mark darrow and the stealer of

by Unknown

  But he did.

  He forgot all about cutting off Shax’s head. The shears drooped as he twisted to look down at Mark, and the barrel of the shotgun pointed up at his face.

  ‘Yes!’ Mark’s yell also carried over the top of the accumulated racket. ‘It’s SALT.’

  Skathalos’ jaw dropped open, showing his pointed teeth as he hissed. It wasn’t a challenge but the sound a cat makes when backed into a corner by a pack of wolves. Defiant but pointless.

  Mark fired.

  Skathalos dodged like a whip crack.

  Some of the salt hit Shax and he yelped in new pain, but it was nothing compared to having his head chopped off.

  Despite his attempt to get away, some of the salt also hit Skathalos, and he screamed in agony, wiping wildly at the salt on his parchment-like skin. Where it clung to him steam rose as the salt ate into him. It was as though he’d been splashed with acid.

  But it didn’t kill him.

  It didn’t even slow him down.

  Skathalos leapt from the blue stone onto the red, and from there to the top of the dais. He landed ten feet away from Mark and Amy and he’d moved so fast that he was there before Mark could re-aim the shotgun. Skathalos snapped up a hand and it was as if an invisible boxer thumped Mark in the guts. Winded, he went down and the shotgun clattered away from him.

  Amy bent down, snatched the sword out of the sheath on Mark’s hip. Yelling wordlessly she ran at Skathalos.

  Again the monster flicked a hand, almost in disdain this time, and the sword was plucked from Amy’s hand. It spun in the air as though supported by hidden wires, then turned lazily, before shooting back at Amy point first.

  24

  Amy didn’t have time to scream.

  The sword speared towards her throat and there was no way she could avoid it.

  Mark had rolled onto his back and watched, seeing everything as though in super-slow motion. His thoughts whirred through his mind much faster than the world could keep up with. He couldn’t believe that he’d failed to stop Skathalos and Amy was now going to die because of him.

  ‘Noooo...’

  He gave voice to the scream on Amy’s behalf. He tried to lurch up, thinking that in this ultra-slow-mo he’d be able to snatch the sword away from Amy’s throat before it could hit her. Sadly, it was only his brain that was supersonically charged. His body moved as slowly as everything else.

  Mark came to his feet, took a step forwards.

  Then he had to re-think things. Maybe he was moving with the agility of a superhero, because Amy was still standing and the sword had not yet speared through her.

  As he watched, dumb struck, Amy stepped out of the way of the sword and he saw it move lazily by, arching slowly towards the floor of the dais.

  Skathalos let out another hiss and Mark followed the creature’s gaze upward. Shax was leaning out from his perch on the blue stone, his arm extended, face intent as he guided the sword to a safe landing by force of his will.

  Realising his magic was neutralised by Shax’s, Skathalos decided on a new strategy. He lifted the shears in both hands, holding the two glistening blades poised to attack.

  Mark looked for the shotgun. It was a few paces away.

  ‘Leave him to me,’ Amy snapped.

  She ran forwards and took a kick like she was sending a football into the back of the net.

  Her foot whacked up between Skathalos’ legs.

  The creature merely smiled at her, then jabbed down with the blades.

  Luckily, Mark got a hand in Amy’s collar and he dragged her away at the last second and the shears missed their target.

  ‘Don’t know what happened,’ Amy said through gritted teeth. ‘It worked on the Firbolg.’

  ‘The Firbolg were once men,’ Mark reminded her. ‘Skathalos has always been a demon.’

  Amy shook her head. ‘Maybe I should have kept my boots on after all.’

  Under any other circumstance Mark might have found her comment hilarious, but not now. There was no time for laughter, no room for it in his mind for all the fear. He pulled Amy away as Skathalos stalked after them.

  The stick man wasn’t tall or powerful in the physical sense, but the gleaming shears gave him the upper hand. He forced Mark and Amy back and they came up against the blue stone. There was nowhere else to go, and their weapons were out of reach.

  Up on the blue stone, Shax could stop the demon’s attempts at magic but he could do nothing physical to help them. Ammut as well was still fighting to the death with the giant Firbolg and too far away now even if he had finished off his foe.

  ‘What are we going to do, Mark?’

  ‘I...I don’t know, Amy.’

  Skathalos hissed again, but this time it was tinged with humour.

  The demon began lowering the blades as he began to rush forwards.

  Suddenly, a trap door sprung open in the dais beside the demon.

  From the confines of the darkness popped a small head, and a small arm that elongated like a worm. At the end of it was a small hand that clutched at the hilt of the sword. The arm snapped round, whipping the blade across the demon’s ankles.

  Eyes widening in disbelief Skathalos crashed down face first on the dais. The shears were knocked out of his hands and went clattering down the steps.

  All around a great cry went up from the harpies and Firbolg who’d been watching the events on the dais.

  From the trapdoor Tu grinned at Mark and Amy. ‘I told you we’d meet you at the great chamber. Did you forget, Mark?’

  ‘I haven’t had time to forget,’ Mark said.

  Skathalos was already clambering back to his feet and his rage was evident by the growl rising in his throat. He steeped forwards again. But then the horde of little Tuatha men boiled up from the trapdoor, swarming all over Skathalos, clutching at his limbs to slow him down.

  Crawling up Skathalos’ back, Tu called out to Mark. ‘Have you time to deliver?’

  ‘I have now.’

  Mark ran for the gun and snatched it up.

  He turned, just as Skathalos shook loose the Tuatha, scattering them all over the dais like falling leaves. Skathalos howled in victory, then reached for Amy.

  Mark felt like John Wayne or Clint Eastwood: whichever Hollywood cowboy it was it didn’t really matter, he was a darn good shot.

  Skathalos turned towards the blast.

  His eyes went wide, but then that was all he had time for.

  The salt hit him with its full weight this time and then he’d no eyes to open. In fact he had no head.

  There had to be something ironic in that if Mark only thought about it. Except he didn’t, he could only watch in wonder as the salt continued its work. Skathalos actually melted before him, as though the remainder of his parchment-like skin liquefied and then pooled on the floor of the dais.

  ‘Ugh, that’s gross,’ Amy said.

  ‘No,’ Mark corrected. ‘It’s wonderful.’

  The pool of sludge that was all that remained of the demon popped and fizzled then began crawling to the edge of the platform. Some of it dripped down on the steps below. There it bubbled, popped and disappeared, leaving behind only a nasty smell.

  “Uh, maybe you’re right,’ Mark said, covering his nose with his shirttail.

  In the next instant his attention was grabbed by what was going on down there in the great chamber.

  He heard a mighty roar, and looking for the source he saw Ammut standing with his front paws on Bludd Skullsplitter’s chest. The giant Firbolg was down on his back and wasn’t moving. Ammut raised his head and let loose another victory roar.

  All around the chamber, Firbolg fled for their lives. Harpies began dropping out of the sky, their wings folding behind them.

  Mark couldn’t believe his eyes.

  As the Firbolg ran, the chitinous exoskeletons began shedding from them and before they’d gone a dozen paces, all that was left of them was tall, skinny man-like shapes. Harpies who alighted on the floor also shed
their wings, the pinions flopping a moment before shrivelling away to nothing. Necks shortened and claws disappeared. Then they were tall, skinny women. Everyone in the place was as nude as newborn babies, and now, instead of dangerous monsters they were just self-conscious people trying to protect their modesty.

  ‘Is someone going to help me down from here?’

  Mark spun round and saw Shax hanging over the lip of the blue stone. The boy was his old gawky self, and even as Mark watched, he lost his grip and fell. He landed on his backside with a bump, but when he looked up he grinned at Mark. ‘Trust me to end things on a duff note!’

  Mark let out a laugh and then ran forward. He grabbed Shax up, and began hugging him.

  ‘Hey, be cool, will you,’ Shax laughed. ‘There’s a girl watching.’

  Then Amy ran forwards and all three of them were hugging and jumping up and down.

  Tu, standing on the platform looked down by his side to see Rip standing beside him. For all he’d fought a magnificent battle with the Firbolg champion, in his doggie form he looked untouched. The dog lolled his tongue and Tu reached into a pocket. ‘OK, OK, so I told a small lie. It was actually three for the price of two.’

  He handed Rip the chocolate biscuit, listening to the dog munching away contentedly.

  The three kids were still whooping it up and Tu smiled to himself.

  ‘These humans sure are strange creatures,’ he said to no one in particular.

  25

  Mark remembered his holiday at Larchwood, but the more he thought about it, the hazier his memories became. Maybe in time he’d just recall the amazing adventure he’d taken as if it was a dream. Something to be snatched at that would float away from his grasp like gossamer on a breeze.

  But he didn’t think he’d ever forget the friends he’d made there.

  Shax and Amy.

  Rip and Tu.

  He even thought that Old Man Tanner would forever be in his memory.

  He remembered leaving the hidden kingdom of Allwhere – he couldn’t think of it as Skathalos’ Realm anymore because the demon was gone and the world returned to its true owners. The Tuatha and Firbolg were now integrated as one, with Tu now proclaimed as man of all men and women. Rip was now their defender, but Mark didn’t think he’d ever be needed again, not as Ammut at any rate. The sky had gone from red to blue and fresh plants had sprung from the once parched earth. Not a realm of nightmare any longer but one of fantasy and wonder. The spirits of those trapped in stone had been released as Skathalos died, returning to take over the forms he’d stolen from them and turned into the fearsome Firbolg and harpies. Those who had been skeletons in the chamber of the scatters had become whole again, with no memory of their death or rebirth. The scatters themselves had disappeared.

  For all of those people whose heads had been taken, Mark was thankful that they’d regained their lives. But there was one other he wished he could have helped.

  As he shook hands with Tu at the exit portal behind Larchwood Falls, the little man winked at him.

  ‘Sometimes we use the windstorm and pop into the human world to see how they’re getting on,’ Tu had said.

  ‘Come see me if you do,’ Mark said. Then he hugged the little man.

  ‘Only if you supply the biscuits,’ Tu said. ‘That Rip has eaten all of mine.’

  Mark then crouched down and hugged Rip deeply. The dog licked him on his ear and mark giggled. He stood up, wiggled his eyebrows at the dog and Rip did the same back. Mark had laughed.

  Together Mark, Amy and Shax had approached the stone wall. As they did, Tu waved a hand and a mini-tornado sprang out of nowhere, it tilted on end and bore a hole through the rock face.

  They all turned and waved, but then they were whisked backwards as though supported by hidden hands, and when they next looked there was no sign of Tu or Rip, or of the hundreds of Tuatha and Firbolg who’d come to see them off. They were standing in a small trickle of water beneath Larchwood Falls, and Mark was first to notice that the dam that he’d demolished with Amy had stayed that way.

  “There’ll be no swimming here anymore,’ said a gruff voice.

  Looking up, they saw Old Man Tanner standing astride the falls.

  ‘Do you hear me, you louts? No one comes here any more. Never again.’

  Mark stared at the old man. He looked as solid as could be. Now that his spirit had been returned to him.

  ‘Mr Tanner. You’re OK?’

  ‘No. I’m a nasty old man who doesn’t like city kids traipsing all over his land. Get it?’Tanner glared at Mark, but then his stern features softened and he gave a little wink.

  Mark, Shax and Amy all blinked at each other. But then they smiled, took each other elbow in elbow and did another round of whooping and hollering.

  When they walked out of the woods they were still hooked together.

  Mark expected merry hell from Mrs Proctor when they got back, but the kindly woman only bustled the three of them into the dining room where their breakfast was laid out.

  ‘I don’t know where you’ve all been wandering off to, but your breakfasts are getting cold. I told you that they’d be ready in minutes. Oh, never mind, just eat up. I just bet that you’re starving? You’d better hurry now, don’t forget you’re going home this morning.’

  ‘We are?’ Mark asked.

  ‘The holiday’s over,’ Mrs Proctor said. ‘Have you all enjoyed it so much it has flown by so quickly? Now I know you all would like to stay, but I run a hotel, not a home for waifs and strays!’ Mrs Proctor shuffled off, chuckling to herself.

  The three found themselves blinking at each other again. But then their bemusement was replaced by the thought of a full English breakfast with loads of hot tea.

  Afterwards, the three made a pact. Lifelong friends.

  They went home to their respective towns, but that meant nothing. Not in these days of mobile phones and social network sites and Skype, and a planned reunion very shortly.

  Mark got off the train and walked up the ramp to the exit door. His mum and dad were waiting for him. They looked happier than he’d seen them in a long time. He ran to them and they all hugged, his parents asking if he’d had a good time, if he’d made any new friends.

  ‘The best,’ Mark told them and he meant it.

  ‘Then you won’t want to hang with me anymore?’

  Mark spun round at the new voice.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’

  Suddenly Mark shrieked with laughter and threw himself at Jake.

  ‘Get a grip, Mark,’ said his big brother, but he was as excited as he lifted his little brother in a huge hug.

  ‘How can this be?’ Mark cried, not bothered one bit about showing his emotions now. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve got a couple weeks off since finishing my tour. Did you forget I was coming home?’

  Mark glanced at his smiling parents, then back at his brother. He remembered his parting thought just before leaving Tu and Rip. The one person he wished he could have saved.

  Tu told him that the world of magic hadn’t forgotten him. All he had to do was believe.

  ‘I didn’t forget, Jake. This is just...magic!’

  Jake went quite for a moment, but then he held Mark close to him. ‘Magic is the right word, Mark. Just don’t tell Mum and Dad, eh?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s the damndest thing,’ Jake said in his ear. ‘I had the strangest of dreams where this little E.T. looking man came and whispered in my ear. He said, “Do you wish you knew where you were going to die?”, then he told me not to go down a road my troop were supposed to patrol. Good job I didn’t because an IED exploded right about where we should have been.’

  ‘An E.T.?’ Mark said. He didn’t doubt his brother; he knew exactly who that was.

  ‘Little grey guy with a big head and big eyes,’ Jake confirmed.

  Mark grinned slyly at his brother. ‘It’ll be our secret.’

  ‘You know what th
e strangest thing of all was?’Jake whispered.

  Mark shook his head. Because of the warning he’d received Jake never died, his parents had never suffered the grief that had almost torn them apart and instead of being packed off to a social services run home, Mark had only spent the last fortnight on a summer holiday as a treat. The fact that the past had been changed as surely as he’d changed Shax’s future felt very weird to Mark. What could be stranger than that?

  Jake laughed to himself. ‘The E.T. had a collie dog with him and the two of them had chocolate and biscuit crumbs smeared on their lips. Weird or what?’

  The End

  About the author:

  Matt Hilton is an internationally published writer, and author of the best selling Joe Hunter thriller series. He has also written a number of short stories and stand-alone novels, including this one. Originally published under the pen name of J A (Jack) Norton, and the original title of ‘Deliver us from Evil’ Matt decided it was time to put his name to his first novella aimed at younger readers. He hopes you have enjoyed Mark Darrow and the Stealer of Souls as much as he enjoyed writing it.

  To find out more about matt Hilton check out his website: http://www.matthiltonbooks.com