Everyone was out of breath by the time they arrived, and Alice felt her knees were shaking, but eventually they all stood in a group, staring around. The water was like tumbling ice, and now each one of them was soaked and shivering. But Poppy had seen something through the clouds of dancing white spray, and she hurried forwards, immediately kneeling on the wet ground.
Lying in a small pool of dark water, the great tiger was drenched, and tiny white crabs were picking at the open and bleeding wounds along his side. Gilden’s eyes were tight shut, but he was breathing, and the protruding lines of his ribs rose and fell through his scarred and dishevelled fur. Poppy brushed away the crabs, which scuttled back to the lake, and she leaned over and kissed the top of Gilden’s head. “Tell me what we can do to help,” she whispered, and pulled one of the golden figs from her pocket. She squeezed it a little, dripping some of the juice onto Gilden’s lips. The tip of his tongue flicked out, licking at the thick juice. Then, as if they had been glued, he slowly opened his eyes. Poppy cringed, for the tiger’s eyes seemed full of blood. She held out the rest of the fig, and as Gilden opened his mouth, she pushed the fruit into his throat. He closed his eyes again as he began to swallow the fig, and a peaceful look of relief softened his face. His whiskers had been limp, and now gradually they sprang up, and he opened his eyes once more. But they were no longer bloodstained, they were the beautiful black and golden eyes that Poppy remembered from before.
“Little empola,” he murmured, and Poppy nearly cried all over again, for this is what he had called her in the vision on the Chord of Destiny.
Granny and Zakmeister had also come forwards, and seen the huge iron chain around Gilden’s ankle. They both raised their hands, whispered the same two words, and the chain fell abruptly apart with a clank.
Gilden flexed his foot, whispering, “I thank you all.” He tried to raise himself but could not. Even the golden fig could not achieve everything. Poppy crept closer and took Gilden’s head onto her lap, stroking it as it lay on the red woolly dressing-gown. She began to dry his fur as he lay still, but her own clothes were as wet as he was.
Nathan stood behind Poppy and raised the knife once more. “The Lord of Clarr to the Knife of Clarr,” he said, “show us how to help Gilden, and do what you can to help him too.”
Granny pulled out the golden fig she had brought with her, and gave it to Poppy. “Give half to him to eat,” she said, and then squeeze the other half onto his fur, and rub it into the injuries.”
Very carefully, Poppy did as she was told. Almost at once, the wounds stopped bleeding and some of the smaller cuts closed. The light came back into Gilden’s eyes, and he managed to sit. Poppy was able to rub the fig juice onto his other side, and smiled. She gave the squashed half of the fig to Gilden to eat, and soon he was able to stretch, and speak. “I thank you most deeply,” he said, “and feel as though I have been restored to life. But the way out is long and dangerous and I am not sure whether I can climb the great steep steps.”
“Oh, dear me, no,” said Granny. “None of us want to do that. My friend Zakmeister and I can get us all home to our cottage and bring you with us without having to climb a single step. I believe you need more healing. This job is not over yet.”
“And besides,” said Zakmeister, “we have many questions for you regarding Yaark.”
Trying to stand, Gilden trembled on his legs and then sank back to the wet rock. “I will tell you whatever you wish to know,” he said, “although I may need to sleep first.”
“Have another fig,” grinned Nathan, pulling out his secret hoard.
Poppy laughed. “I’ve got another one too.”
“Don’t give poor Gilden both of them,” said Granny at once, “or he will fly back to the cottage on his own. And he might turn into a helicopter.”
She stood close and raised both her hands again, and Zakmeister did the same. With a loud whoosh of wind and warm mist, everyone whizzed up into the air, and in one tiny blink they landed gently outside the thatched cottage.
“Now,” said Poppy, one hand on Gilden’s neck, “come in and have a rest and something to eat.”
“I’ll make some fig pie,” said Granny.
Everyone else crowded around, but Poppy led Gilden carefully into her own little bedroom, and showed him her nice comfy bed. She patted the pillow. “Can you climb on here?” she asked. “It’s nice and warm and dry and you can sleep as long as you like. Then when you wake up, there are more golden figs to eat.” But she paused a moment and whispered, “But you won’t turn into Yaark, will you?”
“Never again,” sighed Gilden, and stiff legged and trembling, he climbed onto the bed and closed his eyes. Poppy tucked the quilt and the blankets over him and kissed him goodnight. He was already asleep.
She stayed there for some moments, watching the easy breathing, and once she felt secure she went off to find Ninester and give him back his woolly dressing-gown. It was still soaking wet so Irima took it outside and spread it over a bush to dry in the sun.
Back in the living room everyone was sitting around the table, deep in conversation. Nathan, Alice and John were wrapped in huge towels. “Come in, come in,” Messina beckoned. “I believe this is a highly advantageous moment. We have been worried about the condition of Yaark, and what a succubus truly is. And now we have Gilden here, the one who can tell us the most, from a highly personal point of view, about exactly what Yaark is capable of doing – and being!”
“I’m more interested in trying to cure Gilden,” said Poppy at once.
“That is exactly the same thing,” said her mother. “Gilden has been wounded, starved and imprisoned. However, the greatest problem is what Yaark can do to him. We are now in a position to tend his wounds, feed him, and stop Yaark from ever troubling him again.”
“Can we really do that?” Nathan looked out from his towel and frowned. He was particularly worried about the whole idea of Yaark somehow crawling inside his head ever again. Without thinking, he rubbed at his neck.
Granny came back into the room carrying a large fig pie, smelling of fresh pastry and the most delicious fruit. Juice oozed from the little hole in the pie’s middle, where steam rose in a golden swirl. “This can be cut into a great many tiny slices,” she said, setting the pie dish on the table in front of everyone. “No one should eat too much, for it’s extremely strong, and I want to leave a good double slice for Gilden.”
She raised the long sharp knife, and cut it neatly. Everybody reached over and took one of the thin slices, but Nathan said, “Do tigers eat pies?”
“Everybody likes my pies,” said Granny. “And why do you keep rubbing your neck, Nathan, when there’s nothing left there anymore?”
“Oh.” He hadn’t realised he’d been doing it. “It gets a bit sore. Not much. Just a little.”
But this seemed to worry everyone and although he leaned back, trying to look cheerful, Sherdam, Zakmeister, Tryppa, his mother and father and Granny too all bent over the table, looking at him.
“I cured those bites, and removed all the venom,” said Messina. “There should not even be a tiny itch left. Something is wrong.”
Sherdam reached out his hand, pressing it onto Nathan’s neck. Nathan gave a small grunt, for it was suddenly painful. “There is something inside,” said Sherdam, and with one hand he pressed again, while with the other he waved it high, saying, “Out, and show yourself.”
Nathan slumped over the table, his eyes rolling up, and then closing. Alice screamed and Poppy cried again. “Once more,” said Messina, and Sherdam repeated what he had done before. His second hand hovered over Nathan’s neck as his left hand pressed down. Messina stood, and both she and Sherdam called, “Out, venom, and show yourself.”
The dark shadow arose from Nathan’s neck, barely visible, a little spiral of faint grey shadow which twisted upwards. And there in the middle was a minute blue star. It disappeared, leaving a faint smell of rotten eggs.
Messina wrapped both her arms around
her son, and breathed deeply. “I underestimated Yaark,” she said softly. “I had thought we had removed all his influence, but it seems there was a tiny part of him still left inside. And,” she shook her head sadly, as Nathan opened his eyes again, and looked around, puzzled, “if that tiny part is left, I imagine it increases. So the dreadful monster grows and grows.”
“We need to be careful of that with Gilden,” said Tryppa. “For Yaark has treated Gilden as a carriage for a long time.”
“I don’t think that’s a nice thing to say,” complained Poppy.
“But I’m afraid it’s true,” said Granny. “you first met Gilden quite a long time ago, my dear, and already he carried a part of Yaark. You said he was injured back then.”
“Yes, and I got annoyed, because Gilden sent me into the ruined palace, right back in time, and I met the horrible Lester,” said Poppy, sitting still, elbows on the table, remembering back. “And I thought that was rotten of him. But it wasn’t. It was good because I got to understand all sorts of things, and I wasn’t hurt anyway, though I did get a bit frightened at the time. But it led to finding out things I wouldn’t ever have known otherwise. And it was exciting too, in a way.”
Messina was thinking, and said thoughtfully, “You said Gilden needed to go to the black centre of the great forest.”
“He did.” Poppy nodded. “But when Peter and I went back there, we found the rainbow that took us to Sparkan. We found the golden fig tree too, but we never saw Gilden.”
“There are too many places here that I know nothing about,” said Messina. She stood behind Nathan, still clasping his shoulders. “The Caves of Clarr, the Palace of Myrmion, the Castle of Fibillank, and the Forest of Sharr. As the empress, I should know all these places. Perhaps I and my family should travel more widely.”
“Sparkan, for instance,” Bayldon said. “That interests me more than all the rest. But first we should go to Peganda and link up with the Epilogs. Nathan says they have started their own resistance and spying group. What better creature to spy, than an invisible one!”
Nathan was confused and rubbed his eyes. “Did I fall asleep again? Did someone hit me? I feel a bit odd.”
Bayldon looked across at him. “My dear boy, how is your neck? Is it still sore?’
Nathan reached his hand around his neck, touching various different places, then shook his head. “No, not sore at all,” he said. “I can’t even remember where the itchy spots were. It’s completely better.”
“If it hurts again, tell us at once,” said Bayldon. “That’s important, my boy.”
“So now,” said Poppy, scrambling up, “let’s start curing Gilden. Even if he’s still asleep, we can begin, can’t we?”
“Indeed,” said Sherdam, also standing.
And Granny grabbed what remained of her fig pie. “We’ll see if Gilden is hungry,” she said, “especially since he looked half starved. But I want to feed Gilden, not Yaark.”
Messina sighed. “I believe Yaark would not be interested in golden figs,” she said, “since it seems he only eats living creatures.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The sunshine rolled over the long grasses and their huge seed heads, blowing in the warm breeze.
Dimples, his eight hairy legs clinging on to Peter’s shoulder, was singing softly, which sounded more like the buzzing of a small wasp in his ear. Ferdinand sat at ease on one of Sam’s shoulders, and a rather large scorpion sat on his other. Alfie, who led the way, was very pleased to have nothing on either shoulder, and although he was still worried about Nathan, he was delighted to be marching through the green fields of Lashtang with the sun warming the back of his head.
Each night they slept amongst the grass, their heads pillowed by moss, and the grasses as their blankets. The nights were as warm as a gentle breeze, and they lay comfortably, gazing up at the great sweep of stars in the huge black and cloudless sky. Peter would play his lute, singing softly, and Sam would sit cross-legged, weaving the grass into coverlets and sacks for the animals. Alfie loved to lie still, dreaming of heroic battles and what he would do when the war with the Hazletts began.
The days rolled by, always sunny and always dry, and one by one the small creatures of the savanna came to the call of the muster, ready to join the rebellion and support the Octobrs.
There were slightly larger animals here in the longer grasslands, and hurrying to the call of the muster were fewer insects and instead there came fluffy golden chickens, and roosters vivid in all their colours, with bright red crests and long golden legs. There were lizards with scaly frills around their necks, and beetles with iridescent bodies and large transparent wings. There was a lobster who popped his head out from the river, and two crows, black and fast, who promised to fly across the whole land of Lashtang to find the weapons. There were two little kittens, both black and white, and Sam would have loved to keep them both, but they insisted on hurrying off, promising to help find the terrible hoard.
It seemed almost more like a holiday than a muster, and they were all very much enjoying themselves, when something important changed it all.
Ferdinand, having hopped over to Sam’s shoulder, had started talking to his girlfriend and now they were having a quiet discussion without much regard for Sam’s head in the middle. “I think we should get married anyway,” the scorpion Sorazella was saying. “I won’t mind you being a frog if you don’t mind me being a scorpion.”
“But I mind both,” said Ferdinand with a sniff. “And we couldn’t invite anyone to the wedding. They’d laugh at us.”
“The illustrious empole,” insisted Sorazella, “is bound to find the Eternal Chain soon, and then we shall be ourselves again, already happy and married.”
Sam was wishing they’d get off his shoulders and go and have their conversation in private, when the long grass before them parted, and three big cherry red toads bounded through. Alfie stopped, looking down, while Peter immediately sat and Dimples climbed off his back and saluted the toads with one of his legs.
“We done found it,” said the first toad, sitting on his back legs and waving his small red hands in the air. “We’s sure as sure can be.”
“And no delay,” croaked the second toad. “Look, we came by sky-train.” Behind him a flurry of preening and a long assortment of large birds was making ready to leave again.
Everybody crowded around the toads, including many of the little animals which had already come to the call of the muster.
“Great news,” squeaked a small white mouse, twitching its little pink nose. “Where did you find it?”
“Not so easy to go and destroy, perhaps,” croaked the second toad. “But it’s in the Tower of Clarr.”
Alfie looked quite disappointed. “’Tis so far from here,” he said. “Reckon t’will take us a week. We ain’t got no magic. Or would that bird-bus come fer us an’all if we asks?”
It was in that moment that the sky-train soared back into the air. Peter looked up and shook his head. “We’ll get some birds to tell Nat and his mum and dad and Granny.” He picked up Dimples, popped him back on his shoulder, and stood up. “And maybe ask if Hermes might come and take us there. But it won’t be us destroying anything. We don’t need to watch.”
“After all this mustering,” said Alfie, “I reckons I wants to be there in the end. Won’t be proper if we doesn’t see the end o’ wot we started.”
Peter turned to the toads. “How did you find it?”
“We was the three proper guards at the tower, when it were in good condition,” said the smallest toad. “We was big strong men, we was, but look at us now! Tisn’t right. I were fast asleep with me wife at home one night, and when we woke, she were a little maggoty bug, and I were a big fat toad what eats maggoty bugs.”
“You didn’t eat your wife, did you?” asked Sam, shocked.
“’Course not,” said the toad, rather annoyed. “But I went to find me friends what was them other guards and found we was all toads, and mighty unhappy
with it too.”
“So you still work as guards at the tower?” asked Peter.
“Sometimes, when we ain’t got nothing better to do,” said the largest toad. “Not that anyone pays us no more. And not that toads got much to do any time ‘cept eat. And when we heard about the muster and the big pile o’ nasty killing stuff, we went to look. And there it is.”
“Just dumped in one of the rooms?”
“T’ain’t that easy,” said the middle sized toad. “Tis behind that ice wall, and there’s some folk stuck in there too.”
‘We done rescued them all,” objected Alfie. “Must be new folk.”
“Nat can get them free with his knife,” said Sam.
“Yeh,” said Alfie, frowning. “But only if he puts some other poor gent in instead. And I ain’t offering.”
“No. He managed to break the ice with the knife. But I bet Yaark has built it back up.”
Peter gave a long shrill whistle, which impressed Sam who couldn’t whistle at all, and the two black crows flew down, one landing on Peter’s lute, and one on Alfie’s head. So Alfie, Peter and Sam explained what was needed.
“Fly to the cottage behind the ruined palace,” said Peter. “The one with the thatched roof. You have to fly there first, as quick as you can.”
“Tell them ‘tis found,” said Alfie, shaking his head so the crow with its claws in his hair, let go and flew down. “Them weapons and guns and stuff bin seen in Clarr behind that nasty ice wall. Reckon Nat gotta go, and the empress and others too. Plenty o’ them folk wiv magic and knives and stuff.”
“In the tower,” said Sam, “where they were all trapped before. And now someone else is there.”
“We could write a note,” said Peter.
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