The Lost Realm (38 page)

“You will pay for what you have done!”

It was Brutan, moving slowly, but moving all the same.

“Hurry!” Gulph cried.

The instant they burst out into the castle courtyard, they found themselves facing nearly a dozen of the undead. Noddy cried out, but Pip ran on.

“They didn't attack us before!” she shouted. “Brutan put some kind of shield on me!”

“How do you know you've still got it?” Gulph called.

“I don't!”

Steeling himself, Gulph led the charge toward the shambling corpses. At first they advanced without wavering, and he thought they'd made a huge mistake. Then, as the Tangletree Players ran through their midst, the undead stumbled aside as if pushed by an invisible force.

“I wish I'd had you with me a few days ago,” panted Gulph as they ran. No sooner had they passed through the gatehouse and out into the street beyond than Brutan appeared at the door.

“Take them!” he bellowed. “Bring them to me!”

Instantly the undead they'd just evaded turned and began to chase them. One was close enough to claw at Madrigal, who was lagging behind at the back of the group.

“I think our luck just ran out!” Pip gasped, finding an extra turn of speed.

The undead pursued them first through Idilliam, then out across the battlefield outside the city wall. As they raced through the smoke and ruins, Gulph risked a glance back and was relieved to see the enemy trailing a long way behind.

You can say what you like about the Tangletree Players
, he thought,
but we're fast on our feet!

At last they reached the postern gate. To Gulph's relief the burned timbers he'd stacked across the doorway hadn't been disturbed. By now his lungs were laboring, and his breath was raw in his throat, but he'd mostly recovered his senses. In halting tones he explained to the others about the tunnels beneath the city and the lost realm of Celestis below.

“This is the only way down there,” he said. “All we have to do is get inside and close the door behind us.”

“And then we'll be safe?” said Noddy.

Gulph didn't answer.

They pulled aside the timbers and, one by one, entered the storeroom. Thankfully, none of the undead had found their way inside.

“There,” he gasped, pointing to the mechanism that moved the statue. “That lever. If we pull it, the statue will slide back and close off the doorway. I think.”

Simeon, ever the practical sort, spat on his hands, grabbed the lever, and heaved. Nothing happened. Frowning, he tried again. Still nothing.

“Noddy,” he said. “Give us a shove.”

Noddy joined him, then Madrigal, then Gulph, Pip, and all the others. The entire complement of the Tangletree Players set their collective weight against the lever on which their lives depended.

The lever refused to move.

Ordering the others back, Simeon peered at the mechanism to which the lever was attached. To Gulph it looked like a cage filled with toothed wheels. Simeon reached inside the cage and withdrew a handful of metal shards.

“Broken,” he said. “Looks like someone jammed something into it.”

Someone did
, thought Gulph, remembering the sword Ossilius had used to wedge the mechanism closed.

What had saved them then had condemned them now. The door would remain open to the undead.

“What should we do?” said Pip.

“We've got no choice,” Gulph replied. “It's Celestis or nothing. We have to go on.”

“Brutan will track us here,” Simeon warned. “He'll follow us down.”

Gulph nodded wearily. The journey through the tunnels would be dark and dangerous; he knew that because he'd made it twice before. With Brutan on their heels it would be more perilous still. Yet that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst of it was that his father was still standing.

Even Mother's sword wasn't enough. He can't be defeated! Now I will never take the throne. Neither will my sister, my brother. Brutan will be king of Toronia forever.

T
rees move,” said Theeta.

Tarlan looked over the vast expanse of the Isurian forest canopy. It was another ocean, this one made of glossy leaves and fine green needles. The only movement he perceived was the natural sway of the treetops in the wind.

But Theeta's eyes were much sharper than his own.

“What do you see, Theeta?”

“Trees move,” the thorrod repeated unhelpfully.

Moments later, all became clear. In the distance, in the middle of a patch of young woodland, a long ribbon of trees was not just swaying—it was thrashing to and fro, as if some huge creature were beating its way through.

Not a creature. An army!

“We've found them!”

Tapping his heels against Theeta's flanks, Tarlan urged his thorrod steed lower. Kitheen, who'd been flying beside them all the way from the beach, followed silently as they descended.

“Filos! Greythorn! Brock! Are you there?”

Tarlan knew they were close. With every day that passed, the bond with his pack grew stronger. His knowledge of them was like a sixth sense, although not as powerful as his sense of sight or his hearing.

Not yet, anyway.

Sure enough Theeta's wings had barely skimmed the treetops before the three animals came into view. They raced through the thick undergrowth, bounding over deadfalls and plowing through stands of hawthorn and holly as if they weren't there. When they reached a small glade, they stopped and looked expectantly up.

Tarlan guided Theeta in to land beside them. Kitheen continued to circle overhead, keeping watch.

“We've nearly caught up with the Galadronians,” said Tarlan. “You've done well, all of you.”

“Men are slow in the forest,” growled Greythorn.

“When can we fight them?” inquired Brock.

Tarlan grinned. “You'll get your chance. But we can't afford to take them on yet. Our first job is to join up with Trident again.”

“The army is moving east,” Filos observed. “Trident is east.”

“I know. If we want to get to the Trident camp first, we'll have to circle around the Galadronians. We've got the speed, so we can afford to make a detour.”

“Cold way,” Theeta suggested.

It took Tarlan a moment to work this out.

“Yes, we'll go south,” he agreed. “But not nearly as far as Yalasti, Theeta. Not even as far as the big river. Just far enough to make a loop around the army. Then we'll cut back north and be at the clearing before them.”

“Fessan gone.”

“Well, yes, I think he probably will be gone.” Tarlan considered. “Fessan will have stayed long enough for the wounded to recover, but we know he wants to start recruiting again. I think Trident will have moved on by the time we get there, but they'll have left a trail.” He grinned at the animals. “And I have the best team of trackers in Toronia.”

“Then we fight?” asked Brock. He reared up on his hind legs, a mountain of tangled brown fur.

Tarlan gave the bear's massive foreleg a friendly slap and laughed. “There's no stopping you, is there, Brock? But you have to be patient. The Galadronian army is very big, and our pack is very small.”

“Not as small as it was.”

“Not now that we've got you, Brock, no.”

The bear craned his neck and gazed deep into the forest. “Not Brock.
Them
.”

There was a crashing sound behind Tarlan. He whirled in time to see several large creatures breaking through the trees and into the clearing: bears, at least ten of them, with more massing behind.

“Are you Tarlan?” demanded the bear in front, a squat black beast with a scar on his nose.

“Uh . . . yes.” Tarlan found it difficult to speak with his jaw hanging open. He turned to Brock. “Where did they all come from?”

“From everywhere. When we were running to the sea, I met a bear. I told her my story. She told other bears, and they told more. Captive bears heard the story too, and rose up against their masters. When you freed me, Tarlan, you freed them. You freed them all.”

Tarlan saw that some of the bears did indeed still carry the remnants of chains around their necks, or manacles on their paws. He promised himself that as soon as they found Trident, he would have Fessan's blacksmiths release them from these last shackles of slavery.

This is my true gift
, he thought giddily.
It's not just talking to animals. It's setting them free.

“You are welcome, all of you!” he cried, stepping toward the bears. “Will you really fight for me?”

“We will fight!” the black bear snarled.

“More come,” croaked Theeta in Tarlan's ear. “You call.”

Tarlan looked beyond the clearing, seeing only the darkness of the forest interior.

“More bears?” he said.

“More everything.”

A thrill ran down Tarlan's spine. He closed his eyes and summoned his will. Heat washed through him, both strange and familiar. He touched the heat and, through it, touched the forest. Shapes were moving through the trees.
No, not shapes—minds!

A wave of dizziness washed through him. He staggered; Theeta's wing caught him, held him upright.

“What's happening, Theeta?”

“Tarlan fly. Tarlan see.”

Opening himself fully to the pulsing heat that was growing inside him, Tarlan clambered onto the thorrod's back and allowed her to carry him aloft. The forest was alive with movement. More bears were entering the clearing. A pride of red-furred forest cats was slinking along one of the half-hidden trails. Wild boars arrived from the slopes to the north, carving their way through low-lying brambles with great sweeps of their tusks. From the south came a volley of howls: packs of wolves, running to join the growing throng.

Joining the pack!
Tarlan's temples throbbed.
My pack!

“Join me!” he shouted. “Join me, all of you!”

His voice carried over the trees, but he knew that the real cry came from within. He felt it then: a vast, collective pulse. The force of all these individual animal lives, hunters and prey united, gathered as one below him. Gathered for him.

He spoke with something other than his voice.

Run with me! Fight for me!

With a sudden screeching, a flock of eagles burst from the treetops, each with a wingspan as broad as Tarlan was tall.

Fly with me!

By now the clearing was full. Tarlan could see Brock, Greythorn, and Filos moving among the newcomers, welcoming them.

Join me!

“There's no stopping us, Theeta!” Tarlan cried. “Fly, and let them follow!”

Theeta obeyed, turning south as they'd planned and beginning the loop that would take them ahead of the enemy. The eagles followed, a white-winged escort. On the ground below, what had begun as a random assemblage of mismatched creatures became a kind of organized stampede: bear and cat, fox and boar, horse and wolf, all running together, all following Tarlan's call.

Oh, Elodie, wait until you see what I've brought you!

By the time they reached the clearing where the Trident camp had been, the sun was beginning to set. The Galadronians were nowhere to be seen. Still, Tarlan suspected the enemy would be here by nightfall.

“Trident gone,” observed Theeta as she landed.

“Yes,” Tarlan replied. “Well, we expected that, didn't we?”

All the same, it was with some disappointment that he jumped down and surveyed the deserted clearing. He told himself not to worry, that Trident's absence was a good sign.

“They're off getting new recruits,” he said, wandering out across the scuffed turf. “Let's see what clues we can find.”

Filos and Greythorn emerged from the trees and into the low red light of the sunset. Beyond them Tarlan sensed the massive presence of the rest of his newly enlarged pack.