Hiding under one of the carriage seats, curtained off by the voluminous drapes of Samzing’s robe, Sagandran froze. Surely there could be no one else in this world wearing jeans and a T-shirt.
He heard Sir Tombin reply, “No.” He gave a casual chuckle. “I should think we’d remember if we’d met anyone like that.”
“And you, girl?”
“Me neither. Would you like me to ask my pet rat?”
“Er, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
Sir Tombin again: “Why do you seek this youth?”
“He stole a crystal that is precious to my master.” Sagandran was beginning to loathe the Shadow Knight’s soapy, ingratiating voice. It was so plausible, so persuasive and yet so very false. “Luckily, my master is not the vengeful sort and has no desire to punish the lad for his folly, but he would like the crystal back. Thus, he’s authorized me to offer the thief a good price for it. So, you see, it’s to the boy’s benefit if I discover him as soon as possible.”
“I should think that under the circumstances this young miscreant would be only too glad to make your acquaintance,” replied Sir Tombin, “and I only wish we could help you in your search. If we meet him farther up the road – he should be fairly unmistakable – we’ll tell him that you’re looking for him.”
“That would be kind.” The voice suddenly hardened. “And who do you have traveling inside your carriage?”
“Just my old grandfather,” Sir Tombin drawled. Sagandran felt rather than heard Samzing snort in fury. “He’s in his dotage, you see, and we’re taking him away for a change of air in the hope it’ll do his befuddled brain some good. I doubt it though. He’s far past that stage, alas. Nuts. Bats. Crackers. Bonkers. He used to be a fine magician, but now he’s definitely at least a couplet short of an incantation, if you get my meaning.”
The Shadow Knight leaned forward so that he could spy into the carriage window. His armor clattered almost musically.
“Beware of what you see,” said Sir Tombin. “He drools a lot.”
“Gaaah. Get away with you,” squealed Samzing, shaking a gnarled fist. “I know what you young things are trying to do – steal my money from me. But I’m not dead yet and I’m not as stupid as you think. I can still lay seventeen walnuts in a row, and I’ll wager that’s more than any of the rest of ye have ever done. I’ll get the better of ye, ye just wait and see. Pillworts to the lot of ye, I say. Do ye have my constipation medicine, young stinkface in the fancy-dandy armor? I feel a great need coming over me to—”
The Shadow Knight withdrew hastily. “He does not have your frog-like features,” he observed.
“I was not born this way,” began Sir Tombin, and he went into the full rigmarole about how he’d been sitting on a lilypad when this beastly witch had come along and…
This time he gave an even more detailed rendition than the one he’d given Perima, Flip and Sagandran the other night. The narrative succeeded in distracting the Shadow Knight’s attention away from whatever, or whoever, else might be inside the carriage.
“Where are you heading?” said the rider at last, obviously eager to end Sir Tombin’s discourse.
“To Spectram,” chipped in Perima.
“Spectram, eh?” The Shadow Knight scowled. “Why would you wish to go there? What business could you have in that doomed city?”
“My grandfather,” Sir Tombin explained. “He’s never been there, but he’s always said he would like to set eyes on the beautiful face of Queen Mirabella before he died. Well, he’s been saying it since my grandmother passed away, anyhow.”
“That witch!” The Shadow Knight spat on the road.
Sir Tombin’s hand raced to the pommel of his sword before he could stop it.
The Shadow Knight’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve said something to offend you, have I?” His metal-gloved hand was on the hilt of his own sword.
Perima giggled. “Don’t you mind Uncle Sprotlet,” she said to the rider, nudging Sir Tombin in the ribs. “He saw the queen once, many years ago, and he fell in love on the spot. He’s been in more tavern brawls over her good name than I care to remember. Men are sooooo silly.” She sniffed. “But it’s rather sweet, don’t you think?”
The Shadow Knight was partly reassured, but only partly. He fixed a steely gaze on Sir Tombin’s face.
“Don’t be thinking about getting too clever, my froggy fellow. My master is kind to those who cooperate with him, but…”
He let the threat hang in the air.
“Who is this master of yours?” Sir Tombin asked, letting his hand fall from his sword.
The Shadow Knight let out a terrible laugh, a vicious noise at odds with his easygoing face. “You don’t need to know that at the moment, frog, but you will very soon – all of Sagaria will have nothing on their lips but his name.”
“Important fellow, hm?” said Sir Tombin.
The Shadow Knight laughed again. “More than that.”
“I shall listen out with interest.” The Frogly Knight gave a smile that was both innocuous and slightly patronizing. “I try to keep abreast of the news as best I can, though it’s difficult, dwelling in the middle of nowhere as we do.”
“My master,” said the Shadow Knight, his voice a mixture of adoration and respect. “Ah, yes, my master. He remembers those who are loyal to him, but also those who are not – and the same for those who help him and those who do not. You would be wise to keep this in mind, Sprotlet. You will be rewarded most handsomely for any information pertaining to the boy’s whereabouts, but woe betide you if you keep such information to yourself. And woe betide you a thousandfold if, worse, it is ever discovered that you’ve assisted him in any way in his flight.”
“All for the sake of a crystal?” said Sir Tombin. “It must be a very special stone indeed.”
“Enough,” snapped the rider, obviously coming to the decision that he’d wasted enough time here with these thickwitted country bumpkins. He tightened his grip on his horse’s reins, and the animal seemed to draw itself to attention. “Just beware what you do, that’s all I say, froggy one.”
“I thank you for your counsel,” said Sir Tombin formally, bowing his head. “As I say, if we see this wayward lad on the road we’ll send him after you.”
“You – had – better,” rasped the Shadow Knight, emphasizing each word separately.
He touched a hand to his horse’s rump and it reared, then moved into a gallop. Within moments, all that was left of him was an unpleasant memory.
The dark cloud melted from in front of the sun, and the world brightened once more.
It was a long time before Sagandran dared to emerge from the shelter of Samzing’s robe, and the carriage had covered a good distance along the road, even at the fairly sedate pace to which Sir Tombin was keeping a nervous Snowmane.
Flip, Sagandran noticed, was shivering all over.
“What’s the matter, Flip?”
“Th–the monster. I’ve seen th–that monster before.”
“What do you mean?”
“In Mishmash. Storming through the village, destroying all in its path.” Flip wrung his front paws agitatedly, “But the monster wasn’t really th–there. It was in a dream I saw it, in a nightmare, saw it wrecking everything. It knocked the chimney right off my cottage. But it did more than that.”
Sagandran wished he could offer his little friend some comfort. “You’re saying this monster of yours was one of the Shadow Knights?”
“It was that Shadow Knight. I only got a glimpse of the monster in my dream, but I’ll never forget it. The shining silver armor, the golden hair, the jingle of the trinkets … and that sense of implacable vileness and cruelty.”
The Adventurer Extraordinaire leaned back, closed his eyes, and breathed in and out deeply. He held up a paw toward Sagandran. “I’ll be fine in a moment, I’m sure, but it’s been a bit of a sh–shock.”
Sagandran turned away from Flip, frowning in puzzlement. Had the rodent dreamed a prophet
ic dream? It sounded like it. Or perhaps Flip was simply imprinting the experiences of today onto vague memories of his terrible nightmare and imagining a similarity that didn’t exist. Sagandran shrugged. No one would ever know.
The wizard, who had paid no attention to this conversation, was still fuming. “That impertinent young pipsqueak Quackie! As soon as he stops this confounded vehicle and I get him in my sights, I’m going to … I’m going to … turn him into a frog; that’s what I’ll do. Then he’ll be laughing on the other side of his face.”
Sagandran couldn’t tell if the wizard was being totally serious or if he was still acting in character as Sir Tombin’s malevolently imbecilic grandfather. “He already is a frog,” he said cautiously.
“Then I’ll …” The old man took a deep breath, and when he spoke again his voice was sad. “Only I’ve tried that before – tried everything I know that might turn him into a man, and none of it’s worked.” He shook his head wearily, and Sagandran could see tears in his eyes. “Poor fellow. My dear friend Quackie. Poor, poor fellow.”
Soon enough, Sir Tombin pulled the carriage to the wayside, and everyone climbed down to stretch their legs. Without a word, Samzing embraced the Frogly Knight, who looked startled by the sudden show of affection. Golma had packed the vehicle with plenty of provisions, so they broke out some scones and chicken drumsticks to have for lunch, washing the food down with light beer. Perima was a little warmer toward Sagandran than she had been this morning and, glancing across at her as they both ate, he couldn’t think of a picnic he’d enjoyed better. Flip soon became his usual self again, infected by the cheerfulness of his companions. But Sir Tombin was looking somber and didn’t join in with the chatter. Slowly, the conversation ebbed until they were all regarding him expectantly.
He raised his head.
“That was,” he said, “as I told you, a Shadow Knight. You were right, young Sagandran – at least your grandfather was. The denizens of the Shadow World are on the march once more, and the conquest of Sagaria must be their aim. After Sagaria? Well, surely they must have their sights set on the Earthworld too. I wish it were otherwise.”
He got to his feet. “We must waste no more time,” he announced. “It is more vital than ever that we reach Spectram as swiftly as is mortally possible – Spectram and Queen Mirabella.”
He moved toward the carriage, shoulders slumped thoughtfully, leaving the rest to clear up the remains of their picnic. “If we make good speed we could be there in a week, perhaps less,” he called over his shoulder. “Even then we might find we are too late.”
“I could perhaps be helpful in that,” said Samzing quietly.
Afterwards, Sagandran was never able to tell exactly what happened once they’d settled back in the carriage. Samzing was insistent that only he should remain outside, sitting up on the driver’s seat. Before he climbed up there he spent a few minutes murmuring intently into Snowmane’s ear, perhaps reassuring the horse that he shouldn’t be frightened, no matter what might take place.
“Magic?” whispered Sagandran to Sir Tombin.
“I told you he was a powerful wizard,” the Frogly Knight replied, “and you shouldn’t think otherwise, no matter his appearance or his … ways. Yes, you’re about to see magic at work, my young friend.”
Sagandran found the prospect exciting but, at the same time, rather frightening. Perima, sitting next to him on the overstuffed seat, obviously felt much the same; her eyes were alight, but she also sidled closer to him. He wondered if he dared put his arm around her.
Then the world fell from them – that was the only way Sagandran could later describe it. There was a colossal implosion of multicolored radiance. It seemed more like a blast of sound rather than of light as it punched him in the stomach, doubling him over. Next, there was the scarifying sensation that he was both still seated in the carriage with Perima nestling up to him and near to drowning as he thrashed and flailed at the bottom of some turgid lake of viscous liquid. Where the brilliant light had been, there was now a darkness so profound that he lost even the memory of light. There was nothing at all in the world except the gummy liquid against which he struggled. An instant later and he wasn’t there any more; instead he was spread out into infinite thinness through all three worlds, so that his senses were overwhelmed by a billion billion clashing and colliding colors and sounds and scents and touches. From them, his soul coiled in upon itself, like a snail shrinking from scattered salt. Perima was spread into everywhere as thinly as he was, so that their essences were permeating each other. He could not only think her thoughts, he also experienced her every sensation, but could make no meaning of them, as if they were just beyond his reach. Then there was another sudden change, and he was walking through a field studded with brightly hued, heart-shaped spring flowers. Birds sailed overhead on the wind, but when he looked up at them, he saw that they were not birds, but silver skulls and silver babies screaming and screaming and screaming. He thought the sound of their screaming would drive his mind into the jaws of death, but instead it guided him to a place where, once again, absolute darkness reigned – absolute darkness and the slow, solitary, echoing drip of water to tell him that he was in the middle of a vast space. But even the darkness was now changing, somehow rolling its massiveness until it became …the green face of Sir Tombin, anxiously peering at him.
“Are you all right, Sagandran? What about you, Perima?”
Sagandran raised a sluggish hand, then let it fall again. He felt as if he had been thoroughly beaten all over, but he seemed unbroken. He somehow found the strength to turn his head to Perima, whose face was merely inches from his own. Her eyes were as dazed as he knew his own must be.
“Wow,” he murmured to her. “I don’t think … don’t think I want to go through that again.”
He tried to smile, but that was too huge an effort for him to contemplate. Instead, he just gazed weakly into her slowly focusing gaze.
Sir Tombin sat back, breathing a sigh of relief. “It seems to have affected the humans far more grievously than the rest of us, Flip, old chap.”
Sagandran watched a thought slowly move across the Frogly Knight’s face.
“Samzing. He’s as human as these two are. How did he—”
“Welcome to Spectram,” came the old wizard’s triumphant yell from above them. “No need for that constipation medicine now, eh?”
BOOK 2
THE ROAD TO QARNAPHEERAN
CHAPTER 1
THE RAINBOW CITY
o this is Spectram,” said Flip with a certain high-pitched distaste as Samzing drew the carriage up in front of a cozy-looking tavern, hauling on the reins. “It seems a bit—”
“Yes, this is Spectram,” said Sir Tombin hurriedly. “I do assure you that it makes a better impression in daylight.”
Ignoring the wizard’s triumphant cries of yee-hah from above, the four climbed out on trembling legs and began to unload their belongings. From somewhere in the gloom, a stable boy appeared and took Snowmane’s reins, rubbing his knuckles reassuringly on the horse’s nose. Samzing clambered wheezily down from his perch, his face still aglow.
“Here,” said Sir Tombin, tossing the lad a silver coin. “Take extra good care of this horse and I’ll give you another.”
“Sir,” said the stable boy smartly. Murmuring reassurances to the stallion, he led Snowmane and the carriage away to the rear of the inn.
“Sounds like they’re having fun in there,” said Sagandran, cocking his head toward the din of music and laughter pouring out through the tavern’s windows. “Sounds like a party.”
Sir Tombin looked at him sternly. “A revelry in which we must not permit ourselves to join. We have to keep our heads clear for the morrow. Sleep is our duty this night.”
Perima pulled a face.
“You too,” said Sir Tombin, turning toward the inn’s entrance.
The noise hit them like a gale as he tugged the door open. It took a moment or two for them to adjust their
eyes to the brightness. Oil lamps hung everywhere along the walls and flickered among the glasses and tankards that crowded the inn’s small round tables, about which sweaty-faced revelers clustered on crudely fashioned wooden chairs. The place didn’t look especially clean (the floor in particular was perhaps best not contemplated) but it didn’t look especially dirty either, and at its far end a big fireplace, at least as tall as Sagandran, cast a welcoming blaze. As the new arrivals jostled through the door with their luggage, the din of conversation ebbed. Every eye turned their way, some only briefly but others with a more interested stare. Sagandran was relieved to see that most of the faces were smiling.
A little while later, the five were gathered around the fireplace. Their bags had been taken by a serving boy who promised to deliver everything safely to the upstairs room Sir Tombin had booked following a brief negotiation with the innkeeper.
The chairs proved to be as uncomfortable as they looked. Even so, Samzing seemed to be on the verge of dropping off to sleep; Sir Tombin kept nudging his old friend back to wakefulness when he thought that none of the others were looking. Sagandran found Samzing’s drowsiness infectious and, glancing at Perima’s face, which was flushed by the warmth of the fire, he could see that she felt the same.
A rather comely girl, only a little older than Sagandran and Perima, arrived beside them. “Will you be wanting dinner?”
“Yes, ahem, indeed we shall,” began Sir Tombin. “Do you perchance have a menu?”
Samzing, who’d been leaning his elbows on the table and propping his face in his hands, pushed himself into a semblance of alertness and darted an angry glare at the Frogly Knight. “There’s no time for niceties, you fool,” he fussed. “Not unless you want to try eating in your sleep.” Then he addressed the girl. “Bring us four platefuls of the best on offer,” he said, “and a handful of nuts for my diminutive friend here.”
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