Chronicles of the Red King #3: Leopards' Gold

by Jenny Nimmo

  A desperate sob tore out of Tolly as the Damzel reeled him in, her fingers tugging him closer and closer.

  There was a sudden rumble of thunder from below. The Damzel turned her head. As she peered down at the cloud, a bolt of lightning shot out of it, scorching the Damzel’s sleeve. With a screech of astonishment, she let go of Tolly’s wing. Seizing his chance, Tolly flew to the dragon’s side.

  “No, you don’t!” shrieked the Damzel.

  But before she could pursue him, a figure burst out of the cloud and came flying up at her.

  “Timoken!” she screamed.

  When the king reached her, she locked her long white fingers around his neck. The king twisted his head, but the black-tipped fingers closed tighter and tighter. The king clasped the Damzel’s hands; he pulled and tore at them. Gradually, he forced her hands away until he was free. But only for a second, for now slithering behind the king, the Damzel coiled one arm about his head, and with the other she began to tug at the neck of his cloak.

  “Father!” cried Petrello. He tried to urge the dragon closer to the fight. “Enid, save the king!” he shouted into her ear.

  The dragon gave a start of surprise and a shower of sparks flew out of her snout. A breeze that came from nowhere blew the sparks toward the Damzel, settling on her head, her shoulders, and her back. Fire took hold of her black robes, and she began to scream.

  Flames leaped along the Damzel’s sleeves, and finally she lifted a hand to beat them away.

  The king broke free at last and flew a little distance from the burning Damzel. When she came at him again, with a chilling cry, he drew his sword and struck.

  The sight of the ghastly head, swathed in its long white hair, would invade Petrello’s sleep forever. When it dropped into the lake below, spray hissed and steamed in ever-widening circles all around it, like a boiling pot.

  The black bundle of the Damzel’s body was carried on the wind for a moment before it fell, with a distant splash, into the churning water. The Damzel was gone, and yet Petrello could only think how close he had come to a life more terrible than he could imagine, and he began to shake.

  “To earth!” King Timoken called to his sons.

  His father’s voice cut through Petrello’s terror and he found that he could smile.

  The king took off his cape and swung it through the air, calling out in the language of his secret kingdom, and when the boys looked down, they saw that the lake water was receding, the cloud was a mere ribbon of mist, and on the island lay twenty mail-clad knights. Their bonds had withered and fallen away, and some of them were beginning to sit up, shaking the last of the Damzel’s spell out of their heads. Two figures, in shiny sealskin, could be seen bending over the dazed knights, clasping their shoulders and patting their hands.

  The king, his sons, and the dragon landed on the bank beside the house on stilts. As soon as they touched the ground, two women and a crowd of children ran out of the trees to greet them.

  After much excited hugging and chattering, Sila called, “The boats, children! We have the knights to rescue, and I’m sure your fathers could do with some help after their long swim.”

  Five brightly painted boats were carried out from a cave hidden in the undergrowth, and five of the older children each took a boat and began to row out to the island.

  “You’re always welcome in our home, Timoken,” said Sila. “Though I can’t promise it will be very pleasant after all that lake water has passed through it.”

  “You might be surprised,” said the king. “The Damzel is dead, her power broken. All things should be as they were.”

  “You are a very great magician,” Adela said shyly.

  The king laughed and put his arms around his sons. “But what would I be without loyal friends and brave sons?”

  “Still a king,” Adela said firmly.

  The two women and five remaining children climbed back into the house on stilts, and almost immediately Sila called out that, indeed, the house was just as it had been before the lake rose, apart from a few damp cushions. She invited the king and his sons inside. She had plenty of dried fish, she said, and knew what the king could do with just one apple. But he told her politely that he would wait until all his knights were safely ashore.

  “And we’ll wait with you,” said Petrello.

  The sky was now a cloudless blue; the sun was so fierce they had to retreat into the shade beneath the trees. Enid was already there, fast asleep.

  Behind the king’s broad back, Tolly whispered, “We have to tell him.”

  Petrello nodded. He didn’t know how he was going to tell his father about the queen. He couldn’t bear to shatter the happiness the three of them had shared since the king’s release. But Petrello knew that he couldn’t keep the truth from his father any longer.

  They had made themselves comfortable on the broad roots of an oak when Petrello said, “Father, I have something to tell you.”

  The king was watching the boats bringing his knights across the water, and Petrello wasn’t sure that he had heard. He raised his voice a little. “It’s about Mother.”

  “Don’t worry,” said the king. “The leopards will protect her, and the wizards have plenty of unused magic. Eri may be old, but —”

  “She’s not there!” Tolly broke in, unable to stop himself.

  The king frowned at him. “Not there? Not in the castle?”

  “I’m sorry, Father,” Petrello said awkwardly. “I couldn’t tell you sooner, because …”

  “Tell me now!” the king demanded.

  Hesitantly, Petrello began his account with the arrival of Rigg and Peredur, and then the riderless Isgofan.

  “When Mother heard that the chancellor’s men wouldn’t search for Amadis, she went herself,” Petrello said unhappily. “They even tried to stop her, but she fought her way past them.”

  “She would,” said the king. He got up and began to pace to and fro before them. “And did Rigg recover? Did he say who took the crystal and let those ruffians into the castle?”

  This was the worst part of all for Petrello. He found he couldn’t reply.

  “Answer me, Petrello. If you know, you must tell me.”

  Reluctantly, Petrello mumbled, “Borlath. He was in league with Osbern D’Ark.”

  The king stopped pacing. He raised his hands to his head and gave a dreadful howl. “I wondered where Borlath had gone. I was afraid he was lost in the forest, but all the time he knew the Damzel lay in wait for us, and saved his own skin.”

  “I’m sorry,” Petrello murmured. He would have done anything to wipe away his father’s desolate expression.

  “Tell me everything,” the king said bitterly.

  And so Petrello haltingly delivered his account of treachery and corruption in the Red Castle. He finished with his journey through the air with Tolly, and their discovery of the house on stilts. And then it was Tolly’s turn to speak of his flight to the castle with the ruined cloak, and how the leopards had made it whole again with their spellbinding gold.

  “All was well there, Father,” said Tolly. “Aunt Zobayda and our sister were safe, Llyr had knives …”

  “Knives from bones,” the king said, smiling at last. “Llyr has a way with bones. You are a brave boy, Tolomeo. I’m proud of you.”

  I wish I had done more, thought Petrello.

  The boats were beginning to arrive, and by now, some of the knights had recovered enough to leap into the water. They helped Tumi and Karli draw the boats up onto the shore, and then came bounding toward the king. Edern was the first. He rushed up to his old friend with a joyful roar, hugging him so fiercely, the king had to laugh as he struggled for breath.

  Petrello and Tolly stepped back into the trees as the other knights came splashing through the water. The king embraced every one of them, and for a while the air rang with their cheerful shouts and raucous laughter. They were together again and the evil in the forest had been destroyed. Many of them hadn’t seen their old friends
Karli and Tumi for many years and were overjoyed to be reunited with them.

  The jovial mood couldn’t last. As soon as the king began to tell the knights what his sons had described to him, their faces fell. Some muttered oaths and shook their fists; others fingered their sword hilts and their bags of arrows. In a few moments, the crowd of happy men had become a troop of angry soldiers, swearing vengeance.

  The king’s voice rose above the clamor of his knights. “We will reclaim our castle. Thorkil has shown his hand and will be removed. But without horses and my camel, we are many days from home. So tonight I shall fly to Melyntha; I’m sure Osbern’s stables are well stocked. As for Gabar, he has a charmed life and will return.”

  Tolly whispered, “Can he really persuade twenty horses to leave their stables?”

  “Believe it!” said Petrello.

  Mabon, the archer, suddenly spoke up. “What about the queen?”

  “I’ll find the queen,” the king said gravely. “If Osbern has taken her, he won’t survive our next meeting.” He noticed the boys were watching him from the trees. “Petrello, Tolomeo, bring us some food. That little house won’t hold twenty knights, some of them as heavy as horses.”

  The brothers followed Karli and Tumi into the house on stilts, where Sila handed them a basket of dried fish. She only had one apple, but handing it to Petrello, she said, “Your father will know what to do with this.”

  When the food had been delivered, the king sent the boys back to the house. He had much to discuss with his knights, and his sons must rest after their long battle with the Damzel and her demons.

  “When will you go to Melyntha, Father?” asked Petrello.

  “Nightfall,” he replied.

  “Will you bring our mother back?” asked Tolly.

  The king looked away from them. He took a breath and said, “I can’t lie to you, my sons. You might not see your mother just yet.”

  If they had other questions, they couldn’t ask them. They returned to the house on stilts, and when they had eaten, they laid their heads on the slightly damp cushions and fell asleep, oblivious to the chatter of the women and the noisy chorus of other children.

  It was dusk when Ketil woke them. “A creature has arrived,” he said excitedly. “Our mother says it’s a camel.”

  Half awake, Petrello murmured, “A camel?”

  “A CAMEL?” cried Tolly, leaping up, and now Petrello was wide-awake.

  “Mother saw it first,” said Ketil. “She opened the door to call to our father, who is out there with the king, and she saw this creature.”

  “Where? Where?” Petrello ran to the open door where Tolly was standing.

  The moon had all but disappeared and the sky was beginning to lose its nighttime color. The lake water glittered with reflected light from small fires dotted around the shore. The knights had left them for a moment while they gathered about the king and his precious camel. The boys’ spirits lifted. If Gabar was safe, then so, perhaps, were others.

  Petrello was about to climb down the ladder when Sila put an arm across his chest.

  “No, Petrello. Listen!”

  There was a great commotion in the trees: a thunder of hooves, the whinnying and snorting of many horses, and then, suddenly, a white mare galloped into view. Her rider was smaller than a knight and wore a brown fur cap.

  “Mother!” cried Petrello.

  The mare was followed by Amadis, riding Sir Edern’s brown stallion. A crowd of horses came jostling and nudging their way behind him. When they saw the lake, they trotted to the water and began to drink.

  The king ran to his wife and lifted her down.

  “We must go to them,” Petrello pleaded, pushing Sila’s arm away.

  “I can’t stop you now,” she said with a smile.

  The boys clambered down the ladder and ran through the water without bothering to remove their boots. There was such a crush around their mother they had to punch their way through the knights.

  “Not so rough, young man!” Mabon exclaimed, lifting both boys into the air.

  The queen laughed and held out her arms to them. They ran to her, and when she had hugged them, they noticed that her hands were scratched and her tunic smelled of leather and wolf and horse.

  “Mother, where have you been?” asked Tolly.

  She drew them to the warmth of the fire and they sat one on each side of her while she told them about her fight with Osbern D’Ark, and how Amadis and his wolves had rescued her.

  The king and his knights stood about the fire and listened, interrupting the story with grunts of approval and alarm. Petrello noticed that Enid had woken up, and, seeing her friend Gabar, was affectionately nudging his long legs with her snout, while he bent his head and nuzzled her.

  “You should have seen our mother,” said Amadis. “She could overcome us all in a sword fight.”

  “I’m aware of that,” the king said, smiling at his wife. “Is Osbern dead, then?”

  The queen shook her head. “I had to make a bargain.” She put her hand in a leather pouch hanging from her belt and drew out something flat and glistening. “The Seeing Crystal!” she said, holding it up. “Osbern gave it to me in exchange for his life.”

  Sighs of wonder and relief came from the group of knights, but Sir Edern muttered, “He deserved to die.”

  “I had to honor my word,” the queen said solemnly.

  Amadis stepped closer to the fire, and said, “As the villain rode away, he gave us a parting gift, a warning that he knew would be too late to save us.”

  “Save us?” said the king.

  “Oh, Timoken,” sighed the queen. “That wretch sent a message to the king of England, telling him where he could find an enchanted castle, a splendid castle, better by far than any of his own. A thousand soldiers are coming to take our precious home. Without the crystal, the wizards will be unprepared. They will know nothing until the army is at our gate, and then it will be too late for Llyr and Eri to reach the spell-wall and bring about a Vanishing.”

  Everyone could hear the low growl that rumbled in the king’s throat. He paced about while his knights, his wife, and his sons watched him, waiting for a sign, for advice, a plan, anything to give them hope.

  At last, without a word, he went to Gabar and, speaking very softly, stroked his woolly neck. The camel rumbled back at him and slowly began to crouch.

  For a moment, they thought that the king had given up, that the task ahead was too hopeless to attempt. They even began to wonder where their next home would be. Petrello thought of Guanhamara and his aunt. What would happen to them?

  All at once, the king turned from his camel, and said, “Even on horseback we will be too late.”

  Did he mean to fly, they wondered? And what then? Could he conquer an entire army on his own?

  “Petrello, come here,” said the king.

  “Me, Father?” Petrello felt foolish. All eyes had turned to him.

  “We’re going to fly home,” his father told him. “I need you to come with me.”

  Petrello laid his hand on his chest. He meant to ask if what he heard could be true. But he found it impossible to speak.

  “Quickly, my son,” the king commanded. “Climb onto the camel’s back.”

  In a fog of bewilderment, Petrello walked up to Gabar. “But what can I do?” he whispered.

  “We’ll find out,” the king quietly replied. “Now, onto the saddle.”

  Petrello climbed onto Gabar’s wooden saddle, and the king sat in front of him. Petrello clasped his father around the waist, the red cloak warm and comforting under his hands.

  The group of knights were staring at Petrello, some incredulous, others merely puzzled. And yet the queen was smiling, as if she had guessed what the king intended and knew that it was right. She stood with her hands on Tolly’s shoulders, and when Petrello caught his brother’s eye, Tolly grinned and nodded, as if to say, “I believe in you.”

  The king made a soft animal sound and Gabar lifted
into the sky. The forest canopy receded and the dawn wind brushed Petrello’s cheek as they raced through the air. He buried his head in his father’s cloak and closed his eyes, his mind in turmoil. What could he do? His trust in the king was absolute, and yet he was afraid that he could never do what his father hoped.

  The light was increasing every minute, soon the sun began to show above the distant trees. Beneath them, the vast forest rippled like an emerald sea. And then the sixteen towers of the Red Castle came into view.

  They were flying directly toward the South Gate, and as they drew nearer, Petrello looked east where the town of Rosemellon sat in its small valley. The trees between the castle and the town were not so dense and now he could see the movement of mounted soldiers on the wide track, their helmets a dull gray in the early light. The foot soldiers had left the track, however, and were beginning to fan out into the trees.

  “Do you see them, Petrello?” asked the king.

  “There are so many,” he breathed.

  “Too many,” said his father.

  As they approached the castle, they saw the door into the garden move very slightly. Through its narrow opening, a figure emerged cautiously. It was Eri in his blue cloak, his white hair uncovered, his long staff glimmering with magic.

  “He’ll never cover the whole distance of the spell-wall,” muttered the king.

  They were above the garden when Eri saw them. He lifted his staff in greeting, and the king called, “Go back, Eri. Go back!”

  Eri stood motionless, his hand shading his eyes. Gabar flew right above him and then over the castle wall. He landed in the second courtyard, where a sinister silence greeted them. Llyr stood inside the door, a knife ready in his hand. He ran to the camel as they landed.

  Before Llyr could speak, the king lifted his hand, and said, “Get your grandfather inside. An army is almost at our gate.” He slipped from the camel and lifted Petrello down.

  Llyr was on his way back to the door when Eri came in, grunting, “Whatever next? I must …”

  “Too late, Grandfather.” Llyr closed the great door behind the old man and quickly drew the iron bar across it.

  “What’s happened?” Eri asked, glancing at Petrello. “Where are the others?”