The Stones of Ravenglass

by Jenny Nimmo

  Thorkil gave up. He shrugged and sat on the ground. ‘Is this where you live?’ he asked. It was clear that he expected Timoken to advise him about where to sleep and what to eat.

  The others joined Thorkil on the grass and looked at Timoken hopefully.

  ‘I sort of live here,’ Timoken admitted. ‘More or –’ He was interrupted by a loud squawk and, looking up, saw Enid hovering above him. She was carrying a large fish in her jaws and appeared to be in some confusion about where to deliver it.

  Thorkil and the others leapt up, some of them screaming.

  ‘What is that thing?’ cried Elfrieda, pointing at Enid.

  ‘A dragon,’ said Timoken. There seemed to be no point in keeping the truth from them.

  ‘Dragons don’t exist,’ Thorkil sounded uncertain.

  Let him think what he wants, Timoken decided. In a series of hoots and grunts he called to Enid, ‘I can’t find the wizard.’

  ‘Don’t tell us that you can talk to dragons,’ Elfrieda muttered.

  Timoken saw no reason to argue. He was about to go in search of a gap in the spell-wall when Enid suddenly plummeted on to Gabar’s hump. The camel gave an indignant yell.

  ‘Talons!’ he bellowed, looking beseechingly at Timoken.

  ‘Your claws are hurting my camel,’ Timoken told Enid.

  The dragon curled her talons under her feet, folded her wings and stared at the tree-children with puzzled golden eyes.

  The children were equally puzzled, and a little afraid. But they had seen so much that was horrifying and unbelievable, they were not easily daunted. In fact, hungry as they were, most of them showed as much interest in the fish as they did in the dragon.

  ‘That’s a mighty fine fish,’ Thorkil remarked.

  ‘Enough for us all,’ said Esga.

  ‘And some for tomorrow,’ added her brother.

  ‘Make the dragon give it up!’ Thorkil demanded, looking at Timoken.

  ‘I won’t make her do anything,’ said Timoken.

  ‘Then we will.’ Thorkil strode up to the camel. ‘Come on, Edwin, Wyngate. Help me to get that fish.’

  ‘DON’T YOU DARE!’ boomed a voice.

  Thorkil stopped in his tracks. ‘Who said that?’ he asked, in a slightly shaky voice.

  ‘I did.’ A floating mob of frosty hair materialised just below the camel’s nose. A long, weathered face, with storm-cloud eyes and a silver-streaked beard, appeared beneath the hair and, suddenly, there was Eri. He looked younger, fiercer and more impressive than he had before. It was as if, within his own spell-bound wall, he had become a more definite wizard, not an ageing, tattered man. His staff had acquired a pale and mysterious sheen that was reflected in the wizard’s dark eyes.

  Eri’s sudden appearance caused a shocked silence. Even Thorkil’s mouth fell open.

  ‘So, you would steal my fish, would you?’ Eri stepped close to Thorkil and scowled in the boy’s face.

  ‘I-I didn’t know it was yours, sir,’ Thorkil stammered.

  ‘But you knew it wasn’t yours.’ Eri banged his staff on the ground and, immediately, Enid flew down and dropped the fish at his feet. Thorkil had already leapt back, and there was a gasp of wonder as the dragon spread her wings and soared up into the sky.

  The group of children watched the dragon disappear above the trees, and Wyngate murmured, ‘Where’s it going now?’

  ‘Not it,’ said Eri sternly. ‘She. And she’s going to get another fish, seeing as there’s more of us for breakfast that she’d bargained for.’ He covered the fish with leaves and then counted the children’s heads. ‘Ten of you. Hmm. So how many of you were captured?’

  ‘Some died, sir,’ Edwin said. ‘Near twelve.’

  ‘Eleven,’ said Thorkil, in a superior voice. ‘I taught them how to count, but they don’t always get it right.’

  Edwin scowled and Wyngate said, ‘I could count before I came to the forest.’

  ‘I asked how many were captured,’ Eri said impatiently. ‘I shouldn’t have thought it a difficult question for one who teaches others to count . . .’ He stared at Thorkil.

  The Earl’s son cleared his throat, thought a moment, and then said, ‘There were thirty-three of us, once.’

  ‘So twelve were taken,’ Eri said thoughtfully. He pinched his forehead.

  Timoken was wondering why the wizard was so interested in numbers, when a high, clear voice said, ‘But not us, sir.’

  Thorkil gave a start. ‘Sila?’ he said, frowning into the trees.

  ‘Step out, Sila,’ said Eri. ‘You too, Karli.’

  As the two children materialised before them, Timoken observed how much brighter they appeared. Behind the spell-wall they had become what they might once have been, before the conquerors came. Sila had lost the dark circles beneath her eyes and acquired a strong, confident look.

  The other children seemed to notice the difference. Astonished by Sila and Karli’s sudden arrival, even Thorkil couldn’t find a word to say.

  ‘Hullo, Thorkil,’ Karli said boldly.

  Thorkil could only stare.

  ‘So you couldn’t save our friends,’ Sila said accusingly.

  Thorkil shook his head.

  Elfrieda was the first to find words. ‘I see that a wizard has worked his spells on you.’ She spoke with a familiar sneer in her voice.

  ‘There’s nothing a good dose of herbs can’t cure,’ Eri told her. ‘Now, we won’t turn you all away, but you’ll have to build your own shelters, and fast; I can feel rain coming on.’

  The tree-children stared at the wizard uncertainly.

  ‘Come on!’ He thumped the ground with his staff. ‘Don’t know how? Then look at this!’ He took a few paces back, waved his shiny staff in the air and murmured something incomprehensible.

  Timoken watched as the shelter slowly took shape in the centre of the glade. He noticed that a low wall of leaves and flowers had been laid all round the base. A double wall of spells, he thought. Eri wasn’t taking any chances.

  The children stared at the shelter, mouths agape.

  ‘You’ll need two of these.’ The wizard tapped the shelter’s wall of wood and creepers. ‘Find one strong branch, straw, moss, ivy. You can see what’s needed. Bring it all to us and my friend here will help you to do the rest.’ He turned to Timoken. ‘Agreed?’

  Timoken gave the wizard a cool stare. He didn’t want to reveal his skills to so many. He thought of the grand building on the cliff, ready to live in. There was no need to build more shelters, but he hadn’t expected to share the castle with someone like Thorkil.

  The wizard frowned at Timoken. ‘Well, are you going to help?’

  Timoken said, ‘Yes,’ in a quiet voice.

  ‘Off you go, then!’ Eri waved his staff at the children.

  Chattering excitedly they plunged into the forest thicket. Thorkil was the last to leave. He looked over his shoulder and gave Timoken a puzzled look.

  When they had all gone, Eri turned to Timoken and asked, ‘So, where were you, then, all night?’

  ‘We were worried,’ said Sila. ‘Eri told us we must make a second wall, so that we would be invisible, but I said, “Timoken won’t be able to find us”.’

  ‘And Eri said it was too bad,’ added Karli. ‘And that you should have come back before dark.’

  ‘True,’ Eri said gruffly. ‘I’m aware that you can look after yourself, Timoken. But I’d like to know where you were all night.’

  Timoken smiled at them and spread his arms. ‘I’ve built a castle,’ he said happily.

  The response was not what he had hoped for. The wizard scowled at him while Sila and Karli looked baffled and disbelieving.

  ‘How could you?’ said Sila. ‘In just one night?’

  Eri slowly shook his head. ‘Did you have both feet in the realm of enchantments, Timoken, when you built such a wonder overnight? It sounds like a feat that will draw those other beings like bees to a honey-pot.’

  ‘Can we sleep there tonight?’ b
egged Karli.

  ‘Are there feather-beds and soft covers?’ asked Sila.

  ‘No!’ exclaimed the wizard. ‘You shall not sleep in this enchanted castle until I have seen it for myself.’

  ‘You shall see it, Eri!’ Timoken declared. ‘I’ll show you tonight, and you’ll be amazed.’

  ‘Hmm, we’ll see . . .’ the wizard gave an unintelligible mutter and looked into the sky.

  The next moment, Enid dropped into the clearing with an even larger fish than the first.

  ‘Those children will be hungry when they get back,’ said Eri. ‘Build a fire, Karli, and we’ll get cooking.’

  The tree-children returned in twos and threes. They had gathered everything the wizard asked for; after laying their bundles in the clearing, they sat beside the fire and ate the fish that had been slowly roasting. They stuffed the flesh into their mouths as though the meal might be their last. Their eyes shone and their chins glistened with fish oil. They licked their fingers over and over, and some of them looked at the dragon, dozing in the shadows, and mouthed the words, ‘Thank you! Thank you, dragon!’

  When they had eaten, Timoken took the branch they had provided and prepared it. The branch was gnarled and green with lichen, and it took him some time to smooth and shape it. He didn’t want to work while they watched, but he knew their curiosity was too great to avoid. And so he quietly sat and multiplied.

  They watched in astonishment as the smooth posts rolled from under Timoken’s hands. Gasps of wonder rippled round the group and, now and again, Timoken looked up and smiled at their compliments. He noticed that Thorkil look puzzled and, somehow, defeated.

  When the posts were ready, everyone helped to build the shelters. They finished just before nightfall. Hungry again, the children sat round the dying fire and Ilgar pulled a cooking pot out of the bag he bad brought with him.

  ‘That’s a fine pot,’ Eri remarked.

  Esga explained that they had kept the pot with them ever since they ran from the burning town. ‘It was our mother’s most treasured possession,’ she said, ‘and we would rather have lost our lives than let the conquerors have it.’

  Eri looked at the pot admiringly. ‘Fine as it is, an empty pot’s no use,’ he muttered, stroking his beard. ‘I want two strong boys to fill that pot with water from the stream. The rest of you find roots, you know what’s edible by now.’

  Ilgar and Edwin set off for the stream. Timoken followed Wyngate into the trees.

  The boy with the bird’s-nest cap had a trustworthy look. Timoken liked him. When he found Wyngate alone, he asked him to come to the stream with him.

  Wyngate grinned. ‘What d’you want of me, magic boy?’

  ‘Come and see,’ said Timoken.

  They ran together through the trees until they came upon Ilgar and Edwin.

  ‘One pot is not big enough for all, don’t you agree?’ Timoken asked the boys.

  ‘Not nearly,’ Ilgar said, putting it on the ground.

  Timoken knelt beside the pot. They gathered round him expectantly as he ran his fingers along the lip of the pot, once, twice, three times. He put his arms about the pot, closed his eyes and chanted in the language of the secret kingdom. Then, opening his eyes, he spread his arms wide and a cooking pot rolled away from him, and then another; the first still remained before him.

  ‘Three!’ Ilgar exclaimed.

  Wyngate patted Timoken’s shoulder, and Edwin said, ‘I wish we had met with you before, Timoken.’

  Timoken smiled, knowing he had made new friends.

  They filled the three pots from the stream and carried them back to the clearing.

  Eri chuckled when he saw them. He divided the skin and bones from the fish and put them in the three pots. Soon the other children began to arrive, carrying edible roots and berries already washed in the stream.

  ‘Three!’ cried Esga, when she saw the pots. ‘Our mother would have been so proud.’

  They put their gatherings in the three pots while Eri stoked the fire. Timoken sighed. He knew there was something he must do. He leaned close to Sila and whispered, ‘I need to borrow your cup.’

  ‘I know why.’ She looked at the steam rising from the cooking pots and went to fetch her clay cup from the shelter.

  ‘Eleven,’ she whispered, handing the cup to Timoken.

  ‘I know.’ Still a little self-conscious about his multiplying, he stepped into the trees.

  He remembered noticing a smooth-topped rock some way into the forest and made his way through the undergrowth. When he found the rock, he set the cup on it, gathered his thoughts – and hesitated. Something cold had touched his back.

  Timoken pulled his cloak tighter and stared into the shadows. Nothing moved. ‘Sun Cat, Flame Chin, Star!’ he said quietly.

  The undergrowth rustled and three leopards’ heads appeared above the tangle of thorn and scrub.

  ‘We are here,’ said Sun Cat.

  Timoken smiled with relief. ‘But something else is here, too.’

  ‘Yes,’ Flame Chin agreed.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Timoken.

  ‘Other,’ said all three.

  ‘Continue,’ said Star. ‘You are safe.’

  They stayed close while Timoken multiplied the cup. Taking off his cloak, he wrapped it round the cups and carried them back to the clearing. The leopards followed closely. He could hear the soft swish of grasses as they passed.

  Emerging into the clearing, Timoken placed the twelve cups beside the fire. Some of the children clapped, and most cried, ‘Hooray for Timoken.’ Thorkil gave him a grudging smile.

  ‘Let it cool!’ commanded the wizard, as the children grabbed their cups and leant towards the cooking pots.

  Eri wrapped leaves around the hot iron handles and removed the pots from the fire. ‘Count to twenty, slowly,’ he said, ‘then dip in your cups. The bones will sink to the bottom, but watch out.’ He glanced at Timoken. ‘We could do with a ladle. Any ideas?’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ Timoken yawned. He felt almost too tired to drink the soup, but he forced himself, knowing he would be travelling that night.

  When the pots were empty, the children stumbled wearily into their shelters. Four girls in one, four boys in the other. They each clutched a precious cup. Karli and Sila kept to their own beds.

  Timoken and the wizard sat beside the glowing embers long after the others had fallen asleep. A cold mist had begun to seep through the trees. The fire died suddenly, and grey ash lifted from the blackened twigs.

  ‘Time to go,’ said Eri.

  ‘We’ll get there faster on Gabar,’ said Timoken.

  The sky was thick with cloud, so Eri lit a rush that he’d dipped in fish-oil. ‘I don’t like starless nights,’ he said, ‘and we haven’t had time to make leaf walls for the new shelters.’

  ‘Sun Cat!’ Timoken called softly. ‘Flame Chin! Star!’

  He was answered by three, deep rumbling purrs.

  ‘All is well then,’ said Eri.

  The camel had fallen asleep and grunted irritably when Timoken woke him.

  ‘Sorry, Gabar. We have to make another journey,’ he said quietly. To the dragon, dozing close, he whispered, ‘You’re in charge, Enid.’

  ‘And what of those big cats?’ asked Enid, her golden eyes flicking towards the trees.

  ‘They are guardians too,’ Timoken admitted. ‘But I need all of you to keep my friends safe.’

  ‘Agreed,’ she snuffled.

  The wizard handed Timoken the flaming rush before they mounted. ‘I need to carry my staff,’ he explained.

  With a resigned yawn, the camel stood up. ‘Flying?’ he asked.

  ‘Flying,’ said Timoken. ‘Back to my castle.’

  ‘Of course.’ Gabar sighed. ‘Where else?’ and he rose into the air, gracefully avoiding the topmost branches, until he was safely above the forest.

  They sailed through the clouds, the wizard re-lighting the rush every time the damp air killed the flame.

  It
was difficult to see through the mist but, at last, Timoken made out the sharp lines of the cliff. ‘Down, Gabar,’ he said.

  The camel dropped on to the plateau and Timoken stared into the gloom. ‘It’s too dark,’ he said, handing the rush-light to Eri. ‘You’re taller than me. Can you raise the light higher?’

  Eri stretched up his arm. ‘I’m holding it as high as I can, but I can see nothing,’ he said.

  ‘The light’s too bad,’ cried Timoken. ‘The castle is here, right here, I know it is.’

  As if to contradict him, the clouds suddenly parted and a thin moon shone down on the land directly before them.

  Timoken passed a hand across his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he saw.

  All that remained of his beautiful palace was a tumble of red stones; a ruin.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Damzel of Decay

  ‘Is this your castle, Timoken? I fear you have deceived yourself.’ The wizard approached the tumbled ruin and poked it with his staff.

  ‘My ancestors built it,’ Timoken admitted. ‘But it was a castle.’

  ‘Ah, ancestors,’ said Eri. ‘They can be unpredictable.’

  ‘They built a castle,’ Timoken insisted. ‘They helped me to carry the stones, and I multiplied them in hundreds and thousands, and then I fell asleep. When I woke up there was a castle here.’

  ‘A dream, Timoken.’

  ‘NO!’ he cried. ‘It was real. I walked through it. I found a room like the place where my parents used to sit.’

  ‘Ah. Even more I see it was a dream, Timoken. While you slept, you dreamed of your old home in the secret kingdom.’ The wizard turned his back and walked round the pile of stones. ‘Where did they come from, boy, these fine red stones?’

  ‘Another castle,’ Timoken confessed.

  ‘You stole them?’

  ‘From a conqueror’s castle,’ Timoken said defiantly. ‘When I saw the people’s houses, so small and dark in the castle’s shadow, I thought of the cruelty they had to endure, and I wished I could have destroyed every bit of that castle.’

  Eri chuckled. ‘No doubt. But let us hope the conquerors don’t come looking for their stones.’ He put his hand on a section of the wall and immediately stepped away. ‘What’s that?’ He looked at his hand. ‘There’s fungus here; the stones are disintegrating.’