Taggie went over to her sister, who was kneeling, with her hands cupped together in front of her face. She was holding the long stalk of a giant poppy, with the scarlet petals inside her fingers. Taggie peered over her shoulder to see what all the fuss was about.
The petals were growing, starting to sway about gently even though there was no breeze. Taggie blinked in astonishment. What she’d thought of as petals were flapping now, and a moment later a gorgeous butterfly took flight, wobbling away through the air.
‘Oh, Taggie . . .’ There were tears in Jemima’s eyes. ‘Have you ever seen anything so pretty?’
‘No,’ Taggie admitted. Now she knew what to look for, she saw all the butterflies above the meadows were fluttering up from the flower stems that had birthed them. ‘How does this happen?’ she asked.
‘They’re just flutterseeds,’ Felix said, sounding unimpressed. ‘Don’t you have them in the Outer Realm?’
‘Not like this,’ Taggie murmured.
They carried on down the path to a small, single-storey brick building. It looked very similar to a Victorian village railway station, even down to the platform with its wooden canopy. Instead of a metal track there was a canal. Felix checked the big clock on the wall, and consulted a timetable. ‘The next turtle should be along soon,’ he said.
By now, Taggie had learned not to question anything, and sure enough, a few minutes later, an enormous turtle came paddling along the canal. It was as big as a double-decker bus, with a shell that was the colour of grubby brass. Cheerful blue-and-white-painted benches were fixed to the top, and a small wooden stair curved down the side.
It drew level with them. The huge fat neck curved round, and Taggie found herself looking into dark green eyes. ‘All aboard,’ the turtle hooted softly. It winked solemnly. Taggie grinned back, and scuttled up the narrow stairs.
Once they were all sitting on the front bench, the turtle started paddling again. It was surprisingly fast, and the meadows and fields were soon sliding past. Taggie was surprised by how much this part of the First Realm looked like the farmland around Grantham, with its neat little fields set out with dry stone walls, and lonely farmhouses glimpsed amid clumps of trees.
They passed through several deserted stations on the canal, then entered a big circular pond. It was a junction for six canals. Several other turtles were crossing, their benches full of passengers. Jemima did her best not to stare, but it was hard. A lot of the people were ordinary. Or Outer Realm ordinary, she told herself. She saw dwarfs and some tall skinny people like Mr Anatole, but with heads that were more animal than human. She gasped as she caught sight of some pig-nosed Rannalal, but these ones weren’t wearing armour. Then there were blue, human-like creatures with four arms, and a couple of huge men with green hair. ‘All giants have green hair,’ Felix whispered, sensing Jemima’s amazement. There were also one or two hulking shapes with scaly skin – ‘trolls’, Felix told her.
For all their differences, all the creatures chattered away merrily as their turtles carried them along. Jemima desperately wanted to wave and talk to them and tell them who she was, and how wonderful and exciting and colourful their Realm was, and how she wanted to live here rather than the world she grew up in, which now seemed so drab by comparison.
‘They’re all so happy,’ Jemima said.
‘Yes,’ Felix said wistfully.
‘But if this King of Night guy, Jothran, is ruining everything . . . how can it be so lovely here?’ Jemima asked.
‘He hasn’t ruined anything yet,’ Taggie said with a sigh. She understood now what Arasath had done; Felix was right, it was devious. ‘Arasath has sent us back in time. We’re here before the Karrak Lords invade. This is the First Realm as it should be. Our birthright. Is that right, Felix?’
‘I fear so, Princess, yes.’
‘But how are we going to help Dad if we’re lost in the past?’ Jemima cried.
‘I don’t know,’ the squirrel said, flicking his tail in agitation. ‘But if anyone can give us advice we can trust, it is the Queen of Dreams.’
‘Of course: Grandma,’ Taggie said in delight.
‘We’re going to see Grandma?’ Jemima asked.
‘Indeed,’ Felix replied.
As they crossed the pond, they drew a few interested gazes. Then their turtle swam into a canal on the other side, where the banks were closely planted with tall willows which shielded them from further view.
‘The next station is Blogalham,’ Felix said. ‘It’s quite a big town. I think we should get off before there and make the rest of our way on foot.’
The turtle slowed obligingly and they jumped from the bottom step to the grassy bank.
‘Thank you,’ Taggie said.
‘You are welcome,’ it replied.
Another turtle was two hundred yards behind them, and paddling along quickly.
‘Come,’ said Felix, and they hurried through the thick dangling boughs of the willows.
A JOURNEY THROUGH THE FIRST REALM
They walked for over an hour through gentle valleys and across fields and pastureland before finally reaching a forest of tall pines and lean silver birch trees. By now Taggie was desperately tired, and Jemima hadn’t said a word for a long time, which was a sure sign of how exhausted she was. It was the bright sunlight that had fooled Taggie for a while, making her think it was still midday; but growing weariness soon reminded her that at Orchard Cottage it was now late at night.
‘Felix, we need to rest,’ Taggie finally said.
‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I should have been more aware. There is a forest ranger’s lodge not far away.’
Taggie looked up at the little sun burning bright directly overhead. ‘Does night never come here?’
‘Oh yes, the moonclouds swarm eternally, and bring night to every part of the First Realm. There –’ he pointed upward – ‘Fallanshire is in darkness, look. And over there, Gallbury sleeps. There, half the Estwial Sea is taken by night.’
Taggie followed his paw, and saw several vast patches of darkness across the land above. The country-sized shadows were cast from particularly dense clumps of the colourful cloud-web that caged the sun. ‘Bring us the night,’ she whispered to the moonclouds.
Felix had been right about their position. After just a few minutes’ walk they came across a small glade. The lodge wasn’t much – four low stone walls and a roof that looked like someone had simply dumped a pile of hay on the rafters – but Taggie had rarely been so relieved.
They were just going in when the light started to change. Jemima looked up to see a thick spiral of mooncloud sliding across the sun directly overhead. The front edge of the massive shadow that it cast was slithering fast across the land towards them, draining light from the sky above as it came. ‘Oh good,’ Jemima said. And a minute later both sisters were curled up on the floor, fast asleep.
Taggie woke to see bright slivers of sunlight slipping through the multitude of cracks in the door. Her stomach let out a loud rumble of complaint. She was terribly thirsty, too.
‘I thought you might want a drink,’ Felix said. He appeared, holding an ancient china jug and an equally old mug. ‘There’s a small spring on the other side of the clearing.’ He poured some water out.
‘Oh, thank you.’ Taggie drank it down quickly.
Jemima woke, complaining about how hard the ground was to sleep on, then gulped down some water.
‘I have found apples and some plums from the forest,’ Felix said. ‘It is late in the season, but they are perfectly edible.’
Taggie never thought she’d be so grateful for apples at breakfast, but she munched them down, enjoying how good they tasted.
‘It will take a couple of hours to reach the palace grounds from here,’ Felix said as they emerged from the ranger’s lodge. ‘Fortunately, it sits on the edge of the city, so we can approach it through the parkland behind it.’
His head flicked round, scanning the surrounding trees.
‘Co
me on!’ Jemima said, and hurried off towards a gap in the trunks.
‘Wait,’ Taggie said in exasperation. ‘You don’t know where you’re going.’
Felix used a slim claw to scratch his nose. ‘Actually, that is the right way.’
‘Oh,’ Taggie mumbled. How had Jem known that? she wondered.
Jemima laughed, and stuck out her tongue.
Taggie tied her coat sleeves around her waist, and they set off along the narrow path Jemima had chosen. Within a couple of minutes they’d lost sight of the glade as the trees were so tall and closely packed. Wispy grass gave way to thick bracken, which clawed at their legs. Taggie was thankful she and Jemima were both wearing boots.
‘What do you think our grandmother will say when she meets us?’ Taggie asked as they walked.
‘I have no idea, Princess,’ Felix said.
‘Do you think she’ll believe us when we tell her we’re her granddaughters?’ Jemima said in a worried tone.
Felix looked back at Taggie. ‘When we crossed the canal pond I assumed it was midday – there were no mooncloud shadows anywhere near us. Yet by the time we reached the lodge, the nightshadow had fallen. Did you do that, ma’am?’
‘Er . . . I might have done,’ Taggie said, looking worried.
‘She’s always cloudbusting at home,’ Jemima said eagerly. ‘Will she get into trouble for doing it here?’
‘Jem! I’m not always doing it. And that wasn’t busting – bringing the clouds together is the quite the opposite, actually.’
‘Controlling the moonclouds is the duty of whoever sits upon the shell throne,’ Felix said with a broad swish of his tail. ‘Only your family has the gift. I expect your grandmother is quite curious to know who summoned the nightshadow early to this region. Not to mention everyone who was confused by an early evening, and is now having breakfast in what for them was supposed to be the middle of the night.’
‘Oh . . .’ A chastised Taggie concentrated hard on where she was putting her boots. How was she to know she could magic up night?
Finally the trees began to thin out again. They had gradually changed from the dark pines to grand oaks and copper beeches and elms. Now they opened out into a sweeping emerald parkland that extended for miles and miles. Taggie gasped at the city which marked the far side; its buildings were soaring towers and domes and elegant mansions more substantial and regal than anything she’d seen in cities back home. Sunlight sparkled off long crystal windows and gold-tipped spires.
‘Lorothain,’ Felix said with a happy sigh. ‘Capital of the First Realm, and its most beautiful city. My family’s home now.’ He swiped a paw across his eyes. ‘I didn’t think I would see the First Realm like this again.’
Taggie put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, marvelling again at how soft his white fur was. ‘Don’t be sad, Felix. My grandmother will help us. I’m sure of it.’
‘Of course, Princess. But this is hard . . . seeing everything we’ve lost again. I would love to show you the splendour of Lorothain’s boulevards and parks. You can’t even see all of it from here. There is a big cliff in the Falsmu district where the river Trambor falls over a hundred and fifty metres to the lake below. And the airgardens on the cliff – aye, Princess Jemima would be in her element there.’
The sisters glanced at each other. For once Taggie didn’t begrudge Jemima the insufferably proud smile.
They set out across the rich parkland. A mass of wildflowers had opened to greet the sun, creating a shimmering ripple of colour. More than once Taggie turned a full circle just to marvel at the sight of the flutterseeds beating their erratic way upward. There were far more behind than ahead.
Then she saw something else swish through the air, swooping behind a huge beech tree – something a lot bigger than any butterfly or flutterseed, and very pink.
‘Felix, there’s something flying about over there.’ As she said it, she saw two more creatures glide quickly out of sight. They seemed to leave a narrow wake of shimmering air behind them.
‘Yes?’ Felix said in a voice that was seriously unimpressed. ‘The young skymaids often fly in the park. Pay them no heed.’
‘Skymaids?’ Jemima’s jaw dropped open. ‘Do you mean fairies?
Felix merely grunted.
Taggie heard giggling coming from behind a broad oak tree. ‘Hello?’ she ventured.
Three young skymaids drifted out from behind the tree. They were nearly as tall as Jemima, but thinner, with limbs that were almost translucent, weirdly reminding her of jellyfish. They had big, triangular, fin-like feet that were mostly feathers; and their fingers were long and flat, with feathery edges. Fluffy hair floated slowly around their heads. It was all very interesting, Taggie thought, except for their clothes, which were gauzy pink dresses, or topaz, or aquamarine. Delicate chains of glossy leaves were woven into their waving hair, or worn as bracelets and necklaces. She’d stopped wearing anything that girlishly frilly after her seventh birthday. But these skymaids looked very young, no more than five or six years old.
‘Welcome, welcome,’ they chanted, amid more giggling, as they drifted forward. ‘Girls in such strange clothes.’
They were elegant in flight, Taggie had to admit, with wings sprouting from their shoulder blades, but always moving so fast they looked like nothing more than hazy patches of air. As they flew, little flicks of their feet helped guide them in gentle curves and even loops. They left a faint shimmer in the air behind them as they went, like a twinkling contrail.
‘You’re wonderful!’ Jemima exclaimed. ‘You’re so magical.’
‘They can fly because they’re so light,’ Felix said gruffly. ‘They’re certainly not weighed down by a brain.’
The skymaids circled round an enraptured Jemima, twirling as they went. ‘Welcome, welcome,’ they chorused. ‘Such strange girls.’
‘We’re not strange,’ Jemima said. ‘We’re visitors, that’s all. I’ve never been to the First Realm before.’
‘How lucky you are,’ the pinkest one sang. ‘This is the finest of all the Realms.’
‘What do you do? Do you fly about all day? Where do you go?’ asked Jem, breathlessly.
‘We play with the birds.’
‘And tease the cygnets.’
‘And sip nectar from the treetops.’
‘That’s so lovely,’ Jemima said with a sigh. ‘Can I join you? Can you carry me?’
There was a fresh burst of giggling, and the skymaids circled higher and faster, then looped round to cluster about Jemima again. ‘Heavy, heavy visitor, alas, we cannot lift such a weight.’
Jemima pouted.
‘Princess Jemima,’ Felix said. ‘We really don’t have time.’
‘Yes, come on, Jem,’ Taggie said reluctantly.
They set off again, with the skymaids flashing around them, sometimes swooping up high above the trees before laughing and plunging down again. The incessant giggling was starting to get annoying.
‘Go away,’ Felix told them crossly.
The skymaids laughed gently, and dropped green acorns on his fur, darting away quickly when he tried to swat at them. Eventually they flew off back to the trees that bordered the parkland, much to Felix’s relief. ‘Not much further now,’ he said.
GRANDMA
Taggie spotted the palace when they were still a mile away. It was just as it appeared in her dreams: a sprawling building of white stone, with many courtyards and big halls, and turrets spaced regularly along the outer walls, all of which covered an area the same sort of size as Melham village. And a lot more besides if you counted the formal gardens that surrounded it.
‘I wasn’t expecting it to be so big,’ Taggie said in awe.
One of the towers in the middle was twice as high as all the others.
‘That’s Queen Layawhan’s Tower,’ Felix said. ‘It was built a thousand years ago in honour of those who fell at the Battle of Rothgarnal. It is the tallest tower in the First Realm.’
The three of them scramble
d up the dry grassy ditch that marked the boundary of the gardens, and on to a lawn surrounded by a six-metre-high yew hedge. Several fountains sprayed water in stone-lined ponds. The sound of children playing came over the hedge. An open archway cut into the yews led through to another, much smaller garden boxed in by a beech hedge. Big chestnut and walnut trees cast a gentle dappled shade over the untidy grass. When Taggie peered cautiously round the corner of the archway, the thing that drew her eye was a tree house in one of the walnut trees; from what she could see of it, beneath its shaggy coat of purple-flowering vine, it was as old as the tree itself. She immediately wanted to scoot up the steep steps, and take in the view from the veranda. What grand times she and Jem could have playing in that, she thought.
‘Taggie!’ Jemima hissed at her side. ‘There’s Dad!’
Five small boys were playing football in the garden, running round enthusiastically after an inflated purple-and-white toadstool that wasn’t quite spherical – which led to some interesting bounces.
‘How would you know what Dad looked like when he was younger?’ Taggie asked crossly. Even as she said it, she realized how strange it was that she’d never seen any photos of Dad when he was a boy.
‘It’s him,’ Jem insisted, folding her arms across her chest, and getting ready to argue. ‘I just know.’
Taggie took another look at the boy Jem had pointed at. He was about ten years old, and dressed in a fine gold-and-blue waistcoat, white satin shirt, and grey trousers streaked with mud. She had to admit, his features were kind of familiar.
‘Daddy?’ Taggie whispered. It was so hard to picture this carefree, laughing boy as her father. She’d never thought of him as anything other than a grown-up, all serious with responsibility. But here and now she felt as though she could go over and talk to him as an equal. But some strange feeling was holding her back. And not just her, by the look of things. Impulsive ‘I-don’t-care’ Jem was also hovering this side of the archway, a look of desperation on her face.