by Andrew Symon
And quietly, a word came to Jack, a word Marco and Trog had used repeatedly on the island: “I believe …”
“Only believe …”
I believe the Chalice can bring my father back.
How had Cosmo explained the conjuring of the fiery chalice? It hit Jack in a flash, and he grasped the still glowing sceptre.
“Calixignis!”
Sketching in the air before him, Jack’s heart raced as he saw the fiery outline of the Chalice appear, triple-S spirals and all. The flames crackled in the damp air.
Alerted by the sound, the Grey risked a peek at Jack as he tied the flag around his neck once more. Squinting in the unaccustomed brightness, she caught sight of the fiery outline. Despite the pain this obviously caused her, Jack saw her eyes open wide.
“The Cha …” she gurgled.
I’ve got her, thought Jack. She can’t fight the power of the Chalice.
And it seemed as if he was right. His father, still suspended, gasped audibly.
He’s not dead! The sand timer worked!
Jack willed the Chalice to float over to where his father hung, some fifteen yards away. The fiery outline hovered in front of Phineas.
“You dare to defy my power?” shrieked the Grey. “I will not be beaten by a mere Shian boy.”
“But you can see: he’s not dead,” taunted Jack.
“You have crossed into my domain,” she cackled, and Jack saw to his horror that she was now able to look straight at him without squinting.
Panic-stricken, he grasped the sceptre and thrust the glowing end towards her.
“Lunalumen!”
“Your charms will not work for long here, wretch. Every minute you spend here brings you closer to my power. Cadaveros!”
With that, she waved her left arm in an arc and the temperature plummeted. Jack had no time to react, for he was encased once again by the streaming ghostly faces that had swept around him in the pit. Tortured faces, their agonised features screaming icily at him. And he remembered Trog again, his sorrow and hopelessness. The fiery Chalice disappeared in a puff of smoke. Once more Jack sank to his knees, the despair in him almost complete.
And then the ghosts were gone again, and the icy blasts had stopped. Jack looked up. The Grey was standing over him now, smiling evilly.
“Puny little Shian,” she mocked. “Daring to take what’s mine. But you have spirit. Let us see how much you value your father’s precious life.”
She clicked her fingers, and by the cave wall below Phineas, on a large hexagonal shelf of rock, appeared Rana and Grandpa Sandy. Rana sat hunched, silent, her hands out towards Jack, imploringly. Tears streamed down her face. Grandpa lay sprawled awkwardly.
“While the timepiece sits right, they are awake.” The Grey indicated the timer, and Jack could see the top half was full, the grains running steadily through.
The Phosphan smell reached Jack and he felt a familiar sensation of nausea. His grandfather was definitely there. But neither his grandfather nor Rana made any sound.
“Well then, my Shian halfling, let us see how much you truly wish your father’s return. His life for theirs. Deal?”
Jack’s heart skipped several beats.
A deal? You can’t trade lives like they’re old toys.
“So which do you love more?” the old woman crowed. She pointed her right index finger at Phineas, and his body slumped down next to Rana.
Jack longed to turn the flag into the Sphere once more, but did not dare risk this with the Grey looking on.
I need help. Where’s my true path now?
Jack felt his mind whirl for a while, and then suddenly clear.
“The Grey doesn’t do deals.”
The words echoed in Jack’s head. Who had spoken? Not Grandpa, nor Rana. Could it have been his father? Jack looked over to his father’s body, but it appeared lifeless.
Hang on – we talked about this last year. Konan escaped; he didn’t make a deal.
“Take your time, boy. That’s one thing I’ll never run out of.” The Grey cackled as she settled back on her stool, regarding Jack with malevolent relish.
Time … What is it about time?
The sand timer … Konan had got away because he’d slowed time down; he’d caught the Grey unawares. Jack looked over to where the Grey sat.
I know she’s trying to trick me, but as long as she thinks I’m deciding who to take with me, she won’t do anything.
“Meddlesome child!” the Grey muttered, as she sat hunched in her chair. “Emeta!” Casually, she waved her right arm at Jack, and a fresh wave of nausea and despair engulfed him.
Unable to stop himself, Jack vomited.
This place is desperate. I’ve got to get out of here.
Jack tried to think of the warm, bright days of the last month … roaming the island … going fishing with Rana … Anything to make me feel happier.
It didn’t really work, though, and he heaved again as the sickness clutched at his stomach.
The Grey, satisfied that her hex was keeping Jack occupied, had settled quietly – she even seemed to be dozing. Her eyes were shut, anyway.
Jack noted that his grandfather’s sceptre was glowing brightly; the cave still looked as if moonlight was getting in. But the Lunalumen charm hadn’t worked on the Grey for long.
Checking that the Grey was still dozing, Jack untied the flag and it formed into the Sphere again. The blank circles were clear, and then slowly, ever so slowly, two images appeared: the sand timer and the sun. The sun’s image glowed brightly.
Now daylight: that would really dazzle her. But we’re deep underground. At least I think we are; I seemed to fall for ages. And it’s night-time now, hours before daylight – if I can let it in. Will she wait that long?
Jack looked around the cave. There was fresh air coming from somewhere, but no light. It’s night-time.
Night-time. Time.
The word kept playing in Jack’s mind. He looked at the Sphere once more. The sun image glowed brighter than ever.
Dawn’s hours away.
Jack forced himself to concentrate.
It’s like I would have to make it the quickest night ever … Like at Oestre.
Jack nearly jumped at the thought. Grandpa said they’d speeded time up that night.
Speeding time up may make my dad’s time run out … but how long has he got …?
Jack felt sick again and clamped his mouth tight shut. He looked surreptitiously over to the sand timer. The grains were passing through.
She doesn’t want me to stop time again. But I won’t: I’ll speed it up!
As cautiously as he could, Jack tied the flag around his neck and lowered the sceptre so that it pointed at the sand timer.
“Fugitemp!”
The Grey, huddled on her stool, did not appear to notice as a ray shot from the sceptre. The sand timer rose briefly, and as it settled again Jack saw to his delight that the grains were running through much more quickly.
Uuurgh!
His delight was tempered immediately as the despair and nausea swept over him again – only much worse. He retched.
I can’t take much more of this…
Jack gulped back another dry heave and tried to dispel the feeling of wretchedness in his gut.
OK. So the night’s passing faster. But I’ve still got to get my family out of here.
The Grey’s Emeta curse was still working – Jack had never felt so awful in his life. Even Trog’s misery was better than this. But Jack forced himself to remain alert.
She thinks she’s got time on her side; I’ve got to beat her at her own game.
Gradually, Jack’s hopes began to rise. The Grey remained huddled on her stool, apparently asleep … and the sand continued to rush through the timer. The bottom chamber was more than half full now …
As long as my dad is still alive …
Jack tried to imagine what he would do when he felt dawn had arrived … Three quarters …
Fresh
air was coming from somewhere, and Marco’s words came back to him: “Gosol will let in the light, even through the tiniest crack.”
Just a glimpse of daylight would be enough. Light – that will do for the Grey.
The sands were slipping through so easily … Can’t be long now. Jack looked over to his family. Only Rana looked awake, and she obviously couldn’t speak; Phineas and Grandpa remained slumped.
The Grey coughed and came to. Looking around curiously, her gaze came to rest on Jack.
“I see ye’ve still no’ made up yer mind, boy,” she snarled. “Well, it matters little. None o’ ye shall leave here.”
She paused.
“Ye’re up to some Shian trickery … I can feel it. Whit have ye done?” Her steely eyes bored into Jack. Then she looked down to the sand timer, and with a shriek she leapt at Jack.
“Filthy Shianling!”
Jack gabbed the sceptre and thrust it towards her.
“Lunalumen!”
With a contemptuous swipe, the Grey sent the sceptre, still glowing, spinning to the side of the cave. Gripping Jack by the neck, she held him at arm’s length, his legs dangling. Through the flag tied round his neck, Jack felt her fingers clutching his throat. He fought desperately for breath, kicking and squirming, but the Grey just stared at him scornfully. As Jack started to black out, she threw him dismissively over towards the others.
“Now I will put an end to you all, Shian wretches!”
Fighting for breath, Jack instinctively put his hands up to his neck – and through his shirt front he felt Tamlina’s ring on Rana’s chain. Hurriedly, he pulled out the ring and put it on his middle finger. Struggling to his feet, he held his hand up to the Grey.
She stopped in her tracks.
“No … no …” She backed away, her eyes wide open in horror.
Keeping his eye on her, Jack stooped down and retrieved the sceptre.
And then the Grey stopped retreating and faced Jack, malice returning to her eyes.
“Ye have ta’en the sacred ring from my sister Malevola. Ye’ll pay for that.” And she advanced cautiously.
Jack gulped. He’d banked on Tamlina’s ring having more effect than that.
The Grey edged towards Jack, her right arm outstretched.
“Give me the ring, boy.”
Jack looked around in desperation. So much for the escape plan.
And then the sweetest sound ever to reach his ears echoed around the cave. Birdsong.
Looking for the source of the sound, Jack saw a small crack of light directly above him. As the Grey neared, he held the sceptre aloft and called out, “Gosol!”
The beam from the sceptre shot upwards, hitting the cave ceiling. Instantly, a flood of bright light filled the cave. The Grey staggered back, screeching hideously, sweeping her cloak around her face. Shrieking, she fled to the far depths of the cave, her curses getting fainter as she ran.
Retreating back to the hexagonal shelf on which his family lay slumped, Jack struck the rock floor firmly with the sceptre and shouted, “Disuscito!”
This time there was no delay. The column woke instantly and began to rise, and as it did so, Grandpa Sandy and Phineas stirred. In seconds, the four had reached the cave ceiling and were passing through the hole Jack had blasted. In half a minute, they were staring at the beach as it glowed in the early morning light.
But Jack knew they had no time to rest.
“Come on!” He pulled his father off the column and urged Rana to do the same with Grandpa. “We must get away.”
“But where can we go?” asked Rana plaintively as Grandpa and Phineas got unsteadily to their feet.
A rumbling sound came from below. Jack looked round as a flame erupted from the hole in the ground through which they had just emerged.
“Anywhere.” Jack began half-dragging his father along the beach.
28
We Are Sailing
The flames started in earnest now. Jack felt a wave of heat as he struggled to pull his father along the beach and away from the Grey’s cave. Phineas stumbled forward, only just able to stand. Panic-stricken, Jack realised that he had no hope of getting far: though emaciated, his father’s body was still too heavy for him. Rana was faring no better with Grandpa: though he could stand – just – he was not up to fleeing.
Jack looked round and saw three wic-elves emerge from the hole leading down into the cave. Only slightly smaller than Jack, their eyes blazed, and they brandished their talon-like claws menacingly.
“Jack! Help!” Rana screamed as Grandpa Sandy fell.
Jack allowed his father to crumple onto the beach and ran over to his grandfather.
“Grandpa! You’ve got to get up! The wic-elves are coming.”
The three creatures, only yards away, fizzled with heat. One hurled a fireball, which sizzled Rana’s hair as it flew past. Another caught Jack on the foot, and he yelped with pain. The smell of Grandpa’s Phosphan burns assailed Jack once more.
“Feel in my pouch,” whispered Grandpa, frantically fumbling with the folds of his cloak.
Determinedly ignoring the searing pain in his foot, Jack put his hand inside the pouch and felt a tiny stone. Withdrawing it, he saw that it was bright green, with a tiny flaw inside. A tiny ship-shaped flaw.
“Nautilus!”
Grandpa Sandy’s whisper was barely audible, but with a sudden whoosh! a great wind blew in from behind them. The wic-elves halted … Jack heard the sound of running feet on the pebbly beach behind him … And suddenly half a dozen cloaked figures had run past Jack and the others, their sceptres drawn.
“Exflagro!”
The wic-elves seemed to evaporate as a series of bolts flew from the sceptres.
“Come on,” said one of the men. “Their brothers won’t be far behind.”
Jack and the others were lifted up unceremoniously, and the figures made swiftly for the sea. Splashing into the shallows, the rescuers manhandled the four into a waiting boat. Grandpa Sandy gasped in pain as he was bundled on board; Phineas, limp as a rag doll, made no sound.
“Push out!” called one of the figures, and two of the others put their shoulders to the bow and heaved the craft into deeper water. Another two quickly hoisted the mainsail, and within a minute they were sailing away from the beach. Jack, amazed at the skill with which these men had launched the boat, could only look on in wonder.
“Who … who are you?” he managed to utter.
“Don’t say ye don’t remember me, Jack.” One of the figures laughed. “Ah, we came all the way to Rangie to see ye at Oestre; had ye forgotten? I’m Enda; that’s Dermot.”
“You’re McCools!” cried Rana, looking from one to the other. A great wave of relief flooded through her, and she burst into tears.
“Ah, we’re not as bad as all that,” said Dermot. “Just as well your grandfather kept that charm stone I gave him, though. Those wic-elves aren’t out to play, but they won’t come far out to sea. We’ll be all right now.”
Struggling to keep the tears out of his eyes, Jack looked pleadingly at Enda.
“Can you help my dad?”
The tall figure looked down as Jack cradled his father’s head in his lap.
“We’re sailors, not physicians.”
“Luka’s a physician,” shouted Rana. “Head for the island; we can call him back.”
“Would that be Ilanbeg?” Enda enquired.
Rana and Jack both nodded assent.
“We’ll be there in no time. Sure, it’s not far.”
The McCool’s sense of time, however, was not the same as Jack’s or Rana’s. With a fair wind behind them, the small boat was making progress and the Antrim coast behind them retreated, but it was soon clear that the journey would take more than a day, even with summer charms. Placing Phineas and Grandpa in the prow of the boat to rest, Jack and Rana recounted all they could remember of their journey over from St Fingal’s cave and down into the Grey’s pit.
“So ye used the giant’s bri
dge?” asked Dermot. “Ye’re blessed, then. It’s centuries since that was used.”
“It was the Sphere that raised it,” added Rana. “Show him, Jack.”
Jack fingered the flag around his neck, uncertain whether to show this to the McCools. But they must be on our side, he thought, and untied the flag. As it formed into the Sphere, he felt a wave of interest sweep the boat.
“Is that really the Mapa Mundi?” enquired Telos, who had been in the prow with Grandpa and Phineas. “Fair play to ye.”
He moved towards Jack, who shrank back. Telos stood over him, and Jack saw a mixture of emotions in the man’s eyes: desire and hunger – and fear. As Telos extended his hand, Jack squirmed backwards.
“Leave him be, man,” ordered Enda. “We’ll decide what happens when we get to Ilanbeg.”
Rana, oblivious to the short drama that had just played out, continued, “And he used it in the Grey’s cave.”
“Ye got away from the Grey?” Enda was clearly impressed.
“I doubt she’s beat,” added Dermot. “I’m not sure any of us will live long enough to see that happen. But getting away from her – that’s a victory.”
“And rescuing his dad,” chimed in Rana.
They looked over at Phineas’ wasted body. Nobody spoke.
It was late the following afternoon before Jack felt sure that he could recognise landmarks in the coast off to their right.
“I remember that headland,” he shouted, pointing to a rocky outcrop. “It was smaller when we were on the bridge, though.” He flicked the Sphere, transforming it back into a flag, which he tied around his neck.
“Ilanbeg’s not far,” said Enda. “We’d better let your family know that we’re coming.”
He looked up at the sky for a moment, then put two fingers to his mouth and blew a sharp whistle. A seagull whirled round before coming to rest on the side of the boat. Offering it some scraps of food, Enda uttered a series of guttural sounds that neither Jack nor Rana understood. The bird flew off, squawking harshly.
After a while Enda started to haul down the sail, and the boat began to drift in towards a bay.
“Is this Ilanbeg?” enquired Rana. “We left by the tunnel.”
“Can’t you see?” laughed Dermot. “There’s Luka. I’d recognise him anywhere.”
