The Starkin Crown (29 page)

‘How is he?' Peregrine asked anxiously.

‘I don't know … I can't tell … Oh, Robin, I think he's dead!'

Peregrine fell to his knees beside her, groping out with his hands. ‘No, no, he can't be!'

‘I can't feel his heart beating'. Tears scalded her eyes.

Peregrine laid his ear against Jack's still chest. ‘I can hear it! It's slow, but I can hear it'.

‘Are you sure?'

‘No!' he wept, burying his face against Jack's bloodstained clothes. ‘No, I'm not sure. Is it just the sound of my own blood beating in my ears? I can't tell. Jack! Jack!'

Molly looked around wildly, panting, unable to catch her breath for the sick dread that filled her. She saw the silver goblet Grizelda had dropped lying in the shale. She seized it and wiped it clean on her dress, then held it above Jack's mouth. A faint mist appeared on the silver surface, then faded away, then reappeared.

‘He's a-breathing! It's all right, Robin, he's a-breathing'.

Peregrine lay for a moment longer, his face hidden against Jack's chest, then he sat up. ‘The spear. I don't know how to use it. What do I do? Do I just touch him with it?'

‘I don't know,' she answered wildly. ‘How am
I
meant to know? You're the wildkin prince!'

Peregrine felt out with his hands till he found the spear, which he had dropped nearby. He laid it against Jack's cheek. ‘Is he better?'

Molly looked hopefully, but there was no change in Jack at all. Bitter disappointment filled her. She shook her head, then, realising Peregrine could not see her, whispered, ‘No'.

Peregrine heaved a breath. He sat back on his heels, the spear clutched so tightly in his hands his knuckles were white. ‘We have to take him to the oak tree. I'll rouse Lord Grim and make him tell us how to use the spear. After all, the Storm King healed both Lord Grim and his son. He must know how it was done'.

‘How are we to get him up there?' Molly stared at him in dismay, remembering how hard it had been for her to make the climb on her own yesterday. Now she was utterly exhausted, and the pain in her hip was sharp. Peregrine was as worn out as she, and blind and in pain. How could they possibly manage?

‘We'll make a litter,' Peregrine said. ‘He's already lying on his cloak. We'll slide sticks through the seams of his cloak and carry him. You'll have to go in the front, as I can't see the path'.

For a moment Molly sat, unable to make a move, the enormity of the task weighing on her like chains. But then she breathed in deeply, struggled to her feet and went in search of two long sticks. Luckily the bundle of firewood Jack had brought the night before still lay scattered on the ground. She was able to find two long sticks, fairly straight, and bring them back to where Jack lay.

Meanwhile, Peregrine groped his way towards where his falcon was tethered, cheeping anxiously and flapping his wings. Working by touch alone, he unhooded the bird and then unknotted his jesses so Blitz could fly. The falcon launched straight up into the air, screeching in joy.

Picking up the edge of Jack's cloak, Molly found the end of the seam and unpicked the threads with the point of her knife and slowly inserted one of the sticks. To her surprise it slid in easily all the way to the end, not snagging on any knots or twigs or getting stuck, and out the other end of the seam. The other stick slipped in as easily, and suddenly Jack lay on a litter.

‘Well, that was easier than I expected,' she said.

Peregrine gave a strained smile. ‘It's the Erlrune's magic, helping us. She wove these cloaks, you know, and her magic is powerful. I think we would have died of cold in the forest if it had not been for her cloaks, and no doubt we would have been seen when we were riding through Zavaria'.

He laid the spear next to Jack, in the hope it would help him, and then felt his way down to the end of the litter, taking both sticks in his hands. ‘All right, heave!'

To Molly's surprise, Jack did not weigh nearly as much as she expected. ‘The cloak again?' she asked.

Peregrine shrugged and smiled, a quick flash of his old cheeky grin. ‘If only I'd known I'd have used it for a sack instead of hauling my pack all through the marshes. It nearly broke my back!'

‘Let's put the packs on the litter too,' Molly said. ‘We'll want something to eat'.

‘Good idea,' Peregrine said. ‘Here, let me lay my bow and quiver beside Jack. My mother gave them to me, I'd hate to leave them behind'.

When the litter was laden, they once again heaved it up and began to carry it along the steep, slippery path to the height of Grimsfell, Blitz flying overhead. Even with the weight eased by the magic of the cloak, it was a hard scramble. Both Molly
and Peregrine stumbled many times so that their knees were bloodied and grazed and their arms and faces scratched by the time they reached the top. Black spots danced before Molly's eyes and her hip hurt so much it was all she could do not to sob aloud with every step she took. Peregrine was in as bad a state as she was, for he was constantly bashing into rocks or stumbling into brambles, and their last meal was many hours behind them.

At last they reached the top of the hill and collapsed in the shade of the oak tree. Blitz came to rest above them, head bent to watch them curiously. Molly was so hot and thirsty she would even have drunk a cup of marsh water.

Jack moaned, a faint sound that caused them to sit up and look anxiously towards him. He must have been jerked painfully all through that difficult climb, and Molly adjusted the blood-soaked pad over his throat and wished she had another petticoat.

Peregrine pushed himself to his feet and groped for the spear. ‘Molly, will you show me where the rock is?'

She took his hand and led him to the base of the rock. Her heart began to slam in loud, uneven bangs. Peregrine steadied himself on the rock then raised the spear and rapped it sharply on the stone, once, twice, thrice.

Gradually a low rumbling rose from deep in the hill. The ground trembled. Birds took to the air, Blitz among them. A few dry brown leaves scattered from the oak tree. Then a crack appeared in the rock. It split in half and, with a terrifying roar, gaped wide open. A gust of stale earth blew out. A tall, bent figure loomed over them.

‘Who dares wake me?' a deep voice snarled.

‘I
DO
. I
AM
P
RINCE
P
EREGRINE, DIRECT DESCENDANT OF THE
Storm King, and son of King Merrik and Queen Liliana who freed you from the starkin tower so long ago'.

Peregrine spoke proudly, his head tilted back, his hands clenched by his side. Molly stood as close to him as she dared, offering him what little support she could.

Lord Grim was twice as tall as her, and wrapped in a long dark cloak that smelt of mildew. His hands were bony and black, his back hunched. Deep scars ringed his wrists, a legacy of the bells that had once bound him. A hood was drawn over his face, shielding him from the light of day, but his eyes glittered with a strange unearthly light.

Unexpectedly, a hollow laugh shook him. ‘You look like a mud-troll'.

‘We had to retrieve the spear of thunder from the bog,' Peregrine replied with dignity.

The glittering eyes moved to Molly. ‘And who is this?'

Peregrine waited a moment, as if expecting Molly to speak on her own behalf, but she was too awestruck and afraid, so
he answered for her. ‘Lady Molly, daughter of Percival Smith, Lord of the Marshes'.

Lord Grim frowned. ‘I thought Ardian was ruled by Count Malcolm ziv Zardian'.

‘It was. But then my da and the fen-men rose up against him, a-booting him out,' Molly said, her voice rather high.

One thin black brow rose at the sound of her accent. ‘I see. So what do you want of me, Prince Peregrine of the Stormlinn?'

Peregrine took a deep breath. ‘I want to raise high the spear of thunder and smite the throne of stars asunder! Your wife promised the Storm King that, if he saved the life of you and your son, you would rise for his descendants in the hour of our greatest need. Well, we need you now! My parents are held captive, the crown is in the hands of a vicious tyrant, our castle is ransacked, our people are kept in slavery. And I need you to help me learn to use the power of the spear. As you can see, my squire is dying. I need to save him!'

‘Is that all?' Lord Grim sounded amused.

‘I … I've had poison thrown in my eyes. I'm blind, I cannot see. I'd like to use the magic of the spear to heal my eyes'.

‘You ask a great deal of me. Three boons you may have. What is your choice?'

‘Three? Three only?' Peregrine clenched his fists upon the haft of the spear. ‘Very well. First, I want to master the power of the spear. Second, I wish to ride against Vernisha the Vile and rescue my parents. Third, I wish to throw down the throne of stars and win the crown for my father'.

Lord Grim chuckled. ‘Well chosen. Somehow you've managed to cover all contingencies. Very well. Let us begin with the spear. Do you realise that the spear, like all magical artefacts, is only as powerful as the one who wields
it? The spear draws upon your own strength and your own talents. You are only a boy, and a thin, weak one at that. Do you really hope to have the strength to smite down the starkin?'

Anger flared in Peregrine. He was so sick of everyone telling him he was too young, too small, too weak. He hefted the spear high and flung it with all his strength towards the sound of Lord Grim's voice, aiming a little to the left. In his mind, he thought,
Smite that rock asunder!

A moment later came the loud
craaaack
of rock splitting, then the echoing rumble of a giant boulder rolling and tumbling down the hill. Peregrine held up his hand and the spear returned swiftly to it.

‘Impressive,' Lord Grim said, when the thunder at last died away. ‘Particularly for a blind boy'.

Peregrine did not explain that he remembered exactly where everything was on the hill. ‘I have many gifts,' he replied quietly.

‘I thought, when I saw that foul, fat spider Zander throw it into the bog, that the spear was gone forever and I would be enslaved eternally. How did you retrieve it?'

Peregrine told him quickly, all the while conscious of Jack lying on the litter behind him, his breathing faint and laboured.

‘You do indeed have many gifts,' Lord Grim said when he had finished. ‘Who would ever have thought that the spear could be found by a blind boy led by a lame girl? Very well. You wish to heal your friend? First wash the spear clean in the spring, and then dip its winged end into a cup of water. Use that water to let him drink and wash his wounds. Then do the same for yourself'.

He stepped forward and gestured with his bony hand to the spring of water, which now burbled down the old stream bed. Molly blinked at it in surprise. She had been so focused on Lord Grim and Peregrine that she had not noticed the water begin to well. She glanced over her shoulder and saw, with amazement and joy, that the old oak had indeed put out a wealth of fresh green leaves.

‘Robin!' she cried. ‘The old spring is running, the oak tree has turned green'.

She knelt before it, hurriedly filling one of her horn cups with the cold, clear water. She brought it to Peregrine and helped him dip the handle of the spear into the water, then she limped to Jack's side and lifted the cup to his lips. He managed to swallow a few mouthfuls, and she used the rest to wash his wounds. Twice more she filled the cup, and twice more Peregrine dipped the spear into it. The third time Molly brought the cup to his mouth, Jack swallowed greedily, leaning up on one elbow.

‘He's awake!' she cried. ‘Robin, he drinks! His eyes are open'.

Peregrine squatted beside him, groping for Jack's hand. ‘How could you be such an idiot? Didn't you trust me? I wasn't going to drink! I was trying to find out what her intentions were'.

‘I'm sorry,' Jack croaked in shame.

‘You should be. You almost got yourself killed!'

‘Well, I think we found out what her intentions were,' Molly said caustically, filling the horn cup again. She brought it to Peregrine and, when he had dipped the end of the spear in the water, gave it to him to drink. She waited, hands clasped tight before her to stop their trembling, as the prince swallowed a mouthful, then poured some water into his hand and washed
his face and eyes. He looked up at her, his face clear of all blemishes, his eyelashes spiky. He smiled broadly. ‘I can see!'

She laughed in delight. Jack grinned, leaning up on his elbow. Peregrine passed her the cup, smiling. She turned it so she could place her lips where his had touched, lifting it so she could drink deeply. The healing water tasted like summer. As it flowed down her throat, she felt all her bruises and scratches heal. The deep, grinding pain in her hip faded away. Jubilation filled her.

Molly looked up and met Peregrine's eyes. Her face burst into a smile. Gladly Peregrine held out two hands to her. She grasped them, and he whirled her away in a wild and joyous dance, Jack clapping and cheering them along. Lord Grim watched in amusement, his hood laid back so they could see his long-boned, weary face with its hooked nose and slanted eyes. Molly had never danced before, but she spun and leapt as gracefully as if she had danced all her life. At last, breathless and laughing, they came to a halt, Peregrine still gripping her hands. Molly blushed hotly and drew her hands away.

‘I can dance,' she said, then blushed even redder at the thought of how idiotic she must sound.

But Peregrine only smiled and said, ‘You're cured! And Jack's alive, and I can see. I can hardly believe it. The magic of the spear is amazing. To think we found it, after all these years'.

‘Sir … Robin … maybe if you drank a cupful of the enchanted water, you'd cure yourself of the falling sickness,' Jack said eagerly.