Jack Shian and the Destiny Stone

by Andrew Symon

  “Now we must go!” barked Morrigan. “The bridge is not safe for those who linger!”

  The eight pustulas started on their way, and Jack was relieved to see that the selkies appeared to form a guard on either side. As they recommenced their regular pace, Jack glanced back at Fenrig.

  He got me to call on Gosol. And he treated Cal’s leg; and he got the selkies to take Murdo away. He’s almost … noble.

  Fenrig intercepted Jack’s glance. A half-smile passed over his face.

  19

  Fractals’ Seer

  The thrill of seeing off the merfolk lasted for a while; but after a few hours Jack realised that the end was not in sight. The marching was monotonous, almost hypnotic, and indeed Jack felt at times as if he was almost sleepwalking.

  Step-two-three-four … just-keep-plodding-on … step-two-three-four …

  Arvin had long since given up playing his squeeze box. The music had helped, even giving them a beat to march to; but he had evidently decided to use his energies for walking. Jack tried singing to himself, but he was too tired to concentrate. He had lost track of how many seventh-hour rests they had had, and his food and water stores were getting low.

  We must’ve travelled miles. It can’t be long now …

  Jack felt his legs grow weak, and he stumbled. Without room to manoeuvre, Fenrig and Cal fell over him.

  “Watch out!”

  The pustula swayed on the bridge and threatened to fall over. Effortlessly, two selkies bore the pustula’s weight until Jack found his feet again.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, aware that Fenrig was glaring behind his back.

  “Just watch your step, lad,” cautioned Cal. “We’ve a way to go yet. D’ye want me to take the lead a whilie?”

  “I need to rest.”

  “Yeah, me too,” echoed Fenrig. “We’ve been going for days.”

  “Time’s different here, I thought ye knew that.” Cal didn’t raise his voice.

  “So how much longer?”

  “A long way yet. I’ll see if Iain Dubh will stop.”

  Cal whistled, and in the next pustula Iain Dubh looked back. He seemed to read Cal’s mind.

  “It’s too dangerous. Even the hour rests are too long.”

  “They’re just lads.”

  “No matter. If we stop, we’re easy prey. It’s not just the merfolk we have to worry about.”

  Cal shrugged. “You heard what Iain Dubh said. Just keep the rhythm going. After a while you can do it and sleep too.”

  If we’re asleep we’re not on our guard, thought Jack. But I’m too tired to argue.

  Step-two-three-four, gotta-keep-go-ing, step-two-three-four …

  The pace was relentless, and after a while Jack realised he could no longer actually feel his legs. For ages he didn’t dare look down, in case they weren’t there.

  Why isn’t there some kind of charm that can keep us going? Or make us get there? No, mustn’t think; blank out thinking … just keep going.

  In time it was apparent that Jack and Fenrig were not the only ones to feel exhausted. A growing rumble of discontent came from the other pustulas as time wore on, so that Iain Dubh eventually shouted to Morrigan to halt.

  “We can’t!” she snapped. “We must keep going.”

  “But people are falling over. Let them rest a while.”

  “No!” shouted Morrigan.

  Her entreaties worked – but only for a while. The stumbling and tripping became more frequent, the oaths grew louder and more bad-tempered as shins were kicked and people were trampled on. Eventually Iain Dubh called a halt.

  “You can go on if you want,” he shouted at Morrigan. “The rest of us are having a proper rest.”

  Morrigan wailed, an eerie cry that made Jack shiver. It made him think of …

  No. No, it couldn’t be that.

  But the thought was in his mind now, and as he sank down to rest, Jack’s mind raced back to the Woods of Keldy. That day when they’d found Tamlina wounded, when he’d first seen Malevola … There was no doubt about it: Morrigan sounded just like her.

  Jack looked at Fenrig, but if his old adversary had heard his sister, he wasn’t bothered. In fact, he was snoring gently.

  “Rest now,” shouted Iain Dubh. “We’ll take turns to watch. But when we move, we move on together.”

  The selkie guard appeared to understand, although some seemed eager to keep going.

  Morrigan shouted and cursed, upbraiding Fergus and Archie within her pustula, but they too had had enough, and dropped down to rest. She was left, fuming impotently.

  Why isn’t she tired?

  Jack felt his eyelids close.

  Mmmm, that feels good …

  “Arise; go quickly!”

  Jack woke to the sound of a sweet voice whispering in his ear. He looked round, but there was nothing to see – at least, not in the pustula. A selkie was hovering outside, peering in intently. Then the voice came again, “Get up! Go now!”

  Fenrig jumped, startled by the sound.

  And a third time: “Rise quickly!”

  It was Cal’s turn to be startled. There was urgency, and yet at the same time a strange sense of peace in the words. The selkie continued to hover outside.

  Jack looked each way along the line and saw that there was a selkie hovering by each pustula, creating enough turbulence in the water to waken their inhabitants.

  Jack stood up. He had no idea of how long he’d been asleep; but he felt refreshed.

  The words echoed in his head: Go quickly!

  “Come on,” he urged Fenrig. “It’s time to go.”

  The message seemed to have permeated the consciousness of all the travellers, for the pustulas now started to move again.

  Morrigan cursed under her breath.

  She couldn’t get us moving; but the selkies did, thought Jack. If it was the selkies …

  It was a cheery thought, but one that had to sustain him for a long time. The rhythm of the march was soon resumed, and even with their seventh-hour stops, it seemed like they had been on the bridge for an eternity. Jack was down to his last fey biscuit, and he had only a few drops of water left. Even worse, the weeds distributed by Papa Legba had shrivelled, and Jack was uncomfortably aware that there wasn’t as much air inside the pustula. Breathing was getting difficult.

  The selkies were a reassuring presence, but it didn’t stop a few heart-thumping moments when a giant dark shape floated past, a mournful cry lingering in the water long after it had gone.

  “What in Tua’s name was that?” gasped Fenrig.

  “Chust a whale,” said Cal. “Though that kind wouldn’t attack uss.”

  Jack wasn’t sure if this was good to know or not. They’d beaten off merfolk – with the selkies’ help – but whales were another matter. At Shian size, they would be little more than a snack to a whale.

  And, thought Jack as he considered the diminishing water supply, we’ll be a dried snack before long.

  He wasn’t the only one to notice. From further back came complaints from Enda’s companions the Twa Tams.

  “We’re running out of air back here! How much further?”

  Phineas looked back.

  “There’s only Ossian and Kedge behind you. One of you move into their pustula: there’ll be more air in it.”

  “You mean go out into the water?”

  “If you want more air, there’s no choice,” said Phineas emphatically.

  The column paused to watch as one of the Tams took a deep breath, and stepped through his pustula wall and frantically jumped into the one behind him.

  “Hey! It worked!”

  The column moved on again, but it was soon clear that both air and drinking water were in short supply. Breathing became laboured, and as the last of the food and water were consumed, a sense of despair descended. Iain Dubh was faring badly, along with all his HebShian comrades. Stumbling, falling, cursing, they were a pathetic sight.

  They were pretty scrawny to start wit
h, thought Jack. Now they look as if they’re going to drop.

  Jack had just reached the point of thinking that he would rather sink down and die, when he heard a triumphant shriek from Morrigan. Even through the dark water there was clearly light ahead. A dim glow, no more, but light. Reinvigorated, the pustulas shuffled along, the pace quickening.

  “Nice one, Mor,” said Fenrig, as Morrigan turned round to gaze jubilantly at the exhausted travellers behind her. His lips were as dry as Jack’s, and his face seemed hollow, but he looked delighted.

  The pustula inhabitants hobbled the final stretch onto a rock platform, whereupon Morrigan brandished her sceptre and uttered, “Claudopont!”

  The sea fell away from either side, taking the pustula walls with it.

  Jack looked round. It was another cave, but there was light coming from somewhere. Iain Dubh and the other HebShian had collapsed; they looked like they might never get up.

  “Is that daylight?” asked Daid, a note of relief in his voice.

  “Of a kind,” replied Phineas. “If this is Tula, there’s little true light here in winter.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” gasped Armina. “I need fresh air. Let’s get out of here.”

  Morrigan had run ahead, casting beams of light from her sceptre, searching for an exit. With a sharp cry, she blasted a hole in the rock, and the cave wall fell away.

  But if the travellers had been expecting daylight and fresh air, they were disappointed. Within seconds they were engulfed in a grimy sulphurous fog that made breathing painful.

  “What’s this?” gasped Jack in fear and astonishment. His lungs felt like they were burning.

  “It’s air poison,” explained Phineas between wheezes. “It’s what happens when you upset the balance.”

  “Welcome to Tula!”

  Morrigan alone seemed unconcerned at the environmental catastrophe that surrounded them. She appeared able to breathe without undue effort; even Fenrig was looking with astonishment as his sister leapt ahead.

  “This way!” she exclaimed, leading them through the destroyed cave wall.

  Phineas pulled Iain Dubh to his feet, while Kedge and Ossian helped the others. Jack brought up the rear, and was about to step through the wall, when he felt a tug on his sleeve. Turning round, he was astonished to see Papa Legba.

  The old man put his finger to his lips, and showed Jack the ring he was wearing.

  A triple-S spiral! Just like Tamlina’s.

  “It is not safe for you to take the Mapa onto this island. You must leave it here with me.”

  Jack pulled away from the old man, who continued to hold onto his sleeve.

  “The creatures here will kill you for the Mapa,” urged Papa Legba.

  No, thought Jack. It’s one of the three treasures; and I’ve been entrusted to keep it. I can’t give it to this … dark magycks master.

  “If you doubt me, look at the Mapa.”

  Jack quickly tugged the map free from Tamlina’s ring, and held the flag out. As it curled up into a ball, Jack could see that it showed Papa Legba in one circle, and the Mapa in the other.

  He must be telling the truth!

  “Trust me. I’m with Gosol.” The old man indicated his ring again.

  A peaceful feeling came over Jack. Flicking the sphere back into a flag, he handed it over.

  “Keep the ring in your pocket. Now, you must catch the others up.” And with that, Papa Legba disappeared.

  Jack hurried through the hole in the wall. The outside of the cave was even worse: the fog was thicker, darker, and even more sulphurous; and a biting wind cut through them. Jack took a step and nearly disappeared.

  The foul smell seemed to come from the very swamp around them: a squelchy, putrid, nauseating wasteland that almost defied life. Ossian had doubled back to find Jack, and now hauled him out of the sticky foul-smelling gloop he’d stepped into. Jack got to his knees and checked that Trog’s knife was still there.

  Phew. Need to clean that when I can.

  “It’s bogland!” shouted Armina, as she sank in up to her knees. “We’ll never get far in this!”

  With low visibility, the bog seemed to stretch, featureless, in every direction. It was a place that reeked of death, decay, and despair. An icy wind bore down on the hapless travellers.

  “Gilmore,” begged Iain Dubh, shivering with the cold, “haven’t you got anything we can wear to help us here?”

  Jack thought back to Gilmore’s early promises of charmed clothes that could do all sorts – even make you fly.

  “I’m … sorry …” gasped Gilmore. “I … never … expected … this.” Each breath was an effort.

  “What can we get to eat here?” demanded Arvin.

  “Eat? Can you see any animals living in this desert bog? Save your breath for walking, you dolt!” Kedge spat.

  “Kedge is right. Breathe as slowly as you can. And keep moving,” shouted Ossian. “In single file! Behind Morrigan!”

  “Keep your swords clear of the bog-water!” urged Phineas. “We may need them before long! For Boabans, and the Cu-shee.”

  As Morrigan led them off into the murky expanse, Jack stumbled forward. He felt he hadn’t eaten in a week. His head started to swim.

  “Look!” shouted Cal, as a ghostly silhouette appeared in front of them.

  It was a building: that much Jack could make out. But how far away it was, and how big, was impossible to tell. Three crows swooped down on the travellers, cawing raucously.

  “Fractals’ Seer!” shrieked Morrigan exuberantly.

  “Is Murkle in there?” demanded Daid.

  “Never mind him: have they got food?” demanded Ossian. “I’m starvin’.”

  “Everything that’s needed is in there,” replied Morrigan, heading for the gloomy silhouette.

  The travellers, exhausted, and hungry beyond imagination, fell into line behind her. Except Enda, who held back, tugging at Phineas’ sleeve.

  “I don’t like this. Where’s all the horrible creatures they talked about, if not in there?”

  “We can’t stay out here,” gasped Phineas. “If the air doesn’t poison us, we’ll die of hunger, or exposure. Nothing can live long out here; and it’s nearly nightfall, anyway. They must have some way of keeping the air clean inside.”

  Enda looked askance at Phineas, but said nothing.

  The silhouette grew larger with astonishing quickness, and even in the gloomy twilight Jack could see that it was a peculiar shape.

  Like I saw in the Mapa Mundi, when Grandpa got the Phosphan curse again … it’s all pointy-shaped.

  As they neared the strange building, the crows left them, and a path became clearer, leading up to a large wooden door. In the occasional ray of the setting sun that permeated the fog, Jack thought he could make out carvings around the huge door. They were the oddest-looking beasts he had ever seen. And all the rocks that made up the towering wall were pointy-shaped. Jack’s teeth chattered: he’d never been so cold. Gilmore’s super-warm clothing was no protection here.

  “Swords and sceptres ready!” cautioned Phineas. “If it’s Boaban Shee or Cu-shee, aim for their ankles. If it’s witches, use your sceptres!”

  “This is for real,” whispered Ossian to Jack, who couldn’t help thinking that a nice battle was just what he needed to warm up. After he’d had something to eat and drink, of course. But then he looked around at his fellow travellers. Iain Dubh looked fit to drop; Daid wasn’t much better … In fact, only Enda, Ossian, Kedge and his father looked in any state to fight.

  And Morrigan, of course. Taking the lead as she had done for so long, she strode up to the door and struck it with her sceptre. A rumbling echo-ey sound came from within.

  Nothing.

  Morrigan struck the door again, with even greater force.

  Still nothing.

  “Shouldn’t we just try the handle?” asked Fenrig.

  He stepped up, and grasped the huge steel handle, but completely failed to shift it.

&nbs
p; “Let me have a go,” muttered Kedge.

  Taking the handle in both hands, he wrenched it to the right, and the door creaked open.

  A waft of fresh air hit them, and the travellers hurried inside.

  “That’s better!” beamed Armina, as they closed the door behind them. “That stuff outside is terrible.”

  The air inside was breathable. It smelt clean, if anything.

  Jack looked around. They were inside a hall, with two burning staves on the wall. In the dim light, Jack could make out carved stone figures above the staves. Strange-looking women, contorted and gruesome.

  “Mallisons!” shouted Morrigan. “Vitalise!”

  The new arrivals had no time to react. In two seconds the carved figures had dropped from the walls. One of them walked up to Morrigan.

  “I knew ye’d come.”

  20

  Island Hospitality

  Morrigan seemed to blush. She even curtsied.

  “I am ready.”

  “And how many have ye brought?” It was a squeaky voice.

  “A score, Endora; and my brother.”

  The travellers, except for Morrigan, shrank back into a huddle, facing the old women, whose staring eyes were disturbingly large.

  Must be because it’s so dark in here.

  Jack gripped his sword so tightly he could feel his hand pulsing, but glancing to his side he could see that Ishona and Daid were on the point of fainting. From hunger or fear, it made no difference: the arrivals would offer little resistance.

  “There’s no need for weapons,” said Endora, examining the group. “The laws of island hospitality demand that guests are not armed.”

  Phineas made to protest, but Iain Dubh held up a warning finger.

  “Do as she says. They will not attack us.”

  “How can he be sure?” whispered Jack to his father.

  “I don’t know,” hissed Phineas. “But throw down your sword noisily – create a disturbance.”

  Jack chucked his sword noisily onto the ground, at which the others did the same – except Phineas. In the clatter of steel hitting the cold stone floor he secreted his sword in his jacket, as he had done in Nebula.