The Warrior in the Mist Read online

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  to

  Caroline Johnson

  Warrior Queen

  – CONTENTS –

  PART 1

  CHAPTER 1 – BLUE FIRE

  CHAPTER 2 – INVASION

  CHAPTER 3 – CROSS MY HEART

  CHAPTER 4 – CHARIOT

  CHAPTER 5 – WILL-O’-THE-WISPS

  CHAPTER 6 – THE SHADOW MAN

  CHAPTER 7 – FIRE

  CHAPTER 8 – BATTLE PLAN

  PART 2

  CHAPTER 9 – OPERATION TOMB BOUDICCA

  CHAPTER 10 – ROBBIE’S BEST TREASURE

  CHAPTER 11 – THE DISCOVERY

  CHAPTER 12 – BY THE LAKE

  CHAPTER 13 – THE PAST UNEARTHED

  CHAPTER 14 – TO THE CLEARING

  CHAPTER 15 – ROOTS

  CHAPTER 16 – UNDER CARRUS MOUND

  CHAPTER 17 – COLD LIGHT OF DAY

  CHAPTER 18 – EAGLE

  CHAPTER 19 – THE SECRET FILE

  CHAPTER 20 – CHARIOT RACE

  CHAPTER 21 – VALOUR AND TRUTH

  PART 3

  CHAPTER 22 – GUARDED BY LEVERETS

  CHAPTER 23 – INTRUDERS

  CHAPTER 24 – HOPE TO DIE

  CHAPTER 25 – TRAPPED

  CHAPTER 26 – LAY HER TO REST

  CHAPTER 27 – INTO BATTLE

  CHAPTER 28 – WARRIORS

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  OTHER TITLES FROM RUTH EASTHAM

  Engraving at the entrance to the

  Carrus World Heritage Museum.

  – CHAPTER 1 –

  BLUE FIRE

  ‘Come on, Centurion!’ Aidan tugged at the rope, leading the horse across the meadow. ‘You need to get to your paddock!’

  Aidan looked towards Carrus Woods, at the drilling tower beyond the trees. He felt the morning sun on his face. He should have been at the big anti-fracking demonstration ages ago. His mates Emmi and Jon would already be there, Dad too.

  Fracking. Aidan remembered what he’d felt when he’d first read about it. Drilling long shafts deep underground. Blasting water into the shale rock to get the gas out.

  He pulled the halter, harder than he’d meant to, and Centurion let out a rumbling snort.

  ‘Sorry, boy.’ Aidan gave him a hurried pat. ‘Easy.’

  Horses whinnied loudly to them from the fence at the far side of the wide meadow. Firefly and Fenland Queen, two of the other horses on the Berryman estate where Aidan’s dad worked.

  He felt a pang in his chest. Mum was gone, and soon the horses would be too.

  Aidan’s eyes travelled over the brownish grass of the meadow. Light sparked off the water of its shrunken lake. A couple of magpies pecked the drought-cracked ground between gorse bushes. A hare ran across the space.

  His mobile phone blared out from his pocket.

  EMMI CALLING.

  ‘Where are you, Aidan?’ There were loud noises in the background, as if she was in the middle of a battlefield or something. ‘You need to get here fast. The trucks will be arriving any minute!’

  ‘You’re missing the action, Aide!’ Jon must have grabbed the phone off her. ‘It’s all turning nasty!’ he said enthusiastically. ‘Some important guy from Enershale is trying to talk to the crowds, but they keep shouting him down. And the press have just rolled up. You’re gonna lose your chance to be on the telly!’

  Enershale. That was the big company with plans to do the fracking; what the protest was all about.

  And the reason Dad was about to lose his job looking after the horses.

  ‘Just got to get Centurion in his paddock,’ Aidan told him. ‘He knocked over his food bucket and I had to spend ages …’

  Aidan’s low-battery warning gave a beep.

  ‘We need you!’ Emmi was back on the line. ‘We’ve got your protest placard here ready and …’ A harsh honking drowned out her voice, one of those hooter things. The same sound, fainter, came at Aidan from across the woods. He thought about the slogan on his placard as he clicked off his phone:

  DON’T TAKE OUR LAND!

  ‘Let’s go, Centurion!’ It was going to take forever to get all the way across the meadow at this rate. Centurion stamped a front hoof on the ground, looking across at the other horses, impatient to be with them.

  Aidan fidgeted with the rope.

  There was a faster way.

  His heart beat hard. The last time Dad caught him riding Centurion, he’d not been happy. Given him a massive lecture about the horse being too big and headstrong and powerful for him. He’d been so overprotective and stuff since Mum … Aidan swallowed. Since Mum died.

  And his dad’s boss, the landowner, Lord James Berryman, wouldn’t take kindly to anyone breaking the rules about riding.

  Aidan pulled at his bottom lip. But what did he care about following Berryman’s rules? He was kicking Aidan and his dad off the estate as soon as the fracking started.

  My business interests with Enershale have to be my focus from now on. Lord Berryman’s voice spooled through Aidan’s head. And the horse paddocks will be needed for the next phase of operations.

  Aidan tried to push away his worries about leaving. He reached up to stroke the horse’s silky nose and felt a rush of hot breath on his fingers. He could control Centurion. He had before, plenty of times, when Dad was off working round the estate. There was no saddle, only the halter, and rope looped into makeshift reins; but still.

  He slowly rubbed Centurion’s mahogany neck, talking quietly. The horse’s nostrils flared; his huge dark brown eyes glittered.

  Aidan gripped a handful of black mane and vaulted on to his back. He pressed the horse’s flanks lightly with his heels and the animal gave an approving snort and immediately broke into a trot.

  The hooter sounded again. Faint shouts could be heard from across the woodland. The waiting horses neighed. Centurion’s ears were laid back flat against his head and Aidan felt the pace increase a touch. He smiled at the feeling of movement rippling under him. Centurion might be past his prime, but he was far from past it!

  Seconds passed. Shapes darted overhead; some kind of hawk, hunting down a smaller bird. The other horses were ahead of them, pressed together and skittish.

  ‘Steady!’ They were cantering now. Aidan leant back on the rope to ease Centurion up a bit, but the horse gave a stubborn toss of the head.

  Faster.

  The sun was hot on the back of Aidan’s neck as he crouched forward, gripping tight with his knees. He glanced at the other horses, side by side watching.

  Galloping now.

  Aidan pulled on the rope, trying to regain control. There was the noise of a helicopter approaching – a news team, maybe, heading for the protest – and Centurion’s body tensed. Aidan wrapped the cord around his fist. He pulled harder, the fibres digging into his hands, burning them.

  The chopper skimmed overhead; the whirling blades blasting through the air, and Centurion shuddered with a wild energy. The horse put on a surge of speed.

  ‘Stop!’ Aidan’s heart pounded. Clumps of dry grass were torn up from the ground. The magpies rose into the air, cawing raucously.

  The muscles along the horse’s neck quivered. Their merged shadows stretched ahead of them as Centurion raced forward. ‘Stop!’

  They approached the lake in the middle of the meadow, hooves slamming against the ground. A line of cloud moved over the sun. Aidan heard Centurion’s sharp breaths; manic whinnying from the horses up ahead.

  And then, in mid-gallop, without warning, fire flared up from the surface of the lake.

  Fire?

  What the …?

  Two pale blue flames.

  Centurion reared wit
h a cry. The rope was wrenched from Aidan’s hands. He clung to the mane as the animal stumbled and swayed.

  ‘Centurion!’ Aidan lost his grip and was thrown. He slammed on to a gorse bush and rolled, one arm twisting; blurred twigs and thorns scratched his skin. He heard the thud of Centurion hitting the ground; a high-pitched neigh.

  Aidan lay face down, chest heaving. The dry grass spiked his face, and he smelt the earthy tang of baked soil. He dragged himself up into a sitting position, then stumbled over to where Centurion was lying and knelt by his head. The horse’s dark eyes were wide, his mouth gnashing hard.

  ‘Centurion.’

  Aidan was vaguely aware of a pain in his arm; the other horses’ alarmed neighs. He saw a front leg, bent awkwardly; a smear of blood.

  Centurion was trying to get up.

  ‘Keep still.’ Aidan stroked the horse’s clammy neck. ‘Don’t move.’ He felt a queasy panic as he thought about what a bad leg injury could mean. If a bone was broken. If the owner, Berryman, found out … What if he had Centurion put down; like Velvet Dancer had been that time?

  Aidan stared at the lake. Fire on water? How could that have happened? He scrutinised the surface, but saw nothing more than grey-green wind ripples.

  Aidan fumbled to pull his phone from his jeans pocket. His hands were shaking so much it was hard to swipe the screen. It seemed to ring for an age before it was answered.

  ‘Dad! It’s Centurion!’ The words came out in a garbled rush. ‘He’s hurt!’

  ‘Didn’t catch that, son.’ Dad sounded distant and there was shouting in the background. ‘Where … you?’ His voice was breaking up and there was a splutter of static. ‘Say … again.’

  ‘You have to come!’

  ‘What? … say –’

  The battery cut out.

  Aidan turned back to Centurion, smoothing tangles from his mane. For a moment he was torn between going for help and staying to look after the horse.

  ‘It’ll be OK,’ he whispered. ‘It’ll all be …’ His voice trailed off.

  Those were the same words.

  The exact same words Dad had told him, when Mum had first got ill.

  And then he was on his feet and running – across the meadow. Sprinting over the parched grass towards Carrus Woods.

  – CHAPTER 2 –

  INVASION

  Aidan ran, heading in the direction of the protest. The sun was in his eyes; his trainers pounding the dry grass. He held his throbbing arm against his chest, clutching his wrist with the other hand.

  All he could think about was Centurion, lying in the meadow.

  Centurion … Mum’s favourite …

  A dull headache started over one eye. My fault. My fault … The hooter sounded from somewhere ahead. Faint shouts carried towards him.

  Aidan plunged into the woods and raced along the shady path that wound between the trunks.

  Need to find Dad. Get help.

  Sticks snapped under his feet. Bushes snagged his clothes. Foliage closed in to block the light. The hooter sounded again, louder and more urgently, like an alarm siren.

  Aidan came into a clearing. He skidded to a stop by the mound that rose from its centre. An ancient-looking horse chestnut tree grew on its top, its thick roots like fingers clutching the surface of the little hill. Wisps of blueish mist lingered in the shadows.

  There was someone there.

  A figure half hidden by the tree’s dense, twisting branches.

  ‘Do you have a phone?’ he called. ‘It’s my horse!’

  Sweat stung Aidan’s eyes. It was hard to make out the figure in the gloomy haze. A woman? Strangely dressed, in a cloak or something. Probably in some kind of fancy dress, on her way to the protest. But she didn’t move; didn’t react. She didn’t seem even to have heard him.

  ‘He’s hurt!’ Aidan started to climb towards her, a crust of soil coming away as he scrambled up. The clearing was completely still, a weird pocket of silence. No birdsong, nothing.

  ‘Do you have a mobile I can borrow, please?’ he said, more uncertainly.

  He blinked hard, rubbing his eyes, peering into the shadows, but he could no longer see the woman.

  Only the huge, half-dead tree with its gnarled bark and twisted branches.

  Aidan stared in confusion, then slid down the mound and dashed on along the trail.

  The shouts from beyond the woodland got louder. A drum beat. Whistles. Aidan’s legs ached, but he sprinted hard along the snaking path. A voice blared through a megaphone: ‘ARE WE REALLY GOING TO STAND BY WHILE THE FRACKERS RUIN OUR LAND? THESE ARE THE ANCIENT CARRUS WOODS AND THE LAND SHOULD BE LEFT ALONE!’

  Aidan turned a corner and found himself out of the trees and in a crowd.

  RESTRICTED AREA. A flag with the Enershale eagle emblem fluttered from the top of a steel mesh, making the bird look like it was swooping on to some unseen prey. He was being jostled from every side. ‘Please! Can I get past?’ he cried over the deafening noise.

  Placards swung about over his head. GRASSLAND, NOT GAS LAND … NOT FOR SHALE. Hands were raised in fists as people chanted. Aidan saw a group of police officers in fluorescent vests keeping a watchful distance. He tripped on the guy rope of a protestor’s tent.

  Aidan looked wildly around in the din, scanning the faces. He saw Miss Carter, the drama teacher from his school; he saw Emmi’s tall older cousin, Robbie, with his spiked white-blond hair and patchwork waistcoat.

  And finally there was Dad, at the far side of the crowd, wearing his first aider’s vest. Aidan tried to push his way through to him, but the mass of people pressed him back.

  Protestors were stringing a banner across the gate to the sound of fierce clapping: NO ENTRY. FRACK-FREE ZONE. Aidan glanced at the drilling tower and the tall chimney stack beyond; the water tanks and the mounds of sand.

  The crowd parted a moment, but before Aidan could push forward, Emmi and Jon appeared in the gap, shoving a placard into his hand: DON’T TAKE OUR LAND!

  ‘The trucks taking supplies to the drilling platform will be arriving any minute!’ Emmi yelled.

  Aidan caught hold of her, shouting to make himself heard.

  ‘Centurion’s hurt!’

  Jon frowned. ‘What?’

  Aidan let his placard fall to the ground. All he cared about at that moment was Centurion. He peered desperately through the crowd, but he’d lost sight of Dad.

  ‘Centurion fell! I need your phone, Emmi – NOW!’

  She started to fish out her mobile. The crowd surged forward, jamming the three of them together, and jostling them towards the compound gate.

  There was the growl of engines. Tension like a ripple of heat. Faces turned to look down the long gravel road. People linked elbows to block the gate.

  Aidan saw Miss Carter raise a loudhailer to her mouth. ‘OUR RICH HISTORY IS UNDER THREAT!’ Loud cheers. ‘A HISTORY STRETCHING BACK THOUSANDS OF YEARS THROUGH THE MISTS OF TIME! TO THE ERA OF ROMAN INVASION.’ A dust haze appeared at the far end of the road and a lorry came into view.

  ‘TO THE ERA WHEN QUEEN BOUDICCA LED HER ICENI TRIBE INTO BATTLE IN DEFENCE OF THEIR LAND!’ There was the grinding rattle of gears, and the wall of people across the entrance shuffled closer together.

  Aidan had a fleeting sensation of being part of something; he couldn’t place it – not here, not now, but in some other time.

  ‘NOW THERE IS A NEW THREAT TO OUR LAND – A NEW BATTLE.’

  Dad!

  Aidan glimpsed him again and forced his way through the mass of people.

  ‘AND JUST AS OUR ANCIENT CELTIC ANCESTORS FOUGHT BACK ALL THOSE CENTURIES AGO – SO SHALL WE!’

  ‘Dad!’ Aidan blurted as he reached him.

  ‘Centurion fell. I was riding him … His leg …’

  ‘What?’ Dad gripped him by the shoulders. ‘Are you hurt?’

  Aidan shook his head.

  The truck rumbled closer to the blockade. There was the glare of sunlight off its steel cab.

  Along the e
dges of the road, protestors held placards – red paint running so it looked like blood. STOP THE FRACKING. The relentless drumbeat pounded in time. ‘STOP! STOP! STOP!’

  ‘Need to get out of this damn mess!’ shouted Dad. ‘Get the vet.’ But the crowd had closed in tight around them again. Aidan tried to push his way through. The lorry was so close now that he could smell the diesel fumes. There was the shuddering hiss of brakes …

  But then someone in the wall must have lost their nerve. One person was all it took. Aidan saw the protesters sway, a woman fall. The human barrier tilted forward. Broke. He saw the police moving in.

  The crowd scattered outwards, and Aidan was able to get free in the chaos. He saw a tent get trampled; a guy rope snapped up like a whip. He saw his cardboard placard on the ground, all bashed up. TAKE … OUR … LAND.

  And then the four of them were running together – Aidan leading the way, Dad on his phone trying to get through to the vet. Away from the protest, away from the battle; Aidan praying that they weren’t too late.

  The queen feels her daughters press close. Pounding hooves tear the marshy ground. Clods of sodden earth spin from their chariot’s wheels. She slams her whip at the horses, their manes in leaping tangles. The girls stare out, their grey-green eyes wide; one with her cloak edged in fur; the other with auburn hair braided in a great plait. Behind is the woodland; ahead a moving knot of bloodied bodies …

  – CHAPTER 3 –

  CROSS MY HEART

  Aidan sat by Centurion in the hot meadow, unpicking the knots in the horse’s mane. He watched the vet run a hand over the animal’s swollen leg.

  Please don’t be broken, Aidan pleaded inwardly. Dad pressed a hand on his shoulder. Please!

  ‘What’s the diagnosis?’ asked Jon, biting his thumbnail.

  ‘He is going to be all right, isn’t he?’ Emmi asked anxiously.

  Ann, the vet, continued to inspect the knee.

  Aidan heard whinnying and saw Firefly and Fenland Queen by the fence at the far side of the field.