by Jeff Rosen
“The Pingintees,” whispered Kip.
The colossal cousins spotted them and stomped off into the night.
“What are they doing out here?” asked Neive.
“Rooting for truffles?” suggested Kip.
“We better get back before they tell someone they saw us,” said Neive.
AS they made their way back through the castle to their rooms, the evacuation siren began to wail. The castle was convulsing like it was having a heart attack. Everyone raced around trying to find a way out, but the hallways were heaving and weaving so violently, you couldn’t tell which end was up or down.
“It’s a bad one!” cried Kip. “We have to get out of here!”
The three began to run, but the hallway suddenly rose then dipped, like a roller coaster, tossing them straight at the ceiling. The instant before they slammed into it, it disappeared, and they somehow landed in an entirely different part of the castle. The convulsing had stopped. It was dark, and the air was foul.
“That smell …” Kip’s nose was wrinkling.
When their eyes adjusted to the gloom, they were surprised to find they were in Doctor Lemenecky’s lab. A stinking blue haze hung over everything.
“This is about the last place I want to be.” Kip swallowed, peering around the spooky lab.
Doctor Lemenecky appeared through the fog, filling a vial from a copper cauldron emitting the blue haze. He didn’t seem to notice them, and Kip was about to say something when—
THUMP!
Everyone jumped as a giant boot kicked the door open.
It was the Scabbard, holding a torch.
Caley, Neive, and Kip backed into the shadows, holding their breath. The Scabbard’s one eye scanned around the haze, fixing on Lemenecky.
“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” demanded Lemenecky.
“No one’s seen you lately, Doc. Thought I’d come by, make sure yer OK.”
The Scabbard spoke in a soothing tone, like a veterinarian about to put down a pet. He dipped a metal finger into the cauldron, tasted it, then spat it out loudly.
“You been a naughty little splinter. I better take this.”
He began to heave the cauldron up onto his mountainous shoulders.
“NO!” screamed Lemenecky, grabbing one of the Scabbard’s arms. “I’m putting a stop to this evil once and for all!”
With a swipe of his rake-hand, the Scabbard sent the stump-like doctor flying across the lab into a shelf. The giant jar containing the slugdevil came toppling down and shattered at Kip’s feet.
“Close your eyes!” Kip screamed at Caley and Neive.
The Scabbard’s huge head snapped in the direction of the sound, and he held up his torch.
“Who’s there?”
Kip kicked the slugdevil as hard as he could toward the Scabbard. The creature’s burning pinwheel eyes riveted on the Scabbard’s, instantly stunning him. He toppled like a tree, shaking the lab. The slugdevil immediately latched itself around his leg and began oozing its way toward his head.
“Run!” cried Kip.
They ran out the door just as the castle gave another heave, tossing them into the air like popcorn. When they landed, they found themselves outside a wall of the castle, which was looming above them in the darkness.
“I don’t know who I feel worse for,” said Kip, trembling with relief and adrenalin, “the Scabbard or that slugdevil. I wouldn’t want to eat the Scabbard’s brains. But this proves what I’ve been saying all along; Doctor Lemenecky’s trying to save the castle. And now we know the Scabbard’s trying to stop him. Which means he’s working for Olpheist.”
Neive turned to several Eavesdrop-Daisies that were listening intently.
“Kip, keep your voice down!”
“Oops,” said Kip, but then he kept going, too full of excitement to stop himself. “Bit of luck we ended up in the lab. Now we know the scariest person in the kingdom is working for the evilest person in the universe or wherever, and the castle that’s supposed to protect Caley from him is probably doomed.” His face fell. “Actually … that last part is probably not so lucky.”
“I don’t think it’s luck.” Caley shook her head slowly. “I’ve never had much of that. I think the castle sent me to Doctor Lemenecky’s lab, just like it sent me to the Council Chamber, and the Wandering Woods to get a … you-know-what. I think it’s trying to protect me, somehow.”
Everyone gazed up at the castle. As if on cue, it gave a faint shudder.
“But how can we protect the castle?” asked Neive.
“Don’t worry,” Kip said confidently, “Lucas will find out who the crow is, and then we’ll find out the rest of Olpheist’s plan.”
They heard a flutter of wings, and everyone turned to see a crow that had been staring at them from the roof of the castle fly off unevenly, its metal wing glinting in the moonlight.
“Double oops,” said Kip.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
What the Crow Knows
Caley and Kip were eating breakfast the next morning when Lucas slumped into his seat, a few stray feathers sticking out from his collar.
“Sorry I forgot to get you again,” Kip told Lucas. “It was kind of an intense night. What did you find out?”
“Nothing. Again.” Lucas yawned, helping himself to some oatmeal. “The crow never changed into anything else. Crows are very light sleepers, by the way. Kept me up all night. I’d rather not do any more spying.” He made a face, picked a nest twig from his teeth, and fell fast asleep, face-first in his oatmeal.
“Now what?” Caley turned to Kip.
Kip’s eyes were fixed on the feathers in Lucas’s collar.
The duchess cleared her throat. She had appeared right behind them. Kip nearly choked on his oats.
“Would you be so kind as to accompany me, Your Highness?” the duchess asked Caley.
There was a loud sploshing sound, and the duchess looked down to see a bowl of oatmeal had fallen on her tiny black shoes.
“Pardon me, Duchess!” Kip began swiping oatmeal around the duchess’s shoes with his napkin.
“Leave it. You’re making it worse,” she said, snatching the napkin from Kip.
Caley saw Kip pocketing a feather from the duchess’s dress as she float-fluttered off.
THE soft click of the duchess’s shoes echoing in the hallways was the only sound as Caley followed her through the castle. She was sure—even if Lucas hadn’t confirmed it—that the metal-winged crow who had seen them last night was the duchess, who was spying on her for Olpheist and probably taking her to him now. To her surprise, the duchess stopped at a door carved with the crest of the Sword. She knocked and led Caley into a dimly lit chamber, its walls lined with sinister-looking weapons. General Roon, dressed in his black military uniform and fur-tipped cape, was studying a large map carved into a wooden table and didn’t look up as they entered.
“You were outside the castle after curfew.” Roon’s deep voice rumbled around the cavernous chamber.
“I went for a walk—”started Caley.
“At midnight,” Roon cut her off, his eyes snapping up from the map at her. “With two others.”
“They were keeping me company. I couldn’t sleep. I have … bad dreams.”
Roon began to walk slowly toward Caley.
“Do you? What haunts them, I wonder?”
Caley’s gaze fell to her feet. Something about Roon made her feel like a child in trouble. Roon grabbed her chin in a gloved hand and jerked it up to meet his inky glare.
“Look at me when I talk to you!”
“General Roon, there is no need for unpleasantness.” The duchess was glowering at him.
Roon’s eyes slid to her with a silencing look; then he turned back to Caley, his glove tightening on her.
“That hurts,” Caley protested.
“Dark forces are gathering.” Roon conjured a concerned expression. “For your safety, I am implementing enhanced security measures.”
He
released Caley and turned back to his map.
“Leave.”
Caley’s eyes were fixed on the map. Positioned around it were models of the mechanical wolves she had seen in the Wandering Woods.
AS she left Roon’s chamber, two mailbox-men clunked after Caley, peering suspiciously at her through the little slits in their helmets. They didn’t let her out of their sight as she headed to class, down the long staircase leading to Doctor Lemenecky’s lab.
Kip came hurrying up, frowning at the mailboxes.
“What’s with them?”
“My security’s been ‘enhanced’,” Caley told him.
They noticed a few students standing outside the lab door, looking puzzled. There was a note posted on the door:
CLASS CANCELED FOR REMAINDER OF TERM
Caley moved closer to Kip so the mailboxes couldn’t hear. “I need to tell you something. In private.”
Kip gave her a sly wink and began speaking in a loud, theatrical tone, glancing back to make sure her guards were listening. “Princess Caley! Since class is canceled, I wonder if you could help me with some homework Doctor Lemenecky left us. In your rooms.”
He began to bolt up the stairs, and Caley raced after him with the mailboxes attempting to keep up in their awkward armor.
“Everything all right?” Neive was heading toward them, eyeing the mailbox-men.
“Everything … is … all … right,” Kip replied slowly and loudly, so the mailboxes could hear, “but Doctor Lemenecky’s class is canceled, so we are going to catch up on homework. So, Princess Caley won’t be needing you because we will be doing homework.”
“I think Neive should come anyway,” said Caley.
“But … won’t that be distracting … for the homework?” Kip was beginning to get that dense look he got whenever his brain was working too hard.
“Neive can help us … with the homework,” prompted Caley.
Kip turned to Caley, his voice lowering. “But … we’re not actually doing home—”
Neive grabbed Kip by his tie and yanked him through the door before he could say anything else. Caley hurried in after them, slamming the door on the guards, who were craning to get a look in.
“You’re more dangerous than the Scabbard, you know that?” Kip squawked at Neive. “And if I ruin another tie, Mom’s gonna kill me.”
“Roon knows we were outside the castle last night,” Caley informed them.
“The duchess!” Kip said right away. “She must have told him. She’s trying to get Caley in trouble. Maybe even kicked out of the castle so Olpheist can get her.”
Neive eyed Kip skeptically. “Even if the crow told Roon, it still doesn’t prove she’s the duchess.”
“There’s something else,” Caley continued. “Roon had this map. And I saw models of the wolves from the Wandering Woods on it. I think he’s building them.”
“Everyone is blaming real wolves for the attacks,” said Neive. “Roon’s trying to start another war against baests.”
“Roon’s not our biggest problem,” replied Kip. “Doctor Lemenecky’s class is canceled. The Scabbard probably scared him off. It’s up to us to save the castle. And I figured out how. Do you have the cat’s-eye crystal?”
Neive regarded Kip, puzzled, and retrieved the crystal from the hidden shelf beneath Caley’s bed.
“The cat’s-eye only works if you have something from the place or the person you want to see.” Kip held up a feather. “This feather is from the crow’s nest. I got it from Lucas.” He held up the feathery bit he’d snatched from the duchess’s dress. “And this is from the duchess. If they’re the same, the cat’s-eye should be able to see, and we’ll find out Olpheist’s plan.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” admitted Neive.
“It’s genius!” Kip grinned.
“If it works.” Neive handed Caley the crystal. “You should do it.”
Kip gave Caley the feathers. “Don’t forget, you have to take one of its lives. Let’s hope it has a few left.”
Caley threw the cat’s-eye against the floor. It shattered to pieces. Nothing happened for a moment; then the pieces vibrated and reformed back together. She held the crystal tightly. A vague image began to form in it, as if through a frosted window. A desolate northern island, barren but for a lone hut, materialized under a veil of falling snow. A cloaked figure, bundled up against the storm, scratched for food in the frozen ground. The figure suddenly spun around, drawing a silver sword hilt as a crow landed on the hut. A bolt of lightning sizzled from the hilt, scorching the crow’s wing. It spun to the ground, its tortured caw cracking the frigid air.
“What’s happening?” Kip was squinting over Caley’s shoulder. “I can’t see. Try polishing the crystal.”
Caley rubbed the crystal against her sleeve. The scene shifted to inside the hut. The figure leaned over a child in a basket beside a feeble fire. She lowered her cloak, removed an amulet from her neck, and placed it around the child’s.
“It’s you …” Neive stared into the cat’s-eye with a look of astonishment. “And your mother.”
A vicious wind shook the hut, and with it came a terrible wailing sound, like animals being hurt. Catherine Cross wrapped the infant in a green velvet cape with the Cross coat of arms, tightened her thick red hair into a knot, and walked out into a raging squall, whiting out everything. She drew her sword again and from it fired a frozen flame. Each snowflake hung motionless in the air around her. Nothing was moving: not the wind, not the clouds … it was as if the world had suddenly been petrified in place.
“Cool sword …” said Kip.
Catherine wheeled around, the sword clasped tightly in her hands, searching for something through the stillness. From the snow-shroud, a shadowy, animal-like mass exploded, slamming her to the ground.
“Athrucruth!” cried Kip.
Catherine’s sword flew from her hands, and the world unfroze. From the mass, a hooded figure materialized. Catherine clawed for her weapon in the snow, but a streak of lightning hit her. She looked down at the burning wound in her chest, then up at the figure standing over her, holding a sword like her own, his face a boiling shadow.
Caley’s blood froze. “It’s him. Olpheist.”
“Where have you hidden it?” A deathly voice came from the shadow.
Catherine shook her head defiantly. “You’ll never get it.”
Olpheist placed a spectral hand on Catherine’s skull. She screamed in helpless agony as a vaporous light oozed from her ears, as if he were draining her mind. A child’s cry made him turn to the hut and he released Catherine from his mortal hold. His sword spat out a vortex of wind, instantly slivering the hut, revealing the velvet bundle in the wreckage. Olpheist strode toward the child, his fingers clutching for the amulet around her neck.
There was a screech as a great hawk descended from the sky, grabbing the child in its powerful talons. Again, lightning streaked from Olpheist’s sword, singeing the hawk, but it vanished into the storm. Olpheist let out a sick howl of rage and turned to the crow, bleeding in the snow.
“Find the child. Fail me again and you will know true pain.”
The crow dragged itself to its feet and managed to take ragged flight on its shattered wing, aiming itself in the direction of the hawk’s disappearance.
Olpheist walked into the blizzard, disappearing in the falling snow that had already begun to cover Catherine’s body. Caley stared in raw disbelief as the image faded to white.
Neive began to gently take the cat’s-eye crystal from Caley, which she was still clutching tightly in her hand.
“Look …” said Kip.
Another image was appearing in the crystal. On a bloodred dawn, the hawk set the bundle down on the doorstep of a run-down house in a run-down seaside town. A sign out front read:
GRUNCH HOME FOR WAYWARD WAIFS. CASH ONLY!
“Was that where you lived?” asked Kip.
Caley nodded—she couldn’t seem to speak.
The haw
k screeched until a light came on. The Gunch, in curlers and a hairnet, poked her face out the door and noticed the velvet robe at her feet. She unwrapped it and looked down at the baby staring back up at her.
“Caley Cross! Caley Cross!”
Albert the parrot was squawking excitedly in the hallway.
The Gunch eyed the robe appraisingly. It looked valuable, so she dumped the baby out and hurried back into her house with it.
Albert’s insistent squawking was heard. A moment later, the door opened, and the Gunch reluctantly grabbed the baby. Her attention was drawn to a dark, feathery figure staring at her from across the street, her face revealed in the dim glow of first light.
It was Duchess Odeli.
The duchess transformed into a hawk and flew off. The Gunch quickly bolted the door behind her.
The crystal dimmed.
“The duchess isn’t the metal-winged crow.” Neive turned to Caley. “She’s a hawk. And she saved you.”
“I knew it all along!” said a nodding Kip.
Neive eyed Kip dubiously, then turned back to Caley. “Why didn’t she ever say anything?”
Caley shook her head blankly. Her hand went to her chest. The amulet was vibrating slightly. At least one mystery was solved.
She finally knew where it came from.
“WHY didn’t you tell me my mother was dead?” Caley was fighting back tears. “She’s never coming back. You knew all along, and you never said anything.”
The duchess sat in an armchair in her sparsely furnished room with Caley. She exhaled painfully as if feeling an old, deep wound.
“I tried to stop what happened. I am reminded of my failure every time I look at you—the very image of your mother. And I am so very sorry.” The duchess put her hand on Caley’s gently. “It seems like only yesterday Queen Catherine left here. Master Pim sent me to find her. It was not easy. For a year, I searched. She had hidden herself in a forgotten corner of your world, where she believed she was safe. She may have met your father there, but I know nothing of him. By the time I found you, he was gone. The night you were born, I heard two cries: one as you came into that world, the other … a sound I shall never forget. It was as if the sky had been stabbed. Your mother stole off with you into the night and sought the most desolate place she could find. But he found her.”