by Garth Nix
Finally, the horses were cared for and the camp was prepared for the night. Odo and Eleanor wearily reclined on their bedrolls and listened to Egda and Hundred once again pursue a brief exchange with people who weren’t there, including two whose names they had not heard before. Odo wondered how long until they started repeating their lost friends, and whether it made either of them any happier.
Hearing Egda and Hundred talk to the dead made Eleanor feel surrounded by ghosts lurking in the shadows. She shivered.
‘Your education proceeds apace, my young knights,’ Egda told them, returning to the living with a scratch of his proud nose. Eleanor wondered if he had overheard her complaint about not learning anything. ‘My father always said that nothing compares to putting a person right into the affairs they wish one day to manage. “Errors made in ignorance are lessons always learned,” he liked to tell me. At this pace, you will surpass Hundred and me in wisdom before you are half our age.’
Warmed by the encouragement, Odo felt bold enough to ask something that had been on his mind all evening.
‘This pact between humans and urthkin … who started it?’
‘Ah, that would be Acwellen the Sage, many kings ago. He brokered a peace after a long history of squabbling between our two very different peoples. It turned out that, provided certain provisions were made regarding trade, we really had very few reasons to fight, except for occasional acts of pigheadedness on either part. It saddens me that we are in such a time at present.’
‘What will happen if the pact is permanently broken?’ asked Eleanor, not wanting to fight the urthkin but thinking of the many battles – and the demand for brave knights – that might arise if it was.
‘War,’ confirmed Hundred, the gleam of long-ago fires in her eyes.
‘It will not come to that,’ said Egda. ‘Not while I live.’
Odo had his doubts as to how much four people could do against the entire might of the regent and her Instruments, Adjustors and Regulators, but he had faith in his betters, as he had been raised to, and suppressed his misgivings for now. Presumably the former king had allies he could call on, or at least favours to call in.
‘Are there pacts with any other creatures?’ he asked.
‘Many,’ Hundred said in her brisk way, for Egda had fallen abruptly silent again, as was his wont at night. ‘Dragons, for instance.’
‘There’s a pact with dragons?’ Eleanor asked.
‘Of course. Otherwise they might have eaten us all long ago.’ Hundred stood. ‘I’m going to cast about to see if anyone is looking for us from Ablerhyll. I won’t be long. Swords, keep watch, and knightlings, rest, for we ride again in three hours.’ ‘Yes, sir,’ said Odo and Eleanor as their enchanted swords took up position at either end of the camp.
Eleanor tried to calm her thoughts, but they were busy from the day and what lay ahead. She was beginning to appreciate that she occupied a small place in a very strange world full of very strange things, but that only made her want to see it all.
‘Who do you think negotiated the pact with the dragons?’ she asked Odo. ‘I wonder how it works.’
But her friend was already asleep, and the swords didn’t answer either. Soon, lulled by the chirruping of a nearby cricket or perhaps a lone, lost bat, she was asleep as well.
They rode all that night and slept the next day, granted a reprieve from all but the most basic of chores as they raced the sun to form a camp. There was no conversation that morning, just grateful collapse into sleep for all but Hundred, who took the first watch. Odo was next, and he was not easy to rouse. Knowing that Eleanor was tired, he gave her an extra hour before waking her up in turn.
‘No troubles?’ she yawned.
‘Three bees,’ he told her. ‘But luckily your snoring scared them away.’
‘Ho ho. Get some rest, Jester Knight, or I’ll let the bees sting you when they come back.’
Eleanor perched on a log near Runnel, rubbing her eyes and wishing there was a fire so she could make some tea. This was the worst part of being a knight, she thought, sitting around waiting for something to happen. And when something did happen, it was often horrible and entirely out of her control. She had greatly preferred it when she and Odo had been off on their own adventures, answerable to only themselves, even though there were times the errors she’d made in ignorance had very nearly cost her life or the lives of others. At least back then she hadn’t been expected to do chores all day and dig other people’s toilets and ride until she ached in every joint.
Still, it was better than staying at home and doing nothing. Of that she was completely certain. She was seeing the world, albeit slower than she would have liked. And every now and again Egda let something slip about the life in court that awaited them.
The sun sank slowly towards the horizon, painting the western sky in brilliant reds and oranges. Her instructions were to wake the others when the fiery disc touched the distant hills. As the shadows lengthened, she thought she heard the high-pitched cries of the lost bat again, but she put it out of her mind in order to do as she had been instructed.
‘Hundred?’ she said, shaking the old woman’s shoulder. This time the warrior had both eyes closed, properly asleep. ‘Time to wake up.’
The next thing Eleanor knew, she was on her back with a glittering knife at her throat. Then Hundred’s eyes cleared and she came fully awake, letting Eleanor go with a grunt. She stood up and replaced the knife into a pocket at her side in one fluid movement.
Behind her, floating in the air like a giant silver mosquito with an emerald eye, hovered Runnel, caught between saving her knight and respecting Eleanor’s superior.
‘That can be tonight’s first lesson,’ Hundred told Eleanor, who got nervously to her feet and brushed herself down, feeling as though a dozen small rocks had embedded themselves through her tunic into the skin of her back. ‘Let sleeping knights lie, or at least rouse them gently, if you want to see another sunset.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Get the other knightling to his feet and we’ll start on your next lesson … if I haven’t put you off?’
Eleanor nodded, face burning. Hundred too had obviously heard her complaint about not learning anything. She would have to mind her tongue more carefully.
‘Do not be despondent,’ whispered Runnel as she returned to Eleanor’s side. ‘I for one relish the chance to learn alongside the great knight you will undoubtedly become, unlike the others I have served.’
But it wasn’t combat Hundred taught them, it was how to scratch together a healthy breakfast from roots and berries found in the copse nearby, supplemented by insects attracted to the light of a small fire. Boiled and mashed together with a small amount of water, then fried as a paste on a blackened iron plate, the mixture was not nearly as revolting as either Eleanor or Odo feared. In fact, it had an almost-pleasant nutty taste and left them feeling full and energised for the night ride ahead.
‘There’s a bat flapping around the camp,’ commented Odo as they packed up. ‘I’ve seen it fly over three times in the last minute.’
‘How can you tell it’s the same one?’ Eleanor asked.
‘It’s small, but really fast. Like a mouse with wings.’
Not at all like the legendary barrow bats, which were rumoured to be as fat as rats, with wingspans as long as Odo’s arm. He was glad it wasn’t one of those. ‘Do you think the same person who sent the bilewolves and ravens sent this one too?’
‘I’ve never heard of craft-workers using bats,’ said Eleanor. ‘What can we do about it anyway?’
‘I’ll tell Hundred,’ said Odo. ‘Best to be careful.’
Eleanor forgot about the bat as Odo wandered away to talk to Hundred, and focused on reviewing strikes and blocks. If she wasn’t going to learn anything new, she would at least remember everything she’d learned already.
They rode quickly, following Hundred with Egda safely protected between them. The sky was clear, with stars so bright it seemed s
ometimes they were about to fall. When the moon rose, it was half full, and painted the road with ripples of light. The horses made a driving, percussive rhythm as the party climbed steadily higher in altitude, broaching the shoulders of a mountain range that Hundred called the Offersittan, which stood as a barrier directly across their path.
‘The usual way to cross the Offersittan is at Kyles Frost,’ she said as they dismounted to walk the horses for a while, before changing to the fresher ones. ‘However, that will be impossible for us because it is closely guarded. When you see the twin peaks Twisletoth and Tindit standing on the horizon like the horns of a giant beast, you will know that we are close and need to be wary of other travellers on this road.’
‘Do you have a plan?’ Eleanor asked.
‘Perhaps to go around it, although that will take us much longer. I believe in preserving all possibilities, as long as my name is Hundred … Ah! Our stealthy companion has made its move at last!’
The bat had dropped out of the sky with a leathery flapping and grasped a branch directly overhead, emitting an impatient series of squeaks and chirps. It was thin and shivering, as though very weak.
A small throwing knife appeared in Hundred’s hand. Runnel and Biter joined their knights as all three of them took up positions around Egda, who asked, ‘What is it? Another bird attack? But this sounds different.’
‘It’s a bat,’ said Eleanor. ‘And it’s been following us.’
With so many blades pointing at it at once, the little creature squawked back into the air and resumed circling.
‘It was searching for us the night we escaped Ablerhyll,’ said Hundred, who had not needed Odo’s warning, ‘and found us this morning. I have watched it closely ever since, awaiting a third approach from our enemy, the lighter of the craft-fires, but there has been no sign of any other animal adversaries. I believe that this is something different. No less a threat, perhaps, but not of an immediate nature.’
‘What made it land now?’
‘I believe, Sir Eleanor, it was because I said my name.’ The bat flapped around them three times, occasionally coming closer, then darting away. It was indeed very small, and presented no obvious danger to them. Eleanor was sure Hundred could have downed it with a knife, and as she hadn’t, was forced to conclude that Hundred intended more from the encounter than a swift end to the creature.
‘Let it approach,’ Egda told them. ‘If its intentions are perfectly natural, or at least peaceful, we will soon know. Perhaps our enemy wishes to treat with us.’
‘Aye, sir.’ Hundred lowered her hand to her side, but kept the blade at the ready. Odo and Eleanor did the same.
The bat circled one more time, then swooped in to grasp the same branch as before. Gripping the tree tightly and tucking its wings against its sides, it regarded them from its upside-down position with eyes as black as jet.
‘Its eyes aren’t smoky,’ said Eleanor. ‘It’s not some craft-worker’s servant.’
The bat’s ugly muzzle twitched as it started squeaking again.
‘Sounds like it’s talking to us,’ said Odo.
‘But bats can’t talk, can they?’ Eleanor, cocking an ear, could make no sense of the string of tiny sounds. ‘Not like dragons.’
‘What’s it doing?’ asked Hundred. ‘Talking, you say?’
‘Can’t you hear it?’ Odo glanced at the puzzled face of Hundred and knew his answer.
‘I hear nothing,’ said Egda. ‘The pitch of its voice must be too high for my old ears.’
‘I hear it, but can make no sense of it,’ said Odo slowly.
‘I hear nothing,’ said Biter with a puzzled shiver.
‘Listen,’ said Eleanor, concentrating hard. ‘It almost sounds like … like letters …’
Odo frowned. She was right. The tiny bat wasn’t saying words, but spelling them!
‘— r! y! k! u! r! g! e! s! h! a! s! t! e! p! r! i! n! c! e! k! e! n! d!—’
‘What’s it saying?’ Eleanor said. ‘I can’t string it together quickly enough.’
‘I can,’ said Odo. ‘Hang on.’
His mouth moved as he followed the rapid stream of letters, supplying spaces and punctuation where they seemed likely to fit. Soon, he found that the bat was repeating one message over and over.
‘“Prince Kendryk urges haste”,’ he said. ‘It’s a message from Prince Kendryk!’
‘From the heir himself!’ said Egda. ‘Even as a boy, my great-nephew had an unusual bond with animals, and kept many pets.’
‘Wait.’ Odo held up a hand. ‘The letters have changed.’
‘I’m getting it now.’ Eleanor listened closely. ‘The message says, “Imprisoned. My coronation cancelled. Regent to be crowned king. Only the old dragon can save Tofte now.” Who’s the old dragon?’
‘My king,’ said Hundred to Egda, who huffed impatiently. ‘He means you. Kendryk must indeed have sent this missive.’
The bat fell silent, message delivered in full, and watched each of them closely as they spoke, enormous ears seeming to take in every word. Its strange features were screwed up in a state of permanent anxiety, and Odo felt a pang of sympathy for it. This poor animal had flown all the way from Winterset, across mountains and plains, probably lost them in Ablerhyll because of the underground tunnel, then found them a day ago only to be unsure who they were until it heard Hundred’s name. This wasn’t a message that could fall into the wrong hands, after all.
‘Do you have a name?’ Odo asked it, wishing he had a bug or something to offer it.
‘t! i! p!’
‘Tip?’
‘m! i! s! s! e! d! t! h! e! c! a! v! e! m! o! u! t! h! b! y! a! w! i! n! g! t! i! p!’
‘Tip will do.’ Odo reached a hand up to where the bat clung to the branch. It eyed him warily for a moment, then stepped across like an inverted parrot. Its feet were sharp-tipped and clung tightly to him, but not painfully because it was feather-light. It was shivering less now, as though getting used to them.
‘Well, you’ve always wanted a pet.’ Eleanor smirked.
‘But now what do I do?’ Odo asked, standing awkwardly while Tip looked trustingly up at him.
‘Interrogate it while we ride,’ said Hundred. ‘Learn everything it knows. Then we will decide.’
‘But how … where do I put it?’ He waved his arm back and forth. Tip’s feet shuffled from side to side, maintaining their tight grip.
‘Affix a scarf around your throat. Let it cling to that.’
‘It’s a him, I think,’ Eleanor said, helping Odo with the scarf.
When the woollen collar was in place, he brought Tip closer and the bat swapped his grip.
‘There, a bat necklace.’ Eleanor tickled Tip on the top of his head, which hung down almost to Odo’s belly button. He blinked up at her and might have smiled. She found it hard to tell exactly what that ugly face was doing, but in manner he wasn’t unfriendly.
‘Mount up,’ said Hundred. ‘Let’s away. If everything this creature tells us is true, we have even less time than we thought.’
Odo found it hard to ride and follow Tip’s spelled-out squeaking at the same time. Luckily his horse, once again the intelligent Wiggy, knew to follow Hundred’s even when her rider was distracted. To make matters even more difficult, what Tip told him was filtered through the intelligence of a small bat, so much of it was about the moths that lived high above throne rooms and other meeting places, cracks that led to caves underneath the city, and which guards disliked bats to the point of trying to skewer them on pikes. Only where Prince Kendryk had instructed the bat specifically did he have information of use to another human.
One message was very clear: If the Old Dragon didn’t appear in time, all would be lost.
‘Why are you called the Old Dragon?’ Eleanor asked Egda as they rode.
Hundred barked a laugh. ‘Be careful what you say, Sir Eleanor. He never liked the name, no matter how well earned.’
The former king grimaced. ‘I was dubbed so u
pon defeating the giant Fylswingan of Brathanad – although truthfully, it is an inherited title, passed down along my line for three hundred years. Every king tends to earn it eventually, even the most placid.’
‘So Prince Kendryk will be the Old Dragon one day too?’
‘Yes, if he is given the opportunity to become king in truth – and to grow old, as so many have been denied.’
Egda descended into a funk, bringing the subject to a close.
They rode on as the road became ever steeper, winding through valleys and over ridges, past forests and beside rivers Eleanor had never heard of. Occasionally Tip launched himself from Odo’s throat to seek out a tasty snack, but mostly he stayed in place, spelling out his messages and resting after his long flight.
‘He says the regent’s coronation is in three days,’ Odo told the others as they watered the horses in a stream and swapped mounts. ‘That’s not enough time for us to get there, is it?’
‘Not unless we travel day and night,’ said Egda. ‘Perhaps not even then.’
‘Or we cross the Offersittan at Kyles Frost,’ Hundred said.
‘I thought you said we couldn’t do that,’ said Eleanor. ‘It’s too well guarded.’
‘I said it’s impossible, not that we couldn’t do it.’
‘Hundred eats the impossible for breakfast and hunts the inconceivable for supper,’ Egda commented with a weak smile. ‘As Beremus used to say.’
Eleanor and Odo exchanged a glance. The dead were dead and likely to stay that way – unless talked about too much, as some in Lenburh believed. Though neither of the young knights believed this, they were a little alarmed when Egda and Hundred talked about their dead friends, particularly when Hundred assumed their voices.
‘Is it only impossible to cross at Kyles Frost as ourselves?’ asked Odo.
‘A disguise!’ agreed Runnel eagerly. ‘Something more than fake names.’
‘Or we could draw the guards away from the pass,’ said Biter, ‘with a spectacular diversion. I t would be easy to arrange an avalanche.’
