Wet Magic by E. Nesbit (read 50 shades of grey txt) 📕

the Queen quietly, “is no more. He was lost at sea.”

When the splendid steady column of Narwhals had marched off to its appointed place the children bowed to the Queen and went back to their posts.

“I’m sorry I said anything,” said Francis to the Mackerel, “but I didn’t know. Besides, how can a Mer-king be lost at sea?”

“Aren’t your Kings lost on land?” asked the Mackerel, “or if not Kings, men quite as good? What about explorers?”

“I see,” said Mavis; “and doesn’t anyone know what has become of him?”

“No,” said the Mackerel; “he has been lost for a very long time. We fear the worst. If he were alive he would have come back. We think the Under Folk have him. They bewitch prisoners so that they forget who they are. Of course, there’s the antidote. Every uniform is made with a little antidote pocket just over the heart.” He put his fin inside his scales and produced a little golden case, just like a skate’s egg. “You’ve got them, too, of course,” he added. “If you are taken prisoner swallow the contents at once.”

“But if you forget who you are,” said Francis, “don’t you forget the antidote?”

“No charm,” the Mackerel assured him, “is strong enough to make one forget one’s counter-charm.”

And now they were back at the Lobster-guarded gate. The Princess ran to meet them.

“What a time you’ve been,” she said. “Is all well? Have the Narwhals taken up their position?”

Satisfied on this point, she led the children up a way long and steep to a window in the wall whence they could look down on the ravine and see the advance of the foe. The Narwhals were halted about halfway up the ravine, where it widened to a sort of amphitheater. Here, among the rocks, they lay in ambush, waiting for the advance of the foe.

“If it hadn’t been for you, Reuben,” said the Princess, as they leaned their elbows on the broad rocky ledge of the window, “they might easily have stormed the North Tower⁠—we should not have been ready⁠—all our strongest defenses were massed on the south side. It was there they attacked last time, so the history books tell us.”

And now a heavy, thundering sound, faint yet terrible, announced the approach of the enemy⁠—and far away across the sea plain something could be seen moving. A ball of seaweed seemed to drift up the ravine.

“A Sea Urchin gone to give the alarm,” said the Princess; “what splendid things Boy Scouts are. We didn’t have them in the last war. My dear father only invented them just before⁠—” She paused and sighed. “Look,” she said.

The enemy’s heavy cavalry were moving in a solid mass toward Merland⁠—the great Sea Horses, twenty feet long, and their great riders, who must have been eight or ten feet high, came more and more quickly, heading to the ravine. The riders were the most terrible beings the children had ever seen. Clothed from head to feet in closely fitting scales, with large heads, large ears, large mouths and blunt noses and large, blind-looking eyes, they sat each erect on his armored steed, the long harpoons swaying lightly in their enormous hands.

The Sea Horses quickened their pace⁠—and a noise like a hoarse trumpet rang out.

“They are sounding the charge,” said the Princess; and as she spoke the Under Folk charged at the ravine, in a determined, furious onrush.

“Oh, no one can stand up against that⁠—they can’t,” said Cathay, in despair.

From the window they could see right down onto the amphitheater, where the Narwhals were concealed.

On came the Sea Cavalry⁠—so far unresisted⁠—but as they neared the ambush bunches of seaweed drifted in the faces of the riders. They floundered and strove to push away the clinging stuff⁠—and as they strove the Narwhals made their sortie⁠—drove their weight against the riders and hurled them from their horses, and from the covers of the rocks the Crabs advanced with an incredible speed and caught the tails of the Sea Horses in their inexorable claws. The riders lay on the ground. The horses were rearing and prancing with fear and pain as the clouds of seaweed, each with a prickly Sea Urchin in it, flung themselves against their faces. The riders stood up, fighting to the last; but the harpoons were no match for the Narwhal’s horns.

“Come away,” said the Princess.

Already the Sea Horses, urged by the enormous Crabs, were retreating in the wildest disorder, pursued by Narwhals and harassed by Sea Urchins.

The Princess and the children went back to the Lobster sentries.

“Repulsed,” said the Princess, “with heavy loss”⁠—and the Lobsters cheered.

“How’s that, Princess?” said a ball of seaweed, uncurling itself at the gate and presenting the familiar features of Reuben.

“How is it?” she said. “It is Victory. And we owe it to you. But you’re wounded?”

“Only a scratch,” said Reuben; “harpoon just missed me.”

“Oh, Reuben, you are a hero,” said Cathay.

“Get along, you silly,” he answered gracefully.

IX The Book People

Even in the midst of war there are intervals for refreshments. Our own soldiers, no matter how fierce, must eat to live, and the same is the case with the submarine regiments. The Crustacean Brigade took advantage of the lull in hostilities which followed the defeat of the Sea Horses to march back to the Palace and have a meal. A very plain meal it was, too, and very different from the “Banquet of Ovations,” as Cathay pointed out afterward. There were no prettily spread tables decorated with bunches of seaweed, no plates or knives or forks. The food was passed around by hand, and there was one drinking horn (a sea cow’s horn) to every six soldiers. They all sat on the ground as you do at a picnic, and the Queen came and spoke a few hurried words to them when on her way to strengthen the defenses of the golden gate. And, as I said, the food was plain. However, everyone had enough to eat, which was