“What’s going on, what’s happened?”
“Barbarossa’s Demon – Sar-adin – he’s come for you. We have to get out of here. Get up! MOVE!”
Ned was up in an instant, had grabbed the short sword Monsieur Couteau had insisted he sleep with, and was bolting for the door, Whiskers following at his heels. But Ned had forgotten his keepsakes. When he turned around, he saw the photo frame by his bed crack and splinter, and beside it his black plastic phone turn to a molten puddle.
“Wait!” he cried, but Mystero, in solid form, grabbed him and shoved him hard in the direction of the door. Just as Ned landed on the grass outside, the walls of the container fell inwards, collapsing to a jumble of timber and flames. The pale-faced shapeshifter had saved his life again.
Smoke and fire were eating their way through the campsite and those that weren’t fighting the flames were fighting Sar-adin’s gor-balins. The creatures were on a mission of sabotage, incinerating every vehicle in the Circus of Marvels’ fleet. Half dressed in pyjamas and dressing gowns, the troupe did their best to counter the attack, but Sar-adin’s well-armed assassins struck as only the soulless can – without fear or mercy. It was smoking, burning, chaos.
Ned shoved Whiskers in his pocket as Alice thundered past, trumpeting loudly and in the process of a wild charge, the three emperors riding furiously on her back. Monsieur Couteau and the satyr-headed Tortellini boys were doing a valiant job of protecting the youngest and most defenceless, as wave after wave of black-clad assailants jumped out from the shadows. Ned heard bellowing and the ugly crack of bones breaking in George’s hands, and outside the food truck the Guffstavson brothers fought back to back, their anger so all-consuming that they were frying both the gor-balins and the occasional ally. Somewhere in the darkness, Ned heard the roar of two lions and the screeching of a hawk. Finn and his friends were fighting the assassins on their own terms.
Of everyone, however, Rocky was the most fierce. He stood outside the infirmary like a solid wall, cracking the heads of anyone fool enough to go near. No one would ever hurt his Abigail again.
“We have to get you to safety,” yelled Mystero over the noise. “I’ll not have you taken on my watch again!”
“But … but we have to help!”
“You’ll help by getting out of here. Half the convoy’s already up in flames – if they take you as planned we’ll all go to hell!”
Ned knew he was right. But it felt like déjà vu – the last attack, the last time he’d tried to hide, it had not ended well …
“How do we even get out of here?” Ned asked. “They’re everywhere!”
“The same way they got in,” said Mystero. “Follow me.”
Mystero was leading Ned through the chaos towards the Glimmerman’s tent when Ned caught sight of Sar-adin, dressed now in full military garb with a broad scimitar clenched in his hand. Benissimo was holding the line against him, flanked on either side by magic casters foolhardy enough to attempt pushing back the Demon’s flames. Sar-adin was positioned at the centre of the campsite like a volcano, eyes glowing with heat. With a wave of his right arm, a wall of fire engulfed a trailer; with a wave of his left, another sprang up at Benissimo’s feet.
But the Ringmaster barely flinched. He cracked his whip and it turned itself to water, curling around him like a protective shield. What magic he’d used to stay unhurt was beyond Ned, but without help he would surely burn just as fiercely as his tents and wagons. Ned was pulled away from the vision by a yanking on his arm.
“He won’t be able to hold the beast for long, Ned, we have to go, NOW!” yelled Mystero again.
“We can’t leave him like that.”
“They’re his orders, not mine!”
“I don’t care, I’m not going!”
Just then there was a scream from inside the Glimmerman’s tent. It was Kitty.
Mr Sar-adin
Gor-balins do not know fear and yet the incantation Kitty had screamed had clearly taught them it.
“Nasty little gobs were waiting for you,” said Kitty brightly as Ned and Mystero ran over to find her in the doorway of the Glimmerman’s tent wearing a fluffy pink and white Hello Kitty dressing gown.
Three more gor-balins came out of the shadows of the tent towards them. Though roughly the size of an ordinary human, their eyes were lifeless and black. Their ears and noses were sharp and crooked, and their skin a mottled grey, with veins of pitch-black ash and lips the colour of coal. They opened their mouths in unison and bright red embers poured from their lips. Whatever burned in their chests in place of hearts stank of sulphur and soot. Two of them ran at the Farseer, their sword arms poised to strike.
“Famil-ra-sa,” she whispered.
And from out of her pink sleeves poured Frimshaw, Hookscarp, Orazal and Groir. The demure little creatures Ned had seen at the bonding were gone. Now they glowed a hot scarlet and their faces were twisted with anger. Frimshaw and Hookscarp leapt at one gor-balin, and in an instant had reached into its mouth and pulled out the fire that burned in its chest. In its final smoky breath, the gor-balin opened its lips and hissed like a steam engine, while its lifeless body shrivelled to ash. Orazal and Groir dealt with the other in the same way, which left only the third.
The gor-balin was closing in on Ned at a pace. Mystero – in his half-man, half-mist state – was braced, and Ned held his sword before him, trying for all he was worth to channel everything the French Master at Arms had drilled into him – when the gor-balin suddenly stopped dead. Its shadow, however, did not. The blackness beneath the assassin grew larger and began to pulse as two great arms reared out of its edges and pulled something else up and out of the ground. The gor-balin dropped its sword. Even a creature without a soul knows its end. The shadow was Gorrn. It grew upwards violently, till it had completely engulfed the gor-balin, before closing up around it like the mouth of a whale and swallowing him down into the ground.
“Wow, that was gross,” said Ned in disbelief.
“Yes, I think it was a little,” agreed Kitty, while looking rather pleased.
From somewhere beneath their feet, Ned could have sworn he heard a belch.
***
Across the grounds, the battle was starting to even. Most of the troupe had now given up their attempts at dousing the flames. With their homes lost, there was little to do but fight. Sar-adin’s assassins were being beaten further and further back. All, that was, except for Sar-adin himself.
The Ifrit fumed and raged more fiercely than ever, like an animal being forced back into its cage. Except that Sar-adin was fiercer than any animal.
Benissimo ordered Scraggs to turn one of the firetruck’s hoses on him, with no effect, and every bolt or bullet launched in his direction was a spit of ash by the time it struck.
“You’ve got to talk some sense into Ned,” said Mystero to Kitty. “He’s refusing to escape through the mirrors, and the Demon won’t stop until he has you both, Kitty, not now the boy’s come into his powers.”
Kitty looked Ned up and down.
“We’re supposed to run away together, you and I, but I think it’s about time you got to make your own decisions, dearie.”
“I’m tired of running, Kitty. Besides, they need us.”
“Oh for goodness’ sake,” muttered the Mystral.
“And we would be missing all the fun, now, wouldn’t we, my little cracker-jack?” agreed the Farseer with a smile. She took Ned’s hand and marched him through the raging battle to the centre of the encampment, where Benissimo stood, head to head with the Ifrit.
Maybe the letter was right. Maybe his mum really had put the bravery he needed inside of him. Now facing the Demon, he hoped that he would find it before his legs buckled.
“Why don’t you leave my family alone and pick on someone your own size?” shrilled Kitty.
The sight of an old lady scolding a fire-Demon would have been funny, had it not been real. Benissimo spun to face Kitty, then Ned, with a look of absolute fury.
>
“You two are NOT supposed to be here! And you’re DEFINITELY not supposed to be drawing his attention to you!”
“Oh do stop bleating, you old goat. You can’t possibly beat him without us.” As she spoke, the witch put a hand on the Ringmaster’s shoulder and started to glow. It was gentle at first, but her light quickly grew brighter and brighter till Sar-adin winced with pain. The Ifrit shook for a moment, before steadying himself and launching a fireball directly at the Farseer. She stood her ground as a protective shield of energy bubbled in front of her.
“Your light will not harm me, witch. Give me the boy,” roared the Ifrit stubbornly.
“I’ll do no such thing,” said Kitty, her face still locked in concentration as Benissimo braced to support her. “You know, Ned, a little help would be nice. After all, it’s you he wants.”
“Help, err, OK, and umm … how exactly would I be doing that?”
Ned was already racking his brains, trying to recall a helpful page from his Manual – something he could create that might vanquish this fiery Demon …
“Well, you can clearly make sand, dearie, so I’m fairly certain you could knock up a little rain. On the count of three …”
It didn’t seem very imaginative; what about a defensive wall or even a weapon? But even though the hoses were having no impact on Sar-adin, Ned knew better than to question Kitty, wise, brave and potty as she was.
He shut his eyes tight, blocking out everything around him and cast his mind to the skies. It would be easier than making sand, he thought, as he looked up at the sky. The elements had already done half the work for him.
“One.”
High up above the campsite, he focused on the clouds. He could use them, use their water vapour to form his rain. He willed their atoms closer together, saw the strands of vapour compressing to his will and the ring hummed at his finger obediently.
“Two.”
It was enough to See the droplets form – gravity took care of the rest and they plummeted towards the Ifrit.
“Three,” said Kitty.
In the split second it had taken for Ned’s mind to both power and guide his Engine, Kitty had focused all of her strength. She stood, like a white beacon to Sar-adin’s darkening fury, and unleashed her attack in a shockwave of pure light. It hit the Ifrit at the precise moment that Ned’s first raindrop landed on his head. To Demons who are born in the ground, fresh falling water from the skies is like acid, especially when already weakened by the light of a Farseer.
“Roarghhhhh!”
Ned closed his eyes and concentrated, till every muscle in his face and neck felt like it was going to break. A great deluge of water poured down on the Ifrit, the rain now coming so thick and fast it forced Sar-adin to his knees. As the droplets cut at him, steam poured from each new incision. He arched his back and roared with anger, his disguise breaking away, falling in boiling chunks to the ground. Bit by bit his human form dissolved, till the real monster beneath rose up for a final stand. The horned monstrosity became a crumbling vision of darkness and hate.
“This is not over, witch!” he half-bellowed, half-rasped, any semblance of humanity now gone from his voice.
The Ifrit burst into flames and launched himself at the Farseer in a last act of blazing violence. Still drained from her outburst, Kitty’s shield faltered. In the beat of a second, Ned tried to conjure up a barrier of his own making, his ring finger buzzing noisily. The air between the Demon and Farseer crackled with strands of Ned’s hastily woven ice. If he’d had more experience, or time, they might have held. But Sar-adin splintered his creation into broken shards and Kitty was flung to the ground. When the smoke cleared, only Kitty lay there, alone in the mud. Sar-adin and his embers were nowhere to be seen.
Edelweiss
“Oh, do stop fussing, you big baboon …”
Even at her weakest, Kitty was always Kitty. Though Ned’s shield had not held up to Sar-adin’s strike, it seemed it had blocked the Demon’s blow enough to keep Kitty from any fatal harm. But under her bluff exterior Ned could tell, as George’s long arms carried her off to the infirmary, that she was badly wounded.
The troupe worked on until sunrise, dousing the last of the flames and salvaging what little they could. After daybreak, Benissimo gathered everyone by the food truck for breakfast, and an open ear.
“Today is a black day. Barba’s struck as we knew he would, and though we still have the boy, our Kitty, our compass, lies broken in her bunk. You’ve all paid a price too – your homes, your possessions – and as always without my asking.”
He paced up and down the tables, whip twisting menacingly, looking each of them in the eye.
“You’re the best troupe I’ve ever worked with, but there’s a stench amongst you, a dark and ugly growth. One or more of you gave that Demon the mirror-key and told him when best to attack, that much we know. The Tinker’s machines can’t find you and neither could our Kitty, but by blood and thunder, I’ll sniff you out whoever you are and, when I do, you’ll know my anger and you’ll know your fear.”
Not for the first time, Ned was happy that the enigma that was Benissimo was on his side and not the other.
“You tell ’em boss!”
“For Kitty, for Kitty!” they cheered.
Mugs and plates were banged together and those that could got up and clapped. Only Mystero sat silently, watching for a chink, Ned thought. A chink in the spy’s armour that would let him be found. But the spy was cunning and would not be roused.
Benissimo had not wanted a celebration the night before; his number two had convinced him that Ned and the troupe needed it. But anything that took them away from their goal was wasted time to the Ringmaster. With that in mind, he marched an exhausted Ned and Mystero over to Kitty’s flame-scorched bus as soon as he was done with his speeches.
“I’ll have to check the Tinker’s lab now,” said an ash-stained Mystero as Ned hurried beside him. “Like it or not, he has our only air-modulator. If messages are getting out, there’s every chance that’s how they’re doing it.”
Beinissimo looked doubtful.
“No one is above suspicion, Bene, not after last night.”
The Ringmaster’s face darkened. “Fine, do what you have to,” he said, and Mystero misted away.
The idea that the Tinker was under any kind of suspicion seemed absurd to Ned. Though it was no more outrageous than suspecting George. The way Mystero had been behaving lately, Ned wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d turned over his own quarters to try and oust the culprit.
In the infirmary they found the Farseer puffed up on a mountain of Hello Kitty pillows, with George tending to her wounds. His huge fingers were surprisingly dexterous.
“Damn your stubborn kindness, Kit-Kat,” said Benissimo, for once betraying a sliver of emotion, in a now much-softened face.
“Yes, yes, you can thank me later,” pouted Kitty. “Now where’s my little sugar-plum?” she added, peering past the Ringmaster towards Ned.
“Hello, Kitty, how are you feeling?” asked Ned.
“Never better, dearie.”
For some reason her brave act was making Ned feel even more responsible.
“I’m so sorry, if we’d just gone when Miz said …”
“… Then everyone else would most probably be dead, dear. You did very well, no apology needed! Besides, I’m fine, though I do have the most ferocious craving for a doughnut.”
At that, Ned couldn’t help but smile.
“Now, you and I have some unfinished business, my little seedling. Let’s find ourselves that girl, shall we?”
“Kitty needs rest, Bene, surely this can wait till she’s back on her feet?” said the great ape beside her.
“There’ll be time for rest, George, when we fix what needs fixing,” insisted Benissimo coldly.
Despite his momentary softening and his almost fatherly way of treating the Farseer, Ned wondered if Benissimo ever put the people he was trying to protect before his
mission to save them.
Kitty took Ned’s hand in her own and explained what they were about to do.
“My powers work through empathy, Ned. I can sense a person’s emotions, in the past, present or future, but the way my visions form is abstract. I can’t pinpoint Lucy or your mother. I can sense them, but not where they are. We’ve searched both sides of the Veil, so has Barbarossa.”
Kitty paused and gave him an encouraging smile. “But you’re ready now, dear. Take everything you’ve learnt, that concentration, that harnessing of pure will and find her. If the connection is strong enough, you’ll be able to see where she is, not just feel it. Look for any clue, anything at all that might tell us where she is. I’ll do what I can to help.”
Ned was jealous of the time Lucy had had with his mother, of what she’d always known. But without her he would never see either of his parents again, and the world as he knew it would be lost. There was no choice, only the lingering fear that he might not be up to the task.
Kitty closed her eyes and tightened her grip on his hand.
He felt his thoughts soften and blur into one. But instead of Kitty scanning him, it was like she was opening a doorway into her own thoughts. The hopes and fears, loves and hates of … everyone.
“Whoa …”
As Ned was battered by a barrage of emotions coming from countless creatures and people, he gained a new-found respect for the Circus of Marvels’ Farseer. No wonder she was a little unhinged.
“Exactly,” said Kitty, though Ned hadn’t actually spoken out loud. “Now,” she continued, “concentrate, Neddles, find her in amongst this mess and we’ll see what we can see.”
Ned focused, as hard as he could. But the noise in his head was overwhelming. The chattering of a thousand voices, with a thousand dreams, and a thousand, thousand nightmares. His stomach started to turn.
“Kitty …”
She squeezed his hand hard. Despite her frail condition, she held on to him like a steel trap.
Circus of Marvels Page 17
