Jack Shian and the Mapa Mundi

by Andrew Symon

  “Bad-tempered old what?” asked Finbogie evenly.

  Boyce didn’t reply. He blushed and stared at the ground.

  “In you come, the lot of you.” Finbogie’s voice brooked no disobedience. His face, scarred from ear to mouth, had a disconcertingly lop-sided look.

  Dutifully, the seven youngsters filed into his house and made their way to his spacious front room. None, however, dared to sit down. Finbogie followed them in and took his place in a large armchair that sat by the fireside. A portrait of an elderly man scowled down at the room.

  “You are here,” stated Finbogie flatly, “because the Congress wishes to preserve your lives. We are currently obliged to entertain certain people – Unseelie people – who do not share our way of doing things and who may well be dangerous. For this reason you all need to learn how to defend yourselves.”

  He looked around the room. The seven apprentices remained standing, awkwardly. None dared to look straight at him.

  “Some of you may have noticed my slight facial disfigurement …”

  Jack coughed, suppressing a laugh. Like you could miss it!

  “Which only goes to show – life can be dangerous. But there should be more of you.” Finbogie’s tone was calm, but carried no hint of warmth whatsoever. “Where are the others?”

  “Fenrig’s not here,” stated Jack. “Sometimes he doesn’t turn up.”

  “Ah yes, the Brashat boy. I’ll deal with him. But there’s one more.”

  The apprentices looked at each other, but nobody seemed to have a response. Eventually Purdy spoke.

  “Kaol’s not here either. I don’t know where she is.”

  “Hmmph. Well then, to start you off, you will all copy out the fifty most common defence hexes. In your best handwriting. You can share these three books. There’s paper and pencils over there.”

  Finbogie indicated a wooden box on a polished table by the window and casually dropped three books on the floor.

  Clutching a piece of paper and a pencil, and not daring to lean on Finbogie’s immaculate table, Jack squatted down and opened one of the books on the floor. Morven’s Book of Defence, said the cover. Jack looked up the chapter on hexes and began to copy out from the book. Lee-Brog and Séan joined him.

  What’s the point of this? After ten minutes of scratching a pencil across the thin paper, Jack was seething. Practical lessons are what we need.

  Muttering curses under his breath, he looked up and saw that Lee-Brog and Séan were thinking the same.

  If Finbogie was aware of the apprentices’ thoughts, he was not bothered by them. He sat and watched as the youngsters completed their task over the next forty minutes, but made no comment until he was satisfied that they had all finished.

  “Right,” he said coldly. “You are to take your papers and learn the first twenty-five by next week. After that you’ll learn the rest. I’ve got to get all of you lot prepared as soon as possible. Don’t disappoint me. Now, out with you. I’ve work to do.”

  He ushered the apprentices out. Stiff from kneeling for so long on a hard, cold floor, Jack was glad to get out and stretch his legs. Predictably, the apprentices’ moans had started.

  “That was torture …”

  “Never again …”

  “Being attacked’s got to be better than that …”

  Despite their common experience, Jack didn’t feel like sharing with the others just now.

  I need some air. I’ll see what’s doing down the High Street.

  He walked over to the far side of the Shian square, and placed his left hand on the rock wall.

  Effatha! The gate sprang open, and Jack swelled to human size as he stepped smartly onto Edinburgh Castle’s esplanade.

  6

  Challenging the Congress

  Jack fumed as he walked down the High Street.

  Any more lessons like that and someone’s going to die.

  Pausing to peer into one of the High Street tourist shops, he became aware of someone standing just behind him. His mind flashed back to the previous summer: Konan the Brashat had accosted him right here. Suddenly panicked, he spun round, only to find his cousin Ossian there.

  “You gave me a fright,” spluttered Jack. “I didn’t know you were coming down today. Didn’t you use the low road?”

  “Dad wanted to try the humans’ bus. It’s really slow.”

  “I’ve been on a human bus,” said Jack. “Petros took me once, around the city. It stops at all the important buildings and stuff.”

  “This one stopped a lot, but no’ at important buildin’s.”

  Jack’s thoughts turned to his Aunt Dorcas’s superior cooking. “Did your mum bring any baking?”

  “Sure. She’s over there.” Ossian indicated over the road. “We saw you lookin’ into the shop. It’s noisy, eh?”

  “And cold,” said Jack, shivering. “Brrr! It was warm a few minutes ago. Have you brought the cold weather with you?”

  Jack looked across the street to where Uncle Hart and Aunt Dorcas were standing talking. Someone’s with them, he thought. The cold feeling turned icy as he recognised Boreus.

  “What’s he doing here?” gasped Jack. “He’s a Kildashie. He tried to hex the Blue Hag at the Oestre festival.”

  “Did he?” Ossian didn’t sound too impressed.

  “And they stopped her when she was getting rid of the snow. That’s messing with nature,” urged Jack. “It’s dangerous.”

  Ossian paused. “Dad knows some Kildashie. They don’t often leave their islands, but he knows a couple of them, from way back.”

  Uncle Hart waved across to the two boys. Boreus looked up too, and, seeing Jack, he muttered something and strode off down a side street. Was it Jack’s imagination? Had it suddenly got warmer?

  Uncle Hart and Aunt Dorcas crossed over the road.

  “It’s good to see you, Jack. We’ve come by bus today. Takes a long time.” Uncle Hart looked pleased with himself.

  “Jack says the Kildashie stopped the Oestre festival,” stated Ossian.

  “They did,” insisted Jack. “And they stopped the sound when the Blue Hag was clearing the snows.”

  “Did they now?” mused Uncle Hart. “I’ll need to discuss that with your grandfather. Shall we go up to the castle?”

  Now practised in using the gate on the esplanade, Jack corralled the three visitors, and soon they were in the Shian square.

  “There’s Rana and Lizzie,” said Ossian, running over to his two younger cousins. Aunt Dorcas and Uncle Hart followed on, still marvelling at the changes in the Shian square since their last visit.

  “It’s so much busier,” Aunt Dorcas kept saying.

  Alerted by the sound of Ossian’s bellowing hello as he reached Rana and Lizzie, Aunt Katie appeared, and ushered them all in. Aunt Dorcas had recounted for the third time how long the bus had spent queuing in traffic as it made its way into Edinburgh.

  “You should just use the low road,” said Jack. “It only takes a few minutes.”

  “I think we’ll be going back that way, right enough,” conceded Uncle Hart. “I thought it would be an experience, that’s all. Now, what’s this I hear about the Kildashie? I was just talking to one of them up in the High Street.”

  “It was Boreus,” stated Jack. “When he saw me he took off.”

  “He’s not scared of you,” snorted Petros.

  “I didn’t say he was, just that he left when he saw me. And it got a lot colder when he was there.”

  “What happened at the Congress last night, then, Dad?” asked Rana. “We waited up for ages.”

  “Here comes Grandpa now. He’ll tell you.”

  “Last night we discussed the Kildashie’s behaviour.” Grandpa Sandy spoke gravely. “As you know, they’ve a careless attitude to their surroundings: they take more than they need from the woods and they create a lot of mess. The attack on Olwen was the worst they’ve been. Several members of the Congress were all for banishing, or even suspending, them.”

/>   “I know what they did was wrong, Grandpa,” pointed out Rana, ignoring her mother’s warning look. “But they’re not as bad as the Brashat, are they?”

  “As it happens, Atholmor agrees with you,” replied Grandpa Sandy. “He’s calmed down after yesterday morning, and he had a long discussion with Tig. The upshot is that the Kildashie are to stay out of the city for now, along the coast. They have also offered to join forces with us against the Brashat when they are released.”

  There was a moment’s silence.

  “But that’s crazy,” spluttered Jack. “Boreus attacked Olwen. They nearly took us back to winter.”

  “And Armina said they cut down loads of trees at the Oestre festival,” piped up Lizzie. “I know there’s loads, but they didn’t even use most of what they cut.”

  “Jack,” said Grandpa softly, “some of the Congress just can’t face any more fighting, not after the trouble we had last year. For what it’s worth, I believe that’s foolish; the Kildashie are obviously just as capable as the Brashat of causing trouble.”

  “And they’ve got some control over sound,” added Lizzie. “That thunderclap made my ear bleed.”

  “There’ve been stories about strange silences in town recently,” chipped in Aunt Katie. “And it’s certainly been chilly. But I’m sure it’ll all sort itself out.”

  She’s not even fooling herself, thought Jack.

  “We can’t go against the Congress,” stated Uncle Doonya firmly. “If they’ve decided that the Kildashie are safe, then we have to accept that.”

  Grandpa Sandy gave Uncle Doonya an odd look that Jack couldn’t decipher.

  “Nevertheless,” continued Grandpa, “we should be cautious. I propose that Jack and the girls come with me to Keldy. We can leave tomorrow evening. I’m sorry not to be a better host, but this is important.”

  “I’ll come with you,” replied Ossian. “The city’s no’ my thing. No’ enough space.”

  As they filed through to the kitchen for supper, Jack saw Grandpa tug at Uncle Doonya’s sleeve, holding him back for a few moments. When they both appeared a few moments later, Uncle Doonya looked angry.

  The next day dragged by. Jack’s poor tailoring caused Gilmore to stamp his feet in frustration. Freya kept shooting Jack quizzical looks, trying to identify what was wrong. The only one who seemed to be enjoying things was Fenrig. He sneered as Jack dropped pieces of cloth and laughed openly as he fumbled his stitching. Doxer, as ever, was impassive.

  At lunchtime, a sniggering Fenrig made his usual quick exit. As Doxer sat and silently ate his sandwiches, Freya tried to get Jack to talk about what was wrong, but Jack just shook his head.

  “Can’t say. Everyone’s just upset because of the Kildashie.”

  Freya’s eyebrow arched. “You’re planning something, aren’t you? If you won’t tell me, I bet Rana and Lizzie will. They’re bound to know.”

  Jack was glad when finishing time came. Without pausing to speak to Freya, he ran out of the workshop.

  Rana and Lizzie were sitting outside the house, with a small overnight bag between them.

  “Mum’s been crying again,” stated Lizzie flatly. “She doesn’t want us to go. She hasn’t said so, but I can tell.”

  “She’ll be all right,” said Rana, now evidently used to the idea of leaving Edinburgh for a while. “But why are we going to see Tamlina?”

  “Because if there’s problems with the Kildashie, she’ll know about it,” said Ossian.

  “She may know what happens in Keldy, but the Kildashie are not from there. Why would she know about them?” queried Rana.

  “Because they passed through Keldy to get here,” explained Ossian. “Anyway, are you all ready to go?”

  “We’re just waiting for Grandpa. He said he’d be along soon.” Rana poured herself a cup of juice.

  “I can take you on ahead,” said Ossian impatiently.

  “The last time you took us on ahead we ended up in France,” stated Jack.

  “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” smiled Ossian.

  “Yeah, but we got into trouble. Let’s just wait for Grandpa.”

  Their grandfather, however, was some time in coming. “Too many things to do,” he’d said when he arrived. Following brief goodbyes, they all set off for the low road. As they climbed up onto the small mound and joined hands, Jack saw Fenrig appear as if out of nowhere. He hadn’t time to say anything to his grandfather before they were all enveloped in his large cloak and his grandfather had chanted, “Wind-flock Keldy.”

  Jack was used to the sensation now, having travelled this way many times. The spinning, the drone that rose to a whine and the keening sound. But this time it was different: the moaning and wailing were much louder. Jack thought back to the times when there’d been a funeral in Rangie. As the corpse was carried along, most of the village would line the road, offering sympathetic cries to the bereaved family. On every other low road trip, Jack had been briefly reminded of this, but now he was hit by a torrent of despair. The air felt colder too, and the low road seemed darker.

  What’s going on?

  After several minutes, the spinning and the droning slowed down, and they all came to rest. Jack looked around. Lizzie’s mouth and eyes were still clamped tightly shut. Ossian had already started to walk along the track to his house, but Grandpa remained on the small mound that marked the low road entrance.

  “You felt it too, Jack?”

  If Jack didn’t know better, he would have said his grandfather was worried.

  “It didn’t feel right,” said Jack. “The wailing was louder, and it was colder.”

  “I know. Let’s get up to the house; we can warm up there.”

  The track was wet, and they were muddy by the time they reached the house.

  “We’ll need an early night,” stated Grandpa as he stood by the fire Ossian had kindled. “So, after supper, it’s up to bed. Ossian, can you send a grig and find out if Tamlina’s nearby? Wherever she is, we’ll have to find her.”

  “Sure,” said Ossian. “Have you got somethin’ to pay her?”

  Grandpa silently handed over a small silver coin, eyeing Ossian carefully as he did so. Then he retrieved a series of small packages from within his cloak. “Now then, Katie’s prepared a snack for our supper.”

  Jack rolled his eyes.

  7

  Malevola

  The night had been stormy. Twice Jack was woken by the sound of thunder, and when morning finally came he awoke to the sound of rain hammering on the windowpanes. Jack stole quietly downstairs, but he wasn’t the first up. Ossian and Grandpa sat in the kitchen, conversing in a low tone. Grandpa gestured for Jack to sit down.

  “We’re just running over our plans. Have some breakfast, and we’ll fill you in.”

  Jack reached over and helped himself to some bread and heather honey.

  “The grig came back early this morning, but she was in a bad state,” stated Grandpa, getting up and pacing the room. “The wood creatures are anxious. It’s spring, but last night’s was a winter storm. The grig could hardly speak, but at least she knows where Tamlina will be today.”

  “Are the seasons getting mixed up, Grandpa?” asked Jack. “The Kildashie nearly stopped spring from coming, didn’t they?”

  “Impossible to say.” Grandpa sat down again. “These things happen, from time to time.”

  “But I’ve never known it here before,” said Ossian solemnly.

  Jack had never seen Ossian look less than confident before. Now he sounded … anxious.

  “We’ve used this grig loads o’ times. It’s no’ like her to get scared.”

  “Who’s scared?” asked Rana, as she and Lizzie entered.

  “Never mind,” said Grandpa brusquely. “We need to get going. We’ve got quite a walk to find Tamlina.”

  “What are we going to ask her, anyway?” queried Lizzie.

  “About the Kildashie. And she may tell us more about the Sphere.”

  “And my father,
” stated Jack. “I want to know if she’s heard more about him.”

  Ten minutes later found them all leaving the house. The rain was little more than drizzle now, but a windy, dreary kind of drizzle that gets into your bones.

  Following the grig’s directions, Ossian headed for the clearing where Tamlina would be gathering spring roots. But whereas the previous summer’s walk had been a pleasant stroll in the woods, this was a longer, colder journey. Jack started to recognise certain landmarks.

  “I remember that tree,” he announced. “It’s funny, like an old man stooping.”

  Grandpa Sandy halted and held up his hand. A high wailing sound was just audible. He looked quizzically at Ossian.

  “It’s the Banshee,” said Ossian slowly. His face had gone pale.

  Grandpa instinctively pulled Rana and Lizzie closer to him.

  “Where is she? Can you tell?”

  Jack had been surprised at breakfast to see that Ossian looked concerned; now his cousin was frightened, he was sure of it.

  “Who’s the Banshee?” Lizzie asked. “What’s it mean?”

  “It means death is near,” said his grandfather carefully. “Stick close together, all of you.” He withdrew his sceptre from his cloak and fingered it nervously. “Come on, we must find Tamlina. If she’s in trouble, we’ll have to help her.”

  Jack glanced nervously around. All the normal sounds of the wood had disappeared: no small creatures scurrying through the dead leaves, no birds overhead. He gulped: it didn’t go down easily, and he had to swallow hard.

  They had moved forward a hundred yards when they heard the first crack!

  “Get behind me, quick,” ordered Grandpa, as he hurried for the nearest tree. He crouched down, with the four youngsters copying him.

  “It came from over there.” Ossian indicated ahead. A series of loud cracks followed. Rana and Lizzie looked nervously at each other, then at their grandfather.

  “It’s near the clearing, isn’t it?” said Grandpa, holding his sceptre out in front of him. “Stay right behind me. I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

  The sound of cracks grew louder, and there was a sudden shout of pain.