by Andrew Symon
“Was there nothing else?”
“Some … something was behind him. It moved, like there was a wind.”
“Like a flag?”
“The Mapa Mundi?” Jack almost jumped for joy; then he corrected himself. It had been an accident; he wasn’t supposed to have eaten the fish. Had he cheated? If he had, then his heart couldn’t be true.
Marco didn’t speak, but led Jack back to where Trog sat disconsolately on the beach. The warrior looked drained, defeated. He looked up as they approached.
“You have taken my prize.”
Jack shuffled his feet awkwardly.
“Maybe I should have realised that I would never reach it. But in my dream …”
“Perhaps Jack’s need is even greater than yours,” said Marco softly.
It was Trog’s turn to remain silent.
“You can come too …” started Jack.
Marco led Jack away, leaving Luka with Trog. “Leave him be for now. We need to show you St Fingal’s tunnel.”
“Fingal’s … Fin … St Fin! St Fin’s cave, like in the manuscripts! You mean … you knew about the tunnel?” asked Jack incredulously.
“We had to be sure you were the one,” replied Marco.
“The one?”
“The one to complete the challenge.” Marco spoke evenly.
“But … Trog should’ve got it. You said yourself.”
“You didn’t steal it; and when you saw his pain, you even tried to give it to him. Your heart is true.”
“Who was that at the end of the tunnel?”
“Not who: what. Something you must overcome. More I cannot say, but I believe you have the power to triumph.”
Jack frowned. The creature at the tunnel end had looked like a man at first, but something now made him doubt this.
Luka rejoined the group and asked Aunt Dorcas to take over the cooking. The group sat around the fire and ate the swordfish, but for a while nobody spoke. Jack felt that everyone was staring at him, and eventually turned his back on the others, sitting gazing out over the water. The moon faded. Jack saw a V-formation of wild geese overhead, their plaintive honks just audible.
“Midsummer is not their usual time here; it is a sign.” Luka had silently joined him. “They help each other. And you will need great help to achieve your goal. But I sense that you have this.”
Jack shrugged his shoulders.
“You must choose who shall accompany you. Choose well.”
Jack sat and thought. Petros, obviously, and Ossian, if I can get him away from Morrigan. And Grandpa, if he feels well enough. What about the girls? And Finbogie? He could be useful if I’m up against some really evil Shian. Uncle Hart’s blind, he can’t help.
“We must go soon,” said Luka firmly. “The tunnel will only be visible for a brief time.”
Jack stood up and went over to Petros.
“You’ll come?”
Petros looked round and saw everyone looking at him. He gulped. “… OK.”
Jack looked around, but couldn’t see Ossian.
“He’s gone off with Morrigan again,” said Petros, reading Jack’s mind.
“I’ll ask Grandpa.”
Luka was tapping his foot impatiently as Jack went to speak to his grandfather.
“Will you come, Grandpa? We need to get the map.”
Grandpa Sandy was quickly on his feet, rejuvenated by the discovery that they were finally making progress.
“We must get there soon.” Luka’s voice was firm, and he set off towards the west, past Ilanbeg’s only real wooded area.
Jack scurried after him, with Petros in hot pursuit. The others followed on, keen to see what would happen next.
In fifteen minutes, Luka had led them to a small hillock that overlooked a tiny inlet facing west.
“The tunnel will show itself when the time is right. Jack – follow your heart. Marco and I must leave for the mainland now.”
“Where’s the tunnel?” demanded Fenrig.
In all the commotion, Jack had completely forgotten about his tailoring colleague. But he wasn’t going to let Fenrig share in anything now.
“Luka said I’ve to choose who’s coming. I’m taking Petros and Grandpa.”
“We’ll see.” Fenrig looked slyly at Jack.
Jack, Petros and Grandpa Sandy sat down to watch the tiny mound that Luka had indicated. It didn’t look like much.
A cool breeze blew in from the Atlantic, and seagulls called raucously overhead.
Jack sat and cradled his sword. The memory of the haunted look on Trog’s face troubled him.
But I didn’t mean to eat the fish.
He felt the serrated edge and imagined how much damage this would cause if drawn across flesh.
“How will we know when the tunnel opens?” asked Petros.
“Somehow we’re supposed to know,” answered Grandpa Sandy. “But this island is not good for Shian charms. There’s nothing here to make our powers work that well.”
“Fenrig managed a hex when we had the race,” pointed out Petros. “And Jack stunned the swordfish with a Negladius.”
“Then it’s me,” said Grandpa Sandy gloomily.
A rabbit appeared on the hillock and hopped towards Jack. Jack eyed it curiously. Apart from fish, rabbits had been all there was to catch on Ilanbeg, but after his lunch, Jack wasn’t hungry. The rabbit sat there a moment, then hopped back, disappearing down its hole.
A minute later, it repeated the performance.
“That hole’s got bigger,” said Jack, as the rabbit repeated this a second time.
“It’s the tunnel,” shouted Petros. “Come on.”
They went over and examined the hole. It had indeed grown in size and was now some three feet in diameter.
“I hardly think I’ll fit down there,” stated Grandpa Sandy. “Not at human height.”
“We can get in.” Jack inspected the hole again.
“Can’t you shrink yourself, Grandpa?”
“It doesn’t work. Whether it’s me, or this island, the charms I’d normally use just don’t work.”
The rabbit’s head appeared again and disappeared promptly.
“The hole’s getting smaller!” shouted Jack.
Indeed, the tunnel entrance was slowly shrinking.
“Come on!” Jack grabbed his sword and scrambled head first into the hole. He slithered down a straight chute, dirt forcing its way into his mouth and eyes. He landed with a bump. It was pitch dark.
Petros was just a moment behind him. As he landed, he unblocked the chute and a shaft of light lit up a small clearing.
“Where are we?” spluttered Jack, rubbing the mud from his face.
There, in a shaft of light, was the rabbit. Surrounded by twelve tiny sticks.
24
The Mapa Mundi
Jack blinked, his heart pounding. In the half-light he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was desert-dry. Reaching down into his Sintura belt, he searched frantically for his wristlet. His fingers found a myriad charms, but not the item he sought.
What was the word Finbogie had taught him? A rabbit … A rabbit has …
“You’re thinking of ‘Divisungulam’.”
Jack rubbed his eyes. The rabbit had disappeared, and in its place was a tiny korrigan, sitting hunched in the twig circle. Its eyes were enormous for such a minute head, and its skin was pale, almost see-through.
“Yes, I’m a shape-shifter. I’ve been trying to get you to come down the tunnel for ages.” Its voice was harsh.
Petros sat rigidly, his eyes like saucers.
“Will you show us the way?” asked Jack nervously.
“I can show you how to start. But I have no wish to meet …” The voice trailed off.
Unsure he wanted to know the answer, Jack asked,“What is that creature … at the end of the tunnel?”
“Something you won’t want to meet a second time. It’s the Nucklat. But if you are here, the
n you have been chosen.”
Up to now, Petros hadn’t uttered a sound. Now he tried to speak.
“What is it?” His voice was little more than a croak.
“A korrigan,” whispered Jack. “We saw some at the festival last year. And at Cos-Howe.”
“I smell fear on you,” the tiny creature squeaked harshly to Petros. “The fear of a city dweller.”
Petros shifted uncomfortably.
“We need to get to the Mapa Mundi,” said Jack firmly. “My cousin is here to help.”
“Then you will need more help. It’s unusual … but I will leave the tunnel entrance open for others.”
Jack looked at Petros, who shrugged.
“Grandpa can join us. We may need all the help we can get.”
“That’s true. Can you make it big enough for our grandpa?”
“I’ll try. But it may take some time.”
Jack moved over to the bottom of the chute and called up. “Grandpa! Can you hear us?”
A muffled shout came back. “I can’t get down the hole.”
“Come down when the hole gets bigger,” shouted Jack.
“You need to go,” the korrigan snapped. It stood up and marched off down an unlit passage some three feet in height.
Jack placed his sword down his spine with its base wedged into his belt. He began to crawl after the korrigan.
“It’s freezing,” grumbled Petros, as he made to follow. “And it’s bad enough staying at human size, but crawling in the dark’s ridiculous.”
Jack’s scowl was lost on Petros in the almost complete darkness.
They had been crawling downhill for several minutes when Jack became aware of a glow ahead. The light got stronger, and eventually they emerged into another small clearing. Sticking out from the side walls were a staff and a sceptre, each with a small, brightly glowing crystal.
“We are at the edge of the sea,” squeaked the korrigan. “The tunnel proper begins here.”
Jack peered ahead. The tunnel at the other side of the clearing was much larger, fully six feet in height.
That’s a relief.
“Can’t you come any further?” asked Jack nervously.
The korrigan shook its head.
“Be on your guard – the Nucklat moves swiftly. I will go back and make sure the tunnel entrance remains open.”
Without further word, the korrigan skipped off.
Jack looked at Petros. “Let’s go.”
“Wait a minute.” Petros sounded anxious. “What are we getting into? We’ve no idea what the Nucklat’s like.”
Jack fingered his sword. “We have to. The Mapa Mundi’s down there somewhere. When we get that, we’ll know how to get rid of the Kildashie.”
Petros shuffled his feet.
“But with more help we’ve got a better chance. It’ll buy us time, anyway.”
Time! Jack suddenly remembered the sand timer he’d picked up at Dunvik. Retrieving it from his Sintura belt, he squinted at it in the dim light. The sands were running through steadily.
“I’m sure this is telling us how much time we have left.”
Jack grabbed the crystal-topped staff and motioned for Petros to take the sceptre from the wall. Together they set off along the taller tunnel. Jack shivered as they advanced downhill. It was definitely getting colder.
The crystals were bright, but they could only throw a gloomy light in the tall, dark tunnel. The boys’ shadows flickered on the side walls as they walked. There was no sound, save their footsteps.
They had walked for a good hour when Jack felt the tunnel start to level out, then start uphill. Checking the timer, he saw that the sands were running through fast.
“It’s uphill now; we’ll need to speed up.”
He started to jog, and Petros reluctantly followed.
“Can’t we have a rest?” panted Petros after ten minutes.
“We’ve no time,” said Jack firmly, and pressed on.
The slope got gradually steeper, and Jack felt himself start to sweat. A curious mixture of anticipation and fear filled him – running in the dark and not knowing what was just ahead made him want to slow down, and yet he knew that time was tight. Petros was as fit as Jack, but he hung back, reluctant to take the lead.
It was another half hour at least before Jack saw the light ahead. With a sickening sense, he realised that it was just as he had seen in his vision. He stopped.
“This is it. Whatever the Nucklat is, it’s at the end of this tunnel.”
Jack could hear the sea clearly now. Giving Petros his crystal staff, and taking the swordfish sword from his belt, he proceeded cautiously. Then he stopped and turned round.
“I heard something. Back there.” Jack pointed back down the tunnel.
“There’s nothing there. Let’s get out of here.”
The light grew stronger as they approached, but not as quickly as Jack remembered it from his vision. His mouth became dry and his chest felt tight. The sound of the sea grew stronger, a roaring swell.
Slowly, he edged towards the end of the tunnel.
Any minute now … it’ll jump up at me.
But nothing came. Jack emerged from the edge of the tunnel and found himself on a rock path inside the mouth of a cave, and some ten feet above a surging tide. The cave’s rock formation was curious – like hexagonal columns stacked together.
Petros emerged too, squinting in the light, and placed the staff by the cave wall. The youngsters were halfway back in a sea cave, with the open sea to their left. A sunset glow partially lit up the cave’s interior. The curiously shaped rocks around them almost sang as the waves coursed in.
“There!” Jack shouted in triumph, pointing to the rear of the cave.
Sure enough, fluttering in the breeze, was an old flag that seemed to hover unsupported. Its markings were indistinct … two circles … each definitely looked like a map.
“The Mapa M—”
Jack got no further. With a great roar, the Nucklat emerged from the sea below them. It had the head and body of a man – A skinless man! Urrgh …! – but in place of its left arm were several long tentacles. With a sweep of one of these it knocked Petros against the cave wall. His head met rock with a sickening thud, and he crumpled, motionless, his sceptre spinning away onto the path.
Jack tried to step back, but there was no room. The Nucklat, its bottom half still below the water, cut off any retreat down the tunnel. It roared again, a deafening sound that resounded through the cave.
Jack looked frantically, but the fallen sceptre was out of reach. The Nucklat emerged further from the water, roaring hideously … but it had no legs … only more tentacles. Jack was so astonished he barely registered the trident in its right hand. With a swift thrust, the trident found its mark.
Aargh!
Blood gushed from Jack’s left shoulder. Almost crazily, he searched his memory for anything Finbogie might have taught him that would help. A fish … an octopus …
Nothing.
Then he looked at his right hand.
The swordfish!
Jack slashed at the approaching spear, deflecting it. Hacking again, Jack sliced off the end of one of the Nucklat’s huge tentacles. With a roar, the beast fell back, its remaining tentacles swirling around madly, blood and slime spurting from the lacerated limb. Jack risked a quick look at the back of the cave and was astonished to see the map lowering itself. He had no time to react to this, for the Nucklat was on him again. Slashing furiously at the creature’s flailing limbs, he continued to edge back towards the rear of the cave.
“It’s Fenrig! He’s stealing the map!”
Rana’s panicked scream from the tunnel entrance surprised even the Nucklat, which paused in its pursuit of Jack and looked round to find the source of the noise. Jack looked round to the back of the cave again, and to his astonishment saw Fenrig smiling evilly back.
“Take a last look at the map,” sneered the young Brashat, waving it tauntingly at Jack. With his back
to the rock wall at the end of the path, he watched the scene in front of him with malevolent relish.
The Nucklat, perplexed at this appearance of yet another small creature, roared again and began to advance on Jack once more. A wave crashed into the cave, spraying Jack with salt water.
The timer! The sands will be through in a few seconds!
Re-energised, Jack whirled his sword again and once more succeeded in hacking off the end of a tentacle, but there were so many of them, and the creature, maddened with the pain, only seemed more menacing. A tentacle caught Jack around the ankle, and he fell against the rock wall.
“He’s taking the flag!” Lizzie had appeared at the tunnel entrance now. She grabbed the staff Petros had set down by the the cave wall and swiped at the Nucklat’s body.
The Nucklat, its attention diverted once more, turned to identify this new arrival. Jack seized his chance. Grabbing his sword, he scrambled to his feet and slashed the great creature across its eyes. The serrated edge raked agonisingly over flesh; blood and gloop gushed out, and the Nucklat fell back, roaring in agony. Then, lunging blindly forward, its tentacles thrashed against the rock wall, instinctively clutching onto Fenrig’s leg as he prepared to make his way along the path. Squealing in surprise and pain, the young Brashat was lifted up in the air. The map flew from his hand, fluttering as it drifted back to the cave floor.
“Here, Jack!”
Rana scrambled to the sceptre and flipped it up. Catching it, Jack aimed it at the great sea creature, which was sinking down into the water, dragging a screaming Fenrig with it.
“Gosol!”
There was a flash in the gloom of the cave, and as the creature arched up into the air, it wrapped a second tentacle around Fenrig’s upper body.
Fenrig tried to scream, but the Nucklat’s primeval grip ensured no air could get in or out.
“It’s going to kill him!” screamed Lizzie.
Jack paused for a half-second. Did his old adversary deserve to be rescued?
He didn’t really have to think about the answer. Jack kept his arm trained on the creature, and the glow that had shot from the sceptre remained fixed on the Nucklat’s slowly pulsating body. Over the next minute its grip lessened, and Fenrig’s inert body was released onto the path.
