beneath the thick wooden door. As the position of the moon altered during
the night, so did the pattern of light that squeezed into the room. At one point
Edgar noticed a faint red hue side by side with a bright yellow. He realised
that the light was penetrating the church through one of the stained glass
windows and casting a rainbow of colour towards their small room.

There were times when Edgar struggled to keep his eyes
open, tiredness was beginning to mix with the wave of sickness that flooded
over his body at regular intervals. He hadn’t eaten much since they had left
Ingleton, fearing that his stomach would reject any food that entered his body.
He looked at his reflection in the bright surface of his sword that rested
across his folded knees. In it he saw an old man with sunken cheeks and tired
eyes. His hair was matted and hung in clumps, heavy from soaking up the sweat
his body seemed to constantly produce. Part of Edgar felt relief that his time
was shortly coming to an end. And, what better way could he have wished, than
to end it in Avalon, where he may once again see his brothers and his king. It
may have been his imagination, but Edgar could almost feel a change in Ethera,
when he held it, it felt more alive, as if every molecule inside it was
beginning to vibrate like it was being pulled by an incredibly strong magnet.

Edgar had begun to keep his hands covered with a pair
of driving gloves he had found inside the BMW, conscious that the boy’s eyes
cautiously and involuntarily kept glancing to them. He knew that beneath the
glove, the skin on his hand had turned the same colour as the black leather
that hid it. He also noticed that it was beginning to become harder to move and
grasp things with his fingers, the decay and necrosis drying up the cells that made
up his muscles and ligaments, making them rigid and inflexible. There was also
a numb and cold feeling that was spreading up his arm and neck, behind his ear
and into the back of his head. Soon, his body would shut down and he would be
incapable of completing his journey. But, he was so close, a short drive, and a
walk and he would be in Avalon where his body would be cleansed and he could
finally rest.

The light beneath the door to the room was beginning
to change, instead of the greys of night; a warmer colour was beginning to
show, one that was not caused by the ornate windows, but by light bouncing off
the sandstone and wood that richly decorated the nave of the church.

Edgar reached out his gloved hand and wrapped it
tightly around the bottle of water that stood on the floor beside him. He had
been careful not to share his bottle with the children - he didn’t want to be
responsible for them consuming the black poison. He raised the bottle to his
lips and gently let a small amount of water into his mouth. It felt cold as it
dribbled around the sides of his tongue. He licked his lips, letting the
moisture rehydrate the shrunken folded skin, before finally swallowing. That
part wasn’t so pleasurable. His throat was dry and felt like it was on fire and
the water dragged and scratched as it squeezed its way down. The pain was so
intense it made him cough, which only had the effect of hurting his throat even
more. He coughed once again, this time trying to suppress it so he did not
disturb the phlegm that rattled at the back of his throat. As he took a deep
breath he noticed some moisture in the corner of his mouth, some of the water,
he presumed, had come back into his mouth. He licked at the corner with his
tongue, but it was warm and had an unusual taste to it. He reached into a
pocket, pulled out a tissue and dabbed it at the corner of his mouth. When he
withdrew it, he instinctively looked at the tissue and saw a smudge of deep red
blood. Edgar realised that the creatures poison had now penetrated his lungs;
the walk to Avalon was not going to be easy. Oxygen levels higher up in the
mountain would be lower than he was used to, and if his lungs didn’t function
as well as they should, the walk was going to be a struggle.

‘Are you ok?’ asked a voice from inside the
anti-chamber.

‘Fine,’ lied Edgar as he quickly palmed the tissue so
neither of the boys could see it. ‘Drank too quickly, that’s all’

‘When do you think it will be safe for us to leave?’
asked Max.

‘Only when we are certain the creatures have gone.’

They waited in silence, mesmerized by the narrow crack
of light beneath the door. Max pulled some crackers from one of the bags and
begun dipping them in a jar of honey.

Once the morning sun had become strong enough to
illuminate the room in the transept, Edgar slowly stood up and straightened his
back.

‘I’m going to go into the main part of the church so
that I can see outside,’ explained Edgar. ‘Have you both got your weapons from
the Underworld?’

Joe pulled a leather scabbard from his bag. The
surface was carved with an ornate interweaving pattern that twisted around the
symbol of the phoenix. He gripped the handle and pulled out a sword whose
surface seemed to shimmer and flow as if it were alive. The sword had been a
gift from King Conroy, given to Joe on the morning of the battle against the
Faerie Queens army.

Max had also kept a weapon from the battle, a souvenir
from one of the Green Huntsmen. From his bag, he pulled an elegant wooden bow
with a quiver full of arrows.

Satisfied that the two boys had something to protect
themselves with, Edgar quietly slid the bolts back and opened the door a crack
so that he could look into the nave. He could see the wooden benches, lined up
in two undisturbed rows along each side and punctuated by thick marble pillars
that supported stone arches and the weight of the wooden vaulted ceiling.
Daylight was beginning to stream through some of the windows. Everything in the
nave appeared undisturbed, but Edgar couldn’t see behind where they had hidden
in the room to the side of the choir stalls.

He nervously opened the door a little more.

It released a dry creak into the cavernous church that
seemed ten times louder than it actually was.

Edgar waited.

There was no sound of movement. He took a step out of
the room, keeping his body close to the wooden panelling that covered that
wall. He could see the wooden carved pulpit that stood on the other side, as
well as the red and blue carpet that stretched through from the nave, up a step
and into the presbytery. Edgar stretched his neck round the edge until he could
see along the choir stall benches to the large stained glass window at the end.
Again, nothing appeared to have been disturbed. He let out a sigh of relief
then beckoned for the two boys to follow him.

Together they watched the orange sun burn across the
sky, through a tiny leaded window at the base of the tower. On one side of the
church was open country and fields of green, whilst to the other, they could
see a residential area and an endless stream of roof tops. The creatures didn’t
seem to be hunting over the fields and church, but a swarm of black shadows twisted
and turned in the sky above the houses nearby. They seemed to flock and turn
making patterns and shapes that twisted as one then funnelled down like a giant
wing of darkness towards their prey.

Edgar and the children waited.

Although the creatures thinned, it was mid-day by the
time the sky was completely clear of any danger. But, even then, they stayed
where they were for another hour.

Eventually, they crept back to the BMW, packed the
back of the car and continued on their journey west towards the Snowdonia
mountain range that loomed in the distance.

The road turned north until they were driving
immediately alongside
Colwyn
Bay
, a deserted stretch of white wooden holiday homes
that overlooked the sandy beach from a grassy embankment. On the horizon the
sea was a murky green-grey colour caused by the overnight storm disturbing the
sea bed. Ripples of white foam raced towards the beach in a continuous line
only to be chased by another until they got sucked into the sand and vanished
from sight.

The road continued westward until they reached a
junction beside a wide stretch of river. The other side of the land was separated
by pools of blue water, yellow sand dunes and green bushes. A couple of small
fishing boats had drifted in with the high tide from the bay and become
stranded on the dunes at low tide. Edgar pulled over for a few minutes whilst
he checked the map. Once satisfied that they were heading in the right
direction, he took a smaller road that followed the river Conwy as it narrowed
the further it got from the
Irish
Sea
.

After an hour of driving the road began to noticeably climb
higher. The mountains that had been hovering on the other side of the river now
seemed to be within touching distance. The fields and countryside that had
surrounded the road only moments before began to change into patches of densely
filled woodland.

The road suddenly stopped at a junction where Edgar
turned right onto a bridge that took them over the river and onto the other
side. The picturesque cottages along this stretch of the road seemed to be
partly consumed by the lush variations of green foliage that tumbled from the
higher rock behind them. Once they had left the village the road became
engulfed once again by the woodland, ferns wildly overhung the stone walls whilst
spruce trees stretched up high competing with their neighbours for daylight.
The road twisted left then right, like a grey snake tunnelling its way through
the undergrowth. When the trees thinned, the beige coloured
peak
of
Snowdon
could be seen in the distance, whilst the banks of
greenery loomed over the car, broken by craggy outcrops of stone.

Eventually, once the woodland thinned, the ground at
the side of the road was covered by nothing more than stone, grass and heather
allowing a panoramic view that took in the mountains. On the left, low cloud
appeared to be stuck as it attempted to pull itself over the peak of a
blackened mountain. To the right a wide blue lake emerged perfectly reflecting
the stony peaks that towered above it. The low afternoon sunlight danced off
the surface, flashing and playing across the surface of the water. Edgar
squinted to see the road, turning his head away from the lake slightly so that
he could see. When he blinked the tracks of light that had temporarily burnt
the back of his eyes remained in front of him. He blinked again, trying to clear
his vision. As the road twisted round a raised part of the mountain, Edgar
steered too close to the side. Suddenly the car was filled with the frightening
sound of metal scraping against rock. The wing mirror shattered as it became
crushed against the immovable rock, whilst the front passenger window collapsed
inside the car like a flexible sheet of plastic. Edgar quickly turned the wheel
away from the side of the mountain but overcompensated as the car now lurched
to the other side of the road and the low stone wall that separated them from
the lonely depths of the lake. Edgar reacted once again by pulling the steering
wheel in the opposite direction desperate to avoid the lake. The momentum and
change in direction flipped the car onto its side. The car slid on its side until
the front clipped the edge of the mountain, flipped once more then spun like a
square sided wheel until it lost all momentum and settled back on to its rubber
wheels.

The car creaked to rest.

Every shiny surface and square edge was now dented and
scarred.

The occupants inside bruised and bloodied, sat motionless
and crumpled like shop mannequins that had been tossed aside in a skip.