by Jenny Nimmo
Timoken and Zobayda heard the thunder of the advancing army. They ran up to the palace roof and saw the fires and the dark forms rushing towards them from every side.
The massive palace doors were closed and barred. Soon, a roaring crowd surrounded the building. Inside all was silent. The king was pondering. For the first time in his life he did not know what to do. But there was only one way out of this dire situation. He would have to offer his palace and his kingdom to the invaders. In return, they must allow his people to live in peace or leave the kingdom in safety.
The children watched their noble father ride out to talk to Lord Degal. The king wore a white robe and carried a banner of peace. Degal, in deepest green, looked like the king’s shadow. A large green emerald glittered in Degal’s turban, and his green sash lifted in the breeze as the two horses met.
A streak of light flashed in the air above the king’s head. A second later he had toppled from his horse, his head severed by Degal’s shining sabre.
A deep wail from below told the children what their eyes could not believe. Their father was dead. They ran, screaming, to their mother.
When the people saw their fallen king they rushed at the enemy, waving their spears. But they were hunters, not soldiers; they were no match for Degal’s brutal army.
One of the king’s guards found the golden crown, lying in the dust. As he picked it up, a soldier ran at him, waving a sabre. But before he was cut down, the guard threw the crown to a friend. A soldier leapt on the man, only to see the crown, once again, tossed through the air. And so it continued, the circle of gold flying above the roaring mass of bodies, caught and passed on, until it reached one of the queen’s attendants, who took it to the queen.
Her eyes clouding with tears, the queen wiped the blood and the dust from the crown and put it on her son’s black curls. But the king’s head had been wide and splendid, and the crown was too big for Timoken. It began to slip down over his face. Seeing the problem, Zobayda stepped forward and lifted the crown above Timoken’s ears. Then she closed her eyes and uttered mysterious words in her light, breathy voice. It was almost as if she were asking a question, unsure of herself and what to expect. Under her slim fingers, the crown began to fit itself to Timoken’s head, and gradually he felt himself almost to be a king. Looking at his sister’s closed eyes he whispered, ‘You are a faerie.’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘I believe I am.’
The queen quickly gathered together a few of her children’s clothes. She put them in a large goatskin bag, and then she took the moon spider’s web and the Alixir from the chest and handed them to her son.
‘Take great care of these,’ said the queen. ‘The bottle contains Alixir. You must both take one drop every new moon, and you will stay as you are.’
Did this mean that he would not grow? Timoken was reluctant to remain a child. He wanted to be a man as soon as he could. ‘I don’t need the Alixir,’ he said, frowning at the bird-shaped bottle. ‘I wish to grow older.’
‘Not yet,’ advised his mother. ‘You might be an old man before you find your new kingdom.’
‘Will I find a new kingdom?’ asked Timoken.
‘I am certain that one day you will find a home,’ said the queen.
‘And what is this?’ asked Zobayda, touching the web. ‘It looks like a cobweb, but it’s so beautiful. Is it magic?’
‘Yes,’ said the queen. ‘There’s so little time to explain, my children, but it was made by the last moon spider. Keep it with you, always.’ She thrust it into the bag with the Alixir. ‘Now hurry, hurry!’
Timoken slung the bag over his shoulder. He looked bewildered. ‘What now?’ he asked.
‘Now?’ said the queen. ‘Now you must go.’ She hugged her children, kissed them goodbye and told them to leave the palace. The warlord and his soldiers were already storming through the building.
‘How can we escape?’ cried Zobayda. ‘We are surrounded.’
‘Come with me.’ The queen led her children back up to the roof. The sun blazed above their heads. Below them the warlord’s army stood in its own shadow.
‘What now?’ said Zobayda. ‘If we jump, we shall die.’
‘You will die if you stay, so you must fly.’ The queen’s voice sounded almost triumphant.
Timoken sensed that his mother had been waiting a long time for this moment. ‘We can’t fly,’ he said, bemused and afraid.
‘I believe that you can,’ the queen told him, smiling. ‘Zobayda, put your arms around your brother and hold tight. Do not let go until you are safe.’
‘When shall we be safe?’ begged Timoken. ‘Mother, what are you saying?’
‘Do as I tell you,’ his mother commanded. ‘Look at the sun. Fly to it.’
‘I cannot,’ argued Timoken. ‘It hurts my eyes.’
‘Close them. Fly upwards. Feel your way through the sky. You can do it, Timoken. Now!’ The queen’s voice began to crack with fear.
Timoken could hear soldiers running up the steps to the roof. Their weapons scraped against the walls and their rough voices echoed up the narrow stairwell. Timoken’s heartbeat quickened. He could hardly breathe. Zobayda put her arms around his waist and held him tight.
‘Now!’ screamed the queen.
Timoken closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sun. Bending his knees a little, he took a leap, just like he did when he was jumping from one of the fallen trees in the forest. Only this time he made himself believe that his feet would not touch the ground for a while. He found himself lifting into the air. The sun burned his face and he clung to his sister. They rose higher and higher.
‘Timoken.’ He heard his mother’s voice following him. ‘Timoken, keep your secret. Never tell … never let anyone know what you can do.’
Timoken opened his eyes and looked down at the palace. His mother had disappeared in a sea of black. Soldiers covered the roof of the palace, their weapons glinting in the fierce sunlight.
‘Zobayda, I can’t see our mother!’ cried Timoken.
Zobayda wouldn’t look back. Tears streamed from her eyes and she buried her face in her brother’s shoulder. ‘Mother,’ she murmured.
Timoken understood that they were now alone. Their lives had changed forever. But he could fly, and his sister had magic in her fingers. They would survive. He found that he could move through the air with no more than a thought in his head – a wishing.
Chapter Two
The Moon Spider’s Web
The forest-jinni had not told the queen the whole truth. He was afraid that she would return the moon spider’s web if she knew what might happen. He did not warn her that when a newborn baby was wrapped in the web it would always have one foot in the world of men and the other in a realm of enchantments – a realm of good spirits and others that were not so kind. Worst of all were the viridees.
As soon as Timoken left the kingdom the viridees sensed that the web had left with him. They could smell it.
Unaware of the viridees and their malicious intent, Timoken and his sister floated through the vast sky, astonished to be so high above the earth, though their minds were clouded with the memory of their lost parents. Brother and sister could not bring themselves to speak. They drifted in silence, hour after hour, with no thought as to where they should go, or when they should touch the earth again. Their father had told them that every day the sun moved through the sky in an arc, from east to west. Beyond the African forest – north, east and west – there was a vast desert where nothing could live. And in the south, where the sun reached its zenith, there was a world of water. Here things could live: birds, fish and strange creatures as large as a palace.
Timoken saw that the sun was now low in the west, and so he wished himself south where, already, the night clouds were rolling in. Zobayda was so weary her arms were beginning to loosen around Timoken’s waist. He had to clutch her tight, but his eyelids were drooping and he longed to close them.
Down, Timoken thought. I must go down
. Immediately he found himself falling through the air. He could hear waves breaking below him; he could sense the swirl of a great body of water and feel something utterly unfamiliar: a cold dampness rising up to claim him. Zobayda’s feet touched the water first, and she woke up.
‘Timoken!’ Zobayda screamed. ‘Leave here! Whatever lies below will kill us.’ She could feel icy claws clutching at her heels.
Timoken wished himself away from the fearful world of water. He felt his feet skimming the surface of the sea, but he could not rise above it. The claws were now clinging hungrily to his feet. The cold made his head spin and he could not fly any more.
‘I cannot fly!’ Timoken moaned.
‘You must,’ cried his sister. ‘Timoken, you must fly!’
Zobayda’s desperate voice roused Timoken. He knew he must make an extra effort. With all the strength left in his weary head, he willed himself away from the water. There was a deep gurgle, a furious groan and the icy claws slowly released their grip. Below the surface of the water, two giant crabs sank to the bottom of the sea.
Timoken and his sister floated across the waves until their feet touched a bank of sand. Timoken gave a happy sigh and let himself fall on to dry land. Zobayda rolled beside him and, holding hands, they fell fast asleep.
The children had fallen on to sand that was still warm from the sun. But, as midnight approached, the air began to freeze and the earth became colder and colder. The children woke up, shivering. They had left the secret kingdom in thin clothing and had brought very little with them.
Timoken frantically pulled clothes from the goatskin bag. Every garment was made of fibre spun to a fine silk. When the queen packed the bag she had been too distressed to think of chilly nights. At last, Timoken came to the moon spider’s web. To his cold hand the web felt warm and comforting. He shook it out. A huge net of sparkling strands unfurled in the air. It fell softly over the children and covered them like a blanket.
‘Our mother said it was magic,’ said Zobayda.
Timoken regarded the gleaming folds of the web. In the very centre, where the threads formed a tight net, he glimpsed an extraordinary face. It had huge saffron-coloured eyes, a long nose and a thin mouth that seemed to be smiling.
‘What are you?’ asked Timoken in a whisper.
‘I am the last forest-jinni,’ said a voice with a musical echo. ‘And you are my creation. Believe in yourself, Timoken. Your road is long and perilous, but keep me safe and you will survive. My gifts are many.’
‘What are you staring at?’ asked Zobayda sleepily. She moved her legs beneath the web and the yellow eyes wavered, then the small face vanished.
Before Timoken could explain what he had seen, he became aware that they were being watched. The sand behind them slithered and crunched and, all at once, the children were surrounded. A group of warriors stood staring down at the children. Their painted spears glistened in the moonlight, but their faces were shadowed by tall feathered hats. Timoken could see their eyes, eyes that were fearful and amazed.
The men began to murmur to one another. At first, Timoken could not understand them, and then he began to make sense of their strange, mumbled language.
‘It hurts my eyes,’ said one.
‘It burns my face,’ said another.
‘I cannot breathe,’ gasped a third.
The men began to back away, but one pointed his spear towards the children. They screamed and, instinctively, pulled the web up to their chins. The man gave a savage snort and brought his spear closer to their faces. Timoken’s heart hammered in his chest; he waited for the weapon to slice through his neck. But as soon as the spear touched the web, there was a bright flash. The warrior screamed in pain and leapt away, dropping his spear. ‘Devil children,’ he hissed.
At this, the group let out a wail of terror and fled. The children could hear their feet stumbling over the deep sand until the warriors were swallowed by the great silence of the desert night.
‘The web saved our lives,’ said Zobayda, gazing at the shining coverlet of spider silk.
‘We will always be safe,’ said Timoken, laying his head on the sand.
This time the children slept long and deeply. They awoke to find themselves in a strange landscape of huge, rolling sand dunes. Timoken ran to the top of a dune and looked out. On every side, the desert stretched in golden folds until it reached the horizon. Nothing moved. There was not a blade of grass, not a tree and not even the hint of a stream. The warriors’ footprints had been blown away by the wind, so there was no way of knowing where they had gone. Timoken plunged down the sand dune, stumbling, falling and laughing as his feet sank into the deep sand.
Zobayda had found food in the goatskin bag: dried fruit and meat, beans and millet cakes. But there was nothing to drink.
‘Perhaps we’ll find a stream,’ said Timoken, ‘or perhaps it will rain.’ He chose to ignore what his father had told him – that nothing could live in the desert.
They were careful not to finish the food. It might have to last for many days. Zobayda wrapped what was left in the moon spider’s web; today the web felt cool, in spite of the burning heat.
They had no idea which way to go. Zobayda suggested they fly. From high above the earth they would have a better view, and would surely see a village or a stream, or even a forest.
Timoken slung the bag over his shoulder and Zobayda hugged his waist. Then Timoken bent his knees a little and leapt from the sand. Up and up and up. He flew north for a while, but when he looked down there was still nothing but desert far below him. He flew west and east, only to see the same barren landscape stretching on and on for miles. The heat in the upper air was making him dizzy. He could feel the skin on his face burning. Timoken let himself fall back to earth, but before his feet touched the ground, a great bird swooped out of the sky. Its huge talons sank into Timoken’s shoulders, and it began to shake him.
Timoken nearly fainted with the pain. He could hear his sister’s voice, screaming at him. ‘The web, Timoken. Use the web!’
He put his hand into the bag, but as his fingers found the web, a voice in his head told him, No, no, no. That’s what they want. The bird will steal it.
‘The web!’ Zobayda screamed again. ‘It will protect us!’ She slid her fingers around Timoken’s waist, reaching for the bag. But Timoken slapped her hand away, crying, ‘No, Zobayda. Not this time. The bird will steal it.’
‘The bird will kill us,’ yelled Zobayda. ‘What else can we do?’
‘Use your fingers,’ Timoken croaked, weak with pain. He knew he would soon lose consciousness.
‘My fingers,’ Zobayda murmured. Clinging to her brother with one arm, she stuck her ringed finger into the bird’s feathered underside. As she did this, she chanted:
‘Shrivel wing, Flap and spin, Wither beak, Shrink and squeak.’
With a deafening screech, the bird let go of Timoken’s shoulders. He opened his eyes just wide enough to see a small feathered thing, no bigger than a mouse, spinning towards the earth.
‘It worked,’ cried Zobayda, amazed by the success of her ringed finger.
‘Just in time,’ her brother grunted as they plummeted to earth. Distracted by the pain in his shoulders, he lost control of his flying and they landed on the sand with an uncomfortable bump.
Zobayda sat up and held out her fingers. A tiny yellow eye, set into the silver ring, blinked at her.
‘Oh!’ Zobayda jumped. ‘The creature on my ring – it blinked.’
Timoken peered at the silver wing wrapped around his sister’s finger, and at the tiny head peeping above it. ‘Did our mother tell you about the ring?’ he asked.
‘She said it would keep me safe,’ said Zobayda.
‘It is an image of the last forest-jinni,’ Timoken told her. ‘I saw him in the web.’
Before they could even think of moving again they ate some dried fruit, hoping to soothe their aching throats. After their snack they took a pair of thin tunics from the goatskin
bag and wrapped them around their heads. With their heads covered, Timoken and Zobayda struck north, away from the pitiless sun. They knew, now, that they were surrounded by thousands of miles of dead earth. And yet the warriors had come from somewhere. Perhaps they lived in caves beneath the sand? Perhaps, somewhere, there were other caves, uninhabited, where fresh water dripped from the rocks, and where they could find shelter from the withering heat.
It was not long before Zobayda sank to her knees, crying, ‘I am dying of thirst, Timoken. What can we do?’
Timoken’s throat was so parched, he could barely reply. Did it never rain here? Did the white clouds passing high above them never consider travellers in the desert, never allow a few of their millions of droplets to fall? We shall die, thought Timoken, if something does not happen.
Perhaps it was this moment that set the course of Timoken’s life. He found that he could not give in. It would have been easy to lie down on the sand and never wake up. But the forest-jinni had told him to believe in himself. And so he would. Human beings did not fly, but he did. What else might he be capable of? He took the moon spider’s web from the goatskin bag and spread it on the ground.
‘What are you doing?’ croaked Zobayda. ‘Save your strength.’
Timoken picked up a corner of the web and turned on his heel. Around and around he spun, faster and faster. The web flew out in the torrid air and a tiny breeze fanned Zobayda’s cheeks. She sat up and watched her brother. How could he whirl so fast in this heat? Timoken had become a spinning pillar, the web a circling wheel of silver.
Second by second the air became fresher. Zobayda stood and held out her hands. She could feel the breeze sweeping over her hot fingers and she closed her eyes, savouring its coolness. The air was filled with a soft humming. Was it the web stirring the air or her brother’s voice?