Again there was the echo of a crack. But no water entered, and they huddled together, fingers gripping at each other. Crack. Louder this time. Crack.
Drassog tightened his clasp one last time. And that was it. They felt the glass tube cave in and they felt the sudden rush of freezing water engulf them, lapping them up and swirling them around. Although they tried to swim upwards, they could not battle the power of the water, and they were flung in all directions.
They saw tentacles coming for them out of the depths, dark, winding and reaching. They felt the slippery menace curling around them, like ice cold hunger. A feeling of death. And they were taken.
Nathan felt two tentacles wrap around his body, carrying him away. He saw the same happening to John, and in the distance, Ferdinand struggling as he disappeared into the black waters.
He closed his eyes. This time he truly did not want to see as he entered the mouth and the stomach of a giant octopus. And as he shut his eyes, he tried to shut his mind. There was nothing he could do. He didn’t even try to wriggle. It would be useless, he knew, and so he surrendered.
For one last second he saw John struggling. But what was the point? If a creature had the power and strength to crush that magical glass tube, how could anyone think to escape it? The water swirled, waves crashed against his body, the suckers on the tentacles were wet like grasping mouths and the freeze made him numb. He saw only the black surge as he shut his eyes.
Chapter Thirteen
Nathan opened his eyes and found he was gazing up at a bright blue cloudless sky. He clearly remembered everything that had happened, but was entirely puzzled as to where he was now. And it should have been winter. The sky looked more like summer.
‘Perhaps,’ he thought, with a shiver of fear, ‘this is heaven.’
Rolling over on the soft warm sand, he looked around for the others. Then he saw a dark shape lying further along the beach, and another half hidden beneath a scrubby bush. With a gulp and a heave of breath, he scrambled up and ran to the first body. It was John, his eyes open, staring in confusion.
“Where’s them beasts?” he asked.
“So you’re not dead.”
“Dunno,” muttered John. “Pr’aps we is.”
“No.” Nathan couldn’t believe this was heaven. It was too realistic. He ran over to the other body, and found Ferdinand already trying to sit up. “You’re not dead,” Nathan told him before he asked. “And John’s alive too. But I don’t know where we are, and I don’t know how we got here. Why didn’t those things kill us? I thought they wanted to eat us.”
“That Drassog thing done ate Braxton when Brewster chucked ‘im outta the balloon,” John said, coming over. “But if I’s alive, I ain’t complainin’. And first fings first. I gotta drink summint.”
“I’m so thirsty I can’t even talk properly,” said Nathan with a definite croak. “I sound like a frog.”
“Nah.” Ferdinand half smiled. “I never sounded like that.”
“We have to walk,” Nathan said. “There’s no streams and no fresh water of any kind, but if we start walking, we’ll find some.”
Still completely soaked, their clothes were cold and drenched, and their hair dripped down their backs. It made the placid sunshine seem warmer by comparison. They all stumbled from sand to scrub, and from scrub to bushes and grass, heading inland. But as they left the coast, Nathan looked back, and then shouted to the others. “Look.”
Out to sea a huge octopus head reared up, and two tentacles rose, waving in the air before they sank down out of sight beneath the ripples.
“You mean that ‘orrible beast be sayin’ goodbye and good luck?” demanded John.
Ferdinand stood stock still. “You believe they weren’t trying to kill us at all? So, they were actually saving us?”
Nathan took a deep breath and a wide smile cracked across his face. “I do believe so,” he said, amazed and excited. “I asked the knife for help. Perhaps it called on Drassog and its son, or something like that.”
“Crazy!” said John, waving back to the waves, even though the octopus had disappeared. “Now that sure ain’t wot I expected.”
They kept walking, half stumbling, half crawling, all of them starving hungry, desperately thirsty and utterly exhausted. But as they moved, forcing themselves onwards, the terrible pains of stiff backs and cramped muscles began to ease and they walked more confidently, hoping to discover anything that might suggest fresh water and food, or a village where they might find help.
“Pickles, I suppose,” said Nathan. “Which will be dangerous if Clebbster sees us. But at least we can all run to Ferdinand’s house and Sorazuma will be there.”
But it was not the fishing village Pickles they came to. It was something quite different and it confused them all, for they didn’t think they’d ever seen anything like it before.
There were a hundred houses, small but cosy, with unusual tropical plants around the little fences and front doors. Windows smiled, reflecting the pale sunshine and the little peaked rooves all had chimneys, some of which were smoking.
“I ain’t never seen this village afore,” said John, standing still and staring over the snug cottages along two or three neat little streets. “I knows all o’ Lashtang real well, so’s we can’t be in Lashtang no more.”
Completely surprised, they walked on and bumped into a young man wearing rather torn old English style clothes. “Excuse me,” asked Nathan, “but where are we?”
“Tis strange, ain’t it,” answered the man. “This be the village o’ Bymion, they calls it. I come from England, and had to climb the tallest ladder I ever seen in me life. I were one of the crew, and me captain is Arthur Crinford. He’s here somewhere an’all.”
John whooped with delight. “You sure, mate? Arthur Crinford’s me dad. Tis the truth. You knows where he is?”
“At home, I reckon,” said the sailor. “His place is the big one close to the sea, wiv a bright red door and a door knocker like a ship at sail.” He pointed, and John hurried off in that direction, with both Nathan and Ferdinand scurrying after.
Nathan was equally delighted. “So your dad actually lives here now, and got his own house? And if this is the new Bymion Village, then I’m close to home myself.”
The Crinford residence, as Arthur later called it, was three storeys high with a grand entrance and a small front garden. Arthur came running out when they knocked and crushed John in an excited embrace. John wasn’t even embarrassed and was just as excited to see his father living in Lashtang.
“My boy, I’ve been worried,” he said. “I wanted to come and search for you, but the others felt I should stay here and get the house ready. Lady Altabella, Lady Tryppa, Sherdam and Zakmeister all went zooming off several days ago to search for you. I’m so grateful they found you.”
“Well, it weren’t them as found us. I reckon tis best to tell yous all about it later,” said John. “Too much to tell fer now. But how comes you’s here?”
And another story needed to be told, so Arthur explained about the massive taxes brought in by King Henry VII, and how he had been arrested and thrown into Newgate along with many others. “We were rescued by a ladder,” Arthur said, with a slight blush. “How that can happen, I still don’t understand, but we climbed and climbed and ended here. Then these magnificent wizards used their magic, while I and my wonderful crew helped with our hands, and in two days we had this glorious village springing up, with houses for everyone.. All my crew live here now, and my friend Captain Jim, who pretends to be a successful pirate, and most of his crew as well. I escaped imprisonment for debt, and he escaped imprisonment for pirating, and I escaped my mother as well. I’ve given her the house she was living in and some of my money, while everything else will no doubt be snatched up by the king.”
“You’re all living on what used to be a palace,” grinned Nathan. “And a huge lake. And dungeons. And crocodiles. The palace was full of magic and there was the Chord of Destiny, which give pic
tures of the past and future. But it was difficult to find. Goodness knows where it is now.”
Arthur’s house inside was grand and comfortable. “I have no money,” he laughed, “but all this came with digging, building – and magic. Much better than my old place in London.”
“Reckon I’d like to come live here,” John said. “Can I?”
“I’d hoped you would,” his father told him. “Your bedchamber is large, waiting for you upstairs, and two others too, if friends want to come and stay. And when we’re all settled, I want to sail again, and you could be my First Mate.”
Eventually Nathan and Ferdinand left Arthur and John in the brand new village, and hurried over the grassy hillocks to the cottage. They were beginning to feel the cold.
“I feel the winter after all,” Nathan said. “The air is freezing, but it felt warm before in comparison to the ice we’d been stuck in for days. Now I’m almost dry, but the wind is making me shiver.”
“At least it’s not raining,” said Ferdinand, “or we’d be drenched again.”
They saw the cottage over the hill, winters flowers blooming red, and smoke coming from the chimney. Bayldon was already outside collecting peat for the fire from the slope overlooking the back, when he looked up, saw Nathan and Ferdinand and came rushing over. “Oh thank the heavens,” he called. “You’re safe, my dearest boy. Come in and let your mother breathe again. She’s been sick with worry.”
“Oh, mercy,” Messina cried from the front door. “At last.”
“But this is serious,” Bayldon interrupted her. “John’s back with his father, and Nat’s back with us. And here’s Ferdinand, straight from Pickles. But this return has nothing to do with your mother or Zakmeister or the others. So where are they? And what danger are they in? And what should we do about it?”
“Oh dear,” said Messina, sitting down with a thump on the nearest chair in the kitchen. “Everyone is constantly rushing backwards and forwards searching for each other and then getting attacked themselves. Poppy saw the Chord of Destiny down in the termite mound below Bymion. And that’s exactly where I intend going.”
Bayldon looked startled. “Termites again? But you only just got away from there,” he objected. “And anyway, there’s a whole township built over the top.”
“There’s a stairway down under the streets,” said Messina. “I built that on purpose, thinking exactly of this type of situation. The Chord of Destiny has to be available to us from now on. I know how to get there because I built it, but I certainly don’t want to meet up with that termite queen. She’s nearly as bad as Clebbster.”
“She was vile,” Bayldon snorted, “but not that bad. And certainly not that powerful.”
“I’m going to see the future, and I’m going to kill Izyx,” she said.
“You can’t go alone,” insisted Bayldon. “Take Arthur and that pirate captain with you. I’ll come too.”
She shook her head. “You have to stay with Nathan and Poppy,” she answered. “But I’ll do as you say with Arthur and Jim. That’s a very good idea.”
Bayldon looked worried, but he was used to accepting Messina’s final decision, so he took Nathan inside to where Poppy was reading a book in the living room. Ferdinand walked out with Messina. “I’ll gladly help,” he said, “but if you don’t need me, I’d like to go home to my wife. Poor Sorazuma never knows whether I’m dead or alive these days.”
Smiling, Messina raised her arms. “Yes, yes, back to Pickles, my friend. And tell your wife you’ll be staying at home for some time to come. It’s definitely time we did something final, and took back the rule of Lashtang. This haunting danger has threatened us for far too long.” She paused, speaking quickly before she clicked her fingers. “I don’t ask you to put yourself in danger after the terrible experience you’ve just had,” she said. “You must rest and talk to your wife. Nothing more. But somewhere my mother and the others might be in some sort of trouble. If you happen to see them, perhaps you could send a message via Sherdam or Tryppa.”
Having heard Nathan’s story, but now worried whether her mother was trapped by Clebbster as Nat and John had, Messina flew herself to the heart of the new village at Bymion and knocked on Arthur Crinford’s front door. John answered, and she followed him inside.
They both told their stories. Sitting comfortably in the grand and spacious living room, John then told a good deal of his story all over again, and Messina described what had happened in the termite mound before the new town had been built over it.
“A glass tube going miles under the water? And you were saved by what? Drassog that monstrous octopus? Are you sure that wasn’t a mistake?”
“A termite queen so big it could have eaten you? And tunnels right under the ground?”
“Well,” said John, “yer can’t say we leads a boring life, can ya?”
“A crazy life,” Messina sighed, “and extremely dangerous. “
“And now tis Granny we gotta save?” asked John. “Wiv Sherdam n’ Zak ‘n Tryppa. Peter will be right upset ‘about Tryppa.”
“You’ll be saving no one, young man,” Messina told John, “having only just been rescued yourself. But I intend going under the street to find the Chord of Destiny, which may be the only way of finding my mother and friends. Meanwhile, if I see that vile termite queen, I want her dead.”
“If there’s no magic needed this time,” Arthur insisted, standing up, “then I’m coming. And so will my friend Captain Jim.”
“That,” said Messina, “is exactly what I was hoping. John, please stay here in case the termites' swarm. If they come up, spray them with this. It’s an old fashioned insect bomb, but it works well.” And she turned back to Arthur. “Where does Jim live? Can we go there now?”
“Won’t take long,” Arthur grinned. “He lives with his daughter in the next street. Let’s go and talk to him.”
Within less than half an hour, Messina, Arthur and Jim had armed themselves with shovels and knives, and Messina immediately led them to the steps leading underground from the small empty building in the town centre. The steps were wide, dusty old stone and built from the ruins of the palace. They led down to the area below where tunnels wound beyond the termite mounds, back towards the lake which now lay dark, still and underground, and the foundations of Bymion Palace.
Messina hurried downwards, but she could hear Jim shivering. It was cold and deeply shadowed, and the silence made it seem more menacing. However, there was no attack, and nothing else moved until they came to a blocked doorway.
Arthur hammered in his shovel, but it struck something solid. “Is this what the termites build?” he asked.
“I think so.” Messina sighed. “But it is also the way, the only possible way, to the Chord of Destiny. We must break our way in, and be ready to defend ourselves if the termites swarm down on us.”
Jim swung his shovel into the huge piles of sand and earth next to Arthur’s, but Messina said, “This will be quicker.” And she raised her hands, fingers pointing at the door. “Release,’ she called. And the blockage began to scatter and fall.
Piece by piece the sand and earth tumbled, filling the tunnel behind them. Once part of the doorway was clear and open, they climbed over the remaining blockage and peered in to the space beyond. There were bricks and slabs of stone from the broken wall, but Arthur and Jim were able to shovel most of this away, and within a few short moments all three were standing in the dark chamber where the Chord of Destiny filled the far wall.
Even Messina was awed. Arthur and Kim were utterly amazed. Very quietly and slowly they all walked forwards, staring at the bright fluttering shapes and their translucent pictures. The music was gentle, almost lost in the high echoing ceiling, but as they walked closer, so the music changed. It became fast almost like a marching tune, and the pictures along the vast panel danced and flew. Amongst the coloured shapes, there were butterflies, birds and swirling plants, then the dancing spray of waves, and the bright eager eyes of burrowing animal
s. There were fish swimming between the flying birds, and butterflies fluttering between the fins of dolphins. Clouds swam and strings of seaweed danced into the air, swirling and twisting. The music changed many times, melancholic as the bird wings drooped, amusing and cheerful as the moon dipped up behind the mountains.
Messina whispered, “Arthur, put your hand into the veil of moving pictures.”
Surprised, Arthur leaned forwards and almost reluctantly pushed his fingers into the swathes of colour. He had expected resistance, but there was none. The veil parted like a curtain, and in the centre more story-like pictures formed.
Arthur saw his mother. She was standing beside his wife’s bed as she groaned, and cried, her new baby son lying at her side. Violet Crinford said softly, “Leave the woman. She’s dying, which is convenient. Now take the infant, and get rid of it. Kill it if you have the courage. Or throw it into the river. There will be no child of this woman living in my house.”
As the picture faded, Arthur was crying. He blinked, wiping away the tears, as the picture changed. He saw himself at the same age he was now. He and John were sitting across a small table from each other, both with a cup of some steaming drink. John, in his familiar Cockney accent, was saying, “They wanna make me an earl, Dad. Earl Crinford. I feel proper daft. I can’t be no earl.”
“This is Lashtang, my son,” Arthur said, smiling wide. “You can be whatever you want. You’re the Empole’s best friend. You’ve helped his mother to her greatest success. And I’m proud of my son. You deserve to be an earl.”
The pictures turned to shadow, then blackness fell. Almost at once the music and the beautiful veil of colour returned.
Arthur stood very still, turned, and shook Messina’s hand with delighted energy. “You honoured my son with an earldom? I’m forever grateful. Thank you, and thank you for bringing me here.”
“But does it always tell the truth?” asked Jim, frowning.
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