The Stones of Ravenglass

by Nimmo, Jenny

  Timoken touched a stone. It felt icy cold and crumbled under his fingers. ‘Ugh! What is it, Eri?’

  ‘Get away from it!’ the wizard cried. ‘Those forest fiends have worked their sorcery here.’

  Timoken leapt back.

  ‘I’ve come across their evil mould before.’ The wizard raised his staff and roared at the stones. He used ancient words that Timoken had never heard and couldn’t understand. But there was no mistaking the wizard’s next command.

  ‘GO! GO!’ Eri’s ringing tones carried over the ruin and deep into the forest. He brought his staff cracking down on the pile and Timoken’s spirits rose. Surely the wizard’s deep, fierce voice would banish any sorcery.

  They waited while silence fell. Behind them, the camel shifted uneasily. A breeze drifted round them, smelling of decay. The clouds obscured the stars again and Timoken lifted the rush-light, just to make sure the castle hadn’t reappeared. But it was still a pile of decaying stones, and he felt an urgent need to leave the place.

  Suddenly, Gabar gave a deep, rumbling bellow. ‘Leave, Family! Leave here!’ the camel implored.

  Timoken couldn’t move. He stood frozen to the spot while, beside him, Eri murmured, ‘Too late. It’s here!’

  A pale cloud lifted from the ruin. It hovered above the stones, gradually assuming the faint outline of a woman. Eri drew in his breath as the figure became clearer. A moment later, a woman stood before them, on the highest stone. She had a young, moon-like face; her hair was white and fell in long strands to her waist. Her eyes were colourless, and her loose robe the greenish-grey of a stagnant pool.

  Frightened as he was, Timoken found a voice. ‘Did you destroy my castle?’

  ‘Destroy?’ Her voice had a rough, sticky croak.

  ‘There was a castle here,’ Timoken said boldly. ‘But the walls have crumbled, in just a day. Did you do it?’

  The woman gave a heartless smile; her eyes remained cold and empty. She stretched out a hand, saying, ‘Give me your lovely cloak, and you’ll have your castle back.’

  ‘Never!’ cried Timoken. ‘I’ll keep my cloak and get my castle back, in spite of all your sorcery.’

  The woman’s eyes turned black. She opened her bloodless lips and a dreadful shriek came out of her. All at once she was in the air and flying at Timoken, her arms stretched before her, black-tipped nails pointing at his throat. She was almost on him when Eri struck her with his staff, and down she came with a dreadful, gurgling screech.

  She wasn’t long on the ground. As she flew up, she gave three blood-chilling shrieks and the ruin trembled, sending stones in all directions. Pale forms rose out of the ruin; they were smaller than the woman and less defined, their features barely visible in their white moon-faces. They came at Timoken and the wizard with a deafening high-pitched wailing, their green-grey arms twisting and waving.

  The wizard lashed out with his staff, Timoken with his flaming rush. He felt their fingers in his hair, tearing at his neck, tugging the cloak. With one hand he pulled his cloak tighter. ‘Stay with me,’ he told the cloak. ‘Defend yourself.’

  There was a hiss of pain as the fiends began to feel the sting of the cloak. Six of them flew up, nursing their injured hands. They twisted about and made for the camel, who had no way of defending himself. They pulled his ears, sank their claws into his back, bit his neck and covered his eyes with sticky veils of green-grey fungus.

  Gabar’s bellow of fear and pain filled the night air and travelled far over the forest.

  Timoken ran to defend his camel but the fiends clutched his hair and tugged him back.

  ‘Eri!’ called Timoken. ‘Help Gabar, I beg you.’

  The wizard was in no position to help. It was all he could do to keep the fiends from scratching out his eyes. As soon as he had dashed one of the creatures to the ground, another landed on his shoulders. ‘I can’t, Timoken,’ he gasped. ‘He’ll have to save himself.’

  Timoken watched, helplessly, as Gabar dropped to his knees. ‘Family, it is the end,’ he groaned.

  Standing high on the ruin, the woman’s grey lips were drawn into a hideous grin. Her pale eyes observed the battle before her with satisfaction.

  A vicious bite on the leg sent Timoken tumbling to the ground. The fiends hovered above him, their dreadful voices momentarily quiet. In the brief interval between their screechings, another sound could be heard; a distant squawk that came closer and closer.

  All at once, a great winged form plummeted out of the air. Long tongues of flame shot from the beast’s nostrils and her steely talons hit the ground with a loud, metallic ring.

  ‘Enid!’ breathed Timoken.

  The dragon made straight for the creatures attacking Gabar. With one puff of her fiery breath they fled, shrieking with pain, their long fingers smouldering. Gabar bellowed his joy and stood up, shaking the nets of mould off his eyelids.

  Enid’s bursts of flame reached far into the shadows. She swung her head about and the fire caught at every fiend. Their toes, their ashen hair, their long fingers and their white floating robes; all were singed and burning in a moment. Screaming with agony, the vicious creatures rose into the air and vanished. Only one remained, the moon-faced woman. Her mouth twisting with fury she faced the dragon and shrieked, ‘Reek and Mildew, Mould and Stinkweed eat you away; I am the Damzel of Decay.’

  Timoken and the wizard watched Enid nervously, wondering if she could withstand the woman’s curse. The dragon looked puzzled. She lifted one clawed foot uncertainly; her flames died and a single puff of smoke issued from her nostrils.

  ‘She wanted the camel killed,’ Timoken shouted to Enid. He was about to add, ‘Us too!’ but, with a roar of fury and a huge burst of flame, Enid rushed at the moon-faced woman.

  In a second, she had gone. Where? They couldn’t tell. The dragon stood on the ruin, her tail lashing the air, her hot breath sweeping the fungus that covered the stones, and they began to steam.

  ‘Thank you, Enid.’ Eri approached the dragon and she jumped down and wrapped her scaly wings about him. But even while she hugged the wizard, Timoken could see that she had eyes for no one but the camel.

  Gabar gazed back at her. ‘Tell the dragon,’ he grunted. ‘Tell her, thank you.’

  ‘Gabar the camel is grateful for your help,’ Timoken told Enid. ‘You saved his life.’

  ‘It was nothing,’ said the dragon. ‘A great pleasure to protect such a noble friend.’

  ‘She said it was a pleasure,’ Timoken told Gabar. He didn’t think it necessary to relay the whole message.

  Before they left the cliff-top, Timoken went to examine the stones. The pile where Enid had been standing were still warm. They didn’t crumble when he touched them. He ran his hand across more and more of the stones. They were firm and solid. It was as if Enid’s breath had hardened them, like clay in a hot kiln.

  Timoken called the wizard over and asked him to touch the stones. When Eri had felt their warm solidity, he scratched his forehead for a moment and then said, ‘The Damzel of Decay. Hmm. It’s my belief that the Damzel and her minions grow the rot and damp and feed off it, just as a farmer grows his corn to feed his family.’

  ‘What a disgusting idea,’ said Timoken.

  ‘But think what it means, boy. If we can keep this place dry and warm, if we keep fires burning and Enid plays her part, the Damzel won’t come back.’

  ‘And we can build the castle again,’ Timoken said hopefully. ‘Because there was a castle here. Do you believe me now, Eri? Do you?’

  ‘I’m beginning to,’ said the wizard. ‘Now, let’s get some sleep.’

  They climbed on Gabar’s back and, with Enid flying beside them, travelled through the sky and down into the forest clearing. Only two shelters could be seen, the third was shrouded in invisibility. At a touch of Eri’s staff, however, the vanished shelter appeared, with the two children inside it, still sleeping peacefully.

  The following morning, Timoken woke up to find that Thorkil had already b
uilt a fire; Elfrieda had gone with the others to look for breakfast.

  Timoken sat beside the fire and held his hands out to the flames. The sun had barely risen and the air was cold. The ground felt damp and an icy dew dripped from the trees. Timoken hunched his shoulders and looked into the forest, almost expecting to see the Damzel.

  Thorkil came and sat beside him. ‘I saw you return,’ he said, glancing at Timoken. ‘I couldn’t sleep, and when I looked out of the shelter, I saw your camel dropping from the sky.’ He frowned. ‘But it has no wings.’

  ‘No,’ Timoken agreed. ‘I can make him fly.’

  ‘I see.’ Thorkil stared into the fire. ‘And you can fly, too, and speak the camel’s language, and the dragon’s. You can multiply and . . . and what else can you do?’

  ‘I can bring storms and make them go.’

  Thorkil grimaced. ‘So what are you, Timoken?’

  ‘I’m an African with one foot in the realm of enchantments. If you stay with me, you’ll always be at risk, because the attention I get is often dangerous.’ Timoken hadn’t meant to say so much and he added, ‘You can believe me or not.’

  Thorkil hunched closer to the fire. ‘My mother would have believed you. She was very superstitious. But my father would have needed proof. He told us there was nothing to fear from the carved demons on the church wall, or the paintings of the end of the world. He was a very practical man.’

  ‘How did he die?’ asked Timoken.

  ‘He lost his head.’

  ‘Mine too.’

  They had something in common, and that caused them to smile wistfully at each other. Timoken hoped it wasn’t just a temporary truce.

  Soon after the other children arrived with their cups of nuts and berries, Eri appeared carrying a dead hare. Thorkil wanted to know how he had managed to catch it. Eri told him politely, ‘Like anyone else. Not by magic if that’s what you think.’

  After breakfast, Eri stood up, brushed the remaining crumbs from his robe and said, ‘I have something to tell you all.’

  They fell very quiet. Fingers were silently licked, cups placed carefully on the ground.

  ‘Timoken and I are leaving this place,’ Eri told them. ‘We are going some distance away, where a castle will be built. Don’t frown, my friends. You already know that Timoken is a magician, and I have some skill, too.’

  There was a murmur of agreement.

  ‘There are dangers attached to this boy.’ He pointed at Timoken with his staff. ‘Demons follow him: witches, fiends, monsters; he draws them all, but he has plenty of strengths to fight them off.’ He paused and looked round the group. ‘So if you come with us, you know what to expect.’

  ‘Where else can we go?’ asked Elfrieda.

  ‘Stay here,’ said Eri. ‘You can obviously look after yourselves.’ He turned abruptly and went into the shelter.

  Karli and Sila were already packing up their few possessions. Sila took one of the kettles and pushed it into her bag. Timoken put the stolen armour in one of Gabar’s panniers and saddled him up with the hare-skin cushion.

  The tree children were in a huddle, talking softly amongst each other. Wyngate looked over his shoulder and grinned at Timoken. Elfrieda’s voice rose above the others. ‘We should stay here, where we’re safe. Who knows what trouble the African will lead us into?’

  There were some anxious mutters, but Timoken sensed they were waiting for Thorkil’s decision. At last he said, ‘I’m going with Timoken and the wizard.’

  Elfrieda scowled at her brother, but Wyngate said, ‘Me too.’ Edwin said, ‘And me,’ and Ilgar and Esga cried, ‘Yes!’ The other three children quickly agreed.

  Timoken realised he would have to lead them and so, with Gabar grumbling along beside him, he set off through the thick undergrowth of the forest. Eri walked behind him with Enid sometimes taking off into the trees, and sometimes stumbling over rocks and thorn bushes, but all the time sending little puffs of smoke into the air, to keep the damp at bay.

  Sila ran to catch up with Timoken. ‘Will the castle keep us safe?’ she asked him.

  ‘I believe so,’ he said.

  ‘And when it’s built, will you rescue Tumi and the other children, so that we’ll all be together again.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  She seemed satisfied with this.

  It took them all day to walk through the forest. By the time they reached the river and the great cliff beyond it, they were aching with hunger and exhaustion.

  ‘Where next?’ called Elfrieda from the back of the procession.

  ‘Over the river,’ said Timoken, ‘and up to the top of the cliff.’

  The children crowded together on the riverbank. They stared at the wide expanse of rushing water, and Thorkil said, ‘And how do we do that?’

  ‘I’ll have to carry you, one by one,’ said Timoken. ‘Maybe the dragon can help.’

  ‘If you want to sit on spikes,’ grumbled Elfrieda.

  The others looked at Timoken. They had never seen him fly.

  ‘So, who’s first?’ Timoken looked along the line.

  Just as Wyngate stepped forward, there was a sound from the cliff above: a whining howl, and then came a bark.

  ‘Back!’ hissed the wizard, raising his staff. ‘Into the trees, quickly.’

  They ran into the trees, Timoken tugging Gabar’s reins, Eri waving Enid away from the river.

  ‘Don’t make a sound,’ Timoken warned the camel in a hushed grunt.

  ‘Look!’ whispered Eri.

  At the edge of the cliff stood three soldiers, their helmets glinting in the last rays of the sun. Behind them, braying and barking, was a pack of great black hounds.

  Chapter Fifteen

  In Castle Melyntha

  The bake-house was the warmest place in Castle Melyntha. On cold mornings, the stable boys would sneak into the steamy room and hunt for crumbs of bread. The baker would shoo them away, but if they got a chance they’d be back, crawling behind the long table as a tray of loaves was pulled from the oven, and snatching at loose scraps from the hot bread waiting on the table.

  ‘You’re like a plague of ants,’ the baker would shout good-naturedly, as he hauled the boys out and shoved them into the courtyard.

  One morning, Tumi managed to avoid the baker’s eagle eye. He was crouching under the table, right at the far end where the shadows were deepest, when two soldiers came in. Tumi could see their boots and the tips of their scabbards as they moved around the table.

  ‘We need more loaves today, Edgar,’ said one of the soldiers.

  Tumi recognised the voice. It was Aelfric, the man who had caught him in the forest.

  ‘How many more?’ asked Edgar.

  ‘Ten, at least. A troop has just arrived from Ravenglass.’

  ‘Ravenglass Castle?’ said Edgar. ‘That’s some distance away.’

  ‘Stones have been taken from their battlements,’ said Aelfric. ‘The watchman said it was a spirit riding a monstrous beast.’

  ‘They came to warn us. We’ll have to keep an eye on our own battlements.’

  That surely had to be Aelfric’s friend, thought Tumi. Yes, it was definitely Stenulf Pocknose.

  ‘Stones?’ Edgar pulled another tray from the oven. ‘Why would a spirit steal stones?’

  ‘Ah!’ Aelfric gave an unpleasant chuckle. ‘We don’t think it was a spirit, do we, Stenulf?’

  ‘We do not.’ Stenulf’s voice rasped in his thick throat. ‘We think we know who’s stealing stones. Now, who rides a monstrous beast? Remember Timoken?’

  ‘Timoken? Course I do. He escaped didn’t he, after killing one of his own friends.’ Edgar moved up and down the table, putting out the hot loaves. One of his feet came dangerously close to Tumi. The boy pulled in his knees and held his breath. ‘Don’t believe the story myself,’ Edgar went on. ‘He was a nice lad, Timoken.’

  ‘You’d better believe it,’ Aelfric began to pile the hot loaves into a crate. ‘Who else could get a monstrous beast to
fly? Remember what our guards saw? A flying camel.’

  ‘They found a track of red dust leading into the forest,’ said Stenulf. ‘They’re putting the hounds on to it. Ravenglass hounds are famous for their tracking.’

  ‘But if the camel flies . . . ?’ said Edgar.

  ‘Those dogs can find a scent even in the air,’ Aelfric retorted.

  ‘Famous for it,’ Stenulf repeated. ‘And you know how camels stink.’

  The two soldiers marched out of the bake-house carrying their crates of loaves.

  Edgar’s feet were still for a moment, and Tumi heard the baker mutter, ‘Stones? What would he want them for?’

  Tumi thought of Sila. She had followed the boy and his camel. Knowing Sila she would have found him. Sila was an extraordinary girl. She never gave up. Tumi missed her company almost as much as he missed his fisherman father and his patient, hardworking mother. Before he could stop himself he let out a sigh.

  Edgar peered under the table. ‘Ant!’ he growled. ‘You’d better get back to the stables before those soldiers see you.’

  Tumi scrambled out and scampered for the door, but just before he left, Edgar, feeling a twinge of pity for the half-starved boy, called, ‘Here!’ and threw him a hunk of bread.

  ‘Thank you!’ Tumi mumbled gratefully, as he took a bite. He hid the rest of the bread up his sleeve.

  Where to eat without being seen? There were guards everywhere. They’d send Tumi to the stables and he’d have to share with all the other boys. He crept along the side of the wall, past the well, and on to the stock-house, where all the food was stored. The door was open. Tumi couldn’t believe his luck. The guard’s back was turned; he was bending over and adjusting the cord on his boot. Tumi slipped behind the guard and into the dark store room.

  Immediately inside, he began to stuff the bread into his mouth. He was so hungry he hardly bothered to chew, and almost choked on the last piece. His stomach rumbled loudly and he was sure the guard would hear, but the man was now talking to someone.