The Lost Realm (45 page)

G
ulph clung like a spider to the sheer cliff face. His arms were bunched tight to his chest, his fingers gripping a tiny ledge no wider than his thumbnail. His toes were crammed into a pair of crevices so small that even a mouse wouldn't have considered using them as holes. His legs were racked with painful cramps. His whole body shook.

Above him the chasm was a smooth vertical wall. He'd climbed through the night, yet he still couldn't see the top. He couldn't see any more handholds, either. There was nothing to hold on to. There was nowhere to go.

Let go. Just let go and fall. You've done your best. It's over.

But he couldn't do that. Life was a precious thing, and he wasn't ready to let go of it.

Besides, he had a job to do.

Ignoring the pain in his fingertips, in his toes, in the spasming muscles of his arms and legs, Gulph forced himself to breathe deeply. Doing so calmed the rising panic. But it didn't solve his problem.

He studied the wall above him, willing the solution to appear. In the light of the setting moon, the rock looked like polished silver. Nothing.

He looked to his right and saw more of the same featureless rock. Nothing there, either.

Tendrils of mist wafted past him, ghostlike. The drop—the endless drop—hung beneath him like the mouth of a waiting beast. He could feel it, a tremendous presence made all the more terrifying for its emptiness.

I won't look down. I won't!

Feeling only despair, Gulph looked to his left. Another expanse of smooth, unblemished stone.

So this really is it. I can't . . .

He looked harder. There was a thin crack running vertically up the rock face. It was a long way away—he would have to stretch his arms to three times their length to reach it.

Impossible.

It was so tantalizing: a route up the cliff within sight but out of reach. To get to the crack, he would have to cross an impossible span of unyielding stone.

“Or jump,” he said aloud.

It was his only choice.

Slowly he straightened his arms, lowering his body a short distance back down the cliff. Now, instead of having bent arms and straight legs, the opposite was true. His compressed thighs protested; his stretched shoulders howled.

Only one chance at this, Gulph. Make it count.

He looked again at the crack. It was hard to gauge the distance properly in the failing light of the moon.

Don't think. Just jump.

Gulph jumped.

The leap was pure agony: a twisting, sideways kick that seemed to send every part of his body flying in a wholly unnatural direction. The instant he jumped, he unlatched his fingers and toes from their holds; he felt a sharp stab of pain as one of his fingernails tore off. He threw out his arms, blindly seeking the crack that he would surely never reach . . . and felt his battered fingers slip neatly into it.

He grabbed at the rock, cramming his hands deep into the crack, seeking fresh handholds and finding them. His feet scrabbled for a moment; then they too found purchase. Gulph tensed his entire body, freezing himself in place, trying to assess whether or not he'd found safety, or just another trap.

The rocky edges of the cracks held firm.

Sweat broke out all over his skin. His breath spurted from his mouth in sharp, steaming gasps. His heart hammered.

I made it!

He looked up. The crack extended up the chasm wall as far as he could see.

But it wasn't
all
he could see.

Above him the sky was glowing pink with the first light of dawn. Cutting across it was a sharp, horizontal line of rock.

The top of the chasm!

Gulph began climbing again.

Some time later—he had no idea how long—Gulph pulled himself up over the lip of the chasm and flopped down, his chest heaving. He was weary beyond measure. To his relief a nearby pile of rubble hid him from the view of anyone looking out from Idilliam. Beyond his hiding place the deserted battlefield stretched all the way to the distant city wall. Above, the sky had turned from pink to pale violet. Unable to move, he simply lay there, aching all over.

Slowly the pain began to ebb from his arms and legs, his hands and feet. His finger still throbbed where the nail had been ripped away; he tore a corner of cloth from his shirt and used it to bind the wound.

He also tried to imagine what it would be like climbing back down again . . . then quickly steered his mind away from the subject. The very idea was unthinkable.

You'll have to do it sooner or later. Sooner, probably—if you stay here too long, you're bound to be caught.

He clambered slowly to his feet.

One thing at a time, Gulph. Right now you have a job to do.

Coaxing his body back to life, he adjusted the pack of fireworks on his back and hurried across the wasteland surrounding the outer wall of Idilliam. The place seemed deserted, but he summoned the energy to make himself invisible anyway. He had no desire to attract the attention of the undead.

He ran beneath the city gate, shuddering as he passed under the decaying heads of Nynus and Magritt, still impaled on their spikes. As soon as he was inside the city, he began to see the undead: not exactly hordes of them, but enough walking corpses wandering the streets to make him anxious.

They can't see me
, he told himself.
I'm safe.

But he didn't feel safe at all.

He made for the nearest building—a half-collapsed wooden structure—and hid behind its shattered walls.

Inside one of the surviving rooms, a group of undead warriors was sorting through a pile of swords and spears.

They're gathering their weapons!
thought Gulph grimly.
Getting ready to invade Celestis!

Opening his pack, he took out the first of the fireworks Noddy had made from the powders they'd found in Kalia's storeroom. Gulph jammed the tightly bound tube into a gap between two planks, struck a spark from his tinderbox, and lit the fuse.

He'd just reached the safety of the opposite side of the street when the firework exploded in a mushroom of orange sparks and flames. There was a chattering series of loud cracks, like popping grain on a stove top. Three breaths later, the entire building was ablaze.

Through the window, Gulph saw the undead dropping the weapons and reaching blindly for the exits, but already the wooden building was an inferno. He watched with cold excitement as their decayed bodies turned white-hot and burned away to ashes.

Just like the legionnaire in the throne room. Thank you, Pip, for giving me the idea. It might take me all day and all night to burn down Idilliam, but I think it's going to work!

The flames crossed quickly to neighboring buildings. With a surge of excitement Gulph decided this might not take as long as he'd feared. He hurried to the next crossroads and used another firework to ignite a large warehouse filled with the undead. By setting fires on street junctions, he reasoned, he would make the fire spread faster and farther.

He reached an open square dominated by a towering structure that was all too familiar. It looked like a gigantic, malformed bird's nest balanced on enormous stilts.

The Vault of Heaven!

Gulph shivered, remembering the dreadful days he'd spent trapped inside that awful prison. He supposed it was empty now, since all the prisoners had been taken out by Nynus to help destroy the bridge.

Oh, but I can't resist this!

He planted one of Noddy's largest rockets into the ground, aimed it at the underbelly of the Vault, and lit the fuse. The rocket flew, burying itself with a tremendous explosion in the woven structure of the prison.

The Vault of Heaven began to burn.

Gulph ran on toward Castle Tor. All the streets behind him were burning now, first one building erupting into flames, then its neighbor, and so on, until Gulph realized with a jolt that the flames had already cut him off from the main gate.

Don't think about it. There must be a hundred ways out of this city.

By the time he reached the castle, his invisibility was beginning to flicker on and off. He fought to control it, but he was so tired that his efforts met with little success. He just hoped he'd caused enough panic among the undead that they wouldn't notice him.

He tossed a firework into a hay cart that was drawn up near the castle wall, then raced on toward the main gate tower. Flames pursued him, and as he passed beneath the portcullis he saw that the spiked wooden gate was already on fire. The flames had circled behind him, reaching the castle faster than he'd anticipated.

It's out of control
, he thought with satisfaction and no small measure of fear.

The courtyard inside the gate tower was empty. On its far side rose the wall of the inner keep. Smoke was pouring from the windows. Screams came from within.

Gulph was halfway to the main door when a figure appeared on a balcony overlooking the courtyard. It was a massive, monstrous thing, half man, half skeleton. Velvet robes hung in tatters from its slumped shoulders. In its eye sockets burned flames even brighter than the fire that was consuming Castle Tor.

Brutan!

Summoning all his will, Gulph concentrated on the strange sensations with which he could summon—and sustain—his invisibility.

Sand! Heat! Desert magic!

To his relief Brutan's burning gaze passed over him, unseeing. Then, to his surprise, the undead king clambered awkwardly over the balcony's parapet, dropped the short distance to an external staircase, and began to descend.

The reason for Brutan's hasty departure became clear as a jet of flame burst over the balcony, which crumbled and fell with a deafening crash into the courtyard. The undead king was consumed by a billowing cloud of dust and smoke, and for a moment Gulph's heart rose.

It crushed him! He's dead!

But his hopes were dashed when Brutan staggered clear of the debris. Shaking himself, the undead king ran across the courtyard to Gulph's left, stumbling awkwardly toward another set of stone stairs. He kept his skeleton hands clamped to his chest, covering the wound Gulph had inflicted with Kalia's crystal sword.

So it
did
hurt him
, Gulph thought.
But where's he going?

There was another crash behind him as the gatehouse collapsed into a burning heap of shattered stones and broken timber. A wave of heat rushed over Gulph, forcing him toward the keep. With mounting horror, he watched as the flames began systematically to destroy the wooden outhouses lining the courtyard walls.

Brutan's looking for a way out
, he realized.
He knows he's trapped. And now I'm trapped in here with him! If only I'd gone back to the chasm sooner!

But he knew he couldn't have done that.

Not until he knew Brutan was dead.

Gathering all the strength that had carried him here from the depths of the chasm, knowing this might be his only chance to finish things once and for all, Gulph chased after the thing that had once been his father.

The stairs climbed steeply, curving up and around the outside of the castle's main watchtower. Gulph kept his distance and remained invisible. The last thing he wanted to do was run blindly into a trap.

As Gulph ascended, he found himself looking down over the whole of Idilliam. To the east the sun was rising, turning the sky to pale gold. Its rays spread across the city, skimming the tops of the trees that grew in Isur, on the opposite side of the chasm. The beauty of the faraway forest canopy made Gulph's heart ache.

This could be my kingdom
, he thought, panting as he forced his aching limbs to climb.
Once Brutan is gone . . .

A different kind of canopy hung over Idilliam. Instead of treetops, here were glowing red fountains of fire. Gulph marveled at the destruction he'd brought to the city, and wondered if it would ever stop.

As he climbed higher and higher, the watchtower narrowed. Gulph slowed, glancing down. The tower was affixed to the outer corner of the castle keep, which in turn overlooked the chasm surrounding Idilliam. If he slipped on these stairs, he wouldn't just fall to the ground.

He'd fall into the chasm.

One more turn of the stairs would bring him to the top of the watchtower. Brutan was somewhere up ahead, out of sight.

There was a roar of flames behind him.

He stopped in his tracks.

The steps he had just come up were on fire. Flames spurted and he raised his arms to protect his face. Heat scorched his invisible skin. Panic bubbled inside him.

Brutan ahead, the fire behind. I'm trapped, and it's all my fault . . .

He scrabbled on upward, away from the rising fire.

I was a fool to think it was all going to work out
, he thought bitterly.
Me, rule Toronia as a king, with my siblings at my side? Why did I ever believe it?