by Caro King
Skerridge drew in a deep breath and a chill crept up Jibbit’s spine. He knew about bogeymen.
‘Erm,’ he asked apologetically, ‘doo yoo mind if I shouts a warning?’
For answer, Skerridge breathed out.
The woods ignited. Trees transformed into burning pillars and bushes spat fire. The tiger-men inside the wood didn’t have time to scream, they were instant ash.
On the town-side edge of the wood, where she had been taking a careful look at the way ahead, Dunvice sprang for safety. She barely made it and had to roll on the ground to put her armour out.
Jibbit’s tree went up like a bomb. Fortunately for him, he was pretty much fireproof. Unfortunately for him, with the tree gone there was nothing to stop him from falling all the way down to the gr …
By the time Stanley got there it was all over. Skerridge was long gone, leaving the spreading fire to do his work for him. The beautiful wood was just so much ash. So was most of the platoon.
‘Why did ya stop?’ he roared at Dunvice. ‘Why ‘ang about in a wood wiv a bogeyman on the warparf? Tha’s anovver platoon gone! What wiv everyfin’, we’ve ended up wiv less than ‘alf the troops left!’
Dunvice didn’t have an answer. It had been a mistake, that was all. Her leather armour was blackened with smoke and ash and she had lost a lot of her hair. There were burns on her face and hands too and in the midst of all the raw flesh and dirt her eyes glowed like yellow suns. She snarled at him and it was so animal that Stanley backed off.
‘No wonder yer farver died o’ fright,’ he snapped irritably, ‘when yer was little more’n a blood-curdlin’ glow in yer muvver’s eyes.’ Then he stomped away to get the remaining platoons in order.
Jibbit was hooting with panic. He had been hooting for so long he had run out of voice and his beak just made soundless gropings at the air. He was lying on his back, wings spread, staring desperately at the sky and shaking.
The reason he was staring at the sky was so as not to see what he was lying on. It was lumpy, covered in ash and stretched away from him in all directions with absolutely no hint of below. A tear leaked from Jibbit’s eyes and his paws clawed at the air helplessly.
There was a sound to the left of him and he turned his head, sensing danger. Terror crept over him like a grey shadow, but it wasn’t his personal terror, it was something external. He could feel its chill wash over his stony surface, like icy water that had never known the sun. He stopped hooting, because even hooting was not enough for a feeling this alone, this hopeless.
And then, out of the cinders of the wood, came the skinkin. It loped on, through the shadows that seemed to get darker where it passed, its eye-holes searching for its prey. Jibbit tensed as every bound brought it closer. Its paws touched him for a fleeting moment as it landed on his middle and leapt on again. And then it was gone, taking the fear and the shadows with it.
Jibbit lay still until someone said:
‘Oy, get yer knobbly bum over ‘ere an’ get in line wiv the rest of ‘em.’
Jibbit squinted up at Stanley, the goblin-Grimm’s bulk outlined against the sky like a mini-mountain, then flipflopped on to his front and considered his position. The gr … gr … ground was still there and it was bad. But other things, things with eye-holes full of death for example, were worse. As it turned out, ground was manageable. Besides, he needn’t stay on it for long.
He spotted something and began to climb.
‘Galig’s teef,’ muttered Stanley. ‘Now I’m a blimmin’ climbin’ frame!’
Strood’s army charged on. Rather than cross the charred bones of their companions, they were going to double back along the foot of the hills to the lower slopes where they could climb without too much difficulty, and come at the town from over the ridge. Riding on Stanley’s helmet, Jibbit was still looking out for a place to hide, but nothing useful appeared. As he gazed desperately around him, a shadow swept across the scene. Almost as one, the army looked up.
Storm clouds were racing high above their heads in a torrent of purple-grey, and deep inside the boiling mass, lightning flickered. A thunderclap broke right over them and its bone-shaking rumble made the tiger-men flinch and whine.
‘Gabriel Hounds!’ yelled Stanley to Dunvice. Only the Quick needed to fear the Storm, but although the tiger-men had been fashioned from crowsmorte, they were Quick in their blood and knew instinctively that the Storm meant danger. The horde faltered, but hung together, eerie eyes gleaming in the half-light. The Storm was bothering them, but wasn’t something they could attack and that made them angry.
‘Don’t worry,’ yelled Dunvice, her voice almost swallowed up in another crack of thunder, ‘it won’t be a problem. The way I see it, tiger-men are like us Grimm. They may be part Quick, but they don’t have souls and that’s what the Storm is after. I’m more worried about the rain.’
Stanley had to agree. The tiger-men almost certainly wouldn’t like rain. He looked up anxiously, but he needn’t have worried. The Storm was already moving on, racing over the hill towards the town as if it had a purpose.
24
A Quick Heart
Taggit had told Nin to keep out of the battle by hiding in the cellar under the long bank of mud huts that served as a general store, where the other children and their mothers had already taken shelter. She argued vigorously, but in the end had to give in. Even so, instead of going straight there, she went to look for Seth first.
She knew she should tell Hen or Hilary, but they would have said no, so she just called out, ‘Going to find Seth, won’t be long,’ as she hurried past a distractedlooking Doctor Mel.
Nin wanted to talk to Seth because she felt embarrassed about not believing him even when he obviously thought he was right. It must have been pretty nasty, finding a body like that and thinking it was Jonas, so she wanted to make sure he was OK. She was also kind of curious about the present.
She found him in an upstairs room above the main hall. The stairs she had climbed to the narrow landing were really just a ladder of bound branches and the room, one of two, was small and low-roofed with a door of closely woven twigs. In it was a rough table pushed against the wall, and a bench.
Seth was sitting on a seat built into the small window, studying the faerie spindle closely. Something glimmered on the sill next to him, casting a fiery light. He looked up.
‘Hello, Nin,’ he said. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’
‘What’s that?’ Nin stared at the square of flickering colour.
Seth chuckled. ‘It’s a cloth of fire.’ He looked cheerful, if a little grubby, and Nin noticed that he wasn’t wearing his travelling boots. Maybe he thought they’d get ruined while he dug in the pits.
She came over to sit next to him on the window seat, picking up the cloth of fire from the sill. It was so bright she expected it to be hot, but it wasn’t. Just warm and with a texture like liquid silk that made her fingers tingle.
‘It’s yours,’ said Seth. ‘Enjoy it while you have the chance.’
Nin looked up at him.
‘It’s the day of reckoning, girl. You know that.’ He smiled at her, his green eyes looking straight into hers. ‘Strood could still win the battle. Don’t kid yourself that it’s a done deal in your favour.’
With a sigh, Nin glanced away from him, her eyes turning to the window. It was filled with greenish glass, the first real window she had seen in the Drift. Sunlight fell into the room through its bubbly and uneven surface, but on the horizon she could see a line of dark cloud.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘But I have to think we have a chance or what would be the point? Look, I’ve still got this.’ She pushed back her sleeve to show Seth the shadow spell.
Seth put out a finger and touched it. ‘You know, for it to have lasted so many decades it must have its own centre of energy, or be connected to something living. Like the sorcerers’ spells are fed by the Quick. Or like that memory pearl of yours. That’s not a spell as such, but it’s the same sort of thi
ng. Its magic stays alive as long as you do, because the memories are a tiny part of you, even though they belonged to other people.’
Nin frowned, turning over his words. And then, suddenly, something vital fell into place.
‘It’s not a spell to find Simeon Dark,’ she said, excitement making her breathless. ‘It is Simeon Dark! Well, sort of …’ She paused, fitting it together in her head. ‘Strood told Skerridge that for Dark to be safe from the plague he had to be so well hidden that even Dark doesn’t know where he is. Like he’s already dead and gone, just a memory in people’s heads. So his spell disguised him and then took away his true identity.’ She gazed at the ribbon in astonishment. ‘I think the ribbon is like his memory of himself all locked up, waiting to be released.’
‘Hmm, clever,’ said Seth. He looked thoughtful. ‘The spell would have to make sure he still had a memory of some sort, though. It couldn’t wipe everything, or Dark’s new persona would really stand out. Dark would have gone into hiding in the last few days of the Seven, some time after the Final Gathering had failed.’
Nin nodded. ‘So a new person popping up who could only remember back as far as those last few days would be a bit obvious?’
‘Uh huh. So maybe the spell let his new shape remember some key things, but made him see them from a different angle. Even in his new shape Simeon would remember the Final Gathering, because he was there, but he’d remember it from outside, as if he were someone else watching, not taking part.’
Seth’s eyes glinted as he looked at the shadow spell, which shifted nervously under his gaze as if it sensed what he was thinking. It tightened its grip on Nin’s arm. She thought she heard it hiss, but was too intent on following the idea to wonder why. Or to notice that Seth used Dark’s first name. Almost as though he had known the sorcerer personally. Seth shot her a glance, aware of his slip, but she didn’t see that either.
‘Sure, if he was hidden as a Fabulous or Grimm that would work,’ she said. ‘It would be weird if he didn’t remember the Final Gathering cos according to Skerridge practically every Fabulous left alive was there, watching. He and Taggit were. But if Dark was disguised as a Quick, it would be the other way around and remembering the Gathering would be the strange thing. Most Quick wouldn’t be that old. Hen’s pretty ancient and even she can only just remember it.’ She frowned. ‘Do you think Dark could be pretending to be a woman?’
‘Wouldn’t put it past him.’ Seth laughed. ‘But he’s a sorcerer, so I don’t buy all those stories about him hiding as a Quick … unless it’s a very powerful Quick, of course. He’d want to be somewhere he could control people.’ A fleeting expression crossed his face. Realisation.
Nin nodded. ‘You mean, like, if he can’t use magic because he doesn’t know he’s a sorcerer, then he’ll want some other form of power?’
‘Something like that.’ Seth waved a hand, dismissing the subject. ‘Anyway, now you’re here, do you want your present?’
‘I thought the cloth of fire was it?’
Outside, the line of cloud was eating up the sky, covering the Land with shadow as it raced on towards the hills on the edge of the town. Lightning glimmered in its depths.
Seth laughed. ‘Oh no. The cloth is just a pretty nothing. This is serious.’ The laughter faded out of his eyes and he leaned close, then glanced away, as if embarrassed by what he was going to say. Nin felt a flush touch her cheeks.
‘Thing is,’ he went on after a moment, ‘I’m not a brave type, not really.’ Nin opened her mouth to disagree hotly. After all, he had jumped off the tower with her.
He shushed her with a touch of his hand. ‘I’m not, believe me. So when I find devices to sell, I keep some of them back. Some of them useful, like the boots, and some other stuff.’
‘You mean like weapons?’
He nodded. ‘It’s a dangerous world out there! But also things to protect, to keep me safe or to warn me about danger. Only, right now I know that it’s not just me in danger. It’s not just you either. It’s the Land. Everything. And the key to solving it all is you.’
‘I know people think that,’ she sighed, ‘but …’
‘It’s not guaranteed. Like I said before, Strood could win. But if anyone in the world can undo him somehow, it’s you. So, what I want to give you is this … a protective charm, see?’ He pulled one of the rings from his finger. It was a thin strip of gold, swirled about with symbols that made Nin’s eyes smart to look at.
The darkness was really gathering now as the boiling clouds stole the light, racing over the hill. Seth’s face was cast in shadow, but his eyes were still bright, still fixed on Nin. Outside, she heard a shout of alarm as people dropped what they were doing and ran for cover. She jumped as lightning flickered, closer now. Trees began to dip and sway.
Seth held out the ring. ‘Here, take it and wear it. You’ll hardly even notice it’s there.’
Nin’s head was swimming slightly and a rumble of thunder seemed like something she could feel in her bones. The stinging had gone from her eyes and the gold band gleamed in Seth’s hands, calling to her. Before she knew it she had reached out a hand to touch it, then drew back. She pulled her eyes away to look at Seth.
‘You need it more than me, so you should keep it. I’m supposed to be lucky.’
‘Please, Nin,’ Seth put his head close to hers. ‘I want to do something to help. Maybe getting this ring is part of your luck, did you think of that?’ He smiled into her eyes. ‘Besides, I want you to be safe.’
Nin felt her face redden and glanced away, her gaze instantly caught by the ring, which shone now like fire. Burning in her head. Persuading.
‘Come on.’ Seth took her hand and turned it over. ‘This finger, I think.’
He slipped it on.
Now the thunder was close enough to shake the town hall, but Nin didn’t hear it. Her world was focused on the ring. As Seth pushed it over her knuckle it seemed to change, its intricate design thinning to a simple twist of silver and one blue stone. And in that moment …
In that moment, she knew what she had done.
‘It changes each time,’ Nemus Sturdy had told her once, ‘changes to match the soul it’s captured.’
HELP ME! she screamed, but no sound came out. She would have pulled her hand away, but he was holding it too tightly. Not Seth. Ava Vispilio.
And then it wasn’t her hand any more.
When lightning hit the ground just outside the town hall, those Quick who hadn’t already fled indoors dived for cover. Even the Grimm took shelter, though the Storm couldn’t hurt them. Everything stopped, but only for a while. They all knew it would pass soon. And it had better. The enemy was on its way and there was work to do.
In the dazzle of the lightning bolt a figure appeared, a shape that staggered and fell to its knees in the grass while the heavens opened and rain lashed down in a torrent. Thunder boomed and there was more dazzle, but further away. For a few seconds the rain was like a wall of water, then a curtain that swayed and lifted around the dark shape, now struggling to its feet and lurching across the grass. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the rain lifted and the dark shape was Jonas, running towards the town hall, his face white and his eyes full of weird light.
As he burst in through the door, Doctor Mel looked up, startled, her arms full of blankets.
‘Where’s Nin,’ gasped Jonas. ‘Please!’
‘Erm … upstairs, I think,’ said Mel. ‘Are you Jonas? Don’t worry, she’s fine. She’s with Seth.’
Jonas ran for the ladder. At the top, he burst into the nearest room.
Seth was there all right, but he was no danger any more. The boy was lying on the floor in a spreading pool of blood. Vispilio’s first act in his new body had been to cut the throat of his old one. If the real Seth had been left alive to regain control of himself, he might have told them things about Vispilio that Vispilio didn’t want them to know.
There was no sign of Nin.
As Jonas turned to go his eye c
aught movement through the greenish glass of the window. It looked as if the tops of the hills outside the town had come alive and were stirring like a restless beast. For a moment it didn’t make sense and then he realised what it was – the heave and surge of many jostling bodies cresting the rise and gathering there. Metal glinted in the afternoon sun. Lots of metal.
Jonas stood at the top of the ladder and thought for a moment. He knew he was on his own. No use looking to the others for help finding Nin, they had a battle to fight.
Leaving Seth’s body where it lay, Jonas went back to the ground floor. Here the main room was quiet, laid out with beds and bandages and potions, waiting for its first casualty to arrive. Those few selected to act as nurses were outside, standing in the sun with their hands shading their eyes, watching the hills. A sense of breathless tension hung over everything.
Tilting his head, Jonas scented the air, searching for any trace of Nin.
25
Beyond Terror
Nin was in the cellar, retrieving the pack that Seth had left there and checking through the leftover magical artefacts, looking for anything useful to steal. Or rather, her body was. Her mind was cowering somewhere inside, still screaming with shock.
She was beyond terror. There were no words for what it felt like to watch helplessly as your own hands cut someone else’s throat, to hear your brain think someone else’s thoughts. To understand that your body was going on with someone else’s life as if you weren’t there. As if you were nothing, not even a blip on the radar.
She couldn’t scream or fight or even cry because none of those things were in her control now. Her view of the world was slightly distorted, like looking through thick glass, but still there. She could hear too, though the sounds were tinny and distant. But that was all. Her sense of touch had gone completely, and if she tried to move, she could feel the instruction leave her mind, but it went nowhere. Her body carried on doing something different, operating to his commands. She was absolutely powerless.