The Angel's Command

22

NIGHT IN THE high mountains was like being stranded on some strange planet. Silence reigned. In the clear air, every sound was magnified and echoed. The travellers walked gingerly onward, keeping their voices to hushed whispers lest they betray their position to anyone in the vicinity. It was hard going, all upward, and each pace had to be made carefully across the eerie expanses of white snow and ice and black pockets of shadow.

They had been going for two hours or more when Karay’s breath plumed out like steam as she whispered to Dominic, “Hadn’t we better rest awhile and catch our breath?”

Ben heard her and called a halt. He chose a spot in the deep shadows of a crag to one side of the path. No sooner had they installed themselves there than voices were heard.

Ned’s ears rose as he contacted Ben. “Sounds like two men. Good job we got in here out of the way.”

It was the fat rogue Cutpurse and a weaselly-looking older fellow called Abrit. They shuffled by within twenty feet of where the friends were hiding. Cutpurse stopped, leaning on a staff he was using as a crutch, and scanned the ground suspiciously. “Look, there’s tracks here!” There was obviously no love lost between the two men, for Abrit treated Cutpurse as if he were a half-wit. It showed in his voice. “Of course there’s tracks, lard gut, they’re the tracks we made on the way up. Look, there’s the dog’s paw prints out in front. Come on, stop slowin’ me down or we’ll never find Rouge an’ Domba, or the dog. Now what’s the matter?”

Cutpurse lowered himself painfully and sat down on the snow. “My ankle’s killin’ me, it’s agony to walk any further. Listen, why don’t we find someplace where we can lay up for the night? Then tomorrow we can catch up with the rest an’ tell ‘em there was no sign of Rouge, Domba or Gurz. We’re just killin’ ourselves, blunderin’ round in the dark!”

Abrit scoffed at the idea. “Hah! Alright, we’ll do that. But when we get back, I ain’t sayin’ nothin’. You tell Ligran Razan you couldn’t find ‘em. How does that sound to ye, eh?”

Cutpurse pouted childishly and nursed his injured ankle. “That Ligran’s got it in for me—he’d slay me as soon as look at me. Cruel, that’s what it is. Sendin’ a man out on a search with a broken foot. Huh, just wants t’be rid of me, Ligran does!”

Abrit nodded. “Me too. I’ve never got on well with Ligran. So, all the more reason for findin’ Rouge an’ Domba. We’ll be savin’ our own lives by doin’ the job. On your feet, fatty!”

Cutpurse began to rise. Then a thought occurred to him. “I think we’re goin’ the wrong way. Look, there’s only tracks goin’ upward. Where’s the tracks Rouge an’ Domba left when they came down? I can’t see any.”

Abrit scratched his head. “Y’could be right there. They must’ve been searchin’ on another path. Maybe over the side of the icefield yonder. We’d best go an’ take a look!”

Ben breathed a silent sigh of relief as they watched the two robbers hobbling off over the wide, lumpy icefield, which sloped away to their left. Karay whispered. “Thank goodness our trail was mixed up with the tracks of the others.”

The two robbers were about a third of the way into the icefield when Ben turned to Karay. “Do you feel rested enough to carry on now?”

The girl began making her way forward indignantly, muttering to herself, “Of course I am! It wasn’t just me who needed a rest, you two were panting worse than Ned!”

To prove her point she dashed out of cover, accidentally stepping on an ice-covered bit of rock. Her feet left the ground, and she thudded backward. An involuntary cry came from her as she fell flat on her back. “Yeek!”

The sound echoed sharply out into the surrounding peaks.

Out on the icefield, Cutpurse and Abrit halted abruptly. Cutpurse waved his staff triumphantly. “They’re the ones Ligran wants—come on, let’s get ‘em!”

Abrit shouldered his companion to one side. “Out o’ my way, ye fool, I’ll stop ‘em!” Pulling a musket from his belt he fired a shot across the cliffside at the girl lying on the ground. The report echoed like thunder.

Ben blinked as the musket ball pinged off the rock behind him. The two robbers were scrambling across the icefield toward them, shouting at them to halt. Then the noise started: a dull muffled sound from above, building up into one massive rumble, growing louder by the second.

Krrrraaaaacvwwwwwk!

Dominic dived out and dragged Karay by her feet back under the shelter of the rock. Then he pulled Ben as deep into the shadow as possible. Ned galloped to his master’s side.

Dominic’s voice was almost lost in the unearthly roar. “Avalanche! Avalanche!”

Powdered snow, hard snow, sheets and columns of ice mixed with rocks, scree, shale and boulders came thundering down as a huge wedge of the mountain, disturbed by the gunshot, toppled down onto the icefield.

Cutpurse and Abrit died where they stood and were swept away by nature’s irresistible force.

Ben, Ned, Karay and Dominic, bundled together in the rock’s shadow, hugged one another tightly. A monstrous single wall of ice scrunched by, halting with an immense grating crack between the overhanging rock top and the path they had intended to follow. Everything went black, dark as an underground dungeon. Their eardrums reverberated with the thudding, solid waterfall of snow that pounded outside against rock and ice.

This was followed by a silence so complete that it made a ringing sound inside their heads. As rapidly as it had started, the avalanche was over.

Ben’s voice sounded muffled as he spoke the words that came to him from Ned. “Is anyone hurt, are we all here?”

Their arms were still around one another as Karay and Dominic replied out of the stygian darkness.

“I bruised my shoulder when I slipped, but I’m still alive.”

“More than we can say for those Razan villains, I suppose.”

Ben shuddered at the thought of the two men’s fate. “Nothing can have lived out there. ‘Twas like the end of the world. Ned feels nice and warm, though.”

The black Labrador licked Ben’s hand. “That’s the sweat of pure panic. I think they call it the heat of the moment.”

The boy hugged his dog closer. “All we can do now is wait for daylight. Maybe the sun will reflect through all this, and we’ll be able to judge our position.”

Surprisingly, it was not as cold as they had expected. Their breath and body heat combined to keep the temperature above freezing in the dungeon of snow and ice.

Throughout the remainder of the night, the four friends slept fitfully. Ben was half in and half out of sleep when the dog’s thoughts cut in on him. “Phew, it’s getting a bit muggy in here, but I can see your face now, mate. Can you see me?”

Ben open his eyes to a blurred grey gloom. “Aye, I can see you, mate, though it’s getting a bit difficult to breathe. It must be near dawn outside.”

Dominic opened his eyes. “Any food? I’m famished!”

Karay’s voice came from over Ned’s shoulder. “Me too!”

Ned, with the limited room allowed to him, dug in the snow, which was almost knee high. Ben heard his thoughts. “I’ve found Dominic’s facemaker satchel, anything in here?”

Dominic pulled the satchel free of the snow. “Thank you, Ned. Let’s see what’s left in here.”

They watched as he loosed the straps and rummaged about. “A hard piece of cheese, stale heel of a loaf … Aha, what’s this? Wine, nearly a flask of it. I’d forgotten about that!”

Karay sat up as best as she could. “I’m glad you did! Now share it out, quick, before I die of hunger!”

Dominic smiled. “Oh, what’s your hurry, you’ll live. Now eat slowly and don’t talk for a while, or we may use up all the air in here. Proper daylight can’t be too far off.”

Nibbling and sipping, they bided their time. Gradually the greyness was replaced with a golden glow that began permeating their snowy prison. Ned wagged his tail. “Looks like a nice sunny day!”

Ben pushed the offending tail away. “It might if I could see properly. Keep your tail still, mate!”

He felt around until he unearthed Arnela’s ice axe. Ben poked it forward and tapped gently. “Feels like a solid block of ice trapping us in here. What d’you think, Dom?”

The facemaker took the axe from Ben, reversing it until he was holding the metal head. He probed over his shoulder with the butt of the shaft, pushing at a space above him. Loose snow showered down on them.

Karay encouraged him. “That’s the way, give it a good hard shove!”

Dominic shook his head, murmuring as he probed. “Gently does it, don’t want to bring the whole lot down on us.” He pushed further with the haft until it slid forward easily, then withdrew it.

A golden circle of light shone down, centering between Ned’s ears. The air began freshening immediately. Ben laughed. “Well done, sir. You’ve saved our lives!”

They took turns. Working carefully, each one widened the hole, waggling the ice axe and pulling down chunks of ice and frozen snow. As water droplets came down, Ned held out his tongue and caught a few.

Karay knotted the rope about her waist and stood in a crouch. “I’m the slimmest and lightest, so I’ll go first. You men, take one of my feet each and give me a good boost.”

Ben and Dominic cupped their hands, making stirrups for her feet, then lifted. Her head rose into the hole above. She called back to them. “Right, one, two, three. Hup!” Their heads banged the ice wall as they jerked her upwards.

Karay fell out and forward at the same time, enlarging the hole; then she disappeared. A moment later, her head appeared in the hole. “Ned can come next! Pass him up. Here, boy, give me your paws, good dog, come on!”

The Labrador rose into the sunlight, dispensing cheery thoughts. “Hey, hup! This is good fun!”

Ben did not exactly return the sentiment. “Huh, it should be, you’re sitting on my head, you great broad-beamed hound!”

Soon all four were standing out in the fresh, sunlit mountain morning air. Dominic swelled out his chest and thumped it cheerfully with both fists. “Well friends, onward and upwards, eh?”

A strange voice answered him. “Aye, lad, that’s the way we’re goin’ too. Let’s all go together!”

Ligran Razan and five of his followers strolled out from behind the rock that the friends had been trapped against.

Ben was stunned. He shot Ned a swift thought. “Don’t move, mate, they’re too well armed. Don’t try anything!”

The black Labrador speedily replied, “Watch out for me, Ben, I’ll be around!” He streaked off down the mountain.

One of Ligran’s men unslung a rifle and grabbed a powder flask from his belt.

Ligran stuck out a foot and tripped him. “D’you want to start another avalanche, idiot? Let the dog go, it ain’t important. Well, now, what’ve we got here? Two handsome boys an’ a pretty girl.” He drew his sword and placed the point against Ben’s chest. “What are ye doin’ this high up in our mountains, lad?”

Ben tried to look simple and friendly at the same time. “We’re travellers, crossing over into Spain, sir.”

Ligran’s sword flashed in the sunlight. Ben felt the sharp sting as the flat of the blade slapped him across the cheek.

The Razan leader snarled viciously at him. “Liar! Travellers go through the pass, south of here in Andorra. Now tell me the truth or I’ll slice the nose off you!”

Karay stepped boldly in front of Ben. She faced Ligran. “He told you, we’re going to Spain. Now I’m telling you. Go on, cut my nose off, you coward. I’m not armed like you!”

Ligran raised the sword and struck. It sheared off a dark ringlet of the girl’s hair. Karay did not flinch. Ligran let his sword fall and laughed. “I like a maid who has spirit. We’ll see how much you have left when Maguda’s finished questioning you. You’ve heard of Maguda Razan—she’s my sister.”

Karay laughed in Ligran’s face. “If all her brothers are as ugly as you, I feel sorry for her!”

The blade quivered a moment in Ligran’s grip; his eyes narrowed savagely. Then he turned away and rapped out orders. “Take their rope an’ tie them together, hands an’ necks! If we hurry we’ll arrive back just after the two I sent ahead with the bear. Use your clubs an’ beat them if they try to lag behind!”

Tied together with Arnela’s rope looping their hands to their necks, the three friends shuffled forward. Ben spoke out of the side of his mouth to Dominic, who was behind him. “Well, at least we won’t get lost on our way to the Razan hideout.”

A cudgel cracked sharply against his shin. A lanky, scar-faced villain waggled the weapon in Ben’s face. “Shut your mouth, boy, or I’ll break your leg. That goes for you other two. You’re prisoners now, so march!”

23

HUDDLED forlornly on the floor of the big cave, the bear uttered a piteous moan. Razan men and women formed a circle around the animal, watching it curiously. The two who had been sent ahead with it held the neck chains slackly, averting their eyes when Maguda spoke. The matriarch of all the Razan leaned forward slightly. Her huge hypnotic eyes pinpointing on the wretched animal, she croaked venomously, “Ye’ll dance before I’m through with ye. Guards, take this thing out of my sight. Away to the dungeons with it!”

Men hauled on the chains, forcing the bear into an upright position. It made a mournful noise as the spikes inside its iron collar dug into its neck fur. They were dragging the bear away, when Rawth, the eldest of Maguda’s brothers, entered the cavern and approached his sister.

The hypnotic eyes swivelled in his direction. “Thou hast come to tell me that our brother Ligran approaches, this I already know.”

Rawth shrugged uneasily. “He brings captives, two boys and a girl, but no black dog is with them.”

Maguda hissed like an angry snake. “Ssssstupid men! Would that I had the strength in my limbs that mine eyes possess. It is I who would have captured all four. Bad omens portend misfortune if the dog is not in my grasp. Bring the prisoners straight here to me when they arrive. Go now, help thy brother!”

Ben stumbled in deep snow, and a guard poked him in the back with the butt of Arnela’s ice axe. The boy straightened and struggled on uphill, his mind worried by lack of communication with Ned.

Dominic whispered furtively, as if privileged to his friend’s thoughts. “Wonder where Ned is. Not like him to run off.”

Karay overheard him and replied shortly, “If I was as fast as a dog, I’d have made a run for it, too. What was he supposed to do—wait around to be captured, or shot?”

One of the guards pushed the girl roughly. “Shut your mouth!”

Ben spoke aloud to distract the robber’s attention from her. “Ned’s more use to us running free. He’ll help us—mark my word, he’s no ordinary dog.”

Ligran Razan turned and pointed his sword at Ben. “One more word from you, lad, an’ I’ll chop your tongue off!”

Ben decided it was wiser to keep silent from then on. The Razan leader looked like a villain who would take delight in carrying out his threats. Cruelty and a volatile temper were stamped all over Ligran’s coarse features. So Ben held his silence, even as the mouth of the cave came in view. He wanted to shout out to his companions about the red and black figures he could see, scrawled in primitive fashion on the wall outside the cave entrance: men hunting boar, just as Edouard had seen before passing out after his accident. Edouard had said that he would know where the Razan stronghold was if he could find the place where the men were hunting wild boar. Ben was puzzled, but he noted the position of the ancient artwork as he was shoved into the passages branching into the caves.

Lanterns guttered feebly in the dank rock tunnels, which seemed to twist and turn endlessly. Sometimes they would pass side chambers—Razan clan members stared out at them across fires that had blackened and sooted the walls of these miserable hovels where they lived like animals. Water seeped down the rocks of the passages, and a foul odour of communal living, damp, and leftover garbage hung on the still air. Karay noted that nowhere was there sight or presence of children. Then they were in a longer passage, more straight and broad than the ones they had travelled. It even had rush mats and animal skins laid on its smooth floor.

Without warning they were thrust into the lair of Maguda Razan. The friends were startled by the horrific sight: a vast natural cavern with a ceiling so high that it was lost amidst the thick clouds of noxious smoke that snaked upwards in spiralling columns of all hues, from sulphurous yellow and oily green to muddy crimson and acrid blue, mingling in a turgid browny-black mass overall. The smoke columns issued from fires at the bases of monolithic figures, some freestanding but most carved into the living rock of the cavern walls—strange monsters and forgotten deities frightening to look upon, some animal, some human; many half animal and half human with extra limbs. Monstrous forms with horns, fangs and evil leering faces. And there, seated on her throne at the top of a circular-stepped rostrum, was the spider at the centre of this web of unholiness. Maguda Razan!

Her eyes swept over them briefly, then settled on Ligran. Ben saw his throat bob nervously as he swallowed.

Maguda spat out a single word at him. “Fool!”

Ligran stared at his feet, not daring to look her in the eyes. He tried to sound commanding yet respectful. “A harsh word, sister. I lost four good men taking these prisoners for you. The dog was just an ordinary dog that ran off like a frightened rabbit. We couldn’t risk a shot at it, for fear of starting an avalanche, so we just … brought these three …” His voice trailed off into silence.

Maguda snarled at him, “I wanted that dog—the omens told me it was a bad thing for us to let it live. Thou art a fool, brother Ligran. Look at me!”

Ligran reluctantly let his gaze rise. His legs were trembling. A long, curved and blackened fingernail pointed at him.

Maguda spoke. “Thou art a fool. Say it!”

Ligran’s lips moved automatically as he repeated the words: “I am a fool.”

Maguda sat back, and her hand waved at Ligran dismissively. “Count thyself lucky thou art my brother. Begone to thy cave.” Ligran slunk away wordlessly.

Ben felt Karay, who was standing close to him, give an involuntary shudder. Maguda was pointing at her. “Pretty girl, what were ye doing up in my mountains?”

Ben whispered fiercely, “Don’t look at her eyes, Karay!”

“Silence!” Maguda shouted. “Rawth, I do not want yonder boy looking at me, attend to him!”

The eldest brother moved swiftly, dealing the boy a blow that laid him senseless upon the floor. Dominic and Karay were overpowered by Maguda’s guards as they leapt forward to help Ben.

An evil chuckle came from the throne. “I’m told thou art a sweet singer. Sing for me, girl.”

Karay’s voice dripped loathing as she struggled between two burly Razan robbers. “I’d never dream of singing for a wicked old hag like you. Never!”

Maguda Razan’s smile was a hideous thing to see. “Sooner or later thou wilt sing for me, just like a little bird. Aye, a songbird. I’ll have a cage made for thee. ‘Twill hang in this cave—ye shall wear a gown of feathers and sing for me each day. A song of why ye came here. Ah, do not think I don’t know. Ye came on a wasted journey, though, for the one ye seek is no longer here. Oh, don’t look shocked, child, Maguda Razan knows and sees all.”

Dominic could contain himself no longer. Straining against the guards who held him, he shouted out, “You lie! Deceit and evil are in your eyes! Truth and honesty are strangers to you. Your world is built on wickedness and lies!”

Maguda turned her baleful glare on him. “Facemaker of Sabada, I know thee. Look at me! For one so young, thou hast a lot to say.”

Dominic’s gaze was unwavering. He stared straight at Maguda. “I’m not weak and ignorant, you cannot frighten me. My eyes see the truth—your spells and trickeries have no power over me!”

It was like a struggle of wills, one will trying to overpower the other. Maguda’s pupils shrank to pinpoints, and her head trembled as she intensified her gaze on the boy in front of her. Dominic’s gaze was calm and steady.

Karay had only looked into Maguda’s eyes for a few seconds before the power of them made her feel dizzy, and she turned her attention to the floor. Now she watched Dominic, amazed that he could look into the Razan woman’s eyes for so long. Ben moved slightly and groaned. Karay edged over to his side and placed her hand on his brow. The contest of wills continued until, much to Karay’s surprise, Maguda’s withered hand rose to shield her gaze.

Dominic still stood staring. His face did not register the horrors he had envisioned, though he had to control his voice to keep it level. “Death and decay are all I see in your soul, old one. You cannot hypnotise me—I have gifts of my own!”

Maguda Razan’s answer sent a chill through Karay’s heart. “There are other ways of bringing ye under my power, ways that bold young fools such as ye do not realise. This pretty girl, and the boy from the sea, they are thy friends, I believe …”

From between her clawlike fingernails Maguda cast a sly glance at Ben and Karay. Dominic tried to leap forward, but another Razan man tugged him back by the rope looped about his neck, and two more jumped in to assist the pair already hanging on to his arms.

Dominic felt helpless as the realisation of Maguda’s words swept over him. “Witch! Rotten hag! Leave my friends alone!”

Maguda’s triumphant cackling echoed around the vast vault. She pulled a grotesque face at Dominic. “Not so confident now, little boy, eh? Take them away, lock them in the deep dungeons. Let them ponder on what delights I have in store for insolent trespassers!”

After the three friends had been marched off, Maguda beckoned to a dark figure who had been crouching in a shadowy corner close to the cave walls.

“Thy senses did not fail thee, eh, Gizal? Thou wert the first to note the presence of those three young ones.”

Maguda’s staff tapped upon the floor as Gizal shuffled to the throne. “Have I ever failed thee, mistress? Touch, scent an’ hearing serve me better than the eyes of most folk!”

Maguda drew Gizal forward until she could whisper in the blind one’s ear. “What think ye of my prisoners?”

Gizal thought carefully before she answered. “The girl is nought, she can be bent to thy will in time. But the one they call the facemaker, he sounds like a problem to me. He is gifted. Thine eyes have no power over him. As to the other boy, the one whom Rawth laid senseless, I cannot say, I have no knowledge of him.”

Maguda stared at the ragged cloth that bound her aide’s eyes, as if trying to penetrate it. “But the dog, you sensed a dog. It remains uncaptured!”

Gizal sniggered. “What does it matter, mistress? Who cares about a stupid dumb animal?”

Maguda was silent for a moment, then she laughed. “Aye, thou are right, the beast is likely still running. Why fret about a dog? Gizal, ye did a fine job with our other beast, the bear. Little chance of that one running again. Here, my good friend, take this as a reward, and this also.”

The blind woman felt the five gold coins Maguda pressed into her hand. She also felt the little glass phial.

“My thanks to thee, mistress. Gold is respected by all, no matter whose hand it comes from. But what is this bottle?”

Maguda whispered confidentially. “I require thy services. I need thee to act as warden to the captives. They need to know the meaning of fear. Use the potion sparingly.”

Gizal cocked her head quizzically. “Even on the boy thy brother struck down?”

Maguda’s eyes widened. “Especially on him!”

Gizal nodded knowingly. “Ye fear him, mistress?”

Maguda’s nails sank into the blind crone’s arm as she hissed. “I fear no living thing! Cease thy foolish talk! As queen of the Razan, I have to be cautious. The omens have warned me against yon lad. But even he cannot resist my potions. Now go!”

The dungeons were little more than side caves deep down in the mountain’s lower tunnels, each one with an iron barred door fitted across its entrance. Karay and Dominic assisted Ben as the guards shoved them inside and locked the door. They lay on the floor until the sound of their captors’ footsteps faded. Dominic helped Ben to his feet, watching anxiously as his friend massaged the back of his neck. “Ben, are you alright?”

Smiling ruefully, Ben continued rubbing. “Oh, I think I’ll live, mate. That ruffian had a very heavy hand, though.”

Karay stood gripping the bars, peering back along the way they had been brought. “Did you see the poor old bear? I caught a glimpse of him as they marched us along here. They’ve got him locked up a couple of cells back, three I think.”

Dominic placed a sympathetic hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for the bear, too, but wouldn’t it be wiser to look at our own situation first? We’re hardly in a position to help ourselves at the moment.”

Karay sat down on the floor and sighed. “You’re right, Dom. So, what do we do now?”

Ben found himself a dark corner and snuggled down into his cloak. “Right now all I want is a bit of sleep. That was a cold, hard march up the mountain.”

Within a few minutes the other two had joined him, both of them wrapped tightly in their own cloaks and huddling together for warmth in the dank underground cave.

Ben immediately shut his eyes and concentrated on making contact with Ned. No matter how hard he tried, however, there was not a single trace of the black Labrador’s thoughts drifting anywhere in his mind. Ben hid his disappointment by reassuring himself that the dog would reach him when the moment was right. He drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Arnela watched the black Labrador as he wandered into her cave, limping and looking weary. Surrounded by her goats, the big woman had been dozing by the fire. At first she thought it was a dream, until one of the nanny goats bleated at the sight of the dog. Arnela came fully awake then. She began pushing goats out of her way. “Ned, is that you? What’s happened?”

The dog replied mentally, knowing she could not hear him. “I wish I could tell you, my dear lady, but first I must get this paw seen to. Look!”

Whining softly, Ned offered Arnela the sore paw. She inspected it gently. “You’ve sliced that on some sharp rock, poor boy—there’s a flap of skin hanging from the pad. Let me fix it.”

Ned bumped a big goat aside. “It’s my paw she’s fixing, not yours. Anyhow, you’ve got little hooves, bet they never get cut on the rocks. Listen, mate, if I give you a message, could you communicate it to Arnela?”

The goat’s jaws were working furiously around a mouthful of dried grass. It bleated dumbly at the dog: “Maaaahahaaa!”

Ned sniffed disdainfully. “If that’s the best you can do, then don’t bother. Oh, and mind your manners, keep your mouth closed when you’re eating, disgusting beast!”

Arnela cleaned grit out of the wound with warm water, talking in a comforting voice to Ned as she worked. “Don’t worry, boy, I won’t hurt ye. Stand still now. There, it’s nice and ‘ clean now. I’ll put some balm on it. This is good stuff for healing wounds. I make it myself with herbs and white ashes from the pinewood I’ve burned. Feels good and soothing, doesn’t it?”

The goatherd did not expect an answer, though Ned replied thoughtfully, “It feels wonderful, you kind, clever lady!”

Arnela caught hold of a young billy goat with long, silken hair as he tried to skip by her. “Hold still a moment, Narcissus, I need to borrow a tuft or two from your coat.”

With a small pair of shears she clipped a portion from where the goat hair grew longest. Narcissus bleated pitifully. The goatherd sent him on his way with a pat. “Go on, you great baby. That didn’t hurt you a bit, stop whinging!”

As Ned watched her separating the hair, he thought, “What are you going to do with that, my friend?”

Arnela continued talking as she ministered to him. “Hair from a young billy is better than any bandage. I wind it around your paw like this, and it protects the wound nicely. By the time your paw’s better, it’ll have dropped off!”

Ned gazed trustingly at the goatherd. “It feels very good, thank you, marm. I’ll trust your word as to its dropping off eventually. I mean, it’d look a bit foolish, wouldn’t it—a black dog with a white goat-hair paw? Pretty odd, I’d say.”

Arnela fed him a bowl of soup and one of fresh goat milk. Ned took them gratefully. She watched until he was finished, then took his front paws in her lap. “Now, where are the children?”

Ned could only gaze at her beseechingly.

She continued, “Have they found Adamo?”

A sudden brain wave struck the dog. He shook his head slowly.

Arnela was astonished. “You shook your head! Does that mean you can understand me, Ned?” The dog nodded solemnly.

Arnela’s eyes lit up with wonderment. “You can! You can understand me. Oh, you clever dog!”

Ned licked her hand, thinking to himself, “I could listen to your compliments all night, my friend, but there isn’t time. Go on, ask me another question!”

Arnela stared deep into Ned’s eyes. “So, what’s happened to our friends? Sorry, let me put it another way. Did you get lost from them? Are they still searching?”

Ned shook his head emphatically.

Arnela looked anxious. “Are they lying injured someplace? I heard the avalanche.”

Ned shook his head, waiting on her next words.

“Have they been taken by the Razan?”

The dog nodded vigorously several times.

“They’re prisoners—do you know where they are?”

Ned held his head still a moment, then nodded twice.

Arnela shooed away an inquisitive goat before she spoke. “Ned, can you lead me to them?”

Again he nodded in the affirmative.

Arnela arose, put on her heavy cloak and picked up her rope and ice axe. Then, from a hiding place among the goat fodder, she drew out a pistol that she had captured from the robber clan. It was loaded and primed. Thrusting it into her belt, she patted the dog’s head. “Come on then, Ned!”

The big woman halted at the cave entrance. She spoke to her goats as though they were children. “Now there’s no need for you lot to go wandering willy-nilly around the mountains. There’s food in here, ‘tis nice and dry, and water up to our very doorstep. I shouldn’t be too long away. Pantyro, I’m leaving you in charge, be firm with them, but no bullying. Clovis, you’d better keep an eye on Pantyro. You’re all on your best behaviour, so don’t let me down!”

Ned cast an eye over the goats as he and Arnela left the cave. They gazed dumbly at him as he left them with the thought, “I’d hate to be you lot if the place isn’t neat and tidy when your mistress gets back!”

A little billy goat bleated at the dog: “Maaaah!”

Ned eyed him frostily. “Don’t argue with your elders and betters, young fellow!”

With the black Labrador leading the way, Arnela began the long uphill trudge.

Now that he had set his rescue mission under way, Ned concentrated his thoughts upon Ben, sending out messages of hope and comfort. “Ben, can you hear me, mate? It’s your old pal Ned. I’ve got Arnela with me, we’re coming to help you, wherever you are. Speak to me, Ben, let me know you’re alright!”

As they pressed onward and upward, the faithful dog began to feel anxious and worried. Ben was not responding.

24

A TAPPING NOISE WAKENED KARAY. SHE LAY quite still, watching the barred entrance through half-closed eyes. It was Gizal, the blind crone. Behind her came a man carrying a pail and a cauldron with a ladle protruding from it. He placed them where Gizal indicated with her stick, close to the bars. The hag held a finger to her lips, cautioning the man to be quiet. After a moment they both crept silently off. Steam was emanating from the cauldron, a not unpleasant aroma.

The movement of Karay rising woke Ben and Dominic. Dominic yawned cavernously. “Can’t you keep still, Karay? I was in a nice sleep there.”

Ben sniffed the air. “Smells like food, who brought it?” The girl reached through the bars and dipped a ladleful. “It’s porridge of some sort. The old blind woman and a guard left it here not a moment ago. Hmmm, I’m starving!”

Ben leapt upright. “Don’t touch it, Karay! There may be something wrong with the stuff!”

However, Karay was hungry and tasted some on her fingertip. “It is porridge—oatmeal with milk and honey in it. Tastes pretty good to me. If they wanted to poison us, they could have done that long since. We’re prisoners, aren’t we? Even prisoners have to be fed. There’s fresh water in the pail, too!”

Ben hesitated, then consulted the facemaker. “What d’you think, Dom, is it safe?”

Dominic smiled mischievously. “Well, let Karay eat some. If she doesn’t scream and keel over, it should be alright.”

His remark did not seem to disconcert the girl. Blowing on the porridge to cool it, she ate with relish, wrinkling her nose at the two watchers. “It’s delicious. I’ll finish the pot if you two are afraid of porridge. Mmm, great stuff!”

Dominic hurried to her side. “You little hog, give me some!”

Forgetting his earlier doubts, Ben joined him. “Steady on there, mates, I’m famished too!”

It was good food, hot and sweet. Between them they devoured three ladles each. Licking the ladle clean, Karay rinsed it in the pail. The friends drank some water to quench their thirst.

All three felt much better with food and drink inside them. They seated themselves against the rock walls, staring at the glow of the lanterns outside.

Ben thrust his hands inside his cloak to keep them warm. “What d’you suppose they’re planning to do with us?”

Karay giggled. “Send us some more nice porridge when we get hungry, I suppose.”

Ben did not know why he suddenly started laughing. “Hahaha, tell ‘em to bring three pans next time, one each!”

Dominic smiled foolishly. “Aye, and we’d like a table, too, with some nice napkins, like the ones the comte has in his big house. Hahaha, lots of napkins, hoho … Oh, hahahaaaar!” The three of them held their sides and laughed uproariously, not knowing or caring about the cause of such merriment. After a while their laughter subsided into amused chuckles. Then they fell silent, eyelids drooping. Ben yawned and stretched flat out on the floor, Karay and Dominic listed crazily toward each other as they sat with their backs against the rock. In an incredibly short time they were sleeping deeply. Then the effects of Maguda’s potion really took over their minds.

Karay felt she was once again chained to the wheel of Cutpurse’s wagon, unable to move her wrists. The fat clown-thief crouched in front of her, grinning maliciously. She was helpless in his presence. At his side he had the steaming porridge cauldron. Cutpurse tipped it gently, allowing her to view the contents. It was not porridge, it was spiders! The one thing in life of which Karay had an unreasoning terror—spiders! Big ones, small ones, hairy ones, smooth ones, some red, others golden, but most of them an iridescent purply black. Scrambling and wriggling over one another, the mass of arachnids strove to get out of the pail. Karay was overcome with frozen horror, her mouth forming an anguished scream that stuck in her throat. Cutpurse dipped the ladle into the pail, and spiders began crawling into it. He lifted the ladle clear, and some of the spiders clinging to the sides of the handle fell to the floor. Sniggering with delight, the fat robber winked ominously at Karay and teased her wickedly. “Look, pretty one, spiders. Lots of spiders, and all for you!”

Dominic could not even abide the thought of snakes. Loathsome slippery reptiles, cold and slimy, with questing forked tongues and fangs that dripped poison. He had once seen a rabbit that had been bitten by an adder. It lay quivering, eyes glazed, but still alive as the snake coiled about its legs, the blunt nose questing at its victim’s neck as its scales slithered over the victim’s warm body. Dominic looked up and from his distorted angle of view saw Maguda Razan.

She was standing just outside the cell bars, glaring hatefully at him. Slowly her clawed hands reached for the opening of the voluminous cloak that enveloped her, and she croaked at him, “Am I so hideous that you would not make a picture of my face?” Then she opened the cloak a fraction, and snakes began sliding sinuously out onto the floor. Lots of snakes! One with a dirty grey body and barred yellow markings on its underside wrapped itself around the bars. A hooded cobra with spectacle signs reared up and hissed viciously. Pythons, pit vipers and banded coral snakes coiled and uncoiled around Maguda’s feet, swaying, hissing, baring their fangs and constantly being joined by others tumbling out from the cloak. Dominic stared in dread fascination at the jumble of writhing bodies, which had begun moving toward him. He could not close his eyes to block out the awful sight. He sat there leaning askew against the rock, aware of every beady set of eyes centred on him, too petrified to make a single move or sound.

The snakes were coming for him!

Ben’s breath caught in his throat suddenly. The entire crew of the Flying Dutchman, both the living and the dead, came shuffling up to the bars and stared through them at him. Pale, bloated faces of those who had drowned mingled with the fierce scarred and coarse-whiskered features of those whom he had known and detested for their greed and cruelty. They leered and grinned knowingly at the former crew lad. Suddenly they were wrenched aside, and he found himself looking into the face of Captain Vanderdecken, leader of them all.

His face was as white as parchment, the thin lips blue from the cold, bared over yellowed teeth like crooked gravestones. His salt-bleached hair, crusted with ice, stood out from his head like an unholy halo. From under their black-pouched lids, Vanderdecken’s wild eyes shone insanely, boring into the boy’s very heart.

The Dutchman poked a frostbitten, black-nailed finger at Ben. “So this is where ye’ve been hiding, wretch! I’ll always find ye, no matter where you hide! I’ll soon have ye back aboard my ship, and we’ll spend eternity together, lad. Eternity!”

A litter drew up in front of the cell, borne by six burly Razan robbers, who stood stoically with it on their shoulders. Maguda sat on the litter, watching the faces of the three drugged captives. She took satisfaction at the sight. Each one’s eyes were wide open, but unconscious to anybody outside of their potion-induced nightmares. They stared straight ahead, seeing everything that was locked into their personal fears and loathings.

Gizal came hobbling along, her stick tap-tapping the rock walls. She halted by the litter. “Is thy magic working, O mother of spells and charms?”

Maguda nodded. “Aye, ‘tis indeed, they are like butterflies pinned on thorns, seeing nought else but that which they cannot stand. Methinks a few weeks of keeping them thus will bend them to my will. They will sing, dance, sketch and plead to please me, ‘tis always so.”

Gizal bowed. “Truly thou art the greatest of all the Razan!”

Maguda tapped the litter with her foot. “Take me back to my throne, then go, tell others what thou hast seen here today. Let it serve as a warning to all who would oppose me!”

The party moved off, with Gizal shuffling behind.

Arnela muttered to herself as she gazed up at what seemed to be a sheer wall of snow rearing overhead. “Avalanche must’ve done this, ‘tis not as I remember it. But never mind, Ned, I know we’re on the right track. That high crag near the peak is my marker—the Razan’s lair is up there. We’ll have to go carefully, there might be hidden pitfalls in this sort of snow. Avalanches can do that, y’know.”

But the black Labrador was not listening. He was sprawled flat with both front paws covering his eyes. A piteous whimper emanated from his trembling body, building up suddenly into a mournful howl.

The big goatherd woman fell on her knees beside the dog, shaking him gently. “Ned, what is it, boy? What’s the matter with ye?”

Her words fell on deaf ears. Ben had somehow transmitted the anguish of his tortured mind to the dog. All the horror and fear of the boy’s nightmare were so powerful that Ned became a captive to them. Vanderdecken and his ghastly crew were reaching out to him from behind a grille of iron bars. He was in a cave, a prisoner, helpless to resist the captain and all hands, living and dead, of the Flying Dutchman!

Arnela got her strong hands under Ned and lifted him, then cuddled him like a baby, shushing him, lest his howls betray them to the foe.

“There there now, good boy. This isn’t like you, Ned. What is it? What’s upsetting you? Only little puppies cry and yowl like that. You’re supposed to be a big, sensible dog.”

In his fevered vision, Ned saw Vanderdecken make a grab for him. Instinctively he bared his teeth and bit at the phantom captain’s hand.

Arnela was stroking the dog’s muzzle when she felt the sudden change from cowering cur to wild animal. The goatherd pulled her hand away just in time. Ned’s teeth ripped through the sleeve of her goat-hair tunic. Shock and anger overcame the big woman. She flung the dog forcefully to the ground. “Ooh! You bad, ungrateful dog!”

Ned felt the heavy impact as he struck the patch of snow, which Arnela’s feet had hardened. It broke the spell for a short moment. In that instant he heard the angel’s voice ringing out like a peal of thunder.

” ‘Tis thou who must show the way

When visions of evil arise.

Others may see what ye cannot,

So be guided by thine own eyes!”

Ned called out from his bewildered mind to the angel. “I don’t understand, tell me what I should do. Please!” Once more the heavenly being’s voice spoke forth.

“Trust only what thine eyes can see,

When things are not as they seem.

Break free to the world of reality,

Escape thy master’s false dream!”

The black Labrador’s eyes snapped open. He understood the whole thing in a flash. Somehow, some way, an evildoer had taken possession of Ben’s mind. The force was so strong that Ben could not avoid passing it on to him. Ned realised that he had to block the nightmare by concentrating his thoughts upon other things. But first he had to make amends to his friend Arnela. He nuzzled at her foot until she had to lift it slightly, then he thrust his chin under it until she was standing with her foot upon his head. Ned’s tail brushed a fan in the snow as he wagged it back and forth.

Arnela sniffed, then a reluctant smile crossed her weather-beaten features. “Well well, sorry already, are we?”

Ned withdrew his head and nodded sheepishly. She raised him up until his front paws rested on her waist. Taking the dog’s face in both hands, she looked into his soft dark eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on in that doggy brain of yours, friend, but I’m sure you had a good reason for what you did.”

Ned nodded solemnly. He pawed at his friend and whined softly.

Arnela ruffled his ears fondly. “Then I’ll say no more about it, Ned. You’re a good dog! Mayhap you were thinking of Ben and our other young friends. You were fretting and worried about them, that’s probably it.”

Ned licked her hand and nodded again. She set his paws back down onto the snow. “Right, then, we won’t get them free by standing around here all night. Come on, let me go first, I can probe the snow with my axe handle to make sure it’s solid to walk on. Keep close behind, boy, walk in my tracks.”

Following Arnela up into the high mountainous regions, Ned kept his mind busy by sending out messages to his master. He thought of inconsequential, cheery things, which he hoped might snap Ben out of his frightening dream. “Aye aye, matey, it’s me—your old pal Ned. Remember that picnic we had in the jungle a few years back? Haha, that was a good one, we were scoffing away when you suddenly noticed you were sitting on an anthill. Hohoho! I never knew you were such a good dancer, jumping and leaping and smacking your own behind. What a sight! Come on now, admit it, Ben, you didn’t sit down for a week after that. Never mind those bad old dreams, mate. Wake up, open your eyes! Talk to Karay and Dominic, think of other things—anything! Hahaha, like me chasing that snobbish lady through the fair on her horse. Hoho, the horse’s big fat bottom wobbling all over the place and her hanging on to her hat. What a dreadful hat that was, one of those creations with a dead stuffed lark and a pile of wax cherries on it. You wouldn’t want to be seen dead in it on a dark night, eh? Come on, Ben, try and remember the good times, the funny bits.”

Whether wading chest deep in powdery snow, scrambling over loose shale and protruding rocks or avoiding patches of sheet ice, the faithful dog never once ceased trying to break the spell pervading Ben’s mind.

25

LIGRAN RAZAN AND HIS ELDER BROTHER Rawth unlocked the long, barred cell door and entered. They stared at the three young people, all locked in their own blood-chilling trances, unable to speak, move or communicate with one another.

Ligran chuckled at the sight. “Sweet dreams, eh? I wouldn’t like t’be in the middle of a nap like the one they’re takin’, not for ten bags o’ gold!” He kicked Dominic’s foot lightly.

Rawth cautioned him. “Careful, ye might break their spell!” Ligran scoffed at his brother. “Our wicked old sister’s the only one who can do that. Look at this.” Kneeling, he popped one of Dominic’s eyes open wider. The facemaker was still staring straight ahead in a trance. Ligran shrugged. “See, he doesn’t even know we’re here.” He let the lid drop.

Rawth grabbed one of Ben’s arms. “Stop playin’ around an’ let’s get this one to Maguda.”

Ligran helped his brother to lift the drugged boy; they bore him out of the cell and relocked it. Draping Ben’s arms about their shoulders, they towed him off down the corridor, his feet limply scraping the ground.

The bear gave a low moan as they passed its cell. Ligran stopped briefly. He kicked the bars and snarled in at the wretched animal. “D’ye want me to go an’ get my whip? I’ll give ye somethin’ to moan about!”

The creature fell silent, its sad, dark eyes dull and moist.

The brothers halted at a cave that had a wooden door. It was unlocked. Rawth kicked it twice. The voice that came from within was that of their sister.

“Bring him in.”

The cave served as the armoury to the robber clan. Maguda Razan was seated on her litter, this balanced on four small kegs of gunpowder. There were other kegs stacked there, plus an array of flintlock muskets and rifles, pikes, spears and various odd-looking weapons piled against the walls.

Maguda indicated a length of cord lying nearby. “Bind his hands behind and sit him on the floor.”

Rawth performed the task, lowering Ben into a sitting position with his back propped against two casks of gunpowder. He and Ligran stood awaiting further orders.

Maguda’s long nails rattled together as she shook a hand dismissively. “Begone now, both of ye. Come back with my litter bearers in an hour. Wait! Ligran, pour some of this into the lad.”

Ligran took the goblet from his sister. He tilted Ben’s head back and trickled some of the potion between the boy’s lips. Ben swallowed and coughed.

Maguda held up her hand. “Enough, that should bring him to his senses.”

Rawth tried to sound helpful. “Do ye want us to stay around, in case he tries anything—”

He wilted under Maguda’s scornful glance. “What need have I of fools? Get out, both o’ ye!”

They retreated, closing the door behind them. Maguda peered closely at Ben. His head was lolling from side to side, and his lips were moving slightly. Slowly his eyes opened. He stared wildly around, a note of panic in his voice. “Where are my two friends— what have you done with them?”

Maguda closed her eyes until they were mere slits. “Thy friends are still alive and locked up safe …”—she paused for effect—”… for the moment.”

Ben attempted to sound reasonable, knowing he was in the presence of a wicked and vengeful enemy. “We mean you no harm … why are you keeping us prisoner like this? Please release my friends at least, let them go.”

The old crone shook with silent mirth. “Brave young liar. Ye came here to rescue my grandson, but, alas, the Adamo that folk knew is gone. He is dead to me forever.”

Ben sat up straighten “He is dead?”

Maguda pointed at herself. “Not by my hand, but by his own stubborn choosing. I will speak no more of him. Ye want me to grant freedom to thee and thy friends. I can do that, but on one condition that only ye can fulfil, boy.”

Ben leaned forward eagerly, hope rising with him. “Tell me, what do you want me to do?”

Maguda paused awhile, her fingernails tapping the litter. “I know thou art a strange boy, my omens told me so. Many things has thou seen in a great period of years, far longer than thy appearance can tell to ordinary folk. But I am Maguda Razan, no ordinary person. The thing is this: If I gazed deep into thine eyes, what would I behold, tell me?”

Ben answered as truthfully as he could without giving away too much. “Marm, I have little control over what others see in my eyes. Maybe people see in them just what they wish to.”

Maguda scoffed. “Fortunetellers and charlatans say such things to stupid peasants. Thy words do not fool me. I wish to see what thine eyes really hold. Fate, future, knowledge … whatever ‘tis, I must know. But beware, if I see sights not unto my liking, ‘twill go badly for thee, boy!”

Ben knew it was a chance he had to take. All he could do was go along with Maguda’s request. He was afraid for himself, but more so for his two friends, and it was painfully obvious that Maguda was not one to make idle threats. He cast a swift glance at the evil old woman as she sat awaiting his decision. Some inner instinct told him that she was apprehensive. Usually she would be in her great cavern surrounded by guards. Why had she chosen to see him in private? Was she scared of what she would see in his eyes? Did she not want others to see her weakness? Was Maguda Razan really so powerful and invincible?

Ben decided to take the chance and find out. “I hope what you see in my eyes is to your liking, marm. I’m ready for you to look into them.”

Maguda faced him, closed her own eyes tightly and began muttering incantations in a weird ancient language. Her hands caressed a skull that was on the litter at her side.

Ben sat, resigned to his fate, waiting for her to finish the strange ritual. Without any prior warning, images began invading his mind. He knew it could be nobody but Ned—the dog’s communication was so strong, it cut through everything. Ben could not push the images to the back of his mind.

The eyes of Maguda Razan suddenly opened wide, staring at him, boring into his consciousness. She hissed as her hands rose like two long-taloned claws above her head. “Now we shall see. Look deep into mine eyes, boy, give thyself up to my powers!”

Ben met her hypnotic gaze but was surprised to find that he felt nothing. It was merely like staring at an unpleasant old hag.

He smiled at the recollections Ned was sending him.

Maguda Razan blinked then, and her hands dropped slightly. “What is this foolishness? I see thee dancing about in some far forest, smiting thyself and leaping like a mad child. No, wait! I see the fair at Veron now … a stupid woman on a prancing horse, chased by a dog! Art thou making mock of me, boy? Dost thou think Maguda Razan is to be made fun of?”

Ben had difficulty keeping a straight face, but he intoned dully, as if hypnotised, “Look deeper and you shall see.”

He concentrated his thoughts upon the Flying Dutchman. In the teeth of a roaring hurricane off the coast of Tierra del Fuego, amid icy waves and tattered rigging, the face of Captain Vanderdecken appeared. Lank, salt-crusted hair framed the Dutchman’s accursed visage, bloodless lips bared from stained tombstone-like teeth, his eyes glittered insanely. Laughing madly, he paced the deck of the doomed vessel, hurling oaths and threats at all about him.

Ben saw Maguda’s attitude change at the sight—she was enjoying it, extracting pleasure from the dreadful scene. Her tongue, snakelike, licked withered lips as she cackled, “He is truly the spawn of hellfire!”

Ben hated calling up the visions, but if it would gain freedom for him and his friends, there was no alternative. Pain pounded his temples, lancing like a blade into his mind. He gave no rein to his thoughts, pouring the whole horrific experience out into Maguda’s ruthless, staring orbs. Mutiny, murder, quarrels, fights, all that had taken place on the high seas aboard the Flying Dutchman on that unspeakable voyage!

Maguda Razan shuddered with delight—she was like a wayward child, giggling, simpering, her wrinkled tattooed face twitching as she received new sights. Wickedness, evil, strife and suffering were her very life’s blood—she revelled in unspeakable vileness. Now Ben had lost control of his thoughts, his brain felt as if it were at the bursting point. The cave seemed to sway and rock around him as the wild kaleidoscope of that long-ago, ill-fated voyage spewed forth unchecked.

Maguda’s laughter echoed and re-echoed, building in its intensity.

Then …

Thunder and lightning crashed through the maelstrom of sound, silencing everything! Through the green light of St. Elmo’s fire, exactly as it had happened all those years before, the angel of heaven descended! Maguda Razan went rigid. She gave out one unearthly shriek and fell stone-dead upon the litter. The sight of a being who radiated so much purity and beauty had stopped the heart of one who represented darkness and evil!

Ben’s head slumped forward to rest upon his drawn-up knees. He felt drained but cleansed by the peacefulness and calm that surrounded him. Footsteps came pounding up the corridor outside, and the door burst open. Ligran and Rawth, with a crowd of henchmen, rushed in, followed by Gizal, the blind crone.

Unable to restrain himself, Ligran strode to the litter and prodded at the stiff form stretched upon it. He recoiled instantly, his voice shrill with disbelief. “She’s dead … Maguda’s dead?”

Rawth grabbed his sword and turned upon Ben, shouting, “You killed her!”

He swung the blade at the boy, but Gizal’s staff struck his wrist, deflecting the swing. “Fools! Stay still until I find out what happened here!”

The henchmen stepped aside as Gizal tap-tapped her way to the litter. She ran her hands over the body of Maguda, placing her fingers over the nose and mouth to check for breath. Taking a long pin from her hair, Gizal touched it to the pupil of Maguda’s eye—there was no feeling of movement. Gizal nodded. “She is dead!”

The men in the cave gave a simultaneous gasp of shock. The blind woman pushed her way through to Ben, laying about at the dumbfounded men with her stick. “Make way, move!” Ben sat quite still and closed his eyes, trying to hide the revulsion he felt at being pawed over by the witchlike hag. Forcing wide his jaws, she sniffed at his open mouth. He winced as she tugged his hair, searching through it, her fingernails scratching as she probed around his ears. Then Gizal leaned upon his shoulder, bending him forward. Ben tried to hold his breath when her rancid-smelling garments enveloped his face whilst she inspected the cords that bound his hands behind his back.

Satisfied, the blind woman stood up. “There be no marks or blood upon Maguda, yet she lies dead. This boy could not have slain her by mortal means—he is bound tight and could not have undone or retied the cord.”

Ligran struck his fist against a powder keg. “But how—?”

Gizal silenced him by holding up a hand. “Hearken to me. Only in two ways could yon lad have taken Maguda’s life: with his mouth or with his eyes. Either he could have spat poison at her or uttered some powerful spell, though I think not. Rawth, do ye recall when this one and his friends were first brought in front of thy sister? She had thee knock him down, saying she did not want him looking at her, eh?”

Rawth stroked his beard. “Aye, that was as you say!”

Gizal placed a hand upon Rawth’s arm. “Bind his eyes. Ye can gag him, too, for safety’s sake. Have him taken back to the cells.”

Before Ben could protest, his mouth and eyes were bound with filthy strips of rag; then the henchmen picked him up and carried him off, leaving Gizal alone with the two Razan brothers.

Ligran, the more hot tempered of the pair, paced the cave, shaking his head angrily. “That lad’s a danger to us all, Gizal. You should’ve let Rawth slay him. Here, I’ll go and do the job myself!”

The blind woman’s staff blocked Ligran’s way as she lowered her voice, warning him, “Don’t let anger rule thy thinking, Ligran. If the lad did kill Maguda with his eyes, he must be even more powerful than she was. Thy sister ruled through fear. Without one as strong as she, our people would soon leave here and go their own ways, am I not right, Rawth?”

The elder Razan nodded. “True, old one, but if the lad is as powerful as you think, how can we bend him to our service?”

Ligran began warming to the idea. He smiled wickedly. “Through his two young friends—they are as close as brothers and sister. The boy would not wish them hurt, would he?”

Gizal’s staff touched Ligran’s shoulder. “Now thou art showing good sense. Leave me to think now. First we will have a great ceremony to impress our people. Maguda must be installed in a suitable tomb before our new leader is made known to the Razan. That will be after the spirit of Maguda appears to us three and names the boy as her successor.”

Rawth was puzzled for a moment. “Will she?”

Ligran grinned. “She already has. Brother, did you hear her?”

Rawth caught on then and laughed. “Oh, aye, I heard her. Pity all the Razan couldn’t, eh?”

Gizal squeezed Rawth’s arm reassuringly. “Fear not, they will! At the right time. There be plenty of hidden places, and the great cavern carries lots of echoes. Leave it to old Gizal!”

Having hatched their plan, the three departed from the armoury cave, leaving behind them the rigid corpse of the once all-powerful Maguda Razan. What Gizal, Ligran and Rawth had missed was the lesson their former leader had learned at the cost of her life: a surety that Good will triumph over Evil, always!

26

IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON OF THE FOLLOWING day. Arnela and Ned crouched behind a jumble of ice-sheened rocks. The ground in front of them was solidified soil, shale and patches of snow in a small escarpment, backed by the pristine white mountain peak.

Arnela pointed, whispering to the dog, “See there, Ned, that’s the one and only entrance to the Razan caves. Just inside the rift, straight ahead.” The black Labrador focussed his gaze on the shadowed hole in the solid rock face, listening to the big goatherd woman. “Those red marks by the entrance, they look like old bloodstains from this distance. But they’re ancient pictures of cave dwellers hunting wild boar. I saw them once, some years ago, when I tracked some Razan villains here. Our friends will be imprisoned somewhere inside. Where, I’m not sure. I’ll wager there are many caves and passages inside. We’ll worry about that when we come to it. Our first job is to get inside. I’m sure there must be guards at the entrance. Let’s hide here and watch until we get a chance. Right?”

Ned snuggled down, nodding his head to show he understood.

After Ben was bundled roughly back into the cell, he lay still, listening to the henchmen locking the barred door and pacing off down the passage. Then he went to work. Still bound, his eyes taped, the boy rolled about until he bumped the rough, rocky wall. Backing onto it, he wriggled along until his tightly bound hands encountered a small ridge. Then he began sawing at the cord, rubbing it back and forth along the stone protuberance. It was slow, painful work, and his hands were cold, swollen and numb from the tightly lashed cord.

“Ben, are you there, mate? It’s me, Ned! I’m with Arnela, watching the main entrance. As soon as we can sneak in we’ll try to rescue you. How are Karay and Dominic? Are they with you?”

Relief flooded through Ben as he replied, “Good old Ned. I knew you’d come. And you’ve brought help, too! Great! Listen, pal, I’m a bit tied up at the moment, so I’ll make it brief. I’m locked in a cell, somewhere below the big main cavern. I think our friends might be here, if those Razan returned me to the same cell. I know that sounds a bit odd, but I’m bound, gagged and blindfolded. I’m working on getting free. As soon as I know where I am for sure, I’ll keep contacting you. So you and Arnela be extra careful, you’ll be no use to us if you get captured. These Razan are no fools—they know the inside of this mountain very well. I’ll speak to you later, take care now, d’you hear me?”

Ned’s answer came through to Ben. “I hear you, mate. Let’s hope we can get to you before too long!”

Ben had been sawing continuously whilst sending thoughts to the dog. Finally, he pulled, and the frayed cord snapped in two pieces. Using both thumbs, Ben pushed the gag up beneath his nose and levered the blindfold up until he could see a little. Then, with his teeth, the boy tore off the pieces of cord that were knotted tight about both his wrists. His numbed hands were useless for several minutes. He squeezed back tears, gasping as the blood flowed agonisingly back into his fingers. Finally, reaching behind his head, he untied both the gag and the blindfold.

Dominic and Karay were there, sitting, leaning askew at opposite angles, their eyes wide open. Ben saw their twitching limbs and ashen faces. He knew they were still trapped within the realm of nightmare. Drugged! Ben decided to use Ned’s methods of getting through to them, combined with a little addition of his own. Both the porridge and the water were still there outside the cell’s bars. He filled the ladle with water, splashed it straight into Dominic’s face and began slapping the boy’s cheeks hard, shouting in his ear, “Come on, lazybones, rise and shine! Up you come!”

Grabbing his friend beneath both armpits, Ben hauled him upright and gave his shin a smart kick.

The facemaker winced sharply, his hands scrabbling at Ben’s face as he whimpered, “Yeeeegh! Get these snakes off me, I can’t stand sn— Ben?”

Hugging his friend close, Ben whispered soothingly. “There there now, hush, Dom. It was all a bad dream, the snakes are gone. Keep your mind on good and happy things. They won’t bother you anymore then.”

Dominic blinked tears from his eyes and rubbed his leg. “One of them bit me, Ben, a green cobra, right here by my knee. I think I’m going to die—it stings and pains. Oooohhhh!”

Ben wiped the tears from Dominic’s eyes. “That wasn’t a snake, Dom, ‘twas me. I gave you a good kick to wake you. Sorry about that, mate. We’d better get Karay back into the land of the living. Come on, lend a hand!”

Dominic splashed water in the girl’s face. Ben slapped her cheeks and tugged sharply at her hair as he shouted, “Up and about, miss! Let’s see you dancing and singing, pal!”

Karay screamed. She scratched and batted at Ben’s hands as they pulled her hair. “Eeeeee! Get away, you filthy crawly things! Ugh, spiders! Uuuuggghhh!”

Ben’s face was a fraction from hers. The girl’s eyes were wide and pleading as she sobbed to him, “Kill the spiders, Ben. Don’t let them get me. Kill them!”

It took an hour or more before Karay and Dominic were completely themselves, though they both complained of roaring headaches and some dizziness. Ben explained to them what had taken place. He told them about Maguda Razan’s death but had to lie about the visions she had seen in his eyes—he attributed her death to the fact that she was very ancient and must have had a weak heart.

Karay was only half listening at that stage. She was gazing longingly at the ladle in the water pail. “Ooh, my mouth is so dry, I’d give anything for a sip of water!”

Dominic was in complete agreement with her. Ben shrugged. “Touch that water, either of you, and within an hour you’ll both be fighting off snakes and spiders again, I warn you!”

Karay massaged her temples moodily. “Well, what are we supposed to do now, just sit here?”

Ben nodded. “There’s little else we can do. Don’t worry, though, I’ve got a feeling Ned might come to the rescue soon.”

Dominic stared curiously at Ben. “Is that a thought, or just a feeling, friend? Tell me.”

Ben’s mysterious, clouded blue eyes met those of the facemaker, and he was smiling oddly. “A bit of both, I think.”

Two Razan guards who had been posted inside the tunnel entrance stepped outside to enjoy the late-afternoon sunlight. Leaning their flintlock rifles against the rock wall, they stood idly basking in the warmth. They had not been there long when a tall cloaked figure came into view, tugging a black dog on an improvised rope lead. The guards shaded their eyes against the lowering sun, but they could not see the newcomer’s face, which was hidden by the overhang of the cloak’s hood. The dog dug its paws in, trying to resist being led. But the big, strong-looking figure hauled it along easily and waved a friendly hand at the two guards.

One of them nudged the other. “Look, there’s the black dog Maguda ordered everyone to search for.”

The other guard viewed the animal sourly. “Huh, lot of good that’ll do now that Maguda’s dead. They’re placing her in a tomb about now—maybe they’ll bury it with her, eh?”

As the figure came closer, however, he challenged the person. “Halt, who goes there, an’ what d’ye want here?”

The big person spoke confidently. “Nought to worry about, friends, I am of the Razan. I thought Maguda might like a little gift. I found this beast wandering the lower slopes.”

The figure continued coming forward. The first guard broke the news. “You’ve come a bit late, brother, Maguda Razan died last night.”

The newcomer pointed to the inside of the tunnel. “Maguda Razan dead? She can’t be. There she is!”

Both guards turned to look into the tunnel. Arnela—for it was she—let go of Ned. Seizing both men from behind with her powerful hands, she banged their heads hard against the rock face. They dropped like two logs.

Ned winced at the sight of the two unconscious guards. “Oof! I’m glad I’m on her side!”

Arnela bound both men back to back with her long climbing rope and gagged them securely with their own bandannas. Grabbing a foot of each man, she towed them away easily and stowed them in their own former hiding place. Shouldering both firearms, she pointed to the tunnel. “You go first, Ned. Maybe you can sniff our friends out.”

The black Labrador trotted inside, accustoming himself to the flickering torchlit walls as he relayed a message to Ben. “We’re inside, Ben. Arnela’s just flattened the entrance guards. Where are you, mate, can you give me any help?”

The boy’s thoughts answered him. “Ned, I’m sorry, but we haven’t a clue about this place. I can’t direct you, pal. But if you hear a bear whining and moaning, you’ll know we’re somewhere nearby. They’ve got the poor animal in a cell about three doors down from us. Listen out for him.”

The dog stopped, thought about Ben’s suggestion, then came up with a solution of his own. “The bear might fall silent—he doesn’t know we’re coming. Tell Karay to start singing and to keep it up. Her voice is higher pitched, so I’ll be able to hear it more easily.”

Ben turned to the girl with his request. “Sing something, Karay, a nice long song with lots of high notes.”

She remained seated and replied moodily, “Who d’you think you’re giving orders to, eh? My mouth’s too dry to sing. Besides, I’ve still got a splitting headache and I don’t want to sing. Huh, you can sing to yourself if you like!”

Dominic looked at Ben. “Why d’you want her to sing all of a sudden? Is there a special reason for it?”

Ben made an awkward explanation to the facemaker. “I can feel that Ned’s somewhere in these caves, looking for us. I’ll bet he’s brought help, too. If he hears Karay’s voice, it should help in guiding him to us.”

Karay stood up and hurried to the bars. “Well, why didn’t you say so, Ben? How long shall I sing?”

Ben shrugged. “For as long as it takes, I suppose. Anyhow, it’ll save having to listen to our pal Mr. Bear—the poor old fellow’s moaning and whining is making me sad.”

Karay began to sing.

“Don’t love a soldier, my fair maid,

You’ll have to follow his brigade,

Through the cold and muddy streams you’ll wade,

Away across far countries.

Rub a dum dum dum, rub a dum dum dum,

That sound shall be your whole life’s sum,

The fife and regimental drum,

Will rob you of your homeland.

And what will you be marching for,

When he leaves you to fight a war?

You’ll sit about and grieve full sore,

To pray for his returning.

Rub a dum dum dum, rub a dum dum dum,

You’ll grow to hate the beating drum,

When feet are bleeding cracked and numb,

Its sound will keep you marching.

Go choose a cook, a clerk or groom,

Or weaver who toils at the loom,

For he’ll not tramp you to your doom,

Like that brave reckless soldier.

Rub a dum dum dum, rub a dum dum dum,

Why even army mules so dumb,

Would sooner hear a guitar’s strum,

At home inside his stable!”

Karay stopped singing. She held up a finger for silence.

“What’ve you stopped for?” Ben queried.

Dominic edged up to the bars. “I hear it, some sort of chant. Sounds like a lot of people coming this way!”

Ben joined his friends at the grille as the chant grew louder. The two brothers Rawth and Ligran passed the junction at the corridor’s end. By squinching his face sideways against the bars, Ben could just see them from the corner of his eye. They were followed by a host of Razan men and women. Gizal led the eerie chant, between beats from four gongs.

“Maguda … Maguda!

The underworld rings to thy name.

Maguda … Maguda!

Widespread thy fear and fame.

Razan, Razan, Razaaaaaan!”

This was repeated over and over in the same monotone as the entire clan marched by, in lines three abreast. At the rear of the procession, twelve sturdy robbers bore a long trestle with the body of Maguda set on her throne on top of it.

Karay watched in silent dread as the macabre cavalcade passed. “They must be taking Maguda down to her tomb. Best place for the evil old hag, that’s what I say!”

A message from Ned came to Ben. “Ahoy, mate, we’re in a great big cavern, horrible place, filled with coloured smoke and lots of huge strange statues. But there isn’t a living soul to be seen anywhere!”

Ben interrupted the dog’s thoughts. “Good! You’ve come at just the right time. The Razan are attending a funeral ceremony on the floor below this one. If you can get to us, we can break free while the Razan are attending the ceremony in the lower caves. Hurry up, pal!”

The bear, who had been whining and moaning continually, now began howling and rattling its neck chains.

Ned’s thought winged its way to Ben. “Is someone blowing a horn down there? What’s all that racket I can hear?”

Ben answered with frantic speed. “It’s the bear, he’s started kicking up a right old row. His cell is only three doors from ours. If you can find him, we’re only yards away, mate!”

Ben clearly discerned the determination in his dog’s reply. “Hang on, pal… We’re coming!”

Ned tugged at Arnela’s sleeve. Without a word she followed him at a rim—around the empty throne dais, through the noxious clouds of multi-coloured smoke and into a downward-sloping tunnel. She paused a moment, frowning. “Are those villains making a human sacrifice? What’re all those dreadful noises, Ned?”

The black Labrador tugged the goatherd’s sleeve so hard that it ripped. She nodded furiously. “Alright, alright! Lead on, boy, I’m following you!”

Together they pelted along the narrow, downsloping tunnel, taking a sharp left turn into the prison corridor. Ben’s voice rang out joyfully, as he heard their footsteps. “Ned, Ned. I knew you’d find us!”

Arnela arrived at the cell’s entrance, panting alongside the dog. “Hah, there ye are!”

Karay sobbed. “Oh, you made it, you’re here at last!”

Ever the practical soul, Arnela silenced them. “Time for that later! Let’s get you out of there!”

Dominic shook the bars frantically. “They took everything from us except our clothes. We have nothing to work on the padlock with. And we vowed to free the bear if we got out. Just listen to the poor beast howling!”

Arnela pushed him away from the bars. “Step back, young ‘uns, leave this to me!”

Taking a musket from her shoulder, she bashed at the old padlock with great force—once, twice! The tumblers of the ancient mechanism fractured under the impact, and the big padlock fell open.

The bear had fallen silent; still chained to the wall, it was at the bars of its cell. Karay hurried to it. Before anyone could shout out to warn her, she put her hand between the bars and stroked its huge face. “Poor old fellow, we’ll get you out.” The big beast laid its head sorrowfully against the girl’s hand.

Arnela gasped in amazement. “Well, will ye look at that, a tame bear. Stay clear of this lock, girl—and you, too, bear!” Again she raised the musket and crashed it down on the side of the antiquated padlock. Once, twice… bang!—accidentally the rifle discharged, although the lock broke open.

Dominic ran to the end of the corridor, calling back, “Hurry up! That shot will’ve given the game away—they’ll be after us in a moment!”

Ben spotted the wooden door on the opposite wall. It was the armoury cave where Maguda had interviewed him. ‘Arnela, look, this cave is full of gunpowder kegs!”

The big goatherd shook her head. “Don’t even think about exploding gunpowder around here, Ben. We’d bring the mountain down upon us all. Here, take my ice pick and loosen those staples holding the bear’s chains to the wall. I’ve got an idea.”

The wooden armoury door was held to the rock by thick leather hinges. These were attached to timber wedges, which formed the doorposts. Arnela whipped out a small hook-bladed knife. It was so sharp that it sheared through the leather as if it were butter. She caught the door as it collapsed outward. Carrying it into the passage, she walked downward until she found a place where the rough-hewn tunnel narrowed. That was where Arnela wedged the door. She listened for a moment before hastening back to her friends.

“You were right, Dominic. I can hear them coming. We’d best move fast. Have you loosed those staples, Ben?”

The boy had already extracted one. He shoved the pointed end of the ice pick through the eye of the other one and levered. It popped out and the bear stood free. Karay took the big beast’s paw and led it outside. It followed meekly.

Ben could not resist smiling at the sight. “Well, you’ve certainly found a friend there, Karay. Let’s get out of this place, pals!”

They followed the passage upward, emerging into the main cavern. Arnela handed them each a pistol, which she had taken from the armoury. “These may come in handy. Careful now, they’re primed and loaded. I can hear them hammering at that door, listen!”

Sounds of the Razan battering against the door that was wedged across the passage below echoed out clearly.

Crossing the cavern, the friends made their way up to the exit tunnel. Ned ran ahead. He was waiting at the entrance as Ben reached it. The dog shot him a thought. “Look, another door. I hadn’t noticed that. Tell Arnela to shut it after us and wedge it tight—that might buy us a bit of time.”

Ben immediately passed on the dog’s idea to the big goatherd. She looked at the door thoughtfully. It was obviously a stronghold door open inward, standing flat against the wall. Its timbers had been painted and hung with grey cloth, disguised skilfully to resemble the surrounding rock. An enemy would have difficulty finding the cave entrance with the door closed.

Ned’s thoughts became urgent. “Is she going to stand there all day thinking about it, Ben? I can hear the Razan, they’ve freed the tunnel of the armoury door. There’s a lot of ‘em, and they’re coming fast. We’d better do something quickly, mate!”

Arnela produced her knife again. “Right, here’s what we do!” She slashed through the leather hinges—there were four of them. The leather was extra thick and well greased but was no match for the big woman’s keen blade. Leaping forward, she held the large door, taking the weight of it on her back. Arnela gasped. “Help me get this outside!” The two boys gripped either side of the thick timbers. Ben was surprised when the bear joined Arnela to share the weight.

Now the pursuing Razan could be heard coming into the main cavern. Ligran Razan was shouting, “Get to the entrance! Don’t let anyone leave this place alive!”

With a loud whump! the door fell flat on the ground. Arnela looked at the slope down the mountainside. It was covered with ice and snow, dotted with shale and scrub grass. “Well, friends, this’ll either kill us all or get us away free. Jump aboard, a sleigh ride is our only hope!”

Ned peered back into the Razan stronghold—the robbers were dashing through the main cavern like a huge pack of wolves.

An arrow zipped by him. Ben seized his friend’s collar. “Onto the door, Ned, quick!”

Karay was already seated on the grey-cloth-covered door and was hugging the bear, which crouched beside her. Arnela, Ben and Dominic, bent double, pushed the heavy door. It inched forward as they bent their backs, grunting with exertion. Slowly, the entire door began moving on its own as it came onto the slope. Arnela thrust Ben and Dominic on, and with a bound she, too, landed on the door.

Then they were off—just as Ligran emerged from the cave with a crowd of henchmen. One of the men unslung a musket. Ligran grabbed it from him savagely. “Idiot, d’you want to kill us all? Use yours bows, fire arrows!”

The big door was still moving rather sluggishly when Dominic felt an arrow whip by, close to his cheek. “Archers! Get down!” The four fell flat, and the bear lay down behind Karay, protecting her. It roared with rage as an arrow clipped it through the thick fur of its shoulder. Arrows rained downward, thudding into the wooden door.

Just as Arnela felt the sledging door begin to pick up speed, a shaft pinned her cloak to the timbers. She sat up and unslung her rifle gritting her teeth together. “Right, let’s finish this. Out with those pistols. Fire when I give the order, and let’s hope we can outrun what follows!”

Scrabbling around to face the Razan contingent uphill, Ben, Karay and Dominic drew their pistols.

Arnela shouted, “No need to aim. Just fire. Now!”

Four shots sounded out simultaneously. The sound was deafening—it sent echoes rebounding for miles in the high, clear mountain atmosphere. It was like the end of the world! The gunfire was preceded by an immense rumble which shook the very slopes. There was a noise like a great kraaaaawwwkkk! An entire section of the mountain peak fell away. Ligran Razan and the henchmen standing outside the cave vanished in a heavy white curtain, as did the entire mouth of the Razan stronghold, everyone inside it entombed in countless thousands of tons of ice, rock and snow.

Whipping wind and snow particles stung Ben’s face as he lay flat, clinging to his faithful dog. The huge sledge was skimming down the mountainside faster than any arrow from a bow. Ben’s and Ned’s thoughts were blended in one almighty yell that would not issue from their mouths. “Yeeeeeeeooooooowwwwww!”

Dominic’s fingernails felt as if they were cracking as he clung to the door like a leech. The bear had both front paws flat across Karay, its claws clamped into the wood as it held itself and the girl down. Ben had Ned’s collar between his teeth, and the dog lay with him, both trapped beneath Arnela’s back. They hit a bank, plowing through it like lightning; then, covered in snow, the massive toboggan crested a small ice-clad outcrop and left the ground, sailing out into midair like a bird. The only sound was the wind. All of them, with their eyes tightly shut, knew they were no longer on solid ground. Whirling snowflakes and shrieking wind engulfed them for what seemed an age.

Then came a sickening bump that ripped the breath from their lungs. A bang! They were still rushing onward, though now touching the earth. A crash! Always moving down, hurtling forward. A ripping sound! A thud! A loud swoosh! A grating noise, followed by a final earsplitting… bang! Then there was blackness and enveloping silence.

27

IT WAS NIGHT. BEN knew this as his eyes opened—he was facing a star-strewn sky and a half-moon of pure beaten silver. But his legs would not move. Panic overcame him. He sat up rigid and knocked the back of his head on a tree. Ben saw more stars then. When they dispersed, he sat up again, gingerly, and discovered that a heap of frozen snow had buried his legs from toes to thighs. Slowly, laboriously, he forced his numbed hands to dig himself free. His entire body was one great ache, and his hair was frozen stiff. Instantly another panicked thought flashed through his mind. Ned, where was Ned?

A reply came back promptly to Ben. “I think I’ve joined the angels, mate. Try not to grieve too much.”

Ben pulled his legs free. “Ned, where are you?” “Right above your head, you great frosted lump. Look up!” There was the faithful hound, draped over a fir branch three feet above his master’s head. He wagged his tail carefully. “I’m coming down, get ready to catch me. One, two …”

The black Labrador landed in Ben’s outstretched arms, knocking them both flat in the snow. They lay for a moment, exhausted.

“Maaaaah!” A bleat rang out, followed by Arnela’s voice. “Ajax the Less, stop nibbling my sleeves, they’re ragged enough as it is. Be still!”

Ben and Ned struggled upright as the big goatherd woman came scrunching through the deep-packed snow with a young goat tucked under one arm. She waved to Ben and Ned. “Good evening! Have ye seen the other two and that old bear?”

Ben shook his head. “Not so far. We haven’t even checked to see if we’re in one piece yet, have we, Ned?”

The dog shook his head no. Arnela chuckled. “You’ve got the cleverest dog in the world there, Ben, he’s worth all my goats put together. Well, here we are, still alive, no thanks to my foolishness. Just look at this mountain—it’ll never be the same again. It’s a good job the avalanche fell mainly to the left and we shot off to the right. I must’ve been mad, flying you all down the mountain and telling you to fire all the pistols like that. ‘Twas sheer insanity!”

Ben ran to his big friend and hugged her. “You saved our lives, Arnela. Trouble like we were in calls for desperate measures. I dread to think what those Razan might’ve done to us if we’d been recaptured.”

Arnela ruffled Ben’s hair, loosening the ice from it. The little goat, Ajax the Less, maaaaahed piteously as the goatherd spoke to him like a spoiled child. “Huh, don’t think I’m going to carry you around, stroking ye all night. Go on, off home, young rip, tell your mamma I won’t be long.”

She turned to Ben and Ned. “You two go with him, the cave’s just below this ridge. I had to dig my way into it. The stream and pool have gone, vanished somewhere, but my goats all survived by staying inside. Nothing’s the same since we brought the mountain peak down. I’ll search for the others, don’t worry. Well, go on, you pair! Do something useful, light a fire, put some water on to boil, search about and find something to cook—that’s if those goats haven’t eaten everything. Ooh, that Pantyro, I’m going to have a word or two with him when I get time!”

Ben stood shivering in the cold, reluctant to desert Arnela. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

She lifted him bodily until they were face-to-face. “Why shouldn’t I be? Nobody knows this mountain the way I do. You’d only be in the way. I’ll find them, go on, off with you!”

Without the pool and the pretty little waterfall, the cave was just a black hole in the snow. Ned ambled in, shouldering goats aside as he passed Ben a thought. “Arnela’s already lit the lanterns, thank goodness. Whew, this place smells a bit goaty, though. What a mess!”

Ben took dry pine branches, moss and charcoal, stacking them in the rift that served as a fireplace. He listened to his dog complaining.

“Ahoy there, mate, that’s my tail, not a midnight snack! Hmph! You goats, you’ve been living here like, like… animals!”

Ben lit the fire from a lantern, then winked at Ned. “At least animals are more civilised than the Razan. Chase some of the bigger goats out, Ned. It’ll make a bit more room in here, and the fresh air will do them good!”

Behind the slate slabs that served as a larder, Ben found goat cheese, some eggs and a few hard barley cakes. He boiled six eggs in the water cauldron. Spreading the cheese on the barley cakes, he sat toasting them. Ned sat by his side, enjoying the warmth from the fire. After all they had been through, Ben’s mind was like his body, numbed and exhausted. They ate some of the food, then sat together, eyelids drooping, heads nodding, not attempting to resist the temptation of sleep.

Then a voice roused them instantly. “Here, what’s all this? No supper for me?”

Dominic staggered in and fell against Ned. He slumped there. “Never thought I’d see a nice warm fire again ‘til I spotted this cave. I saw the light glimmering and made straight for it.”

Ben rubbed his eyes and blinked. “Welcome home, Dom, where did you get to? Arnela’s out looking for you. Have you seen Karay or our bear in your travels?”

Ice water trickled out of Dominic’s hair and ran down his cheeks. “No, Ben, I’m afraid not. First thing I knew when I came around was that I was upside down in a snowdrift. Water dripping up my nose woke me—it took me ages to get free. After that I just blundered about among some tiny trees. Then when I took stock of where I was, I realised I was somewhere in the foothills—the trees were so small because snow and ice from the avalanche had filled the valley. I was actually walking amongst treetops, not tiny trees! Can you believe it? Good job you lit the fire, or I might’ve wandered about until I collapsed and froze to death!”

Ben watched Dominic tearing ravenously into bread and toasted cheese. “Thank heaven you’re alive, Dom!”

The facemaker nodded upward. “More than you can say for those Razan villains. Nobody up there could’ve survived the avalanche. Though if any did, they’d have been far worse off. Imagine being entombed alive in those caves, a living death!”

Ben stared into the glowing charcoal fire. “Don’t forget that the tunnels ran downward, the debris would have showered into there and filled the caves in a flash. They’d have been slain in the wink of an eye. The Razan are gone forever, I’d bet my life on that.”

Dominic covered his eyes with his arm as he murmured, “And Adamo, too, if he was in there.”

Ben was forced to agree with his friend. “Aye, our mission failed, even though we rid the comte of the curse of Razan. Though I remember Maguda telling me that Adamo was already dead. She said it in a strange way—I can’t recall her exact words. Perhaps tomorrow, when I’m not so tired, it’ll come back to me.”

Both boys and the dog had fallen asleep in front of the fire. Ben’s mind was free of everything. It was like being unconscious, a merciful blackness. Most of the goats curled up around them, wanting to be close to the warmth. It was quiet and peaceful inside the cave. Outside, the night was still, amidst the devastation wrought by the avalanche.

It was in the hour before dawn that Arnela returned. The goats began bleating as the giant figure of their mistress ducked into the cave entrance. Ned leapt up and ran to greet her. His bark wakened Ben and Dominic, and both boys began firing anxious questions at the big woman.

“Where’s Karay, did you find her?”

“She’s not injured … or dead?”

The goats began bleating furiously. They hurried to the back of the cave and continued with their din.

Arnela lifted both arms and roared, “Silence! All of you!”

Everybody, dog, boys and goats, went quiet. Arnela continued in a normal voice. “No, Karay is not dead or injured. I never found her … he did.” The bear shambled in on its hind legs carrying the girl. He placed her gently on the ground between the two boys. Bleating aloud with terror, the goats fled the cave.

Arnela warmed her hands at the fire. “I discovered the bear roaming around carrying the girl. He would not let me near her. So I got it to follow me, and here we are. That’s all I can tell you.”

Ben echoed Ned’s thought. “Except to say that we’re all alive and together again!”

Morning light filtered into the cave onto a curious scene. The goats huddled in the entrance, fearing to enter lest the bear devour them. Karay, unharmed, sat up drinking herbal tea and gazing affectionately at the sleeping bear. Steam rose from his fur as he lay close to her. The girl stroked him gently. “He stayed with me, carried me and protected me. But why?”

Dominic scratched his head. “Who can say? Perhaps it was because you showed him kindness. It was you who would not leave him in that cell, Karay. You insisted from the first moment you set eyes on him that you would rescue him. He looks like a good creature. Can I stroke him?”

Karay smiled. “Go on, he won’t bite you.”

Dominic patted the beast’s head gingerly. The bear seemed peaceful enough. Encouraged by this, Dominic scratched behind the bear’s collar, the way he would with Ned. He was thrown aside as the bear sat bolt upright, pawing at the metal collar that circled his neck.

Karay spoke soothingly to him, placing her cheek against the bear’s huge paw. “Hush now, my poor friend, did he hurt you? Well, I’m sure Dominic didn’t mean to, did you, Dom?”

The creature turned his great sad liquid eyes toward Dominic, who stared into them for a moment. He gasped. “Ben, Arnela, get those lanterns and bring them closer to its face— there’s something strange about this animal!”

Karay hugged her bear protectively. “Don’t hurt him or frighten him. I’ll never speak to any of you again if you do!”

Ben reassured her. “I promise we won’t. Let Dominic take a look at him—your bear is safe with us, pal.”

Plucking up his courage, Dominic sat as close to the bear as he could. Arnela and Ben held the lanterns close while Karay hovered behind the bear, anxiety in her voice.

“What is it, Dominic, what d’you see? Oh, please tell me!”

The Facemaker of Sabada blinked as he gazed deep into the bear’s eyes. He blinked again but could not stop the tears that coursed down his face as he sobbed, “It’s a man! A man imprisoned in a bear’s hide!”

The bear nodded its head, as far as the spiked collar would allow, and gave a long, anguished groan.

Ned was invading Ben’s thoughts. “Well, don’t sit there gaping, get the poor wretch out!”

Arnela drew her sharp, hook-bladed knife. “I’ll free him from that filthy skin!”

Karay held out her hand to the goatherd. “No, friend, I will. Give me the blade. See if you can find soft cloth, or moss, then soak it in warm water. Oh, and have you got anything that’ll cut through his collar?”

Karay came around and took the bear’s face in both hands. “Be quite still, trust me, I won’t harm you.”

The bear pressed his nose against her forehead. “Mmmmmmmm.” He lowered his head until it was resting in her lap.

Arnela rummaged about and produced an old file. “I’ve filed many a misshapen hoof straight with this.”

With extreme care, Karay packed the inside of the collar with warm damp moss. Ben could hear her teeth grinding as she muttered with barely controlled rage and fury, “This collar is spiked on both sides. Filthy Razan scum! How could they do this to a human being? I’m glad they’re all dead. Glad!”

Arnela slid her hand under the collar and filed away at the green-encrusted copper rivet that held it together. It did not take the sturdy goatherd long. With a single heave of both hands, she bent the iron collar straight and flung it from her. “Go on, Karay, let’s see what our bear looks like!”

The girl’s nimble fingers felt the row of tough rawhide stitches joining the head to the body. She wiped away with a fresh cloth soaked in semihot water. Dried blood and matted fur parted enough for her to see what she was doing properly. Stitch by stitch the sinewy yarn parted until she had worked right around the neck with Arnela’s knife. Shielding the head beneath by placing her hand under the hide at the back of the nape, she sliced neatly upward toward the top of the skull. All this time her patient lay quite still, never uttering a single sound. Arnela had to help her to lift the bear’s head skin free— the original bone was still inside the muzzle. It was indeed a real man!

He sat in silence, tears brimming out of his deep brown eyes. His hair—long, greasy and black as a raven’s wing—had moulded itself to his head. He had a broken nose, and his skin was like pale wax. A beard of whiskers grew from high on his cheekbones, almost masking his lips. Around his neck were the scratches and scars left by the collar spikes. His teeth were yellowed and stained but in good shape. It was hard to tell, but he looked to be around twenty or so years of age. His eyes never once left Karay’s face.

Ned shook his head in amazement. “Well, now I’ve seen everything!”

Ben agreed with the thought as he turned to Dominic. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, mate? Look at that face!”

Dominic had studied many faces before, and now his eyes roved over the features. “It’s a good face, Ben, a strong one. By the size of it, I’d say there is a very big man inside that bearskin. I’ve seen faces like that in artwork in great churches and cathedrals—the faces of saints who have suffered greatly.”

Karay was hardly aware of Arnela taking the knife from her. The goatherd slit the skin at the wrists, freeing the young man’s hands.

Karay whispered to him. “Who are you, can you speak, my friend?”

He touched his throat and made a low noise. “‘Damuuuh!”

Dominic and Ben whooped together. “Adamo!”

A smile like the rising sun lit up Arnela’s face. “The little boy from years ago, I knew it! I knew it all along, Adamo, it had to be you!”

Adamo looked at the big woman—he almost smiled. A grunt of recognition passed his lips. Then Karay took charge. “Why don’t you all go and see if the road is open through the woodlands. Adamo can’t return to his uncle in Veron looking like this. I’ll help him to clean up. Arnela, could you put a fresh edge on your blade and leave it with me?”

The big woman understood. She stropped her knife vigorously on a leather strap, issuing orders. “Ben, you’ll find some herbal ointment I made in that little box on the ledge. It’s as good as any soap. Dom, heat more water. Here’s an old hair slide, Karay, that’ll make do for a comb. Come on, Ned, we’ll go and scout the path out. You lads can follow us!”

They surveyed the landscape in the bright morning sunshine from the elevated view of a high snowbank created by the enormous landslide. Distant hills appeared fresh and green with the lilac haze of heather patchworking them. Stream water glinted along newly diverted courses. Down in the valleys, larks ascended, trilling in the clear air.

Ben listened to his dog’s thoughts. “What a day! It makes life worthwhile. I’m glad our angel saved us from the Flying Dutchman. Our friend the old comte and a lot of folk in these regions are going to be very happy, now that we’ve found Adamo and got rid of the Razan plague!”

Ben agreed mentally. “Aye, Ned, the mission is completed now. It makes me sad to think we’ll have to move on, but we could not afford to be seen here years from now, with everyone growing older and us forever the same age.”

Dominic looked at his friend’s clouded blue eyes. “What’s the matter, Ben? You look sad all of a sudden.”

Ben had no chance to answer. Ned knocked him flat in the snow. Sprawling on the boy’s chest, the black Labrador licked Ben’s face furiously as he berated him mentally. “Haha, O mournful moping master, the clever Ned banishes all miseries. I’ll soon lick a smile back on your face!”

Arnela and Dominic burst out laughing at the sight of Ben trying to wrestle Ned off and pleading with him. “Yurgh! Gerroff, y’great sloppy hound! Look, I’m smiling, I’m happy! Let me up, please!”

Arnela lifted the dog from her friend. “What’s all this about?”

Ben struggled upright, dusting the snow from himself. “Dominic started it, marm. Ned was just trying to put a smile on my face. Back, Ned, back! See, I’m happy again!”

The big woman tucked Ned under her arm as though he were a goat, and she set off back to the cave. “Come on, you two. Let’s see how our Adamo is looking now.”

Karay was sitting outside the cave, enjoying the morning sun with Adamo. She waved as they came scrunching through the snow. “Just take a peep at this handsome fellow!”

The young man’s cheeks coloured slightly. He gave a shy smile. Karay had given Adamo a wash, shave and haircut.

Arnela gasped. “Surely this isn’t the scraggy old bear we rescued from the Razan? He’s got skin like a peach, and look at the length of those eyelashes. Any maiden would give a bag of gold to have eyelashes like that. Karay, I think you’d better hide Adamo from the ladies of Veron when he gets back!”

The girl took Adamo’s wide, powerful hand in hers. “I’ll fight them if they even glance his way! But he’s not quite ready for public appearances yet. We haven’t any decent clothing to fit him! He’s a big fellow, almost taller than you, Arnela, and broader across the shoulders. Underneath that cloak of yours, which I borrowed for him, Adamo still has on the bearskin. So he’s still half man, half bear, eh, friend?”

Ben had only seen Adamo bent and shuffling in his role as a bear. He was taken aback when the young man stood up straight. Karay was right: Adamo was a big fellow. He stayed solemn for a moment, his soft brown eyes looking from one of them to the other. Then he gave an enormous grin and spread both arms wide. The cloak parted, revealing him clad in the bear hide from foot to neck. He danced comically to and fro, kicking up the wide, floppy pads that encased his feet and waving his fur-coated arms round and round. Ned’s delighted barks mingled with the helpless laughter of the onlookers. Adamo performed an awkward bow and said a single word, though he had difficulty in getting it out. “F … frrr … free!”

28

COMTE VINCENTE BREGON OF VERON SAT IN his gazebo at the centre of his beautiful walled garden. Though it was midafternoon, he was still clad in his nightshirt and dressing gown. He looked old and haggard. A small garden beetle trundled slowly over his sandalled foot, a magpie was strutting boldly about on the open windowsill. They were ignored by the old man, who stared unhappily at the fading blooms bordering the gravel path. His mind was elsewhere. The magpie spotted the beetle. It was about to descend on the insect and snatch i when it was disturbed by footsteps. The bird flew off, giving the beetle an unknowing extension to its short life.

Mathilde, the equally old but energetic cook, bustled into the gazebo, sniffing irately as she placed a tray of food and drink on an ornamental table beside her master. “Still sitting here like a scarecrow, eh?”

Wiping the sleeve of his gown across both eyes, the comte replied wearily, “Go away and leave me alone, woman.”

However, Mathilde was not about to go away. She persisted, “Can ye hear the market fair outside? I can. Why don’t you put on some decent clothing and get out there? ‘Twill do you good. Summer’s almost gone, and you sit out here from dawn to dusk, day after day, like some old cracked statue.”

He sighed, staring down at the beetle, which was laboriously crawling from his big toenail to the floor. “Give your tongue a rest, Mathilde. ‘Tis my own business how I conduct my life. Go back to your kitchens.”

Mathilde stubbornly tapped the tray and continued her tirade. “You’ll become an old skeleton, eat something! You never touched the nice breakfast I served you this morning, so I’ve brought you chicken broth with barley and leeks. Look, fresh bread, cream cheese and a glass of milk laced with brandy. Taste it, that’s all I ask, just take a little bit.”

The comte turned his lined face from her stern gaze. “Take it away, I’m not hungry. Please, give it to one of the servants. I have no appetite for food or drink.”

The faithful Mathilde knelt by his side, her voice softening. “What is it, Vincente, what ails you?”

Again he wiped the sleeve across his eyes. “I’m an old fool—worse, an unthinking old fool. On a silly impulse I sent three young people and a dog to their deaths!”

Mathilde stood up brusquely, her attitude hardening. “Oh, ‘tis that again, is it? Well, let me tell you, sir, ‘twas not your doing—they volunteered themselves to go. Hmph! Gypsies and vagabonds, little wonder they never came back. If you ask me, they’ve probably joined up with the Razan. They’re creatures of a kind, all of them!”

The comte’s eyes flared briefly, his voice sharpening as he pointed a finger toward the big house. “Go, you bad-mouthed old fishwife. Go!”

She bustled off in a huff, muttering aloud, “Well, I’ve done my duty to the Bregons. Soon we’ll have a dead comte on our hands, one who starved himself into his grave. What’ll become of Veron then, eh? Those Razan’ll march straight in and take over the entire place. Mark my words!”

The comte spoke, not so much to answer her, merely ruminating to himself. “Why does God choose fools to rule? I was deluding myself that Adamo would be still alive after all these years. That pretty young girl, those good young boys and their dog, their lives are lost now, all because of a stupid old man’s desires. Oh Lord, forgive me for what I’ve done!”

Garath, the comte’s blacksmith and stable master, trudged up the three steps into the gazebo. Placing a strong arm under the older man’s elbow, he gently eased him into a standing position. “Time for you to go inside now, sir. Shall I send someone out to bring your food in also? That soup still looks hot, you may fancy it later.”

Shaking his head, the comte allowed himself to be led off. “Do what you wish with the food. Take me to my bedchamber, Garath, I feel tired.”

It was the last day of the market fair, and a few people were leaving early owing to the long journey home they would have to take. Seated in a two-wheeled cart drawn by a lumbering ox, a farmer, together with his wife and teenage daughter, made their way to the gate in Veron’s walls. The cart was held up at the gateway. It could not proceed because of an argument that was going on between two fresh-faced, newly appointed guards and five other people. The farmer sat patiently, holding the ox reins, whilst the dispute outside the gate carried on.

Karay’s voice rang out. “Five centimes? That’s daylight robbery! It was only two centimes apiece and one for the dog last time we came here! Go and get the comte, he’ll be glad to let us through for free!”

The tallest of the two guards, who was little more than a runaway farmboy, laughed at the girl’s claim. “Hoho, personal friends of the comte, are we? Listen, girl, we may be new t’this job, but we ain’t soft in the head. Entrance fees to the fair have risen, how d’you suppose the sergeant can make up our wages, eh?”

Arnela’s voice replied with a dangerous edge to it. “You keep a civil tongue in your head, boy, or you’ll feel the back of my hand. Where is your sergeant? Go and fetch him—he’ll certainly know what to do!”

The smaller guard was even younger than his comrade but was polite and serious. “Marm, the sergeant’s having his meal in the big house kitchen. You’ll have to wait until he comes back here, neither of us is allowed to leave his post. If you pay us the entrance fee, then I’m sure he’ll be glad to sort out the difference with you later. Sorry, but ‘tis more than our job’s worth to let you in free, you understand, marm?”

Karay’s voice chimed in. “So, then, how much d’you want?”

The taller guard took up the dispute again. “Well, er five centimes apiece for the two ladies, an’ five each for the boys, an that, er, other person. Let’s see, that’s twenty centimes all told, if y’please.”

Karay’s scornful laugh rang out. “Where did you learn to count?”

The guard continued, pretending to ignore her. “We’ll call it three for the dog, and er, say, one centime apiece for those goats, when we’ve counted ‘em!”

Arnela pushed forward, her temper growing short. “Enough of this foolishness, let us in! We’ve got business with the comte. Stand aside!”

The guard’s spears crossed, blocking her path. The big woman pointed a warning finger at the tall guard.

“D’you want me to take those spears and wrap them around your necks and give you both a good spanking, eh?”

The farmer’s wife came walking through the gate and entered the dispute. She took coins from her purse, offering them to the guards. “Let these folk through, take these five francs!” She turned to Karay with a smile. “Remember me, Veronique?”

The quick-witted girl recalled everything in a flash. She recognised the lady as the pancake seller whose fortune she had told when they had first come to Veron.

“Oh, Madame Gilbert, what a pleasure to see you again. Thank you so much for paying our toll. I’m, er, with some friends at the moment. We’re a bit short of money, until I get a fortunetelling engagement, you understand.”

The farmer’s wife nodded knowingly. “Of course, my dear Veronique.” She winked at Karay. “After what you did for me that day, ‘tis the least I can do. I’m no longer Madame Gilbert. I married the farmer. I’m Madame Frane now, and very happy to be so. I acted on the good advice you gave me. That’s my husband and our daughter Jeanette in the cart. I sold the pancake business at a handsome profit. My life is so happy now, thanks to you. Well, I must go, we’ve got a long journey back to the farm. Good-bye, Veronique my dear—that is, if your name really is Veronique?”

Karay whispered in the good woman’s ear as she kissed her cheek. “Only when it suits me. Bless you, Madame Frane.”

Garath had delivered the comte to his bedchamber. He sat in the kitchen, watching Mathilde crimp the edges of a large plum pie as he worked his way through the tray of food that the comte had left untouched. “Mmmm, that plum pie looks good. Maybe he’ll eat a slice for his supper, eh?”

Mathilde made some chevron slits in the centre of the pastry. “I hope he does, Garath. I’m worried sick about the man— he’s fading away from lack of good food. That, and the troubles he’s created in his mind.”

A timid rap on the kitchen door interrupted Mathilde’s woeful musings. She raised her voice irately. “Yes, who is it?”

The smaller of the two guards poked his head around the door, respectfully pulling off his hat and revealing a tousled mop of hair. “Marm, I met the sergeant in the square and he told me to bring these people to see the comte.”

Mathilde wiped floury hands upon her apron. “People, what people?” A billy goat pushed his way past the guard and wandered into the kitchen. “Maaaahaah!”

Mathilde grabbed her rolling pin, shouting, “Yaaah! Get that beast out of my kitchen! Garath, help!”

The guard was brushed aside as, knocking the door wide open, a herd of goats came bleating into the room, followed by Ned and the rest of the party.

Mathilde immediately shouted at Ben, Dominic and Karay, brandishing the rolling pin. “You three, I might have known it! Gypsies, assassins, get out of my kitch—waaaahi”

She clapped a hand to one cheek. The pie was spoiled as the rolling pin fell into it. Mathilde swayed, grasping the table edge as she stared at the man clad in bearskin.

Garath saw him too, and his voice trembled as he spoke. “Monsieur Edouard… you’re alive?”

Mathilde recovered herself quickly. “Fool! That’s not Edouard, ‘tis his son, Adamo… but… but… he’s a grown man!”

Adamo pushed his way through the goats to the cook, who had been his nursemaid in infancy. “Oh, ‘Tilde!” He swept her up in both arms and lifted her onto the tabletop.

Mathilde would not let go of Adamo and rained kisses on him. “See, Garath, he knows me. ‘Tilde! That’s the name he used to call me when he was little. Adamo! You’ve come back to me! My Adamo!”

The unbaked plum pie had been swept off onto the floor. Pantyro, Clovis and Ajax the Less began making short work of it, as Arnela watched them ruefully. “I’d have enjoyed a slice of that pie if it had been baked. It’s years since I tasted a nice home-baked plum pie.”

It was quite a time before order was restored to the kitchen. Arnela herded her goats out into the garden, where they immediately began eating flowers, grass, leaves and anything that resembled food to them. Mathilde seated the five travellers at her table and began producing food like magic. Each time she passed Adamo, she would hug him fondly.

“Here, my love, have some of this almond cake, and a dish of my vanilla custard. The beef stew in the oven won’t take long to heat, and the baked carrot and turnip. Garath, bring more ale, and milk, too. Oh, I must pop some of that raisin flan in to warm up. Eat, all of you! Come on, eat, eat!”

Crimson twilight of early autumn evening flooded through the kitchen windows as Garath lit the lanterns. He kept turning to look at Adamo and shaking his head. “We can’t have you walking in on the comte in that state, sir.”

Mathilde changed her juice-stained apron for a clean one. “I should think not, ‘twould frighten the poor man to death! Garath, tell Hector to get hot water and fill up that big tub you keep in the stables, put lavender water in it, too. I’ll sneak up to Monsieur Edouard’s old room—there’s a whole wardrobe of his clothes still there. He was almost as big as Adamo, they should fit well enough. Then you can take that horrible bear’s hide and burn it!”

Ned looked up from beneath the table, where he was munching on an enormous pork chop. “Maybe Adamo would like to burn it, eh Ben?”

The boy caught his dog’s thought and asked Adamo, “Would you like to burn the bearskin, my friend?”

A rare smile lit up the big fellow’s face as he pointed to himself. “I… burn … it… Ben … my friend!”

The boy’s strange blue eyes smiled back. “I wager you will!”

After Garath had left him lying upon his bed, tiredness of both mind and body overcame the old comte. He drifted into a deep sleep, unaware of any activities that were going on downstairs. The few hours he lay there felt as long as a full night’s rest. Therefore, he was mildly surprised when he woke to the curtains being drawn open, revealing evening’s glorious scarlet sun rays flooding the bedchamber. Confusion set in on the old man. Was he awake, or was it a dream? Shading his eyes, he blinked upward at the tall, handsome man who was standing by the bed gazing calmly down at him. A strange and limited conversation took place—the visitor spoke only one word. “Pappa?”

Vincente Bregon shook his head. “No, no, our father died many years ago, Edouard, a long time ago. Edouard, is it you?”

Then the strange boy, Ben, this one who had eyes which had looked across seas and oceans, came and sat upon the bed. “No, sir, it isn’t Edouard. This is his son, Adamo. We’ve brought him back to you, just as we vowed we would.”

Unsure whether he was still awake or not, the old man nodded. “Of course, Adamo never knew his father. Pappa, that’s what he used to call me. Ah, but that was before the Razan stole him.”

Before anyone could stop him, Ned bounded up onto the bed and licked the old man’s face. Comte Vincente Bregon de Veron sat up straight, fully awake.

Seconds ticked by as he looked into the face of his long-lost nephew, then recognition dawned. Taking the tall man’s hands, he pressed his face into them. “Adamo, my dear brother’s son, it is you? Adamo! Adamo!”

29

THREE MARKET FAIRS HAD COME AND GONE. Early mists drifted away into a crisp, golden autumn morn. Ben gripped the iron tongs, holding a horseshoe against the front hoof of a placid white mare. Smoke arose from the forged metal in a blue-grey cloud.

From his seat atop a hay bale, Ned winced, passing Ben a thought. “Ooch! Didn’t that hurt the poor old nag? It was almost red hot!” Ben mentally answered his dog’s inquiry. “Of course it didn’t—horses enjoy having new shoes fitted. Garath’s going to show me how to nail the shoe onto her hoof now. Hold still, good girl, this won’t take long.”

Ned cut in with a horrified thought. “You mean you’re going to hammer nails into the poor mare’s foot? I’m off, before you and Garath decide to give me a new set of shoes!”

Leaping off the bale, the black Labrador shot outside into the cobbled stable yard. Ned narrowly missed being run down by two more horses that clattered in, with Karay and Adamo on their backs. The girl called out needlessly, “Mind yourself, Ned, or you’ll get run down!”

Ned barked his disapproval at the words his mouth could not say. “I’d sooner be run down than have iron shoes nailed to my paws, miss. Have y’seen what those two are doing to a mare in the stables? I’ll bet Arnela doesn’t do that to her goats!” He dashed off barking to find his goatherd friend.

Karay laughed. “Let’s go and see what Mathilde’s baking for lunch. Something nice, I hope, I’m starving!”

Adamo helped her down from her horse. Tugging her hair playfully, he remarked in his slow, halting speech, “You are always hungry, Karay!”

She looked up at him fondly. “Huh, look who’s talking. Have you noticed how much you can put away?”

Comical innocence shone in Adamo’s brown eyes. “I am bigger than you, Adamo needs more food!”

Arnela was sitting in the gazebo with a tiny month-old nanny goat on her knee. Dominic perched against the windowsill, painting them both. He had been given brushes, paints, canvas and an easel, a gift from the comte. Ned came lolloping along. Sitting next to the big goatherd woman, he placed a paw on her knee and gazed faithfully up at her and the goat.

The facemaker chuckled admiringly. “Stay like that, Ned, what a perfect tableau it makes. Well done, boy, good dog!”

The black Labrador held his pose, emitting thoughts that would never reach Arnela or Dominic. “Why d’you think I sat here? Anyone with half an eye could see the picture was off balance. Note the way I present a noble profile in just the right light. If only someone would let me paint, I’d dash off a few masterpieces with my tail. Hidden depths of talent, y’know, quite common among us Labradors!”

The baby goat bleated. “Maaahaaah!”

Ned flicked it a glance. “Huh, who asked you?”

Lunch that day was not a snatch-and-bite-in-the-kitchen affair. Mathilde would not even let them enter her domain; she shooed them all out.

“Go and get cleaned up, all of you, put on some fresh clothes, too. Go on!”

Adamo protested, “We are hungry people, feed us, ‘Tilde!”

But even his plea did not move the old cook. “The master wants to join you in the dining room, he told me so specially. Lunch will be served in one hour. Go away!”

Ned passed a thought to Ben as they went upstairs. “Maybe the comte wants to speak to us about something in particular.”

Ben paused on the stairway. “That’s what I was thinking, too. I’ve been getting an uneasy feeling for the past few days. We’ve been a long time in Veron, maybe a bit too long.”

Ned licked the boy’s hand. “Too much to hope that our angel has forgotten about us, I suppose?”

Ben sighed. “I’ll wager that angels never forget anything, mate.” He shrugged and tried to brighten up. “We’re probably worrying over nothing. Come on, let’s get dressed!”

He bounded up the rest of the stairs, laughing aloud at the dog’s reply. “Dearie me, what shall I wear to lunch?”

Vincente Bregon looked every inch the comte de Veron as he entered the dining room—dressed in the finest silks and linens, his hair and beard neatly trimmed, his step vigorous and steady. To the eyes of his guests he seemed many years younger. Seven places were laid for the meal. Ned was underneath the table, already making inroads upon a slab of roasted pork crackling. Ben, Dominic, Arnela, Karay and Adamo sat laughing and chattering with one another, each of them clad in new outfits provided by their host’s generosity.

The comte seated himself. Banging the tabletop with mock severity, he raised his voice: “What? My guests sitting here staring at an empty board! Where’s that lazy old cook of mine? Dozing in front of the oven fire, I wager. Can’t a man get a decent meal in his own house anymore?”

Mathilde entered, leading two young maidservants who were pushing a trolley laden with food. Her scornful wit was not lost upon her audience. She wagged a finger in the comte’s face. “The lunch has been ready this past quarter hour, waiting on you to dodder downstairs in your bib and tucker. Dozing in front of the oven fire, indeed? The only time I’ll do that is when I’ve got you in the oven, baking some life into those old bones of yours, you crotchety old codger!”

Ben and his friends shook with laughter as the pair exchanged good-humoured insults.

“Be silent, you frowzy old loaf-burner!”

“Yah, go and take a nap, you mumbling old chin-dribbler!”

The comte rose. “I’ll not stand for that in my house, Madame!”

Mathilde winked at Karay and Adamo as she retorted, “Then sit down!”

The comte chuckled. He patted the empty chair next to him. “No, no, Mathilde, ‘tis you who must sit down, here, right beside me. Let the maids serve our lunch today.”

Mathilde protested. “Cooks don’t sit at table with the master, who ever heard of such a thing?”

But the comte of Veron would brook no argument. “Madame, I am ordering you to sit and dine with us. When lunch is over, I have things to say which concern us all!”

The meal was delicious. A steaming mushroom soup was followed by salad and a collation of cheeses, ham, brown bread, eggs and a grilled carp. Over a dessert of hot summer pudding and cream they sipped cider, fruit juice and glasses of the local wine mixed with fresh springwater.

Ben nodded and smiled at the amiable banter and conversation of his friends. However, he heard little of it as he and Ned exchanged apprehensive thoughts.

The dog’s paw touched his master’s foot beneath the table as Ned voiced his opinion. “I don’t know why, Ben, but I’m beginning to feel rather uneasy about something or other. I can’t think what it is.”

The boy reached down and stroked his Labrador’s silky ear. He had forgotten the message that the angel had woven into his dreams when he first met Karay. That night in the forest seemed so long ago and faraway.

He answered Ned, trying not to sound perplexed. “I expect our angel will let us know if anything’s amiss. Strange, but I can’t remember any warning the angel gave me about moving on, can you?”

Ned poked his head out from under the tablecloth hem. “No, I don’t recall a thing—that’s what’s bothering me.”

Around the table it had gone suddenly quiet. Dominic nudged Ben’s arm and whispered to him, “Sit up straight, friend. You look half asleep there. The comte has something to say to us!”

Ben suddenly became attentive. “What? Oh, er, sorry!”

The comte drew from his finger the large gold ring that bore his family’s crest. It was far too large for him and slipped off easily. He placed it on the little finger of Adamo’s right hand, where it fitted snugly.

“This was your father’s ring. He was the rightful lord of Veron. The ring carries the Bregon seal: a lion for strength, a dove for peace, and a knotted rope symbolising union and togetherness. Adamo Bregon, son of Edouard, my brother, you are now to be known as comte de Veron, as is your birthright!”

The others around the table applauded warmly. Even Ned emerged from beneath the table, his tail wagging furiously. Wiping a joyful tear away with her apron corner, Mathilde turned to the new comte. “Well, sir, are ye not going to say something to us all, a nice speech maybe?”

Adamo stood up. He looked so tall and strong, yet so calm and happy. His broad face broke into a smile, which touched the hearts of everyone present. Then he bowed and kissed Karay’s hand, speaking haltingly. “You will be my comtesse, Karay… please?”

The girl’s answer was inaudible—she merely nodded once.

The old comte took both their hands in his. “I have watched you both. This is what I was hoping for. As for my other friends, Ben, Dominic and our faithful Ned, I have asked myself what I can do to repay you for restoring Adamo to me. You are not servants—it would be churlish and ill mannered to offer you money. But I know that you have no parents to care for you. In view of this I have reached a decision. In a few days we will go together on a journey. Toulouse will be our destination. There, at the cathedral, I will consult the bishop, and then I will speak with the justices of my wishes, so that all people will know: I intend to give you both my name, adopting you as my sons. Together you will live here as part of our family. As for you, my dearest Mathilde, you shall become a lady companion of our household. No more cooking and working in kitchens …”

Neither Ned nor Ben heard the rest of Vincente Bregon’s speech. Like lightning at midnight, the angel’s message flooded into their minds, blotting out all else.

“A man who has not children

Will name you as his son.

In that hour you must be gone!

Turn your face back to the sea,

You will meet another one,

A father with no children,

Before you travel on.

Help him to help his children,

As his kinsman would have done.”

Ben heard Mathilde’s voice as the import of the command hit him. She was interrupting the old comte. “No such thing, sir. I’m not going to sit about with nothing to do for the rest of my days. Cook I am, and cook I stay! No silly young girl is going to take charge of my kitchens. Ben, are you alright, boy? You’ve gone white as a sheet.”

The boy stood up, swaying slightly, his mind in a daze as he made up a suitable reply. “I’ll be fine in a moment, thanks. A little too much of your good wine, Mathilde, even though there was water in it. Please, don’t fuss, I’ll go and take a walk in the fresh air. I’ll be alright soon. Ned will come with me.”

Dominic, the Facemaker of Sabada, stared into his friend’s clouded blue eyes. They were distant and sad. “Ben, do you want me to come with you?”

The boy knew that his friend could see the truth of what was about to happen. Ben shifted his gaze fondly from the old comte, to Mathilde, then from Adamo to Karay, and finally back to Dominic. He blinked a few times. “No, mate, you stay here. I only need Ned to go with me.”

Then the boy and his dog left the room.

30

FOUR DAYS LATER, in the late afternoon, Ben and Ned sat on the dunes, staring out to sea at the Gulf of Gascony. All the tears they could cry had been shed. They had travelled fast, both night and day, stopping only to catch a brief hour’s rest here and there when weariness got the better of them. Both boy and dog had pushed themselves hard, not wanting to stay amid dear friends who would eventually grow old and die whilst they remained forever young.

Ned snuffled at his master’s hand. “Well, mate, we turned our faces back to the sea, and here we are. Ooh, I am hungry, Ben, so hungry!”

Ben nodded absently as he replied, “What I’m wondering is, where’s this other one we’ve got to meet? Remember the second part of the angel’s command:

‘Turn your face back to the sea,

You will meet another one,

A father with no children,

before you travel on.

Help him to help his children,

as his kinsman would have done.’ “

Ned’s ears flopped as he shook his head from side to side. “Sounds like twaddle to me. Another father with no children, yet we’ve got to help him to help his children. Huh, and who’s this kinsman who would’ve helped the father with no children, to help his children, eh? Even a dog can’t make head nor tail of that little lot!”

Ben did not answer right away. He turned his gaze from the sea to the hilltop where they sat and to the trees behind. “Ned, d’you realise where we are?”

The black Labrador was still trying to solve the angel’s riddle. “No, should I? Wait, don’t tell me, hmmm, sea, hills, small clump of trees … Of course! This is the exact spot where we came ashore from La Petite Marie’s jolly boat! Well, there’s a thing, we’ve come full circle!”

Ben was standing up, shading his eyes as he turned back to the sea. Ned looked up at him. “What is it now?”

The boy was already descending the sandy dune top. “A little boat, coming to shore this way. Probably a fisherman. Come on, mate, maybe he’s got some spare food with him!”

Ned raced after his master. “Food, you’ve said the magic word!”

They stood in the shallows as the tiny fishing smack nosed toward them. A man appeared at the bow and flung a line in Ben’s direction. He shouted a single word. “Hungry?”

Ben’s answer was also brief. “Starving!”

The fellow sprang over the side. He was laughing. “How did I guess? Help me get her ashore above the tide line.”

Ned gripped the rope end in his teeth as Ben and the man put the line over their shoulders and hauled. With considerable effort they dragged the boat over the ridged wet sand, through some seaweed and debris, then up onto the dry beach above the tide line. The man was poorly clad, barefoot and had a ragged cloak tied about his neck as protection against long hours facing sea breezes. He shook Ben’s hand firmly and patted Ned. “Thank ye, friends. See those trees up yonder? Could you gather some wood for a fire? I’ve got good, fresh mackerel aboard. Got some bread, and milk, too. We can cook a meal!”

Ben smiled. “You caught the fish, sir, we’ll get the wood!” He sped off, with Ned outpacing him and thinking happily, “Bread’n’fish, nothing like it when you’re hungry, mate!”

The fisherman even had a frying pan. He gutted and headed the mackerel and tossed them into the pan with some herbs and a chopped onion. As he took off his cloak, he jerked a thumb at the waters of the bay.

“High tide’s the best time to net fish around here, though you’ve got to get the job done before the tide turns—it can run out pretty fast and leave you stranded out there.” As he loosed the cloak, Ben saw his white collar and well-worn, threadbare black cassock. A priest!

Ned settled down in the warm sand, thinking, “Haha, a priest. So that’s the father who has no children. This is him, Ben!”

The priest handed Ben enough bread for him and his dog. “So, what are you doing on this forsaken stretch of shore?”

Ben tossed half the bread to Ned. “We’re just travellers, Father, making our way along the coast to Spain. It isn’t too far. Do you live hereabouts?”

The priest tested six mackerel he had put on to fry and turned them over with his knife blade. “Just on the outskirts of Arcachon. I have a little parish. Very small and poor… we even meet in my house for services, as the church collapsed many years ago. Sandy foundation, cheap materials, the usual story.”

Ben noted the large mass of silver-and black-banded fish in the boat. “You missed your trade, Father, you’re a good fisherman to land a haul like that.”

The priest nodded ruefully. “My flock and I live as a community, helping one another. Chopard, our fisherman, broke his arm last week, so I elected myself to the job until his arm is mended. They’re simple people around here, but good. I call them my children, and, as you know, children must be fed.”

The fish tasted good. They sat in silence, attending to the needs of their hunger.

Ned was first to finish. He passed Ben a thought. “Look at the father’s face—who does he remind you of?”

Ben scrutinised the man’s face. Ned was right, there was something rather familiar about the eyes, the strong jaw, the shape of the nose, those sandy brown whiskers. Almost without thinking, Ben found himself saying, “I was at sea once. I had a friend, he came from where you live, Arcachon.”

The father licked his fingers, tossing a fish bone into the fire. “From Arcachon, you say? What was his name? I might know the family. We’ve had a few from the parish run off to sea.”

Ben spoke the name of his dead buccaneer captain. “Raphael Thuron.”

In the moment the father’s eyes went wide with surprise, Ben found his mind invaded by Ned’s urgent pleas.

“Easy, mate, go careful. Watch what you say. Lie if you have to!”

The man grabbed Ben’s arm with a hand as heavy as the captain’s had been. “Raphael Thuron is my brother … would your man be about eight years older than me?”

Ben avoided his new friend’s gaze. “Aye, about that, Father. He looked a lot like you, as I remember. Did your brother run off to sea?”

The good father stared into the fire. “Yes, our parents were poor farmers. They wanted Raphael to become a priest one day, but he was too wild. He was forever getting into scrapes.” The father smiled. “And getting me into trouble with him. Raphael was a rogue, but a good brother. Please, tell me what you know about him, how is he doing? Raphael said that if ever he got away from these parts, he’d make a fortune in some far country. I wonder if he did.”

As he pondered his answer, Ben passed Ned a message. “This is a good man, it would be wrong to tell him lies. If we’re to help him and his children, it’s best to tell the truth.”

Ned replied, “Right, mate, but don’t mention the angel.”

Ben gently released his arm from the father’s grip. “I have news to tell you, both good and sad, Mattieu.”

The priest stared deep into Ben’s mysterious blue eyes. “You know my name?”

The boy met his gaze. “Your brother told me of you when I first met him. He was one of the finest men I ever knew.” Ben’s eyes betrayed what he was holding back.

Turning away, Father Mattieu Thuron watched the receding tide. “Something tells me that you’re going to say Raphael is dead!”

There was no way to soften the blow. Ben took a deep breath. “That’s my sad duty, Father. Captain Raphael Thuron is dead.”

A silence followed, in which the priest’s lips moved slowly as he offered up prayers for his brother’s soul. Ben and Ned sat quietly watching. Wiping a frayed cuff across his eyes, Father Mattieu turned back to Ben and said a single world. “Captain?”

Ben tossed a twig upon the fire. “Aye, a captain. Would it surprise you to know that he was a buccaneer?”

Ben thought for a moment that the priest was weeping again, but he was chuckling and shaking his head.

“It wouldn’t surprise me in the least, my friend. Raphael was always a wild one—I’ll wager he made a fine buccaneer.”

Ben cheered up, remembering his days aboard La Petite Marie. “Cap’n Thuron was the terror of the Caribbean, but let me tell you, we—my name’s Ben, that’s Ned, my dog—we were proud to serve under your brother.”

Lit by a full moon, night crept in as Ben sat by the fire on the shore with Ned and Father Mattieu. He related the full tale, from the tavern in Cartagena to the Gulf of Gascony. The priest’s eyes shone with excitement, imagining great adventures of palm-fringed islands, Spanish pirates, privateers and a chase across the boundless ocean.

When he had finished the narrative, Ben took a deep drink from the water canteen, listening to Ned’s approval.

“Well told, mate, what a great yarn. I’m glad you never mentioned our angel or anything about Veron and the Razan. It was pretty convincing how you said that we’d been hiding and scavenging about the coastline most of the summer. Couldn’t have done better myself!”

Father Mattieu shook the boy’s hand warmly. “Thank you, Ben, I can tell that you liked Raphael a great deal. I will grieve and pray for him. Thank heaven he was not captured and executed like a common criminal. He died like a true captain, going down with his beloved ship. But what a man my brother was, eh? The places he saw, the adventures he had—I almost wish I’d sailed with him. Raphael packed more into one lifetime than most men do into ten! But I have my little parish to look after, my poor children to attend to…” Whilst the good father chatted on aimlessly, Ben noticed an odd change in his view of the bay.

Ned suddenly stood up alert. “Ben, listen, the angel!”

The boy heard the heavenly being speaking a line of the poem: “You must help him help his children. Behold!”

Both Ben and Ned felt their eyes drawn to one spot.

The tide had ebbed fully, leaving a long stretch of beach and shallow offshore water. A cloud floating alone in the clear night sky obscured the moon. However, there was a hole in the centre of the cloud, which allowed the moonlight to shine downward in one pale shaft of silver light. Right from the skies to the bay’s surface it went, spotlighting a small circle of water.

Again the angel spoke: “You must help him to help his children. Behold!”

Ned was tugging the rope at the prow of the fishing boat. Ben sprang to his feet, shouting at the priest. “Come quickly, Father, we need your help with the boat!”

The priest arose and grabbed the rope with Ned and Ben. “What is it, Ben, what do you need the boat for?”

The boy bent his shoulder as he heaved the craft forward. “Save your breath, Father! Just get it to the water and trust me. There’s no time to argue!”

It was a long hard haul over the wet beach to the water’s edge. Panting and blowing, the two strained at the rope, dragging the fishing smack behind. Ben kept his eyes firmly on the sphere of light, blinking away the sweat that ran smartingly down to blur his gaze. Even when they reached the water, the boat’s keel still scraped on the sand. It came free as they waded in knee-deep. Ben heaved Ned aboard as the priest gathered up his sopping cassock and scrambled in amongst the slithering mackerel. “Where to now, Ben?”

The boy pointed at the thin column of moonlight. “Straight ahead, see the patch of light on the water? There!”

Before they actually reached the spot, Ned sighted a nub of timber poking up above the surface. Barking wildly, he threw a thought to Ben. “It’s the little mast of the Marie’s jolly boat!”

Ben lay in the bow, paddling furiously with both hands until he got hold of the mast. “Father, come here. Hold on to this and don’t let go whatever you do!”

Father Mattieu obeyed promptly, seizing the timber as though his life depended on it. Ben took the bow rope and knotted it about his waist, then plunged into the dark waters, gasping with shock as his head struck the jolly boat’s keel. It was sitting squarely on the seabed. He felt about swiftly. This pointed bit was the bows. Pulling himself along, he found the stern. His shin barked against the after-end seat. He felt for the sailcloth wrapping and pulled it aside. There it was in a big canvas bag—Captain Raphael Thuron’s fortune in gold!

Bubbles started streaming from between Ben’s lips, as he desperately tried to hold his breath in. Loosing the rope from his waist, he tied it in a hasty noose. The boy’s head pounded unmercifully as he strained to lift the bag of gold. It moved just enough for him to sweep the noose underneath and pull tight. Ben shot to the surface, spluttering and spitting seawater. The priest relinquished his hold on the mast and helped the boy climb awkwardly into the boat.

Ned danced around his master. “You’ve got it, you’ve got it! Er, have you, mate?”

Ben burst into laughter, shouting aloud, “I’ve got it, I’ve got the gold!”

Between them, Ben and the father heaved the canvas bag up, until it was suspended underwater. Ben lashed the rope securely around the fishing smack’s mast. The weight of the gold made the little vessel lean over crazily as they took it into the shallower waters. Ned watched as they both jumped over the side, landing waist-deep in the sea. Father Mattieu sang out as they each gripped an end of the sack: “Up she comes, Ben, right. One … two … threeeeee!”

A dull clink of wet coins sounded as the bag landed amongst the priest’s catch of mackerel.

More wood was added to the fire. Ben drank fresh water to rid his mouth of the acrid salt taste. Ned flicked away a spark with his paw, chuckling mentally.

“Hoho, look at the father. I don’t suppose he’s ever seen more than two gold coins together in his life. Haha, and I’ll bet that those two belonged to somebody else!”

Firelight flickered off the shiny coins as they trickled through the priest’s fingers. His eyes were as wide as organ stops. “All this gold, Ben, there’s a vast fortune here. D’you realise, we’re rich, friend, we’re rich!”

Ben shook his head. “No, friend, you’re rich. That gold is your brother’s last gift to you. What’ll you do with it?”

Father Mattieu shuddered with delight as he stuffed handfuls of gold coins back into the canvas bag. “A church, I’ll build a lovely church, with pews, bells, steeple, altar. I’ll call it Saint Raphael’s!”

Ben smiled. “I’m sure the Lord won’t mind.”

The father lay flat on his back, stretching his arms wide. “A farm, too, with cows, pigs, chickens, sheep, fields and crops. Around the farm we’ll have cottages for my parishioners, my children. The church will stand in the centre of the farm… But listen to me, planning to do this and that. You must share this golden fortune with me, Ben. It would still be lying on the bottom of the sea if it weren’t for you!”

The boy refused flatly. “No, Father, Ned and I don’t need gold. I won’t touch a single piece of it. I told your brother I wouldn’t, and I must keep that promise in memory of him.”

Ned passed his master a rueful plea. “Couldn’t we just keep a few coins, say enough to buy us a week or two of good meals?”

Ben’s reply brooked no argument. “The angel never meant us to have any. The answer’s no, mate. Father Mattieu can make better use of it than we ever would.”

The father took Ben’s hand. “If you won’t take some gold, then what can I do to help you? Would you like to come and live in my new parish with me? Anything.”

Ben clasped his friend’s hand warmly. “There are reasons why I can’t stay anywhere too long. Besides, I’m a wanted person, a buccaneer, that’s why I was planning on escaping to Spain. Now if Ned and I only had a boat…”

Father Mattieu cleaned his frying pan in the sand and placed it in the fishing smack along with his other belongings and some bread, herbs and onions. He handed the bow rope to Ned, who took it in his jaws.

“Take this boat. There’s food, water and fish to go with it. Take it, both of you, and take my blessing with you!”

With its one small square-rigged sail spread, Ben steered the fishing smack out into the sea when the tide rolled in an hour before dawn. Both he and Ned looked back at Father Mattieu Thuron standing waist-deep in the water, arms spread wide as he called out to them. “May the good Lord bless you for what you have done for me and my children. Go now, my friends, and may the angels watch over you both!”

Ben passed Ned a fleeting thought. “Well, at least one of them will!”

Ben pulled the tiller, sending the little craft toward the Spanish mainland. From out of the east, rosy hues of dawn seeped out into the Bay of Biscay. Looking back, Ben and Ned watched Father Mattieu wading ashore, the bearer of good fortune returning to his parish. The strange boy from the sea and his faithful dog turned their faces to the new day and the perils of the unknown.

Ben felt Ned’s thoughts. “Where we are bound, mate, only heaven knows.”

The boy pressed his cheek against the black Labrador’s soft fur. “I don’t care, as long as we’re together, Ned.”

Soon the fishing smack was nought but a tiny dot on the face of the world’s great and mysterious waters.

It is said that in the big house of Adamo Bregon, Comte of Veron, a picture hangs on the wall of the dining hall. This fascinating and beautiful artwork is greatly admired by all who see it. Within a gilt-embossed frame a boy stands with a black Labrador dog sitting by his side. The dog looks gentle and intelligent, its soft dark eyes friendly. An animal that anyone would be proud to own. The boy is poorly clad in the manner of one who follows the sea. Barefoot, with frayed and worn canvas breeches and a tattered calico shirt. His unruly tow-coloured hair is ruffled by the breeze. But it is the lad’s clouded blue eyes that draw the onlooker closer. No matter where you stand in that room, those strange eyes are looking straight at you. The boy is leaning on some rocks, with cold mountainous seas heaving behind him. Lightning rips through a storm-battered sky. In one corner, riding the wild waves, is a dim depiction of an unmanned sailing ship, its rigging illuminated by the eerie green light of St. Elmo’s fire. Many visitors ask why the picture was not painted in a rural landscape with the mountains as a background. After all, Veron is many leagues from the sea. The artist will only say that he saw the picture in the eyes of the boy, who was once as close to him as a brother. If you saw the eyes for yourself, you would readily believe him. In the lower right-hand corner of the picture, the artist has signed his name.

Dominic de la Sabada Bregon

BRIAN JACQUES says:

“The intrigue of the Flying Dutchman’s castaways continues in my second tale. This time Ben and his loyal dog Ned have determined that they will never, never go to sea again—but they find themselves on a French pirate ship! And this time there are three captains they must battle.

Two are human, and the third? The ghost of the vengeful Captain Vanderdecken!

“Travel across the realms of ages to another time, another place, another adventure, with even more riddles to solve. Join Ben and Ned on another adventure!”

BRIAN JACQUES is the author of the best-selling Redwall novels, as well as many related books. He was born, raised, and still lives in Liverpool, England.

Visit his Web site at www.redwall.org

FROM THE AUTHOR OF REDWALL

Brian Jacques

The Angel’s

Command

A TALE FROM

CASTAWAYS OF THE FLYING DUTCHMAN

FIREBIRD

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A. Penguin Group (Canada), 10 Alcorn Avenue, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2

(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd) Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia

(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd) Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre,

Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India Penguin Group (NZ), Cnr Airborne and Rosedale Roads, Albany, Auckland,

New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank,

Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

Registered Offices: Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

First published in the United States of America by Philomel Books,

a division of Penguin Putnam Books for Young Readers, 2003 Published by Firebird, an imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 2005

13579 10 8642

Text copyright Š The Redwall Abbey Company, Ltd., 2003

Illustrations copyright Š David Elliot, 2003

All rights reserved

THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS HAS CATALOGED THE PHILOMEL EDITION AS FOLLOWS:

Jacques, Brian. The angel’s command: a tale from the castaways of the Flying Dutchman / Brian Jacques;

illustrated by David Elliot, p. cm. Sequel to: Castaways of the Flying Dutchman

Summary: Ben and Ned, a boy and dog gifted with eternal youth and the ability

to communicate with one another nonverbally, encounter pirates on the

high seas and rescue a kidnapped prince from a band of gypsy thieves.

[1. Heroes—Fiction. 2. Dogs—Fiction. 3. Angels—Fiction. 4. Pirates—Fiction.

5. Princes—Fiction. 6. Flying Dutchman—Fiction.] I. Elliot, David, 1952-II. Title.

PZ7.J15317 An 2003 [Fic]—dc21 2002075279

ISBN 0-399-23999-5 (hc)

ISBN 0-14-240285-0

Printed in the United States of America

Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that

it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise

circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover

other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition

including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.