PathFinder (32 page)

Lucy was gazing around edgily. “So how do we get out?” she whispered.

Driffa sighed. “Lucy Heap, you fuss too much.”

Lucy turned on Driffa angrily. “My William has …” She looked at her timepiece. “Three more hours left of his life.
That
is why I fuss.”

Driffa coloured. “Forgive me, Lucy Heap.”

Lucy nodded curtly, biting back the tears.

“The prisoners are working their way down to the Chamber of the Great Orm,” Driffa said. “Far above here.” She pointed upwards to the roof, which was made from thick spirals of lapis curled up like a snake coiled asleep, and gasped in shock. “Oh! This must be the palimpsest of the Great Orm,” Driffa whispered. “I never dreamed that one day I would see this.”

“Yes, very nice,” Lucy said impatiently. “Can we get going now?”

Driffa led her horse across the chamber towards a perfectly circular hole in the lapis wall between Way I and Way XII. Oskar ran and caught up with her. “What,” he asked, “is a palimpsest?”

Excited to be home, Driffa was happy to talk. “It is the imprint of the Orm – like a fossil. The Great Orm made the Heart of the Ways and then it came up to our SnowPlain. It rested a while, then ate its way back down through the rock, transforming it to lapis lazuli as it went, leaving us our
Enchanted
Blue Pinnacle. It hollowed out a great chamber and then burrowed down once more to make the Orm Tube. At the bottom of the Orm Tube the Great Orm laid its egg, then curled up beneath it and died. The lapis inside it became the roof of the Heart of the Ways.”

Now Oskar understood. There were worms like that in the sand at home. “Worm poo,” he said.

“Oskar, don’t be rude,” Ferdie chided, but to her surprise, Driffa agreed.

“Yes. It is the last cast of the Orm. It is very precious.”

“Where are its bones?” Oskar wanted to know.

“An Orm has no bones,” said Driffa. “An Orm is no more than a fragile tube of gold, eating its way through rock. The little flecks of gold in the blue are all that is left of it.”

As they hurried across the chamber Lucy, too, was gazing up at the coils of the Orm. But only Ferdie understood what she was thinking. “They are so close now,” she whispered.

“But so far away,” Lucy said.

As they reached the centre a long, low rumble shook the walls. A sudden crack snaked along the spirals of the Orm cast and a fall of blue dust drifted down.

“Run!” Driffa cried. Tod snatched up Ullr and as they ran for cover, two dead, golden eyes looked down from the head of the Orm.

They reached the pile of blue rubble and raced past it into the passageway down which Driffa had fled the day before. As they gathered together, Driffa whispered, “This is how the Great Orm left the Heart of the Ways; it is a beautiful, curving tunnel –” She stopped. A flash of fear came into her eyes. “There’s someone coming,” she whispered.

Everyone fell silent – apart from the Royal Horse, which suddenly became spooked. It skittered its hooves and jerked its head up against the reins. Driffa turned very, very pale. “It is
him
. It is Oraton-Marr. I know his pinky-ponky steps.”

“Pinky-ponky?”
whispered Tod.

“Yes,” hissed Driffa. “The sound of the spring blades on the bottom of his stupid shoes. We have to get out of here.
Move, you silly horse
.” Driffa gave Nona a shove, but the animal would not budge.

“My William’s up there,” Lucy said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither are we,” said Ferdie.

The strange metallic sound was getting ever nearer:
pink
-
ponk
,
pink
-
ponk
.

With a loud neigh, Driffa’s horse kicked out and cantered into the Hub.

“Nona!” Driffa yelled. “Come back!”

But the Royal Horse was off, galloping across the lapis floor. Driffa wheeled around to give chase, and suddenly there was a loud
clang
and a metal grid came crashing down like a portcullis in front of her, nearly crushing her toes. She leaped back with a scream.

Their way back to the Hub was barred. There was no escape now.

Pink
-
ponk,
pink
-
ponk
.

“OK,” whispered Lucy. “We run at him and knock him off his feet. I mean his spring things.”

“He won’t be alone,” muttered Driffa.

“So?” hissed Lucy. “Do you have any better ideas?”

Pink
-
ponk,
pink
-
ponk
.

“Let’s do it,” whispered Tod. “We’ll all go together. One … two … three!”

They ran up the gently curving incline of the Great Orm’s exit. They had travelled the first full spiral when they cannoned into another metal grid. They were trapped like rats in a cage.

Pink
-
ponk,
pink
-
ponk
.

Ermintrude

A bright light lit up the
lapis tube and suddenly, there was Oraton-Marr walking towards them. He stopped just out of arm’s reach of the grille and, leaning on two long black staves, regarded his catch with satisfaction. Oraton-Marr was a slight man – physically no taller than Tod – but he towered over his captives, the reason being the pair of long spring blades he wore fixed to the soles of his pointed, purple shoes. He was resplendent in silk, and his shimmering blue cloak lined with white fur swept down to the ground, hiding the blades on his purple, pointy shoes. His steel-grey hair was cut short and his green eyes were amused as he surveyed his captives.

Behind the sorcerer stood his sword carrier, a thin bald man in black, with a servant’s white ruff around his neck that gave him the look of a vulture. His job was to carry Oraton-Marr’s sword and laugh at his jokes.

“Well, well. We have netted ourselves some fish,” Oraton-Marr said in a high, oddly accented voice. “If I am not mistaken by the sheen on their hair, the small ones will be worth throwing in. Ha-ha.”

The sword carrier laughed. “Little fish to catch the worm,” he said. And then he closed his mouth in panic. He had been too clever.

Oraton-Marr’s eyes narrowed. Very deliberately he said, “Give … me … my … sword … Drone.” Trembling, his servant unsheathed the sword and, with a small bow, presented the hilt to his master. Oraton-Marr let go of his staves – leaving them floating unsupported in the air – and grasped the sword. Drone stood to attention and closed his eyes. He knew that whatever was going to happen next was going to be bad.

“Stop!” Driffa’s voice came, strong and authoritative.

Oraton-Marr shifted his grip. “Stop what?” he inquired.

“Terrorising your servant,” said Driffa.

The sorcerer smiled as though amused by a child. “Is that not what servants are for?”

Drone, amazed to be still in one piece, dared to open an eye. He saw his master’s attention was now on the stunningly white-haired captive who had spoken out. Drone allowed himself to breathe again.

“I know you,” Oraton-Marr was saying. “You are the Snow Princess with the horse. The one who came to surrender. Well, well. I accept.”

Driffa looked indignant. “I did
not
come to surrender.”

“Why else would you have come? You’ve got cold feet, but what else does one expect from a Snow Princess? Ha-ha!”

“Oh, ha-ha! Oh, ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha,
ha-ha
-
ha
!” Drone laughed, desperately trying to make up for his previous error.

“Shut up, Drone,” snapped Oraton-Marr, his eyes still focused on Driffa. “I am
so
looking forward to moving into your lovely Snow Palace and to walking the fabled lantern walkways of ice. Such a wise decision of yours. A surrender does save so much bloodstaining of the snow, do you not think?”

Driffa stared at the sorcerer in dismay.

With a sudden squeak from his blades, Oraton-Marr spun around and threw his sword to Drone. The servant caught it awkwardly and cut his hand. He smothered a cry, clenched his fist to stop the blood and slid the sword back into the scabbard, praying that not a speck of blood had stained the blade.

Oraton-Marr grabbed hold of his sticks. “Open the gate, Drone,” he ordered.

Drone undid the lock and a small door in the grille swung open.

“Princess Driffa,” said Oraton-Marr. “We have the terms of your surrender to discuss. Perhaps you would care to accompany me. No? Well, maybe I can tempt you with a little show that I have arranged. All is turning out very well indeed; the roof to your Orm Chamber has just collapsed.”

“No!” cried Driffa.

The Sorcerer gave a wolfish smile. “
Yes
. We gave it some encouragement, of course, but it has been most obliging. The serfs are clearing the rubble and soon the entertainment will begin. Come.” Oraton-Marr offered his hand to Driffa, but she spat on the ground.

Oraton-Marr’s expression of amused tolerance changed into something nastier. “You will come
now
. You may bring your serving woman.”

Driffa looked puzzled but Lucy understood. She was desperate to get out of the cage and have a chance of finding William, and if she had to go out as a serving woman, then so be it. She curtsied to Driffa, who stared at her in amazement.

“Ma’am, I would be honoured to accompany you, Your … er … Bountifulness,” Lucy murmured.

“What?”
said Driffa.

“Please forgive me for saying, ma’am, for I am but a mere
serving woman
, but we have no choice. We
must go
,” Lucy said, hoping that Driffa would understand.

Suddenly, Driffa got it. “Oh! Very well … er … Ermintrude,” she said.

Lucy opened her mouth to exclaim,
Ermintrude! Are you trying to be funny?
But Tod nudged her hard.

“What?” Lucy said crossly.

Tod put her finger to her lips. She knew that Driffa was protecting Lucy, because to give a
Darke
sorcerer a person’s real name was to give him tremendous power over her.

“Come, Ermintrude,” said Driffa.

Drone bowed to Driffa as she stepped out.

“No need to bow. She is nothing now,” Oraton-Marr snapped.

Lucy followed, trying her best to look like a demure serving woman. It did not come easily.

“Lock the cage,” Oraton-Marr instructed Drone. “Tell the guards to collect the fish. And their cat.” The sorcerer frowned. Fish … cat … There was a joke there somewhere, but he couldn’t quite think of it.

Drone laughed anyway, just to be on the safe side. “The cat! And its fish! Oh yes, indeed. Ha-ha-ha!” With blood dripping from the deep cut across his palm, the sword carrier fumbled with the lock until it clicked home.

Clutching the bars of the cage, Tod, Oskar and Ferdie watched the figures trudge up the walkway – Oraton-Marr escorting Driffa, followed by Lucy and then Drone, who left bright red spots of blood seeping into the trodden snow. The purple light disappeared around the next spiral and they were gone.

Ullr was restless. He slipped through the bars and mewed.

“Ullr,” Tod whispered. “Ullr, come back.” Ullr mewed again. The little cat crouched down and Tod suddenly understood. Far above them, the sun was setting and Ullr was about to
Transform
.

Thirty seconds later, a sleek, big black cat lay free on the other side of the bars of the cage, and Tod had a thought. “Ullr,” she said. “Go and find William Heap. Keep him safe.”

Ullr’s green eyes looked at Tod, but she had no way of telling if he understood or was able to do what she had asked. She watched the panther pad away up the blood-spattered incline and wondered if she had let go their only protector.

Caged

“Sheesh,” Oskar hissed
. “Just stop asking me stuff, OK? Let me
think
.”

Oskar was kneeling beside the lock, methodically twisting and pushing his lockpick, listening for the telltale click, feeling for a shift in the mechanism. The lock was complicated. Oskar had to pick through a section at a time, keeping each one open as he went – it was the most difficult thing he had ever done. Ferdie was helpfully holding a light stick for him, but she was also breathing in his ear and anxiously asking him how he was doing.

“I don’t need the light. I just need someone to stop breathing down my neck,” Oskar said snappily.

Rebuffed, Ferdie stepped back.

Ker-lunk!

“Woo-hoo!” Oskar leaped to his feet. “I’ve done it!”

“Hey, Oskie, that is
amazing
,” said Tod.

Oskar gave the door a tentative push and it swung open.

“Clever boy,” Ferdie said, forgiving Oskar his grumpiness.