“I never climbed at all,” complained Henry VIII, “Can’t say I want to go any further. Perhaps I’ll wait here.”
“You can’t do that,” yelled Peter, “you’d fry. And you can’t go down either, not on your own. You’d boil in the lake or get lost down a cave or be picked up by dragons.”
Henry hiccupped with a slight moan. “I should never have come. My bad leg, you know!”
“All British sovereigns are brave, aren’t they?” challenged Henry V. “So up we go, and we’ll soon be there.”
Not exactly soon but after a little while they arrived at the edge of the volcanic mouth right at the peak of the mountain. Henry VIII flopped down on the ledge but soon scramble up and back when a great gust of flame shot upwards with a vibrating roar. Richard III brushed himself down. “I do believe that singed my doublet,” he said. “I would have thought this an inadvisable place to rest.”
Hermes had been flying above them, quickly dodging any rising sparks and fire, but watching protectively, especially wishing to help both Nathan and Poppy. However, these were the two best able to climb for they had now had plenty of practice. “Now I shall wait here,” he pronounced loudly above the roar and rumble. “Should anyone need to escape in a hurry, I shall wait here to help.”
“That’s kind, and could be very useful,” said Nathan.
“You mean we actually have to climb in?” asked Henry V, daring to show a little reluctance for once.
“Oh yes,” grinned Sam. “But that’s not as bad as it sounds. There’s a sort of staircase. And the flames and explosions go right past us but not too close. It’s burning hot, but we don’t actually burn.”
“If we can do it, you can do it,” laughed Poppy.
“I have no objection,” said Richard, taking off his hat and tucking it inside his belt. “I find such new experiences most interesting. But naturally, I’ve no desire to be killed a second time, especially by burning..”
“I promise you won’t,” said Nathan hopefully. “We’ve all survived so far.”
“I’m going first,” said Poppy, hopping over the edge.
Richard stood at once, leaned over to gaze into the inferno within, then flung his leg over the edge and found the first stop. “Then I shall go next to protect the lady,” he said, and promptly disappeared into the smoke.
One by one they all took a deep breath and climbed onto the steps. “At least they’re going down this time,” grinned Sam.
“No roses or balloons,” laughed Peter.
It was hard to talk once inside, for both heat and smoke filled their eyes, mouths and noses. But they struggled down, pausing to rest a few times while pressing close to the rock trying to avoid the hissing bright sparks and the sudden bursts of fire. Finally in the light of flame, they saw the first entrance to the first cave and the tunnel beyond. Poppy jumped in and the others all followed, then found themselves in the beginning of what would bring them to the Eternal Chain, and eventually even to the roots of the island and on to the outside world once again.
“Right,” said Nathan. “This is where Sam found the other horrible stars. And me and some others, we got whooshed back to England. Well, anything can happen in Sparkan, you know. It’s even crazier than Lashtang.”
They were all glad to be away from the terrible suffocating heat, and as they walked it became cooler. But it was extremely dark, and the rocky ground was cracked and uneven, causing them to trip over what they could not see. For a moment they stood looking around. Richard and Henry V unsheathed their swords, Henry VIII had a small sharp knife clutched in his right hand, and Nathan brought out the Knife of Clarr, which shone brightly and provided the first glow of white light.
Within the cave, there was nothing much to see and it seemed rather broken, the mouth cracked and splintered where the last explosion had damaged in. Then Nathan started to follow the low roofed tunnel, and Henry VIII, who was the tallest, had to bend his head. It had been so hot but now it was starting to get cold and damp. Poppy was shivering but she tried not to show it as she didn’t want people to think she was scared.
It was a long walk to the cave of the Eternal Chain, The Knife of Clarr was shimmering as they arrived and suddenly everyone could see everything. The whole cave was lit and Richard gasped in wonder and delight at the silver pool with its curling crystal ripples, pointing to the vivid scarlet ribbon stretching from deep in the water to the rock ceiling and on through the stone to someplace unseen.
“The Eternal Chain,” murmured Nathan.
“This is a ribbon and no chain,” Henry VIII objected.
“It’s what holds eternity in place,” explained Nathan. “And eternity is a chain of events, one thing after the other, and one thing leading to another. If you knock over one domino, it will fall and knock over the next one. That’s what makes eternity. Everything goes on and on. But if I cut the ribbon, then some important things will change. One big important thing will change, and that’s what we all want. So I must cut the chain, and only my knife can do it.”
“Looks easy to cut to me,” frowned Henry V. “Do you want this little ribbon cut? Well, I can do that for you.”
And he stepped close to the water, swung his sword, and with a mighty slash, his blade seemed to go right through the ribbon. Henry smiled, thinking he had done what was needed, and that everyone would be pleased.
But when he looked up, he saw the ribbon had not been touched. It hung just the same as always, the little pool was calm and unaltered, and the steel of his sword was also exactly the same. “Did I miss?” asked Henry, astonished.
“No,” Nathan shook his head. “The ribbon actually disappeared just as your sword went through. Then it blinked back without a single difference. I’ve been told that only the Lord of Clarr with the Knife of Clarr can cut it. So let me try.” Straightening back his shoulders, Nathan stepped over to the little pool and leaned over, his knife ready.
Yet at that moment there was a buzz of flying insects, and swarms of wasps and bees came surging into the cave, surrounding Nathan’s head and hands, and began to crawl into his hair and eyes.
“Well, bumble-bee-head, tis bumble-bees and wapsies you got now,” called a very familiar voice.” Brewster came from a long dark crack in the rock wall, and danced, knees bending high up to his chin, out into the cave. “Wopsy-topsy dither and doubt, I wonder when the brains pop out. Wopsy-topsy, dither and din. I wonders when the brains pop in.”
Nathan and Poppy were fighting to get away from the wasps and bees, waving their arms around madly, ducking and running, but still getting stung. Poppy had dropped her knife, but Richard and Henry V hurried forwards to protect their new friends. Richard pulled off his grand mahogany coat and threw it over Poppy’s head, while Henry V, who still only wore armour, grabbed Henry VIII’s cape, and threw this over Nathan. Nathan still had a tight hold on his knife, and now marched towards Brewster. Brewster cackled, since Nathan looked very odd, his head and shoulders completely covered by purple velvet.
The insects were still swarming, and Sam held up his silver finger, asking, “Please, how do we get rid of the wasps, and Brewster too?”
But Peter already had an idea. He sat beside the pool where clearly Brewster did not want to go, took out his lute and began to play a sweet tune. “I call this Greensleeves,” Peter said, for his Lashtang shirt was green silk, and the sleeves were green with golden patterns.
Henry VIII turned, staring at Peter. “I like that tune,” he said, while meanwhile the bees and wasps were buzzing everywhere, Brewster was laughing and jumping up and down, Nathan, unable to see a thing under his velvet cape, was trying to catch Brewster with the point of his knife, and Poppy had just fallen over the edge of the pool and bumped her head on the ledge.
As Peter continued to play, Henry VIII was delighted and listened closely. “I’ll get my minstrels to play that when I get back to Eltham Palace,” he said.
“But I wrote it,” called Peter, “So don’t pretend you did.”
“As if I would ever lie,” said Henry crossly. “Just carry on like a good boy and keep playing.”
Meanwhile the wasps and bees were all flying together, leaving Poppy and Nathan alone and eventually flying away through the crack where they had originally appeared. Brewster was quite cross. “Pumpetty-pump, making me jump,” he complained. “Frightened all my pretty little striped friends away. How mean, lut-toot-boy.”
Peter put his lute down and smiled. “I wish it made you go away too,” he said.
Poppy gave back the great long coat to Richard III, and thanked Peter. She had two big stings right on her nose, one from a bee and one from a wasp, and they were both swelling bright red. She turned to Brewster. “I thought you were doing me favours from now on,,” she said. “But that was really mean.”
Nathan had also pulled off the velvet cape, gave it back to Henry VIII, and held up his knife again. “You can’t stop me,” he informed Brewster. “You know this is what I’m supposed to do. And the chain is ready. It gave me a job to do, and I think I’ve done it. So now I cut the ribbon.” He turned to the little silver pool and spoke loudly. “I ask that you permit me to change eternity now,” he said. “As the Lord of Clarr with the Knife of Clarr, will you let me cut the chain?”
The silvery voice of the pool answered soft and sweet. It seemed to make the water’s rippled shine brightly with tiny bubbles on the surface. “Come here, lord,” said the voice. “You must enter the water when the time comes to splice eternity. You have achieved what was meant, and the time is near. But there is first a danger you must face, and you must conquer. There is not long to wait. And there is nothing to fear. Nothing to fear. Nothing to fear.” The voice faded, but the echo sang softly in the shadows, “Nothing to fear. Nothing – to – fear.”
Nathan looked around. That warning had achieved the opposite, for now he was afraid. Poppy rushed over. “What?” she whispered. “I can’t see any danger.”
“Perhaps that’s because there’s nothing to fear,” suggested Sam.
But Peter called out, “Where’s Brewster gone?”
That startled everyone, but Henry VIII pointed. Up to the dark ceiling “That skinny idiot is pretending to fly,” he said. “Mind his feet, kicking around up there.”
Henry was right. Brewster’s long pointed gold shoes were right above their heads as he swung from a round bump in the roof. “Don’t like bumble-bees and topsy-woppsies, does you? Well, let’s have something a little bit more interesting.”
Nathan wondered if he had time to run and cut the ribbon before Brewster produced his nasty surprise, but almost immediately there was a roar and a rumble, and three things happened all at once.
From the tunnel where they had all entered, a wild rush of flames burst into the cave. But these were not the golden and brilliant red flames of a normal fire, they were vivid purple blasts, with centres of emerald green. Everyone except Brewster hurled back against the walls, horrified at the sudden heat and the weird colours. These strange flames sizzled, climbing up the rock and spitting as they hung from the steep dark walls..
At the same time rushed in a herd of Lava Wolves, Eight huge full-grown black wolves and twenty four open mouths, forty eight angry red eyes, forty eight twitching ears, and more than a hundred sharp white teeth. Cringing back, everyone was startled, and Richard and Henry V once again swept out their swords, and the wolves’ scarlet eyes reflected in the wide blades.
“No, no,” screeched Poppy, “don’t kill any of them, they aren’t dangerous. They’re hungry but they’re our friends.” Richard and Henry hesitated, but both faced a three-headed wolf growling and flashing their teeth, their deep red throats reaching forwards.
Brewster was still laughing softly, but Nathan noticed that he stayed safe up on the rocky ceiling. Yet it seemed that something else terrible was also happening, for a foul stink of rotten spice and dirty smoke was swirling around the poll and the ribbon, keeping it utterly hidden within clouds of black fingers. These seemed almost real, grasping and pinching, pointing and grabbing. The scarlet ribbon was gone behind the blur of a thousand stinking black cloud-fingers. As the horrible unreal fingers groped through the sickening stench and the flames flickered their purple and green fire up every wall, so the wolves paced, circling and dividing, snarling at everyone they saw, their footsteps resounding, thumping on the rock, faster and faster.
Henry V and Richard III, stepping forwards into the midst of the chaos, raise their swords. Totally unused to such weapons, the wolves, frightened by the wizard and starving with hunger, continued to mill within the confined space, gazing in complete confusion. Richard brought his sword down with great force, and one of the wolves’ heads, spouting blood, crashed to the ground.
At once, everything stopped. There was a moment of complete silence. And then, one by one the eight wolves lifted their twenty three living heads and began to howl. The dreadful and haunting sound of utter misery echoed around the cave. Poppy, Sam and Peter rushed into each other’s arms and trembled.
Richard stood, distressed and puzzled, his sword dripping blood in the purple light of the flames.
Nathan ran to the wounded wolf. One wide furry neck was jagged, the bone split and the flesh oozing blood. The other two heads were still howling, and their eyes were glazed with weeping. The third head lay on the ground, its mouth open and the tongue lolling. The eyes were shut, but the ragged cut neck was still bleeding.
Instantly kneeling beside the suffering animal, Nathan stroked its four ears, and began to speak softly. “I swear I’ll put this right,” he whispered to the sobbing wolf. “I think I can do it. I’ll try. Please don’t howl. Help me and don’t give up hope. What is your third identity called?”
Through his pouring tears, the wolf muttered, “You cannot help me, my beautiful brother Arom is dead. He will never return, and I cannot face life without him. You may kill me now.”
Nathan shook his head, and as he knelt, stroking the two remaining necks, he realised that Richard had come to kneel beside him. “I am bitterly sorry,” said Richard. “I had not realised these creatures were true friends who could speak, and suffer, and love. I would willingly take back this terrible mistake. I believed we were in awful danger. How may I help?”
“Would you hold up the head?” asked Nathan. “I know it is bleeding, and unpleasant. But it will help as I try to bring him back.”
Immediately Richard leaned down and swept the dead wolf’s head into his arms. “I have fought in many battles,” he said, “and have experienced the pain of killing others, and of being injured myself, and the worst of all, seeing my friends slaughtered at my side. I have also wept in battle but continued to fight as I must. I will gladly hold this beautiful animal. I pray you can help.”
The wounded wolf crouched down. The middle head stared outwards, eyes wet but determined. The second head was bowed, lost in misery. The third neck, raw and bleeding, remained without its head.
Holding up the Knife of Clarr, Nathan continued to stroke the middle dog’s ears. He nodded across the cave at Peter, who had once again taken up his lute. Immediately he began to play something very melodic, his fingers dancing across the strings.
As the music played softly in the background, Nathan spoke to his knife, gazing closely into the sheen of silver and gold. “I ask you,” he whispered, “to reattach this wonderful head to this wonderful body.” He was now crying too, and felt the tears filling his eyes, until he could barely see past them. “I ask the most difficult and important thing anyone can ever ask, and that is to bring someone back to life. Can this be done? The beating heart of this creature is still within the body and it still beats. The legs still walk, and the rest of this loveable animal is still totally living. Can you bring the third part back to its whole? Can Arom come back to live with his brothers?”
The blade shone with such a sudden shaft of light that Nathan fell backwards. But Richard, still carefully holding Arom’s head, bent closer, and held the t
wo parts of the neck together. He stayed there, balancing on one knee, still and solemn as though waiting for a miracle.
All around them, everyone held their breath. The other wolves had sunk down, watching and waiting. Even the clutching fingers in the clouds of vile smells seemed now to hesitate. Both King Henrys were very quiet, knowing that they were seeing something extremely special. Poppy and Sam were staring so hard and hoping so desperately that they couldn’t even blink.
And as Nathan held up his knife, and Richard held the wolf’s head, so it began to happen. The fur on Arom’s neck was growing together, the soft thick hairs twisting back into each other and within just a few minutes there was no scar nor wound. The neck was broken in no place. It was completely mended, and no sign of blood oozed from the cut. And then, even more excitingly, Arom lifted his head and opened his eyes.
At first he seemed confused. He licked his lips, looked around, had a little trouble moving his neck at first but then sat up, flicking up his ears cheerfully, and said in a bit of a mumble, “Strange, I wasn’t feeling very well. But now I feel fine. I think someone must have fed me something really nice. I feel so strong and I’m not even hungry anymore.”
“Well, I am,” said another wolf from across the cave.
Even Brewster seemed amazed and was not at all angry. “Well, well, well, and good, good, good,” he said, swinging his legs and coming down from the ceiling. “Now that’s a magic I reckon even us Hazletts cannot do. Well done, Bumble-Bee-Head.” He clapped his hands very loudly and the purple and green flames all flicked out like obedient little beetles. Peter was still playing the flute, although his music was very soft, and becoming very slow. Both Sam and Poppy breathed out with enormous relief, and Poppy ran over to hug Arom.
Dominoes Page 26