Lily and Oliver arrive at their Auntie’s home expecting a boring start to their summer holiday, but her old house has hidden secrets. Somehow it is connected to the recent disappearance of a school group in a nearby wood – a wood said to be haunted by the Headless Archer.
The twins make friends with Colin, and by following clues and solving riddles, the trio discovers more than they ever imagined. The lost teachers and students are alive but in a dangerous place far beyond Earth. Can Lily, Oliver and Colin rescue them before it is too late?
The Headless Archer cleverly intertwines our world with a world of myth and legend. It is a gripping fantasy filled with humour, friendship and adventure. The story will entertain children and their parents alike.
Lily and Oliver arrive at their Auntie’s home expecting a boring start to their summer holiday, but her old house has hidden secrets. Somehow it is connected to the recent disappearance of a school group in a nearby wood – a wood said to be haunted by the Headless Archer.
The twins make friends with Colin, and by following clues and solving riddles, the trio discovers more than they ever imagined. The lost teachers and students are alive but in a dangerous place far beyond Earth. Can Lily, Oliver and Colin rescue them before it is too late?
The Headless Archer cleverly intertwines our world with a world of myth and legend. It is a gripping fantasy filled with humour, friendship and adventure. The story will entertain children and their parents alike.
Long before humans built cities and learned to write, when we dwelled in caves and hunted with spears, we looked at the night sky in wonder. The thousands of visible stars are part of our swirling galaxy. Beyond these stars, there are countless more in countless other galaxies spanning distances that baffle the mind. The sun is our star, and every other star in the universe could be orbited by planets like Earth, where life thrives. Is there somewhere that lies beyond our Universe? Our ancestors knew very little about the specks of light in the night sky, but they created stories inspired by them. As we have understood more, we have learned that we know so little. There are mysteries all around us, waiting to be revealed, but only to those with curious minds.
Beneath a clear night sky, in a clearing on the grounds of Bridgeward Estate, a semi-circle of tents surrounded a crackling campfire. It was a warm night, and the Milky Way could be seen arching overhead. A half-moon gently illuminated the campsite, but the surrounding woods were dark. An owl sat perched on the branch of an ancient oak tree, watching as three adults prepared for the night’s stargazing. There was not a breath of wind, but the tents still fluttered with the activity of excitable students within. It was the final night of a school activity weekend, and the students had been told to rest in their tents as night fell and the stars emerged. Unsurprisingly, there was very little resting.
The inside of Sam, Colin and Joe’s tent looked like a meteorite had hit it. Damp socks, mucky trainers, sweet wrappers and sleeping bags were spread everywhere. The three friends sat scoffing their last reserves of sweets.
“Does anyone know any good ghost stories?” asked Joe, a small boy with big glasses and floppy hair.
“You’re definitely in the right tent,” answered Sam with his mouth full of chewy toffee. “I reckon Colin has been waiting all weekend for someone to ask.”
“Oh yes!” replied Colin with his eyes widening. “What do you want to hear about? The Plague Town goblins? Or the haunted tunnels beneath the Old Fort? Or maybe—”
“Come on, Colin, you big bookworm,” interrupted Sam, “tell us about the Headless Archer! After all, we are camping in his woods!” Sam was a lean and sporty boy who always wore colourful football shirts. In contrast, Colin was stocky, clumsy and always wore black. He was also a proud bookworm.
Colin rummaged in his rucksack and pulled out a small, crimson book with elaborate gold writing adorning its cover. A musty smell filled the tent as Colin flicked through the book’s pages.
“I picked this beauty up at a car-boot sale a few weeks ago,” Colin exclaimed. “It’s almost a hundred years old. Aha! The Story of the Headless Archer.”
Colin took his torch and placed it beneath his chin to light the underside of his round face. He paused to build up tension and then began to read the story.
“Many years ago, before the Old Town was abandoned after the Black Death, the people of Bridgeward endured a year of terrible pestilence and famine. The winter was bitterly cold, the spring was terribly wet, and the summer was unbearably hot. Crops failed, livestock died, and the people of Bridgeward starved. The Lord and his family hoarded what food was grown and feasted on venison, pheasant and other game hunted on their estate. As their waistlines grew, so did the resentment of the people of Bridgeward.”
“That summer, a young archer returned home from the battlefields of France where he had been fighting for the King of England. He strode through the town to his family home with his longbow slung over his shoulder, his quiver around his waist and a worn canvas satchel by his side. His mother, father and sister were delighted to see him. Beaming smiles appeared on their gaunt faces, and happiness filled their hearts even though their stomachs were empty.
“The archer’s parents had no food to offer their son after his long journey, and he quickly learned of the greed of the Lord and the suffering of the people of Bridgeward. Angered by the injustice, the archer set off for the Lord’s estate with his longbow and quiver. Before the sun set that evening, he returned to Bridgeward with a deer over his shoulders. That night his family feasted like the Lord in his manor. It had been a long time since they had gone to bed with their stomachs full.
“Early the following day, the archer was awoken by angry shouts and loud banging on the door. The Lord had heard about the hunting of his deer, and his men had been ordered to make an example of the archer. The archer was seized from his bed and dragged to the town centre with his shirt loose, his belt swinging from his waist and no shoes on his feet. The Lord’s men rang the town bell, and a large crowd gathered. The archer was wrestled into the town stocks. His head and arms protruded uncomfortably from the rough holes in the heavy oak clamp. The people of Bridgeward were ordered to throw their rotten food at him, but no one did.
“The archer lifted his head as high as he could and spoke to the Lord’s men, ‘You fools! Do you think these people have any rotten food to throw? They don’t have enough to eat! There is no waste here. If you want rotten food, go to the Lord’s manor. You’ll find unfinished dishes from last night’s feast, although you’ll be lucky if anyone is stupid enough to throw what can be eaten.’ As the archer spoke, the Lord appeared on horseback, his face bloated with rage. The crowd remained impassive. They admired the bravery of the archer, but they feared the Lord and his men.
“The Lord dismounted, unsheathed his sword and marched towards the archer. ‘I do not care if you horrible creatures starve,’ he shouted, gesturing angrily with his sword. ‘You are of no concern to me, until that is, one of you hunts on my estate. If no one will throw their food, I will take matters into my own hands!’
“With these words, the Lord raised his sword high above his head and brought it down upon the neck of the archer. The archer’s severed head fell to the ground. There were gasps and screams from the crowd at the unexpected cruelty. The Lord ordered that no one should touch the head and body of the archer. The crowd dispersed, night fell, and the town of Bridgeward was filled with sadness.
“The next morning, birds sang as the sun rose. The people of Bridgeward awoke to find that the body and head of the archer had disappeared, and the stocks had been smashed to pieces. Brightly coloured dragonflies darted around the splintered oak shards; flashes of electric blue, neon yellow and bright red.
“On Bridgeward Estate, the Lord was preparing for a hunt. Black clouds were forming in the sky. The Lord rode towards the woods as the rain began to fall. By the time he reached the woods, the rain was pouring, and the wind was howling through the trees. Branches and acorns were thrown to the ground, and brightly coloured dragonflies appeared mysteriously. The Lord’s horse stopped suddenly, rose on its hind legs and released a blood-curdling bray. Among the trees stood the archer. His right arm was raised aloft, holding the bedraggled, wet hair of his dangling head. ‘You shall not be returning to the manor for a feast today, Lord!’ the archer shouted. ‘These woods are now mine, and anyone who sets foot in them is mine to hunt, beginning with you!’
“With these words, the Headless Archer placed his head in his old canvas satchel and threw it over his shoulder. He nocked an arrow in his longbow, pulled the string back and shot the arrow straight through the Lord’s cold heart. The Lord staggered backwards and fell against the glistening wet trunk of a wild apple tree. In the Lord’s dying moments, he saw the Headless Archer turn and disappear through the falling rain, followed by the bright and brilliant dragonflies.
“From that day, the Archer became a soulless spectre haunting the woods of Bridgeward Estate. He who was once a brave and honest man became a shadow, trapped between our world and the next. He exists in the shadows of the trees, on gusts of wild winds and in the storm's thunder. With the dragonflies by his side, he hunts anyone who enters his woods.”
There was a moment of silence when Colin finished the story. The silence was broken by Joe, whose voice was muffled by the sleeping bag he was hiding under, “I’m not sure I want to go stargazing anymore…”
“Awesome story, Colin!” exclaimed Sam. “It’s not real, Joe. Don’t be such a softie. Besides, how could someone aim an arrow with their head in a satchel? Oh, wait a minute, maybe he has telescopic nipples?” Sam lifted his football shirt over his head to reveal his torso. “I see you, Joe!” He said in a mock scary voice.
“Yeah, I suppose your right,” Joe said, laughing. “Besides, we’ve got Mr Montero to protect us. We all know he was in the SAS, right?”
“Absolutely!” replied Colin sarcastically. “And he’s a black belt in Tor Kin Non Sens.”
Mr Montero was a P.E. teacher. He was shaped like a big oak cupboard, and he moved with about as much fluidity. His broad shoulders were perfect for carrying the large chip he chose to burden himself with. In contrast, Miss Wilson was a very modest and sensible geography teacher. She was the youngest teacher at school and also the smallest. She wore old-fashioned clothes she bought in charity shops, and her hair was always tied up. There was a rumour that she had been a talented sportswoman before becoming a teacher, but Miss Wilson never spoke about this.
Mr Montero had never been a talented sportsman. However, if making up stories about sporting achievements was a sport, he would have been a world champion. Everyone at school had heard about how he ‘once had a trial for Manchester United’, ‘once knocked out a heavyweight boxer’ and ‘once turned down a chance to play rugby for England’.
The two teachers sat on logs next to the campfire, talking casually to the Head Instructor of the activity weekend. The sun had set less than an hour before, with its rays penetrating the clouds that sat on the horizon. It had been a beautiful summer day.
“How do you feel this weekend has gone?” asked the Head Instructor. “It’s the first time we’ve run a camp on the grounds of Bridgeward Estate.”
“I’ve enjoyed most of it,” replied Mr Montero, not considering that the Head Instructor might be more interested in the students and not the teachers. “The orienteering reminded me of my time in the SAS.”
“Yes, the students did enjoy the orienteering,” added Miss Wilson, who chose to ignore Mr Montero’s spurious claim to have been in the SAS (an elite unit of the British Army). “There is so much space on the estate. A number of the children have said they enjoyed the high ropes course too, although some of the less adventurous children found it quite a challenge”.
“They need to toughen up,” exclaimed Mr Montero. “Some of these kids are right little softies.”
Miss Wilson found Mr Montero exceptionally annoying, particularly when he talked over her and tried to take control of situations she had under perfect control. However, she chose to hide her annoyance because she felt this was the polite thing to do. She also hid how much she enjoyed watching the students mock Mr Montero.
“I’m glad to hear that the students have had fun,” continued the Head Instructor. “This place has so much potential. Rumour has it there’s a cave complex somewhere beyond the old orchard. I’m going to ask a colleague to investigate it. We might also be able to take over some of the outbuildings. The estate’s administrators are very keen to start paying off the Lord’s debts.”
“There have been a lot of rumours about Bridgeward Estate recently,” Miss Wilson replied. “Do you know what has been happening?”
“I know probably as much as you and anyone else who lives in Bridgeward. People have always said that the Lord is an honest and pleasant man, so the criminal investigation came as a great surprise. The police still haven’t got to the bottom of it. There are rumours of massive financial irregularities and widespread money laundering. A board of administrators is now looking after the estate.”
“I’d love to look inside the manor,” said Miss Wilson. She looked beyond the campfire and along an avenue of trees to where the manor stood proudly in front of a half-moon. “It’s beautiful but spooky. Have you seen the headless statues standing in the archways of the manor’s veranda? And the gargoyle sculptures on the roof? No wonder this place has that ghost story about the Headless Archer.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Mr Montero, spotting an opportunity to be brave. “There’s no such thing as the Headless Archer”.
Miss Wilson and the Head Instructor did not need this pointed out to them. The Head Instructor ventured an explanation, “The Story of the Headless Archer started after the English Reformation when some people knocked the heads off the statues on Bridgeward Estate because they disliked idols.”
Mr Montero knew nothing about the English Reformation, and he had no idea what idols were, but unlike a smart person, who would enjoy the opportunity to learn something new, Mr Montero just ignored the Head Instructor and began daydreaming about being a wrestler.
Meanwhile, Sam, Colin and Joe were still gobbling sweets in their tent. Sam proposed an idea; they should sneak out of their tent, pretend to be the Headless Archer, and scare some other students. This was, of course, a very silly idea, but boys are good at coming up with silly ideas when their spirits are high and their blood sugar levels are even higher. It was unanimously agreed that this was an excellent plan. The boys picked up their torches and snuck out of their tent.
Miss Wilson, Mr Montero and the Head Instructor were still quietly preparing for stargazing beside the campfire. Beyond the tents, the woods of Bridgeward Estate remained quiet and still. The friends crept around the back of the tents, carefully stepping over roots and guy ropes with the occasional furtive smirk at each other. Sam was the chief mischief-maker and led the trio. Joe was at the back, and the further away from their tent the boys crept, the more he peered into the dark woods, thinking about the story of the Headless Archer. When the friends reached the other side of the campsite, they crouched down.
“I think Mia, Jay and Ingrid are in that tent over there,” whispered Sam. “They deserve a good scare for beating us in the orienteering!”
The friends crept out of the shelter of the oak trees. Just as they were about to reach their target, a torch was switched on inside the tent.
“I don’t feel very well!” exclaimed Ingrid. Two more torches were turned on quickly. “I think… I think… I’m going to be sick!”
Nothing animates people in a small space quite like the threat of vomit. Mia and Jay quickly abandoned the tent, partly to seek help for their ill friend but mostly to avoid being covered in half-digested marshmallows, spaghetti hoops and toast. They sprinted to the campfire seeking Miss Wilson’s help. The boys turned and ran into the woods to seek refuge behind a tree.
“That was a near miss!” whispered Sam, revelling in the risk and adventure.
“Do you think they can see us among these trees?” replied Colin, who had been jolted out of thinking this adventure was a good idea. “Could we sneak back to our tent without anyone noticing?”
“What?” exclaimed Sam, “and miss Ingrid vomiting all over Miss Wilson? Or even better, Mr Montero! This could be brilliant. I’m not going anywhere.”
Sam and Colin continued watching events unfold. Behind them, Joe looked into the dark woods where the silhouettes of oak trees were just visible in the moonlight. Despite the drama around the campfire, everything remained quiet and calm in the woods. Joe’s mind turned again to the story of the Headless Archer. Suddenly, a flash of electric blue caught his attention. He turned to see where it went. Then a streak of neon yellow caused him to spin back the other way. A dash of bright red whizzed past his left ear. Joe stood captivated by the beautiful, darting colours. There were dragonflies everywhere.
The dragonflies began zig-zagging into the darkness of the woods. They lit everything they passed with their vibrant glow. Joe was entranced. He forgot about Sam, Colin and the story of the Headless Archer as he followed the ribbons of light into the woods. A crumbling brick wall covered with vines appeared in the distance. In this wall, there stood an oak door with rusty hinges that clung to its rotting timbers. The door was ajar, and the dragonflies coalesced to dart through into a walled orchard.
Ducking under the branches of ancient fruit trees, Joe followed the bright insects towards the middle of the orchard where an apple tree stood. Its branches were gnarled and twisted, but it bore perfect fruit. Joe examined the apple tree by the pale white light of the moon and the kaleidoscopic glow of the dragonflies. On its ancient trunk, half-covered by ivy and moss, Joe spotted a simple figure carved harshly into the raw bark. It was about the size of his hand.
The dragonflies disappeared the moment Joe spotted the carving. Joe was suddenly aware that he was alone in the dark woods. He fumbled for the torch in his pocket, and his heart began to race. An urge to sprint back to the camp flooded Joe’s body, but curiosity made him turn back to the tree for one last look. With his torch in one hand, he brushed aside the clambering ivy to reveal a carving of the Headless Archer.
Joe screamed as the ground beneath his feet began to shudder. He tried to run back to the campsite, but he floundered on collapsing earth. Dust and soil rose all around him as the ground gave way completely. Joe found himself sliding down between the deep roots of the apple tree towards the sound of rushing water.
Who doesn't like to tell spooky stories around the campfire? So begins the tale of the Headless Archer, who has been said to haunt the forest since the Lord killed him for hunting a deer to feed the hungry villagers. So the story goes that wherever you see bright and brilliant dragonflies in Bridgeward forest, you know that the Headless Archer must be nearby! Following those dragonflies might not be such a great thing to do.
Lily and Oliver are visiting their Auntie Dot and her dog Mistletoe for the summer holidays and expect that they will have an absolutely dreadful time. She has moved into an old Rectory near the Bridgeward Estate where a group of school children and their teachers had recently gone missing while camping. The old house is full of mysterious nooks and secret passageways, and they soon discover a spellbook and a portal that takes them on an adventure in another dimension.
The Headless Archer, by Tom Berry, is an enjoyable adventure packed with great characters, funny lines, and magic. It has a great pace and flow, and the reader is quickly drawn into the story. I enjoyed how the author used dual stories - the lost children and their teachers trying to find their way through the cave and Lily, Oliver and Colin who must try to rescue them. All the while, the threat of the Headless Archer looms over them. In addition, I absolutely loved Mistletoe, the dog who can speak once in the magical land. He is hilarious with all his mixed-up and backwards idioms. The banter between the two teachers, Miss Wilson and Mr. Montero, was equally funny.
I heartily recommend this book for summer reading adventures. I would have devoured this as a kid and crossed my fingers for another book in the series!