She took the rune stones out and threw them lightly on to the ground. They rolled forward and stopped. ‘Straight on for a hundred metres,’ she said.
It was a confident voice, Taggie thought, if you didn’t know Jemima and her bravado. But she kept quiet, not wanting to upset her sister’s concentration.
The party moved down the wide corridor, swords drawn, until they reached a junction of five corridors that looked identical.
Jemima stood in the middle and threw her runes again. The little stones rolled across the ancient flagstones, picking up speed and curving round so they skittered into the second corridor on the left.
‘This way,’ Jemima said in a chirpy voice, and gathered the runes up again.
Taggie had to admit, her sister seemed to know what she was doing.
As they entered the new corridor, Wenuthi Jones reached up and made a small chalk mark on the ceiling. While they had every hope Jemima could lead them to her father, there was no way of telling if she could see their way out again. Mrs Veroomes had been most evasive about that, so it was agreed they would mark their route.
The corridor went on for fifty paces. It ended in a junction with three other corridors. Once more, Jemima threw the runes, which rolled down the right-hand fork.
There were doors all along this corridor: thick, heavy wooden squares that looked as if they hadn’t been opened for a century. Iron torches were fixed to the walls, rusty now and also unused for an age. Thin strands of luminous frost fungus were beginning to engulf the iron.
Another junction: Jemima threw the runes again, and they descended a long flight of steps that led deeper below the palace.
Sophie reached the pinnacle of the cloud mountain, panting hard from the struggle. She didn’t think she’d ever been so high before, but her size just made it possible: she was strong enough to lift herself further than any of the heavier adult skyfolk could. The air churned and groaned all around her as the clouds spun below, throwing her about like a twig on a whitewater stream. It was a scary place to be: all alone, and directly overhead the palace. The fact her father and his flock were close by didn’t make it any easier.
When she looked down, she could see right into the heart of the cloud mountain, the calm eye of the storm. Except it was more like a cloud volcano, with a wide opening at the top and a deep central hole of clear air. Lightning flared around the twisting walls of the empty eye. Sophie imagined this is what it would be like looking through Mirlyn’s Gate into the Dark Universe itself.
Lightning flashed again, sending long dazzling forks licking around the cloud. Blasts of wild air knocked her about. But she’d seen something in there – something gliding around in that vast cylinder of clear air. A dark speck.
Sophie beat her wings as hard as she could, teeth clenched against the effort. She picked up speed, which made her flight a lot more stable. The lightning flared once more, and she squinted down.
There!
Three dark shapes at least a mile below her, just skirting the curving cliff-wall of cloud. It was all she could do not to yell out in fright. Every skychild knew that wing-shape. It was almost the first thing they learned. Parents taught it to them long before they even flew for the first time.
‘Oh no,’ Sophie moaned fearfully. ‘No, no, no.’
A pack of rathwai, the Karrak Lords’ deadly air hounds, were stalking the sky above the palace.
THE RESCUE
Jemima threw the runes for what must have been the twentieth time. The black stones bounced and rolled across the ground, then trundled off down a passageway that was lower and narrower than any they’d been following. The far end glowed with a bright orange light that contrasted with the cold, dim glow of the frost fungus.
She stared at it, not needing the runes any more. ‘He’s there,’ she said faintly. ‘Oh Taggie, he’s just at the end of this corridor. Daddy’s there. And he’s alive.’
Taggie took an eager step forward. Wenuthi Jones put out an arm to stop her going any further.
‘Majesty,’ he said quietly. ‘That is torchlight up ahead. And there will be guards. This is our part now. Let us play it to the full. Stay back, please.’
Taggie nodded reluctantly. She stood to one side as the five Dolvoki Rangers crept along the phosphorescent passage, their swords drawn.
Sophie flew around the vast crater in the cloud once more. So far she’d counted eight of the hideous rathwai circling slowly in the eye of the great storm. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought there were more. They had slithered in and out of the cloud wall with its perilous ripples of lightning, making it difficult for her to count them.
Eight or eight hundred, it made no difference: Sophie’s father was below the rathwai, hiding in the cloud just above the palace, completely unaware of the doom lurking above him.
As she watched the purposeful flight of the big savage beasts in the clear air below, she realized this was a well-planned ambush. They were waiting, just like her father. And when they pounced unseen from above, her father and the flock would stand no chance. Taggie’s mission to rescue Prince Dino would also be over, the Queen-to-be probably captured.
They must be warned, Sophie told herself. That was all there was to it.
Sophie took out the alarm whistle which all of her kind carried in their tunics, and put it in her mouth, ready to blow. She stilled her wings as she passed over the clear air at the very centre of the cloud mountain. For a long minute she fell in silence, feet first, down and down into the awesome eye of the storm, arms outstretched as the air whipped past; then she flipped over. With her fists clenched in front of her so they pointed at the hidden ground, she began to fly once more, her body trembling at the exertion as her straining wings forced the stubborn air to part for her.
The shocking shapes of the rathwai grew larger and larger as she power-dived fearlessly towards them, trailing a sparkling red contrail as she descended. Lightning crackled all around. She hadn’t realized how big the rathwai really were, how sharp and cruel their beaks, how long and deadly their talons. And as she drew closer she saw that each one was being ridden by a Karrak Lord.
As she plummeted past them, a bewilderingly fast shooting star, she blew the whistle with all her might.
Sheer surprise froze the rathwai and their brutal masters for a moment. The piercing shriek of the skyfolk alarm whistle sounded clear and pure above even the thunderclaps that grumbled around. Then they saw her, plunging towards the bustling clouds at the base of the eye. Cries of hatred and outrage reverberated between the riders. One by one, the rathwai folded their wings and hurtled down after her, their talons spread wide, ready to tear her from the air. Death spells like small orange-and-turquoise comets were hurled after her by the Karrak Lords. She twisted and spun to dodge them, laughing in defiance as the deadly wizard light burned the sky around her. Then she was among the thick buffeting clouds of the storm at the base of the eye, and everything was black and cold.
For over half an hour, Piadrow and his companions had flown in a wide circle, taking it in turns to dip into the wispy fringe of cloud that made up the belly of the giant unnatural spiral poised above the palace. Each time, they had returned to report that there was nothing to see, and that the guards at the gates and those walking the battlements were unaware of the rescue mission. Piadrow himself had seen the six horses left tethered to railings in one of the inner courtyards. All seemed to be going well.
Piadrow signalled for his friends to gather round, and they hovered close by in the icy cloud as snow swirled past them. ‘It shouldn’t be much longer,’ he told them. ‘I want someone watching the palace permanently now. None of the guards are watching the clouds. We should be able to lurk safely amid the snow.’
‘What part of the palace should we watch?’ asked a skyman.
Piadrow was about to answer when he heard the alarm whistle. It was muffled by the cloud and the snow, but for all skyfolk of whatever flock, that sound was unmistakable. Even now, in the mid
dle of a rescue mission, he couldn’t afford to ignore it. ‘Scatter and dive,’ he ordered.
As he said this, he swooped down towards the palace below. Part of him wanted to wait to see who was blowing the whistle, and make sure the danger was real and not a trick. But he was above the heart of the Karrak Lords’ domain in the First Realm; if there were going to be rathwai anywhere, it would be here. How stupid, he cursed himself silently. We should have made sure. As he soared towards the rooftops of the palace, there were shouts from below. Guards had heard the alarm whistle – they were looking upward now – searching the night sky for enemies.
Just then he caught sight of a slender red contrail bursting from the base of the cloud. It was a very familiar contrail, and it made his heart skip a beat in fright. ‘Sophie?’ he whispered. She produced a sparkle exactly like that when she powered her way along. He’d always been so proud of how fast his daughter was.
Two rathwai dropped out of the cloud right behind her.
‘Sophie!’ Piadrow bellowed. He launched himself straight at her, tugging his bow from its strap.
Three of his friends saw him turn round and head back up. They followed him, drawing their own bows.
A barrage of arrows fizzed extravagantly in flight and forced the rathwai to veer away. The Karrak Lords riding the beasts cast several death spells – Piadrow dodged frantically to avoid them.
‘What are you doing?’ he shouted at his daughter.
‘I saw the rathwai,’ Sophie called back through the snow. ‘You had to be warned.’
Piadrow saw another two rathwai emerge from the clouds. ‘How many are there?’ he asked.
‘At least eight,’ Sophie told him.
‘To the palace!’ he called to his friends. ‘Get down into the courtyards where they can’t fly.’
Sophie needed no urging and zoomed downward. Piadrow followed her, with the rathwai in hungry pursuit.
As they flashed down past the top of the battlements, what looked like guard huts fell apart, revealing huge, squat crossbow-like devices. Soldiers swung them round on their heavy mounts. Large missiles were flung up into the air, attached to nets which spread wide behind them.
‘They must have known we’d come for the prince,’ Piadrow said in a shaken voice. Above him a dozen nets sailed across the courtyard, forming a cage roof between the battlements. None of the skyfolk would be able to get out now. ‘The swine were ready for us.’
He landed close to the rescue party’s horses. Torches flared along the walls above him, bright flames sending out a sickly yellow light. Four more skyfolk landed in the same courtyard and hurried over to Piadrow and Sophie. High above the nets, rathwai cruised around the palace towers, squawking in dismay at having been cheated out of their prey.
Then the courtyard echoed to the sound of gates being slammed open. Soldiers began to march in.
Piadrow glanced down the staircase to the cellars. ‘Warn the Queen-to-be,’ he told Sophie quietly. ‘Go quickly, now. All is not yet lost. We’ll hold them off here as long as we can.’
Sophie hurried down the steps and through the door at the bottom, closing it quietly. She fluttered a few inches off the floor as her eyes grew accustomed to the eerie glow of the luminous frost fungus, then started off down the corridor. At the first junction she found the chalk mark, and quickly followed the trail.
There were four guards outside Prince Dino’s cell. Skilled soldiers, they fought furiously against the rangers, refusing to back down. Swords slashed and parried in the flickering torchlight. There was little room with eight men battling together between the walls. They shouted and snarled at each other. Blades frequently struck the brick walls.
The horrible clash of weapons went on for what seemed like an age. But eventually the rangers triumphed and the last guard standing threw down his sword. His three injured comrades were held fast, swords at their throats, while rangers bound their hands.
‘What is going on?’ a shaken voice demanded from behind the iron door. ‘Nicola? Nicola, is that you? Are the girls safe?’
‘Daddy?’ Jemima shouted, running forward.
‘Jemima?’
‘Daddy. It’s me. Yes, it’s me.’
‘Oh no! What are you doing here? Where’s your mother?’
Felix took a ring of keys from one of the guards, and unlocked the door. Jemima shoved it open and ran into the cell. Her father was standing there, an incredulous expression on his face. He sank to his knees and opened his arms wide. Jemima ran straight into the embrace.
‘This is madness,’ he cried, hugging her tight. ‘You shouldn’t have come.’
‘You never told us about the First Realm, Daddy,’ Taggie said, fighting back tears. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’
‘My darling,’ he said, and gripped Taggie, holding both his daughters tight to him. ‘I would have done; I would have told you all about the realms when the time was right. I really would. But you’re so young.’
Taggie didn’t care. I’ve got my dad back, she thought in amazement. His clothes were torn, there was dried blood on his face and arms, and his glasses were cracked. But that didn’t matter. We’re together, and that’s the important thing.
‘Majesty,’ Wenuthi Jones said urgently.
‘Yes?’ Dino and Taggie said together.
Taggie gave her father a shy, awkward glance. She blushed, and dropped her gaze to the floor. ‘Sorry.’
Dad hugged her for a long moment, and kissed the top of her head. ‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I know you dreamed. I felt your comfort while I slept, and it was fabulous. You are indeed the Queen-to-be.’
Taggie had to wipe tears from her eyes. ‘You’re not cross?’
‘All I am is proud, my darling. That’s all I’ve ever been.’
‘I helped so many people,’ she said eagerly. ‘It was wonderful to do that.’
‘Long live the Queen-to-be,’ he said happily, then glanced round the corridor. ‘Where’s your mother?’
‘Back home,’ Taggie said, slightly bewildered by the question.
‘I told you to go to her – she was supposed keep you safe.’
‘We came after you, Daddy. We had to rescue you.’
‘Please,’ Wenuthi Jones said. ‘Prince Dino, we must leave. Now.’
‘Of course,’ Dad replied, and gripped the ranger chief’s arm. ‘Is your army battling the dark forces in the palace?’
‘No, Dad,’ Taggie said. ‘There’s no army. It’s just us.’
‘We have arranged a safe route away from here,’ Felix said. ‘Fear not, Prince.’
‘You brought my children on a rescue mission?’ Dad asked with growing anger.
‘I was the only one who could find you,’ Jemima said. ‘Don’t be cross, Daddy, please. I’m a seer now. Mrs Veroomes is teaching me, just like you said in your letter.’
‘All right,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Let’s just get out of here, shall we?’
‘Yes, sire,’ Wenuthi Jones said.
The rangers shoved the guards into the cell and locked the door. The ranger chief took a step towards the passage and then stopped. A breeze blew against his face, making him frown. The torches on the wall flickered.
Something at the far end of the passage was sparkling red – it expanded rapidly and shot out in front of them. Sophie appeared, hovering beside Taggie. ‘It’s a trap,’ she shouted frantically. ‘The rathwai were waiting for us. We can’t fly you out.’
Before Taggie could answer, the corridor was filled with harsh scraping noises. The metal doors of every cell were slowly opening.
TO THE HEART OF THE PALACE
‘Run!’ Wenuthi Jones cried.
Taggie didn’t need to be told twice. She pelted down the passage with Jemima on her heels. She was frightened, yes, but mixed in with that fright was a boiling anger. All she seemed to do was run away – even now when she thought they’d finally gained the upper hand.
‘They’re coming,’ Felix said.
Taggie riske
d a glance over her shoulder. Wenuthi Jones was bringing up the rear of the rescue party. Fifteen metres behind him the passage was completely filled with Ethanu, advancing with their slow unstoppable walk. Eerie orange light shone from their wire-rimmed spectacles, as if their eyes were on fire.
Taggie raised her hand. ‘Duck!’ she commanded.
Wenuthi didn’t need any further instruction. He hit the ground fast. Dad was just giving her a puzzled look. Felix pulled him over.
‘Droiak!’
The dazzling burst of light from Taggie’s finger struck the roof of the passage. An avalanche of broken brick and chunks of rock came tumbling down. A thick wave of dust billowed along in front of it.
The rescue party stumbled on, coughing and wheezing until they reached some clear air at the next junction. There were six corridors leading away from it.
Dad stared at Taggie open-mouthed. ‘When did you learn to do that?’
Taggie gave him a bashful shrug. ‘You gave me the charmsward,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘But your strength . . .’ he twitched his lips in a reluctant smile. ‘Well done.’
Wenuthi Jones was just heading into the corridor with the chalk mark when he stopped. At the far end he saw the orange glimmer of torch flames. As the rescue party looked round, three more of the corridors had torches moving along them. Shouts and clattering armour were echoing from them.
‘Princess, which way?’ Wenuthi Jones asked.
Jemima’s face was scrunched up in misery. She stared at the runes in her hand, close to tears. ‘I don’t know. Where do you want us to be?’
‘Just take us away from the ambush,’ Taggie said, trying to keep the panic from her voice.
‘But they’re everywhere,’ Jemima said wretchedly.
‘It’s all right, my darling,’ Dad said. ‘Can you see where they aren’t waiting for us? Take your time, now.’
The Secret Throne Page 16
