Tagus the Night Horse (3 page)

The prisoner nodded. “Riding a horse were you?”

“Yes, but why —?”

“A horseman has been causing a lot of trouble hereabouts.”

Tom was suddenly alert. “What sort of trouble?” he asked, wondering how much the townspeople already knew.

“Lurking on the plains at night,” the prisoner replied, a hint of excitement in his voice. “Attacking
cattle and causing stampedes. Two towns have already been destroyed — trampled flat.”

“But who is he?” Tom asked.

“Nobody knows. He comes at night, and nobody ever gets a good look at him. They just hear his horse’s hoofbeats.”

Tom was certain that the stranger was telling him about Tagus. No one had seen the invader clearly; they thought he was an ordinary horseman, not a creature that was half man and half horse.

“But why me?” Tom asked. “I’m only a boy, after all.”

The prisoner shrugged. “People are always wary of strangers.”

Tom opened his mouth to protest again, but stopped himself. He knew that the troubles in Dareton were all the work of the Beast. But he couldn’t explain that, not to this prisoner. Tom had to get out!

T
OM PACED AROUND THE CELL.
There has to
be a way out
, he thought. Patting the stones against the outside wall with an open palm, Tom listened carefully. If there were any weak spots, there would be a hollow sound instead of a slap. Tom checked all the stones he could reach, but they were all solid.

Next, Tom inspected the grout holding the stones together. It was a mixture of dried tar and rock flakes — impossible to chip away without a chisel. Tom sat down on the bench feeling helpless.

“You hungry, boy?” came the gravelly voice from the next cell.

“No,” Tom replied coldly. This was not the time to be thinking about food. He had to find a way out. Then an idea hit him. If he could get the guard to bring some food, the door would have to be opened, if only for a moment.

Tom walked over and examined the door. The lock was well built: A bolt slid from the door and into a hole in the wall when the key was turned. As he leaned in closer, Tom’s train of thought was interrupted by a drop of water. And another. What was it? He looked up, and sure enough, a steady drip came from the ceiling above. He glanced back at the lock. An old leak had worn a gap between the wall and the door — just wide enough for Tom’s fingers to slip through. Tom tapped at the stone. It wasn’t very strong. It had been weakened by months or years of constant dripping. If Tom could stuff something into the hole when the guard unlocked the door …

Tom tore a strip of cloth from his shirt as
he thought over his plan. He knew he would have to be quick. It would be a matter of seconds — even less, perhaps — between the guard unlocking the door and opening it. Going over his plan, Tom tried to visualize what he had to do. The moment the door was unlocked, he would stuff the fabric against the side of the hole. Then, when the guard bolted the door again, the bolt would force the fabric against the stone. With any luck, the force would be just enough to crumble the weakened rock.

When he felt sure he could do it, he called out to the guard.

“Hello — Hello —” Tom yelled as loud as he could. He listened as the guard’s heavy footsteps came down the corridor.

“What is it, boy?” he asked roughly. “I’m hungry,” Tom called out. “Then you’ll have to wait till morning,” the guard said cruelly.

“But I haven’t eaten in days!” Tom hated lying, but he had no choice. He had to get out.

“Then eat your shoe!” The guard laughed, clearly taking pleasure in being mean.

“You have to feed me,” Tom yelled back. “It’s the law of Avantia that you treat prisoners with dignity!”

Tom listened as the footsteps disappeared down the corridor. He waited with his ear to the door. Hopefully the guard had some decency.

A few moments later, Tom heard the guard coming back down the corridor. Tom readied himself, placing his fingers in the space between the door and the wall. The footsteps stopped before the door and Tom heard the guard fiddling with the keys. This was it!

Tom felt the lock bolt slide back into the door as the guard turned the key. As quick as he could, he pushed the cloth against the side of the hole. Just as he stuffed it in, the door swung open and
struck him heavily in the forehead, sending him flying.

The guard stomped in as Tom lay sprawled on the ground.

“Trying to escape, eh?” the guard laughed, looking down at Tom. “There’s no escaping from here, lad.”

Tom looked up at the guard, his vision blurry from the blow to his head. The guard was smiling a cruel, crooked-toothed grin. Then he dropped a plate of cold gruel on the stone floor and stomped out of the cell, pulling the door closed behind him. As the guard turned the lock, Tom heard the faint clink of pebbles against the floor of the cell.

It had worked! But Tom waited until the footsteps had disappeared before daring to move toward the front of the cell. When he was sure the guard had gone, he pulled gently on the door. The rest of the stone crumbled around the bolt, and the door opened.

Tom cautiously peeked his head out and checked that no guards had appeared. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind him. Then he crept down the passage toward the door at the end.

Tom put his ear to the door and listened. Everything was silent. At last he dared to edge the door open a crack and peer through. The room was in darkness. No guards were there.

Tom slid into the room and closed the door behind him. Then he froze. The latch on the outer door was being lifted. Tom darted for the only hiding place he could see, a dark archway in one wall. The door swung open and the guard appeared. “I’ll just check on the prisoners,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.

He tramped across the room and through the door to the cells. Tom’s stomach lurched. Tom only had a few minutes before the guard would discover that he was missing! He had to hurry. But
there were still several more guards between Tom and the front door. He couldn’t get out that way.

Tom saw he was standing at the foot of a spiral staircase. He had no idea where the stone steps led, but it was the only way to go. He climbed up, clutching the rope looped along the wall.

Groping in the darkness, Tom felt a wooden frame in the stone wall. He realized it must be a window. The shutters were closed; Tom fumbled with the catch until he could swing them open.

Just then the guard called out. “The boy is gone!” Tom could hear the other guards shouting frantically. “Over here! Maybe he went up here!” Tom heard the guards start up the staircase. He had to get out.

In the moonlight, Tom saw that the tall window led out onto a small balcony — a guard’s post. He rushed to the rail and peered down to the street. There were no guards in sight; this must be the back of the prison.

He had hoped he would be able to climb down,
but the wall was sheer. There was nothing he could hold on to. “Now what?” he asked himself.

He had to get down fast. He would have to risk climbing over the rail and letting himself drop into the street. He didn’t dare think what would happen if he broke a leg. Tom wished he still had his shield. Since he freed Cypher, the shield had the power to protect him when jumping or falling from great heights. But the guards had taken it, and Tom had no idea what they had done with it.

He was gripping the rail, ready to swing himself over, when he heard a sound slicing through the darkness. His heart almost stopped. Slow hoofbeats echoed in the silence of the night. They were getting louder.

What had the other prisoner said about the mysterious horseman who attacked in the night? All anyone ever heard of him was the sound of hoofbeats — Could it be Tagus?

T
HE HOOFBEATS WERE GETTING CLOSER.
Would Tagus dare come into the town?

Tom crouched behind the rail and peered down into the street again. A shape appeared out of the shadows. Tom sagged with relief as he recognized the horse and its rider. It was Elenna and Storm!

“Elenna —” he called softly.

Elenna halted the horse just below the balcony and looked up. “Tom. Are you all right?” she whispered back.

“I’m fine. Just help me get out of here.”

Elenna unfastened a rope from the saddle. It was
the one they used to tie up Storm. “Catch,” she said, tossing it to him.

Tom grabbed the end and tied it around the balcony rail. Then he hesitated, looking back through the window. Somewhere inside, the guards had his sword and shield. “Come on,” Elenna urged him. Tom knew he had no choice. He swung himself over the balcony rail just as the guards appeared at the window.

“There he is! Get him!” they called out as he climbed down the rope, dropping neatly onto Storm’s back.

“Go!
“ he yelled.

As they rode through the darkness, Elenna told Tom how worried she had been.

“After they took you, I didn’t know what to do,” she said. “I took Storm and Silver to the lake and made a camp. I was so worried for you. But I knew I should wait until dark to come help.”

“You came at just the right time,” Tom said. “I couldn’t have escaped without you.”

The prairie was quiet and still. It was a clear night and the moon and stars gave enough light for them to make their way back to the camp.

Tom looked over his shoulder. “I think we’ve lost them,” he said, relieved.

“It’s not much farther,” Elenna said. They could see the surface of the lake shimmering in the moonlight.

Nearing the camp, Storm slowed down to a trot. In the quiet of the night, they heard a whimper. Elenna halted Storm. Tom scanned the darkness, listening closely. The sound continued. It was coming from a thicket of bushes up ahead.

Tom scrambled down from Storm and rushed over to the thicket. Elenna followed, leading Storm
by the reins. Lying on the ground was a boy. “Who are you?” Tom asked.

“M-m-my name’s Victor,” the boy stuttered, clearly in pain.

“Victor!” Tom shouted. “Are you Adam’s son?” Victor nodded. Tom couldn’t believe it! “I’ve seen your father. He’s been looking everywhere for you.”

“I was helping with the cattle drive,” Victor explained. He swallowed, clenching his fists as if he was remembering something terrible. “We’d all heard the stories about the horseman who kept attacking the cattle. Last night I was keeping watch, and I saw him.”

“You saw him?” Elenna exclaimed, squatting down beside Victor.

“Yes, but he wasn’t just a horseman,” Victor replied, staring into the flames. “When I was young, my mother told me about Tagus the Night Horse, who keeps watch over the herds. I always
thought that was just a story, like the rest of the Beasts. It sounds unbelievable, but I saw him — half man and half horse. But he wasn’t there to protect us. I was terrified! He reared up and one of his hooves hit me and knocked me over. He scattered the coals from the campfire and roared as the dry grass began to burn. Then he charged toward the cattle! I tried to get up, but I felt dizzy. Everything went black. When I woke up, there was a huge fire and the cattle were stampeding. I ran, trying to get away. But I tripped and fell. I think I broke my leg.” Victor winced, touching his leg gingerly.