by Leah Swann
The riders chasing Vilmos were fast approaching. Andor ran towards the magician, taking the child's sword from his belt.
‘Surrender now, Vilmos!’ he shouted.
The magician drew his own sword. ‘You’re going to fight me with that little baby sword?’ he sneered. His long, narrow blade was etched with the image of a dragon. ‘Good luck.’
The fight began just as King Harmon and his soldiers arrived. Vilmos wouldn't have stood a chance against Harmon or Niklas; but Andor did not have their experience. For some minutes, nothing could be heard but the clanging of blades. Vilmos backed away in the direction of Raizel's hut. Andor started slashing harder and faster, and succeeded – to his own amazement – in knocking the sword out of Vilmos's hand. By this time, the magician was leaning against Raizel's door. Andor pressed the blade against his neck.
‘Surrender.’
‘Never!’ he cried.
‘Surrender now, or your life,’ said Andor, his heart beating hard in his chest at the thought of killing Vilmos.
‘I will not.’
King Harmon spoke. His deep voice resonated in the little clearing. ‘You are surrounded, Vilmos. You have no escape.’
The magician laughed and launched himself against the door of Raizel's hut. The door swung open and Vilmos fell over, away from Andor's blade.
‘No!’ shouted Andor.
Scrambling to his feet, Vilmos took a knife from his boot and was about to grab Raizel for a hostage when he saw King Niklas. Using the wolfish strength still left in him, Vilmos lifted Niklas and dragged him from the bed, muttering incantations as he did so.
‘Don’t do this, Vilmos,’ said Raizel. ‘You know what it will lead to.’
‘I know what I want it to lead to.’
‘You are no more than the Dragon's pawn.’
‘No one controls me,’ spat Vilmos.
‘You think you're doing this because of Chloe. The truth is, your master – and his master, the Dragon – are using your feelings to do their work.’
Vilmos dragged Niklas to the door.
‘The truth could help you,’ said Raizel, reaching towards him. ‘It’s not too late.’
Vilmos pushed Raizel away so violently that she fell. He hauled Niklas through the door. Outside, Harmon blocked his path, Andor beside him.
‘You missed your chance, weakling. It takes daring to kill,’ said Vilmos to Andor, who bowed his head in shame. ‘You haven't got what it takes to be a king.’
Harmon was appalled at the sight of Niklas, barely conscious in Vilmos's grip. Seeing the poultice bandaged to his neck, the pale and feverish skin, the eyes half-closed and rolling back in his head, Harmon knew his friend was close to death. Inside the hut Raizel forced herself to her feet and walked unsteadily to the doorway.
‘Lay the King's body down,’ said Harmon.
‘Give me a horse,’ demanded Vilmos, raising his knife to Niklas's throat. Niklas gave a few wheezing breaths and tried to open his eyes.
Harmon asked one of the soldiers to dismount. ‘Release the King, Vilmos,’ he said. ‘You may have this horse.’
‘Keep everybody away from me,’ said the magician, as he dropped Niklas on the grass. He walked towards the horse. ‘No one is to touch me. I want your word, Harmon,’ he said, mounting the horse.
‘I do not give my word to fiends. Now go!’
Vilmos kicked his heels into the horse's sides and set off into the trees. He had almost disappeared from view when there came a whizzing sound and Vilmos gave an almighty shriek. The little group saw him fling out his arms and crash down through the branches to the ground.
After the shout was silence.
Andor, Harmon and the soldiers turned to see the red-bearded Radburn lowering his bow.
‘I saw the snake ring on his finger,’ said Radburn. ‘And you didn't tell us not to, Your Majesty. I couldn't let him go. He turned me against King Niklas. He turned me into a traitor.’
No one spoke. Raizel, looking white but otherwise recovered from her fall, knelt by Niklas. The quiet of the forest was disturbed by a curious scuffling sound. It grew louder and louder. The long grasses appeared to shift and bulge with moving shapes.
‘What’s that?’ said a soldier. He jumped when a rat ran over his foot. Suddenly there were dozens of rats, then hundreds, large and small, brown, black, white and grey. They scampered through the grasses towards the fallen figure of Vilmos. They clustered around him, and appeared to be pushing him. Vilmos's body was turned over, the arrow sticking out from his side.
Vilmos's head flopped to one side, his mouth open. Many of the rats disappeared under his body. They formed a living, moving, bustling stretcher and they carried him off. No one made any attempt to follow. No one knew where the rats were taking Vilmos, except the rats themselves.
‘Shouldn’t we stop them?’ asked Andor.
‘Let the rats carry their master to his grave,’ said Harmon, wearily. ‘It’s time to go home.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
A New Friend
It was almost nightfall when Harmon and his men returned to Ragnor Castle. Andor rode alongside the King. Niklas, too sick to be moved, remained in Raizel's hut with Radburn and another soldier to guard them.
Harmon told the soldiers they could go home, so it was a small group who cantered up to the castle steps where Irina sat, surrounded by the sleeping bodies of wolves.
‘Daughter,’ said Harmon, dismounting. Irina rose to greet him. She had not washed since the battle. She didn't dare leave the wolves in case someone tried to kill them. Her clothes were stained with soil and blood, and her crown was jammed into a nest of hair like thistles. Andor, who'd been riding on a soldier's horse, also dismounted. Standing a few feet away, he looked at the young woman with awe. During their return journey, Harmon had told him of Irina's deed on the battlefield.
‘Irina, no one else could have done what you did today,’ said Harmon. ‘The Kingdom of Ragnor is free because of your bravery. As the King, I am in your debt. As your father, I am very proud.’
To his surprise, Irina burst into tears and fell into his arms.
‘What is it?’ said Harmon, stroking her hair. ‘Were you worried I would still be angry?’
‘No,’ said a muffled voice from his chest. ‘I’m just glad you're safely home.’
After a few minutes, Irina pulled away and wiped her eyes. She smiled at the King. When she noticed Andor standing nearby, she took a step backward and folded her arms awkwardly.
‘Irina, this young man is the son of King Niklas,’ Harmon said. ‘His name is Prince Andor.’
Irina and Andor bowed their heads to one another. Suddenly conscious of the dirt on her skin and clothes, Irina wished she could go and wash.
‘I’ve seen you before,’ she said.
‘I remember,’ said Andor.
‘Why are you here?’
The Prince seemed so quiet and calm compared to the fierce men she had seen that day.
‘I have come to do what I can to help King Harmon.’
‘You’re a bit late, don't you think? Where were you during the battle?’
‘It’s hard to fight a battle when you're locked in a dungeon,’ said Andor.
‘It’s hard to fight a battle against soldiers who are meant to be your friends,’ came Irina's harsh reply.
‘Believe me, Your Highness, my father and I were devastated that we couldn't help.’ The expression on Andor's face made her ashamed of her hasty words. ‘But Vilmos, at least, is slain now.’
‘Did you kill him?’
At Irina's question, Andor hung his head. He said very quietly, ‘No. It was not I.’
Irina looked back at Harmon. ‘I don't know whether to laugh or cry with relief. I can't believe it…Is this really true, Father? Is Vilmos truly dead?’
‘It is true, dear one. We have nothing more to fear.’
‘But his evil lives on in these poor animals,’ said Irina. She sat down on the steps next to Durre
ll. Her legs felt weak. ‘How shall I ever undo what he's done?’
‘It may not be possible, Irina,’ said her father, as kindly as he could.
‘I can guess what you would do,’ she said in a choking voice. ‘You would put them to death, wouldn't you? When it wasn't their fault.’
‘I would. Without question. They killed many men. They are not safe.’
‘Yes they are! They will be! I will take responsibility for them, for each and every one of them.’
‘You are very tired – and so am I,’ said the King. ‘We will rest and discuss this tomorrow. Please come inside. I will leave soldiers to guard the wolves.’
‘I will not. Someone may try to kill them during the night.’
So Irina made her bed on the steps, by the wolves. She wished there was a simple spell to put the wolves right again, but she knew there was not. Even though she was angry with the King for saying so, there was no denying the wolves might be dangerous. They no longer knew themselves.
She could barely sleep for her distress; and when she did sleep, the wolves filled her dreams with their cloudy eyes and too-large bodies, pleading for help.
‘We’ve lost our packs,’ they whispered. ‘We have no pups. We've forgotten how to hunt.’
Even Durrell had lost his independence. Now that Vilmos's savagery had left him, he seemed like an indulged pet dog, sleeping his heavy sodden sleep beside her.
After a long, hard night, Irina found comfort in the radiant colours of sunrise. Dew gleamed on Durrell's pelt. The new morning was fragrant and quiet, undisturbed by the tumult of people. Dear old Amicus was nestled into her shoulder, his wing-feathers softly brushing her cheek. Her oldest friend. He had never forgotten or left her; and nor would Irina leave Durrell now, when he needed her most. She patted his heavy head where it lay sleeping in her lap.
‘Shining One,’ she prayed, ‘let these animals be restored to their true natures.’
Some kind soul had left a bowl of warm water and a cloth and a hairbrush. It must have been Octavia. Who else wandered the early morning thinking of the needs of others? Purple buds of lavender floated in the water, scenting it. Irina washed her face and hands, then lifted the bowl onto the step below so she could soak her blistered feet.
In the distance, she saw a tall figure out walking, her father's green cape falling from his shoulders to his ankles. When he came nearer she saw it wasn't Harmon but Andor.
Approaching the steps he said, ‘May I sit beside you?’
‘Yes,’ she replied.
Side by side, they watched the luminous clouds disperse into a clear blue sky. After a time Andor said, ‘I heard you were raised by wolves. Is it true?’
‘Yes.’
‘This wolf with his head in your lap belonged to my father,’ said Andor.
‘What?’ said Irina, incredulous. ‘How could that be?’
Andor didn't answer her question. Instead, he said, ‘Vilmos made him attack my father – and now he might die from the infected bite.’
‘That’s terrible.’ Irina shuddered. ‘Durrell would never have attacked a human when we were pups.’
‘When I saw him last night, I wanted to kill him,’ Andor said, simply.
Irina grew tense. ‘You will not touch this wolf, nor any of them.’
‘Don’t worry, I won't, wolf-queen,’ he said. ‘That’s what they're calling you, you know. My father wouldn't want me to. He rescued that wolf when he was little more than a pup. We called him Seeley.’
Irina turned to Andor eagerly. ‘Really? Please – tell me what happened!’
‘It was my very first hunting trip. We were out riding…’
The image of the horses and the golden flag and the deafening sound of the horses’ hoofs hitting the stones came into Irina's mind. It was so long ago.
‘It was the day I saw you by the roadside,’ said Andor. ‘Looking like a wild creature that I had no name for. We left the road and went into the forest, where we heard the horrible sound of animals fighting. The sound was terrifying to me – I'd never heard anything like it.’
‘The bear and Durrell,’ said Irina. ‘Durrell is my wolf-brother. He was protecting the cubs. Please go on.’ This was the story she had longed to hear for years, the story of what had happened on that day. How remarkable it was that Andor had been there!
‘We came through the trees to a rocky hill; at the mouth of a cave we saw a young wolf fighting a huge bear. Even I could see he was losing. My father raised his bow and shot an arrow into the hindquarters of the bear. He told his men to bind the animal and lead him far away. My father was so touched by the wolf's bravery that he took him back to Pavel and bandaged his wounds. From then on, Seeley protected him.’
‘Until Vilmos enchanted him,’ said Irina, touching Durrell's fur softly. She wondered at the action of King Niklas. She'd never heard of someone with such authority being so kind to animals and she was filled with gratitude. If it wasn't for Niklas, Durrell would be dead.
‘The good things Durrell has done should not be forgotten,’ said Irina, stroking the fur between his large, pointed ears.
‘He’s killed men, though, Irina. Things have changed.’
‘He wasn't himself. But my father won't see it that way. You see, Andor, I was raised beside this wolf. That day was the day I had to leave because he couldn't protect me from the bear. I ran and ran, and hid by the road, where you saw me…’
A look passed between them. Andor was about to say something when Octavia appeared, carrying a basket filled with food. At the smell of porridge, Irina's stomach rumbled. Octavia set down the basket, lifted the cloth and spread it over the steps.
‘Eat well,’ she said, and left the two of them to enjoy their breakfast.
Irina drew out two bowls of steaming hot porridge and handed one to Andor. There was stewed fruit, boiled eggs, bread and two stone jars filled with warm milk. Irina ate thankfully. What a dear Octavia was!
Who knows when I'll enjoy hot food again, if everything goes according to my plan, she thought to herself.
‘You know,’ said Andor, with a cheeky grin, ‘when my nurse told me stories, the Prince and the Princess always get married at the end.’
‘This is not the end,’ said Irina. ‘And even if it was, I don't think I'll ever marry.’
‘It’s too bad we didn't play together as children,’ said Andor, changing the subject. ‘We would have been friends if you'd grown up here at Ragnor.’
‘It’s not too late to be friends now, is it?’
‘Of course not,’ said Andor.
‘Well then, my friend – I have something to ask of you…’
Chapter Thirty-Three
A Little Golden Key
‘How could you let her go!’ King Harmon shouted at Andor, clanging his staff on the marble floor. Behind him, Queen Chloe sat slumped on her throne, her head in her hands.
‘She told me to tell you that without the wolves she would not be alive today,’ said Andor, trying not to squirm. He'd seen Harmon lose his temper with others but never with him.
‘Did you tell her what you and I discussed last night? That these wolves, so clearly dangerous, would have to be put to death?’
‘I did, Your Majesty.’
‘And?’
‘She said, “I am the only one who can undo what Vilmos has done; I must try.” She said that if you were in her position, you'd do the same.’
‘That’s ridiculous. I'd never keep packs of bloodthirsty wolves alive.’
‘I think she meant if you had been raised by wolves and owed them your life –’
‘Yes, thank you, I'm not stupid!’ said the King. ‘I thought you agreed with me.’
‘I did, until I talked to Irina. She has a strong sense of honour, Your Majesty. You should be proud of her.’
‘Don’t presume to tell a king how to feel.’ Harmon strode to the window.
‘I beg your pardon,’ said Andor. He wondered if Irina knew how angry her father would be
.
The King looked out. Of course, there was no sign of Irina. She had left long ago on Adriel, a procession of wolves following her across the plains and into the forest.
Harmon turned to Chloe. ‘Well, what do we do? Do I find her, force her home, and kill the wolves? Or do we give our blessing to her mission?’
‘And pray,’ added Julene, who was standing with Mahila by her mother. Her father glared at her.
‘Today might have been a very different day if Irina hadn't saved the army from the wolves,’ said Chloe. The Queen had spent an awful night imagining what might have happened had Vilmos been victorious. ‘She deserves our respect. There's something deeper in what she does.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Harmon. ‘Explain this deeper thing to me.’
‘The priestesses of the Junsong taught me to believe in the unseen world; there's more to life than what the eye beholds.’
‘So what?’ said Harmon, impatiently. He was sceptical of the otherworld, known to his ancestors as the Realm of the Shining One.
‘Think of Irina's unusual life,’ said Chloe, slowly. ‘Jun’s had a hand in it, leading to yesterday's miracle. I want her home, but my heart tells me she must go.’
When King Niklas was well enough, Andor brought him and Raizel to Ragnor in a carriage. Andor had been ruling Pavel in his father's absence and was looking forward to the King's return. He found his father much changed; he seemed to have lost almost half his bulk, and his once healthy red cheeks were pale.
‘He’s made good progress,’ said Raizel, as the three of them sat together in the carriage.
‘Thank you for nursing him,’ said Andor, reaching over to touch the old woman's hand.
‘I too am grateful,’ said Niklas. ‘I have learned much from you, these past weeks.’
‘It’s always been the privilege of the holy women to tend to the royal family,’ said Raizel, smiling.
They were on their way to Ragnor Castle to celebrate the Autumn Harvest Festival, even though it was the very cusp of winter and the ground was already hard with frost. From the castle came the sound of drums, and pumpkin lanterns swung from the branches of odom trees around the stone walls.
