Jeff Madison and the Shimmers of Drakmere (Book 1)

by Bernice Fischer

  “How do you know Holka, climbed it lately?”

  She nodded. “And I will race you to the top of this one.”

  They leapt to their feet and started to climb, going from branch to branch. Holka laughed with Matt while they were swinging upside down on the lower branch. While they swung, Holka became silent and her eyes narrowed as if she strained to remember that tree in Dreamland, that particular tree Matt was talking about.

  19

  Matt was sleeping badly. Every night in his dreams he heard whispering but he could not make out what was being said or who was saying it. Yet the voice had a sense of urgency.

  He knew it was important to listen, important like learning your ABCs when there was a test coming up. But when Matt woke up, he could not remember.

  Tearful and miserable, all he wanted was to go home. He had lost count of how long he had been at the castle. A few days already, maybe a week or two, he just did not know anymore.

  And it was becoming harder to hold onto his memories. Even his dreams were becoming hazy. Matt sat looking out of his window with Holka with him. And as hard as she tried, she could not make him laugh or go out to play.

  Eventually a messenger came with a note. The king wanted to see him.

  * * *

  King Grzegorz turned away from the window, his dark eyebrows drawn in and his mouth pulled back in a scowl. “What is going wrong? The brat has had free rein around the whole castle. I have had to endure,” he slammed his hand on the table to make his point, “his laughing and giggling, and now he is crying, sobbing, ugh.”

  There was a pause. “Why has the enchantment not taken hold yet?” he demanded, glaring at both Thirza and Wiedzma.

  Thirza stood with his eyes on the floor. He dared not look up. He was hardly daring to breathe.

  Matt was unhappy, and as long as he was unhappy then the enchantment could not take its final hold. The sealing of the enchantment was close and the loop was almost complete. Another day or two and Matt would be under the spell, lost. The boy was already starting to lose his memories. Just today he could not remember his father’s name.

  “Why?” screamed the king, spit shooting from his mouth. “Why is he unhappy!”

  Wiedzma, who was standing in front of a mirror admiring her reflection, smoothed down her pale peach gown and pinched her cheeks for colour. It was tiresome when he was in a mood like this, but he did have a point.

  “The child should be under the spell already. It is a powerful spell, and its hold over Matt should have been complete by now. I have been watching his days exploring the castle with the girl. There was a lot of laughing and fun and all he had to do was to have fun. No school, and no chores, just fun.”

  Wiedzma frowned as if the thought of her spell being tampered with crossed her mind. She shook her head and clicked her tongue. No one had her power. If there were other magic here then she would have sensed it.

  * * *

  Believing that he was finally going home, Matt was happy, skipping alongside Holka who held his hand as they made their way to the king.

  The castle seemed brighter, the sun shone through the windows and the flowers inside the castle were blooming with splashes of colour. Castle staff whistled tunes to themselves as they polished. They looked up and gave him a small wave or a wink as he passed. There was laughter in another room but when Matt strained back to see who was laughing the door slowly swung shut, dulling the sound. The castle was so cheery, full of laughter, colour and music that Matt could not help but smile at everyone he passed.

  When they reached the doorway, Holka hung back. “I’m not allowed in there,” she whispered. “But I will be here when you come out.”

  Matt opened the door and peeped inside. His mouth went very dry at the sight of the king. He was standing at a tall window, talking, waving his hands in the air with that lady called Wiedzma. Matt had only ever seen her standing on a balcony or at the end of the corridor watching him.

  As he came in, Wiedzma turned her head and gave him a smile of welcome. “Matt,” she said in her high singing voice.

  Matt stared at her. Her hair was coiled high on her head and she had a mole on her left cheek. Matt blinked and stared. The mole was creeping upwards very slowly. He could hardly drag his eyes away from the crawling mole.

  The king was dressed in black, again, just like the last time. His smile looked strained, he seemed irritated and was a little more to the point.

  “I hear you are not too happy, Matt? What is the problem?” he asked in a level voice.

  Matt was scared. Their faces looked friendly, but they were not.

  “I want to go home.”

  “But Matt, darling, you are home,” said Wiedzma coming to stand behind Matt and curling his hair in the nape of his neck between her fingers. She glanced at the king who was staring directly at the wall behind Matt, probably trying to rein in his temper.

  “No,” said Matt, pulling away from Wiedzma so that she was not touching him. “I want my mom and Jeff and …”

  Tears filled his eyes. He could not remember who else was at home but he knew there was more than Jeff and his mother.

  The king came over to Matt, putting his hand on his small shoulder, his face in a grimace as he tried to sound friendly. “But Matt,” he said in a soothing voice, “your home is here now, with us. Don’t we make you happy? Have we not been nice?”

  Matt nodded. “You have been very nice but this is not my home and my mom told me I’m allowed to say no when I don’t want to do something. I don’t want to stay here. I want to go home.”

  His voice was wobbling again. Matt kept in his tears. What would, would, would uhhh … Matt could not get the name he was searching for. What would … ummm. Jeff think.

  The sound of the tears in Matt’s voice was just too much for King Grzegorz. He turned away and nodded to Wiedzma. It was time for tough measures.

  “Matt, you can’t go home. Your mother has forgotten about you. I did not want to tell you but I can see now that I must tell you the truth. Your mother is out having parties. You are no longer wanted at home. Even your brother is gone.”

  Matt gasped. “That’s not true! No way!”

  The king smiled slyly. “Come and see for yourself.” He pointed at a large glass ball in Wiedzma’s hand.

  Matt came closer, eyes glued to the ball. He could make out images. It looked like his mother who was staring into the distance, her vacant green eyes flooded with unshed tears.

  20

  “See, she is at a party!” The king leaned over Wiedzma’s shoulder gazing into the ball.

  Matt squinted into the ball again. He gasped, not knowing what to say. Behind his mother were flashing blue and red lights.

  “That’s not a party,” whispered Matt.

  Wiedzma and the king shared a little smile only to have their faces drop at Matt’s next words.

  Matt stepped back a few steps, bumping into a table. “That is not a party, that’s the police. They’re looking for me!”

  Wiedzma swirled around, her face red and angry. “Maybe it’s that maid, Holka, and maybe we must get rid of her. Maybe she is making you unhappy.”

  “No,” gasped Matt, “Holka is my friend.”

  Taking Wiedzma’s lead the king spoke. “Well, I think we must make new friends. Guards!” he yelled. “Bring Holka in here.”

  The next moment, Holka was dragged in, her feet hardly touching the floor between the two large grim-looking men, their faces like stone. Their eyes had a blank stare to them, like they were in a trance. They were dressed in the guards’ uniform of a black tunic. The bright red sash looked like a streak of blood draped over their shoulders. Long swords dangled from their belts.

  Holka’s face displayed shock. Her mouth hung open, her eyes darting frantically between Wiedzma and the king.

  It was just too much for Matt. The tears started to pour down his face, but more than just unhappy tears, they were angry tears. He constantly wanted to cry, and this
not was normal for him.

  Holka blinked and stumbled back when her feet touched the ground. What were they doing, why was the child in such a state?

  She did not know where this anger was coming from but her jaw clamped so tightly the veins on her neck stood out. The next moment she was yelling at both the king and at Wiedzma.

  “Leave him alone! Why are you making him cry? What is wrong with you?”

  Both the king and Wiedzma stopped, their eyes wide, clearly shocked at being spoken to like this.

  The king turned slowly, his mouth in a cruel sneer. “Perhaps a lesson in manners and obedience,” he whispered in his fury. “Take her away to the dungeon. Make it hurt.”

  Holka and Matt both screamed and cried out for each other. Matt sputtered but his words wouldn’t form as Holka was dragged out kicking and screaming.

  His tears had dried up and he dropped his head. All he could hear softly in the back of his head was his mother’s voice.

  Although he had just seen her face in the ball, he could not recall his mother’s features. Everything was hazy, but he could remember her voice.

  A rhyme ran through his head. He whispered part of it, the only part he could remember right now.

  “But … but if I’m late and you become afraid, mischief runs amok.”

  Matt screwed his eyes shut as he tried to remember the rest of the poem. He was not sure why these words had come to him. His mother used to whisper it to him before he went to sleep every night. He just knew that now he had to finish it.

  This was the whispering he heard in his dreams. This is what was so important to remember although he had no idea why.

  The last line came to him. Raise your voice, stamp your feet and shout smok, smok, smok.

  Without thinking about it, without knowing what he was about to do or what was going to happen, Matt whispered the word: “Smok.”

  Wiedzma whipped her head towards Matt, her eyes wide. “What?” she asked. “What did you say?” By now she was screeching, her red face no longer so beautiful.

  Angrily, Matt spoke up.

  “Smok!” And then louder still, “Smok!” He kept repeating it until he was screaming the word over and over.

  Wiedzma clapped her hands to her mouth, her eyes wild with fury. She moved to grab the child and force him to stop.

  King Grzegorz was staring from Wiedzma to Matt, not sure what was happening, or what the brat was screaming. What did it mean?

  Thirza was staring at Matt. How did he know that word? Who taught it to him? This could not have worked any better if he planned it himself.

  There was a loud crack, so loud that everyone felt the shockwave of the violent noise.

  Everyone in the room fell over and rolled on the floor, some trying to grab chair legs, crying with fear from the immense force. The shockwave moved swiftly through the castle, sweeping people along like a broom. The wave moved out through all the windows and onto the lands beyond causing chaos as it swept out in all directions.

  The beautiful colours of the room faded to grey. The colourful walls that had been dressed with vibrant tapestries were now bare, grey stones that oozed coldness. Matt was swept across the carpetless floors, coming to rest against the wall. He felt the hard cold floor beneath him as he passed out.

  21

  CRACK … The deafening sound rolled like thunder over the land. The force of the shockwave swelled like a river rushing in all directions.

  Once the wave passed there was nothing, just quiet. Then life in the forest, the plains and the hills carried on as normal. Villagers ran after their scattered farm animals, fixing their straw roofs, collecting the washing that had flown around and talked excitedly among themselves. Many looked towards Drakmere castle.

  Far away, the shockwave reached a cliff face, a vast wall of rock that stretched up towards the heavens. The wave hit the stone wall with a massive bang, so hard that the loose stones were rattled and tumbled down the cliff.

  High up was a gaping hole, where the darkness sucked in the wave like a hungry beast. The animals that lived on the forest floor beneath existed in peace and harmony but they also knew not to enter that cavern. Not that they could get that high up, but there were ancient stories that passed through generations. There was something dangerous in that vast cavern.

  A thunderous roar now came out of the cavern. All the creatures in the surrounding area stopped and looked up. The roar was pure power, loud, fearsome and angry. Birds exploded from the trees, small animals scattered in all directions and hurried into their burrows and shelters.

  If any had dared to stop and look up they would have seen a steady stream of smoke flowing from the cavern.

  He was awake and he was angry.

  A dark shadow moved to the edge of the cavern mouth, looked around at the blue sky, lifted his monstrous head and roared with all his power, allowing the anger to flow out in a single stream of fire. With a shove, he dropped into nothingness.

  The dark creature must have dropped about fifty metres before huge wings stretched out from either side of his massive body and pumped him into flight. The powerful wings pushed up and down, propelling him to a good height before they spread out wide and he started to glide through the air.

  He rolled his head from side to side. As he circled a few times he surveyed the land. Below him were forests, stretching out in all directions. Pockets of fields with tall swaying grass like green carpets were interspersed with the forest, making the landscape look like green boxes. Tiny specks of flowers dotted the fields.

  To the north, as far as the eye could see, was a long row of snow-capped mountains, so high that the peaks disappeared into the deep blue.

  A sapphire lake sparkled in the distance. The creature was so high up that he would not look like a massive dragon to anyone scanning the skies: you might have mistaken him for a large bird.

  The dragon cut out of his lazy circle and glided through a white waterfall that rushed down the mountainside just to the left of where his cavern entrance was. Feeling refreshed he turned and headed west.

  He had to be quick now. He had heard the call. Well sort of. The call was not exactly right but it was enough to touch his awareness, enough to wake him. And the call had come from Drakmere, so to Drakmere he had to go, and fast.

  * * *

  Ella Madison did not know where her boys were. The police had taken statements and the search party had been organised to search the forest. Ella knew, she did not know how, but she knew they were not in the forest.

  She could sense that her boys were much further away than that, and they were in trouble.

  Quietly she sat next to Rhed’s mother who was sobbing into her tissue. She was thinking hard. There was someone who could help, but she could not remember who it was. Every time she tried to recall a name, mist clouded her thoughts and she ended up thinking of fudge, of all things.

  It was very frustrating. Who on earth would think of fudge when their children were missing? She slapped her hands on the side of the couch trying to force the memories to come back. She walked up and down, gnawing at her knuckles as she pushed at her memories.

  She wanted to go and search for the children too but the police said she should stay home in case they contacted her on the phone.

  Ella shook her head. She did not know where they were but … she would eat her fudge if there were phones wherever they were.

  22

  The occupants in the boat were quiet as Rig rowed, dipping the oars in and out of the black water. They were more than halfway and they could not hear or see anything on the shore they had just left behind, where they had parted with Madgwick.

  Jeff looked at Rig’s face. The glittering dust that swirled around them illuminated them in a silver glow. Rig’s forehead was drawn into a deep frown and his mouth was in a straight line. He was concentrating on keeping the magic boat in place and rowing.

  As he watched Rig, Jeff noticed he still had not taken his eyes off the shore where he had
left Madgwick to fight alone.

  They were almost on the other side and Rig started to pull the boat towards the shore, feeling the gravel underneath. He gave the boys a nod, motioned for them to stand. As they stood up in the boat the dust dissolved around them, letting them sink into the water up to their ankles. Neither Jeff nor Rhed could find anything to say. The loss of Madgwick cut deep. He had sacrificed himself to save them.

  Rig watched the darkness of the opposite shore. The silver dust that had just been the boat flowed effortlessly back into his hands.

  Slowly he shook his head. How could this happen again? How could he lose another warrior here in Drakmere? As skilful as Madgwick was, there were too many shimmers to fight. Rig would have made himself invisible and then fought them but Madgwick, being younger, did not posses that power yet. There had been no time to teach him those valuable skills as they had been on the run since entering through the doorway.

  Rig’s lips were clenched but he was careful not to show his anger. In the boat there had been complete silence with just the odd sniff. No, he had to keep it together now. As Madgwick would say, they were just kids.

  A sharp purple light flashed in the distant darkness. It was so quick you could almost believe your eyes were playing tricks on you. Rig stared intensely, not even blinking, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he leaned forward. Flash. Yes! There it was again. It was a little purple flash, very far away but he definitely saw it.

  There was no way the flash had come from Madgwick and no way that the shimmers produced that bright light. They were all about darkness. There was only one person who could summon a flash that purple. Rig bit his lip. How could she have made her way through the doorway?

  Jeff and Rhed were standing next to him, also squinting and leaning forward.

  “What are you looking at?” Rhed whispered to Jeff.

  “No idea,” whispered Jeff in return. “But Rig saw something.”