The Stones of Ravenglass by Nimmo Jenny

Author:Nimmo, Jenny [Nimmo, Jenny]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781780311869
Publisher: Egmont UK
Published: 2012-03-26T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Spirit Ancestors

The night was crisp and cold. A pale blanket of frost covered the trees and fields. Rivers and streams sparkled like melting silver. Timoken breathed deeply, inhaling the pure air of freedom. Sometimes, when he and Gabar were alone in the sky, he longed to stay in the air forever.

At last they came within sight of the town. Timoken told his camel to land on the battlements of the nearest of the castle’s eight towers.

‘I’d prefer grass,’ said the camel. ‘Why the roof?’

‘Because it’s where we need to be,’ Timoken told him.

They flew on until they were above the castle. To Timoken’s dismay, there was a guard on the battlement of every tower.

‘Now what?’ snorted Gabar, rather too loudly.

The guard on the nearest tower looked up, lifting his spear.

There was nothing for it. Timoken instructed Gabar to fly above the tower and drop on to the roof.

‘Not wise,’ grunted the camel. ‘Soldier.’

‘We’ll have to make the best of it. Hurry up. We want to surprise him.’

Obediently, the camel plummeted like a stone, or perhaps a very large rock, down on to the tower.

The soldier gasped. He dropped his spear and his lantern. ‘Monster!’ he murmured, and fainted clean away, which was exactly what Timoken had hoped for. Quickly, he bound the man’s arms and legs with a few thin cords from his baskets. He hesitated before making his next move and then, having made up his mind, he tore a strip from the hem of the soldier’s tunic and, removing the man’s helmet, tied the cloth tightly round his head and over his mouth.

This gave Timoken an idea. He pulled off the soldier’s chain-mail shirt, and placed it in a corner with the helmet and the spear.

‘Is this what we came for?’ asked Gabar.

‘No,’ said Timoken. ‘It’s extra.’

The camel yawned. ‘I hope the rest won’t take too long.’

‘So do I.’ Timoken looked around him at the high walls of the battlements. There were deep openings at intervals all along the wall. Embrasures, as they were called.

Archers would loose their arrows from the embrasures, then dart behind a section of the wall before the enemy could hit them.

Timoken climbed into an opening and reached up. He could just touch the top of the wall. Running his fingers along the base of the highest block of stone, he felt the line of mortar that bonded it to the block below. Closing his eyes, he dug gently into the mortar. It moved beneath his fingers and he began to chant in the language of his homeland. The mortar turned to dust and trickled on to the roof. Timoken was so pleased, his chanting became a song.

The block wobbled. Timoken pushed and the great stone crashed on to the paved roof. Congratulating himself, Timoken set to work again. He paid no attention to the drum-beats filling the air. He thought the sounds were in his head. Behind him, Gabar made an odd, strangled sound, but Timoken took no notice. He carried on, pushing and singing, until at least a dozen red sandstone blocks lay scattered over the battlements.

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