A Dark Future

JUSTIN ELLIOTT

The Lord of Beasts Book 2

Published by by Justin Elliott

Copyright 2012 Justin Elliott

Smashwords Edition

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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or digital, including photocopying, recording, storage in any information retrieval system, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by Kura Carpenter

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Many thanks to Kura. Not only for the wonderful cover, but for all the other help freely offered.

This one's for my parents who have always offered me love, encouragement and support through out my life - no matter what I was doing.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One – A Debt Owed

Chapter Two – The Keeper's Advice

Chapter Three – Future Mirror

Chapter Four – An Unexpected Journey

Chapter Five – Back to Feygate

Chapter Six – Rat Boys

Chapter Seven – The Guardian

Chapter Eight – The Boggart

Chapter Nine – Rescuing Whistler

Chapter Ten – Whistler's Tale

Chapter Eleven – The Mouse Hole

Chapter Twelve – Prey

Chapter Thirteen – The Dark Court

Chapter Fourteen – The Harpist

Chapter Fifteen – Music of the Dream

Chapter Sixteen – Flight

Chapter Seventeen – Harried

Chapter Eighteen – Glamour Form

Chapter Nineteen – The Dark Gate

Chapter Twenty – Payment Made

Chapter Twenty-one – Regent's Court

Chapter Twenty-two – The Last Stand

Chapter Twenty-three – A Sacrifice

Chapter Twenty-four – Return

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Chapter One

A Debt Owed

We have to help him, he's a prisoner. The Dark Court is using him.

Fourteen-year-old Hunter Greenman rubbed absently at his arm. The fracture received during the battle with the Barghest had healed well, though it still hurt a little in the cold weather and this March seemed colder than usual. The healing had finished though and now it was time to act.

All I'm saying, replied Donn Richards in his husky, quiet voice, is how do you know it's not a trap?

In frustration, Hunter scrubbed his hands through his brown hair. I just know, all right.

Another dream? Brigid McCann, who was sitting opposite Hunter in the school cafeteria, looked up from the slop she was eating. Brigid was a riot of colour compared to Donn. Whereas Donn wore a dark denim jacket and an old pair of faded black jeans, Brigid's jersey, long skirt and scarf seemed to compete with each other for brightest colour. Even her shoulder-length flame-red hair was in complete contrast to the black-haired, ponytailed Donn.

Yeah, said Hunter.

The Harpist had started visiting Hunter in his dreams soon after the strangeness with the faeries had begun. In his last visit, at the same time as revealing that he was a prisoner, the Harpist had also told Hunter that he was his father. This was something that Hunter had not yet shared with the others.

How do we know that it's not some faery trick, though? Donn persisted.

Because I know! Hunter banged the table in frustration at having to repeat himself.

Brigid leaned over towards him. Donn's right, Hunter. I mean, with the glamour they can look like anything they want.

Yeah, but… Hunter's reply was interrupted by the arrival of Sara Kinney.

What are we talking about? she asked as she sat in a chair beside Hunter.

Everything about Sara was immaculately presented, from her designer clothes to her long blonde hair. She graced them with a dazzling white smile.

Decided to slum it, have you? Donn asked.

Sara glared at him but otherwise ignored his comment. Hunter couldn't help himself; he glanced over at the 'in crowd' that Sara had just left. They were all looking at her with looks of disbelief and disapproval. Sara seemed to split her time between them and Hunter, Donn and Brigid. Hunter guessed that the 'in crowd' only put up with this because of her looks and money - two things that were important to them and to Sara.

Hunter's dreamt about the Harpist, said Brigid after returning Sara's smile.

Sara sighed. I thought we had finished with all that faery stuff.

I don't know if we can ever be finished with them, said Brigid.

The Harpist's a prisoner, said Hunter. Of the Dark Court.

And? prompted Sara.

We should go and rescue him, said Hunter.

If it is him, said Donn.

Why should we help him? asked Sara.

We owe him, said Hunter. Without him the Barghest would've won. And he's my father, he added quietly in his own mind.

Aye, we do owe him. Brigid looked at Donn as she spoke. You wouldn't be sitting there if it weren't for him.

Look, I agree we owe the guy, OK. But how do we know what Hunter saw was true? We've all seen what faeries are capable of.

A few months ago Hunter wouldn't have believed that he would be sitting around the table now with three friends discussing faeries. But after the events of last autumn it seemed only natural.

Why don't we go and visit Old Man Price, said Donn.

The old guy who lives out on the edge of the village? Why? What would he know about any of this? asked Brigid.

Donn shrugged with a grin. Nothing, but I hear he sells beer to kids from his cellar.

Hunter glared at Donn, as both Brigid and Sara said in unison, Donn!

It'd be better than walking into a trap. Donn looked at the others. Seriously though, does anyone have any idea of how we can find out what's what?

We could ask the Keeper, said Brigid.

Why would he know if what Hunter saw in his dream was true or not? asked Sara.

He might not, said Brigid, but he's sure to know of someone who does. He might also be able to tell us some more about the Dark Court.

Chairs scraped against the ground as students stood to move on to their afternoon classes; the clink of dishes as the cafeteria staff collected the dirty dishes also echoed around the large room. The four friends stood, and shouldering their bags, also began to make their way back to their classroom.

You're right, said Hunter. Let's make sure before we do anything. We'll go and see the Keeper and then decide what we're going to do after that. Agreed?

Donn and Brigid agreed, only Sara didn't say anything. She walked in silence until the others all stopped and looked at her. She stood staring back at them, her arms crossed. She sighed loudly in an explosion of breath.

OK, OK. I'll come too. You guys would get into too much trouble without me anyway.

Grand, said Brigid. She walked to Sara and linked arms with the taller girl.

As they walked down the corridor, they began making plans for their visit to the faery they knew as the Keeper. They decided that they would all meet at Hunter's that night and from there go to the scrap yard where the Keeper lived.

Hunter's mother had already left for work by the time he got home from school. She was working the dinner shift at the restaurant so Hunter knew that she wouldn't be back till late. He heated his supper and wolfed it down, then went and slumped onto the worn sofa in the living room. Relaxing, he closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. The Harpist hadn't visited him in his dreams since the night he revealed he was Hunter's father, even though Hunter took every chance he had to try and encourage it. A nagging feeling kept gnawing at him that time to rescue his father from the Dark Court was running out.

A soft, scuttling noise sounded from behind the sofa. Hunter opened his eyes and smiled.

I don't think you'll find anything back there. Want some cheese?

A small, brown mouse scuttled out from behind the sofa and stood on its hind legs, looking at him. Its whiskers twitched for a moment, and then in a high-pitched voice it said, Cheese? Did you say cheese? It swiped one front paw over its whiskers and then looked at him again. I'm partial to a bit of cheese.

Hunter grinned. Yeah, I guessed as much. I'll get you some but first, is the Keeper still at the scrap yard?

How would I know? I'm a mouse. Now, do I get that cheese?

You knew last time.

Yeah, but then he sent messengers. I haven't been to the scrap yard for a moon cycle.

Moon cycle... moon cycle? It dawned on Hunter that the mouse had meant a month. And he was there then?

The mouse sighed and spoke slowly, carefully pronouncing each word; it made Hunter feel like an idiot.

He's the Keeper, it's where he lives.

Hunter stood, causing the mouse to scuttle away a few steps. I'll get that cheese.

By the time the others arrived, the mouse was in raptures as it nibbled on a piece of cheddar that Hunter had cut for it. He could still hear its voice murmuring about the 'food of the gods' as he, Donn, Brigid and Sara left the house.

Hunter felt a little better as they walked towards the scrap yard. It may not be the direct action he had been hoping for, but at least they were doing something.

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Chapter Two

The Keeper's Advice

Thunderous barking greeted them as they neared the gates to the scrap yard. Two large mastiffs came sprinting towards them, looking like they would barge right through the wire mesh gate that Hunter, Donn, Brigid and Sara now stood before.

Hi Kera, hi Kris, said Hunter with a smile.

The two dogs skidded to a halt, the stubs of their tails wagging flat out.

Greetings, Hunter. It gladdens me to see you once more, said Kera. She raised her paw onto the gate as she spoke.

Kris sat down and put his large head to one side. I guess you're bringing trouble with you again?

Good to see that your personality has brightened, said Hunter looking at Kris and smiling.

Kera panted, her tongue lolling out in what Hunter recognised as a laugh. Kris looked at Hunter and winked. Well, are you coming in, or are you going to make your friends stand there all night?

Hunter cast a look at Donn, Brigid and Sara. They stood to one side talking amongst themselves. He knew to them the mastiffs sounded like they were growling and not talking at all.

We're here to see the Keeper. Is he in?

He is now, said Kris. Get in here. Why do you humans always look so untrustworthy when you are milling about in groups?

The dogs backed up and Hunter opened the gate, having to lift it so that it cleared the ground. The hinges squealed in protest as he pushed it wide enough for them to enter. There seemed to be no order to the rusting scrap iron that was scattered about the yard. Old empty husks of cars, windows broken and tyres missing, lay next to battered and scratched remains of freezers. Iron girders covered with a thick crust of rust were stacked everywhere.

The cool wind whistled between the discarded piles, making Hunter feel cold. He dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat and led the way in, skirting around a large, red-tinged puddle. Kera and Kris fell in beside him, and Donn, Brigid and Sara followed close behind as he led the way towards the shack in the middle of the scrap yard.

It looked like the building had been thrown together using material from the yard itself, and it leaned at a worrying angle. Hunter thought he could see the whole building shake as the wind hit it.

He knocked at the crooked door and then had to make a couple of attempts before he managed to force it open. They all went inside, leaving Kera and Kris to their patrolling of the fence lines.

They all stood just inside the door looking at the Keeper, who stood at a small workbench opposite, searching amongst the huge pile of mechanical and electrical parts that was scattered on the bench's surface. He turned, holding an old toaster with an element hanging out in one hand, and a speaker from a radio in the other.

He smiled at them, then said, C'mon, don't just stand there, you make the place look untidy.

We make the place look untidy? said Donn in a quiet voice, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Brigid.

Thank you, Kore, she said as she led them to the battered table to their right.

Hunter's eyes had begun to water the moment he had come in the door, and now he could see why. The old wood burner, standing in one corner of the shack, belched smoke into the room from cracks and holes that riddled its old chimney. The smoke hung in a blue haze fighting to get out of the small gap Hunter could see where the chimney went through the ceiling.

Sit you down, and I'll get some tea. The Keeper put down his treasures and scrubbed a hand through his grey hair that radiated from his head in unruly spikes.

As he bustled around the burner heating a kettle of water, he sung to himself in a voice that sounded nothing like his usual cracked and wheezy one. His singing voice was high and melodic, sounding almost haunting as it echoed about the room. When the Keeper was done, he turned, rubbed the back of one hand across his very pointy nose and looked at them.

Right then, what can I be doing for you?

I've been having these dreams with a Harpist in them, said Hunter. He's named Bardon Hearpere.

Hunter paused as the Keeper stirred. Bardon Hearpere. Now there's a name I haven't heard for a good long time. Could play a fine harp, could Bardon.

Hunter frowned. You know about him?

Course I do. I may spend most of me time here in your mortal world, but I do get back to Faery now and then. He's a mortal that some of the fey heard plucking away at his harp some time back. They decided that his music would sound just fine in Faery and, as they did back then, kidnapped him.

Why didn't he just leave? asked Sara.

They fed him, you see, replied the Keeper. "Once he ate, well then, he couldn't