“Gilden is our friend,” said one golden fig tree. “Many of the trees here know Gilden, and trust him. But when Yaark slipped inside, we had to stop trusting him. It was sad.”
As time passed slowly, and the trees spoke endlessly of their past stories and the happiness they once knew with the Quosters, they sang their old songs, and Gilden joined in. All the tigers lay stretched, their legs folded beneath them and their paws outstretched, and even the other tigers began to speak a little, hesitating over the words.
“I am-,” whispered Atta, trying to remember how to say ‘happy’.
“You are happy,” Gilden told her. “And so am I.”
“We’re all happy,” said Nathan. “I wish I could magic some food for us all. We could have a real feast. It’s so cosy, sitting like this with trees and Quosters and tigers too.”
“And birds,” said Vargen suddenly, and the other tigers looked around in surprise.
“Well done,” Gilden said. “You are right, for the birds are singing up in the trees.”
Indeed, the birds were singing so loudly, it sounded like a chorus. Hexaconda lay back against the bark of the great oak, Laksta and Laccyjon sat close, Laksta’s head against Laccyjon’s shoulder. There seemed a greater peace and delight than Nathan had ever known in Lashtang before, and certainly never in the forest, which they had all previously feared.
Nathan pulled out the knife of Clarr and tried to call some food to appear, but he was not successful. The knife seemed dull and blank, as though sleeping, or perhaps as though it had seen something else more important. Eventually there appeared a small and rather stale loaf of bread which flopped down at his feet on Nathan’s third attempt, but finally he gave up, pulling the bread into little pieces for the birds.
A short time later Hexaconda, Laksta and Laccyjon stood, brushing themselves down and smiling.
“We thank you all,” Hexaconda said. “This has been a day to remember, and now we will ride back up the rainbow. There is a great deal to tell all our friends on Sparkan.”
Turning to Soar and gazing up into the great spread of his boughs, Laksta said, “We need time, but I feel sure that many of our friends will wish to come and see this beautiful forest, to walk in the shade, and speak with the trees.”
“We will be back,” Laccyjon said. “I wish to live here once the hot springs and the river return. This is a glorious place. I promise to come back soon.”
Then Laksta threw her arms around Soar’s trunk and laughing, hugged the huge tree and kissed its bark. “We’ll all be back,” she said.
Nathan watched them leave, and sighed. “I’ll try and get my mother the empress, or perhaps my grandmother, to get the situation with the water fixed,” he told the trees. We can do it, honestly we can. My granny promised and she always keeps her promises.”
In the meantime he went back to his failed attempt to make food, and threw the rest of the stale bread out onto the grass for the birds.
Yet surprisingly, the birds did not come down to feed, and quite suddenly they stopped singing and every one of them flew off. “Look, they’ve gone,” said Nathan, pointing up. “The whole lot. I wonder why.”
No one had time to answer, nor was an answer needed. From between the trees, the huge tiger raced so quickly it was like a flash of light. And then it leapt. It had aimed for Nathan. But Gilden was as fast, and stood between Nathan and the newcomer. Another smaller tiger padded behind the larger one, and now they stood together facing Gilden. Vargen followed Gilden. Then Eris, Atta and Dassend.
The five huge creatures faced the two. The two circled the five. The female which had followed Yaark snarled and turned, spitting, on Atta. Atta backed off, but snarled back, lips drawn over her bright sharp teeth. The knife of Clarr still lay on Nathan’s lap, and he picked it up again, ready to use. But it was Yaark he wanted to kill, not the tiger that carried him.
As the two tigers circled the five, so Gilden began to speak to Trakken. “My friend,” he called, “you are being used by the most evil creature in Lashtang. You must close your mind and push him out. You must not allow this demon into your head. You are strong too. Forbid him. Be only yourself. As my friend, I do not wish to fight you, only the fiend you have permitted inside you.”
It was Yaark’s voice which answered. “You pretend superiority? What a hypocrite you are, fool. I used you for years. You were my body, my carrier and my slave. Now I have found another to take your place. Are you jealous?”
“You can throw him out if you will it, Trakken,” Gilden repeated. It can be done for I managed it after a long time. At first I didn’t understand, as I’m sure you don’t. But this is the most important thing you will ever have to face. Force out the other mind in your head.”
“I – I have no mind,” mumbled Trakken’s voice, but once again Yaark took over. “Fools, you know I can’t be beaten.”
And suddenly, as he spoke and all eyes were turned to Yaark, the female tiger pounced on Atta, clawing her and, with jaws wide, she clamped her teeth into the back of Atta’s neck. Gilden and Vargen rushed to save her, biting the other female and dragging her from Atta’s back. Atta staggered, bleeding badly. Nathan ran to Atta, and John ran to Yaark, his own knife in his hand. Yet in the tussle and tangle, it was impossible to see which tiger to stab, for there was a wild knot of brilliant striped fur, six furious golden eyes, three open snarl and a hundred teeth as sharp as the knives.
Although knowing he could never win against two full grown and furious tigers, John stabbed out, missed, and stabbed again. The tip of his knife sliced into Yaark’s front leg, but with one massive paw Yaark swiped John, clubbing him to the ground and John fell at once, winded, and dropped the knife. Yaark batted it away.
One tree wrapped its roots around the knife and tried to bring it back, but John was still on the ground, trying to breathe again.
Another tree stretched out two long wriggling roots towards the other female’s neck, but she bounced around like a swirling top, biting out, and the roots drew back. Another tree dropped a heavy branch, but it missed Yaark. The oak Soar used both roots and branches as feet in a football match, kicking out at both Yaark and the female. He caught Yaark in the belly, but the tiger seemed to feel nothing.
Nathan knelt by Atta and held up his own knife. “As the Lord of Clarr,” he whispered, “I order you to mend these wounds. Keep Atta alive. Stop the bleeding.”
Behind him the fight had become a battle. Both Vargen and Eris closed in on the other female, but she bucked, throwing them both from her, twisting around and around. They could not catch her, while Yaark had leapt on a rock where previously John had been sitting, and from there jumped on one great flying pounce onto Gilden. Yaark’s claws sank into Gilden’s neck, but he fell back, dislodging both claws and Yaark’s opening jaws.
Dassend and John both raced back, aiming for Yaark, but he leapt yet again, this time into one of the trees, its lower branches wide, but above John’s head.
The tree shook, the trunk bent, the branches stabbed downwards, and the roots kicked out. With a scramble and a yowl, the tiger fell. But was immediately up once again, rushing towards Gilden.
Nathan was still with Atta. She had lost a great deal of blood. Looking around, Nathan feared Gilden might also fall, since his neck and sides were ripped and bleeding hard. The dark red dripped down his legs and onto the grass. The other female, lying low, now jumped up and bit into Gilden’s deep wounds, tearing them further open. As Yaark again twisted upwards to attack Gilden, Eris pounced, pushing herself between Yaark and Gilden and forcing them apart. Gilden sank down and Eris sank her teeth into Yaark’s leg. But Yaark did not mind the pain for it was not him that felt it. And although Trakken staggered, he continued to fight.
As Eris leapt onto Yaark’s back, the other female clawed her off, and Eris yelped. But she turned and leapt on the female. But already weak, and buffeted by both Yaark and the female, Yaark threw her off, and Eris fell, rolling beneath him. He leaned down and
with a bite, ripped out her throat. Eris was dead. Gilden rushed to her, but her blood soaked into the grass and her eyes slowly closed. His blood trickled down to join hers. A quietness seemed to swallow the glade.
His eyes moist and his walk slow, Gilden left the dead tiger stretched on the ground, and came towards Nathan as he crouched beside Atta. Gilden dropped down at Atta’s side her thick and beautiful white fur was striped now in red. Yet the other female, badly wounded, had slunk away, and with a leap like some swinging sky-train, Yaark had gone.
Nathan said quickly, “Atta’s going to be alright. But she needs time. Restful time. Is there a place for her to lie?
“Here,” said Soar. “We welcome the brave, and we welcome those who fight the evil Yaark.”
“Ralgia is almost dead,” Gilden said. “One ear ripped away, her flanks a mass of deep claw marks, bites down her legs and throat. Why did she side with Yaark? What would make anyone side with Yaark?”
“Ralgia - other female,” Vargen told Nathan. “But no side with Yaark,” he turned back to Gilden, his voice stuttering a little, “Loves Trakken. So save Trakken.”
“That’s sad,” murmured Nathan. “So wasn’t protecting Yaark, she was fighting to save Trakken’s life. I’m so sorry. I hope she lives.”
“I reckon she will, if t’other one comes back,’ John said, scrambling up and coming over. He had a massive bruise down one side of his face.
They all sat, exhausted, licking their wounds. Nathan was the only one uninjured, and Gilden was bleeding badly. “My knife helped fix Atta’s wounds,” Nathan said. “Can I try and help everyone? If you could all sit close. Gilden first” He held up the knife. This time it shone with a great light, and one by one the tiger’s wounds closed. They no longer bled and he declared that they no longer hurt him.
“Miracles,” he said, bowing his head. “When I was terribly wounded in the tunnels of Clarr, it was your mother who saved my life. If you can truly claim the throne of Lashtang, this will be a happy country once again.”
“But I wish I could bring Eris back,” sighed Nathan. “of course I can’t. But she was beautiful and brave and she fought for me. I have no way even to thank her. I hate to think that such a wonderful creature died for me.”
“She died for me,” said Gilden, “and I would have died for you, had I needed to. You must be a great leader, Nathan.”
He put the knife away carefully, having even made John’s bruise fade a little, and looked down at Eris. There were tears in his eyes, and he knew that Gilden was silently weeping as well. “We must give her a funeral and bury her deep, where scavengers won’t come and dig her up.”
“And you may dig here,” said Soar. “We will honour this brave tiger and protect her grave.”
Eris was buried late that night with both moons shining brightly. The pink moon seemed larger over the forest, and three owls sat on the branches above the site, calling mournfully as they watched the digging below. John and Nathan dug a good deep square, but the trees, pressing in and then pulling up their roots, did most of the work. “We like to dig,” said an elder tree. “It is good for the soil. But this time it is for something far more special.”
As they laid Eris’ body in the deep hole, and then started to cover her over, the owls hooted again, and the trees began to sing another of their sad songs. Then the earth was laid back over, flattened and pounded by the trees, and Nathan and John, their backs now very sore, went to sit with Gilden and the other tigers back a little way amongst the darker shadows of the forest.
Atta was asleep. Her wounds were closing and the stripes along her back were no longer bright red with blood. She slept peacefully.
Gilden said, “A strange day, my young friend. It has been both beautiful and terrible, both happy and hatefully sad. I don’t know if Yaark will bother to heal the body he has been using, but I fear both Trakken and Ralgia will suffer horrible wounds and dreadful pain.”
Nathan agreed. “I can ask the knife to help them. But I can’t be sure it will work at such a distance. And if Yaark is still using Trakken, then he doesn’t deserve to be saved.”
“There is no possibility that Yaark will stay within a body so badly injured,” Gilden assured Nathan. “Try to help, if you can.”
So once again Nathan pulled out the knife and held it up. This time the blade shone strangely pink in the moonlight. “The Lord of Clarr seeks help from the Knife of Clarr,” Nathan said softly. “The tigers we fought here, Trakken and the female Regia, have both suffered great injury and the wounds must be giving them great pain. I fear they may die. Will you please mend Ralgia’s wounds and take away all her pain. Let her sleep and wake well. As for Trakken, if Yaark has left, then mend Trakken’s wounds and take away his pain as well. Give him peace, health, and a happy union with Ralgia. And please, if you can, help him keep Yaark out of his head in future. Show him how to do it, and give him strength.”
The knife blazed. It shone as bright as the silver moon, and the blade seemed luminous with pink, silver and gold. Gilden looked at the knife in awe. “It has worked,” he said. “I am sure of it.”
“I just wish I could have helped Eris,” mumbled Nathan, putting away the knife. He heard the owls once more and looked around.
At first he didn’t know what he saw. It seemed strange, and perhaps just his own imagination. But then he stared again, and kept looking, unable to turn away. The shadow of a tiger, long and lean, strong and beautiful, was walking away through the trees from the place of the burial. The animal was wonderfully graceful and seemed so alive that Nathan just didn’t know what to believe.
“She’s just a shadow,” he whispered to himself.
But the shadows were moving as a tiger moves, and as she reached the thicker trees she turned once, and stood still, looking around at Nathan. Then she bowed her head, waited a moment, and then moved on. Within moments the beautiful shadows had disappeared amongst the darker shadows of the trees.
Chapter Seven
They were not ropes, but they were just as strong and just as tight. Poppy pushed with all her might, but could not even wriggle a finger. Only her head was free. A few sticky threads wound across her forehead and chin, but her eyes could open, and she could speak while breathing through her nostrils and mouth.
“Dad,” she whispered, “I’m not hurt, just stuck. What about you? And what about Mum?”
His voice was even fainter than her own. “She’s unconscious. I am simply bruised. Not serious. But I feel as helpless as a beetle on its back.”
“So we’re trapped?” Poppy demanded. “By monsters?”
“By termites.”
This seemed absurd. “But termites are tiny little things. I saw some of them. Smaller than my fingernail. I know there’s lots of them, but they’re so weeny. And this web’s like spiders. Don’t tell me, please don’t tell me there’s spiders.”
The darkness was complete. She could see nothing. But the warmth was increasing. At first that had seemed comfortable but now it seemed suspicious.
“I hear voices,” her father murmured, half suffocating. “I don’t know about the webs. But I hear voices.”
“Not just me?”
“Something else. Something vile. And the heat makes me faint.”
“We can’t move,” Poppy whispered, suddenly terrified. “If it’s fire, if they want to burn us – we can’t get away -,”
Bayldon interrupted her. “You and your mother had fainted so you felt nothing. But we were bound in these glue-slick threads and dragged down into some place beneath the earth. Voices in the background ordered others where to take us.”
The heat was keeping them both breathless. “So do you know where we are?”
After a pause, Bayldon said, “I think so. We’re deep inside the termite mound. And it’s the queen’s chamber.”
“Termites have queens?”
“Oh yes,” Bayldon sighed. “Indeed they do.”
Poppy had no idea how much time had passed wh
en she opened her eyes again, but she knew she had either fainted, or slept. She called her father but there was no answer so she assumed the same had happened to him. Still feeling the warm strength of his body next to hers, she was reassured that he was still there, and her mother on her other side. Then suddenly there was a voice which was clearly neither of her parents.
“Do you sleep still, little goblin?” It was a sharp and menacing voice and came from above.
At first Poppy couldn’t decide what to say, but eventually she answered with all she could think of. “I’m awake. Who are you?”
Instead of an answer she received a hard jab of something into her ribs, and cried out. Then the jab came again, on her other side. Finally the voice said, “Skinny. Little enough meat. But some. A pleasant change from dead slaves and grassroots.”
“Who are you?” Poppy demanded. “What are you?”
“I,” said the voice with pride, “will introduce myself, little goblin, so you know how you are to be honoured. For I am queen of all the termites of Lashtang. I am Her Royal Majesty, Izyx the all-powerful, matriarch and queen. My thousands of children inhabit every corner of this land, and none exist without my permission. You, little goblin, will be eaten by the greatest living ruler this world has ever known.”
Poppy gulped and swallowed. She opened her mouth to beg for mercy, and suddenly changed her mind. Instead she said, “If you are so great and so grand, your majesty, may I ask to see you before I am eaten? Surely I should be allowed to see you first.”
The termite queen thought this over. She snuffled a little, and then decided. “I will allow a little light,” she said, and immediately a pale sheen of grey glow swamped the room, and at once Poppy saw where she was, and felt sick.
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