Some centuries ago in a land no longer known by name there lived a boy deep in the mountains. Ico was his name. If he had a surname or a middle name they are not known to us, for no one ever called him anything else. It did not occur to him until he was nearly grown up that this was not a normal state of affairs. And someone who knew the boy personally would assure you that there was nothing normal about him. He was a rather peculiar child. Now of course every child is peculiar to himself and his nature. But while some youngsters display their natural distinctions by the possession of a notable intelligence, or a notable brainlessness, or a sweet singing voice, or a tendency towards ill temper, or an inexplicable hostility to eating cabbages and so on, Ico came into this world with a pair of horns budding from his infant head.

Yes, horns--the very sort you would expect on a bull or a goat. Now a mother whose child sported some unpleasant quirk--say an oddly shaped nose or a most obstinate penchant for chewing absolutely everything he came in contact with--might have comforted herself that children elsewhere shared a similar vein of shortcomings. But Ico's parents could not do this. For they knew of no other horned boys or girls--not even among Ico's own siblings, and he had siblings older and younger. Why was he born with these anomalies when none other did? Ico's father and mother could not answer. No one could. And so Ico became a living mystery, something no one was quite sure about. Other children were usually introduced to new acquaintances as 'Will, the son of Samuel' or 'Miriam, the baker's youngest' and so on. Ico's siblings were no different. But Ico himself was always Ico, and never more or less in any capacity whatever. He was even so registered in the town's record of births, without further elaboration as to his pedigree. You will grant it as no surprise, then, when I reiterate that his rude given name is all that we know this remarkable child by in our time.

Ico spent his first twelve years with his family, but he might as well have lodged in a stranger's house. From childhood he grew accustomed to spending time in his own solitary society. It was some years before the child realized, with a little surprise, that other people seemed to mingle with one another considerably. The knowledge changed little, though it did lead him by and by to notice other things. He noticed that people's eyes followed him as he went about, almost as if they were looking for something on him. What they might be looking for he could not fathom. It might have been for a tail on his backside, perhaps, to accompany the horns. And he noticed the distraught gaze that his parents often directed at him. In time he came to dismiss these things. That is, he accepted them as fundamentals of life, fixed and unalterable.

Not long after Ico saw, with little celebration, his twelfth birthday he received a summon from his father. One look at the father's face told him there was a trouble afoot, for it was bleak and stern and full of regret all at once. His mother sobbed behind her husband. The boy wondered if he had done something wrong and was about to be punished. His father then spoke, and asked him if he was a good boy. He replied that he was. The father asked him if he would be obedient. He replied he would be. The father asked him if he should be brave enough to forget his welfare for all's sake. More than a little befuddled, the boy nonetheless said that he should be that if he were required. His father nodded gravely and told him to go outside; there was someone to see him. His mother dropped a tearful and unwonted kiss on his brow. In great confusion Ico walked out to the yard, where he found a band of armed horsemen waiting. A rider in a long mask like that of an executioner asked him his name. When he gave it, the stranger shackled him and placed him upon a horse, and the band rode out of the village with the boy in custody.

For two days and two nights the horsemen journeyed. They rode through the mountains, crossed streams, took a ferry down a winding river, and rode some more after disembarking. They brought Ico to a distant seaside country quite foreign to him. There, just off a crescent bay, stood a lofty castle which commanded a tall cliff-faced island for its foundation. The men put the young prisoner in a boat and rowed to the isle, whose cavern opened into the castle that sat upon it. Entrance to the castle was guarded by a pair of giant statues for a gate. Unlike most gates whose function is to open and grant entry, this statue-gate stood squarely in the way and did not seem inclined to budge. But the horsemen had procured a sword forged by fairies. When they unsheathed it before the gate, the statues parted. The horsemen took Ico into a vast gray chamber full of stone caskets. They deposited him in one such casket, closed shut the lid, and left him there abandoned.



- I -



In the black bowel of the cell Ico contemplated his fate. He tried to open the lid, but his hands were trapped under it. He pushed his weight against the confines. The masonry below had grown brittle with age, and it cracked when the casket shook. The casket toppled and fell upon the stone floor, bursting open, and out tumbled Ico.

The boy looked about the chamber in wonder, for it was very magnificent and very gloomy. Rows upon rows of stone prisons surrounded him, looking strangely like faces. Through the slits that were cut into the lids he peeped into some of them. The cells were mostly empty. But some contained faded pieces of fabric that might once have been a shirt or breeches. Others had shoes too small to fit a grown-up's feet. Then Ico grew frightened, and anxious to leave the place as quickly as possible. There was a door on one side of the chamber, but curiously it wasn't the one through which he had come in; that door had vanished. He went in. He was presently at the bottom of a soaring tower.

Now the castle was an enchanted one, and barred to mortals. Ico had entered it against his wishes, but now he saw that he couldn't leave of his own accord, either. The only way out of the tower was through a gate that looked exactly like the one the horsemen had opened with the fairy sword. Ico had no fairy sword and was therefore doomed. He bemoaned his curse: he had been granted reprieve from cruel entombment only to find himself in what amounted to a somewhat larger coffin.

The lad did not languish for long; he needed to figure another path out. He climbed the staircase that spiraled to the ceiling of the tower, where the sun streaked in through tall windows. Upon reaching the peak of the staircase, and despairing that it provided no exit other than the openings at a plunging height, Ico made a jolting discovery. From the ceiling hung a great cage of iron, and inside was the crouching figure of a child in white. Her face was buried in the arms that hugged herself.

'Hello,' Ico called out.

There came no reply.

'Hello. Why are you locked up like that?' asked he again.

She betrayed no sign that she had heard him beyond a limp tilting of her head in his direction. Ico observed that the chain that held the cage could be lowered. This he did because the girl appeared most unhappy where she was. He raced the cage down the stairs as it descended. It met the floor with a dull clunk, and the girl stepped out. Her feet were naked and, like the rest of her, fair to the point of ghostly pallor. For the longest moment the children regarded each other in silence. The girl said something in a soft-spoken tongue, but Ico could not understand it.

'Men brought me here to be abandoned,' said Ico. 'Did they do the same to you?'

She did not answer--she did not understand his speech either--and instead came and looked closely into his face with undisguised curiosity. Ico got nervous, though he was accustomed to being stared at. Her gaze was clear and unsettlingly honest.

Ico thought he should ask her if she knew a way out of the fortress. But there suddenly formed, at a dark corner of the floor, a pool of black shadow--and from it emerged a beast with glowing eyes. It was unlike any beasts in nature and horrendous to behold. Its body seemed made of a shadow that had gained substance. Trudging to the stunned children, the demon grasped the girl and was about to drag her into the pool whence it had risen. Ico lunged at the demon and pushed it off its feet. It released its prey and this time went for the boy. Picking up a wooden rod from the floor, he fought the enemy savagely. Each time he struck a blow, bits of the beast's smoky flesh went flying like so much soot! At last it fell, and came apart in a plume of black vapor as a fire that had burned itself out. Then it was nowhere to be seen.

'What was that creature that came after you?' Ico asked the girl, who returned no answer. 'It is too dangerous for us here. We must get out,' he declared.

Yet what were they to do? The statues blocked the only exit still, and they were as immovable as ever. But, amazingly enough, when the girl Ico had rescued stood before the statues they parted and allowed them passage. Ico and his new companion left the tower together. And somewhere in the vastness of the castle a bell rang out and
resounded across its manifold walls. It was the end of the first hour.



- II -



Crossing a small bridge that led away from the tower, Ico was dismayed to learn they were by no means out of danger. Instead they now faced the main keep before them. They would have to make their way through a mighty array of towers, halls and wards if they meant to take leave of the citadel altogether. Now this castle was the most curious thing you ever saw. It had a great many walls but not nearly as many doors. It made you go a great distance on foot to make only a small progress, so that oftentimes you had to cross the same ground several times like one without any sense of direction in order to reach a place that was all along plainly in your sight. It was as if someone had built the castle solely to beguile the poor devils who should commit the mistake of stepping in. Ico turned to his companion frequently, hoping that by virtue of her seniority of captivity she had better knowledge of the place than he did. But there she offered little help. If anything she seemed even more misplaced than he. She was as graceful and disoriented as a deer lost in an alien forest. She exhibited the keenest interest in the most mundane things like birds and flowers, and would run to observe the specimens they came across. One would have thought she had never seen them all her life. Indeed one would have thought she had
lived in that cage of hers all her life.

All the same Ico soon realized that it was the girl's presence that made any hope for escape even distantly thinkable. For time and again they encountered the statues that guarded the passageway from one chamber to the next. And when the girl approached them they would make way as faithfully as sentries obeying their mistress. Ico was endlessly intrigued. Who was she that she was able to do this? He wanted to ask her, but their differing tongues prevented him.

The girl's unknown speech and ability were hardly all that was strange about her. A more delicate creature one could not imagine, and yet she trod the coarsest of soils barefooted without complaints. She was timid and easily frightened--but unlike her excitable companion she was unaffected before the daunting spectacles the castle presented. She was equally unconcerned with any and all knowledge of what grown-ups call manner. Yet seeing that fair spectral figure frolic and glide about in the green courtyards you might have thought her regal, and not the frail captive damsel in rags she was. She was taller than Ico and by all appearances older but she accepted the boy's lead with a faith that seemed in equal parts trusting and careless. All the more confusion for him.

The pair proceeded into the heart of the fortress. The statue-gates were by far the most obliging part of it. All the rest seemed resolved to hamper their progress. The castle was in disrepair, falling apart in many places, and overrun by wild vegetation. Sometimes this made it easier for the children to move about, but usually it meant more obstacles to clear. The sorry state of the place was really a small wonder, for it was dreadfully deserted. All that spacious grandeur was afforded for no one's enjoyment; it had but two lost children to occupy its magnificence. That is of course unless one counted the castle’s demonic populace. The children did not go far before confronting more of that sinister brood. Soundlessly the wraiths rose from the shadows, their eyes blazing and cold. They came in pairs and trios, and they came in the shapes of men and beasts legged and winged. Ico saw that they needed protection and he was the only one that could furnish it. In one hand he clutched the rod. The other held the girl's own. Her fingers felt impossibly smooth in his rough ones, and he was a tad self-conscious. That was soon forgotten in their plight. They advanced through and around collapsed bridges, demolished corridors and chambers with sunken floors, dispatching the dark specters that greeted them on the way.

By and by the bell struck again, and the second hour had ended.



- III -



The third hour began with a vicious battle. As soon as Ico and his companion set foot in a broad sunlit courtyard a legion of shadowy demons were upon them. He warded them off with all his might, for he reasoned that this open assault was evidence that they were near freedom.

But there were so many of them! The pair was surrounded, and amidst the chaotic swarm of shadows Ico was dealt a fierce blow and knocked off his feet. When he got up the creatures had all but hauled the struggling girl into the black pool again. He rushed to her, hacking away at the swarm, and pulled her out by hand. The creatures were as persistent as he. They clawed at him, trying to separate the children. More than once they nearly succeeded. More than once he had to keep his frightened friend out of the infernal pit. Then he understood something all of a sudden.

'They are trying to knock me down,' he thought, 'but they are trying to take her.'

'We must get you out of here!' he cried, grabbing her wrist and breaking into a sprint. The wraiths gave pursuit as far as the statue-door at the far end of the courtyard. But to the children's surprise and relief they were unwilling to cross the doorway. Emerging from the door they stood before an open gate of colossal proportion. It was the castle's front entryway.

'Look! We can leave now,' Ico said. He was wearied from the fight but triumphant--and so was caught rather off-guard when the twin doors began to close seemingly of their own volition. 'Come!' he cried, pulling the girl along.

They darted for the gate, which was already nearly shut. The girl's hand slipped away from Ico's; she fell. He turned to help her back onto her feet but stopped short, thunderstruck. There stood behind the fallen figure of the girl a tall woman draped in royal black.

The stranger's face was even paler than that of the girl. And though beautiful it was stern with displeasure. She spoke briefly to the younger woman in their speech. Then she turned her piercing eyes upon the boy.

'So you are the one prowling about with my Yorda,' she declared with great contempt. 'Do you know who this child is?'

Ico regarded his companion who had only partly raised herself where she fell. She remained quiet, gazing away from the stranger. She looked as unhappy as she had in the iron cage.

'She is my sole beloved daughter,' continued the stranger. 'A princess who belongs apart from your lowly breed. Waste no more of your time, boy, and leave her alone. I shall not be defied.'

With those words she disappeared. The children were alone again. Ico ran to the princess. She was terribly forlorn, for she had angered her mother. But she took his proffered hand and got up.

Ico looked for a way to open the gate. But the doors were ponderously, hopelessly shut. There was nothing his frail limbs could do to move them. He slumped to the ground against the gate, crestfallen. The princess observed his distress in silence, but then came over and sat next to him.

'It's useless. We will never be able to escape,' he muttered, fixing his longing gaze on the blue sky aloft.

The princess said a few words as if she understood his admission. Though once again her speech eluded his comprehension, Ico felt certain that she had spoken in friendly spirit. And for the first time in days, his heart was tranquil.

They were both quite weary. So they rested.



- IV -



They were awakened by the bell announcing the fourth hour. Ico promptly took to the task of finding another means of escape. He was puzzled then to see the princess trotting back towards the courtyard they had fled.

'Where are you going?' he called after her. 'Those creatures might be out there still.'

But the girl was insistent; she meant to go back the way they came. So Ico picked up the rod and escorted Princess Yorda to the courtyard. Sure enough the wraiths were patiently waiting, and they flocked to the pair at their reappearance. Shielding his charge, Ico battled the enemies with a renewed zeal. It took him a long and exhausting while but at last he vanquished them all.

The princess pointed to a handsome mausoleum at the western wall. Ico followed her in, wondering who might be buried there. Inside they found a great sarcophagus capped with a bronze image of a knight. The knight stood tall and gallant, and his hands rested on the hilt of his sword. But the boy found himself mostly preoccupied with the horns that adorned the knight's temples. The princess laid her hand on the dust-covered feet, and the statue opened its eyes.

'Who are you, boy?' asked the statue in Ico's tongue.

'My name is Ico,' he answered.

'Who is there with you?'

'It is Yorda.'

'How came you to be outside the crypt?'

'I escaped. We both are trying to escape the castle.'

'I have slept here many generations and seen many like you and myself brought here. I have not seen one leave.'

'How do you have those horns on your head?'

'In life I was born with them--long ago, when they were not taken for a curse.'

'Are they a curse?'

'She that rules this place has made them a curse and an abomination,' came the grave answer. 'In fear men surrender the wretched younglings as sacrifice to her.'

'There are others like me then.'

'There once were far more.'

'Sir, we can't leave because the gate is shut. Will you tell us how to open it?'

'Another may be able to help you,' replied the knight. 'A door behind me leads out of the tomb. Once outside, find the loftiest place in sight. There lives the bell ringer of the castle. He is the oldest prisoner here. He ought to know about the gate.'

'If he is himself a prisoner, how can he help us?'

'We are all captives, each in his own chains. Go now, young ones. Take my sword. You will meet more foes today.'

So Ico took the knight's brass sword and led the princess out of the mausoleum. Spotting in distance a strikingly tall column that stabbed at the heaven, the children made for it as advised. The terrain they trod turned inhospitable quickly, for they were now heading into the most ruinous part of the fortress. They walked along the very edge of the island where centuries of ocean gales had gnawed the masonry away and bared the craggy soil beneath. Howling winds threatened to hurl them off the footpath and down to certain destruction. Even here the malicious spirits relented not. Like vile blooms they crept up from stones and earth to molest the pair. Ico was most grateful for the knight's gift. It helped him make quick work of the creatures.

At last they were before the column. For its stupendous height it was very slim, almost delicate against the stoutness of its neighbors. It had no entrance; it was too narrow to admit anyone inside. A ladder ran its span all the way to the summit which was almost lost among the clouds. Together they climbed the ladder cautiously;he was unwilling to leave the princess by herself on the ground, and besides she did not want to remain behind. A bird's nest sat perched at the peak of the column. It was big enough to fit them both in with room to spare, but no one was there.

'This is a strange place for a bell ringer to live,' confessed Ico. 'There aren't any bells to ring. Suppose we came to the wrong spot?'

And immediately at the heel of his words came the deep sound of the bell, not a second off the hour.



- V -



As soon as the ringing echo faded away, the children heard weighty measured flaps in the air. They beheld a great white seabird flying towards them. It moved to touch on the nest, but squawked loudly upon perceiving the intruders.

'Halloa!' cried the bird. 'What's this? My nest has hatched a couple of goslings while I was away--and one of them has got horns!'

'Are you the bell ringer?' Ico asked.

'Halloa!' cried the bird again. 'And how might you know that?'

'The knight down in his tomb told us.'

'He did, did he?' said the bird as it terminated its flight. It had wings as wide as Ico was tall. 'Well, he's done a stupid thing. I always told him it was no use pitying you lot, yet the old fellow feels for his own kind. But, true, the bell ringer of this place I have been for five centuries past.'

'You are terribly old!'

'I am that. Just now I rang the bell down yonder for four million five hundred and twenty-six thousand eight hundred and nineteenth times. Now what is your business with me?'

'The knight told us you know how to open the gate.'

'He did, did he? Well, I've seen you more than once today, when I flew to the bell tower and back each hour. A busy little rascal you are--running to and fro where no mortal feet have disturbed peace for ages and ages. You know who that is you've got dragging about with you?'

'Yes,' replied he.

'Her mother isn't pleased to see what you are doing with her. Now her mother is older even than I am. She is the queen of the castle, and a powerful enchantress besides. So why should I help you against her?'

'But Yorda doesn't want to stay here.'

'Silly lass!' croaked the bird, flaring up. 'Why should she make trouble and be impudent to her mother when she has suffered fewer years than any amongst us? Who here has not born a worse prison than she?'

'That isn't true,' he said hotly. 'Her mother kept her shut in a cage.'

'And you fancy I am not myself caged, I'll be bound?'

'But you are not.'

'Look at these wings, boy. Why haven't I used them long ago to fly away, do you think?'

He knew no answer to return and was quiet. Then the princess startled him with her first unprompted utterance since their meeting. At some length she addressed the bird in her tongue. Her words were gentle but unafraid, like from one with authority. The bird replied her in the like speech but it seemed less at ease now, and not nearly as snappish as before. It almost seemed reluctant to speak with her. When they had concluded their arguing the bird heaved a great sigh and turned back to the boy.

'The queen will not let you leave with this child. I shall take you ashore and you can go where you please. But let me take the girl back to her mother.'

'No,' said Ico with resolve.

'You can not save her. It will be your death to try.'

'I will not go without her.'

'Very well, then,' replied the bird in resignation. 'For the girl's sake I will tell you how the gate may be opened, but I can not help you beyond that. Are you certain you will not at least save yourself?'

‘Tell me.’

‘Fine! At the eastern and western tips of the isle, to either side of the keep, are two great houses. Each mirrors the other in form, and each is home to a key for the enchanted gate. Now the gate may only be unlocked at dawn or at sundown, for fire andlight alone shall undo its bolt. You must therefore go to the west key-house and rid it of its coverings so that the key inside will be bared to align with the sun. You must hurry: there are not two hours left of daylight. Upon my word you will not survive nightfall within these walls.’

The bird then had the children ride upon its feet and flew them to the outer ward, near the main gate. Then it said that it had come as far as it would dare and bade them farewell. ‘Never part with the lass,’ the bird warned Ico as its last words. ‘On her rests all your hope, foolish as it were.’ Then it flew back to the nest.

From where they were dropped off Ico and Yorda could see their next destination looming as a shadow. The west key-house was a square mound of stonework, overgrown with coarse ivy, and elevated to overlook the gate that was the aim of their endeavor.It had an immense window perfectly circular in shape at the very center of its facade, and another exactly like it on the backside as well. The children now had to cover on foot a long, long stretch of walkway along the battlement that would take them to the western extremity of the fortress. This they did gladly, for their journey was nearly finished. But the wall-walk didn’t quite reach the key-house. It fell a good hundred steps short, terminating prematurely before a yawning gap high above the sea.

‘This would of course be nothing to someone like the bell ringer,’ said Ico, vexed. ‘It’s no good for us who haven’t got wings.’

Yet when the princess stepped up to the edge of the manmade bluff, what should happen but that a stepping stone arose from nowhere to meet her feet? And when they got on that stone another materialized in front of it, and another and another, until the children walked safely over the chasm to the key-house. At the other side they were met by a familiar door of statues. They yielded way before the princess, and Ico entered the house with her. From afar came the sound of the bell ringer punctually striking the sixth hour. And the boy felt compelled to murmur: ‘He spoke the truth.’



- VI -



The key-house was big as anything else on the island though it was practically empty inside. A great ring of bronze, containing a carved rune of cryptic appearance, was fixed on the floor so that it would stand upright, directly between the twin windows that faced each other. The windows were not of glass but of solid wrought iron, shielding the interior from all daylight. The hall was only faintly lit by torches which curiously had burned unconsumed for years.

Beneath each window was a magnificent hearth long grown cool from disuse. Ico took a torch from the wall and fired the hearths. The iron windows then split open, one after the other--and the sun, passing low just outside the western opening, ran the chamber through in a majestic stream. It pierced the ring and fell upon the distant gate, there to brand the rune’s skeletal shadow. And to Ico’s unspeakable delight the gate began to drag itself open, slowly, almost grudgingly.

‘We’ve done it,’ he cried. ‘Let us hurry to the gate, and we will leave this place.’

They hastened out of the key-house. Before they had gone many yards black wraiths started flowing in from all directions. On the narrow walkway there was no place to take shelter and no way to run but forward. So Ico charged through the foes, his grip firm on his companion’s hand, slashing at whatever fiendish impediments in their path.

‘Princess, our princess!’ the fiends howled. ‘Leave us not! Come with us, dearest child, and be restored to thy throne!’

Their calls terrified the girl. Though Ico understood not a word of their clamor (it was all in their tongue), he shouted back defiantly and fought them. He did not pause the run. At last the children arrived at the courtyard where they had earlier been thwarted. A loathsome dark host trailed behind them. Yorda was quite out of breath. So was he. But their goal was almost within reach. When they cleared the courtyard and stood on the last patch of ground belonging to the fortress, with nothing but the gaping posts of the gate before them, the wraiths as one ceased their pursuit. They gathered at the border of the courtyard, for they were forbidden to cross it, and snarled in frustration.

Together Ico and Yorda passed through the gate. A stone bridge led away from the castle, extending to the green shore. They were halfway across when the queen appeared, leaping into form like a black flame. With ease she swept the boy off the bridge and reclaimed her daughter. He fell to the sea and was quickly lost in the raging waves. And the castle’s gate was drawn shut for the last time.



- VII -



The boy awoke shivering on the eastern bank of the isle. The heaven was dark and livid, and rain was beating down mercilessly on the creation. He collected himself and surveyed his surroundings. He could not see much, for besides the storm it was now deep into the night. But he discerned the hulking form of the east key-house looming ahead. He made his way over, struggling with rain and winds and violent waves breaking against the jagged boulders. Like the rest of the castle the key-house sat atop the rocky bulwark of the isle. The princess was no longer with him to make a handy passageway, so he climbed the bluff, slippery from rain, with great effort. Itwas some nerve-wracking hours later that he pulled himself onto the top. The stone sentries of the key-house would not let him pass. So he went around to the spot where ivy branches were the thickest and climbed the wall by that means. Locating an arrow hole he squeezed himself into the hall.

He found the inside as dark, gloomy and empty as the other key-house had been. A similar ring stood between the opposing iron windows. Once again he torched the hearths. But the windows would not part completely; the ivy had grown so dense it was blocking their course. He took a broken piece of a brick and cut and pried away the branches until his hands were raw. The windows parted, and the key was bared. Patiently the boy awaited the dawn, counting the hours announced with unfailing precision by the bell. He wondered if the bell ringer ever slept and felt pity for the bird.

Morning came, but with it no light. For the tempest raged still and the sun was quite hidden in the clouds. No ray of morning sunshine touched the rune-ring, and Ico began to despair. Without light the key was useless. So finally he went about the house and gathered all the torches, fallen beams and pieces of lumber, ivy, and anything else that would burn, and stacked them before the rune-ring and set them ablaze. Soon the key-house was in flame from within like a lit lamp in the stormy expanse of the ocean. The fire cast the rune’s flickering shadow on the gate. The gate opened, and he set out without delay. He descended from the key-house and once more climbed up the isle to enter the keep.

The boy retraced the course that he and the princess had taken earlier. The castle was deathly quiet now--quieter than before, like something had frozen all that was in it, even the very grass and the leaves of trees. There were no more birds, no more chirping of insects, and no more lurking specters. He was all that moved in the fortress. His swift footfalls were frighteningly loud in his own ears.

Reaching the opposite end of the island, he came to the tower in which he had freedthe princess. The bridge to the tower was no longer there. So climb he did yet again, down to the shore. He swam around the tower, battling the waves, until he discovered a hollow opening at the base of the isle. He found himself inside the cavern where the horsemen had taken him the day before. There on a lonely altar lay the fairy blade the men had used. Ico took it and unsheathed it before the statues guarding the underground entrance. They parted at once. He proceeded up the stairs; he was presently back in the very crypt where he had been abandoned. Stone cells lined up as a grim audience round the chamber. Another group had congregated at its center--shadowy wraiths, who danced a grotesque dance about the motionless form of the
princess. She had been turned into stone!

Ico charged at the gathering, swinging the blade furiously. The power of the fairy weapon was such that a single blow cut down any foe it touched. The wraiths scattered hissing at the intruder, trying to counter the onslaught, but they were helpless against the sword. Resolutely he chased them down and smote them one after another. Then he noticed something strange. Every time he struck down a wraith a casket on the wall came to life and glowed. He gave his enemies, who seemed rather small compared to the others he had fought, a second hard look. He was aghast: each sported on its head horns just like his own.

‘This isn’t right!’ he cried, shaken. ‘Fight no more! Leave us! I will not kill you.’

But the wraiths did not heed his warning, for their spirits were bound to their enslaver’s will. They fought to the last of them to perish by his sword.

When all the wraiths had been destroyed the boy fell to his knees and wept long and bitterly. He then wiped the tears, took up the sword again and unlocked the last door to the great hall. The queen sat on the throne waiting.

‘What have you done to her?’ he demanded.

‘You are too late to do anything for her,’ replied the sorceress. ‘I have grown old and my body shall not last long. As a vessel for my spirit the child will grant me the power of resurrection. With my passing Yorda will be no more--and a new queen will take her place.’

‘What have you done to the children?’

‘Once my spell was strong, covering all my dominion. Now it is feeble and barely holds this keep. The spell required sustenance to be replenished. But all that is bygone,' she declared, rising to her full height. 'Hark! the hour is nigh that I shall be born anew. Lay down the sword, then, and leave! My daughter wishes nothing else for you.’

Ico lunged at the throne, sword raised high. The queen knocked him back easily, and with enough force to send him rolling on the floor too, but he did not let go of the sword. For he knew it was his only defense. She tried to turn him into stone but the blade repelled the magic. She tried to sweep him away with a blast of gale but the blade withstood it. Finally she made the blade burning hot in his hands but still he did not release it. Seizing the moment she withdrew her spell to prepare another assault, he drove the sword with all of his strength into the queen’s heart. She sank into the throne, mortally wounded.

‘She shall never leave this castle,’ gasped the queen with her final breath. Then she vanished in an invisible burst of such force that it flung the boy across the hall. For the second time in as many days he passed out.

With the queen’s death the enchantment over the castle dissolved away. All that had been fettered to its cruel reign broke free. The spirits laid themselves to rest, for they were at last unbound. The stone sentries collapsed mutely at their posts. The bricks and the pilasters gave up their obstinacy and surrendered to decay. The princess revived from the spell to see the crypt crumbling to pieces around her. She entered the great hall and discovered her brave friend prone on the floor. She knew
at once what he had done--knew that her mother was no more, felt it in the fiber of
her soul that now proclaimed her the mistress of the castle.

The princess, brimming with a power newly inherited, carried the boy to the cavern below. There she put him alone in a boat and released it with her grateful farewell to the tide. Shortly thereafter the castle caved into the ocean, never to be seen again.



-And the Rest Of It-



Ico was roused by the waves gently rocking the boat. He got up and beheld the blinding sun that soaked the beach in warmth. His legs were weak, and his head throbbed--but upon raising a hand to his temple he was astonished to learn the horns were there no longer. He climbed out of the boat and walked in a daze. He felt as though he had just woken up from a long and taxing dream. Birds trilled aloft, flying in circles. One of them, a plain white seagull, flew in close to drop a fat fish by his feet. He thought it queer though he accepted the fish gratefully. The bird looked oddly familiar and yet not quite. A bit too small, perhaps. Yes, entirely too small.

He wandered along the beach, debating where he should head next. He came across a large block of metal washed up ashore. He recognized it; it was a fragment of the bronze knight from the castle. He picked it up but it promptly crumbled to dust in his palms.

He continued the walk. A glint on the ground caught his eyes. It was the fairy sword, half buried in the sand. When he tried to salvage it the blade cracked to bits like a sheet of glass. He was puzzled. It had been so sturdy before.

Still he walked. Farther down the shore he found Yorda who lay slumped on the sand. Soggy hair clung to her pale muddied cheeks. The water lapped at her feet, still and lifeless. He was afraid to touch her. For she might break apart also. But when he nudged her fingers they curled around his own. And she opened her eyes, blinking.

And there we leave the two children. Years were not long before men realized, to their enormous relief, that no more infants were born horned. In time the legacy of the cursed youths faded into myth, and all that survive now of their memories are a few tales here and there. What you have just heard is one of them.




FIN