Battle of the Heroes

by Kate Forsyth

  At last, Tom could play no longer, the lump in his throat making it hard to breathe. He quickly dragged his sleeve across his eyes.

  Jack whispered, ‘That was beautiful.’

  ‘Will you fly Jack to safety, Rex?’ Tom asked. ‘Then come back and find me, and help me?’

  The griffin inclined his majestic feathered head.

  ‘Then you need to take me back down.’ As he spoke, Tom tucked away his flute, marvelling once again at the way music calmed the great beast.

  The griffin wheeled and flew back down. Within seconds, the beast and his double burden were muffled in cloud and mist again. Then they swooped below the cloud cover.

  And plunged into screaming chaos.

  Elanor ran through the fog-bound streets, her breath sharp in her chest.

  The red rays of light from the tower swept the streets, searching for them. She and her friends did her best to stay in the shadows, but behind them came the slap, slap, slap of leathery feet hitting stone and the snuff, snuff, snuff of nostrils flaring at their scent. They had to make it to the bridge and the secret entrance to the caves, else all was lost.

  Tears blinded Elanor. She tripped and sprawled, grazing the palms of her hands and bruising her knees. Sebastian helped her up. He murmured words of encouragement, even while fending off the rats that now leapt on either side of them. Swordless, he punched one away and kicked another. ‘Get off, you filthy beasts,’ he shouted. ‘Leave Ela be!’

  They staggered on, Beltaine flaming at the rats.

  The bridge loomed ahead of them, a dark hump-backed shape rising out of mist. They heard the swishing of giant wings. With amazement, Elanor recognised Jack clinging behind Tom. He leapt down, and Jack and the griffin soared away into the darkness.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Quinn panted.

  ‘Tell you later. Run!’

  They ran to the bridge. Armoured knights ran to meet them, swords flashing. Elanor fought desperately, but it was no good. The knights were too big, too strong, too well-armed. One knocked her dagger out of her hands and seized her. ‘Won’t my lord be pleased with me? I have the little lady!’

  Elanor struggled with all her strength. The knight had his arm tight about her waist, the chain mail cutting her cruelly. Sebastian fought to get to her, but was tackled to the ground by two knights in heavy black armour.

  Another seized Tom from behind, then swung his sword at Fergus. ‘Down, boy!’ Tom shouted.

  The wolfhound obediently dropped to his haunches, and the sword swung harmlessly over his head. ‘Stay!’ Tom shouted, then yelled at the knight. ‘Don’t kill him! He’ll stay, he’ll stay.’

  The knight menaced the big dog with the point of his sword, but Fergus stayed down, every muscle tense and ready to spring.

  They were surrounded on all sides. Knights in gleaming black armour. Rats with beady red eyes. Hundreds of bog-men creeping out of a swirl of foul-smelling fog. Far above, the searching lances of red light from the witch-sisters’ rings pierced the gloom and once again found and pinned them.

  Elanor felt sick. She feared her old governess Mistress Mauldred even more than she feared the bog-men. The very thought of being caught and taken back to her made Elanor’s knees weaken.

  Quinn caught her arm. ‘Stand tall,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t let them know how afraid we are.’

  ‘We need to get to the underground caves,’ Tom whispered. ‘If we could just jump off the bridge, we could swim to the secret door in seconds.’

  A tall figure in black armour loomed out of the mist, parting the bog-men like a wave. His face was covered with a visor, but Elanor recognised him at once by the boar tusks that crowned his helmet.

  Lord Mortlake laughed in triumph, the sound booming through the iron of his visor. ‘Caught at last!’ he gloated. ‘What trouble you’ve caused me! Foul little pests, I should’ve squashed you long ago.’

  Beltaine swooped from the darkness, hissing and spitting sparks.

  ‘No!’ Sebastian cried. But it was too late. Lord Mortlake seized the little dragon from the air in one huge iron gauntlet.

  ‘Well, this looks useful,’ he drawled. Beltaine spat again. ‘Ah, but you need to learn some manners, don’t you?’ He clamped one fist tightly around the dragon’s muzzle. Though the dragon struggled and scratched, she made no impression on his heavy black armour.

  Elanor felt dread roiling in the pit of her stomach, but tried to square her shoulders and lift her chin.

  Lord Mortlake made a slashing gesture with one hand. ‘Kill them!’

  The knights lifted their swords, keen edges catching the red light so it seemed as if the blades shone with blood.

  At that moment, a neigh rent the night. A huge dark shape came galloping over the bridge, hooves thundering on the cobblestones. Elanor saw the glint of a long spiralling horn. ‘Quickthorn!’ she cried.

  The unicorn reared over her, wielding his horn with wicked intent. The knight who held Elanor so tightly was knocked down. Elanor found herself suddenly and unexpectedly free.

  ‘Thank you, Quickthorn!’ she cried.

  The unicorn attacked the knights holding the others. In moments, they too were free.

  ‘Jump!’ Tom cried.

  He lifted Elanor up to the stone parapet. She looked back. The unicorn was surrounded on all sides by knights, swords flashing. Quinn was already up on the stone parapet. ‘Come on!’ she cried and jumped into the darkness.

  ‘Quickthorn,’ Elanor sobbed.

  Sebastian was looking back as well. ‘Beltaine!’ he called. The little dragon struggled desperately to be free, but she was held firm by hard hands.

  ‘We have to go,’ Tom said. ‘I’m sorry!’

  He pushed Elanor off the parapet.

  Elanor fell, arms flailing. She landed with a great splash in the cold, dark river. Seconds later, Sebastian and Tom jumped into the water beside her. Then, whining, the wolfhound leapt from the parapet.

  They swam forward, Tom carrying the squirming wolf cub in his arms.

  Quinn found the handle and the hidden door swung up. The four children swam inside, Fergus paddling behind, and the door swung shut behind them. All was pitch-black.

  Elanor’s questing foot felt something beneath her, slimy and icy-cold. ‘There’s ground here,’ she said, and heard the others splashing towards her.

  ‘They’ll be after us in a moment,’ Tom said. ‘Is there any way to lock the door behind us?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Quinn said. ‘It’s too dark.’

  ‘If Beltaine was here, she could spit out flames for us to see by,’ Sebastian said. ‘You should have let me rescue her, Tom.’

  ‘There were too many of them, Sebastian,’ Tom said. ‘We had to get away.’

  Elanor could not speak. Her mind’s eye filled with images of the unicorn fighting. ‘Quickthorn saved us,’ she managed to whisper at last. ‘We can’t let his sacrifice be in vain.’

  ‘They won’t kill him,’ Quinn said, her voice quivering. ‘Lord Mortlake wants him.’

  ‘Lord Mortlake wants his horn,’ Elanor corrected her. ‘He does not know he only has to wait till winter and Quickthorn will shed it. Lord Mortlake will kill him for it.’

  Tears overflowed. She wiped them away from her frozen cheeks. Her ring grazed her cheek and she remembered the Traveller’s Stone. It took her a moment to catch her breath so she could blow on it. A silvery-blue light flickered up.

  She and her friends were standing chest-deep in rippling green water. Heavy white stalactites hung above their heads. The stone ceiling curved down on either side, enclosing them within a small cavern. To their left, the cavern receded into shadows, but Elanor could see the faint glimmer of light on water.

  ‘That’s the way we need to go,’ Quinn said. ‘Remember, we sailed down a narrow river to this cavern and I opened the gate with that hanging chain.’ She pointed at a chain that hung down near the hidden gate behind them.

  At that very moment, they heard banging outsi
de.

  ‘We have to secure that door!’ Sebastian cried.

  Quinn dived into the water and swam across to the water gate. She searched hurriedly and found heavy wooden bolts that slammed into place. She swam swiftly back to her friends, her face drained of all colour. ‘It won’t take them long to break through. The bolts are only made of wood.’

  ‘Let’s go!’ Tom cried.

  Dripping wet, shivering with cold, the four children scrambled up the rocky slope and raced alongside the underground river. Fergus trotted ahead of them, his eyes gleaming in the light of the Traveller’s Stone whenever he turned his head to look back at them. Wulfric kept close to Tom’s heels, not liking this cold, dark, echoing place.

  After a while, they came to a wide lake, its waters gleaming a strange translucent green under the silver radiance of Elanor’s ring. When they had last been here, they had found Arwen’s boat, Owl-Eyes. Now the lake was empty. Elanor felt a pang of sadness, remembering the boat being swallowed by the sea-monster’s maw.

  ‘I’m so cold,’ she said, hugging herself. Her wet clothes dragged on her and she was trembling with exhaustion. Her arm ached from holding it high so the ring lit their way.

  ‘There’s a lantern,’ Quinn said, pointing ahead. ‘Let’s see if we can light it.’

  ‘All our tinder will be wet,’ Sebastian said. ‘If Beltaine were here, she could light it.’

  ‘Shut up!’ Elanor finally shouted. ‘We know you’re upset, Sebastian! We’ve all lost our beasts, too.’

  There was a stunned silence. It was so unlike Elanor to speak in such a way.

  Sebastian turned red. After a moment, he muttered, ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry,’ Elanor said. ‘I shouldn’t have yelled.’ For an instant, she heard an echo of Mistress Mauldred’s voice, nagging at her: Ladies must never raise their voices. She swallowed hard. ‘I’m so afraid for Quickthorn … and for my father …’

  And for us too, she thought to herself, as the light from her ring began fading away.

  ‘We’ll just have to do our best to get a spark going,’ Quinn said. ‘Sebastian, do you have the tinderbox?’

  He fumbled about in his pack. In a few moments, they heard the familiar sound of steel scraping on flint. The lantern warmed into life.

  Just then, they heard a distant crash.

  ‘The water gate!’ Quinn cried. ‘They’ve broken through!’

  The pound of running feet echoed through the dark caverns.

  Quinn ran till she thought her heart would burst. Sebastian slipped and fell over. Elanor dragged him up. They kept on running.

  ‘Where will the sleeping heroes be?’ Tom panted.

  ‘I … I don’t know,’ Quinn admitted. ‘Arwen said under the castle.’

  ‘We shall have to explore every passage and every cavern,’ Sebastian said. ‘With soldiers on our trail.’

  ‘And bog-men,’ Elanor panted. ‘I can smell them.’

  ‘They’re getting closer!’ Quinn ran faster.

  Through the narrow, twisting passageways the four friends ran, climbing over rock falls, squeezing under stalactites, slipping on the damp white stone and clambering up again.

  The soldiers almost caught them. Sebastian heaved up a great boulder and threw it. Clang! One of the soldiers fell in a heap. The men following him tripped over his prone figure and came crashing down. The children raced free.

  Quinn recognised the occasional landmark—a rock shaped like a throne, a pool of water that gleamed emerald-green in the swinging light of their lantern, a passageway that led only to a small cell where manacles still hung from the wall.

  And always from behind them, the sound of bog-men, snuffling, searching.

  Tom led them down a passageway they had never explored before. It opened up into a vast cavern, like a giant’s great hall. Far above was a hole that led to the sky. Quinn could see stars out there.

  The darkness above them was full of a constant soft susurration. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh …

  ‘What’s that sound?’ Elanor whispered.

  Fergus growled up at the roof of the cavern. Wulfric barked, high and shrill, and the rustling grew in speed and volume.

  ‘Something’s up there.’ Quinn gazed upwards.

  She heard Sylvan’s weary old voice in her mind. I sleep by day, I fly by night. I have no feathers to aid my flight. Quinn put up her hand to hold the wooden medallion that hung around her neck.

  What is it? she asked.

  I see without seeing, but I am not blind, it is with my voice that I seek and I find.

  Elanor covered her nose. ‘It smells awful.’

  Fergus whined, looking up into the darkness above. The hair bristled along his spine.

  ‘Listen! They’re coming,’ Quinn whispered.

  Slap, slap, slap.

  Snuff, snuff, snuff.

  ‘Quick! Hide!’ Elanor saw a dark space behind a barrier of stalagmites and squeezed in. The others followed hurriedly. Sebastian shuttered their lantern and darkness fell upon them like a heavy cloak. Tom kept his hand clamped firmly over Wulfric’s muzzle and Elanor crouched down, both arms about Fergus’s hairy neck. Quinn hoped that the strong odour of the cave would hide their scent from the bog-men’s sniffing nostrils.

  ‘What’s that horrible smell?’ one knight said.

  ‘It’s your armpits,’ another replied.

  ‘More like your feet!’ the first knight cried, and got a shove in return that sent his armour clanking.

  Sniff, sniff, snuffled the bog-men.

  Whoosh, whoosh, whispered the darkness.

  ‘What’s that sound?’ another knight said.

  ‘That’s your knees knocking together, you coward,’ another jeered.

  ‘No, it’s his teeth chattering!’ a third cried.

  ‘It’s those rotten bog-men sniffing away. They give me the creeps,’ another said.

  ‘This place gives me the creeps.’

  ‘You give me the creeps.’

  Meanwhile, the rustling grew and grew. Quinn craned her neck to see past Sebastian’s shoulder.

  ‘What’s that moving?’ One knight stared up into the darkness. ‘There’s something up there.’

  Tiny winged shapes were fluttering about in an agitated cloud. Some darted past the hole to the outside world and Quinn saw the serrated edge of their wings.

  Bats! The cave was full of bats.

  An idea came to her. She grasped her witch’s staff with both hands and bent her head. ‘Grow, little bats, grow. Grow and fly low. Shriek, little bats, shriek. Shriek through the dark and bleak.’ She raised her staff and banged as hard as she could against the rock.

  Tom gasped and gripped her tight, shushing her, but Quinn could feel the waves of magical energy rolling out. ‘Cover your ears!’ she hissed to her friends.

  The bats began to screech. The sound echoed around the cavern, hitting their ears like bullets. The bats’ wings rustled madly. Quinn strained her eyes to see in the darkness. She was sure the bats were growing bigger and bigger and bigger. One swooped past the starry opening. It was huge!

  Giant bats swooped around the knights and the bog-men. The knights tried to fight them off with their swords, but the bats were quick and nimble. One knight dropped his lantern and it rolled away, illuminating the scene in macabre flashes of light.

  ‘Let’s get out of here before they suck our blood!’ one screamed. The knights stampeded out of the cave.

  The bats were in a panic, swooping about and shrieking loudly. Then they found the starlit hole that led to the world outside. The hole soon thronged with giant wings as the bats flew out into the night. Gradually the sound of their shrieking died away, and the cave fell silent again.

  ‘Are they all gone?’ Elanor whispered.

  ‘I think so,’ Quinn replied, smiling. She was shaken, but also exultant. She had wrought another spell of true power. ‘Those idiots! Bats eat insects. They don’t drink human blood.’

  ‘They’ll be out
there in the night now, searching for something to eat.’ Tom unshuttered the lantern, so a thin ray of light pierced the darkness. ‘Let’s hope one of them mistakes Lord Mortlake for a giant bug.’

  They crawled out from the crevice. Suddenly Fergus raised one paw. He growled deep in his throat, his eyes gleaming in the scant light from the lantern.

  Sniff, sniff, sniff …

  All the hairs rose on Quinn’s arms. She peered into the shadows. Hunched in the darknesss, their nostrils flaring, were dozens of bog-men. They were smelling here and there, their acute sense of smell blunted by the stench of bat droppings.

  Quinn gestured urgently to the others. Sebastian opened his mouth to speak, but she shushed him, pointing into the shadows. When he saw the bog-men crouched there, feeling the floor with their leathery fingers, sniffing at what they found, his tawny eyes dilated. Quinn put her finger to her lips, then pointed towards the dark tunnel that led away from the cave.

  Step by slow step, the four friends tiptoed past the bog-men. Tom had the wolf cub in his arms, one hand around his muzzle. Quinn rested her hand on Fergus’s ruff. She could hear the slow drip, drip, drip of water and the constant snuffling of the bog-men.

  They were awful-looking creatures, their skin like ancient leather wrapped around bones. Each rib and the knobbly joints of knees and elbows were outlined. Their eye-sockets were hollow, their stomachs pressed flat to their spines. Long ago, their bodies had been thrown into the swamps, only to be raised to unnatural life hundreds of years later with the magic of a dragon’s tooth. They could not see, but they could hear and they could smell.

  It was hard to creep past them. Quinn hardly dared breathe.

  Squeak, squeak—

  The shrill noise broke the heavy silence. Quinn spun around, her pulse thumping in her ears. A giant rat was raised up on its hind legs, staring at her with red beady eyes. Squeak, squeak.

  Another rat scuttled near, whiskers twitching. Then Quinn saw, to her horror, a whole river of rats racing towards her, sounding the alarm.

  The bog-men lurched into action, reaching out to grab at the children.