Jack Shian and the Mapa Mundi

by Andrew Symon

  “Is he dead?” Lizzie’s voice quavered.

  “Never mind him,” said Rana coldly, kneeling by Petros. She cradled her brother’s head in her lap, brushing the damp hair away from his face. Then, taking two small stones from her pocket, she placed them on her brother’s forehead.

  “Vigilus!”

  Petros blinked, and fidgeted.

  “Wha … what happened?”

  “Armina won’t mind. I borrowed some of her stones. Come here, Jack, and I’ll fix your shoulder.”

  Jack tucked the sceptre and his sword into his waistband, and walked over to Petros and smiled down at him as Rana pressed a stone against his wound.

  Owww!

  There was a hiss and a brief puff of smoke, but then his shoulder felt fine. Reassured, Jack strode to the back of the cave and located the flag. Tentatively, he picked it up. About three feet by two, it weighed next to nothing.

  Jack shivered, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. The flag glimmered in his hands.

  “The Mapa Mundi!” he said in triumph. “It’s ours!”

  Jack edged back along the slippery path, cradling the flag in his hands. As he neared the mouth of the cave, the light showed the flag in more detail. It was an old map; the continents and seas were clearly visible in two big circles. It fluttered in his hands as a breeze came in from the sea.

  “You missed all the action,” he said to Petros with a broad grin.

  “It looks like I missed it too.”

  “Grandpa!” Jack’s joyous shout rang through the cave.

  “The korrigan made the tunnel big enough! And once inside, my sceptre worked again, and I sped us along – like we were flying. Then I remembered something Konan had said. He ‘stopped time flying’ … Jack, show me the timer.”

  “How … how d’you know about that?”

  “It’s how Konan escaped: he must have slowed down time.”

  Jack fished the timer out of his pocket. There were still a few grains left in the top half.

  “But we made it in time,” he announced, puzzled. “We got past the Nucklat, and we’ve got the Mapa Mundi.”

  Petros had levered himself into a sitting position against the rock wall; a small trickle of blood oozed from the side of his head.

  “Is it really the map?” he croaked.

  “It is. And Jack was meant to get it,” said his grandfather. “Now he has to turn it into the Sphere.”

  “Fenrig nearly got it,” pointed out Rana. “He sneaked into the tunnel just after you. It’s just as well we followed him. Grandpa’s speed charm worked for him too.”

  Jack looked anxiously towards Fenrig’s motionless body.

  “I don’t know why you’re bothered about him,” retorted Rana. “He was quite happy to see that monster kill you.”

  Jack saw that Fenrig was breathing, at least. Had he saved Fenrig, or was he just getting rid of the Nucklat?

  “He couldn’t just let Fenrig die, though,” added Lizzie. “I know he’s horrible, but getting squeezed to death … Ugh!”

  “I couldn’t let that happen.” Jack spoke softly.

  As he spoke, the flag in his hand began to curl up. The youngsters all looked on in amazement as, within a few seconds, it formed a perfect globe.

  “It really is the Sphere!” gasped Petros, but he winced in pain as he spoke, and held his head.

  Jack felt a flutter run through him, like … like the time he’d defeated Amadan the previous year. The third great Shian treasure! Now they could get the Kildashie out of Edinburgh.

  But Grandpa was not sharing in Jack’s elation.

  “The sands are still running,” he shouted, grasping the timer. “That means your task is not finished.”

  Grandpa Sandy tried to turn the timer on its side, but it would not go horizontal. Pausing for a moment, he directed his index finger at the timer and whispered, “Planus!”

  The glass remained vertical.

  “There’s no time to lose. You must make the Sphere work.”

  Jack looked at the globe in his hands. What was it supposed to show? Inside the Sphere I’ll see my heart?

  He gazed hard at the globe. What was it showing him?

  One of the circles faded; then the outline of Scotland and Ireland reappeared, filling the circle. Then, slowly, a single hexagonal column appeared in the sea off Mull.

  “That’s us! That must be this cave!”

  Slowly, Ireland was replaced by a series of hexagonal columns. Then, beside them, a human figure slowly emerged. Below it the faintest of letters started to appear.

  P … h … i …

  Jack’s heart nearly stopped.

  … n … e … a … s …

  25

  The Giant’s Bridge

  Jack gulped.

  “It’s … it’s my dad.”

  Rana peered inquisitively at the Sphere. She drew in her breath.

  “He’s … suspended, isn’t he?”

  Jack nodded. The pale figure hung there, apparently lifeless.

  “So what are those shapes, then?” asked Lizzie, pointing to the strange columns next to Phineas’ figure.

  “They’re columns, like these ones.” Jack indicated the hexagonal pillars that extended from the cave wall to the sea outside. “I’ve never seen rocks like that before. It’s like they’re carved.” He bent down so Petros could see.

  Petros, still groggy, squinted at the Sphere.

  “But they’re in the wrong place. We’re here,” he indicated with his finger, “and they’re over on Ireland.”

  Jack stared at the map.

  How can we get over there? We’ve no boat … Aquines?

  Jack concentrated hard, staring intently at the map. The columns seemed to float, rising and falling. What had Tamlina said, all those months ago? “The cave o’ the saint … The giant’s bridge …” Luka had called it St Fingal’s tunnel … This must be St Fingal’s cave … the cave of the saint.

  So where’s the giant’s bridge?

  Exasperated, Jack looked around.

  “These columns are here … and the map says they’re over in Ireland. And we need a giant’s bridge to cross over.” It would need to be a giant’s bridge, right enough.

  Something was missing.

  My heart … “Inside the Sphere will see his heart.” What does that mean?

  Jack looked again at the Sphere.

  “Jack, what do you really want?” His grandfather spoke softly.

  A tear fell down Jack’s cheek, but he didn’t notice. He stared again at the map. The limp figure beside the columns now moved for the first time. It raised its head and its tiny eyes bored into Jack’s. Jack saw its mouth open. A silent plea.

  I want my dad.

  “I wish … I wish the giant’s bridge would appear.”

  And then his mind cleared. “Columns awake,” Tamlina had said. The columns on the Sphere were moving … they were awake.

  “This must be the start of the bridge!” he shouted.

  And another memory floated into his mind. That time he and Petros had gone to see Daid at Murkle’s house, they’d had to sit through a torment of boredom. But what had Murkle said? Something about waking stone structures in giants’ caves?

  Jack aimed the sceptre at the columns opposite and shouted, “Disuscito!”

  Nothing. The sea continued to draw in and out of the cave, a fine spray settling on the youngsters as they stood there.

  Then, almost imperceptibly, the columns began to rise, just a little. But the ones outside the cave began to rise more, joining the others and forming a road over the sea. A bridge, in fact.

  Or was it? The bridge only seemed to extend for twenty or thirty yards.

  “You’ve done it, Jack!” shouted Grandpa. “Clever lad!”

  A soft groaning sound greeted this announcement. Fenrig was starting to roll over onto his back, his every movement accompanied by a moan.

  “He tried to steal the Sphere, Grandpa,” asserted Lizzie.
“And that monster nearly squeezed him to death.” She pointed to the Nucklat’s corpse. Gallons of slime had oozed out of its wounds, a sticky trail slowly dripping down into the sea.

  “An impressive beast,” replied Grandpa. “You have done exceedingly well to defeat it.”

  “The Sphere says your father’s in Ireland. And the giant’s bridge starts here,” Rana stated. “But it only goes a few yards. Ireland’s miles away.”

  Jack peered out to sea; then, with a shake of his head, said, “Then we’d better get started.”

  Petros tried to stand, but immediately stumbled.

  “You’re concussed,” said Grandpa Sandy; “this next part is too dangerous for you. Lizzie, can you take him back down the tunnel? Armina will see to him back on the island. Take Fenrig with you. Use this other sceptre.” He whispered instructions in her ear.

  “You mean I can’t come across?” shouted Lizzie indignantly. “That’s not fair!”

  “Getting your brother back safely is important, and I’m entrusting Fenrig into your care too.”

  “I’d only hold them back.” Petros squeezed his sister’s arm.

  Grandpa swiftly tied the young Brashat’s arms behind him, and he was pushed unceremoniously over to the tunnel entrance. Petros walked slowly behind Fenrig, holding the rope, with Lizzie bringing up the rear. As they started off down the tunnel, Jack could hear Lizzie complaining to her brother.

  “C’mon,” said Jack. “Let’s go.”

  Flicking the Sphere back into a flag, he tied it around his neck and strode out determinedly onto the column bridge, the sword still tucked into his waistband. As he marched forward, so his stomach lurched upwards – ten times stronger than when leaving the Shian square. The bridge extended swiftly in front of him. The columns seemed smaller – at most two feet across – and they bounced down and up slightly as he stepped on them.

  Encouraged, Grandpa Sandy and Rana were quickly behind him, and within seconds the three were running over the curious bouncing bridge. The coastline to their left was several miles away, but as they advanced, so more of the bridge appeared in front of them. And, once they were well out to sea, the columns seemed to be getting thinner and the bridge narrower – not much wider than their feet.

  “How long have we got?” asked Rana, anxiously balancing on the narrow bridge.

  “Haven’t you noticed?” laughed Jack as he looked back at his cousin. “We’re giants!” The stretched feeling was … weird. Good … but weird.

  Rana stopped for a moment, and looked around. The coast was nearer; and there was the occasional boat in the distance, but nothing close enough to guess size.

  “Jack’s right,” replied Grandpa. “Only giants can use this bridge. We’ve grown.”

  Taking huge leaps over the springy columns, the three made quick progress down the coast. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the Antrim shoreline came into view.

  “Can’t we rest for a bit?” puffed Rana, slowing down.

  “Once we reach the shore,” shouted Grandpa encouragingly.

  As the coastline grew bigger, so the columnar shapes beneath them seemed to grow larger.

  “We’re shrinking!” shouted Jack. “That’ll slow us down.”

  He pressed on, afraid that the sand timer would run through before they got to the shoreline … and, somewhere, his father. With relief, he saw the coast was just a hundred yards or so away now, but there was smoke there …

  He slowed down.

  What did the manuscripts say was at the end of the bridge? The pit of torment?

  Jack had no time to think further: a flame shot past his head, out to sea. Then another. Soon, the three of them were being assailed by a volley of hurtling balls of fire. A great smoke obscured the end of the bridge.

  And then Jack saw them, emerging slowly from the smoke. Five … no, six fiery demons, all like the ones he’d seen … where?

  A sickly smell assailed him. What was it?

  With a great shudder, he remembered. Phosphan. That meant … Keldy. And Malevola.

  Grandpa Sandy had been running just as fast as him. Now he saw his grandfather stumble and fall, twenty yards from the shore, as a fireball caught him on the leg. His sceptre fell, splashing into the water. He groaned loudly.

  “Grandpa!” Jack shouted, running and kneeling over him.

  The smoke cleared, revealing Malevola on the shoreline, the six demons huddled around her feet. Tall and majestic in the gloomy light, her eyes glared furiously at the three figures on the bridge. She held her sceptre in front of her, a glow emanating from it.

  “Miserable creatures!” she thundered. “Did you think you could get past me?” And she brandished the ring on her left hand. Tamlina’s ring. It flashed in the rays of the dying sun.

  “Murderer!” shouted Jack, taking the sword from his belt.

  Malevola cackled, an evil laugh that carried out over the water.

  “Pathetic Shian-lings. All you have done is bring the treasure to my hands.”

  Malevola held her right arm out towards Jack, and a beam shot out that quickly encased Jack’s sword, melting it in seconds, leaving just a short stump. Dropping this, Jack instinctively tried to hide the flag behind him. Jack heard the sound of sobbing.

  Grandpa was trying to talk, but the effort was too much. His shoulder and his leg reeked again, the same Phosphan stench that had lasted for weeks after Malevola’s attack.

  “We’re Shian size again, aren’t we?”

  Jack nodded.

  “Show me … the sand timer,” he managed to whisper.

  Jack searched in his pocket and drew out the timer.

  “Planus!”

  The timer still wouldn’t turn on its side.

  “A timer!” mocked Malevola. “By salt water? And they said you were clever, Sandy of the Stone. Yes, I know your name. I have made it my business to find out about you, and your houseful of brats.”

  Like Jack, Rana had cowered down by her grandfather. Now she stood up and faced Malevola.

  “You’re an evil witch! You don’t deserve …”

  But she got no further. A demon hurtled a ball of flame at her so quickly that she had no time to respond. Catching the side of her head, it set fire to her hair and knocked her off balance. She stumbled, then ran, screaming, into the sea.

  Dumbstruck, Jack peered over the edge of the bridge, but there was no sign of his cousin. He stood up and made to run at the enchantress.

  “No, Jack,” his grandfather whispered. “That’s what she wants.”

  Jack crouched down again, looking across at the shore, where Malevola was making for the bridge.

  “She’s limping!” he shouted.

  “Yes, you foul child. Your hex at Keldy made its mark on me. But if I cannot run to kill you as Malevola, then I will kill you as …”

  She held her arms above her head, then swept them both down in an extravagant arc. There was a flash of smoke, and in her place stood a wolfhound. Grey haired and five foot at the shoulder, its mouth slavered and it snarled evilly.

  Jack gulped. Uncle Doonya’s Kynos hexes were not going to be much use here.

  The six demons, each no more than a foot high, cavorted around the huge wolfhound as it started to slink slowly onto the bridge. Never did its eyes leave Jack and his grandfather. Its head slung low and its shoulders rippled as it slinked towards its prey.

  Jack looked around him. The bridge stretched back towards St Fingal’s cave, but there was no question of outrunning this beast. And Grandpa’s sceptre was lost, somewhere under the waves, along with Rana.

  As the wolfhound advanced, Jack heard his grandfather’s hoarse croak.

  “Don’t let the devils take me.”

  Grandpa? Scared? Then Jack saw the pain in his grandfather’s eyes. No, more than pain: agonised terror. The Phosphan was bad enough, but to be tortured by demons …

  The demons were advancing with the wolfhound as it slinked forwards in the last light of the day. Fifteen
yards away, twelve … ten …

  Demons. But Grandpa had called them devils.

  The devil’s shoestring!

  Jack swiftly tied the flag around his neck and searched his Sintura belt. Gratefully, he hooked his fingers around the tiny wristlet. Slipping it onto his wrist, he pointed his arm at Malevola and shouted, “Abcanidæ!”

  The wolfhound stumbled, its hind legs caught. Snarling furiously, it tried to jump forward, but its rear legs refused to work, and it slumped onto the bridge.

  Great, thought Jack. Now I’m supposed to use the jomo bag. But I’ve only got two kinds of dirt in there – from Dunvik and the island.

  The demons, uncertain for a moment at their leader’s immobility, now began to advance on Jack and his grandfather again.

  Six of them, thought Jack. And I’m out ideas.

  His grandfather’s sobs of pain were becoming weaker. Jack looked frantically around. He’d stopped Malevola – again – but still not finished her off. And her demons were about to make short work of him and Grandpa.

  “Catch, Jack!”

  With a great splash, Rana rose above the water’s surface and threw the sceptre at him.

  For half a second, Jack couldn’t believe it. She must’ve held her breath for a minute! Then he turned the sceptre on the six small demons and uttered, “Gosol!”

  A bolt shot from the sceptre. The six demons screamed and began to swirl rapidly around. In seconds they were small balls of flame, spinning round so quickly they formed a ring of fire. Then, with a loud scream, the flames rose into the air and arced up and then down, hitting the water beside the bridge with a great hiss of steam. The water bubbled for a moment, then settled.

  Jack now aimed the sceptre at the wolfhound as it lay snarling. It tried to get up, and managed to half-rise before collapsing on the bridge again.

  “No, Jack,” Grandpa Sandy gasped.

  “Spare her?” Rana demanded incredulously as she scrambled onto the bridge. “Finish her off, Jack.”

  “The ring. Get the ring back first.”

  Rana stooped down and picked up the stump of Jack’s sword. She was swiftly on the wolfhound, which snapped and tried to bite her, but it was weak, and she deftly sliced off the paw on which Tamlina’s Triple-S ring sat. Slipping the ring off the bloody paw, she held it up triumphantly and asked, “Can I do it? Please? I saw a really good hex in one of Armina’s books.”