The Stones of Ravenglass (11 page)

‘I found a town,’ said Timoken, avoiding the wizard’s fierce grey eyes. ‘It was many, many lengths from here, but we could reach it if we needed to.’

‘We don’t need to,’ Eri said grimly. ‘Conquerors will be there; soldiers, busybodies, spies on the lookout for strangers.’

Timoken kicked the ground lightly. ‘What can I do for you, then?’

‘Bring gorse and meadowsweet. Sila has found a pile of flints. Take one and cut some willow stems. There’s a tree by the stream. Make a basket from the stems and fill the basket with oak leaves. Our wall has a long way to go.’

Timoken hesitated, but he had to ask. ‘What’s it for, Eri? The wall?’

The wizard glared at him in amazement. ‘What d’you think it’s for? To protect us.’

‘But here, in the forest? The leopards can protect us.’

Sila and Karli followed the argument with troubled eyes. They didn’t dare to interrupt, and only wanted the friction to end.

The wizard’s eyebrows were drawn together in a thunderous line. ‘Have you learned nothing, African? We are at war with everything, and now you have brought demons into our lives. We need all the help we can muster.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Timoken. ‘I’ll do what you want.’ He went back to the shelter and found Sila’s little pile of flints. Taking the sharpest, he made his way to the stream.

‘Now what?’ the camel called after him.

‘Rest, Gabar,’ Timoken grunted. ‘Tonight we work.’

With his gift for multiplying, Timoken soon had enough willow stems to make two baskets. They were very large, but no one guessed that, later, they would be put to use carrying rocks through the air.

The wizard was pleased with Timoken. Altogether, it had been a good day. A tangle of leaves, autumn flowers and potent spells snaked through the trees. The wall was almost finished. When a misty dusk seeped into the forest, they stopped work and cooked the hare Eri had snared.

They were so hungry they hardly spoke as they ate. The fire crackled, bringing a warm blush to Sila’s pale face. Lost in thought, she stared into the flames until Karli nudged her, asking, ‘What are you thinking about, Sila?’

She turned to him and said, absently, ‘I was remembering our tree-houses, and Tumi.’

‘D’you think . . .’ Karli sucked on a thin bone as though it were packed with nectar. ‘D’you think the conquerors killed him?’

‘No,’ Sila said sharply. ‘I told you, they’ll make him their slave.’

‘Better to die,’ Karli muttered.

‘Who is this Tumi?’ asked Timoken.

‘A boy who was our friend,’ Sila said gravely. ‘He could swim, and he could catch fish like no one else.’ She glanced at Enid, dozing beside the camel. ‘Well, no one except her,’ she said, nodding at the dragon.

‘What became of this boy?’ Eri poked the fire and a shower of sparks lit the dark sky.

‘When we left the tree-hides, he followed us,’ said Sila. ‘But the conquerors came with dogs, and we heard a scream. It must have been Tumi. There was nothing we could do.’

Eri looked at Timoken. ‘They were looking for us. Those two brutes will be in trouble with Osbern if they don’t catch us. The boy, Tumi, would have told them the direction these children took, and that they were following us.’

‘No!’ said Sila vehemently. ‘Tumi was loyal. He was one of the bravest. If he told the conquerors anything, it would have been lies.’

‘But you think they caught him,’ Timoken said.

‘Yes.’ Sila stared solemnly into the dark between the trees. ‘Can you rescue him, Timoken?’

‘Perhaps.’ Timoken thought of his castle, of the task he had set himself. ‘But not tonight.’

‘Soon?’ Sila begged.

‘It won’t be easy,’ Timoken warned her. ‘But if your friend is somewhere in Castle Melyntha, then I’ll try. There are others in the castle who need rescuing.’

Eri gave him a look that said,
An almost impossible task, even with your skills
.

The wizard stood up and shook the hem of his long robe. ‘Must get a new one,’ he muttered. He unfastened the patterned gold brooch where it pinned his cloak at the shoulder, then he kicked off his worn leather boots. ‘We must all have a wash tomorrow,’ he said. ‘We smell worse than camels.’

Sila and Karli grinned, while giving Timoken anxious, sideways looks. He could have taken offence on Gabar’s behalf, but instead he laughed, and they were free to giggle.

Eri banked down the fire, and one by one they went thankfully to bed.

Timoken lay awake long after the others had fallen asleep. The wizard’s snoring didn’t seem to disturb Sila and Karli. They were tired, and slept deeply and peacefully.

A wolf howled somewhere in the distance; a real wolf this time, not a demon. An owl hooted and wood mice scrabbled in the thickets. No sound came from the leopards, but Timoken knew they were close.

He waited until the tiny scrap of moonlight slipping past the door was at its brightest. Very slowly, he sat up, then stood, taking great care not to rustle his leafy bedding. Although Eri was snoring, Timoken couldn’t be sure that an accidental snap or crackle wouldn’t wake him.

But the wizard slept on. Timoken eased the door open, just wide enough to allow him through, then he hooked it shut again.

Creeping over to the camel, he stroked his nose. Gabar snorted and lifted his head. ‘What?’ he said.

‘Sssh!’ hushed Timoken.

It was too late. Enid, snuggling beside the camel, opened one eye. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘Go back to sleep,’ said Timoken.

Enid closed her eye.

‘Gabar, get up. We’re going to work,’ Timoken bleated softly in the camel’s ear.

Gabar sighed, lifted his rump and then stood.

Enid opened both eyes. ‘What are you doing?’ she grunted.

Bending close to the dragon, Timoken murmured, ‘We’re going to work, Gabar and I. But you mustn’t move or make a sound. And don’t tell the wizard.’

‘I can’t. He doesn’t understand me like you do.’ Enid spoke in a whispery kind of croak.

Timoken patted her head. ‘Go to sleep, Enid. We’ll be back before morning.’

The dragon obediently closed her eyes.

Timoken fetched the two willow baskets. Joining them together with long creepers, he hung them, one each side of Gabar’s hump. With a small leap, he flew up and landed between them. Regretting he’d left the fur-lined saddle in Eri’s possession (the wizard was using it as a pillow), Timoken made himself as comfortable as he could on the bony hump.

He had purposefully left the reins still attached to Gabar’s head-harness and, wrapping them round his wrist, he tugged at the hair on the camel’s back. ‘Shall we fly?’ he whispered.

Gabar turned his head to look at Enid.

‘What’s it to her,’ said Timoken. ‘Anyway, she won’t see.’

‘She might,’ said Gabar.

‘So camels can fly as well as dragons. She’d be proud of you, Gabar. Come on, let’s go.’

He gave another tug on Gabar’s rough hair and, slowly, the camel rose into the sky.

Chapter Twelve

The night was crisp and cold. A pale blanket of frost covered the trees and fields. Rivers and streams sparkled like melting silver. Timoken breathed deeply, inhaling the pure air of freedom. Sometimes, when he and Gabar were alone in the sky, he longed to stay in the air forever.

At last they came within sight of the town. Timoken told his camel to land on the battlements of the nearest of the castle’s eight towers.

‘I’d prefer grass,’ said the camel. ‘Why the roof?’

‘Because it’s where we need to be,’ Timoken told him.

They flew on until they were above the castle. To Timoken’s dismay, there was a guard on the battlement of every tower.

‘Now what?’ snorted Gabar, rather too loudly.

The guard on the nearest tower looked up, lifting his spear.

There was nothing for it. Timoken instructed Gabar to fly above the tower and drop on to the roof.

‘Not wise,’ grunted the camel. ‘Soldier.’

‘We’ll have to make the best of it. Hurry up. We want to surprise him.’

Obediently, the camel plummeted like a stone, or perhaps a very large rock, down on to the tower.

The soldier gasped. He dropped his spear and his lantern. ‘Monster!’ he murmured, and fainted clean away, which was exactly what Timoken had hoped for. Quickly, he bound the man’s arms and legs with a few thin cords from his baskets. He hesitated before making his next move and then, having made up his mind, he tore a strip from the hem of the soldier’s tunic and, removing the man’s helmet, tied the cloth tightly round his head and over his mouth.

This gave Timoken an idea. He pulled off the soldier’s chain-mail shirt, and placed it in a corner with the helmet and the spear.

‘Is this what we came for?’ asked Gabar.

‘No,’ said Timoken. ‘It’s extra.’

The camel yawned. ‘I hope the rest won’t take too long.’

‘So do I.’ Timoken looked around him at the high walls of the battlements. There were deep openings at intervals all along the wall. Embrasures, as they were called.

Archers would loose their arrows from the embrasures, then dart behind a section of the wall before the enemy could hit them.

Timoken climbed into an opening and reached up. He could just touch the top of the wall. Running his fingers along the base of the highest block of stone, he felt the line of mortar that bonded it to the block below. Closing his eyes, he dug gently into the mortar. It moved beneath his fingers and he began to chant in the language of his homeland. The mortar turned to dust and trickled on to the roof. Timoken was so pleased, his chanting became a song.

The block wobbled. Timoken pushed and the great stone crashed on to the paved roof. Congratulating himself, Timoken set to work again. He paid no attention to the drum-beats filling the air. He thought the sounds were in his head. Behind him, Gabar made an odd, strangled sound, but Timoken took no notice. He carried on, pushing and singing, until at least a dozen red sandstone blocks lay scattered over the battlements. A whole section of the wall had now disappeared. With a whoop of joy, Timoken turned from his task – and almost fell back into the air.

He was surrounded by tall, white-robed figures. They stood, shoulder to shoulder, against the wall; each one carried a spear, and their long brown arms shone with golden bracelets.

‘My people,’ Timoken breathed.

They gazed at him, their wide, dark eyes glistening with life. And yet they showed no emotion. They stood silent and still, as if they were waiting.

‘Spirits,’ groaned the camel. ‘Family, what have you done?’

‘My voice must have called them,’ Timoken said in a hushed voice. ‘Perhaps it was the song, but I never asked . . . My father sometimes spoke of our spirit ancestors, but I never saw them.’

‘You have now,’ the camel grunted.

They stood looking at each other, the twelve spirit ancestors, and Timoken and his camel. After several minutes had passed, Timoken ventured, ‘Why are you here?’ Husky with reverence, his voice could hardly be heard.

In answer to his almost inaudible question, the twelve ancestors laid their spears against the wall and approached the blocks of sandstone. Timoken watched, his mouth agape, as each man lifted a block and placed it on his head. Balancing the stones with one hand, they took up their spears with the other, and stood as before, waiting.

‘Now what?’ muttered Gabar.

Now what, indeed? Timoken had no idea what he was supposed to do next. Slowly it dawned on him that the ancestors intended to carry the blocks of stone wherever he wanted. If that was the case, then he and Gabar could carry more. Timoken set to work again, feeling and pushing, easing and pulling, until another six blocks lay at his feet. Putting three stones in each of the baskets hanging either side of Gabar, he jumped on his back, saying, ‘Down to earth this time, Gabar!’

‘If you’re sure!’ Gabar sailed over the wall and dropped to the ground. Fortunately, they landed outside the castle. A few lengths further on, lantern light could be seen beside the great entrance, but the guards on watch neither saw nor heard the camel’s swift descent.

‘And now?’ asked Gabar.

‘Hush!’ warned Timoken. He didn’t know what to expect. He could only guess, and hope.

As he stared up at the battlements, he saw a movement on the wall, and then they came. One by one, the spirit ancestors fell through the air like a column of white birds, their bracelets and spears picking up the light from the stars like tiny fireflies.

‘West,’ Timoken whispered in the camel’s ear. ‘Where the thin moon sits on the forest.’

Gabar began to walk down the hill. ‘Houses, Family?’ he grunted.

‘The town’s asleep,’ whispered Timoken.

‘If you say so.’

Timoken looked behind him. The spirit ancestors were following. They walked in a line, their heads held high beneath the blocks of sandstone. When the camel reached the base of the hill, he walked on towards the town. The houses were dark and silent and the cobbled road already dusted with frost.

The camel’s feet padded on the cobblestones, but the spirit ancestors made no sound. In single file they walked through the town and out into the forest, following the camel and the boy from the secret kingdom. The ancestors left no foot-prints, no trace of a scent, but now and then a thin sprinkling of red dust could be seen on the leaves and branches that they passed . . .

The forest was a tangle of roots and thorns, and Timoken imagined that a long, long journey lay ahead; and then Gabar asked, ‘Why don’t we fly? The stones are not too heavy for me.’

Timoken smiled to himself. He waited for a break in the trees and then tugged the hair on the camel’s back. Up they went, past the trees and out into the starry sky. One by one the spirits followed, their white robes forming a long, floating veil.

Gabar sailed over the forest, and when Timoken looked back he could see the spirit ancestors running through the sky, their feet treading air as though it were as smooth as desert sand.

They reached the cliff-top that Timoken had chosen for his castle. Down went the camel and his rider, and down came the spirit ancestors. They landed in a row – and waited.

Gabar knelt on the hard rock. Wearily he grunted, ‘Sleep, I beg. Do what you want, but leave me out of it.’