The Lost Realm Page 29

  “Please!” she sobbed, dropping to her knees before Vicerin. The ground around her was rapidly turning to mud, and it clung to the fine gold ribbons of her wedding gown.

  She didn’t care. All she cared about was saving Fessan’s life.

  “Spare him, please! I’ll be your queen. I’ll help you take Toronia, I promise. Please, just let him live!”

  Vicerin glared down at her, his face a mask of contempt.

  “This is a place of punishment,” he said. “And this is your punishment, my dear. This is the price you pay for betraying me and freeing this prisoner from my cells.”

  “Then put me in the cell instead. Anything, please, I beg you. . . .”

  “It is too late for that. The time has come. Without this man, Trident dies, along with any misguided ideas you might once have had about ruling this kingdom with your wretched brothers.” He leaned close to Elodie, breathing hard. “This is where your so-called dreams end, Elodie. All of them!”

  “You’re a monster!”

  Leaping to her feet, Elodie wrenched herself free of the guards and rushed to the platform on which Fessan was being held. She grabbed its rough timber edge and was about to haul herself up when Vicerin’s hand yanked her back. She pulled free, started climbing again, then was hauled away so violently that she fell full-length in the mud.

  The crowd gasped. Elodie clambered slowly to her feet. The gold dress had turned almost black. She wanted to cry. She wanted to shriek. She wanted to claw Vicerin’s eyes from his smug, powdered face. She bunched her fist and drew it back, and Vicerin slapped her face.

  “Leave her alone!”

  Despite the blood in his mouth, despite the rain pouring down his face, Fessan’s voice was strong and level. Hearing his prisoner speak, Vicerin looked around in surprise. Elodie took the opportunity to kick him in the shins, and felt a surge of satisfaction when he cried out in pain.

  Her face stinging from the blow he’d struck her, she leaped for the platform once more, this time managing to climb all the way up before Vicerin’s fingers clamped on her ankle. She kicked out, rejoicing as the heel of her foot smashed into Vicerin’s nose, breaking it with a sickening crunch.

  Vicerin reeled back, his hands pressed to his face. Elodie dodged around the hateful killing machine and threw her arms around Fessan’s neck.

  “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so, so, sorry.”

  “You will win in the end,” Fessan answered. “You, Elodie, and your brothers. In the battle between good and evil, good will prevail. You will prevail.”

  Elodie was seized again: around the arms, around the legs, around the neck. Screaming, she was carried bodily off the platform and hurled into the mud.

  “Let him go!” she yelled as she was pinned to the ground. “I am your queen! I command it!”

  “Shut up!” howled Vicerin, still clutching his bleeding nose. “Hold her head! I want her to see something she’ll never forget!”

  Rough hands grabbed Elodie’s head and held it rigid. She began to close her eyes, to shut out the dreadful scene unfolding before her, then realized that Fessan was still looking at her.

  You will win, he mouthed.

  I will watch it all, she resolved. I owe it to you, Fessan. You won’t die alone!

  The guards on the platform forced Fessan’s head down into the curved wooden brace at the foot of the guillotine. A man stepped forward carrying a black hood in his hand. Elodie was horrified to see it was Stown.

  “What’s he doing here?” she shouted, trying to fight her way free again.

  “Good service brings its rewards,” snarled Vicerin, his voice muffled by his broken nose. “Sergeant Stown has been promoted.”

  Stown stared briefly at Elodie, showed his teeth in a thin smile, and slipped the black hood over his head. Through a slit in the material, Elodie saw his eyes glistening eagerly.

  Stown swung a clamp over Fessan’s neck, locking him into the apparatus. He picked up a large wooden bowl and was about to place it beneath Fessan’s head when Vicerin cried out.

  “No bowl! No bowl! Let his head roll!”

  Stown shrugged and tossed the bowl aside. He wrapped his thick fingers into one of the ropes hanging from the wooden tower . . . and pulled.

  No! Not yet. It’s too soon. Please don’t . . .

  The blade fell, landing with a dreadful thunk.

  As Lord Vicerin had commanded, Fessan’s head rolled.

  And Elodie saw it all.

  “Take her to the White Tower!” Vicerin shouted as the rain flowed red with Fessan’s blood. “Lock her away with my treacherous children! Let them all rot there together! This wretched girl has served her purpose. Now I never want to see her again!”

  CHAPTER 26

  I gave you shelter! I gave you aid in your time of need! And this is how you repay me?”

  Lady Redina’s face had turned white with rage. She paced back and forth in the shining crystal courtyard, glaring into the faces of each of the Tangletree Players in turn. Gulph stood as straight as his twisted back allowed, all too aware of how scruffy and bedraggled they all looked.

  “We came to warn you straightaway,” he said as sharply as he dared. What else did you expect us to do? Stay up in Idilliam with the undead?

  “So I see! Could you not have had the decency to dry yourselves first? Or do you respect me so little?”

  Gulph stared at the pool of silver water growing beneath his feet—beneath all their feet. When they’d emerged into the vast underground chamber that held Celestis, their only choice had been to drop into the lake, just as Gulph and the others had before. Luckily, Kalia had been keeping watch for them, and boats had arrived swiftly to pick them up.

  Even more fortunate: the bakaliss had not found them first.

  Facing the monster might have been better than this, thought Gulph glumly as Lady Redina unleashed another volley of furious curses.

  “Not only do you have the audacity to return—against my strict instructions—but you tell me you have left open a doorway to the upper kingdom!”

  “We tried to close it. Really, we did. But it was impossible. We thought the best thing to do was to come and warn you straightaway. Anyway, the tunnels under Idilliam are starting to collapse. The chances of an army coming through are—”

  “You came through!”

  Gulph lowered his head, abashed. “Yes, we did.”

  “Celestis has remained safe and hidden for a thousand years. Now we are exposed. Brutan will find us. His undead warriors will find us. And it is all your fault!”

  “It isn’t!” Pip stepped forward. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Gulph saved us. And now he’s trying to save you. If you were half as brave as he is—”

  “SILENCE!”

  Lady Redina’s voice resounded off the emerald fountains, the ruby walls. Crystal flowers tinkled, echoing her outburst. Two armed soldiers stepped from a nearby doorway in the diamond wall of Lady Redina’s splendid house, but she waved them back.

  “I warned you!” she snapped. “I warned you that if you left Celestis, you could never be allowed to return! You ignored my warning. For that reason, I banish you! You will be taken from here without delay and cast out into the wastelands at the foot of the chasm. If I ever see your faces again, you will be killed instantly. Do you understand?”

  Gulph was all too aware of the emotions of his friends: exhaustion, desperation, fear. He tried to imagine them facing up against the ranks of the undead who’d fallen into the chasm. He didn’t think they’d last very long.

  I’ve brought them all this way for nothing, he thought bitterly.

  Kalia, who’d been standing to one side and listening to the entire exchange, stepped forward. She bowed deferentially.

  “Sending them out into the chasm means certain death, Lady Redina,” she said.

  “I care not.” Lady Redina turned away.

  Kalia caught Gulph’s eye, then went on. “Perhaps not, but do you not care ab
out the defense of Celestis?”

  Lady Redina stopped, turned back. “What is your point?”

  “My point is simply this: Brutan is coming. We cannot escape that fact. Never mind casting blame—Celestis must prepare for invasion. And it must prepare now.”

  Lady Redina’s face was paler than ever. “I am aware of this.”

  “Then let them stay, at least until the battle is over. They have proved themselves brave and resourceful—how else could they have evaded Brutan and survived the journey down here? Their knowledge of the undead king’s ways makes them valuable. Let them fight for you. Let them prove their worth.”

  “They have no worth!”

  Lady Redina stared long and hard at Kalia. Gulph held his breath.

  “However . . . we will need every sword arm at our disposal.” Lady Redina arched one eyebrow at Gulph. “If I give you weapons, will you use them well?”

  “Your enemy is our enemy, Lady Redina,” Gulph answered.

  “Then, as a courtesy to Kalia, I will let you remain in Celestis . . . but only until this situation is resolved. As for what happens afterward . . . I make no promises.”

  Relieved, Gulph bowed low and nodded to his friends to do the same. “You are merciful, Lady Redina, and we thank you.”

  Lady Redina clapped her hands. Servants poured from the house and gathered around her. She barked orders to each in turn, instructing this one to summon the leaders of the Celestian defense teams, that one to rally the boat riders, another to call in all the observers and deploy them to the watchtowers.

  Gulph listened, fascinated. Up to now, he’d seen Lady Redina as a rather remote figure, the kind of leader who sat aloof in her palace and allowed others to do all the hard work. Now he saw her sharp mind in action, as with a series of crisp instructions she set the defensive machinery of Celestis into motion.

  She truly does rule Celestis. Don’t ever forget it, Gulph.

  “I will deal with the crystalsmiths,” said Kalia when Lady Redina finally paused for breath. “I can instruct them on how to make the special blades we need to deal with the undead.”

  “We’re going to need a lot of them,” suggested Gulph.

  “I know,” Kalia agreed. “As for you, take your friends to my house. Stay there, and stay out of trouble.” She lowered her voice. “You will be safe there, Gulph. I will see to it.”

  Gulph nodded. Despite everything, warmth stole through him. She cares about me. Maybe she’ll never believe I’m her son, but she does care about me.

  As they left the courtyard Gulph spotted a shriveled plant in a pot, its leaves black. It was the one he’d tipped his unwanted wine into.

  Anxiety gnawed at him as he showed Pip and the others the winding path that led toward Kalia’s house. If the poison had done that to a plant, what would it do to a human mind?

  When they reached the lakeside, he stopped. “Kalia lives just beyond that rise,” he said. “See—it’s not far.”

  “But aren’t you coming?” asked Pip.

  “I’ll catch up. There’s just something I have to do first.”

  While Pip led the others on, Gulph made his way back toward the crystal house Redina had given them. When he was near, Gulph spotted the person he was looking for, seated on the end of a jetty jutting out over the silver water. Ossilius.

  Gulph took a deep breath. By the time they’d parted, Ossilius had turned into a shadow of his former self. What state would he be in now?

  The jetty, like everything else in Celestis, was made of crystal. Gulph could see the silver waters of the lake through its transparent planks. It felt like walking on air.

  “Ossilius?” he said when he reached his friend. “Are you all right?”

  Ossilius looked up. He was swinging his legs over the water like a child. Beside him was a plate of small purple sweets, which he was cramming into his mouth one after the other.

  “Who are you?” he said dully.

  Gulph’s stomach turned over. “Don’t you know me?”

  “I never saw you before. Do you want one of my sweets?”

  He offered the plate. Gulph shook his head, dismayed to see his friend—a captain of the King’s Legion—in such a state.

  An idea came to him.

  “Captain Ossilius!” he announced, standing to attention. “Battle is imminent! I await your orders!”

  Something flickered in Ossilius’s eyes, and hope rose in Gulph’s heart. Then Ossilius’s shoulders drooped, and he mumbled, “It sounds dangerous.” His eyes glazed over and he pressed another sweet between his lips.

  There must be something you remember.

  He brought out the crown from his pack. The gold shimmered in the constant purple twilight of Celestis, picking up the countless reflections of the surrounding crystal so that it seemed to glow with its own inner light.

  “That’s a pretty thing,” Ossilius said. “Did you bring it for me?”

  He made a grab for it; Gulph held the crown just out of reach.

  “Do you know what this is?”

  “I’d like to have it.”

  Gulph pressed on. “You must know what it is, Ossilius. You gave it to me yourself, when Nynus died. You said I was your king. You said you’d serve me. You said . . .”

  “King? King of where? That’s a very pretty thing.”

  Ossilius snatched at the crown. Gulph stumbled backward, horrified.

  First Sidebottom John. Now Ossilius. I’m losing my friends, one by one.

  Dread came over him.

  Will the same thing happen to the others? To Noddy and Simeon?

  To Pip?

  Ossilius was on his feet now. He reached for the crown again and Gulph twisted aside, grabbing a crystal mooring post to keep himself from toppling into the silver water.

  The water!

  Without stopping to question—without thinking at all—Gulph rolled the crown out of reach and launched himself at Ossilius. He planted both hands on the captain’s shoulders and shoved him off the jetty and into the water.

  Ossilius went under immediately, too surprised even to cry out. He sank rapidly, bubbles rising from his mouth, and for a moment Gulph was terrified his friend was too drugged even to swim. Then he saw Ossilius’s arms and legs begin to thrash. Gulph held his breath and hoped his friend was doing the same.

  When Ossilius’s head broke the surface, Gulph waited just long enough for him to open his mouth and take in a lungful of air. Then, reaching down from the jetty, he pressed his hands on top of the man’s head and pushed him under again.

  “Forgive me, my friend,” he said, grunting with the effort. “The water healed us before—maybe it can save you now. . . .”

  The second time Ossilius rose, Gulph saw that same brief flicker in his eyes. Was it recognition? Fury at being half drowned by someone he saw as a stranger?

  Steeling himself, Gulph submerged him yet again.

  This time when Ossilius surfaced, he was kicking and spluttering, reaching for the crystal planks of the jetty and throwing off Gulph’s attempts to help him out of the lake.

  “Let go of me, Gulph!” he cried. “I can do it myself!”

  It took a moment for Gulph to register what he’d just heard. By the time he did, Ossilius had clawed his way up onto the jetty and was lying on his back with his chest heaving. He rolled onto his side, spat out a mouthful of water, then sat up and ran his hands through his sodden hair.

  “Where am I? What’s happening, Gulph?”

  Gulph seized Ossilius’s hand and gripped it tight. He could feel the grin spreading over his face, wide and warm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled so broadly.

  “It’s good to have you back,” Gulph said.

  Making their way to Kalia’s house, they had to jump to the side of the path to avoid a whole regiment of armed soldiers, dressed in glistening crystal chain mail, hurrying in the opposite direction. As the soldiers marched past, a messenger ran up and spoke to the officer at the front of the column
.

  “. . . Undead seen in the upper tunnels,” Gulph could just hear her say. “They are coming. . . .”

  The words chilled his heart.

  “At least they are taking the threat from Brutan seriously,” said Ossilius. He pointed to a line of boats forming on the lake to create some kind of waterborne defense.

  “They need to,” replied Gulph.

  He watched as the soldiers disappeared along the path, unformed thoughts filling his head. We have to take action too. Just like them. But what can we do?

  They reached Kalia’s house and went inside. What Gulph saw made him grin. With the entire complement of the Tangletree Players crammed around the cauldron on its hearth, the cottage felt packed. The air smelled of fire and magic and fellowship.

  Pip ran straight up to Gulph and pulled him into a hug. Then the others swarmed around him, throwing their arms about him and each other, and laughing. Noddy even danced a little jig.

  “Is this how you treat your king?” Ossilius laughed, clearly enjoying the reunion.

  The room fell silent.

  “King?” said Madrigal, taking a nervous step backward.

  “What do you mean?” said Noddy.

  Gulph glanced at Ossilius, who nodded.

  “You’ve all heard of the prophecy, haven’t you?” Gulph said. His friends murmured that they had. Gulph took a deep breath. “Well, it’s a long story—too long to tell now—but I’m not really who you think I am. I’m one of the triplets.”

  Silence fell again.

  “Brutan’s son?” said Noddy at last. “Is it true?”

  “It is true,” said Ossilius. “Gulph, show them.”

  Opening his pack, Gulph brought out the crown of Toronia. The Tangletree Players gaped first at the beaming band of gold, then at Gulph.

  “By golly,” Noddy breathed.

  “W-what should we call you?” stammered Madrigal.

  “I should have thought that’s obvious,” said Pip with a grin. “We call him Gulph.”

  He grinned back, his heart swelling.

  “You can’t tell anyone,” he said, hiding the crown away again. “Especially Lady Redina. It’s a secret. Nobody can know.”