The Lost Castle (9 page)

Adalon gasped at what was revealed. Carefully, as if it were a dream where he might wake at any minute, he stepped through the doorway with Simangee and Targesh at his back.

The strongroom was as large as a ballroom. It was full, overflowing,
bursting
with treasure.

Shelves and racks lined the walls, full of crystal vases, golden ornaments and statues carved out of whole rubies and sapphires. Ropes of pearls hung from hooks. Large chests sat on the floor, all open, and all full of gold coins. Piles of golden trinkets reached up to the ceiling. Sacks of gems spilled over silver plates. Shimmering cloth in rolls the height of a tall saur stood like sentinels among crates of silver bars. Jewel-encrusted drinking horns, tankards and ornamented doublets hung from hooks.

Adalon clenched his fists together and bared his teeth. He could see the fulfilment of his vow in this very room. With this fortune he could
buy
an army that would stop Queen Tayesha.

He could imagine it. The finest soldiers, with equipment that would make his enemy tremble, then throw down their arms and run away. Cavalry, archers, foot soldiers, the best money could buy. They would come from all over Krangor to fight for him. He would lead them, a host to sweep Queen Tayesha from power.

Adalon saw that avenging his father and helping the saur of the world could both be achieved with the wealth around him. It made him light-headed and he settled himself, sobering.

Such good fortune was unlooked for, and the reputation of the A'ak made him uneasy. Wealth could be a trap for the unwary. He promised himself that he would be alert for danger. But, he argued, it would be foolish to ignore such usefulness.

He wandered among the riches. Numbly, he saw Simangee and Targesh picking up one delicate object after another, wonder on their faces. Targesh looped precious necklaces around his horns. Simangee stood, draped in cloth of gold, hands on hips, laughing at him.

Brooches and bracelets. Crowns and rings. Orbs, pendants, necklaces of intricate beauty, baubles, curios, works of art. There was so much that Adalon began to feel overpowered by the opulence about him.

He turned, surveying the room, feeling dizzy. He saw a kingdom's worth of emeralds in a trunk. On the shelf above it stood a chess set with pieces carved from diamonds and black pearls. His heart ached at the sight of an exquisite robin made of spun silver.

Toward the back of the room, the riches were carelessly displayed. Bags of coins had split and spilled. A set of silver serving platters, each as large as a wheel, were roughly stacked against a wall. Golden cutlery was heaped willy-nilly in boxes. Adalon wondered if the keepers of the treasure had become bored with such wonders.

As he was about to leave, he saw something out of place. Near the door, in a niche in the wall at head height, was a key ring with three plain keys. In a room full of precious metals and gems, these ordinary items stood out like coal in the snow.

Adalon took the key ring in his hand, then nearly dropped it.
Magic
! he thought as he felt the familiar thrumming. He held the keys gingerly in his claws: one black iron, one dull brass, one made of hard, dark wood.

Simangee joined him and looked over his shoulder. 'I can see their magic.'

At that moment, Targesh gave a shout that echoed around the treasure chamber. 'Riding beasts!'

Adalon and Simangee looked at each other and burst out laughing. 'Where are you, Targesh?' Adalon called.

'Here!'

They found him at the far end of the chamber, behind a tall lacquer screen with scenes of the Hidden Valley on it. He was standing in front of three brass statues of riding beasts.

Two of the steeds were life-sized, slender beasts that looked as if they could outrun the wind. The other steed was heavier, a war charger with strength in its back and flanks. Adalon walked around them and marvelled at their exquisitely moulded manes and tails. Their hoofs, their flanks, their ears – all glowed the bright yellow-gold of brass. Saddles were cast into their backs and supple, braided brass reins and stirrups hung in place.

'Fine statues, Targesh,' Adalon said. 'But hardly worth keeping with the other treasures here.'

'They're magic,' Simangee said.

Targesh frowned at Simangee. 'She sees magic, Targesh,' Adalon explained. 'These keys are magical, too.'

'A brass key. For brass riding beasts?' Targesh suggested.

Adalon looked at Simangee. She nodded slowly. 'They belong together.'

Targesh pointed to a keyhole in the muzzle of the nearest riding beast.

Adalon took a deep breath. The steed stared at him with metal eyes, strange and distant. He wondered what those eyes had seen.

He raised the brass key, fitted it into the slot and turned it. He stood back.

With the sound of metal shifting on metal, the riding beast swivelled its head. Then it lowered its neck and gazed directly at Adalon. One hoof pawed at the ground and the stone rang. For a moment, it stood still, then its entire body quivered, making the sound of a thousand tiny cymbals.

Adalon reached out and touched the brass beast on the muzzle. Its snort was like a bell.

'It likes you,' Targesh said, grinning.

'I hope so.' Adalon took the reins in one hand and stood by the steed's flank. He patted its neck. The beast boomed like a kettledrum.

'Hollow,' Targesh said.

'I'd be hollow, too,' Simangee said, 'after so long alone.'

Adalon slid his foot in the stirrup and heaved himself into the saddle.

The riding beast shifted its weight, metal sliding on metal as it adjusted its balance. The saddle was cold and hard and Adalon made a note to use a blanket next time. He flicked the reins and clicked his tongue. 'Forward, oh riding beast.'

Targesh and Simangee moved to either side as the brass riding beast walked forward, lifting its hoofs high over the field of treasure.

A stripling, Wargrach, a mere youth! I set you to find and punish him and this is how you return!'

Anger warred with pain inside Wargrach. He bit down on both. 'He is dead, Your Majesty. I survived, but he perished in the fire that came from the mountain.' His voice, once deep and powerful, now whistled and bubbled through a ruined mouth. His jaw ached with the effort of shaping the words, but he'd learned to ignore it. He had learned much in his long ordeal, dragging himself from the feet of Graaldon back to Challish.

He leaned on his staff, lifted his head and peered at Queen Tayesha with his one good eye. She stood with her back to the window of the Morning Room, outlined against the greenery. Late afternoon light surrounded her. It hurt Wargrach's eye to look and he turned away.

'You survived, Wargrach? It may have been better if you had not. What use are you now?'

Wargrach longed to rest on his tail, but it was still healing. The physicians said it was never going to support him again, but he knew better. 'Your Majesty, I am your servant. I will join the Bondorborar campaign.'

Queen Tayesha appeared in front of him. With a claw under his chin, she lifted his massive head. His wounds screamed, but he did not make a sound.

The Queen looked him in the eye. 'Oh yes, Wargrach. You are certainly my servant. You must never forget that.'

She took her claw away and his head sagged. Wargrach stifled a hiss of pain.

'Wargrach,' she continued, 'you are no good in the capital any more, so I have a small task that will take you far away. You may yet be of some small assistance.'

Wargrach gripped his staff until his claws bit into the wood. He wanted to turn on the Queen, slash at her, strike her down, show her that even though he was maimed he still followed the Way of the Tooth:
Mock not the warrior in his time of torment
.

He stilled his fury, knowing better than to give in to it. She could kill him before he laid a claw on her, such were her enchantments. No. It was better to endure her, then retire and make his plans.

'Tell me, Your Majesty.'

'Leave now for Sleeto. Take twenty troops and establish a base. Five hundred will soon be on their way to you. I want that fortress built on the border with Callibeen. No work has been done on it for months. The local lord has not cooperated as he should have.'

'Sleeto, Your Majesty?'

'Immediately.'

Wargrach felt as if he had fallen in mud but found a gold coin in it. Being sent to the Eastern Peaks was no punishment, not when he still wielded power in the region. Sleeto would do very nicely, very nicely indeed.

'Thank you, Your Majesty.'

'Leave now, through the garden gate. I don't want you limping through the palace.'

* * *

Queen Tayesha stared at her once-proud general as he retreated through the cycads and ginkgo trees of the garden. Evening was settling, and the shadows looked as if they were reaching out to embrace him.

Who would she confide in now? Wargrach had been the only one who had understood her dreams for Thraag and for all of Krangor. She knew he had treachery in his heart but, being aware of this, she felt she had Wargrach's measure.

She had planned to use him to further her ends, then discard him. Queen Tayesha straightened. Great sacrifices must be made, for the good of all.

She turned away from the window and walked to the small writing desk she had had brought to the Morning Room. She unlocked the drawer, quelled a guardian spell she had placed on it, and removed her journal.

A careful worker does not discard a useful tool,
she wrote,
even when it has been badly damaged.
Rather, the worker turns the tool to other uses – ones for which it is still fit.

Of course, the worker then obtains newer, better tools to replace the old.

The day after they had found the treasury, Adalon watched from a balcony as Targesh wobbled on the giant brass riding beast. The Horned One was grinning like a tot with a new toy.

It had been Simangee who suggested that Targesh try mounting the largest of the three brass beasts. Targesh was often slow to come to new things and Adalon had been surprised when he agreed.

After a few hours, Targesh had managed to trot the riding beast around the courtyard. Adalon noted how the steed shifted underneath Targesh's uncertain seat, ensuring he never fell.

'Adalon!' Targesh waved with one hand, a measure of his growing confidence. 'Ride with me!'

Adalon waved back and shook his head, laughing. 'I have other things to do, Targesh.'

Such as plan what we're going to do next
, he thought. Absently, he patted his pockets. One held the magic pipe and another held the set of magic keys. Once they had found that the brass beasts only needed a key to be summoned to life, Adalon had decided to keep the keys together. He'd never carried so much enchantment in his life.

He waved again to Targesh, then turned and went back into the room he had made his own.

They were safe. Adalon knew this should have been enough to make him happy, but it wasn't. A single day in the Lost Castle and he was chafing, looking for an outlet for his Clawed One energy.

He could leap down and run around the courtyard. He shook away that idea. It would only make things worse. It would make the Lost Castle seem like a prison, not a refuge. What good is running if bound by walls?

Adalon walked to the other balcony and gazed across the wall and over the river. The trees were deep and green, beckoning to him.

He knew he could swim the river, then run through the forest, feeling his muscles work and enjoying the wind on his face. He could weave between trees, leap fallen trunks and race through the countryside, head down, tail outstretched for balance.

He sighed. Fun though that may be, he would still be in the Hidden Valley, hemmed in by mountains. He belonged outside.

He had riches enough now, but how was he to use them to fulfil his vow?
Where does one go to buy an army?
he thought, and he idly scratched his name on the balcony with one claw.
What is the first step?

Metallic clanking and Targesh's grunts of satisfaction made Adalon think of the armoury. He took the magical keys from his pocket and looked at them, feeling their magic. In such a short time, they had found so much. What else could be hidden in such a place? The castle may hold something that would be of more immediate use against Queen Tayesha.

But at what cost?
a voice whispered at the back of his mind.

Adalon bowed his head, deep in thought. He heard his father. '
Wisdom comes in knowing when to act, and when to build strength. Watch, listen, and learn before acting.
'

He knew that three young saur were no match for the might of Thraag, even with the riches they had found. The desire to fulfil his vow burned inside him, but he knew that the time for taking action was not now. This was the time to gather themselves, find allies, explore the wonders of the Lost Castle.
Strike when ready, not when rushed. Let not the hot blood rule the mind
, the Way of the Claw advised.

Adalon nodded, his course clear. Wait, plan, then move with care and stealth. Build strength gradually. Strike when ready.

It was not the course his heart desired, but it was the course that his head said was right.

He glanced at the door and wondered where Simangee was. She had walked her riding beast to the courtyard, but after laughing at Targesh's performance she'd left to explore on her own.

Adalon looked up at the sun. It was nearly midday.

'Canter, steed! Canter!' Targesh's voice echoed from the courtyard. Adalon smiled at his friend enjoying himself so much.

A noise made him turn. Simangee stood in the doorway, shaking, her eyes wide. 'It's begun,' she said, then collapsed.

'Targesh!' Adalon shouted. He thrust the keys into his pocket and hurried to Simangee's side.

Adalon had carried Simangee to her bed by the time Targesh appeared. 'Is she all right?'

'I don't know. Can you get her some water?'

'Aye. Root broth, too.'

'Good.'

Simangee opened her eyes soon after Targesh left. 'I found the chamber of power.' She swallowed and grimaced. 'The book said it would be in a tower. It took me time to find which one.'

'The chamber of power,' Adalon repeated. What was taking Targesh so long?

'Where the A'ak made most of their magic. It has many, many bottles of magic potions. And looking glasses right around the walls.'

'Mirrors?'

'More than mirrors. Through them the A'ak could see what was happening outside this valley. They could spy on all the seven kingdoms.'

'Oh.' Adalon sat up straighter.

'I could not control the mirrors. Their focus swooped and roamed, and would not go where I commanded.' She closed her eyes and tears leaked from them. 'I wanted to find Hoolgar.'

Adalon knew that Simangee respected the old scholar, but until now he had not realised how much. With all the seven kingdoms to see, she had first tried to look for the saur who had taught her.

Her eyes sprang open. 'Sleeto, Adalon, do you remember Sleeto?'

'Yes. Of course.' Adalon's fears for Simangee were renewed. Why was she talking of their childhood playground? Was she delirious?

'The Queen is sending troops to Sleeto. The construction of the great fortress is to begin in earnest. They mean to enslave the villagers and once the citadel is made, the invasion of Callibeen will be launched.'

Adalon closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again.

Simangee lifted herself up and grabbed Adalon's arm. Her eyes were blazing. 'We must stop them, Adalon.'

She crumpled to the bed.

Adalon stroked her forehead for a moment. Targesh arrived. 'Asleep?' he asked, concern plain on his broad face.

Simangee opened her eyes. 'No. I feel like my bones are made of rubber.'

'The cost of magic,' Adalon muttered. 'Weakness? A small price, this time.'

Simangee nodded and rubbed her crest. 'I will recover. I must.' She looked urgently at Adalon. 'You know what we have to do, don't you?'

Targesh looked from Adalon to Simangee, then back again. 'What is it?'

Adalon told his friend of what Simangee had seen.

Targesh frowned. 'We must save Sleeto.'

'How?' Adalon said. 'What can we do?' He sprang to his feet. 'I want to stop the Queen from destroying not just Sleeto, but all of Thraag – and the other saur nations. If we ride out now, what will we achieve? Quick deaths. We must wait, build our strength, strike when we are strong.'

'Sleeto, Adalon,' Simangee said. 'We must help them.'

Targesh looked at him. 'Loyalty to the herd.' He grunted. 'They're our friends.'

Adalon gazed at both of them, his comrades since childhood. They had saved him from prison and the clutches of Queen Tayesha. They had risked their lives to help him. Now they were asking him to help others. They were selfless – not thinking of their own plight – and it shamed him. They had put his welfare ahead of their own, without complaint and without reproach.

A great truth came to him: sometimes, instead of doing the best thing, one had to do the right thing.

It was not a lesson from the Way of the Claw. Its wisdom had the clarity of the old lessons, but it did not belong in their litany. Where did it come from?

In a moment of insight, he understood it came from within.

'Look after her.' Adalon took the magical keys from his pocket. 'I won't be long.'

Simangee's eyes flew open. 'No! We must all go!'

'Hush,' said Targesh. 'Quiet now.'

'No,' Simangee said. 'We must present ourselves to the cabinet together.'

'Cabinet?' Targesh asked Adalon.

'In the armoury. More magic.'

'Ah.' He looked at Simangee. 'I'll carry you.'

'I can walk,' she said, but when she tried to stand, she stumbled and almost fell.

Targesh put her arm around his shoulder. 'Walk with me.'

Simangee half-smiled. 'All right. A little. But I'm already feeling stronger.'