Sagaria (28 page)

At last, only a few yards from them, the Shadow Knight patted his horse’s neck and the animal halted. This close you could see that the man’s armor bore all sorts of extra attachments, little gewgaws that swayed and tinkled as he
moved – rather like a bracelet with thousands of charms. Only these “charms” weren’t badly molded boots and umbrellas but finely crafted metal skulls, slain babies and other symbols of death. Sir Tombin had the sudden realisation that each of the embellishments represented a life the rider had taken; that these were not mere artifacts but real things, magically transformed.

The Shadow Knight smiled. He had a broad grin that showed even, white teeth. He was very handsome, and the sun seemed to shine from his eyes.

“Greetings,” he said amiably. “Well met, fellow wayfarers.”

“Well met indeed,” said Sir Tombin politely, as if this were a casual encounter and that he was thinking nothing else of it.

They chatted about today’s fine weather and yesterday’s rain for a little while, and then the newcomer slid his question into the conversation, as if it were as inconsequential.

“I’m in search of a boy,” he said. “I can’t describe him exactly, but he’s in his teens or thereabouts and has brown hair and, I believe, green eyes. The most distinctive thing about him is the clothing he wears – it’s not like anything you’ll have seen in Sagaria, I’ll warrant.” He went on to describe the jeans, T-shirt and anorak, though he didn’t have the words for these garments, of course. “I don’t suppose you’ve encountered him anywhere in your travels, have you?”

Hiding under one of the carriage seats, curtained off by the voluminous drapes of Samzing’s robe, Sagandran froze. Surely there could be no one else in this world wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

He heard Sir Tombin reply, “No.” He gave a casual chuckle. “I should think we’d remember if we’d met anyone like that.”

“And you, girl?”

“Me neither. Would you like me to ask my pet rat?”

“Er, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

Sir Tombin again: “Why do you seek this youth?”

“He stole a crystal that is precious to my master.” Sagandran was beginning to loathe the Shadow Knight’s soapy, ingratiating voice. It was so plausible, so persuasive and yet so very false. “Luckily, my master is not the vengeful sort and has no desire to punish the lad for his folly, but he would like the crystal back. Thus, he’s authorized me to offer the thief a good price for it. So, you see, it’s to the boy’s benefit if I discover him as soon as possible.”

“I should think that under the circumstances this young miscreant would be only too glad to make your acquaintance,” replied Sir Tombin, “and I only wish we could help you in your search. If we meet him farther up the road – he should be fairly unmistakable – we’ll tell him that you’re looking for him.”

“That would be kind.” The voice suddenly hardened. “And who do you have traveling inside your carriage?”

“Just my old grandfather,” Sir Tombin drawled. Sagandran felt rather than heard Samzing snort in fury. “He’s in his dotage, you see, and we’re taking him away for a change of air in the hope it’ll do his befuddled brain some good. I doubt it though. He’s far past that stage, alas. Nuts. Bats. Crackers. Bonkers. He used to be a fine magician, but now he’s definitely at least a couplet short of an incantation, if you get my meaning.”

The Shadow Knight leaned forward so that he could spy into the carriage window. His armor clattered almost musically.

“Beware of what you see,” said Sir Tombin. “He drools a lot.”

“Gaaah. Get away with you,” squealed Samzing, shaking a gnarled fist. “I know what you young things are trying to do – steal my money from me. But I’m not dead yet and I’m not as stupid as you think. I can still lay seventeen walnuts in a row, and I’ll wager that’s more than any of the rest of ye have ever done. I’ll get the better of ye, ye just wait and see. Pillworts to the lot of ye, I say. Do ye have my constipation medicine, young stinkface in the fancy-dandy armor? I feel a great need coming over me to—”

The Shadow Knight withdrew hastily. “He does not have your frog-like features,” he observed.

“I was not born this way,” began Sir Tombin, and he went into the full rigmarole about how he’d been sitting on a lilypad when this beastly witch had come along and…

This time he gave an even more detailed rendition than the one he’d given Perima, Flip and Sagandran the other night. The narrative succeeded in distracting the Shadow Knight’s attention away from whatever, or whoever, else might be inside the carriage.

“Where are you heading?” said the rider at last, obviously eager to end Sir Tombin’s discourse.

“To Spectram,” chipped in Perima.

“Spectram, eh?” The Shadow Knight scowled. “Why would you wish to go there? What business could you have in that doomed city?”

“My grandfather,” Sir Tombin explained. “He’s never been there, but he’s always said he would like to set eyes on the beautiful face of Queen Mirabella before he died. Well, he’s been saying it since my grandmother passed away, anyhow.”

“That witch!” The Shadow Knight spat on the road.

Sir Tombin’s hand raced to the pommel of his sword before he could stop it.

The Shadow Knight’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve said something to offend you,
have I?” His metal-gloved hand was on the hilt of his own sword.

Perima giggled. “Don’t you mind Uncle Sprotlet,” she said to the rider, nudging Sir Tombin in the ribs. “He saw the queen once, many years ago, and he fell in love on the spot. He’s been in more tavern brawls over her good name than I care to remember. Men are sooooo silly.” She sniffed. “But it’s rather sweet, don’t you think?”

The Shadow Knight was partly reassured, but only partly. He fixed a steely gaze on Sir Tombin’s face.

“Don’t be thinking about getting too clever, my froggy fellow. My master is kind to those who cooperate with him, but…”

He let the threat hang in the air.

“Who is this master of yours?” Sir Tombin asked, letting his hand fall from his sword.

The Shadow Knight let out a terrible laugh, a vicious noise at odds with his easygoing face. “You don’t need to know that at the moment, frog, but you will very soon – all of Sagaria will have nothing on their lips but his name.”

“Important fellow, hm?” said Sir Tombin.

The Shadow Knight laughed again. “More than that.”

“I shall listen out with interest.” The Frogly Knight gave a smile that was both innocuous and slightly patronizing. “I try to keep abreast of the news as best I can, though it’s difficult, dwelling in the middle of nowhere as we do.”

“My master,” said the Shadow Knight, his voice a mixture of adoration and respect. “Ah, yes, my master. He remembers those who are loyal to him, but also those who are not – and the same for those who help him and those who do not. You would be wise to keep this in mind, Sprotlet. You will be rewarded most handsomely for any information pertaining to the boy’s whereabouts, but woe betide you if you keep such information to yourself. And woe betide you a thousandfold if, worse, it is ever discovered that you’ve assisted him in any way in his flight.”

“All for the sake of a crystal?” said Sir Tombin. “It must be a very special stone indeed.”

“Enough,” snapped the rider, obviously coming to the decision that he’d wasted enough time here with these thickwitted country bumpkins. He tightened his grip on his horse’s reins, and the animal seemed to draw itself to attention. “Just beware what you do, that’s all I say, froggy one.”

“I thank you for your counsel,” said Sir Tombin formally, bowing his head. “As I say, if we see this wayward lad on the road we’ll send him after you.”

“You – had – better,” rasped the Shadow Knight, emphasizing each word separately.

He touched a hand to his horse’s rump and it reared, then moved into a gallop. Within moments, all that was left of him was an unpleasant memory.

The dark cloud melted from in front of the sun, and the world brightened once more.

It was a long time before Sagandran dared to emerge from the shelter of Samzing’s robe, and the carriage had covered a good distance along the road, even at the fairly sedate pace to which Sir Tombin was keeping a nervous Snowmane.

Flip, Sagandran noticed, was shivering all over.

“What’s the matter, Flip?”

“Th–the monster. I’ve seen th–that monster before.”

“What do you mean?”

“In Mishmash. Storming through the village, destroying all in its path.” Flip wrung his front paws agitatedly, “But the monster wasn’t really th–there. It was in a dream I saw it, in a nightmare, saw it wrecking everything. It knocked the chimney right off my cottage. But it did more than that.”

Sagandran wished he could offer his little friend some comfort. “You’re saying this monster of yours was one of the Shadow Knights?”

“It was
that
Shadow Knight. I only got a glimpse of the monster in my dream, but I’ll never forget it. The shining silver armor, the golden hair, the jingle of the trinkets … and that sense of implacable vileness and cruelty.”

The Adventurer Extraordinaire leaned back, closed his eyes, and breathed in and out deeply. He held up a paw toward Sagandran. “I’ll be fine in a moment, I’m sure, but it’s been a bit of a sh–shock.”

Sagandran turned away from Flip, frowning in puzzlement. Had the rodent dreamed a prophetic dream? It sounded like it. Or perhaps Flip was simply imprinting the experiences of today onto vague memories of his terrible nightmare and imagining a similarity that didn’t exist. Sagandran shrugged. No one would ever know.

The wizard, who had paid no attention to this conversation, was still fuming. “That impertinent young pipsqueak Quackie! As soon as he stops this confounded vehicle and I get him in my sights, I’m going to … I’m going to … turn him into a frog; that’s what I’ll do. Then he’ll be laughing on the other side of his face.”

Sagandran couldn’t tell if the wizard was being totally serious or if he was still acting in character as Sir Tombin’s malevolently imbecilic grandfather.
“He already is a frog,” he said cautiously.

“Then I’ll …” The old man took a deep breath, and when he spoke again his voice was sad. “Only I’ve tried that before – tried everything I know that might turn him into a man, and none of it’s worked.” He shook his head wearily, and Sagandran could see tears in his eyes. “Poor fellow. My dear friend Quackie. Poor, poor fellow.”

Soon enough, Sir Tombin pulled the carriage to the wayside, and everyone climbed down to stretch their legs. Without a word, Samzing embraced the Frogly Knight, who looked startled by the sudden show of affection. Golma had packed the vehicle with plenty of provisions, so they broke out some scones and chicken drumsticks to have for lunch, washing the food down with light beer. Perima was a little warmer toward Sagandran than she had been this morning and, glancing across at her as they both ate, he couldn’t think of a picnic he’d enjoyed better. Flip soon became his usual self again, infected by the cheerfulness of his companions. But Sir Tombin was looking somber and didn’t join in with the chatter. Slowly, the conversation ebbed until they were all regarding him expectantly.

He raised his head.

“That was,” he said, “as I told you, a Shadow Knight. You were right, young Sagandran – at least your grandfather was. The denizens of the Shadow World are on the march once more, and the conquest of Sagaria must be their aim. After Sagaria? Well, surely they must have their sights set on the Earthworld too. I wish it were otherwise.”

He got to his feet. “We must waste no more time,” he announced. “It is more vital than ever that we reach Spectram as swiftly as is mortally possible – Spectram and Queen Mirabella.”

He moved toward the carriage, shoulders slumped thoughtfully, leaving the rest to clear up the remains of their picnic. “If we make good speed we could be there in a week, perhaps less,” he called over his shoulder. “Even then we might find we are too late.”

“I could perhaps be helpful in that,” said Samzing quietly.

Afterwards, Sagandran was never able to tell exactly what happened once they’d settled back in the carriage. Samzing was insistent that only he should remain outside, sitting up on the driver’s seat. Before he climbed up there he spent a few minutes murmuring intently into Snowmane’s ear, perhaps reassuring the horse that he shouldn’t be frightened, no matter what might take place.