Wishing for Trouble (2 page)

The room began to spin around them. There was a loud, high, eerie sound, like the wind in a scary storm. Everything whirled until all they could see were fizzy silver streaks. Twirling and swirling, stumbling and tumbling, head-over-heels, heels-over-head, the five children all banged and bounced and bumped into each other until, suddenly, they thudded down onto a cold stone floor.

‘Ow!' Ben said, inspecting his knee.

‘Ow!' Emily said, examining her elbow.

‘Ow!' Nick said, rubbing his bottom.

‘Owwww!' Tim and Lach said, rubbing their heads.

‘Owwwwwwwwwwww!' Jessie howled, tail between her legs.

‘What foul sorcery is this?' a voice suddenly shouted close by. ‘Guards, attend me here!'

‘Huh?' said the five children, and looked up.

They were lying in a heap on the floor of a big hall, its stone walls hung with banners and tapestries. A deep, dull roar filled the air, punctuated by shrieks and screams. The children could smell smoke, and every few seconds there was a great bang and the walls would shake, and dust would puff out from between the stones.

Clanging towards them was a tall suit of armour. It had cruel-looking spurs on its boots, a huge helmet with a spike on top, and a long silver sword at its waist. Crowded behind it were about twenty men in chain mail and heavy helmets, with all sorts of horrible weapons in their hands – swords and maces and pikes and axes.

The children quickly stood and stared up in fright at the menacing figure in the heavy silver armour. Jessie whined and shrank back against Ben's leg, the big pink rabbit spilling its stuffing out onto the stone behind her.

The knight put up one gauntlet and lifted his visor. ‘Oddsblood, what have we here? Foul fiends from the fiery depths?'

The cousins looked at each other in bafflement. ‘Is he a real knight, do you think?' Tim asked. ‘I like his armour. I wish I had some like that.'

At once Tim was entirely encased in a silver suit of armour, from the pointed tips of his toes to the spike on the top of his helmet. ‘Mmmf, mmmf,' he said. ‘Mmmf!'

The knight drew his sword with a hiss.

Tim tried to take a step, rocked on his steel heels, windmilled his steel arms, and then went crashing back to land with a resounding clatter on his steel backside.

‘Mmmmmf!' he yelled.

Ben and Emmy fell on their knees beside him and managed to lift the visor so they could see his bright blue eyes staring up at them. ‘Can't breathe!' he panted. ‘Can't move! Get me out of here.'

The other four children all tugged on his arms and legs but could not work out how to undo the armour. ‘I don't like it,' Tim cried. ‘I wish it was off!'

Immediately Tim was lying on the ground, his arms and legs spread wide, a plastic helmet askew on his head, and his cloak half-choking him. On his hand, the lion ring glowed hotly red.

‘It's a wishing ring!' Emmy cried. ‘It must be. Everything Tim's wished for has come true.'

‘He wished we were at a real castle, with real knights, and we are!' Nick said.

‘Uh-oh,' Lach said. The others looked round and saw they were surrounded by a circle of cruel weapons, all pointed directly at their faces.

‘Tim, wish us home again!' Ben cried.

‘I… I… wish we were all home!' Tim stammered, and then yelped in pain as the burning-hot ring scalded him. He tugged it off his finger and shook his hand to cool it.

‘Oddsblood, whoever speaks next shall taste my sword in their gullet!' the knight said, drawing back his arm.

The five children gulped and said nothing, staring up at him fearfully. Jessie whined and hid her face under the rabbit.

‘What manner of devils may you be? Or are you of the Little Folk, mayhap, sent to do us mischief?' the knight demanded.

‘We aren't devils,' Emmy said indignantly.

The knight stared at them. Then he turned and muttered something to one of the guards, who muttered something back, jerking his mace at them.

‘Tim, give me the ring,' Ben hissed. ‘You made three wishes, maybe anyone who wears the ring gets three too.'

‘Not, no, I'd better have it!' Nick put out his hand. ‘I'm the eldest.'

‘Ladies first,' Emmy said, and grabbed for it too.

‘Ladies first,' Tim echoed, and put the ring into Emmy's hand. He always had beautiful manners.

Emmy slid it onto her finger. ‘I won't waste my wishes,' she said smugly. ‘Fancy wishing for a suit of armour!'

‘Silence!' the knight shouted. ‘Come hither, evil fly-by-nights, so the Countess of Lyonessa can pronounce her judgement upon you!' He gestured with his sword and the circle of guards fell back so that the children could see past them for the first time.

The hall was huge, with thick carved rafters holding up the vaulted ceiling and walls made of enormous blocks of stone. Halfway up the back wall was a wooden gallery, with a door leading out onto another floor, and here six musicians stood with their instruments hanging from their hands and their mouths open in shock.

The windows were so narrow that no light came in, and instead a huge iron candelabrum hung from the rafters, holding a dozen stumpy yellow candles that smelt foul. The floor was scattered with old rushes and herbs, and everywhere they looked people lay groaning, bloody bandages wound about their heads or arms.

The women were dressed in heavy gowns, with dark hoods or strange-looking hats covering their hair. The men wore short tunics with woollen stockings underneath, making them look a little like teenage schoolgirls, except for the beards. Lach and Tim could not help grinning at the sight of them – until they realised everyone was pointing at them, and whispering.

The children looked down at themselves. Under his cloak, Lach wore an old pair of board shorts and a baggy, saggy Bad Boy T-shirt, while Tim's T-shirt was red and had a green monster on it with five eyes, three arms and four legs. Emmy was wearing a skimpy white sundress over a pink stripy bikini, and Ben had sandy bare feet and a faded T-shirt with a picture of a surfer peeling off it. Only Nick was neat and clean, because Nick was always neat and clean. He wore cream shorts, a plain white T-shirt, white socks and his heelies.

‘What evil mischance is this?' a high, shrill and very imperious voice demanded. ‘Be these the Little Folk, come to curse us?'

A girl sat up on a dais in a huge wooden chair that dwarfed her. She was about nine and had a pinched, sallow face and scowling dark eyes. She was dressed all in blue, with lots of pearls and gold gauze, with a jewelled ball hanging on a chain from her waist which she held lifted to her nose. A woman with a huge horned hat sat on one side of her, and a man in a long black robe sat on the other. They were both shrinking back in terror, their hands over their mouths.

‘Emmy, let's get out of here!' Ben whispered. ‘Wish us home!'

But Emmy had eyes only for The Dress.

Clapping her hands together, she cried, ‘Oh, I wish I had a dress like that!'