The Hollow Kingdom

by Clare B. Dunkle

  Kate stepped over the mummified forms as well as she could, keeping a worried eye on them. Then she looked up and stopped short.

  Before her lay the sorcerer on a low stone table, his comfortable face calm and his body motionless. Kate gripped the curved sword tightly, reassured to be the one holding it now. She saw in horror that his red-lit eyes were fixed on her. They were the only thing about the body that could still move.

  “I have just bitten a man,” hissed Charm with deep satisfaction. “There he lies, awaiting the King’s Judgment.”

  Kate stared at the grotesque red lights in the pleasant face, remembering her husband’s glowing body lying on the ground. She didn’t even know if Marak had survived. She thought of the bloated Hulk, who lay here so far from home, and the little child’s hand still longing for its mother. A hard lump rose in her throat as she glared at those sickening eyes, and she lifted the sword and brought it down with all her strength. The sword rang hard against the stone table, sending a shock up her arms, and the sorcerer’s head bounded off his body and rolled into the corner. Kate stared, startled, at the rush of dark blood inundating the sword blade. Perhaps she hadn’t needed to use all her strength.

  “There you are, Charm,” she said shakily, wiping the bloody blade. “I don’t think we need to bother the King about this one.” As Charm buzzed like a hive of angry bees, Kate looked around the room in disappointment. “Where are the goblins? Are they already freed?”

  “No,” said the snake. “They are upstairs in jars. I found them in my journey looking for the body. I am sure the King would have planned an excellent revenge for it.”

  “Then he should have gotten to it first,” replied Kate, stepping over the mummies again.

  They went upstairs to the sorcerer’s workroom. Kate, used to Marak’s tidy ways, was disgusted at the mess. Scrolls, parchments, and open books littered the tables and the floor, and the room reeked from the many nasty mixtures that rode the sea of paper. Kate reflected that goblin magic and demon magic must be very different. Marak’s magic relied on herbs, minerals, and other inanimate objects, whereas the flies buzzing about the stinking remains in this room told a very different tale.

  Standing along one wall were rows and rows of ordinary glass jars, each with some hieroglyphs painted on its lid. Kate picked one up carefully. It was very light, but she could see something inside that looked like colored water. “What should we do?” she asked. “Should we open the jars or take them back to the kingdom? Maybe if we break the seal, the goblin inside dies.”

  “I do not know,” admitted the snake. “I interest myself in no magic but my own. Here are some that are not goblins,” it added, gliding over two old jars at the back. “Open them and see what happens.”

  Kate carefully pried up the lid of the first one, breaking the wax seal. A cloud of orange smoke streamed out like steam from the spout of a teakettle. It flowed swiftly past her and was out of the room before she could blink. The other jar was filled with yellow smoke that sped after the first.

  “Well,” she said doubtfully, “they certainly knew where they were going, but how do we know we did the right thing?” She went back to the other jars, looking for Marak. Charm found his jar, and Kate held it up to the light from her bracelet. It was only half full, she noticed with concern. The others were completely full.

  A rasping noise behind her made her turn around. The two desiccated corpses from downstairs shuffled slowly into the room, one propping himself upright on the other, who was crawling. Their noseless, leathery faces turned toward Kate, and she saw with a shudder that they looked at her without eyes. The one without a hand had orange sparks glowing in its empty sockets, and the one without a jaw looked at her with twin yellow sparks. The handless one spoke in a mumble, propping its inadequate form on a paper-strewn chair. Kate let out a terrified squeak as the jawless one crawled a pace nearer.

  “They mean no danger to the King’s Wife,” hissed Charm. “It is just that they have been dead for a very long time—they were wizards long ago when I was young. They wish to thank you for freeing them from the sorcerer’s control.” Staring at the hideous corpses, Kate remembered the orange smoke and the yellow smoke that matched the flaming eyes.

  The mummy spoke again, holding its hand below its shriveled jaw to help itself form the words. “They go now to the place where they belong,” translated the snake. “They serve a greater power than this paltry man. They have had a tiresome few years putting up with his arrogance.” It listened closely as the corpse spoke on in a mumbling whisper. The crawling figure knelt upright now, almost at Kate’s feet.

  “They ask a favor,” Charm hissed. “They wish to take the body of the sorcerer with them. They say there is always danger from a dead body that held such powers, and also, there is the matter of their revenge.”

  Kate stared at the two ghastly forms before her. Their flames glowed very brightly at her as Charm spoke. The voiceless one kneeling at Kate’s feet gave a vigorous nod to show his enthusiasm. He did this by reaching up with his bandaged hands and rocking his skull back and forth on its bony neck.

  “Do you think I should let them?” Kate asked doubtfully.

  “I think so,” hissed the snake. “I can feel their hatred for the sorcerer. Their desire for revenge is real.”

  “All right, then,” said Kate. “In return, ask them what we should do with this place. We need to make sure that this magic can’t be used again and that the spells worked here are undone.”

  Charm spoke quietly to the wizard, and he mumbled out an answer. “They say that when fire consumes the spells and enchantments, they will all be broken.” Kate considered the difficulty of this task rather unhappily. The standing mummy spoke, and the crawling corpse nodded his skull. Then they turned and shuffled slowly from the room. “They thanked you again,” hissed the golden snake after they left. “They said it was a great pleasure to meet such a powerful young sorceress, especially such a pretty one.”

  “Charm!” said Kate indignantly. “Why didn’t you tell them the truth?”

  “Eighteen of the King’s Wives have been powerful sorceresses,” hissed the snake. “Five of them were powerful when young. But only one other King’s Wife besides you was powerful, young, and pretty all at once.” Kate sighed and gave it up.

  Confident now of obtaining the goblins’ freedom, she pried open jar after jar, releasing smoke of every color. Some almost exploded. Others streamed out more calmly. They all headed resolutely for the door and vanished, one after another, down the hallway.

  Kate saved Marak’s jar for last. When she had counted the others to make sure no one was missing, she pried up the lid of the half-empty jar. Nothing came out. She tilted the jar, and the dark green smoke poured out like water, collecting in a swirling puddle upon the floor. As she watched, almost in tears, it rolled slowly toward the door. She could have walked beside it and kept up.

  “Oh, no! Charm, what have I done? How is he supposed to get home like that?” wailed Kate. The golden snake twined around her waist, bending low to study the rolling cloud.

  “The King isn’t looking well,” it hissed quietly. They watched in silence as the cloud vanished into the dark hall.

  “And now I have to burn this place!” cried Kate, still distraught about her husband. “Oh, dear, the wolf! I can’t burn it down around her ears.”

  The wolf danced and yelped frantically at the end of her chain. The golden snake bared its fangs in anticipation, but she only pawed Kate, whimpering pitifully. Kate unfastened the buckle on her tight collar, and the gray form barreled past her and whisked up the staircase, running toward the back of the building.

  Kate followed the wolf down another bug-filled hallway. She emerged at one end of a long, unlit room filled with rattles, squeaks, and roars, clapping her hand over her nose and retching at the hideous smell. Beside her in the short end of the room was a large, wide door. Unlatching it and pushing it open as far as she could, she stepped into the alley
beyond. She stood outside for a minute in the drizzling rain of the late night, breathing in the sweet, smoky air.

  The wolf jumped into a low pen across from the door and laid herself down among small puppies, but only one emaciated pup crept to his mother. The other three lay stiff, insects crawling over them. Holding up her bracelet, Kate discovered that the room was filled with cages of all sizes. Animals growled, hissed, and banged the bars, and the floor was covered in waste and filth. She didn’t think she could stand it.

  “I can’t destroy this place now, Charm,” she said, aghast. “I can’t burn these animals alive.”

  “I have seen them,” whispered the snake. “Many of them you can simply release. Some of them would be a danger to the King’s Wife. I can bite them, and you can leave them to the fire. But if you do not want to burn them alive, you will have to kill them yourself. My bite does not kill.”

  This, Kate decided sadly, was the only thing she could do. She retrieved the sword from the jumbled workroom and forced herself to look into one cage after another. Many animals in the cages were long since dead, and living animals crawled over their rotting comrades, quarreling with each other for the bones. Kate released a tide of mangy rats, stepping back quickly as they poured toward the open alleyway. She let out three young foxes and a number of kinds of birds. The bear, one eye gone, roared desperately at her, and she had to force herself to stab the poor brute. Charm whizzed busily about the cage of poisonous snakes, biting its living copies faster than they could react. Then Kate cut down the middle of the cage, dividing the motionless bodies.

  She came to the cage of a small monkey and opened the door gingerly, hoping as much for its sake as hers that it wouldn’t try to bite her. She expected it to run to the alley, and she felt unhappy about it, knowing that such an exotic creature could never survive in the cold and damp. But the monkey hopped to a nearby cage and opened the door, reaching in. A white mouse crawled onto the monkey’s paw and let itself be carried out to freedom. The monkey squatted down by the cage, cuddling the little mouse, who snuggled against the brown fur and curled its tiny tail around its body. Kate noticed with a sick feeling that the little white mouse had only one front paw. The other had been severed neatly at the elbow, doubtless for some special spell.

  As they approached the last cage, Charm whispered, “This one is no danger to the King’s Wife.” Kate peered into the cage and almost fainted. A baby girl pulled herself up by the bars and looked out at Kate, giggling in delight. She was round and rosy, her black hair and bright eyes shining in the light from the bracelet. She stretched up toward the sparkling light, waving one hand through the bars. Kate bent down, and the child caught one of her fingers and held it firmly in her fat little fist.

  “How can we possibly find her mother?” breathed Kate, kneeling by the cage. She saw, revolted, that the cage already contained other sets of small bones and rags.

  “Are you sure she still has a mother, King’s Wife?” hissed the snake. “The child’s dress is stiff with blood.”

  Kate stared for a long moment at the baby in its simple, thread-bare dress. She imagined a mother, young like herself, struggling with the sorcerer as he fought her for her child, falling, fatally stabbed, but still clutching the baby close as her eyes glazed in death. Or perhaps—Kate’s heart stopped at the thought—perhaps a goblin servant had pulled away the baby. Perhaps her own husband had wielded that deadly knife.

  She headed purposefully toward the workroom, the baby in her arms. As she left the room, the mother wolf rose and picked up her puppy in her mouth. The little monkey glanced up and scampered after them. When Kate reached the door of the workroom, she looked back in surprise. The monkey rode on the wolf’s neck now, clinging to its long fur, and the tiny white mouse rode on the monkey’s shoulder.

  Kate went to fetch the candelabrum burning by the cage of the dead Hulk. But now the huge body glowed with a multicolored light, covered with bright patches of smoke, the freed goblins who had stayed to protect their dead comrade from the insects. The sight blurred before Kate’s eyes, and a lump rose in her throat. Marak had said that goblins stayed together. That was their strength.

  “Burn the body,” Charm whispered, “and the goblins will leave it. They will know there is nothing more to be done.”

  Kate brought paper and books to the cage and spilled candles over them. Then she tossed the shriveled little hand onto the pile, the child’s voice wailing in her ears. Once lit, the paper went up quickly, and the candles melted in the heat. One by one, the colored smokes streamed away.

  She hurried down the hall and dropped a candle in the workroom, igniting that sea of papers. Then she started a fire in the room of cages. Smoke was already pouring out the wide door as she stepped into the alley, and she could hear behind her the crackling and roaring of flames. Holding the baby, she walked off into the damp night. The wolf trotted behind her, the monkey clinging to its neck.

  The next morning, Kate was riding back home in a carriage with the baby on her lap, the wolf and pup at her feet, and the monkey stroking its little mouse on the cushioned seat across from her. “Charm,” she called, and the snake awoke with a zing. The baby screamed in excitement and clutched the golden coils with both hands. “You did a great thing last night, Charm,” said Kate. “You saved the kingdom, the King, the King’s Wife, and the Heir.”

  The snake considered this as well as it could while being tugged about. “I have always saved the King’s Wife,” it pointed out softly. “The rest was important only insofar as it saved my Wives.”

  Kate pried the baby’s hands loose. “I’ve decided to name her after you,” she announced, “because you saved her life.”

  “You wish to call her Charm?” whispered the snake. “I will never know which of us you are talking to.”

  “Oh,” said Kate, taken aback. “I didn’t think of that.” The snake examined the child curiously as she bounced up and down on Kate’s lap.

  “I am sensible to the honor you do me,” hissed Charm. “Perhaps you would let me name her. I would like to call her Matilda, after one of my favorite King’s Wives.”

  “Matilda,” said Kate experimentally. “That’s nice, Charm. We’ll call her Matilda. But,” she added wickedly, “I didn’t know you had any favorite Wives.”

  “I have guarded one hundred and sixty-eight King’s Wives, and fourteen were favorites,” hissed the snake. “Their names are Ada, Merneith, Dara, Hesione, Olwen, Clodia, Unna, Kala, Matilda, Eleanor, Kiba, Madge, Adele, and Kate.” Kate smiled at the last two names. Matilda worked her hands free and grabbed for the snake again.

  The next evening, Kate stood before the iron door that led into the goblin kingdom. This trip underground was quite different from the one she had made before. Then, Marak had brought the unwilling Kate inside by force as she gazed longingly back at the stars. This time, Kate barely noticed the night sky as she hurried inside to see her husband. All that the guards could tell her about the King was that he was gravely ill. She shifted the baby nervously from one arm to the other as she looked up at the massive iron door.

  “Hello, door!” she called out. “Let me back into the kingdom!” It rattled in consternation.

  “King’s Wife!” it boomed. “What are you doing outside? I didn’t let you out.”

  “No, you didn’t,” said Kate. “Quick, let me back in. I need to see the King.”

  There was a pause. Perhaps it wasn’t a long one, but to the anxious Kate, it certainly seemed to be.

  “I can’t open for the King’s Wife,” explained the door.

  Kate started to reply, but a metallic zing made her pause. “Listen to me, little door!” buzzed Charm ominously. “You are endangering my King’s Wife with your stupidity. If you do not open immediately and without further discussion, I will twine myself through your lock and your hinges and throw you down twisted and broken, and the goblins will put in a new door that understands its obligations.”

  The door creaked open, ra
ttling sulkily as Kate swept in with the baby, the golden snake twining majestically about her shoulders and the wolf with its pup and riders marching behind.

  “I never knew that snake could talk,” muttered the door.

  Kate hurried to the banquet hall. She peeked in anxiously, and her heart stopped. Of all the pallets she had left here a few days ago, only one remained, and she knew whose silent figure lay upon it. She ran pell-mell across the hall, the wolf galloping behind her.

  “Marak, Marak!” she cried, dropping down onto the pallet and staring, heartsick, at his still face. “Please wake up! You have to wake up now!”

  “All right,” he agreed in an amiable whisper, and he opened his unmatched eyes to smile up at her. Looking into those eyes, Kate realized that she had lied to that loud woman after all. Of course she had lost her heart to him right away. For two days she had been thinking of things to tell him, but now she couldn’t think of one. She just stared at him, her heart full.

  Marak freed one arm from the blankets and reached up to touch the cut on her cheek.

  “I remember that,” he said softly. A metallic zing sounded, and the golden snake was with them once more.

  “Oh, King,” hissed the snake ceremonially, “I have bitten a man. He lies in the city of Liverpool, awaiting the King’s Judgment. I bit another man, too,” Charm continued with an unhappy buzz, “but he no longer requires your attention.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Marak was ill for months, exhausted from fighting the sorcerer. Unable to go to court, he took care of important matters from his bed, and he continued to rely on Seylin’s help for some time to carry out the Kingdom Spells. He sent Thaydar out to deliver the King’s Judgment on Bingham, but Thaydar returned with the news that the paralyzed coachman had already been killed. Marak was disappointed. The goblin revenge that he had chosen for the young man would have been considerably worse than death.