Red Moon Rising Page 16

  “Thanks.” Laney didn’t really know what else to say.

  “But no more flying through storms, OK? It really freaked me out.”

  “No more storm flying,” said Laney, opening the gate and walking down the path. “Not until next time anyway!”

  As Claudia left, Laney glanced up at the dappled blue light playing across the cottage walls. She went inside. The sitting room carpet squelched under her feet and patches of mud decorated the sofa. She sighed. There was a lot to do.

  “I know it looks bad.” Her dad leaned against the doorway. “But it’s only furniture. It can all be replaced.” He smiled, although his eyes still looked serious. “The storm was bad last night.”

  “Some of the tribes fought each other. Have they always done that?” asked Laney, thinking of what had happened in the churchyard.

  “Always. They can’t help themselves,” her dad said bitterly. “And each tribe is as bad as the other.”

  Laney turned away. “I should go and help Kim.” She swept a hand above the damp armchair and a scattering of water drops rose up from the cushions.

  Her dad coughed. “Laney? Your mum…” he said quietly. “She was a faerie too. I expect you guessed that already.”

  Laney turned towards him eagerly. “I hoped she was…”

  “And when she died…I didn’t want to have anything to do with the faerie world any more. I’m sorry if I’ve made all of this harder for you.”

  “It’s all right, Dad.” She met his eyes. Somehow she didn’t mind them being gold-ringed any more.

  “When all of this has died down, I’ll go to see the other members of the Mist tribe to make sure they give you all the basic Mist power training.”

  “But Miss Reed said I wouldn’t be allowed.”

  “Don’t worry about Miss Reed. She’s not a Mist tribe Elder. I know she’d like to step into Arthur Puddlewick’s shoes, but the rest of the tribe will never choose her and I hear she failed to hold back the flood last night.” He shook his head. “Trust me, Laney. The Mist tribe members won’t put her in charge. I’ll talk to them and make sure you get your training.”

  “Thanks, Dad!” Laney beamed.

  “It will help you control your powers.” He smiled a little. “We can’t have you breaking any more water pipes at school, can we?”

  “Laney, are you back?” Kim came downstairs and hugged her tightly. “Claudia said you were helping the neighbours last night. Is everyone all right?”

  “I think so.” Laney hugged her back. “There’s a lot of clearing up to do though. The whole village is such a mess.”

  “Let’s start by getting rid of this thing.” Laney’s dad prodded the water-laden carpet with his toe. “It’s past saving.”

  “Laney!” Toby grinned from the top of the stairs. “Wings, Laney!”

  “Toby!” Laney smiled back, happy to see him safe. She sneaked a look at Kim, who didn’t seem surprised that Toby was talking about wings. It was just toddler talk after all.

  An engine rumbled outside. “That’ll be Simon,” said Mr Rivers. “At least the van must be fixed.”

  A door slammed and Simon appeared, grinning. “I heard how bad it was on the radio, but the water’s actually gone down really quickly.” He held out some paper parcels. “I brought chips from the chip shop in town to help make the clear-up easier.”

  Laney couldn’t sleep that night. At first she thought it was because she didn’t want to dream, but she knew the Crystal Mirror was out of reach. There would be no more dreams about it. There was something else.

  She pulled back the curtain and looked up at the three-quarters moon. Her middle finger throbbed where it had been burned, making her think of her birthday and everything that had happened since. Without hesitating, she opened the window, changed into faerie form and flew out over Oldwing Rise. She circled around the edge of Skellmore and landed in Gnarlwood Lane in front of Gwen’s gate. One of the gigantic trumpet-shaped flowers quivered and a line of greenish smoke trailed up into the night.

  Gwen opened her front door wearing a small, cream-coloured hat. “Hello, Laney. I’ve been expecting you.”

  Laney followed her in and they sat down in the plant house. A bunch of sprites hung from the end of a branch above them, casting a dappled pink and white light over the room.

  “Are they asleep?” asked Laney, peering at them.

  “Yes, but they never sleep for very long,” said Gwen. “You came to ask me something, didn’t you?”

  Laney rubbed the arm of the bench with one finger. “How do you know – is it some kind of Thorn power?”

  “No, it’s because I’m old and because I know you, Laney Rivers. You were never going to be satisfied with half an answer.” Gwen smiled and the lines on her face wrinkled. “What is it you want to know?”

  Laney took a deep breath. “What is the prophecy about the red moon? I mean, what does it actually say?”

  “It says this,” said Gwen, before reciting slowly: “Born under a Wolf Moon, the Child of Aether joins together powers far apart. He binds the opposites and drives a splinter through the faerie ring’s heart.”

  Laney paused, trying to take this in. “The Child of Aether? What does that mean?”

  “No one knows for sure.”

  “But the tribes think that person – the Child of Aether – will be dangerous?”

  “Some of them do. But no one knows for sure what the prophecy means or whether the faerie it refers to has even been born yet.” Gwen rose from the bench. “Now, let me get you some Thorn elixir. After the flood and the chaos, I think we could both do with some. And maybe some chocolate cookies?”

  “Yes, please.” Laney sat still as Gwen went to the kitchen. She touched the burn mark on her finger, which was still as red and sore as it had been at the Mencladden Stone. She didn’t know why it had suddenly flared up again on the hill that morning. Her finger certainly hadn’t touched the flame that time.

  The Child of Aether joins together powers far apart. That sounded like some kind of spell.

  He binds the opposites and drives a splinter through the faerie ring’s heart. Well, she wasn’t a he, so how could the prophecy be about her?

  Deciding it was too confusing to think about any more, she followed Gwen to the kitchen to get her chocolate cookies and elixir.

  Helping her dad and Kim with the clear-up took all of Laney’s time for a few days. By Saturday the house looked almost back to normal, except for the bare floors. Laney noticed thick fog hanging over Skellmore Edge and wondered if the faeries had made it. She shivered and went back to hanging out the sofa cushions. She was glad she didn’t have to go up there and be grilled for answers this time.

  Claudia and Fletcher came down the lane that afternoon.

  “Go and have some fun,” Kim told her. “This is your summer holiday and you need some time off. While you’re out can you get me some milk from the shop?”

  “OK.” Laney hurried through the gate.

  “You didn’t come to listen to the Faerie Meet this morning,” said Fletcher as soon as they were out of earshot.

  “It was great,” said Claudia. “The tribes started arguing and Gwen gave them a complete telling-off. She went on about how loads of them just left Skellmore during the flood without staying to help the humans or support the Mist tribe as they fought the water. She said she was really ashamed of them and they all went dead quiet.”

  “Good for Gwen,” said Laney.

  “So they sort of made up after that,” said Claudia. “And Gwen told them blaming you for the flood was ridiculous, and she said lots of the Mists had done a good job in helping the water go down quickly.”

  “So she kept the news about the Myricals completely secret?” said Laney.

  “She didn’t mention them at all,” said Claudia. “So at least everything is back to normal.”

  “What about Mr Stingwood?” said Laney. “He doesn’t seem like the type to let things go.” She paused. “Do you remembe
r when we were in the churchyard just as the flood started and someone cast a spell on him? I’ve been thinking about it for days. He was tangled up in a vine, so it must have been another Thorn faerie that did it.”

  Fletcher grinned. “Yeah, that was me!” “Fletcher! I never thought you’d do that!” said Laney.

  Fletcher dug his hands into his pockets. “Well, I thought he was about to do something nasty with that walking stick. Don’t tell anyone, OK? He would really have it in for me if he knew.”

  They rounded the corner and went down the footpath towards the Mistray river. Although the flood had retreated from the village, the river was still three times wider than normal. Bits of higher ground poked out of the water like tiny islands.

  “There’s no one around,” said Claudia. “Let’s do some flying!”

  “It’s the middle of the day,” said Fletcher.

  Laney closed her eyes and changed to faerie form. “Race you!” She took off, skimming just above the river.

  “Cheat!” called Fletcher, spreading his wings and chasing.

  They circled over the water until Laney landed on a little island that was hidden under the shade of a tree.

  “It’s weird to think that this was a disaster zone a few days ago, all because of the Crystal Mirror,” said Claudia. “They’re blaming it all on freak storms on the TV. Do you think one day the humans will notice what’s going on?”

  Laney shook her head. “They’ll never notice.”

  “Our world will stay secret,” said Fletcher. “As long as you can stop breaking water pipes at school, Laney.”

  Laney smiled, watching a dragonfly dip over the river. This was a good time to tell them her plan. “I’ve been thinking since the night of the storm… I think we should start looking for the other Myricals.”

  “What? We’ll end up getting killed,” said Claudia.

  “I know it’s dangerous, but we’re the only ones who can do it,” Laney told her. “Nobody except Gwen knows what the Shadow did or how we found the Crystal Mirror. None of them would want to believe it anyway.”

  “And Gwen told us it wasn’t safe to tell anyone else,” said Fletcher. “Come on, don’t tell me you wouldn’t like to find the Greytail Myrical!”

  “OK, maybe I would,” said Claudia. “But where would we look for it?”

  “I don’t know,” said Laney.

  “The Wildwood Arrow, the Vial of the Four Winds, the Sparkstone and the White Wolf Statue,” said Claudia thoughtfully. “They’re all out there somewhere.”

  “The Shadow will be searching too.” Fletcher folded his arms. “It won’t be easy.”

  “That’s why we need to get started,” said Laney. “I think we should get ready, learn to fly better and learn how to fight back as well.”

  “We should be better prepared for next time,” Fletcher agreed.

  “But we need some chill time this summer too, right?” Claudia raised her eyebrows. “It all sounds like a lot of work.”

  Fletcher took off and hovered over the river. “I don’t think I’ll need any flying lessons though. It’s not like I’m a slowcoach Mist faerie!”

  “The cheek! I’ll get you for that!” Laney pointed at the river below, raising a jet of water to drench him. He dodged sideways and she dived after him, arching her wings as she soared into the pale-blue sky.

  Copyright

  For Abby, who opened these pages and flew with me.

  RED MOON RISING

  First published in the UK in 2013 as Faerie Tribes: The Crystal Mirror by

  Nosy Crow Ltd

  The Crow's Nest, 10a Lant Street

  London SE1 1QR, UK

  This ebook edition first published in 2015

  Nosy Crow and associated logos are trademarks and / or registered trademarks of Nosy Crow Ltd

  Text copyright © Paula Harrison, 2013

  Map and cover lettering © Sarah J Coleman, 2013, 2015

  Cover illustration © Lisa Evans, 2015

  The right of Paula Harrison to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the author's imagination or are used fictiously. Any resemblence to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978 0 85763 511 2

  www.nosycrow.com