“There used to be big beautiful tigers in the Clarr Mountains?” Poppy was surprised. “Isn’t it too cold?”
“We lived in the caves and our fur is thick. We loved the freedom of the mountains and valleys.” Gilden folded his paws and sank down on the banks of the lake, breathing in the steam.
“But you didn’t eat the people, did you?” wondered Poppy.
“We lived almost exclusively on golden figs,” Gilden answered her. “There were many hundreds of those trees in the valleys and on the lower ground. They died out when the city was destroyed and the bitter winds swept through. But now your friend Sherdam has replanted gorges of golden fig trees, and they are already spreading and fruiting.”
Nathan knelt and popped his fingers into the water. He grinned. “That’s really hot. And I can see jets of water shooting up over there in the middle of the lake.”
“The geysers of Sharr,” Gilden said. “True home of the Quosters. But before the serpents are called back, I will soak myself,” and with a great leap, Gilden plunged into the lake, submerged, and then rose to the surface with steam all around him, even up his nose. “Come in, my friends,” he said, “it is wonderfully relaxing.”
“We can’t.” Poppy looked down art her long blue silk coat and trousers. “We’d be soaked and then it would take hours to dry off.”
Gilden slowly climbed from the lake, up the bank, and shook himself. Water drops flew everywhere, but the water was so hot, his fur was dry almost at once. “So you have fulfilled your mission.” Gilden said.
“Not yet.” Nathan shook his head. “We have to go to Sparkan to tell the Quosters. Then we have to go back to Clarr and try and build the city back.”
“And then,” sighed Poppy, “we have to get rid of Clebbster.”
“And Yaark,” added Nathan. “But I think he’s the worst of all. Even more horrible and powerful than Clebbster.”
“I cannot help with Clebbster,” said Gilden. “But perhaps I might help with Yaark. At least – I do know where he is.”
The heat from the lake was certainly pleasant, and they all sat together on the banks. Poppy’s peacock feathers were fluttering a little in the breeze, and she reached up and tapped them with one hand. “I think these will help me with Clebbster. You see they come from a real peacock that got made into the wizard’s magical cane. And they can talk to each other. That may not sound really helpful, but I just think it will be. Clebbster doesn’t go anywhere without that cane.”
Gilden was interested. They had told him of something he had not already known, which didn’t happen often. He looked up at the strange feathered headdress which Poppy was wearing. “That may prove to be of great service,” he said. “Yet it will not help with Yaark, only with Clebbster. “
“Is Yaark still hurting your friend Trakken?”
“Indeed he is,” Gilden said. “But now,” and he turned to Poppy, “you have a considerable advantage. No, not your beautiful feathers. It is the key you carry. Yaark has long claimed to be Warden of the Key of Clarr, and has claimed much of the power that carried. But now you hold the key and the title, and he will be angry. Anger makes him dangerous, but it also makes him foolish. An incubus that takes risks is not always going to win.”
“Only sometimes?” asked Poppy with a shiver. “You mean after he kills me, then he might make a mistake.”
“No, my dear.” But Gilden didn’t laugh. “We must plan very carefully and very well, so that Yaark takes all the risks, and we take none.” The great tiger stood, stretched, and nodded. “Climb on again, my friends, and I will take you first to speak with Soar the oak, and then to meet the miserable creature, once a friend of mine, Trakken, and Yaark the evil incubus within.”
They had only begun to walk, when instead of searching for the ancient oak tree, Soar found them.
“Stop,” called down the deep voice from above. “I have come from the dark centre to find the Octobr Empole and Empola. The younger trees on the forest’s edge are wary of humans, and did not believe who you are. But I came to discover the truth, and as I walked from the rainbow centre, so I heard the running of the waters and the rising of the steam. Indeed, my young lord, you have brought back the river and springs so important to us, and we thank you.”
“Me too,” said Poppy. “I did it too.”
“You have done as you promised,” said the tree, bending its trunk so flakes of bark floated down on their heads, and stuck in Poppy’s feathers and Nathan’s bumble-bee hair. “We do not always trust what humans promise, but this is a great deed. It is a boon to us, and will be even more so to the Quosters. I greatly hope they will return.”
“They said they would,” said Poppy. “And I want to do something special for the wolves too. I mean, make sure they don’t go hungry ever again and find them a nice safe place to live. But now we want to do something even more important.” She paused, waiting for Nathan.
“We are going to destroy Yaark,” said Nathan. “And Clebbster too.”
“That,” swished Soar, “is ambitious indeed, my friend. I will gladly be of help should you ask it. I would give my life, could I break my trunk to collapse on the body of Clebbster and kill him outright. But Yaark will be even harder, since he has no body to squash.”
“Passleram knows how to destroy a star,” said Poppy. “But he hasn’t told us how.”
“Destroying anything is horrible,” sighed Nathan. “I wanted to be a warrior once. I don’t anymore. But I do know how to make people better, so that’s one consolation.” He was busy stuffing his pockets with golden figs.
“I will take you to see Trakken now,” Gilden said. “But if Yaark is awake, we cannot stay long.”
Granny spread out her hands as though unrolling a magazine of pictures. “Look,” she said with a very satisfied smile, “they have done it.”
Across the ceiling, the pictures trembled like a video with a poor camera and a lumpy screen. But the pictures kept coming and kept moving.
“I’ve adopted the magic of the Knife of Clarr,” Granny said, “which can bring up pictures to tell a story. I did quite a lot of practice, so no complaints, please. I shall get better at it as time goes on. In the meantime, here we are.”
“You’re a genius, my dear,” Sherdam told her.
“Well, I know. Very true,” grinned Granny, “but not perfect yet. Now watch – this is what I have so far.”
Two tigers lay in a small clearing beneath the trees. The largest lay stretched on his side. His breathing was hoarse and his eyes were closed. One ear was badly torn, and his fur was dull. The bright orange and vivid golden colours of Gilden looked quite different on the sleeping tiger. There was a dark haze across his body, and clearly he was worn out and probably ill. Even the slanting sunshine through the tree branches above did not brighten him and he looked half dead, although his sides rose and fell with the effort of breathing.
A smaller tiger sat close beside him. She was in even worse condition, for her fur, also dull and almost colourless, was badly scratched. Deep welts covered her sides and back, her tail was clearly broken and lay bent on the grass behind her, her legs and neck were streaked in blood and a huge claw scratch covered half her face and up to one eye, which was tight closed. Yet the other eye was open, and she did not leave the large tiger’s side.
Gilden hurried forwards, licking and grooming the small tiger’s face. But she moved away with a sigh, saying softly, “that is useless, my friend. I know I shall die soon. But I must wait until I know for sure that Trakken will survive.”
There were tears in Gilden’s wide eyes. “Ralgia, you are a kind and faithful friend indeed. But who wounded you so badly?”
“Yaark,” she replied. “He conquered my beloved Trakken, and using Trakken’s strength and claws, he attacked me. I have been working for many weeks to rescue Trakken from the incubus. Finally I helped him discover the inner strength to throw Yaark from his mind. He is free now. But he is so weak, I fear he may die before me.”
Nathan walked forwards, but did not move too close. “Forgive me,” he said, “but I am the new empole, and I saw you once before, and admired your loyalty. Have you really helped Trakken remove Yaark permanently from his mind?”
“I have.” Ralgia looked up, a little surprised to speak with a human. “But the battle took many weeks and many injuries. I do not know where Yaark is now, but he is not dead. Simply banished from here.”
“May I come closer? I think I may be able to help,” Nathan said.
Ralgia looked down. “I think we are both dying,” she said. “But if you can help my beloved Trakken, then come and try. That would be most kind, although, I think, most difficult.” She sighed, blinking the eye that was cut through by the wound over her face.
Nathan knelt beside her, handing her two golden figs. “Eat these,” he told her. “They may not cure everything, but they will certainly help.”
The female tiger looked at him in delight. “I searched for the figs when I knew Trakken was badly hurt. But it was winter and they were out of season.”
“I asked,” Nathan explained as Ralgia chewed on the first fig, her one eye immediately brighter. “I have managed to make friends with some of the trees, and so one golden fig tree fruited for me. Eat both. I have others for Trakken.”
Leaning over the sleeping body of the male tiger, Nathan began to squeeze one fig, dripping the juice into the slightly open mouth between the long teeth. Even though he remained asleep, his tongue automatically licked and then swallowed the wonderful taste. Nathan continued to squeeze the fig, and when all the juice had gone, he pushed the sticky remains between the teeth and tongue, and pulled out another ripe fruit.
Gilden sat beside Ralgia, giving her warmth and protection, while Poppy lifted her key. It sparkled in the sunbeams. “Help these two beautiful tigers,” she said, “and make them well again.”
Looking up with a half squint, Ralgia asked, “Is that magic, lady?”
Poppy nodded. “But I’m not very good at it yet,” she admitted. “I have to keep trying.”
The female tiger was still deeply wounded and her breathing was so shallow, it seemed she might die at any moment, but Nathan was sure that her fur had grown a little brighter, and the welts and bleeding scratched across her body seemed very slowly to be halting. Then suddenly he looked amazed and pointed. “Look,” he said. “Your tail was broken. Now it’s straight.”
Puzzled, disbelieving, Ralgia flicked up her tail, and her one eye opened wide. “Indeed,” she said. “That pain has gone. The break is mended. How can that happen?”
“The golden figs and the Key of Clarr together,” said Poppy. “Originally the tigers lived at Clarr, didn’t they?”
“I heard that said,” Ralgia answered. “But I am too young to know.”
“You have been wondrously kind and loving,” Gilden told her, “and you deserve recovery. But now let us work on Trakken. If he is free from Yaark now he must be saved, and he will also have much information to tell us.”
Now Poppy began to feed the figs to the huge tiger, and although he seemed too weak to wake, he drank all the juice he was given, and his fur began to glow. Gilden sat, waiting, while Nathan brought out his knife. “To the Knife of Clarr,” he said loudly, and the trees seemed to blow, echoing his words. “These two beautiful tigers are the natural and rightful citizens of Clarr, and should be helped to return there. Cure their wounds. Heal them. Repair injuries, close the cuts, give sight, strength and energy, and banish all their pain.”
Then, bending lower, Nathan put both his hands very gently over Ralgia’s one blind eye and the huge wound there, and smoothed his fingers over the tiger’s face. She murmured that the pain was leaving. “I feel nothing,” she whispered. “Does that mean I’m dying?”
“No,” Gilden told her. “It means you are going to live. I see that the empole has healing hands. Your coat is bright. Your cuts and bruises are fading. Look the slash across your cheek and eye is now only a small scar. Try to open the blind eye.”
She did, and gazed around in wonder. Slowly she stood, stretching out each leg, one at a time, and twisting her tail around beneath her. Suddenly she jumped, ran in a circle, and flopped down beside Trakken and Nathan. “This is more than magic,” she said. “It is a miracle. My Lord Empole, I thank you from the depths of my heart. I am your servant for evermore. Can you – would you – do the same for my beloved Trakken? Is that possible?”
“You were more badly injured than him,” said Poppy. “So I’m sure we can do it for him too.”
“But it is the invasion of Yaark which felled him,” Gilden pointed out. “This requires magic of a different kind. Yaark has been banished, but the wounds inside the mind remain for long after. I know only too well for the same happened to me.”
“We have four different sorts of magic,” Nathan smiled. “The golden figs are very powerful and we have three more. Then, I am most pleased, I seem to have a magic touch with my fingers, and I can heal some people. But most potent of all are the Knife of Clarr and the Key of Clarr. Soon, I promise, you will both be saved.”
“I hoped to save Trakken,” whispered Ralgia, “but I knew I was near to death. Now I have not even a small ache, not even a limp, and although my eye was sliced through now I can see as well as ever, and there is no pain of any kind. I am now your servant forever, and Trakken will feel the same when he wakes.”
“As I do,” said Gilden softly. “We will come to Clarr, and be your silent courtiers.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“So white water flows over the great chasm at Clarr,” Granny said as the pictures also flowed from her hands. “The Clarr River is restored, and once again it flows wide through the forest.” Here,” and her fingers flicked while the pictures changed, “And here as the forest thins out onto the plains, there are the beautiful lakes of history, steaming hot springs and bubbling currents.”
Both Messina and Babylon were standing and watching with big smiles “I’m so proud of my son and daughter,” Bayldon said. “They didn’t even tell us they were going.”
“But they should,” said Messina, clicking her tongue.
“They have too much intelligence, and too much magic for that now, my dear,” said Bayldon, “and we can trust them to do the right thing.”
“We’re still their parents,” frowned Messina, “and they should ask permission. Nathan’s growing up now of course but Poppy’s still very young.”
Granny interrupted as she sat down beside Sherdam, and the pictures faded away. “Now we have to send someone to Sparkan to gather all the Quosters who want to come and live in Sharr again,” she said quickly. “I think Tryppa and Peter would be the best. They can play that glorious music of theirs, which everyone loves. That will gather the dragons, the wolves, the Quosters and even the rabbits, I imagine.”
They could all hear the distant notes of the lute coming from outside. Both Peter and Tryppa loved to play in the sunny garden, where the birds would sit and listen and sometimes join in, copying the tune.
“I’ll tell them,” said Alice, getting up at once. “Alfie is still with Brewster in the main bedroom. “I’ll take them both a drink afterwards.”
No one else was at the cottage, for Zakmeister and Sam were helping the Tyrell boys settle into their new homes in Bymion, and John, Arthur, Captain Jim and Christopher Columbus were still at Pickles Village with Ninester and Ferdinand, shipbuilding, studying maps and giving advice on what was needed.
There had been no further word from Clebbster and his few remaining companions, but Granny presumed they were all living in the black house on the cliffs above Pickles Village, whereas both William Octobr and his family would be at Peganda.
Brewster remained in bed. Alfie and Alice spent long days at his bedside, while Granny spent at least half her days attending to him. For additional comfort, Mouse and her two new kittens slept cuddled up at the end of the quilt, and Candykins and Gillywobbles both stayed happily on the flo
or next to the pillows.
The boils, sallow green bruises, the bleeding sores and the terrible pain of the disease which had arrived with his father’s curse, were now all quite gone. Granny had slowly managed to cure the lot. And yet the curse remained. The bitter dark magic which Clebbster had used, could not be so easily changed. Brewster could not walk, and even speaking was a great difficulty to him. He could only whisper a few words. He seemed to be fading, and passed more than the night-times asleep, for he also slept deeply through the days and woke only for minutes at a time. He could not eat anything, but he did drink water when it was held to his lips.
Once, when Alice sat on the edge of his bed trying to cool his face with a damp cloth, he managed to croak, “Leave me, friend. I shall die soon. It is as my father wishes, and I shall join my brother.”
“You won’t die,” answered Alice, continuing to cool the fever from Brewster’s face. “And I’m not leaving. Granny has cured all those horrible plague things. You’re getting better already.”
“And I thank her for it,” murmured Brewster. “But that still burns inside.”
Once Brewster was asleep again, Alice then ran to Granny with tears in her eyes. She rushed into Granny’s arms. “He’s not dying, is he?” she sobbed. “It all started with him, didn’t it? When Nat was picked up in the balloon and dropped off in Bandy Alley just as we were coming up the street. So everything is thanks to him. I wonder why he did it. He wasn’t our friend then.”
“Indeed,” Granny told her as she patted Alice’s back. “Bandy Alley indeed. That has a strong link to Lashtang. A portal, they call it, where one world secretly meets another. If anyone walks down a dark street and feels a strange cold wind on the back of their necks, or sees the shadows of someone walking away when actually no one is there at all, well, it is probably a portal into another world.”
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