Josh and the Magic Vial (39 page)

“Here are my terms, Josh Dempster. Sue for mercy. Accept my authority. Then put on the crown of Syde and join in my rule.”

Josh opened his mouth to speak, but Vortigen stopped him.

“Do not be hasty with your answer, boy” the demon warned. “Know first the alternative to my generosity. You remember the miserable outcropping in the Underground Sea known as Desolation Isle — the habitation ofmy enemies? That is where you shall take up your eternal abode if you reject me.

“Choose between the comforts and prerogatives of a prince or the punishments of an exile. Do you need a moment to think on it?”

“No!” Josh shouted. “I will never . . . ”

Before he could finish his answer, the war room doors burst open and Athelrod tumbled in. “Sire!” he shouted, breathless. “I am sorry to interrupt, but . . . ”

“Sorry!” Vortigen bawled. “You do not know the meaning of ‘sorry'. But you are about to learn. Oh! You are about to learn!”

“But the rebels, My Lord, they are marching on the palace. They have massed in force and have already passed through The Habitations. Even as we speak, they are entering the Highlands of Ormor.”

“What!” Vortigen laughed. “You mean they dare to come against me in pitched battle? Are they mad? Drunk? Who leads them?”

“Charlie Underwood, Sire.”

“What weapons do they have that make them so bold?”

“They appear to be unarmed, Sire.”

“If they are unarmed, how can I be under attack? How did they get by the garrison in The Habitations? How do they expect to overwhelm the forces that guard the Highland of Ormor? What are you talking about?”

“Well,” Athelrod hesitated, “they're singing, Sire.”

“Singing?”

“Yes. Their song seems to have a paralyzing effect on our troops — as if they are enraptured by the music. I've never seen anything like it.”

A captain burst into the chamber. “Your Lordship,” he panted. “They have laid us under siege. My men cannot withstand them. They render us powerless with the enchantment of their song!”

Strains of music penetrated from beyond the palace walls all the way into the war room.

“Shut the door! Shut it!” Vortigen howled. “I cannot stand the infernal noise. Who has taught them this song? Who?”

Even with the doors shut and with his hands over his ears, Vortigen could not shut out the rebel song. Their voices shook the palace walls, echoed down the corridors, and — as Josh had predicted — paralyzed Vortigen's realm at its very heart.

69

A
rgh,” Vortigen howled. “You have betrayed me!

Stop this infernal noise.”

“They won't stop until you give them what they ask, Vortigen. Not until you set them free,” Josh said.

“Tell them to stop, and I will grant their request.”

“You must grant it first. A proclamation must be signed, then read from the palace wall. Only then will they stop.”

Vortigen glared like a tiger in a trap. He would have pounced if he could, but the
Song of Emancipation
bound him fast.

“You have been in on all their planning,” he groaned bitterly. “From the very beginning you have been plotting my ruin.”

A twinge of guilt prickled Josh's spine. Had he betrayed Vortigen? How could you be accused of betraying someone who had kidnapped you, then poisoned your mind with enchanted food? That wasn't betrayal, and yet . . .

Josh did feel bad.

The Lord of Syde huddled on his throne. The Seer's Pool had gone dark as India ink. “Greatness was within your grasp, and fulfillment within mine,” Vortigen lamented. “Now all's ruined, and half my subjects shall escape. I had such high hopes; now they are dashed . . . and because of you, my greatest hope of all.”

The demon held his head in his hands and moaned. His retainers — never having seen their leader suffer a defeat and never having dreamed such a thing possible — were at a loss.

They watched anxiously as Vortigen wept.

“But surely Syde will be all the stronger when the rebels have departed,” Josh offered. “You will be able to count on the loyalty of those who stay.”

Vortigen glared. “Do not offer me sops, boy!” he glowered.

“Nothing you have done insults me or incites me to rage one tenth as much as your pity. Save that for some weakling prince, who is not fit to be your enemy.”

Suddenly Vortigen launched himself from his throne and paced about the room. “When I first came to Syde it was an empty cave, perpetually dark and damp and cold. I scooped out its first habitations and drilled channels for the light. And when the first citizens arrived, I laid out the plans for them and set each spirit a useful task.

“Do you think all this was happenstance?” He gestured to all that surrounded them, both within and without the palace walls. “Do you think empires are built without subservience and sacrifice? Of course they aren't. The spirits who dwell here benefit from my strong rule.

“But the horse will never choose the harness, even to mow his own hay. Now that the rabble see they can thumb their noses at authority — well, who can say where that might lead? I shall have to be even firmer in the future to prevent this kind of thing happening again.”

“You mean you are going to behave like all tyrants?” Josh charged. “Like a man who would rather lose power than share it?”

“What do you know of power, boy?” Vortigen retorted. “Any chance you had to wield true power has been thrown away. And why? So you could earn the praises of the ragtag army that yodels at my gate? What vision do those vagabonds have beyond shirking their duty?”

“Duty!” Josh cried. “They were kidnapped! What duty could they possibly owe? Why should they help you abduct more children, bereave more parents?”

Vortigen laughed.

“What's so funny?”

“You moderns,” he shook his head. “You demand a say in everything. Brats, still swaddled in diapers, insist upon their rights. Doddering old fools, who can't remember where they put down their eyeglasses, clamour for their say in the affairs of state. But answer me something Josh Dempster, did you have a say in where you were born, or when? Do you expect to be consulted on the moment and cause of your death?

“Coming to Syde was fated, just as the manner of your birth and upbringing were. And your rash decision to aid and abet my enemies was fated too. You think yourself a hero, when in fact you have rejected the hero's mantle in favour or a rebel's rags. Another shall come to fulfill the prophecy, and you shall be forgotten.”

“I never asked for any of the things you offer,” Josh said quietly. “I'm just a kid. I live in a neighbourhood called Mount Pleasant. My mum and dad are really nice people, who love me more than anything. My friends are really neat too. I didn't know how much I would miss all that until you took me away, Vortigen; now I know my world is worth fighting for. And I know that every one of the rebels feels the same way.” Josh paused, looking for a sign of recognition from Vortigen, but the only sign the Lord of Syde offered was a savage sneer. “You say everything was fated,” Josh continued. “I don't think that's true. I think you're just using that to hide the truth. We're here because of you and your grand plan to rule the world . . . ”

“Enough!” Vortigen snapped. “Conversation is useless. I might as well try to persuade a goat to stop butting.”

He turned to his retainers. “Is the document ready,” he demanded. “I have to get these choristers to stop before they drive me permanently insane.”

“It is here, Sire,” a captain said, handing Vortigen a parchment.

Vortigen read the document, his face contorted by disgust. He signed it hastily, then handed it to Josh. “Read it,” he instructed.

Shaking, Josh took the sheet and read:

I, Vortigen, Lord of Syde, do hereby proclaim a
Day of Emancipation
. On this day, until the same time tomorrow, any
citizen who wishes to renounce his allegiance to me may do so
freely. I shall not hinder those who wish to leave, or punish them
in the worlds where they choose to dwell. The rebels shall go in
peace, whither I do not know. Signed Vortigen, Lord of Syde.

“Will that do?” Vortigen snarled.

“Yes,” Josh answered.

“Then let's go and greet my adoring public with the news.”

Snatching the proclamation back, Vortigen strode out of the war room. Josh hurried to catch up, then fell in several paces behind the Lord of Syde. “Out of sight, out of mind,” he thought. “That's where I want to be right now.” But he knew he was not out ofVortigen's thoughts, and could feel his former benefactor's hatred circling close around him.

70

V
ortigen's proclamation echoed throughout the land.

It was heard in the Habitations, the fields of Tilth, the Gallian Forest, and the mines of Ardu. And from every corner of Syde cheers and celebrations erupted, for there were many who had not joined in the rebellion, who would join the rebels in leaving. Nowhere was the cheering as loud as outside the walls of the Emerald Palace.

“Hurrah!” the rebel army whooped. “Hurrah!” they greeted Josh, when he floated down from the battlements.

Vortigen watched these goings on with a scowl. Josh had attempted to say goodbye, but the Lord of Syde had returned the kindness with a look of dark and utter fury, forcing his former protegé to leave without another word.

“Well done, lad!” Charlie hugged him.

Mindful ofVortigen's pain, Josh waved back the celebrating mob and urged a calm, dignified reception. “These cheers go up like poison arrows,” he said. “They will only increase Vortigen's rage,” he warned.”

“The boy is right,” Charlie addressed the crowd. “We would be wise to subdue our celebrations, and get on with the exodus. Remember, the proclamation holds only four twenty-four hours, and there are many who will not have heard it.

“It is time to leave this place, my friends, and I propose that the one who has done the most to free us should be first to go. You were the last to join our cause Josh Dempster, but you have earned a place in the front ranks. Wish yourself home, and we shall send you off with one last cheer.”

“Hear! Hear!” those nearby seconded, gathering in closer to watch the hero's send off.

“What do I do?” Josh asked.

“You simply wish yourself back in your hospital room, and in your case, back in your physical form,” Charlie suggested. “The body that now lies in a coma will awake to the joyful cries of family and friends.”

“That's all?”

“That's all,” Charlie confirmed.

Josh closed his eyes, imagining himself in Children's Hospital, surrounded by those he loved. He thought of his mother, his father, Millie, and Ian. He saw trees outside the window and a blue sky and a real sun beaming down. He smiled, wishing for all this fervently.

But when he opened his eyes he was still in Syde, surrounded by the rebel crowd.

“It didn't work,” he laughed nervously.

“You must want to go, Josh,” Charlie coached. “You must free yourself from the illusions of Syde and grab hold of the real world that is yours.”

Josh tried again.

Still, he remained in Syde.

A murmur of doubt disturbed the onlookers. Had they been tricked? Was Vortigen's proclamation a trap? Could the boy still be in league with the tyrant? A rumble of laughter from the castle ramparts interrupted these worrisome thoughts. All eyes turned to Vortigen, who was leering in delight.

“You have tricked us!” Charlie accused. “Is a contract with you so worthless?”

“Tut, tut,” Vortigen scolded gleefully. “I am prepared to live up to our bargain to the letter.”

“He cannot leave!” Charlie challenged, gesturing toward Josh.

Vortigen's grin broadened. “As I recollect, the proclamation says any ‘citizen' of Syde may leave.” By way of proof, he held up the parchment he had just read.

“You there,” he pointed at one of the rebels. “Are you a citizen of Syde?”

The woman glared and spat. “I have been branded citizen against my will, yes.”

“Then wish for your freedom.”

“I'll wish for your downfall first!”

“Arla!” Charlie intervened. “Do it. Wish yourself out of here.”

She closed her eyes and let herself slip into a trance. In a twinkling, she was gone.

“You see,” Vortigen mocked. “Any ‘citizen' may leave if she chooses. But the ingrate you have elevated to the head of your ranks has no standing whatsoever in Syde. Do you remember being made a citizen, Josh?”

The earth slewed under Josh's feet. Vortigen's taunts knocked the wind out of him, like well-aimed body blows.

“I believe formal citizenship was to be part of his coronation ceremony. Isn't that so, Quiggle?”

The horrified valet looked at Josh, then Charlie, then back to Josh again. “Yes,” he said, miserably. “That is so. Josh's name is not entered into the rolls of Syde.”

“Oh my! What a shame,” Vortigen chuckled. “And that means he's not included in the proclamation.”

Charlie roared, striding toward the palace wall.

“Shut up!” Vortigen commanded, enforcing his will with a single look that strangled the rebel's protest. “I shall do with Master Dempster as I please, and I shall deal with you as harshly, if you do not prove yourself a coward by deserting your hero before the time limit of my proclamation expires.

“But I have talked enough,” Vortigen said, turning to Josh. “Perhaps
you
might like to say a few words before I banish you to Desolation Isle.”

Freed from Vortigen's grip, Charlie continued his tirade. “You miserable excuse for a . . . ”

“Stop!” Josh shouted. “Charlie! Stop!”

With excruciating effort the leader of the rebels turned round. “I won't leave you, Josh Dempster,” he vowed. “Do not ask me to do that.”