The darkest evening of the year
"You!" screeched the dwarf. "You! You who ruined my beard – and you want to take my treasure, don't you?" He flailed his long arms at Sarah, his sharp fingernails scratching at her face and clothes.
"I don't want your treasure!" said Sarah, fending him off. "And you don't even have a beard."
"Exactly!" squeaked the little man, jabbing at her face with his grimy nails. "Oh, you're a liar, and you know what happens to liars…" He opened his mouth to bite down with his razor sharp teeth on Sarah's hand, but, with a shriek, she grabbed him by the arm and sent him flying through the air.
With a loud crack, he hit the old tree, and disappeared, simply vanishing into thin air. Very shaken, Sarah just stared at where he had been. What had just happened? And why? Had she killed him? Or it? She started forwards, part horrified, part relieved.
"No-one really dies here. At least, if they are from here."
Sarah looked around, startled, looking for the voice from nowhere. Then she frowned. Was it coming from the tree? As she approached, a little hand poked out from the hole, quickly followed by a small dark-haired boy with an unusually long face.
"He'll pop back up again," he explained, climbing down and walking towards Sarah. "At some point, someone will come across him again. I doubt that you will, though."
He looked up into her stunned face, and grinned. He held out a hand. "Chris. Nice to meet you."
Dazed, Sarah shook it. "Sarah…"
"I know," said the boy. "Your friends have been looking for you."
"How did you –" started Sarah, but Chris had already scampered back up to the hole in the dead tree. He beckoned to her.
"Follow me!" he called, jumping into the tree.
Confused, Sarah poked her head into the tree. Inside, it was completely smooth and hollow, like a long wooden chute. It was dark, and she couldn't see the bottom. Chris had already disappeared out of sight. Resigning herself to the fact that this night was, if anything, going to get stranger still, Sarah pulled herself into the tree, and, yelling despite herself, dropped down into the darkness.
"Benny…"
"Mmm?"
"I don't think that I should have eaten the cushions first…"
"Not so – clever after all, are you, E.?" murmured Benny, drowsily.
"No. P'haps not…"
"Jake? Oh, OK. I'm Rory," said Rory, stretching out a friendly hand.
The boy stared at it for a while, before nodding abruptly. "I know who you are." He pressed a cup of tea into Rory's hand. "You may be a vampire, but drink up anyway; it might help you see more clearly."
Rory frowned. What did that mean? His eyesight was just fine. Perfect, in fact. Sometimes he wished that people would stop being enigmatic. What was really in it for them?
"I mean, that will help you see in the dark," Jake said, catching Rory's look. "Carrots, you know?"
Rory opened his mouth to point out that he could see fairly well in the dark anyway, as a vampire, but –
"Yes, but you can see well by the light of the moon. Where you're going, there is no moon," interrupted Jake before Rory could make a sound.
"And where would that be?" threw out Rory quickly, not wanting to be answered before he asked the question again.
"Down there," said the boy, pointing into the dark recess of the cave. "There's a whole network of tunnels and caves down here. It's the only way for anyone normal to get about this forest, for, wherever you go, the forest grows in size. The caves can't do that. They may be confusing, and full of dead ends, but they never get more confusing, which the woods do."
"Are they – is it – alive, then, this forest?"
The boy shrugged. "Sort of. At least, there's some kind of force sustaining it, and at least makes it seem like it has intentions."
"Magic?"
Jake tipped his head from side to side, and wrinkled his nose. "I don't really think so. Certainly no witch or wizard could make a spell as powerful as this. Not if they were human, at any rate. There's definitely some magic here, but usually it's left-over from when someone has tried to go through using magic."
Rory nodded warily. "Has anyone ever made it through?"
The boy thought for a while, and then nodded. "From time to time. If we find them before – well, before they get stuck in one of the stories."
"How did you get here?" asked Rory, curious over the 'we'.
"My brother and I came here a long time ago. We could have left, it's true, but in here we stay young. Time passes differently here."
Rory rolled his eyes. Didn't it always. He only hoped that he wouldn't miss too much of the holiday.
"So, the two of us stayed here for years, helping out those who had lost their way; making sure that the stories stay on track. Over the years, there were a few others, like us, who decided to stay here instead of going home. You might meet them before you leave here. Your friends almost certainly will, if they're going to survive."
Rory shivered. Was it him, or did the room seem less dark? He could see a second bed towards the back of the cave that he hadn't noticed before. He looked quizzically at Jake.
"It is working, then," said the boy, smiling. "I wasn't sure if it would work on a vampire. You'd better be going, then."
Rory frowned. "Into the caves? But how will I know where to go?"
"You won't," shrugged the boy. "But someone will find you, and, if any of your friends are down there, you'll meet with them, too."
"Are you coming with me?" asked Rory, nervous.
Jake spread his hands apologetically. "I'm afraid not. There could be more people out there that need helping. You'll be safe. There's nothing down there that can harm you." He thought for a moment. "Much."
Not particularly reassured, Rory slowly edged into the passageway at the back of the cave.
"Uh… I'll see you around?"
"Maybe. Good luck!"
Behind Rory, a rock rolled into place, sealing him in. Only one way to go, then, thought Rory, groping at the sides of the rough stone tunnel. Down.
"Ethan?"
"Mmmf… Yeah?"
"Do you think the wolves have gone yet?"
Wiping the crumbs from his mouth absently with the back of his hand, Ethan cocked his head. "I can't hear anything…"
"So…?"
"They might have gone … but, then again, they might not. I think we should stay here a bit longer. Just to be safe."
"Good idea," murmured Benny contentedly, reaching out to break another lump off of the table.
A narrow face framed by wavy brown hair peeked in through the bars of the stout wooden door. Erica lay, unmoving, on the bed, red light still pulsing faintly around the room.
A worried look on his face, the boy jumped down from the box he had been standing on and looked around the tower staircase. There was no key. Normally, there was a key. How was he supposed to get in, wake the girl up and get her to safety?
He sighed. The room wasn't dangerous, he supposed. Whoever was in there was just left, suspended in time, forever if possible. They wouldn't age or change in any way. So, though, Jacob wouldn't like it, he could just leave her there until the key turned up. Which it had to do, eventually.
Tucking his little wooden box under his arm, Will traipsed down the very long staircase. All this journey (and all these steps!) for nothing. Oh, well. At least it gave him time to think. There was an unusually large number of people in the forest tonight. Whoever the original boy was, he certainly had a good set of friends. Well, a stupid and essentially redundant set of friends, in truth. Either he, or Christian, or Jacob would have found the boy eventually, and saved him from the wolf. Probably, at least. But, yes, the boy had a very loyal and stubbornly determined set of friends.
He wondered if that was the problem. Was the boy careless because his friends usually saved him? Perhaps it was often the other way round. Will didn't know enough to comment. Then he stopped on the staircase, and frowned as a related thought struck him. Maybe…
The forest certainly liked to play games with people. Why not? It could have hidden the key somewhere, and expected one of the group to find it, reach the tower, and save the girl. Just like in the real story. It was definitely a possible scenario. He wondered whether it had anything to do with them bringing in the story-book with them. That was bound to change things.
What he would do, then, was go down to the bottom of the tower, sit on his box, and wait for someone to show up. Then he could help them save the girl, and then show them the way out. Then he could go back to watching all the tales unfold in peace without interruptions from clumsy tourists!
So, he thought, setting off down the stairs again, the only query that remained was which one of them found the key.
