by Kate Forsyth
Merry could still hear the low voices of the other two arguing, although he could barely see them in the soft, dappled light of the forest. The Erlrune had woven them cloaks for the journey, and like everything she made they were imbued with magic, being grey at dusk, green at noon, and black at midnight, as changeable as water. Now he could hear Liliana say, ‘Why do you find it so hard to be beaten by a girl? Typical starkin—’
‘If you call me “starkin scum” one more time, I swear I’ll knock you down just like a boy and then see how you like it,’ Zed replied furiously.
‘I’d like to see you try,’ she replied coolly, one hand flying to her quiver of arrows.
‘Come on,’ Merry said. ‘Stop arguing. I thought you were worried about noise, Lili? Can’t we just agree it was a tie?’
‘It was not a tie!’ Liliana said. ‘I won fair and square. But you’re right, Merry. We should be quiet. It’d be a shame to endanger our quest simply because a pig-headed starkin boy can’t accept defeat.’
She forged ahead. Zed had no choice but to fall in behind her, for the path was narrow and rough, leading under brambles and briar, over roots and boulders, and in and out of immense trees whose needles covered the ground in a rich, brown, slippery carpet that muffled their footsteps.
‘Isn’t she the most aggravating girl you’ve ever met?’ Zed said, lagging behind to speak to Merry. ‘She just can’t bear not to have the last word, can she? Really, someone should let her know just how annoying that is.’
Merry grinned. ‘Now, I wonder who that reminds me of?’
‘And the way she always pushes ahead. It’s really not very ladylike.’
‘A gentleman would always stand back and let her go first, though,’ Merry said, who had often suffered from Zed doing exactly the same thing.
Zed frowned, then said unwillingly, ‘I guess so. I suppose someone has to teach her the right way to behave.’
Merry said, ‘Teach her by example. No matter how bossy she is, just smile and nod and say, “As your ladyship desires.” Soon she’ll be as gentle as a lamb.’
Zed thought about this for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Can’t see that happening,’ he said despondently. ‘I say, Merry, can’t you . . .’
‘No,’ Merry replied.
‘But why?’
‘I like her,’ Merry said. ‘Besides, she did win . . . not by much, I admit, but she did still win.’
‘Rubbish!’ Zed cried. ‘Are you blind? I won by a good three inches.’
Merry smiled and nodded, and said, ‘Yes, sir. As your lordship desires.’
Zed shot him a suspicious look, then smiled reluctantly. ‘Oh, all right then. Still, she did cheat!’
Liliana had come to a halt beside an old, twisted tree. She gestured to them impatiently, her other hand resting on a thick root that writhed out of the ground, creating a small dark hole beneath.
‘Anyone nearby?’ she asked the omen-imp, who had been swinging and scuttling his way through the high branches in his usual fashion. Tom-Tit-Tot made a rude face at her, but launched himself into the air and flew out of sight. He came back a few moments later and perched on the tree root above Liliana’s head. ‘All is still, all is quiet, makes me want to start a riot.’
‘Please don’t,’ Liliana said. ‘Come on then, you boys. Follow me.’ She ducked into the dark crevice under the tree root and disappeared.
‘What, in there?’ Zed asked, and looked at Merry in disbelief.
‘I think that’s what she means,’ Merry replied.
‘It’s all right for her, she’s half my size,’ Zed grumbled, putting down his satchel and bending down to peer into the dark hole. He sat down, slid his legs into the hole and gingerly squeezed the rest of his body through. His broad shoulders stuck, and he had to twist himself about to jerk them free. At last, though, he too disappeared from view, dragging his satchel after him. Merry gave him a moment, calling Tom-Tit-Tot down to his forearm so he could scratch the scales behind his perky black ears.
‘I think this must be one of Lili’s secret ways into the castle,’ he whispered. ‘Will you come this way with me, or fly?’
‘Let me see, what shall I do, creep like a worm in the dark, or soar through the sky like a lark?’ Tom-Tit-Tot answered sarcastically, then spread his leathery wings and took off into the air.
Merry reluctantly followed Zed down into the hole. At first there was nothing below him but cold, fetid air, until he was hanging by his fingertips, his shoulder joints complaining. At last the toes of his boots touched earth, and he was able to let himself down, dragging his lute bag and the satchel after him.
It was so dark he could not see, and so he fumbled slowly forward. The earth pressed close all around him, smelling of worms and decay. Each stumbling step led him deeper, and his outreaching hands slid over slimy walls. Dangling roots brushed his head. It felt much too like being buried alive, and Merry felt a rush of relief as he saw the flicker of light ahead.
‘What took you so long?’ Liliana demanded, her fingers glowing red as she shielded a candle with her hand. She did not wait for a response. ‘Come on. It’s this way. I hope you don’t mind a scramble.’
The climb up through the cracks and naturally formed tunnels of the mountain was more of a struggle than a scramble, particularly for Zed who was so much taller than the other two and so had to bend almost double. It took them about three hours, and Merry was panting for breath when they finally reached a passageway that had been built by living hands. To enter, Liliana swung aside a section of stone wall that stood on a kind of pivot. Merry could not see the mechanism that opened the wall, but it swung about silently, letting in a blast of icy air.
‘We’re in the cellars now,’ Liliana whispered. As Merry stepped through the doorway, she pushed the stone door back and it shut silently behind him, looking like a stretch of unbroken wall. The light of her candle wavered, showing a paved floor that stretched into darkness ahead. Slowly Zed and Merry followed her through a labyrinth of vast oaken barrels, broken boxes, heaps of empty sacks, and wooden dressers piled high with bowls and tankards and saucepans all wearing furry coats of cobwebs. The only sound was their footsteps, softened by the thick dust underfoot. Not a mouse squeaked, not a spider scuttled. It was eerie.
Liliana looked back at them, one finger at her lips. Then her dark brows snapped together. ‘Look what you’ve done!’
The boys looked at each other in surprise. ‘What?’ Zed exclaimed.
‘Look at your footsteps! By the Truth, you’ve got feet as big as a hobhenky’s! It looks like an army has traipsed through here!’
Looking back, Merry could see they had indeed left a wide pathway of scuffled footprints through the dust. He was about to shrug and say something sarcastic when Liliana did an extraordinary thing. She whistled a few sweet notes, and a soft breeze whirled the dust up and around. It settled softly back to the ground, leaving no trace of any footsteps behind them.
Merry stared at her in amazement. He had forgotten that she was one of the wildkin and so must have magic of her own. She glared at them. ‘You going to take all day? Come on! And try not to make too much noise with those clodhoppers of yours.’
‘Sorry, my lady,’ Zed said affably. ‘I’ll tiptoe from now on.’ And he rose up on the toes of his boots and minced forward in such a comical way that Liliana had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. Merry followed behind, filled with wonder and a strange feeling halfway between fear and awe.
CHAPTER 6
Climbing Stormfell
LILIANA LED THEM CAUTIOUSLY UP A STEEP FLIGHT OF STONE STEPS. At the top she paused behind a curtain of hanging ivy, listening intently. At last she lifted the ivy leaves aside and tiptoed out into a derelict courtyard, the boys close behind her. Gaping archways revealed glimpses of what once would have been guardrooms and stables but were now filled with weeds and fallen stone.
Merry looked up into the sky, expecting to see the familiar shape of Tom-Tit-Tot swooping towards
him, but the sky was empty. He decided the omen-imp had simply gone hunting, something he had had little chance to do during their swift and out-of-control ride down the river.
Liliana went through a grand archway guarded by stone eagles almost as tall as she was. Beyond was a vast, empty hall, one wall almost completely demolished so they could see blue sky beyond. The floor was thick with rotting leaves and weeds, and birds flew about busily, their nests built behind the wooden heads that lined the vaulted ceiling. Craning his neck, Merry saw carved birds and beasts and fairies of all descriptions, some grotesque, some beautiful. It was strange to see a tiny swift dart behind the ear of a snarling wooden grogoyle.
Liliana took them through a massive oaken door hanging off its hinges, and up a broad, curving stairway into one of the towers. Through a bewildering array of ruined halls and rooms and steps, she led them ever higher, till it seemed they must come out on the battlements themselves. Along a filthy hall they came, Zed trying to stop his sleeve from brushing against a ragged tapestry that hung down one wall. To their surprise, Liliana stopped and lifted the tapestry aside, releasing a small cloud of dust-coloured moths. Behind the tapestry was hidden a tall, narrow door, carved from some black wood.
Liliana took an iron key out of her pocket and unlocked the door, opening it wide so Zed and Merry could go in before her. Inside was a round room with arched windows that looked out onto the lake and forest and mountains. They were so high off the ground Merry felt as if he were a bird, flying high among the clouds. He wondered if tendrils of mist ever crept into this room, as Briony said they did into Rozalina’s Tower of Stars.
Curtains of golden-coloured velvet hung from floor to ceiling at the windows and were swathed about the four-poster bed which stood on a dais in the centre of the room. Faded tapestries—twice the height of the boys—showed scenes of feasting and dancing and riding. Everything was clean. The sheets on the bed, though much darned, were crisp and white. The mirror above the washstand was polished brightly, and the rugs on the smooth stone floor looked as if they had just been beaten. All the furniture gleamed with beeswax, and the room smelt of fresh flowers, which stood in jars and pitchers on the table and mantelpiece and beside the bed. A tray with a steaming teapot and a basket draped with a white napkin stood on the table by the fireplace.
Liliana sighed with happiness. ‘This is my room.’ She spoke quietly, and her face seemed warmer and softer. ‘Stiga has been here. Somehow she always knows when I’ll be home.’
‘Who’s Stiga?’ Zed strode to the table and lifted up the napkin, smiling to see the fresh, warm bread rolls hidden beneath.
‘She was a servant here in the castle, when my grandmother was queen. Somehow she escaped the massacre. She has a kind of knowing . . . not exactly a Gift . . .’ Liliana fell silent, looking at the faint tendrils of steam rising from the teapot. ‘She’s very shy. She doesn’t like strangers. Yet she’s brought cups and plates for you. She knew you were coming.’
The cups and plates were mismatched and chipped but clean, and there was a platter of cold partridge, and a jar of some kind of preserves, with muslin tied about the top. Three chairs had been drawn up around the table.
‘I don’t know where she got the other chair from,’ Liliana said.
‘Well, I’m just glad she did. I’m starving!’ Zed drew a chair out and sat down, attacking the partridge with relish. Merry and Liliana were only seconds behind him.
The food was delicious. With the sweet scent of honeysuckle drifting from the vase on the table, and the sound of birdsong, it was hard to remember the rest of the castle, dank and ruined and garlanded with banners of filthy cobwebs.
Zed said so, and Liliana nodded, laying down her knife. ‘Yes. Stiga would like to clean the castle from cellar to tower, but she has a great fear of the soldiers and dreads them discovering her. She has little boltholes and hiding places all over the castle, and through the forest too. She was the one who made this room for me.’
Merry looked at her questioningly.
Liliana bit her lip. ‘I remember when we first came here. I was about seven or eight. My mother was sick. I think she knew she was dying. She was trying to go back to the Evenlinn, but it was too far, she wasn’t strong enough. Stiga found us in the forest and brought us back here. We had been running and hiding for so long, it was so good to rest. And I was hungry! Stiga caught us a hare and cooked it, even though she is terribly afraid of fire. And she looked after my mother. I was so glad I wasn’t alone when she died—that had been my biggest fear.’
‘What did she die of?’ Zed asked gently.
‘Poison. That was how my father died too. He was a wildkin lord my mother had met in the forests of Zavaria. He had sworn to help her find the lost Spear of the Storm King, so that the throne of stars could be struck asunder.’
Neither boy felt the impulse to tease her by echoing her words. She went on wearily, ‘My mother had been searching for years. She must’ve walked the route Prince Zander took from Stormlinn Castle to Zarissa a thousand times, looking for clues. There are some old stories that say the spear never made it to Zarissa, you see, though I do not believe them. A starkin prince wouldn’t just lose a sacred spear! Anyway, my father had the Gift of Finding lost things. He was sure he could help her find it. My mother was . . . she would not rest until she had found the spear. It was, she thought, the only hope . . .’
Her voice failed and she drank a sip of water.
‘What happened?’ Merry asked.
‘They married in the old way—the wildkin way—in a forest under the stars, swearing to be true. In time, I was born. I don’t remember that much of when I was little. We were always walking, always searching, always listening to rumours and old tales.’
She sighed. ‘One day we met a man in an inn. The way he spoke, the things he said, my parents thought he must be of wildkin blood too. They told him all about our quest. He said he had heard tales about a spear that had been found hidden in brambles some miles away, in Swartwood Forest. I’ll never forget my mother’s face. She was sure she had found the Spear of Thunder at last. But he tricked us. He led us away from the towns and villages, deep into the forest, and then he left us there with nothing but a single loaf of bread. He took all the other supplies, and all my parents’ weapons and money, and so they did not suspect him of trying to murder us. But that is what he did.’
‘The bread was poisoned?’ Merry was horrified.
Liliana nodded. ‘I did not eat, though my mother tried to coax me. I did not like the bread, it was black and hard and bitter. I took only a mouthful and that I spat out. My parents argued over the little that was left. My mother made my father eat it, as he was to go hunting, to find us food. She ate only a slice. It was enough.’
There was a long silence. Both Merry and Zed had laid down their knives, unable to eat anymore, staring at her in horrified pity.
‘But why?’ Merry asked at last.
‘Because we were wildkin? Because we were loose threads the starkin wanted tidied up? Why does one man ever murder another?’
‘But . . . you were only a child . . .’
‘A wildkin child.’ She stood up abruptly. ‘Come, the day is getting on. Let’s climb Stormfell and find our first feather.’
The peak of Stormfell rose more than a thousand feet, straight into the air. Clouds blew over its hoary head, and dark green pines clustered about its stony base. Far above, eagles soared in the high currents, occasionally shrieking out as if in pain.
‘That looks like a pleasant afternoon stroll,’ Merry said.
Zed rolled his shoulders in their sockets and cracked his knuckles. ‘Lovely.’
‘You don’t have to come,’ Liliana said. ‘Why don’t you two stay home and darn your socks, and I’ll get the eagle feather.’
‘Oh, no, that’s all right,’ Merry said. ‘We love a nice little saunter, don’t we, Zed?’
‘Do it twice before breakfast,’ Zed said.
‘Wonderful
,’ Liliana replied. ‘Because for a moment there I thought you looked rather pale.’
‘It’s hunger,’ Zed explained. ‘A man my size has to eat rather often, you know, to keep his strength up.’
‘A man?’ Liliana said scornfully. ‘You’re nothing but a boy.’
‘But a big boy,’ Merry pointed out. ‘Well, come on then, princess. All this chitchat is making me think you’re the one who’d rather go home and darn her socks.’
Liliana looked at him disdainfully, then strode off through the rocks. Soon the path became a rough scramble, and then a climb, and then they were crawling their way up the cliff by means of narrow ledges and outcrops and tiny cracks. Below them, wisps of cloud half-concealed the dizzying fall to the valley below.
The wisps grew thicker as they climbed into cloud. ‘Don’t worry, boys, it’s a rare day Stormfell doesn’t have a wig on,’ Liliana called. ‘It’s always a sign of a bad storm coming if he’s bare.’
‘Oh, we’re not worried,’ Merry called back, his breath rather short. ‘We love a bit of a cloud. Nothing like a nice jolly climb in the mist, hey, Zed?’
‘My favourite thing to do,’ Zed replied. ‘After playing knucklebones by the fire while a pretty maid pours me a cup of apple-ale.’
They did not speak much after that. It was too hard a climb. More than once, Merry found himself spread-eagled, his heart hammering against stone, his fingers barely gripping a tiny ripple of rock far above his head. Only his determination not to show weakness and fear before Liliana drove him on.
It was clear Zed felt the same way. He climbed with grim determination, occasionally pausing to offer Liliana a hand which she spurned scornfully. As he was much longer and stronger than either Liliana or Merry, he was soon far above them, and it was clear from Liliana’s scowl that this did not please her. She began to climb recklessly, and Merry did his best to keep up with her, though sweat rolled from him in great droplets and his heart laboured painfully.