The Starkin Crown
Page 8
The golden eyes stared at him unblinkingly.
‘Stiga, please, come down and talk to me’. When the owl did not move, Peregrine crossed his arms, tapped his foot, and said, ‘I’m waiting’.
The owl sighed, ruffled her feathers, then flew down to the ground. As her claws touched the ground, she transformed into a tiny, white-haired old woman with a heart-shaped face and a shabby shawl tied over a ragged brown dress. Peregrine always found it amazing that Stiga somehow carried her clothes with her during her transformation. It was as if they were as much a part of her as an owl’s feathers. He had certainly never seen her dressed any other way, even at festival time.
‘Where are we, Stiga? Are we lost?’
She gazed up at him, obviously puzzled.
‘Aren’t we moving south instead of north? Look where the sun is’.
‘It is time to find the spear, you said you did not fear,’ she answered in her strange cryptic way.
He stared at her, an odd tingling sensation spreading throughout his body. It was trepidation and anticipation together.
‘You are leading me to find the spear of thunder?’ he asked slowly, and she bobbed her head.
‘You know where it is?’ he demanded in excitement.
She cocked her head to one side, then spread her hands and shrugged.
‘Stiga, this is important! I need you to answer me. Do you know where the Storm King’s spear is?’
‘He threw it into the blue. I see from the tree’. Her words, as always, had the hooting rhythm of an owl.
‘You saw … who? Prince Zander? You saw him throw the spear into the bog? What did you do, fly after them?’ At each question she bobbed her head, and Peregrine’s excitement grew.
‘Can you show me where?’
She shook her head.
His spirits deflated. ‘You can’t? Why not? Can’t you remember?’
‘Long long time ago. Road gone, trees grow’.
He grasped at a word. ‘Road?’
She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. ‘The soldiers strode along a road, to Stormfell, rang death’s knell’.
Peregrine pondered for a moment. He remembered being told, at some point during an extremely boring geography lesson, that the starkin soldiers were great road builders, constructing straight, flat thoroughfares wherever they went, to enable the fast, efficient movement of troops, messengers and supplies. He knew that Prince Zander had somehow travelled all the way to Stormlinn Castle, where he had betrayed all the laws of hospitality by massacring everyone in the castle—everyone but Princess Shoshanna whom he had dragged back to the royal palace at Zarissa. By all accounts, Prince Zander had been fat and lazy and rather too fond of brandywine. It seemed entirely possible that his troop of soldiers had built a road for him to travel on, particularly since the starkin had only just begun to breed the huge white sisika birds the lords rode upon.
‘Road?’ He asked Stiga if this is what she meant.
She nodded and waved one hand to the south. ‘Through glade and glen, forest and fen, all the way to the fox’s den’.
‘Do you mean back to where Prince Zander lived? Back to the old palace at Zarissa?’ After years of living with Stiga, Peregrine had grown used to her oblique way of speaking. It was only a small stretch of the imagination to see Prince Zander as the fox, and Queen Rozalina’s mother, Shoshanna, as the wounded bird.
‘Do you think you could find this road again?’
‘Here, there, everywhere,’ Stiga said anxiously, waving her hands about.
Peregrine bit his lip, frustrated. On his wrist, the falcon shifted from foot to foot, turning his head to look at his master. His bells chimed softly.
‘Perhaps I can find this road,’ Peregrine said slowly. He put Blitz down on his wooden perch and rummaged through his saddlebags until he found a small silver bowl. He filled it with snow, and then gathered together kindling and built a small fire. His hands were so numb with cold it took him two strikes of the steel against the flint before he could make a spark, and he cursed under his breath. ‘What kind of wildkin prince are you?’ he said to himself. ‘Sloppy, Robin, sloppy!’
The fire was soon burning away merrily, though, and he was able to melt the snow in his silver bowl. He perched on a small, upright boulder nearby, first brushing away its nightcap of snow, and held the bowl steady between his palms, looking down into its lucent depths.
Peregrine had spent years studying with the Erlrune and the spell for finding lost things was just one of many that she had taught him. He took a few deep breaths, then said softly, ‘What is lost must now be found, take my luck and turn it round, show me the vanished road, where long ago Prince Zander rode’.
The soft reflections in the water swayed and shifted and slowly re-formed into a vision, diaphanous as a dragonfly’s wings. Peregrine saw a broad road running through the forest, built of paving stones carefully fitted together. The trees and bushes had been cut back on either side, and there was an immense tree trunk thrown down on one side. Soldiers marched along the road, and then came a litter carried by two hobhenkies with iron collars about their necks. Reposing in the litter was a plump young man with bulging blue eyes and blond hair as fine and colourless as a baby’s. He was yawning behind one ring-laden hand.
The vision faded in a moment, but Peregrine was on his feet, spilling the water wildly. He stared all around the valley. The fallen tree trunk still lay to one side, though now it was ancient and mossy under its mantle of snow. He dropped to his knees and dug through the snow, heedless of the sting of ice on his bare skin. He found a cracked paving stone, and then another. Sitting back on his heels he stared about in wonder. He was actually sitting on the old starkin road. That is what Stiga had meant when she said, ‘Here, there, everywhere’. The old wildkin woman had led them to the very road that Prince Zander had once travelled along.
His eyes were caught by a strange shadow on the boulder on which he had been sitting. He bent forward and rubbed away the dirt and brown lichen. The shape of a Z was carved upon it, and then a few numerals and an arrow. Fifteen hundred miles to Ziva. Peregrine thought of the ruined palace, cursed long ago by Princess Rozalina. Nothing but owls and bats dwelled there now, just as she had predicted.
He jumped to his feet in excitement and went running across the valley to the fallen log, catching up his silver bowl as he went.
‘Jack! Wake up! Guess what?’
‘What?’ Jack sat up, his black hair sticking up on one side. He rubbed his eyes, yawned and stretched. Then, realising who was speaking to him, he cried, ‘Your Highness! What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ Peregrine said jubilantly. ‘We’re going to go in search of the lost spear’.
Jack stared at him. ‘I don’t understand. What lost spear? You mean the Storm King’s spear? But it’s been missing for ages. Years and years’.
‘I know,’ Peregrine said. ‘Since my great-aunt Briony was a baby. But just because something is lost doesn’t mean it can’t be found’.
‘But we’re meant to be going to the Erlrune’s’.
Jack was so bewildered and bothered that Peregrine had to smile. ‘We’re miles and miles away from the Evenlinn. Stiga has been leading us in the wrong direction’.
‘What?’ Grizelda screeched, sitting bolt upright. ‘What are you talking about?’
Peregrine began to explain, but Grizelda did not wait for him to finish. ‘She’s been leading us away from the Erlrune? Well, she’d better start leading us back there right now!’
‘But we’ve already come so far,’ Peregrine said. ‘We’re on the very road that Prince Zander travelled all those years ago. This might be our best bet to find the lost spear’.
‘But we’re meant to be going to the Erlrune’s!’ Grizelda wailed.
‘Well, what do you care?’ Peregrine was taken aback by her vehemence. ‘I thought you were scared of the Erlrune’.
‘I’m not scared exactly,’ Grizelda answered, looking down an
d fiddling with the ring on her finger. ‘It’s just … well, that’s what we’re supposed to do’.
‘We can’t just turn around and ride back,’ Peregrine said. ‘We’ve got a hunter on our trail, with those enormous baying dogs. We’ll ride straight into their jaws’.
She bit her lip. ‘Isn’t there another way? Can’t we circle back?’
‘We could, I suppose, except I certainly don’t know the way through the Perilous Forest from here, and I’m not at all sure Stiga does either’.
‘But she’s meant to be our guide!’
‘Stiga doesn’t know all the paths through the forest, no-one does. I think we must have been travelling by the old road for much of the way, for certainly we were able to gallop our horses quite easily yesterday, weren’t we?’
Jack had been sitting quietly, his thick brows drawn together, his gaze moving from Peregrine’s face to Grizelda’s. ‘Your Highness, I don’t think your parents would want you to risk yourself’.
‘It’s a stupid idea! Ridiculous!’ Grizelda cried, scrambling to her feet.
‘It is not!’ Peregrine began to get angry. ‘Stiga—’
‘She’s just a stupid old woman. What does she know? She’s half-crazy anyway. You’re the prince, order her to take us to the Erlrune’.
‘I won’t,’ Peregrine said. ‘Why should I? I wanted to go and look for the spear in the first place. If my mother wasn’t so protective …’
‘She just wants to keep you safe,’ Jack said quietly. ‘You are the heir to two thrones, remember, your Highness’.
‘How could I ever forget?’ Peregrine retorted. ‘Well, I wish I wasn’t! Locked up all the time, made to do lessons, not allowed to do anything fun. Being a prince is a bloody bore!’
‘Blood is blood, duty is duty,’ Stiga said from behind him. Peregrine ignored her. He had heard that particular saying of hers enough times that it made him want to scream.
Grizelda stamped her foot. ‘I tell you, we need to turn around! Surely you can find the way. Haven’t you been there before? Don’t you know the way?’
‘Well, I know the way from the Stormlinn, of course, but that’s miles behind us,’ Peregrine said. ‘I have no idea how to get there from here. Besides, there are only two, maybe three, passages into the Erlrune’s valley’.
‘Only two or three ways in,’ Grizelda repeated, narrowing her eyes.
‘What’s it to you anyway?’ Jack demanded.
She flicked him a look. ‘You think I want to be lost in the Perilous Forest? The queen said we’d be safe with the Erlrune’.
‘But if we’re headed southwest, then we’re headed straight towards your home,’ Jack said, his voice hard with suspicion. ‘I’d have thought you’d be begging us to take you home, not to head straight back into the Perilous Forest’.
Grizelda stared at him. ‘Oh, goodness! Are we really almost home? How can you tell? I thought we were lost’.
‘Don’t you have any sense of direction?’ Jack sneered. ‘How like a girl!’
She put her nose in the air. ‘I’m sure I have a perfectly good sense of direction, thank you very much. Except how I’m supposed to use it when we’ve been galloping through a forest, I don’t know’.
‘Haven’t you noticed how flat the land is, and how few pine trees? There are no mountains in sight at all,’ Peregrine said. ‘And the rising sun is behind us’.
She glanced at the long rays of early light striking through the bare branches, then shrugged. ‘I’m sure I would’ve noticed if I’d had time. I’m sorry if I lost my temper. I’d just woken up and it was a shock. There’s no need for your lackey to get cantankerous with me’.
Jack scowled at her words but Peregrine said, ‘That’s all right. I should’ve thought’. He bent and picked up his pack and thrust the silver bowl away inside, before slinging his pack onto his shoulder. ‘We should get on our way, we can eat in the saddle. I’d hate for that hunter to find us. If he’s managed to kill off all of my bodyguard, I’m sure he’ll make short work of us!’
Although he spoke lightly, Peregrine felt a dull ache in his chest at the thought of the bodies of his brave and loyal bodyguards strewn through the forest behind him. He had known most of the Merry Men since babyhood and he was shocked and deeply grieved at their deaths. The death of Sir Medwin, his tutor, was an even sharper grief. Peregrine had loved the kindly old man, and was tormented with guilt that Sir Medwin had sacrificed his own life to save his prince’s.
Grizelda stepped closer to him. ‘We will go now to the Erlrune’s, won’t we?’ she asked pleadingly. ‘I hate the thought of your Highness riding into danger’.
He looked at her in surprise. ‘No, I told you. Stiga brought us here for a reason. She thinks it’s time to search for the lost spear and so do I. It feels as if it’s meant to be’.
‘Child of storm, find the spear, it is time, do not fear,’ Stiga repeated.
Grizelda cast her an irritated look. ‘But sir,’ she protested through clenched teeth. ‘Surely that is not wise. What is this lost spear anyway? Surely a child’s plaything is not worth risking your life for?’
‘It’s not a plaything,’ he said, walking to where Sable was tethered. His saddle rested nearby and he hoisted it up.
‘Your Highness, let me do that!’ Jack cried.
Peregrine waved him away. ‘Saddle your own mangy hack! Oh, and that’s something else. You’ll have to stop calling me your Highness, Jack, it’ll give the game away in an instant. Just call me … I don’t know … Call me Robin like Mam does’.
Jack’s face was sober. ‘You are sure about this, your Highness?’
‘In truth, I have never been more sure about anything,’ Peregrine replied, returning his gaze steadily. Jack bowed his head.
‘You can’t be serious! Jack, tell him! It’s a crazy idea. We should do what the queen commanded and go to the Erlrune’. Grizelda stamped her foot and glared at Jack.
‘I do what my Highness commands,’ he said woodenly.
‘Robin! Call me Robin!’ Peregrine mounted his stallion and held out his arm for his falcon, who flew down at once.
‘I do what Robin commands,’ Jack repeated, a very faint grin quirking his mouth as he jumped up into his own saddle.
‘But it’s stupid! It’s foolhardy. We’ll get into trouble’.
‘You can go home if you want,’ Jack said. ‘It’s really not that far. Keep the sun on your left in the morning and your right in the afternoon, and you’ll be there in no time’.
‘But I don’t know the way! I’ll get lost!’ Grizelda wailed.
‘Come on, Grizelda. I promise we won’t do anything dangerous. Well, not too dangerous anyway. We’ll see where the road leads and then, if we can’t find the spear in a week or so, we’ll go back. I promise’. Peregrine smiled at her.
After a moment she sighed. ‘Oh, all right then. But someone’s going to have to help me up onto my horse’.
‘Jack!’ Peregrine called.
‘I thought I wasn’t a squire anymore,’ Jack grumbled but got down from his horse and cupped his hands for Grizelda’s boot. She allowed him to lift her into the saddle, and then dug her heels deep into her mare’s side. The horse reared, neighing loudly, then took off, showering Jack with clods of icy mud.
CHAPTER 10
The Storm King’s Spear
‘RACE YOU!’ GRIZELDA CALLED TO PEREGRINE. HE GRINNED and wheeled Sable about, the stallion leaping forward into a gallop.
Jack cursed under his breath and brushed the mud away. By the time he had swung himself back into his saddle, Grizelda was racing away down the valley, Peregrine in close pursuit. Jack sighed and urged his gelding into a canter. The owl swooped past him, and Jack grinned. He loved the way Stiga turned from an old woman into a snowy-white owl in the merest blink of an eye.
Ahead, the white mare slowed just enough that Peregrine was able to gallop past Grizelda with a whoop of excitement, waving his hat. ‘Oh, well done, sir!’ Grizelda cried.
Grizelda said to Peregrine, smiling, ‘What a beautiful boy you have! It’s not many that can beat my Argent!’
‘Argent? Is that your mare’s name?’ Peregrine answered. ‘What a coincidence! My boy’s called Sable’.
She laughed. ‘No, really? That’s quite uncanny. We obviously think along the same lines’.
‘Jack, listen to this! Both of us named our horses after the heraldic colours. Black is sable in heraldry and silver or white is called argent. Isn’t that a coincidence?’
Sure, Jack thought to himself. I’d wager a week’s wages that she found out what his Highness called his horse and named hers accordingly.
He glowered at Peregrine, willing him to see it for himself, but his prince simply trotted on with Grizelda by his side, talking as comfortably as if he had known the starkin girl all his life.
‘So tell me more about this crazy plan of yours,’ Grizelda said. ‘Where are we going and why?’
‘We’re going in search of the lost spear of the Storm King,’ Peregrine said. ‘I’ve always wanted to but my parents are so protective of me, they never let me do anything’.
‘Is that because of the … you know. The falling sickness?’
Jack felt grim satisfaction. His prince hated anyone to refer to his ailment. He was pleased to see Peregrine draw himself up, moving his stallion away from Grizelda.
‘No,’ Peregrine answered shortly. ‘It’s just because there have been so many attempts to get rid of me’.
‘People have tried to kill you?’ Grizelda leant towards him. ‘But who? Why?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? I’m heir to both my father and to Queen Rozalina. And so many stories have been told about me. You know, that I’m the one who will smite the throne of stars asunder and bring peace to the land’.
‘Do you believe those stories?’ she asked curiously.
Peregrine looked at her in surprise. ‘Of course! Aunty Rozalina is a Teller of Tales, she speaks true. So many things she predicted have happened’.