Deep Amber (12 page)

Dora and Jem exchanged glances. Deep amber! This must be what Caractacus had been
talking about. Lord Ravenglass obviously wanted it, and he wasn't going to do anything about the rift until he had it.

“We can find it for you, I'm sure! We'd be happy to go,” Jem said firmly.

Dora frowned. She wasn't at all happy about it, in fact, but Jem was clearly determined to go, and if he went on his own, anything might happen to him. She nodded reluctantly.

“Well then, my dear Jem,” said Lord Ravenglass, sitting back and popping another sweet into his mouth. “And my dear Dora. Let's get you there at once. After all, the sooner the better, eh?” He winked and laughed, and Dora swallowed. She couldn't get rid of a feeling that what they were about to do was very, very stupid.

A servant took Dora and Jem to clean the grime off their faces and get them fresh clothes. Then he whisked them off to see the queen.

The royal chambers, which were nearby, were rather dim and stuffy. The old, white-haired queen was sat very upright in a chair by the window, dressed in dark velvet. Around her neck was an intricate silver chain, and from it hung a
bright glowing orange jewel in a silver clasp.

“The kingdom's remaining piece of deep amber,” murmured Lord Ravenglass, nodding to the jewel. “The one you are looking for will be identical – I thought you'd better at least see what you are searching for.”

He turned to the queen with a low bow.

“These are two of your loyal subjects, your Grace,” he said loudly, as he ushered Dora and Jem forward. “They are going on an
important mission
, for m— For the kingdom. They seek your
blessing
.”

The queen was very wrinkled and old. She smiled vaguely down at Dora.

“Ah, yes,” she said. “Of course. I'll have the chocolate one, please.”

“No – not pudding –
blessing
,” bawled Lord Ravenglass. “I'm sending them to another
world
.”

The queen turned to Lord Ravenglass and fixed him with a very hard stare from her blue eyes.

“Toads?” she said sternly. “What's all this nonsense about toads?”

Lord Ravenglass gritted his teeth. “No, Ma'am, nothing to do with toads,” he bellowed.
“Another
world
. Dora and Jem – oh, never mind… I'll sort it out myself. We will just take our leave, your Grace. Need to be off soon.” He bowed, with a flourish, and the queen nodded regally.

“Very well,” she said. “If you're sure. But I wouldn't worry. You don't seem overweight to me. Just nicely chubby.”

Lord Ravenglass rolled his eyes, and they followed him out of the room, and along the corridor to his own chambers. Once they were there, he turned, and smiled, showing altogether too many teeth, Dora thought.

“Bit batty,” he explained, unnecessarily. “No need to worry – she's quite happy to leave things to me most of the time.” He ushered them further into the chamber.

“Now, once you've got the amber, you come straight back here,” he said briskly. “And
when
you get it,” he put his face very close to theirs and grinned, “I'll make you both knights of the realm.”

“But girls can't—” began Dora.

“I'm the king!” Lord Ravenglass interrupted, with a wave of his white hand. “Well… that's to say,” he added swiftly, “I'm the heir – so I
will
be
the king. I can make
anyone
a knight of the realm! But I'll square it with the queen first, of course.”

Jem looked at Dora, his eyes shining. But Dora was worried. She still wasn't really sure they were doing the right thing.

Lord Ravenglass closed the door of his chamber carefully, then rapidly showed Dora the magic necessary to get to another world and back again.

“You need an object from the other world to make the portal spell.” He held out the goggles, demonstrated a complicated set of hand movements over them, and intoned a number of words. A wall of mist appeared, which he then dismissed with a gesture of his hand.

“Now you try,” he said.

Dora took a deep breath, and tried to focus on the spell he had produced. After a few tries, she finally caught onto the particular twist in magic that was necessary. She closed her eyes, feeling for the cold strangeness of the goggles and then the warm, magic feel of her own world, and then used the words to create a link between them, with a kind of corkscrew magic that made her slightly dizzy.

When she opened her eyes, there was a white swirling mist in front of her, and Lord Ravenglass was looking pleased.

“You do the same to get back, only you'll need an object from the kingdom,” he said, and handed them a small silver cup. “It's from my chambers – it will bring you straight back here. Off you go then – through the portal. Best of luck!”

He gave a regal wave of his jewelled hand.

Dora glanced at Jem. He was looking eager and slightly sick at the same time. He gave her a wry grin, and then they both took a deep breath and stepped into the mist.

Chapter Twelve

Dora and Jem stepped out onto a smooth grey road surrounded by tall buildings. Behind them, the mist simply popped out of existence. The whole place smelt odd, and there was a dull, flat, absence of magic, none of the spicy warmth of spells that surrounded everything at home. Dora looked at the tall, well-built houses, a little like the houses in the city but flatter and larger and less jumbled together any old how. At least the sky looked the same, thought Dora, looking up with relief. And there seemed to be trees, and grass, and bushes.

“Right,” Jem said. “Time to explore. Where do you think we should start?”

Dora was just about to say that they should start with the house directly in front of them,
since that was where the portal had brought them. But before she could open her mouth, the door of the house burst open with a tremendous bang, and a white horse charged through it, up the garden and straight off down the road, carrying an oddly familiar figure in armour.

A few seconds later, a boy of about Dora's age catapulted out of the door. An older girl hurtled after him, throwing him a cloak of some kind. She had – Dora's eyes widened –
short
hair, and was wearing some kind of multi-coloured leggings. She was also holding a small box to her ear and talking into it as she ran. The boy charged after the galloping horse, followed closely by the girl.

Dora turned to Jem, her eyebrows raised.

“Am I dreaming, or was that Sir Bedwyr?”

Jem was grinning hugely. “I think our job here just got a whole lot more interesting!” he said, his face alight with excitement. “Come on Dora – after that horse!”

Simon was leaning against the plate-glass window of Simpson's Jewellers, panting hard. He had run all the way to the town centre, mostly managing to keep Sir Bedwyr in sight. The knight was just
trotting gently along and stopping occasionally to ask passers-by where he might find a dragon.

Luckily, most of the people Sir Bedwyr had talked to had seemed to think he was part of a charity stunt, and had just laughed. But as he got closer to the town centre the roads got more crowded, and Sir Bedwyr, increasingly irritated by the cars he saw, had started turning off down a series of side-roads and pedestrianised alleyways. For a while, Simon had been able to follow the crashes and yells and commotion caused by the knight's progress, but now he'd completely lost the trail, and wasn't absolutely sure where Sir Bedwyr was. He also appeared to have a dead battery in his mobile, so he didn't know what had happened to Cat, or whether she'd managed to get hold of Albert Jemmet.

As he got his breath back, Simon became aware of a slight coldness at the back of his neck that made him feel as if he were being watched. He looked up and down the street, and then across to the other side, but there were just a few shoppers wandering past, and some children arguing loudly. Then the door of the jeweller's shop opened with an old-fashioned tinkle,
and a dark figure emerged. As Simon turned his head, another dark figure seemed to materialise behind him.

“Good afternoon,” said Mr Jones, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and he put his long white hand on Simon's shoulder.

Simon felt as if his feet had been superglued to the pavement. He tried to speak but his mouth wouldn't work. The cold hand of Mr Jones was biting into his shoulder, and it seemed as if ice crystals were forming in his blood, spreading down his arm and across the rest of his body.

“We'd just like a quiet word, if you don't mind, young man,” said Mr Smith smoothly, moving closer to where Simon was standing and reaching out his hand to grip Simon's other shoulder. “Lord Ravenglass is starting to get a little bit impatient…” His fingers were only a few centimetres away when there was a piercing scream and a huge clattering. Simon felt himself wrenched away from the two men just a split second before Smith and Jones were bowled over by a great white horse galloping down the street.

“Quick! Down here!” came a voice, and Simon was hustled down a narrow passage between the
jewellers and a card shop by a rather short, stout figure in blue overalls.

“Albert!” he said as they hurried down the passageway and took a swift left around the back of WHSmith. “Thanks! How did you know…?”

“I didn't,” said Albert Jemmet shortly, stopping behind a large wheelie bin. He dusted Simon down, looking like he was checking him over for damage. “You're lucky – I was following the knight when I saw you and pulled you out of the way. Bit of a close shave, that.”

“Where's Cat?” said Simon. “Did she call you?”

Jemmet nodded. “She's gone round the other way to the square, trying to head him off. Come on – we'd better get going, before Smith and Jones pick themselves up off the road, or that nuisance on the horse causes any more damage. The last thing we need is him getting himself locked up where I can't get at him.”

A large swathe had been cut through the market in Wemworthy town centre. It was as if a dinosaur had come to life and trampled its way across the neat rows of stalls. Splintered bits of wood,
pulped fruit and vegetables, brightly coloured T-shirts and various bits of plastic lay trampled on the ground, while small knots of people were gathering, looking shell-shocked. Some of them were attempting to clear up the mess, but most just stood there, clearly amazed and relieved that they had survived the carnage. A number of cars were slewn across the road, some with smashed windows, and most with doors left open after their drivers had escaped.

The police constable on duty was feeling rather appalled. Normally, his morning shift in Wemworthy town centre was calm and uneventful. Even on a market day, like this one, he usually just spent his time finding the odd lost toddler or exchanging a few stern words with a stall-holder whose van was blocking a side street. But today he had been stopped at least five times by members of the public wittering on about a knight in armour, and now he'd reached the market square it looked as if someone had chosen his shift to re-enact the Battle of Bosworth.

“Oh, Constable, thank goodness!” said a woman stall-holder as she spotted the policeman. “There's a madman on the loose! He's dressed as
a knight – on a horse – just smashed his way across the market saying he'd come to save us!”

“Called us peasants!” added another woman with great indignation. “Said ‘I've come to save you, peasants!' and then knocked all the toy rabbits off my stall with his stupid great horse!”

Everyone, now that they'd spotted the policeman, started to rush over to give their version of events. A tall well-dressed man who appeared to be the owner of a smashed BMW tried to push to the front of the crowd.

“Ruddy maniac!” he spluttered. “Some kind of anti-roads protestor. Stuck his sword right through my windscreen! Look at it! Said he was protecting the peasants from my
dark magic
… What kind of ruddy Harry Potter nonsense is that?”

“Look at my stall!” shouted another angry member of the crowd. “He rode right through it!”

“He smashed all my hand-thrown pottery fruit bowls,” wailed another.

“Look at my car! The horse kicked my bonnet in!”

“You've got to
do
something!”

Police Constable Taylor felt as if he'd walked
into a bad dream. In fact, he seriously thought about closing his eyes and hoping it would all have gone away when he opened them again. But before he could try it, the noise of the crowd raised itself a pitch and several people shouted at once, “There he is! That's him! Arrest him!”

Trotting down the road was a knight in shining armour on a white horse, with a sword in his hand.

Constable Taylor blinked.

The knight was still there.

He had dark curly hair and blue eyes, and as he reached the policeman he halted, and held his sword up in a salute.

“Good sir, I have rid this market of the metallic beasts that had it surrounded, and have set free these good peasants you see before you. I await your thanks.”