Chamaeleon: Time Walker

By Lynda Wilcox

A boy spy on a deadly mission. A bully who has sworn to stop him.

Kel, a fourteen year old spy for the King of Crell, has one month to travel to Jerann and deliver a priceless ruby ring. Waylaid by the people of Anconnu and asked to choose the next Time Walker, he agrees, but discovers that someone in the country doesn't want him to succeed. Now he must enter the terrifying Time Vault and face a ruthless enemy or risk the loss of the Jewel of Jerann and the failure of his mission.

Read Chamaeleon: The Time Walker and join Kel on his most exciting mission yet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lynda Wilcox
• Release date: Apr 2, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524255848

Lynda Wilcox

Lynda Wilcox's first piece of published writing was a poem in the school magazine. In her twenties she wrote Pantomime scripts for Amateur Dramatic groups and was a founder member of The Facts of Life, a foursome who wrote and performed comedy sketches for radio. Now she concocts fantasy stories for older children (10-13) and writes funny whodunits for adults. Lynda lives in a small town in England, in an untidy house with four ageing computers and her (equally ageing but very supportive) husband. She enjoys pottering in the garden where she grow brambles, bindweed and nettles along with roses and lilies. Oh! And slugs!  Slugs that feed well on everything but the brambles and weeds. Most of all, she loves to write —  it gets her out of doing the housework. She also reads a lot and enjoys good food and wine.

Book preview

Chapter 1

––––––––

Kel! If you don't get out of bed this minute I shall tip you on the floor.

The boy in the bed gave a grunt, rolled over, and pulled the covers over his head.

Come on, Kel.

Go away, Mother, he mumbled into the pillow. Let me sleep.

Maya looked down fondly at her son. She'd missed him while he had been away on the king's service and, now that he was home, all he seemed to do was sleep. Life as the king's spy must be very tiring, but he was still the old Kel and she knew how to get him out of bed.

Your breakfast is ready, she announced, before walking back into the kitchen.

It worked. At the mention of food, the boy shot out from between the sheets and reached for his clothes. He was nearly fourteen and, although he was considered an adult in the Woodland Clearing where he'd been born and raised, his growing body meant he was always hungry. Once dressed, he washed his face and hands in the bowl of warm water his mother had left on the bedside table and ran a hand through his unruly chestnut curls in an attempt to control them. He was fully presentable when he sat at the table a few minutes later and started on his porridge.

Haven't you eaten since your last visit home, Kel? His mother laughed as he wolfed down the hot oatmeal. Doesn't King Edred feed you?

Yes, of course he does, and Alice the Citadel's cook is nearly as good as you, but I've only just come back from Lasheen where the food tasted really strange.

Maya smiled at his praise. She cut thick slices of home-made bread and placed a slab of butter and a pot of jam in front of him.

Do you enjoy working for the king, Kel?

Yes, I do. I was scared at first, that day Rostyn showed up in the Clearing and said the king wanted me — do you remember?

Maya nodded but said nothing. Of course she remembered it: the tall handsome Messenger and the two letters he'd brought, one from the king and one from his Spymaster, Quercus. They'd asked if she would consent to Kel doing a dangerous job to save the whole country from the threat of war. She could hardly refuse, although she had desperately wanted to say no and keep her son safe at home.

Well, Kel went on, King Edred wasn't as scary as I thought. He's really nice and kind. I don't see much of him, though, I spend most of my time with Rostyn and Quercus.

He glanced up from spreading jam on his bread in time to see the grimace on his mother's face. He took the opportunity to ask the question that had bothered him for months.

Mother, is Quercus my grandfather?

Has he told you that?

No, it's just that...well...he's got your eyes.

Maya gave a bark of laughter and sat down opposite him.

I've got his, Kel. Quercus was my father.

What do you mean 'was'? Why did you never say?

She rubbed her hands across her face for a moment, struggling with some internal turmoil. He began to wish he'd never asked.

Because I thought he was dead. You can't imagine the shock I got that day when Rostyn brought me a letter from him.

Kel just stared at her, his mouth full of bread and jam.

Quercus disappeared when I was eight years old and my mother said he was dead, she went on. I remember she spent a long time crying, but whether she ever knew that he was still alive or what he was doing if he was, I'll never know.

Didn't he say in his letter?

No. He just said that he knew the letter would come as a surprise —

Ha! It was Kel's turn to laugh.

— But he knew you had inherited special talents and King Edred had need of you. Mind you, he did say that if I agreed to the king's request, he would take care of you.

Who would?

Quercus, I assume. Does he?

Kel shrugged. The Spymaster had trained him well and gave him the information necessary to do his job but as for looking after him —no, Rostyn did that. The messenger had become both friend and father to him.

Does he? Maya leaned across the table towards him.

Kel smiled at her, trying to put her at ease.

Oh yes. He's all right but a bit strict. I prefer working with Rostyn. He's much more fun. He likes you.

Maya blushed and got up from the table.

Really, Kel. He's only met me twice.

Do you like him? Kel teased.

Her blush deepened but before she could reply a shrill cry came from the Clearing.

The spaces in the Woodland where people lived had been cleared of trees and the timber used to make their homes. The wooden houses nestled at the rim around a grassy central area. Several paces away from each door lay a stone hearth used for cooking or boiling up large cauldrons of water

Help! Help!

They both jumped to their feet, but it was the boy who reached the door first. He flung it open and rushed out into the clear space. Already a large crowd had gathered about the shrieking woman in the middle.

My baby! I can't find my baby!

Kel glanced down at his mother who had joined him in the circle of anxious neighbours.

I didn't know Tula had had a baby, he said.

She hasn't. It's six year old Flora she means.

Kel nodded as he remembered the red haired child with the freckled face who always kept to herself, happy in her own company.

Taxus, the Headman of the Clearing, barged his way towards Tula. His tall, spare frame  towered over her.

What's the matter, Tula?

It's Flora. She's missing.

He scratched at his grizzled beard, but Taxus was a competent man who had led the Clearing for many years and immediately took charge.

Then we'll have to search for her. How long has she been gone?

Tula lifted her tear-stained face from her hands.

Over an hour. I've searched the house and the Clearing and she's nowhere to be found.

Taxus quickly organized search parties and gave out instructions. Kel turned to his mother.

I'm going to look for her, too.

All right. I'll stay here with Tula.

Leaving Maya to comfort their neighbour, Kel set off on his own as the rest of the searchers scattered in various directions. From the Clearing, he took the path down towards the stream, trying to remember what he could of the little girl.

Where would she go? Did she have her own secret place? Kel searched his memory for what it felt like to be six years old, but he was grown up now and found it hard to think as he had done then. His special place, he remembered, had been a tree close to the stream. He would climb up and sit in its branches and watch the women fetching water or washing clothes in the little pools that formed between the rocks. He hoped that Flora hadn't come down this way. Towards the middle, the stream was deep and fast flowing and a child as young as Flora could be swept away in seconds.

The path turned just before he reached the water and it was only by chance that he noticed a small piece of pink material caught up on a bramble away to his right. He pushed aside a clump of bracken in order to reach it and then spotted the thin track leading into the dark tunnel of trees. The shouts of the other searchers grew fainter in the distance and soon he couldn't hear them at all.

Kel walked on into the depths of the gloomy Woodland.

* * *

After about fifty metres, the track curved round to the left leading back towards the stream. The trees thinned out, allowing more light though the canopy.

Flora! Where are you, Flora?

Kel stopped and listened but all he could hear was the melodious song of a blackbird. Convinced that he was looking in the wrong place, he was about to turn and retrace his steps when he heard a loud crack, followed by a gasp from somewhere overhead.

Flora? Is that you?

He craned his head back, his eyes searching the green ceiling above him: green that is apart from a flash of pink high up in the branches of an old horse chestnut.

What are you doing up there?

I'm stuck, a small voice replied. I can't get down and I think I'm going to fall in a minute.

Kel raced to the foot of the tree where several low branches offered a ladder upwards.

Hang on, Flora. I'm coming.

The climb, easy at first thanks to the numerous branches