Turning Wind

CHAPTER 11

At dinner the weather changed dramatically. Before the first course was served, a sudden wind blew up and within half an hour the evening sunlight, which had spread across the sky like molten gold, was enshrouded in black clouds that twisted themselves into angry, contorting shapes and gradually blotted out the light. In cottages and mansions across the Island, doors and shutters slammed and banged in the wind and curtains and tapestries were whipped and buffeted. In the Great Hall of the Palace, where the Royal Household and its guests had gathered to eat, lamps and fires were hurriedly lit while the Bellmaster stood by a window, soberly contemplating the changing skies.

‘Something’s amiss,’ he muttered grimly; ‘something’s happening; I can feel it in my bones!’

Queen Banqua’s gaze darted across the table: ‘Surely Bellmaster, it’s only a storm brewing,’ she said; ‘We are used to storms brewing up in this part of the world.’

‘Of course, Ma’am,’ the Bellmaster replied patiently; ‘but not one like this!’

‘A storm is a storm,’ the Queen insisted: ‘a lot of wind and rain and a lot of bother. But we’re quite safe in the Palace.’

But the Bellmaster was not reassured. He stood and bowed briefly to the royal table and dismissed himself. Barney and Kirlmann, seeing him leave, excused themselves too, and followed him through the door.

Angelina watched them leave, her face crumpled with concern. She sprang to her feet, walked around to her parents and kissed them each on the cheek.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but I’ll have to go too.’

‘You’ll do no such thing,’ the Queen insisted.

‘Your mother’s right: stay here with us,’ Gunness agreed. But Angelina had left the great hall and was following the Bellmaster.

Banqua stood and made to follow her, but Gunness held out a restraining hand.
‘I think,’ he said, ‘that it’s time to let Angelina make her own decisions.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean events are overtaking us and Angelina is caught up in them, for good or ill’

‘That’s nonsense,’ insisted the Queen.

‘I’ve a feeling that, by tomorrow you will see things very differently.’

‘And I’m afraid,’ the Queen persisted ruefully, ‘that, by tomorrow, when this storm has blown over, we’ll all be feeling a little foolish.’

‘I hope you are right,’ said Gunness. ‘But what if you are wrong, and we have stood in the way of the very people who want to help us!’

I don’t know what to believe,’ Bianqua said, ‘except that I’m very suspicious of messengers of gloom and doom.’

‘There’s no harm in being suspicious,’ Gunness agreed, ‘but we are not dealing with cranks and tricksters, these are honest people – and they include the Bellmaster and our own daughter. Now let’s finish our meal together; it may be the last that we share for some time.’

Barney, Kirlmann and Angelina soon caught up with the Bellmaster. ‘What’s wrong with the storm?’

Barney asked breathlessly, as he came up behind him.

‘Its just not natural, Barney.’

‘Just what I thought’’ the Beachcomber agreed enthusiastically. ‘It’s not natural for a storm to blow in on a fair weather wind.’

‘What’s a fair weather wind?’ Barney asked.

‘Exactly what we’ve had today, Barney,’ the Bellmaster replied. ‘It should set us well for a spell of warm and balmy weather. Kirlmann’s right. I’ve had a bad feeling working up inside me all evening.’

‘Well why didn’t you explain about this fair weather wind to my mother?’ Angelina demanded.

The Bellmaster turned to the Princess and saw loyalty and frustration in her eyes. He put a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes.

‘Princess,’’ he said patiently, ‘I know your mother and I respect her greatly. But she is a proud and frightened woman. And in her pride ‑ and her fear ‑ she doesn’t want to believe us. But she will, Princess; she will. Now hurry; we have no more time to talk on the corridor than we had to discuss the weather with your mother. I must go and consult the Crystal Sphere again, though I’m afraid we may be too late!’

He released his hold on Angelina and continued on his hurried way, with the others in close pursuit.

‘Just what is the crystal sphere?’ Barney asked.

‘Hanged if I know, ‘ Kirlmann replied, as he strode along beside, him; ‘A sphere made of crystal, I suppose.’

Along corridors and up stairways they went, through doorways and hallways. Outside, the buffeting wind grew stronger and by the time they arrived at the Bellmaster’s apartment, it was blowing a persistent howl. The Bellmaster hurried across to the bookshelves on the far side of his study. He removed a large volume from one of the shelves, put a hand into the space and …
The others watched as a whole panel of the bookcase swing open to reveal the entrance to a hidden room.

‘God’s elbow!’ the Beachcomber cursed; ‘The place is like a rabbit warren!’
The Bellmaster led them into the room: it was small, and most of its space was taken up by a large, round, convex mirror, beaten from a sheet of bronze, which was supported, like a table, on four study, wooden legs. Suspended above the bronze mirror was a huge crystal, as big as a football. Its many facets reflected a thousand fold the pale light that filtered in through the doorway.

‘Well, there’s your crystal sphere,’ Angelina observed.

There was something else in the room: on a ledge, in a recess in the wall was the Portal Generator.

‘Zedd and his Beasts will never find it in here,’ the Bellmaster remarked as he squeezed by.

On the floor beside the bronze mirror there was a ­cushion. The Bellmaster knelt down on it, lifted his eyes to the sphere and stretched out his arms over the great dish of the mirror. His companions looked on, spellbound. As the Bellmaster focused his thoughts onto the sphere, it gradually began to glow with a milky, incandescence. The light grew downwards until it spread in a shimmering sheen across the bronze mirror. Then the Bellmaster lowered his gaze and peered over the edge of mirror, closely inspecting the milky light.

‘Nothing,’ he said; ‘But there’s something powerful going on; I must concentrate a little harder!’ He gazed deeply into the light, his forehead creased with the effort of concentration. Slowly, the milky blankness began to give way to a series of faint images which came together to show a gaunt, lightning-crowned edifice on a bleak mountain peak. The onlookers gasped in amazement.

‘What is it?’ asked Barney.

‘The Fortress of Roth, breathed Kirlmann. ‘Incredible!’

‘What are those things swarming around the turrets?’ Barney asked. The others peered closer.

‘They look like huge flies,’ Angelina remarked.

The Bellmaster’s jaw gaped open: ‘Impossible; impossible,’ he groaned. For, as the image grew clearer and larger, they could see, swarming around the turrets of Roth, were hosts of hideous, winged creatures: bat‑like, cat‑like, rat‑like, dragon-like; and at the head of the swarm, mounted on a horned bat­-creature, was a man in a cloak, whose long hair and beard blew wildly about his head, and whose eyes flashed spiteful and venomous in the lightning glare.

‘Bloody hell,’ Barney swore softly under his breath. Angelina uttered a gasp and clasped Barney’s arm. Barney hardly noticed.

‘Zedd the Mystic and the Beasts of Roth.’ the Bellmaster’s voice sounded like the low moaning of the wind. ‘They’ve not ventured from the Fortress since they felt the power of the Bell. What’s he planning? Show me!’ he yelled, slamming his fists down on the rim of the mirror. The bronze dish rang a deep‑throated groan; the milky light wavered and trembled and the image that it held swirled out of shape then reformed to show a giant whirlwind ploughing purposefully across the ocean: a black spiral, snaking upwards into the dark clouds, lightning dancing terrifyingly about its crown.

‘What on earth is that?’ asked Angelina.

‘A tornado!’ cried Barney.

‘By the Ancient of Ancients!’ Kirlmann exclaimed. ‘It’s a torquewind, right enough, but like none I’ve ever seen!’

‘A torquewind it is,’ the Bellmaster agreed, ‘but not by the Ancient of Ancients! This is the work of the fiend that we saw riding the bat‑beast. This is the work of Zedd the Mystic. He’s set the elements against the Bell. If it is lost to the torquewind then Fa’Lacree will be lost to the Beasts of Roth; and with it the Rule of Seth and the prosperity and peace of the Eastern Kingdom!’

‘What can we do?’ the Princess asked.

‘Well I must go straight to the Bellspire and remove the Bell to a place of safety until the torquewind has passed over,’ the Bellmaster said, standing, an turning towards the door.

‘I’ll come and help you,’ said the Beachcomber.

‘No, man, this is a job that I must do on my own. I have ropes and windlasses up there. Besides, it’s dangerous work: I fear the torquewind is nearly on us. Now listen quickly to what you must do: ­
‘Kirlmann; you must take Barney and go around the quaysides and wharfs. Go to every vessel and boathouse; every inn and lodging and lead as many seafaring folk and their families as possible back to the palace.

‘Princess, you must go straight back to your parents and direct them to organise the Lords Merchant and the traders and craftsmen of Seth Haven. They must all collect behind the walls of the Palace Courtyard. If the worst does happen, and the Bell is snatched, then you must try to lead as many souls as possible to the safety of the cavern under the High Place.

‘There is only one way, to my reckoning, that Zedd can totally silence the Bell. You, Barney, with your silver ear, will be able to follow it when the time comes. Others must follow you and listen to your directions… If the worst happens ‑ and I feel that it will.

‘Now I must go to do what has to be done!’

And so saying, the Bellmaster was away; out through the door in the bookcase, and into the Bellchamber and then out through the doorway that led directly to the Bellspire.

The others followed. As they walked out from the secret room, the door slid mysteriously shut behind them.

Barney was worried. ‘Will anyone listen?’ he asked.

‘With the Bell snatched from over their heads, they’ll listen,’ Angelina replied, ‘Now let's hurry!’