Shadow Helm of Glory

by Elizabeth Klein

  They trudged up a flight of stairs, through twin doors thrust wide and into a vast hall lit by flickering torches. They passed tall, grey pillars streaked with coloured veins, but everything else was a blur to Robbie as he stared ahead.

  The crystal was singing to him, but it was like a map, not a song at all. It contained the crumbled history of the queen’s kingdom and its sad people as they fell beneath Morgran’s untaming magic. Enslaved men perished; others had fled for their lives. The rule of the Sisterhood had emerged and flourished through Elimas’s sorceries. Women ruled and hunted men for sport. It had been easy for Elimas to enter the royal court with her mystical counselling, filling the queen’s head with visions of power and grandeur unsurpassed by any king or queen before her.

  The queen had taken the bait to the ruin of all.

  Chapter 33

  Melenor’s Wounding

  Dougray’s head broke the surface and he gulped a huge mouthful of air. His flailing arms slapped the water like a distressed bird. He tried to push himself up to reach for something solid. The coils lashed through the water, beating him down to his doom. His lungs burned with the need for air, but he couldn’t locate the surface, couldn’t see a thing.

  Something powerful coiled about his legs and dragged him under. Down, down into the murky depths. Into deep silence. Weeds wrapped around his arms and legs, around his face. He could not hold on for much longer. His chest was ready to explode.

  And then, a white face appeared in the water next to his.

  Belle!

  He looked straight into her huge, emerald eyes. Could it be? A long, curved knife flashed in her hand and then she was gone. A trembling quiver passed through the coils and the strangling pressure eased. The suffocating coils loosened and Dougray floated in the darkness, disoriented.

  A hand on the back of his jacket dragged him through the seething water. All the struggle was gone out of him. His lungs were on fire, bursting inside his chest as blackness closed over him.

  When next Dougray awoke, he was on his back and Rory was pumping his chest. He coughed up the foul water and beat the air with his arms, trying to escape the darkness. Someone called his name.

  It was Belle!

  She was crouched beside him, her anxious face framed by her wet hair. ‘It is all right, Dougray!’

  He was aware of the light pressure of her hand on his shoulder, reassuring him. Beside him, Ferkle was also gasping and spluttering for breath. Although the feral had almost drowned him, he was glad he had survived. When Dougray tried to speak, his throat was sore and his voice sounded like a hoarse croak. He nodded, aware of Melenor and Rory watching him. Belle helped him to his feet, but his legs wobbled and he almost collapsed again.

  The ferals gathered about Ferkle, slapping water off him and fussing.

  ‘Told Ferkle danger here,’ scolded Brint, with her hands on her waist. ‘Listens never to grown-ups.’

  Dougray glared at the Resistance Leader. ‘You took my sword! Give it back!’

  Rory’s dark eyes held a dangerous gleam as he looked at him. ‘I’ve given you a sword. Use that.’

  Dougray clenched his teeth. His gaze lowered as he spotted his sword on the leader’s belt. He recognised the jewels glowing in the hilt. ‘The one you’re wearing is mine.’ He slipped the fake sword out and threw it at Rory’s feet. ‘Give it back!’

  The point of Belle’s sword pressed against Rory’s neck. She had come from behind. ‘You heard! Give the sword back to its true owner.’

  Melenor stepped towards her. ‘Drop it or I’ll skewer you!’ Pressed against Belle’s side was a vicious knife.

  The Elf girl didn’t falter. ‘He would die before you used it.’

  Dougray held up his hand. He didn’t want a bloodbath. ‘Put down your weapons. It’s only a sword. I’ll use the one Rory gave me.’

  As he bent to pick it up, rasping snarls hissed from the edge of the pool. Dougray spun as three heads dripping with water rose into the air, slitted eyes blazing with fury and revenge. Sharp, curved fangs extended out of all three jaws. Melenor gave a startled cry as the enormous, mottled body of the peragons launched itself out of the water. Its speed belied its vast, hulking body.

  Melenor’s sword swung down on the nearest, scaled neck with a dull thud and she lunged back. But the tough hide remained unscathed and all it managed to do was turn the peragon’s attention towards her. The girl was not as swift as Belle and one of the hag’s jaws latched onto her leg. She stumbled back with a scream of anguish.

  ‘Rory!’

  An exultant laugh of victory echoed from the other two hags as they dragged the struggling girl toward the edge of the pool. Blood oozed down her wet leggings as she screamed and clawed the rocky floor. Rory leaped towards her with Dougray’s sword, but the magic was silent in his hands.

  The great tail whipped around and struck him across the chest. The sword flew from his grasp and clattered on the ground. Dougray sprinted towards it, picked it up and whirled around just as Rory bellowed and clambered to his feet. The Resistance Leader ran, hurling knives into the body of the serpent. One struck the eye of the hag dragging Melenor and it released the girl in a howl of pain. The other two hags echoed their sister in a demented chorus.

  Dodging the writhing serpent, Mouse and the ferals darted towards Melenor and pulled her back from the pool’s edge. The monster advanced again. Almost on top of them, its massive neck and half its body rose into the air, rearing for another attack. If the hags struck this time, there would be no escaping their lethal jaws. Dougray gripped the magic sword and held it out at arm’s length towards the swaying monster.

  Nothing happened!

  No warmth. No power. A thrill of terror passed through him as he glanced down at the blade, at the dull gems. Something was blocking its power. A wild cry came from the peragons. There was no time to think, only reflexes and action born out of instinct and necessity. A change came over him and with a loud cry, he pointed the tip of the blade straight at the monster. This time, he would not run from it like a coward.

  ‘Dragon Slayer!’ he yelled.

  The great power stirred like a sleeping giant. Blue flames skipped along his arm. Uncertainty glimmered in the peragons’ slitted eyes and they stopped swaying. Their faces contorted with malice and hatred as the moment wore off. Three jaws unlocked and opened so wide that any one of them could have swallowed him whole. They curved out towards him.

  But the power was swift and deadly. Heat flooded through the sword hilt and into his hand and body. Surge after surge of tamed magic filled him with its heat. A blast of red-hot fire struck the peragons’ massive chest, piercing the tough hide. A single, drawn-out shriek and the peragons fell backward into the dark pool with a colossal splash. Down into the weedy depths the three hags sank, their black, oily blood mingling with the foul waters of the pool. Smoke and the reek of burning flesh filled the air.

  Dougray coughed into his sleeve. The sword drooped as the power ebbed. Three gems sparkled in the hilt once more. A thick silence descended. Belle and Rory stared at him; swords still poised to attack. Blood and sweat streaked the leader’s cheeks and his red hair framed his astonished face. Wonder gleamed in Belle’s. Mouse and the ferals gaped in disbelief.

  Grasping his weapon, Rory stepped toward Dougray. Suspicion and fear glimmered in his eyes. ‘Who are you? How did you do that?’

  Belle hurried to Dougray’s side. ‘There is no time. Melenor is badly wounded. She needs help.’

  Hesitant, Rory’s gaze shifted to the moaning girl lying on the rough stone. Her leg was covered in blood, the flesh a mangled mess. Quick-thinking Brint rushed to her side and started bandaging her leg with strips of fur, while Runkle crouched and patted her arm. Tears glistened in his eyes. Griff and Ferkle hurried over and sang in a soft voice to calm her, but Dougray could see that her wounds were serious. Mouse untied the pouch on his belt and hastened over. He glanced at Runkle.

  ‘This is from the narcosia tree. It’
ll help numb any pain in her body. Give me your water.’

  Without a word, Runkle handed him his small water flask. Tears streaked down his grimy little cheeks. Mouse held Melenor’s head up and gazed at her ashen face. Her eyelids fluttered open and she grimaced. Mouse held the pouch to her lips.

  ‘Melenor, swallow some of this. It’s bitter, but it’ll help you walk until we can find someone to help you.’

  She gave a weak nod and opened her mouth to receive the narcosia powder. She drank it down with a gulp of water. Almost at once, her eyes grew brighter. Her face smoothed and some colour returned to her cheeks.

  ‘Help me to my feet.’

  Rory was about to protest but instead snaked his strong arms under her and lifted her upright. He held onto her as she swayed. Concern masked his face as she looked up at him.

  ‘Take me to her,’ said Melenor.

  Rory frowned. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘It’s time.’

  With a hesitant nod, Rory straightened and turned to Dougray and Belle, his face strained. No longer the huge, formidable Resistance Leader; now his visage mirrored hopelessness.

  ‘The poison will worsen swiftly, but there’s someone at the palace who can help Melenor.’ His eyes focused on Dougray once more. ‘I think you should go on ahead with the ferals.’

  Dougray gave him a slight nod, understanding his urgency, but not who Melenor wanted to see. He turned to the ferals still gaping at him.

  ‘Runkle, Brint and Griff, show us the way to the palace. But we need haste.’

  ‘Not far,’ Runkle said and Griff nodded.

  The ferals mustered as one and took the lead, the soft cadence of their singing washing over Dougray. Ferkle walked with him and refused to leave his side. At the rear, Rory assisted Melenor. He had a hand around her waist and her arm around his shoulder. Mouse stayed close by with his narcosia powder, ready to administer more if needed. Dougray threw a quick, furtive glance over his shoulder at the girl. She looked white, her unruffled face grim and determined as she stared ahead. He didn’t know how long she’d be able to walk with so much blood lost. Or if she’d survive. One thing he did know was that time was running out for all of them. Somewhere up ahead lurked Morgranus, the shapeless demon from the Abyss.

  Deep inside, he sensed it waiting for him and that he was approaching his doom.

  Chapter 34

  Elimas’s Treason

  They had not gone far when Ferkle halted and pointed to the wall. ‘There the way is that we must go.’

  At first, Dougray couldn’t see anything, but then something grey caught his eye. More rungs bolted into the rock. Ferkle, already hurrying to the wall, urged them with an excited wave of his arm. The ferals moved forward and began to climb, then Mouse and Belle climbed next.

  Dougray glanced at Rory and Melenor. It would be a struggle for her with her injuries. He was about to look away when a shadow moved out of the corner of his eye. He stared at the spot, uncertain of what he had seen. Perhaps he imagined it. But then he knew.

  Morgranus!

  The demon was not somewhere up ahead after all. It had tracked them from the forest and now it was here, on the other side of the pool. It was just a matter of time before it found a way across. Dougray looked up at Rory and the girl as they climbed.

  ‘Hurry.’

  Rory glared down at him. ‘For pity’s sake, give Melenor some time.’

  Dougray began to clamber up after him, keeping one eye on the shadows. ‘We have no time. Something evil has found us. Now hurry!’

  His words added haste to the others. Soon he noticed grey light at the top. Hands reached for him, pulling him up out of a drain. He blinked at a half moon and a sky full of bright stars. They were outside, at last.

  Around them stood dark buildings from where light glowed in windows and faint muffled voices drifted. Ferkle had led them into the palace courtyard. A quick glance down the drain revealed nothing, but something was there. He could sense it.

  ‘Belle.’ She hastened to him. ‘Morgranus.’

  Her eyes widened with apprehension. ‘We must move!’ She grabbed Ferkle’s arm and shook him. ‘Where do we go?’

  With a tight squeak, Ferkle hurried away from the building to the next one. They hurried after him. The little feral appeared to know where he was going and the rest of the ferals hummed softly, keeping the magic at bay. Dougray threw a furtive glance over his shoulder. Was something following? He couldn’t be certain. Where was that demon? Morgranus was close, hunting them, soundless like drifting fog. His eyes burned from staring hard into the dark shadows. But there was nothing there. Stay calm! Panic was contagious and it gave way to despair.

  A small, cold hand settled on his arm and he jumped. He let out a ragged breath as Ferkle blinked up at him. The feral pointed.

  ‘That way palace hall.’

  Just then, there came the sound of marching feet. They huddled in the shadows and stared as a platoon of soldiers appeared around the corner. A tall, thin woman in black strode out in front, as if leading the procession. Behind her walked a young man with his hands tied behind his back. Dougray started. It was Robbie! He almost didn’t recognise him. His brother’s eyes were puffy and his face streaked with dirt. A young woman with long, snowy hair dressed in a raggedy gown stumbled beside him, her hands also tied. A low, angry curse came from Rory.

  Belle grasped Dougray’s arm. He noticed fire in her eyes. Then he turned back to see where the soldiers were taking Robbie. They marched towards a building that even in the half-light appeared majestic. The woman, Robbie and the girl stepped through twin doors and disappeared. The soldiers headed back the way they had come and there was silence in the courtyard again. Dougray glanced over his shoulder. Nothing stirred and he didn’t sense anything. But Morgranus was there, somewhere.

  Melenor hobbled up to Ferkle and whispered something. Dougray looked at the feral as he moaned and shook his head. The girl’s hand rested on his arm.

  ‘Please, Ferkle. We must.’

  Belle frowned. ‘We must what?’

  Rory answered as the girl sagged against him. Her strength was failing and the leader was restless. ‘We must free Princess Caiwen...and your brother.’

  Dougray edged forward, anxious to move on. ‘Ferkle, we can’t stay here.’

  With a single nod, the feral led them right up to the twin doors and halted. Dougray braced himself and pushed them open. Far away, a woman’s stern voice was speaking. They crept inside a vast hall with burning torches in iron brackets around the walls. Massive stone columns propped up its high ceiling. Dougray shut the doors behind them and lowered the timber arm lock in place. Time was short. They had to rescue Robbie before Morgranus found a way across that pool.

  Robbie looked up at the queen as she sat on her sumptuous velvet throne. Caiwen began to sob in a loud voice, but her mother’s face remained stoic as she stared at her daughter. She didn’t even blink. Two bodyguards stood behind the queen, their faces covered by silver masks. Something huge covered with a sheet on her left caught Robbie’s eye.

  ‘Look what Elimas is doing, Mother!’ screamed Caiwen. ‘Order her to untie me! I am your daughter! Mother!’

  The queen’s brow furrowed, as if she recalled some measure of their former relationship. Shaking hands gripped the throne’s armrests as she rose on unsteady legs and walked towards the princess. Her eyes searched her daughter’s face as she halted in front of her. Her hand reached out and she stroked Caiwen’s cheek with the back of her fingers. Then she stopped and her face twisted in agony.

  ‘Help me—’ Her words trailed off and her eyes darted left and right, as if searching for a way out of her dark prison. Caiwen stared at her in horror. With swift steps, Elimas came alongside the queen, looking annoyed. She grasped her arm.

  ‘My lady, you must rest. Too much excitement is not good for your disposition.’

  The queen’s face smoothed at the mystic’s words. Her hand dropped. ‘Yes...yes, you are right, E
limas.’

  Caiwen stepped forward. ‘No, she is not right! Mother, do something! Stop this charade now!’

  Elimas hissed and a bodyguard pushed the princess back. For a moment, the queen stared at her before Elimas assisted her back to her throne, once more under her spell. She sat down and her hands gripped the armrests. Her eyes grew dark, her mouth tightened in a thin line.

  ‘Mother, please do something!’ yelled Caiwen.

  Elimas’s dark glare fastened on her. ‘Sorry, Princess. Truth cannot be experienced from the quiet corner of your bedroom chamber, but from living it. The truth is you have no kingdom. Your mother does not recognise you anymore. For all she knows, you are a washerwoman sent up from the laundry.’

  Caiwen’s face reddened. ‘You snake! Crawl into the hole where you belong!’

  With swift strides of her long legs, Elimas hastened over and struck her hard across the mouth. The princess fell back onto the tiles. Her bottom lip was split and bleeding. Shock and fear glimmered in her tear-filled eyes as she stared at Elimas.

  The mystic waved her arm. ‘Take her to the washrooms where she belongs.’

  As one of the bodyguards hastened forward and hauled her to her feet, the queen began to laugh.

  Chapter 35

  The Vagabond King Returns

  A loud roar came from Rory. ‘Leave her be, Witch! You have caused enough harm!’

  Dougray growled under his breath as Elimas swung around, shock and confusion mirrored in her widening eyes as the Resistance Leader strode forward, carrying Melenor in his arms. Dougray was a step behind him, grasping Dragon Slayer. The bodyguard hesitated and glanced at the mystic. Astonished, the white-haired girl gaped at Rory and the company with him. The lull didn’t last long. Elimas’s eyes blazed with fury and hate as she faced Rory.