by Aylligranir. Courtesy of Jay, we whooshed up into West Yorkshire in no time, and courtesy of Addie we arrived at the historic entrance to the ancient kingdom of Aylligranir within about an hour.
So far, so good.
Next problem.
‘How do we get in?’ I said, gazing hopelessly at the sheer hillside before us. We were deep in the Yorkshire Dales, and all those people who claim that Yorkshire is the most beautiful county in England are really onto something. The sky positively glittered with sunshine; the grassy slopes were the vivid green of summer dreams; and the air smelled of… I don’t know, heaven.
I wasn’t an unhappy woman in that moment, except for the fact that I had no idea what to do next. For the hills, while beautiful, were also impenetrable, and though I strained every magickal sense I possessed, no sign of a way forward could I detect.
Reclusive, huh? I’m not sure that quite covers it.
‘I’ve… no idea,’ said Jay, dashing my hopes. When even the navigator is stumped, what does one do?
I sat down in the grass, cross-legged, and unwrapped one of the sandwiches we’d brought with us. Maybe I thought the comforting flavours of egg mayonnaise and cress might help me think.
‘Oh, we’re eating?’ Jay stood regarding me in some exasperation, though he was not absolutely devoid of a smile.
It occurred to me that he looked tired. Nothing serious; just a slight droop in posture, an extra shadow or two about the eyes. But while I had been firmly ensconced in the library for weeks in order to “get some rest”, albeit the scholarly kind, Jay had been working as usual. As our sole Waymaster, was that always going to be the case?
I patted the grass beside me. ‘If you can’t beat them, join them,’ I said, offering him a sandwich.
He took it, and sat holding it, and staring at the hillside. The verdant slope was criss-crossed with those unfathomable drystone walls, the kind that consist of stones piled atop one another and which by some mysterious force do not fall down again. There were sheep, woolly and dozing in the sun. Lovely.
‘Sandwiches taste a lot better if you put them in your mouth,’ I suggested.
Jay ignored that. ‘Did you find anything in all those books you were drowning in?’
‘No. Lots about how much they don’t like visitors, though.’
‘The lack of signposts was a bit of a clue there.’
‘Ring the bell for Aylligranir,’ I intoned, picturing a sign bearing this very legend in glowing magickal lettering.
Jay took a bite of egg mayo.
‘Then again,’ I said, a stray wisp of thought stirring somewhere within. ‘A bell. Maybe I’m onto something. They are primarily known for musical magicks.’
‘I see no bell,’ Jay observed.
‘Me neither, but for a community of hermits that would be far too obvious.’ I packed away my sandwich wrapping, and leapt to my feet.
‘That was energetic,’ said Jay, notably not following my example.
‘I am on fire with possibility,’ I informed him, retrieving my syrinx pipes from the bodice of my dress. I hadn’t thought to bring my Yllanfallen sheet music, the songs I’d had pressed on me by an obliging shopkeeper in Ygranyllon. But while my memory for directions is abysmal (and for lyrics, ditto, to my eternal regret), my memory for melodies — and obscure trivia — is something else.
I began to play Yshllyn Ara Elenaril first, but after three notes I changed my mind. Jay wouldn’t thank me for raining all over his sandwich, and what self-respecting Brit would ever ruin a rare day’s sun? I played Syllphyllan instead, a rippling, jaunty piece said to be beloved of sprites. I had not noticed any popping out of the woodwork at Home to admire me and my music, but if we were in — or near — Yllanfallen territory out here, then maybe…
‘That’s pretty,’ said Jay, sandwich-free and rather recumbent. Lucky I didn’t choose Llewellir. He’d be snoring by now.
I was about to retort — something along the lines of pretty is as pretty does — but I felt a faint stirring on the edge of my magickal senses. Something unfurled, like flower petals in the sun. It was the barest whisper of a sense, nothing so profound as an invisible magickal gateway opening. But it felt… familiar.
I played on, until I had gone through my entire repertoire of Yllanfallen songs — including Llewellir, Jay would have to take his chances with the soporific melody. I added Addie’s song on top, just for luck, and before I had got halfway through its beloved tones Adeline herself appeared again, ears pricked up, pale tail streaming like a banner in the wind, and the pearlescent spiral of her horn glinting in the sun.
Excellent. It wouldn’t hurt one’s credibility to show up with a unicorn once beloved of an ancient Yllanfallen king. Addie had serious connections.
When at last I ran out of music, I slowly lowered my pipes from my lips and half turned.
There, crouched in the long grass about twelve feet away, was a sprite. She was distinct from the others I had seen in Mum’s kingdom: this creature was lovely, a young one perhaps, with smooth, pearly skin touched with sky blue, tumbling pale-gold hair and an intriguing sea-foam gauze dress I really wanted to ask her about. Her eyes were wide and entranced, and she was staring at — Addie.
‘Hello,’ I said cautiously, and smiled my best smile.
I was prepared for her to dash away, but she did not. She made no movement at all, only stared fixedly at Addie. It was as though I had not spoken at all.
I cleared my throat. ‘Um, where do you live?’ I tried. ‘Aylligranir?’
Her gaze flicked briefly to me as I spoke the kingdom’s name, and at once she began to fade, her outline turning misty.
‘Wait!’ I said. ‘Don’t go. We aren’t here to cause trouble.’ On an impulse, I waved my syrinx pipes, letting the pallid skysilver catch the sunlight.
She looked at them, and frowned. ‘Had I known it was a human playing our songs,’ she said, and did not seem minded to finish the sentence. I supposed the implication was clear enough.
‘I’m an unusual human,’ I said hastily. ‘Daughter of Queen Delia of Ygranyllon.’ I made her my best curtsey. It hurt a bit to effectively credit Mum with my syrinx pipes, and indeed the presence of Addie in my life, but needs must.
The sprite looked hard at me, and she was no longer entranced. ‘And what does Her Majesty of Ygranyllon wish of us?’
‘Nothing,’ I began.
But Jay, on his feet again, came up beside me, and nudged me powerfully with his elbow. ‘We are here as envoys,’ he said. ‘With messages for Her Majesty, Llirriallon.’
The sprite folded her thin arms. ‘Then how is it that you linger here at the gate? Did not Delia, Her Majesty, grant you means of entry?’
‘Er, Delia’s only just taken the throne,’ I said. ‘And Ygranyllon was without a ruler for some time, as you may know. We are here to re-establish lost links with Aylligranir.’
The sprite checked out Adeline again, who unwittingly played her part by looking both deeply magickal and wholly unperturbed at hanging around with us.
I wished, briefly, that I had the power to be a unicorn myself outside of the borders of Addie’s glade. That might impress Miss Suspicious Sprite.
But at length she dropped the prickly attitude, and returned my curtsey. Hers, of course, was infinitely more graceful. ‘Doubtless Aylligranir will welcome the envoys of Ygranyllon,’ she said.
‘Tha—’ I began.
‘I will go and check,’ she said, ignoring me, and disappeared.
