by Andrew Symon
“I don’t understand.”
“Families, Jack. If anyone ever said they were straightforward, they were lying. One of the reasons your grandfather doesn’t like the idea is because it came from me.”
“Why’s that a problem?”
“It goes back a long way, Jack. You know your Uncle Doonya was chosen as the Stone Watcher over me? I didn’t like that – so I decided to show them.”
“When you went off to find Tamlina and the Grey suspended you?”
“That’s right. I found out that Tamlina had discovered a fragment of the Destiny Stone. I thought if I got that, it would impress your grandpa.”
“Part of the Destiny Stone!? You mean the corner that’s missing?”
“That’s right. It’s only a small piece; but imagine the power that would give you.”
“But if Grandpa had known the Raglan was part of the Destiny Stone, he would’ve told the Congress.”
“Hardly anyone except me and Konan knew about it. He’d found out from Malevola. He wanted to impress Briannan; and I guess I wanted to impress the Congress. We both thought we could get it from Tamlina, and take it home to show it off.”
Jack thought about this for a moment.
“You mean we could actually get part of the Destiny Stone? Why don’t the Tula Shian use it for themselves?”
“They’ll know it’s important, because it was Tamlina’s. But away from the sandstone near Edinburgh it won’t work so well. Just like when it was in London. I’m guessing they haven’t worked out it’s part of the Stone.”
“Well, let’s tell Grandpa. If he knows what the Raglan is, he’s bound to want to go there.”
“There’s something else. Didn’t you hear it in his voice?”
Jack thought back to the way his grandfather had sounded just now, then to the giant’s bridge at midsummer. I’ll never forget that smell of Phosphan. His grandfather had been scared then; terrified, even. Terrified of Malevola and her demons.
“Malevola came from Tula, right?”
Phineas nodded.
“And Ossian said the Boaban Shee are there, and really bad witches. Grandpa’s scared, isn’t he? I always thought he was so … strong.”
“What Malevola did to him is unimaginable, Jack. We shouldn’t think harshly of him for that. Deep down he connects Tula with what Malevola did to him. Whether he knows it or not, that’s why he’s determined to avoid going there. Maybe it’s for the best.”
“But that’ll mean splitting up. Shouldn’t we stay together?”
“Not if we’re arguing all the way. Sometimes a smaller force can achieve more.”
“Can’t we at least tell him why we’re going to Tula?”
“He won’t believe that – he’s terrified of Tula. But he might accept that the HebShian have to go there. The Gusog feather is part of their history.”
“But it only took us three days to sail here from Ilanbeg. Even allowing for bad weather, we could get to Novehowe in a week or so.”
“The sail from Ilanbeg was a breeze, Jack. From here on it’s really tough.”
Jack thought about Petros being seasick. It wasn’t a breeze for him.
Seeing Jack’s look of disbelief, Phineas continued, “It’s going to be much harder, and not just because of the weather. Whether we head for Novehowe or Tula, we need to leave before too long. Before the Blue Men of the Minch wake up, anyway.”
13
The Cailleach
As Phineas went to find Iain Dubh and Ishona, Jack wandered back into the room where his grandfather lay.
When Grandpa Sandy saw Jack, he reached out for his hand.
“You are the only one who can make the Mapa Mundi work,” he gasped. “What does it show you?”
“Iain Dubh’s got the Mapa, Grandpa. He was looking at it when … when you fainted.”
“Then maybe he can see it too. Our powers do not work well here. That is why we must enlist the Norseelie to help us retake Edinburgh. Now, let us rejoin our hosts.”
Sandy sat up painfully, steadied himself, then stood up. Armina tsked as he wobbled slightly, and moved forward to provide support. With Murkle on the other side, the group made their way back to the great hall.
At least the smell of Phosphan has gone.
“And how is our honoured guest?”
“I apologise; a recent illness lingers within me. But we must discuss our plan.”
“We have gathered your other companions,” said Iain Dubh, indicating Enda, Telos and the others, seated at nearby tables.
Jack, his father and grandfather sat themselves at Iain Dubh’s table as Telos stood up, and announced, “Your island brew was a little strong for most of us. Let us repay your compliment with some traditional Irish poteen.”
He produced a flagon and proceeded to pour its contents into the goblets on the top table. As he poured into Jack’s, he paused and stumbled forward, grasping the goblet in his right hand.
“Clumsy!” he said cheerfully, as he righted the goblet. “Don’t want you getting drunk. Go easy on that.”
“I propose that we divide into two groups,” said Phineas, rising, and holding his goblet aloft. “My father will take one group straight to Novehowe; the other will come with me and the Hebseelie to Tula first, then Novehowe. From there we can make our way to Edinburgh.”
“Phineas is right!” announced Iain Dubh, also rising. “The Tula Shian must be dealt with; only then can you take on the Kildashie.”
Grandpa Sandy sat silently, staring ahead of him.
“Sandy!” hissed Armina from the next table. “Speak for the Congress!”
Grandpa Sandy got unsteadily to his feet, clutching his goblet weakly.
“I … I know that some here feel the need to go to Tula. Very well; but I cannot sanction this detour for my grandson. Phineas may travel with you; I will take the rest to Novehowe.”
Jack saw his father’s eyes narrow, and his mouth set.
“Let us consult the Mapa Mundi. If there is a true path, that will show it,” said Iain Dubh.
“But it only shows itself to Jack!” screeched Murkle.
“And to the Hebseelie,” added Phineas. “Is that not right, Iain?”
“Only when Jack is present. It would not work for us, while you were down below. But we have seen Fractals’ Seer on it. The HebShian will go to Tula with Phineas.”
“Then what of Jack?” shouted Murkle again.
In response, Iain Dubh produced the Mapa Mundi, and handed it to Jack. It lay limply in his hands for a moment, before curling up into a sphere. But for a while, there was nothing to see in the two circles.
“This accursed place!” bellowed Murkle. “The magycks do not work here!”
“Wait!” Gilmore silenced Murkle with a glare. “See! The pictures form!”
Sure enough, into the circles came the image of Fractals’ Seer, and a feather. A gold-tipped feather.
“Then it is settled!” announced Iain Dubh triumphantly. “We take Jack and the Mapa Mundi to Tula! Your health, young Jack!” He raised his goblet, and drank deeply.
Jack avoided looking at his grandfather as he sipped from his goblet.
That’s not bad!
Then he clutched his head, as a roar assaulted his ears. Like the loudest traffic noise he had ever heard …
Oh no! Déjà vu.
In slow motion, Jack imagined Rana and Lizzie falling off their seats.
I know what’s coming next …
Yes: birdsong. Then … darkness.
My head hurts already.
Jack was dimly aware of voices; and of being carried. Over the next while – minutes? hours? days? – he was aware of arguments above him. Snatches permeated his consciousness …
“… poisoned him!” “Traitor!” “This is a plot!” “Unseelie spy!”
… but mostly the sounds wafted over him, like the angry buzzing of wasps. He felt sick, and stomach cramps gripped him.
When he could finally open his eyes,
he felt roasting hot; and yet cold, at the same time. Armina’s blurred face hovered over him, and he could hear Ishona intoning a song, or a prayer, or something, beside him. He’d never felt so ill in his life. Opening his eyes made him want to be sick; but closing them made his head swim. In his head he begged for recovery.
“… quite clearly poisoned …” Armina’s firm voice again. “Like before.”
“We have never poisoned him. Someone must have slipped something into his goblet …”
Jack’s mind wandered off again. His forehead felt like you could fry eggs on it.
When he awoke, it was to the uncomfortable jolting sensation of being carried up steps.
“Where …” but he got no further.
“Don’t speak; save your energy.”
Evidently his father was carrying him.
Then a blast of icy air as they emerged into the open. Jack felt himself bundled onto a cart, which pulled away. Ishona knelt beside him and mopped his brow.
“We’re going to see someone,” she said calmly. “The cailleach will know what to do.”
Cailleach? Jack had only heard that name at the start of spring, when Grandpa Sandy had taken him and Lizzie to see the Blue Hag clear the snows.
They trundled for what seemed like hours, finally stopping beside an old stone house. There were two tiny windows, and a low door which seemed overgrown by the thatched roof. Jack heard someone knock; then Iain Dubh’s voice murmuring. Shortly after, Jack was lifted from the cart and carried inside.
The house was dark, and reeked of peat smoke; but at least it was warm. Iain Dubh remained by the doorway.
“Put him doon.”
“Cailleach,” began Ishona as she set Jack down on a low bed, “this boy was poisoned. He has the key to the safety of our people. He recovered the Mapa Mundi, and it will only work when he is there. We need his help to retrieve our Gusog feather.”
The cailleach muttered inaudibly, but came into Jack’s vision. Was it her?
“Mmmph.” The old woman peered at Jack, examined his eyes and tongue, then lifted his shirt and palpated his belly. Jack squirmed as his tender abdomen was prodded and poked, but he determined not to cry out.
“Aye, it’s me,” she said, reading his mind. Then, turning to Ishona, she barked, “And why is this mainland boy here? He should be in his city home.”
“He fled the Kildashie. And he seeks to return home, and send them away.”
“Kildashie – Raca!” The old woman turned and spat.
“They have stopped the seasons turning, cailleach. Their work is infama.”
Jack watched the cailleach get up and go over to the dresser. When she returned, she held a small wooden wheel, which she held above his head.
“Do you know this, boy?” she demanded.
Jack nodded. “It’s a season-wheel. Marco’s got one; and Iain Dubh.” A spasm of pain racked him, and he retched, a painful dry heave.
“And what happens if the wheel stops turning?”
Jack shook his head.
“You have a special ring there, boy,” barked the cailleach. “Show me your use of it.”
Gasping for breath, Jack tugged Tamlina’s ring off his finger. He gulped hard. The last time I did this I saw Ploutter being tortured …
“Show me!” The order brooked no denial.
Fighting back the sickness, Jack grasped the ring and stared hard at the Triple-S pattern. One faded spiral arm, two bold ones. Slowly, the shape began to spin, and Jack closed his eyes. Between spasms of nausea, Jack could make out …
Edinburgh’s High Street. There’s torrential rain: rain so hard it bounces off the ground. Gutters overflowing. A newspaper shop; the sodden headline on the A-board says ‘Capital chaos – monsoon’s fifth day.’ There’s something bloated in the gutter – a child’s body!
Jack opened his eyes, and vomited.
“Well?” snapped the old woman, when Ishona had wiped his mouth.
“Floods. Edinburgh’s under water. And a child drowned.”
The cailleach sat and thought for a moment. Then she leant forward, and whispered to Ishona, “He has the sight; he is the one. But the remedy he needs will not be ready for three weeks; when the mistletoe blooms.”
Three weeks?!
“I can keep him comfortable until then. Send for his family.”
“His family are keen to leave now, to get to Novehowe,” said Ishona. “But his father will stay.”
“Three weeks is too long,” protested Iain Dubh. “The weather’s closing in. We need to get to Tula, then Novehowe by the solstice.”
“He cannot leave until he is cured. If he is necessary to your journey, then you must postpone your departure!”
“Very well,” said Iain Dubh slowly. “But Phineas will be needed to help us plan. Perhaps one of his cousins can come.”
As Iain Dubh left, Ishona offered to stoke up the fire.
“The peats are in the corner,” grunted the old woman. “But they must last me the winter.”
Once the fire was blazing, Jack dozed off. When he awoke, the cailleach offered him some broth.
“It’ll help,” she said gruffly.
Jack sipped the piping-hot liquid, and was surprised that he did feel a little better. What did the cailleach mean – the peats must last her the winter? He raised his head and looked at the old woman.
“You send the snows away in spring. Can’t you control the weather?”
“I am the sign of the seasons, boy. I do not control them. To interfere with time and the seasons is against nature – infama.”
Jack thought for a moment. “But the Hebseelie want the Gusog feather so they can speed up the winter.”
“It does not speed up time; merely their perception of it.”
“Like when we slowed down time at the midsummer festival? And we speeded it up at Oestre. I even used the fugitemp charm against the Grey.”
“Old witch! I hope you banished her!”
Jack pondered this. Had he banished the Grey? The McCools hadn’t believed she was gone for good.
“Are the Kildashie controlling the weather, then?” Jack lay down again. His brow was burning.
“I thought maybe they had – for a while. But I do not believe so now. They think that winning Shian treasures will give them power – and so it will. But there’s something they’ll never understand, the fools.”
Jack sat up eagerly.
“They don’t realise that the creator force binds everything together. Their treasures will give them nothing unless they are in harmony with that. And ye know about that, eh? Your ring tells me you do.”
Tamlina’s ring? Jack had no time to follow this thought, as another wave of nausea broke over him.
“But the rascals are dangerous,” continued the cailleach, oblivious to Jack’s torment. “And they have allies, too. One of your group is a traitor. You were poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” Jack gasped as the nausea returned once more. “Why?”
“Somebody wishes to halt your quest.”
“What did they use?” asked Ishona. Jack had not seen her in the gloom.
“Something crude. The mistletoe will purge his body; but the berries are not ready yet.”
On cue, Jack turned on his side and retched. His guts ached; and his head felt like it would burst.
I wish I was off this island. I’ve been ill most of the time here.
“You need to rest,” said the cailleach. “But it will be a long three weeks. You’d better sleep. Drink this.”
Jack’s throat was parched, and without thinking he sipped the proffered goblet.
The room swam … birdsong …
Oh no … Déjà vu all over again.
14
Recovery
Jack woke to the sound of his cousins fighting.
“Can … I have some water?”
Rana released her sister’s head, and came over to Jack’s bed.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Water.”
Rana splashed some water into a goblet, and held it to Jack’s lips.
“What day is it?”
“Thursday. You’ve been sleeping.”
“You wake up, and just go back to sleep,” added Lizzie. “We’ve been here for ages.”
Jack turned on his side. “How long?”
“Nearly three weeks. It’s freezing here. That fire doesn’t give off much.”
“Where are we?”
“The cailleach’s house. Ishona brought you here; don’t you remember?”
Jack’s thoughts gradually settled. The cart journey, the fever, being sick. Then there were strange dreams – or were they dreams? Voices, people talking above him. ‘The Creator Force,’ one of them had said, over and over. He felt so weak.
“Where’s the old woman?”
“She went off to collect something; she was quite excited.”
“It’s the mistletoe, silly,” butted in Rana. “She had this special golden knife.”
The wind whistled as the front door opened, bringing in an icy gust.
“Brrr!” Lizzie shivered, and looked round.
“I’ve got the berries. Let me paste them.”
The old woman went over to the stove, and clattered among the pots for a moment.
“Is that what Jack needs?” asked Rana.
The cailleach grunted, and continued to work away.
“Where’s Dad?” croaked Jack.
“They’re down at the Hebseelie place. They’ve been arguing since you left. Grandpa wants to leave, but Iain Dubh says we’ve all to leave together, and we can’t do that until you’re better.”
“Out of the way, girl.” The cailleach shoved Rana aside as she knelt down by Jack’s bed. “Take this.” She proffered a goblet to Jack.
It was the bitterest thing Jack had ever tasted, and he screwed up his face.
“All of it. Otherwise the poison can’t leave you.”
Jack grimaced, and took another sip, but this wasn’t fast enough for the cailleach. She grasped the back of his head, and, lifting it up, forced the rest of the contents down Jack’s throat. He gasped as the foul brew found every taste bud. Coughing and spluttering, Jack sat up. The liquid seemed to be in his stomach for no more than a few seconds before it was clear that it was coming up again.
