"Well done!" said Billy, first in his own language and then in theirs.
"Yes, well done, Billy," said Uncle Paton, and the group echoed his words, cheering, "Well done, Billy! Well done!"
Billy grinned and patted the dogs' heads.
"Three down and two to go," Charlie said, almost to himself.
"You're thinking of Manfred and Joshua," said Tancred. "But don't forget Mrs. Tilpin."
"And Eric. We can't forget him. Look!" Lysander pointed at the fog that swirled above the field. And they saw that the shapes they had taken for rocks were now moving forward. As they came closer, the floating forms solidified into what appeared to be huge, lumbering creatures.
"Eric!" said Charlie. "What do we do now?"
"Stop them," said Tancred.
There was a violent clap of thunder, and a bolt of lightning shot through the fog, cracking into the skull of one of the stone beasts. It made no difference. The creatures came on and now they could see a small figure prancing before the line of beasts, drawing them forward, animating them to such a degree that they were not lumbering but running, their great feet sending shock waves through the earth.
Tancred had taken off his jacket and was now whirling it above his head. His yellow hair sparkled as a gale force wind tore into the fog. It thinned and lifted, revealing something they would rather not have seen.
The fog had hidden a ghostly army of trolls and beings that could be only half human. Every one of them was armed. Spears, pikes, and axes glinted in the weak sunlight. Some swung clubs, others slingshots.
"Harken's mercenaries," Paton muttered, and from his walking stick he withdrew a slim rapier-like sword. As soon as the sword met the air, a flash of electricity spun from Paton's hand down the narrow length of steel. "That should work," he said with satisfaction. "Let's go."
"Why, Paton Yewbeam, you've grown another foot," Mrs. Kettle declared, stepping up beside him.
Indeed, Uncle Paton did appear to be something of a giant, a rather thin one, Charlie thought, but a giant nevertheless, with a weapon that could surely deal a death to anyone it touched.
Tancred's storm was now raging above the stone beasts and, although the creatures still advanced, they had slowed down considerably and the troll army was not finding it easy to move through the icy wind that howled into their faces.
The group formed a ragged line behind the two leaders, and Charlie saw a determined smile on some of the grim faces around him. They had begun to believe that they could win.
And then, from somewhere behind them, a rock came hurtling through the air. With a moan of pain, Dagbert fell to the ground. The others appeared not to have noticed, but as Charlie dropped to his knees beside Dagbert, he saw a row of wild figures on the road -- the Piminy Street gang. An old woman with red ringlets was brandishing her slingshot and cackling with glee. Others held clubs, knives, and even hammers.
Charlie didn't know what to do. If he alerted his friends, they would turn back and the troll army would fly at them. But it was already too late. Olivia had seen the gang on the road. "Look!" she screamed. "We're caught."
As the group turned, the gang on the road rushed to meet them. But before Charlie could get to his feet, he was knocked aside by a heavy club and he fell face forward onto the stony turf.
21
THE BATTLE
When Charlie opened his eyes, he could hardly take in the scene around him. He'd read descriptions of battles, but nothing came close to this. Everywhere he looked, a savage fight was taking place.
He saw Lysander's spirit ancestors surround a group of roaring trolls; he saw Olivia conjure up a monster army only to have it vaporized by a gleeful Mrs. Tilpin. The witch was sending showers of ice from her long white fingers. He saw Gabriel fighting Joshua, and a huge bird sweeping down, seizing Joshua by his neck and carrying him off the field. Mr. Torsson had arrived, and together he and Tancred were raining bolts of lightning upon the stone beasts.
Charlie dragged himself through the screaming, grunting, roaring crowd. He had lost sight of Dagbert and then he saw a leopard crouching by a boy's body. Was it Dagbert? He saw another two leopards attacking the stone beasts, and then Runner Bean and the two rottweilers came flying past with Billy Raven close behind, barking out orders.
Mrs. Kettle was laying into everything that crossed her path. Her heavy sword struck at heads, legs, and bodies. Beside her, Benjamin, Fidelio, and Gabriel used their fists and their feet to help subdue her victims.
Charlie stood up. His legs were shaking uncontrollably and he felt useless without a weapon. A hideous being with one eye lumbered toward him, wielding an ax. Charlie backed into the crowd, waiting for the ax to fall. But a man with a white cloud of hair seized the fellow by the waist and swung him around. The one-eyed creature growled in fury and raised his ax again, only to have his hand severed by a blow from Señor Alvaro's slim silver sword.
Charlie blinked. "Th --" he began, but the two masters had run back into the battle. Charlie looked around for a friend to help. But his friends were hidden in the tangled mass of the battle. There was a sharp tap on his shoulder and he turned to face Mrs. Tilpin. Or was it Mrs. Tilpin? For this woman's features were all askew and he could hardly bear to look at her.
"This is the end for you, Charlie Bone!" the witch shrilled. She dug her claws deep into his shoulder. Deeper and deeper. And when the pain stopped, Charlie thought he must be dead, only he wasn't too dead to see Alice Angel reach over him and send a shaft of pure white light into Mrs. Tilpin's dreadful eyes.
The witch covered her face with her hands and reeled back, shrieking. A second later she was lying very still on the ground, and Alice had moved on.
"Charlie!" The call came from Uncle Paton, who was striding through the crowd toward Charlie. His uncle's sparking sword appeared to stun everything it touched and in his wake his victims lay withering on the ground.
With a surge of hope, Charlie rushed toward his uncle, crying, "We're winning, Uncle P. We're winning."
The arrow came from nowhere. One moment his uncle's triumphant smile was there before him, the next it had gone, and Paton was lying at Charlie's feet with an arrow in his chest.
Charlie's scream rang out above the sounds of battle, on and on and on. The sound wouldn't stop, even when Charlie had closed his mouth and dropped beside his uncle's motionless body. But when the scream finally ended, a deathly silence fell across the field. And he sensed an eerie, soundless movement all about him. When he looked up, the trolls and beasts, the Piminy Street gang, and all the enchanter's mercenaries had retreated. Charlie was surrounded by his friends, or most of them. He couldn't see Fidelio or Mrs. Kettle or Dagbert or Señor Alvaro. And where was Gabriel?
"Have we won?" Charlie asked miserably, for how could they have won if his uncle was dead?
"Not yet, Charlie," said Lysander.
And then Charlie saw on the other side of the field a mounted knight in shining armor. He wore a green cloak, and the plume on his helmet swirled in the air like the fronds of poisonous green hemlock. His mount was a great black stallion that snorted a fiery breath and cleaved the air with hooves of white-hot iron.
The enchanter's army stood in a row behind him. But the stone creatures lay in motionless heaps between the two groups. Felled by whom? Charlie wondered. Had the Torssons' lightning bolts pummeled them to pieces, or had Eric, their animator, finally been struck down?
"Come, Charlie!" Alice raised him to his feet.
"What's going to happen?" he asked, his eyes never leaving the prancing stallion and its green-swathed rider.
"We're finished, that's what," said Olivia.
Alice darted her a fierce look. "No."
But Olivia looked at the huddled shapes lying around the field.
The leopards were moving among the bodies, pawing and crying to them. "Without Mrs. Kettle and Mr. Yewbeam... and without... without..." She choked on her words, and the great bird beside her rubbed its head against her sleeve.
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"We must do our best," said Alice. "We cannot permit him to take the city so easily. We cannot allow him to carry us back to a life not worth living. We cannot."
"Never," said a determined-looking Dr. Saltweather.
"No!" Tancred and Lysander agreed, their faces stern and resolute.
But Charlie could see tears glistening in Alice's eyes, and he knew that she was not entirely certain of the outcome of the battle.
An awful laughed rolled across the grass: a victorious and deathly rumble. The enchanter's voice boomed in their ears as though he were standing beside them.
"Go home!" he roared. "It's finished. The city is mine."
"No," Alice whispered.
"No," they whispered in unison, though they had all begun to wonder why they stood there waiting to die.
The enchanter kicked his horse, and the great beast came galloping toward them. They tried to hold the line, but Runner Bean and the rottweilers began to howl. They sank onto their bellies and wriggled away. And who could blame them?
On came the enchanter, his army moving after him. The group took a step back, then another.
"Why?" Charlie asked himself. Where were the bolts of lightning and the spirit ancestors? Why did the giant bird crouch beside her friend? Why wasn't Billy talking to the dogs? Why were the tears falling freely down Alice's cheeks?
They were paralyzed, Charlie realized. So we are lost.
All at once a brilliant shaft of light struck a path across the heath. The leopards leaped up, their ears pricked forward, and the black stallion reared as though the light was a lethal thread of wire before him.
The leopards bounded toward the source of light, and on a hill at the edge of the field Charlie saw the brilliant flash of a sword, held by a knight on a white horse. The leopards reached the horse as it began to gallop down the hill; the knight's red cloak flew out behind him and the leopards came leaping after it.
The enchanter turned his horse. Again came the chilling laugh. "At last!" he roared. "We'll put an end to this."
At the bottom of the hill the Red Knight reined in his mount. And now they confronted each other, the Red Knight and the Green, with a few hundred yards between them. They drew' their swords and began to advance.
Suddenly, Charlie found he was running, propelled by the worst fear he had ever known. He could hear his friends calling him back, but he couldn't stop. He had to get between the two horses.
For he knew that the Red Knight was a man. He might have a magic cloak and an unbeatable sword, but he was not a magician, so how could he defeat a being whose very fingers were laced with deathly enchantments?
Charlie was too late. With a clash of steel the knights met in battle. Charlie dropped to his knees and the leopards surrounded him, nudging his shoulders and purring into his ears. Did they know something that he didn't?
The fighting was fast and furious. Every trick, every bit of sorcery was dredged from the enchanter's mind and used against his adversary. His weapon was by turns red-hot and ice-cold. He rained spikes on the Red Knight's helmet and sharpened bolts onto his chain mail, while the black stallion snorted fire into the white mare's eyes.
The Red Knight was beginning to tire. His head fell forward and he swayed from side to side, lowering his sword. The Green Knight prepared to come in for the kill.
"No!" cried Charlie and again he ran. With all his strength he leaped for the stallion's harness, dragging at its head. The enchanter lifted his weapon. "Cursed boy!" he roared. And then suddenly he gasped, as the Red Knight's unbeatable sword struck home, clean through the thick breastplate and into the Green Knight's heart.
The stallion reared and the enchanter rolled off its back. He hit the ground with a noise like the clash of giant cymbals, the sword still buried in his heart.
Charlie lay back in the grass. Above him the fog was rising and he could see blue sky and a brilliant sun. The ghostly army seemed to have vanished with the fog, and the Piminy Street gang were limping away; their heads were low and their gaudy costumes in rags. They looked so pathetic, Charlie felt almost sorry for them.
When he sat up he saw that his fallen friends were not fatally injured. Alice Angel was lifting his uncle's head. Fidelio had gotten to his feet. The leopards were moving around the injured, purring and nudging them back to life.
Lysander and Tancred came racing over to Charlie. "He's gone!" cried Lysander.
"Not a trace," said Tancred. "Truly dead!"
It was true. There was no sign of the enchanter, though the unbeatable sword lay where he had fallen, and a black stallion chomped the grass beside it.
"But the Red Knight!" said Charlie, standing up.
He lay on his back, only a few feet away. The white mare stood over his body. Now and then she nuzzled the battered helmet, snorting encouragingly. Blood seeped through the chain mail on the knight's chest and arms. It trickled from beneath his helmet. Was he already dying when he made that fatal thrust into the enchanter's heart? Charlie ran over to him. "What should we do?" He looked at his friends.
"Better take off the helmet!" Lysander suggested.
Charlie was afraid. Suddenly he didn't want to know the identity of the Red Knight. The spell would be ended. And if the knight was dead? But I must know, he thought. He knelt in the grass and gently pulled off the helmet.
A familiar face smiled up at him.
Charlie couldn't speak. His astonishment, his joy was too great. He could feel the others gathering behind him, murmuring. "It can't be!" "Is it, really?" "Why didn't we know?"
"Dad!" Charlie breathed.
22
THE SEAT OF EVIL
The city had not been entirely deserted. Officer Singh and Officer Wood arrived at the field soon after the battle had ended. More police arrived. Ambulances parked at the edge of the grass, and medical teams ran over to the injured.
Lyell Bone was lifted onto a stretcher and carried to an ambulance. Charlie was allowed to travel with him. Just before the doors were closed, Officer Singh approached Charlie and asked how he felt. "You've got a lot of nasty bruises, lad," he said. He looked intently at Charlie, as though he had a particular interest in him.
"I'm OK," said Charlie. "I'm just worried about my dad. And my mom, she ought to know what's happened."
"She does," said Officer Singh. "I've just given her a call."
Charlie was puzzled. "You know where she is? But how?"
"Ah," said the policeman. "She'll have to tell you that herself."
Charlie's mother was waiting for him at the hospital, and after she hugged him half to death they went to wait in the hallway while Lyell's wounds were dressed.
"I don't understand," Charlie kept repeating. "Where have you been? When I thought of you, I always saw a little boat far out on the sea. And then there were all those postcards with foreign stamps."
"Charlie, I'm so sorry." His mother hugged him again. "We hated doing this to you, but we had to make sure that the Bloors never guessed who the Red Knight was. We couldn't let them find out by hypnotism, clairvoyance, or any of their dreadful tricks."
"What difference would it have made?"
Amy Bone touched her son's bruised face and looked into his eyes. "They would have held you for ransom, Charlie.
They would have kidnapped you, imprisoned you, perhaps even threatened to torture you if Lyell didn't give up his quest. So they had to believe it was someone else wearing the red cloak and riding the white mare."
"I thought it was Bartholomew Bloor," said Charlie, "because he wears a blue winter coat and Gabriel saw his father give the cloak to a man in a dark-colored winter coat."
His mother smiled. "Ah, Mr. Silk knew the truth. He was the only one apart from Bartholomew."
"Why did he have to know?"
"Because he was on that boat, Charlie. There really was a boat called Greywing, and it was sailing up the Australian coast. Bartholomew had always wanted to go whale watching. He's a great sailor and was quite confident that h
e could survive Lord Grimwald's storms. He and his family are on their way back to the city right now."
"Phew!" It still didn't make sense to Charlie.
"Whenever I thought of you and Dad, I saw the boat. But why, if you weren't on it?"
Amy shook her head. "I'm sorry, Charlie. We had to make you believe that we were there in case you were hypnotized and Manfred got at the truth."
"I was hypnotized," said Charlie, frowning. "So someone must have gotten into my head and made me believe you were there on that boat. Hmmm. I wish I knew who it was."
His mother hesitated. She seemed to be in a dilemma, so Charlie kept his eyes on her face, determined to get an answer.
"It was Señor Alvaro," she said at last. "He's very gifted in that way."
"I'll say." Charlie could hardly believe it.
A doctor approached them. His cheerful smile told them that Lyell wasn't in any danger. They were shown into a small room where Lyell was sitting up in bed. His head had been wrapped in a bandage, and one arm was in a sling. Charlie wanted to hug him but he couldn't see how, so instead he kissed his father's cheek and clung to his free hand.
"Forgive me, Charlie!" Lyell's dark eyes glistened. "I don't deserve you."
"Mom told me everything," said Charlie shyly. He felt ashamed that he had doubted his father, who after all was a hero.
Lyell squeezed his hand. "You have every right to be angry with us."
Charlie vigorously shook his head. "The enchanter had to be killed, didn't he? So he'd never, ever try to take the city again."
"I so nearly didn't succeed. You saved my life, Charlie."
"Did I?" It hadn't occurred to Charlie until now.
"There are a few more things to do before the city is completely purged," his father said wryly.
"Bloor's Academy?" Charlie suggested.
Lyell gave a grim smile. "In a few days, I'll be myself, and we'll put everything to rights, you and I, won't we?"