by Jenny Nimmo
Charlie edged back along the narrow gap and stepped into the tunnel. He would have to return the way he came. If he went on, into the ruined castle, he would be trapped in the school grounds.
With Claerwen's light to guide him, Charlie began to walk back to the small door, hoping that no one
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else had found it. Turning a bend in the tunnel, he suddenly found himself caught in the light of a leaping flame.
"Aha!" said a mocking voice. "What have we here? A boy with a box, no doubt."
Charlie stood frozen to the spot. "I haven't got a box," he said, his voice husky with fear.
"Oh, no? I think you have!" The leaping flame drew nearer, and Charlie could see the mover's sneering features in the flaring light of a long tarred stick.
"What... what's that you're holding?" Charlie asked in a faint voice.
"Fire! That's what it is," cackled the mover. "Amos Byrne has come to warm you up, Charlie Bone."
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6. CHARLIE ESCAPES
Charlie realized that there was no chance of his returning the way he had come. Leaping away from the flames, he ran toward the castle entrance. Too bad if he was caught in the academy grounds; at least he wouldn't be burned to a cinder. He had no doubt that Amos Byrne was in deadly earnest.
Charlie wished he had told someone where he was going. He could feel the heat of the flames on his back. The mover was gaining ground. He held the torch at arms' length and Charlie inhaled an acrid bitterness. His head felt as though it was on fire and, bringing his hand to the back of his neck, he found that his hair had been scorched by flying embers.
Yelping with fear, Charlie rushed toward the distant light at the end of the tunnel. But a sudden ray of hope was immediately dashed when he realized that a ruined castle would be no protection from a villain with a fiery torch.
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Where can I go? Charlie's eyes were open, but his mind was closed to his surroundings, for he was desperately seeking a way of escape. He was never sure when the knight had appeared. Perhaps he had been there, at the end of the tunnel, all the time, sitting astride the white mare, his armor glimmering faintly in the dusk.
Charlie almost stopped dead in his tracks. But he didn't. He found, to his surprise, that he was still running. Faster and faster. As he drew closer to the horse and its rider, the Red Knight suddenly lifted his sword and, again, Charlie was choked with fear and almost stopped. But a voice reached into his head, quiet and commanding.
"Run, boy. RUN!"
And Charlie ran. Losing his terror of the sword, he put on a burst of speed he didn't dream that he had. But Amos was not deterred by the sight of a gleaming sword. He had great confidence in the fire he carried. It was what he lived by, and it had never let him down. He kept up his pace and rushed
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at the horse, hoping to terrify the creature into throwing its rider.
Charlie bounded past the mare and tore into the trees that grew inside the ruin. Flinging himself behind a broken wall, he lay, gasping for breath, while a stream of oaths filled the air.
The white mare gave a high-pitched snort of fear, then came a scream that curdled Charlie's blood. There was a moment of utter silence, before hoofbeats could be heard receding slowly into the distance.
It was several minutes before Charlie felt brave enough to raise his head above the wall. Darkness was falling fast, but he could just make out a dark figure lying close to the tree whose branches hung above the tunnel entrance.
Amos Byrne lay motionless, one outstretched hand reaching for the long torch that lay just beyond him, its flame extinguished. Charlie was caught between a sigh of relief and a shudder of horror. Now he must find a way out of the ruin, and then
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out of the academy grounds. All at once, he felt deeply weary. The next few minutes were going to be very tricky.
Charlie had often explored the ancient castle. He knew that if he continued along the hedged walkway behind him, he would eventually come to the glade where he had once seen the Red King, or rather, the enchanted tree that the Red King had become. But then where could he go? He had never approached the glade from the academy grounds. It was a secret place, impossible to find except by going through the tunnel.
"Claerwen!" Charlie called.
The white moth crawled out of his sleeve and sat on his hand. Charlie was glad to see her. For a moment he had wondered if she had flown into the flames, as moths are inclined to do. "But you're too clever for that, aren't you, Claerwen?" Charlie said cheerfully. "The thing is, how are we going to get out of here?"
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Claerwen had no answer for him. She fluttered onto a branch and closed her wings until they became a tiny triangle of light.
Something brushed against Charlie's legs. First one side, then the other. He looked down and saw that he was surrounded by cats. Three of them. With both hands, Charlie stroked their heads, first Leo's, then the other two. They all began to purr.
Charlie's laugh was both happy and nervous. "You're going to get me out of here, aren't you?" he said.
The cats gazed at him with their bright golden eyes and then they were off. They moved fast, jumping over broken walls and slipping easily through the undergrowth, and if ever Charlie fell too far behind, one of them would wait until he caught up with them again.
They came, at last, to the wide expanse of grass that lay between the school and the woods that surrounded the castle. The cats became more cautious now.
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They sniffed the air and moved carefully through the bare trees, turning now and again to look back at Charlie. He was heavier than the cats; twigs snapped beneath his feet, and the undergrowth rustled as he brushed it aside.
The Bloors are too far away to hear me, he thought. But suddenly several lights came on in the school, and a distant voice called, "Is anyone there? Show yourself, you miserable, creeping thing."
Charlie recognized Weedon's voice. He can't possibly have seen me, thought Charlie. The surly porter was surely not clairvoyant. But someone else could be. Mrs. Tilpin? Who knew what witches could do? And then he began to wonder if Amos had recovered and returned to tell the Bloors that Charlie had run into the school grounds.
Standing still wasn't going to get him anywhere, Charlie reasoned. The cats were growling now, anxious to get him on the move again. He began to follow them, keeping an eye on the school building. It was as well that he did. For he saw the door open
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and two figures step out; they stood beneath the lamp that hung over the door and stared across the grounds. Charlie could see them clearly. One was Lord Grimwald; the other, the swordsman from the past, Ashkelan Kepaldi. They began to stride across the grass. Lord Grimwald held a tall lantern that swayed violently as he lurched over the lawn. Ashkelan's sword danced in the air beside its master.
The cats' growling turned to a soft hissing, and they flew away through the woods. This time Charlie kept up with them. As he ran, he couldn't help thinking about the wall they were approaching; it was ten feet high and stood between the grounds of Bloor's Academy and the outside world. How would he ever scale it? He wasn't a cat.
The ancient wall was covered in ivy and it was difficult to make out in the gloom. Charlie first became aware of it when he saw Leo's bright form climbing quickly to the top. Aries followed, but Sagittarius waited. At dusk he was the brightest of the three,
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his coat gleaming like a star. He seemed to be waiting for Charlie to climb.
Charlie squinted up at the mass of dark ivy; he saw a thick stem protruding from the wall a foot above him and reached for it. With both hands, he pulled himself up, bringing his feet behind him. The leaves were slippery and it took him some time to get a foothold. Leo and Aries looked down, and, following their gaze, Charlie saw another stem. It appeared to be out of his reach, until Sagittarius, climbing swiftly beside him, clawed at the leaves, revealing a strong loop, lower down. Charlie hoisted
himself up another foot. It was freezing cold, but he could feel the sweat running down his forehead.
Voices rang out from the direction of the ruin. Lord Grimwald and Ashkelan must have found Amos. They hadn't yet realized that Charlie was on the wall. He gave a sigh of relief and, letting go of the ivy for a moment, wiped his forehead -- and lost his footing. He tumbled to the ground with a groan.
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"Sorry!" Charlie whispered to the cats. They regarded him with impatience, disappointment showing in the downturned tails and whiskers.
At least Charlie remembered where his footholds were, and he swiftly climbed to the place from where he had fallen. With the cats' help he pulled himself up the next few feet. He was very near the top when he heard the voices again. His two pursuers were crashing through the trees close to the wall.
With a superhuman effort Charlie heaved himself up, crouched a moment on the bumpy stones at the top of the wall, and, following the cats' example, let himself drop to the ground. He lay on the rough grass beside the wall, winded, shaken, and bruised, while the Flames howled and meowed in his ear.
"Give me a moment," groaned Charlie. "I'm safe now."
But he didn't have a moment. Glancing sideways, he saw a shining blade standing upright in the road. Ashkelan's sword had flown over the wall.
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"No!" yelled Charlie. In a second he was on his feet again and running.
The sword pranced behind him, now slicing the air, now clanging on the hard pavement. The Flames darted around it, hissing and spitting, furious with the rod of steel that seemed to have a life of its own.
Ashkelan must have lost control of the dreadful weapon at last. Perhaps it could move only in close proximity to its owner. But when Charlie got to High Street, the sword was no longer behind him. Charlie slowed his pace. He had a stitch in his side, and his legs felt like jelly, but at least he was alive. The Flames accompanied him to number nine and then they left him, melting into the dusk without a sound.
Charlie wearily climbed the steps up to his front door. When he walked inside, the first thing he noticed was the dark interior of the kitchen. Maisie was always in the kitchen at this time of day. Where was she? Charlie heard voices coming from the other side of the hall.
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Could she be in the living room? He popped his head around the door.
Grandma Bone and her three sisters were sitting around the fire, eating crumpets. There was a plate of toasted tea cakes on the coffee table.
"Oh!" said Charlie, quickly withdrawing his head.
"Come in, Charlie!" called Grandma Bone.
"No, it's all right." Charlie tiptoed across to the dark kitchen.
"It's NOT all right!" shouted Great-aunt Lucretia. "Come here, this minute!"
Charlie ground his teeth. "Now what?" he muttered. He went back to the living room and looked in. "I just wondered where Maisie was," he said.
"Gone shopping!" Grandma Bone told him.
"But it's late." Charlie looked at his watch. It was only half past five. He felt that a whole day and a night had passed since he left the house.
Grandma Bone snickered. "She's probably dropped in to see the kettle woman."
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"Oh!" he said again. Charlie wondered what he could have for tea. He eyed the pile of tea cakes.
"Maisie's left something for you in the fridge," said Grandma Bone.
Charlie's heart sank. He would have liked something hot to eat.
"Where've you been?" asked Great-aunt Eustacia. "You smell of smoke."
Eustacia's power was obviously not at its best today, thought Charlie. And then it occurred to him that she was taunting him. She knew very well where he had been. But did she know about Amos, with his fiery torch?
"I think I'll go and have some tea," said Charlie, beginning to back out.
"Eustacia asked you where you had been," said Grandma Bone.
Charlie hesitated. If they already knew where he'd been, what would be the point of lying about it? "If you must know," he said, "I've been to the Pets' Cafe. But, as you also know, it's been closed for good.
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But someone was in there, searching for a box. So I went in, too. But I didn't find anything; neither did he."
All four women stared at him, their thin mouths grim, their black eyes hooded. They seemed to be temporarily struck dumb. And, with a sudden shock, Charlie knew that he'd said too much. He wasn't supposed to know about the box.
Now the hunt would be on. The Bloors would have to find the box before Charlie's father came home. The search had become a deadly game, and Billy Raven's future hung in the balance. So did Lyell Bone's life.
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7. OLIVIA AND THE GARGOYLE
The silence lasted only a few seconds, but in that time so many thoughts swept through Charlie's head, he began to feel dizzy. In his mind's eye he saw Billy wandering endlessly through the enchanter's forest; and he saw a wooden box, inlaid with mother-of-pearl, a box that held a secret that could change the lives of everyone he knew.
Grandma Bone's voice reached Charlie as from a great distance. "What's wrong with you, boy? Pull yourself together."
"I am, I am," murmured Charlie, just managing to focus on the pale face that loomed above him.
"What's in your mind?" asked Grandma Bone.
"Nothing," said Charlie.
"Well, Eustacia?" Grandma Bone turned to her sister.
"He was thinking of Billy," said Eustacia, "and the box."
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Charlie was rattled. Eustacia was in top form today. "I've never seen the box," he cried. "Well, not the box you mean," he ended lamely.
"Charlie, where's your father?" asked Eustacia, coming to stand beside her sister.
"I don't know, do I? I don't know any more than you do. He's whale watching."
"But when you think about him, what do you see?" Eustacia leaned very close to Charlie, and he flinched at her stale breath.
"Nothing," he said.
"We know you have a gift, Charlie," his grandmother snorted angrily. "We know you can see your father in your mind's eye when you think hard enough. Stop dissembling."
"I don't know what you mean," said Charlie. They must never know about the boat, he thought. And he filled his mind with pictures of his friends: Benjamin and Runner Bean, Fidelio, Olivia and Lysander...
"Well?" Grandma Bone looked at Eustacia.
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"Rubbish," said Eustacia. "His mind is filled with rubbish."
Grandma Bone grabbed Charlie's arm and drew him into the kitchen, where she sat him down and made him drink a cup of cold milk. A plate of cheese and crackers was put before him, and Grandma Bone said, "Get it down you. We're all going out."
"But --" Charlie began.
"No buts," she snapped.
Grandma Bone's three sisters crowded into the kitchen. They paced around the table, looking at Charlie. Great-aunt Eustacia never took her eyes off him. Perhaps she was still trying to read his mind. He must keep the name of the boat from her, the name on the side of a boat that rode the dangerous sea. For if the name reached Lord Grimwald, there was no knowing what he might do.
"Maisie's not back," Charlie said, through a mouthful of dry crackers. "If I go out again, she'll wonder where I am."
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"We'll leave a note," said his grandmother.
"Uncle Paton's not here," cried Charlie desperately. "My parents said that he was in charge."
"They were wrong," said Great-aunt Lucretia coldly. "We're your guardians now."
"That's not true!" retorted Charlie.
"You're coming to Darkly Wynd with us, and there's an end to it." Great-aunt Venetia whisked away the plate of half-eaten crackers. "And we have to go now. My little boy needs me."
Venetia's stepson, spiteful little Eric, had never needed anyone as far as Charlie knew. He spent his time animating stone figures, a dangerous talent, often ending in disaster for his unsuspecting victims.
/> "I don't understand why I have to go to Darkly Wynd." Charlie twisted nervously in his chair as Grandma Bone snatched his cup and poured the rest of his milk down the drain.
"We want to ask you some questions," said Great-aunt Eustacia.
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"Can't you ask your questions here?" Charlie knew the answer as soon as he saw the cold, closed-in look on Grandma Bone's hard face. They couldn't risk being interrupted by Maisie or Uncle Paton. And that meant they were going to give him a real grilling.
Charlie knew it would be useless to resist. He could kick and scream, but they would get him to Darkly Wynd in the end and he would have wasted precious energy. He needed all his strength to fight Great-aunt Eustacia's clairvoyance. And now that he thought about it, he almost looked forward to the challenge.
The four sisters frog-marched Charlie out of the house and down the steps. He was bundled into the back of Great-aunt Eustacia's car, where he sat squeezed uncomfortably between the bony thighs of Lucretia and Venetia.
Eustacia drove very badly. She was forever bumping onto the curb and lurching recklessly around corners. After driving much too fast down a narrow
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alley, she braked, with a screech, in front of a long cobblestone yard. They had reached Darkly Wynd.
Three tall houses stood in a row at the far end of the yard. They had steep turrets and wrought-iron balconies, and their narrow arched windows were framed by carved stone creatures: gnomes, gargoyles, and unlikely beasts. All three houses were numbered thirteen.
The smaller houses on either side of the courtyard appeared to be deserted; their windows were boarded up, their steps covered in moss. Some grim force had driven the occupants away, a force that was evidently not strong enough to dislodge the Yewbeam sisters, unless it was they themselves who had caused the exodus.
