“This talk is all very well and good,” the King interrupted, “but I suggest we get off the road at once. Spies might still be about, and dawn is not far off.”
Ulric agreed and so they slipped back into the woods and walked until they found a small clearing to rest. Molly sat down against a tree. “Now what?” she asked. “I’m glad we made it this far, but I haven’t the slightest idea how to get inside.”
“I’m piecing together the beginnings of a plan,” Ulric said. He invited the others to gather around to hear him out. “As we neared the castle, I recalled a few details about it the last time I was here many years ago. If I remember correctly, there are a few small doorways spread out around the base of the castle. They are used as escapeways for the people inside in case of an attack. Otherwise, they are most certainly never used.”
“How will that help us?” Christopher asked.
“We simply find one of these doors and break inside,” he casually replied. He saw the doubt registering on the boy’s face. “Maybe I made that sound simpler than it really is. I suggest we stay just inside the woods and travel along the edge. Since these woods extend part way around the castle, we should be able to spot one of the escape doors with little difficulty.”
“And then?” Molly asked.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he replied. “Quickly now. We must be inside before first light.”
So they hiked along the edge of the woods with Malaban’s castle always in view. Occasionally someone would stumble over a tree root or snap a large twig, causing everybody to stand as still as statues and hold their breaths. But soon Artemas discovered what they were seeking.
“There!” He pointed to one section of the castle. “I can see an escape door at the base of the building.”
Ulric looked closely in the dispersing gloom. “I see it across the moat.” He stepped out of the woods and surveyed the surroundings, signaling for the others to follow. “All clear now. We’re on the east side. I can just make out the main entrance around the corner, so we still might be spotted from there if we’re not careful. The drawbridge is up, so I don’t expect a parade of troops just yet.”
King Rupert led the others out of the woods. The six of them ran across a small field between the trees and the castle under the last shadows of night. They soon came to a large bank that sloped down toward the moat. Ulric descended first, climbing over sharp rocks and tufts of dead grass and weeds, stopping now and then to catch his balance. King Rupert went next, trying to follow the same path as Ulric did, fearing he might stumble if he tried another. Christopher and Molly scurried down with ease, followed by Artemas, and finally Mr. Smithers on the end.
When they made it to level ground, Molly looked up the bank and realized how steep it actually was. “We’ll have to climb back up when we leave,” she said, anticipating what a difficult task that would prove.
“Its steepness plays to our advantage,” Ulric said. “We are hidden in its shadow for now and are probably safer here than in the woods, at least until the sun rises.”
The ground between the bottom of the bank and the edge of the moat extended about twenty feet. The moat itself stretched on for sixty feet. Across the water loomed the sheer east wall of the castle. Built into its base was a small iron door with a tiny barred window locked from the inside. A narrow rocky shore led up to the door. Off to its left was a raft, secured with a rope tied to a metal ring cemented into the castle wall. Mr. Smithers spotted it first.
“Look!” he shouted, causing Ulric to ask him to lower his voice unless he wanted a visit from an angry troll. “Look,” he repeated in a whisper. “If my eyes aren’t playing tricks, I see a raft tied up near the door.”
Artemas confirmed the discovery. “There is a raft, no doubt for the use of someone fleeing the castle.”
“Just one problem,” Ulric said. “The raft is on the wrong side of the moat to do us any good. Unless you care to swim across the freezing water and row it back.”
“No thanks. I’d rather build a boat than get that one.”
“That’s just what we’ll have to do unless we think of something soon,” King Rupert said. “Our cover of darkness won’t last forever.”
The King was clearly frustrated at the halt in their progress, especially being so close to his daughter. The old man paced along the shore, and when finding a rotting log half buried in the dirt, he sat down on it to think. Molly and Christopher sat beside him. King Rupert looked so glum that he reminded them of the time they discovered him in Mrs. Halloway’s barn.
“Don’t give up hope yet,” Molly said. “We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”
Christopher agreed. “You can’t solve every problem in an instant. Remember all the trouble we went through just to find out when the timedoor would reopen?”
“I’m not giving up,” the King sighed. “I’m just disappointed that we can’t move any faster. Rosalind is locked away in this horrible place, and here I am sitting idly by on a log and not doing a bit of good. Curses on that Malaban! I’ll give him a piece of my mind the next time I see him!” King Rupert’s melancholy quickly transformed into fiery anger which got him back into the spirit of the rescue. He stood and waved his fist at the castle. “We’re not defeated yet!” he shouted across the water.
“Feeling better?” Molly asked.
“I’m feeling angry!” the King said. “I’ll get into that castle somehow, even if I have to rip this log out of the ground and paddle it across the water myself!”
Though most were amused by the King’s frustration, Ulric saw the commonsense of it all. He laughed as he walked over to King Rupert and the children. “If only you boiled over like this more often. You might solve some pressings matters of state much more quickly.”
King Rupert squinted his eyes in puzzlement. “Don’t speak in riddles, Ulric. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we have found a way to get across the moat. Though you may not care to paddle across the icy water on a log, one of us can.”
“A brilliant idea!” Artemas agreed. “So simple a solution that one of us should have thought of it sooner.”
King Rupert urged everyone to grab a stone to help dig away at the dirt packed around the log. The task proved to be tiring and tedious, but after several minutes of furious digging and dirtying of fingernails, they freed the log and rolled it into the water.
The next step was to choose someone to sit on the log and paddle across the moat, untie the raft and row it back. The arguments boiled down to finding someone light enough so the log wouldn’t submerge completely, as well as agile enough not to fall off. Though each insisted everyone else was more qualified for the task, Christopher volunteered in the end, if only to cease the bickering. A part of him thought it would be fun to paddle across a moat on a log since he would probably never have such an opportunity again.
Christopher removed his boots and socks, rolled up his pant legs and stepped into the moat. The freezing water chilled his toes and gave him goose bumps. He sat on the log as quickly and carefully as he could and momentarily lifted his feet out of the water. “Better get this over with as fast as I can,” he said to himself, plunging his feet back into the icy pool and paddling off.
Sixty feet seemed like a mile. Christopher balanced himself extremely well, and after getting the log to sail along smoothly, he would lift his feet from the water until it stopped and then paddle some more. He didn’t know which felt worse, the cold water or the winter air, but tried not to think much about either. He’d occasionally glance over his shoulder to see the shadowy figures of his friends standing on shore. They seemed so far away in the pale light.
The log stopped with a jolt when hitting the shallow end on the other side. Christopher jumped off and scurried out of the water. He found the raft by the iron door and untied a stubborn knot in the rope, freeing their prize. But before he left, Christopher tried to open the door out of curiosity. It was securely locked and he had no
idea how they would ever open it.
A brief look up at the sky told him that dawn was about to break, so he dragged the raft into the moat and climbed aboard. A small oar was attached which Christopher used to paddle across, happy not having to stick his feet into the water again. He wondered if any strange monster lurked at the bottom of the moat, thankful he hadn’t considered that possibility on the way over.
Ulric and Mr. Smithers pulled the raft to shore when Christopher arrived. The boy ignored them and ran over to Molly, who handed him his dry socks and boots. Christopher put them on and walked about the shore to warm up his feet. “I wouldn’t do that again,” he said to his sister. “Not for all the money in the world!”
King Rupert stepped onto the raft and stood bravely in front, his hands on his hips, facing the castle with a challenging gaze. After the others climbed aboard, Ulric placed the oar in the water and carried them swiftly across. He and Mr. Smithers dragged the raft back up the rocky shore and retied it as before in order not to raise suspicions should a guard happen to spot it later.
“Now to open the door,” Ulric said, producing a small dagger from under his coat. “I’ll try to pry the lock since there’s no other way to open it.”
Ulric placed the tip of the dagger into the keyhole and worked the blade for several minutes. No success.
“Let me try,” Mr. Smithers said.
“Be my guest.” Ulric handed him the knife and Mr. Smithers went to work. But no shouts of joy followed, for his attempt failed as well.
“We’ll be sitting ducks if you don’t hurry!” Christopher said. “I can see the horizon getting lighter by the minute. The sun will rise soon.”
If the approaching light wasn’t enough of a problem, another one cropped up just as fast. A rumble of wood and metal echoed along the castle wall. Everyone looked left, and to their horror saw the drawbridge slowly descend.
“Gracious!” cried King Rupert. “We’re doomed! Whoever crosses that bridge now is sure to see us. We are sitting geese!”
“Sitting ducks!” Christopher said.
Artemas rushed to the door. “Don’t give up yet!” he said, indicating for Ulric and Mr. Smithers to step aside. The magician placed one hand firmly below the door handle and the other on the stone wall adjacent to it. “If muscle can’t get us inside, maybe magic will.” Artemas closed his eyes in deep concentration. His face tightened as if in pain. He appeared as still as stone for what seemed an eternity. Molly almost called out to him, but Christopher stopped her.
The rumbling and groaning of the lowering drawbridge grew louder and louder. At the same instant a ray of sunlight shot over the horizon, and then another and another, and soon the rescuers were bathed in the morning light. All feared for their lives when a loud snap of metal cracked the air. Artemas fell backward.
The children rushed to him. “Are you all right, Artemas?” Molly asked. She and Christopher helped him to his feet.
“I’ll be fine. The door is unlocked! Everyone inside before it’s too late!”
King Rupert opened the door with ease. He madly waved the others inside and followed them last, slamming the door behind him. At the same instant the drawbridge landed and a double line of goblin troops marched out over the moat. The sun rose higher and splashed the castle walls with its morning brilliance. But the group from Endora was safe inside as the first light of day streamed in through the barred window.
The room smelled damp and musty. Strands of ancient cobwebs coated the walls and hung from the ceiling. Since there wasn’t a torch fastened to the wall, the group had to wait for full daylight to reveal their surroundings. All they could determine now was that the stone room was small and quite overcrowded with six people inside. A little more light revealed a staircase leading up to the ground level. From the dirty look of things, it appeared that nobody had been down there in quite a few years.
Artemas sat on the floor to rest, propping his back against the wall. Opening the door with a blast of magic had worn him out.
“Are you feeling better?” Molly asked. “I didn’t realize magic was so dangerous.”
“My powers feel a bit rusty. Ever since I visited your world, my magic requires more and more effort. Why, it took me forever to grow that grapevine in your living room.”
Molly remembered and hoped that Artemas would feel better soon. Everyone had their off days and she concluded that magicians could have them too.
Ulric, in the meantime, examined every corner of the tiny chamber. “Time to find out where this staircase leads.” He bounded up the dozen or so steps and the darkness deepened around him.
“What do you see?” King Rupert whispered from below. He kept watch through the barred window, observing the drawbridge as best he could.
Ulric soon returned. “The stairs lead to a small passage about ten feet long. It’s black as night. There’s a door at the end of the passage, so I peered through the keyhole.”
“What’d you see?” Mr. Smithers asked.
“The door opens into the main floor of the castle, but the area looks deserted. Even though it’s early morning, I at least expected to see a guard.”
“Well, there are guards,” the King said, pulling back from the window. “I see them now. About a half dozen trolls and goblins are patrolling the area. Monstrous looking beasts. We made it inside in the nick of time. What do you suggest, Ulric?”
“We should go upstairs and split into two groups and begin our search for Princess Rosalind. I don’t know why there aren’t any guards in the area outside the door, but let’s use that to our advantage while we can.”
“Agreed,” King Rupert said. “Lead on.”
They ascended the staircase in single file, disappearing from each other’s sight in the choking darkness. As his eyes adjusted, Christopher detected the outline of a doorway at the end of the passage. Ulric made a final check through the keyhole, and judging the way still clear, he opened the door.
They walked into a vast chamber, bare except for several torches fixed to the walls. This was a point where three wide corridors met, one branching off to the left, one to the right, and a third one going straight ahead. Ulric reasoned that the passage to the left would lead back to the main entrance of the castle, so he advised against going that way. King Rupert gave the final instructions.
“We will search this level of the castle to begin with, and then return to our hiding place to determine where we stand,” he said.
“And if anyone is caught,” Ulric added, “make no mention of the others. The less our enemy knows, the better our chance to defeat him.”
In the end, King Rupert, Ulric and Molly searched the hallway extending straight ahead. Christopher, Artemas and Mr. Smithers took the passage to the right. Neither group had any idea where they were going or what to expect–or if they would ever return.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Apples, Maps and Magic
Christopher, Artemas and Mr. Smithers moved warily along the passageway. Several wooden doors lined each side of the corridor, but opening them led to no important discoveries. Smaller hallways branched off from the main passage now and then, but Artemas decided it would be best to ignore them for now. “We’ll only get lost if we explore every little twist and turn in this wretched place.”
Behind one door Christopher discovered a spacious dining hall crammed full of wooden tables and benches. “I’ll bet five hundred people could fit in here,” he said in amazement. “I’m just glad we didn’t barge in during breakfast. I don’t think we’d have been invited in for eggs and toast.”
“Unlikely,” Mr. Smithers said, at the same time wondering what exactly trolls and goblins did eat for breakfast. “If only there was a kitchen to go along with this dining hall. I’d be curious to compare it to the kitchen in my diner.”
“We’re here to rescue Princess Rosalind,” Artemas reminded him sternly. “We don’t have time to browse.”
“I know,” he replied while carefully opening another doo
r. “I’m merely curious.” But before Artemas could respond, Mr. Smithers threw up his arms like a referee signaling a touchdown. “Bingo! My wish is granted.” Christopher and Artemas ran over, warning him to lower his voice. But Mr. Smithers ignored them and rushed inside the room. He had found his kitchen after all.
The room connected to the dining hall and was likewise deserted, allowing Mr. Smithers an excuse to look about like a child through a toy store. A large fireplace stood against one wall and several stone ovens were built into the other walls for baking. Wooden shelves and cupboards lined the room, and a large butcher’s block was positioned in the center. A filled water barrel occupied one corner and stale scraps of bread had been left on some of the counters. What appealed to the group most were the sacks of apples and potatoes lined up against a wall. Their sweet fragrances filled the room.
“What luck!” Mr. Smithers plucked an apple from one of the bags. “What better place for breakfast than right here. I’m starving. If one of you two could find some spices, a bit of pepper and parsley perhaps, I think I could throw a stew together. And bread and butter would be nice, too.”
Mr. Smithers bit into the apple as he searched through the cupboards for dishes and utensils to prepare his meal. Christopher and Artemas watched in disbelief.
“What’s the matter with you?” Artemas said. “A guard could walk in here at any minute. We must move on!”
He and Christopher ushered Mr. Smithers out of the room in spite of his protest and continued down the passageway. Though Mr. Smithers eventually admitted his foolishness in delaying their search, he still insisted that a hot potato stew would have been well worth the risk.
After several more minutes of fruitless inspection, Christopher wondered if they should turn around and go back and wait for the others. “All we’re finding is a lot of empty rooms. Where is everybody? What kind of castle is this?”
Artemas scratched his head. “I’m not sure, Christopher. It is strange not to find some guards milling about. But we should go on a short while more.”
The Endora Trilogy (The Complete Series) Page 7