The Princess and the Captain

by Anne-Laure Bondoux

  Of course nothing happened. The sky was clear. A few stars began to come out.

  ‘Archim bawas,’ sighed Babilas. ‘Foadrom baidir.’

  ‘We must prepare die,’ Lei sadly translated. ‘Is fate.’

  A gloomy silence followed these words. The dregs of their insipid soup grew cold in their bowls. Only Zeph went on lapping the yellowish liquid, unaware of the misfortune hanging over him.

  Then Hob said, ‘The fortune-teller lied to us. We believed her because … because it was so nice to believe in it!’ He took his brother by the shoulders. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he whispered to him. ‘We’ve been on a splendid voyage all the same. Never mind the glory and riches, never mind …’

  He raised his head with its dirty, tangled mop of hair, and looked at his companions. Then, in a small voice, he told them the secret that he and Peppe had kept so jealously until now.

  ‘The cards foretold that we would do great things. They said we were destined to rescue the Princess and save Galnicia from disaster. We stowed away on board the Errabunda to make sure the prediction came true. But best of all, the cards said that when we came home we … we’d become princes.’

  This time no one felt like laughing at the twins’ gullibility.

  ‘Princes? But … but of what country?’ asked Orpheus gently.

  Hob hugged his brother again and cleared his throat. ‘Princes of Galnicia,’ he murmured. ‘The fortune-teller said we … we could always marry the Princess. That’s our secret.’

  Taken aback, Malva raised her eyebrows. ‘I was supposed to marry you? Both of you?’

  The expression on the two brothers’ faces showed that they didn’t know how it could be done either, but they hadn’t thought too hard about the details.

  ‘It was such an amazing thing to hear,’ said Hob apologetically. ‘Orphans like us, poor boys, thieves and vagabonds getting to be Princes! Now I know the fortune-teller was laughing at us. And even if we did manage to escape the Immuration, we know perfectly well that the Princess wouldn’t want us.’

  He said this so sadly that Malva felt a lump in her throat.

  ‘I … I’m very fond of you,’ she murmured. ‘Don’t think I’m not … but I –’

  ‘Don’t apologise,’ Hob interrupted. ‘People can’t help how they feel.’

  Orpheus and Malva looked at each other sorrowfully. What the boy had said left them speechless. For a moment Hob had shared his dream with everyone, but now that vision of a bright future would never come true. He knew it, and admitting that there was nothing he could do about it had cost him dearly.

  That evening, anyway, there was no future for any of them. Hardly any acid was left in the alembic on top of the Nokros. The last Stone of Life was being eaten away, full of holes, and broken in two. Like the hearts of the passengers on the Fabula.

  When the wind rose on the morning of the last day, Orpheus had the sails taken in, hoping to slow the ship down slightly. But the winds blew so strongly that soon the Fabula seemed to be almost flying over the water. Gusts blew in under the cabin doors, making the timbers creak and raising sinister sounds like lamentations. It was cold. The crew had nothing to eat. Their hands closed on invisible things. They waited. There was no hope left in their wild eyes.

  They all shut themselves into their own berths, unable to meet each other’s eyes or find a word of comfort to say. Even Orpheus and Malva, who dreamed only of spending this last day together, could not bring themselves to touch or speak to each other. Every time they found themselves alone together a fire flamed up inside them, and then they turned away.

  Only Zeph had changed none of his habits: he stayed on deck, lying stretched out full length in the midst of disaster.

  Towards midday, however, the winds died down and the current was not so strong. A sunbeam broke through the cloud cover. One by one the six passengers came out of their cabins. Up on deck, they turned their faces to the sun with the avidity of those who know they have little time left.

  It was at this moment that they heard the growling.

  It was both an animal and a mineral sound. A growling that came from below, rising from the seabed or even beyond. It made the hull of the Fabula vibrate, and the mast shook. All the passengers felt a savage shock inside their heads.

  Zeph had risen to his feet. He raised his damp muzzle and pricked up his ears, facing east. His stiff, arthritic hindquarters didn’t prevent him from going over to the bulwarks, where he even managed to put his paws up on the rail.

  Orpheus was going to see what scent he had picked up when the growling came again, even more powerful and deafening, leaving the Captain rooted to the spot. Beside him, none of his companions seemed able to move a muscle either. The sea had begun swelling and pitching, while the noise grew ever louder.

  Paws propped on the rail, Zeph was sniffing the air, uttering little yaps.

  Suddenly the waves opened, and a huge creature emerged right in front of the Fabula. It was seated on a black rock, from which streams of sticky volcanic lava flowed.

  Orpheus tried to speak, but his mouth, like the rest of his body, would not obey him. Powerless and terrified, all he could do was watch the monster which had just barred their way.

  It was a gigantic dog with a bristling coat and powerful muscles. When it opened its mouth, its red fangs showed, and a trickle of lava ran down its chest. A dreadful smell immediately rose to the travellers’ noses, and Zeph began barking.

  The monster turned its muzzle towards the St Bernard, opened its fiery eyes and stared at Zeph. It towered above him from the top of its volcanic rock, but Zeph didn’t back down. He went on barking defiantly, evidently unaware that he was the weaker party. The creature stretched itself in his direction, coming so close that its chops brushed the ship’s rail.

  Zeph growled again and arched his own neck forward. The two dogs were now nose to nose, ears back, ready to fight. From the monster’s red jaws drops of lava fell steaming into the sea.

  Zeph suddenly leaped aside. Miraculous as it might seem, he appeared to have recovered the vigour of his youth.

  The monster immediately opened its jaws and tried to bite him. But Zeph was running up and down the deck of the Fabula, barking furiously. Up on its rock, the monster swayed its enormous head from side to side in time with the St Bernard’s movements.

  Unable to move, reduced to silence, Orpheus and his companions watched this unlikely confrontation. Zeph seemed so weak by comparison! He might jump, leap, snap his jaws and raise a threatening paw, but he wouldn’t last long against such an adversary.

  The black dog suddenly crouched on its rock and then leaped. It flew through the air and landed heavily on the deck of the ship.

  Orpheus and the others turned pale. At close quarters the animal seemed even more enormous. It would surely sweep Zeph away with a single blow of its paw.

  Zeph, however, went on leaping and bounding about in front of the black dog’s nose. He ran around the chests and empty barrels, brushed close to the rail, skirted the mainmast. But the creature was not impressed. It lunged at Zeph, once, twice, three times, digging its claws into the planks of the deck, biting crates until they broke – yet each time Zeph escaped. The lava dripping from the black dog’s jaws left charred trails on deck, and there was a smell of sulphur and burnt flesh in the air. The six passengers were suffocating.

  At the seventh attempt the huge dog managed to bite the St Bernard’s tail. Zeph let out a howl, twisted and managed to free himself. He set off in panic, running in zigzags.

  When the monster flung itself at Zeph again, the St Bernard was driven back against the bulwarks. Orpheus thought Zeph’s throat would be torn out before his eyes, but the old dog’s reactions were incredible. He turned like lightning and leaped overboard. The big dog, carried away by its own weight, left the rail in splinters and followed Zeph as he fell.

  From where they stood, the passengers on the Fabula could see nothing of what was going on below. They heard eddying wa
ter, and saw dense vapours rise in the air.

  Suddenly Zeph came into view again; he had swum to the rock and clambered up on it, scorching his paws. Behind him, the black dog’s dreadful jaws tried to seize their prey one last time, but its strength seemed to have left it. When Zeph reached the top of the rock, the black dog let out a short growl of agony, and sank into the depths of the ocean. The St Bernard had replaced the monster on its incandescent throne.

  At that moment the mysterious paralysis that had overcome the passengers passed off. Orpheus could feel his fingers, arms and legs again. Beside him, his companions recovered their voices and their power of movement. They ran to the rail, shouting the old St Bernard’s name.

  On the rock, the flow of lava had dried up. Zeph, who had been yapping with pain, stopped bounding about. The rock had suddenly gone cold and was no longer burning his paws. He stood still, and turned his head towards the Fabula.

  ‘Zeph!’ shouted Orpheus. ‘Get off there, quick!’

  ‘Ilgad korf!’

  ‘Come back!’ shouted the twins. ‘Hurry up!’

  Zeph growled once more, and suddenly stopped moving. He had bent his big head to one side, and was sitting on the hardened rock. He no longer barked or growled.

  His eyes suddenly turned dull. The black rock was enveloping his paws, his legs and his tail like glue. Before the horrified gaze of his companions on the Fabula, he was gradually covered by its consuming substance. Within a few moments, he had turned entirely into stone.

  When even his muzzle disappeared under the black rock, Lei, Malva and the twins burst into tears.

  ‘Oh, Zeph!’ murmured Orpheus, stupefied.

  He raised his face to the sky to howl with grief and rage. But his cry was stifled in his throat. The metal silhouettes of the Patrols had just appeared, and they were making straight for the Fabula.

  41

  The Immuration

  There was nothing but turbulent water as far as the eye could see, and the wind was still blowing the same way. An electrically tempestuous atmosphere suggesting the end of the world hung over this part of the Archipelago. From time to time, cries of despair seemed to resound, distress calls from the depths of time that made the listeners shudder. This appeared to be a place where all human lamentations from the dawn of time came together.

  Malva took Orpheus’s hand. They did not exchange a word, but their intertwined fingers spoke of desperation, love and fear.

  Lei, Babilas, Peppe and Hob grouped together at the prow, their faces marked with grief. When the Patrols flew over the Fabula they did not even tremble. They looked at them in silence, as a condemned man might watch a firing squad on its way.

  There were grinding sounds, a turmoil of strident cries, and the human-headed birds came down on the battered deck of the ship.

  ‘Welcome to the centre of the Archipelago,’ said the first bird ceremoniously, blinking its tiny eyes.

  The others folded their wings and swayed their long necks.

  ‘All the power of Catabea is manifest here!’ announced another bird. ‘Here all converges and comes together! The sky and the sea join here! This is the axis on which our World turns!’

  A third bird left the group and came over to Orpheus. ‘Captain, give us the Nokros!’

  Orpheus felt his strength fail him. He would have liked to disobey, seize the bird’s flabby neck and wring it, but his reserves of anger had run out. He withdrew his hand from Malva’s, and with his back bowed went down to his cabin to find the Killer of Time.

  When he came back with it, the others saw that there was almost nothing left of the last Stone of Life. The final drops of morbic acid would soon dissolve it. Orpheus put it down in front of the bird, which bent its neck to examine it.

  ‘So you have failed, strangers! Just as we expected!’ cackled the bird.

  The assembled Patrols quivered with satisfaction.

  ‘According to our information, you only just failed,’ remarked the bird who had spoken first. ‘You had only one test left to take, but your time has run out!’

  ‘Not yet!’ cried Orpheus, pointing to what was left in the hourglass. ‘Your Law says that we are not condemned until the last Stone has entirely disappeared!’

  ‘What are you hoping for?’ asked one of the Patrols, with derision. ‘When you passed the rock of the Black Dog you crossed the threshold. The currents are carrying you on. It’s too late!’

  Malva went up to the bird, her chin trembling. ‘Two of our companions are dead!’ she said in a broken voice. ‘Was their sacrifice for nothing? You said yourselves that we nearly succeeded.’

  All the birds tilted their terrible little heads to one side – the same side – and looked scornfully at Malva.

  ‘Sacrifice or no sacrifice, that’s none of our business!’ laughed one of them. ‘Nobody asked you to sacrifice yourselves. If two of you did, no doubt that was because there was no other way open to them. There were eight of you, and you had eight Stones of Life. Only seven of you were able to face the truth about yourselves. You have failed.’

  ‘It’s my fault!’ howled Peppe, burying his face in his hands. ‘Hob was honest! He dared to reveal our secret, and that counted as a test! But I’m not capable of anything. I’m the one responsible! Take me and let the others go!’

  He flung himself on his knees and crawled towards the Patrols. But Hob caught him by the collar, and hauled him back with all his might.

  ‘There’s nothing to discuss!’ one of the Patrols snapped. ‘Catabea doesn’t decide piecemeal; the whole crew of a ship suffers the same fate. That is the Law.’

  At this moment another bird cried, ‘Tow her away!’

  In perfect unison, the Patrols unfolded their metal wings and took off. Some closed their claws over the break-head rail, others clung to the poop taffrails, others again to the shrouds, the foretop, the capstan, the stays, the davits. They were everywhere. The ship bristled with the strange shapes of the Patrols like enemy arrows.

  ‘All over now,’ murmured Lei. ‘We die in Immuration.’

  Babilas wrapped his huge muscular arms round the twins, as if to protect them, but deep dismay could be read in his eyes. His astonishing strength had not helped him to save his fiancée in the past, and it was still no use to him today. All he hoped for was to help the two boys endure the shock and pass from the world of the living into the Immuration without too much pain.

  Malva drew Lei towards her with her right hand, while her left hand held Orpheus’s. She remembered the peaceful shores of the island of Elgolia, the soft meadows, the white sand … Orpheus bent his face over hers. She saw her own reflection in his blue eyes: the image of a young woman with inky black hair who had surely never been so beautiful before. Orpheus’s lips touched her forehead. A thrill passed through her. And suddenly the Fabula took off.

  Clutching her in their claws, the Patrols carried the ship through the air, their long necks straining with the effort. They flew rhythmically, like machines. The ship flew through the sky, through the clouds, casting her shadow on the waves.

  Down below, far beneath the hull, lay a huge whirlpool. Leaning against the bulwarks, the passengers of the Fabula saw the terrifying vastness of the Immuration beneath them: at the centre of the whirlpool, a black and gaping mouth opened on a void. The waters were pouring into it in a resounding cascade that seemed to flow on for ever. It was like seeing the real frontiers of the Worlds. That obscure, disturbing eye seemed to be swallowing up the sea with an ogre’s greed. And in a moment it would swallow up the Fabula too.

  ‘What’s down there?’ cried Malva to Orpheus, as the wind blew her hair backwards.

  There was absolute terror in her wide, amber eyes. Orpheus felt his throat contract.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve no idea what’s down there. Stay with me!’

  The condemned crew were huddling together, trying to overcome the fear flooding through them. They exchanged desperate glances, a few words came out, cries and moans, and Babila
s held the twins so tight that he almost choked them. Two tiny pieces of the Stone of Life were left in the Nokros, and a great deal of powder.

  When the Patrols were right above the eye of the Immuration, and the dreadful noise of the whirlpool prevented anyone from speaking, they all knew that the final moment had come. The birds beat their wings in reverse to slow the flying ship.

  ‘May the Law of the Archipelago be kept, may sentence be carried out!’ pronounced all the Patrols together.

  They abruptly opened their claws and folded their legs. The Fabula instantly dropped sheer into the eye of the Immuration.

  The six passengers felt their stomachs rise to their throats. There was a deafening whistle and a great gust of wind.

  At that moment Peppe escaped from Babilas’s arms. The giant had no time even to move. Peppe rushed forward, leaped over the ship’s rail – and jumped into the void before the Fabula’s hull had even touched its rim. His small, disjointed body plunged straight into the darkness, ahead of the Fabula, whose sails, spread in the wind, slowed her fall slightly.

  He did not utter a single cry.

  The others hardly had time to realise what was happening. Only Hob immediately sensed his brother’s death in his own body. He thought his guts were tearing apart, his heart exploding, his soul was ablaze. And suddenly the Nokros broke to splinters, scattering the brown powder.

  ‘Peppe!’ shouted Hob, collapsing on deck.

  The shock that followed almost threw him overboard, but the halyards tangling with the sheets caught him. The others clung as best they could to anything within reach. The Fabula was sucked into the Immuration like an insect being swallowed up by a toad.

  Then there was nothing but a great black silence. The silence lasted for a very long time, and was so dense that the ship seemed to float in it, weightless.

  The sudden calm allowed Babilas, Lei, Malva and Orpheus to pluck up some courage. They crawled towards each other, feeling their way. Their gasping breath was misty in the dark. They felt empty, as if an explosion had blasted them apart. But when they realised that they were still alive their fingers intertwined again.