PathFinder

by Angie Sage

  PART XI

  PATHFINDING

  As Lucy walked through arch XI, she remembered how a ribbon had led Tod and Oskar to Ferdie. She let go of Ferdie’s hand for a moment, pulled a ribbon from her sleeve and dropped it at the entrance to the Way so that Simon would see where she had gone.

  “Okay?” Tod called from the front.

  “Yes. Sorry!” said Lucy. She took hold of Ferdie’s hand and once more they set off into the tunnel.

  Tod went forward, feeling the pull of everyone behind her. She had never had so many people depending on her before—but it felt right. Tod, who hated the cramped earthen burrows beneath her village, realized that these beautiful tunnels with their flashes of blue and gold veined through the stone were somewhere she felt at home. Confidently, she held the PathFinder out before her and walked slowly toward the Vanishing Point. When she reached the swirling, eerie white mist Tod halted and looked back at the chain of people—and one horse—behind her. “Okay?” she asked.

  There were nervous murmurs of assent and the Royal Horse gave a snort.

  “Let’s go.” Tod took a deep breath and stepped into the mist. With a suddenness that made her jump, a stream of light poured from the PathFinder. It enveloped her in a silver bubble and as each person walked through the Vanishing Point, the bubble expanded to encase them, too. Another step . . . another . . . Tod went ever deeper into the mist, which swirled outside the silvery skin of light that surrounded her. She wondered how she would know when everyone was through the Vanishing Point, but she dared not look around—her eyes were fixed on the PathFinder, which sat steadily on its sphere of lapis, pointing forward. But there was no mistaking the moment when at last the bubble of light closed over the tip of the Royal Horse’s tail and they were all encased within. Suddenly a sensation of traveling at breakneck speed kicked in. Tod was still walking slowly and steadily, but she felt as though the world were rushing past. This was very different from the quick trips through Way VII with Marcia—it made her head spin. Concentrating hard on the PathFinder, Tod watched the lapis dome shimmer in the light and the silver pointer move sedately on its gimbal: up and down, a little to the left, a little to the right—as the Way took them.

  Before long Tod realized she could see the dark shape of an archway ahead. A moment later she was walking out of the Vanishing Point, leaving the silver bubble behind. When the Royal Horse’s tail cleared the last of the mist, the bubble disappeared with a tiny pop and they were plunged into darkness.

  “Argh!” A loud squeal came from Lucy.

  Tod knew she must stay calm. “Oskie,” she said, “have you got a light stick?”

  “Yes. Can I let go of your hand?” Oskar whispered.

  “Yeah, we’re out now.”

  Oskar broke open his last light stick. The glow illuminated the archway before them and they walked out of the Way into a Hub full of dim greenness.

  “Oh no!” cried Lucy. “This isn’t what it’s supposed to look like!” Lucy felt like a coiled spring; she could take no more setbacks. She rounded on Tod. “You’ve taken us to the wrong Hub! Oh, what are we going to doooo?”

  Lucy’s certainty that she had taken them through the wrong Way threw Tod. Once again, Driffa came to her rescue.

  “Lucy Heap, stop fussing,” Driffa said severely. “To reach the Heart of the Ways we must pass through many different Hubs. You must trust the PathFinder.”

  Lucy said no more; she stared around at the Hub, an expression of dismay set firmly in her face—the more Hubs they had to go through, the longer it would take to reach William.

  The Hub was the same size as the one they had just left, but it was utterly derelict. Where Marcia’s scrubbed white stairs would have been was a pile of rubble. Rivulets of water ran across the earthen floor, which was scattered with small animal skeletons, probably rats. The roof was falling in, held together only by thick strands of a dark green creeper that had covered most of the stone inside. The place smelled dank and dead. It felt, Lucy thought, like a tomb.

  The PathFinder swung around and pointed to a creeper-covered arch. While everyone pulled the vines away from the entrance to reveal the number II, Oskar checked the number of the arch they had just come out of—it was VII—and began a memory map. He wanted to be sure of getting home again, with or without the PathFinder.

  As they walked into the next Way, Lucy pulled another ribbon from her sleeve and dropped it at the entrance. At the Vanishing Point, the silver light enclosed them and they set off once more in their bubble of speed.

  The next Hub was very different. They were greeted by a blast of heat, and as they walked along the tunnel to the oddly small but brilliantly bright archway, sand crunched under their feet. As they reached the arch they saw why it looked so small—it was half blocked with drifting sand.

  Ullr leaped lightly up onto the gap at the top of the sand and mewed encouragingly, but it took them a long half hour to dig their way out—although it would have been much less had it not been for having to get the Royal Horse out. When they eventually emerged—hot, sticky and all, bar Driffa, annoyed with the horse—the heat hit them like a hammer. They stumbled into the open and were greeted by the scorching sun high in a brilliant blue sky. The bleached white stone of the Hub intensified the light and heat so it was almost unbearable. They waded through the drifts of sand, following the PathFinder to the next Way. Oskar looked at the arch they had come out of and added XI to his mind map, then he helped to dig their way into the welcome cool of the next Way and its tunnel beyond.

  As they traversed the Ancient Ways, a feeling of awe descended upon Tod. She began to understand that she was leading Oskar, Ferdie, Lucy and Driffa—not to mention Ullr and Nona—on a long and complex journey. She was a true PathFinder. The sense of speed within the PathFinder’s silver bubble was exhilarating, and each time Tod walked into another Hub, the world had changed.

  Tod led them through a Hub full of small, writhing green snakes, through a Hub deep in a cave, through one covered in snow and ice, through one used as an aviary for exotic birds and one that was, to their shock, a busy market. Each was different. As were the smells: spicy, rank, fragrant, earthy. And the background sounds: sibilant whispering, distant shouts, raucous screams of birds and once, the clash of a battle not so very far away. The temperature ran from unbearably hot and humid to piercingly dry cold. Some were light, some dark, but each Hub gave Tod the thrilling sensation that she had taken another giant stride across the world. Strangely, except for the market, all were empty of humans bar the last one, where a lone old woman sat knitting and followed the sound of hooves with wide, sightless eyes. As they went past they bade the woman hello and followed the PathFinder as it led them to yet another Way. Some minutes later, Tod and a small orange cat stepped into the Heart of the Ways.

  THE HEART OF THE WAYS

  A sudden blaze of torches bursting into flame greeted Tod and Ullr as they walked into their destination. Both human and cat stopped and gazed in wonder.

  The Heart of the Ways was magnificent.

  Although it was recognizably a Hub—the typical circular chamber with the twelve Ways—it was huge. About, Tod reckoned, twelve times bigger than a normal Hub. Every detail outshone all Hubs they had seen before. The entire space was carved from deep-blue lapis stone with brilliant streaks of gold. The arches that led to the Ways were built from great blocks of pale blue lapis edged with silver. The numbers incised in their keystones were inlaid with gold, and in between each Way was a burning torch set into a silver holder. These were Magykally primed to light whenever a PathFinder was brought into the Heart of the Ways.

  As Tod carefully placed the PathFinder back into its lapis box and murmured her thanks to it for guiding them safely, she heard the oohs, aahs and wows of those emerging behind her. A clip-clop of hooves told Tod that the Royal Horse was out. She turned to Driffa and gave back her ring. “Thank you,” Tod said, her voice echoing eerily in the chamber.

  Lucy was gazing a
round edgily. “So how do we get out?” she whispered.

  Driffa sighed. “Lucy Heap, you fuss too much.”

  Lucy turned on Driffa angrily. “My William has . . .” She looked at her timepiece. “Three more hours left of his life. That is why I fuss.”

  Driffa colored. “Forgive me, Lucy Heap.”

  Lucy nodded curtly, biting back the tears.

  “The prisoners are working their way down to the Chamber of the Great Orm,” Driffa said. “Far above here.” She pointed upward to the roof, which was made from thick spirals of lapis curled up like a snake coiled asleep, and gasped in shock. “Oh! This must be the palimpsest of the Great Orm,” Driffa whispered. “I never dreamed that one day I would see this.”

  “Yes, very nice,” Lucy said impatiently. “Can we get going now?”

  Driffa led her horse across the chamber toward a perfectly circular hole in the lapis wall between Way I and Way XII. Oskar ran and caught up with her. “What,” he asked, “is a palimpsest?”

  Excited to be home, Driffa was happy to talk. “It is the imprint of the Orm—like a fossil. The Great Orm made the Heart of the Ways and then it came up to our SnowPlain. It rested awhile, then ate its way back down through the rock, transforming it to lapis lazuli as it went, leaving us our Enchanted Blue Pinnacle. It hollowed out a great chamber and then burrowed down once more to make the Orm Tube. At the bottom of the Orm Tube the Great Orm laid its egg, then curled up beneath it and died. The lapis inside it became the roof of the Heart of the Ways.”

  Now Oskar understood. There were worms like that in the sand at home. “Worm poo,” he said.

  “Oskar, don’t be rude,” Ferdie chided, but to her surprise, Driffa agreed.

  “Yes. It is the last cast of the Orm. It is very precious.”

  “Where are its bones?” Oskar wanted to know.

  “An Orm has no bones,” said Driffa. “An Orm is no more than a fragile tube of gold, eating its way through rock. The little flecks of gold in the blue are all that is left of it.”

  As they hurried across the chamber Lucy, too, was gazing up at the coils of the Orm. But only Ferdie understood what she was thinking. “They are so close now,” she whispered.

  “But so far away,” Lucy said.

  As they reached the center a long, low rumble shook the walls. A sudden crack snaked along the spirals of the Orm cast and a fall of blue dust drifted down.

  “Run!” Driffa cried. Tod snatched up Ullr and as they ran for cover, two dead, golden eyes looked down from the head of the Orm.

  They reached the pile of blue rubble and raced past it into to the passageway down which Driffa had fled the day before. As they gathered together, Driffa whispered, “This is how the Great Orm left the Heart of the Ways; it is a beautiful, curving tunnel—” She stopped. A flash of fear came into her eyes. “There’s someone coming,” she whispered.

  Everyone fell silent—apart from the Royal Horse, which suddenly became spooked. It skittered its hooves and jerked its head up against the reins. Driffa turned very, very pale. “It is him. It is Oraton-Marr. I know his pinky-ponky steps.”

  “Pinky-ponky?” whispered Tod.

  “Yes,” hissed Driffa. “The sound of the spring blades on the bottom of his stupid shoes. We have to get out of here. Move, you silly horse.” Driffa gave Nona a shove, but the animal would not budge.

  “My William’s up there,” Lucy said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Neither are we,” said Ferdie.

  The strange metallic sound was getting ever nearer: pink-ponk, pink-ponk.

  With a loud neigh, Driffa’s horse kicked out and cantered into the Hub.

  “Nona!” Driffa yelled. “Come back!”

  But the Royal Horse was off, galloping across the lapis floor. Driffa wheeled around to give chase, and suddenly there was a loud clang and a metal grid came crashing down like a portcullis in front of her, nearly crushing her toes. She leaped back with a scream.

  Their way back to the Hub was barred. There was no escape now.

  Pink-ponk, pink-ponk.

  “Okay,” whispered Lucy. “We run at him and knock him off his feet. I mean his spring things.”

  “He won’t be alone,” muttered Driffa.

  “So?” hissed Lucy. “Do you have any better ideas?”

  Pink-ponk, pink-ponk.

  “Let’s do it,” whispered Tod. “We’ll all go together. One . . . two . . . three!”

  They ran up the gently curving incline of the Great Orm’s exit. They had traveled the first full spiral when they cannoned into another metal grid. They were trapped like rats in a cage.

  Pink-ponk, pink-ponk.

  ERMINTRUDE

  A bright light lit up the lapis tube and suddenly, there was Oraton-Marr walking toward them. He stopped just out of arm’s reach of the grille and, leaning on two long black staves, regarded his catch with satisfaction. Oraton-Marr was a slight man—physically no taller than Tod—but he towered over his captives, the reason being the pair of long spring blades he wore fixed to the soles of his pointed, purple shoes. He was resplendent in silk, and his shimmering blue cloak lined with white fur swept down to the ground, hiding the blades on his purple, pointy shoes. His steel-gray hair was cut short and his green eyes were amused as he surveyed his captives.

  Behind the sorcerer stood his sword carrier, a thin bald man in black, with a servant’s white ruff around his neck that gave him the look of a vulture. His job was to carry Oraton-Marr’s sword and laugh at his jokes.

  “Well, well. We have netted ourselves some fish,” Oraton-Marr said in a high, oddly accented voice. “If I am not mistaken by the sheen on their hair, the small ones will be worth throwing in. Ha-ha.”

  The sword carrier laughed. “Little fish to catch the worm,” he said. And then he closed his mouth in panic. He had been too clever.

  Oraton-Marr’s eyes narrowed. Very deliberately he said, “Give . . . me . . . my . . . sword . . . Drone.” Trembling, his servant unsheathed the sword and, with a small bow, presented the hilt to his master. Oraton-Marr let go of his staves—leaving them floating unsupported in the air—and grasped the sword. Drone stood at attention and closed his eyes. He knew that whatever was going to happen next was going to be bad.

  “Stop!” Driffa’s voice came, strong and authoritative.

  Oraton-Marr shifted his grip. “Stop what?” he inquired.

  “Terrorizing your servant,” said Driffa.

  The sorcerer smiled as though amused by a child. “Is that not what servants are for?”

  Drone, amazed to be still in one piece, dared to open an eye. He saw his master’s attention was now on the stunningly white-haired captive who had spoken out. Drone allowed himself to breathe again.

  “I know you,” Oraton-Marr was saying. “You are the Snow Princess with the horse. The one who came to surrender. Well, well. I accept.”

  Driffa looked indignant. “I did not come to surrender.”

  “Why else would you have come? You’ve gotten cold feet, but what else does one expect from a Snow Princess? Ha-ha!”

  “Oh, ha-ha! Oh, ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha, ha-ha-ha!” Drone laughed, desperately trying to make up for his previous error.

  “Shut up, Drone,” snapped Oraton-Marr, his eyes still focused on Driffa. “I am so looking forward to moving into your lovely Snow Palace and to walking the fabled lantern walkways of ice. Such a wise decision of yours. A surrender does save so much bloodstaining of the snow, do you not think?”

  Driffa stared at the sorcerer in dismay.

  With a sudden squeak from his blades, Oraton-Marr spun around and threw his sword to Drone. The servant caught it awkwardly and cut his hand. He smothered a cry, clenched his fist to stop the blood and slid the sword back into the scabbard, praying that not a speck of blood had stained the blade.

  Oraton-Marr grabbed hold of his sticks. “Open the gate, Drone,” he ordered.

  Drone undid the lock and a small door in the grille swung open.

/>   “Princess Driffa,” said Oraton-Marr. “We have the terms of your surrender to discuss. Perhaps you would care to accompany me. No? Well, maybe I can tempt you with a little show that I have arranged. All is turning out very well indeed; the roof to your Orm Chamber has just collapsed.”

  “No!” cried Driffa.

  The Sorcerer gave a wolfish smile. “Yes. We gave it some encouragement, of course, but it has been most obliging. The serfs are clearing the rubble and soon the entertainment will begin. Come.” Oraton-Marr offered his hand to Driffa, but she spat on the ground.

  Oraton-Marr’s expression of amused tolerance changed into something nastier. “You will come now. You may bring your serving woman.”

  Driffa looked puzzled but Lucy understood. She was desperate to get out of the cage and have a chance of finding William, and if she had to go out as a serving woman, then so be it. She curtsied to Driffa, who stared at her in amazement.

  “Ma’am, I would be honored to accompany you, Your . . . er . . . Bountifulness,” Lucy murmured.

  “What?” said Driffa.

  “Please forgive me for saying, ma’am, for I am but a mere serving woman, but we have no choice. We must go,” Lucy said, hoping that Driffa would understand.

  Suddenly, Driffa got it. “Oh! Very well . . . er . . . Ermintrude,” she said.

  Lucy opened her mouth to exclaim, Ermintrude! Are you trying to be funny? But Tod nudged her hard.

  “What?” Lucy said crossly.

  Tod put her finger to her lips. She knew that Driffa was protecting Lucy, because to give a Darke sorcerer a person’s real name was to give him tremendous power over her.

  “Come, Ermintrude,” said Driffa.