The Traveller's Stone

by S J Howland

  Mrs Stanton and Ollie’s father both swung around, looking as guilty as two people with watering eyes and damp table napkins tied over their noses could appear.

  ‘She’s not back yet, is she?’ asked James, looking worried.

  ‘No,’ replied Ollie, ‘unless she’s already been knocked out by the stench and is unconscious somewhere.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ James said in relief, ignoring the sarcasm. ‘It’s a treatment we’ve been developing for skin sores that has applications for humans and animals, but it’s turned out to be a bit more pungent than we expected. We thought we’d be done before any of you got home.’ He looked thoughtfully at the blue fog hanging over everything. ‘Do us a favour and open the back door, would you? A bit of fresh air will blow it all out.’

  Ollie snorted in disbelief, but picked his way through the haze and pushed at the back door. ‘You’ll be lucky,’ he said, his voice muffled through the shirt sleeve pressed to his mouth and nose. ‘Nothing short of a tornado is likely to blow this lot out before Mum gets home.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Mrs Stanton, although her tone lacked some of her usual certainty. ‘We’re all finished now. You two pop upstairs and we’ll have supper ready in no time.’ She blotted her watering eyes with the back of one hand and added, ‘I think maybe we should eat outside though.’

  The stench was somewhat less overpowering upstairs and Ollie shut their bedroom door with a sigh of relief. ‘That is truly disgusting,’ he said, pulling a face. ‘And if they think Mum isn’t going to know immediately–’

  His voice trailed off as he shook his head in disbelief at that folly.

  ‘Never mind the smell,’ said Xander, unable to hold in his news any more. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’

  He tugged up his sleeve and held out his wrist. Ollie froze, his eyes wide, as he took in the intricately chased silver of the band and the black stone set in it, glinting as it caught the light.

  ‘What? I mean, where –? What?’ he said, incoherently.

  Xander grinned at him. ‘I know,’ he said.

  Ollie sat down on his bed and gestured to Xander to do the same. ‘Speak to me,’ he said, still staring at the orb on Xander’s wrist. ‘What is that thing? I’m assuming that your visit to that hobgoblin has something to do with it?’

  Xander nodded.

  ‘Got it in one,’ he said, and then related everything he could remember about the strange encounter in Hob’s Orbs, including the little information the hobs had passed on about his blood, and the enemy they blamed for all their misfortune. Ollie listened carefully, although his eyes kept wandering back to the glittering black orb, and Xander waited anxiously for his reaction.

  Ollie did not speak for a moment, chewing on his lip. Finally he looked up.

  ‘Are they expecting you to do something for them with that thing?’ he asked. ‘You said they kept talking about this blood shielding them before from their enemy – is that what they want you to do?’

  Xander shrugged. ‘I have no idea. You know what they’re like.’ For just a moment the utter absurdity of a serious discussion on the foibles of hobgoblins struck him, but then he mentally shrugged; this was apparently his life now. ‘They gave me a few bits of information and then basically told me to have at it, whilst making quite clear that they have zero faith in my ability to do anything.’

  ‘Sounds about right,’ agreed Ollie, with a grimace. ‘So, what now?’

  Xander looked doubtfully over at the dully opaque orb on Ollie’s wrist. ‘Do you think you could show me how to use this?’ he asked.

  Ollie hesitated.

  ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ he said. ‘I mean, I’m not exactly skilled with this one and it’s not in the same league as yours.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I’ve never seen a black one before, but that’s essentially a Traveller orb you’re wearing. To be honest, I think they’re your best bet.’

  Xander pulled a face at the thought of Flint’s likely reaction to this latest development, but he knew that Ollie was probably right. Before he could say anything else, there was a knock at their bedroom door, followed by James Stanton’s face peeking around the doorframe.

  ‘Suppertime,’ he announced, and then sniffed cautiously. ‘Not bad at all now,’ he said in a satisfied voice.

  ‘You’re joking, right?’ Ollie called after him and then looked over at Xander. ‘You’d best tell my dad tonight and he’ll get hold of Flint. There’s no point you having that thing if you can’t use it.’

  Xander nodded. ‘I s’pose,’ he said reluctantly, before following Ollie as he headed for the stairs.

  Just as they reached the downstairs hallway, Jenna and Len came in through the front door, the latter with a quick wink and knowing grin for the two boys. Jenna took two steps into the house and then stopped abruptly, sniffing. Ollie stifled a smirk.

  ‘James Stanton,’ she called out irately. ‘Have you and your mother been trying to exterminate us all with toxic fumes again?’

  There was a guilty silence from the kitchen and Jenna rolled her eyes before marching down the hallway to the kitchen door. Ollie’s snigger finally broke loose.

  ‘I can’t believe he thought she wouldn’t smell it,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘But while she’s busy in there, show Len what you got up to this afternoon.’ He sent a meaningful look at Xander’s wrist, where the orb was once more concealed under his sleeve.

  Len’s expression of surprise was almost comical as Xander held up the orb for her perusal. ‘Where d’you get that from?’ she asked as she stared at the two boys. Xander repeated the gist of what he had told Ollie upstairs, and she frowned as she listened to him intently.

  ‘What do you think?’ Xander asked when he had finished.

  Len eyed him thoughtfully.

  ‘Well, for a start I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell Gran about mystic enemies and ancient blood. She tends to think that sort of thing is hogwash,’ she said crisply, sounding very much like her grandmother. ‘Secondly, I think Ollie is right. You need to talk to the Travellers.’

  Mrs Stanton’s voice came floating down the hallway from the kitchen. ‘Where on earth are those children?’ The kitchen door opened, and she poked her head out. ‘Are you lot rooted to the spot down there?’ she demanded.

  ‘Coming,’ said Ollie quickly.

  The smell had dissipated somewhat in the kitchen, but a faint blue haze remained in the corners of the room and Len looked around with a puzzled air.

  ‘What’s all that?’ she asked, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

  ‘You may well ask,’ said Jenna tartly. ‘Your grandmother and your uncle have been creating noxious brews again.’

  ‘Medicine,’ replied Mrs Stanton and James, both at the same time and with the exact same injured look. Len glanced between the two of them and laughed.

  ‘Nope,’ she said. ‘Aunt Jenna is definitely right.’

  ‘Oh, sit down, all of you,’ said Mrs Stanton. ‘We won’t hear you complaining when you have skin sores, now will we?’

  ‘Really?’ said Ollie disgustedly. ‘We’re going to discuss skin sores at the supper table. It’s enough to put people off their food.’

  Jenna laughed.

  ‘If by people you mean you, then that’s a miracle I’ve never seen before. Sit down, for goodness’ sake.’

  Despite the lingering smell, the food was as tasty as always and Xander was happy to enjoy it before broaching the subject of his new possession. As the meal was winding down however, Len sent Xander several meaningful looks and finally Mrs Stanton spotted her.

  ‘Is there any reason why you’re grimacing like that?’ she asked Len, who just turned and raised her eyebrows at Xander. He realised that there was no point in putting it off any further and tugged up his sleeve, holding his wrist out self-consciously in front of him. There was a moment of stunned surprise.

  ‘Good gracious.’ Mrs Stanton’s eyes were wide, and she looked over at her son, who looked co
mpletely nonplussed.

  ‘Where did that come from?’ asked James, his voice rather worried.

  Xander looked straight at him. ‘They gave it to me at Hob’s Orb shop,’ he explained. ‘They said that they had had it for a long time, waiting for the right person to come along, and they seem to think that’s me.’ He took a breath. ‘I don’t really know why, to be honest.’

  James, Jenna, and Mrs Stanton exchanged quick glances across the table, as Ollie chimed in. ‘I said to Xander that it would be best to talk to the Travellers about it. I mean, it looks kind of like one of their orbs.’

  James nodded slowly, sitting back in his chair.

  ‘That’s not a bad idea,’ he said. ‘I’ll get in touch with Flint tonight. See if he can come over tomorrow morning and have a look at it.’ He hesitated a moment. ‘In the meantime Xander, if you don’t mind, it would probably be best if you took it off and stuck it in your pocket or something. You haven’t had any training and we don’t want any accidents; Traveller orbs are pretty powerful things.’

  Xander felt strangely reluctant to remove the orb from its gentle clasp around his wrist but seeing how anxious the adults looked, he nodded in agreement and ran his finger around the silver band, looking for the release mechanism. After a moment of futile searching, he turned his wrist over for a closer examination but to no avail; it appeared that there was no way of removing the band.

  ‘I don’t think it comes off,’ he said.

  ‘Okay,’ said James reassuringly, seeing Xander’s anxious expression. ‘Don’t worry about it; I’m sure Flint will sort it out. In the meantime, just try to ignore it.’ With another quick glance between them, the adults stood up from the table and began to clear away the dishes.

  ‘Dad,’ said Ollie casually, as he passed over some plates. ‘You know the Halls of Records?’

  ‘Hmm?’ replied James, still looking deep in thought.

  ‘On the wall under the stained-glass windows there’s this little ledge sticking out, with a funny pale stone square above it. Do you know what that’s for?’

  James frowned for a moment, trying to visualise the place Ollie had described. ‘Oh, you mean one of the old terminals,’ he said.

  ‘Terminals?’ said Len, sounding sceptical. ‘That didn’t look like any terminal I’ve ever seen.’

  James smiled. ‘They wouldn’t,’ he said. ‘They’re relics; ancient artefacts, really. They were installed with the original Hall, but they’re all broken now. They’re left in place for their historical value.’

  ‘Ancient relics?’ repeated Len quietly, looking between Xander and Ollie. ‘That’s interesting, isn’t it?’

  Xander nodded as they all headed out of the kitchen. Ancient blood, ancient enemy and now ancient terminals; that couldn’t be a coincidence. As he climbed the stairs after Ollie, he thought optimistically that at least some of the answers he needed right now might be found in the records of Haven’s distant past.

  Chapter Seven

  Xander woke up early the next morning, a small knot of excitement and anticipation in his stomach, and it took a moment or two before he remembered the reason for it. The orb was still on his wrist, the dark stone glinting in the morning sunlight, and Xander wondered how it would feel to actually use it. Unsure what time Flint might turn up this morning, and too keyed up to stay in bed, Xander rolled over and glanced at his watch. It was definitely not too early to get up, and he poked Ollie’s shoulder on the way to the bathroom, eliciting a groan.

  ‘Flint could get here any time,’ he explained, and shot out to the bathroom. By the time he returned, Ollie was already up and dressed, keen not to miss out on any excitement. However, when they got downstairs, the sound of raised voices from the kitchen brought them both to a sudden halt in the hallway, Ollie with his hand still on the door handle.

  ‘You aren’t seriously considering dragging us all to that thing?’ Len’s voice was higher-pitched than usual with outrage. ‘Spending the whole night with that bunch of uptight, snobby, waste of space –’

  ‘Family, Len, whether you like it or not,’ Mrs Stanton interrupted crisply.

  ‘They may be your family but they’re certainly not mine,’ Len retorted. ‘It’ll be full of spiteful little monsters like Larissa Larcius-Thorne and her hangers-on, all out in force and feeding off their own self-importance. No way am I going.’

  ‘This is not up for discussion, Len,’ Mrs Stanton said, a steely note in her voice. ‘You are going and, what’s more, you can dress like a girl for once. I picked this up for you yesterday.’ There was a rustling noise, and then a moment of silence.

  ‘Are you joking?’ Len said flatly.

  Xander and Ollie, still hovering outside the door, exchanged identical grins.

  ‘It’s a lovely dress, and you’ll look beautiful in it. And while I remember, I also want you to do something with your hair.’ Len made an inarticulate noise but Mrs Stanton continued adamantly. ‘There is absolutely no point looking at me like that, Len. You’re going tonight and that’s the end of it.’

  There was an ominous silence and then the door handle ripped out of Ollie’s hand as the door was yanked inwards. Already slightly off-balance, Ollie was knocked sideways by Len’s storming form. She did not even glance at them, and Xander dived to one side as she stomped past, her unruly hair actually seeming to crackle with the intensity of her fury. She thudded up the stairs and then there was a loud slam. Xander and Ollie exchanged looks again and then both of them hurried into the kitchen.

  Mrs Stanton was standing with an implacable expression on her face and her hand still resting on a dress spread out on the table. Ollie took one look, and then doubled over laughing. His grandmother glared at him.

  ‘I really don’t see what is so shocking about a simple evening dress,’ she said huffily.

  ‘It has flowers on it,’ choked Ollie. ‘And they’re pink.’ Words failed him as he looked at the dress again and he collapsed on a chair laughing.

  Mrs Stanton just shook her head in exasperation.

  ‘When you’ve quite finished cackling like a hyena, I have evening wear for you two boys as well,’ she said and, as Ollie looked up with a grimace, she pinned him with a dangerous stare. ‘Don’t you start.’

  ‘Where exactly are we going?’ asked Xander cautiously, wary of incurring any further wrath from the irate lady with her hands on her hips.

  ‘To the ultimate horror,’ Ollie informed him with a dark look. ‘We may not make it back out again.’

  Mrs Stanton rolled her eyes.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, don’t over-dramatise. I’ve had quite enough of that from your cousin this morning.’ She turned to Xander. ‘It’s a long tradition that the Twelve Families host a summer ball on the Solstice. I had some wonderful times there when I was younger, but of course I haven’t been for some time,’ for a moment her voice trailed away, then she continued firmly, ‘but as a Peverell I am always invited and this year my grandchildren will attend with me.’ The steel had re-entered her voice, and she turned a pointed stare on Ollie.

  He held up his hands in mock defeat.

  ‘Fine, but I’m not wearing pink flowers.’

  Mrs Stanton snorted in exasperation. ‘You’re being ridiculous,’ she said. ‘Just get your breakfast before Ben Flint gets here. He told James he was coming by early and he won’t be impressed if you two are messing around.’

  That was enough to galvanise Xander into grabbing some toast and a mug of tea. He slid a plate in front of Ollie, who still had a tendency to snigger whenever his gaze rested on the dress lying forlornly over the end of the table. Eventually, with a disgusted roll of her eyes, Mrs Stanton swept it over her arm and marched out of the room.

  Before Ollie had the chance to make any further comments, they both heard the rumble of Flint’s voice from the front hall. A moment later he walked into the kitchen and pinned Xander with disapproving blue eyes. His gaze dropped to Xander’s left wrist, where the orb was clearly visible
, and there was a moment of deep silence.

  ‘Unbelievable,’ he said finally, shaking his head. ‘Those hobs are absolutely unbelievable.’

  He pulled out the chair next to Xander, gesturing for him to extend his arm on the table, and examined the orb without touching it.

  ‘James said that it doesn’t come off,’ he said quietly.

  Xander turned his wrist over, running his finger under the smooth band to demonstrate the lack of any clasp or other means of undoing it.

  ‘Do you know how to take it off?’ he asked Flint, offering it to him.

  Flint pulled back immediately, holding up his hands.

  ‘It’s not a good idea to touch another person’s orb,’ he said. ‘At least orbs like ours. There are certain defences that might be triggered and you have no idea what you’re doing.’ He looked utterly exasperated. ‘Did those hobs give you any idea why they decided to land you with this? Did they even tell you how it works?’

  Xander shook his head. ‘They said that they’d been keeping it for a long time, but they thought I should have it because of my blood. They were worried about some enemy attacking them.’

  He looked at Flint for his reaction, wondering whether any of this would make sense to him, but Flint just rolled his eyes and let out another explosive breath.

  ‘So, just their usual paranoid clap-trap, then. Typical!’ He stared at Xander for a moment, frowning. ‘Have you tried to use it?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know how,’ said Xander. ‘I haven’t tried anything yet.’

  ‘Yet?’ repeated Flint wryly, and stood up. ‘Come with me.’

  Xander exchanged swift glances with Ollie, who had been listening avidly, and then followed Flint out onto the terrace. The tall Traveller indicated that Xander should stand in front of him.

  ‘I want you to try something in a minute, and I’ll be ready to ward you, so don’t panic,’ he said brusquely. ‘I want you to concentrate on the orb and try to lean into it. Don’t think too much about what that means; just do it.’