Chapter 23: Gifted
****
Clarkent felt strangely detached from his body as put Esroh Repus back into his stall. His horrible fight with Gawain was all he could think about.
How could he have been so cruel to the younger boy? If Gawain had no desire to swim--whether due to fear or inability or lack of interest--Clarkent shouldn’t have pushed . . . and he certainly shouldn’t have brought up Gawain’s parents. He’d known for a long time *that* was a sensitive subject.
“You seem troubled, Clarkent,” commented Dwayne.
Clarkent looked at the Stable Master sadly. “I guess that’s because I am.”
“Want to talk about what happened?”
Clarkent’s fingers twitched at his side. “I got in a fight with Gawain. I . . . I pushed. And I said some things I shouldn’t have.”
Dwayne gave him a small smile. “One fight will not end a friendship.”
“I don’t know,” Clarkent said in a soft voice. “This one was really bad.” He clenched his eyes shut. He wished he could go find Gawain to apologize--but he never could find him even when he tried.
****
After Loisette returned Agides to the stable, she went into the castle, spun out of her Gawain clothes, and then went into her room. Mishal was there and immediately started talking about what wondrous thing Arneld had done that day, but Loisette just climbed into her bed and hid her face in her pillow. She tried to hold back the tears, but a few leaked out to make dark spots on her pillow.
She couldn’t believe what had just happened. She had been trying to avoid swimming and seeing Clarkent like . . . like *that*, and then he had said she was scared and had brought up her parents, and it had all been one giant explosion.
She envied what Clarkent had--it was true. He had two loving parents who would have obviously traveled hundreds of thousands of miles for him if he needed them to. They would have given their lives for him . . . would have done anything to make sure he was happy. It hadn’t taken long for her to realize that about them.
She could barely remember her mother. Maybe her mother would have been just as wonderful as Marta, but all Loisette had of her was a fragmented memory of her laughing . . . and the stories told about her by others. Her mother was like a ghost constantly hovering at the edge of her consciousness--but one she could never completely see, much less touch.
While her father had been alive, he had been too caught up with that ghost to give Loisette the love she needed. Catherine had left her, too, and now Loisette had ruined one of her last close relationships. She lifted her pillow to look up at Mishal, who seemed to have finally caught on that something was wrong.
“Are you all right, Your Highness?” the lady-in-waiting asked.
Loisette slowly sat up and put her feet on the floor. “I need to--to go do something.”
She had to try to make it right.
****
When Gawain walked into the stable, Clarkent dropped the hoof pick he’d been rather ineffectually using, and he took a step. “Gawain--”
“Clarkent,” Gawain said, taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”
“No, *I’m* sorry,” Clarkent replied, moving out of the stall and toward his friend. “I was in the wrong. I shouldn’t have tried to make you swim or said that about your parents--”
“It’s all right,” Gawain said with a small smile. “It was a . . . stupid fight.”
Clarkent felt so relieved he could have hugged Gawain--but he refrained and asked instead, almost shyly, “Friends again?”
Gawain grinned and nodded. “Friends!”
And then Gawain hugged *him*.
****
A few weeks later, Clarkent and Gawain’s friendship was firmly reestablished. Nevertheless, Clarkent found himself feeling glum, though it had nothing to do with Gawain.
Peri noticed his mood and commented on it: “Is there something on your mind, Clarkent? You look a little down.”
Clarkent’s cheeks felt a little warm. “Is it . . . is it true that the princess’s seventeenth birthday is in a few months?” He’d heard rumors . . . .
Peri smiled and dipped his head. “It is. And then she will be made queen. I have been waiting for this day--the Regent’s reign has been too long as it is. They are planning a ball for the princess’s birthday. It’s supposed to be extravagant.”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard,” Clarkent said in a small voice.
The magician frowned at him. “You’re not depressed that she’s going to become queen, are you?”
“No!” Clarkent said adamantly. “I just . . . I just want to get her something for her birthday, but I don’t know what.”
Peri shook his head, looking a little bit irked. “You don’t know what sadness is if you think that’s it. Why, the King was killed by one of his loyal followers,” he said, referring as to the man from the Barbarian Kingdom whom he liked to talk about, “who married his wife and took his throne. When *you* have to make the decision to send away your--well, when you’re in a situation like that, maybe you’ll know true sadness.”
Clarkent cowered a little, feeling guilty yet also a little curious. What had Peri been about to say?
“At least you can *do* something, son,” Peri pointed out.
“What can I do?” Clarkent asked him, holding his hands up in the air in frustration. “I don’t have enough money to buy her anything. My parents insist I keep some of my wages, but I refuse to hold on to anything beyond that--”
“You could save up a little money by doing odd jobs,” suggested Peri.
Clarkent’s face fell. “I don’t really have much time for that . . . . ” Not if he wanted to be the Black Knight, too.
The magician softened. “You’re right, Clarkent. I’m sorry. I’m just . . . a little nervous about something. The winds of change are blowing. I’ve tried using divination spells, and it’s been draining my energy, but I haven’t been able to learn much about what is going to happen.”
“What is . . . going to happen?” Clarkent echoed as apprehension flooded his mind.
“Never you mind that,” Peri told him, though he looked nervous. “What if I helped you out a little--I could pick out a book for you to give to the princess. I know she likes books.”
“Would you?” Clarkent asked hopefully. “I just--I just want to give her something, you know?”
Peri smiled. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” Clarkent told him. But he stared at the magician, a puzzled look on his face. What was Peri worrying about? What was going to happen?
****
True to his word, Peri gave Clarkent the book the next day. The stableboy took it gratefully. There was still a part of him that wanted to give her something grand--something she could truly be proud of--but he was simply glad that he would have *something* to give her. That would have to be good enough.
“Thank you, Peri,” he said softly.
The magician clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Anything to support young love.”
Clarkent’s cheeks were suddenly flaming hot, and he coughed, “I don’t *love*--”
But the magician was already walking away and laughing. Narrowing his eyes, Clarkent went back into the stable.
He softened as he stared down at the item in his hand. Looking at a few pages, he quickly determined that the book was written about Queen Laural, who was from the Barbarian Kingdom. He knew the subject was something the princess would probably enjoy--and that was likely why Peri had chosen it. The magician was smart.
As Clarkent looked at a few more pages, he noticed there was a strange word repeated in the book that began with “K,” though he wasn’t sure how to pronounce it. Still--all that mattered was that the princess would like it. He flipped to the end and saw a picture of a woman crying and waving goodbye to someone. He touched the picture with a gentle finger. <Why is she so sad?> he wondered. <Who is she saying goodbye to?>
The noise of footsteps reached his ears, and he looked up to see Gawain coming in to the stable. Clarkent quickly hid the book. He trusted his friend, but he wanted this present to be something between himself and the princess. Gawain would ask questions--and possibly even demand to read it.
He nodded at his friend in greeting, and Gawain came trotting over.
But even as he began to talk to Gawain, Clarkent found his mind kept drifting back to the book. Would it be a good enough present? Was it . . . special? Would she like it?
He just wasn’t sure.
****
A little over a month later, Loisette--as Gawain--decided to convince Clarkent to go with her to the ogre cave Penelope Grace had mentioned.
She had gotten the location from the reluctant horse, and she was excited at the thought of what might be there. But the tricky part was getting Clarkent to agree.
“So, I think we need to go on a small adventure,” she said casually.
Clarkent was grooming a horse, and he looked up sharply. “What?”
“It’s been a while since we’ve done anything fun. We should go and--”
“Go where?” he interrupted suspiciously.
“Oh, just an old ogre cave--”
“An ogre cave?” he exclaimed.
“Yeah, an ogre cave,” she confirmed. “But I don’t know if the ogres are still there,” she added hastily. “In fact, they probably won’t be.” In actuality, she had no idea whether they would be there or not. It had been a long time since Penelope Grace had been to the cave, so there was no way to know if they were still there. But Clarkent didn’t have to know that.
“But you don’t know that for sure,” he pointed out, his eyes narrowed.
“The cave is supposed to be *filled* with treasure,” she told him eagerly. Surely *that* had to interest him.
****
When Gawain said there would be treasure at the ogre cave, Clarkent’s interest was immediately piqued. Was this his chance to obtain a present for the princess? Something perfect? Something she could . . . well, treasure? The book made a nice backup gift, but it just didn’t say what he wanted it to. What exactly he *did* want his gift say, well, he wasn’t sure, but he knew that the book didn’t send the message he was hoping for.
“Filled with treasure,” he echoed thoughtfully. If he could find something in the cave for the princess . . . But a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Where did you hear about this cave?”
“You know how people talk,” Gawain said vaguely. “Come on, Clarkent, we have to go to this cave! Just think about what is inside it!”
A protest flew to Clarkent’s lips, but then he recalled the big fight between him and Gawain. He didn’t want to risk something like that happening again, and so he sighed and conceded, “All right. I’ll go.”
Gawain grinned. “Great! We’ll go tomorrow and take Agides and Esroh Repus!”
“Maybe we should just take Agides,” Clarkent said uneasily. “We shouldn’t endanger more horses than we have to.”
Gawain crossed his arms with a stubborn look. “We’ll need two horses if we’re going to go home with a lot of treasure.”
Again, Clarkent’s mind flicked to their spat, and again, he conceded, “All right.” He just hoped the ogres were long gone from the cave.
****
As they approached the cave on Agides and Esroh Repus, Loisette thought to herself how glad she was that they were going to the cave. Her birthday was in less than three weeks--and then she would have her coronation and become queen . . . and a lot of important duties would finally fall to her. She wouldn’t have much time for adventures, so it was important she have a few more before then. She wanted to have something she could look back on with fondness.
Clarkent suddenly asked, “Do ogres eat horses?”
Loisette frowned. “I . . . I guess they might. Maybe we should hide the horses?”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Clarkent said tightly. It was obvious he was nervous about what they were doing.
****
They hid the horses and then walked cautiously toward the cave. Clarkent was wishing he had at least brought his sword. They were going into an *ogre* *cave* without any weapons! Were they completely *insane*?
He swallowed. He knew why *he* was coming. He wanted a gift for the princess. But why was Gawain so focused on adventure? In some ways, the younger boy acted like he had been locked up all his life.
Gawain had had the presence of mind to bring torches, so they weren’t in complete darkness when they stepped into the cave. Gawain moved forward eagerly, and Clarkent hurried up and tugged on the younger boy’s sleeve, causing him to stop and turn.
“Gawain,” Clarkent said uneasily, “maybe we should go back.” Though he wanted to get something for the princess, it was stupid for them to put themselves at risk. They didn’t have any weapons. They wouldn’t be ready to face whatever was inside.
Gawain rolled his eyes. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. We just got here!” He started walking again.
Clarkent gasped as he saw something. “Gawain, I think those are bones . . . . ”
“We’re in an old ogre cave,” Gawain scoffed. “Of course there’ll be bones.” But Clarkent noticed Gawain didn’t exactly appear eager to look at them.
As they went deeper into the cave, Clarkent bit back his misgivings. They had come this far; they might as well continue. Just a little longer in the cave, and then they would find some treasure and leave, right?
But then a faint noise came to his ears, and he asked, “Do you hear that?”
Gawain nodded. “It sounds like . . . music.”
The music grew louder as they continued. Then, they turned a corner, and the torchlight made the chamber before them gleam. There was treasure everywhere.
Golden coins shone on the floor; gems were scattered everywhere; boxes filled with further opulence were pushed up against the wall. The room was a hoard of valuables. There was even a magical harp that played itself--it was apparently the source of the noise they had heard.
“Wow,” Gawain breathed.
“Yeah,” Clarkent seconded.
The room was spectacular. That much was clear.
Gawain rushed forward to the back side of the chamber where the harp was. Clarkent went up to a box near the front. He sifted through it, wide-eyed. He’d never seen this much wealth in one place before.
He moved on to the next chest, which was filled with jewelry. He thumbed through it in interest. A necklace would be perfect for the princess.
He pushed one aside as too large and gaudy. Another he moved to the side as being too tiny and unimpressive. And then suddenly, his hand stilled. He closed his fingers on a necklace and held it up next to his torch so he could see it better. It had a delicate golden chain that was pretty but not especially noteworthy. What had caught his eye was the necklace’s pendant.
A golden square was inlaid with a blood-red ruby, and on top of the gem was a magnificent flying horse. The creature’s wings were stretched out, its legs lifted in perpetual flight as its tail swayed in an invisible wind. As Clarkent stared down at it, he remembered how much the princess had wanted a pegasus. He could never give her a real pegasus--but he could give her this. This was perfect.
With a small smile to himself, he took the necklace and--after making sure Gawain wasn’t watching--put it in his pocket. He moved on to a different chest, looking more out of curiosity than desire.
A minute later, Gawain rushed over to him. “Clarkent! You have to see this! There’s this hen over there laying eggs that are--”
They both froze as they heard an approaching noise. Something was coming.
They glanced at each other and then dove behind a particularly large box of treasure.
As the sound of talking voices grew louder, a vile odor seeped into the chamber, and Clarkent and Gawain wrinkled their faces up in disgust. It smelled like rotten meat.
“One ring all we got!” a deep voice said in disappointment. There was a clanging noise as the owner of the voice threw something--presumably the aforementioned ring--on the ground.
“Got food,” a second voice mumbled. “That good.”
“Could have tasted better,” the first speaker said.
“No complain, fool,” a third voice growled, speaking with the authority of a leader. “We fill bellies. That good enough--” He cut off. “Nose smell something foul. There tasty nibblies in here?”
Clarkent and Gawain stared at each other, wide-eyed. What were they going to do?
“Oh, niiiibblies,” the third speaker continued. Suddenly, a massive form appeared in front of them. “Ha!”
“Run!” Gawain squeaked as he and Clarkent sprinted for the entrance.
But the other two ogres were ready for them, grasping them by the backs of their shirts.
“Let us go!” Gawain demanded, struggling to get free.
The three ogres were hideous. Their skin was gray-green, and their heads were hairless. Massive and misshapen teeth jutted out behind their lips, and their fingers were like dirty sausages. They wore clothes, but it hung off them in tatters.
“Me got yum-yums,” the second ogre said happily. He seemed to be the tallest and stupidest of the bunch. “Yum-yums!” He pressed his face up against Clarkent, who nearly gagged at the smell coming from the ogre’s mouth.
“Let us go, or you’ll be sorry!” Clarkent managed. He had tried to punch and kick the ogre holding him, but it was no use. Its hide was too thick.
“Me think nibblies want to play,” the leader said with a grin. “Me think we should let them.”
“Want food, not play,” the shortest ogre grumbled.
“Play!” insisted the leader. “Put down.”
Obediently, the other ogres dropped their human captives. Clarkent and Gawain would have raced to leave the chamber, but the two ogres blocked their exit with surprising speed.
“We each give riddle,” the leader told them. “Get riddles right, you leave. Get riddle wrong, tasty nibblies go in our bellies.”
Clarkent looked to Gawain, who gave a short nod. It wasn’t like they had a choice anyway. “All right,” Clarkent agreed. He was beginning to feel a sliver of hope--there was something by the wall that looked like it might be the hilt of a sword. If he could get to it without their noticing . . .
“I give first riddle,” the shortest ogre proclaimed. “My riddle: I have mouth but cannot eat. I always run, though I have no feet.”
Clarkent couldn’t help but exchange a look with Gawain. Maybe these ogres were smarter than they acted. They could certainly sound civilized if they tried. But Clarkent was terrible with riddles, and he gave Gawain a hopeful look.
“A river,” Gawain said at last. “A running river has a mouth, but it has no feet and can’t eat.”
“Good!” the leader said, sounding pleased. “Me riddle next.” He gave them a toothy grin.
“You can try to race against me
And may like me when I’m ripe.
Just make sure you never waste me--
Hands of mine aren’t easily wiped.
I can demolish a large town,
And you can try to bide or kill me.
Whenever I’m up, there’s someone down.
I will tell you all eventually.”
Clarkent inched closer to the sword, having barely listened to what the ogre said. If Gawain didn’t get this riddle . . .
“Time,” Gawain said proudly, moving the torch in his hand a little. “Our time isn’t up yet.” He gave a small smile, but his eyes flicked toward the entrance. Clarkent knew he was ready to run if there was an opening, but they needed a distraction to get the ogres to move.
“Me turn,” the dumbest ogre said. “Me riddle: You’ll never want to go into me, but when you do, you’ll no longer care.”
“That doesn’t rhyme,” Gawain mumbled.
The dumb ogre looked annoyed. “Me riddle good. You no get.”
Gawain exhaled heavily. “I don’t--I don’t know--”
“Grave!” the dumb ogre said triumphantly, leering in anticipation of sending the two boys to an early one.
Clarkent’s free hand struck in a flash, grabbing the sword and pulling it up. “Back away!” he yelled.
The ogres shifted nervously. They obviously hadn’t expected their prey to fight back.
Clarkent leapt at the dumb ogre with the intention to startle rather than harm, and he was rewarded when the ogre moved back several steps.
“Move, Gawain!” Clarkent commanded.
The younger boy ran through the opening, and Clarkent swung his sword in the air before following. The ogres came charging after him, but he flung the sword back at them with all of his might and was rewarded when one of them gave a howl. “Nibbly hurt!” the ogre said.
But Gawain and Clarkent were too busy running to look back. When they finally reached the cave entrance, they were huffing and puffing for air, and they threw their torches back into the cave and continued to rush away. They found their horses were they had left them and galloped away without looking back.
When at last they had put enough distance between them and the three ogres, they slowed their horses.
“We almost died,” Clarkent panted, his heart still racing a million miles a minute.
“I know,” Gawain said with a wide grin. “Wasn’t it fun?”
