“Well, well,” a squat, ugly youth rasped. “If it isn't our good friend Lytle.” The others laughed menacingly. “Come back to join us, Ian? Or did you just want to see how your pals were doing, now that we've been kicked out of Lil's?” He stared at Millie with his hard, beady eyes. “Who's your friend, Lytle?” He demanded. “And what's in the bag?”
“None of your business,” Ian said.
“Aw! Come on Lytle! You know everything that happens in my turf is my business.”
“This still your turf?”
Conky's eyes narrowed even more and his cheeks reddened.
“These guys still hangin'with you?” Ian challenged, staring round the group.
Grinning fiercely, Conky dropped his bike, and with a jerk of his head, signalled the others to do likewise. The bikes clattered to the pavement and the circle tightened around Ian and Millie. “Well boys, I think it's time to settle some scores, eh,” Conky growled, taking a step forward. “You know, I really like you Lytle. It's fun beating the crap out of you. This is really going to make my day.”
“Then I suppose you'll want the pleasure all to yourself, Conky,” Ian challenged. “Why don't you call your buddies off and take me all on your own. Wouldn't that be more fun?”
“Oh no,” Conky mocked. “I think everyone will want to be in on the kill, Lytle. Isn't that right boys?” The pack closed in tighter. “We've all been waiting for this a long time. Ready boys?”
Conky raised his hand and was about to utter his command, when suddenly an unearthly shriek cut through the air as if some bird of prey was descending on them. Conky's eyes widened in panic. He seemed to be frozen â fixed to the spot as firmly as a statue. His face turned from red to purple and his eyes rolled in terror. The other gang members backed away in awed horror. “You will not touch either of them,” a shrill voice commanded. “If one of you so much as touches the boy or his friend, you will have to contend with me.”
Twisting and looking up, Millie shuddered at the glaring face of Endorathlil in a second floor window.
“Come up, the two of you,” the she ordered Ian and Millie.
Still held in the iron grip of her spell, Conky followed with desperate eyes as his gang parted, letting them through.
“My God!” Millie stammered as they hurried up the stairs. “That was incredible!”
“Do you believe me now?” Ian said as the buzzer sounded and they shoved the door open. “Endorathlil is not someone you want to mess with. I hope she's in a good mood.”
Millie hoped so, too.
Endorathlil placed the tray on the rickety coffee table, then sat heavily in the armchair opposite the sofa. Lumpkin jumped offMillie's lap and into the lap of her mistress, purring loudly. “Nothing like tea and cookies to help the workings of the brain,” the witch said brightly. “Please help yourselves.”
Out of politeness Millie poured cups of tea for herself and Ian.
“What you ask is no simple matter,” Endorathlil said doubtfully. “And besides, I've had enough of sending people into the underworld.”
“But this wouldn't be sending anyone to the underworld,” Millie argued. “Not really. You would be helping to get somebody out.”
“Sort of like a magical search and rescue mission,” Ian put in.
The witch winced, as if even considering the proposition pained her. “If I hadn't uttered that cursed spell we wouldn't even be considering your idea,” she said. “But to send two others after one I should not have sent in the first place . . . that's a dangerous strategy my dears. Instead of one lost arrow, we may end up with three. I don't like it.”
“He's in a coma, Endorathlil . . . ”
“I know that well enough,” she said glumly.
“Which means he's in Syde.”
“True.”
“Then you have to help us reach him!” Millie begged. “If you don't, and he doesn't make it back, we'll all be to blame.”
“I don't see how you and Ian can be held accountable, young lady. You had nothing to do with sending Josh to Vortigen. How can you be to blame?”
“We've kept it from our parents. Instead of telling the truth, we've hidden it. That gives us a responsibility to do something about Josh's predicament doesn't it?”
Endorathlil rubbed her chin as she pondered Millie's claim.
Ian winked, as if he already knew the outcome of the old woman's deliberations. Millie sat on the edge of her seat. “Well,” Endorathlil said after a long while. “I suppose that's true. And I suppose it wouldn't hurt to consult
The Book
to see if there is a safe way to get you in and out of Syde.” She regarded the two of them warily. “But I won't do it unless I am absolutely certain there is no chance of your getting trapped, do you understand?”
Both Millie and Ian shook their heads eagerly. Muttering, Endorathlil picked up
The Book of Syde
and limped off down the hall. “You wait here,” she said over her shoulder. “Have some more cookies and tea. Lumpkin will keep you company.”
A
thelrod held the robe up for Josh to see. “It's of the finest material and manufacture, My Lord.”
“Stop calling me that!” Josh complained.
“What, My Lord?”
“You know what I mean. If I am Your Lord, I order you to stop saying so!”
“You shall have to get used to it, I'm afraid,” the tutor informed him. “Your station in life has changed, young man, and you have to put off your old clothes and put on the new.”
Josh inspected the robe suspiciously. The fabric was exquisite, set off by threads of gold and studded with precious gems. “I can't wear this! It's too fancy,” Josh said doubtfully. “Besides, it will weigh a ton.”
“Put it on, just the same,” Athelrod insisted, holding the garment ready. “There's no one here to see you, and I'm sure a healthy lad like yourself can support it for a few seconds at the very least.”
Reluctantly Josh slipped his arms into one sleeve, then the other, donning the Sydean finery. “It hardly weighs anything at all!” he cried, astonished at how lightly the robe sat on his shoulders. “How can that be?”
“No king on earth has ever worn raiment such as this,” Athelrod explained. “The fabric of Syde fits like a dream. It is tailored from the best materials and by the most skillful fingers.” He walked around Josh, admiring the transformation in his student. “Besides,” Athelrod added, “you are only just getting used to Sydean gravity. The very air here weighs nothing compared to the gross atmosphere of Outworld.”
A tap at the door interrupted these thoughts. It opened a crack admitting Quiggle. “Vortigen grows impatient,” the Valet informed them. “He is eager for the procession to begin.”
“Ah, Quiggle!” Athelrod exclaimed. “You have arrived just in time for a little demonstration I wanted to make for His Lordship.”
Quiggle frowned, looking very uneasy.
“Our young prince must gain a knowledge of how differently matter behaves in our dimension from what he's used to in Outworld, don't you agree?”
The valet nodded distrustfully.
“I was going to show him how a vase or a chair could be moved by the direct application of will, but now that you're here I'm thinking a somewhat heavier object, that has a will of its own and might not want to be moved, would make a more memorable demonstration.”
“Sir,” Quiggle pleaded. “I don't have time for experiments and such. His Highest Highness has instructed me to deliver my message and bring back an answer without delay.”
“Then we shan't waste another second.”
Athelrod waved his hand and poor Quiggle floated up, up into the air.
“Put me down!” Quigs protested.
But Athelrod continued the game, levitating the valet to the ceiling, then floating him to the very centre of the room where he hooked him by his jacket to one of the arms of the chandelier.
“Sir! I beg of you, stop this foolishness! Vortigen will be very angry.”
“Let him down,” Josh intervened. “You've made your point.”
“Yes, I think I have,” the tutor smirked, “and now it's time you made yours.”
“What do you mean?”
“You get him down, young master. It's perfectly within your capabilities.”
“But he's had no training!” Quiggle squeaked. “He'd drop me like a sack from a wagon. All my bones will be broken.”
“He's right,” Josh said. “I have no idea how to get him down.”
“Think him down,” Athelrod instructed. “And if you value his friendship â though I cannot see why â you will do so quickly, for Vortigen does not like to be kept waiting and his patience with dear old Quiggle is wearing dangerously thin already.”
“But this is unfair!” Josh protested, even though he could not help smirking.
“What's fair or unfair has nothing to do with anything in this world or your former dimension,” Athelrod replied. “Those who grasp the levers of power determine what's fair and what's not. I suggest you begin your rescue.”
Josh glanced up at his hapless friend. “Shall I try, Quiggle?” he asked.
The valet hung limp. “I suppose you must take a fish off the hook if you want to set it free,” he grumbled. “Yes, do try, and if you break my bones, I forgive you.”
“Thank you for your contribution Quigs,” Athelrod mocked.
“Now,” he coached Josh, “you must think him down. Imagine him floating off his hook, then drifting down to the floor.”
Josh stared and thought Quiggle down with all his might. But nothing happened.
“Good!” Athelrod cheered.
“But I haven't budged him.”
“You felt the weight of him though. You felt it resisting your will, didn't you?”
While he had been straining to move Quiggle, Josh hadn't noticed this. But now that Athelrod mentioned it he had to admit it was true. Bewildered, he nodded.
Athelrod leaned close to him. “Now, I'll let you in on a little secret,” he whispered. “Instead of working like a donkey to hoist this laggard off his hook, transform him into something light â like a balloon. Fill the ponderous weight of the man with insubstantial fluff, then guide him through the air.”
Josh gave Athelrod a doubtful glance.
“Try it,” the tutor encouraged.
Like a weight lifter bracing for the second try, Josh focused his thoughts on Quiggle. “Dandelion fluff,” he thought. Instead of grunting, he imagined himself a gentle breeze.
“Oh my!” Quiggle cried. “Do be careful sir!”
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the Valet floated up, off the chandelier. Josh guided him away from the ornament, then eased him to the floor.
“Excellent, My Lord!” Athelrod clapped.
“It
is
easy!” Josh laughed.
“Not for everyone my friend,” the tutor corrected. “Only the elite are capable of that trick, and even for them it usually takes months of training to perform the simplest tasks of levitation.
You have accomplished in minutes what many could not master in months, or years.”
“It was a nasty trick if you ask me,” Quiggle complained.
“Come, come,” Athelrod clucked. “Lord Vortigen will be pleased to hear of your contribution to his young heir's instruction.”
Quiggle didn't seem pleased at all. He frowned and almost said something but decided instead to leave with what dignity remained to him.
“Now!” Athelrod turned to Josh enthusiastically. “Are you ready?”
“Ready for what?”
“Why, for the Grand Procession of course! For your introduction to Syde.”
Much to his own surprise, Josh thought he was ready. He'd objected to the whole idea of a procession up âtil then, but what was all the fuss about? Why shouldn't he at least have a look at the realm Vortigen wished to share with him? Why should he throw away an opportunity without even considering it?
“I think I am ready,” Josh said.
“Good, My Lord, for I assure you, Syde is ready for you. The citizens have waited upon this day for centuries . . . nay, for millennia.
Athelrod held open the door and bowed, waving Josh through. Vortigen's heir strode into the palace hallway, growing with every step. Suddenly it seemed as though he was striding into a new and fascinating realm; not leaving a familiar world behind.
A
yeee!”
“Yaaaa!”
Millie and Ian plunged toward the centre of the earth like two kids on a gigantic waterslide. It was as if the floor had dropped out of Endorathlil's living room and the earth had swallowed them up. “Once you get there, you must remember exactly where you have entered Syde and return to that exact spot when you want to leave,” the witch instructed before uttering her spell. “Call out for me to bring you home, and I shall draw you back into this dimension.” Then she began chanting. They had lain there, holding hands, while she pronounced her strange words. At first, nothing, then a slight dizziness, as if they were standing on the edge of a very deep shaft, then â whoosh â the floor gave way and they began their long descent.
They whizzed inches from the granite stairs and walls. At first Millie had been terrified, but she'd come to trust the mysterious force that bore them along, and now the feeling was more like exhilaration. “Ayeee!” she whooped.
Then, a long way off, they saw a pinprick of light. The tunnel straightened and they accelerated, the tiny beacon growing as they approached. “Get ready!” Millie screamed just before they hurtled through the aperture at the end of the chute. Branches and briars whipped them and tore at their clothes as the two joy riders tumbled to a rough landing. Still, at the speed they were travelling, it was good luck they had burst into Syde in a dense thicket, a landing strip that softened their touchdown somewhat.
Millie staggered to her feet, picking twigs out of her hair and clothing. “Are you all right?” she asked Ian, who was sitting on the ground, rubbing his head.