With slow ponderous actions, Grandpa opened the dusty tome, cleared his throat and began to read aloud: ‘In accordance with Article 8562 Procedures in an Emergency, all task forces should include an original member of the Council of Arafel in preference, or his/her replacement.’
‘Old friend, this requirement has not been overlooked,’ Art interjected gently. ‘I intend to accompany the task force.’
Grandpa’s shrewd gaze was unwavering. ‘The Article states all task units should comprise Arafel’s core pillars: strength, skill, speed, and experience. It’s no secret I learned how to negotiate with Insiders from my grandfather, as he learned from Thomas himself,’ he continued in a steely voice. ‘There’s a skill to communicating with them, Art, for – despite our shared heritage – they are not our kind. You are needed here, and I am of Thomas’s bloodline, the eldest remaining. You must let me go, in preference.’
A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd. Disagreement was rare in Arafel, let alone among such senior Council members.
‘No, Grandpa!’ my voice rang out, sounding high and unnatural in the cavernous space. Dozens of eyes swung my way, and Grandpa’s face relaxed for a second.
‘It is the right way, Talia,’ he reassured me, his voice softer. ‘You know what to do.’
I watched wretchedly as he made his way slowly through the crowd to pass me the wrapped book.
‘Protect it with your life, and one day you might know its secrets,’ he whispered, hugging me and Mum tightly, before shuffling towards the antechamber. Art looked undecided for a second, and then slowly nodded his defeat. Grandpa was elderly, but also universally loved and respected as an Elder with direct connection to the original founding father. No one here would support a challenge.
I glanced helplessly at Mum’s ashen profile. Grandpa was so weak. I couldn’t even see how he would survive the exit from our village, he hadn’t been outside in a decade. I knew Eli would look out for him, but if Eli was looking out for Grandpa, no one was looking out for Eli. I bit my lower lip until I tasted the faint bitterness of blood, it did nothing to still the panic inside.
‘Tal … Talia?’ Mum’s terse voice sounded distant, as though she were calling through a thick fog.
‘You must take the book; it can’t stay here. It’s too precious.’
I stared blankly for a moment, before the full force of her words hit me. I held the most precious item in Arafel in my hands as though it were a basket of potatoes on market day, and it was already attracting curious glances.
Five minutes later, I was weaving through the dark forest in the direction of our treehouse. It hadn’t taken long to persuade the guards of my need to return, being Grandpa’s granddaughter had its advantages.
The muted call of an owl rang out behind me before it swooped low, and found a place to rest in the low-hanging branches silhouetted just ahead. It did little to calm my nerves. I loved my forest home but the silence tonight was eerie, and when I reached our treehouse, I scaled the willow ladder swiftly. Jas greeted me, and I rubbed her favourite milky-white spot behind her black-tipped ears with affection, enjoying her warm breath on my skin.
‘Now where to hide the thing?’ I muttered, scanning our living space for inspiration. The Book of Arafel was revered, and there were a number in the Council who would jump at the opportunity to take it into ‘safekeeping’. Jas mewed plaintively, and I spun on the spot to eye her bed and empty food bowl.
‘Of course! Good girl, Jas!’ I whispered, running to her bed area and pulling her large woven basket to one side. Jas could be pretty formidable and highly protective of her family home. I wished any intruder all the luck in the world if they decided to inspect her bed.
Once the book was stowed under one of the old loose boards beneath Jas’s bed, I crouched beside the stew pot, and ladled some of its warm contents into her bowl. She emptied it in seconds, before creeping under my arm. I looked into her cool yellow eyes as I hugged her close.
Eli and Grandpa were both so goddamned selfless they would probably break their own necks trying to look out for one another. Then there was Max, Max my annoying, do-anything-for-anyone best friend. Only, I quite liked him annoying me – I’d got used to it.
I gritted my teeth. There was only one possible way in the world I could keep an eye on them all.
Purpose flooded my cold limbs, and I leapt up abruptly, startling Jas.
‘Sorry, girl,’ I apologized, soothing her disgruntled yowling with an extra large ladle of stew.
Two minutes later I was sprinting through the dark forest, my leather rations bag over my shoulder. The soft, rhythmic padding of paws behind me alerted me to Jas’s tail, and I was grateful for her company, if only for a short while. The trees were hung with a clingy mist, broken by just a few determined stars, but I was grateful for the cover as I leapt over mossy boulders and ducked beneath sharp branches.
I knew the forest of Arafel like the back of my hand, particularly the route to the exit cave, but night-time excursions were always discouraged by the Council. I didn’t flout the rules like Max, but as I darted through the dark trees I felt a kernel of excitement spark inside me. I had no idea what I was letting myself in for, and the scribbled note I’d left for Mum had made promises I wasn’t sure I could keep.
I jumped for a familiar branch and heard it creak as I swung through, planting my feet on a fallen tree and running to its tip. I paused and listened to the forest’s murmur. The misty veil draped the forest in pallid light tonight, making it look fairytale.
When Eli and I were small, Grandpa would tell us about the wood sprites that came out at night, when we were sleeping. His gruff voice would enrapture us with stories of how they sat on mushrooms and drank out of acorn cups, before bathing and dancing naked in the moonlight. Tonight, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see their tiny svelte shapes darting among the undergrowth.
Grandpa’s stories accompanied me as I ran, and before too long, I was creeping up towards the clearing in front of the tunnel cave. Silently, I shinnied up a young hazel tree and surveyed the area. All seemed deathly quiet. Even the nocturnal animals seemed to be watching and waiting. I leapt down lightly and sprinted into the open cave.
A lantern flickered against the rough inside walls, and the floor was littered with signs of the task force’s rushed departure, including discarded ration bags and, among them, Grandpa’s walking stick. I dragged my eyes from it, and prayed Eli would have the sense to find him another one on the other side. Cautiously I glanced out towards the forest, the tunnel-watch guard would be back soon.
I turned to face the still water pooling at the back of the cave. It was silently chilling. But there was no other way. Casting one final look back at moonlit Arafel, I tightened the shoulder strap on my ration bag, and stepped into the freezing water. The cold reached through to my bones with its clawing fingers, and I fought to contain the panic welling up my throat.
Then Grandpa’s voice was at the back of my head, calming my jagged breath and steeling my nerves.
You know what to do, Talia.
I set my jaw, and the last thing I heard as I dived was the faint, disapproving growl of a flecked cat, hidden in the trees across the clearing.
‘Take care of Mum, Jas,’ I prayed, as the icy black consumed me.
If I disliked the tunnel when Eli was with me, I detested it on my own. Although the guide rope stayed in place, there was no encouraging tug, no ray of daylight to pierce the numbing gloom. Summoning all my resolve, I kicked down into the tight tunnel as fast as I could, the rough