Authors: Lari Don
Pearl and Emmie leapt off the bottom step, slid across the tiled hall and ran through the swinging servants’ door.
As they clattered onto the stone floor of the kitchen, Pearl slowed and looked round. She couldn’t see any knives, and didn’t have time to search through drawers, so she unhooked a heavy copper pan from the wall.
“Take one, Emmie. We might need to fight off swans.”
Armed with a frying pan and a saucepan, they walked quietly towards the back door.
Pearl stood on tiptoe to peer through the jagged hole in the glass. No white feathers, no orange beaks. She clicked the latch and opened the door slightly, just enough to see out, her body braced to slam it shut. But the courtyard was empty.
“Come on!” She opened the door wide.
“Do we still need these?” Emmie waved her little pan. “Are we having a campfire?”
“Don’t be silly. Keep hold of it for now, in case they’re waiting round the corner.”
And they were. Dozens of bickering swans, with weaving necks and stabbing beaks, waiting to ambush anyone leaving the courtyard. Pearl
pulled back before they noticed her and whispered, “We’ll have to go round the other way.”
They ran back across the courtyard, and after peering into several rickety sheds, found a garage with a broken car and an open back door. They slipped through onto a gravelled road leading round the side and front of the castle.
Pearl led them round the south west corner, pan held high, but there were no swans waiting.
They crept along the wall of the castle, until they came to a row of tall greasy windows.
“These are the ballroom windows,” whispered Pearl. “Don’t look in, just duck down and keep going.”
Emmie nodded. Pearl crouched low and crawled below the first window ledge. Suddenly, the window swung open above her, and a purple sleeve thrust out over her head, so she scrambled back again.
Pearl bumped into Emmie’s knees as they heard the Laird screech, “I may not be able to defeat you with the power in my old bones, but I will defeat you with blood.”
They heard Thomas answer, clear but faint from inside the castle, “Bloodlore has less power than you think; it draws from you as well as gives to you.”
“Then why are you backing away, boy?”
Pearl and Emmie held their breath as the Laird leant forward and drove his bone staff into the ground.
There was a massive crashing boom, and glass exploded onto the grass. Thomas had shattered the window.
“Ha!” yelled the Laird. “Thank you!”
His white hand picked up a triangle of glass and vanished back into the room. Pearl heard a short squeal, then the Laird leant his whole torso out of the window.
Both girls pressed themselves against the stained, damp wall, but the Laird wasn’t looking in their direction. He was staring at his hands, wrapped round a brown wriggling shape.
Suddenly he twisted his hands, turning them in opposite directions, wringing the shape like a wet sock, squeezing a jet of bright blood towards the upright bone. Most of the red shower splattered onto the grass, but plenty of blood struck the bone and slid in thick drops down its white length.
While the Laird twisted his hands, Pearl saw a hairless pink tail slip between his knuckles. A rat’s tail. The tail jerked twice, then went limp.
As he drained the rat of blood, the Laird was chanting, like Thomas had chanted to the rock, but higher, sharper, more demanding. There was a rumble, a deep sound from deep underground.
Pearl grabbed Emmie’s hand.
The Laird stopped singing and dropped the rat to the ground. He lifted his left hand to his mouth and licked his thumb, then ripped the bone out of the earth, a spray of red following it through the air.
He whirled back into the ballroom, yelling, “NOW feel the power of the earth, boy!” A huge vibrating clatter, like the rattles he’d produced before but ten times louder, juddered around the castle.
The Laird laughed and began to chant again, and Pearl became aware of another noise, a thumping
drumbeat. Was the earth rumbling again? What would they do if the whole landscape was on the Laird’s side? Then she realised the noise was coming from above.
She peered up into the sky. All the swans of the estate were in the air again, flying in a wedge round the castle, their wings thrumming in time to the crashes and laughter from inside.
Pearl pulled her shoulders and spine away from the shuddering wall and looked at Emmie.
“So that’s bloodlore,” her little sister murmured. “Interesting.”
“We should go now,” said Pearl shakily. “Before the swans land again.” Without even pausing to look into the ballroom, they ran the length of the castle wall.
The rhythm of boom and rattle behind them stilled for a moment and they heard a clear young voice screaming. Then silence. The girls paused by the corner of the castle, caught between the fight behind and the escape ahead.
“Was that Thomas?” asked Pearl. But she knew it was; she’d been arguing with that voice all morning. Had the scream been pain or triumph?
“Should we go back and help him?” Emmie asked.
Pearl looked over her shoulder. She thought of his long hand pulling her over the wall, and pulling her away from the swans. She remembered the same hand dangling her over the scree, and his silence when Emmie asked about the end of the ceremony.
“No,” Pearl said firmly. “He chose this fight. We didn’t. We must go and save Jasper and Ruby.”
They dropped their pans on the grass and sprinted towards the canals, discussing the best way home.
“It’ll be faster to go round by the river,” panted Pearl.
“But it’ll be safer through the mountains,” said Emmie. “I’m pretty sure the Laird soaked the river path with blood, and that’s how he got my horse to his land. Anyway, I haven’t been in the mountains yet.”
Pearl didn’t really want to go through the Grey Men’s Grave again, but it wouldn’t be wise to follow a path sodden with bloodlore, even if it was a flatter, faster way home.
“Mountains then,” she agreed, and they turned to the north.
As they ran, Emmie told Pearl about her morning. Pearl was amazed at her sister’s cheerfulness. Perhaps Emmie hadn’t understood just how dangerous the last few minutes had been. Perhaps she hadn’t had such a good view of the dying rat.
Pearl tried to concentrate on her sister’s story.
“When our rocking horses first came alive, it was fabulous fun. My white mare is much faster than the ponies in the stables, though those polished sides are harder to grip with your calves. She started off all happy, her tail flicking and her ears twitching. But once she’d left the other two horses, she started to sweat, at least I think it was sweat though it smelt like varnish. It was as if she was being forced to follow the path along the river, though I wasn’t forcing her at all, I was just letting her have her head, but
something was dragging her on. And when we reached the bridge into the Laird’s lands, there he was, all smarmy smiles and fancy words, and my poor horse was terrified, and all those swans attacked her, and the Laird pretended to rescue me, though it was so obvious he’d set them on us in the first place. But I pretended to be grateful and a little bit stupid, and asked him to rescue my horse too, so we led her over those stinky canals and took her right inside that ridiculous castle, because he doesn’t seem to care about mud and dust, does he? Then he gave me lemonade and cake and told me stories. The stories were fantastic, but the lemonade was sour and the cake was dry. Actually, I’m starving, do you have any food?”
“No. I fed it to the swans.”
“Why did you do that?”
“To stop them biting chunks out of me and Thomas.”
“Couldn’t you have kept a little bit for me?”
“At least you’ve had cake, and Jasper’s had blaeberries, and Ruby’s got shortbread. I haven’t eaten anything at all.” Pearl tried to sound grumpy, but she was so relieved to have stolen Emmie back from the Laird and Thomas, and so proud of how her little sister had been flying rings round these oddly powerful people, that she couldn’t hide her happiness. She laughed. “I’ll eat like a horse when we get home!”
As they crossed the widest canal between the castle and the wall, the sunken grey swan stared up at them with one flat eye. Pearl glanced back at
the castle and saw clouds of dust belching from its windows.
Were Thomas and the Laird still fighting in there? Was the winner going to come after them?
Pearl smiled at her sister, running beside her. Whoever won the duel in the castle, Pearl had already won the fight for Emmie.
But when they reached the base of the wall, Pearl’s happiness crashed up against the stone barrier. “How will we get over?”
“Easy!” chirped Emmie. She flew to the top of the wall, twirled round and performed an exaggerated curtsey, holding the hem of her skirt.
“Super,” growled Pearl. “But how do I get up?”
Emmie sat on the wall and offered Pearl her hand. Pearl stretched up. Their fingers didn’t even touch.
Pearl looked round, but saw nothing on the grass she could stand on. And even if she could reach her sister’s hand, Emmie’s slim arm probably wouldn’t hold her weight.
“I’m trapped,” she said gloomily.
“No, you aren’t.” Emmie floated off the wall, hovered above Pearl’s head, then sank down until their fingers touched. They clasped hands, but when Emmie pulled, Pearl’s feet hardly left the ground. Emmie tried again, but she fell out of the air on top of Pearl. They lay in a heap beside a neat pile of sheep droppings, shaking with laughter.
After rolling her sister gently off, Pearl stood up and looked at the wall. She had managed to help Thomas to the top of it. She doubted she could ever lift Thomas’s whole weight, but when he was leaping, she’d been able to give him a boost.
“Stay down here,” she ordered Emmie, “and give me a shove when I jump.”
Emmie kept her feet on the grass and got ready to boost Pearl up. But when Pearl leapt, Emmie didn’t just shove, she launched herself into flight, so Pearl overshot, missed the top of the wall, and was thrown right over onto the rough ground on the other side.
“Ow! Be more careful!”
Emmie popped up over the wall, trying to hide a giggle. “Sorry. Are you alright?”
“No!” Pearl rubbed her bruised shoulder. “Thomas helped me over much more smoothly, even without flying.”
“Ooooh! Thomas did, did he? Do you like him, then?”
“Like him? He’s tried to kill me at least once!”
“Yes, but do you like him?”
“No. I don’t. He’s annoying. You’re all annoying. I should just leave you alone to get on with your silly songs.” She stomped off.
Then she turned back to Emmie. “If you can fly over a wall, why don’t you just fly home? It would be quicker than going on foot with me, and you can rescue Ruby if I tell you where she is.”
But Emmie was on the ground too, trudging along like Pearl.
“I could fly in the castle because I was borrowing the Laird’s power. Getting us over that wall used up all the power I had left. I don’t know how to store my own power properly yet. I suppose I need a stick, or a bone, or something. And I’ll need to learn to take power and music straight from the land.”
Emmie knelt down, laid her hand flat on the ground under some bracken and listened. Then she shook her head and began climbing again.
Pearl asked, “So how did you get from cakes and stories to flying round the ballroom?”
“Well, the Laird told me all these lovely tales about his family and the rocks and their music. Then a couple of crows flew in a broken window, and the Laird got all panicky and shouted at his swans and locked the doors. He said we should summon Ruby and Jasper to have a party, so he wanted me to sing with him. But I didn’t believe him about the party, and I wouldn’t join in. That’s when he realised I wasn’t all sugar and spice and all things silly, and he tried to grab me, but I grabbed some of his power and flew off. So he started to chase me, which was even more fun than galloping rocking horses. Then you arrived. So now it’s your turn to tell me a story. Tell me how you found me.”
As they climbed up to the Grey Men’s Grave, Pearl told Emmie about finding Ruby and Jasper, and about crossing the mountains with Thomas. She told her little sister what Thomas had said about the rocking horses running from the swans and the triplets crowning his grandfather. But she couldn’t find the words to tell Emmie that Thomas claimed his grandfather had created them.
Emmie asked Pearl to repeat Thomas’s tale of the fight for the keystone, then said, “The Laird told me that story too, and that the keystone is the most powerful thing on this land. So I think we’d better go and find it.”
“How would that help?” Pearl shook her head. “Are you hoping that if you gave it to the Earl or the Laird, they’d be so grateful they’d let you go home? But which family would you give it to? They’re both as bad as each other.”
“Give it to them? No, I don’t think so. I might keep it for myself. Then I would have all the power the land could give me.”
Emmie gave Pearl a beaming smile and kept going up the slope. Pearl followed, wondering if she had left Hansel inside the gingerbread house and rescued the witch instead.
Pearl’s grazed skin stung as they clambered in a wide curve to avoid the scree and the cliff. When they reached the mouth of the Grey Men’s Grave, it was in shadow again, the Keystone Peak now between the sun and the pass.
Emmie stared at the sharp summit of the Peak. “The keystone is up there.”
“Perhaps,” said Pearl. “Or perhaps it fell, or perhaps it never existed. Let’s get going through the pass.”
“No. Let’s go and look for it.”
“What?”
“Let’s go and look for the keystone.”
“Emmie! Is that why you wanted to come through the mountains? To get the keystone?”
Emmie looked up at her sister through her curls and smiled.
Pearl snapped, “How can you think of magical treasures from fairy tales when Ruby and Jasper are in danger? We have to rescue them before we do anything else. And it’s not safe to climb the
Keystone Peak without climbing gear. Even our big brother never climbed it. We need to go home. Now.”