Children of the Red King Book 06 Charlie Bone and The Beast

They were about to turn away when the door behind the matron opened and Olivia looked out. "Hi, Charlie. I've got that book you wanted," she said, waving a small book of French verbs.

  Lucretia Yewbeam stepped away from the door.

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  "Eavesdropping is an appalling habit." She spat. "Get downstairs, all of you."

  They were only too happy to obey.

  In the deserted art room, Charlie outlined his plan to Olivia.

  "I'd rather come with you." Her eyes had a dangerous sparkle. "I want to know what it's like down there. There could be treasure... anything. Are you going to wear pajamas, Charlie? You might need rubber boots, I mean, if the passage leads to the river..."

  "Liv, shut up and listen," said Fidelio. "You've got a job to do."

  "Well, what?" said Olivia angrily. She folded her arms and waited.

  "Illusions, Liv. That's all I want from you. I don't need you underground."

  "Oh." Olivia looked disappointed. "Where do you want these illusions?"

  "All over the city. I know Manfred's just waiting for something to happen. He knows I'm going to try and

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  rescue Asa, but he doesn't know when. He doesn't even know if I know where Asa is." Charlie glanced at Olivia's impatient face. An unwelcome thought had popped into his head. "I suppose I don't know for sure. I'm just guessing because of what Mr. Onimous said."

  "And your gut," Fidelio said encouragingly. "Your gut tells you, doesn't it?"

  "Yes, my gut." But Charlie's gut also told him that he didn't actually know if Asa was somewhere deep beneath the academy, somewhere in the dreadful, inky darkness beyond the costume department. It was all rather hit or miss.

  "So what sort of illusions do you want?"

  Olivia's sharp voice brought Charlie back to earth. "Vans, Liv. Smallish white vans, a bit battered." He described Bartholomew's dented old van as best he could. "Your illusions will be a distraction from the real one, in case someone tries to follow. There should be five or six parked around the city, and I'll need them between two o'clock and dawn."

  "You're joking," Olivia declared.

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  "No, I'm not," said Charlie solemnly.

  "OK, you're not joking." Olivia grinned. "Emma will help me to stay awake. Actually, I think I'm going to enjoy this."

  As they left the art room, a tall, slightly hunched figure appeared at the far end of the hall. It began to limp toward them and Charlie froze. Manfred was out and about again. He waited for the masked figure to come closer.

  Fidelio and Olivia stood on either side of Charlie, watching the tall figure move into the beams of the only light in the hall.

  Charlie's mouth fell open. There was no mask. There were no scars. Manfred's face was as smooth and pale as it had ever been.

  "Surprised, are you, Charlie Bone? Shocked, are you?" Manfred limped up to Charlie and stood in front of him. "It's a good thing I'm blessed with clever friends, isn't it?" He stroked his flat cheek. "I bet you never expected to see me like this again, did you?"

  Unable to think of a reply, Charlie coughed.

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  "We always hoped for the best," Olivia gushed. "It's just great to see you looking so - so handsome, Manfred."

  Fidelio spluttered behind his hand.

  "SIR," barked Manfred. "You will call me sir."

  "Yes, sir," Olivia replied meekly.

  "Get ready for supper. You shouldn't be here!"

  "Yes, sir," they replied.

  They hurried past Manfred, not daring to look at one another, but when they reached the end of the hall, Manfred called, "I'm watching you, Charlie Bone, so don't get any silly ideas."

  "No, sir," Charlie mumbled.

  There was a tense, stifling atmosphere in the King's room that night. Joshua Tilpin looked very much the worse for wear. His hair was plastered with bits of paper, dust, cobwebs, and pencil shavings. Torn plastic wrappers stuck to his sleeves, and his hands were covered in crumbs.

  The twins, aware that Tancred was responsible for their bruises, kept aiming books and pencil cases in

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  his direction, but their strength seemed to have been depleted and Tancred easily repulsed them with a few stiff breezes.

  Dagbert watched everything with a calm, calculating expression. Occasionally, he caught Charlie's eye, and his face told Charlie everything. Dagbert would do anything that Manfred asked.

  During two hours of homework, Emma was the only one to smile. Tancred had invited her to sit beside him and, blushing furiously, Emma accepted. The smile came later. It was only the ghost of a smile, but it lasted a long time and it lifted Charlie's spirits considerably.

  After homework the children dispersed in silence. Charlie didn't even glance at Tancred and Lysander. He knew he must give no hint of tonight's secret arrangement.

  In the dormitory Fidelio behaved as if nothing unusual was about to take place, though Billy wore a continual frown and seemed very distracted.

  When Charlie finally lay down in bed he felt

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  as though a coiled spring, deep inside him, might suddenly unravel. How could he possibly lie still until two o'clock? He wanted to begin Asa's rescue right now, before he lost his nerve.

  Sometime between eleven o'clock and midnight, Charlie fell asleep, exhausted by his own imagination. He had been picturing so many different versions of Asa's rescue, his mind had finally demanded a rest.

  Charlie woke up to find someone gently shaking his arm.

  "Charlie. It's two o'clock," whispered Fidelio.

  Charlie sat up, rubbing his eyes. "I didn't even hear my watch."

  "I thought you might not. Charlie, Dagbert's not in his bed. I don't know when he left the room."

  Charlie rolled out of bed. "Can't worry about that now," he whispered. "I'd better wake Billy." He pulled on his blue cape while he found his shoes with his feet.

  A gentle tap on the head brought Billy scrambling out from under the covers. "What?" he said.

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  "Shhh!" Charlie put a hand over Billy's mouth.

  "No! No!" came Billy's muffled voice. "Please, no."

  "Shhh! Billy, it's only me, Charlie. It's time to go."

  "Where?"

  "Shhh! To rescue Asa."

  "I don't want to go," said Billy, pushing Charlie's hand away.

  On the other side of the dormitory, someone stirred and moaned in their sleep. Waiting to make sure that no one had woken up, Charlie whispered, "Please, Billy. I need you."

  There was a long silence, and then Billy reached for his glasses. Swinging his feet to the floor, he struggled into his cape and shoes. Charlie grabbed his arm and wordlessly they crossed the dormitory.

  "Good luck!" Fidelio's whisper was so soft, Charlie never heard him.

  Out in the dimly lit hallway, Charlie could see Billy's huge, terrified eyes, and he felt guilty. "I'm sorry, Billy. Please don't be scared. I wouldn't ask you to do this, but you're the only person who can talk to Asa."

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  "Not Asa, the Wilderness Wolf," said Billy. "And I'm only scared of not being able to do the right thing."

  "You will do the right thing. Come on." Charlie began to creep briskly down the hall.

  The only sounds in the vast, sleeping building were the soft patterings of their feet on the oak floorboards. The great, silent emptiness made Charlie feel as though he and Billy were the only beings alive. And yet he knewthat, somewhere in the darkness, Dagbert Endless and Manfred Bloor were awake, and waiting.

  But no one appeared as they hurried out of the dorm, no one followed them do
wn the narrow hall to the theater, and no one barred their way onto the stage. The dark in the theater was so absolute, Charlie had to pull out his flashlight.

  "Where do we go now?" Billy whispered.

  Charlie shone his flashlight across the back of the stage until he saw the trapdoor. "There!" he said.

  "It'll be very dark," Billy said nervously.

  "Very," Charlie agreed. "But this flashlight is pretty good." He beamed it along the hem of the velvet

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  curtains, half expecting to see Manfred hiding in one of the deep folds. But no one was there. He tiptoed over to the trapdoor and, looking furtively over his shoulder, lifted the door by its iron ring.

  "It wasn't locked," Billy observed.

  "Never is," said Charlie.

  "But it could be," said Billy. "There's a padlock on that ring beside the opening. Someone could shut the door and lock us in."

  Charlie glanced at the rusty-looking padlock. "It's old, Billy. No one's used it for years. There probably isn't even a key to fit it. And look, it's closed. No one could open that. Come on."

  Lowering the trapdoor onto the floor, Charlie began to descend the wooden steps. Billy gave the padlock an anxious glance. "Do I shut the trapdoor after me?"

  "You'd better," called Charlie. He reached the foot of the steps and switched on the light.

  Billy climbed in and pulled the trapdoor over his head. "I've never been in here," he said when he was standing in the room full of cupboards and trunks.

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  "It's the costume department." A thought came to Charlie. "We'd better find some clothes for Asa, for when he's a boy again."

  "IF he's ever a boy again," muttered Billy.

  Charlie opened the first trunk. He took out a thick tweed coat and put it on beneath his cape. Billy found a blue beret in one of the cupboards and a pair of green corduroys in another trunk. He pulled the beret over his head, and tied the trousers around his neck. Charlie pounced on some thick-soled brown boots that he liked the look of, wondering if he could do a swap with Asa later on. He tied the laces together and hung them around his neck.

  "Should we turn the light off?" asked Billy, as Charlie headed for the dark recess behind a row of pillars.

  Charlie hesitated. "No. We'll have to come back this way, when we've gotten Asa to the riverbank."

  "IF we find Asa," Billy said quietly.

  Once he was behind the pillars, Charlie trained his flashlight on the dark, mildewy wall. At the very end, a low, arched entrance was revealed. At that

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  moment, Charlie would have given almost anything to have turned back. But he knew he couldn't. "Come on," he said, and was very relieved to hear Billy's footsteps padding behind him.

  Slipping cautiously through the arch, they found themselves in a narrow tunnel. The low ceiling, walls, and floor were built entirely of dark redbrick, broken in places and glistening with slime. After a few meters the tunnel dipped sharply, so sharply that the boys began to slip on the damp bricks.

  "Help!" wailed Billy.

  Charlie lost his balance and, as he slid to the ground, he clutched wildly at the wall. The flashlight flew out of his grasp. He could hear it rolling along the ground and then it stopped. Seconds later there was a distant, dull thud.

  "Sounds like it fell into a pit," said Billy in a shaky voice.

  "It could have been us," muttered Charlie. "My flashlight is done for, that's for sure."

  And yet they weren't plunged into utter darkness;

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  a soft, silvery glow pervaded the tunnel, and above Charlie's head, a small light hovered.

  "Claerwen!" Charlie gazed up at the white moth. "Clear light. I hoped she would come."

  "Charlie, can we go back?" begged Billy. "I don't want to fall into that pit."

  "There maybe steps." On hands and knees, Charlie cautiously made his way forward. When he reached the edge of the pit, he could see that an iron ladder had been fastened to the wall. Even in Claerwen's pure light he could barely make out where the ladder ended.

  Billy crawled up to Charlie and peered down. "It's an abyss!" he cried. "We'll never reach the bottom. Maybe it goes to the center of the earth?"

  "Of course it doesn't." Charlie tried to sound calm, but he couldn't keep a slight tremor out of his voice.

  And then they heard it: a distant animal moan. It was so infinitely sad, Charlie found himself swinging his feet onto the ladder without a second thought.

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  THE RED KNIGHT

  If the moth hadn't been with them, Charlie had no doubt that he and Billy would have fallen to their deaths. The rungs in the ladder were worn and rusty; several were missing altogether. Without a light to guide them they would surely have slipped, and it was a long, long, long way down.

  But at last they stood on firm ground again. At the bottom of the pit the walls were lined with huge rocks and boulders, and there, huddled in the shadows, was a scrawny, gray creature.

  "Asa?" said Charlie softly.

  The beast turned its head. Its yellow eyes flashed fearfully in the unfamiliar light, and it gave a low, rumbling growl.

  "What's he saying, Billy?" asked Charlie.

  Billy clutched his forehead. "I don't know."

  "You must know."

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  "I don't. I kept telling you. I can't understand their language anymore."

  Realization dawned at last. Charlie had refused to take Billy seriously, because he dared not let himself believe that Billy had lost his endowment. "Does that mean you can't talk to him either?" he asked desperately.

  "Don't think so," said Billy, keeping his eyes on the gray creature.

  There was a sudden roar, and with bared teeth, the beast lunged at them.

  "Asa!" cried Charlie. "Don't you know me?"

  There came a low, grumbling growl. Charlie and Billy backed against the wall.

  "Try, Billy, try." Charlie closed his eyes in panic.

  Billy's response was to fling the beret into the middle of the floor. The creature snarled and sprang closer. Billy threw the trousers after the beret. The beast sniffed them, raised its head, and howled.

  "I think that means he doesn't like them," said Billy.

  "Beggars can't be choosers," muttered Charlie. "If

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  he doesn't like these boots I'll eat my hood." Anxious not to anger the creature, he threw the boots lightly to one side.

  The beast trotted over to them. As it pawed the shiny boots, Charlie could see how emaciated it was. Every rib showed beneath its sparse gray coat. There hardly seemed an ounce of flesh on its whole body.

  "Poor thing," said Charlie softly.

  "I've remembered the sound for boots," said Billy in an excited whisper. He gave a light little grunt.

  The beast looked up. It gave a short bark.

  "Good," said Billy. "He said 'good. "

  "Can you remember any more sounds?" asked Charlie.

  "Like what?"

  "Well, can you tell him we've come to rescue him, and that he must put the clothes on quickly, before we look for the tunnel to the river?"

  "Charlie, he can't put them on, he's a wolf," said Billy. "How can a wolf put boots on?"

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  Charlie felt very stupid. "He can't," he said glumly. "He needs more light to change into a boy."

  Billy gasped. "I forgot. I keep forgetting things, but look!" Billy put his hand in his pajamas pocket and brought out a candle. It immediately burst into flame. "My guardian's magic candle," Billy said happily. "I always keep it with me."

  "Of
course!" Charlie grinned with relief. "I forgot about it, too. I think it'll do the trick, Billy. Hold it higher."

  With light from both the candle and the moth, the pit became almost as bright as day. The moth had been sitting at the top of the tallest boulder, but now V-

  she began to fly closer to the beast. She fluttered between its ears and it snapped at her as a thin veil of sparks lit its shaggy head. She perched briefly on its back, sending a bright glow down its spine. The beast whirled around, growling and grumbling. Undeterred, the little moth swooped over the thin tail, and then, unbelievably, she spun around the beast's legs until each one was a gleaming rod of light. The beast lifted

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  its feet with a bewildered expression, but the growling had died to a thin whine.

  "He's changing," Billy whispered. "Look!"

  And, indeed, the beast was changing. A thin line of red hair had appeared between its shabby ears. The long wolflike features were receding; a pale forehead could be seen; sallow, human cheeks formed around a thin mouth; and bony shoulders appeared through the sparse gray hair. With a sudden cry that could have been a howl of protest or of joy, the beast turned its back and hunched itself on the earth.

  It was several seconds before Charlie realized he was staring at the thin back of a real boy. He walked toward it and, pulling the tweed coat from under his cape, gently covered the boy.

  A sob echoed around the pit. Charlie sank to his knees beside Asa and said, "It's OK, Asa. We've come to help you."

  Billy brought the green trousers and the boots closer. The moth had retreated to her high boulder

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  again. She seemed to be waiting. Slowly, Asa got to his feet. With his back toward them, he pulled on the green trousers and the boots. When he had shrugged himself into the coat, he turned to face Charlie and Billy with a wan smile.

  "Asa! You're you again," said Charlie.

  "Yes," Asa croaked. He coughed. "Sorry. Throat's dry. Haven't spoken to anyone for weeks."

  "We're going to get you out of here, but we've got to hurry. There's a tunnel that leads to the riverbank. Someone's waiting to rescue you. Your mom will be there." Charlie was speaking so fast that Asa began to look confused.

  Charlie slowed down. "My guess is that the tunnel begins behind one of those boulders."