Михаэль Энде - The Neverending Story

“Forgive me, sire,” he said, bowing and panting. “Forgive me if I make so bold as to disturb your rest, but you would have every reason to be displeased with me if I failed to do so. Moon Child is not in the Ivory Tower; she has not been there for a long, long time, and no one knows where she is.”

Suddenly Bastian felt cold and empty inside. “You must be mistaken. That can’t be.”

“The other messengers will tell you the same thing when they get back, sire.”

After a long silence Bastian said tonelessly: “Thank you. Dismissed.”

He went back into his tent, sat down on his bed, and buried his head in his hands. This seemed impossible. Moon Child must have known he was on his way to her. Could it be that she didn’t want to see him again? Or had something happened to her? No, how could anything happen to her in her own realm?

But the fact remained: she was gone, which meant that he didn’t have to return AURYN to her. At the same time he felt bitterly disappointed that he wouldn’t be seeing her again. Whatever her reasons may have been, he found her behavior unbelievable, no, insulting.

Then he remembered what Falkor and Atreyu had told him: that no one could meet the Childlike Empress more than once.

The thought made him so unhappy that he suddenly longed for Atreyu and Falkor. He needed someone to talk to, to confide in.

Then he had an idea: If he put on the belt Ghemmal and made himself invisible, he could enjoy their comforting presence without mentioning the humiliation he felt.

He opened the ornate casket, took out the belt, and put it on. Then, after waiting until he had got used to the unpleasant sensation of not seeing himself, he went out and wandered about the tent city in search of Atreyu and Falkor. Wherever he went he heard excited whispers, figures darted from tent to tent, here and there several creatures were huddled together, talking and gesticulating. By then the other messengers had returned, and the news that Moon Child was not in the Ivory Tower had spread like wildfire.

Atreyu and Falkor were under a flowering rosemary tree at the very edge of the camp. Atreyu was sitting with his arms folded, looking fixedly in the direction of the Ivory Tower. The luckdragon lay beside him with his great head on the ground.

“That was my last hope,” said Atreyu. “I thought she might make an exception for him and let him return the amulet. Now all is lost.”

“She must know what she’s doing,” said Falkor. At that moment Bastian located them and sat down invisibly nearby.

“Is it certain?” Atreyu murmured. “He mustn’t be allowed to keep AURYN!”

“What will you do?” Falkor asked. “He won’t give it up of his own free will.”

“Then I’ll have to take it from him,” said Atreyu.

At those words Bastian felt the ground sinking from under him.

“That won’t be easy,” he heard Falkor saying. “But if you do take it, I trust that he won’t be able to get it back.”

“That’s not so sure,” said Atreyu. “He’ll still have his great strength and his magic sword.”

“But the Gem would protect you,” said Falkor. “Even against him.”

“No,” said Atreyu. “I don’t think so. Not against him.”

“And to think,” said Falkor with a grim laugh, “that he himself offered it to you on your first night in Amarganth.”

Atreyu nodded. “I didn’t realize then what would happen.”

“How are you going to take it from him?” Falkor asked.

“I’ll have to steal it,” said Atreyu.

Falkor’s head shot up. With glowing ruby-red eyes he stared at Atreyu, who hung his head and repeated in an undertone: “I’ll have to. There’s no other way.”

After a long silence Falkor asked: “When?”

“It will have to be tonight. Tomorrow may be too late.”

Bastian had heard enough. Slowly he crept away. His only feeling was one of cold emptiness. Everything was indifferent to him now, just as Xayide had said.

He went back to his tent and took off the belt Ghemmal. Then he bade Ilwan bring him the three knights, Hysbald, Hykrion, and Hydorn. As he paced the ground waiting, it came to him that Xayide had foreseen it all. He hadn’t wanted to believe her, but now he was obliged to. Xayide, he now realized, was sincerely devoted to him. She was his only true friend. But there was still room for doubt. Perhaps Atreyu wouldn’t actually carry out his plan. Maybe he had already repented. In that case Bastian wouldn’t ever mention it—though friendship now meant nothing to him. That was over and done with.

When the three knights appeared, he told them he had reason to believe that a thief would come to his tent that night. When they agreed to keep watch and lay hands on the thief whoever he might be, he went to Xayide’s coral litter. She lay sound asleep, attended by her five giants in their black armor, who stood motionless on guard. In the darkness they looked like five boulders.

“I wish you to obey me,” Bastian said softly.

Instantly, all five turned their black iron faces toward him.

“Command us, master of our mistress,” said one in a metallic voice.

“Do you think you can handle Falkor the luckdragon?” Bastian asked.

“That depends on the will that guides us,” said the metallic voice.

“It is my will,” said Bastian.

“Then there is no one we cannot handle,” was the answer.

“Good. Then go close to where he is.” He pointed. “That way. As soon as Atreyu leaves him, take him prisoner. But keep him there. I’ll have you called when I want you.”

“Master of our mistress,” the metallic voice replied, “it shall be done.”

The five black giants marched off in step. Xayide smiled in her sleep.

Bastian went back to his tent. But once in sight of it, he hesitated. If Atreyu should really attempt to steal the Gem, he didn’t want to be there when they seized him.

He sat down under a tree nearby and waited, wrapped in his silver mantle. Slowly the time passed, the sky paled in the east, it would soon be morning. Bastian was beginning to hope that Atreyu had abandoned his project when suddenly he heard a tumult in his tent. And a moment later Hykrion led Atreyu out with his arms chained behind his back. The two other knights followed. Bastian dragged himself to his feet and stood leaning against the tree.

“So he’s actually done it,” he muttered to himself.

Then he went to his tent. He couldn’t bear to look at Atreyu, and Atreyu too kept his eyes to the ground.

“Ilwan,” said Bastian to the blue djinn. “Wake the whole camp! I want everyone here. And tell the black giants to bring Falkor.”

The djinn hurried off with the rasping cry of an eagle. Wherever he went, the denizens of the tents large and small began to stir.

“He didn’t defend himself at all,” said Hykrion, with a movement of his head toward Atreyu, who was standing there motionless with eyes downcast. Bastian turned away and sat down on a stone.

By the time the five armored giants appeared with Falkor, a large crowd had gathered. At the approach of the stamping metallic steps, the crowd opened up a passage. Falkor was not chained, and the armed guards were not holding him, but merely marching to the left and right of him with drawn swords.

“He offered no resistance, master of our mistress,” said one of the metallic voices.

Falkor lay down on the ground at Atreyu’s feet and closed his eyes.

A long silence followed. Creatures poured in from the camp and craned their necks to see what was going on. Only Xayide was absent. Little by little the whispering died down. All eyes shuttled back and forth between Bastian and Atreyu, who stood motionless, looking like stone statues in the gray morning light.