The King's Cave

Calix was a prosperous kingdom, one untouched by the worries of the wider world. Situated on a small island to the west of everywhere else, it was a country where simple things were what brought happiness, and where every family was a wealthy and content one. Hidden away from prying eyes by a forest of ash trees that encircled the land, and proud mountains that rose either side of the island, Calix was a private and priveleged paradise that rarely welcomed a visitor, though was sure to never turn one away.

The kingdom was ruled over an old, wise king by the name of Byrne. There was not a man in Calix who could say a bad thing against his name, as he always did everything by the book; rules were followed, promises were kept, and the people of the land were never disappointed. His kindness was treasured and revered by all, the only point of sadness in his life found in the fact that though he had once married, his wife was now dead. Before her death, however, she had borne him two sons; healthy twins, by the names of Morton and Bec. Morton, the elder twin by a handful of seconds, was named heir, and the two were held dear by all of Calix, as they were the most polite and honest boys one could ever hope to meet.

Despite having two wonderful sons to dote upon, however, and all the gold and jewels one could wish for, the king still chose a relatively odd possession to declare his most treasured. At the top of the tallest mountain to the east of Calix stood a cave – one rumoured to be so vast that you could spend your entire life exploring it, and still never find the back wall – and it was this cave that the king visited each and every year without fail. He visited alone, leaving the princes at home in the castle, and though he always left at dawn, he would often not return until the dead of night. Every year, fresh rumours would crop up concerning what happened in this cave of the king's, and this year was no exception. The princes' thirteenth birthday was approaching, and they were growing to be very curious creatures indeed.

“There's a monster in there,” Bec would say, nodding his head with certainty. “And father has to visit every year to feed it the heads of our dead.”

“Nonsense!” Morton would reply, scolding his brother for his immaturity. “He does no such thing. There is a brilliant treasure in the cave, a jewel so beautiful that he can only set his eyes upon it once a year, for fear that he will go blind from it's wonder.”

It was on one such day of arguments concerning the cave that a servant girl named Lyra (who was a good friend of the princes, and around their age) happened upon them, and told them of the latest rumours that were circulating Calix. “The people are saying that your father's cave is full of music, my princes, and that it's the most wonderful music you'll ever hear.”

“See, I told you it was a treasure,” Morton scoffed, returning to a book about amphibians that he had been browsing through. He noticed a faint trace of lavender in the air, and wondered briefly where it had come from.

“...Though there are mentions of a troll, too, one with a spiked club.” the girl continued. “I've heard that he guards the entrance, to ensure that nobody but the king may enter.”

“Hah!” Bec laughed, ignoring his brother's scowl. “I knew it. There is always a monster in stories such as these. Tell us, Lyra, where have you heard these rumours?”

“From the townsfolk,” she replied, cleaning up around the princes. “My father, mostly. He's very keenly interested in what's up in that cave. Do you suppose you'll ever find out?”

“When I am king, perhaps it will become my cave, and then I shall know.” Morton said, yawning against the back of his hand. He was tired of the discussion already.

“But suppose you have to keep it a secret like father does, what then?” Bec asked scornfully, knowing that he would likely never have the privelege of seeing the cave for himself.

“Then I suppose no one will ever know,” his brother smirked, swatting his brother playfully with the book. “Other than myself, of course. Going up there for themselves is probably the only way the rest of Calix will ever find out the truth of it all.”

Bec shrugged, no longer interested, and returned to the painting he had been working on. Lyra remained in the room for a moment more, a few thoughts swirling around absently in her mind. An idea formulating, she left the princes to their own devices and returned to the servants quarters. The faint trace of lavender left with her, though Morton didn't notice this.

It wasn't until dawn that they realised the servant girl was missing. Each morning she usually attended to the princes as they took their breakfast in the great hall; however, after noticing her absence at the table, one of the elderly maids had visited her chambers to scold her for her tardiness, only to find her bed empty and unslept in. Nobody thought to look under her pillow, where they would have found a roughly drawn plan concerning a mountain, a cave and a generously-sized packed lunch. Indeed, by the time their conversation of the king's cave returned to Bec later that evening, Lyra had already been found, and came storming into the princes' chambers, waving a small rusted object above her head.

“I did it!” She yelled, jumping up and down on Morton's bed.

“You did what?” the elder prince asked in tones of exasperation. “Other than go missing and panic the other servants!”

“I'm very sorry,” Lyra rushed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and lowering her voice, “but I did what you suggested, Mort.”

“What I suggested...?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “What was it I suggested?”

“I went up the mountain! I saw the cave!”

A stunned silence filled the room. Bec seized the opportunity and broke it.

“You...what? You went up there? On your own?”

“Yes, I left in the middle of the night, and only just returned. I have to tell you all about it.”

And so Lyra spent the hour that followed explaining her adventure to the two princes. She told them of her determination to scale the mountain before the sun sank below the horizon, and how frightened she had been when she had realised her water supply had run out when she was only halfway up. Exhausted and thirsty, she had collapsed at the peak of the mountain in a heap, barely caring to notice the gaping cave mouth that stood before her. She described in vivid detail how, as the thin air atop the mountain blew her blonde hair about her shoulders, she first set eyes upon the troll.

“He's a troll-guard,” she explained excitedly, demonstrating with her hands how he had swung his massive spiked club at her. “It's his job to ensure no intruders get in. You're right in thinking that the cave is only for your father; he refused to let me pass, no matter how hard I pleaded...though he seemed impressed that I'd made it to the top of the mountain by myself. I managed to pluck this rusty old nail from his club, before I ran away.”

“What did the troll say to you?” Bec asked, the fever of adventure rising in his young cheeks. He examined the object the girl had brought back with her, convinced of its authenticity.

“He asked me if I had a royal pass, to which I replied no. He then asked if I were on the royal guest list, to which I also replied no. He then shook his great head and said 'GOOD! For there are no royal passes, and there is no royal guest list! This cave is for the king's ears only!'”

“The king's ears?” Morton inquired. “Then the rumours are true...it must be music in the cave, after all. Why else would he mention his ears?”

Lyra grinned, clapping her hands with glee. “There was no chance of me sneaking in while he wasn't looking, and I didn't much fancy having him chase me with that club of his, so I figured coming back down would be the best idea, so that I could tell you all about what happened. That way we can come up with a new plan together.”

Morton eyed her sceptically. “A plan to do what, exactly? You can't seriously be expecting us to be in on one of your schemes, Lyra. We're princes, not children.”

“But surely you want to hear the music as much as I do?” she asked, her eyes sparkling. She leant in closer to the boys. “We could sneak up there again tomorrow, try and catch the troll off guard. If we leave early enough, we can be there by nightfall, and he might be asleep! Don't worry, I'll make sure you're back in your beds before morning, and if anybody catches us, I'll take the full blame.”

Bec was happy with Lyra's assurances, and ran off into the next room to look for something. Morton looked uncertain. The princes were honest boys, and it never sat right with the elder twin when they tried to do something behind their father's back. “He shall be very cross if he finds out about our plan.” And that was all he would say on the matter, and didn't utter another word for the rest of the evening. Lyra knew by his calling it our plan, however, that he was more than interested in taking part.

Bec came running back into the room, his fingers wrapped round something which he held out towards the servant girl. “Whatever your plan may be, be sure this is a part of it.” It was a beautiful seashell, coloured in delicate shades of pearl and swirled pink. “Our mother gave it to me before she passed away. She said that it could be used to capture sounds. If we get into the cave, we could use it to capture the music and bring some of it back with us.”

Lyra smiled, accepting the younger prince's offering. “I think I have an idea of how we might get into the cave, my princes, but you will need to have all your cunning about you. Prepare your knapsacks for this evening, and we will leave when the maids switch shifts at dusk.”

Of course, as children are excitable creatures, dusk couldn't come quick enough for the princes and their servant girl friend. Morton's apprehension had dissolved quickly into curiosity, and it was he who had crafted the final plan that they were ready to carry out. He ran over it several times for the benefit of the others as they made their way towards the summit of the tallest mountain, never skipping on the details. By the time they collapsed in a heap at the peak, the cool wind not saving them from sweat and discomfort, what they were to do was perfectly clear in their minds. It was midnight by the time they were done climbing, and the moon was high in the sky.

Dressed in servants' rags, the princes stood, gaping at the size of the cave. “It's far bigger than I ever imagined,” Morton whispered to his brother, who nodded in agreement. They noticed the troll leaning against the cave wall, and looked worriedly at Lyra. She was wrapped in her father's old riding cape, and her best red shoes.

“Don't be scared, he's sleeping.”

Sure enough, the troll-guard was snoozing loudly, leaning on his spiked club for support. Lyra tiptoed round the other side of the cave, pressing her back against the cool stone wall. She didn't want to risk waking up the troll by trying to sneak past him, and so she waited in the shadows instead, relying on Morton's cunning and his assurances that his plan would work.

“Excuse me!” He said loudly, walking up to the troll and tapping on his knee. “Would this be the king's cave, by any chance?”

The troll-guard woke with a start, grumbling angrily. He stared down at the two princes, who he had only ever since once before as babies, and who he surely wouldn't recognise dressed in such rags as they were. “What?” He snapped, poking his club in the elder twin's face. “How on earth did you runts get up here at this ungodly hour?”

“We walked.” Bec piped up, pointing at his shoes. “Leather soles, never doubted them for a second.”

The troll scowled, and looked intent on returning to his snoozing. As snores began to escape from between his lips once again, Morton tapped thrice more on his knee. “I'm sorry sir, but you didn't answer my question. Would this be the king's cave?”

“Yes!” The monster roared, swinging his club round his head wildly. “Who else would the bloody thing belong to?”

“Calm down, friend, I was only asking. May I look inside?”

If the troll had eyebrows, he surely would have raised them. Instead, he grinned, showing a mouthful of rough-diamond teeth. “Do you have a royal pass, young sirs?”

“No.”

“...And would you be on the royal guest list, instead?”

“...No?”

“GOOD!” He roared, knocking the boys off their feet with his bellowing. “'Cos there are no royal passes, and there is no royal guest list! Now get outta my sight!”

Of course, while all this had been going on, the troll-guard had been much too preoccupied to notice a pair of shiny red shoes as they creeped around the edge of the cave and slipped inside. The princes' questions had proved to be the perfect distraction, and Lyra couldn't thank Morton enough for his idea. Taking a deep breath she stepped further into the cave, and allowed the sight to swallow her whole.

The walls rose up either side of her, stretching endlessly towards a roof she couldn't see, no matter how hard she craned her neck. Stalagmites and stalactites grew from everywhere, looking like two sets of teeth in the dim light that seeped in from the entrance. Kicking off her shoes, Lyra allowed the loose shingle of the cave floor to flood between her toes; she was surprised to find that it was warm, despite the fact that the air was so cold. Padding softly around, she found a small spring to the east of the cave, which she drank from greedily. The water reflected off the walls, coloured brilliant shades of vermillion and emerald. If she looked closely, Lyra could see thousands of other colours mixed in with the two main ones, all building up a rainbow of stone which covered the walls. Standing, she walked to the very centre of the cave, and waited (though she wasn't sure what for). A tiredness swept over her, and she lay down in the shingle and grit.

It was then that she heard it.

A soft melody started to seep upwards from the ground, out of the walls, down from the ceiling, in through the cave mouth; it was everywhere, and it wrapped Lyra in the most wonderful, comforting blanket. She closed her eyes and let the music rush through her body, almost surrendering herself to its charms.

The cave was just full of sound.

Barely remembering herself or indeed whether she had ever had a life before the music at all, Lyra pulled Bec's seashell from her pocket and held it above her head. She was far too engrossed in the marvellous sounds to notice the thin tendrils of music that started to drift towards the shell, slipping inside and settling in the crevices and natural erosion of the object. It may have taken only a second, or perhaps it took an entire hour; but eventually, every last piece of music that was floating around the cave had landed in the seashell. Holding it close to her heart, and feeling the drowsiness leaving her already, she climbed to her feet and made her way shakily to the entrance of the cave. She didn't care to check if the troll-guard was sleeping as she slipped past him, ignorant to the sounds of his snores. She walked slowly down the mountain, eager to visit the princes and share the music with them, but unable to walk very quickly. She felt as though she were daydreaming, and it wasn't until she reached the bottom that she noticed the blood and cuts that covered her feet, and realised that she had left her red shoes behind in the cave.

“Did you get it?” Bec asked eagerly, quietly letting Lyra into their chambers. They had been back in the castle before the king could notice them missing, and had pretended to have been sleeping all along.

Lyra nodded, and pulled the shell from inside her father's old riding cloak. She cared for nothing but hearing the music again, and cared nothing for the fact that the door stood open, as did most of the windows in the room. Pressing her ear against the shell (the princes followed suit), she waited to be swept away by the music of the cave.

It took a few moments, but eventually it came. Strands of music began to float up out of the seashell, the beautiful melodies twisting in the air and teasing at the childrens' ears. They were far too lost in the marvellous sounds to notice the little wisps of music darting off around the room, some slipping through the open door and others escaping through the windows. A great calm enveloped the trio as the song came to an end, and the last piece of music fluttered out into the corridor.

“That was perfect,” Bec said dreamily, “and so very familiar. Like a lullaby we once heard.”

“I think perhaps it was,” Morton muttered, his expression telling of his longing to hear the song again. “...do you think we're safe for one more listen?”

Lyra nodded greedily, and pushed her ear against it once again. The princes followed suit, but this time no music did come from the seashell.

Bec looked concerned. “Is the music broken?” He asked quietly, shaking the shell and stroking it gently.

“You can't break music,” his brother said, rolling his eyes. “Perhaps Lyra has to hold the shell, as she is the once who captured the music with it.”

Lyra nodded and took the item in her hands. They waited. Still there was no music to be heard.

“Maybe we can only listen once a day.” Morton said. “Or once a year, like father.”

“I don't think I can wait another year to hear it again!” Bec wailed, and promptly started to sob. Lyra cried a little too, and felt a knot of dread worming its way through her stomach. She thought of her shoes in the cave, and whether she should go and get them back.

“This is all my fault,” she said quietly, rising to her feet. “Keep your shell, Bec. It's no use to me. I feel as though I've ruined something very, very important.”

“Don't be silly,” Morton said matter-of-factly, putting an arm around his friend's shoulders. “Just go to bed, rise next morning, and go about your duties as usual. It is a whole eight months before father visits the cave again, and when we hear fresh rumours of what the townsfolk believe is up there, we'll know that all is well.”

The girl nodded, and felt a little better as she returned to her quarters. What she didn't know, of course, was that if she had only closed the door behind her when she had entered the boys' room to begin with, one sliver of music may not have escaped, and may not have found its way into the king's ear as he slept.

The king did rise each morning, for the eight months that followed, with this one note of music dancing around his skull. He spent a lot of time thinking of where he might have heard it before, and longed to remember the rest of the tune, but it never did come. The rest of the song was also split up, and was dancing around in other peoples' heads – one note was bothering Calix's baker, another the blacksmith, another the butcher, and so on. The kingdom became restless as all became preoccupied with the nuisance notes and their incomplete melodies. They demanded that the king get to the root of the problem in order to put their minds at rest. After much hard thought and fruitless conferences with his lords and ladies, King Byrne eventually decided to give up his quest to get to the bottom of it all. He asked his butler to let Calix know that they would merely have to live with the notes running round in their heads, until a sorcerer could be found who would produce a spell to block out the sounds. Unsatisfied but unable to do anything about it, the people returned to their lives and as far as was possible, the kingdom returned to normal.

One morning the king rose and felt at peace, despite the fact that the note was still there, echoing around his mind. He knew that he could ignore it for today, as the sunrise had brought with it his yearly visit to the cave. Gathering together a few advisors and his butler, he began his ascent up the tallest mountain, his heart set on the solace he knew he'd find at the summit.

Greeting his troll-guard with a nod and a bow, King Byrne passed into the cave and allowed the comforting sights of vermilion and emerald to engulf him. He waited patiently, but of course, the music never came. The cave was full of silence.

Despair surfaced, and realisation struck the king as the knowledge of the rogue note in his head returned to him. The music had escaped from the cave somehow, and one of the notes had found its way inside the heads of everyone in the kingdom. Pieced together, he felt sure that the notes would make up that beautiful melody he had been so looking forward to hearing. Upset that he hadn't thought of this sooner, and angry at the person whom he knew must have sabotaged his cave, he hung his head and looked to the ground.

What should be looking back up at him, but a pair of shiny red shoes?

Curiously, the king picked up the shoes, and inspected them closely. He didn't recognise them, but from the size knew them to be a child's – but how could a child have found their way up the mountain, past the troll and into his cave? King Byrne was unsure, but he tucked them under his arm and marched out of the empty cave, stopping in front of the guard.

“Care to explain why these shoes are in my cave, troll-guard?”

The troll looked at them thoughtfully, and explained to the king about the visitors to the cave all that time ago. He mentioned a little girl (though he couldn't recall the colour of her shoes at the time), and also two characters whom he referred to as 'the matching boys'. King Byrne knew immediately that these must be his sons, for they were the only twins in the kingdom. He pardoned the troll, knowing that there was no way he could have recognised the princes, and accepted his reasoning for not informing the king of the visitors (he had assumed that because they were children, their presence was unimportant). Returning to his castle, King Byrne slouched in his throne, and wept a little before confronting his sons.

“Morton, do not lie to me, did you visit my cave on the mountain?”

“Yes father,” the eldest replied immediately, head hung with shame.

“And Bec, did you accompany your brother, and did you torment the troll-guard along with him?”

“Yes father,” the youngest replied, his head also hanging low.

“Thank you for your honesty,” King Byrne said quietly, and he pushed the red shoes under the noses of the princes. “And now for some more, if you please. Do you know who these shoes belong to? Was there a third accomplice on that day?”

Morton looked at the shoes carefully. He was an honest boy, and didn't wish to lie to his father; however, he didn't wish to betray his friend either. “I...I'm not sure, father. Be assured that Bec and I didn't set foot in your cave.”

The king sighed, and placed the shoes on the ground. He looked at the two boys without blinking, sadness in his eyes. “Perhaps I should tell you why the cave is so important to me, and why I visit it every year. If you understand what it means to me, then perhaps you will be more obliged to tell the truth.”

The two princes looked up at their father, guilt written over their faces.

“You won't remember your mother very well, for you were quite young when she died, but rest assured that she was the most wonderful woman I have ever met. She loved you both very much, and would sing you marvellous lullabies to send you to sleep. Her voice was the sweetest in all of Calix, and it was with great regret that we watched her pass away before her time. However, she left me a reminder of herself to keep with me until I died, and to pass onto you when I did; her voice. Bec, what was it that mother gave to you before her end?”

Bec felt hot tears falling down his face. “A seashell,” he whispered, pulling it from his pocket. He had kept it very close to him since the adventure with Lyra up the mountain, as he still secretly hoped that it would one day play the music again. “She said that I could capture sounds with it.”

The king nodded, and took the shell from Bec's hands. “Your mother was a very clever woman, and the seashell trick was her favourite. Before she died, she gave you this shell so that you might capture your own sounds; before she died, she also gave me my own shell so that I might capture hers.”

From his own pocket, King Byrne pulled another seashell. It was brown in colour, and not nearly as beautiful as the one that belonged to Bec; but it was bigger, and more suitable for a wise king such as his father.

“This shell is empty now, like yours, but once it held your mother's voice. After her death I kept it close to me, and hearing her voice helped me get to sleep at night. However, I became afraid that someone would steal the shell and take her voice away from me, so I decided to put the music somewhere safe. My butler told me about the empty cave atop the highest mountain, and so one day I went up there, and released the music into the cave. A troll has guarded it ever since, to keep thieves and restless souls away. I visit it now only once a year to hear your mother's song, and it distresses me greatly that today, during my one visit of this year, the music was no longer there to greet me. All I found was a pair of red shoes. The troll told me, boys, that he had seen you up there; and I believe you when you say that you yourselves did not go into the cave. Tell me, sons, who do these shoes belong to?”

There was a pained look on the face on their father, and Bec could take it no more. He sobbed loudly, falling to the marble floor and hugging his knees to his chest. He had never felt so ashamed.

“Lyra,” he said quickly, pointing at the shoes. “They belong to a servant girl called Lyra. She didn't mean to steal the music father, we just wanted to hear it. We didn't know that it could escape!”

Morton knelt beside his brother and hugged him. They were good princes, and felt awful for what they had done. They could no longer look their father in the face.

“Thank you for your honesty, Bec.” King Byrne said softly. “I'm not angry with you, boys, but I do have to punish you. It's only fair. I have always tried to do everything by the book.” He asked his butler to summon Lyra to the great hall, a look of reluctance plaguing his face.

Lyra stood sulkily before the king, her face as red as the shoes still sat on the floor before the throne. “I never meant no harm, sire,” she said shakily, tears threatening to spill. “I never knew the song would get out the way it did.”

“You were reckless to steal my music, servant girl.” The king said briskly. The two princes stood either side of her, not wanting to look her in the eye. “And now I fear I may never get it back. The three of you must be punished for your sneakiness, but I will try to be as lenient as possible. My sons shall have five days to collect the music – they shall take Bec's seashell and go around Calix, capturing the strands of music. When every strand has been collected they shall return here. During this time, Lyra, you will be kept in the castle dungeons; if the song is completely restored upon my sons' return, you shall be free.”

The princes felt the responsibility crushing them, but didn't hesitate as they took the seashell from their father's outstretched hand and raced down into Calix. They visited the butcher, the baker, the blacksmith, the school teachers, the dentist, the doctor and the old widow who lived alone in the forest of ash trees; each person they went to complained of a sound in their head that they couldn't quite place. Morton would take the shell and use it to pull the notes from the ears of each person, watching the thin black strands settle inside the hollow object.

There was far more to the song than they ever thought possible, and it took them all but one hour of the fifth day to collect the music. Tired and worried about Lyra, they were glad to return to the castle and present their father with the seashell filled with music. He had summoned the servant girl from the dungeon, and the three children stood before the king now as he pressed his ear to the shell.

“If you had spoken an incantation before listening to the music, it would not have escaped from the shell,” King Byrne explained, licking his lips. “A simple spell can keep the notes contained within.” He cleared his throat and said quietly:

“Music, music, play to me,

tease me with your melodies.”

A once, a great jumble of notes began to rise from within the shell. There was no mistaking it; the song contained within was indeed the song that Lyra had first heard in the king's cave all those months ago. However, there was something very wrong with the sound; it was a mess. None of the notes were in order, and the melody was now more of a cacophony. The king looked heartbroken.

“The song is ruined...there is no way that the notes will ever be in the right order again. I can't even remember how the original tune went.”

The king dropped the shell to the ground, where it shattered into a thousand little pieces. Silence covered the room. Bec started to cry again quietly, and Morton reached out to comfort his twin. Between the two of them, Lyra pursed her lips and started to a hum a tune.

It was the song from the cave. She hummed it sweetly, her voice rising and dipping with the notes.

“You remember the song?” the king asked, not daring to believe.

Lyra nodded, and stopped humming. “I don't think I could ever forget it. It was the most beautiful song I have ever heard.”

The king nodded, and thought hard for a moment. He told his sons to leave, saying that they had done well and that their punishment was complete. He then turned to the servant girl who had lost him his music, and who now seemed to have found it again within herself. “And now, Lyra, it is time for your punishment.”

“I understand, sire.”

“You must go to the top of the tallest mountain, and into the cave that you seemed so desperate to visit. There you will remain for fifty days and fifty nights, and not once shall you stop singing that song. There is water in the cave, and you can eat the moss from off the rocks that dwell inside, so don't worry about going without nourishment. If you succeed, and if your singing is endless for fifty days, then you may return home and we shall forget all about your thievery.”

Lyra nodded, afraid but willing to accept the consequences for her actions. She said goodbye to her parents and the other servants, wished the princes well, and began her ascent to the cave that was once filled with music but now lay empty.

Inside, she settled down on the soft shingle ground with her father's old riding cloak for company. She had put her red shoes on for good luck. She looked round at the vermilion and emerald walls, the high ceiling, the dark rocks, and began to sing the song. Her voice was sweet and young, and sounded almost ghostly as it echoed around the cavern. Soft winds carried her voice down to Calix, and for forty-nine days the people would pause in their errands to listen to the girl as she sang endlessly, her melodies soothing, replacing echoes of misplaced notes that had once been lodged in their minds.

King Byrne was pleased with Lyra's efforts. He had enjoyed hearing her voice very much, waking up especially early to catch it drifting down through his window each morning. He was willing to forgive her for losing his wife's song, as although her singing wasn't the most beautiful he had ever heard, it was very nice indeed, and he thought if he could only capture it in a seashell, it would make a decent enough replacement for the lullaby he had lost. On the fiftieth morning, he woke the princes from their beds and asked them to join him as he journeyed up to the cave.

Their climb to the top of the mountain was tiring, but the princes were buoyed by the knowledge that they would have their friend back again. The king was glad to see them in good spirits. He wasted no time in greeting the troll-guard, and told the princes to remain outside while he saw to Lyra. Stepping into the cave, he allowed a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

He knew immediately that something was amiss.

There was no little girl with brilliant blonde hair anywhere to be seen. The cave was once again silent. Looking round cautiously, his eyes fell once again upon the red shoes, lying in the shingle. This time they were accompanied by a battered old riding cloak. Frowning, the king looked around, but found nothing but shadows anywhere.

“Music, music, play to me,

tease me with your melodies.”

At once, Lyra's voice began to swirl upwards from the ground, out from the walls, down from the ceiling and in through the cave mouth; the familiar song, in a new voice. The king was puzzled. As the song finished, he searched the cave once more, but there was no little girl to be found. Picking up the red shoes and old riding cloak, he left the cave, and explained to the princes that Lyra was missing. A search party was called, but there was no explanation for her disappearance; the troll-guard insisted that she had never left, for he hadn't slept, and wouldn't allow any more children to sneak past him in such a way. The king believed him, and eventually, the little girl was forgotten.

King Byrne continued to visit the cave each year, on the same day that his wife had passed away. Each time he would speak his incantation, and Lyra's voice would drift around him in its carefree way. It was not quite the most wonderful music he had ever heard, but it was still the most wonderful to be heard anywhere in Calix. As the years passed and time was stolen away, so it came to pass that Morton was crowned king. On his deathbed, the old king gave his eldest son permission to visit the cave, and reminded him of the rhyme to recite to ensure that the music didn't escape.

On the anniversary of his mother's death, Morton climbed the mountain for the first time, and bowed regally to the troll-guard that he had tormented years before (trolls rarely bothered to age, and so the guard was good for a few centuries yet). Excited, he entered the king's cave, and recited his father's words.

The music played, the new king sang along, and across the corners of his mouth crept a smile. He noticed the stalagmite growing upright from the centre of the cave, knowing inside himself that it had never been there during his father's visits. He also saw the flashes of brilliant blonde that now adorned the vermilion and emerald walls. The air was filled with a faint scent of lavender, and he knew now to whom it had once belonged. He sat down in the loose earth and allowed the sound of a girl's voice to wash over him. Lyra had never really left the cave after all; she had just become part of it, and Morton was very glad to be with his friend once again.