Quest for the Sun Gem (2 page)

Ethan still crouched on his tree branch, trembling with shock and fear. He was torn between relief that his father was still alive and horror at the carnage he had witnessed. When he was quite sure the clearing was empty, he half fell, half scrambled out of his hiding place and dropped to the ground.

‘Mama,’ he murmured. ‘I must warn Mama.’

Eyes averted from the pile of bodies, he ran, crouching and stumbling down the forest path towards the village and home.

Ethan staggered in a daze along the path for many minutes, until a sound pierced his tumultuous thoughts.

‘Too-wit-to-woooo, too-wit-to-woooo.’

He stopped jogging blindly. Where had he heard that noise before?
That’s right
, he thought,
It’s that bird noise. The one I heard just before …

Panic surged through his body, making him freeze momentarily. He listened very carefully. The usual sounds of the forest, but then what was that? A distant scuff. What could it be? Something following him? Or someone?

Ethan ran on faster, energised by renewed fear.

He came to a fork in the path – to the right continued the wider track, just wide enough for a horse and cart, which led out of the forest. To the left ran a much narrower path, the shortcut to the village of Kenley – his home. Ethan stopped again to listen, straining to hear over the sound of his pounding heart.

Again he heard a soft rhythmic thud – the noise of many feet running swiftly and surely along the track behind him, getting closer and closer. The invaders!

Ethan paused as he saw the pile of stones marking the fork in the path, with its marker sign pointing left to the village. A flash of inspiration came to him and he yanked up the sign and turned it back to front to point down the other track. In his pocket he found a stub of chalk and carefully wrote ‘Kenley’ on the back of the sign.
It might just slow them down long enough for me to warn the villagers
, Ethan thought.

The sound of running feet was very close now.

Ethan glanced around in dismay, then scuttled off the path and burrowed into a thick cluster of shrubs.

In a matter of moments they were upon him.

Through the leaves he saw a pack of at least thirty
soldiers in black armour loping up the track, cutlasses drawn and eyes scouring the forest on either side for signs of life.

‘Halt, Sedahs,’ barked the leader. ‘Map!’

One of the soldiers pulled a grubby, torn piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to the leader.

‘Map, Captain Malish,’ he saluted smartly and stepped back. Captain Malish lifted the visor of his helmet to have a clear view.

‘Mortma was right about attacking the king all the way out here in the forest. The surprise was total and there were barely any soldiers to resist. But some of Mortma’s other details are sketchy – like this dreadful map.’ Captain Malish wrinkled his forehead in confusion as he examined the parchment. ‘It shows here that the path to the village is on the left, but it looks as though we should actually go right. I wonder if Mortma’s ever actually been to this pathetic little village that we need to commandeer!’ The men all sniggered softly at the captain’s little joke.

‘But what of that blasted girl?’ Captain Malish continued. ‘Sniffer?’

A small man scuttled forward, his mouth pursed in excitement. He had a sun-beaten face, with
darting eyes and a nose that seemed to drink the air.

Sniffer crouched down carefully, running his fingers over the pebbly track as if reading something there with his fingertips. He moved closer to Ethan until he was only a body length from Ethan’s scrubby hiding place. Ethan closed his eyes and held his breath, willing himself to be invisible. He could hear Sniffer snuffling and sniffing so close he could almost feel his scent being torn from his quivering body.

Finally Sniffer moved away, crawling down the narrower path. He found something interesting caught on the rough bark of a tree. He plucked it and walked back to the others, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, just under his nose.

‘The girl went this way.’ Sniffer jerked his thumb down the narrow path. ‘Fresh hoofprints clear as day, and look …’ In between his fingers were three fine white hairs. ‘Horsehair.’

Captain Malish swore. ‘We need to take that village quickly to secure fresh supplies and slaves for our ships. But Mortma wants that girl. We need to find her.’

‘Sir?’ asked the map bearer. ‘Should I track down the girl with Sniffer, while you capture the village?
We should have her in less than an hour and we can take her back to Lord Lazlac ourselves.’

‘No!’ barked Captain Malish, his black eyes flashing dangerously. He caught himself. ‘The girl is nothing – a weak, spoilt child. She won’t get far in this forest. No, I need you both to help us seize the village. We will take the right-hand path and capture Kenley, and then I will come back with Sniffer. I think we will find her highness snivelling in a ditch somewhere waiting for us to rescue her. Lord Lazlac will be well pleased.’ He turned towards the wider path.

‘Formation! On the double!’

The soldiers sprang into their formation and loped off down the right-hand cart track, cutlasses drawn. In a moment the forest was once again still and quiet. Ethan listened carefully before crawling from his hiding spot, his heart still pounding and the words he had overheard churning through his head.

I must warn the village
, he thought. Refreshed from his enforced break, he sprinted on.

‘Only a few more minutes,’ he panted. He ran until he thought his heart would burst from his chest. He raced around a sharp twist in the path and stopped short.

Head hanging desolately, mane matted with twigs, sides splattered with mud, stood the once proud royal pony. At her feet lay the crumpled body of a girl dressed all in white – Princess Roana.

Ethan crept over to her, anxious.

‘Your highness,’ he whispered. ‘Your highness, are you all right?’

The girl stirred, moaning. Ethan crouched beside her, torn by indecision. He had to warn the villagers urgently, but he could not leave a princess lying in the mud while that peculiar little man, Sniffer, was tracking her down for some mysterious purpose. He grabbed her shoulder and shook it roughly.

‘Your highness, wake up!’ he whispered fiercely.

The girl lifted her dirt-streaked face.

‘Where am I?’ she asked in a confused and sleepy tone.

Ethan tried to help her up, but his sense of urgency made him clumsy. Princess Roana glared at him haughtily.

‘Take your hands away from me at once, you filthy peasant. How dare you touch my royal personage! Go at once and fetch my maid to escort me back to the lodge.’

Ethan blushed deep crimson in mortification.

‘I … I’m so sorry, your highness,’ he stuttered. ‘I
didn’t mean to frighten you. But you can’t go back to the royal lodge. We’ve been invaded. Many have been killed.’ He paused. How could he tell her that her own father, the king, was dead?

‘I must warn my village at once,’ gabbled Ethan. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘Of course I am injured, you idiotic fool. I was thrown from my mount while escaping from the attack. I cracked my head horribly and was dragged behind my horse.’ She winced as she tried to sit up. Tears welled into her eyes.

‘I cannot stand. You must return and fetch my maid immediately!’ demanded the princess.

‘No, I won’t,’ Ethan snapped. ‘I must warn the village. I can’t stand here arguing with you. There’s no time.’

His tone softened slightly. ‘I will hide you in the forest. You must be very quiet. The invaders are probably right behind us. I will return as soon as I can to help you.’

Princess Roana made to speak but held her silence, rubbing the back of her head tenderly. Her hand came away smeared with blood and mud. She wiped her hand on the skirt of her white gown, grimacing.

‘Mighty Sun Lord,’ Ethan swore. ‘I can’t hide you
in the forest dressed in white. You’ll be seen for miles. Here, cover yourself with this.’

Ethan thrust his own green woollen cloak at her. The princess wrinkled her nose in distaste as she took the well-worn cloak, but she obediently wrapped it around her, over her own muddy velvet cloak.

‘We will go closer to the village and hide you there,’ Ethan whispered urgently. ‘You must be quiet until I return. I will come as quickly as I can, but we must hurry now.’

Princess Roana maintained a dignified silence as Ethan caught the horse’s reins and hoisted her into the saddle. He clambered up behind her and urged the snowy mare into a slow trot. The princess moaned a little through clenched lips.

Ethan soon found a suitable place to lay the Princess Roana, at the base of a pile of rocks behind a fallen log away from the path. He tethered the horse to a tree, then carefully carried the princess off the path.

He remembered Sniffer and stepped carefully, trying not to disturb the deep leaf litter carpeting the forest floor. Ethan lay her down gingerly, struggling with the unfamiliar weight, and covered her with his cloak, then heaped leaves and fallen
branches around her. From a couple of metres away she was almost invisible. As an afterthought he pulled his dagger from its sheath and placed it in her hand. She dropped it in revulsion.

‘Remember, don’t move and be silent – your life depends upon it,’ he whispered, pressing the dagger back into her hand. ‘I will come back soon. I need to take your horse – it will be quicker.’

The princess looked inclined to argue but thought better of it, turning her head away. Ethan turned to go.

‘Boy!’ called an imperious voice from behind him. ‘Her name is Moonbeam. Please look after her.’

Ethan nodded. ‘My name is Ethan, your highness,’ he replied.

As he carefully stepped back onto the path, he used a broken branch to sweep over the slight depression his feet had left in the leaf litter, to hide the clues to the princess’s hiding place.

Ethan vaulted onto Moonbeam’s back and galloped onwards. He saw a muddy puddle on the path and deliberately rode through it to leave clear hoofprints leading away from the princess.

Soon he was out of the forest, galloping through the green-gold meadows and down to the small village of stone cottages, nestled beside a burbling
stream. It looked the image of rural peace and tranquillity in the early morning sunlight. The pony’s hooves clattered on the cobbles as he cantered over the arched stone bridge and onto the main road of the village.

‘Run for your lives,’ Ethan shouted as Moonbeam skidded to a stop in the village square. ‘We’ve been invaded. The king is dead. You must flee immediately. There is no time. The invaders are on their way here now.’

Villagers ran towards him, dropping their tasks in bewilderment and confusion.

‘What joke is this, young Ethan? You musn’t frighten the old women like this,’ grunted George, the village blacksmith, a big burly man with curly black hair.

‘It’s no joke, George. I saw it with my own eyes. I saw the king killed and my father and the others taken,’ Ethan sobbed. ‘You must hurry and go.’

The villagers screamed and ran in confusion, searching for children and loved ones and precious possessions. George ran and rang the bell on the village green to warn the workers in the outlying fields and forests.

Ethan slithered down from Moonbeam’s back and tethered her at the gate to his own family’s dear
cottage. The garden sprawled around the stone cottage, filled with herbs and flowers, and buzzing with bees. Pale blue forget-me-nevers, white moonflowers, golden angels and pink gilly flowers bloomed by the door.

Smoke curled from the chimney as it did on every morning of every day that Ethan had lived. How could his world be turned upside down while everything still looked just the same – quiet and wonderfully peaceful?

‘Mama … Mama, Lily!’ he bellowed as he burst into the kitchen, warm and sweet with the scent of drying herbs and good food.

There he found his mother stirring a pot of hot porridge over the fire. Marnie was a tall, strong woman with a head of honey blonde hair pulled back into a knot at the nape of her neck. Wisps of hair escaped in unruly strands and clung to her damp skin. She wore the simple clothes of a hardworking mother, but her face was soft and easily creased with smiles.

Marnie was the village healer and herb woman. She harvested plants from her garden, the fields and forest to make ointments, tinctures and reviving infusions. She kept hives of bees for their delicious and healing honey. During birthing time she coaxed
and cajoled the new babies, both human and animal, into the world, and many a mother had been grateful for her calm patience, sensible advice and magical hands.

‘Ethan, what is it? Where have you been, you wild boy? You should have been doing your chores this morning, not peeking at the royal goings-on in the forest,’ she scolded softly, her eyes filled with loving humour.

Ethan blurted out all his news – the attack, Willem’s capture, overhearing the guards and finding the princess.

‘How much time do you think we have?’ Marnie asked, her face now set with determination.

‘I don’t know – ten or fifteen minutes?’

‘Ethan, you must find your sister and take her to hide in the forest. She is feeding the animals,’ Marnie ordered. ‘I must go to your father and treat him, and any of the court who are injured.’

‘No, Mama, they will take you,’ interrupted Ethan. ‘It is too dangerous.’

‘I must help your father. You said he was badly wounded. You know I must. And
you
must help the princess and keep safe. Hide until the soldiers leave. Take a pack with food, medicine and supplies in case you need to hide in the forest for a few days,
and to treat the princess’s wounds. I will pack the same for me.’

Marnie started quickly packing two satchels with bread, cheese, jars of ointments, bottles of brown herbal liquid, clean cloths and bandages.

‘Tell Lily to let all the animals go. They will hopefully find shelter in the forest too. We can track them down when it is safe again. Now hurry and go,’ Marnie said.

In the barn at the end of the garden, Ethan found his younger sister, Lily, singing as she fed the hens. At her feet lay the sleeping tawny red shadow of their dog, Aisha. Ethan threw open the gate to the stalls as he yelled instructions. Lily stood shocked and silent, then started helping him to shoo the animals out into the meadow. Aisha barked and chased the animals in excitement at this unexpected change in routine.

‘Go, little ones,’ Lily whispered, her voice catching as she patted the huge female pig on the back. ‘Be safe, we will come for you soon.’