The Rumpelgeist

by Fiona McIntosh

  ‘They’re blunted,’ Pilo explained to Ellin, ‘so no one can accidentally get hurt. At the moment they’re simply going through their warm-up drill. Soon the action will become more intense.’

  ‘Excellent. This takes me back to my childhood,’ Lute said, to no one in particular. ‘I didn’t have so many boys my age to spar with, though.’

  Ellin hadn’t seen her father this content in a long time. She gave Pilo a look of gratitude. He smiled and patted her hand. The sound of Master Reeve’s whistle pulled their attention back to the arena. The older boys peeled away from the main group. There were eight of them and they paired off as they came to stand directly in front of the royal seats.

  ‘Our young knights-to-be will now demonstrate their fighting skills, Your Majesty,’ Master Reeve said, bowing to the King.

  ‘Time to show off, eh, lads?’ Lute called out as the eight youngsters also bowed.

  Reeve looked at Ellin and dipped his head. ‘Your Highness, thank you for coming. I’m sure your presence ensures today’s practice will be spiced with extra effort.’

  Ellin blinked, slightly embarrassed, but the King grinned.

  ‘Impress her, boys,’ he urged.

  Somehow she stayed her hand from biffing her father for that remark. She gave Pilo a wide-eyed glare of frustration but he simply shook his head to convey that it was not his fault what the King did or didn’t say.

  She stole a glance at Flynn, but he wouldn’t make eye contact with her. Instead, he fiddled with his sword’s pummel as though it was the most terribly interesting item in the whole world at that moment. She could see the high spots of colour on his cheeks and couldn’t be certain if he was angry or felt as humiliated as she did.

  ‘Ready, lads?’ Master Reeve called.

  The eight youngsters took position.

  The whistle blew and there was a ring of clashing swords.

  The boys were grunting and sweating with their efforts and emitting terrible battle cries.

  ‘I’m glad they’re not using sharpened swords,’ Ellin remarked.

  ‘Impressive, aren’t they, Your Majesty?’ Pilo said.

  ‘Much better than I was,’ Lute replied, sounding awed. ‘But they are no use to me against the Rumpelgeist, Pilo. And if I don’t do something about that I will have to move everyone out of the city.’

  Ellin whipped her head around. ‘You can’t be serious, Father?’

  King Lute nodded. ‘I’m afraid I’m deadly serious, Ellin. The Rumpelgeist hasn’t done more than make a nuisance of itself at this stage, but because it’s invisible no one really knows what we’re up against. What if it turns violent? I can’t risk the lives of our citizens. I’d prefer to take the precaution of getting them out of the city.’

  Ellin hesitated. She was again struck by the feeling of being watched.

  No one seemed to be looking her way. Orin was focused on his opponent. And yet she could swear someone – or something – was close, scrutinising her, wanting her to act on her suspicions. Master Reeve was concentrating on his older students, while the other masters were assisting the younger students with their practice and Pilo was muttering to her father. Disconcerted, Ellin swung around, scanning the far reaches of the outdoor arena. Nothing! Yet the sense of being spied upon was becoming more intense. Master Reeve’s whistle again pierced the air, this time sending a flock of nervous pigeons from the ramparts of the castle. Amid the flapping of wings that caught her attention, Ellin noticed something odd.

  She thought she was imagining it but something curious was definitely there. The air around one section seemed to be shifting and shimmering. And then, just as quickly, it was gone and she was staring at empty sky beyond the castle crenellations.

  King Lute squeezed Ellin’s arm.

  ‘Yes?’ she said, distracted and suddenly unsure whether she’d imagined the vision.

  ‘Are you paying attention?’ her father asked her.

  ‘What?’ She looked at her father and then to the arena where the fighters waited expectantly.

  ‘They are waiting for you,’ the King said.

  She looked around in surprise. ‘Er, my apologies, Master Reeve,’ she said.

  ‘Are you all right, Highness?’ Pilo murmured, always careful to address Ellin correctly in public.

  ‘Yes, of course. I am so sorry. I was entranced by all the brilliant skills on show,’ she said, gathering her wits.

  ‘Well, Your Majesty and Princess Ellin, we have been advised by Master Pilo that the new position of royal champion has just been created,’ Master Reeve said. ‘From today Princess Ellin will have a champion added to her entourage, who will be responsible for her day-to-day security.’

  Ellin shot a questioning look at her father, but the King merely smiled benignly.

  ‘Have faith, Ellin,’ Pilo whispered. ‘This will allow us to reduce the number of guards around you.’

  She relaxed slightly but threw a glance up at the battlements. The strange shimmering presence was gone.

  ‘… will fight for the right,’ Master Reeve finished, as Ellin turned her attention back to the practice.

  She hadn’t quite caught what the drillmaster had said but, as she watched the eight older boys wish each other luck, she realised what was about to take place.

  ‘They’re fighting to be my champion?’ she whispered to Pilo and her father.

  ‘Now you’ll have one very reliable bodyguard who will be with you at all times,’ Lute said, sounding delighted.

  ‘And he’ll be around your own age,’ Pilo added, trying to make the idea sound less controlling. ‘Juno’s getting on a bit.’ He gave her a wink. ‘Time for some younger blood.’

  ‘Am I supposed to be thrilled about this?’ Ellin wondered as she watched the boys match up against each other.

  King Lute turned to her. ‘I’d rather you were,’ he said, pointedly.

  They hushed as the sparring began. Orin d’Vorg and Flynn Jolien fought as far away from each other as they could. In fact, it seemed contrived that neither would meet in these early stages.

  One by one boys were sidelined by Master Reeve after each round until the only pair of swordsmen left were Flynn and Orin.

  ‘Ah, now we get down to it,’ Pilo said to the King.

  Flynn and Orin circled each other as the other boys urged them on.

  Orin struck first. He delivered a great hammering blow that Flynn countered, though Ellin imagined his whole body would have felt its impact.

  Again Orin lumbered forward, making huge swipes with his sword that Flynn easily sidestepped.

  ‘That’s going to make d’Vorg cross,’ King Lute said.

  ‘I think that’s what young Jolien has in mind, Majesty. When d’Vorg fights angry, he fights stupid,’ Pilo said.

  Orin roared and bore down on Flynn, who instead of backing away from d’Vorg, chose to run at him. What followed was a series of cunningly placed strokes against his opponent that had Orin yelping and grimacing.

  ‘Ouch,’ King Lute said for all of them.

  Her cheeks burned. It was no longer a straightforward contest as far as she was concerned. Whatever everyone else was watching, she knew she was witnessing two young men vying for her attention. And while it may have been flattering, she felt pity for both and humiliation for herself.

  Ellin was tempted to call a stop to the joust. Then, as if on cue, Orin called for a breather. Both young men were asked to step back by Master Reeve.

  ‘We shall pause, but just remember, d’Vorg,’ Master Reeve said, ‘that in a real fight, no mercy would be shown.’

  ‘It is not for mercy I ask, Master Reeve,’ Orin said, his face red with fury and his expression like thunder.

  She winced at his tone.

  Reeve regarded the towering youngster. ‘Then what are we waiting for, Orin?’ he asked, with a hint of impatience.

  ‘I would ask you, sir, to use my title in front of the King!’ Orin snapped.

  Pilo make a sound of disgust b
ehind her, but Ellin resisted turning to acknowledge it. She couldn’t believe Orin was behaving so pompously. She was relieved when Flynn stepped forward.

  ‘Let’s get on with it, Orin,’ Flynn said, turning to seek permission from Master Reeve. Orin seized the opportunity to take advantage of Flynn’s distraction.

  ‘You’re the one who’ll need mercy!’ Orin spat, swiping Flynn’s side. Flynn doubled momentarily, staggering backwards and sucking in air to counter the pain.

  Ellin noticed Master Reeve’s lips thin in irritation and she was sure there would be a reckoning for Orin’s dishonourable attack. It seemed Pilo had been right about Orin, after all. She was now grateful he had made her re-think her decision about the picnic.

  The other boys in the fighting coterie seemed shocked, too.

  ‘Finish him, Flynn,’ someone called out.

  But Orin was having none of it. He looked towards Ellin, who flinched as his eyes met hers, and rained down a series of crushing blows on Flynn. The smaller boy fended them off skilfully, but his arms looked as though they had taken a mighty punishment.

  ‘Good, Flynn, good,’ Master Reeve encouraged him from the sidelines. ‘Orin, you keep leaving your left flank open. He’s right-handed, remember.’

  Orin was grunting and sweating profusely with his efforts. Flynn, meanwhile, was dancing around as best he could in what seemed like an attempt to wear Orin out. Flynn worked with tight jabs and neat lunges, striking and leaping back, scoring points all the time.

  Ellin couldn’t believe she hadn’t sensed Orin’s aggression on the occasions they had spoken. Granted, aside from their last encounter, Lady d’Vorg had always been at his side and Ellin had always had her minder in tow as well, but Orin had appeared charming on previous occasions; today was her first glimpse at his lack of manners.

  ‘How could I have wanted to spend more time with Orin d’Vorg?’ she murmured to herself.

  ‘Maybe you just wanted to be with someone your own age,’ hissed an unfamiliar voice.

  She started with fright. ‘Who was that?’

  Pilo leaned forward. ‘Pardon, Highness?’

  ‘Did you say something?’ Ellin asked.

  ‘No,’ Pilo answered, clearly puzzled by her strange outburst.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, embarrassed. Looking away, she was sure she saw that same curious thickening of the air. This time it was near Orin.

  The next instant Flynn cried out. ‘No, don’t! I forbid it!’

  ‘Forbid what, you lunatic?’ Orin snarled.

  Ellin noticed Flynn shoot a stern look towards the very same place where she had seen the thickening of the air just a blink ago, before turning his attention back to Orin.

  ‘Er … I forbid you to take it easy on me,’ Flynn answered, but Ellin knew he was covering himself. She looked again at the thickened air. She wasn’t imagining it. It appeared to dance around the two sparring nobles. She could believe that Flynn had been talking to that dancing air.

  ‘Ha!’ Orin wheezed. ‘I can assure you I have no intention of taking it easy on you. But come on, Jolien, why the reticence? Are you scared of me?’ Orin taunted.

  ‘Amused, more like,’ Flynn said. ‘I could have dealt the killer blow to that open side of yours several times, Orin. But it almost seems unfair to take advantage of someone seemingly incapable of defending his left flank.’

  ‘Shut your filthy mouth, beggar lord!’ Orin snarled.

  ‘Watch your manners, d’Vorg,’ Master Reeve warned, flicking a nervous glance towards the royals. ‘And stop wasting time, both of you. Remember, you are fighting for the chance to become champion to royalty. It’s a prize worth winning. Focus!’

  ‘Yes, come on, Orin. I don’t have all day,’ Flynn baited as he danced in to deliver what Ellin hoped would be the final parry of strokes to end the horrid contest.

  Flynn moved so quickly and so deftly that he soon had the large Orin down on one knee, fending off blows and all but beaten. In a supremely cowardly move, Orin picked up a handful of dust and flung it at Flynn’s eyes.

  7

  Temporarily blinded, Flynn dropped his sword. In an instant Orin had his blade poised to plunge into Flynn’s throat. It was the ultimate ‘kill’ position and, following protocol, Flynn immediately accepted defeat.

  ‘This is a farce,’ Pilo called from the stands, on his feet, a look of thunder on his face.

  Master Reeve approached the two competitors. ‘Orin d’Vorg, that was no way to claim victory,’ he said, gravely.

  ‘Well, Master Reeve,’ Orin replied, flicking his large head so that droplets of sweat flew off in all directions, ‘you were judging my ability to protect the heir to the throne. If I was fighting for Princess Ellin’s life, would you not welcome any tactic to preserve her safety?’

  ‘Slippery,’ Pilo murmured, sounding vaguely impressed but still angry.

  Master Reeve’s voice was wintry when he replied. ‘On a battlefield, perhaps, Orin. But the win-at-all-costs strategy is not the way of a knight, certainly not with blunted swords in the castle bailey. Have you failed to understand our lessons about chivalry? To be a knight is a way of life, Orin, not a creed to be followed only when it suits.’

  ‘Be that as it may, you cannot deny that I won, Master Reeve,’ Orin said. ‘I bested Jolien, using sword, and wits, and he has rightly surrendered.’

  ‘That’s because Flynn Jolien understands the code of chivalry, boy,’ Reeve said, sounding disgusted. He turned to the royal seats. ‘Your Majesty, Princess Ellin, Master Pilo, with your indulgence and permission I will not award a winner today. My apologies, Princess, but neither of these young men yet qualify for the position of champion.’

  Orin slunk away, but not before casting Flynn a look of pure hatred.

  Pilo gave Ellin a small shrug that clearly said, I told you so. She responded with a resigned nod.

  A couple of the other boys helped Flynn to his feet. He rubbed at his eyes to try to clear them of grit before he walked slowly over to the royal seats.

  ‘Your Majesty, Princess Ellin, Master Pilo,’ Flynn said, bowing elegantly despite his obvious discomfort. ‘My apologies about today. Until a suitable champion is selected, I would like to offer myself to the protection of Princess Ellin whenever you need.’

  Pilo nodded. ‘Well said, Jolien.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Master Reeve agreed. ‘If it pleases Your Majesty, we can continue to provide Jolien’s services for the security needs of Her Highness in and around the palace surrounds. Although I imagine you will want to continue with her full guard beyond the immediate environs?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lute agreed. ‘Thank you, Reeve, thank you, young Jolien. I suppose it is really up to the Princess.’

  Ellin was shocked. Her father had never deferred to her in this manner.

  ‘Thank you,’ Ellin said, after a long pause. ‘That would be most acceptable to me.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Pilo murmured.

  ‘I’ll leave it with you then, Reeve,’ King Lute said.

  Ellin couldn’t miss the twitch of triumph that flickered at the corner of Flynn’s mouth, though his expression was otherwise even.

  ‘Thank you, Highness. I am honoured,’ Flynn said, bowing low. And then he was gone, limping away to pick up his sword.

  ‘Looks rather heroic, don’t you think?’ Pilo murmured, for Ellin’s hearing only.

  If they had not been in the company of others, she would have given Pilo a punch. He knew that, which was why he was smiling sweetly at her when she demurely curtsied to her father and inclined her head politely to Master Reeve.

  Pilo accompanied the King as he walked back to his salon.

  ‘Don’t say “I told you so,”’ Lute warned. ‘D’Vorg really is loathsome.’

  ‘All right, I won’t,’ Pilo said. ‘I’m just glad you’ve seen d’Vorg’s true colours.’

  ‘Pilo, you forget I was the one who forbade Ellin to go on the picnic in the first place,’ the King said.

  They wer
e interrupted by a young messenger. ‘Your Majesty, the Commander of the Guard is here earlier than planned to brief you about the numbers on the children you requested …’

  ‘All right, Kendy, thank you,’ King Lute said, shaking his head. ‘Come on, Pilo, decisions need to be made.’

  Commander Torren was waiting for the men in the King’s private office.

  Lute accepted the man’s salute. ‘Is it as bad as you thought?’ King Lute asked, cutting straight to the point.

  ‘Ferris sent me a message this morning from the city constabulary that the latest numbers would come through this afternoon. I know you’ve only been back since last eve, Your Majesty but –’

  ‘Don’t mind that, Commander Torren. This is far too serious to even consider anything but the children.’

  The commander looked weary and got straight to the point. ‘The first two who went missing were friends so we all believed – including their parents – that they’d just gone off together on some mischief. We thought they’d turn up the following day. That was four days ago. Today’s count confirms another nine children are now unaccounted for throughout the city, although in our defence, six of those were only reported this morning, another last evening.’

  ‘Commander,’ Pilo said, shooting a shocked glance at an even more shocked king, ‘how many children exactly are we talking about here?’

  Torren’s frown deepened. ‘Majesty, Master Pilo, we now believe –’ he cleared his throat, ‘that there are eleven children we can’t locate from the city and surrounding hamlets.’

  Both Lute and Pilo gasped. ‘Eleven!’ The King repeated. ‘How could that many have disappeared so quickly?’

  Torren continued on, stoically. ‘I am at a loss,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Parents are beside themselves, Your Majesty. It’s all I can do to keep the city calm, what with this Rumpelgeist adding to the fear. Citizens believe Floris is cursed.’

  ‘How old are the missing children?’ the King demanded.

  ‘All ages, Majesty. The youngest is around four summers, the eldest is closing on fifteen and amidst his important exams,’ Commander Torren answered.