Thronegarden by Andrew Dickerson (top rated books of all time .txt) 📕

of noise loud enough to startle the animals and handlers alike.

“I thought that was you, boy.” Master Bullan, a large middle-aged man with a squinting eye, appeared out of nowhere.

“I can’t stay, Master Bullan, I want to see Midknight before bed,” Rat said, kneeling down to pet the royal hounds who licked his face and hands greedily.

“Perhaps you could spare some time tomorrow first thing,” the Master of Hounds suggested although it was more of a demand.

“Sure, no problem,” Rat shouted over his shoulder as he took off for the lowest inhabited level of the castle.

Finally, after a short run the dogs’ barking faded, the strong aroma of farm animals permeated and a drop in temperature assured Rat that he was now close to the castle’s foundations. Centuries ago, the castle had been built on a lake; boats had been made under the castle and used to travel between gardens. Bakka, the great smith, had been born to a shipwright in this very castle. In the intervening years, the lake had dried up leaving only a few underground caches of water that were utilized as subterranean wells to keep the residents in fresh water. Now the only way to travel between gardens was via the Garden Gate, which had been Bakka’s greatest achievement. Since the royal horses were so valuable and easily spooked, especially by the dogs, they were kept down here. Despite the slightly cool, damp temperature they were doted on by a vigilant staff who made sure they were always prepared for a hunt or ride. The Master of Horse was a burly man named Balius who had large forearms and an iron will. He could break in any stubborn stallion although he often relied on Rat’s skills with the shyer creatures that he easily lost patience with. All the horses had been stabled so there was little work to be done and Rat passed without notice. Finally, he reached the aviary where a dim light revealed his path. Birds were kept in pairs tied by jesses to wooden perches that mimicked their natural habitat. Rat felt the ’birds’ eyes on him as he passed although he felt no fear; he had known many of the creatures as hatchlings and helped the friendly falconer Robin most days. Robin was the closest thing to a mother he had ever known; she also shared his love of birds and was an expert trainer. Rat passed a pair of goshawks, slipped by the sleeping peregrine falcons and brushed by some watchful kestrels. At the back of the aviary was a single crow: Midknight. Although not a bird of prey, Robin had agreed that Rat could keep the bird after nursing it back to health. Midknight and Rat were both orphans, alone in the world, so, of course, they became best friends and kept each other company. The bird squawked at his approach though the noise was probably to do with being hungry rather than happiness at seeing Rat. Midknight wore a metal cap on his head and had a crooked beak. His injuries had left one wing weaker than the other, meaning he would struggle to survive in the outside world. He was quick enough to snap at Rat for food though. The boy took out his remaining biscuit that fit nicely in the palm of his hand and divided in two. Midknight greedily devoured his portion and when he discovered there was nothing else forthcoming went back to sleep. Rat, finishing his own piece which barely touched the hunger in his stomach, curled up on the floor amongst a thin layer of straw and soon fell asleep.

Chapter 2 The Happiest of Times

When Damselfly woke up, her room was still lit with a late afternoon glow. She could make out the familiar silhouette of a wardrobe and desk. Beyond that was the corner where she played with her toys, and clearing up her dolls was Old Nana.

“Good morning,” Damselfly greeted, stretching and wiping her eyes.

“Good morning,” Old Nana replied.

The princess’s nursemaid was actually not so old; the term was more to do with her sage wisdom than actual years passed. Old Nana had streaks of warm chestnut in her silvery hair, which gravitated just above her slim shoulders. Kind blue eyes turned towards Damselfly above a slim restrained smile that suggested a deeper struggle within.

“Tell me a story,” Damselfly requested.

It was common for the pair to spend hours every day with Old Nana reciting tales while Damselfly listened intently, no matter how many times she had heard it before. “What would you like to hear?” Old Nana asked.

“I don’t mind, you choose,” Damselfly answered, still feeling a little sleepy.

Old Nana considered her options as she crossed the room and gently perched on the bed. She brushed a knot of red hair away from the young girl’s face, and finally settling on a decision, she began.

“I will tell you the story of Once Upon a Time…”

  Once Upon a Time

 

Where did magic begin?

That is what everyone wants to know,

Listen close to this story you could not imagine,

I will tell you where, why and how.

 

It started when the dragons breathed fire into the planet deep,

The giants laid down their mountainous frames to sleep,

Rivers burst forth when the first phoenix did weep,

A unicorn pierced the sky so that the stars we could keep.

 

Where did magic begin?

Well, it was where the first bell did chime,

Listen close and I will tell you a story you could not imagine,

This all happened when the first voice spoke

Once upon a time.

 

Why did they create magic?

Well, that is a question both joyous and tragic.

 

For the birds needed magic to fly,

The clouds needed magic to scorn gravity,

The lion needed magic to roar, the rabbit needed it