by Leah Swann
‘Get him off me!’ he shouted.
The magician made a strange sound and the wolf fell back on all fours, pacing this way and that between the two men.
‘The wolf obeys you,’ said the Captain, his brow furrowed. ‘So it seems I must treat you as the King's regent.’ He shook his head. ‘This is a very strange turn of affairs. If I find you're lying, Trayton – ’
‘You must do your loyal duty to your king even when things seem strange,’ the magician interrupted. He had said the magic word. ‘Duty’ was sacred to Captain Symon.
‘All right. But on the battlefield, you answer to me,’ said the Captain, straightening his broad shoulders.
‘Of course, Captain Symon,’ replied Vilmos, who had no intention of answering to the Captain at any time. ‘Now let us set about restoring the kingdom. Command your men.’
At Ragnor Castle that evening, hundreds of people celebrated Irina's return with dancing and feasting. Local farmers and villagers streamed in through the open gates and discovered the castle courtyard lit with candles.
In the Great Hall, benches were laden with steaming platters of food and bouquets of autumn flowers – goldenrod, pink chrysanthemums, blue asters and delicate green rodiathen.
The royals sat at the head of the main table. Behind each throne hung ceremonial banners embroidered with the emblems of Ragnor: the hare of love, the sword of wisdom, the wolf of truth and the goddess Jun. William and Octavia were seated close by as honoured guests. Musicians played joyous melodies on violins, flutes, lyres and drums.
A single, beautiful note sounded on a bone flute announced Irina's arrival. She entered the hall, followed by Amicus. The homemade dress of patched linen was gone; Irina now wore a gown of violet silk, beaded with crystals and pearls. The luxurious fabric rustling over her skin was an unfamiliar sensation. Equally strange was the feeling of the gold crown on her head. Irina was uncomfortable being the centre of attention. Hundreds of pairs of eyes were fixed on her. Do I look like what they were hoping for? she wondered. She forced a smile to her lips and wished, not for the first time, that she was outside, galloping on Adriel under the new moon. She didn't want to be stared at and judged.
King Harmon and Queen Chloe rose, and everyone else did likewise.
‘The Princess Irina has returned. Long live Irina,’ the King proclaimed, raising his cup.
Everyone raised their cups and cried, ‘Long live Irina!’
From where she stood, Irina could hear the noise of the crowd outside. Surprised, she looked through the open courtyard doors and saw the villagers clapping and cheering, their arms raised. They seemed so delighted, Irina couldn't help but smile and wave.
I suppose I've returned to all of them, not just the King and Queen, she thought to herself. To them, I am their Princess.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Raven at the Feast
Niklas and Andor made their way down one the dungeon's filthy tunnels. They puffed and sweated: it was hard work. Andor hated not being able to see in the dark. He hated the sensation of dragging himself over damp dirt and stones, ropes chafing his wrists. The air was rank with mould, bat and rat droppings…and something worse.
‘Oh no!’ cried the young Prince suddenly.
‘What is it?’ said Niklas, but as soon as the words left his mouth he found himself in the same puddle of filthy water.
‘It would be madness to drink from one of these puddles,’ said Andor. His father didn't reply, but Andor guessed he was thinking the same thing: if they weren't freed soon, they'd have to drink the foul water to stay alive. Niklas shivered.
‘Are you all right, Father?’ asked Andor.
‘The wet gave me a shock, that's all.’ In fact, the King was in the grip of a fever. Seeley's bite mark on his neck throbbed, sending hot aches up and down his body.
‘What do you think Vilmos is trying to do?’ said Andor.
‘He wants to take over both kingdoms. I was a fool to have been taken in by him.’
‘Seeley trusted him,’ said Andor.
‘I suspect he found a way to control Seeley. That poor wolf is not the fine animal he once was.’
‘Everyone makes mistakes, Father.’
‘Not kings,’ said Niklas, shaking his head sadly. ‘When kings make mistakes, people's lives can be lost.’
As Captain Symon addressed his soldiers in the courtyard of Pavel Castle, he had no idea that the true king was, at that very moment, struggling along a dark passage twenty feet below him. Captain Symon didn't like Trayton but he knew his duty, and if his king trusted the magician, then so must he.
‘The King has been kidnapped,’ he announced.
There was a shocked outbreak of whispering.
‘Who by?’ shouted one soldier.
‘It pains me to tell you,’ said Captain Symon, taking a deep breath. ‘But his very own son, Prince Andor.’
‘No!’
‘Not possible.’
‘A mistake!’
Captain Symon held up his hand. ‘Remember you're soldiers, not market rabble. Andor has joined forces with King Harmon to overthrow Niklas and merge the kingdoms of Ragnor and Pavel…’
The Captain's speech was interrupted by the sudden, raucous sound of howling. He turned to see Vilmos on horseback, leading what seemed to be countless packs of enormous wolves.
‘By Jun,’ the Captain whistled. His sharp soldier's eyes saw that these packs of wolves had come together as one. Seeley was now their pack leader – and the magician controlled Seeley.
‘How the devil has he done that?’
Vilmos struck his horse with a long black whip.
‘The wolves have come to declare allegiance to their king,’ he cried. ‘Long live King Niklas!’
At Ragnor Castle, Irina's welcome home party was in full swing. A popular fluffy apple drink called lamb's wool was bubbling on the fire; the pulpy foam of burst roast apples trickling down the sides of the copper pot. People ate from platters overflowing with herb omelettes, nuts, fruits, and baked vegetables with golden pastry crusts; roast chickens; hot chestnuts and hazelnuts, cream and hisa-berry cakes.
Far above the castle, invisible against the dark sky, flew a raven. The villagers didn't notice the bird as they danced in circles in the courtyard. Those who weren't dancing peeked into the Great Hall to witness the rare sight of the King dancing with Queen Chloe to the fastest tunes of the fiddle. He swung her around wildly till her cheeks were flushed. William danced with Princess Mahila; Octavia danced with Captain Kellen. The other princesses danced with the soldiers and courtiers and each other; Irina had the baby Princess Casimira in her arms and bounced her around till she was giggling with delight.
When the flutes began a quieter melody, Chloe laughed with relief. Patting her brow and neck with a linen handkerchief, she collapsed on her throne, pulling Harmon down next to her.
‘Irina’s come back, darling. She really and truly has,’ she said, her eyes shining. ‘I can't believe it.’
In flew the raven through the open doors, his ominous wings whispering within the domed ceiling. Catching sight of the midnight bird, Irina stopped dancing, and her stillness rippled slowly through the room. Casimira whined and jiggled in protest. The raven descended, circling, until it lit on Harmon's golden plate. Around its neck was a small necklace of thread, from which hung a vial fashioned from stiffened leaves.
The musicians stopped playing.
Even the crowds outside grew quiet.
The King eased off the vial's lid and withdrew a piece of paper. As he read, his smile vanished and his face clouded over with dismay.
‘What does it say?’ asked Chloe. Harmon handed her the paper. The Queen read the note and dropped it, looking ill. Fumbling, she reached for a goblet of water. Everyone could see it was bad news. Everyone waited for the King to speak.
He said nothing; his face ashen.
Come on, Father, thought Irina impatiently.
Harmon continued to stare at the back
s of his hands. Finally, he got to his feet.
‘We have received news from Raizel, the wise-woman. An army is preparing to attack our kingdom. She has seen it.’ Harmon paused and drew breath, as though the words themselves somehow pained him. ‘King Niklas is missing. His regent, Trayton, has told the people that Prince Andor and I are planning to overthrow Niklas. He's told the villagers and farmers of Ber and Ralston their lands will be stolen. The Pavel army has been commandeered by Trayton, whose true identity, Raizel says, is Vilmos.’
A gasp swept through the hall. Fear lodged itself like a cold stone in Irina's belly. Vilmos! Her old enemy. The kidnapper she could not remember.
Captain Kellen stepped forward and knelt before the King. ‘I am ready, sir,’ he said.
‘It seems our celebration must come to an end,’ said Harmon. ‘Those who are strong enough to fight, follow Captain Kellen and join our army.’ In a lower voice, he said to Kellen, ‘Hopefully they won't march upon us till dawn. At least then we'll have some time to prepare.’
Captain Kellen rose and left, followed by his soldiers. Many young men joined them, eager to show their loyalty to King Harmon. Irina stepped forward and knelt at her father's feet, as Kellen had done.
‘I too am ready, Father. I can use a bow and arrow; I am fleet of foot and good on horseback. My mare, Adriel, could easily support me in battle.’
Harmon saw the determination in Irina's face. How like him she was; what a fine king she would have made – if only she were a boy.
‘In my kingdom, women do not fight,’ he said. ‘Your mother was trained by the warrior women of Ragnor, but she promised me she wouldn't wield a sword once we were married. You must comfort her. The Pavellian army is mighty and I don't know if we are equal to it.’ The King laid his hand on his daughter's shoulder.
Irina's cheeks flamed with silent rage. Harmon was supposed to be a wise king, so why would he forbid her from doing what she knew she must? She rose to stand beside the Queen.
‘Good girl,’ said Harmon, choosing to ignore the rebellious anger so obvious on Irina's face.
‘The soldiers are as ready as they can be at such short notice,’ Captain Symon told Vilmos in the courtyard of Pavel Castle. ‘They’ve been armed from the King's stockpile kept in the artillery room. They have bows and arrows, swords, daggers and armour.’
‘Feed them well and give them a short rest,’ said Vilmos. ‘It will take us all night to reach the city of Ragnor on foot.’
‘And the wolves?’
‘Leave them to me.’
The magician made his way to Niklas's hall. He pulled a heavy couch to one side and opened the trapdoor. Taking a torch from the wall he lit it, and descended by a ladder into the dungeon. Holding the torch above him he looked around the chamber. It was empty. How could this be? There was nowhere to hide. Vilmos scanned the six doorways set into the walls.
‘They can't be far,’ he muttered angrily. He made a squeaking noise which summoned his faithful rats. ‘Lead me to them!’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Some Small Good Tidings
‘Listen, Father, can you hear that?’ said Andor. ‘There’s someone else down here. Let's calut to – ’
‘Not so quickly, son. It might be Vilmos.’
All around them they felt movement, the scuffling of tiny feet. There was also a strong smell of fur.
‘Rats,’ said the Prince with a shudder, as the rodents scurried over his knees and dragged their cold tails along his sides.
Down the other end of the tunnel, Vilmos's torch cast the faintest glow, but it was enough for Andor to see they were surrounded by hundreds of rats. Some were grey and some were black and some were the size of cats. Black eyes glinted like nail heads. Suddenly the rats raised their heads as one: something had disturbed them. They went scurrying back up the tunnel towards the light.
‘Quickly, son, move faster. Just up here there's a spot, if I remember rightly.’
They trundled awkwardly on the wet floor, bending their knees and pushing with their feet in a crab-like crawl, glad that the swarming rats masked the noise of their heaving and gasping. In the distance, the light grew brighter and they could hear someone muttering.
‘It seems Vilmos has chosen this tunnel as the first one to explore. What bad luck,’ whispered Niklas, grimacing in the dark. ‘Veer a bit left, and hurry.’
At Ragnor Castle, Queen Chloe sat and wept. Irina knelt beside her, while Mahila and Julene stood side by side, pale and anxious. Octavia cuddled little Casimira.
‘Vilmos. When will I ever be rid of him?’ cried the Queen. ‘He steals my child, now he steals my kingdom. I said one wrong word when we were young and now he pays me back over and over!’
‘Be calm,’ said Irina. ‘Ragnor has a powerful army.’
‘Yes, but King Niklas's army is just as strong, maybe stronger. For years our strength lay in our friendship. Now we are certain to be destroyed.’
‘It’s not Niklas, but Vilmos who fights against us. Perhaps we can clear up the misunderstanding, call a truce – ’
‘You don't understand,’ said Chloe. ‘With the two kingdoms split, the barbarians of the Narrowlands will conquer us, and life as we know it will be over. We'll be ruled by brutes. The King of the Narrowlands has no real power: everyone obeys the wicked dragon who lives at the furthermost tip of the island.’
‘The one who kidnaps children,’ said Irina, remembering.
‘Yes. They call him the Venerated Dragon,’ said Chloe, ‘and he's the mouthpiece of Knartesc.’
Irina shivered at the very name.
‘Who’s Knartesc?’ said Julene in a small voice.
‘Don’t you know?’ cried her mother. ‘What have they been teaching you in the nursery? He's the evil god, the one opposed to the Shining One, and the goddess Jun.’
Irina and Octavia exchanged glances. Irina was grateful for Octavia's presence. Her buttery smell and coarse jute clothes were a touch of home; she had a matter-of-fact way about her that contrasted with the Queen's rising hysteria.
‘Take her to the nursery,’ said Octavia, handing the baby to Mahila. ‘Your mother needs rest. Now, Your Majesty, I'm a medicine woman, trained by your Aunt Raizel.’
‘Ah, Raizel! Where's the old witch now, when the kingdom needs her more than ever?’
Irina could feel her mother's fear like a hunted animal in the room.
‘Please, my lady, take some of these drops I have prepared,’ said Octavia. She drew a tiny leather jack from the pocket of her apron and pushed out the stopper with her broad thumb. ‘They will calm your fearful heart.’
But the Queen would not be consoled. ‘It’s no use. We are lost. I know it.’
Without a moment to spare, Niklas and Andor edged around the carcass of what seemed to be a dead bat and dropped themselves into a foul-smelling cavity. They held their breath and waited. Seconds later, the shining black boots of Vilmos passed by, followed by hordes of vermin. The edge of Vilmos's drawn sword flashed in the torchlight.
‘He means to kill us,’ whispered Andor.
‘Keep quiet!’ replied Niklas.
It was too late. Some of the rats stopped at the entrance of the cavity, their noses twitching. Andor and Niklas drew back as far as they could, huddling under a piece of stone that jutted out from the wall, avoiding the torchlight.
‘A dead bat,’ said Vilmos, seeing the carcass. ‘That’s all.’ At that moment, in the far distance and muffled by the stone walls, came the sound of a horn.
Vilmos turned and ran back up the tunnel, leaving the men once again in total darkness.
‘That was the battle horn,’ said Andor.
‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ said Niklas.
‘How on earth are we going to climb out?’
‘There’s one way. I just hope it's still here.’
At Ragnor Castle the festive mood had shifted to one of war. Most of the candles had been put out. By the light of a finger-bone moon, soldiers and
village men were given helmets, shields and swords. King Harmon moved among them holding a lantern. He was grave and attentive, making his inspections and speaking words of encouragement. Hidden behind the silk wall hangings, Irina watched her father put his arm around a soldier.
‘We are brothers,’ said the King. ‘Thank you for fighting.’ To another, after straightening the strap under his chin, ‘We fight for the truth together, as the men of Ragnor have always done.’
Irina's father was a great king. She saw the men's faces light up when he spoke to them. She yearned to be alongside him, wearing armour of her own.
Captain Kellen had sent his fastest riders to the four corners of the kingdom; the King was hoping for more farmers and villagers to swell the ranks of his army. Amicus had taken a message to the chief of Ralston. The Captain marched up to the King.
‘I bring some small good tidings,’ he announced, bowing. ‘Many have come to fight. There's no sign yet of Vilmos. And the sylvan has returned with a reply from Ralston.’
Kellen handed Harmon a scroll, which the King scanned quickly.
‘Men!’ he said, raising his voice to address the gathering. ‘I have good news. The people of Ralston will not rise against us, but give us their support.’ Then, quietly, he said to Kellen, ‘The chief writes that King Niklas had already sent word to him. This gives me hope. Niklas may still be alive.’
Irina wished that Harmon would speak to her the same way he spoke to Kellen. But it would never happen; in Harmon's eyes she was just a girl, and barely more than a stranger. Behind Harmon she caught sight of William in armour. It was awful to imagine the gentle farmer in battle, but she knew he would want to give everything he had to serve Ragnor.
Irina slipped out unseen and stood at the far end of the hallway by the window. She wanted to howl at the moon as she used to when she was a wolf-girl before going on the hunt. Instead, she was to be cooped up with the weeping Queen or in the nursery with her sisters and the baby. Perhaps Harmon was right: she had no experience in fighting. She had never used a sword and she didn't have the big, muscular body of a warrior.