Page 22

The Last Wish

“Where is this tunnel?” Jory was limping badly. He claimed to be fine, but after traversing the uneven ground for some time, he gave in and accepted Jack’s help, leaning hard on his younger brother.

“It is hard to see now the moon’s behind clouds,” said Sir Oswain over his shoulder. “Look for a pile of rocks. I had the deuce of a time dislodging them from the entrance.”

“Won’t the witch come after us?” fretted Jack, glancing back. “She must know where we’re going.”

“The tunnel is in the realm of the queen,” I said. “We’ll be safe when we reach it.” I forced myself to sound more confident than I felt.

“If we reach it,” muttered Jory.

“That dragon creature’s still here,” said Jack as the dark shape flitted ahead of us.

“It’s done no harm,” I said. “I think it may be leading us.”

I retrieved my lamp. Its soft, silvery light revealed a barren stretch of land, with the occasional crop of rocks and the odd gnarled and twisty tree; Amara’s castle was behind us.

It was a still, mild night, and a thin column of smoke rose vertically from the north side of the castle where the banqueting hall had stood.

I wondered what Amara was doing, and how much time we had before she realised Rose was not in the burning hall and came searching for her.

We came to a fork in the path, and Sir Oswain hesitated, hitching Rose up as though his arms were growing weary.

“Can we catch our breath a minute?” gasped Jack, struggling under Jory’s weight.

A long, piercing shriek rent the air, sending a ripple of fear through us all.

“The witch,” breathed Jack.

No one needed urging to hurry. Sir Oswain turned to the right-hand path, but I saw the flying creature take the left, then alight on a rock, turning as though waiting for us to follow.

“Go left,” I said, trusting my instinct. It had never failed me before where creatures were concerned. Mother always said I had the same gift she did—a strong sympathy with living things.

Sir Oswain hesitated. Rose stirred in his arms, murmuring, “Am I too heavy? I will try to walk.”

Sir Oswain clutched her closer. “Not till we are out of danger, my lady. You weigh nothing. It is only my feet that are the problem.”

“Your feet?” said Rose weakly.

“I lost my boots. The ground is stony here.”

He threw an uncertain look at the dragon creature and then said, “This way!” And we turned left .

“Is it the right way?” asked Jack worriedly. “My brother’s getting heavier. I think he’s mortal bad.”

“I believe so,” said Sir Oswain, though with a hesitant note. “Though all looks the same.”

We came to another fork in the path. “Follow the dragon-thing,” I urged, lifting my lamp to see the creature bounding over rocks, pausing to wait for us at intervals.

“I’ll follow it!” I said impatiently, when Sir Oswain hesitated a second time. “Wait here if you want!”

I ran after the creature, lifting my lamp to track its progress. I did not have to run far before it alighted on a small mound of rocks and flapped its wings triumphantly. Drawing closer, I saw an opening like the mouth of a cave.

“I knew you were helping,” I said, and I ran back a few yards, waving my lamp and calling, “Over here! I’ve found it!”

Sir Oswain gave a little laugh of relief. “That is it! See the rocks I had to dislodge to get out? The entrance was blocked up this side.”

I ushered them all inside, noting the sweat beading on Jory’s face, while Jack looked awful with three angry welts marring his cheek.

“Go ahead and light the way,” said Sir Oswain once we were inside.

“Shall we have to crawl?” Rose asked anxiously.

“Do not fear, my lady,” said Sir Oswain. “We can walk upright most of the way.”

“How long is it?” asked Jack.

“Not far. A league or two.”

Jory groaned.

“You cannot carry me so far,” said Rose. “I must try to walk. Put me down, sir. ”

I looked back at my weary companions. Everyone, myself included, was exhausted and ragged.

“Have you any food, Sir Oswain?” I asked. “Ours did not survive in the water.”

“I have a little.”

“I’m starving,” groaned Jack at the mention of food.

The food was shared around. It was not much, but even a few mouthfuls were welcome.

Sir Oswain tried to give all his to Rose, but she insisted he eat his portion.

The dragon creature drew near to me, eyeing the bread in my hand.

I threw half my piece to it, and it caught it mid-air, swallowing it in one gulp, as though ravenous.

“Glad to see it eats bread,” said Sir Oswain, eyeing the creature warily. “And not mortal flesh.”

The fae bread revived us, even if there was not enough to satisfy our hunger. We agreed that it was imperative to press on. The farther we were from Amara’s stolen isle, the safer we felt. No one wanted to discuss what would happen next. It was too much to think about in our present state.

We laboured onwards, Jory and Rose limping, Jack and I supporting Jory, while Sir Oswain half-carried Rose.

The strange creature skipped ahead, looking back with glowing amber eyes as though urging us on.

I noticed distractedly that when it neared the rosy veins in the tunnel walls, its grey skin blushed pink, but perhaps it was only a trick of the lamplight.

It was still dark when we emerged from the tunnel. Judging by the sky, there were a couple of hours remaining until sunrise.

“I cannot go any farther without rest,” said Rose, sinking gracefully to the grassy meadow floor. She had chosen the spot where we had left Sir Oswain sleeping, the grass still flattened where he had lain.

“Allow me, my lady!” Sir Oswain hurried to lay his cloak for her to lie on. “Permit me to cover you with my coat,” he begged, shrugging it off.

“But you will be cold, sir,” she protested, her eyes already closing. “I feel I have not slept for days… dancing…” Her voice slurred as she drifted into an exhausted slumber. Stirring briefly, she murmured anxiously, “Lily?”

“Yes?” I bent near her.

She tried to open her eyes to look at me but could only manage a squint.

“What is it?” I asked, as her hand clutched at mine, as though what she wanted to tell me was of vital importance. I bent nearer so she could speak in my ear.

“Don’t…” she whispered urgently, “…let me snore.”

Jory lay a short distance from Rose, clearly in pain and asking for a drop of sap from the meadow grass.

“You can’t drink that!” I said. “You saw what it did to Sir Oswain!”

“Just a smidgeon, to dull the pain so I can sleep,” begged Jory.

“But it will make you run round like a moonstruck loon,” said Jack. “That won’t do your leg no good.”

Jory could not argue with this and closed his eyes with a groan.

I considered if now was the time to use my last wish to heal Jory’s wound. But when I suggested this, Sir Oswain pointed out that Jory was now asleep, though it was an uneasy slumber. He urged me to lie next to Rose and rest a while.

“I will stand watch,” he promised.

I did not need to be asked twice. Like Rose, I could barely keep my eyes open.

My clothes were still uncomfortably damp.

If only there were trees or shrubs about, we could have kindled a fire; but there was nothing but whispering grass.

It was a mild night, but I felt chilled and shivery.

This was not a good time to fall ill, I mused unhappily as I dropped into a heavy sleep.

I awoke to something nudging my face. For a moment I thought I was home in the attic bed I shared with my sister, and it was Rose waking me up.

But Rose lay beside me, with Sir Oswain’s cloak wrapped tight about her like a cocooned butterfly, and her dark hair pooled beneath her as a pillow.

It was the scaly, grey-skinned creature nudging my cheek with its leathery snout, and not Rose.

“You are awake,” said Sir Oswain, who was the only other person who appeared to be conscious.

He looked a sorry sight in his crumpled shirt and grass-stained breeches.

His feet were bare and bruised, and his face was anything but clean-shaven.

But he looked better than anyone else. Jack lay sleeping fitfully with lurid red welts marring his cheek, and Jory looked dreadful, a greenish tinge to his pale face.

“He does not look well,” said Sir Oswain, seeing my dismay.

“No. That wound looks putrid.”

“Looks like teeth marks,” said Sir Oswain.

“It was the monster guarding the moat.”

Sir Oswain grimaced.

Jack stirred at the sound of our voices. He opened his eyes sleepily, then bolted upright, his eyes going directly to his brother’s wounded leg. “Oh, he’s mortal bad,” he said.

I felt Jory’s forehead. It was feverish .

“You’ll have to use the last wish,” urged Jack. “If you don’t, he’ll die!”

“I agree he needs help urgently,” I said. “But if I wish him well, that still leaves all of us unable to carry on.” I plucked two roses from my wreath and began crushing them in my hands, inhaling the fragrance.

“What do you mean, carry on?” said Jack. “We’ll go home as soon as he’s well. We got our lady Rose back safe.”

“Give me a strip of cloth,” I said. “For a bandage,” I added when he did not move.

“Use this,” said Sir Oswain, tearing a sleeve from his arm. “But I am not going home,” he said. “Not without my king’s crown.”

I used the crushed roses for a poultice, binding them to Jory’s wound with the linen sleeve. He moaned softly as I worked, but did not wake.

“You cannot travel on without food,” I said to Sir Oswain, as I tied the ends of the strips.

“Nor boots,” added Jack. “And you can’t drag the lady Rose off to some dwarf den.”

“Certainly not,” said Sir Oswain. “Her Highness will return home with her sister. As will you all. But I must journey on.”

I sat back, looking with dissatisfaction at my handiwork. It was the best I could do for now. My weary mind scrambled over all the options available to us, which were not plentiful.

“The horses!” I said, standing to look towards the place where we had alighted from our faerie mounts. “I must see if they are still here.”

“I shall go,” said Sir Oswain. “You watch over Her Highness. She must not be left alone. ”

“Pray, don’t call her that,” I begged, glancing back at Rose. “Not yet. It will be a shock for her. Wait till we are home.”

He agreed, and gave me his flask of water from the faerie court. “There is a little left,” he said. “I have saved it for her.” And he strode away, swishing through the long purple-tipped grass.

I had only a mouthful left in my own flask. I set my emptied flask down and almost wished aloud that I had food. This was alarming, for the lamp was hanging from the strap at my shoulder and touching my arm. I took the strap off, fearful of accidentally wishing away our last means of aid.

I walked up and down a little way, my mind busy.

If the faerie mounts had gone, then things were dire.

I would have to use the last wish wisely.

As I paced I formulated wishes in my head that would encompass all that we needed—medicine and food and drink and safe passage—how to get them all in one request?

The dragon-creature watched me, never taking its glowing eyes, like polished carnelians, from me.

Rose groaned softly, and I hurried to her.

“Lily?” she said weakly.

“I’m here. You’re safe.”

“I’m so thirsty.”

“Here, drink this.” I gave her Sir Oswain’s flask.

She drank eagerly, but it was gone too soon. “I hurt all over,” she rasped. “Especially my legs.”

“Lie down and rest some more. Sir Oswain has gone to find our horses. We shall get you to a place where there is food and drink and healing salves.”

“Everyone looks so ill,” said Rose, looking over at the brothers. “Even you. And you are never ill. ”

“We’ve all had quite a venture,” I said, trying to smile.

Rose lay down again, and I resumed my pacing, walking a little way off, looking for any sight of Sir Oswain, but all I could see was waving grass.

“Is he coming?” said Rose, sitting up and trying to smooth her hair. She took hold of my sack, peering inside.

“What are you looking for?”

“Food.”

“There is none. Put the bag down,” I said sharply, for the lamp hung from the strap, and her hand was touching it.

“I’m so hungry,” she sighed. “And so tired. How I wish I were home with a big bowl of porridge and my own bed.”

She rippled like a heatwave—and vanished.