“I don’t know who this Elymas is, but I’m always up for a riot – in the interests of justice, of course!”
At last, the voyage came to an abrupt halt when an overhanging oak tree caught them in its branches. Just as well, because another few metres and they’d have shot over a waterfall, which plunged dramatically into a treacherous gorge.
“I think we can get out now,” said Miles.
“Speak for yourself” replied Alice. “It’s all very well for you, but I can’t feel my legs!” Even so, they managed to uncurl themselves from the trunk and waded stiffly through the freezing water to the bank.
“Where are we?” asked Miles as he looked around him. The river had widened dramatically, and both sides were generously fringed with trees. As their fear subsided and the blood began to circulate again through bruised and battered limbs, they both started shivering.
“We’d better get dry” suggested Alice, ever practical, and they started hunting for twigs and anything else they could use to light a fire. Miles took out the flint Uncle Jeff had given him and tried to create a spark. He tried and tried and tried again. Eventually, after several attempts, Alice rifled in her pocket and produced a cigarette lighter.
“I didn’t know you smoked!” cried Miles, shocked.
“I don’t, Silly” Alice replied. “Nasty, disgusting vice! I won this playing poker.”
To their relief it worked and soon the fire was crackling brightly – so brightly and greedily, in fact, they had quite a job finding enough fuel to keep it going. This activity, if truth were told, probably kept them warmer than the fire did, but at least it stopped them dwelling on their problems. Before long, Miles managed to find a couple of good-sized logs, which burnt more slowly, allowing them to relax for a while and enjoy the warmth. They sat huddled together in stunned silence as each tried to understand the awful events of the day.
“THAT” began Alice, “was quite definitely THE worst, most embarrassing thing that’s ever, ever happened to me! What DO you look like, Miles!”
As it happened, Miles was not dressed in the best possible taste. His yellow T was stained with last night’s gravy and his jeans were an inch too short.
“I’m sorry, Alice,” he said, affecting the most sarcastic tone he could muster, “but when you’ve like a billion evil people running after you and kidnapping your family, you don’t stop to think what to wear for the occasion!”
“Who were those men, anyway?” said Alice. “And what do they want with us?”
“Well, I’ll tell you all I know,” her brother replied. “But, first of all, I’m going to have something to eat. I’m starving!” He rooted in his back pocket and took out a mouldy piece of pepperoni pizza left over from his last takeaway. He hadn’t had room for it but could never say ‘No’. “Want some?” Alice winced and shook her head.
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged and, spurred on by a few fierce digs in the ribs, gave Alice a basic rundown of events since Uncle Jeff’s last visit.
“So, what do we do now?” said Alice. Miles frowned and they both fell silent again, their spirits sinking. Neither had a clue. “The fire’s going out” Alice remarked gloomily.
Then Miles had an idea. “I know!” he cried and leapt to his feet. Alice glanced up at him hopefully. “We can strip the bark from the trees! That’ll save us having to go off looking for logs again.”
“Is that the best you can think of?” snapped Alice. But Miles was too busy to listen. He opened his Swiss army knife, which Uncle Jeff had given him and began hacking into a nearby tree when……
There was a spine-chilling, piercing, blood-curdling scream!
The children shook with renewed terror. “What’s that?” cried Alice.
“It’s ME!” came a booming disembodied voice “I’m bleeding!”
“Who are you?” yelled Miles.
“I’m Larch” was the answer, and a man’s head suddenly appeared from the high branches of the tree which Miles had started to strip. “When you cut me with a knife, I scream!”
“I’m Beech” another head popped down from the tree,” and if you steal my bark, I’ll die!”
“And I’m Horse” said yet another head “and if you hurt me, I will whinny and kick and bite you – hard!”
All at once, dozens of people started jumping out from all over the place; down from the trees and out from the enormous ferns that fringed the forest. At first, it was almost impossible to distinguish men from the women, as they all sported beads and smocks and dreadlocks, and their faces were smeared with greeny-brown gunge. If they didn’t look alarming enough, their makeshift clothes, dyed to blend into their surroundings, were decorated with assorted leaves and feathers.
“I didn’t mean any harm!” cried Miles “I’d never hurt a tree on purpose! Honestly I wouldn’t”
Beech bent over him menacingly, his face contorted with rage and his breath foul. “The trouble with you townies, you never think! You just don’t care about the environment, do you! Well? Do you?”
“Of course he doesn’t!” yelled another of his friends “they’re all alike. They don’t deserve this beautiful planet.”
Stung by their rebukes, Miles’ chin began to quiver. So far, he’d managed to stay calm, but now he was being told off for harming a tree and he couldn’t take any more. Had he not been so upset, he’d have been shocked at Alice who actually put her arm around him protectively. “Leave him alone!” she said, “He’s just a kid!”
Beech snorted, “Small rats grow into big rats, along with every other kind of vermin! And if you ever take a knife to one of my brothers again…..” Beech pulled out his own knife, a huge Bowie with a shining blade.
“Beech put that away! Can’t you see the lad’s scared?” It was a young woman who spoke. With her pierced nostrils and half-head, she looked quite fierce, like an Amazon, but her voice was gentle, and there was genuine kindness in her olive-green eyes. “I’m Laurel” she said, “What’s your name, lad?”
“Miles,” he replied. “And I’m NOT scared!” Laurel knew better and glared at Beech angrily. “You should be ashamed of yourself, a grown man like you! We’ll take them back to the village. They’ll be safe there.”
“But if the police are after them…..?”
Laurel waived him aside. “Well, I’m not going to grass them up. And anyway, those men don’t sound like fuzz to me.”
“How do you know about the men?” asked Miles. “Are you psychic?”
Laurel laughed. “Some might say so. But no….I was listening from the tree. We were there all the time and you never guessed, did you? Come on, we’ll take you back to our village and get you some dry clothes.”
Alice glanced sideways at Laurel’s outfit and prayed she wouldn’t have to wear anything of hers. “I’d rather die!” she thought, and immediately felt guilty for her lack of gratitude.
“Just a minute!” said Beech gruffly “How do we know we can trust them?”
This time, it was Larch who answered. “Come off it, Beech. You’re too suspicious by half. After all, they’re just kids.”
“Well, I reckon we should blindfold them,” said Beech “Isn’t that our rule? Well! Isn’t it?”
The others groaned, but Beech insisted, and Laurel agreed to abide by the rules. So, the cold, frightened young Hadwins had scarves tied round their eyes before being half carried, half led to the tree people’s village. Although unable to see, Miles tried to keep track of their journey by using his other senses, just as Uncle Jeff once taught him, and he noticed the ferns become particularly dense around his knees. “Start crawling!” hissed Beech, and Miles was pushed into a large rabbit hole, which smelled humid and dank. He heard Alice squeal with horror, as she realised they were underground.
“Don’t worry,” soothed Laurel. “There’s nothing here to harm you. I come through here every day.” But Alice wouldn’t be consoled. “I’ll ruin my nails!” she cried, much to the amusement of the tree people, and it was a wretched girl who finally emerged from the tunnel with at least three chipped talons. But, at least the path was easier from now on.
In all, the village lay about a mile from the river; an area nestled deep into the forest where a variety of trees had been adapted for human habitation. When the blindfolds were removed, Alice and Miles saw nothing out of the ordinary at first, but there were people actually living in the trees, their tiny huts, painted various shades of green to blend into the foliage, accessible only by ropes. A series of nets connected each tree to its neighbour and these too were completely camouflaged. Only the sound of muffled conversation and the sight of people climbing up and down their homemade rope ladders gave away the village’s existence.
“Strange” thought Miles, “I thought I knew every inch of this forest, but I’ve never seen this before.”
Laurel, who obviously commanded respect from her fellow tree dwellers, led Miles and Alice to the foot of a beautiful oak and started cooing like a dove. “That’s my signal,” she smiled and, almost immediately, a rope ladder appeared from the high branches above. “Are you okay with heights?” she asked. Her guests nodded and were ushered up the ladder.
Inside, Laurel’s tree house was surprisingly comfortable. There was a squashy rose-coloured settee, a highly polished table, a matching cupboard, a small fridge, and a camper’s stove. In one corner, Laurel even had a makeshift shower concocted from a spray nozzle, a length of hose, and a large bucket, and this was supplied by a large rain butt fastened securely to the trunk of the tree a few metres up above her dwelling. Soft voile curtains, richly-coloured throws and a luxurious Chinese rug gave Laurel’s home a hint of glamour, which impressed Alice no end, while skillfully placed mirrors created a sense of space.
“This is so-o-o-o-o cool!” Alice declared.
Miles was equally awed. “I’ve always wanted to live in a tree house!” And then his stomach rumbled, embarrassingly loudly.
“You must be hungry,” said Laurel, and she pulled out a packet of vege-burgers from her makeshift fridge. “You can sleep here tonight,” she said, “and I’ll make you something nice to eat.” It seemed strange to watch this strange, war-like person opening tins and frying burgers, but oh, how good it was to have a proper cooked meal again! Nothing had ever tasted so delicious. Laurel smiled as the children tucked into their food.
“Have you always lived here?” asked Miles between mouthfuls.
“No,” Laurel replied. “I was brought up in an ordinary house like you”.
“You must have been very unhappy.” Miles remarked.
“Actually, I had the happiest childhood ever,” said Laurel. “But then something happened and…..” Briefly, her face darkened with sad memories. “Let’s just say I needed a haven. And where better to find one than in a forest!?” she exclaimed.
“Are you an outlaw?” asked Miles. Alice kicked him in the shin. “Of course, she isn’t!” she said crossly.
“We’re outlaws” Miles announced. “We’ve got secret services after us!” and he felt quite proud of the fact.
“Well, someone seems to be after you,” said Laurel. “And you’ve no idea why?” Laurel handed him a cup of hot steaming tea.
“It’s something to do with my parents. Something they did when they were young. And then there’s this man called Elymas who hates them because they might know things, or something of the sort, I don’t really know, but then, grown-ups never tell children anything important, just let them get dragged off into who knows where by who knows what…” His voice trailed off when he realised that somewhere along the line, Laurel had stopped listening. The young woman was standing, cup in hand, frozen like a statue, eyes wild with fear and her face blanched the colour of chalk.
“Did you say Elymas?”
That name again. Why did it trigger such strange reactions?
“Do you know him?” asked Miles.
“No. At least, not personally, thank God!” Laurel replied. She paused and stared intently at her guests. “You two are in terrible danger!”
Miles and Alice looked at each other, anxiety rising once more.
Laurel went to the window and cooed again, this time with more urgency. Within minutes, Larch, Beech and Horse arrived, swinging in from neighbouring trees.
“What’s up?” they asked in unison.
Laurel regarded them steadily. “Summon the village!” she cried. “We need a council.”
The council was a rare event for the tree people, only called in dire emergencies. “A council?” gasped Beech. “That’s a bit drastic, isn’t it; a full council for two snotty kids? We didn’t even call one when Roots got nicked that time when…”
”Beech! This is an emergency! Please, just do as I ask!” Beech and his cronies disappeared down the rope ladder, muttering under their breath and Laurel turned to Miles and Alice. “Don’t worry,” she said, “No-one’s going to hurt you. We won’t let them hurt you.” If Miles had been somewhat alarmed earlier, Laurel’s trembling attempt to stay calm really freaked him out and her constant ‘Don’t worrys’ didn’t do much to reassure him either.
An hour later, the whole village was congregated, everyone sitting cross-legged round a huge fire which Beech, Larch and Horse had built with dead wood and peat. It smoked horribly and stunk even worse. Miles was staggered to see how many of the villagers there actually were – at least a hundred people, all living in total invisibility from the outside world. Normally, they’d be strumming homemade fiddles and guitars, relaxing with mugs of gooseberry wine and mead made from honey as they chatted happily about the day’s events. But now there was tension in the air and they waited in silence until Laurel began to speak.
“First of all, let me introduce you. This is Miles Hadwin and his sister Alice who have just survived a horrible and traumatic experience. Their parents have been arrested on a trumped-up charge and no one knows where they are or who’s taken them. We DO know that their younger brother has also abducted – and, he’s just 11 years old so must be feeling very scared right now.”
“Yeah, well what are WE supposed to do about it?” Beech said. He bit into an apple, apparently unmoved by the Hadwins’ plight.
“Yes, what’s it to us?” Horse echoed. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but he enjoyed the peace of the forest and was loath to get involved with outsiders.
“Oh, come on!” replied Laurel. “Think about it! Why are we here? We’re dropouts, hippies, crusties, whatever people like to call us – but we’re all united in this respect. We hate the world as we know it, so we’ve rejected it, and here we are, minding our own business, looking after ourselves, and keeping out of the rat race….”
“Actually, I’d like to challenge that remark.” A young man with a long ponytail and a bone through his nose stood up. “You can speak for yourself, but I’ve faced water cannons with the best of them!”
“Yeah, and I’ve broken a few shop windows in my time!” agreed another villager who glowered indignantly from under generously pierced eyebrows.
“And I’ve knocked dozens of policemen’s helmets off!” exclaimed another tree person proudly.
At this, several others started boasting about their past achievements until Laurel had to clap her hands to get their attention.
“Look, I’m not here to criticise anyone. The fact is we may be very quick to join a riot when it suits us, but are we willing to get personally involved? Are we prepared to help three kids who, for no fault of their own, are being hounded? Their parents disappear without a moment’s notice, their world’s turned upside down, and they’re being chased by forces none of us can even comprehend! They need our help!”
“So, what’s in it for us?” asked a villager.
“Yeah,” said another. “Is it ecological, I ask myself?”
“Or ethical,” remarked Beech. “After all, these kids’ parents could be fascists for all we know.”
“They might even be bankers! Or tax collectors!” someone suggested.
“Or meat eaters!” cried another wag, wearing what looked like a bin bag over his head.
Some of the villagers laughed, infuriating the vegans amongst them.
Laurel sighed with frustration. “Let’s stick to the point!”
“The point being…..?” came the bored reply from a man virtually covered with tattoos.
“The point being….who’s prepared to help these children find their brother and rescue him?”
Most of the villagers began to groan, unwilling to help two snotty, middle-class teenagers. All except for one pale, skinny young man with extraordinary dreadlocks that twisted and twirled in every direction but his scalp. He’d been listening intently to Laurel’s pleas and was deeply disturbed by them.
“What do you think, Roots?” asked Laurel.
“I think,” he began falteringly, “I mean…that is…what I think is, that every young person what gets stolen away from his house should have an automatic right to be rescued, and, if no-one else’ll do it, then…then it ought to be us. That’s what I think – and I’d like it to go on record, please!”
“Rescue them from what? School detention?” a fellow tree dweller demanded. There was another roar of laughter, which quickly died out as Laurel took her position in the middle of the circle and, with arms akimbo, she turned gradually to challenge each villager with a long hard stare. Miles was very impressed. “Not even Alice could compete with that!” he thought.
Satisfied she had everyone shifting uneasily at her silent reproach, Laurel spoke softly but with authority.
“From forces so corrupt, so pitiless, so…. EVIL, they make your worst nightmare seem like a fairytale in comparison!” There was a pause, broken only by a few nervous titters. Then Laurel continued. “Has anyone here heard the name Elymas?”
Most of the villagers shook their heads, although one or two gasps could be heard. Eventually, a large, ginger-haired man in a homemade kilt rose to his feet.
“Did I hear you say Elymas?” he asked gravely.
“That’s what you heard, Gordon,” Laurel replied.
“And you say he’s after these poor creatures?”
“He is!” Laurel replied.
Gordon spat with contempt. “That’s what I think of Elymas! And if he’s got the clout to be dragging kids away from their beds…..then anyone with any decency has to stop him!”
Another man stood up. Unlike most of the others, his head was completely bald, and he sported a goatee beard. “I’ve heard of Elymas too, but I thought it was just another conspiracy theory. But, if only half of what I’ve heard is true…..then there’s no hope for any of us!”
“Rubbish!” snarled Gordon, “He’s a mere mortal who can bleed like anyone else. Count me in, I’ll help the young’uns, right enough! Who knows, I might even get the chance to spit in the devil’s own face, him and his cronies!”
Laurel glanced around the council. “Anyone else up for a battle?”
After a while, Larch rose to his feet. “Not that I’m bothered about the kids, mind,” he mumbled, desperate to maintain his hard man image, “but it’s a long time since I last saw any action and I’m getting rusty.”
Beech too rose to his feet. “I could do with some practice, myself.” he announced. “I don’t know who this Elymas is, but I’m always up for a riot – in the interests of justice, of course!” he added, quickly.
Just then, Miles thought of something else to inspire the tree people and he sprang eagerly to his feet. “And, you what? When we were trying to escape from those horrible men, they set fire to the wood near us – and burnt it! ALL of it! All those wonderful trees!”
Gasps of horror engulfed the Council. Almost to a man (and woman) the assembly stood up and Horse growled angrily. “I haven’t a clue who this Elymas is, but anyone who murders my brothers…..well, he deserves a good pasting, and no mistake!”
Laurel hugged each one of the volunteers. “I knew you’d help!” she said.
“There was never any doubt of that with me,” said Gordon swirling a rope enthusiastically.
“You’re a big softie!” Laurel exclaimed and flung her arms around his massive neck.
“Soft in the head, you mean!” Larch said. “So, let’s get practical. Tell us Miles, where did these nasty beggars take your brother then?”
Miles wracked his brain. He remembered a name one of the men referred to….a place…it was on the tip of his tongue. “I think it was….B…Bab…babble…babbly…..”
“Come on Laddie, stop babbling!” rapped Gordon. “Have you any idea what SORT of place it is?”
It took several more minutes for Miles to think, but at last, he remembered. “It was a treat, I think he said. Yes, a Treat….”
“The Babel Retreat at Moorside!” cried Larch. “You must be joking! We’ll never get in there!”
“Aye, it’d be easier to break into Buckingham Palace!” added Gordon, then his craggy face broke into a grin. “But hey! I’m always up for a challenge. So, who’s with us then?! Who’s for Babel?” And the whole assembly cheered.
Miles turned to Alice and smiled. “My stomach ache’s gone,” he said.