فصل 32

CHAPTER 32

THE BATTLE IN THE DUNGEON

TINK!” SAID PETER, blinking awake in the dark cell. “You found me!”

Well, of course I did, said Tink, settling into Peter’s outstretched hand, pleased by the joy on his face.

“But how did you…”

No time to explain. Wake up the others and tell them to get ready. I’ll be back soon with Lord Aster to get you out of here.

“Lord Aster! How…”

No time. Do you know where the palace kitchen is?

“No.”

Never mind. I’ll find it. Just be ready.

Before Peter could respond, she was gone, a blur of green-gold light streaking through the barred window into the courtyard.

Tink rose to a hundred feet, looking around for a sign that would indicate a kitchen—a plume of smoke, perhaps, or barrels of food. She saw neither of those, but something did catch her sharp eyes—small dark shapes scurrying along the edge of a wall below. Rats.

Tink swooped toward the shapes, trying to remember her rodent vocabulary. She landed in front of the lead rat, a big fellow who stopped abruptly and raised himself up on his hind legs, snarling.

Move, bird, he said.

Tink, pleased that she understood the rat but not at all happy with his tone, said, I’ll move when you tell me where the kitchen is.

The rat blinked, apparently not understanding.

Food, said Tink. Where is the food?

Instantly the rat dropped to all fours, baring needle-sharp teeth. Behind him the other rats, a half dozen of them, did the same.

Our food, said the big rat. OUR FOOD. With an ugly screech it lunged toward Tink, who, hurling herself upward, barely escaped its snapping jaws. Trembling, she shot upward, leveling off when she was well out of reach. The rats watched her for a moment, then resumed scurrying along the wall.

Keeping well above and behind, Tink followed the rats around a corner, then to a low stone building with a series of chimneys on the roof. The rats scurried along the side of this building to an old wooden door with a wide crack near the bottom. One by one, they squeezed through the crack.

The kitchen, Tink thought. Zooming low, she shot around a corner of the building. Her heart swelled with relief when she saw two figures, one tall and one short, standing in front of it.

“Tink!” said Leonard. “Did you find Peter?”

Yes, said Tink. This way. Hurry.

With Tink darting impatiently ahead, Leonard and Bakari trotted along the wall, then across the courtyard to the low windows of the dungeon cells. Peter was waiting for them, his face pressed against the bars, smiling at the sight of Molly’s father. Behind him, looking sleepy, stood James, Prentiss, Thomas, and Tubby Ted.

Leonard dropped to his knees. “Peter,” he whispered through the bars. “Are you all right? Can you walk?”

“Yes, sir,” said Peter. “Thank you for…”

“We’re going to get you out,” interrupted Leonard. “Which way is the entrance to the dungeon?”

Peter frowned, remembering the night the prison guards had taken him out. “That way,” he said, pointing to Leonard’s right. “But there’s guards.” As he spoke, the sound of men shouting echoed across the courtyard.

“We’ll hurry,” said Leonard, rising to his feet. “Be ready, Peter.”

Leonard and Bakari, with Tink zipping ahead, ran to the right along the dungeon wall to a massive wood door, crisscrossed with bands of iron. Bakari tried the handle; the door swung open.

The echoing shouts were louder now.

Stepping through the doorway, Leonard and Bakari found themselves in a small room with two red-coated palace guards—both sound asleep. Tink fluttered above them, then pointed to a metal ring glinting from her glow.

Keys, she chimed softly.

The shouts in the courtyard were now very loud.

Carefully, Bakari unhooked the ring of keys from the hook on the sleeping guard’s belt. Then, with Tink leading, they raced down a torch-lit corridor leading left, back toward Peter’s cell. They passed a dozen empty cells, then one filled with small dark shapes. Leonard stared.

Monkeys, said Tink in his ear. The next cell is Hook’s, and then…

But before she could finish, there were angry roars from behind. Bakari and Leonard whirled to see the two guards they had left sleeping—apparently awakened by the shouts outside—charging toward them with swords drawn. Leonard and Bakari drew their own swords, and in a moment the stone corridor rang with the clash of steel on steel, swords flashing in the torchlight. Leonard and Bakari were excellent swordsmen, but time was against them; the sound of the battle was sure to bring more guards. Leonard heard an urgent chime in his ear.

Close your eyes! said Tink. Tell Bakari!

“Bakari!” shouted Leonard. “When I count to three, drive him back, then close your eyes!”

“During a sword fight?” said Bakari.

“Trust me!” said Leonard. “One, two…NOW!”

Leonard and Bakari both thrust their swords violently, driving their opponents back; they then closed their eyes, Bakari quite reluctantly. In the next instant the once-dim corridor flashed with a white light more brilliant than the midday desert sun. Tink, having used all her energy, dropped to the floor. The two guards screamed, covering their eyes—too late, as they were temporarily blinded. When the brightness was gone, Leonard opened his eyes and stepped quickly between the helpless guards, raising his sword, hilt-first, and quickly clubbing them both unconscious.

“Come on,” he said to Bakari, turning to run along the corridor. He passed a cell where the tall, thin figure of Hook stood in the shadows. Then, at last, he came to the cell where Peter was waiting with his mates.

“All right, boys,” Leonard said. “We’ll have to move quickly now.” He looked over his shoulder at Bakari, who was standing ten feet away, next to a torch.

“Bring the keys!” said Leonard.

Bakari did not move.

“For heaven’s sake, man!” said Leonard. “Hurry!”

Bakari did not move.

“Lord Aster,” said Peter.

“What?”

Peter was pointing toward Bakari’s feet. “Look.”

Leonard looked, and his blood ran cold.

Bakari had no shadow.

There was shouting in the corridor now, the sound of many men running, coming closer.

Leonard raised his sword, pointing it at Bakari’s chest.

“Give me the keys,” he said.

Bakari opened his mouth, but instead of Bakari’s voice an awful groan came out.

“Go ahead, Lord Aster,” it said. “Stick your sword into your Starcatcher friend. Do you think I care?”

Leonard hesitated, then lowered his sword, his shoulders slumping. Ombra emerged from the shadows, and now the groaning voice came from his own dark shape.

“A wise decision, Lord Aster,” he said. Moments later, thundering feet announced the arrival of a dozen guards; Leonard was now hopelessly outnumbered. On Ombra’s orders, the guards disarmed him, then shoved him, along with the slack-faced Bakari, into a vacant cell next to the boys’.

“Now that you both are comfortable,” groaned Ombra, “I will return your associate’s shadow. I need no longer burden myself with it, as it has given me all I need to know.” A shadow emerged from under his robe, and as two terrified guards leapt out of the way, it slithered across the floor and into the cell. It attached itself to Bakari, who groaned and slid to the floor.

As Leonard was helping the disoriented Bakari to his feet, King Zarboff, surrounded by his personal guards, entered the corridor, huffing from the exertion of crossing the courtyard.

“Lord Ombra,” he gasped. “My men have sealed the palace. It is impossible for the Starcatchers to get inside.”

Zarboff felt a chill as Ombra looked at him, then groaned, “The Starcatchers are here.”

Zarboff stared at Leonard and Bakari. “But that’s not possible!” he sputtered. “How did they get in?”

“They were admitted by an accomplice, a member of your palace guard,” said Ombra.

“Who is this traitor?” roared Zarboff. “I will feed him to Kundalini one piece at a time!”

“I will give you his name,” said Ombra. “But first you must dispatch a group of your best men—ten should be sufficient—to the port of Ashmar. Have them wear civilian clothes and travel unobtrusively. They are to board a French ship called the Michelle.”

“No!” said Leonard, lunging to the cell bars.

Ombra ignored him, continuing to speak to Zarboff. “On the ship is Lord Aster’s daughter, whose name is Molly.”

Now Peter was gripping the bars of his cell, staring at Ombra.

“Your men are to seize this girl,” said Ombra, “and bring her here.”

“You don’t need my daughter, Ombra,” said Leonard. “You have me.”

“Your gallantry is touching,” said Ombra. “But the girl has already caused me far too much trouble. She is a Starcatcher; the more of you in captivity, the better.” He turned to Zarboff. “Dispatch your men to Ashmar at once. I will see you in your chambers.”

Zarboff, who disliked taking orders but had no intention of contradicting Ombra, huffed from the room, trailed by his personal guards.

“Ombra,” said Leonard. “Whatever you’re planning to do here, I give you my word that I will not interfere if you will leave my daughter alone.”

Ombra turned to face Leonard, the red spheres in his hood-shape glowing brightly.

“You amuse me, Lord Aster,” he groaned, “talking as though you can interfere, when in fact you are helpless. I will do as I please with your daughter and this boy and you. The only reason you are alive right now is that I expect to enjoy your reaction when you see the undoing of everything you Starcatchers have done for thousands of years.”

“What are you talking about?” said Leonard.

“You will see,” groaned Ombra, “soon enough.” He turned to the guards and said something in the Rundoon language. Then he glided away down the corridor, leaving Leonard and Peter staring at each other through the bars.

“What does he mean?” said Peter. “What’s he going to do?”

“I don’t know,” said Leonard. “I…”

He was silenced by a guard who banged against the cell bars, shouting. Neither Leonard nor Peter understood him, but it was clear he did not want them to talk. Peter and Leonard stood looking at each other for a few more seconds. Each saw despair in the other’s eyes. They were trapped and helpless, and Molly was in danger. Molly was in danger.

Leonard shifted his gaze to look after Bakari. Peter turned and walked to the back wall of his cell, slumping to the floor. James started to say something to him, but a shout from a guard cut him off. There would be no more talking. Under the vigilant eyes of the guards, the prisoners sat silent, each in his own world of helplessness and hopelessness. In time, as the slow minutes ticked past, the prisoners dozed, and the only movement in the dungeon was the flickering of the torch flames…

…and one other thing. Down the dim corridor, a few yards from where the sleepy guards watched over their sleeping captives, a tiny glowing form was climbing, inch by agonizing inch, up the wall toward a window. She was exhausted and had to pause often to rest. But at last she reached the window opening and pulled herself through the bars to the narrow ledge outside. There she rested for a half hour, trying to regain her strength, knowing that each passing minute increased the danger.

Finally, she rose on wobbly legs, set her wings vibrating, and leapt forward. She dropped almost to the ground before she found the lift she needed, then slowly began to rise, up and up, above the palace complex and over the wall, hovering there, studying the stars to get her bearings. Then, hoping for a favorable wind, she set off, a tiny bright speck in the unspeakable vastness of the desert night.