Hide & Seek

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  Messina nodded, saying, “We believe so, and so far everything we’ve seen here has been the truth. John saw you in these pictures long before he found you in London. He had no idea who his father was, or where to look. The veil of the Chord of Destiny showed him. That’s how he discovered you.”

  “I shall never see my mother again, and I’m glad,” Arthur murmured and stepped back as Jim stepped forwards.

  “Go on,” Messina told Jim. “Stretch out your hand.”

  As Jim’s fingers slipped through the veil, so the picture widened to show a storm at sea. Huge waves crashed down on a small ship. But the ship continuously bobbed up again, and seemed to make its way through the wind and waves with no problem, None of them had ever seen a ship like this before. It was almost as wide as long, and its three sails were bright red on tall masts which seemed to catch the wind even while the storm raged, lifting the boat almost as if it flew.

  Onboard Jim and Arthur were shouting at each other over the violent sounds of wind and water. “Come on Cap-n,” called Jim. “Where’s the land gone?”

  Arthur pointed. “We’ve seen it, you too, and we just have to sail out the storm. Hang on, my friend, we’re about to discover a new country.”

  And poking his head up from below decks, Christopher Columbus waved his chart. “We’re on course,” he called. “And according to the log, we’ll be there by this evening.”

  As Arthur looked down, his feet soaked as salt water sluiced the decks, John appeared at his side, grinning as usual. “Well, Captain Dad,” he said. “Looks like you be famous in Lashtang mighty soon. The man wot discovered the first new land.”

  Laughing, Arthur said, “If I don’t drown first.”

  “No chance o’ that,” John yelled back. “You and Jim be the best sailors wot ever sailed here. T’ain’t Jim the pirate no more. Tis Jim, wot discovered new lands. And Arthur wot sailed the world and changed it forever.”

  The pictures faded. The butterflies flickered back. The waves calmed and disappeared. The Chord of Destiny returned to normal, and the music lightened.

  “Now I shall find something of my own destiny,” said Messina. “And know, at last, whether I will ever claim the throne of Lashtang, and whether my mother is safe.”

  Once again the pictures parted and a brilliant sun rose like an orange explosion over the hills behind Peganda. Brilliance burst out and the whole land seemed to bask in warmth. Some farmers were ploughing their fields, and they were singing as they worked. A circle of young children holding hands danced around a pond where frogs were sitting on lily pads, watching. The sky-train flew overhead, and every passenger leaned out to wave at those below. There was singing in the city streets and the people thrust their windows opened, leaned out and cheered. They were calling, “Long life to the empress,’ and “Hooray from Empress Messina’s first anniversary on the throne.” Then Messina saw what they were happy about. In a small chariot led by four alpacas, both she and Granny were sitting side by side, waving back at the gathering crowds. Messina herself was wearing a small and pretty crown of pearls and gold, while opposite them in the carriage sat Nathan and Poppy, both wearing garlands of flowers.

  The picture changed abruptly. At first dark, there were people moving aside, but not easily seen. There was no beautiful sunshine, and the music changed to warlike, fast and threatening. Then someone lit a torch and Clebbster was hobbling through the centre of a large grand chamber. He was holding his peacock walking cane, and wore the same pearl crown that Messina had previously been wearing in the carriage. It did not suit him and looked strange on his black greasy hair. Nor did it fit him, sitting on top of his head and wobbling with each step he took. Then suddenly Granny stepped out behind him.

  “It will be a tournament then,” she called in a challenging voice. “If you cannot fight, then choose one of your men who will.” She paused, then said, “No, choose three. We’ll have three bouts, and whichever side wins two out of three will be the victor. No cheating, and no magic. Simple tournaments without death. A battle of skill and wills.”

  Clebbster turned so suddenly that Granny stepped back. “Old witch,” he said, “you think your fools will beat the greatest emperors of the past? I accept your challenge. And as my home is now here in Pickles, I choose to set up the lists here beyond the outer fringes. And I give you just one week to prepare. I shall nominate my three brave heroes, and you may nominate yours. But if death occurs during the battles, then so be it.”

  “Very well,” said Granny softly. “One week from today, outside the village.” And immediately the picture faded.

  Messina turned to Jim and Arthur. “I have seen what I needed to see,” she said. “And now I know where my mother is. Stay here in Bymion, while I leave immediately for Pickles.

  She turned, and the two men followed her. But once again, they saw immediately, that the doorway was blocked. But this time it wasn’t closed by mud, brick and sand. This time it was blocked by a huge creature, her head a tiny wriggling termite, dark and many-legged, while her body was a huge mass of slimy white fat. The vast body seemed almost wedged in the doorway, and her antennae jabbed forwards.

  “Stop, thieves,” she called, her voice coarse and shrill. “You are now my prisoners.|”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Zakmeister fell suddenly, tumbling backwards and slipping down and down again. The magic had blasted at him like a spear of scarlet fire. Granny and Sherdam leaned down to help him up, and Tryppa turned quickly. Three men stood behind them, tall, light-haired, muscular – and glaring.

  “Who are you?” demanded the tallest. He was dressed in flowing robes covered in checks and many coloured patterns, which was a fashion which had gone hundreds of years ago. He also wore a gold crown, with one bright silver pearl on the front. His sword hung at his side, but he pointed one finger, and this was what had sent the beam of angry magic.

  Zakmeister was back on his feet. “I am a member of the high allies,” he answered, “the last of the Clan Tyrells, and supporter of the rightful leaders, the Octobrs. Whereas you, I believe, are a Hazlett wizard from the past. Why come here now? What do you hope to achieve, travelling through time?”

  The two other men stepped forwards. “I am Lester Hazlett, first true emperor of Lashtang,” one said. He wore the same old-fashioned clothes and the same pearl crown as the other two. ‘This is my son,” and he indicated the tall man who had attacked with magic, “and this is my grandson. We have come to ensure the Hazlett power continues.” He scowled at Granny and Tryppa. “And what are women doing, interfering in power battles? You should be at home in the kitchen.”

  Granny laughed. “I cook a good chocolate cake, as it happens,” she said, “but you are horribly out of date, and sadly foolish. Two of your descendants who ruled Lashtang in the past were women, and both were powerful wizards and strong leaders. Although indeed, which you should have realised by now, none of these later wizards have any relationship to you and are not your descendants at all. It is the son of Krillester who was secretly adopted, and is actually a Quoster who altered the ruling family.”

  “just by looking at them you can see this,” said Sherdam.

  Zakmeister was angry. “And you attack even before you know whether the man you injure is friend or enemy? That’s not the behaviour I expect from a good leader.”

  “I’ve no interest in what you expect,” Lester said at once. He had drawn his sword and now pointed it at Tryppa. “Inside, all of you, and you can explain yourselves to Clebbster.”

  “He knows us well,” said Granny. “And I have every intention of speaking to him.”

  The rain had left them cold and wet, but taking no notice of this they followed the three Hazletts into the huge black house on the cliffs beyond Pickles fishing village. There was immediate darkness, but as they entered a huge chamber off the main corridor, there was greater light as several flaring torches had been lit. There was a great host of people who had been laughing and drinking, and most h
eld cups of overflowing wine or beer. From their clothes, their general appearance, and their arrogance it was obvious that these were the wizard emperors of the past. They could see Deben and Krillester, and many others. Walking, bent and lame, through the middle of the crowd was Clebbster. A young page walked ahead, carrying a torch of crackling flames. Clebbster leaned heavily on his peacock walking cane, making his way slowly to the highly decorated chair against the far wall.

  There he turned, and sat, accepting a cup of dark wine and laying his cane across his knees. He squinted into the groups of people before him, and saw the four newcomers. He laughed with a hoarse cackle.

  “Come to join my family, Altabella? I bid you welcome.” And he laughed again, waving his cane at her.

  “Where is my grandson and his friend?” asked Granny at once.

  Clebbster hadn’t stopped cackling. “My prisoners,” he said, wheezing and choking on his own laughter. “At the bottom of the sea and far, far away from your help or your magic, old lady. I shall bring them out to kill, chop by chop, when I am ready. I had thought to offer their lives in exchange for you and your absurd accomplices stopping your pointless attacks on myself and my sons. But now you are also my prisoner, so I can choose who to save and who to slaughter.”

  The sound of Nathan and John being prisoners at the bottom of the ocean was a terrible thought, but knowing that Clebbster would lie more often than tell the truth, she pushed it from her mind. Instead she said, “So you’ve brought your wizarding grandfathers back to support you. Yet our magic is as strong. And do you realise how many thousands of supporters we have? They come from England, Italy, Sparkan, and the meteors as well as Lashtang. You cannot beat us.”

  “And what if I take you four, and hang you upside down from your feet on these cliffs, and use you as targets for archery practice? And what if I use your son and his friend as shark bait, and cut them in pieces to throw to the monsters of the deep?

  Although she was shivering inside with horror at these thoughts, she spoke softly. “Even after that, you would lose,” she said. “For all people and creatures hate you now, and you are outnumbered. You would all die within the first hour of battle.”

  A short and sulky-faced man stepped forwards, shouting, “Don’t think all the population of Peganda loves you, old crone,”

  He marched forwards, and Granny saw who this was. “Hambrick,” she said, “traitor to your father, and deserter of your daughter. As an Octobr now fighting for the Hazletts, you should die immediately for such treason. Your daughter, once she’s old enough to understand, will hate you all her life.”

  “My father and daughter live upstairs in comfort,” spat Hambrick, “and I’m free to support whomever I wish. But there’s something else for you to learn, ugly old witch. You’d realise if you had any small piece of brain, “all these previous emperors brought back by the illustrious Clebbster, including myself, are long dead. How can you kill us again? We cannot now be destroyed. We will fight on. If some idiot Octobr supporter kills one of us, we drop to the ground. But we do not bleed. We laugh and stand again. We continue fighting until every one of your people are dead.”

  But Sherdam and Zakmeister shook their heads. “This is not the truth, and if Clebbster has promised you this, he is lying,” Zakmeister said loudly. “But even if he spoke the truth, then Clebbster and his two sons would be quickly killed, and you would have no living emperor. So how would you decide who, amongst all of you with an equal claim, could take the throne. You would fight between yourselves. Or would this be a battle until the end of days with each of you battling against all the others, on and on and on into the everlasting future?”

  “What a delightful thought,” Granny chuckled.

  “How you’d enjoy your lives until the end of days,” added Zakmeister. “The eternal nightmare.”

  “But in fact, none of this would occur,” smiled Sherdam, “because Clebbster has lied to you, and you can all be killed again. This is simple. Your time alive at any time and in any place can always be brought to an end. As you were called back to life, so you can be sent in the opposite direction. I shall prove it to you. Every one of you is armed, so take your knife or the point of an arrow, and prick the end of a finger or a thumb. See if you bleed.”

  Deben was the first to try this. He pulled out his knife from his belt, and stabbed it into the ball of his thumb. It bled heavily. “They speak the truth,” he said, surprised, holding up his thumb which dripped blood onto the floor.

  The first wizard emperor Lester did the same. His thumb bled heavily. “And it stings,” he shouted above the chatter. Everyone was alarmed, and began to be angry.

  “I don’t want to die twice,” shouted one man. “It was horrible the first time. I was slaughtered on the battlefield that time too, and before I was dead, the Eagles came and ate my eyes.”

  There was an echoing silence as each man remembered their original death, and how much they had hated it. There was a shudder that seemed to run through the vast chamber.

  Clebbster, still sitting on his makeshift throne, now held up his own hand, calling for attention. “No, no,” he cried. “This old witch and her friends have put a magic spell across you all. You can bleed because they’ve made the magic. But you still cannot die.”

  Everyone looked at him with equal hope and suspicion.

  “Apart from killing you,” said Zakmeister, stepping forwards and staring at Clebbster, “there is no other way to prove this as true or false.” He grinned. “Deben, you killed your father once. Would you do it again here and prove that all of you can die twice?”

  Deben moved back into the shadows. Already the old emperor Libester, who had been Krillester’s father, was staring at Deben with hatred. “You’re not a true Hazlett,” he hissed. “Scrawny black haired serpent. My son could never have sired you.”

  Holding up both hands again for attention, Clebbster half stood, leaning heavily on his cane. “There is no time for childish quarrels,” he said. “Grab these four fools, and throw them in the dungeons. But be careful, for they all have some feeble magic.”

  Both Granny and Sherdam immediately sent golden darts from their fingers, shooting across the room at those returned from the past. Five piercing darts from each hand flashed, sent out crackling sparks, and four of the Hazletts fell screaming. Hambrick was also hit, and doubted over with a loud wail, tumbling to his knees.

  “Well,” called Granny, “does anyone doubt they can be left in terrible pain?”

  It was Libester, Krillester’s father, who seemed the worst hurt, for he crumpled on the ground, grunting and sobbing. Deben regarded him, embarrassed, and gave him a surreptitious kick. Krillester quickly grabbed Deben’s arm and threw him to one side. “How dare you attack my father?” he screamed.

  Once again Clebbster called for order. “This is childish behaviour,” he shouted, partially wheezing. “Now we must work together to attack only our enemies.” The pearl crown which was balanced on the top of his large head, began to topple and he pushed it back. It was grander than the crowns of his earlier ancestors, and made him absurd for it was thick with pearls on his large bumpy head and flat greasy black hair.

  Granny pointed a finger at Clebbster and the pearl crown flew to the ground. “We do not need to begin with all-out battle,” she said. “We would be more adult if we save lives than waste them,. A trial of strength is the intelligent way. A tournament, for instance.”

  Regarding her with a puzzled expression, Clebbster said, “You claim to outnumber us by a hundred to one, and yet you prefer not to fight?”

  “Because it is the rational and humane answer. Killing is for monsters and the cruel.”

  From the crowd, Lester cried, “I shall fight in a tournament, and take on every man. I was never beaten at tournaments.”

  “It will be a tournament then,” Granny called in a challenging voice. “If you cannot fight, then choose one of your men who will.” She paused, then said, “No, choose three. We’ll
have three bouts, and whichever side wins two out of three will be the victor. No cheating, and no magic. Simple tournaments without death. A battle of skill and wills.”

  “Old witch,” Clebbster answered, “you think your fools will beat the greatest emperors of the past? I accept your challenge. And as my home is now here in Pickles, I choose to set up the lists here beyond the outer fringes. And I give you just one week to prepare. I shall nominate my three brave heroes, and you may nominate yours. But if death occurs during the battles, then so be it.”

  “Very well,” said Granny softly. “One week from today, outside the village.” She stepped back, nodded to the other three, and with an immediate lift of all their hands, they disappeared from sight, and reappeared back at their own cottage.

  Granny sank down on the couch and sighed. “Was that the right thing to do?” asked Sherdam. “I believe it was.”

  “I discussed the possibility before with Messina,” Granny said. “Now, where is she?”

  But it was Nathan who rushed in, hearing her voice from his bedroom and snuggled up beside her, hugging her arm. “I’m so pleased you’re back,” he said. “They told me you’d all gone to look for me, but look – I got rescued by someone just a bit unexpected.”

  “Who?” Zakmeister demanded. “Brewster perhaps?”

  “None of us have seen Brewster for ages and ages,” Nathan said. “No, not him. It was Drassog.”

  Everyone stared. “Who’s that?:” asked Tryppa.

  “That gigantic octopus,” Nathan told her. “He’s a real beast and I just thought he’d come to eat me. But he didn’t. He and another one wrecked our prison and set us free. Me and John and Ferdinand too.”

  “That thing ate your brother, Zak,” Sherdam said, and Zakmeister looked away.

  “That was what we wanted too,” he murmured. “Even though – well, never mind about that now.”

  “I must discuss all this with Messina,” said Granny. “Nat, where’s your mother?”