From the looks of it, they had done very little that day to squelch the king’s rage; Corwan was still a prisoner, whether by title or not.
���This is not fair,��� Del thought. It was by no means the glorious martyrdom she’d envisioned. And perhaps, like all martyrs, Del now knew full well the pains of under appreciation.
���Do you hear that?��� Mattie whispered suddenly.
���We’ve nearly an hour left on our time,��� Del replied. ���You’re imagining things.���
���I am not. And anyways, it’s not that sort either. It’s a lower sound, like an ocean almost…���
Oddly, now that Mattie had pointed it out, the noise became apparent, and Del could not fathom how she’d not noticed it before. But the reason for this was because it had been increasing in volume. At first, the faintest hum above the crowd, but now it was more like a distant train, Del thought. One that from the sound of it you knew was very large and must be headed in your direction.
The guards led the girls to the front of the podium, and placed heavy blindfolds over their eyes. The last face Del saw before the world went dim was Corwan’s, and he had given her a sad, pitiful look. (She would not have enjoyed such a thing on most occasion, but here she felt as if she’d rather deserved it. And at least, if she were going to die for someone in a world that was not her own, she found it was nice to know that she’d be remembered.)
Then, the blindfold covered her eyes, and the world was dark. She could feel herself being made to kneel on the coarse stone. She regretted not setting the time for sooner, and thought about how they could’ve been gone by now if she’d known better.
���Del?…��� Mattie’s voice sounded scared as well.
���I’m here,��� Del replied.
And she thought of all the people she might never now see again: Mattie, her mother (and that roaring noise she’d heard before grew louder).
And she thought about her father, and if she would ever see him again. And she felt bad for hoping that she should, as if she were, in a way, breaking her mother’s trust, who told her, ���…not to believe in such fairy tales,��� but she couldn’t help hoping for it. At this point, it seemed to become the most natural thing she could believe in. That perhaps, if this fairy tale land had existed, and it was as real to her as her own, then maybe heaven would exist, in some place yet undiscovered; and perhaps, it may be realer to her, when she had gotten there, than any world she had yet known.
But there was no death, at this time, and the roaring noise she had heard earlier began to take on a peculiarly human characteristic. Del lifted up her hands and pulled back the blindfold. The roaring flooded into the square. A sea of armed men poured through every street like a stream, filling the center of the city beyond capacity.
The scene was that of complete chaos. Across the way Del saw a fuzzy little creature, dressed in child’s armor, clamor onto the back of an empty horse cart. He cupped his hand to his mouth and yelled something, but she could not make out what he’d said over the clashing of swords, and the tempestuous confusion that had enveloped the entirety of the city.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A New Fight
���Charge!��� Meris yelled, as loud as his little voice enabled him. He had been much out of the practice of battle for some fifty years, and, in a somewhat unrelated way, had gained a healthy amount of weight since his younger days, but today he felt like a new pup.
(For you see, good reader, this had been the plan all along. This was the message Corwan had sent back to Gamel on the night before his trial, ���…to gather an army for the attack.��� And also, that they should make it seem to Faron that he had already won, and therefore cause him to lower his guard. This they had done, and what a magnificent attack it was.)
Since well before dawn, Meris and Radcliffe, Gamel’s right hand man, were out in the streets of Ismere, sneaking from house to house, entreating those known to still be loyal in their hearts to Corwan, and to the late King Reuel. But of all the men they found, their final count numbered less than two hundred. Henceforth, it was for this reason they came rushing into the square yelling as gloriously as they had, to bring about confusion, and to make themselves seem to be a much larger army than they actually were, but it had worked.
Within seconds of the attack, there was such chaos in the square that no one, including Faron, could tell with any accuracy how many men fought; nor, more importantly, which side was winning, and this made things remarkably easy for them. As it happened, many of the king’s chiefest guards surrendered even without a fight, and of those who remained, because they had been caught so completely by surprise, only a few lasted much after the first blows.
So that oddly, in the end, it was Meris who did the most good. Holding on tightly to his wobbly helmet with one hand, he ran valiantly through the stampeding masses, slashing at calves and ankles, and jabbing the thighs of any who dared oppose him, only narrowly missing some of his own men in the process. From the tops of the crowd it was truly a sight to see. To the left and right, all around the plaza, guards would fall bellowing in pain, without warning and with no attacker in sight.
So then, from the onset, it seemed as though the only one with a real fight on his hands was Corwan. Once Faron saw his haughty plans quickly unraveling before his eyes, he drew his sword, as most tyrants will, meaning to strike his brother dead then and there, but missed, only barely slicing Corwan’s right shoulder as the young prince leapt away from his brother’s wrathful blade.
And so, after several brief moments of unrest, when for the most part the citizens and much of Faron’s army had been subdued, Corwan was still in full battle, trying desperately to deflect his brother’s bullish swipes. In good fortune, he’d managed to retrieve a long sword that had been abandoned by one of Meris’s recent victims. Still, the weight of the blade was too much for him, especially with a wounded shoulder, and that made his right arm too weak to be of any good. And what is worse, he had no armor and Faron had, at least, some pieces of show armor across his chest and legs.
There was a brilliant clashing, as Faron attempted by brute strength to knock the sword from his brother’s hands, but in the king’s reckless fervor he left an opening for Corwan to slash at his side.
Yet, his success did not last long. With a few more thrusts and swipes the prince was knocked to the ground, a deep gash upon his leg, and his sword flung from his grasp. It landed with a splash in the fountain behind him.
Corwan’s eyes widened. His breath was labored, and his face was deeply saddened. Faron smiled viciously, as though he had won, and reared back to deal his final blow, but stopped short. Dropping his sword, he cried out in agony.
���You devil rat!��� he cursed, grabbing Meris by the scruff of his neck, and with his other hand pulling a miniature sword from his foot. Meris kicked and squirmed. He bit violently into the king’s thick leather gloves, but with little effectiveness.
���Afraid to fight me like a man, are ya?��� Meris said, exhausted from the struggle.
Faron laughed and grinned with excitement. ���Ha! The little beast speaks,��� he said amusingly to those around.
���Yes. And I’ll do more than that if you set me down,��� Meris shot back in response.
���And let you run away?���
Faron pointed the tiny sword at Meris’s belly. ���I’m no fool, little mouse.���
And he went to run him through, but was thwarted yet again. Only this time, by a large graveled stone flung squarely at his brow. A line of blood streamed down the king’s face, and he stammered, falling with a heavy thud onto his back and the hard cobbled stones.
At the sight of this there was a glorious cheering. When they saw Faron knocked from his feet, all those who’d remained in the square, Gamel’s army, and even some of the King’s hired guards, gave a joyous hurray. (For, it would seem, t
hat all Mattie Hardy’s long hours of practice at cricket, a game which held no warm place in her heart, had finally paid off; And she was an excellent throw, although she hid it quite well.)
Del kicked the bulbous tyrant in his side, but he lay as still as a grave. ���Good shot Hardy,��� she said, though Mattie just smiled at her work, peering over the fallen king. Meanwhile, Gamel went straight to mending the prince’s wounds. He tore a strip of cloth from his tunic, and synched it up high on the young man’s leg.
���Ahhh!���
Del felt a tug at her ankle, and Faron’s eyes opened with an evil gleam. Mattie and Meris rushed to pull her free, but there was an awful ringing sound, followed by blinding light. All four were shot like a bolt into the sky, and they were gone.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
A Deadly Peril
���Here. Quickly! Turn this,��� a small, frantic, earthy voice said to Mattie.
The window room was blackened dark. And the girls fumbled through the pitch starless room, pitifully endeavoring to do all Meris’s orders. Though their eyes were still helplessly blinded by the glare of light traveling, so that Meris had to do most of it himself. (For he was far more used to this sort of thing, having lived under ground, in lightless tunnels, for the majority of his lifetime.)
Faron groaned. They could hear him moving.
���What day is it here?!��� Meris yelled, flipping through the giant almanac.
���The thirteenth,��� Del quickly replied.
���No, it’s not anymore. It’s the fourteenth,��� Mattie answered. She was still at work, as Meris ordered, feverishly winding up the globe crank. Inside it ticked and whirled. From deep within, you could hear its mechanisms begin to awaken.
���Hurry, Meris…��� Del implored. She’d noticed the king had grown very quiet now, and that worried her.
���I can’t read the numbers,��� Del exclaimed, bending low over the globe, straining to make out anything in the darkness of the room.
The little ground dweller sighed aloud, hurriedly jumping from the desk, then up onto the console, turning and repositioning the dials as fast as ever. In his frustration he asked rhetorically, ‘Why any humans had eyes at all, if they’d never seem to use them?’
Then, with the last dial and switch, the room began to glow. From out of the painting, the heavenly bodies of stars shone their light. And although night rested in its darkest hours here in our world, within the window room the light began to brighten.
Meris froze, suddenly. His nose twitched, and he stood up straight on his hind legs.
���Look out!��� Mattie cried.
The sharp ringing of a knife went hissing by Del’s ear, and stuck deeply into the globe’s wooden trim. Bravely Meris sprung from the console, his claws outstretched. But with a swipe of his gloved hand, the king batted him from the air, flinging him lifelessly across the room.
Without a thought, Del put her hands to the globe. Light beamed into the room, between her fingers. And she ran at Faron, striking at his wounded side with all her might. He seized her wrists, and the two rose up into the air, an orb of light forming around them. The evil king was vastly weakened by his injuries and disoriented, yet, even still, he remained many times her size. He drew his thick, dark gloves around her neck. And then, they vanished, into the outer reaches of space.
Stars flew by them at a dizzying pace. She kicked at his gouged foot. This lessened his grip, but only enough so that she could breathe. She could not break free.
Her eyes grew dimmed, and the stars began to hide their rays. They came to rest on an icy plane, on a ridge overlooking the snow entrenched canyons of a frozen wasteland, on a distant unfamiliar planet, and that was the last Del saw, of Faron, and of that world.
And seemingly pleased with his murderous work, the evil king let go of the girl, and went to find some place of refuge within that world of unforgiving ice. Though this was not the end for her, to be left cold and alone, and unresponsive, on an icy snow drift; For there was a light that had been growing within her for sometime, and if Faron had only turned around he would have seen it.
A minute later, there was a force that rattled life back into her lungs. Opening her eyes, the enormity of the universe sped by her in an instant. And she landed on her back, again in the window room, sputtering and gasping for air, her dear friends by her side.
In the morning, not much after sunrise, Mattie was called down to the Governor’s office. Her meddling roommate, Margaret Thudman, had finally snitched her out; And although Del had not also been called, the two went boldly, hand in hand to receive of their fate, and they never told a word to anyone about where they had been.
Conclusion
That next fall, after two quarters of nearly constant punishments. That had only at last managed to amend themselves when finally Mattie’s parents offered, as a sign of peace one might say, a considerably sizable donation to the Mayfield charitable funds. And after many more grand adventures with Meris and Corwan: in the window room, in Gleomu, and in the worlds beyond, the which that could not be fit within the pages of this book. It was during this time that Del received a letter.
One very unseasonably icy morning, in early fall, when the air lay dead and still, Del was given a letter. This letter came not by the normal means, however, but had been hand delivered to her by her professor. It bore the seal of her mother’s sister, and the contents of which was not at all pleasant.
It read as follows:
My Dear Delany,
Your mother is very ill, and the doctors inform me that her sickness is that of a new fever that they have not the ability, nor the medicine to cure. Also, they do not expect her to last on through the winter. I am, indeed, sorry for your recent losses, and, I assure you, your mother and I have been dear to each other in our own way as well.
Albeit presently, you should make your affairs in order, gathering your luggage, and within three days a cart will come from Crawley to take you on to a hospital in Sutton. There you will remain until your mother’s passing, and after which you will come to live with me in Bedford. My deepest condolences.
Sincerely,
Aunt Merrill
Del would not eat that day, nor the day after, and spoke only pieces of it to Mattie. Only enough to say that she had to leave soon, and did not know when, or if, she would be back.
On the eve before she was to leave, Del took a candle and a sack of her things, and crept across the lawn to Greyford. She opened the door only slightly, so to not make a sound, and snuck up the stairs and through the halls to the attic. And for a long time she did nothing, but blankly stared at the painting in the window room and the rich cities of Gleomu. And then, wiping a final tear from her eye she resolved in her heart to do it, turning the dials sharply, setting her time for as long as she could be away, three hundred and sixty-five days, a full year to the day and hour.
���Where are you going, child?��� a thin earthen tone spoke, somewhat like a whisper.
���I’m not a child, squirrel…��� she retorted, wiping her face to make it seem as though she had not been weeping.
Meris stepped closer, his chubby cheeks now fully grayed with age, and his voice more graveled and tired. ���Under normal circumstance I would agree, but now you are acting like a child, and so that’s what I’ll call you.���
Her eyes furrowed. ���You wouldn’t understand…��� she spoke, fighting back her tears. ���My mum is ill, horridly so, she’ll die too, just like my father. I can’t go back.���
���I can’t…��� she repeated, and slumped to the floor clutching her knees to her chest.
He stepped yet again closer, and placed his tiny paw on her shoulder. ���You can’t run from this, Del.���
���No? And why can’t I?��� she said crying.
���Because your mother needs you, most of all now,��� h
e said. ���It is selfish of you to think differently.���
After this not much else was said between them, and Meris remained with her until morning.
This is very near the end of our story dear reader, only a few things more deserve mentioning: First, it is an unending amazement how well Del’s mother’s sickness had improved her mood. For although she had grown weaker physically, in most areas, she was yet stronger in others, and this other strength more than made up for her present weakness. So that, in the end, some two or three months longer than had been anticipated, she died, a much happier woman. And that secondly, when Del was finally brought to live with her aunt and cousins in Bedford, it became instantly apparent to her that her relations cared only for inheritances, and for little else.
And that following spring, when she was back at Mayfield, a year removed from her mother’s death, Meris died as well, being old and too full of life, one hundred years old to the day, as years were counted in his world (which by comparison, in our terms, accounted for roughly eighty-seven years, as we would count them). And on that same afternoon, they buried him, in the shade of a young beech tree that grew near the house. This was not the sort of occasion either girl could find the words for, and so they said nothing, but patted his small patch of earth firmly, for he had been to them a true friend.
And this last part, it would seem, has become more like a legend now than exact truth, and so I will tell it as such:
In her final year there at Mayfield, on the first night, of the first week, of the first quarter, Delany Calbefur vanished from her room, never to be seen nor heard from again.
Since then, it has largely been decided (by the authorities, and those adults who seem to think they know much better about these sorts of things), that Delany had long since suffered disillusionment at the loss of her parents, and had, within herself, developed a sense of dissatisfaction: with her school experiences and with her present home life. And had therefore, through no fault of anyone’s, decided to run away.
The Histories of Earth, Books 1-4: In the Window Room, A Prince of Earth, All the Worlds of Men, and Worlds Unending Page 9