Chronicles of the Red King #3: Leopards' Gold (20 page)

Seizing his chance, Tolly drew his sword and lunged at Chimery. The man gave a roar of fury and swung his sword at the boy’s head. But Tolly was too quick for him. Ducking down, he thrust the tip of his sword deep into the man’s stomach. Chimery gave a choking groan and dropped to the ground.

The wild boar rushed away, squealing.

“Well, young Tolomeo, I’m very glad to see you,” said Llyr, emerging from Zobayda’s doorway.

“Llyr!” breathed Tolly. “Your knife …” He peered down at Chimery. “Is he dead?”

“Without doubt,” said Llyr. “You had no choice. Your mother taught you well.” He picked up the knife, wiped it on his tunic, and slipped it into his belt beside the others. “Now, tell me, what do you have there, clutched so tightly?”

“My father’s cloak,” said Tolly.

Llyr touched a thin piece trailing over Tolly’s arm. “This is not the king’s cloak. What’s happened, Tolomeo?”

“The Damzel took it. The Damzel of Decay, they called her.”

“Ah, Timoken’s old enemy.” Llyr gave a grim smile. “My grandfather has met her.”

“I thought the leopards could make this whole again.” Tolly held up the scraps of cloak. “You know, the way their gold helped Gunfrid to live.”

Llyr nodded. “We’ll go and find them, but tell me, where’s the king? If this is his cloak, what’s happened to him?”

“I’ll tell you, but first —” He looked up at the candlelit window in the Royal Tower. “How’s my sister, and my aunt?”

“Fast asleep, I should think. They’re well. My knives and the leopards keep them safe. Now, we must be quick about this leopard spell, Tolomeo. I don’t want to use too many knives just yet.”

As they slipped quietly through the second courtyard, Tolly gave the wizard every detail of every scrap of news that he could remember. And while he talked and whispered, he was aware that Eri had joined them. The old man grunted and grumbled as he listened to Tolly’s story. He shook his head and clicked his tongue, and when Tolly reached the part where the birds came to save him, in a deep, soft voice the wizard exclaimed, “So Amadis is alive. I knew the wolves wouldn’t let him down.”

Then, from Eri, Tolly learned about the monsters his sister Guanhamara had conjured from her high window, and the shapes that Vyborn had assumed to attack her phantom creatures. The way that Borlath strutted and demanded, while Cafal ran in his shadow, doing everything he asked. And then Tolly and the wizards were in the first courtyard, where the leopards kept watch.

As soon as they saw Tolly, the leopards rushed at him. Flame Chin stood and, putting his paws on Tolly’s shoulders, sniffed the flimsy pieces of the cloak. He pulled the bundle out of Tolly’s arms and dropped it on the ground. Star and Sun Cat pushed their noses into it. Grumbling and growling, they gathered the pieces in their mouths, raised their heads, and roared into the night. It was no use trying to hush them. The chancellor’s men were already awake.

Tolly could only watch and hope. The leopards moved the precious bits together. They dragged and pushed and stretched them. The shape of a cloak emerged, and the pattern of the web within it became so bright, Tolly could barely look at it. The leopards began to circle it. Around and around, faster; they lost their leopard forms and became a single whirling flame. Tolly could feel the heat on his face.

Shouting could be heard. The chancellor’s men had emerged from their tower. Tolly felt the breeze of a knife pass over his head. He heard a distant groan of pain, and then another. He saw Eri’s staff twist into a gleaming serpent and strike a sword hand. He thought he saw Friar Gereint wielding a sword, and through the flames he glimpsed the chancellor’s cold, gray eyes.

The wall of flames leaped higher. Now there was gold in the air, falling like snow and covering the king’s torn cloak.

Tolly’s head began to spin. He closed his eyes against the blinding glare of fire and gold. How long he stood there, hardly conscious, he never knew. But gradually, he became aware of a hand on his shoulder.

“It is ready,” said Llyr.

Tolly opened his eyes. The cloak lay before him, covered in gold. Behind it, the leopards sat in a row, licking their paws.

There was no sign of the chancellor’s men.

Llyr lifted the cloak. Gold dust fell from it and floated out into the dark. The red cloak was whole again. Llyr folded it tight and put it into Tolly’s arms.

“Go quickly!” said Eri. “And bring the king back with you.”

“I will!” Tolly spread his wings and they lifted him away.

P
etrello was asleep when his brother returned. He was unaware of Tolly’s head sinking onto the cushion beside him. And yet he did feel something when Tolly pulled the red cloak over them both. It was a comforting warmth that seeped into all his bones.

In the early morning, when he was only just awake, Petrello thought another Vanishing had begun. And then he realized that the house on stilts was rocking like a boat.

A low murmur of voices came from beyond a thick, rush door at the end of the room. Tumi’s voice suddenly became loud and impatient. “I must. We’re doomed already. Only the king can save us now.”

For a moment Petrello lay still, his hand clasping the soft edge of the cloak. Yawning, he let go of the cloak and stood up. The other children had gathered around the window and he tried to peer over their heads.

“The water’s rising.” Ketil stood aside to give Petrello a better view.

Petrello couldn’t believe his eyes. The lake now covered the beach, it had even seeped into the forest. Some of the smaller trees were already half submerged. The water had a poisonous green glimmer.

“The house!” said Petrello. “Is the water … ?”

“Almost at our door,” Ketil said grimly.

“I didn’t hear rain,” said Petrello.

“The Damzel doesn’t need rain,” muttered Ketil.

Tumi came through the rush door. Sila, behind him, looked as white as the moon.

“I’m sorry this trouble has come to you,” Petrello said desperately.

“It’s not your fault.” Tumi was staring at Tolly, still fast asleep beneath the red cloak. “I don’t like to wake your brother, but I must take the cloak now, before our house is swept away.”

Karli and Esga emerged from another door. Karli’s whole body was covered in the same shiny animal skin that Tumi’s breeches were made of. He grinned at Petrello, saying, “Your father made this from sealskin.” He stroked the fur of his sleeve. “So it holds a certain magic.”

Tumi disappeared into his room and Sila said, “Tumi found a dead seal when he was just a boy and skinned it.”

“And from that single skin, your father made many,” added Esga. Even in this grave situation she still had a merry face, and Petrello noticed that she was looking at the children. She didn’t want them to be afraid.

Tumi reappeared, wearing his sealskin bodysuit. It had a hood that he pulled tight over his head. Karli did the same.

Petrello knelt beside Tolly and shook his shoulder. “Tolly, wake up,” he said gently.

Tolly opened his eyes.

“Well done, brother.” Petrello grasped an edge of the cloak. “I don’t know how you did it, but they need this now.”

“No! No!” Tolly clutched the top of the cloak and wouldn’t let go.

“He’s hardly awake,” said Sila. “And we don’t know what happened to him last night. He appeared at the door half asleep and crawled across the floor, your father’s cloak held tight.”

“Tolly, let go!” begged Petrello. “They’re going to take it to the king.” He gave the cloak another tug.

Tolly sat up, his eyes wild, breaking out of sleep. “They did it, Trello. The leopards with their gold.”

Esga bent over him. “Can we take it, Tolly? Your father needs it.”

Tolly slowly released his grip. Esga lifted the cloak away and handed it to Tumi. “You’ll have to stay underwater all the way,” she said. “If the Damzel sees you …”

“It’s what we planned to do,” Tumi replied, looking at Karli.

They walked to the door, and when Tumi opened it, Petrello could see the luminous green water rising and falling only inches below. He could hear it sucking around the wooden stilts and burbling under the floorboards. Soon, it would be in the house.

“Ready?” Tumi passed a corner of the cloak to Karli and suddenly they were gone, sliding into the lake like two slippery eels.

“They’ve gone! They’ve gone!” cried Adela. “Will the water kill them, Mama?”

“No.” Sila lifted Adela into her arms. “They will swim under the water, like you do sometimes. Papa and Karli will swim all the way to the island where the cloud sits, and once Timoken has his cloak …” She couldn’t finish, for she didn’t know how it would all end.

There was no sign of anyone beneath the slow swell of the eerie green water. The watchers couldn’t tell where Tumi and Karli might be. From the doorway, they could only see the forest; they had to move to the window for a view of the cloud.

The great, white sphere seemed to have expanded. The strands of fungus that snaked out of it had grown. Now they reached into the damp air like long, giant fingers.

There was a sudden bang on the roof, and then another and another.

“Rain?” Esga looked at the rush ceiling.

“Not rain,” said Ketil. “Demons!”

Three wicked-looking, upside-down faces glared in through the window. The children’s screams had no effect on the hideous creatures, who began to tap at the pane with their curling claws. Esga rushed at the window, but Sila caught her hand, crying, “Don’t let them in!”

They had thought that Enid was asleep, but now she uncoiled herself and lifted her head. She stared at the upside-down faces and suddenly ran to the open door. Petrello was never sure how it happened, he hardly thought what he was doing, but he knew he had to act.

As the dragon sailed through the doorway, he jumped. Clinging to her scaly neck, he felt the rush of air as her great wings spread on either side of him. With his left hand, he held fast to one of her spines; with his right, he drew his sword.

Enid swerved in the air and swept toward the demons on the roof. Two streams of fire shot from her snout, and Petrello saw the hanging demons leap to their feet. They shook their fists and screeched at the dragon, as though their tongues were tearing from their jaws. But when Enid came at them, low and fast, they crouched, and then one jumped. It gripped the dragon’s wing and sank black fangs deep into it. Enid screamed and shot into the air, her snout pointing at the sky, her tail hanging.

Leaning from the dragon’s neck, Petrello lifted his sword, but he couldn’t reach the demon. He leaned into the air, farther and farther, his fingers aching as they clung to Enid’s spine.
One more swipe and I’ll do it
, he thought. But as he lifted the sword again, he began to slide off Enid’s back. With one last desperate effort, he struck at the demon’s head. Its eyes bulged and, with a deep gurgle, it fell away and dropped into the lake.

Demons can’t swim!
Petrello thought with grim satisfaction, and against the surge of air from Enid’s sweeping wings, he managed to pull himself to safety. The dragon rumbled a sort of thanks, and tilted down to make Petrello’s grip easier.

He knew the battle wasn’t over and, though his heart sank, he wasn’t surprised to see another crowd of the Damzel’s servants coming at him from the cloud. They didn’t fly, for they had no wings; they hovered and darted, dropped and spun. Petrello waited, his sword at the ready, and it entered his mind that he might die if the approaching creatures pulled him off the dragon’s back.

As the mass of demons came closer, a huge bird appeared in the sky, its wings as black and shiny as a raven’s.

“Tolly!” cried Petrello.

“I’m coming, Trello!” called Tolly, and he swept into the mass of demons, his sword striking them so fast, they couldn’t avoid it. They jumped onto his wings but he beat them off. They grabbed his head, but he still reached them.

Given new heart by Tolly’s bravery, Enid’s fire returned, and she snorted flames into the crowd while Petrello struck at warty hands and crooked legs and leering faces. So many demons fell into the lake, their numbers should have diminished, and yet the sky was dark with them. Petrello’s sword arm ached so fiercely, he could hardly lift it anymore.

“Don’t give up!” cried Tolly, but Petrello could see that he too was growing weary. Soon, one of the demons would pull him down by his wings; even now they were tearing at his feathers.

The sky had turned darker than the forest shadows. Far below, only the roof of the house on stilts was visible. The rest of the building had been submerged.

Where were the children? Where were their mothers? Drowned, or swimming for their lives beneath the cruel green surface of the lake?

“Petrello!” Tolly’s shout came almost too late.

A fat demon landed on Enid’s crest. More hideous than the rest, his bloodred fangs spread his mouth in a fixed and ghastly grin. A long green arm shot toward Petrello, the fingers of the crooked hand curved into a hook. Petrello threw back his head and lashed out with his sword, but still the hand came, grabbing the air in its empty hook, one clawed finger reaching for Petrello’s eye.

Petrello slashed again. Quick as lightning, the hand withdrew. Petrello leaned back as far as he could, any more and he would lose his grip on Enid’s spine. He felt himself slipping, and still the clawed finger reached. As he lifted his sword again, his brother’s voice carried through the air, “Lower, Trello! Slice him!”

In his mind’s eye, Petrello saw the castle cook slicing ham. Lowering his sword, he sliced.

There was a bloodcurdling screech as the crooked hand flew away, and the wounded demon dropped from the dragon’s crest.

Petrello laid his head on Enid’s scaly neck. Never in his life had he felt so weary. He doubted that he could lift his sword again. Where were the birds? The words came to him from afar. They were Tolly’s words. “Where are the birds? Where are the eagles?”

Amadis can’t know
, Petrello thought sleepily.
He can’t see us. They will only come if Amadis sends them.

But Amadis had problems of his own. The men from Melyntha had found him.

*  *  *

Sir Osbern D’Ark of Melyntha had made a bargain with the Damzel. With his help, she would capture the African king who owned an enchanted red castle, and had married the girl Sir Osbern had chosen for a wife. All the Damzel wanted in return was the king’s cloak, and maybe a young prince or two, with those special gifts that forest dwellers often spoke about.

Sir Osbern knew that a certain Chancellor Thorkil was ready to betray his king. And he was delighted to hear that the king’s oldest son would help the chancellor.

Sir Osbern’s part of the bargain had gone reasonably well. His men had stolen a particular crystal, and had abducted the bellman who knew its secret. As predicted, the king and his knights had entered the forest to find the bellman and retrieve the crystal. Unfortunately, a solitary knight had rescued the bellman and killed one of Sir Osbern’s men, but the others, though badly wounded, had returned with the crystal.

Sir Osbern waited impatiently for news. At last it came, delivered by a demon.

Sir Osbern’s muscles had run to fat, his hair was thin and white, but his greed and his cruelty had only increased. When he and his men followed the hideous, hovering thing into the forest, they came across a young knight. His eagle-crested helmet was so bright, his armor so splendid, and his ebony horse so fine, he was surely a prince. A prince worth capturing.

As Osbern’s soldiers began to surround the young knight, he leaped off his horse, making unnatural animal sounds.

Go, Isgofan, go!
cried Amadis.
Go home so they will know.

Like a bolt of lightning, the black horse vaulted over the heads of the soldiers and vanished into the trees.

At an order from Osbern, five of the soldiers dismounted and began to advance on Amadis. He reached for his sword, but one of the men bounded forward and slashed his wrist. Amadis’s gauntlet fell, and the man slashed again at the prince’s hand. And all the while Amadis continued to call, this time to the wolves.

Out of their hidden places the wolves ran to him. Greyfleet leaped, his jaws closing around the first soldier’s sword arm, and before he could strike again, the other wolves surrounded Amadis in a moving tide of gray and black and brindle.

“Kill them!” roared Sir Osbern.

But as his soldiers reached for their swords, the wolves jumped and tore into their arms.

“Run, wolf-friend,” Greyfleet grunted to Amadis. “We will follow.”

Amadis wouldn’t leave the wolves. He retreated a little way into the trees, ready to do battle with Sir Osbern himself if his friends were harmed. But having delivered their fatal bites, the wolves turned swiftly and ran to Amadis. They took him to a cave they knew, and there he stayed for three nights while his right hand healed. Without a horse, it would take him several days to reach the Red Castle, and he dared not risk another encounter with Sir Osbern’s men.

On the third night, Amadis wandered down to a stream where he bathed his injured hand. The moon was full and bright, and when he looked up into the sky, he saw a winged boy, followed by a crowd of hovering, flitting demons.

It must be Tolomeo
, thought Amadis, and he called to the eagles, begging them to rescue his brother.

As the eagles went on their way, Amadis felt an unhealthy draft brush his face. There was a damp, foul-smelling force lurking in the trees. He shivered and ran back to his warm wolf cave.