The Moon Stealers and The Children of the Light (8 page)

As Steven and Georgia rounded the side of a light
house they could see banks of shingle that had been abandoned on the beach as
the water receded back into the sea. Perched awkwardly on top of the shingle
was a small fishing boat that had been washed ashore and stranded on its side.
From the direction they approached, Steven and Georgia could only see the
curved wooden base, its old paint peeling and blistered from years submerged in
the water. Steven playfully leapt up and leant on the side of the boat to peer
inside. Apart from a pool of water that had collected in the curve of the
opposite side, the boat was empty. With Steven’s body weight leaning on the
highest side, the boat began to move. Gravity, together with the loose shingle
beneath the boat, was beginning to slide the boat down the bank towards the
sea. As the boat tipped into an upright position, a thick twisted rope began to
unravel itself from beneath the shingle.

‘Quick,’ said Steven, ‘grab the rope.’

The rope was knotted onto a metal loop at the front of
the boat. Steven and Georgia both grabbed it and pulled back, using their
weight to prevent the boat from slipping into the sea.

Now that it was secure they could see that it was a
simple carcass of a boat with nothing left in it except for two thin beams of
wood that were intended for the occupants to sit on. Everything else that might
have been inside had been washed away leaving nothing more than the wooden
shell and a twisted metal bracket at the back where a motor would have once
been attached.

‘Look,’ said
Georgia
, pointing further down the beach towards a pile of
driftwood that was tangled amongst black seaweed. Poking out was a long and
perfectly round pole with a flat end.

‘An oar,’ replied Steven. ‘Help me pull the boat up
the beach.’

Once the boat was out of reach of the sea, they both
began scouring the shingle, looking for a second oar that might have been
washed up with the tide. Eventually they found one. They weren’t a matching
pair, but that didn’t matter.

They left the oars inside the boat and went back to
Hurst
to find Tracker.

‘It appears to be undamaged,’ said
Georgia
when they explained about their find.

‘If we wait for the tide to go out, the current might
help make it easier to row across to the island,’ replied Tracker.

‘What if we end up getting blown away from the
Isle of Wight
?’ asked
Georgia
.

‘Then we could be in danger. If we end up drifting
towards the south of the island we might get washed up on the rocks.’

They collected their clothing that had dried in the
sun, packed their bags and made their way towards the shingle bank where Steven
and Georgia had left the boat.

Tracker watched the sea for a few minutes.

‘Looks like the tide is slowly coming in,’ he said. ‘We
should wait for a while.’

With time to kill, they turned to the tall white
lighthouse and its adjoining outbuilding. The door to the outbuilding was
unlocked. Although they hadn’t seen any sign of survivors around
Hurst
, they still entered with caution and their weapons
ready. Along one of the walls were rows of tools hanging from nails in
chipboard mounts. Various pieces of machinery had been abandoned, as had the
waterproof fisherman’s overalls hanging from coat hooks behind the door. They
each stepped into a pair of large trousers that came up over their waists and were
fastened by braces over the shoulders. The waterproof jackets gathered in at
the centre, providing them with a water tight fit. There were other basic
supplies inside the outbuilding which they packed into a box and took back out
to the boat. They placed their holdalls into black bin liners to try and keep them
dry during the crossing and positioned everything at the back of the boat.

All they could do was to sit down on the shingle and
watch the sea; waiting for the tide to reach it’s highest before they could attempt
their journey.

By late morning the time was right.

Together they pushed the boat into the water. Tracker
held onto the front to keep it steady whilst Georgia and Steven stepped inside,
before following. He then took one of the oars and pushed against the shingle
so the boat floated gently out into the
Solent
.

The small boat was now at the mercy of the sea.

The water on the eastern side of
Hurst
was calm, protected by the shingle spit from the
current of the open water.

Steven and Tracker sat beside each other and clipped
the oars into half round metal hoops on the rim of the boat. Working together
they both pulled the oars towards the back of the boat, causing it to move
forward slightly. After a few strokes they had managed to synchronise
themselves and got into a rhythm. As they rounded the shingle beach they
suddenly felt the boat pull along the stretch of water alongside
Hurst
as the shallow water created currents that sucked
them in different directions. They managed to angle the boat to face away from
Hurst
then row as hard as they could, fighting against the
current. For each stroke south the boat drifted west by another two. Before
long the boat had moved westward away from
Hurst
, but also away from the
Isle of Wight
.

As the currents changed and the boat reached deeper
waters, they managed to gain more control and turned it in a southerly
direction. Away from the shallower waters where the water was being channelled
through the narrower gap between
Hurst
and the
Isle
of Wight
, the waves in the open
water grew higher.
Georgia
sat at the back of the boat, her useless arm making
her feel guilty that she couldn’t help. Steven and Tracker continued to pull
heavily on their oars, pushing the water beneath the boat to propel them towards
the
Isle of Wight
. Steven was beginning to feel the burn in his arm
muscles, but he knew they couldn’t stop until they reached the other side of
the
Solent
. With every stroke he could feel the skin on the
palms of his hands rubbing and blistering against the wooden pole. Thankfully,
the nearer they got to the
Isle of
Wight
, they found fewer
currents pulling them off course. The projection of land on the north side of
the island provided some protection from the current that swept through the
Solent
.

They turned the boat in an easterly direction, putting
them back on course.

As they both began to tire, the rowing become harder.
Each stroke felt like it was going to be the last they could manage. The oars
seemed to be getting heavier and heavier every time they pulled back. Ahead of
them they could clearly see a yellow stretch of beach of the
Isle of Wight
. The sight of
Colwell
Bay
spurred them on to keep rowing, knowing that each one
brought them nearer to their destination. Beneath the boat shallow beds of sand
slowly began to rise up nearer to the surface as the seabed ascended towards
the beach. As they got nearer, the oars bit into the sand, swirling it in
spinning clouds beneath the water.

As they approached shallower water once again, they
felt the bottom of the boat scrape across the top of an underwater seabed. Tracker
leapt out of the boat. He was standing in water no deeper than his thighs. The
waterproof waders they had found inside the outbuilding beneath the lighthouse,
kept him dry whilst he pulled the boat further ashore. When the bottom of the
boat became grounded, Steven and Georgia both jumped out and helped pull the
boat onto the beach. Relieved and exhausted, Steven lay down on the beach
taking in large lungs of air and allowing his arm muscles time to recover.

‘We can’t rest yet,’ said Tracker.

They pulled the boat up the beach, over a line of old
brown seaweed and onto a bank of shingle. In front of them, the edge of land
rose sharply in layers of orange and white stone with tufts of dry grasses
growing out from small crevices. To the north of the bay was a white square
building that seemed to float just above the surface of the water. Nearer to
them was a concrete road that led up through the bank of land giving them
access to the world above them.

They tucked the boat into a cove beneath a small stone
cliff, covered it with old seaweed then began walking towards the access road,
which took them up a slope towards rows of identical holiday bungalows.
Although it was only mid afternoon, Steven and Tracker were exhausted. They broke
into the first bungalow they came to and collapsed onto the soft beds inside.

If their boat had been spotted, Coldred’s guards would
be sure to investigate the area around
Colwell
Bay
. But, until that happened, Steven and Tracker rested
while
Georgia
kept guard.

Edgar, Flora, the Grey Man and the children spent the
rest of the afternoon gathering supplies and vehicles ready for their journeys.
They found no other humans in the village, at least none that were still alive
and the original occupant of the cellar hadn’t returned. Now that they knew
where they were going, there seemed to be a sense of purpose and direction that
reassured them all. All except Edgar. He knew that the creatures poison was
creeping round his body, making his muscles ache and his head pound with a
thumping that was louder than his heart. He knew that if he completed the
journey to Avalon, he would not have the strength to control the twelve swords
of power. Controlling Ethera was becoming harder than ever, sapping the energy
from his body as it had done in the forest clearing. The pain in his head
reduced when he used the remains of Flora's Acai berries, but he knew that the
poison had travelled too far to be reversed.

In the dark cellar, lit only by a single candle, Edgar
looked across at the sleeping figures of the children. All his long life he had
kept a distance from everyone, lurking in the shadows, never revealing himself,
but watching and protecting from a distance. But he had grown fond of these
children, especially Joe and Max. The two boys had already demonstrated their
courage and leadership, good qualities for Knights of the Round Table, but also
good qualities in the new world. If they could cleanse the planet of the Moon
Stealers, the boys would be the knights of the future replacing the greed that
had overcome humanity, with good moral qualities. If Edgar needed to find the
strength to fulfil his duty, he only had to look at the boys to know that there
was hope for the future. Scarlet and Peter were different. They seemed to have
formed a strong attachment to Flora, but both of the children had natural
magical gifts inside them. Scarlet had learnt how to communicate with animals
during her time in the underworld, whilst Peter could see things in their world
that normal humans could not. They too had a place in the future. If the magic
on Earth was to be ignited once again, Scarlet and Peter would be needed to
help maintain and develop those skills.

Edgar rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. Below
ground, the screams of the creatures were muffled and sleep arrived easier than
it had done for several nights.

Edgar awoke sensing that something was wrong.

He sat upright and listened.

It was pitch black inside the cellar; the candle had
long since burnt out. The only thing he could hear was the gentle breathing
from the children as they slept. Uncertain why he had woken, Edgar waited.

And then he heard it.

It sounded like a faint dripping sound that was coming
from upstairs. But, then he realised that it hadn’t been the sound that had
woken him, but a smell. The air inside the cellar had been damp and musky, but
now there was a faint, but sharp, acidic smell. Edgar reached to his side,
feeling in the darkness for a candle and lighter. He flicked the lighter and
lit the wick, illuminating the cellar in an orange glow. Everyone was there,
lying exactly where they had been earlier. Edgar stood up and listened for the
dripping sound once again then turned towards the other end of the cellar which
extended beneath the kitchen. The smell seemed strongest there. The light from
the candle caught a movement on the floor. A small pool of water had collected
and an occasional drip would land in the centre of it causing ripples to expand
to the edges. Edgar looked up towards the ceiling. He could see a dark patch
where the water had collected prior to dripping down. He knelt down beside the
puddle and sniffed.

The acidic smell was stronger at the water.

For some reason it reminded him of
Edinburgh
Castle
.

He remembered the rusty gates in the tunnels beneath
Edinburgh
Castle
and the creature that had pursued them.

He remembered how the creature had dissolved the metal
so that it could break through.

Edgar looked at the puddle once again. He then
realised that it did not consist of water, but was the acidic juices created by
a creature dissolving metal. But why would a creature be attacking something
metal inside the restaurant?

Above his head something heavy and metallic thudded
against the ceiling. Edgar tried to picture the layout of the kitchen area
above him, but, if his mind still functioned correctly, he thought the only
thing in that part of the kitchen would have been the walk-in refrigerator.

Why would a creature be trying to break into that?

Unless, of course, it was a creature trying to break
out!

As if to confirm his suspicion the ceiling above his
head creaked slightly as something loaded its weight onto it and began to move
around. Edgar walked beneath it, listening as it moved. With every step came a
scratching noise as something sharp clawed at the ground. An occasional
chirping sound also broke through the silence. After circling the kitchen, the
sounds from above entered the dining area. Edgar was now standing over where
the children were sleeping, looking at the ceiling above. Subconsciously aware
of a change in the darkness, Peter opened his tired eyes and stared up at
Edgar. Not expecting to see the glow of a face standing directly above him, he
gave a little start that woke the others.

It also made the sounds from above stop moving.

It had heard Peter.

Edgar signalled for the others to remain silent. The
Grey Man stood up, lit a candle and joined Edgar.

‘What is it?’ he whispered.

‘It’s the creature from the fridge,’ replied Edgar.
‘It got out and I think it knows we are down here.’

‘If it’s still night time, it might call for others to
join it. The floorboards won’t hold it back forever.’

‘Do you think it will go?’ asked Joe.

Edgar shook his head. ‘Not if it knows there is someone
down here. If it calls for help we will be trapped.

‘Keep making some movement over here,’ said the Grey
Man, ‘I’m going up.’ He began to carefully climb the ladder that led to the
hatch behind the bar. The creature had stopped walking around the restaurant
and was now beginning to scratch at the wooden floorboards directly above where
the children had been sleeping.

With every step the Grey Man took towards the wooden
hatch he stopped and listened. To keep the creatures attention away from the
bar area where the hatch would open, Edgar made little coughs. As the Grey Man
reached the hatch he looked over towards Edgar who gave a nod. The Grey Man
blew out his candle and allowed it to drop to the ground. Above them the
creature heard something and began chirping a little. Edgar coughed once again,
bringing the creatures focus back towards that part of the cellar. Above them the
clawing sound began once again, only this time faster and more desperate. They
listened in terror as they heard a splinter of wood being torn from the floor.
The Grey Man knew he had to make a move before the rest of the floorboard was
lifted, exposing the children. He slid the bolt across and raised the latch
slightly so that he could see out. From where he was he couldn’t see the
creature that would have been somewhere near the shop front, but he could hear
the scratching noise it was making.

The Grey Man silently placed his sword on the wooden
floor behind the bar and lifted himself out of the hatch, trying to keep as low
as possible so that he couldn’t be seen. He closed the hatch then raised his
head so that he could peer over the top of the bar. He used the bottles of wine
that were lined up on the counter top for cover, enabling him to look towards
the creature without being seen. Crouched at the front of the restaurant and
bathed in moonlight was a black hooded creature that looked like it was
praying. It was lying flat against the floorboards listening to the sounds
beneath it. From where the Grey Man was, he could still hear Edgar clearing his
throat, trying to distract the creature, who continued to drag one of its claws
along a floorboard.

The Grey Man looked around the room. The tables and
chairs would not provide enough cover for him to get any closer to the creature
without being seen. If it felt threatened it might call for its brothers and
sisters to help.

Trying a different tactic, the Grey Man picked up a
small shot glass from the top of the bar and rolled it along the floor towards
the gap between the bar and the wall and waited. He pressed his back hard up against
the side of the counter.

The scratching stopped.

The glass continued to roll until it hit the opposite wall.

The Grey Man gripped the Donestre sword with both
hands. If he couldn’t go to the creature, then he would wait for the creature
to come to him. Using his Faerie magic, he merged into his background like a chameleon,
and waited.

There was silence in the room.

Eventually a dark shadow moved into the gap between
the bar counter and the wall. He knew that the creature had taken the bait and
was now examining the glass he had moved. But still he waited. He could still
hear the muffled noises from down below as Edgar tried to distract the
creature, but its attention was now concentrated on the shot glass and the bar
area. The Grey Man waited and watched the gap between the counter and the wall.
As soon as the creature moved forward to investigate he could dispatch it in
one swing of his sword.

Suddenly the shadow disappeared.

The Grey Man waited for a few seconds to see if the
creature reappeared.

But, it didn’t.

Beneath the bar the Grey Man could see shelves piled with
stationary including printed menus, business cards and some spare till rolls.
He carefully reached over and grabbed one of the till rolls in his hand. He intended
to send the till roll in the same direction as the shot glass when he heard the
sound of a raspy breath coming from above him.

Slowly he turned and looked up.

Staring down at him was the hooded shape of the
creature. He knew that it wouldn’t be able to see him, but it may have noticed
the movement of his hand when he reached for the till roll. The Grey Man slowly
placed the till roll beside him and moved his hand back towards his sword,
grasping it tightly with both hands. Although the element of surprise had gone,
he would still be able to attack the creature before it knew what was
happening. The single white eye in the creatures head flicked and darted around
the bar area as it desperately tried to find what had disturbed the shot glass.
It clung to the bar top by its hooked wings ready to launch itself at its prey.

In a sudden burst of energy the Grey Man leapt up from
the floor and thrust the hooked blade of his sword towards the eye of the
creature. Equally agile the creature quickly dodged backwards allowing the
sword to harmlessly stab into thin air. The Grey Man quickly brought his sword
back towards him ready to strike again, but the creature had jumped onto the
top of a table further into the dining area. Any minute the creature could call
for help. The Grey Man twisted round the side of the bar and faced the creature
head on ready to swing the great sword down on it. The creature flapped its
wings, creating a force of wind that pushed against the Grey Man, forcing him
backwards. It then attempted to fly off, but the ceiling was not high enough to
give it sufficient space. All it managed was to jump from one table top to
another, edging closer towards the window. The Grey Man picked up a chair and
threw it at the creature. As it ducked to avoid it the Grey Man leapt forward
once again, swinging his sword in a wide arc which carved the creature in two.

Its body fell lifelessly to the floor.

The Grey Man waited once more, listening to the night
air. There were distant sounds and screams that he knew were the creatures, but
none that seemed to be coming from close by. He wiped his sword on several
napkins that were piled at the side of the bar counter, pulled the hatch up and
stepped back down into the cellar.

They remained there for the following few hours,
waiting in the darkness without making a sound.

By the time the sun had risen in the sky, they had
already had breakfast and packed several bags ready for their journey. Once
they were sure the sky was free of creatures, they loaded the bags into the
back of their vehicles. The Grey Man stuffed food into a separate compartment
on the back of a motorbike together with some kitchen knives. The large
Donestre sword was too big to carry, but he managed to wedge it between some
metal struts within the rear frame of the bike. It looked a bit awkward, but at
least it would be easily accessible should he need it. Edgar packed food into the
back of a small Ford they had found, together with some baseball bats that Joe
and Max had discovered. The third vehicle was an old style Mini; the red, white
and blue of the British Union flag had been proudly painted across the roof by
its previous owner. Scarlet, who had experience of driving her dad’s tractor on
his farm, had agreed to drive Flora to Burnham Beeches, together with Peter.

‘Good luck,’ Edgar said to the Grey Man, holding his
hand out for him to shake. They all stood in the road outside the restaurant
ready to leave.