The Wilds of Wealdham

Underland and the Forehidden Kingdom, Chapter 33

Underland and the Forehidden Kingdom is a serialised, young adult, fantasy novel about an overconfident bookworm who finds himself in a parallel world where words are weapons, ideologies form fortresses, and intelligence without integrity may just cost you everything. If you’re new here, you can start from the beginning or check out the index.

RECAP: Disorientated and disheartened by Zahara’s betrayal, the Millionth and Fifth regroup and pick themselves back up. Wellworn presides over one last King’s Table before they set out on their mission to retrieve Keon’s father. Just before they launch the mission, Wellworn appoints Keon as Field Leader.

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As Keon stepped into the waterfall, Wellworn’s reflection extended a hand. He squinted down at it, hesitant for a second, then reached out and grabbed it. A solid wrist and strong fingers wrapped around his arm. He jammed his eyes shut andheld his breath as he was pulled through.

Stumbling forward, the world peeled back around him, a wet resistance hitting his legs. Water. Cool air whipped across his face as the humidity shifted. He was standing knee deep in a lake, water cascading over a grassy outcrop above him.

“Mind your step,” said Wellworn, placing a hand on his back to steady him.

He signalled to the far end of the pool and Keon waded through the waters towards the bank. Wiping droplets back over his forehead, Keon turned around. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but the nebulae breaking through the canopy came to his aid. A wall of imposing trees besieged the pool of water, their silhouettes standing tall against the mini cosmos. Wellworn reached into the waterfall and pulled Dawit plodding through the lake. He blinked back his disorientation then moved to join Keon.

“That was mad!” Keon whispered.

Dawit slapped the side of his arm with a smile.

After a few moments, Avana emerged, followed by Kai, then Asya, then Shem. Jonas was last to emerge, covering the rear as always. Wellworn stepped from the waters up on to the bank at their head, gently parting some bushes.

“This way. We make camp not too far from here,” he said.

“Here I was thinking we weren’t sleepin’ tonight,” Keon chuckled.

Wellworn smiled over his shoulder.

“The King always gives his beloved rest.”

After an hour of wandering through the maze of ancient woodlands, they broke through a treeline of thick oaks. Golden leaves blanketed the ground surrounding several huge, pollarded beech trees. The thick beams of their branches formedinterlocking crowns clawing for the sky.

“Whoa,” said Keon, his back arching to take them in.

“We camp here tonight,” said Wellworn, leaning a pack against one of the trunks. From within, he extracted three, ancient looking clay lamps. He gave one to Shem, one to Avana and the last to Jonas. Returning to rummage through the pack, he withdrew a clay vial and handed it to Shem. “Distribute this among you.”

Watching him now, Wellworn looked something like a scruffy, middle eastern Santa Claus. Keon stifled a chuckle. Shem, Avana and Jonas scrambled up a tree each. Once inside, Shem poured some of the contents of the vial into hislantern. It was fitted with a handle, allowing him to hang it from a branch within the crown. He whistled to Avana who did a double-take, almost dropping the vial as Shem tossed it to her. She really hadn’t been herself since her fight with Zahara. After a moment, each tree hummed with the gentle glow of the lanterns.

“Kai, you will join Shem,” said Wellworn. Kai lifted his arms in a shrug of protest. “If you are with Dawit and Keon, no one will rest tonight.”

Kai dropped his arms and bobbed his head. It was true. He clambered up into Shem’s tree without further complaint.

“Ah guess I’m with ye,” said Jonas, slapping Keon’s shoulder and climbing up into Dawit’s tree.

Asya joined Avana in hers and Wellworn turned his back to the trees, arms folded.

“What about you?” said Keon, poking his head out between the beams.

Wellworn, glanced over his shoulder with a roguish grin.

“If I were tired, I would not tell you.” His shoulders shook with silent laughter at Keon’s confused face, “Get some rest Master Wesley. Do not concern yourself with me.”

Getting rest was the last thing on Keon’s young mind. It just wouldn’t stop churning like some incessant machine. He could practically hear the tick of his own mental clock. Within seconds, Kai and Shem were out like lights, their snores reverberating through the branches. It must have been Wellworn’s presence. In all the weeks he’d spent in Underland, Keon had never seen those two so relaxed. Avana and Asya were up for a while conversing in hushed tones before they finally drifted off, extinguishing their lamp. Jonas—Mr. Kersey—Mr. Jonas—didn’t make a peep. He never did. There was no telling whether he was truly asleep or silently watching. Dawit’s frame rose and fell with a gentle drone that bellied his size.

When he couldn’t take his own restlessness any longer, Keon swung his legs out between the thick branches anddropped down to the ground, picking a spot to sit where the canopy opened wide. He raised his chin to where there should have been sky. Instead, an ocean of starlight nestled in the wisps of glowing nebulae. The sight had become all too familiar, but this night was different. It could very well have been his last in Underland. For that reason, he closed his eyes and breathed deep; his lungs swelling from the rush of gaseous silk. He savoured it, unwilling to let it go. Each breath was precious now. Could he ever breathe normal air again and feel satisfied?

 His reverie was torn asunder by the sound of heavy footsteps dropping to the dirt behind him. After a few shuffling steps, Dawit pierced the periphery of his vision.

“You should be sleeping, brother.”

Keon hissed a ‘psshh’ through pursed lips.

“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head, prodding the dirt with a twig. “There’s too much to think about.”

Dawit plonked his hefty frame down beside him, crossing his legs.

“Care to share?”

“Well, for starters,” Keon replied turning side to side, “Where’s Wellworn?”

He feared he already knew the answer, and sure enough—

“The mission’s yours to lead now, brother. But he won’t be far off. He never is.”

Keon bobbed his head in acknowledgement. That was somewhat reassuring at least.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” said Dawit.

Keon arched his brows in surprise.

“I mean, yeah! Sure!”

“Why did you pick me—y’know—to lead the mission with you?”

Keon didn’t need to think hard. He’d known the answer for a while.

“Cause you’re better than you think you are, and I want you to see it.”

“I can’t lead like Shem,” said Dawit, motioning to the trees, “Or Jonas.”

“I don’t think you should,” Keon shrugged, “‘Cause you’re you, init. You’re not them, but that’s your strength.”

Keon stared off into the trees.

“My mum used to joke that I was the dumbest smart guy she ever knew,” he continued, “You’ve got this calm, level head like she does. I need someone like that to have my back. To help me see what I’m not seeing.”

“We all have your back—”

“Not when it comes to making decisions. Wellworn appointed me, right? Which means the others will follow my lead. Like—this is bigger than me, init. So, I need someone who’s gonna speak up if things don’t look right. Someone with a level head.”

Dawit nodded in thought, lips clamped shut.

“Well in that case,” he said, peeling his Codex open, “There’s one last part of your training we didn’t get to cover.”

Keon shuffled with intrigue.

“What’s that?”

“Petitions.”

“You mean when you lot write stuff on paper and burn it?” Keon said, waving an imaginary piece of paper above his head. “I mean, I get it. When you write something in your Codex then burn it, it’s like it comes alive somehow.”

Dawit chuckled.

“More than that, brother. By burning our requests, they ascend to the Empyrean. To the Throne of the King. It ensures they stay encrypted.”

“Encrypted?” Keon frowned.

Dawit glanced up at unseen foes.

“The King’s messengers patrol the air between here and Zaphon…but so do the Enemy’s. Sometimes the King’smessengers are intercepted.”

“Serious?”

Dawit nodded, grim.

“So, we encrypt our petitions,” he continued, rubbing his palm over the Codex, “Petitions can make or break a mission. For that reason, you should never start one without them.”

“What’s so special about them?”

Dawit sat for a moment, still; almost as though he’d never had to consider the question before, then shuffled closer like he didn’t want the trees to hear.

“Our weapons here aren’t like the ones back home. Even if we’re walking in these physical bodies, that’s not the way we fight. The weapons we use are different. They’re special,” he motioned to the sheath on Keon’s belt, “A knife with the power to destroy Strongholds. Swords made of paper that can tear apart ideas and bring down every lofty thought that raises an arm against the King. And the greatest of these? The greatest weapons we have are our petitions.”

“For real?” Keon said.

Dawit nodded.

“Every petition we make is a chance for the King to show that he’s worthy of our allegiance and our trust; not for his benefit, but for ours. He’s the one who makes us strong and one of his greatest delights is to show that he’s good.”

Keon nodded; his lips tight in thought.

“Alright,” he said, “So how do I do it?”

A small smile lit up Dawit’s face.

“Well, let’s start with something simple.”

Keon woke with a start atop a bed of golden leaves. They hadn’t even needed to forge something to sleep in and that was quite possibly the best slumber he’d had in weeks. The air was warm, the sky bright, and the scent of fresh bread wafted between the beams of the trees to dance across his nostrils. When he emerged, Kai and Dawit were warming several loaves over a fire. Avana handed out walnut cups of steaming, hot cocoa. Keon took a sip, his gaze swinging back and forth.

“He really isn’t back yet?” said Keon.

“You know how it is, mate.” said Shem.

“This guy’s not serious,” Keon huffed, dragging his feet over to the campfire.

“Well, it’s good you’re up,” said Dawit, “Now we can fill them in.”

“On what?” asked Kai.

“The plan,” Keon replied, stretching a stiff shoulder.

He plopped down in a squat beside them, then grabbed a loaf of bread. He broke it and passed the pieces around.

“Dawit told me we’re in suttin’ called the forests of Wealdham. Back home, this area’s equivalent to Epping Forest.”

“‘Ow d’you know that?” said Shem.

“This is me we’re talking about,” Keon shrugged. He grabbed a twig, carving out a crude map in the dirt. “In ancient times, Waltham, Epping and Hainault were all one big forest, stretching all the way from Loughton to Forest Gate.”

“What’s that?” said Shem, pointing to the drawing.

“That’s the forest.”

“Looks like a peg-legged Italy, mate. You may read lots but Picasso you ain’t.”

Keon, rolling his eyes, continued, “So, I figure, we keep to the middle of the forest, head roughly south and it should point us towards West Ham like an arrow.”

“Then what?” said Kai.

Keon grinned.

“With Shem’s gift, we should be able to pick up the trail where you first found me. From there, I reckon I can guide us towards Newham Hospital, but the next part you’re not gonna like.”

Kai blinked, eyes growing wide then narrow.

“What do you mean? What’re you two up to?”

“We’re gonna need your gift,” said Dawit, shuffling with hesitation.

Kai shook his head, propelled to his feet.

“Nope! No! Not happening!”

“Come on brother...” Dawit sighed.

Avana rose, placing a gentle hand on Kai’s arm to steady his shaking head.

“We need bait,” Keon replied, looking up at him beneath the bridge of his brow, “And reconnaissance.” Keon drew the twig in several, smooth strokes until he’d outlined a rough idea of what he assumed Stronghold looked like, along with the surrounding forest. “We use your Mirror to get a good look at the grounds, how many Mynds are manning the walls. Then it draws out as many as it can.”

“We all have Mirrors though. Anyone’s can do that.”

Dawit and Keon eyed each other warily.

“Your Mirror can not only see things that others can’t, it can relay that information back almost instantaneously. Not to mention, Dout’s more likely to come after you personally,” said Dawit.

“He’s not wrong,” added Avana, hand still on his arm.

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you screw-up, mate,” all eyes turned on Shem, “What? It’s a joke, man. Relax.”

“So, what then?” said Avana, arms crossing.

“We split into two teams: Team James—and Team Cameron,” Keon failed to still his grin as Dawit continued, “TeamJames will set traps,” he said, drawing a circle around the forest, “Box in as many Mynds as possible and keep the fighting focused on the forest. Once Kai’s recovered his Mirror, Team Cameron will use that intel to locate the weakest point in the wall.”

“How’re we getting’ over the wall?” Shem asked.

“We’re not,” Keon replied with a grin, “We’re going through it...with this.”

He withdrew the short-sword from its sheath and turned the blade, allowing a shaft of daylight to slice through its surface, reflecting across Keon’s face. The Millionth and Fifth gathered around, peering into its depths.

“That’s your gift?” said Shem, awed, looking from it to Keon.

Keon nodded.

“Why the heck does he get a weapon?” Shem protested.

“The Scribe said it could break through the walls of almost any Stronghold.”

“Alright, I’ll admit your plan ain’t complete rubbish,” said Kai, folding his arms. “But I ain’t happy about it either.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Keon grinned.

“So, who’s on what teams?” said Asya.

“Shem, Avana, Kai and Asya—you’ll make up Team James. Jonas, Dawit and me will make Team Cameron,” said Keon.

“We’ll gather what we need, forage, then set out,” Dawit called, rising to his feet.

The Millionth and Fifth nodded in acknowledgement. All except Kai who stood solemn, arms still folded. He shuffled in the dirt then resigned himself to his lot.

It was weird being at the front. For so long Keon had hidden either in the midst of the group or near the back; usually close to wherever Dawit was. He had no idea where he was going. This was all a wild guess based purely on whether he could keep track of Zaphon’s motion across the sky. If he was off even by a few degrees, they could end up in Tower Bridge before they’d ever reach West Ham. According to Dawit, that was the last thing they wanted. They’d reach a Stronghold alright, but the wrong one. Getting out of Midnah-Dogu was apparently child’s play compared to that place.

He felt Asya’s approach before she came into the periphery of his vision. That meant his senses were getting better, more attuned to the environment. He could recognise the unique gaits of each of his companions.

Asya’s hands were stuffed into pockets he didn’t realise she had, deep within the folds of her baggy trousers. Her chin was low, the way it was when she was deep in thought. She caught his eye and gave a quick grin. Genuine, though somewhat half-hearted.

“Listen,” he said, turning to her, “if I haven’t said it before, thanks for doing this.”

Asya turned to him, almost with a smiling frown as though his words made no sense.

“You risked everything to help my family. Why wouldn’t I help yours?” she replied.

He scoffed, shaking his head.

“I don’t feel like I helped your family.”

“They probably won’t see it that way either...yet,” she said with a shrug of her shoulder, “but it’s true. You stuck your neck out for me when it could’ve turned everyone against you. I won’t forget that.”

She returned her gaze to the grass as they walked side-by-side in silence.

“Y’know, I’m sorry about Zahara,” she said, finally.

“Nah, it’s...” the words escaped him.

“Seems like you really liked her,” Asya offered.

“Yeah, but now I feel stupid,” he replied, “I didn’t see it coming, and I couldn’t help her.”

“So, what are you gonna do about it?”

He turned to her; brows bunched.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I said,” she replied, matter-of-factly.

He shook his head.

“What can I do...?”

“Nothing. Not with an attitude like that.” She shrugged a solitary shoulder again. “Just something to think about.”

She grimaced suddenly, rubbing at her forehead.

“You alright?”

She shook it off.

“Yeah! Think I’m just tired.”

“Didn’t get much sleep?” he offered.

Asya leaned in close, her voice lowered with a mischievous glint in her grey eyes.

“Believe it or not, she does not sleep like an angel.”

Keon’s spluttering laugh ricocheted throughout the trees.

“Hold up!” Shem said, weaving his way through the group towards Keon and Asya. “I know this place.”

He approached an indiscriminate patch of forest, dropping to a squat to fiddle with some dry grass and twigs. Watching Shem work, one had to admire his gift. All Keon saw was homogenous forest.

Shem dusted his hands clean then called over his shoulder.

“This is it. We’re close.”

Keon huffed in triumph.

Forty minutes later, the slight trickle of a distant, running river danced over the bushes and between the trees. It was Keon’s turn to blink with recognition. There it was. He approached a solitary tree, stopping to look up at the empty canopy.

“This is it.”

“What is it?” said Asya, coming to a halt beside him.

Keon stared, his eyes roaming.

“This is where I first entered Underland,” he said. “I fell right through this tree.”

He pointed up at the branches.

“My bedroom would be just up there.”

There was still no sign of it. He turned away towards the slope leading away from the tree and out into the glade.

“A little bit further and I should be able to find my way,” he said.

Asya didn’t budge.

She stood, staring up at the tree.

“Asya?”

She swayed ever so slightly, then seemed to catch herself.

“Whoa,” she said. Avana was at her side in an instant. “Just had a dizzy spell.”

“You need water,” Avana ordered, “Sit down.”

“I’m alright,” Asya said, shaking her head. “It as quick. It’s gone already.”

Keon looked her up and down with concern.

She inhaled deep, exhaled then nodded the ‘ok.’

“I’m ok. Let’s keep moving.”

The next wave of dizziness almost knocked her to the ground. She’d been growing clumsy, stumbling over every stray blade of grass. So, when a root caught her foot, it nearly brought her crashing down.

“Asya...if you need us to take a break—” said Avana.

She waved her off.

“I’m fine. It comes and goes. We just need to keep moving. I’ll be fine.”

Avana shoved herself in front of her, holding her firm by the shoulders.

“You need to let us look at you,” she said. It wasn’t a request.

Asya nodded and the party drew to a halt. Avana sat her down on a felled tree trunk and waved Jonas over. Keon paced back and forth with anxious impatience. Whatever it was Jonas’ gift normally did wasn’t working. Asya would steady herself, move to stand, then lose her balance.

“Is she stricken?” asked Kai.

Avana shook her head.

“She isn’t showing any of the normal symptoms.”

“Maybe it’s something new,” Dawit offered, “Something unique to a former Moonlamp?”

Avana knelt before her, hands on Asya’s shoulders.

“Asya, what’s going through your head right now? Is there anything you need to tell us?”

She shook her head, shoulders heaving with each intake of breath.

“It’s not my head…” she muttered, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

Trembling fingers clawed for her Codex. They fumbled over the textured cover, inching towards its fold. She gripped the book and pulled it open towards the Appendix.

“Not my…” she whispered as she slumped forward.

“ASYA!”

Keon shoved his way through as Avana caught her, and the Codex flopped onto an open page.

Blades of iced dread knifed their way up Keon’s back, strangling his throat. The Millionth and Fifth bent over, all eyes straining to make sense of what they were seeing. But to Keon the message was clear as day. The words drenched in awful familiarity.

Bring…my flippin’…sister.

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