Northwood

by Brian Falkner

  The other lions were rising too, forming a rough semicircle behind the large one. On the path behind her, Cecilia heard a snarl. No longer a throaty growl, this was vicious.

  “We need to climb a tree,” Avery said.

  “They’ll be on us the moment we move,” Evan said.

  “So stay still and become lion food,” Avery said. “I’m going for a tree.”

  The huge lion in front of them, a male, twisted its head around and let out a roar that crashed like waves throughout the forest.

  Stale meaty breath rushed along the pathway.

  They could hear the footsteps of the lion behind them, closing in on them, and the big male in front took a step forward.

  “It’s now or never,” Avery said, preparing to grab for the branches of one of the trees.

  The big male tensed, ready to spring.

  “Stop!” Cecilia yelled. “Stop!”

  Avery stopped.

  The lion stopped.

  Evan stopped breathing.

  “Stop!” Cecilia yelled again. Avery turned in confusion, but saw that Cecilia wasn’t talking to her.

  Cecilia’s hand was held out in front of her as if stopping traffic, but her gesture and her voice were directed at the big lion.

  The coiled tension in the big black lion’s muscles softened and it sank back a little. It turned its head one way then the other, eyeing Cecilia up and down. Then it opened its mouth and gave another roar, but much quieter this time.

  “Why?” asked the lion.

  31

  WISE ONE

  “BECAUSE WE’RE JUST kids,” Cecilia said, trying frantically to think of a good reason why this pack of hungry lions should not eat her and her friends.

  The lion considered that.

  “What the heck is going on?” Avery asked.

  “Just be quiet,” Evan said, who clearly had some idea what was happening.

  “If you are cubs,” the lion said, “then you will be soft and sweet to eat.”

  “But not much of a meal,” Cecilia said. “Don’t you protect your own cubs, your babies, until they are old enough to protect themselves?”

  “Of course,” the old lion said. “But you are not baby lions.”

  “What’s your name?” Cecilia asked, desperate to keep the lion talking. If he was talking, he wasn’t munching. You can’t talk with your mouth full, as her mother was fond of saying.

  The lion gave an answer, but there was no word in English for it. Cecilia felt that the sound was more of a title than a name. This was the leader of the pride, she was sure, but the name did not mean “leader,” or “King of the lions.” It felt more like “wise one,” or “grandfather.” A giver of advice, rather than a giver of commands.

  “These are your lions,” Cecilia said, meaning he was the one in charge, but his answer surprised her.

  “These are my cubs,” the lion said.

  The other lions were all his children, he was saying. Or the children of his children.

  “You are Prowler!” Cecilia realized.

  This lion was one of the original two lions that had escaped from Mr. Jingle’s African Safari Park over fifteen years ago. That made him very old for a lion.

  “Where is Growler?” Cecilia struggled for a word that the lion would understand. “Your wife. Your female.”

  The lion lowered his head. “She is dead,” he growled softly. “Killed by humans . . . by the small round human who lives over there.” He gestured with his paw.

  She knew who he was talking about. King Harry.

  “What happened?” Cecilia asked.

  Prowler lifted his head again and growled softly. “She came across him on one of the paths. She showed him no harm. Without warning, he shot her with a small gun. She dragged herself back home, but died the next day.”

  A gun! No wonder King Harry was so brave. So much for my vision of him striding fearlessly through the forest, Cecilia thought.

  “I’m sorry about your female,” she said. She was telling the truth, and she was fairly certain the lion could sense that. “The King, the small round one, is my enemy also,” she said. “He cast us out into the forest so that you would eat us.”

  The old lion shook his whole body, starting with his head. His mane flared in the moonlight. He stared directly at her. “The small round one would like me to eat you?” He considered that. “Then we will not. Not tonight. Deer and pigs are not as plentiful as they once were in this forest, but we have all eaten today.”

  “Thank you,” Cecilia said sincerely.

  “I cannot promise for another day,” the lion said. “And I cannot guarantee what other lions may do if they catch you alone in the forest. But tonight you are safe.”

  “Thank you,” Cecilia said again. “May I touch you?”

  “Touch me? Why?” the old lion asked.

  “Because I want to,” Cecilia said.

  The lion looked at her for a moment, then nodded. Cecilia stepped forward and put her arms around the lion’s neck, hugging him, feeling the coarse hair of his mane rub on her cheek and neck.

  “Are you crazy?” she heard Avery say behind her.

  “Thank you, Prowler,” Cecilia said.

  “You can let go now,” Prowler said, clearly a little perturbed by all this attention in front of his pride. “And please leave now, before any of my children decide to disobey me and tear you limb from limb for a midnight snack.”

  Cecilia said, “But we don’t know where to go. We want to get back to the castle.”

  The lion shook his head, clearly thinking, but not saying, how useless human beings were at simple things like finding their way around a dark forest at night. He roared at the lion behind them, the one that had been herding them.

  “She will take you,” Prowler said. “Be sure never to come back into this forest.”

  Cecilia turned around to the incredulous faces of Avery and Evan.

  “What is going on?” Evan asked.

  “The lions are leading us back to the castle,” Cecilia said.

  “Of course,” Avery said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  ***

  Their guide, a young female, bounded along in front of them like an excited kitten. Cecilia did not know her name, but decided to call her Retha. Retha led them along winding path after winding path, through gorges and along ridges. They traveled in darkness, but every now and then Retha would turn back and look at them, and the glowing dots of her eyes were their guiding lights.

  “You spoke to that lion,” Evan said as they walked. “And he understood you.”

  “And he spoke back,” Avery said. “And you understood him.”

  “And now this lion is leading us back to the castle,” Evan said.

  “How can that be?” Avery asked.

  They were both trudging along behind her as if in a daze. They were completely bewildered by what they had seen.

  “I don’t really know,” Cecilia said. “I’ve just always been able to understand what animals are saying.”

  “You’ve been talking to Rocky, too, haven’t you?” Avery asked.

  Cecilia nodded.

  “You know what this means,” Evan said slowly.

  “I’m not sure,” Cecilia said. “But I can’t stop thinking about it ever since we saw the picture.”

  “It must be,” Avery said. “Princess Annachanel could talk to animals and so can you. You must be a descendant of the Queen!”

  “After the earthquake and the flood, the people must have settled on the lands around here. That’s where you’re from,” Evan said.

  “My family has lived in Brookfield for generations,” Cecilia agreed. “On my mother’s side at least.”

  “And if you are a descendant of Queen Annachanel, then Castle Storm and Storm Gorge a
re rightfully yours,” Evan said.

  “What about your mother?” Avery said. “Wouldn’t that make her the Queen?”

  “My mother died having me,” Cecilia said. “So I guess it would be me. But talking to animals is no proof that I am related to Annachanel.”

  “It is to me,” Evan said.

  There was a low growl from in front of them. Retha stiffened, her hairs raised, ready to attack. She hissed like a cat.

  And suddenly Rocky was there, bounding down the path toward them. Barking wildly, he threw himself at Retha, trying to defend Cecilia, Avery, and Evan from the lion.

  “No!” Cecilia shouted, but it was too late.

  The Samoyed hurled himself at the lion, who batted him aside with one powerful paw as though she was swatting a fly. Rocky jumped back to his feet and leaped back into the attack, despite Cecilia screaming at both of them to stop.

  A huge backhand swipe from Retha lifted Rocky clean off his feet, smashing him into the trunk of a tarblood tree.

  There was a crack, and Rocky toppled back to the ground and lay still.

  32

  AN ANNOUNCEMENT

  AVERY CARRIED ROCKY back to the castle.

  Cecilia wanted to, but although Rocky was thin, he was too heavy for her. Even Avery struggled with the weight.

  Rocky was still breathing, but his breath was shallow, and when Cecilia put her ear to his chest, his heartbeat was faint.

  He did not move, and although she was no veterinarian, Cecilia felt in her heart that Rocky did not have long in this world.

  Retha led them the rest of the way back to the castle, but remained in the shadows of the path as they walked through the clearing up to the cliff face.

  The morning light was in the sky, although the sun had not yet risen. Already the tarblood trees were starting to give off their foggy mist. The trunks shimmered as the water evaporated and rose, forming the dense fog that would soon envelop the forest.

  The door in the base of the cliff was open just a crack, but widened quickly as they walked into the clearing.

  Mrs. Proctor’s worried face looked out. “Evan! Avery! Cecilia!” She saw the shape in Avery’s arms. “Rocky!”

  She seemed flustered. “Where have you . . . ? What happened to . . . ? Why . . . ?”

  “Where’s the King?” Cecilia asked with narrowed eyes, ignoring all the questions.

  “The King? He . . . we were all so worried,” Mrs. Proctor said. “Why did you run off like that? I . . . Rocky was sniffing and scratching at the door. When I opened it, he just took off. Oh, what have I done?”

  By the time they reached the main courtyard it was full of people. Mrs. Proctor was carrying Rocky now, her face full of tears. Whether the tears were for Rocky or for the safe return of Cecilia and the twins, Cecilia couldn’t tell.

  The royal quarters were at the very top of the castle, so the King and his goons were probably the last to hear the commotion. They were the only people not there. Everybody else crowded around the three of them, demanding answers.

  Evan and Avery’s parents had each grabbed one of the twins, and were hanging on to them as if they would never let them go again.

  “They told us that you had escaped, that Avery and Evan were your accomplices, and that the three of you had run off into the forest,” Mrs. Proctor said.

  Cecilia was exhausted. They had been walking through the forest maze all night — most of it in circles — and the constant fear had used up a lot of energy. Plus, she was dreadfully worried about Rocky.

  Suddenly she found herself curiously energetic. Somehow the excitement and anger were overriding everything else.

  “We escaped, all right,” she said, noticing Tony Baloney at the back of the crowd. How will we explain all this to him? she wondered.

  “But we didn’t run off into the forest,” she continued. “We were going to hide out in the gorge, but we were kidnapped, tied up in sacks, and left in the middle of Northwood.”

  The crowd gasped.

  “At night!” Mrs. Proctor asked. “Didn’t you run into any lions?”

  “Yes, lots,” Avery said, but Cecilia gave her a quick glance, and she didn’t elaborate further.

  “Is that what happened to Rocky?” Mrs. Proctor asked.

  “Yes,” Cecilia said, “Rocky thought a lion was attacking us, so he tried to save us. He’s a hero.”

  Someone found a blanket and Mrs. Proctor laid Rocky down on it in the middle of the courtyard.

  Here in the light Cecilia could see the long gashes that ran across Rocky’s chest and down onto his belly. His eyes were shut and his breathing seemed to be fading away slowly to nothing.

  “Who did this to you?” Mrs. Proctor started to ask, but it was clear from her face that she knew the answer before she even finished asking the question.

  And so did everybody else in the courtyard.

  At that moment King Harry burst down the stairs from the royal quarters. He wore a silk dressing gown, but it was flapping open to reveal a white T-shirt and tacky Mickey Mouse boxer shorts. Grizzly, Weasel, Wolf, and Skunk trailed closely behind.

  “The thief has returned,” the King cried. “A traitor, a spy, and an escaped prisoner to boot.”

  An angry murmur ran through the crowd.

  “Seize them!” the King shouted. The four guards moved forward, only to find their way blocked by a swell of people.

  Cecilia looked around at Avery and Evan, who both nodded.

  “You tell them,” Avery said.

  A pair of strong hands lifted her up onto a stone table.

  She glanced at Rocky one more time before starting to speak.

  “What King Harry doesn’t want you to know,” she said in a strong, clear voice, “is that there is a picture in the royal quarters, in the drawing room, of Baron Mendoza.”

  An angry murmur went through the crowd at the very mention of that name.

  “If you see the picture,” Cecilia said, “I am sure that you will agree that King Harry of Storm is really Harry Mendoza, a descendant of the Baron himself. And what’s more . . . ”

  Up to that stage it had been just a theory, based on the picture, but the King’s reaction provided the proof. An enraged King Harry screamed at his guards.

  With big Sergeant Lee leading the charge, they formed a flying wedge and hurtled into the crowd, knocking people out of their way as they headed for Cecilia.

  She squealed with fright, but could do nothing as the huge shape of Sergeant Lee pushed the last person out of the way and stood right in front of her. He reached out to grab her — to hurt her. His hands were just closing on her arms, when there was a solid dull thudding noise, and Sergeant Lee went flying sideways. He collided with the wall and sprawled across the ground, looking up in a daze at the people around him.

  “Boomphah!” said Tony Baloney.

  The other guards tried to attack Tony, but there were suddenly hands everywhere, grabbing them, pinning their arms back. That just left Tony and Sergeant Lee alone in an empty circle of space.

  “You stupid, brainless moron,” Sergeant Lee yelled, groggily getting back to his feet. “You village idiot, you feeble-minded tar man.” He moved toward Tony, his hands clenching up into fists, but there was something in Tony’s eyes. Cecilia saw it, and Lee must have seen it too. The ice-cold fury that stabbed out of Tony’s eyes would have frightened any creature. No wonder the black lions keep away from him, Cecilia thought.

  The sergeant began to back away. The other guards struggled, but were ensnared in the arms of the crowd, like flies in a spider’s web.

  Tony advanced. Sergeant Lee backed away, terrified, his hands up in front of him as if trying to push Tony away.

  He’s just a bully, Cecilia thought. And, like most bullies, he’s really a big coward. Sergeant Lee tripped and fell backward, sitting on
his behind as Tony loomed over him.

  Suddenly, there was a crashing, booming explosion of a sound, and chips of stone fell from the ceiling of the entryway. Everybody froze, and all eyes turned to the King, who had produced a small black pistol from somewhere in his robe and was waving it in all directions.

  Sergeant Lee took advantage of the shock to jump back to his feet and run toward the King. The other guards wriggled out of the clutches of the crowd and retreated toward the stairs. They backed away slowly as the King waved the gun around.

  There was a surging roar from the crowd, and the King turned and fled. His pudgy, hairy legs in their stupid cartoon boxer shorts pumped up and down like pistons as he fled up the stairs, with the guards close behind him.

  Then nothing remained but a stunned silence, and they heard the big wooden doors at the entrance to the royal quarters slam shut.

  Evan had climbed up onto the table and was trying to get everybody’s attention. Avery put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. The piercing sound cut through the crowd like a sword.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Evan announced, in a very formal-sounding voice. “There was another picture in the drawing room, revealing even more startling information.”

  He paused, then held out a hand toward Cecilia. “I would like all of you to meet the great-great-granddaughter of Queen Annachanel, the great-great-great-granddaughter of King Danyon and Queen Natassia, and the rightful owner of Castle Storm and all its Environs — Her Royal Highness, Queen Cecilia of Storm.”

  There was dead silence in the room.

  Then a remarkable thing happened. Big Tony, who was totally deaf and could not have heard a word of what Evan had said, turned to face Cecilia, dropped to one knee, and bowed his head.

  That started it.

  Every person in the room turned toward Cecilia and, all at once, dropped to one knee and bowed their heads. Bowing to their new Queen.

  “Oh my word,” said Cecilia, which was beginning to become a habit.