“We apologize, Your Majesty,” the children murmured. “Please continue.”
Peg cleared her throat. “As you know, I’m working on a plan to get us all out of here. But you all have to do exactly as I say. An army of ravens will be coming soon to break open all of your locks—that’s what the slug lard was for. When they arrive, you must not be afraid. Simply stick your shackled legs out of the water, and they will free you.”
“What about the snake monsters?” a girl named Brag called out. “They’ll gobble us up if we try to escape!”
“No they won’t, dummy!” another voice said. “Peter Nimble, the true prince, has a plan to stop them!” Peg looked through the crowd to see who had spoken up for her brother. It was Scrape.
“He’s right,” she said, her cheeks flushing. “For now we just have to stay calm. I promise help is on the—”
“Hoy!” a voice snarled behind her. “What’s all this then?!” It was Maul, who had come to see why the machine had stopped turning. He cracked his whip, and a dozen more apes appeared beside him. “I warned you maggots what’d happen if you quit workin’!”
Despite being all the way on the other side of the cavern, the children were still frightened; as they crowded backward, each step turned their cages—and the drill—a bit more.
“Don’t move!” Peg said. “Stand your ground! You must be brave!”
Maul saw her and grinned. “Well, if it ain’t the ‘princess.’ ” As you may know, apes are great branch-swingers, used to covering tremendous distances without ever setting foot on the ground—a skill Maul demonstrated as he sprung from the top of the stairs, grabbed hold of one stalactite, then another, and dropped with a crash to Peg’s side. Before the girl could react, he had snatched her by the neck. “King’ll have me promoted for sure if I bring him your filthy hide.” He licked his dripping tusk, grinning at the thought of delivering her still-warm head to Incarnadine. “Come to think of it, if I bring you in dead, he’ll thank me even more.”
Peg struggled to pry his claws from her windpipe, but he only squeezed tighter, crushing the life from her. She felt a thunderous pounding in her skull, and it seemed as if the torches were all being snuffed out one by one. Shadows swirled and darted around her—she was losing consciousness. The princess dropped her head, and everything went black.
The next thing Peg knew, she was up to her neck in salty water, gasping for breath. Pandemonium swirled around her. Apes were splashing and shouting, swatting at the air. Tiny black clouds were swooping high and low. Maul was staggering blindly through the darkness, clutching his face. Peg shook her throbbing head, trying to follow what was happening. Those shadows. They somehow looked familiar. Suddenly, she realized what they were. “Simon!” she shouted, scrambling to her feet.
“Children first!” the raven commanded his brothers. “Titus! Keep the apes away from the machine!” Birds swarmed around the drill, diving into the cages. The slaves were ready and waiting with their shackled feet high in the air. The locks had been well oiled, and the birds’ beaks popped them open with little trouble.
“Bravo, Captain!” another voice cried. Peg looked up to see Sir Tode perched atop the drill, cheering the troops on. “Now, let’s show those apes what we’re made of!”
“Agreed, friend!” Simon circled around to rally his flock. “Brothers, attack!” Ravens swept through the air, talons flashing. The primates were ridiculously outnumbered. Within seconds, the Royal Guard were driving them aboveground.
“Grunts, retreat!” Maul commanded, lumbering for the tunnels. The apes barreled up the steps behind him, snapping their whips and clutching their bleeding humps. When the last one disappeared, the birds let out a raucous cry of victory. The children cheered with them, throwing their open shackles into the air.
This joyous revelry, however, was soon replaced with another mood—one of mortal terror. At first no one noticed that Maul had unleashed the sea serpents before escaping. But when the first shrieking monster leapt from the water, complete mayhem broke loose.
The vicious creatures were finally free . . . and they were hungry. They still had on their iron masks, which prevented them from seeing exactly where the children were, but they could smell fresh meat close by. The children scrambled up the side of the digging machine, trying desperately to keep clear of the twelve sets of glassy-toothed jaws.
The creatures thrashed through the water, swatting birds out of their way with their tails as they lunged for the children’s bare feet. Peg and her subjects scrambled atop the tallest gears of the machine, safe from the snapping jaws. “Hold tight,” she commanded. “So long as we’re up here, the serpents can’t reach us.”
One of the monsters jerked its head back, sniffing the air. It turned to the other serpents and shrieked in some devilish tongue. All at once, the twelve creatures clamped their mighty jaws around whatever clockwork they could reach and flailed wildly. Metal groaned as pistons were ripped from the machinery. One or two smaller children slipped from their perches, nearly falling into the water.
The princess clung to her trembling cog. “They’ll tear the machine right out of the wall!” she called to Simon. The ravens attacked again, but their talons were useless against the scaly hides. Peg watched in horror as the serpents snatched up whole mouthfuls of ravens and spit them into the water.
As she desperately tried to conceive of a plan, out of nowhere a new serpent burst from the water, knocking the others aside. The twelve monsters shrieked with fury and went after this new aggressor. They smashed through stalagmites and boulders trying to get him.
Peg watched, confused, as the thin creature wriggled this way and that, drawing his attackers away from the children. Could one of the creatures actually be protecting them? In the dim light, she caught a glimpse of what she thought was a pair of shiny, black eyes. “Peter?” she whispered.
A deep voice shook the cavern. “Slow down, mate! Don’t poach all the fun!” With that, an even bigger fish—one with floppy ears and a wagging tail—broke to the surface. “Leave some for Good Ol’ Frederick!”
Children and ravens alike watched in awe as the enormous dogfish swished into action. The serpents flailed and snapped and spit as Frederick took their leashes in his mouth and throttled them against the walls. His teeth were not sharp, but his strength was immense, and the slithery creatures found themselves completely powerless against the broadside of his tail.
“Heads up, mates!” He snagged one of the wriggling serpents in his jaw and flung it clean across the cavern. The shrieking monster smashed into what was left of the digging machine, shattering it into a hundred pieces.
A deep rumbling shook the mines.
“The ocean’s coming,” Peg screamed. “Everybody, hold your breath and—!” This was all she could manage before the drill fell away from the wall and water exploded into the cavern, sweeping up every child, bird, and fish in its wake.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THE GREAT FLOOD
In a matter of minutes, every fountain, faucet, and bath in the kingdom was overflowing with saltwater. Smaller fish from the sea were floating into homes and hallways, flopping about the stone floors, madly gasping for breath. Water flooded down every stairwell and gushed like a mighty waterfall over every palace wall, filling the great chasm and sweeping over the Just Deserts. The desert kingdom had been transformed back into an island surrounded by glittering blue oceans.
Incarnadine watched the transformation from the comfort of his dressing room balcony. He smiled with great relish. At last he had put an end to his sniveling little brother’s enchantment. His fleet of battleships—which only moments before had been suspended over an empty chasm—was now floating on the water, ready for war. A few hours earlier, he had spotted his airship touching down in the deserts. Any minute now, the vessel would return with a legion of thankful thieves, and his army would be complete. He wound the key in his armor, and the gears lining his body tightened, ready to spring. Beneath his breastp
late was a cunning science that had felled a kingdom. The first of many. “Soon every corner of the map will learn to fear my name,” he said, gazing out at the water.
Two doors burst open on either side of him.
“Your Highness!” LongClaw said, running in from the east.
“Your Highness!” Maul said, running in from the west.
Incarnadine swung around, glaring at them both. He had a rule about being interrupted before breakfast. “Out with it,” he snapped.
LongClaw was the first to speak. “Sire, the airship, which I sent off without a hitch, failed to return this morning. I fear the thieves may have drowned in the great flood you so brilliantly wrought.” The ape had spent much of the night debating whether it was wise to inform his ruler of what had really happened to the vessel . . . and had decided it was not.
“Spilled milk, LongClaw.” The king waved his hand. “The flood was brilliant, though, wasn’t it?” He turned to Maul. “And you?”
“The ravens are attacking!” the second ape said. “They freed the slaves from the mines and are makin’ their way upground as we speak. P-p-please forgive me, Master!” He gave a feeble smile, hoping the king might extend to him the same grace he had shown LongClaw.
“Forgive you? Of course I forgive you.” Incarnadine raised his gauntlet as if to let the ape kiss it. “But just this once.” He flexed his pinkie, and a spring-loaded blade shot out from his wrist, slicing right through Maul’s neck. The beast’s head landed on the floor with a thump. His body slumped beside it.
LongClaw congratulated himself for making the right decision. “What is your command, Sire?”
The king flicked the sticky ape-remains from his still-singing blade and jammed it back into the scabbard on his forearm. “What else? We assemble for war!” He threw his cape back, marching for the hallway. “Sound the alarm! Rally your horde! Bring all citizens to the Eating Hall at once! If it’s blood that brat wants, then blood she shall have!”
Ravens poured from every faucet in the palace. The gushing seawater had carried them up through the plumbing and into kitchens and washrooms. LongClaw stormed down the main corridor, a spear in each paw. “Storm the houses, don’t let any of ’em escape!” Behind him marched the rest of his horde, armed with nets and catapults.
Simon and his troops were fighting for their lives once more. Feathers and fur scattered in all directions as the battle spilled into the main palace. From the stairwell LongClaw bellowed orders to fire and reload the catapults. “Stay by the walls, grunts!” he roared. “Don’t let ’em catch you in the open!” Ravens swooped and dove, pecking at the beasts with desperate fury. But these apes were far stronger than the thieves of the desert—one swipe of their mighty claws could slice a bird clean in half.
The water in the streets turned red with the blood of battle. Bodies from both sides lay strewn throughout the palace. The ravens were exhausted; they had been fighting for days at the Nest, then battling sea serpents, then swept up in a great flood, and now were warring against savage apes. The apes, on the other hand, were rested and well armed, having not only shields for close combat but also clockwork weapons that could take the skies. Crossbows shot arrows clean though the birds’ wings. Giant catapults launched nets around them. Simon and his troops were trapped between hurtling weapons and slashing claws. What had once been an army of thousands was now only hundreds strong. And they were losing brothers every minute.
As you might imagine, monstrous sea creatures from the deep are far too large to fit through conventional plumbing. Thus, when the ocean broke through the wall, Peter, Frederick, and the twelve angry sea serpents were all swept straight into what used to be the great chasm, which had since transformed into a vast ocean. In these open waters, the sea serpents proved much better fighters. Suddenly, Peter and Good Ol’ Frederick no longer enjoyed the advantage that the shallow moat had afforded them. The shrieking creatures whipped through the currents, creating enormous waves that sent Peter crashing against the palace walls. They snapped at Frederick, ripping hunks of flesh from his side and tail. To make matters worse, the king’s warships joined the fight, firing cannonballs and harpoons into the foaming sea.
“I’m no jellyfish, but this is gettin’ pretty scaly, mate!” Frederick hollered to Peter as he fought off a pair of gnashing serpents. “I know a couple of shellbacks ’round these waters. This sort of thing’s right up their gully. Mind if I give ’em a shout?”
“BE MY GUEST!” Peter shrieked, twisting free from a barbed fishnet.
Good Ol’ Frederick dove deep into the ocean and loosed a mighty fish call. The entire sea trembled at the power of his voice. He returned a moment later. “That oughtta even things up a bit! Now, if we can just keep alive till they get here!”
Peter and Frederick decided to change their tactic from head-on combat to swimming-for-dear-life. At last they heard a deep rumble from the depths below. “That’s them now, mate!” Frederick said. “We best keep to the shore!” The ocean erupted as six giant sea turtles burst to the surface, sending water churning for miles in every direction. Each was big as an island and twice as old. Their craggy flippers were lined on both sides with black tusks. Their shielded backs were covered in battle paint and primordial moss. The bale loosed a mighty war cry and attacked without mercy. They swung their limbs, shattering the warships. They tore at the serpents with their beaks.
“Careful you don’t nip this little guy, mates!” Frederick placed a protective fin over Peter. “He’s on our side!”
The sea battle had a rather swift conclusion, which ended in the twelve sea serpents being reduced to a few dozen wriggling pieces, drifting down to the sea floor. “They’ll be back someday,” Frederick said, watching the last flailing serpent tail disappear below the surface. “But no worries. It won’t be in your lifetime.”
While ravens and apes were busy battling in the halls, the children found themselves awash in the palace sewer system. The exhausted, newly freed slaves tumbled up through channels and shafts, finally spilling out of the gargoyles’ open mouths. They landed in a huge pile in the middle of the Eating Hall, dazed and drenched.
Peg and Sir Tode were among the last to emerge. They slid down the sputtering mound of children and then splashed to the floor. Peter’s burgle-sack came bouncing after them and knocked the princess in the back of her head. As she stumbled to her feet, rubbing her head and draining her ears, she heard shouts from the hallway.
“Citizens! Follow me!” It was the king. And he was not alone.
Peg turned and began calling to the children. “Everyone, listen! There’s something I must tell you about the grown-ups. The king has drugged—!”
Her words were drowned out as hundreds of adults stampeded into the Eating Hall, spears high in the air. Incarnadine led the charge, his spurs clanking against the wet floor. “Kill the monsters!” he shouted, racing toward his niece.
“KILL THE MONSTERS!” the adults echoed, racing toward their children.
The children struggled to extricate themselves from the pile before the grown-ups could trample them. Lillian pulled Timothy and a few others close, trying to shield them from the onslaught of crazed parents.
“Ignore their cries!” the king said over the din. “Kill them all!” He continued toward Peg, shoving aside anyone in his way. The princess tried to run in the opposite direction, but her uncle was too fast. “Get back here, brat!” He seized her by the arm.
The girl twisted against his iron grip, grabbing hold of the burgle-sack with her free hand. “Sir Tode!” she cried. “Get the eyes to sea!” She lobbed the bag over her head—it soared in a high arc and landed with a splash at his hooves.
“Grab that bag!” the king ordered. He had no idea what it was, but judging from the princess’s desperation, it probably contained a secret weapon. A dozen adults obediently lunged for it, very nearly crushing Sir Tode beneath their shields.
The knight wriggled free with the fishhook in his teeth. “En garde!?
?? he cried and swiped with all his might. Adults around him howled and collapsed, clutching their nicked shins. Sir Tode looped the burgle-sack around his neck. “I shall return, Your Majesty!” He galloped past his attackers and disappeared down the main corridor.
When Sir Tode promised the princess that he would return, it was with some vague idea that he might be able to find reinforcements. As soon as he reached the outer palace, however, he realized how impossible that would be. In the minutes since he had parted ways with the ravens, their predicament had turned dire.
It seemed that no matter where the birds flew there was a javelin or mace waiting to meet them. Unlike the thieves, the apes did not waste time with clipping. Instead, they gorged themselves, ripping the ravens to pieces with their greedy mouths. Though Simon and his troops fought bravely, they were no match for the vicious Night Patrol.
Sir Tode raced through the carnage in search of Peter . . . but he was nowhere to be found. In fact, he couldn’t recall having seen the boy since parting ways the night before. He assumed Peg knew her brother’s whereabouts. She had shouted something to him about getting the eyes “to see.” But what on earth did that mean?
His thoughts were interrupted by a hungry snarl. “Dibs on the cat!” Sir Tode clambered backward as an ape broke from the pack and chased after him. “Here, kitty, kitty!” it said, already drooling at the prospect of knight tartare.
A dozen ravens seized the opportunity and swooped down on the beast, pecking and scratching at its exposed hump with terrific fury. The ape crashed to the ground with such force that Sir Tode flew backward, tripping over himself and spilling the contents of the burgle-sack everywhere.
“Sir Tode!” a voice squawked. “You are not safe here!” The knight looked up to see Simon—bloody, but very much alive. “We cannot fight like this much longer! Where is Her Majesty’s army?”
“I’m afraid they’re . . . busy,” Sir Tode said, remembering the terrified screams of the slave children as they ran from their crazed parents. “It would appear that both sets of reinforcements are in need of reinforcements.” He jumped to his hooves and set to collecting Peter’s things, which were scattered across the floor.