The Snowy Tower (15 page)

‘It would be a good idea to disable these toboggans,’ whispered Ethan. ‘We don’t want anyone following us on them.’

Saxon nodded. They found a couple of chisels on a workbench and carefully prised the toboggan runners away from the wooden struts on the base.

When they discovered nothing else of interest, they returned to the others hiding under the trees.

After an hour of cold, long waiting there was a sudden noise that whipped across the ice like a branch snapping. Everyone froze. It was the sound of a bolt being drawn back. Everyone sank deeper into the shadows. The back door creaked rustily, and opened out over the snow.

‘Let’s go,’ whispered Ethan. ‘We’ll see you soon, Wilf.’

Fox arrived at the rebel camp in the forest with a secret document, signed by Queen Ashana, appointing him as chief trainer of the rebel forces. He found a force of two hundred men – all keen but mostly inexperienced and rather disorganised. They had been training daily for weeks, but were woefully short on weapons. Most were training with swords made of timber, or with pitchforks and clubs.

Fox sent out raiding parties into the countryside to beg, borrow and steal iron implements – pitchforks, ploughs, scythes, even horseshoes. George the blacksmith built a makeshift forge in the
camp, where the iron could be melted down and reworked into weapons – swords, arrow heads, spears and daggers. Fox scoured the countryside using his ingenuity and battle experience to find alternative weapons – anything that might be used to confuse, terrify, injure or bamboozle the enemy.

He set teams of rebels, men, women and children, to work on preparations – collecting timber for the forge fires, gathering raw materials that could be turned into weapons, gathering information, collecting food for the camp, making arrows and spears, carving bows, creating missiles.

The rebels set to work with a will, inspired by their new sense of direction and purpose. Fox taught teams of rebels to move quietly and unobtrusively, using shadows and natural obstacles to hide their passage. Their improvement was marked and rapid.

Fox was pleased. Stage one of their plan was working well, but there was still a long way to go.

The sun glittered on the snow, while the sky over the tower arced a cerulean blue. The children’s eyes were all focused on the small back door, which creaked slowly open.

An old woman hobbled out, holding a basket, leaving the door ajar. She shuffled through the snow to the outbuilding and went inside. Ethan, Saxon, Lily and Roana darted across the snow to the back door and slipped in, with Aisha at their heels. The door led to a dark scullery, with sinks and benches piled with dirty pots and dishes. To the right was a door leading to the kitchen, with high vaulted stone ceilings and a fire banked in the grate.

The children crept into a passage, past storage rooms and pantries. They checked each one, in case the prince was locked up in any of these rooms, but found nothing of interest. Their boots made a dull thudding on the hard stone floors, so they all unlaced their boots, and hid them in a large chest in the hallway. Aisha’s paws were protected by her leather socks, so she moved soundlessly in the echoey passage. The children came to a stout timber door, reinforced with ornate iron hinges and studs, which Ethan gently pushed open.

They were in the tower’s great hall, with its icy stone floor and granite walls. The ceiling soared three floors above them, with a wide stone staircase winding up the left-hand wall to the upper floors. On the right-hand wall were two timber galleries overlooking the hall. Directly ahead was the base of the main bell tower, with a huge bolted gate leading out the front of the castle.

The children tiptoed into the vast space, terrified someone would see them from one of the galleries or side chambers. On the right was the doorway to a vast dark library, with creamy leather books gleaming gently from the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. On the left was the doorway to the reception chamber. The children peeped inside. There was a low fire burning
in the grate and a small breakfast table set for four people beside it, but no-one there.

‘Caspar must be upstairs,’ Lily whispered.

‘Let’s split up in pairs,’ suggested Ethan. ‘We’ll search floor by floor. Be careful not to be seen.’

The four children crept towards the curving stairway, with its ornate stone balustrades and empty iron chandeliers. A shrill bell sounded from the kitchen. The children jumped then scurried back into the dark library to hide.

A moment later, they heard voices from the stairs. One sounded horribly, frighteningly familiar. Lily froze in terror. She thought she was going to vomit. She peeked through the crack beside the door. Walking down the stairs were two men, dressed in black. The man on the right, deep in conversation with the Sedah priest, was their dreaded enemy – Sniffer.

‘Sniffer’s here,’ mouthed Lily to the others. They all crowded around the door crack to hear.

‘It doesn’t look like the children you seek are coming to the tower after all,’ said the priest. ‘It is highly unlikely that mere children would survive such a perilous journey through the snows. They are probably lost in the foothills, or buried at the bottom of a crevasse.’

‘These children seem to be remarkably resilient and resourceful,’ contradicted Sniffer. ‘I was sure they would be here by now to try to rescue the prince and take him back to Tira. I found papers in their bags that included floor plans of the tower and notes on the building. I am certain they were heading this way.’

The children grimaced at each other behind the door. The priest gestured back up the stairs.

‘Well, as we discussed, we have kept the prince drugged for the last two days and locked in his chamber,’ the priest explained. ‘However, he needs to continue with his lessons. He is to be taken to Sedah in a couple of weeks and he still has much to learn. The child has been harder to teach than we anticipated. He will join us for breakfast this morning. My colleague is rousing him now.’

With this the two men entered the reception chamber and took seats at the far end by the fire. The children were about to creep from the library when a swishing movement from above made them freeze once more. A moment later a third man, another priest, strode downstairs and entered the reception chamber. The children could hear the men’s muted voices.

One by one, the four children and Aisha crept
from the library door in their socks and scampered up the stairs to the gallery on the second floor.

‘The table was set for four, and there are three of them downstairs now. Prince Caspar is joining them soon, so we should have a few minutes to search without being interrupted,’ Ethan whispered.

The four split up to search rooms as quickly as they could. They found nothing on the second and third floors. Three chambers looked as though they were being occupied, but the rest were eerily empty, the furniture covered in dust cloths. On the third floor there was a tiny doorway, only large enough for a child to enter upright. The priests would need to stoop to go through it. Inside a narrow wooden staircase wound up into the body of the main tower. The four children and Aisha crept up here.

On the first level there was a door, ajar. Roana gently pushed it open. A tiny window let in a glimmer of sunlight. By this light they could see a small cell, rounded into the circle of the stone tower, with a narrow truckle bed pushed against the wall, and a side table, which held a silver medicine cup and a pitcher of water. Lying on the bed was a young boy dressed in long black robes. His pale blond hair was unkempt, and he stared vacantly at the ceiling.

‘Caspar?’ whispered Roana, tears pouring down her face. ‘Is it really you?’

The boy looked over, then glanced away, disinterested. His face was wan and his eyes redrimmed.

‘Caspar!’ exclaimed Roana, more loudly, moving to his bedside. ‘Caspar, it’s me, Roana. Your sister.’

The boy looked at her once more, raising his head slightly, but his eyes flickered over her short hair, her white furs and her sun-bronzed face, without recognition. He lapsed back onto the bed.

Roana was beside herself with grief. She sobbed brokenheartedly as she tried to shake some reaction from Prince Caspar. Lily caught her hands gently.

‘Look, Roana,’ Lily said, indicating the medicine cup. ‘He’s been drugged. He’s not himself.’

Together Lily and Roana raised Caspar into a sitting position. Lily splashed some icy water from the jug onto his face.

‘Come on,’ Ethan whispered. ‘We need to get out of here before someone comes back to take him to breakfast.’

Roana and Lily struggled to get Caspar to his feet. He was woozy and lightheaded, and collapsed back on the bed as soon as Lily dropped his arm. Lily
picked up the medicine cup and sniffed it gingerly. She pointed to the sticky residue that showed how full the cup had been.

‘Look how much they have been giving him.’ Her voice shook with anger. ‘No wonder he can hardly stand.’

‘If he can’t stand, he can’t walk,’ Saxon added. ‘We’ll have to carry him.’

‘How in the Goddess’s name will we ever get him down the mountain?’ Roana asked, her voice breaking with despair.

‘Don’t worry, Roana,’ Ethan assured her. ‘We’ve come this far, and we’re not leaving without your brother. Come on, Sax, help me lift him.’

Saxon and Ethan lifted the frail boy between them, one arm draped over each of their shoulders. Lily and Roana prowled ahead, making sure the way was clear. They tiptoed down the narrow tower stairs, down the wide gallery to the top of the sweeping central staircase. Hearts hammering and mouths parched, the four children crept closer to the ground floor, and the chamber where Sniffer and two Sedah priests waited.

Caspar moaned, his head lolling.

‘Shush, darling Caspar,’ begged Roana. ‘We’ll have you safe soon.’

They hurried down the last of the stairs and could hear the men talking from the library.

‘Where is that dratted boy?’ came one voice. ‘If I have to climb all those stairs again to fetch him, he’ll be feeling the swipe of my cane.’ Roana stiffened with anger, and Caspar cringed, the dreaded voice cutting through the fug of his stupor.

Quietly and quickly the four children hurried through the hall, back towards the kitchen, half carrying, half dragging the prince of Tiregian, past the half-open door of the chamber where the black crows sat. Ethan and Saxon were both feeling the weight of their burden, despite his slight size. They put Caspar down and swapped sides, to take the weight on the opposite shoulder. Lily and Roana grabbed the four pairs of boots from where they had hidden them in the hall chest. The four children pulled them on, roughly lacing them tight.

They hurried towards the back door, almost running now. Roana threw open the door, holding it open for the boys. As Lily ran past the kitchen, she saw the startled face of the old woman look up from loading her large tea tray.

‘What the …?’ swore the woman, dropping the loaf of bread she held. Lily dragged the heavy kitchen door shut, then the back door. As Lily ran
out into the snow after the others, she could hear the old woman yelling loudly from inside.

Wilf had run over to help Ethan and Saxon with Caspar. Wilf took Caspar on his back, and piggybacked him up to the copse of trees where their supplies were hidden. Jonte ran out to greet them all, barking a welcome.

Wilf had prepared the two toboggans, so they were packed ready to go. He threw Caspar’s inert body onto the back of one toboggan, covering him with a pile of furs. Roana climbed up beside him, cradling him with her body. At Wilf’s whistle Jonte jumped up behind, his tongue lolling with enjoyment. Wilf climbed onto the front of this toboggan, taking the steering rope with two hands, and kicked off with his legs, sending the toboggan careering towards the steep mountain slope.

From the castle behind came the sound of shouts and yells. Looking back, Ethan could see Sniffer running towards them, with two priests at his heels. The cook huffed behind them, calling suggestions. The priests turned and ran for the barn, where the sleds were stored, their flying robes stark shadows against the snow.

Hurriedly Lily, Ethan, Saxon and Aisha leapt onto the second toboggan with Saxon at the steering
rope. Saxon and Ethan kicked off with a massive push, hurtling the loaded toboggan towards the valley floor, hundreds of metres below. Saxon concentrated on steering down the terrain ahead, while Ethan found his bow and aimed it, with nocked arrow, towards the black crows chasing after them. Ethan hooted with excitement as one priest, then another, hurtled forward onto their sleds only to crash ungracefully, black robes askew, as their sled fell apart, destroyed by Ethan’s earlier handiwork.

Sniffer saw the sled crash and the escaping toboggans, and paused momentarily to assess the situation. He ran back to the castle and disappeared, only to return a few moments later carrying a large tea tray. Within seconds he was chasing behind them on his wooden tea tray, his skinny legs folded up before him and his arms tucked in front.

Ethan screamed with frustration, his bow jerking wildly in the tumultuous downhill ride. ‘Sniffer’s chasing us,’ he yelled. ‘And I think he’s catching up!’

Saxon swerved the toboggan to the left, nearly unseating Aisha, who whined and staggered and flipped her ear inside out with displeasure. Lily held on grimly, clutching Aisha’s collar with one hand. On Sniffer’s tea tray, there was only one person – a
light adult with good balance – while the toboggan held three children and a rather large dog. However, the children had the advantage of the steering rope, and the swivelling front runners, while the tea tray had no method of steering other than Sniffer’s legs and weight transfer.

The race was on. Children against adult. Tiregians against Sedah. White furs against black robes. As Sniffer gained ground Aisha growled and leaned towards the enemy, threatening to fall off the toboggan. Lily hauled her back. Saxon gained ground by swerving to the right, dodging a large snow-laden shrub and causing Sniffer to nearly upend the tea tray. He had to stop, stumble round the shrub and slide again, giving the toboggan valuable seconds. Wilf had taken a more direct route down, so had gained more than a hundred metres, with Prince Caspar and Princess Roana curled behind him. Sniffer suddenly realised he was following the wrong toboggan and headed straight downhill, hurtling over the snow at great speed. Sniffer thought that if he could just use his dagger to dispose of the boy steering the first toboggan, then the two royal children would be in his power.

Ethan realised the change in tack, and pulled his
bowstring back, aiming carefully and releasing his arrow. It arced and raced, whistling through the chilly air, then landed truly, quivering in Sniffer’s thigh. Sniffer arched and screamed, his body ricocheting off the tea tray and landing in a crumpled heap, a stain of bright crimson spreading over the snow. Sniffer clutched at his leg and swore in pain. He tried to remount his tea tray, but it slipped and slid most disobediently under him.

‘Good shot,’ crowed Saxon, grinning over his shoulder, then turned back to the difficult task of steering the bucking toboggan down a seemingly sheer slope. Aisha snuffled the breeze, her ears flying back in the wind. Lily cuddled Aisha closer, relieved at the close call.

Though Wilf was naturally a more skilled tobogganist, so his sled flew straighter and more swiftly, the three southerners made the trip without major mishap and only a few minutes slower than the experienced Wilf. At the bottom of the mountain they finally slid onto the lake, hearts pounding with excitement, hair flying and cheeks shining. Wilf had already scanned the horizon and located the two ice boats. The five children pushed and shoved the toboggans, one containing the semi-conscious body of Prince Caspar, towards the
distant ice boats while the two dogs slithered and slid in their socks on the dark grey ice.

‘Look,’ shouted Roana, gazing back over her shoulder. ‘It’s Sniffer!’

A hundred metres behind them they could see the black stooped figure of Sniffer, an arrow quivering from his thigh, sliding his way onto the ice on the now-battered tea tray.

‘Does that man never give up?’ demanded Saxon, slipping and slithering on the ice.

‘Apparently not,’ replied Ethan, greatly disappointed. ‘I aimed for his thigh because I wanted to disable him, not actually kill him.’