Charlie Bone And The Red Knight (Children Of The Red King, Book 8) (6 page)

"They've lost their home," Gabriel said sadly.

"No, they're wanderers," Charlie told him. "Their home is everywhere and nowhere. I think they're guarding the place."

"There's nothing left to guard," said Gabriel.

"There's the secret tunnel that leads under the wall to the castle," Charlie reminded him. "And I bet those movers are going to come back later and look for it. The Bloors have always wanted to find it, and now's their chance. My dad hid something very, very precious that old Ezekiel wants, and now I'm wondering if Dad hid it at the end of that tunnel."

Gabriel and Benjamin were now regarding Charlie with very puzzled frowns, and Charlie realized he would have to tell them a bit more. "There's a box," he went on. "My uncle told me about it. He thinks there's a will in it, a will that proves Billy Raven should have inherited Bloor's Academy and all the money the Bloors have stashed away."

"Wow!" Benjamin collapsed onto the iron bedstead, causing a great rattling of springs.

Gabriel, however, continued to stare at Charlie with a frown that grew deeper every second.

"What?" said Charlie. "Don't you believe me?"

"Why did your father hide it in the first place," Gabriel asked in a slow, deliberate voice, "if he knew there was something so important in it?"

"He didn't know," Charlie said patiently. "The box couldn't be opened. The key was lost. Before Billy's father died, he asked my dad to look after the box. He didn't tell him what was in it because he didn't know. And then my dad was hypnotized, as you very well know, and..." Charlie grimaced. It was hard for him to admit that his father had not completely recovered from his long ordeal and that his memory had not been entirely restored. It meant that Lyell Bone would never again be the brave young man who had once defied the Bloors. Charlie found that difficult to accept.

"And what?" Benjamin gently prodded.

"And he hasn't remembered everything that happened before," said Charlie. "But he will," he added confidently, "when he comes back from vacation."

"Of course he will," said Benjamin.

"But the Bloors don't want him to remember," Gabriel said thoughtfully. "Do they, Charlie?"

"No," he admitted.

It took Mr. Silk two more journeys to get all the

Onimouses' possessions up to the Heights. Gabriel joined his father on the last trip, and Benjamin and Charlie were left in the deserted alley. They gazed sadly at the silent cafe, and then walked on to High Street, both hoping desperately that it wouldn't be long before the Pets' Cafe was once again full of joyfully lapping, munching, chewing, pecking creatures, and their equally happy owners.

Benjamin's parents were private detectives and were often working on Saturdays. But today they were at home and Mrs. Brown had promised Benjamin he would have lamb chops and mint sauce for lunch. As soon as they reached Filbert Street, Benjamin ran eagerly toward number twelve, and Runner Bean, who sensed that good bones were soon to be had, raced beside his master.

Charlie had carrot soup and cheese for lunch. Grandma Bone was spending the day with her three sisters, and Uncle Paton had left on yet another mysterious journey.

"Gathering information, that's what your uncle said," Maisie told Charlie. "Are you going over to Benjamin's after lunch?"

"Yes," Charlie lied, although, at the time, it wasn't really a lie because he might have gone over to Benjamin's. It was just that the more he thought about it, the more inclined he became to return to the Pets' Cafe.

When he had helped Maisie to wash up, Charlie went to his room and did his homework. At half past three, with a shout of "See you later, Maisie," he left the house and made his way back to the empty cafe. Pressing his face close to the window, he looked for a light that might be showing in the kitchen. But the cafe was dark and silent. Nothing moved. Charlie now had a burning desire to get into the place, but he had no key and he had seen the mover lock the door. He tried it, just in case. The handle turned, but the door wouldn't budge. Charlie told himself that he was being foolish; if anyone intended to search the place, they would probably wait until nightfall. And then he heard footsteps in the alley.

Charlie darted around the side of the cafe and pressed himself into the corner, where the cafe wall met the great stone edifice of the old city wall. He heard the clink of keys. The door opened and was closed. Charlie waited, breathlessly, and then tiptoed around to the front of the building. He looked through the window but could see nothing. As quietly as he could, he turned the door handle and pushed. The door opened. Charlie was in.

Footsteps creaked above him. Whoever had entered the cafe, they were beginning their search upstairs. There was a chance that Charlie could reach the place he wanted before anyone saw him. He crept through the kitchen and into a long hallway. The farther he went, the darker and narrower it became. Soon the stone floor gave way to an earthen path. Now the brick ceiling was so low that Charlie could touch it with his fingers. Eventually he reached a small circular cavern where Mr. Onimous stored food for the cafe. Crates of apples, along with sacks and tea chests, were still piled against the walls. Perhaps this place would never be found, thought Charlie. And yet he didn't hold out much hope of that. Whoever the Bloors had chosen to search the Pets' Cafe, they wouldn't give up until they had explored every room and every hall. They would move the sacks and crates and, eventually, they would find the door that Charlie was about to open.

Grunting with the effort, Charlie began to push two heavy tea chests away from the wall until he revealed an ancient door, little more than a few feet high. Squeezing himself behind the tea chests, Charlie fitted Mr. Onimous's key into the lock. It turned with a light click and the door creaked open. Behind it lay a darkness so intense, Charlie hesitated. He had been in the tunnel twice before, but never alone. It was time for the gift from his Welsh ancestor.

Charlie had inherited two strains of magic. His picture traveling came from the Red King and his wand from Mathonwy, a Welsh magician. The wand was now a white moth, a moth with such bright wings, she could illuminate the deepest darkness.

"Claerwen!" Charlie said softly.

Answering to her name, the white moth crawled from beneath Charlie's collar, where she had been sleeping. In English the name meant "snow white." She was nine hundred years old.

The white moth fluttered into the tunnel and Charlie followed, bending his head as he stepped through the low doorway. Before he went any farther, he closed the door behind him, hoping that it would not be seen behind the two tea chests. If he had locked the door, things might have turned out differently. But he forgot.

The tunnel was damp and airless. Several times, Charlie slipped on the wet ground. Claerwen's light gave the damp walls a misty shine. The tunnel began to curve and twist, and Charlie had to put one hand on the wall to keep his balance. Halfway down the tunnel a long fissure appeared in the wall. Charlie squeezed through it and into another tunnel, this one so narrow he had to shuffle sideways. The little moth swinging above gave him courage, and after five long shuffling minutes, Charlie emerged into an astonishing room.

Outside, the sky was a dull gray, but here everything was bathed in sunlight. The ground was paved with tiny squares of color: yellow, red, and orange, a mosaic of a burning sun. The walls showed golden domes, silver clouds, and leafy arbors, where tall robed figures strolled together or rested on long marble seats. In the vaulted roof a painted sun appeared again, and in the very center a perfect circle opened to the sky.

Charlie walked around the perimeter of the circular floor, touching the pillars set at intervals between the painted walls. What had he expected to find? A wooden box placed neatly behind a pillar or tucked into a small cavity in the wall? For this room was very special. It had once been the Red King's chamber, hidden from the world. Even now, only a very few people knew of it, and Charlie was certain that the Bloors were not among them. It was a perfect hiding place.

Charlie felt the smooth painted walls; he knelt and scrutinized the paved floor, running his hands over the colored squares. He squinted up at the vaulted ceiling and prodded the bricks at the base of each pillar. But there was no sign of a box. Perhaps his father had hidden it in the castle? It was too late to search the vast ruin. Charlie decided to give up for now, but as he gazed around the bright room, he felt a great surge of hope. He was convinced that he would find the box. Perhaps not today, but sometime very soon. And Billy would have his inheritance -- if he could be rescued from Badlock.

Charlie edged back along the narrow gap and stepped into the tunnel. He would have to return the way he came. If he went on, into the ruined castle, he would be trapped in the school grounds.

With Claerwen's light to guide him, Charlie began to walk back to the small door, hoping that no one else had found it. Turning a bend in the tunnel, he suddenly found himself caught in the light of a leaping flame.

"Aha!" said a mocking voice. "What have we here? A boy with a box, no doubt."

Charlie stood frozen to the spot. "I haven't got a box," he said, his voice husky with fear.

"Oh, no? I think you have!" The leaping flame drew nearer, and Charlie could see the mover's sneering features in the flaring light of a long tarred stick.

"What... what's that you're holding?" Charlie asked in a faint voice.

"Fire! That's what it is," cackled the mover. "Amos Byrne has come to warm you up, Charlie Bone."

6

CHARLIE ESCAPES

Charlie realized that there was no chance of his returning the way he had come. Leaping away from the flames, he ran toward the castle entrance. Too bad if he was caught in the academy grounds; at least he wouldn't be burned to a cinder. He had no doubt that Amos Byrne was in deadly earnest.

Charlie wished he had told someone where he was going. He could feel the heat of the flames on his back. The mover was gaining ground. He held the torch at arms' length and Charlie inhaled an acrid bitterness. His head felt as though it was on fire and, bringing his hand to the back of his neck, he found that his hair had been scorched by flying embers.

Yelping with fear, Charlie rushed toward the distant light at the end of the tunnel. But a sudden ray of hope was immediately dashed when he realized that a ruined castle would be no protection from a villain with a fiery torch.

Where can I go?
Charlie's eyes were open, but his mind was closed to his surroundings, for he was desperately seeking a way of escape. He was never sure when the knight had appeared. Perhaps he had been there, at the end of the tunnel, all the time, sitting astride the white mare, his armor glimmering faintly in the dusk.

Charlie almost stopped dead in his tracks. But he didn't. He found, to his surprise, that he was still running. Faster and faster. As he drew closer to the horse and its rider, the Red Knight suddenly lifted his sword and, again, Charlie was choked with fear and almost stopped. But a voice reached into his head, quiet and commanding.

"Run, boy. RUN!"

And Charlie ran. Losing his terror of the sword, he put on a burst of speed he didn't dream that he had. But Amos was not deterred by the sight of a gleaming sword. He had great confidence in the fire he carried. It was what he lived by, and it had never let him down. He kept up his pace and rushed at the horse, hoping to terrify the creature into throwing its rider.

Charlie bounded past the mare and tore into the trees that grew inside the ruin. Flinging himself behind a broken wall, he lay, gasping for breath, while a stream of oaths filled the air.

The white mare gave a high-pitched snort of fear, then came a scream that curdled Charlie's blood. There was a moment of utter silence, before hoofbeats could be heard receding slowly into the distance.

It was several minutes before Charlie felt brave enough to raise his head above the wall. Darkness was falling fast, but he could just make out a dark figure lying close to the tree whose branches hung above the tunnel entrance.

Amos Byrne lay motionless, one outstretched hand reaching for the long torch that lay just beyond him, its flame extinguished. Charlie was caught between a sigh of relief and a shudder of horror. Now he must find a way out of the ruin, and then out of the academy grounds. All at once, he felt deeply weary. The next few minutes were going to be very tricky.

Charlie had often explored the ancient castle. He knew that if he continued along the hedged walkway behind him, he would eventually come to the glade where he had once seen the Red King, or rather, the enchanted tree that the Red King had become. But then where could he go? He had never approached the glade from the academy grounds. It was a secret place, impossible to find except by going through the tunnel.

"Claerwen!" Charlie called.

The white moth crawled out of his sleeve and sat on his hand. Charlie was glad to see her. For a moment he had wondered if she had flown into the flames, as moths are inclined to do. "But you're too clever for that, aren't you, Claerwen?" Charlie said cheerfully. "The thing is, how are we going to get out of here?"

Claerwen had no answer for him. She fluttered onto a branch and closed her wings until they became a tiny triangle of light.

Something brushed against Charlie's legs. First one side, then the other. He looked down and saw that he was surrounded by cats. Three of them. With both hands, Charlie stroked their heads, first Leo's, then the other two. They all began to purr.

Charlie's laugh was both happy and nervous. "You're going to get me out of here, aren't you?" he said.

The cats gazed at him with their bright golden eyes and then they were off. They moved fast, jumping over broken walls and slipping easily through the undergrowth, and if ever Charlie fell too far behind, one of them would wait until he caught up with them again.

They came, at last, to the wide expanse of grass that lay between the school and the woods that surrounded the castle. The cats became more cautious now.

They sniffed the air and moved carefully through the bare trees, turning now and again to look back at Charlie. He was heavier than the cats; twigs snapped beneath his feet, and the undergrowth rustled as he brushed it aside.

The Bloors are too far away to hear me,
he thought. But suddenly several lights came on in the school, and a distant voice called, "Is anyone there? Show yourself, you miserable, creeping thing."

Charlie recognized Weedon's voice.
He can't possibly have seen me,
thought Charlie. The surly porter was surely not clairvoyant. But someone else could be. Mrs. Tilpin? Who knew what witches could do? And then he began to wonder if Amos had recovered and returned to tell the Bloors that Charlie had run into the school grounds.

Standing still wasn't going to get him anywhere, Charlie reasoned. The cats were growling now, anxious to get him on the move again. He began to follow them, keeping an eye on the school building. It was as well that he did. For he saw the door open and two figures step out; they stood beneath the lamp that hung over the door and stared across the grounds. Charlie could see them clearly. One was Lord Grimwald; the other, the swordsman from the past, Ashkelan Kepaldi. They began to stride across the grass. Lord Grimwald held a tall lantern that swayed violently as he lurched over the lawn. Ashkelan's sword danced in the air beside its master.

The cats' growling turned to a soft hissing, and they flew away through the woods. This time Charlie kept up with them. As he ran, he couldn't help thinking about the wall they were approaching; it was ten feet high and stood between the grounds of Bloor's Academy and the outside world. How would he ever scale it? He wasn't a cat.

The ancient wall was covered in ivy and it was difficult to make out in the gloom. Charlie first became aware of it when he saw Leo's bright form climbing quickly to the top. Aries followed, but Sagittarius waited. At dusk he was the brightest of the three, his coat gleaming like a star. He seemed to be waiting for Charlie to climb.

Charlie squinted up at the mass of dark ivy; he saw a thick stem protruding from the wall a foot above him and reached for it. With both hands, he pulled himself up, bringing his feet behind him. The leaves were slippery and it took him some time to get a foothold. Leo and Aries looked down, and, following their gaze, Charlie saw another stem. It appeared to be out of his reach, until Sagittarius, climbing swiftly beside him, clawed at the leaves, revealing a strong loop, lower down. Charlie hoisted himself up another foot. It was freezing cold, but he could feel the sweat running down his forehead.

Voices rang out from the direction of the ruin. Lord Grimwald and Ashkelan must have found Amos. They hadn't yet realized that Charlie was on the wall. He gave a sigh of relief and, letting go of the ivy for a moment, wiped his forehead -- and lost his footing. He tumbled to the ground with a groan.

"Sorry!" Charlie whispered to the cats. They regarded him with impatience, disappointment showing in the downturned tails and whiskers.

At least Charlie remembered where his footholds were, and he swiftly climbed to the place from where he had fallen. With the cats' help he pulled himself up the next few feet. He was very near the top when he heard the voices again. His two pursuers were crashing through the trees close to the wall.

With a superhuman effort Charlie heaved himself up, crouched a moment on the bumpy stones at the top of the wall, and, following the cats' example, let himself drop to the ground. He lay on the rough grass beside the wall, winded, shaken, and bruised, while the Flames howled and meowed in his ear.

"Give me a moment," groaned Charlie. "I'm safe now."

But he didn't have a moment. Glancing sideways, he saw a shining blade standing upright in the road. Ashkelan's sword had flown over the wall.

"No!" yelled Charlie. In a second he was on his feet again and running.

The sword pranced behind him, now slicing the air, now clanging on the hard pavement. The Flames darted around it, hissing and spitting, furious with the rod of steel that seemed to have a life of its own.

Ashkelan must have lost control of the dreadful weapon at last. Perhaps it could move only in close proximity to its owner. But when Charlie got to High Street, the sword was no longer behind him. Charlie slowed his pace. He had a stitch in his side, and his legs felt like jelly, but at least he was alive. The Flames accompanied him to number nine and then they left him, melting into the dusk without a sound.

Charlie wearily climbed the steps up to his front door. When he walked inside, the first thing he noticed was the dark interior of the kitchen. Maisie was always in the kitchen at this time of day. Where was she? Charlie heard voices coming from the other side of the hall.

Could she be in the living room? He popped his head around the door.

Grandma Bone and her three sisters were sitting around the fire, eating crumpets. There was a plate of toasted tea cakes on the coffee table.

"Oh!" said Charlie, quickly withdrawing his head.

"Come in, Charlie!" called Grandma Bone.

"No, it's all right." Charlie tiptoed across to the dark kitchen.

"It's NOT all right!" shouted Great-aunt Lucretia. "Come here, this minute!"

Charlie ground his teeth. "Now what?" he muttered. He went back to the living room and looked in. "I just wondered where Maisie was," he said.

"Gone shopping!" Grandma Bone told him.

"But it's late." Charlie looked at his watch. It was only half past five. He felt that a whole day and a night had passed since he left the house.

Grandma Bone snickered. "She's probably dropped in to see the kettle woman."

"Oh!" he said again. Charlie wondered what he could have for tea. He eyed the pile of tea cakes.

"Maisie's left something for you in the fridge," said Grandma Bone.

Charlie's heart sank. He would have liked something hot to eat.

"Where've you been?" asked Great-aunt Eustacia. "You smell of smoke."

Eustacia's power was obviously not at its best today, thought Charlie. And then it occurred to him that she was taunting him. She knew very well where he had been. But did she know about Amos, with his fiery torch?

"I think I'll go and have some tea," said Charlie, beginning to back out.

"Eustacia asked you where you had been," said Grandma Bone.

Charlie hesitated. If they already knew where he'd been, what would be the point of lying about it? "If you must know," he said, "I've been to the Pets' Cafe. But, as you also know, it's been closed for good.

But someone was in there, searching for a box. So I went in, too. But I didn't find anything; neither did he."

All four women stared at him, their thin mouths grim, their black eyes hooded. They seemed to be temporarily struck dumb. And, with a sudden shock, Charlie knew that he'd said too much. He wasn't supposed to know about the box.

Now the hunt would be on. The Bloors would have to find the box before Charlie's father came home. The search had become a deadly game, and Billy Raven's future hung in the balance. So did Lyell Bone's life.