Taggie crouched down and peered over the rocks. Felix had vanished, and Mr Anatole was hurrying into the bushes where he could conceal himself.
A few moments later the company of Rannalal came charging on to the frozen pond. They reined in their usrogs, and looked about for their prey.
Sophie plummeted out of the sky to hover right in front of the company commander, a nocked arrow inches from his blood-red helmet, its glowing violet tip pointing at the eye slit. ‘Surrender, foe!’ she shouted.
The Rannalal commander swiped at her with a short sword. Sophie dodged effortlessly, and let fly with the arrow. It pierced the armour of his left shoulder and he fell from his usrog with a snarl. The eight-legged beast reared up and tried to snag Sophie’s feathery feet with the claws on its hoofs. But she slid easily aside as she tugged another arrow from her quiver.
As the Rannalal commander took his swipe, the other skymaids and skyboys swooped down from the trees. Arrows flew thick. Rannalal knights raised their shields. Axes were flung upward. One of the knights even managed to let loose a silver net, which Elsie sliced in half with a sharp cutlass. Several Rannalal fell, their armour pierced. A skymaid cried shrilly as a sword slashed her leg. More arrows rained down. Stricken usrogs stampeded. Blood began to stain the ice.
‘Enough,’ Taggie groaned, hating the awful violence. Nobody saw her, let alone heard.
The Rannalal gathered together in an expert defensive formation, the outer ring holding their shields out while five archers in the centre took aim at the skyfolk above.
Taggie couldn’t take it any more. People were being hurt because of her. She had to do something, even though she hadn’t got a clue what that would be. Without thinking, she jumped up on to the rocks above the waterfall. ‘Enough!’ she roared. ‘I am the Queen-to-be, the heir of Usrith. And I say no more.’
Rannalal and skyfolk alike paused in the middle of their battle, staring at her. Taggie looked back, equally uncertain. Then two arrows came slicing out of the Rannalal formation. They were aimed true, flying swiftly – which did the archers no good at all.
The arrows reached the enchantment shield Taggie had spun around herself, and burst into flaming ruin. She glared down at the little four-legged knights in their armour. ‘I warned you,’ she said furiously. Memories rushed into her head, carrying her along. Her hand shot out, finger pointing. ‘Ki-Dionak!’
The ice covering the pond let out an enormous crack. It shattered into a thousand pieces, and the Rannalal knights along with their frightened usrogs fell into water as cold as the Arctic. Heavy red armour dragged the Rannalal down. They thrashed about frantically, barely managing to keep their heads above the bobbing fragments of ice.
Taggie gasped at what she’d done. Then she began to worry that one of the little knights would drown. ‘Ti-Hath.’ She commanded hurriedly, and the pond surface immediately refroze, locking the Rannalal knights into place.
Jemima lifted her head cautiously over the rocks and pushed her lips together as she took in the imprisoned knights. ‘Wow, Taggie, you really are getting good at this,’ she said approvingly.
THE REFUGEE CAMP
The camp was deep inside the Farndorn Forest; so deep, Taggie was amazed they’d even managed to find it. The refugees from the town of Charavik had built themselves dome-like shacks from branches and mud, which were now covered in a thin layer of snow, providing natural camouflage. You could be walking between them before you realized you were in the middle of a rebel village.
Soon after the young skyfolk had chopped the Rannalal knights out of the ice one by one, they’d met up with a troop of Dolvoki Rangers who were helping to guard the forest. The rangers were only too happy to help escort the prisoners. Jemima had been intrigued by the rangers, who were tall and slim, with long pointed ears and shining green eyes with catlike irises. Mr Anatole led the way into the camp, sturdy and resolute at the head of the procession. Taggie and Jemima followed with a pair of Dolvoki Rangers walking beside them, and Sophie with her cousins flying overhead.
The sisters were still wearing their high-vis quilted Outer Realm coats, which made them stand out. People came hurrying out of their shacks to stare. A great flock of adult skyfolk came swooping down from their nests in the trees overhead, greeting their children. Taggie saw Sophie’s father embrace her with a fearsomely strong grip. He was a slight man, just like all the skyfolk, his arms and legs beginning to turn opaque with age. His bald head was covered in intricate silver tattoos. When he landed, the feathers of his broad fin-like feet folded up neatly, so that they looked almost like human ones.
‘You were just supposed to patrol the edge of the wood and raise the alarm should anyone come,’ he chided his daughter. ‘Not attack Rannalal knights. Don’t ever ever do anything so foolhardy again.’
‘Yes, Dad,’ Sophie agreed meekly. At which he hugged her even tighter.
Sophie rolled her eyes and pulled a face for Taggie; a face which said: See what I have to put up with!
Taggie smiled back shyly. The sight made her miss her own dad even more. She walked apprehensively towards what looked like the main shack, along a path lined by hundreds of different kinds of people who were all jostling together good-naturedly. She wished she could give them reassuring regal smiles, which was no doubt what they were expecting, rather than the hesitant grin which was all she seemed able to manage.
The first man she tentatively shook hands with was almost as furry as a bear, and she became embarrassed by his gratitude. He was next to a family whose tails flicked about nervously. Then there were some people who were completely round, with heads that barely had a neck. A group of giants were eager to greet her, hooting and waving above the heads of everyone else, and she held her hand out nervously, but they were very gentle. Surprisingly, there were even a few Rannalal women with their children, so she made sure she said hello to them too – though it was hard. All along the path, children stared and pointed in awe as their parents whispered to them.
‘Say something,’ Jemima muttered out of the side of her mouth.
‘Like what?’ Taggie hissed back. It was all she could do to keep walking. The idea of running back into the forest was extremely appealing.
‘Hello would be a start.’
Taggie looked round at the hopeful eager faces. She gulped, knowing she had to say something. ‘Hello. I’m Taggie, Prince Dino’s daughter, and this is my younger sister Jemima.’
The cheer that went up was a loud and joyful one indeed. It was as if a dam had broken. Everyone applauded enthusiastically. People rushed forward to greet the sisters, hugging them, kissing them, telling them how happy they were to see them, how honoured that they’d come to this forest camp. Many were crying openly. Most had words of thanks for standing up to the terrible King of Night and his followers. Everyone pledged their allegiance to the one true Queen-to-be.
It took a long time to reach the main shack in the middle of the camp.
Jemima watched Taggie being led inside by Wenuthi Jones, the chief of the Dolvoki Rangers, and several other important people from the camp. The welcome they’d been given was generous, but she was very aware of how most of it had been directed at Taggie, not her. Oh, everyone was pleased to see her, but it was really Taggie they were in awe of, their Queen-to-be.
She was just about to follow when something made her turn aside from the shack – after all, it wasn’t as if anyone in there would miss her. She walked through the camp, looking at all the people milling round. Sure enough, nobody came searching to see where she’d gone – not even Felix. After a minute she came to a shack that seemed no different to any other. Cautiously she pushed aside the curtain that covered the entrance and peered inside.
A small fire burned in the centre of the earth floor, wisps of smoke curling up to vanish through clever slits at the apex. On the other side of the flames was an old woman wrapped in a dark cloak over a purple velvet dress. Her raven hair was flecked with grey strands, and the skin on her fac
e was as thick and dark as leather. Both ears were completely covered in gold studs and pierced by hoops. More hoops went through her nose. Jemima couldn’t help grinning: she looked like a punk rocker’s grandma.
‘Hello,’ Jemima said. ‘Who are you?’
‘You tell me,’ the woman said flatly.
‘What?’
‘Tell me who I am.’
Jemima’s good humour began to fade. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Yes you do, Blossom Princess. Tell me. Now!’
‘Mrs Veroomes,’ Jemima said quickly. She frowned, unsure how that name had come out of her mouth.
All the sternness seemed to leave Mrs Veroomes, and she smiled the way any teacher would when a difficult pupil got something right. ‘Quite right, my dear, that’s me. I’ve been waiting here for you this whole last week. And I was many days on the road from Lorothain to get here. Not a pleasant journey, I assure you, not in these times; not even for someone like me. I had to spend half my time hopping smartly behind hedges or into ditches, waiting for the Rannalal patrols, or worse, to pass. But it was worth it, I saw you’d come here to this camp eventually.’
‘What do you mean, someone like you?’
Mrs Veroomes gave Jemima a long chiding stare, silent and expectant.
‘Oh,’ Jemima mumbled. ‘You’re a seer.’
‘Yes, my dear.’
‘But how did you find us? Taggie said she enchanted us against seers.’
‘Ha!’ Mrs Veroomes dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand. ‘All due respect to your esteemed sister, but this is not her art. It is yours and mine. Now come in and sit with me, my dear. We have a lot to talk about, and I’ve made tea and toast. It doesn’t take a seer to know you’re hungry.’
Jemima sat on some cushions while the old woman lifted an iron kettle off the fire ‘My dad said in his letter that I should come and see you,’ she said.
‘Ah yes, the Prince Dino. How nice he remembered me, for I remember him very well indeed,’ Mrs Veroomes said as she rescued some thick slices of bread that were impaled on a toasting fork over the flames. She started scraping off the burnt edges.
‘You do?’ Jemima said, suddenly intrigued. ‘Tell me, please.’
‘Many years ago he came to me, not long after I started helping my mother. A very determined boy, he was. He said he’d met the most amazing girl who’d saved his life, and that he had to seek her out again to say thank you if nothing else. He was cross that his mother had forbidden him to do so. Like all impetuous boys, the more something is not allowed, the more he wanted it. He’d tried using some runes an aunt had given him, but he never had the sight, not like you or I. So by the time he came to me he was quite desperate.’
‘He meant Taggie!’ Jemima exclaimed. ‘We were there yesterday, fighting Rannalal knights at the palace. The Great Gateway, Arasath, sent us into the past.’
‘Ah,’ Mrs Veroomes said, handing over the toast. ‘I did wonder what deeper magic was at play. I could never find the girl for him, even though I spent many weeks trying to sight her. I thought, back then, that I lacked my mother’s art. It was most discouraging. And your father was by turns angry and dejected by my failure.’
‘I’m not surprised you couldn’t find us,’ Jemima said around the toast she was chewing on. ‘We weren’t even born then.’
Mrs Veroomes passed over a delicate china cup of green tea. ‘However, I was fated to catch but one brief glimpse of the girl in a strange place I took to be the Outer Realm. It was a strong sight, mind, restoring my faith in myself and my art. So then I could face the prince with dignity that final time he came to me, and provide the answer he craved.’
‘That’s when he left the First Realm, isn’t it?’
Mrs Veroomes nodded silently. ‘Nobody knew where he’d gone. His mother, the Queen, was frantic, believing him to have been taken by some dark force. She consulted many seers, who never glimpsed him; it is very difficult to see into the Outer Realm, for it is not a place that welcomes magic. Her Holvan guards were sent far and wide across many realms to try and find him; they were so anxious. They didn’t, of course.’
‘Didn’t Grandma ask you?’ Jemima asked, enthralled by the story.
‘I was only a girl back then. And of course the longer I left it without telling anyone, the more difficult it would be to explain my part in his disappearance. I always thought he’d come right back. But he never did. I caught the occasional glimpse of him down the years – always sad, always looking for the girl – so I knew he was alive, and that there was a true heir to the shell throne. I believed everything would come good in the end and he would come home to take his rightful place upon the shell throne.’ She gave Jemima an ashamed glance. ‘How wrong I was. What a useless seer I turned out to be.’
‘No,’ Jemima said, concerned by the woman’s misery. ‘Not for me. If Daddy hadn’t gone to the First Realm he wouldn’t have met my mum.’ She smiled encouragingly. ‘I wouldn’t be here.’
Mrs Veroomes drank her tea in silence for a moment. ‘That’s true,’ she said finally. ‘And what a blessing you are, Blossom Princess.’
‘Do you think I’m a seer, too?’ Jemima asked.
‘I don’t speculate about you at all, my dear. You saw your way to me. You tell me what that makes you.’
The ranger chief’s large shack had several benches around its central fire Birds and rabbits were roasting on spits above the flames. As soon as she saw them, Taggie realized just how hungry she was.
The ranger chief, Wenuthi Jones, gave her a plate of bread and slices of hot meat, which she tucked into heartily. Mr Anatole was also enjoying his meal. As Taggie ate she realized everyone was watching her, and became conscious of how fast she was eating.
‘Thank you very much,’ she said when she’d finished.
‘My Queen-to-be . . .’ The ranger chief bowed as he recovered the plate. Taggie smiled at the man; he had the weathered face of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. She was sure she could see the top of a scar just above the collar of his shirt, but didn’t want to stare for fear of being rude.
‘So what now?’ she asked.
‘Majesty, I have already sent word to other refugee encampments,’ Wenuthi Jones said. ‘Soon the news of your arrival will be heard by all the peoples of the First Realm. The Karrak Lords and Ladies will fear the rejoicing which will ring out. It will only be a matter of time until the Kings and Queens of the other Realms pledge you their armies.’
‘Armies?’ Taggie gave Mr Anatole a desperate glance. The old equerry cleared his throat and gave the assembled dignitaries a troubled look. ‘Our Queen-to-be wishes it to be known most firmly she does not countenance war. She is destined to become a Queen of Dreams, not of anguish.’
‘But Majesty, your people are in anguish now under the so-called King of Night’s regime,’ said Piadrow, Sophie’s father. ‘Every day more of the dark hordes arrive from the Fourth Realm and claim the homes and lands of your people.’
‘I’m really sorry, I don’t know the history of the Realms,’ Taggie told him. ‘What’s the Fourth Realm?’
‘A pleasant and prosperous land once upon a time,’ Felix said softly. Taggie saw the others in the shack give the white squirrel embarrassed glances before they politely turned their heads away.
‘What happened?’ she asked him gently.
‘It fell to darkness generations ago,’ Felix said. ‘Now the sky is iron grey and ice grips the land. The Karraks and their followers banished spring and summer on the day of their victory against our noble houses, and winter has reigned ever since. Winter and evil. The Fourth Realm has become the nest of all darkness in these fine realms. Always the Karrak Lords and their minions seek the cracks in decency so they can worm their way out into other realms, exploiting weaknesses and corrupting the faint-hearted. It is a great sadness we didn’t know of your existence until now, Princess. If we had, the reign of the Queens of Dreams would not have been broken and challenged by Lord Jothran.�
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‘So you’re saying more and more dark creatures will come here as long as Jothran sits upon the throne?’ Taggie asked.
‘Majesty,’ Mr Anatole said in his gurgling voice. ‘That is where our greatest hope lies. Jothran has not yet sat upon the shell throne of the First Realm. He cannot do so, for while your bloodline remains intact the throne remains closed to him.’
‘You mean while Jem and I are alive?’
‘Yes, Majesty. That is why he took your father. There is a certain ceremony, a dark depraved ceremony, that he will perform to prise the throne open, thus obtaining complete control over the deep magic which governs this realm. Once he has that power, he will truly be able to claim his title of King of Night.’
Taggie closed her eyes. ‘I think I can feel the moonclouds,’ she said faintly. ‘But they seem wrong, somehow, not as my ancestors’ memories have them.’
‘The wizardry of the Karrak Lords and Ladies has bound them together, my Queen-to-be,’ Piadrow said. ‘It takes a lot of their strength, but they hold them fast.’
‘I used to be able to cloudbust in the Outer Realm,’ Taggie said. ‘I even did it here once, when I visited before. But I don’t think I can do it now. I’m sorry. I’m not strong enough.’
‘If you were to sit on the throne,’ Felix said, ‘you would be at one with this Realm’s nature and gain that strength.’
‘But how could that be? How could I sit upon the shell throne?’ Taggie asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.
‘An army could storm the palace and return you to your rightful place,’ Wenuthi Jones informed her solemnly.
‘There has to be another way,’ gasped Taggie.
‘Majesty, the throne room is the ancient keep at the very heart of the palace,’ Mr Anatole said. ‘It is the most heavily guarded building in all of the First Realm. I know this for I have lived within the palace for over half of my life. The old walls used to be a fortified castle built just after the First Times. They were subsequently built around and upon, made elegant and pleasing to the eye by later Princes and Queens; but at their core they are still unbreakable walls of thick stone and heavy enchantments. Enchantments which are now reinforced by the wizardry of the Karraks themselves. The ranger chief is correct: it will take an army. A very large army.’
The Secret Throne Page 11
