Chronicles of the Red King #3: Leopards' Gold (21 page)

The following morning, there was a great commotion in the forest. Amadis heard a voice he knew and he ran toward it. With the wolves at his heels, he bounded over rocks and briars, he leaped over streams and tumbled down banks of wild flowers.
It’s Elizen
, he told the wolves,
my mother’s horse. They’ve caught the queen. Help me to save her.

His call went to all the strongest and wildest creatures in the forest: the stags and the boars, the hawks and the eagles, the wildcats and the foxes.

They found the queen in a narrow glade surrounded by soldiers. One of them had grabbed Elizen’s bridle, and the mare was screaming in distress.

“Mother!” cried Amadis. “I’m here!”

A deep roar of laughter erupted from Sir Osbern. “So I have you both,” he boomed. “Mother and son. I know you now, Berenice, with your fine hair tucked beneath a cap of hareskin. For this is surely King Timoken’s son, with his gift for conversing with animals.”

“Just so,” said Amadis, and he called out in every wild language that he knew. And all the creatures that had followed him advanced on Osbern and his men.

A savage battle began. Creatures were wounded. Soldiers died. Queen Berenice wielded her sword so fast and so nimbly, Osbern couldn’t get near her. Protected by his wolves, Amadis sliced and slashed, working his way closer and closer to the owner of Melyntha. It had become so dark, Sir Osbern could only be recognized by his huge bulk.

Why has day become night
, wondered Amadis.
Have we been fighting so long?

How could he know that, high above the forest, his brothers needed his help?

*  *  *

The demons crowding about the winged boy and the dragon all at once began to leave the sky. Where they went, the boys couldn’t tell. The hovering creatures seemed to vanish into passing clouds of vapor.

Tolly flew to Enid’s side. “Have we won a battle?” he asked his brother.

“Has Tumi reached the king?” was Petrello’s answer.

Their only thought now was to land somewhere safe, but all they could see beneath the clouded sky was a vast expanse of gray-green water.

In the distance, Petrello saw a darkness, greater than the clouds, gather itself into a dense, black shape. It was as if the forest canopy had lifted and become a whirling mass of leaves.

And then it came at them, its black sleeves flapping, its face more terrible than their darkest nightmares.

K
arli and Tumi had reached the island in the center of the lake. As they stepped out of the water, they pulled back their sealskin hoods and took great gulps of air; it was foul to taste, but it was air and their lungs were greedy for it.

They climbed a shallow bank, carrying the wet cloak between them, and then they shook out the drops of greenish water and the patches of slimy black weed until the thick velvet was red again and the thin gold lines shone out, even in the bleak gray light.

They folded the cloak and Tumi held it under his arm as they stepped farther onto the island. Before them sat the great cloud, its curling tentacles brushing the reeds around it. Usually the island rose high above the lake; now it was all but submerged. The wet earth squelched under the men’s feet as they made their way toward the cloud.

“Have you a plan?” asked Karli.

Tumi gave him a grim smile. “My plan is to find the king and clothe him in this magic garment.”

“So we must enter the cloud,” said Karli.

“Indeed,” his friend agreed.

They were now within inches of the curling tentacles. Together, they stepped close and, immediately, thin, slimy arms wrapped themselves around both men. With their knives under their sealskin suits, they could only use their hands to beat and pull the sticky strands away. When Karli bit into one, a thick white paste oozed out, the taste of it making him retch.

“Foul, foul, foul!” Karli spat out the dreadful soupy stuff. “But I’m still alive,” he joked, and bit again.

Tumi did the same. The taste was sickening, but it was the only way to rid themselves of their living bonds.

Once they were past the tentacles, they found themselves inside the cloud. A dense fog confused their vision, but they plodded on. Afraid of losing each other, they kept close, touching hands every now and then, and whispering encouragement to each other.

“Not much different from being underwater,” Karli said through his half-closed mouth.

“Water smells better,” said Tumi, coughing.

“Where are they? Where’s the king?”

“Perhaps the Damzel’s tricked us.”

“And caught us like fish in a net.”

“There!” said Karli.

Just ahead of them, a dark shape floated: a man suspended in the vapor, his body wrapped in a net of weeds.

Karli and Tumi stood, their eyes half closed against the mist. What had they expected? Not this: a man bound and floating. Was it the king?

“It’s Sir Edern,” whispered Karli. “See, the red hair.” His toe touched something hard and sharp. Without taking his eyes off the hanging knight, he reached down and lifted up a round, metal object.

“His helmet,” said Tumi. He stepped closer to the bound man. It was shocking to see the great knight floating so helplessly. But when Tumi looked into Edern’s face, the lids beneath the thick eyebrows flickered and the mouth twitched in a painful grin. He was alive, but only just.

“We must find Timoken.” Karli tugged his friend’s arm. “We can’t do anything for Edern until the cloak has done its work.”

Moving on, they passed Mabon, the archer, and Esga’s brother, Ilgar, both hanging in the choking air like Edern. Stumbling over fallen swords and helmets, they passed little Sir Urien, trussed like a fowl, but still breathing. In the distance they could see other knights, all bound and hanging, trapped in a paralyzing spell.

At last they saw the king. Taller than the others, he seemed to stand in the air, his head erect, his expression shocked and furious.

Tumi let the cloak unfold and Karli took one side of it. “How can we reach his shoulders?” he whispered.

“We leap together,” said Tumi.

They looked at each other, nervous and hopeful.

“Now!” said Tumi.

They leaped, carrying the cloak high, Tumi one side, Karli the other. They hung the red cloak on the king’s broad shoulders, and when they landed on the ground, they drew the gold-embroidered edges together, and wrapped them around the king as tight as they could, so that only Timoken’s head could be seen above the bundle of rich red and glittering gold.

They waited.

And they waited.

High over the cloud, Tolly, Petrello, and the dragon, petrified and motionless, drifted on a current of air while the flapping thing came closer. Strands of white hair floated about its awful face. Its eyes were blank, its lips bloodless.

But its voice was unexpectedly soft. “Don’t be afraid, little princes. The Damzel won’t hurt you.”

They stared at her, their eyes wide with terror.

“Clever boys,” went on the silky voice. She floated closer, stretching a pale hand toward them. Her nails were black and curved like claws.

Enid snorted and sped into the sky, while Petrello clung to her, all the breath knocked out of him.

“Silly dragon! Your time has come. You’re growing old and your flames are weakening.” A coldness had edged into the Damzel’s voice.

Tolly soared up and flew beside his brother.

“Silly, silly!” croaked the Damzel, all the sweetness in her voice forgotten. “Your castle’s doomed; your father is my prisoner now. Come and live with the Damzel, she’ll treat you well.”

“NO!” cried the boys, and for good measure, Petrello added, “You must be mad!”

The Damzel screeched; she flew in a circle just beneath them, grumbling and moaning, grinding her black teeth and scratching her long white hair. Looking up at them, she screamed, “The Damzel will have to come and get you then!”

Beneath the dark shroud, they could see her bony shoulders flexing. She gave a hideous grin and, lifting both hands, she flew at them.

With a shriek of panic, Enid soared higher. Tolly tried to follow, but the Damzel snatched at one of his wings. He cried out helplessly as the black claws pulled him closer.

“Fire, Enid!” Petrello shouted. “Burn her, scorch her! Save Tolly, Enid!”

The dragon breathed a tiny spark, but she seemed too exhausted and too frightened to do any more. Petrello could only watch in horror as Tolly struggled, his torn feathers drifting away on the wind.

“Tolly! Oh, Tolly, I don’t know what to do!” Petrello cried.

A desperate sob tore out of Tolly as the Damzel reeled him in, her fingers tugging him closer and closer.

There was a sudden rumble of thunder from below. The Damzel turned her head. As she peered down at the cloud, a bolt of lightning shot out of it, scorching the Damzel’s sleeve. With a screech of astonishment, she let go of Tolly’s wing. Seizing his chance, Tolly flew to the dragon’s side.

“No, you don’t!” shrieked the Damzel.

But before she could pursue him, a figure burst out of the cloud and came flying up at her.

“Timoken!” she screamed.

When the king reached her, she locked her long white fingers around his neck. The king twisted his head, but the black-tipped fingers closed tighter and tighter. The king clasped the Damzel’s hands; he pulled and tore at them. Gradually, he forced her hands away until he was free. But only for a second, for now slithering behind the king, the Damzel coiled one arm about his head, and with the other she began to tug at the neck of his cloak.

“Father!” cried Petrello. He tried to urge the dragon closer to the fight. “Enid, save the king!” he shouted into her ear.

The dragon gave a start of surprise and a shower of sparks flew out of her snout. A breeze that came from nowhere blew the sparks toward the Damzel, settling on her head, her shoulders, and her back. Fire took hold of her black robes, and she began to scream.

Flames leaped along the Damzel’s sleeves, and finally she lifted a hand to beat them away.

The king broke free at last and flew a little distance from the burning Damzel. When she came at him again, with a chilling cry, he drew his sword and struck.

The sight of the ghastly head, swathed in its long white hair, would invade Petrello’s sleep forever. When it dropped into the lake below, spray hissed and steamed in ever-widening circles all around it, like a boiling pot.

The black bundle of the Damzel’s body was carried on the wind for a moment before it fell, with a distant splash, into the churning water. The Damzel was gone, and yet Petrello could only think how close he had come to a life more terrible than he could imagine, and he began to shake.

“To earth!” King Timoken called to his sons.

His father’s voice cut through Petrello’s terror and he found that he could smile.

The king took off his cape and swung it through the air, calling out in the language of his secret kingdom, and when the boys looked down, they saw that the lake water was receding, the cloud was a mere ribbon of mist, and on the island lay twenty mail-clad knights. Their bonds had withered and fallen away, and some of them were beginning to sit up, shaking the last of the Damzel’s spell out of their heads. Two figures, in shiny sealskin, could be seen bending over the dazed knights, clasping their shoulders and patting their hands.

The king, his sons, and the dragon landed on the bank beside the house on stilts. As soon as they touched the ground, two women and a crowd of children ran out of the trees to greet them.

After much excited hugging and chattering, Sila called, “The boats, children! We have the knights to rescue, and I’m sure your fathers could do with some help after their long swim.”

Five brightly painted boats were carried out from a cave hidden in the undergrowth, and five of the older children each took a boat and began to row out to the island.

“You’re always welcome in our home, Timoken,” said Sila. “Though I can’t promise it will be very pleasant after all that lake water has passed through it.”

“You might be surprised,” said the king. “The Damzel is dead, her power broken. All things should be as they were.”

“You are a very great magician,” Adela said shyly.

The king laughed and put his arms around his sons. “But what would I be without loyal friends and brave sons?”

“Still a king,” Adela said firmly.

The two women and five remaining children climbed back into the house on stilts, and almost immediately Sila called out that, indeed, the house was just as it had been before the lake rose, apart from a few damp cushions. She invited the king and his sons inside. She had plenty of dried fish, she said, and knew what the king could do with just one apple. But he told her politely that he would wait until all his knights were safely ashore.

“And we’ll wait with you,” said Petrello.

The sky was now a cloudless blue; the sun was so fierce they had to retreat into the shade beneath the trees. Enid was already there, fast asleep.

Behind the king’s broad back, Tolly whispered, “We have to tell him.”

Petrello nodded. He didn’t know how he was going to tell his father about the queen. He couldn’t bear to shatter the happiness the three of them had shared since the king’s release. But Petrello knew that he couldn’t keep the truth from his father any longer.

They had made themselves comfortable on the broad roots of an oak when Petrello said, “Father, I have something to tell you.”

The king was watching the boats bringing his knights across the water, and Petrello wasn’t sure that he had heard. He raised his voice a little. “It’s about Mother.”

“Don’t worry,” said the king. “The leopards will protect her, and the wizards have plenty of unused magic. Eri may be old, but —”

“She’s not there!” Tolly broke in, unable to stop himself.

The king frowned at him. “Not there? Not in the castle?”

“I’m sorry, Father,” Petrello said awkwardly. “I couldn’t tell you sooner, because …”

“Tell me now!” the king demanded.

Hesitantly, Petrello began his account with the arrival of Rigg and Peredur, and then the riderless Isgofan.

“When Mother heard that the chancellor’s men wouldn’t search for Amadis, she went herself,” Petrello said unhappily. “They even tried to stop her, but she fought her way past them.”

“She would,” said the king. He got up and began to pace to and fro before them. “And did Rigg recover? Did he say who took the crystal and let those ruffians into the castle?”

This was the worst part of all for Petrello. He found he couldn’t reply.

“Answer me, Petrello. If you know, you must tell me.”

Reluctantly, Petrello mumbled, “Borlath. He was in league with Osbern D’Ark.”

The king stopped pacing. He raised his hands to his head and gave a dreadful howl. “I wondered where Borlath had gone. I was afraid he was lost in the forest, but all the time he knew the Damzel lay in wait for us, and saved his own skin.”

“I’m sorry,” Petrello murmured. He would have done anything to wipe away his father’s desolate expression.

“Tell me everything,” the king said bitterly.

And so Petrello haltingly delivered his account of treachery and corruption in the Red Castle. He finished with his journey through the air with Tolly, and their discovery of the house on stilts. And then it was Tolly’s turn to speak of his flight to the castle with the ruined cloak, and how the leopards had made it whole again with their spellbinding gold.

“All was well there, Father,” said Tolly. “Aunt Zobayda and our sister were safe, Llyr had knives …”