They continued in this way for several days, but one night the cubs did not return. The moon was, once again, a thin splinter in the sky, but Timoken forgot the Alixir. The new moon had almost disappeared when
Gabar said, ‘Family, do you want to grow old?’
‘The Alixir!’ Timoken found the bird-shaped bottle. He gave the camel a single dose, and then poured a drop for himself.
It would take three weeks for the cubs to reappear.
Timoken and Gabar had reached a range of tall, seemingly impassable mountains. For several days they had been travelling north across a stretch of inhospitable, stony ground. The nights were growing colder. Darkness was falling fast and Timoken decided to light a fire. Gabar settled himself close to the flames and began to doze. Timoken leaned against the camel and closed his eyes. How long, he wondered, and how far would he have to roam before he found a home? Gabar was very dear to him, but he sometimes longed for the companionship of another human being. He thought of his sister and tears welled up in his eyes. Timoken pressed his fists against his lids. He was more than a hundred years old, so he should not cry.
A voice, close to his ear, whispered, ‘North.’
Timoken looked at the ring on the middle finger of his left hand. The small silver face wore a frown. ‘North,’ it urged again.
‘I have come north,’ Timoken said irritably.
‘Further,’ the voice implored. ‘Now.’
There was a sudden, loud rumble from the camel: a nervous warning sound. Timoken jumped up and searched the rocky scrubland before him. Nothing moved, but it was dark and he could not see what lay beyond the firelight. The grasses beside him rustled and a dreadful stench came out of them. Timoken froze. He knew that smell. He leapt for the moon cloak, lying behind him, but he was too late.
Long, sinewy arms grabbed the web and tossed it away. Timoken could see them now: three tall figures, twisting and bending, one to his left, another on his right, and the third a few feet in front of him, waving the moon cloak like a banner.
‘I have it,’ one of the viridees shrieked, and his laughter filled the air like the tuneless scream of a hungry hyena.
The web was not easy for the viridee to hold. It fought back, stinging his root-like fingers and burning his boneless arms. But he would not give it up. As Timoken reached for the web, the laughing viridee tossed it to another. They raced away from Timoken, shrieking and
gurgling, as they threw the web from one to another.
Timoken’s anger swept every thought from his mind. Forgetting the storms he might bring, or the swift flight he could make, he stumbled over the rocky ground while the viridees sped ahead. Blind with rage, Timoken was not aware of the rock that lay in his path until he ran full pelt into it, and crashed to the stony ground.
Beating the stones with his fists, Timoken cried. ‘No! No! No!’
For a moment he did not notice the change of tone in the viridees’ voices, and then, suddenly, he realised that their gleeful cries had become wild with fear.
Staggering to his feet, Timoken saw three dark forms leap upon the viridees. Their cries crescendoed to deafening shrieks and then died to a single moan, until the only sounds were the deep growls of the three leopards as they sniffed their victims’ lifeless bodies.
As Timoken cautiously approached, Sun Cat carried the moon cloak over to him and laid it at his feet. The other cubs joined him and they stood, all three, before the boy. In a sudden blaze from the fire, Timoken could see that, in three weeks, the cubs had grown. Their shoulders were wide and strong, their tails thick and heavy and the
fur on their big feet hinted at powerful claws.
‘Thank you, my friends,’ said Timoken. He lifted the moon cloak and threw it around his shoulders.
‘You must go,’ said Sun Cat.
‘North,’ said Flame Chin.
‘Now,’ said Star.
‘Now? But my enemies are dead. Can we not sleep, Gabar and I? We are so weary.’
‘No time,’ said Sun Cat.
‘Fly,’ said Flame Chin.
‘Over the mountain,’ said Star.
‘But –’
‘NOW!’ said all three. ‘It is not safe here.’
The leopards’ voices were so grave, Timoken ran to his camel, crying, ‘We must go, Gabar. Now. At once.’
‘Now?’ grumbled the camel in disbelief.
The bags were still all in place and, after quickly dousing the fire, Timoken climbed into the saddle. ‘Up, Gabar, up!’ he cried.
‘Up?’ Gabar slowly got to his feet.
‘We must fly.’
‘Where?’
‘Over the mountain.’
‘Oh no,’ the camel moaned.
‘Fly!’ yelled Timoken, and he pulled on the camel’s shaggy hair, willing him up the steep side of the mountain.
They passed jagged ledges and rough, crumbling stones, where no man or beast had ever walked, and there was nowhere to rest. Up, up and up. The camel bellowed in fear and pain, gasping for air. Timoken looked for sky above the mountain, but saw only the rugged wall of rock, rising into nowhere.
‘Rest!’ grunted the camel. ‘Family, I beg.’
‘There is nowhere to rest,’ croaked Timoken, the cold air filling his lungs. ‘Up, Gabar, up!’
For a moment Gabar hung in the air, unable to rise any further, and Timoken, feeling the dead weight of the camel, cried with the pain in his arms and chest. ‘We must fly up,’ he groaned. ‘We
must
, Gabar.’ He gave an almighty tug, and this time the camel came with him, further and further into the white drifts of clouds and out again into a radiant, starlit sky.
They flew a little way beyond the mountain peaks, and then slowly descended into another country entirely. From below came the distant murmur of waves breaking on a shore.
They landed in darkness on a small island in the centre of a vast lake.
Timoken led Gabar over a beach of rattling shells into the shelter of some trees. There, exhausted by their flight, they both fell asleep.
When he woke up Timoken ran on to the beach. The shells looked valuable and he put some in his bag before venturing further.
How could they know that, for hundreds of years, the viridees had lured travellers and fishermen to this solitary island? There they were robbed of all they possessed and left to die. When the island viridees saw Timoken and the camel flying towards them, they could not believe their luck. How pleased Lord Degal would be when they presented him with the web of the last moon spider.
For this time they had a trap from which Timoken would never escape.
Timoken left the beach and wandered back into the trees. The ground was covered in a thick blanket of flowers and broad-leaved shrubs. The island appeared to be deserted, he couldn’t even hear a bird. Timoken decided to explore. Leaving Gabar to rest, he picked his way through the undergrowth.
A building appeared through the trees and Timoken made his way towards it. The building was circular, with a white domed roof and walls veined with gold that shimmered in the sunlight. The pillars on either side of the arched entrance were decorated with strange symbols. Timoken could make no sense of them.
What was inside the building? Who had built it? Timoken hesitated. Something told him not to go any further, but his curiosity got the better of him. He mounted the three marble steps leading to the entrance and went in.
He was immediately engulfed by an overwhelming darkness. There was not the tiniest scrap of light anywhere, even though the sun had been shining through the open doorway. Timoken turned around. He
could see nothing. The doorway had gone. He walked forward and touched a cold stone wall. Feeling his way along the wall, he was sure that, sooner or later, he would find a doorframe, a crack – anything to indicate an opening. He began to stumble on twigs or pebbles underfoot. Bending to find out what could be lying on the floor, his hand gripped a long, smooth object with a rounded, knobbly end. Timoken dropped it and felt for another. There were many similar objects, like twigs, jagged and bony.
It was when he touched the skull that Timoken knew, beyond any doubt, that the crackling, crunching things beneath his feet were the bones of human beings. And there was definitely more than one. The floor was littered with bones.
Timoken opened his mouth and screamed. But there was only Gabar to hear him. And what could a camel do? Timoken tried to think of a power that could help him. He could fly, he could bring a storm, he could speak to any animal in the world, but how could he escape from this terrible house of bones? He did not even have the moon cloak to protect him.
But he had the ring. He ran his fingers over it. A frail
light appeared on his ringed finger, and the forest-jinni’s tiny face looked out at him.
‘What can I do?’ begged Timoken. ‘Can you help me?’
‘Their power is very strong here,’ the forest-jinni said sorrowfully.
‘The viridees?’
‘Indeed.’
‘You said you would help me,’ cried Timoken. ‘But you cannot.’
‘They drain me.’ The tiny voice was not much more than a breath of air. ‘They are too strong.’ The ring’s light began to fade.
‘Fight them, forest-jinni. I beg you. Be strong.’
The jinni’s eyes were closing, but suddenly they blinked open. ‘Call the leopards,’ he whispered.
‘I can’t!’ wailed Timoken. ‘They won’t hear me. And how can they reach me?’
‘The web has made them different from other creatures: marvellous, amazing, immortal …’ The weak thread of the tiny voice ran out. The light faded and the silence that followed was so thick and so absolute it forced Timoken to his knees. He swept his hands over the rubble of bones, and a huge anger burned inside him.
How many people had the viridees tricked and killed in this dreadful place? He refused to be one of them.
He remembered the language of the leopards and a roar rose in his throat. Such a huge roar, it made him shake. It burst out of his mouth and filled the darkness.
Again and again, the voice of a furious leopard echoed to the roof and bounced off the walls. Gabar heard the sound and stumbled to his feet. He was already worried. Timoken had been gone too long. That sound was like no other. It was a leopard’s roar, but Gabar knew Timoken’s voice by now.
The big camel began to plod through the trees towards the sound of the leopard. A black cloud rolled across the sky and the sunlight was gone, leaving the island in gloomy shadow. When Gabar reached the building it was no longer beautiful. It was grey and unwelcoming. He could see an open doorway, and yet the noise that Timoken was making was that of a trapped animal. Why could he not get out?
Gabar thought,
A spell!
No sooner was the thought inside his head than the palm leaves above, and the plants all about him, began to whisper and murmur and chuckle and snarl.
‘Family!’ bellowed the terrified camel. ‘Viridees!’
Timoken heard the camel’s desperate call, but he couldn’t help him. So he gave another roar; a roar so deep and dangerous the wicked creatures that were even now stealing towards the camel hesitated for a moment before continuing on their greedy way.
Gabar wheeled around to see a crowd of thin green viridees creeping towards him. Their wet hair dangled, their red eyes flashed and their long arms swung like slimy vines.
‘Camel,’ said one. ‘Let us take your heavy burdens.’
Gabar raised his head and bellowed. But root-like fingers were now reaching for the bag that contained the moon cloak. Twisting his neck, Gabar bit, crunching the slimy arm between his big teeth. Then he kicked and howled, turned and turned, churning the earth with his furious feet.
Inside the house of bones, Timoken heard his camel bellowing. Angry and helpless, he slid to the floor and crouched among the piles of bones. He closed his eyes and growled in sympathy with his poor camel.
A thin light crept through his eyelids. The light grew stronger. Timoken opened his eyes and saw a flame
burning outside a wall. He touched the wall, but felt only hard stone. He was baffled.
The flame outside began to circle the building, and Timoken had the impression that he was surrounded by a ring of fire. And now he could hear it, crackling and hissing. ‘Gabar!’ he cried. ‘What’s happening?’
He was answered by the roar of a leopard. Three roars. Three leopards.
The circle of fire grew brighter. Timoken could feel the heat of it through the wall. He could smell the scorched stones. The walls began to crumble, stones tumbled out and rolled down the steps. Through the gaps, Timoken could see trees, and Gabar, his big eyes wide with amazement. But the leopards had no shape at all. They were flashes of fire, joined in a ring by tails of flame.
Timoken pushed and kicked the walls until he had made a gap wide enough to squeeze through. The stones were hot, but he managed to slip past them without burning his clothes. As soon as he was through, the building behind him came crashing to the ground. Timoken leapt away from the flying rubble and burst through the fiery circle without feeling a thing.
The flames began to evaporate into the air. And there
were the leopards. They stood shoulder to shoulder: Sun Cat, Flame Chin and Star.
‘You saved my life,’ purred Timoken.
‘Our lives are yours,’ the big cats purred in return.
Sun Cat said, ‘Go now!’
‘This place is bad,’ said Flame Chin.
‘Be safe,’ said Star.
‘But you – how will you …?’
‘Nothing can hurt us,’ said Sun Cat.
‘We are faster than wind,’ said Flame Chin.
‘We will always be with you,’ said Star.
‘So leave this place now!’ The three roars came all at once, and there was no mistaking the urgency in their voices.
Gabar had already crouched for Timoken to mount.
The boy looked all about him, into the trees and lush green undergrowth. But there was no sign of the viridees. The leopards had frightened them away – for now. The dark cloud had folded back from the sun, and the house of bones was now a mound of rubble.
Timoken climbed into the saddle and Gabar lifted himself from his knees.
‘I’m sorry, Gabar,’ Timoken began, ‘but –’
‘I know. We must fly again,’ said Gabar. ‘I am happy about it.’