by John White
The crash of splintered glass made his eyes fly open. He stared stupidly at his two hands, both empty. With a groan of despair lie lay back on the bed, unwilling to look down at the mess of splintered glass and spilled honey on the floor.
The king turned a gaze of despair to the window. He started and stared. He struggled to regain a half-sitting position. What was this? Had his illness at last driven him mad? Did it cause impossible fantasies to appear before his eyes? He blinked, rubbed his eyes and looked again. He could not believe what he saw.
Kurt tied off a rope knot and griped, "This raft repair is taking forever. How come we have to spend hours at it when Gaal could have done it himself in a couple of seconds?"
"It's the way Gaal usually does things, isn't it?" Wes answered. "He could do everything himself. Instead he leaves some things to us. It means we've got an important part in his plans."
"Yeah, you're right. I'd rather have it that way than be left out."
"Besides," Lisa added, "we can't go until dark anyway. If we went in broad daylight, one of Lunacy's henchmen could spot us from the island. But I agree, Kurt. This is tedious."
Wes grinned. "Tedious. That sounds like a word Betty Riggs would use."
Kurt looked out across the lake at the island fortress. "I hope Betty's okay. I hope we can rescue her from the queen's influence. Maybe after we finish whatever it is Gaal has planned for us on the island, he'll have us go back to Nephesh and save her. I admit I've thought all along that she's a big pain. But Gaal really cares about her. I've spent a lot of time wishing we'd never gotten mixed up with her."
Wes laughed. "She probably wishes she'd never gotten mixed up with
Betty covered her mouth to keep from screaming again. Two of the figures she saw below were the Matmon beekeepers who had arrested her and the Friesens. Between them they grasped Queen Hisschi. She struggled and shouted words of fury that came faintly through the window. Betty recalled the frightening strength of the iron grip of the Matmon. The queen had no hope of escape.
Now a droning hum combined with the wild wail of Hisschi's voice. Weaver bees zipped past the window. From instinct Betty ducked, though she knew they could not come in. As she looked more closely, dark clouds of bees emerged from all over the courtyard: from cracks under stone steps, from beneath roofs, from among the jigsaw puzzle stones.
Lord Lunacy pointed a waxen finger at Queen Hisschi. His voice penetrated even the walls of the tower. "Bind her! Bind her with the silk of weaver bees so she cannot escape! She has defied me once too often. Now she shall know what becomes of those who covet my power!"
Shamith and Ildreth wrapped loops of weaver bee silk about the queen, pinning her arms to her sides. They dragged her to the south wall of the fortress, near the steps where she and Betty had climbed to the top of the wall. Betty thought there must be an iron ring there because they fastened the queen to the wall in some way. Then they stepped back.
As the light faded, Lunacy paced slowly back and forth before his captive. If they talked, Betty could not hear them. When he appeared satisfied with his victory, he stepped away and raised a hand. The buzz of weaver bees rose to a roar that rattled even the window where Betty stood. The bees hovered in several tight swarms around and above the spot where Hisschi stood helpless.
The Dark Lord pointed at Hisschi. She screamed a defiant curse at him. A yellowish streak of fire crackled from Lunacy's finger and lit up the courtyard for an instant. Immediately the insect roar escalated to a deafening level. Thousands of bees smothered the queen from head to foot. More came over the fortress walls to pile themselves on her until she appeared nothing more than a crawling, squirming dark mass of vicious insects.
Betty covered her face and turned away. How could he do that! she screamed inside herself. She rushed to the door of the room. No, that would do no good. She could not go down to the courtyard where that evil Lord of Darkness stood and gloated over his victory. She never wanted to see or be near him again. But where could she go? Someone would come soon to summon her. He had ordered her to wait in the room below the top one.
That was it! There was still one room above her. If she couldn't go down, she could go up. Betty hurried out the door and ran up the stone stairway. The stairs were very dim, lit only by small openings in the wall, and it was already dusk. She ran despite the darkness. She ran so hard that she collided with the door to the highest room.
This door was heavy, dark and intricately carved. Betty landed with her hands against it. She felt the deep creases of its carvings and put her hand on the heavy brass doorknob. What f it's locked? she thought. At that instant she recalled the words that had raced through her mind in the courtyard below: Gaal, I'm walking toward you.
She thought, Now I'm running toward you! Please let the door be open! Betty threw her weight against the ornate door. It opened silently, and she almost fell through it. She stumbled inside. The door closed behind her without a sound.
"Hey, I think that's the last rope." Wes said, "We're done!"
"Come on, let's launch this thing and see if it's seaworthy," Lisa urged. "Or rather, lakeworthy. Did you notice the three paddles are three different lengths, to fit our heights? Gaal thinks of everything!"
Together they shoved the heavy raft into the water. It took three tries before the boat slid across the mud and floated free. For a while they went back and forth parallel to the shore so they could all practice paddling and steering. At dusk tiny lights appeared in a few windows in the fortress. As darkness fell, they said goodbye to Philo and then pushed off for the island. The horse watched his friends until they were out of sight before turning and beginning his lonely journey back to Nephesh.
With steep hills and rocky cliffs on all sides, Lake Nachash was host to constantly changing temperatures and unstable winds, but they had sailed this lake often enough to be familiar with its winds and have an idea how to use them. The sunset wind blew from the west, and they knew that the cave entrance to the wharf was on the west end of the island. If they paddled to a point straight west of the island, they could turn and let the wind help propel them along on a direct course for the cave entrance.
Lisa handled the tiller-paddle as the raft closed in on the island. The boys quit paddling fifty yards out. The raft had enough headway and enough of a tailwind that it continued to drift all the way to the rock cliff below the tower. But darkness confused their approach. Wes squinted until his eyes hurt. "Now where's that ... why can't I see it? We should be able to spot the entrance. Have I forgotten where it is?"
They scanned the choppy line where lake washed against island. Finally Kurt pointed and said in a hoarse whisper, "There! To the left of where that chunk of rock juts out. See it?"
"No ... yes! Okay, we're right on target."
Lisa whispered, "I'm kind of nervous. I wish Gaal were here on the raft with us."
"He is. Remember?" said Wesley.
The words comforted all three of them as they drifted toward the forbidding iron portcullis in the cave opening. Quietly Wes said, "Open in the name of Gaal!" He said it so softly that he wondered if the iron barrier had heard him. It had! Immediately it rose into a slotted recess in the stone, exactly as if someone in the boat was operating a garage-door opener. The raft drifted through the mouth of the cave into cool darkness. All wind and choppiness were gone. Only small waves splashed against the sides of the cave and bounced watery echoes around the walls.
The cave narrowed to a tunnel, which was obviously not natural. The tunnel walls were smooth and showed the scars of tools. You might wonder how the children could see anything at all, but the tunnel was not totally dark. The walls themselves glowed with red light: the ominous light of the Mystery. The children had seen it here before, but they thought it had never showed such wicked brightness.
Something small and bulletlike zipped past their heads. It moved too fast to be seen. "Weaver bee!" hissed Kurt. They ducked and covered their heads with their hands. More bees zipped past.
>
"I think they're coming in through the tunnel," Wes said. "I wonder if that means the door is open up above. Let's not talk, just in case."
The raft continued to drift inward. The reddish glow brightened even more. They emerged from the tunnel and reached the end of their water route: a circular underground wharf hollowed out of the island rock. Stone posts with inset iron rings provided places to tie up boats, though no boats were docked there now. A narrow platform ran along the wall several feet above the water. It led to a stone stairway that spiraled upward to disappear through a hole in the high stone ceiling.
Even the stairway is red, Lisa thought.
Suddenly Kurt yelled, "Bee!" His voice echoed dangerously through the wharf and up the stairwell. Again they ducked and shielded their heads. Impatiently Wes motioned for them to dock the raft and get up the steps.
Kurt grasped the painter, the rope used to tie up the craft, ready to secure it to one of the iron rings. Lisa wiggled the tiller to scull the raft forward. The how was a few feet from the stone dock when a low humming vibration began. The children had time only to give each other questioning looks before a swarm of weaver bees poured in through the tunnel and flew straight at them.
Three loud splashes echoed through the underground wharf to join the roar of the bees. The Friesens were under water before the swarm gathered above the raft in a furious circling mass.
Kurt held his breath as long as he could. There was no way to tell if the bees still hovered over him. He would have to take a breath soon. He propelled himself upward and whacked his skull against an immovable object. He thought it must be the raft. He swain down and to the side to get out from under it. Again he tried to surface. Again he hit his head on a solid obstacle. Red sparkly lights danced before his tight-shut eyes. Was the stone dock undercut beneath the surface? Had he accidentally gotten under the shelf? How far back did it go? Near panic, he reached up and felt for what the thing was. Stone? No, rounded wood. The raft! He walked his fingers along the underside of it until he reached the edge.
Kurt's head broke the surface. He sucked in air, choked and spit water. Bees dived at his wet head. He splashed water at them and looked around for Wes and Lisa. Even weaver bee stings were better than drowning. As Kurt's hands flailed at the bees, Wes's head broke the surface a few feet away.
Wes was weighed down by the Sword of Geburah. He thought briefly of drawing it against the bees, but at that moment something underwater pulled hard at the scabbard. He kicked at whatever it was. Then Kurt asked in alarm, "Where's Lisa?"
"Oh, no, she's down there under me!" Wes ducked underwater and felt desperately for his sister. He grasped her and pulled her up between himself and Kurt. She coughed and spit out water. The weaver bee swarm hovered as though it waited for its prey to weaken. Its furious roar still filled the cave. At least it would cover the sound of their voices. Lisa struggled toward the (lock, followed by Kurt and Wes. They searched for stone steps or a ladder or any way to climb out of the water. There was nothing.
Kurt spotted one of the rusty iron rings for tying up boats. He grabbed the ring and hoisted himself upward. His arms trembled, and he fell back. He laid his sword on the stone dock, grasped the ring with one hand, let himself sink as far as possible, then launched himself upward as hard as he could and flung his other arm over the rock ledge. The stone was wet and slippery, but he managed to hold on. He hauled himself up and lay panting on his stomach.
Wes and Lisa watched Kurt's efforts while they treaded water and kept an eye on the bees. Kurt turned around and extended a hand. "Lisa, grab hold," he ordered. With Wes supporting her from the water and Kurt pulling from above, they got her safely onto the dock. Next Wes grabbed the iron ring to haul himself up. Imitating Kurt, he first lowered himself deep into the water and then launched himself upward. The rusty ring snapped and dropped him back into the water. In fury he hurled the broken ring at the weaver bees. It arced through the swarm, splashed and sank. The swarm saw the ring (and not Wes) as the attacker and flew to the spot where the ring had splashed down.
Kurt called out, "Wes, forget the rings and grab my hand!" Lisa reached out also and together they dragged Wesley up over the edge onto the dock. The swarm circled twice, then took off and disappeared through the tunnel.
They were cold and wet, but no bee stings were on them. They tied up the raft and stopped to breathe a moment. "Where did the bees go?" Kurt asked.
"I don't know, but we better get out of here before they show up again," Wes answered. Immediately he started up the weird, red-lit spiral staircase, and the others followed him. It glowed more intensely red, as though the stairway itself was angry at their arrival.
They knew exactly where they were. The underground wharf lay directly below the Tower of Geburah. At the top of these stairs was a door that opened into the lowest room of the tower. The original tower had four rooms, one on top of the other, but of course they could only guess how the Mystery of Abomination had chosen to design the rebuilt tower. They climbed slowly and cautiously. Their leather shoes were soaked. At every step their smooth soles threatened to slip on the bare rock. After several turns of the spiral they arrived at a black wooden door with a bright ring for a handle. The door was safely closed. The ring was like the ones below for tying up boats, but it was obviously new. The wood of the door smelled new too.
Wes grasped the ring handle and pushed. The stairs flashed garish red, but the door opened inward without a sound. In the light from the stairway they briefly surveyed the room. "Looks like somebody's been remodeling," Kurt whispered.
"New bookshelves. Empty. Good taste, but not a big reader," muttered Lisa. Wes motioned toward the stairs leading up to the next level. They closed the door to the wharf and crept upwards in single file.
"Where did she go?" "Where is she?" "Find her! His majesty demands it!"
The Friesens had reached the first room, the room with the balcony, when hard footsteps and angry shouts rang from the floor above. Lantern light moved on the walls of the next stairway. People were on the way down! The children scurried beneath the balcony and scarcely breathed as feet pounded above them. The feet halted directly over their heads. Shadows of the balcony railing slid across the room like undulating prison bars.
The searchers argued. The Friesens could not identify the voices. "The little fool princess defies the Lord of Darkness! He told her to wait below the top floor. Now she has fled."
"Or else she hides. Could she still be in there?"
"We turned the room inside out and upside down. If she hides, it is within the pages of a book. And we have searched this room as well."
"The top room is securely locked. She cannot be there. Either she fled the tower, or she went down to the wharf."
The wharf The Friesens stiffened with alarm. If the searchers went down there, they would find the raft.
"Ha! If that child fled to the wharf, let her spend the night in its cold dampness. She cannot get away. The boats are all in use tonight. Come, let us report to his majesty before his mood worsens."
"Wait. Have they removed the body? I do not like to go back into the courtyard if it still hangs there."
"No doubt by now she has been thrown over the wall. What ails you? Have you lost your stomach for death? Come!"
The feet and flickering lights went on out of the room and down to the main floor. A door below opened and closed. Wes, Lisa and Kurt crept out from under the balcony. Mostly by feel they found the enclosed stairway and tiptoed up past the room to the door of the Garden Room.
Lisa whispered, "I just thought of a problem. They said the top room was securely locked."
"Doesn't matter," Wes whispered back. "It will open when we command it in the name-"
"No, I mean Betty. Didn't you hear? Betty must be here, and they must mean she is trying to escape Lunacy. The soldiers are after her. If she is here, she doesn't have a key to the room."
Wes put his hand on the cold brass doorknob and tried to turn it. It
did not yield. Suddenly Kurt gasped and said, "Oh, no. What if they catch her? She'll be a goner!"
"Impossible," Wes said. He still whispered, but his voice was firm. "If she is within these walls, then Gaal brought the three of us here for a purpose. And if that purpose means we are to rescue her, then that means she comes out alive. But our first job is to get into the Garden Rooni and worry about Betty later." He stepped back from the door and said quietly, "Open in the name of Gaal!" As with the portcullis below, he found it hard to believe the door heard him. It did! Immediately it swung open and the three rushed in together.
For a minute they blinked hard from brilliant light and shock. They stood in full daylight on a green open hillside that sloped down to a sunny valley. Far below, a stream made a bright, crooked ribbon on its way through the valley bottom. Here and there clumps of bushes showed white blossoms. Stately trees shimmered in a light breeze. Songbirds flitted about and sang bubbly songs. Beyond the valley, blue misty hills rose in an uneven row beneath high piled clouds.
Lisa was enthralled by the view but puzzled at the same time. "Are we still inside the room? Or did that door lead outside?"
"And why is it daylight here when it was night back there?" Kurt asked. "And where'd the fortress go? And the lake?"
They looked behind them. The doorframe, with its ornate door closed, stood upright in the grass. Above it arched blue sky and clouds. The door was the only visible sign of the Tower of Geburah.
Wes gazed down the long hill. "Uncle John talked about the Garden Room, but I didn't understand. Wow, I wish he was here now to show us around." He tried to imagine their uncle as a boy running down that hillside. He touched the hilt of the Sword of Geburah. "Of course, when Uncle John was here, he was distracted by a scaly red seven-headed dragon."
Lisa said, "It was a one-headed dragon by then, remember? The Changer wounded it so it lost its legs and wings. And it was really Lord Lunacy in another form."