The Wildkin’s Curse (41 page)

‘My cousin?' Merry asked blankly.

‘Well, third cousin really. That sweet, rather dimwitted one with all the hair.'

Merry's feet were icy cold. ‘Priscilla told you? What have you done to her? If you've hurt her . . .'

The astronomer smiled thinly, and the panther looked up briefly, then yawned widely, showing a red mouth and sharp teeth, before laying its head on its paws again.

‘You malign me, Lord Merrik. There was no need for me to hurt her. She told us of her own free will. I came straight down to release you from the pit. Really, I cannot apologise enough.'

Merry did not know what to think. He wished he knew what had been happening while he was in the pit. He could hear bells ringing the death-changes, and wondered bleakly who had died, and how.

‘But enough chitchat,' the astronomer said. ‘I am not meant to be answering your questions, I want you to answer mine. I need to know the secret of getting to the Erlrune. For a hundred years, the kings of the starkin have been trying to reach her to wipe her out, but they can never find the way through that evil forest. Tell me the secret now, and I'll make sure you die a gentle death.'

Merry shook his head, though his heart began a slow, painful banging in his chest.

‘Well, that is good news!' Ambrozius said. ‘I have had an entirely tedious and frustrating afternoon, listening to that old bore drone on, when I would much rather have been here with you, testing out my new machine and your strength of will. Still, it wasn't all bad. I did get to see the Hag's head delivered to me on a platter and—'

‘What?' Merry cried.

‘Oh, did I forget to tell you? Your dear friend Count Zedrin arranged it all.'

‘I don't believe you!'

‘Such a lovely surprise for the king. Count Zedrin was in favour for all of five minutes, before the little witch got her claws out and cursed the king. Can you hear the bells? That means he has died, no doubt. Now we'll see a pretty fight for the throne . . .'

The astronomer went on, but Merry scarcely heard a word. Grief dragged at him like a midnight undertow. He staggered to his feet. His mother, dead? Her head chopped off, and delivered to the king on a platter? By his best friend?

‘It can't be true!'

‘Oh, but I assure you it is. Quite a pretty woman she was too, in that drab, brown hearthkin way. I don't know what we were all expecting, but certainly not such a
young
woman.'

‘No!' Merry bent, arms wrapped about his stomach.

‘And now the wildkin witch is safely locked up in her tower again, the king is dead, and the stage is set for a lovely display of fireworks. All is going to plan! So, before I tidy you away for good, I just need to know . . . how can I reach the Erlrune?'

‘I won't tell you anything.'

The astronomer smiled, and clicked his fingers at the panther which snarled at him. He dragged the big cat by his chain and put it inside the treadmill once more. A haunch of bloody meat hung from a hook, and the panther at once began to run, trying to reach it. Within seconds the two-pronged machine was glowing with blue light.

‘Last chance,' the astronomer said. ‘Really, if you cooperate with me, I might make you king. Of course, I'd have to make sure your will was properly broken first, so that I could be sure you'd do as you were told.'

‘I will never do as you tell me,' Merry said, enunciating very carefully. His heart was hammering so hard with terror and grief he could hardly hear his own voice.

The next moment agony lanced through him as the astronomer tapped his finger with the prong of blue lightning. His whole body jerked. Merry bit his lip, and tried not to scream.

‘You see, whoever manages to seize the throne now the king is dead will want to strike against her, and if I have the information he or she needs, well then, I'll be in quite a position of strength, won't I? So won't you tell me?'

Merry shook his head and then yelped, as the prong was pressed to the pulse inside his wrist. Relentlessly the questions continued, and with each refusal the prong was applied to another pulse, causing Merry to jerk and flail in agony. When it was pressed to the carotid artery in his neck, Merry screamed and lost consciousness for a moment. When he drifted back to wakefulness, it was to find the astronomer standing over him, the prong sizzling only an inch away from his heart.

‘If I touch you here, the pain will be far, far worse than any you've experienced so far,' he advised. ‘Tell me how I can reach the Erlrune and I'll spare you.'

Merry did not think he could bear the pain. He opened his lips to croak something, but then saw a shimmering white form floating behind the astronomer's head. It was the ghost of Shoshanna. She shook her head sorrowfully, and held out her hand to him. Merry reached up to her and took her hand. It was cool and soft. She drew him up into the air, just as the astronomer pressed the prong as hard as he could into Merry's breast.

He could see his back arch, his limbs flail, his mouth open wide and screaming with pain. Then his body fell limp on the floor, one hand upturned on the ground, his chest still, his eyes staring sightlessly. The astronomer bent and slapped his face, then shook him. Finally, he felt for his heartbeat. Finding no pulse, the astronomer stood back, dismay and anger on his face. He seized the panther's chain and, dragging the great white beast with him, hurried out the door.

All this Merry saw, even as his own body grew smaller and smaller and further and further away. He was rising, flying like a tiny spark, up, up, up into the vast blackness of the night, the world below him dwindling away into nothing.

L
ILIANA STARED DOWN INTO THE EMPTY PIT, HOLDING HER CANDLE HIGH.

‘Merry's gone,' she whispered. ‘Where would they take him?'

She thought of the immensity of the palace, its myriad cellars, storerooms, dungeons, state rooms, suites and towers, and could not even begin to guess where Merry might be.

‘Are there any other dungeons?' Mags asked.

‘Hundreds,' Liliana said, remembering the maps she had studied.

‘Well, no point standing around,' Mags said. ‘We'd better go hunt for him. I'll find him even if I have to take this palace apart stone by stone.'

‘Lord Ambrozius will have taken him upstairs to his own suite of rooms,' a weary, cracked voice said from behind them. Mags and Liliana spun around, hands on weapons, to see an old, bent woman with a severe white plait.

‘Who are you?' Mags demanded.

‘I am Palila of the Birds, one of the Crafty,' she answered. ‘I betrayed the young lord to save my own worthless hide, and so I have come to see if there is anything I can do to make amends.'

She quailed under their fierce looks, but said, ‘I thought he would destroy everything Rozalina and I have worked for, for so long. The king named her crown princess! I thought she would soon be queen. I didn't know there was a plot to murder her.'

‘Can you take us to him?' Mags said, her eyes sick with fear.

Liliana wanted to run, but the old woman could only hobble slowly along. It almost drove Liliana mad with impatience.

At last they reached the door to the astronomer's suite, painted dark blue with golden suns and stars whirling upon it. It was locked, but Mags pulled a hairpin out of her untidy knot of brown hair, and opened it in moments. They burst in, only to find the room empty of all life.

Merry's crumpled body lay on the floor. His lips and eyelids were blue.

Liliana was on her knees beside him in a second. She pressed her cheek to his chest, listened for breathing that did not come, felt for a pulse that did not beat. ‘He's dead,' she whispered. ‘We're too late.'

Zed leapt from the flagpole, filled with euphoria as he flew high into the air. A blue streak of flame licked at his heels as a soldier fired his fusillier, and Zed swerved and swooped. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw more starkin soldiers racing into the courtyard, fusilliers at the ready. Stretching his arms overhead, Zed zoomed up to the open arches of the bell-tower.

Inside, eight bells swung, filling the air with rich, sombre peals. Zed pressed his hands to his ears and peered down between the great bronze bodies swinging rhythmically as, far below, boys jumped and hung on the end of their long ropes. Soldiers came running in and began to pound up the stairs. Zed swiftly hacked at the ropes, and grinned as one bell after another crashed down the height of the tower, clanging discordantly. The bell-boys scrambled to safety but more than one soldier was knocked off the steep spiral stairs as the death-peals jangled into silence.

Zed glanced across at the Tower of Stars. Rozalina was standing at the open window. She held out her arms to him. He leapt towards her, feeling the wind catch him, and a yell of exultation burst from his lips.

He soared across the courtyard, seeing in a brief flash the ruin of the feast. Lady Vernisha shouted orders at the soldiers who ran in circles, trying to kill the flying omen-imps who ducked and darted through the air, pulling helmets over eyes, biting ears, and throwing food. Her pug cowered under the dais, howling with terror, while Adora shrieked and held on to her hat as omen-imps pinched and plucked at her, pulled her hair and tugged at her sleeves, and wrapped her veil around and around her face.

The gatehouse was smashed to pieces, and Zed hoped with all his heart that his father and sister had made it free. The grabvast had been felled, its massive body blocking the gateway and preventing the soldiers from pursuing those who had escaped.

Zakary came limping out into the courtyard, one of his red shoes missing, his hose torn, blood on his knees, his clothes and hair in complete disorder. Zed waved to him mockingly, and saw his eyes narrow. Zakary lifted his fingers to his mouth and gave a high, piercing whistle. Again and again he whistled, but Zed did not have time to wonder why.

He soared up to the Tower of Stars. Rozalina unlatched the window and opened it wide, and Zed stepped onto the sill. He had to hunch and squeeze to fit through the gap, but in moments was standing before her.

Her eyes were bewitchingly blue. Her hair flew with static about her body. They stared at each other, so close he could have kissed her with the merest bend of his head.

‘Did you kill Maglen Bellringer?' she demanded.

‘Of course not! It was a trick. Mags is alive as you and me. She's rescuing Merry right now.'

She smiled. ‘Then you may kiss me.'

With alacrity, Zed did as he was told.

Priscilla hurried down the road, the dark forest whispering menacingly all about her. The sun sank below the mountains, but it was so dark under the trees she could barely see a thing.

The bells jangled into silence, and in the sudden hush Priscilla heard the drum of hooves galloping down the road behind her. She began to run, her breath sobbing in her chest. Closer and closer the hooves came, and Priscilla scrambled off the road and hid behind a tree, panting, her heart banging painfully.

The hooves slowed and came to a halt on the other side of the tree. Priscilla drew out her small eating knife, which she had strapped to her belt. It quivered in her hand, and she drew a deep breath, trying to control her shaking.

‘Cilla?' A familiar voice came. ‘It's all right, it's me.'

‘Papa? But . . . how?'

‘I'll explain on the way. Jump up! We've got a ship to set sail.'

Pedrin reached down his hand for her and pulled her up onto the broad back of a river-roan, who whickered loudly in greeting and galloped on down the road. Behind them swooped and soared and swung a host of wildkin creatures, eyes shining strangely, shrill voices crying aloud in exultation.