by Jenny Nimmo
‘Yes,’ Timoken admitted. ‘I’m sorry, Eri. I said that I’d told you everything about my past, but somehow I forgot the leopards because . . .’
‘Why?’ asked Eri sternly.
‘Because . . . because their lives are secret, even from me. That’s the nature of leopards.’
‘But these are no ordinary leopards,’ said Eri.
‘No.’ Timoken hesitated. ‘I think I’d better tell you about them.’
‘I think you had.’ Eri settled himself on the ground, while Sila and Karli knelt either side of him. Timoken sat cross-legged before them. The leopards paced about the clearing, sniffing the air where the shadows were darkest and growling softly to each other.
Timoken told his friends about the viridees of the African forest. He told how one of them had killed a leopard and let hyenas feed on her prey, a dead gazelle. He told how he had found three leopard cubs, now motherless because of the viridee, and how he, Timoken, had killed the viridee and driven off the hyenas. ‘I took the carcass back to the cubs and fed them,’ said Timoken, remembering it all as if it were yesterday, ‘and then I wrapped them in the web of the last moon spider.’
‘Did the web cast a spell on them?’ asked Sila, with a catch in her throat.
Timoken nodded. ‘And their lives were in my hands for a while. But they grew very fast and soon became my guardians. They’ve saved me from many dangerous situations.’
‘Did they swim over the sea?’ Karli’s eyes were huge with wonder.
‘No, they hid themselves on a ship while Gabar and I flew above it.’
Sun Cat suddenly let out a deeper growl. He was standing behind the wizard, who nervously hunched his shoulders. Beyond the leopard, Timoken could make out the dim outlines of a camel and a dragon.
‘Gabar! Enid! Come closer,’ called Timoken. ‘It’s quite safe.’
Gabar and Enid stayed where they were.
‘Can you blame them?’ said Eri.
Gabar knew the leopards well, but he preferred to keep his distance. He would rather Enid kept her distance from him, too, but she seemed to have taken a liking to him. For her part, Enid was very suspicious of the three large, growling, spotted cats. She decided to stick close to the camel.
Sila giggled. ‘We are outnumbered by animals,’ she said.
Eri began to chuckle, and Karli and Timoken laughed out loud.
The animals appeared to be offended. At least they had that in common.
Eri looked round the clearing. He gazed at the wide oaks that encircled them, and listened to the splash and gurgle of a small stream that ran nearby. ‘Here!’ the wizard declared. ‘We will make our shelter here.’
The animals watched them set to work, Eri instructing, Sila and Karli fetching and carrying. Timoken multiplying posts, setting them in the ground and lacing them with cords of dry grass and ivy. And as he worked, he thought of the castle he would build; strong, tall and impregnable.
‘Your mind’s not on your work,’ Eri complained, picking up a fallen post. He clicked his tongue and walked around the small dwelling that was taking shape, tapping the wood and re-threading the ivy. ‘We need rushes,’ he said, pointing at the roof, ‘and more grass, long grass, to bind the stems. Karli and Sila, off to the field with you; Timoken, to the stream.’
They stopped briefly to eat the fish that Enid had brought, and then they worked on into the night. The moon was rising when Eri at last declared that nothing more could be done just yet. The shelter was almost weatherproof and his bones told him that the rain would hold off for a while. They crawled into the shelter and immediately fell asleep on beds of leaves and bracken.
Timoken woke several hours later. Not a scrap of light penetrated the thick walls of bracken and ivy, but a slice of moonlight could be seen where the rough edge of the door met the wooden frame.
Outside, leaves rustled and Timoken sensed rather than heard the slight movement of animals. A sudden, distant wail quickened his heartbeat, and then he remembered the leopards and smiled to himself.
There was a second wail, a high, melancholy sound. On the other side of the shelter, Sila sat up. Timoken could see her pale, worn face and her large grey eyes staring at the door in terror.
‘It’s all right, Sila,’ Timoken whispered. ‘The leopards are close.’
She looked at him, the terror still plain on her thin face. ‘Wolves,’ she said huskily.
‘If it is a wolf it won’t get past the leopards,’ he said. ‘And anyway, I can . . .’ He stopped himself from saying any more.
‘You can speak with wolves, too, I suppose,’ she said, unsmiling.
‘If necessary,’ he muttered.
The next wail, when it came, was much closer. It was not wolf-like in the least. Beside Timoken, the wizard grumbled in his sleep. Beyond the wizard, Karli sat bolt upright and gave a little cry.
Sila leant over and took his hand. ‘You’re safe, Karli,’ she told him. ‘Timoken’s leopards are outside.’
‘I can’t hear them.’ Karli looked at Timoken. ‘Will they chase the wolves away? Will they kill them?’
Before Timoken could answer, another sound came from outside, very close to the leafy wall; a leopard growl. There was a tremendous commotion in the undergrowth: a snapping, brushing, thumping, growling and shrieking. Gabar bellowed, Enid screeched, and then, all at once, a profound silence fell upon the forest.
‘Gone,’ said Eri, without raising his head. ‘Now, perhaps, we can get some sleep.’
So Eri had been awake all the time.
‘He just didn’t want to wake up too much,’ Sila remarked, ‘and have to talk to us.’
‘But what has gone?’ asked Karli.
‘The wolves, of course,’ said Sila, in a comfortable tone.
Timoken didn’t contradict her. Those melancholy wails didn’t come from a wolf. No, they were different.
‘I wish we still lived in the trees,’ Karli mumbled as he curled himself into his bed of leaves.
‘But not with Thorkil,’ Sila said softly.
Timoken knew that he wouldn’t sleep until he had looked outside. He got up and went to the door. A rough circle of ivy hooked the door to a notch on the frame. Timoken lifted the ivy and pushed the door open. He stepped out and felt his way around the shelter.
The camel crouched beneath a tree, his heavy head lowered in sleep. Enid rested in his shadow; her eyes were closed and gentle wreaths of smoke curled from her snout as she breathed.
Timoken squinted into the darkness beyond them. And there they were. The leopards stood erect, ears pricked, their coats glowing like embers.
‘Sleep, king,’ said Sun Cat.
‘All is well,’ added Flame Chin.
‘And the wailing creatures?’ asked Timoken.
Three pairs of gold eyes stared back at him.
‘We can manage them,’ said Star.
‘But what are they?’
The leopards shifted their paws. They inclined their heads, one to another, as if conferring. At last they spoke. ‘Creatures of rot, of must and mist, of cold.’
Timoken shivered. ‘Must and mist,’ he said to himself. Bidding the leopards good night, he went back to bed. As he pulled his cloak over himself, the faint, silvery outlines of a web appeared in the red velvet. Caught in the web’s heart was the face of the forest-jinni; his huge saffron-coloured eyes stared up at Timoken, his long nose partly hid his thin, drooping mouth, and his hairless brow was wrinkled with concern.
‘So they’ve followed me,’ Timoken whispered to the face. ‘The demons from Africa. I was told that they couldn’t live in the north. But here they are again.’
‘Not them.’ The jinni’s voice was hardly more than a breath. ‘Little king, because of me you will always be part of both the world of men and the realm of enchanted beings. Some of them are wicked, and they exist in every corner of the world.’
‘Will I never escape this . . . condition?’
‘Never,’ breathed the jinni. ‘For
give?’
‘How can I do otherwise?’
The thread-like corners of the jinni’s mouth drew themselves into a smile. ‘But you will have many, many rewards. And what is a reward without a sacrifice?’
Timoken looked at his sleeping friends; he gazed up at the mossy roof of his new home, and he thought of the grand castle that he would soon begin to build. A castle for his friends, for his sister and for Beri, without whom his castle could never be a home. One day soon, he must return to Castle Melyntha and rescue them. It wouldn’t be an easy venture, for the guards were ever-watchful, but it was not impossible.
Yes, he said to himself, there will be many, many rewards.
Chapter Eleven
The Enchanted Wall
Sila and Karli were barely awake when Timoken left the shelter next morning. Eri was already at work; a mysterious humming could be heard somewhere close. It was accompanied by Enid’s busy little snorts.
Naturally, the leopards were nowhere to be seen, but Gabar was munching leaves beside the shelter. Timoken patted his neck and said, ‘Stay close to the children while I’m away.’
‘Where are you going?’ grunted the camel.
‘To my castle.’
Timoken recognised the look of doubt and disapproval on the camel’s face. ‘You don’t have a castle,’ Gabar snorted.
‘Not yet,’ said Timoken. ‘But you wait!’ He took a leap across the clearing and began to rise into the air.
At that moment, Karli looked out of the shelter and saw a figure in the morning sky. ‘Timoken,’ he cried. ‘Don’t go!’
‘I’ll be back,’ called Timoken. He turned in the air, as though he were swimming, and disappeared above the tree-tops.
Now that he was alone, Timoken’s conscience began to prickle. It was so good to be high above the earth, away from the toil and danger of the world below.
Soon, when my castle is built, he told himself, there will be shelter and safety for a hundred people.
The countryside beneath was beautiful. Timoken flew over forests, hills, rivers and clearings. Fields began to appear, marked by low stone walls. Some were tilled, showing dark red earth. And then, all at once, he was above a town set in a wide valley.
Two buildings dominated the town. At one end, on top of a steep hill, there was a castle. It was the same dark red as the earth of the fields. At the other end, set apart from the town, there was an abbey; it was red, like the castle, and wonderfully decorated with carved stone flowers and creatures.
‘Yes!’ Timoken clapped his hands and turned a somersault in the air. ‘My castle shall be red.’
He flew above the castle, and looked down on a courtyard bristling with activity. There were armed soldiers everywhere, even on the roof. In a field below the castle, three great war-horses cropped the grass, while a herd of pigs rooted in the muddy pen beside them.
Tonight, thought Timoken. As he hovered in the air, a group of soldiers suddenly looked up; one pointed at him. He spread his arms, hoping his cloak would look like the wings of a bird. As he flew off, he heard an arrow whisper through the air behind him. He soared upwards, his arms raised, his hands together, fingers pointed like a dart. Soon he was beyond the sight of almost any living thing on earth. Only the birds could see him.
When Timoken got back to the shelter, no one was there but Gabar.
‘Where are the others?’ Timoken asked.
‘Listen,’ said the camel.
Faint laughter could he heard, then the snatch of a tune, far away in the trees. Timoken followed the sound. He found Sila and Karli building a low wall of oak leaves.
‘We’re building a magic wall,’ Karli told him.
‘A wall?’ Timoken wasn’t impressed. ‘That’s not a wall.’
‘An enchanted wall,’ said Sila, ‘To keep out the demons.’
‘Built of leaves?’ Timoken touched them with the toe of his boot.
‘Don’t!’ Sila scolded, pulling him back. ‘Eri’s power comes from the earth; his magic is old, older than the forest. It’s just as strong as yours.’
‘And it’s not only leaves,’ Karli added. ‘See, there’s yellow gorse and dried meadowsweet.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Timoken could sense it now, the bond between the leaves and the floor of this ancient forest. He put out his hand and felt a swirl of air above the wall. It was neither hot nor cold, but so potent it seeped between his fingers, spreading them wide.
‘See!’ Karli grinned at him.
Timoken withdrew his hand. ‘Yes. I can feel it.’
The wizard’s voice came rattling through the trees. ‘Where have you been, boy? We needed you here.’ Brandishing his staff, Eri strode up to Timoken. ‘Well, have you brought food? Have you brought herbs for my wall? In the name of all the gods, where have you been?’
Timoken felt like a guilty child, even though he was older, by far, than the wizard. ‘I’ve been exploring,’ he said sheepishly.
‘What did you find?’ Eri thumped his staff and Enid came pounding to his side.
‘I found a town,’ said Timoken, avoiding the wizard’s fierce grey eyes. ‘It was many, many lengths from here, but we could reach it if we needed to.’
‘We don’t need to,’ Eri said grimly. ‘Conquerors will be there; soldiers, busybodies, spies on the lookout for strangers.’
Timoken kicked the ground lightly. ‘What can I do for you, then?’
‘Bring gorse and meadowsweet. Sila has found a pile of flints. Take one and cut some willow stems. There’s a tree by the stream. Make a basket from the stems and fill the basket with oak leaves. Our wall has a long way to go.’
Timoken hesitated, but he had to ask. ‘What’s it for, Eri? The wall?’
The wizard glared at him in amazement. ‘What d’you think it’s for? To protect us.’
‘But here, in the forest? The leopards can protect us.’
Sila and Karli followed the argument with troubled eyes. They didn’t dare to interrupt, and only wanted the friction to end.
The wizard’s eyebrows were drawn together in a thunderous line. ‘Have you learned nothing, African? We are at war with everything, and now you have brought demons into our lives. We need all the help we can muster.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Timoken. ‘I’ll do what you want.’ He went back to the shelter and found Sila’s little pile of flints. Taking the sharpest, he made his way to the stream.
‘Now what?’ the camel called after him.
‘Rest, Gabar,’ Timoken grunted. ‘Tonight we work.’
With his gift for multiplying, Timoken soon had enough willow stems to make two baskets. They were very large, but no one guessed that, later, they would be put to use carrying rocks through the air.
The wizard was pleased with Timoken. Altogether, it had been a good day. A tangle of leaves, autumn flowers and potent spells snaked through the trees. The wall was almost finished. When a misty dusk seeped into the forest, they stopped work and cooked the hare Eri had snared.
They were so hungry they hardly spoke as they ate. The fire crackled, bringing a warm blush to Sila’s pale face. Lost in thought, she stared into the flames until Karli nudged her, asking, ‘What are you thinking about, Sila?’
She turned to him and said, absently, ‘I was remembering our tree-houses, and Tumi.’
‘D’you think . . .’ Karli sucked on a thin bone as though it were packed with nectar. ‘D’you think the conquerors killed him?’
‘No,’ Sila said sharply. ‘I told you, they’ll make him their slave.’
‘Better to die,’ Karli muttered.
‘Who is this Tumi?’ asked Timoken.
‘A boy who was our friend,’ Sila said gravely. ‘He could swim, and he could catch fish like no one else.’ She glanced at Enid, dozing beside the camel. ‘Well, no one except her,’ she said, nodding at the dragon.
‘What became of this boy?’ Eri poked the fire and a shower of sparks lit the dark sky.
‘When we left the tree-hi
des, he followed us,’ said Sila. ‘But the conquerors came with dogs, and we heard a scream. It must have been Tumi. There was nothing we could do.’
Eri looked at Timoken. ‘They were looking for us. Those two brutes will be in trouble with Osbern if they don’t catch us. The boy, Tumi, would have told them the direction these children took, and that they were following us.’
‘No!’ said Sila vehemently. ‘Tumi was loyal. He was one of the bravest. If he told the conquerors anything, it would have been lies.’
‘But you think they caught him,’ Timoken said.
‘Yes.’ Sila stared solemnly into the dark between the trees. ‘Can you rescue him, Timoken?’
‘Perhaps.’ Timoken thought of his castle, of the task he had set himself. ‘But not tonight.’
‘Soon?’ Sila begged.
‘It won’t be easy,’ Timoken warned her. ‘But if your friend is somewhere in Castle Melyntha, then I’ll try. There are others in the castle who need rescuing.’
Eri gave him a look that said, An almost impossible task, even with your skills.
The wizard stood up and shook the hem of his long robe. ‘Must get a new one,’ he muttered. He unfastened the patterned gold brooch where it pinned his cloak at the shoulder, then he kicked off his worn leather boots. ‘We must all have a wash tomorrow,’ he said. ‘We smell worse than camels.’
Sila and Karli grinned, while giving Timoken anxious, sideways looks. He could have taken offence on Gabar’s behalf, but instead he laughed, and they were free to giggle.
Eri banked down the fire, and one by one they went thankfully to bed.
Timoken lay awake long after the others had fallen asleep. The wizard’s snoring didn’t seem to disturb Sila and Karli. They were tired, and slept deeply and peacefully.
A wolf howled somewhere in the distance; a real wolf this time, not a demon. An owl hooted and wood mice scrabbled in the thickets. No sound came from the leopards, but Timoken knew they were close.
He waited until the tiny scrap of moonlight slipping past the door was at its brightest. Very slowly, he sat up, then stood, taking great care not to rustle his leafy bedding. Although Eri was snoring, Timoken couldn’t be sure that an accidental snap or crackle wouldn’t wake him.