He stared at the fire. Unless, of course, his brother did have an important role to play in all this, too. Perhaps he did and just didn’t know it. Or perhaps Robbie did know…He lay down again and turned his thoughts to the Morning Star.
Please protect Robbie. Let me find and rescue him. Please. You’re my only hope...my last hope.
Booted feet on rock and gruff voices issuing commands roused Dougray. He rolled over and noticed Belle sitting by the fire, drinking out of a glazed cup. There was no sign of Mouse. Licking his dry lips, Dougray reached for his boots and pulled them over his stockinged feet. He strapped on his sword under his coat, then limped towards the fire. The waterfall in the window of rock drew his gaze. It was not a heavy fall of water and he was able to see through it to what lay beyond.
He discerned the cave was high in the mountains overlooking a plateau. Sprawled between tall trees was a dazzling white city, enclosed by high walls that ran partly down the slope of the plateau and into a valley. Dougray could just make out gleaming, lime-washed buildings and towers behind the walls with pale blue banners flapping in the wind. A blinding glare of polished glass forced him to look away.
Belle came and stood beside him. She held out a cup of steaming black liquid. ‘It is tea—I think. There is also some breakfast if you can stomach beef this early.’ She paused, also looking out the watery window. ‘Impressive, is it not? Rory says it is Dwellinfrey.’
‘I guessed as much.’
Dougray turned and glanced about the cave. It had been transformed into an armoury, concealed from the world by secret openings, tunnels and cascading falls. Leaning against the far wall were iron-tipped spears and long bows with hundreds of fletched arrows. Hastily-forged swords and knives lay at one end of a crude wooden table. The other end was laden with chainmail shirts. Some of the men were putting them on over their clothes and buckling on swords and other weapons.
‘What’s happening?’
Belle lowered her voice. ‘Rory is going on a raid.’
‘Who’s he raiding?’
‘The Dwellins. Mouse is off inventing something for him. Rory saw him using his little helpers and asked if he could make something bigger. He wants to look at Dwellinfrey from the window. Mouse has been working on it all morning.’
Dougray grinned. ‘Can’t help himself. Where’s Rory now?’
She indicated to a shadowy corridor, where the leader was speaking in a hushed voice to a tall, raven-haired girl dressed in a familiar, ash-grey tunic. He started at the object in her hands: a silver mask.
‘What’s a Dwellin doing here in the stronghold?’
Belle shrugged. ‘She just arrived.’
They waited until Rory and the girl entered the main cave, still deep in hushed conversation. Whatever they were discussing, it seemed serious and a lingering frown creased the leader’s brow. In the morning light, his hair looked redder, his beard greyer and many deep wrinkles fanned out around his tired-looking eyes. He appeared slightly stooped, as if a great weight pressed his shoulders down.
Catching Dougray and Belle staring in his direction, he forced a smile. He whispered something to the girl and then they both walked over. ‘I trust you had a good night’s sleep? I’d like you to meet Melenor. She’s from Dwellinfrey and has news about your brother.’
The sharp-eyed girl faced Dougray and Belle with a grim nod of greeting. ‘Not much news, I’m afraid. Last night we went on a routine patrol through the forest and captured two young men. One was a soldier, the other a stranger—unconscious, I think. Whether he was your brother or not, I don’t know. They were both taken to the bathhouse, which is fortunate for him since Wilmah, the head woman there, is an ally. It also means he and the soldier will appear before the queen. That is not always a good thing.’
She paused and gnawed her bottom lip the way Robbie did whenever he was worried about something. Dougray frowned.
‘Why is that not a good thing?’
‘She is...not quite herself these days—’
He wanted to shake the information out of her. ‘I’ve heard she’s mad. Tell me what she will do to them!’
Rory was watching him with the keenness of a wolf. The girl threw a glance at him and then continued.
‘If she likes the look of them, she might decide to make them her court servants, which is not a terrible thing. Or they could be sent to the quarry...or simply put to death.’
Her words chilled Dougray. He pictured Robbie in his personal misery before the raving, lunatic queen bent on reducing the male population. His hands went clammy, despite the warmth of the fire. When he tried to speak, his words became stuck in his throat.
Belle spoke on his behalf. ‘Then there is nothing for it; we must rescue him!’
Melenor gave a sudden laugh. ‘You can’t just rescue someone who’s been assigned by the queen to his fate.’
Heat pulsed through Dougray’s arms. ‘We must!’ He glared at Rory. ‘Why are you so frightened of these women? You have strong men here who can fight...and you have more than enough weapons! Please! Help me rescue my brother!’
Anger flashed in Rory’s eyes. He straightened to his full height and looked formidable as he returned Dougray’s stare.
‘You are in no position to order me about! It was none of my doing that had your brother captured, and I have no obligation to help you and risk my men’s lives.’
The men in the cavern had paused from their activities and were listening and watching them intently.
Dougray stared at him as he turned to walk off. ‘Please! I’m begging you!’
Rory turned and looked at him. ‘I will think on it.’
Belle’s arm snaked around Dougray’s shoulders. He was cold and shaking. She led him to the fire. Melenor followed them. When he sat down, the girl was there.
‘Don’t mind Rory.’ A smile flickered on her lips. ‘He’s really a kind-hearted man. He’ll be thinking of his men and what repercussions there’d be if he went to rescue your brother.’
Dougray couldn’t answer her. Belle poured some more black tea and handed it to him. He clasped it with both hands so that Melenor wouldn’t see them shaking.
Belle glared at her. ‘You are one of them! Go away! Leave us alone!’
Dougray lifted his eyes to look at her. Melenor shook her head. ‘I’m not a Dwellin; just Rory’s spy.’
Belle sat down and blinked. ‘A spy! Then you must know of a way into Dwellinfrey...to where they keep the prisoners.’
The girl leaned towards Dougray and lowered her voice. ‘If you want your brother saved, you must convince Rory that it is the best thing for him to do. Only then can I help you.’
Chapter 25
In the Mad Queen’s Court
The sweet scent of pear-wood wafted through the room from the burning hearth. If he had to take a bath, at least it was warm. Robbie glanced about. Three shuttered windows stared back at him, probably locked. Apart from the two tubs steaming with hot water, three unused tubs were stacked in the corner of the room. A chair stood beside each of the full tubs, piled with clothing and thin leather sandals. His feet would freeze in them. Perhaps that was the idea. If his boots were confiscated, these would deter any escape.
A coarse towel and lye soap sat on the rim of each tub. Still aching from his ordeal, he took a deep breath and slowly removed his clothes, making certain to place Navarre’s button and the Lesson Book underneath the new ones on the chair. His old clothes fell at his feet like a discarded chrysalis.
After testing the water’s temperature with his hand, he climbed into the wooden tub and lay back. He’d almost forgotten how luxuriant a bath could feel. But he was also conscious of time, and grasping the lye soap, he began scrubbing. He dunked under the water and gave his head a good rub with the soap. Within minutes, a sharp rap on the door sent him lunging for the towel just as it swung open and Wilmah stepped into the room.
She walked over to his old clothes, tut-tutting as she picked them up and peered at him
in the tub. Robbie’s face heated like a furnace as he stared up at her, his hands grasping the towel before him as if his life depended on it.
She gave him a maternal grin and more tut tuts. ‘I told you to hurry. The queen doesn’t like to be kept waiting.’
‘I’ll hurry, Wilmah. I promise. Just give me a few minutes to get dressed.’
‘Two minutes.’
She marched to the door from where she gave him a stern look and then closed it behind her, locking it with the key. Gathering himself together, Robbie scrambled out, towelled himself dry and slipped into the tunic folded on the chair. Designed for work and not comfort, the material was coarse and scratchy. He slid the sandals on just as the key turned in the lock again. Wilmah stood in the doorway with a smile on her pink face.
‘It’s amazing what a little soap and water will do.’
He wasn’t certain if that was a compliment or not.
‘Here, brush that mop you call hair.’ She walked over and handed him an old brush. It didn’t look that clean. ‘If it was up to me, I’d have it shorn off.’
He gave his hair a vigorous brush. Gazing up and down at him, she nodded her approval. ‘Not bad. Come with me. Time to meet the queen. Mind, not a word now!’
The tall, athletic woman who had removed Ethan waited in the corridor. She shadowed them as they hurried down the cobblestone street towards the grand palace. He longed to ask her what happened to Ethan, but a curfew existed on his tongue and he had to comply.
He noticed women moving about the streets dressed for different purposes. Some hurried home from work in long, filthy pants and shirts rolled up to their elbows. Others walked by with high, elaborate hairstyles and wore fine gowns that shimmered in the lamplight. Jangling earrings swayed in their earlobes and jewelled chains adorned their low necklines. They carried small, silken purses in gloved hands.
Six armed women on patrol sneered at Robbie. One snarled like a cat. The odd behaviour took him by surprise and he lowered his gaze at once. Their hatred towards men was palpable. His chances of escaping with those women hunting him were slim.
They passed rows of darkened shops and others where shopkeepers were locking doors and slipping keys into their pockets. A woman with a ladder under her arm moved about the street, lighting lamps. All stopped and gave Robbie curious, scornful stares as he marched past.
Then they arrived at the palace, a fortress built with buttressed, stone walls on top of a hill. Coloured lights from the ground shone on its walls, giving it the illusion of being painted in pretty hues. Watch towers loomed high overhead, topped with earthy-coloured, conical spires. Glowing arrow slits in the curved walls showed the palace was defended by archers.
All of a sudden, Wilmah halted and faced Robbie, her expression full of awe and wonder. ‘Gaze upon the beautiful palace of our great Queen Vanesal!’
Behind him, the tall bodyguard placed her fist in the centre of her chest and repeated, ‘Long live Queen Vanesal!’
For several moments, they stood motionless in the street, staring up at the palace. Then Wilmah moved forward, up uneven steps carved into the rock. Robbie followed, shuffling after Wilmah towards an uncertain future.
He glanced up at the walls as they approached, but all was not as it seemed. The lime-wash was cracked and crumbling, and the grey stone beneath was visible. Skirting the buttressing was a shadow of stinking rot. He lifted his gaze to the turrets overhead; they all looked weatherworn and damaged. Signs of decay and ruin were everywhere. Couldn’t Wilmah and the tall woman see it? Couldn’t they see the influence of the untaming magic at work?
They can’t if they’re deceived and their eyes veiled!
The bodyguard’s rough hand on his back sent him stumbling forward through the gatehouse. Wilmah tut tutted and glared at her before she, too, entered. Robbie hurried across the cobblestones to an inner courtyard where buildings clustered together in a long row. Wilmah passed a tall fountain where a curious stone figure, half human, half fish, sat on a stone plinth holding a horn that was supposed to pour water. But it was dry and there was no sign that water had come from its horn for a long time.
Wilmah glanced over her shoulder at him. ‘We’re almost at the great hall. Mind your manners before the queen!’ Her voice was school-teacher stern.
He nodded. They came to a carved oak door that Wilmah pushed open and walked through into a great hall. Robbie blinked at the sights that met his eyes.
Wilmah whispered, ‘You’re on your own now.’
He turned and she gave him a sad look. Then she and the tall woman pulled the heavy door shut behind them with a hollow clang. He swung around and gazed at the spacious hall, at the high-vaulted ceiling and enormous wooden beams which crossed overhead. Tall, marble columns and grey slates on the floor made his sandalled feet swish across them as he moved forward.
There was a fire in a huge stone fireplace and vivid tapestries hanging on the walls showing hunting scenes and battles. Blue bowls of pastel hydrangeas sat in hollowed niches. Everything appeared grand and opulent.
Then Robbie’s nostrils flared as he whiffed the stench of rot. An ancient, black magic filled the place, and even its stones reeked with its concealed presence. They’re so used to it they don’t realise how bad it is, he thought.
Then something rustled and he looked up! At the far end of the hall sat the queen on a tall-backed, velvet-lined throne, staring at him. The throne was on a dais beside what appeared to be another, taller throne covered over with a cloth—a king’s throne, imagined Robbie.
The queen looked stunning in her long, silken red gown. Her long hair was braided with jewels and loops of gold chains that sparkled in the torchlight. Standing at her right side was Elimas, the Magic Woman. A girl in a simple green gown sat back from the throne on the queen’s left. He started at her long white hair, the colour of snow as it fell across the left side of her face. For a moment, he pictured Sojourn with her long, white hair streaming out as he ran with her in his arms...
Two female guards stood behind the queen, bearing an insignia of a snowy eagle on their uniforms. Each held two short swords crossed at opposite shoulders. Robbie could just make out the hilts. All it would take was a swift, downward sweep and he’d be cloven in two. He dared not move a muscle!
The queen’s gown rustled again as she kicked it out from beneath her. ‘Well, hurry up boy! I don’t have all day while you’re sightseeing my hall!’
A quick gesture with her hand and two women dressed in unusual livery which ballooned out from their hips and gathered at their knees hurried forward. They grasped his arms and jostled him towards the queen at such a rapid pace, his feet barely touched the slates. Rough hands pushed him onto his knees in front of her. He fell onto his hands, unsure of what to do next. Should he raise his head and look at her?
‘Elimas said there was evil prowling the lands.’ The queen’s loud voice made Robbie lift his head. ‘She has foreseen it—as she can foresee all things that befall my kingdom. What do you think, Caiwen? Is this boy evil, as Elimas says?’
The girl’s blue eyes locked with Robbie’s. ‘He doesn’t look dangerous, just frightened...like all of them, Mother. There is no evil in him.’
The look Elimas levelled at him made him flinch. Though black as pitch, her eyes glittered with flecks of fire ready to burn him to ash. He quickly lowered his gaze.
The queen’s high voice made him flinch. ‘He could be a spy for the Whistlers for all we know! He was found in the forest, on his own. What was he doing there if he’s not a spy?’
‘He doesn’t look like a Whistler, Mother. He’s plainly just a harmless traveller who was on his way somewhere when your soldiers found him.’
‘We must protect the Kingdom, Caiwen. No one is totally harmless, are they Mother?’
Elimas—whom the queen referred to as ‘Mother’—leaned forward and gave a slight nod. ‘Indeed, Your Majesty’s question deserves all our thoughts. An innocent-looking person, no matter how old or you
ng, can easily be someone’s spy.’
Fury took hold of the queen as she glared at Robbie. ‘Is this true? Are you a spy, boy? Have you come into my kingdom to spy out the land? Indeed, my tormenters can, and will, discover the truth if it is so. Hide nothing from me, do you hear?’
Caiwen placed a hand on her mother’s arm. The queen stopped and regarded her daughter’s hand with wide eyes. She swallowed and glanced sideways at Caiwen, like a child remembering her manners.
‘Yes...yes...you are right as always, my daughter. Spies bring magic to taunt us of all the ills that have befallen us since...since the king departed. Magic is corrupt; it has failed us. We want no part of it, Caiwen. Only deliverance, as Elimas said. She is wisest of all...’
She held her head, her voice trailing off.
Robbie stared at her in silence, waiting for her to return from whatever dark corridor her lost mind had strayed in. The ruby-eyed snake circlet wrapped about her head glinted at Robbie. He peered at it. The tiny eye closed and then opened again.
It’s alive! The snake around her head is alive!
The circlet was bespelled by the very magic with which the queen was repulsed. It was sending her mad and none of them could see it. He glanced up and noticed Elimas studying him, her left eyebrow raised in an arch, as if she had read his thoughts.
Then that hatred-enflamed look returned in the queen’s eyes and her mouth twisted in savagery as she glared at him. She kicked her feet under her rustling dress like a petulant child.
‘Caiwen, something is not right about him! Look at him! He is no soldier for a start. Where is he from? Surely he deserves to die!’
Caiwen’s hand rested on her mother’s arm again. For a moment, her long hair fell back from her face as she leaned forward. Robbie glimpsed a jagged, white scar running down her left cheek. With a quick glance in his direction, she pulled her hair forward with her hand.
‘Mother, I am as certain as the sun will rise tomorrow that he is harmless and there is nothing to fear. Mother!’
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