by Jenny Nimmo
Slipping cautiously through the arch, they found themselves in a narrow tunnel. The low ceiling, walls, and floor were built entirely of dark redbrick, broken in places and glistening with slime. After a few meters the tunnel dipped sharply, so sharply that the boys began to slip on the damp bricks.
“Help!” wailed Billy.
Charlie lost his balance and, as he slid to the ground, he clutched wildly at the wall. The flashlight flew out of his grasp. He could hear it rolling along the ground and then it stopped. Seconds later there was a distant, dull thud.
“Sounds like it fell into a pit,” said Billy in a shaky voice.
“It could have been us,” muttered Charlie. “My flashlight is done for, that’s for sure.”
And yet they weren’t plunged into utter darkness; a soft, silvery glow pervaded the tunnel, and above Charlie’s head, a small light hovered.
“Claerwen!” Charlie gazed up at the white moth. “Clear light. I hoped she would come.”
“Charlie, can we go back?” begged Billy. “I don’t want to fall into that pit.”
“There may be steps.” On hands and knees, Charlie cautiously made his way forward. When he reached the edge of the pit, he could see that an iron ladder had been fastened to the wall. Even in Claerwen’s pure light he could barely make out where the ladder ended.
Billy crawled up to Charlie and peered down. “It’s an abyss!” he cried. “We’ll never reach the bottom. Maybe it goes to the center of the earth?”
“Of course it doesn’t.” Charlie tried to sound calm, but he couldn’t keep a slight tremor out of his voice.
And then they heard it: a distant animal moan. It was so infinitely sad, Charlie found himself swinging his feet onto the ladder without a second thought.
If the moth hadn’t been with them, Charlie had no doubt that he and Billy would have fallen to their deaths. The rungs in the ladder were worn and rusty; several were missing altogether. Without a light to guide them they would surely have slipped, and it was a long, long, long way down.
But at last they stood on firm ground again. At the bottom of the pit the walls were lined with huge rocks and boulders, and there, huddled in the shadows, was a scrawny, gray creature.
“Asa?” said Charlie softly.
The beast turned its head. Its yellow eyes flashed fearfully in the unfamiliar light, and it gave a low, rumbling growl.
“What’s he saying, Billy?” asked Charlie.
Billy clutched his forehead. “I don’t know.”
“You must know.”
“I don’t. I kept telling you. I can’t understand their language anymore.”
Realization dawned at last. Charlie had refused to take Billy seriously, because he dared not let himself believe that Billy had lost his endowment. “Does that mean you can’t talk to him either?” he asked desperately.
“Don’t think so,” said Billy, keeping his eyes on the gray creature.
There was a sudden roar, and with bared teeth, the beast lunged at them.
“Asa!” cried Charlie. “Don’t you know me?”
There came a low, grumbling growl. Charlie and Billy backed against the wall.
“Try, Billy, try.” Charlie closed his eyes in panic.
Billy’s response was to fling the beret into the middle of the floor. The creature snarled and sprang closer. Billy threw the trousers after the beret. The beast sniffed them, raised its head, and howled.
“I think that means he doesn’t like them,” said Billy.
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” muttered Charlie. “If he doesn’t like these boots I’ll eat my hood.” Anxious not to anger the creature, he threw the boots lightly to one side.
The beast trotted over to them. As it pawed the shiny boots, Charlie could see how emaciated it was. Every rib showed beneath its sparse gray coat. There hardly seemed an ounce of flesh on its whole body.
“Poor thing,” said Charlie softly.
“I’ve remembered the sound for boots,” said Billy in an excited whisper. He gave a light little grunt.
The beast looked up. It gave a short bark.
“Good,” said Billy. “He said ‘good.’”
“Can you remember any more sounds?” asked Charlie.
“Like what?”
“Well, can you tell him we’ve come to rescue him, and that he must put the clothes on quickly, before we look for the tunnel to the river?”
“Charlie, he can’t put them on, he’s a wolf,” said Billy. “How can a wolf put boots on?”
Charlie felt very stupid. “He can’t,” he said glumly. “He needs more light to change into a boy.”
Billy gasped. “I forgot. I keep forgetting things, but look!” Billy put his hand in his pajamas pocket and brought out a candle. It immediately burst into flame. “My guardian’s magic candle,” Billy said happily. “I always keep it with me.”
“Of course!” Charlie grinned with relief. “I forgot about it, too. I think it’ll do the trick, Billy. Hold it higher.”
With light from both the candle and the moth, the pit became almost as bright as day. The moth had been sitting at the top of the tallest boulder, but now she began to fly closer to the beast. She fluttered between its ears and it snapped at her as a thin veil of sparks lit its shaggy head. She perched briefly on its back, sending a bright glow down its spine. The beast whirled around, growling and grumbling. Undeterred, the little moth swooped over the thin tail, and then, unbelievably, she spun around the beast’s legs until each one was a gleaming rod of light. The beast lifted its feet with a bewildered expression, but the growling had died to a thin whine.
“He’s changing,” Billy whispered. “Look!”
And, indeed, the beast was changing. A thin line of red hair had appeared between its shabby ears. The long wolflike features were receding; a pale forehead could be seen; sallow, human cheeks formed around a thin mouth; and bony shoulders appeared through the sparse gray hair. With a sudden cry that could have been a howl of protest or of joy, the beast turned its back and hunched itself on the earth.
It was several seconds before Charlie realized he was staring at the thin back of a real boy. He walked toward it and, pulling the tweed coat from under his cape, gently covered the boy.
A sob echoed around the pit. Charlie sank to his knees beside Asa and said, “It’s OK, Asa. We’ve come to help you.”
Billy brought the green trousers and the boots closer. The moth had retreated to her high boulder again. She seemed to be waiting. Slowly, Asa got to his feet. With his back toward them, he pulled on the green trousers and the boots. When he had shrugged himself into the coat, he turned to face Charlie and Billy with a wan smile.
“Asa! You’re you again,” said Charlie.
“Yes,” Asa croaked. He coughed. “Sorry. Throat’s dry. Haven’t spoken to anyone for weeks.”
“We’re going to get you out of here, but we’ve got to hurry. There’s a tunnel that leads to the riverbank. Someone’s waiting to rescue you. Your mom will be there.” Charlie was speaking so fast that Asa began to look confused.
Charlie slowed down. “My guess is that the tunnel begins behind one of those boulders.”
“My mom’s OK, then?” Asa murmured.
“Yes.” Charlie hesitated and said awkwardly, “I’m sorry about your dad.”
Asa’s face began to crumple and Billy said quickly, “I bet it’s behind that tall boulder, the one your moth’s sitting on, Charlie. I bet the tunnel begins there.”
“Let’s have a look.” Charlie went over to the boulder and tried to shift it. “It’ll take all three of us to move this,” he said. “Come on, you two.”
Billy blew out his candle and put it back in his pocket.
After several minutes of heaving and pushing, puffing and panting, they managed to move the boulder a few inches away from the wall. Billy was right. There was indeed a hidden entrance. With renewed strength the three boys pushed the heavy boulder another few inches. Now there was just e
nough space for them to squeeze into the entrance of the tunnel.
They moved in silence. Billy first, then Asa. Charlie walked behind Asa, just in case he began to lose his shape again. But the white moth fluttered close to the beast boy, making sure there was enough light for him to keep his human form.
The tunnel was, if anything, more dank and smelly than the first one. It was certainly colder. Charlie and Billy pulled up their hoods, and Asa, somewhat reluctantly, put on the beret. Charlie first noticed the water when Asa’s feet began to splash, sending cold sprays at Charlie’s legs.
“Do you think the river might be coming into the tunnel?” Billy asked nervously.
“It can’t be,” answered Charlie. “The path is a long way above the river and besides, we’re walking upward, not down.”
“What if the river floods?” Billy persisted.
“It hasn’t been raining,” said Charlie. Even as he spoke he was remembering the high river that had nearly swept them off the bridge. “Dagbert,” he murmured.
A few minutes later, the water was knee-deep. “Let’s go back,” cried Billy.
Charlie looked back. Behind him a muddy tide was filling the tunnel. “We can’t,” he said. “It’s even deeper behind us. Go faster, Billy.”
Billy started to walk faster, but soon the water was above his knees. The current was so strong he could hardly move against it. “We’re going to drown,” he moaned.
Asa slumped against the wall. “It’s me,” he muttered. “Manfred will never let me go, he’d rather see me dead.”
“It’s Dagbert Endless,” Charlie said bitterly. “We mustn’t let him beat us. We’ve got to keep moving.” He walked past Asa and grabbed Billy’s hand. “We’ll help one another. Come on, Asa. Take Billy’s other hand.”
They began to move again, slowly and painfully, while the white moth hovered above them, the sparkle of her lively spirit encouraging them onward. But even she couldn’t stop the water rising, and it wasn’t long before the swirling torrent was gurgling around their waists. Charlie had no idea how close they were to the riverbank. Perhaps the path was already underwater and as soon as they emerged, they would be swept into a flood.
When the water reached their shoulders, Charlie began to give up hope.
Far above the tunnel, Tancred Torsson was making his way across the grounds of Bloor’s Academy. He was sensitive to water in all its many forms. He was aware of the tides, knew when rain was on its way, could even tell when water might pour from a heavy cloud. Tancred knew that, deep beneath him, water was filling an ancient tunnel. He could hear it rushing beneath his feet, and he knew that Charlie was in trouble. Tancred even knew the source of that drowning water. At the edge of the woods that bordered the Red Castle, phosphorescent colors lit the treetops. As Tancred drew closer, he could see Dagbert Endless leaning against a tree. His head was raised, his eyes were closed, and he was smiling.
Tancred strode up to the boy. “Stop that,” he demanded.
Dagbert opened his eyes. “Oh, it’s you.”
“I can hear water,” said Tancred. “It’s drowning them. Give it up.”
“Why should I?” Dagbert sneered. “I’m having the time of my life.”
“Not anymore.” Tancred swung his cape in a wide green arc.
“What are you doing?” asked Dagbert suspiciously.
A blast of icy air sent him spinning away from the tree. “Stop it!” he yelled as a great gust of wind swept him off his feet. A stream of golden creatures began to pour from his pocket as he turned upside down, pawing and kicking the air.
Strolling forward, Tancred caught the tiny creatures in his hands.
“No!” screamed Dagbert.
Tancred stood back and let the boy crash to the earth. Dagbert lay still for a moment and then he began to shake. His face took on a sickly green glow, his hands shone, and a luminous glint stole through his clothes. The shaking became uncontrollable.
“G … g … give … m … m … me … the … s … sea-gold … cr … creatures,” stammered Dagbert.
“These?” Tancred ran them through his fingers from hand to hand. “I don’t think so.”
“F … fiend!” screamed Dagbert.
“Stop the water!”
“N … n … no!”
Tancred raised his clenched fist, and Dagbert was sent flying through the woods. Sharp twigs tore his clothes and scratched his face, thorns caught in his hair, and naked branches pulled off his shoes. When he fell to the earth a second time, his trembling had become so intense he bounced up and down on the ground. “G … g … give me …” he gasped.
Tancred walked up to the glowing boy. “I’ll give you nothing until you stop the water.”
There was a long silence and then, with a gurgling sigh, Dagbert closed his eyes and dug his hands into the earth.
Tancred began to feel a change in the ground beneath his feet. He watched Dagbert and waited. Still trembling, Dagbert dug his fingers deeper and deeper into the earth. At last, with a shaking voice, he uttered the word, “D … done!”
“Hmmm. I won’t thank you.” Tancred sauntered away.
“P … please,” moaned Dagbert.
“Your sea-gold creatures? Come and get them.” Tancred scattered the tiny fish and the golden crabs in the long grass that bordered the woods. But he put the sea urchin in his pocket. “For future encounters,” he said to himself. Keeping in deep shadow, he made his way back to the school. He had noticed a light at the very top of the building and didn’t want to take any chances.
Old Ezekiel had seen the spectacle from his high attic window. He had no idea that Dagbert was not alone in the woods, and was most impressed by the glowing colors streaming from the trees.
“Our very own aurora borealis.” He chuckled. “Well done, Dagbert Endless.”
In the tunnel deep beneath the woods, Charlie felt the current begin to ebb.
“It’s going down,” breathed Asa.
Soon they could see their muddy legs again. Minutes later, they were walking on damp bricks. The flood had become a tiny trickle.
“How did that happen?” said Billy.
“I think Tancred had something to do with it.” Charlie grinned up at the mossy roof.
They were now walking up a steep incline. Far ahead, Charlie could see the moon, and although they fell several times on the slippery bricks, the sight of the moon gave them fresh hope. Ignoring their wet clothes and aching limbs, they crawled upward until, one by one, they tumbled out into the small grove of trees beside the path. A strong breeze had blown every cloud from the sky, and everything was bathed in brilliant moonlight.
“We’re here!” cried Charlie, rolling down the bank.
The others followed. Asa was even giggling. He looked a very odd sight with his red hair straggling from under the beret, and his long coat covered in mud.
They were now, all three, shivering from wet and cold, but Charlie wanted to make sure that Asa reached Bartholomew’s van. They ran along the path until the bridge came into view, and there, just visible above the stone wall, was a white van.
“Asa” — Charlie pointed at the bridge — “see that white van? Your mom’s there, waiting for you.”
As he spoke they felt a tremor in the earth. A distant pounding reached their ears; as it grew louder a white horse leaped down the bank beside the bridge. On its back rode a knight in a silver helmet and a velvet cloak that looked gray in the moonlight, yet Charlie knew it must be scarlet. They caught the flash of steel as the knight brought out his sword and came charging toward them.
In that moment, Charlie could only think that he’d been right all along. The Red Knight was no friend. He’d been given an invincible sword that he’d always intended to use against them.
They turned to run but there was nowhere to go. For on their other side, a huge horse came thundering at them. The ground shuddered as its great hooves pounded the path. Stiff gray feathers stood up from its head, and the knight on its back
wielded a long pale lance.
“They look like stone!” Billy whimpered.
“They are stone!” cried Charlie.
Caught between the Red Knight and the gray stone Knight, the river seemed the only place to go. Charlie stood, shivering on the moonlit path, unable to move, while Billy and Asa fell to their knees, clutching Charlie’s cape and yelling something incomprehensible. And then, when both horses were almost upon them, the Red Knight shouted, “DOWN!”
Charlie fell to the ground as horse and rider sailed above him. A rush of air from the billowing cloak warmed his bones and stopped the shivering.
The stone knight’s lance was pointed straight at the Red Knight’s chest, but at the last moment, the white horse swerved and, faster than lightning, the Red Knight brought down his sword. A bright flash shivered along the lance. The stone horse turned awkwardly on the path. The lance was pulled away and then came sweeping at the Red Knight’s back.
Charlie heard a thud as the lance hit its mark. But the Red Knight didn’t topple from his horse. The lance rebounded from his red cloak, the white horse pranced sideways, and the Red Knight smote the lance with his bright sword, again and again and again.
There was a mighty crack and the lance broke in two, one end thudding onto the path. The stone knight brought his mount crashing into the side of the white horse; a cry of pain filled the air as she backed away, but, as she moved, the blade of the Red Knight’s sword fell on the stone knight’s helmet. His head split but still he moved, wildly swinging his blunted lance. The sword flashed again, slicing the stone knight in half, cracking his arms and slashing the remains of the lance. The stone pieces dropped to the earth; the stone horse staggered and then rolled into the river.
The three boys got to their feet a little shakily, though their clothes were dry again and they couldn’t feel the cold. They gazed at the Red Knight and his horse, standing so still in the moonlight. If it hadn’t been for the steam coming from the white horse, they could have been taken for statues.