The Queen and the Nobody Boy

by Barbara Else

  The creature beckoned Hodie with its lion’s paw and held out the map. ~ Fold the crown ~ rang the voice.

  Hodie found he’d stood up from hiding.

  ~ You are the Queen’s Companion and Guardian of The Ties ~ the creature said.

  Hodie stumbled with shock. Even if he hadn’t known he was the Companion or Guardian? Even if he was nobody, and it had happened by accident, and he’d been trying to head south all along? Well – he didn’t dare make any objection to such a creature at such a time.

  Trembling, he walked down into the bowl, close enough to take the map, to feel the soft metal feathers on the dragon-eagle’s paw, to see the silver claws and feel its breath on his forehead. His hands shook so much he thought the silver map would rip to pieces, but he folded it in half, in half again lengthways, then half again, and again to make a long strip. He folded one end over the other so it made a tiny peak like the top of a star.

  ~ Well done ~ chimed the voice that was no voice.

  Hodie held out the circle. The creature breathed on it, and there, in its claws, was a crown of silver etched with feathers.

  The Emperor struggled against the ropes of mist but they held firm. Up by the carriages, Murgott stamped in a piratical dance of pure excitement. “You wanted magic, now you’re seein’ it!” he cried.

  The dragon-eagle held the crown out for Sibilla, but she took a step back.

  “It’s yours, Sibilla,” called Lu’nedda.

  Sibilla seemed to have a little argument inside her head and then she bowed. The crown floated from the dragon-eagle’s claw and rested on her tangled hair. Hodie was very afraid he might cry, so he bit the inside of his cheek till the feeling passed.

  The buzzing in the air grew more intense.

  ~ Now ~ said the dragon-eagle. With a terrible effort, the creature raised a paw and dragged at its chest over its heart. It plucked a feather and held it out. On its glowing point was a drop of jasper-red blood.

  Sibilla hesitated again as if she was listening to a voice inside her. She reached into the bag and brought out the rusty old cup. She dropped the bag and took the feather from the dragon-eagle, held it up and bowed to the creature. Then she stuck the quill into the cup.

  When she drew it out, a tiny flame of green burned at the tip. She held it high. The air was still and the flame soon brightened.

  ~ Trust me ~ rang the ancient voice of the dragon-eagle.

  “Trust me,” the little Queen echoed, and touched the green fire to the nest.

  There was a great cry from the dragon-eagle. It spread its wings. Flames raced around the circle of the nest. Hodie flung an arm up for protection, but even as he backed away he realised the flames reached only upwards. They made a fiery crown, branches of green fire, gold fire, silver, so high they scorched the edges of the clouds.

  ~

  42

  the only choice possible

  The shape of the dragon-eagle crumpled and flaked like paper, diminished to ashes. Shreds of black edged with red sparks flew about like fiery moths. Hodie saw Sibilla shuddering, her face wet with tears. Hodie was shaking too, on hands and knees in the rough grass.

  “Wait,” he heard the Queen say to him, her voice hoarse. “Wait.” She wiped her face on the sleeve of the pink pyjamas.

  The roar of the flames died down. The nest was nothing but a blackened twist. No embers glowed.

  “This is wrong!” bellowed Prowdd’on on the rim of the hill. “I wanted it! I have one but I wanted two!”

  Hodie knew down to his bones now what was coming.

  Another roar began to build, up, up. It was the roar of the four winds, which pounced and plunged over the rim from every quarter and breathed on the nest.

  In the ashes one silver ember flared, then seven, then more, like tiny stars. The winds dropped to gentle breathing. Sibilla’s hands lifted to urge the new flames on. They glowed and came together in a fiery flower of silver, blue and green, gold, that grew larger and larger. Something started to form in the petals of flame – a curve like wings, a shape like a coronet, a spreading tail. A young dragon-eagle lifted from the fiery flower into the sky. A little unsteady, supported by four now-gentle winds, it circled the hill on its new wings, silver voice in a chiming song.

  For a moment, Hodie thought everything would be all right.

  But the ropes of mist around the Um’Binnians were beginning to break up.

  “Shoot it!” Prowdd’on bellowed. “Gree’sle! Kill it! Capture it! Shoot the dragon-eagle down!”

  “Make your mind up!” cried a soldier.

  “Rebel!” Gree’sle pointed his sword as well as a pistol. “Under arrest! Court martial!”

  The dragon-eagle opened its beak and sent a green flame to scorch Gree’sle’s hat. The Commander ducked. A squirt of flame nearly hit Prowdd’on. But the dragon-eagle was too new to have much control yet. It tried again and there was only a spark.

  The Princessa struggled down from the rim of the mount. Hodie readied himself to shove her back, but Lu’nedda took Sibilla’s arm exactly like a royal sister. “Call the dragon-eagle down,” she said. “You have to hurry.”

  The wind tugged Sibilla’s hair. Her pyjama trousers flapped. “Call it down? I can’t! They’ll kill it!”

  “For goodness sake. You are Queen Sibilla.” Lu’nedda said it with a strange stern look (very much like Ogg’ward, actually) and gave her royal sister’s arm a shake. “Call the dragon-eagle. Hope that it is strong enough to rescue its companion, and your brother and his fiancée. If you do not, my father will rule your country as well as mine. Is that what any sensible woman or man wants?”

  “Definitely not,” Sibilla said.

  Hodie scrambled out of the way fast. The little Queen called up to the dragon-eagle. With a chiming of feathers it soared down beside her. The winds tossed Sibilla’s hair about and gusted with such force that it was impossible for Hodie to hear what she said, though the new crown stayed on tight. The dragon-eagle let out a fierce cry, then lowered its head to Sibilla.

  She ducked away and grabbed up the drawstring bag. Why? None of The Ties were left in it.

  Before Hodie could call out to her that Murgott’s notebook was not a treasure, Sibilla was back beside the dragon-eagle. It scooped her onto its back. She grasped the feathers at the base of its neck, and the wings started to fan out behind her. The dragon-eagle tipped its head as if it asked for her encouragement. She stroked its neck.

  The winds roared, the dragon-eagle rose up. In a few beats, the creature had swept the little Queen so high in the smoky sky that all Hodie could see was a blur soaring in the direction of Um’Binnia.

  ~

  43

  oh please, not another

  bad choice

  In the bottom of the bowl, the air was still. The mist had disappeared, though a sweet smell lingered, along with drifts of ordinary smoke. Hodie crouched again behind a clump of grass and watched the Um’Binnians regroup. The Emperor snapped out orders. Gree’sle handcuffed Lu’nedda and thrust her into the biggest carriage, and the Emperor climbed in after her. The officers shouted to each other about wind speed, and air-lift, and took spanners and adjustable wrenches to some mechanism beneath the carriage.

  Murgott, still manacled, lay on his belly in the long grass. He jerked his head, and Hodie wriggled over to him.

  “They’re sending Prowdd’on directly to Um’Binnia,” Murgott growled. “They say if the wind holds, they can lift from here and reach a speed at least as fast as the dragon-eagle.” He struggled onto his side. “My pocket-knife, boy. Get the cuffs off me. Use the lock-pick.”

  By the time Hodie had freed the Corporal (fast), the carriage had been transformed into a wind-ship (equally fast).

  “So you believe in magic now, boy.” Murgott rubbed at his wrists and flexed his hands. “But the fight’s not over.
Let me tell you straight, from the heart of a man who has lived with the most evil set of villains you could wish to avoid – from a man who has drunk the dregs of bad behaviour and relished each drop. I tell you, hope is the source of magic. Hope’s a gift, boy, from a generous and loving heart. The little Queen has such a heart. She’s had it since she was two years old. And a generous heart is better than the most vast of treasure hoards the world could hold.”

  The Corporal’s words made Hodie wonder why his poetry wasn’t better.

  “I thank you, boy, for your service to the little Queen. And now …” Murgott took back his pocket-knife. “Goodbye, sir.” Murgott crawled off as if he was a large spy beetle.

  So – Hodie had been called “sir” and yet the Corporal had dismissed him. The little Queen had not even said goodbye. It felt like a kick in the stomach – but only if he let it. It was all right. He’d done a good job, even if it was mostly by accident. And Queen Sibilla had come into her magic, or as close as she ever might. Hodie wondered if she’d be satisfied. He would hear news of her as he lived his quiet life. He hoped she would succeed in this last bit of the struggle. But yes, his part in it was done. He’d found out about his parents – all three of them, which had been a surprise. He might never altogether forgive his mother, but he figured that was fair enough. He might actually miss her a bit, but he had always coped.

  So now he was on his own, free to go south. To go anywhere. To find work. Find a place to call home. It was Queen Sibilla who was unlucky. She still had jobs to do: join her brother and the injured dragon-eagle in Um’Binnia, deal with the war, and rule with her brother – that is, if the Fontanians won. But that was her set of problems. Not Hodie’s.

  The military carriage was ready for take-off. The wind-sails were hoisted. Any second the wind would pick it up and send it soaring for Um’Binnia.

  If somebody wanted to, they could stow away. If somebody thought his arms were strong enough, he could cling to the carriage axle. He’d have to cling for at least an hour of land, then over the Great Salt Moat. It would be unwise for a boy scared of heights. It would be the most foolish thing that any boy could do.

  But if he was a Companion and a Guardian, there was actually a big job still to be finished.

  Hodie stood up and looked south. The sky was eggshell blue and sunshine painted the hills with a golden wash. Then he turned and sprinted for the wind-carriage, kicked a leg over the back axle and hunched into the wheel well.

  Chuk! said something tucked at the other end of the axle.

  Hodie had lost count of the number of times he’d been impressed by that squirrel. He hoped it was holding on with every claw. Perhaps it had a serious job to finish too.

  ~

  44

  how to find south

  When Hodie dared look down, the wind-carriage was soaring over wild lands. The Great Salt Moat soon lay beneath, crinkled with waves. His hands cramped. So did his knees. Then at the foot of Um’Binnia he saw the Fontanian flagship the Excellent Eagle, moored beside a small sailing vessel. Her sails were furls of green, the hull painted in segments – orange, yellow, red and purple. The Royal Traveller. Just as the second metal bird had told Sibilla, King Jasper and Lady Beatrix had each arrived. There would be a battle ahead.

  Hodie couldn’t bear to see the approach to the wind-garage. He closed his eyes against the sting of the wind till he felt a bump. He tumbled off onto the cavern floor, too cold to move. Something furry rolled after him – ch-ch-chk! He managed to wriggle with the squirrel into shadows behind a work bench.

  Gree’sle, the Emperor and six officers jumped from the carriage. The Princessa stumbled out last, handcuffed and forgotten.

  At the rear of the cave was a turmoil of silver feathers, flashes of swords and daggers, the crack of pistols. There were so many Um’Binnians, so few Fontanians. King Jasper, in a helmet and metal jerkin, shielded the wounded dragon-eagle. Fresh blood trickled down its side. Its broken wing dragged on the floor. There was Lady Beatrix, the King’s fiancée, one of her arms red with blood as well, wielding a sword as if – well, as if it was a heavy sword. Hodie’s mother was there, too, in the cluster of Fontanian soldiers. She was alive and fighting too! Allana swung a short sword with both hands as she held off two Um’Binnian officers.

  Near Hodie, there came a roar of fire. On his side of the cavern stood the new-born dragon-eagle, wings half-spread, staggering a bit because it was so young. Sibilla still clung to its shoulders. Another flash of fire came from its beak, but it was unable to get closer to the fighting – and how could it use its flame when it might kill the King or Lady Beatrix?

  “Surrender,” Prowdd’on shouted. “Everything is mine! Fontania, treasures, all things!”

  An Um’Binnian officer blew his trumpet. The fighting quieted.

  Both dragon-eagles swung toward Prowdd’on. His shoulders stiffened.

  The wounded dragon-eagle spoke, and the air in the cavern rang with a long chime ~ Magic must be given freely ~

  Prowdd’on laughed, though it seemed rather put-on.

  There was another rush of wind into the cavern and Hodie’s fringe blew in his eyes. A second military wind-carriage landed. From behind its rear axle tumbled the big shape of Murgott. So he had been stupid too! In a second, the Corporal was hidden behind a pile of crates near Hodie.

  But now officers were leaping out of the carriage and standing with Prowdd’on, pistols aimed at King Jasper, Lady Beatrix, Lady Allana.

  Hodie felt more hopeless than he’d ever felt in all his life.

  Jasper lowered his sword and raised a hand, palm up, to Prowdd’on. “Think about it, Emperor. Your city is full of rebels. Do all your people want you to destroy the last chance to preserve magic?”

  “You’re hardly older than a boy and your beard is a joke,” said Prowdd’on. “Your sister is a ragamuffin brat in stolen pyjamas.”

  Lu’nedda called out. “Father! Listen to King Jasper! For once, think of something besides selfish self!”

  Hodie saw Murgott’s head pop up. Pocket-knife out, the Corporal was sneaking along the side of the carriage to release Lu’nedda’s handcuffs. For a moment, Jasper too was distracted by the movement. Gree’sle lunged for him, and King Jasper was in a death-grip, sword at his throat.

  The wounded dragon-eagle reared up and threatened Prowdd’on with a flame.

  Nobody moved.

  Except Sibilla. She let go the silver feathers of the new dragon-eagle’s neck and slid to the cavern floor, an arm’s length from Hodie. The drawstring bag slid off too and fell apart completely. On the floor lay Murgott’s notebook, open. Tiny silver shapes of words began to float up from the fluttering pages. Sibilla blinked at them. Hodie recognised them as they shimmered and curved in the air. It was the poem Murgott had written about the little Queen when she was two, the day she and her brother had been crowned – words about her generous heart and loving soul.

  For a moment Sibilla pressed her head to the new young dragon-eagle’s side. Then she stepped into the centre of the cavern.

  Hodie’s hand flew to grasp the spanner in his shirt – it was all he had left with which to defend her.

  “Emperor Prowdd’on,” cried Sibilla. “King Jasper. Lady Beatrix, Princessa Lu’nedda, everyone! Please listen. I’m willing to share what I have – it isn’t much. But, for instance… now I have two crowns. I’ve got one at home already. The dragon-eagle made this one – well, Hodie helped. Emperor, tell the Commander to let my brother go, and I’ll give you this crown.”

  “It is only silver,” Prowdd’on said. “I will have gold.”

  Gree’sle’s grip tightened on King Jasper’s throat.

  Sibilla’s hand went to her neck too – she gripped the pendant. “I have this!” she shouted. “It’s the oldest gold!” She yanked it off her neck.

  This was the moment to distract Gree’sle. Hodi
e leapt on top of the work bench. “There’s this too!” He pulled out the spanner and raised his arm.

  In the same moment that Sibilla tossed the pendant, he threw the spanner. Glittering, they whirled towards Prowdd’on. The Emperor jumped back. The pendant and spanner collided with a flash of green – the air around the two vibrated and glowed as the pieces fused. A clash of music rang and echoed, and swelled throughout the cavern.

  There, on the floor, lay a golden sceptre. It shivered and shimmered, grew three times larger as everyone watched. It was richest, brightest gold.

  Prowdd’on bent to pick it up.

  “No!” cried King Jasper.

  ~ The Queen’s sceptre! ~ cried the re-born dragon-eagle. ~ Only the Queen of Fontania must touch it! ~

  Jasper kicked out then, and Gree’sle staggered and let go. The stand-off, if you asked Hodie, was at a stand-still.

  ~ Queen, take up the sceptre ~ said the wounded dragon-eagle.

  ~ Take it up ~ said the other, the new-born, the fire-born ~ Queen, take it up ~

  King Jasper and Lady Beatrix whispered encouragement. Hodie heard his mother urging too. Lu’nedda and Murgott, both very bedraggled, looked at the little Queen, waiting. Hodie held his breath.

  ~ There is more to magic than anyone knows ~ said the wounded dragon-eagle. ~ The sceptre is proof that you have come into your magic, Queen Sibilla ~

  She brushed her dirty hands on the even dirtier pyjamas, stepped over and took up the sceptre. It seemed heavy.

  The wounded dragon-eagle spoke again. ~ First, I must ask you to heal my wing. Then you may grant one wish to one person. It may be to any person present ~

  Sibilla raised her head and walked slowly to the wounded dragon-eagle. With the golden token she touched the broken wing. Sweet-scented mist rose around her. Then she stepped back. The dragon-eagle carefully flexed its wing, flapped both wings hard enough to make a breeze run around the cavern, and lowered its head to her in thanks.