Chapter 4: Saved by the Whistle

John got to his feet and remarked, "It's light in here."

Laura stood up and realised that she was standing on grassy ground. "Look here, it's grass! But it's brown. Hang on, this is dead grass."

"These can't be trees!" exclaimed William, going near one pine tree and touching its brown, dry needles. "They're so dry!"

Anne stared at the endless, cloudless, dull grey sky. "And won't you look at the sky? It's like a grey, clean slate. It's not usually like that, not even winter days in London, skies aren't meant to look so, er . . . "

"Lifeless," William finished for her. "Boy, is it just me, or is it really cold?"

"By Jove, so it is!" said Laura. She went back into the wardrobe and took out four coats for each of them. They put them on immediately, not caring if they weren't theirs, or if they stank.

"Let's walk around a bit," suggested Laura, and so they did. They walked and walked a while until they saw a lamp-post. "What's a lamp-post doing here?" she exclaimed.

William shrugged. He moved closer to it to study it. "It looks like one of those ancient ones that they've still got in London. But," he turned to look at Laura, "this can't be London, can it?"

"Of course not," snapped John, "We would have seen some buildings, maybe some people. And we would be walking on pavements, not dead grass."

"He's right," said Laura. "But look here: it seems like the light from the sky is coming from it. Isn't it weird? But I swear it is. It's brighter here, near to the lamp-post, than from where we came from."

The other children looked around and saw that she was right. "So the source of light of this country," said William thoughtfully, "is this lamp-post? It sounds a bit far-fetched, isn't it?

"But there's no sun, either," argued John, "And if this land is really inside the wardrobe, it could only have done so through magic, and through magic, just about anything can happen."

Anne frowned. "I don't understand. How can a lamp-post light up an entire country?"

"That's what I'd like to know, either," said Laura. "This is terribly boring. Let's walk around some more."

"I don't know about you guys," said John hesitantly, "But this place seems a bit, er, dead, don't you think?" He kicked at the trunk of a spruce and it cracked and sunk in immediately so that the tree leaned and groaned a bit. "This is unnatural for a tree. Wood doesn't break that easily."

"I've got to admit that you're right," said William, studying more pine needles and plucked them out and sucked on them. He spat them out again. "Dead, definitely dead."

"This is a wasteland," said Laura, inhaling the cold, sharp air. "There's not even a breeze to speak of."

Suddenly, Anne thought she saw a familiar glint at the foot of the lamp-post and gave an excited squeal: "My whistle!" She dashed towards it and picked it up. It was her whistle, all right, but it seemed to gleam more brightly than before. It still had its red wool thread tied to it. She showed it to the others, "I've found it! But how did it get here, I wonder? I have a feeling that it's got something to do with this place."

"I have a bad feeling about this," said John nervously. "Let's set off for home now. There's nothing here."

"I think we should explore some more," said Anne. "You know, find out more about this country: whether there's anybody living here. I don't know why, but I just know it: I think that the whistle meant for us to find this country!"

"I agree with Anne," said William.

Laura thought it over for a moment. "All right," she said at last, much to Anne's delight. "I suppose a bit of exploring won't hurt us."

"Oh, Laura!" Anne threw her arms around Laura's legs.

" 'Won't hurt us?' " repeated John incredulously. "Remember what happened the last time you said something like that?"

"Everybody makes mistakes, John. So don't be an ass," said William irritably.

"This isn't one of those small decisions that don't matter even if you don't make it. We can't afford to make a wrong one this time," argued John.

"We won't be long here, I promise you," said Laura hastily. She looked at her watch. "It's ten minutes past three now. We'll set out for home at five."

John shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. "That's better."

Anne groaned. "Oh don't, Laura, please don't do that. It won't be fun anymore if we have to keep minding the time."

"We need our dinner," said Laura. Anne sighed angrily and half-thought of stomping off to sulk, but remembering that this was a foreign land which she knew nothing about, she refrained from doing so.

They moved away from the vicinity of the lamp-post and entered the dry woods. Laura, being a Girl Guide in school, gathered twigs and sticks and stuck them upright in the ground so that they would be able to find their way back. Soon they lost sight of the lamp-post. The forest was thin and the trees were placed at a fair distance away from each other, but they were bent over like old, wizened hags. There was not a spot of green to be seen anywhere: every leaf, every blade of grass and every parched cluster of bushes was either brown, grey or black. The whole forest seemed to them to be dehydrated, and yet they still hung on to the ground for dear life, refusing to admit defeat. But most had surrendered to the cruel environment and lay defeated on the ground. Often the children had to either climb over these dead brambles or, if they were too fragile, both William and John would take turns hacking through it with what rare good, strong sticks they could find, until the brambles broke apart.

Time seemed to stand still in the dead forest. There was neither sound nor sight of other living beings. Laura checked her watch regularly to make sure that she obey the curfew that she herself had set, but either time was content to move at a crawl, or the battery was growing weaker. They walked on and on until Anne declared that she must rest or risk snapping her limbs.

"Has anybody got any food?" she asked as she removed her buckled shoe, the kind that girls wore to weddings. "How hateful! I have a mean blister over here."

"I've got some kind of sweets," said John hesitantly. He dug into his pocket and came up with a few brightly-packaged sweets. Laura unwrapped one and popped it into her mouth. She sucked thoughtfully as the others watched her.

"Well?" asked William.

"This is toffee," she concluded happily and started chewing. "And it's got hazelnuts and almond in it, and the sweetest layer of caramel. It's practically melting in my mouth! Where did you get these?"

"I nicked them from the larder when Mrs. Lafferty wasn't looking," said John, grinning as each sibling took one toffee.

The children finished their sweets, stowed their wrappers in Laura's coat pocket and moved on. The sweets lightened their hunger, but it made them thirstier. As they walked they kept a sharp lookout for any source of water to drink from, but the dryness of the land ensured that there was none.

Suddenly they were out of the woods and at the edge of a sharp downwards slope. There was a stagnant river a little far off from the foot of the slope. Across the river was another hill also wooded with the same parched forest.

The children were very glad at the sight of the river, so much so that they rushed down the hill to meet it without a second thought. The thought of cool water against their lips and throats overwhelmed them. But once they tasted the water, they spat it out.

"Ugh! What water!" grunted William.

"This is a stagnant river," said Laura bitterly, "And look, it's polluted: what a shade of brown! Since the water's not moving, I reckon that the riverbed's heavy with all sorts of dirt or mud or whatever that makes the water taste horrible."

"But it's still water," argued John. He cupped some of the murky water and drank it. He writhed a little and his face paled, but he managed to croak out, "At least I'm not so thirsty anymore."

"Sound judgement, John," said William and they all forced themselves to drink from the river. There was a good deal of disgusted yells and moans and spitting and rubbing of tongues after that, but in the end, they did feel much better.

"Hush!" said Laura suddenly, and she put a finger to her lips. She turned around and leaned slightly forward and fixed her eyes on a thicket of dry bushes at the foot of the hill behind them. Anne followed her gaze and squinted at the bushes.

William frowned. "What's the matter?"

"I heard something," answered Laura.

"Well, I don't hear anything," said John crossly. He folded his arms. "Are you sure you're not imagining things?"

The bushes shook ever so slightly. "By gum!" whispered William, "You're right!" Anne held on to Laura, who clutched hers tightly in return. She took a step forward. Anne gasped and tugged at her sister's hand, but Laura ignored her. The bushes shivered more aggressively this time, and Anne's hand moved unconsciously for the whistle around her neck. John stood behind William, who cast an anxious look at Laura.

Suddenly a salamander sprang out of the bushes. Anne screamed and Laura grabbed a sturdy-looking stick and smacked it on his head. It screeched a most ungodly screech and to her horror, it fixed its terrible yellow eyes on Anne and sprang upon her. Laura pushed her out of the way just as the salamander crashed into her, taking her out at once. Everything became a blur: Anne could only watch as Laura struggled against its deadly fangs (Anne couldn't remember a salamander sporting fangs) as the boys beat their sticks against the salamander as hard as they could.

"Laura!"

Anne didn't know what made her do it, but she felt she should, and so she did. She put the whistle to her lips and blew on it as hard as she could.

The same, sweet, sharp sound came out from the whistle. It echoed throughout the woods and touched the leaves of the trees and stirred the windless air. The salamander halted and arched its head wildly. Laura took the opportunity to heave out underneath it and get to her feet. It did not respond, it just stood still, its gaze darting around, and when the ground trembled, it screeched and made to dart for the trees, for it had sensed a terrible force that its kind disliked, and it knew nothing but repulsion and fear.

But before it had gone very far, two or three arrows whizzed through the air and struck it, bringing it down in an instant. The children, if anything, were even more bewildered. Laura was still shaking from her fight with the salamander. But Anne was just glad that she was all right. She went over towards her and hugged her sister tightly.

"Oh, Laura!"

"Anne!"

The boys forsook their dignity and joined the group hug as well. They couldn't remember when they had faced a greater danger than the one that had just passed. One of them could have possibly been gravely injured, or even died, from the salamander's attack.

Suddenly a whispery, wheezy voice spoke somewhere above them, "Your Majesties, are you all right?"

They broke away and found themselves surrounded by thin, ethereal creatures that were so tall they had to crane their necks a little to get a good look at them. They wore greyish robes streaked a little here and there with silver, and their hair was long, white and fell to their waist. Their faces were sad and solemn and were very pale. The children marvelled at the ambiguity of these creatures, for they looked human but not quite human. Each of the creature held a bow in one hand and a quiver of arrows slung on their back.

"Your Majesties, are any of you hurt?" asked one of them.

"No, we're fine," said Anne. "Did you come because of the whistle?"

The creature that had spoken and who the children took to be their leader, said to Anne, "Yes, Your Majesty. When we first heard the sound, it awoke us from our deep and dark sleep. The second time the whistle was blown, our spirits are summoned to like a moth to a flame. But it seems that it only affects us Dryads and Hamadryads."

"Of course, how idiotic of me!" said William, shaking his head. "You're the Tree-spirits. How could I forget your names?" Then Anne noticed that there were some of them who were taller and looked more beautiful than some and decided that these greater beings were the Dryads.

The Dryad who had spoken to them broke into a smile. "So you do remember us, Your Majesty the High King!"

William laughed a little nervously. "I'd hate to disappoint you, but, er, I'm not a King. None of us is."

At this, the Dryads and the Hamadryads exchanged puzzled looks with one another. The Dryad turned back to them with a frowning face. "But – but you are the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve, are you not?"

"Yes, we are," said Laura. "Well, at least, we're some of them."

"Then are you not the four Kings and Queens who had liberated the Old Country from the iron fist of a wicked tyrant and brought upon the Golden Warmth?"

John broke into a sudden, rude roar. "What did you say? Kings and Queens? You think that we, mere children, are Kings and Queens?"

"What he means to say is," Laura intervened quickly because she thought she saw a flash of anger pass on the faces of the Dryads and the Hamadryads, "that we're not the people that you've mentioned. We've never been head boys or head girls in school, much less rule a country, and this is our first time here. So I think that you've mistaken us for other people."

"Oh, dear," said the Dryad, looking quite crestfallen. "But we were quite sure that you had all come back from the Lord Lion's country to aid us in our dire need. For the Sons of Adam and the Daughters of Eve who are favoured and beloved of the Lord Lion have always turned up to aid the Old Country to defeat her enemies and bring upon peace and prosperity. It had always been so in the stories."

"I'm really sorry, but I'm afraid that we can't do anything much to help you. You see, we ought to be getting back," said Laura as apologetically as she could.

"Oh, don't go! It's not every day that any of us here get to see a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve. At least come with us to our cave and have some tea."

"Oh, do let's, Laura!" said Anne, her eyes shining with excitement. "How often are we able to have tea with Dryads and Hamadryads?"

Laura eyed her warily, and then she sighed and nodded. She hoped that she wouldn't regret her decision.