Kendra Kandlestar and the Shard From Greeve (15 page)

AS SHE DESCENDED the murky stairway leading into the depths of the ship, Kendra felt a cold and sinking feeling gnaw at her stomach. Wherever the Gnomes were headed, it wasn’t pleasant. The air was damp and chilly, and she was assailed by a dreadful stench; Kendra clutched her cloak tightly to her face, trying to muffle the odor.

When at last the pair of Gnomes came to a halt, it was in a large compartment; Kendra guessed they had reached the very bottom of the ship. It was dark and cluttered here, and the Een girl easily found a place to hide from view. Peeking out from the shadows, she saw a gigantic dark shape curled up against the far wall of the hold. This was certainly the beast the Gnomes had spoken of, and even though Kendra couldn’t discern its true shape or form, she could tell it was in a miserable state. There were no hatches here to let in fresh air, and Kendra guessed that the sea voyage had made the creature terribly ill.

The Gnomes did not linger long in the hold. They emptied the contents of their sack on the floor in front of the creature and prodded it with a long cudgel; it groaned but did not stir.

Then one of the pirates lit a second lamp and hung it nearby. “Maybe the light will make it eat,” he muttered.

Then they were gone, leaving Kendra in the hold, alone with the mysterious thing.

It was now incredibly quiet. For a moment, Kendra just crouched there, listening to the boat rock in the waves. She stared at the beast. It seemed like nothing more than a great horned head peering out from a mass of feathers, and she could not decide whether it might be kind or cruel.

Well, there’s only one way to find out,
she told herself.
Besides, it’ll okay. Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than an Unger—and you’ve dealt with plenty of them.

So she took a deep breath and crept into the dim light, towards the beast—but she managed just a few timid steps before it spoke to her in a loud, almost accusatory voice.

“You’re a bit small for a Gnome.”

Kendra froze in midstride and stared at the creature; it confronted her with dark and intelligent eyes. “I-I’m not a Gnome,” she stammered after a moment, giving one of her braids a fierce tug.

“A strange beast then,” the creature mused. “Your horns are most peculiar.”

“Those are my braids!”

“Indeed,” came the reply after a moment. “Just the same, I think I shall call you Arinotta. It means ‘Little Horns’ in the tongues of my ancestors. And your ‘horns’ are certainly little.”

“I’m an Een,” Kendra declared, for it seemed important.

“Ah,” murmured the thing. “My captor speaks of your kind. He despises you! I’m not sure what you did to him, but I have heard him curse your race many a foul morn.”

“Captain Dirtybeard?” Kendra asked, shuffling uncomfortably.

“The same,” the beast replied. “He is a wretched man.”

“The pirates say you’re starving,” Kendra said.

“Bah! Do they expect me to eat this putrid slop they bring before me each day? I miss the verdant moss that blankets the mighty mountains of my home. How I long to taste it once again! But I will not die; not for now, at least.”

“I hope not,” Kendra declared earnestly. “The sea isn’t exactly the place for you, is it?”

As if to reply, the beast suddenly rose to his legs, his great wings unfolding to reveal his full figure. Kendra gasped, for even the dark pit of the pirate ship could not mask the creature’s magnificence.

If you have ever seen a truly wild animal—even at the zoo—then you will understand the chill that now tingled down Kendra’s back. Before her was a giant winged deer, so mighty and regal that the tiny Een girl felt her knees grow weak. Part of her wanted to bow before it, another to flee. The beast seemed to fill the hatch so completely that Kendra wondered if the hull of the ship might burst in a vain attempt to hold him. Indeed, the stag looked as if he was capable of incredible strength, for beneath his coat of gray-brown fur, his great torso rippled with muscles, and he had four heavy hooves, like stones, any one of which Kendra knew could easily crush her. Upon his head was a set of antlers, which the beast wore like a majestic crown. They were shaped like great scoops with tiny pointed edges, sharp and dangerous. His eyes were keen and animated, and a small beard graced his chin. Yet what made the creature truly magnificent were his wings, for these were so long and white that even the faint light caused them to glisten.

Kendra stepped toward the creature, drawn by its splendor. She could feel the shard stir against her chest in jealousy, but she shunned its indignant claws. At this moment, her heart had room only for the stag.

“You . . . you are beautiful,” she murmured in adoration.

The creature smiled at her sadly. “There is an ancient race, glorious and pure, a race of wing and hoof and horn. Grace and dignity are their companions, and they know no master other than the freedom of the skies as they soar and gallop on the winds of the Mountains Zephyr. Indeed, the rocks of that clouded range echo and ring with the might of their name—for these are the perytons, lords of the sky! I am one of this exalted race and more: for I am their prince.”

Kendra stared at him in awe.

“Have you not heard of my kind?” he asked.

Kendra shook her head.

“Then that is a good thing,” the peryton replied with a snort of his great nostrils. “Many an ear knows us only as legend. And we would have it remain as such, for we wish to stay hidden from the underlings.”

“Underlings?” Kendra asked.

“Beings from the low world, like you,” the peryton explained, somewhat haughtily. “Alas, I have learned the hard way what your kind thinks of perytons. We are mere animals to you underlings, to be shackled, yoked, and abused.”

“Not every . . . er . . . underling thinks that way,” Kendra stammered, stepping ever closer to the beautiful creature. “I . . . I would never hurt you.”

“Be careful of what you promise,” the peryton sighed. “Captain Dirtybeard once spoke the same words! But the fault of my imprisonment is mine, truth be told.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was not so long ago,” the great stag declared, “when I frolicked on the wind with my brethren above the Mountains Zephyr. Here I knew the grace of the skies, the glory of freedom. And yet my heart grew restless, for I would seek adventure. My father—the king—would hear none of my entreaties to explore the low world. ‘We are for the clouds,’ he would say. ‘Perytons do not bother themselves with the underlings.’ But I would not be deterred; and so, one starry night, I snuck past the royal guards of the mount and set forth to seek my adventure. Many an underling I did encounter, some of them quite dangerous. But I remained brash and brave, for I could not imagine anything that might best the prince of perytons.”

Here the regal creature paused, and Kendra detected a tone of regret in his voice.

“There is one thing mightier than brawn, Arinotta,” he declared (it took a moment for Kendra to remember that this was her nickname.) “Do you know what that is?”

“No,” Kendra answered.

“Brains,” the peryton declared. “And I relied on mine too little. You see, I allowed that scoundrel Dirtybeard to trick me. I found him on a rocky plain, where he cried and moaned as if he had suffered some grave injury. ‘Help me! Help me!’ he pleaded. His ghastly odor was enough to curl my feathers, so at first I approached with great care. Then he wailed again, ‘Help me! I promise, I mean you no harm.’ And so I abandoned all caution, thinking I would aid the poor underling—and it was at that moment that he did ensnare me with his magic thread.”

It was only now that Kendra noticed a thin line of silver looped around one of the peryton’s legs. The other end was tied securely to a spike in the floor. The thread looked as if it might snap at the slightest pull.

The peryton seemed to know what she was thinking. “No, the thread is indestructible,” he said. “It is of deep magic, the oldest kind. Only the captor—in this case, Captain Dirtybeard—can remove it. And now that reprehensible pirate ferries me to Krake Castle, where he will sell me to that wretched queen for trunks of golden baubles. Many a beast has faced its doom in the Rumble Pit—but never a peryton. I will be the first and hopefully the last. But do not dismay, Arinotta. Somewhere on the mountains above the clouds, my father hangs his head in shame for my disobedience and desertion. I will ask pity from none! For I will fight with courage and glory in that queen’s abyss, and I would fain give my life if it were to do my race proud.”

“I can set you free,” Kendra declared, and even as she spoke the shard pulsed with anticipation against her chest.

“Nothing can cut the silver thread, not even the barbs of my horns.”

“I can,” Kendra insisted. “I’m . . . I’m a sorceress.”

The peryton snorted in disbelief. “You are young! Too young, I think.”

The shard thumped against Kendra’s chest, as if angered by the peryton’s words. “I have power!” Kendra retorted. “Greater than you can imagine. I can cut your thread; then you can fly away.”

“And where shall I fly?” the peryton asked. “I have not used my wings since my capture. Do you know how far it is to shore? If the strength of my wings fails me, I will plunge into these waters and so perish.”

“Then I’ll wait until we are near shore, so that you will be sure to reach it,” Kendra vowed.

“You will anger the Gnomes, Arinotta,” the peryton declared. “Are you not their friend, walking so freely aboard their clumsy vessel?”

“No,” Kendra replied. “They don’t even know I’m here. I’ve stowed away with my companions. We’re going to Krake Castle . . . like you.”

“To fight in the Rumble Pit?” the peryton asked.

“My brother is there,” Kendra said, doing her best to ignore an arrogant twinkle in the peryton’s eye. “I will rescue him.”

“You are brave, Arinotta,” the peryton remarked. “Brave indeed. But if you are a stowaway upon this vessel, then you should return to your place of concealment, for dawn is breaking.”

“How do you know?” Kendra asked curiously; there was no natural light in the bottom of the galley. For all she knew, it was still pitch dark outside.

“I can hear it approaching on the breath of the wind,” the peryton answered.

“Then I will go. But tell me first: what is your name?”

“You may call me Prince,” the peryton replied gravely. “For to know a peryton’s true name is a privilege that must be earned.”

“Then I will visit you again, Prince,” Kendra vowed. “And I will rescue you too.”

With these words, she turned and made her way up the dark flight of stairs that led to the upper decks. Her mind was swimming with thoughts of the beautiful peryton, but the moment she reached her hiding place she snapped to alertness. Something was wrong; the sacks of turnips had been pulled apart, the barrels rolled out of the way. With a gasp of anxiety, Kendra ran to the nook where she had left her friends sleeping—but the tiny hollow was empty. Oki and Jinx were gone.