Heart of the Staff - Complete Series

by Carol Marrs Phipps

  “Certeynly,” he said, still heaving from his run. “but Ich can what Ich juste sawe from the lippe. Ga anon thy selve for to seen. Hee evene now ybe, rydynge up the fote of Mount Bed with a flaumbe heered womman. They the pathe yfounde and on thaire way to distroyen us moste buen!”

  “If som oon looketh lyche un-to Razzorbauch,” she said, going back to her dough, “hit moste the wysard Razzmorten beth. Whoso the red heered womman myghte beth, Ich can nat, but soon weo shal seen. In the mene tyme, shal weo oure gestes for to make redy?”

  “What woldestow haven me to done?” he said as a sheepish look replaced his agitation.

  “Ga hem for to wolcome as thou woldest eny geste and fechyn hem heere. In the mene tyme, Alvita, Nacea and Ich wol haven thynges doon.”

  Rodon thought this over as he fidgeted and twisted his tail. Suddenly he dropped to his feet and scampered out.

  “Hee wol ben kept moost trowblid the hool tyme,” said Nacea.

  “Ye,” said Alvita, “by everydel of hise grete gilt.”

  “O the hard way hise lesson hee hath lerned,” said Celeste as she sliced her dough into loaves, “particulerly if this look-ylyche maketh hym to wynse.”

  “What wolde bryng Razzmorten heere,” said Nacia, “and whoso myghte the womman beth?”

  “What ever hit ybe,” said Alvita as she sat down heavily with her paring knife and pan of apples, “weo aren aboute to fynt out.”

  Chapter 144

  “My word!” cried Minuet as the rush of air over the top of Mount Bed grabbed at her cape. “That's some wind, but those are without a doubt the strongest wards I've ever felt in my life! You think they'll let us in?”

  “They are already!” called Razzmorten over his shoulder as he paused with Abracadabra to study the rim of the crater and the sun sinking beyond the peaks of the Great Barrier Mountains. “You'll see once you get up here!”

  “Now I do,” she said, looking up to knit her brow at the sight of him starting down a narrow path in the loose cinders of crater's steep sides. “I've never felt wards at all like that before, but someone with that kind of power certainly must be formidable.”

  “That's why we're here...”

  “And I haven't been paying attention. I've been so taken up by old memories that we rode all the way up here without my once asking what we were about to do.”

  “I'm not quite sure what we're about to do either, but since this place is part of Niarg, it's probably time we had a talk with them.”

  “Ah!” she gasped as Virtue's footing slipped. What happens if we have to turn around?”

  “Then we'll wish we'd found a different way down, but I doubt that there's any other path.”

  By now the wind was replaced with the echoing sounds of crunching cinders and small stones bounding off into the depths. For a long time neither of them spoke as Abracadabra and Virtue carefully found their way down into the inky blackness. At last they could make out a feeble greenish light below.

  “So why would they stay hidden here all these years?” she said, relieved that the unicorns were now picking their way over the great glassy ropes of cold lava at the bottom as they made for the light. “Surely with Razzorbauch dead they've nothing else to fear.”

  “My dear brother cursed them,” said Razzmorten as he stopped Abracadabra to peer into the lava tube where all the light was coming from. “I didn't really get the details because it was a heated exchange between us. I had just told him that it might have been an idiotic blunder for him to have turned the Forest Primeval into the Chokewoods. His retort was that he'd used the Heart and the Staff to get the Fairies out of his hair for good.

  So I would guess that they are prisoners here.”

  “Yis!” declared Rodon, rearing up to disclose where he was in the shadows. “Artow in dede the Wysard Razzmorten?”

  “I am, and this is my daughter, Queen Minuet of Niarg.”

  “Youre Magestee,” he said with a trembling bow. “Ich am Rodon. And plese my rude declaracioun to for-yeven, but yis, prisounneres heere weo aren in dede, and Razzorbauch evene torned me in-to this.”

  “You're a Fairy?” said Minuet.

  “Wel Ich stylle my face do have, but Ich wol for-evere lyve in this rattes body. But plese, Ich am heere to bidden yunc to comen and meete my three sustrin and to haven soper.”

  ***

  Hubba Hubba and Pebbles stopped flapping for a last look at the fiery red sun, slipping out of sight beyond the Great Barrier Mountains before winging aside as one into a grand sweeping glide for the great encampment scattered throughout the thin woods of

  Dúradán Deannaigh.

  “You fly like a stunning Amazon parrot, Mister Satin,” said Pebbles.

  “As do you, my ebony harmony of the sky...” said Hubba Hubba, as they cleared the first scattered trees. “Oh, phew! They're letting Herio scorch his ghastly beans, now that he's Prince. “Cap'n! Cap'n! Cap'n! Cap'n!” he cawed.

  Bernard gave a sudden cast about in time to find them landing on a bare branch of the cottonwood directly in front of him.

  “It's happening!” cried Hubba Hubba, crouching to point himself anxiously at Bernard. “Both armies are on the move and Spitemorta and Demonica are with them.

  They're setting out in hundreds upon hundreds of coracles.”

  “So you mean they're coming down the Loxmere for Oyster Cove?”

  Hubba Hubba suddenly had to get at something under one wing. “Yeap,” he said at last as he turned loose a piece of fluff and gave himself a thorough shake.

  “Shall I send 'round an order to douse and bury all the fires?” said Herio.

  “Oh please do, this very minute,” said Bernard, “and immediately thereafter prepare the troops to move out on my command.”

  “I'm on my way.”

  Bernard gave a sigh as he watched Herio put on his sword and tramp straight away through the bluebells. The cottonwood leaves rattled overhead in the evening breeze as a wood thrush gave its last calls of the day.

  “So those coracles are right fast in the current, aye Captain?” said Hubba Hubba. “We hated to delay, but we waited to see if both armies were going to go downriver or if part of them were going to strike out to cause trouble somewhere else...”

  “Oh my word,” said Bernard as a whip-poor-will took up calling nearby, “You two have not only done an excellent job, can you imagine our woe had they and the witches taken us by surprise? Well, I'm right glad the moon'll be out. I want to find a good spot in the weeds and count every bloomin' one of their skin covered boats.”

  ***

  The moon had just set, leaving Castlegoll in utter blackness as the Army of Niarg rode quietly between its houses. By the time they were in place all 'round the outer curtain of Castle Goll, the very first chickens were clucking as they flew from their roosts.

  Captain Bernard straightened up in his saddle. “Hoy up there!” he boomed in the echoes. “Don't you know you've got an army down here? What are you, scarecrows or what?”

  Footsteps could be heard, scurrying along the wall walk as silhouettes darted in and out of crenellations along the battlements.

  “Well?” bellowed Bernard, looking this way and that. “Cat got your tongue? We're here to clean house in the name of Niarg! You'll save a lot of bloodshed if you just raise your portcullis! In case you all aren't old enough to realize it, you've already lost to us! Well?”

  Suddenly there came a twanging of crossbows from the wall.

  “Stupid kids!” he growled. “Loose at will!” he cried. “Pick 'em off 'till they give up!”

  The Niarg longbowmen sent a rain of arrows leaping to the battlements, sending young Gollians tumbling out into the moat or dropping inside. In short order, nothing stirred within the walls.

  “Ahoy!” thundered Bernard. “Raise your portcullis!” His voice echoed away to silence. “Raise your portcullis!”

  When there was still no answer, he gave a nod and a wave and Sergeant Llygad had the great ladders thrown up
against the curtain. Presently scores of men swept up the rungs and over the wall, meeting no resistance. In short order, a massive clang and rattle of chain started the portcullis shuddering up into the wall. Once inside the outer ward, they were met with no resistance whatsoever from the scattered handful of cowering boys in chain mail. However no one would raise the inner portcullis for them, so once again they had to use ladders to get over the inner curtain. Inside the castle proper, Bernard took a small party and set out to find Spitemorta and Demonica's apartments, while Llygad went to the dungeon and Herio to the kitchen and the servants' quarters.

  ***

  Bedivere dropped her pan of bacon into the ashes and stood up with a gasp at the sight of Herio and his men tramping in with their swords drawn. “Hero Boy!” she cried.

  “I'm really from Niarg,” he said, wishing he could hug her, “but I really did lose my whole family at Ash Fork. I grew up there.”

  “So now you'ns are back to repay my kindness by slaughtering the lot of us!” she cried, wild eyed above her jowls.

  “No! I'd never...”

  “Well you just go right ahead! Every one of us in this kitchen sided with Niarg, so please have the mercy to be quick! We couldn't help working here!”

  “Oh mercy no, Bedivere!” cried Herio, shaking his head. “We just want to get you out of here so you'll be safe when we set the castle alight...”

  Bedivere gave a whooping sob, grabbed him into a hug and stood back as her watery eyes turned kind. She immediately wheeled aside and shooed the wide-eyed staff outside until the last scullery maid had gone. “Don't reckon hit's likely there'd be positions for us in the kitchen at Castle Niarg?” she said, turning to Herio with her fists on her hips.

  “That would be wonderful,” said Herio. “I'd love having you there, but Spitemorta and the Gwaels are on their way there this minute to destroy it. I'm afraid that lots of us are doomed to be homeless. Now please, go. We must go through with this.”

  She nodded and started for the door only to halt. “Hero Boy?” she said with an odd look. “Right below us in the wine cellar is keg upon keg of gonne powder. I don't know what all o' hit would do at once, but a fistful took a kid's hand clean off and put out both his eyes. If I wanted to try hit, I wouldn't set off more than a dram and I'd look away when I set hit alight.”

  “Gonne powder? Never heard of it.”

  “Right below. The foreigners brought hit. Who knows what would happen if hit all went off at once. They use hit in their hand gonnes to shoot lead balls clean through both sides of plate armor.”

  “Thank you Bedivere,” he said as he whisked her to the door. “Now please get as far from here as you possibly can.” And with that, he took his men and hurried to go see.

  ***

  Bernard and his handful of men flew down the stairs of Demonica's corner tower after setting fire to her bower. Halfway down the hallway, he halted to peer into a particularly opulent suite of rooms. “Reckon this it?” he said, looking from man to man.

  “It's fancier than the one upstairs, right?” said Sergeant Philpott. “It's in the middle of the building, at least. I'd burn it, if it were me, sir.”

  “Got 'o be Spitemorta's,” said another.

  “This is where the witch sleeps, who took out our king!” cried Bernard as he lit the canopy and threw his torch onto the middle of her bed. “Throw down every one of her wardrobes and light 'em! Open those sashes! Let's get air to the fire!”

  Soon Spitemorta's chamber was crackling all about as a thick roiling smoke hid the ceiling. With a sharp nod of satisfaction, Bernard turned to lead his men downstairs only to stop short, furiously waving his hands to shush them.

  They rolled their eyes, listening to the flames. “There!” he cried. “That's a damned baby! Don't follow me!” And with that, he dashed into a room off the far side of the chamber to collide with Nasteuh's wet nurse, on her way out.

  “Where's the damned baby?” he roared.

  “Damned is the least of what she is!” squealed the wet nurse, flailing her elbows.

  Bernard caught her by the wrists. “I never heard the like!” he said, giving her a shake. “Show me the little shit right now, or I'll have you burnt alive!”

  “All right!” she wailed, trying to wrench free of his grasp. “In there!”

  At once, he tramped through the smoke into the nursery, yanking her along behind to where Nasteuh lay kicking and crying. “Well pick 'er up! I said pick up the baby!” he roared.

  “If you want that little demon, you get her!” she cried as she yanked away from his grasp and ran out through the smoke.

  “I've never in my life even imagined a woman like you,” he muttered with a cough, as he grabbed up Nasteuh from the crib and raced out through the smoke.

  ***

  The two doddering guards stood up at sword point, knocking over their game of chess, as one of them offered over a ring of keys to Sergeant Llygad.

  “No, you keep them,” said Llygad. “You open every single cell this minute. I'll be right behind you. And make it quick. This place stinks!”

  The two gaffers shared a gleeful look and set about with alacrity, opening door after door as the enfeebled prisoners rose and staggered out.

  “The only thing we have to set alight is that awful straw,” said Llygad as he watched the last of the prisoners go. “I doubt if it will get the building going.”

  “I can show you five new barrels of oil, just up the steps and around the corner,” said one of the guards.

  “You look like you'd be happy to help,” said Llygad.

  “Just because we have the keys doesn't mean we aren't the queen's prisoners, too.”

  In short order, the oil was fetched and poured out over all the straw and down the corridor between the cells and set afire.

  ***

  Herio pried off the lid of one of the kegs of gonne powder and stared at it. “Hmm,” he said with a shrug. “Doesn't look like much.” He took off his glove and grabbed up a fistful, putting it on a table top. “Sergeant Pole, see if you can set that alight with your torch.”

  Pole lowered his flame to the small pile of powder as if it were merely so much charcoal. The powder gave a violent flash, sending a thick white smoke roiling into the timbers as he dropped his torch with a howl and grabbed at his face.

  “Can you still see?” cried Herio.

  “Yea, I think...”

  “Good! I'm going to find Captain Bernard.” and with that, he bounded up the cellar steps.

  ***

  The wet-nurse ran coughing and hacking out of the smoke, right into Sergeant Philpott, who grabbed her by the wrists.

  “Want me to hang onto her, sir?” he said as Bernard stumbled into sight.

  “Absolutely!” he cried as he fought get his breath.

  “How come you have the baby?”

  “The wench won't touch her. Now let's get downstairs right quick!”

  One storey down, they saw Herio running across the throne room on his way to find them. “We've found barrels...” he said, catching his breath.

  “Don't bother,” said Bernard. “It'll slow us down...”

  “No. I don't mean wine. It's some kind of powder which explodes when you set it alight. It's really mean stuff. I need to show you...”

  Nasteuh, calmed by the run downstairs, began howling again. Bernard thrust her into the wet-nurse's arms with a murderous look, and summoned a pair of soldiers. “Take her outside, guard her and see that no harm comes to the baby,” he said. “Now Herio, show me this powder.”

  Back in the cellar, Herio looked away while cautiously holding out a burning candle toward a much smaller pile of powder than before. Suddenly the powder went off, making the soldiers jump. After a momentary silence, everyone began talking at once.

  “Quiet!” cried Bernard. “This place is on fire. You just saw how his Highness set that stuff off. While we're thinking about how to use it, I want every keg hauled out across the garden ward, as far aw
ay from the fire as you can get it. Now!”

  Everyone set to at once, feverishly hauling out kegs to stack against the stones of the inner curtain. After a few trips back and forth, Bernard paused to study the flames licking from all the windows of the upper storeys. “Herio!”

  “Yes sir?” he said, turning aside from another trip inside.

  “How much is left?”

  “Not quite two thirds.”

  Bernard's eyes raced along the flames in the windows of the ground floor. “Get everyone out of there. They can grab a keg as they come, maybe, but get them out now.” He looked up to see a section of roof giving way with a clattering of tiles.

  In short order, the last of the men came running out with a keg apiece as the timbers of the fourth floor began collapsing into the third storey.

  Herio stopped to get a better grip on his keg as the others overtook him. Suddenly he wheeled about and dashed for the castle, hoisting his keg over his head as he ran.

  “Herio!” cried Bernard, breaking into a furious sprint. “Herio!”

  Herio planted his feet at the open kitchen window and heaved in the keg with everything he had. Just as he was hopping about, trying to keep his balance, Bernard tripped on a bucket of slop and fell into him, knocking him flat. Inside, the keg rolled to a stop against a flaming flour bin and sat briefly before blowing the entire kitchen floor down onto the remaining powder in the cellar below. At that moment, Herio tried to get up onto an elbow, only to slip from the concussion and fall flat again. Just as he had managed the wits to make another try, two colossal thumps shook the ground as the wall above the kitchen buckled into stones, leaping out into the sky to come thundering down into the ward beyond their feet, as flaming timbers and planks and fragments of furniture arched into the early morning sky, falling everywhere.

  Herio sprang to his feet with a look of triumph and thrust out his hand to help up Bernard.

  “You know, Your Highness,” said Bernard as he labored to his feet, “I thought you were plain dead.”

  “That was for my mom,” he said as he turned to look at the castle. “Well the fire out the window would've roasted my head if you hadn't knocked me down. And Captain, please just call me Herio. My word! Look down the cellar stairs. There's nothing but a deep pit!”