by Andrew Symon
“You remember what to do?”
“Just fling them at her feet. She’ll get confused. I’ve got everything else in here too!”
“The jomo should stun her,” said Phineas doubtfully, “but it doesn’t open the gate.”
“I’m sure I can get through the bars; then maybe I can find a key,” said Jack hopefully.
“Hema took the keys. I can’t let you go on your own.”
“Dad, we haven’t any choice,” urged Jack. “I’ll go and find the swords, and bring them back.”
“How are you going to find them?”
“I’ll find a way. We can’t just wait here and do nothing.”
“Phin, he’s right. If someone doesn’t get out, we’ve no chance at all,” said Enda. “Come away now; I’ll get the mallison to the gate. Ready, Jack?”
Jack nodded, and Enda strode the few paces to the gate.
“I’m Irish; I demand to see the consul.”
The mallison got up, and hobbled to the gate. Peering up at Enda, she scowled, and spat.
“Hah!”
Jack sprang forward, and threw the three mixed dirts at the mallison’s feet.
There was a muffled whump, and a puff of smoke. When it cleared, the mallison stood by the gate.
“It hasn’t worked,” hissed Ossian.
Then the mallison fell. Dead to the world, she lay on her back, eyes closed, a bemused smile on her face.
“Quick!”
Jack knelt down, and squirmed into the gate. It was a tight fit. Gasping, he wriggled first one way, then the other.
Wish I hadn’t eaten so much tonight …
Agonisingly slowly, Jack inched his way forward. The mallison sighed, and smacked her lips.
Holding his breath, Jack finally wriggled through the bars of the gate, collapsing on the other side. His shoulder hurt like anything, but he forgot this when he saw the mallison’s eyes start to open. Grabbing his satchel with the haemostat bandages, he tiptoed past her, and found himself in a long dark corridor. He heard the mallison rise to her feet, and bellow at the prisoners.
“Get back to yer beds, scum. Enjoy yer last sleep!”
Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. He hurried away down the corridor, but it was so dark, he wasn’t sure where he was going.
Footsteps ahead! And voices!
Jack froze. In the gloom he could just make out the outline of a door. Hurriedly turning the handle, he entered.
A single candle flickered in the gloom. Jack heard a gasp of surprise, and reached down for Trog’s knife.
“Shh!”
It was a high-pitched squeak of a voice …
I’ve heard that before.
A second candle was lit, and the room brightened. Jack could make out the Ashray, sitting on the side of a small wooden bedframe. There was no mattress. The tiny creature looked famished.
“Will you take us away?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“I need to get our swords: d’you know where they are?”
“I’ll show you if you promise to get us out.”
“We’ve all got to get out of here; but I’ll need your help to free the others. And we’ve to find our friends – the ones who left the meal early.”
“Ahh …”
“What d’you mean?” demanded Jack, his voice rising. “What’s happened to them?”
“Shh! Be quiet! Hema will hear you.”
“Look,” said Jack firmly, “I’ve got to find the swords and free the others. Can I trust you?” He paused. “Wait a minute. You said ‘Take us away’. Who else is there?”
The Ashray put her finger to her lips, blew out one of the candles, and picked up the other.
“Come with me.”
She led Jack through a connecting door. Putting the candle down on a bedside table, she shook a slumbering figure.
“Come on; we’re going.”
The figure stirred, then sat up. In the light of the flickering candle, Jack could see it was the girl who’d served them at supper.
“We’ve to show this boy to the storeroom; then we’re going.” The Ashray shook the girl’s shoulder. “It’s nearly dawn.”
Rubbing her eyes and yawning, the girl got up, and threw a shawl over her shoulders.
“There’s something else we need as well,” said Jack. “Some grey sandstone, chipped off a bigger block. And a feather, with a golden tip.”
“The Gusog?” squeaked the Ashray. “It’s in Hema’s room; but she’ll be in the …” She paused, and looked at Jack. “She’s busy. Let’s go.”
“What about the stone? We think Malevola brought it here.”
“No. No stone.”
The girl tugged the Ashray’s arm, and indicated Jack with a nod of her head.
“What is your name?” asked the Ashray.
“Jack. Jack Shian. I’m from Edinburgh … well, Rangie.”
A half-smile passed over the girl’s face, and she beckoned them forward.
The three went back into the Ashray’s room, then tiptoed out into the silent corridor.
“This way.”
The Ashray turned right, then paused as she came to a corner.
“Have you got a sceptre?”
Jack shook his head. “Ours don’t work here. And anyway, I’m not fourteen yet.”
Tutting, the Ashray led them round the corner in the corridor, and up to a large wooden door.
“This is Hema’s room. Let’s hope the beastie isn’t here.”
She turned the handle cautiously. The door creaked as she peered in.
“It’s all right; there’s no one here.” The Ashray led them in, leaving the door slightly ajar. Her candle fluttered as she walked up to a large glass-fronted cabinet.
“There’s your feather.”
Resting on a purple cushion was a single tattered white feather. There was no obvious colouring on it.
“Is that really the Gusog feather?” asked Jack incredulously. “I thought it had a golden tip.”
There was a low growl from behind them. Jack spun round, and saw the silhouette of a huge dog … Only it was bigger than any dog he’d ever seen. Jet black, it slinked towards the three of them, its claws clicking on the stone floor.
The Ashray squeaked in alarm, and pulled the young girl aside. The dog advanced slowly on Jack, its yellow eyes fixing him with a cold stare.
Jack grabbed Trog’s knife, and desperately tried to think …
Kynos hex? No chance, not on a beast this size … What was that Cu-shee hex Enda taught me on the boat?
He brandished the steel knife, and was about to swipe at the beast’s paws when it sprang forward and struck Jack’s right hand. Blood welled as the knife spun out of reach. The dog stood for a moment, staring at Jack. It growled again, a mesmerising, terrifying sound.
Jack backed up against the cabinet, his eyes darting frantically from side to side. He tried to ignore the saliva dripping from the great beast’s jaws.
The dog advanced a pace, and then there was a loud yelp.
Jack looked to his left. The young girl stood, Trog’s knife in her hand. Blood gushed from the dog’s right haunch, and the beast turned round to face this new enemy.
The girl and the Ashray backed away, but the beast was on them instantly, growling and snapping. The Ashray squeaked in alarm, and the girl cowered as the beast stood over them. Its eyes glinted in the darkness.
It leapt, slashing at the girl’s left arm with its razor-like claws.
A silent scream, as the claw sliced through flesh.
Jack reached quickly into his Sintura belt, grabbed the devil’s shoestring, and slipped it onto his wrist.
“Abcanidæ!”
The beast sprawled, its front legs caving in.
“Quick! Throw me the knife!”
The girl slid the knife along the floor, and Jack grasped it quickly. In a flash he swept the blade horizontally, and cried out, “Terra nasus!”
Thank you Enda, thank you thank yo
u thank you for teaching me that.
The dog’s back paws flew to the side wall, and the beast slumped, yelping in pain. Turning round, it tried to jump at Jack, whose eyes grew as large as saucers. As the dog’s head sailed towards him he half-closed his eyes and held the knife in front of his face.
There was a squelchy thudding bark as the blade entered through the lower jaw and emerged just between the beast’s eyes. If such a creature can be said to look surprised, then the look on this beast’s face was pure astonishment. A strangulated gurgling came from the back of its throat, as it jerked backwards and fell sideways, kicking madly with its back stumps. Blood spread quickly over the cold floor. The gurgling slowly subsided, the legs stopped thrashing, and the beast lay still.
Then, raising its head one last time, it howled.
A death-embracing, sickening howl that pierced Jack’s brain.
“They’ll know we’re here now.” The Ashray skipped over the corpse and opened the cabinet. Grabbing the feather (nearly as tall as she was), she made for the door, pausing only to grab a bunch of keys from a hook behind the door. “Come on.”
“Just a minute.” Jack wiped Trog’s knife and reattached it to his calf, then reached into his satchel and withdrew two bandages. Beckoning the young girl, he wrapped one deftly around her bleeding arm, then the other around his right fist.
Finally, something useful from my lessons!
The girl looked at him and smiled.
“Hurry!” The Ashray’s squeaky voice was urgent. Running further along the corridor, she opened the next door along, and indicated to Jack a stack of swords, loosely covered by a cloak.
“How many can ye carry?”
Jack grabbed two swords in each hand, but quickly realised that if he was to fight he could take no more. He looked helplessly at the Ashray for a moment. Intercepting his look, the girl stepped forward, and also grabbed four swords.
“We’ll let the others out, then they can come back for the rest,” smiled Jack. “Let’s go.”
The three hurried back along the corridor. It was hard running and carrying four swords, and Jack dropped one of them as they rounded the corner. As it clattered on the bare floor, Jack imagined the sound carrying everywhere.
He scooped the sword up again, and they made for the cell; but just as they neared it Malicia stepped into the corridor.
“So, ye got out, ye wee maggot. Sanguina!”
22
Cutting Off Witches’ Feet
“Quick, Jack! The keys!”
Phineas’ urgent shout came as Malicia, teeth bared, leapt up, her cloak floating as she soared forward.
Jack dropped three of the swords, and fell to the floor. As the mallison floated close, he swung the fourth sword at where he thought her feet should be.
“Ungula!”
There was a scream of rage and pain as the mallison’s left foot flew off. Jack looked with horror at the foot on the floor …
It’s not a foot! It’s a hoof!
Malicia crumpled to the floor. Seeing this, the young girl grabbed the keys from the Ashray, and flung them towards Phineas’ waiting hands. The barred door flew open as Sanguina turned into the corridor, her eyes ablaze. Blood dripped from her mouth.
“Ye let them escape!” she roared at the hapless Malicia, who spun around on the floor, cursing and weeping in equal measure.
“My foot! The little snake has taken my foot!”
“Get her other one!” shouted Finbogie, as the prisoners burst out of the cell and grabbed the swords.
Jack nimbly hopped over Malicia’s trailing leg, and hacked at her right ankle.
“Ungula!”
As hoof parted company with ankle, Malicia gave a loud cry, and rolled over. Blood seeped from both stumps. Sanguina halted just yards away, and surveyed the scene. Phineas, Ossian, Enda and several others brandished swords, and began to advance on her. She withdrew her wand, but Phineas skipped forward and sliced it out of her hand before she could use it. With a cry of fury she flew back the way she had come, shouting for help.
“Where’s she gone?” demanded Phineas.
“To the exanguine room,” replied the Ashray. “They’re busy with your friends.”
“Let’s get the others out, and then we can tackle them,” shouted Ossian.
“Where are the other swords?” pleaded Enda. “We’ll each need one.”
“This way,” said the Ashray. “I’ll show you.”
She handed the Gusog feather to Jack, and led Enda and Ossian back along the corridor.
While Phineas went to release the other prisoners, Jack approached Iain Dubh and presented him with the feather.
“Um, it’s not gold; but the Ashray says this is it.”
Iain Dubh cradled the feather, stroking it gently. His eyes sparkled.
“First the flag, then this. We’re blessed.” He tucked the feather in his waistband.
“We’ve yet to get out of here,” noted Cal solemnly.
As Phineas returned with the other prisoners, Enda and Ossian arrived with the swords. Within a minute all the prisoners were assembled, swords in hand.
“Where’s Morrigan?” demanded Fenrig.
“She wasn’t in with us,” replied Ishona softly, eyeing the Gusog feather. “She’s with them.”
“That’s a lie!”
“There’s one way to find out,” replied Jack. “Where’s this exanguine room?”
“We’ll go through the big hall,” said the Ashray. “That’s the quickest way.”
“Thank you for helping us,” replied Phineas. “And you, too.” He stopped, and looked at the young girl, who had remained silent throughout. A puzzled look came over his brow, as the young girl half-smiled up at him.
“The haemostat bandage worked really well,” Jack informed Gilmore proudly.
“Well then, at least something works in this godforsaken place,” said the tailor.
“Come on,” urged Enda. “We haven’t time to waste!” He set off along the corridor.
“We’re taking them with us.” Jack indicated the Ashray and the girl as he caught up with Enda. “They helped us escape, and I promised. The girl doesn’t speak,” he added.
“We have to get ourselves out too,” said Enda grimly. “I don’t like the sound of the exanguine room.”
The narrow corridors, lit only by occasional wall-mounted staves, seemed to double back on themselves. In the gloom the escaped prisoners found they were bumping into each other. They eventually emerged through a doorway into the dining hall. The fire had gone out, but the two wall staves still burned. Even in the dim light the remains of the banquet were still evident.
“One more scoop for good luck,” grinned Ossian as he approached a goblet.
“I wouldn’t,” said the Ashray quietly.
Ossian took no notice, and tipped the contents down his throat. The liquid quickly found its way out again, in a great frothing fountain as Ossian struggled to get it clear.
“It’s vinegar!” he exclaimed.
“Things don’t last long here.” The Ashray indicated the food.
Jack went over and prodded the remains of a pie. It crumbled like ash; in fact, it looked like ash.
“This place is cursed,” he muttered.
“But you must admit, we throw one helluva party!”
Morrigan stood in the doorway, framed by a light behind her. She wore a long robe similar to Hema’s, and sported the same type of elbow-length glove.
The prisoners readied their swords – except Fenrig. The young Brashat seemed torn.
“Mor, tell them it’s all right,” he pleaded. “Tell them you’ll help us get out of here.”
Morrigan eyed her brother.
“We’re staying here, Fen. Until dad gets away from that hellhole these people put him in.”
She withdrew a wand from her robe.
“Morrigan,” implored Ossian, lowering his sword, and advancing. “It’s me. You can’t do this.”
Mor
rigan’s wand levelled in an instant, and the hex caught Ossian full in the chest, flinging him backwards. He lay still.
Sanguina appeared at Morrigan’s shoulder.
“I hope you’re being hospitable to our guests,” she croaked in a loud stage whisper. “Or shall we just show them what we do to vermin?”
Holding her wand in her right hand, she entered the hall, dragging what looked like a grey sack behind her. In the gloom the prisoners backed away, swords at the ready.
“It’s all right: the good news is they don’t want to kill us,” muttered Enda.
“What’s the bad news?” hissed Jack.
“Ye’ll find that out if ye let them win.”
Contemptuously, Sanguina flung the sack at the retreating prisoners, and it slithered over the icy floor. Only it wasn’t a sack. In the dim light, Jack made out a sunken face.
“It’s Murkle!” shrieked Armina. “They’ve bled him!” She bent down and examined the body. When she looked up, her eyes had narrowed.
“Witch bitch!” She leapt at Sanguina, and swiped at her legs with her sword.
The Boaban Shee soared and swerved, avoiding the steel blade, and firing off hexes as fast as she could. In seconds, the hall was full of Boaban Shee, fighting in pairs as the prisoners slashed at flailing legs with swords.
“Take cover!” Jack shoved the Ashray and the girl to the side of the hall.
“You too, Jack!” shouted Phineas. “You and Fenrig can use the bandages!”
But Jack ignored his father’s command, and he jumped into the fray. Seeing Sanguina and another Boaban advance on Iain Dubh, Jack skipped behind them and sliced with his sword.
“Ungula!”
Sanguina’s right hoof flew with such force that it hit the side wall. She spun round, cursing and shrieking, and levelled her wand at Jack.
As she opened her mouth to utter a hex, a blade appeared through her chest. Fergus stood behind her, a look of satisfaction on his face as he gripped his sword. Sanguina stopped, her eyes wide open with surprise. Then she grabbed the sticking-out blade, and pulled it further forward. Fergus, taken by surprise, was dragged into her back, his hand seemingly stuck to the sword handle.
“It has to be her feet!” shouted Iain Dubh.
The warning came too late. Sanguina turned her head and spat at Fergus.
