Blind Man's Buff

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  Which is when the elderly man unbent, stood straight, and raised the gnarled white walking stick, pointing it to the vaulted ceiling. “This is my proof, your illustrious highness,’ he said, and he twirled the stick three times. In an instant the candlelight flickered out, the firelight turned black, and weird pictures began to appear in the shadows.

  .

  Chapter Two

  High in the air across the ceiling beams, floated a white mist like a great cloud, and within, an army was marching towards them. Without sound, the pictures fluttered in a weird and unreal silence. Twenty thousand men marched, but their tramping feet made no noise, their heavy breathing and the cheers for their emperor were soundless, and the rumble of supply carts, the llamas’ hooves and their snorting as they gained pace were all visible but without the slightest murmur.

  Every person in that great chamber was staring upwards, so engrossed, they were unable to look away, or even blink.

  The silent marching army swept forwards through the mist above, their banners blowing in the wind and their deep crimson uniforms glistening in the sunshine. Some wore helmets of bright steel and many raised their swords. Then they started to run.

  The blurred pictures were almost frightening, truly as though some horrific mass of furious armed men were rushing from the sky. Yet still there was no sound. No clash of blades, no shouting men, no whistle of the wind and no heavy boots on the ground.

  Suddenly Nathan saw William Octobr leading his vanguard. His hair was uncovered, showing the familiar colouring, and his eyes were bright. He raised both arms, and clearly he was calling to his men although no one in the room could hear what he said. He was recognisable, although he was unscarred and certainly looked strong and determined. Nor was he blind. Then they also began to run.

  Abruptly the scene changed. Across the horizon was the ocean with massive waves rolling in, the crash of white spray, and more than a hundred great ships with dark red sails were sailing closer and closer. Still silence reigned, but the sound of the sea could be imagined.

  Once again the scene altered and the city of Peganda took shape in shadowed chaos high over the ceiling beams, while everyone in the room stood below, staring up.

  Within the curling white mist, soldiers in shining armour appeared running from the narrow streets, setting fire to the old houses while people, screaming, jumped from their windows or hurtled from their doors to escape. Then there was a scene of the Octobr soldiers being flung up into the air by magic flashes. They twisted, turned, open-mouthed in fear and surprise as they were swept up and up into the sky until they disappeared.

  Finally, with the sun still gleaming on armour and weapons, Lester Hazlett stood in front of his men, his sword upraised as he looked down on William Octobr. The Octobr Emperor was kneeling, his head bowed towards his conqueror. Two large men came from the Hazlett army and dragged William away as they laughed, leaving the wizard Lester grinning with victorious contentment.

  At last the mist and its collection of strange soundless pictures melted into the shadows and was gone. The old blind man lowered his white staff and turned back to Messina, Bayldon and Zakmeister. It was Bayldon who said, “I had heard of this before, that the City of Peganda many centuries ago was a fine place with beautiful architecture. It was that terrible invasion which ruined the city and all the buildings, and now few folk can afford to mend or repair.”

  The blind man nodded sadly. “That was the end of the rightful rule of Lashtang,” he said softly. “I was a broken man, but when they threw me into the palace dungeons I was able to use my fading magic, and carry myself and my close family to the other world I already knew, that of England across the veil. There I struggled to make a new life until other Hazlett wizards discovered me, and tried to kill me, setting fire to my place of home and work.”

  Everyone was staring at him. Eventually it was Messina who spoke. “You have good magic, sir, to travel to our twin world in England even though you must have been weak and exhausted. But your magic pictures have been most interesting and I believe I can accept your story. The pictures showed Lester Hazlett exactly as I know he looked, and the details of the invasion and the fighting were most convincing.” She nodded, with a very faint smile. “However, this is so unexpected, and just while we are planning our imminent rebellion, it is hard for me to adjust.”

  “I am exhausted again now, your illustrious highness,” sighed William, and he sank back in a chair. “But I will gladly join your rebellion, and in spite of my infirmities, I believe I can be of some help. Over the past few months since I returned to Lashtang, I have been exploring the new Hazlett power, and the secrets of their families.”

  “Interesting,” muttered Bayldon, tapping his fingertips together.

  “And, for instance,” asked Zakmeister, “have you discovered why after hundreds of years of the Hazlett usurpers being tall, muscled and fair-haired, they are now thin as birch saplings, black-haired and green eyed?”

  “I have indeed,” said William. “It was in 1766 when Krillester Hazlett, the usurping emperor, chose Ninester as his heir, even though the boy Ninester was no relation to him whatsoever. He lied and claimed Ninester was his son, but he was not. Krillester found the boy down by the docks, fighting twelve men who were trying to arrest him, and somehow beating them all with wicked dark magic.”

  “Then you know even more than we do,” smiled Messina, “for I thought Krillester took his nephew as his heir.”

  “Krillester,” said William firmly, “was a many-times liar. The boy was no relative at all. So first we had the usurping Hazletts. And now we have the descendants of a criminal gang-boy to rule us.” He sank back in his chair. “So will you tell me of your plans for this rebellion?”

  At that moment both Poppy and John ran in, with Alice close behind. Poppy eyed the strange blind man, but hurried to Messina, saying, “I’ve heard something interesting.”

  “So have I,” said Alice, sitting down and catching her breath.

  “Me too,” grinned John.

  “Wait.” Messina held up her hand. “I do not believe in coincidence. It is likely that William Octobr has suddenly appeared amongst us at this time because of a benign fate. No doubt this was destined and we will finally defeat the Hazletts together. However, I cannot be sure, and would be a poor empress if I immediately discussed all my plans and knowledge after only moments of his arrival.” She turned to the blind man now sitting at ease before her. “I apologise, sir,” she said. “But I must ask you to leave while I talk with my friends and family.”

  He rose slowly, stretching his back, clearly reluctant. “After waiting so long,” he said, “it is disappointing to still be suspected as working for the other side. But perhaps if young Nathan can lead me home, he can meet my family and learn more of me.”

  Jumping up at once, Nathan took the old man’s arm and together they left the well-guarded house. He waved back to his mother and father and once outside, repeated the magic words, “Marks and Spencers,” and it seemed the whole building closed immediately in darkness. Yet outside the winter sunshine sparkled on the river as a small flat-bottomed boat chugged downstream. “My mother needs to be extra careful,” Nathan explained. “But I’m sure once she gets to know you, she’ll be fine.”

  “Meanwhile,” William answered, “come and meet my son and granddaughter. They will be excited to see you, I know.”

  Nathan discovered the way back to the Reedy Ram, and from there old William directed him to the house he shared with his family. It was very narrow, squashed between two larger houses in a poorer part of town. There was just one window up under the peaked eaves, and one window at ground floor next to a small black door. Here William knocked with a happy little tune, and called out, “Answer the door, Tansle, my dear. Tis your old grandfather with a special guest.”

  Footsteps echoed from inside and a small round head with big eyes and pretty black curls peeped out. Then she pushed the door open wide, and both William Octobr and
Nathan walked inside.

  The corridor was unusually dark, and it seemed that no light entered at all from any place, even though there was a pale sunshine outside. Beneath his feet the floor felt a little like uneven stone, and Nathan decided it could not be a very comfortable house, and immediately felt sorry for the old man and his family. He saw nothing ahead, nothing behind and nothing to either side, so he took a few hesitant strides, expecting Tansle to open another door. But she did not. The absolute darkness remained. Nathan began to feel as blind as the old smith.

  And then, out of the unrelenting shadows, he could hear someone laughing very softly.

  Back at the home of Messina, Bayldon and their friends, John, Poppy and Alice were all repeating what they had managed to hear from the bustling crowds of Peganda.

  “It were a fat lady wot whispered to the fat fellow beside her. She was saying as how Braxton had gone to Clarr. I done remembered the exact words,” John related as he paced the floor, “she says, ‘Gone to Clarr, I believe. Braxton and his friend Chadrack. They have to prepare.’”

  Poppy was sitting hugging her knees, and the mud from her trousers was staining the chair. “I heard something even funnier. It was a tall thin man standing on a corner, waiting for someone. Then this other man turned up and they started muttering together. They said something about it being all planned and it would happen later today. One man said, ‘They’ll take the boy to the caves under Clarr. They’ll never find what’s left of him.’ Then the other man grinned and said, “They’ll have to look for the kid. So the rebellion will be delayed.’ And the other man said, ‘By the time they give up searching for the kid, we’ll be ready for their stupid attack.’ Then they walked off together.”

  Messina frowned, turning to Alice. “Well, my dear, what have you heard?”

  “It was a woman in fancy clothes,” Alice explained. “She said to her friend, “My husband has it all under control. There will be no fighting this year.’ “

  Bayldon stood in a hurry. He looked both furious and worried. “Where’s Nathan?” he demanded. “Where did that old man take him?”

  But he then immediately fainted, banging his head against the arm of the settle where he had been sitting. It was at that precise moment that Alfie came running in, and while Messina bent over Bayldon, Alfie said, “I seen Nat. He done walked off wiv some old fellow wiv a white cane. Blind I reckons. But I followed and they’s gone in some dump of a hovel a long way off. After they went in, I knocked on that door over and over. But there weren’t no one wot answered.”

  Bayldon woke up and rubbed his eyes, while Messina stood quickly. “Take me there, Alfie. I must find Nathan before they smuggle him off to Clarr.”

  It was Granny who marched over, shaking her head, “Definitely not,” she said. “Not with that hair, you don’t. You could tie a scarf over your head, but anyone could pull it off.” She looked over at Zakmeister, who had also jumped up. “No, you are also too easily recognised, especially if Braxton is involved,” she said, tapping her own very grey hair. “I shall go, and perhaps Alfie and John will come with me.”

  “I shall come,” announced Sherdam. “I am quite unnoticeable in a crowd.”

  “And me,” demanded Poppy. “My hair’s already covered in mud.”

  “Very well,” said Granny. “No time to waste. Let’s be off.”

  Scurrying after, Poppy, John and Alfie left the house in a rush. So they were not present to hear what Peter and Sam related when they arrived back home just a little later.

  Peter was clutching his lute, and collapsed in a chair. “I think I heard something important,” he said, “though I can’t be sure. There was this man walking past me. He even threw me a coin, and smiled. But then he muttered under his breath to a man walking the opposite way just as they passed each other. He said, ‘It’s done. There’ll be no rebellion. Tansle will get the boy.’”

  Last of all, Sam crept in, muttering, “Marks and Spencers.” He stared around. “Where’s everyone else?” he demanded.

  “There’s been a very dangerous series of secret messages,” Zakmeister said. “It seems possible that Nathan has been abducted. He may then be taken to the caves under the Clarr Mountains near the tower.”

  Sam froze. “Then what I heard was right,” he said, going quite white. “I thought I must have mistaken what I heard. But there was this very old man talking to a very old woman. He was laughing, and she said, ‘You look almost as old as that poor old fool they’ve given the magic staff and forced into obedience.’ And then he said, ‘Just as well I’m not. The old man won’t last long, and nor will his boy. Tansle will eat them both.’”

  There were tears in Bayldon’s eyes, but Messina leapt up once again, and turned to Zakmeister. “This demands deep magic. And quickly,” she said. “You and I are the strongest. Come with me now. Upstairs to the chamber of spells.”

  On the other side of the city, Nathan felt his knees wobble as he lost confidence. He had utterly believed in the old man, recognising him as the smith William Octobr, and he would have been perfectly happy to tell him anything. Yet his mother had shown suspicion. And now – at the last minute, Nathan realised that he might be in terrible danger.

  Everyone had disappeared and although he had heard some menacing laughter, now he could hear nothing at all, and could not even see his own hands in front of him. He called, “Hello. Is anyone there? William Octobr? Tansle?” And then, finally, “Where are you? Where am I?”

  He felt along the walls, turning each corner very carefully, but could feel nothing except for the cold stone. There were no stairs, and no doors. He could not even find the door where he had entered the house. Everything was smooth except the ground beneath his shoes, and there was no clue to anything else.

  Then he heard a low growl. Finally, in a soft voice, a man who did not sound like the old smith, said quietly, “Patience, little monster, patience. You cannot have him yet. Soon. But not here.”

  And then once again there was silence.

  Wearing Lashtang style clothes, Nathan was dressed in tight blue trousers, a torn black coat, and big boots that were dirty and scuffed. But hidden inside those boots, pushed between the leather and the woolly lining, was a sharp knife. The Knife of Clarr. He bent down and touched it, whispering, “Be invisible, until I call on you again. You must not be found by my enemies.”

  Shivering and frightened, Nathan sat in one of the cold corners, and waited. There was nothing else he could do. He had no idea how long he waited but it felt like an eternity. Eventually he closed his eyes but could not sleep and remained alert. When finally something happened, he jumped up, ready to call on his knife. But there was no one there, only the opening of a door.

  The doorway was small and dark and seemed to open into a long tunnel. Steep and narrow, the tunnelled down, its floor, walls and ceiling all roughhewn rock. Hoping for escape, Nathan immediately climbed into the small entrance, but after a moment he stopped, and retraced his steps. This opening had been a sudden invitation after such a length of time stuck in the doorless corridor. And you do not accept invitations from your gaoler. So Nathan went back to the original corridor and sat down on the ground, waiting. He did not have to wait very long.

  The roar of some furious animal echoed from above. Then the voice he had heard before, and the laugh, were repeated. “Wait, Tansle. Are you so hungry? Patience, you ugly monster.”

  Something scrabbled beyond the ceiling where he sat, like claws scratching their way inside. Again and again the laugh.

  Nathan could stand it no longer. He got up and began to crawl along the open passageway into the deepest darkness he had ever known. The chill turned colder. He kept crawling but soon the knees of his trousers were in holes, and his hands and elbows were bleeding. There was dried mud in his hair which he had used to disguise the colour, and now that mud seemed to turn to ice. His eyes were sore from squinting, since he had to peer to try and see anything at all. Becoming more and more desperate, and more
miserable, Nathan kept on. It felt as though the tunnel had no end.

  Eventually, absolutely exhausted, he fell down where he was, and slept.

  He did not sleep long though. The padding footsteps of a four-footed creature, and the low growl from behind him woke Nathan abruptly, and head bent, he started to run.

  Gradually the tunnel’s ceiling became higher, and soon able to run faster and upright, Nathan kept going. There were no side turnings nor doorways and no light. He guessed he was deep underground, but he had no idea where he was heading.

  Hungry, cold and exhausted he stopped only when he could go no further, and sat, curled against the wall, to sleep again. But first he called on the Knife of Clarr. As soon as he called, it became visible again and he drew it out, and spoke for sometime. He asked for protection, and he asked for explanations.

  It gave him confidence to hold that shining carved handle once more, but he needed more than simple confidence.

  First, keeping his voice soft in case someone could hear, he addressed the shining blade. “I am the Lord of Clarr,” he whispered, “and you must save me if you can. If you cannot protect me, then tell me so I can face whatever comes. Is this the end? Will I be killed when I reach the end? And where is the ending? Where am I? What should I do? He had one last question. “Is this the work of William Octobr? How can an emperor turn to fight for the other side, when it was them who stole his throne, and nearly killed him? What on earth is happening?”

  Ever since he had found the Knife of Clarr, he had discovered how wonderful it was, but also how confusing. It never spoke, but sometimes it sent him wonderful pictures and sometimes it created the most glorious magic to help him. But he had also realised that sometimes the knife could not help at all. He could never be sure. And with a deep sigh of utter misery, he closed his eyes.

  Chapter Three