The Kingdom - Clare B Dunkle - Hollow Kingdom 01 - The Hollow Kingdom

Marak turned to his former nurse. “He won’t call you, either, old dwarf,” he said affectionately. Her black eyes twinkled up at him. “Keep us alive, Agatha. You’re in charge of the doors. Don’t let anyone out till the call stops, and organize the Guard as best you can out of whoever is left.

“Kate, come with me,” he said urgently, taking her hand and pulling her along with him. “I’m going to let you out.” She had to trot to keep up with his rapid strides as he hurried down the hallways.

“Out?” she wondered. “What do you mean, out? Why?”

“Because you’ll be trapped down here when the lamps go out because Seylin can’t keep them lit anymore, and the winds howl through, and the crops all die, and everybody leaves. You’ll be trapped feeding potions to a sleeping husband. A long life!” He gave a bitter laugh. “A long life in the dark.”

Kate felt a stab of fear and an even more painful stab of hope. Out! Was it even possible?

“But how can you?” she whispered.

“There’s a spell for it,” he said grimly. “Only the King can work it. He has to be able to take his wife with him if there’s a disaster.”

Kate felt dizzy. “But the King’s Wife—”

“Is supposed to have a King!” he snarled. “A husband and a son. Not a living corpse, and that’s what I’ll be, and I’ll be one for a long time. Do you think I want you chained down here just to watch at my bedside? Do you think I brought you underground for this?!”

“But I want to stay with you,” she faltered, and when she said it, she knew it was the truth. Marak knew it, too. He stopped walking, stunned.

“It’s all right, Kate,” he said quietly, squeezing her hand. “I won’t even be here.”

Once in the workroom, he went into a frenzy, scrabbling through books and tossing them to the floor. “Here it is!” he cried at last. “Kate, quick, help me. I need some kind of liquid—the red bottle over there will do.” She fetched it. “And my paintbrushes are in the little bottom drawer on the right.” She retrieved a paintbrush. “Now we need the erasing part. Bring me the powdered lead.”

“I can’t reach it,” said Kate, looking up at the shelf. “Can you get it for me?” And then, when there was no step to her side, “Marak, can you get it?”

The goblin King pitched forward on his face over the spell book. Kate caught him as he collapsed onto the floor. His eyes were still open, but they were glassy. She tried to jump up to get help, but his hand gripped hers, and his gaze found her face.

“Don’t go,” he whispered, staring at her. “If you go, I go.” She stared back, stricken. “I have to fight him,” he muttered. “For my wife and son.”

“We don’t have a son,” whispered Kate.

“We would have.” He smirked. “A great one.” He started to relax, and his hand loosened its grip. Then he struggled back. “What a son,” he whispered. She wasn’t sure he could see her anymore.

“Kate!” he hissed. “Kate!”

“What is it?” she asked, bending close. He stared about, looking for her, and slowly focused on her again.

“No King ever had such a wife,” he whispered. He began to go limp. “My wife and son,” he murmured. “My wife and son.” His eyes closed. Kate waited a long moment, then two, then three, but he didn’t move. Marak had joined the sleepers.

Kate laid him down carefully and climbed to her feet, shaking all over. As she turned to get help, she saw the book still open to the spell that would have freed her. Only the King could work it, and the King was gone. She looked down at the scars in her hands.

A long life, they told her. A long life alone in the dark.

Chapter 12

Kate sat by Marak’s pallet in the banquet hall, oblivious to everything around her. She didn’t cry, and she didn’t move. She stared at the inhuman monster who had teased her, worked magic on her, and dragged her down into this place for the sake of an entire race of monsters. Well, she thought grimly, looking at the slight frown on his still face, he wouldn’t ever laugh at her again. And if he didn’t, Kate didn’t think she would be able to bear it.

She saw clearly what he had refused to tell the others, that he didn’t think the goblins could save themselves without him. The sorcerer would come back, and he would enslave the rest. Seylin would be occupied with the Kingdom Spells, and no one else had the magic to stand against the sorcerer. One by one the goblins would fall asleep until there was no one left but her and the dwarves. Marak would eventually die, and the goblins’ magic would be lost forever.

Kate had never really wanted that son he had longed for. She hadn’t wanted to cry over a goblin baby and its awful deformities. But now she would be thrilled to know she was going to have a hideous goblin baby. He would be the hope of his people, and he would be Marak’s son and hers. She smiled in bitter amazement at her own stupidity. How had she ever thought she could cry at the sight of Marak’s son?

Night came, and the lights flickered out. Kate’s dwarf made diamond bracelet flared to brightness. In its magical light, Marak looked as if he were already dead. Kate couldn’t stand it any longer. We don’t have a King or an Heir to save us, she concluded firmly, but I’m not going to spend the rest of my life down here feeding potions to a sleeping husband. If he can fight for his wife and son, then I can fight for my husband. That sorcerer’s outside in the world I know. I’m not afraid of monsters, I’m not afraid of magic, and I’m certainly not afraid of him.

She got up and went to find Agatha.

“Kate,” called a voice behind her, and she turned to see Emily with a lantern in her hand and a goblin baby in each arm.

“Em, what are you doing here?” Kate asked.

“The pages volunteered to watch the children whose parents are asleep,” said Emily. “I have six babies up in my room right now. But Mongrel and Lash wanted to kiss their mommies and daddies good night, didn’t they?” she baby-talked to the little goblins. “Actually Mongrel gave his mother more of a lick,” she confided. The fuzzy, floppy-eared goblin looked up at Emily with his big brown eyes and gave her a swipe on the cheek. “That’s my boy.” She smiled down at him. “Aren’t they the cutest things?”

“Yes,” murmured Kate, ruffling Lash’s feathers. “Em,” she said, hesitating, “I don’t know—nothing may happen, but I may—”

“You’re going to go bring them back, aren’t you?” said Emily.

“How did you know?” gasped Kate.

“I already told all the pages you would,” she said. “You’ve never been afraid of anything. Besides, you already know your way around Liverpool; you were there once for three days.”

“But, Em!” spluttered Kate. “It’s hardly that simple!”

“I never said it was,” replied Emily carelessly, “but I know you can do it. Good luck.” She kissed Kate on the cheek, and Mongrel stretched up to give her a damp swipe on the chin. “Bring me back a box of that almond brittle like you did last time. Now, let’s go find Lash’s mommy.” And Emily walked off, leaving Kate to stare after her in stunned disbelief.

Agatha was bustling about the darkened banquet hall with a pot of Marak’s concoction in one hand and a lantern in the other. Her wrinkled old face was wet with tears.

“Agatha,” Kate said urgently, “I have to talk to you.” The dwarf woman motioned her to sit down on a pallet.

“Old Mandrake won’t mind,” she sighed.

“I must go after the sorcerer,” Kate explained. “No one else can. I know that world, it’s my world, and I can travel in the daylight. I’m well protected, too. Marak said once that I was better protected by my charm than he was by his magic.”

Agatha stirred the concoction for a minute while she considered this plan. “You’re right, my lady,” she said. “You’re the best one to go. You’ve a powerful lot of magic in you, as I should know better than most. You used it on me once to get away, and oh! was Marak mad at me!”

Kate remembered the meeting in the forest when the old dwarf had glued her feet to the ground. “I didn’t use magic at all,” she protested. “You just gave us a sporting chance.”

“Be sporting to the King’s Bride!” Agatha chuckled. “You know better than that. There’s nothing sporting about it, dear, nothing at all. No, you worked a fine persuasion spell on me, and being mostly dwarf, I fell for it right away.” She sighed again. “The King always used to do it, too, when he wanted to get out of his lessons. No, you’re right, you must go, dear. What a day it will be when the elves save the goblins after all!”

“But I can’t get past the door,” Kate pointed out. Agatha turned to look at her, black eyes thoughtful.

“You’ll have to talk to the snake,” she decided.

“What snake?”

“That one, dear,” said Agatha, pointing to the golden coils above her neckline.

“Oh!” said Kate, dumbfounded. “It can talk?”

“Yes, but not many know it. It only talks to the King ceremonially, but sometimes a King’s Wife comes along that it’ll talk to. I don’t even know if the Kings know.”

“Marak never mentioned it,” murmured Kate, “but then, he only brought it up to tease me because he knew how much I hated it. How do you know, Agatha?”

To her surprise, the little woman began to chuckle. She rocked back and forth in quiet mirth. “Oh, because of the King’s mother, Adele. She got in more trouble! If you told her she should try flying, she’d have jumped out a window just to see. She wore that poor thing out. And they talked. I used to hear them sometimes when I was looking after the baby. It’s terribly old, that snake, and it’s seen everything. If anyone can get you out and save the King, it’ll be the snake.”

“But how do I talk to it?” asked Kate, nonplussed. “It’s been nothing but paint for the last year and a half.”

“I don’t know,” said Agatha slowly. “The only time I know it wakes up is when you’re in real, right-now danger. If you do something dangerous, that’ll wake it up.”

“But then it’ll bite me,” Kate pointed out in alarm.

Agatha sighed. She picked up her spoon and stirred the pot again. “I don’t know, dear,” she admitted finally. “It’s your snake.”

Kate thought about this. “All right,” she said gloomily. “I’m off to stab myself. If it bites me, you can put me down here next to Marak and feed us both that nasty concoction until the King wakes up and renders judgment. Which he may never do, but I don’t think I have much of a choice.”

“Good luck, my pretty lady,” said Agatha, patting her on the hand, and she went back to her work as Kate stalked out of the hall.

A few minutes later, Kate sat at her dressing table, staring at herself by the light of her bracelet. She had taken a small knife out of Marak’s workroom, and she looked at it nervously. How much danger was enough? What if the snake bit her? Would she sleep, too, or would she still be awake even though she was paralyzed? Kate shuddered. Best get on with it before I lose my nerve, she thought. She lifted the knife and moved it slowly toward her chest.

Kate heard a metallic zing, and the head of the golden snake reared up before her face. She dropped the knife, staring into those golden eyes.

“Don’t bite me, don’t bite me!” she begged.

The snake studied her face, weaving back and forth. It flicked its golden tongue out as it gazed regally at her.

“What are you doing, King’s Wife?” it hissed softly. “I have guarded one hundred and sixty-seven King’s Wives before you. You are the one hundred and sixty-eighth. Fifty-four King’s Wives have tried to kill themselves. You are the fifty-fifth.”