‘Your horse drinks Queen Bee cider?’ Jasmine asked in astonishment.
Steven was removing the strings of bells attached to the reins. ‘Only on special occasions,’ he said. ‘And, of course, Mellow is no ordinary horse.’
Lief and Jasmine glanced at one another. Mellow certainly looked ordinary. Very ordinary indeed.
As if she knew what they were thinking, Mellow pawed the ground. She had nearly finished the cider in the bucket. They could hear the sound of her tongue rasping on the metal sides as she licked up the last few drops.
‘I would climb into the van at once, if I were you,’ Steven said quickly. ‘Make sure the doors are locked.’
‘Steven, I think that Jasmine, at least, should ride with you,’ Lief objected.
Steven smiled without humour. ‘She would be very sorry if she did,’ he said.
Mellow raised her head. She bared her long, yellow teeth and neighed.
Every bee in the clearing seemed to stop in mid air. Then the swarm rose in a black cloud. Kree squawked, and soared high into the sky.
‘Make haste!’ Steve said urgently. He snatched up the bucket, threw the empty bottle and the bells inside it and swung himself up to the driver’s seat.
Lief and Jasmine ran to the back of the caravan. Jasmine jumped in. Lief was about to follow when Mellow neighed again. He looked around, and the hair rose on the back of his neck.
The swarm was upon them. The horse’s head and neck seethed with bees. The reins were heavy with bees. And like a thick, black carpet unrolling, bees were swarming back, back, towards the van.
‘Shut the doors!’ bellowed Steven.
His heart beating wildly, Lief leaped into the van and slammed the doors behind him. In moments the dimness had became darkness, and the walls and roof were vibrating with frenzied humming.
‘The bees,’ Jasmine whispered.
And then they were moving. Slowly at first. Then faster, faster, faster—until all Lief and Jasmine could hear were the faint, clicking sounds of hoofs that seemed barely to touch the ground, and the wild humming of the bees.
13 – The Funnel
On they raced, the caravan smoothly rocking, its timbers creaking gently. Jasmine put more green cream on Lief’s face, and the stinging pain eased a little. They ate traveller’s biscuits and a little dried fish, washed down with water from their flasks.
After a time, Barda woke. He was confused and full of questions. Jasmine began telling him of all that had happened. And, incredibly, in the middle of the story, Lief fell asleep.
He woke knowing that something had changed. He could hear a muffled roaring sound, but it was not the humming of the bees. The gentle rocking had ceased.
‘We have stopped,’ Jasmine’s voice whispered.
Lief turned his head and saw her beside him, just a shape in the dimness. Filli was sitting on her shoulder nibbling a fragment of biscuit.
‘How long have I been asleep?’ Lief exclaimed, sitting up.
‘I do not know,’ Jasmine said. ‘I slept, too.’
The doors of the caravan creaked open. Cold white light flooded in. Moonlight.
Steven’s face appeared in the doorway, his finger pressed warningly to his lips.
‘We have travelled far,’ he whispered. ‘We are in a valley in the foothills of the mountains. Laughing Jack’s wagon turned in to a side path not far ahead. It seems he has stopped for the night. How is Barda?’
‘Asleep again,’ Jasmine answered. ‘I gave him more honey. Filli will watch over him, and come for us if he needs us.’
Steven nodded, and beckoned.
Filli sprang nimbly from Jasmine’s shoulder and importantly took his place by Barda’s side. Lief caught up his cloak and his sword and followed Jasmine out into the night.
The moon sailed overhead in a sea of stars. It was almost as bright as day, but everything was black, white and grey. There were no trees. The mountains glowered above them, black as the sky. Rocks rose all around them, glistening in the moonlight. A dull roaring filled the air.
‘Waterfall,’ Steven breathed.
He led the way to the front of the van. Mellow stood there, placidly munching leaves from a scraggy bush. She had never looked more ordinary. There was not a bee to be seen.
‘Where is Kree?’ Jasmine asked, looking around in sudden alarm.
‘Far behind, I fear,’ Steven whispered. ‘He could not keep up with us.’
Mellow snickered, as if with satisfaction, and tore off another leaf.
Steven grinned. ‘Come on—and quietly,’ he said. ‘This villain is slippery. We must take him by surprise.’
A few steps ahead, a path led up a gentle rise. Beyond the rise they could see the waterfall—a broad, foaming sheet of white, covering the cliff like a veil.
A wooden gate had once barred the path, but this had been pushed down and now lay flat on the ground. The sign fixed to it had been trampled by hoofs, but the words could still be read.
Quietly the companions moved over the gate. As soon as his foot touched the path, Lief’s body began to tingle. The Belt was somewhere ahead. He could feel it. He began to move faster.
‘Why would such a beautiful thing have an ugly name like “The Funnel”?’ Jasmine whispered, looking up to where the waterfall began, high above them.
‘That question will be answered when we see the bottom, I fear,’ Lief muttered.
In moments he was proved right. They reached the top of the rise. The waterfall thundered directly ahead. And below…
They stared, awe-struck.
Below them, at the base of the waterfall, yawned the foaming mouth of The Funnel.
It was if the jaws of the earth had opened to receive the great flood of water pouring from the cliff top. Deep within the vast basin of rock the water was spinning like a gigantic whirlpool, swirling down into The Funnel’s throat like water rushing down a drain.
‘A pleasant place to spend the night, indeed,’ Steven muttered.
Lief tore his eyes away from The Funnel and scanned the gently sloping rock that surrounded it.
At first he could see nothing but gleams and shadows. Then, suddenly, there was a tiny movement. His eyes focused, and he jumped.
Where before he had seen only bare rock and a mist of spray from the waterfall, he now saw four black horses yoked to a large wagon. A thin man was standing in front of the horses, a brimming bucket in his hand.
‘I thought so,’ Steven breathed. ‘His wagon is protected by disguising magic. Like your cloak, Lief, though far more powerful. That is how he comes and goes unseen. The Enemy has given him some powers in return for service, it seems. We will have to take care.’
‘I cannot see Zerry,’ Lief whispered. ‘He must be asleep in the back of the wagon.’
Cautiously, keeping low, they began to follow the path down.
They reached the valley floor and hid behind a boulder. Laughing Jack was still standing with his horses. They could not see his face, but they could see the bucket swinging in his bony hand, and hear his high, grating voice.
‘Would you like a little water, you stupid beasts?’ he was saying. ‘Ah yes, of course you would. You have not drunk all day. You must be thirsty. Very, very thirsty. So—will I give you a drink?’
The horses stretched out their necks and seemed to groan.
‘He is tormenting them!’ breathed Jasmine. She was trembling with fury.
‘Look!’ cried Laughing Jack, swinging the bucket even more so that water slopped over the sides and onto the ground. ‘Water! Can you see it? Can you smell it? Well, you cannot have it!’
Cackling with laughter, he turned away from the horses and moved into view, still carrying the brimming bucket.
Lief stared at him with loathing. He was dressed in black from head to foot. A braid of greasy brown hair hung down his back, skinny as a rat’s tail. His face was skull-like. Skin like old leather stretched tightly across his jutting bones, and the large teeth gleamed in a permanent grin.