Blind Man's Buff

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  The arrow slits, few enough of them, were closed off by layers of the black iron, blocking light. So the hand that crept from behind, its fingers sliding tight and firm around Nathan’s neck, could not be seen and only felt. Nathan fell back, gasping for breath. He was choking. The hand pressed tighter and it felt as though a dozen fingers squeezed his throat. He could not swallow nor speak. Reaching out for help he grabbed at Hermes’ feathers as he fell, dizzy and terrified. For some horrible moments he lay on the steps, feeling the fingers strangle him as they grew tighter. Nathan pulled at them, but he could not tear them away. Then he heard the whispers again. “You are the prisoner of Fibillank and you will never see the sky again. Now you belong to me.”

  Hermes turned at once and waddled back up the several steps, leaning over his precious lord. He saw nothing and was confused. “What can I do?” he clacked in panic, “I must save you, yet I cannot see how.”

  His face flushed and swollen, Nathan tugged at the hand he could feel, scratching at it and digging his own fingers into its clasp. Hermes was so worried, he flapped and kicked out, but did not understand and did not know what to do. Nathan could no longer even gasp for breath.

  Then, in desperation, he rolled over, his face to the stone. At once the strangling grip disappeared. It turned to mist. Again, there was nothing there. But Nathan was in pain and could hardly mutter, though he turned back over and with a hand to the cold damp wall, he levered himself up. Finally he whispered, “I was – strangled.”

  “My illustrious lord, no creature was here to harm you. Had anyone touched my lord the empole, I would have killed the beast.”

  Nathan flopped down again on the step behind him, and put his forehead in his hands. “I was dying. I couldn’t breathe. How could I have imagined it?”

  “Some things,” pondered Hermes, “can only be felt, not seen, Like the Epilogs, but more vicious, they work with dark magic. But how do you kill something you cannot see?” The goose peered over at Nathan, then lifted a tentative wing-tip. “You did not imagine it, my lord, for I can see your neck is marked and bruised and very swollen.”

  Coughing and gulping to clear his throat, Nathan once again staggered up. His voice was still only a wheeze. “Keep going down, my friend,” he said. “We have to find a way out as quickly as possible, or we’ll both be dead.”

  The steps continued. In a wide spiralling downward slip and stagger, they wound down and down and down, until it seemed they must surely be underground. And then, although deep in shadow, Nathan thought he saw something flicker. Within the endless curve of the wall, he saw a keyhole. He did not see the outline of the door itself, but the keyhole blinked through into light. The little diagonal of sparkle shone vivid. “Wait,” he called, and pushed. The door did not open. So once again he pulled out his knife, pushed its point into the bright keyhole, and twisted. “Open,” he ordered, “by the will of the Lord of Clarr.” And a tall but very narrow doorway opened to one side. Hermes, at Nathan’s feet, stared in, breathing with a snort.

  “I smell magic, my illustrious lord. You must let me go before, in case there is danger.”

  “No, stop.” Nathan stood in the way, peering into the darkness. “It’s wrong,” he decided. “I only noticed this door because there was light shining quite bright through the keyhole. But there’s no light at all inside, so how could it have been so obvious through a little keyhole when it’s pitch black inside?” He turned away. “It’s a trap. I know it is.” As he walked back to the stairs and Hermes turned his back on the doorway, so a loud explosion behind them erupted in fury, the thunderous roar echoed both up and down the staircase and a thick red smoke filled the entire space. Hermes had a coughing fit and Nathan muttered, “So it was a trap. But who’s here setting these things?”

  “The castle itself, I humbly believe, my illustrious lord,” said Hermes, waddling down the stairs as fast as he could away from the acrid smoke.

  “In which case,” said Nathan, pausing a moment, “I shall ask the knife to do some magic of my own.”

  But as Nathan stopped, out from the dark doorway came a huge swarm of tiny flying creatures, buzzing and spitting. They were black with tiny purple wings, and they came flying straight at Nathan’s head and eyes. They began to bite, and Nathan twirled, desperate to get away. “Some sort of wasp,” he called to Hermes. “They bite and itch so much, I’m going mad. There’s hundreds of them, all in my eyes and my nose. I can’t get away.”

  He was dancing up and down, then turning to run, waving his arms, but the wasps followed him. Hermes flew up with a hiss of fury. He flew at the tiny biting insects, mouth open to swallow them, and flapped his wings so the wasps were caught and thrust away. “Quick, my lord, downstairs,” called Hermes, and Nathan ran down, his hands over his head.

  With the swarm gone, Hermes came down after Nathan, and now they stood at the castle entrance for the stairs went no further. There was still no other way in or out, and although both Nathan and Hermes banged and kicked at the great wooden door, which Nathan had purposefully left open when he had entered, it did not budge. “The knife, my lord, into the keyhole?” suggested Hermes.

  But Nathan did more than this. He lifted the knife high and addressed it as he usually had. “As the Lord of Clarr, I order the Knife of Clarr,” he called loudly, “to release me from this castle, and create a way out for myself and my friend Hermes, the Messenger of Clarr.”

  The blade’s light sprang huge and then faded. Nothing else happened, as though the knife was trying to gather strength. For a moment Nathan was disappointed. His face was covered in great red blotches from the bites, and he was trying very hard not to scratch them. He was desperate and feeling sick. Then he held up the knife again, saying, “Please, Knife of Clarr, the Lord of Clarr really needs your help. I am trapped and in pain. Can you help us?”

  And then, with a sudden burst of crackling light through two arrow-slits, there was a stab of almost blinding lightening. Followed by a massive roar of thunder which vibrated throughout the whole building, the lightning flashes repeated again and again. Nathan peered from one tiny narrow window and saw the entire sky illuminated and the thunder, deafening, followed at once.

  The forked lightning bolts sprang from the sky before and above, surrounding the whole castle with the powerful white electricity until there was one continuous roar and a thunderous noise, and one vast shower of brilliance.

  The power grew, the tower shook, and the iron chains snapped one by one and started to crumble. Crack, crack, crack, and the sound of the cracking echoed. It became quicker. Cascading and tumbling, the fragments of chain burst into even smaller pieces and were flung to the ground, spreading across the courtyard outside.

  Nathan kicked at the door and stood there in utter relief, waiting until the last binding chain broke free as it swung open. Both Hermes and Nathan raced down the little steps and into the lightning storm. It did not rain, but with a fierce and relentless energy, the sky raged with white brilliance still striking against the ancient tower.

  The stone began to break and as they ran, Nathan peeped back over his shoulder and saw the whole outer wall tremble and fall.

  “Quick,” he called out, “we don’t want to escape from one danger and then get squashed by breaking stone.”

  “I will fly us out of here,” squeaked Hermes. “Run first. Fly after.”

  “We’ll be safe on that ridge,” Nathan pointed and kept running. The ridge sat at the peak of a gentle slope, and from there they could look down and easily see what had happened. As the lighting eased, one more roll of thunder and then peace, they could see the destruction stretched before them. The second tower stood as it always had, undamaged and imperious. But the entire remainder of the castle now lay in ruins, both the tower where Nathan had been trapped, the outer wall, gatehouse with drawbridge and portcullis, and the lower base with outhouses and halls. The courtyards were blocked with rubble. The moat no longer found even the space to trickle. The Castle of Fibil
lank no longer stood, nor could be the home of anyone unless they confined themselves to the one smaller tower.

  Nathan tried to see if the bed with Wagster had also been destroyed, or whether it now stood on the ground amidst the rubble. But the broken stone rose in such great heaps, that he could see little else. He turned to Hermes. “Well, my beautiful friend and illustrious companion, let’s leave this foul place. I wish I’d never asked to come. But now, if the Octobr rebels ever wish to storm or besiege it, it’ll be an easy job.”

  “We go to Peganda?” Hermes asked.

  “We do,” Nathan answered, and climbed onto the bird’s back, warmed himself in the froth of white feathers, and embraced his neck.

  Up amongst the clouds it was even colder, the wind was as sharp as the Knife of Clarr, and the sky felt as though it had been painted with ice, but the journey to the capital city was not so far, and Hermes landed at a short distance outside the main gates. They were being unlocked with the gatekeeper rattling his enormous bunch of keys. “Well at least this isn’t locked against us,” clucked Hermes.

  “But,” murmured Nathan, “I need to pull my cape over my hair, and lead you as if I’m taking you to market to sell. My apologies, but we don’t want to be recognised.”

  “I’ve no objections, my illustrious lord,” nodded Hermes. “We are in disguise, which is always diverting.”

  The tall house by the river in Peganda’s fashionable quarter stood apparently empty. Making sure he was unwatched, Nathan whispered the password, opened the door, and pushed Hermes inside. Leaning back against the closed door with a sigh of relief, Nathan mumbled, “At last, we’re safe from everyone and everything.”

  Then a howl of echoing and unearthly horror resounded and Nathan almost fell over. At the far end of the entrance hall the wide wooden staircase led to the upper two floors. Hermes was staring at the higher steps, so Nathan whirled around, looking in the same direction.

  The top of the stairs lay in shadow, but on the wide landing stood a huge dog, its coat blacker than any shadow. Its eyes were golden, and it had six of them. Three heads protruded on long thick necks, and three mouths were open, panting and dripping saliva. It began to slowly, step by step, descend the steps, and Nathan immediately backed away.

  But then, astonished, he realised that the eyes were moist, the ears drooped, and the one thick tail wagged hopefully, stopped, forlorn, and then wagged sadly again.

  It was the central head which lifted a little, sniffed slightly, and said, “Food, lord? Can I have some – food?”

  Stuttering and confused, Nathan whispered, “Who are you? Are you Tansle?”

  “Just a little food,” mumbled the three-headed wolf. “It is so long since I ate. I will do whatever you say, my lord, if I may just have a little food.”

  “I’ll get you food,” Nathan promised. “But tell me who you are. Tansle, who belongs to Braxton?”

  The three heads bent in quiet misery. “Our names are Seed, Sile and Sansell, my lord. I am a Lava Wolf from Sparkan and belong to nobody. But the human known as Braxton took me and I am his prisoner. But I accept what my destiny brings, lord, if only I may sometimes eat.”

  Nathan straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath, and said, “Come with me into the kitchen,” and led the way to the door beneath the staircase, pushed it open, and was uncomfortably aware that the wolf, three heads and a back nearly as high as his waist, was close at his heels. He looked in the cupboards which surrounded the great cooking fires. But the fire was out, wind whistled down the chimney and puffed up the smelly soot and ashes, and the cupboards were empty.

  Hermes was eyeing the dog with considerable suspicion, and the dog, although cautious, was eyeing the goose. “That,” Nathan pointed and spoke loudly, “is not for dinner.” The dog backed, then sank down, lying out on the cold kitchen tiles. Immediately Hermes fluffed himself to look considerably larger, gave a hop, and sat in the middle of the long table. Seed, Sile and Sansell closed their eyes with three sighs of hopelessness and gripping hunger. Nathan looked up to Hermes, and passed over his own purse. “Will you go to market?” he asked. “Would you go shopping for me?”

  Hermes cleared his throat. “My illustrious lord, if you are considering feeding the wolf, perhaps I should point out that once well fed, a wolf will be far more dangerous.”

  “I think it’s the other way around,” Nathan frowned. “A starving animal is far more likely to attack. Anyone desperate is dangerous.”

  “I shall obey as always, my lord,” said Hermes dutifully. “And while at the market, shall I also buy more pleasant and edible food for your own illustrious self, my lord? And perhaps – just perhaps – some small item for myself?”

  Smiling, Nathan said, “There’s enough money for all of us. Get enough for the week.” He turned back to the wolf stretched at his feet. “Where’s Braxton?”

  ‘Gone.”

  Nathan stared, disbelieving. Hermes had groomed his wing tips, hopped off the table, waited for Nathan to hang the purse around his neck, and then waddled to the front door. Turning back to the dog, Nathan said softly, “I don’t believe it. He would never have let you run off. And how did you know to come here? You couldn’t know the password. You couldn’t know anything about me, except that you failed to eat me in the Clarr caves.

  The central head grunted, which sounded very like a sob. “I didn’t want to. I’ve never ever eaten a human. I was starving. I don’t know. Perhaps if Braxton had killed you? I don’t know.”

  “Why don’t you turn into the little girl like you did with Braxton?” Nathan demanded. “Then you could have run off to the market yourself.”

  “My beautiful baby girl,” sniffed the left side head. “I love her dearly. She is so hungry, my little love. I think she may die.”

  “But,” continued the right head, “she cannot speak, my little girl. We are four heads, we Lava Wolves. Three like this, and one that is a human shape. But that is mute. I had no money, and no voice as a little girl.”

  “When I had no money,” Nathan muttered, “and I was really hungry, living on the streets, and I didn’t have much of a voice either, I went to the market and stole – apples.”

  “Humans – frighten me,” whispered the central head. “If they saw me now, they’d kill me. And as a little girl stealing apples, they’d drag me off to gaol.”

  “So where’s Braxton?”

  The wolf sank flatter, chin to the ground, and a faint rumble from the empty stomach sounded as sad as the sighs. “I will tell it all, she said softly, “because you are kind and have promised me food. Perhaps it is just another trick and perhaps there will be no food after all, but you sound kind. I will hope to eat one day.”

  “Today.” Nathan stood over the dog. “Now, tell me everything.”

  “I was a happy wolf,” Sansell looked up with another tummy rumble. “Just a puppy, playing with my mother. Then the man came up the ladder. I had never seen a man before and I didn’t know how cruel they are so I didn’t run away. The man picked me up. I was frightened. I called for my mother and she came running, but the man carried me down the ladder. I saw her standing at the top, howling and crying and calling my names. But the man kept climbing down until we were near the bottom, and then he threw me down. I was hurt and my feet hurt, so I started to whine, but he came down and whipped me with his belt. Then he carried me off. He locked me up and never gave me any food except scraps of bread and a dried bone. I was starving and terrified so I did what he told me.”

  She still lay flat on the tiled floor, now whimpering like the little puppy she called herself. Nathan bent down. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I must know the rest. How did you get here and where’s Braxton now?”

  “It was the old blind man,” said Sansell. He came to our rooms, and banged on the door and demanded to know where his son and granddaughter were hidden. The man Braxton laughed and wouldn’t tell him, but they talked together and Braxton said he would release the son if the blind man
showed him where the rebels' home was, and how to get in. The blind man had been here with you, so he said yes. Braxton made me turn to my little baby girl, and we walked through the back lanes of Peganda until we arrived here. The blind man had heard the password and he made the door open. They left me here, still starving.”

  “And they went away?”

  “Yes,” sighed the wolf, peering up. “The man Braxton said he would take the blind man to his son, and then come back here to wait for the rebels to arrive.”

  Nathan sat on the nearest stool, and tried to think. He was happy to feed the wolf out of sympathy, but he didn’t want to wait for Braxton to come back. Yet he could never walk with a three-headed monster through the streets, People would scream and run away, or want to kill the beast.

  “We wait until Hermes comes back,” he decided. “Then you change into your little girl, and we all climb on Hermes’ back, and fly away from Peganda. It’s a long way to go, but I know a very safe place. You can eat on the way. And I’m really hungry myself. But I won’t risk any attempt at cooking. For one thing I don’t really know how to, and whenever I’ve tried, I burn everything, even corn flakes. Besides, Braxton could come back.”

  Nathan was sorry. It had seemed he could be comfortable and feel at home for some weeks in the big house, and start to get ready for the Epilogs to arrive. But now he felt he had no choice but to go back to the cottage near the ruined palace. He would see Granny and his parents, and that would be good, but everybody would be telling him what to do again, and he couldn’t make his own choices. Nor, he thought, would it be easy to get a message to the Epilogs. Not for the first time, he wished they had mobile phones in Lashtang.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sliding down the rainbow felt like an adventure in itself. The great arch was tingling with excitement, almost as if the rainbow was even more pleased to see Poppy and Peter than they were to have found it. The different shimmering colours had a different separate feeling. The blue shades were cool while the pink shades were warm, and they were all smooth and softly slippery.