Blind Man's Buff

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  “We gotta use our wits here,” said Alfie. “We gotta split up. Pete, you got the music to call on them little folk. You go wiv Ferdy and do the muster. Reckon Alice and Poppy needs a rest. But someone gotta go wiv Nat, to hold him on.”

  “Me,” said Sam at once. “I want to help too.”

  “No,” said John. “U’s too little. Reckon the both of you likely to fall off. I wanna go. I’s bigger’n Nat. I’ll hold him best.”

  “I’m going off to look for Gilden,” Poppy announced, helping both John and Nathan onto Hermes’ back. She smiled at Alice. “Want to come with me?”

  “Yes indeed,” said Alice, hurrying to her side.

  “Then reckon I’s goin’ wiv Peter, Sam and Ferdy,” decided Alfie. “T’will be a good muster through this ruddy long grassy stuff. And I’s ready if them Hazlett twins turns up again.”

  Hermes, with a hop and a flap, spread his wings and took off back the way they had come. John sat on Hermes’ back with Nathan squashed in front, John’s arms around Hermes’ neck. Nathan was safely wedged in the middle and did not move, but he appeared to be fast asleep. His head flopped sideways on the mass of white feathers, and John saw the tiny wounds on his neck turn from green to purple, and begin to bleed again. They did not bleed much, but the little drops which slipped down his neck were also bright purple.

  Alfie, striding ahead, led the way into the Valk Savanna, heading towards the ruined and abandoned Village of Pickle. Close behind hurried Sam and Peter, and Sam, delighted to be chosen, walked with Ferdinand sitting comfortably on his shoulder. Alfie picked one of the long seedy grasses, and chewed on it. Peter began to whistle, repeating the tunes he had written for his lute. With the worry of Nathan’s condition on their minds, no one was happy, but they had to try and forget that and get on with the job in hand.

  “Bannister’s muster,” Alfie called, “who’s gonna come wiv us to fight them ‘orrible ‘azletts?”

  Poppy took Alice’s hand. “I want to go back to the old palace,” she said. “Bymion Palace, or whatever it’s called. There’s no more of those dreadful poisonous spiders. So we can go to the Chain of Destiny and see what it can tell us to help. And I want to call Gilden.”

  “Gilden might be back in the forest,” suggested Alice.

  Poppy stopped a minute, then shook her head. “That’s too far away and none of us have the magic to get there quickly. And it’s a terrifying place anyway. Of course, I wanted to get the Epilogs to join us in battle, but now Nat says he’s done that already, and they all said yes.”

  “So the palace, and the chain of Destiny it is,” said Alice. “It might help Nat. It might help all of us.”

  As the sky clouded thicker and darker, it began to rain and Hermes flew through a gathering storm. Soon there was lightning flashing passed them, and the rain began to pour. Thunder pounded, roaring like huge falling mountains, but it did not wake Nathan. They were soaked and sodden by the time they arrived at the cottage, and although it was only the afternoon, it was as black as night. Hermes banged on the door with his beak as John helped Nathan off the goose’s back, and tried to carry him. It was Sherdam who opened the door just as another blaze of lightning forked across the sky, and immediately Sherdam helped to carry Nathan inside, calling the others to come at once. Messina and Granny rushed to Sherdam’s side and followed as Nathan was laid on his own bed in one of the tiny bedrooms.

  “What happened?” Messina demanded.

  “Tis a weird story,” John said, kneeling on the floor at the side of Nathan’s bed. “We was at the River Rass. We done half the muster and there be thousands o’ them little folk done come, and now theys gone off to search fer them weapons. We was ready to rest afore doing the savanna, when them mean Hazlett twins come down in their balloon.” John shook his head, looking utterly bewildered. “It didn’t make no sense. One minute they was doing their same thing, all that laughing and talking proper stoopid rubbish, Then t’was like they turned into monsters. They done rushed on Nat and bit his neck.”

  “Brewster and Wagster?” Sherdam was almost disbelieving.

  Nodding vigorously, John said, “Yeah. They done it. Then they stopped when Pops done stabbed Wagster. Brewster were all mixed up and says it were Yaark. He reckons Yaark be a Sucky-bus. You eats the star, and there he is inside.”

  The others now all crowded around and even Ninester peeped from behind his mother, looking worried. “Poor Nat is very wet,” he said. “I think he’ll catch cold. You should take his wet clothes off. Do you want to borrow my nice woolly dressing gown?”

  Messina was examining Nathan’s neck wounds. “This is snake venom,” she said at last. She turned to Ninester. “That’s most kind, and yes please,” she said. “He certainly needs to be dry and warm.”

  As Ninester ran off to get his warm dressing-gown, Sherdam quickly helped get Nathan undressed, rubbed him dry with a huge bath towel, and then bundled him into bed. Nathan was half waking, mumbling and pushing Sherdam away.

  “Well, my dearest son,” Messina said, sitting on the edge of the mattress, “this is not as dangerous as the spider venom last year. This is venom from a large snake. Perhaps a Taipan. I can remove most of it with magic, and then administer an anti-venom, which Granny can easily obtain, I believe. How do you feel?”

  But Nathan opened his eyes, and stared at his mother as if he had never seen her before. She stared back, frowning, for his eyes had turned deep green.

  She called Zakmeister and he, Messina and Sherdam bent over, looking closely at the changed eyes, and the great purple blisters on Nathan’s neck. Granny had zoomed off to get the anti-venom, but clearly there was a problem beyond that.

  Opening those green eyes very wide, Nathan spoke in a deep and unnatural voice. “Well now,” he said. “How pleasant to meet you all again. And in one of your own beds, as well. Are you about to feed me? Wrap me in wool? Bring me gifts? How very kind and how very unexpected.”

  It was only Zakmeister who leaned forwards. Messina was stunned to hear her son speak this way, and Sherdam brought a mug of fruity pear cider. But Zakmeister said, “Is this Yaark I’m speaking with?”

  “Naturally,” said Nathan in Yaark’s voice. “Of course, you’d all like to kill me. So are you going to chop off my head? This boy is dying anyway. It would make little difference.”

  Standing abruptly, Messina moved back into the shadows of the room. Here she could not be clearly seen, and although there were tears in her eyes, she began to speak very softly and under her breath. Then she raised both her arms, and pointed all her fingers towards the bed. “Fuori il succubae,” she murmured. “Out and be gone. Andrando, triasco. Il empole di Lashtang vai via. Moriander et plastikander. Leave this house clean and be gone.”

  Once more, Nathan closed his eyes. Messina sat beside him again and placed both her hands on his forehead, smoothing across and into his hair. Blazing white sparks, like the lightning that still raged outside, began to travel over his face. For a moment they clustered around his eyes and the closed lids flickered. Then he opened his eyes again with a start, and they were Nathan’s eyes once more.

  Sherdam looked at Nathan’s neck. The pus-filled purple blister had gone and all that was left were the tiny holes, now closing. There was neither blood nor bruising.

  “He is himself,” breathed Sherdam.

  “I’m not so sure,” Zakmeister frowned. “We should cut through his neck, and see if any of the venom remains inside. The danger signs could simply be disguised. Yaark could be travelling within him.”

  But Messina pressed her thumbs over the tiny holes, and shook her head. “I won’t cut into my son’s body,” she said. “It can all be done with magic.

  Her thumbs pressed harder, and Nathan grumbled, “That hurts, Mum. What are you doing?”

  “In the name of the Octobr dynasty,” said Messina, staring down at him, “I command my son, the empole and Lord of Clarr, be free of all contamination.” She removed her thumbs, but said, “Nathan, w
here is the Knife of Clarr?”

  He started to pat his coat pocket and then realised he wasn’t wearing a coat anymore. Indeed, he wasn’t wearing anything at all. “”Coat pocket,” he mumbled.

  It was John who ran to the heap of Nathan’s soaking clothes and rummaged through. He pulled the large knife from the inside pocket.

  “Be careful,” Messina called. “It will burn your hand.”

  “Don’t matter,” John called. “I doesn’t care. Tis Nat wot matters.” And he carried the knife carefully over to Messina. She took it at once, and it clearly did not burn her at all. She held it up and the light shone golden from the blade.

  “I, the Empress of all Lashtang,” Messina spoke loudly and clearly, “command the Knife of Clarr to help the Lord of Clarr. You must take away his pain and his injuries. But most important, you must remove the contagion of the succubus Yaark from all parts of his mind and body.” Then, as the knife continued to shine brightly, she laid it on Nathan’s chest beneath the quilt. “Don’t touch it yet, my dear,” she told him. “We need to be sure you have no venom nor other poison left to hurt you.”

  There was utter silence, and everyone watched Nathan. He closed his blue eyes, and breathed deeply. John sat on the floor, gazing up and biting his lip, while Sherdam and Zakmeister stood by the bed. Messina sat beside Nathan and waited. Hermes remained outside, but he was explaining the situation to Granny, who had whizzed back with the anti-venom she had bought in modern Australia, before streaking back to Lashtang and the cottage.

  Then, in a croaky voice, Nathan whispered, “I feel rather tired. And my hair’s all wet. How did that happen?”

  But as he opened his mouth, a tiny blue star floated from between his lips, zoomed up to the ceiling and then blinked out, disappearing into a silvery mist.

  Ninester hurried back into the room, bringing his dressing gown, which Messina wrapped around Nathan. As she stepped back and Nathan closed his eyes, Ninester pressed his fluffy toy llama onto the pillow next to Nathan’s cheek.

  Already Nathan was fast asleep, the wounds on his neck had entirely gone, and a restful warmth surrounded the room. Outside, the rain eased. The thunderstorm had passed and the sun peeped out between the clouds.

  Two hours later, Tryppa took the sky train back to the cottage, stepped off with a large collection of bags and packages, called that she was back from market, and was surprised to meet a sea of troubled faces.

  “Tell me,” she said, dropping all the bags on the kitchen floor.

  Already there was a sweet perfume of hot pastry and apple dumplings with custard. Granny was busy stirring the custard and looked up. “Quite a lot has happened,” she said with a shake of her head, dislodging her glasses from the end of her nose.

  Frowning, Tryppa began to put the shopping away in its proper places. “Wish I could do all this with magic,” she sighed. “I can make people taste something good while they actually eat something boring, but with your cooking, my dear Altabella, that’s a most unnecessary skill. What I need is some magic that will go to market and buy all this heavy stuff for us in the first place.”

  “I’m cooking something special for Nat,” explained Granny. ”He’s had a most unpleasant experience.”

  “Just as well I found a strange little market stall selling golden figs,” said Tryppa. “Your cooking and these figs together would cure anyone of everything.”

  Nathan was sitting quite cheerfully on the sofa in the living room, with the sunshine from the window gleaming down on his face. He was back in his striped pyjamas, with Ninester’s red woolly dressing-gown over the top. John sat next to him. “T’was weird,” John told him. “Dunno wot happened, but you done swallowed Yaark.”

  Laughing, but a little embarrassed, Nathan said, “I’m not sure what a succubus is. I’ll get Zakmeister or someone to explain it to us. But it felt really horrible. I can only remember bits, but having Yaark inside me, was the worst of all.”

  Zakmeister pulled up a chair and sat looking at Nathan. “A succubus is a magical creature that sucks the life out of other beings, and puts his own life inside them. Yaark must have already been inside both Brewster and Wagster, and when they bit your neck, Yaark climbed from them into you. If our magic had not been so strong, a small part of Yaark would have stayed within, as I believe it has with Wagster.”

  “So yer can’t kill Yaark, lest you kill all them others wot he’s hiding inside?”

  “Something like that.” Zakmeister leaned forwards. “Unless we use our magic to get Yaark out, whoever he is.”

  “Inside Wagster, Clebbster, Gilden, and probably loads of others. Yuck.” Nathan pulled a face. “I can’t bear thinking he was in me too. Like those vines that grow on trees, and eventually kill the tree and take over.”

  “A little like that,” said Messina, walking over and standing behind the sofa. “I fear Wagster is half eaten up. That’s why Brewster finally asked for help – even from us, his enemy.” She looked down, and saw that John was rubbing his hand. “The Knife of Clarr burned your hand,” she said. “Come here, and I will cure it for you.”

  Ninester was curled in a corner, having retrieved his toy llama, which he was cuddling. “I never met a Yaark,” he said, mostly to himself. “But I met other nasty things. There was a man called Deben that came to the palace sometimes and my Papa really liked him. But he frightened me, and he said he’d eat me one day and push me into the oven to make me roasted and crispy.”

  Irima patted his shoulder, and comforted him as Bayldon looked over. “That is interesting, young man,” he said. “For Deben is the vile creature who took your place as the ruler of Lashtang after your father died.”

  “Papa said he’d never die,” muttered Ninester, hugging his llama even tighter.

  “This whole family of wizards is terrible, right back to the original Lester who usurped the throne,” sighed Zakmeister. “But somehow I think Yaark is even more dangerous.”

  “You haven’t met Clebbster yet,” murmured Nathan.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The ruined Palace of Bymion glistened in the sunshine, and where the rain had soaked, now the rays of the sun glittered like diamonds. Alice and Poppy stood at the back where the old stables were battered and roofless, the kitchens, brewery, pantries, storehouses, spicery, buttery and laundry were all little more than sticks, scraps of burned wood, and lumps of brick around a courtyard cobbled in dark stone.

  “Let’s go straight in,” said Alice. “I remember where the Chord of Destiny is, and I expect you do too.”

  Nodding, Poppy agreed. “But we’ve never explored the old sheds out here. And I liked the kitchens. They’re so big. I can just imagine Granny cooking in a huge place like that with two enormous fires and all those long tables with pots and pans hanging from the ceiling.”

  Alice laughed. “But we’ve got nothing to cook with, and I hate cooking anyway. Besides, I’m not hungry.”

  “I’m always hungry,” said Poppy. “But you’re right. Come on, let’s find that Chord of Destiny, and I want to call Gilden from inside that same place. I think it might work better.”

  They wandered through the old ruined building until they came to the tiny narrow staircase they remembered from before. Upwards they hurried until they came to the little hidden landing, where they had once been nearly killed by spiders. Alice was trembling. “Quick, quick,” she said, “this place makes me shiver. Horrible memories. What do we do if we see more of those poisonous things?”

  “No spiders left,’ said Poppy. “Look. Even the door has gone and we can walk right inside.”

  The Chord of Destiny was as beautiful as always, with its swirling patterns of flying creatures, turning, twisting, and changing into other things mid-flight. Tiny coloured birds seemed to be singing, but the music was more than just bird-song and the whole wall shimmered with moving magic.

  They stood there for some time, just watching in wonder. Eventually, her voice little more than a whisper, Poppy asked,
“Can you tell me where Gilden is?” The butterflies, entwined patterns, and fragmented colours continued to dance to the soft music, as if each sprang from the energy of the other. Finally Poppy stretched out her hand and carefully pushed inside the patterns.

  Then everything began to change. She fell back, almost tumbling on top of Alice, and they both stood and watched as pictures formed, and began to tell their own story. A young woman walked from the back of a long hallway, coming out of the shadows and into the light. She wore magnificent clothes of flowing white velvet, trimmed with rich blue embroidery at the hem, the neck and the end of the tight sleeves. Her hair, which was the Octobr colouring of brown and golden in mixed stripes, was covered in pearls.

  “She’s lovely,” whispered Poppy.

  “That’s you, silly,” Alice whispered back.

  “It can’t be.” Poppy had never imagined herself looking that grand and that beautiful.

  The picture of Poppy was smiling as she opened a door and entered a richly decorated living room. There was a wide window on one wall, its casement open to the blazing sunshine. And stretched out on the long padded window seat was a tiger, larger than most tigers and shimmering in his brilliant orange and gold. His coat looked more velvet than the girl’s dress, and his face was majestic. He looked up as Poppy walked over, and yawned, saying, “Welcome home, little empola. We have missed you.”

  She said, “I missed you too, Gilden. I came back for the great parade through Peganda. Are you coming?”

  “I shall walk beside you,” said the tiger.

  Then the pictures changed, blurring into two halves and opening to reveal a great dark cavern. From the cavern, where a small lake glinted in the shadows, was a tunnel leading into blackness. The picture followed this tunnel and after some moments of seeing nothing, there was the splash of water and light seeped down from a high opening in the cave’s roof. From there rushed and tumbled a waterfall, its pure white spray like a thousand candles as it fell into the lake below. But all around the lake was a rocky ledge, quite wide in some places, craggy near the waterfall but smooth to the sides. Here, lying on the wet rock, was a huge tiger, its fur bloody, scarred, and soaking wet.