Blind Man's Buff

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  It opened its eyes and staggered up, limping as it walked towards the water, where it bent to drink. Then slowly it retreated and lay once more against the wall. It could be seen that one of its back legs was manacled and chained to a hook on the ground. This tiger was imprisoned in a place of dark misery and soaking cold, and was badly hurt. It proceeded to try and groom its injuries, but then, too tired to continue, it lay back and once again closed its eyes.

  “That must be Gilden,” sobbed Poppy. “Where is he? How can I save him?”

  Alice was also in tears. “I don’t know Gilden like you do,” she said, “but he has helped everyone and been so kind. I would love to help. But I’ve never been to that place.”

  Poppy turned back to the pictures, which had started to fade. “Is that Gilden? Where is he? Is that happening now, or is it the future like the first one?”

  Gradually the picture changed once more, and this time it was entirely different. Through a clouded sky, a great white goose was flying. On its back Nathan was crammed in front of John. John clung to the goose’s neck, and Nathan appeared to be asleep, held safe only by John at his back. It began to pour with rain, and everyone was soaked but the goose kept flying.

  Poppy stared, and Alice said, “But that happened just a few days ago, when we all separated to do different things on the banks of the river, and Nat was ill after he was bitten.”

  “I know,” said Poppy, hopping up and down. “So what does this mean? Perhaps Nat is seriously ill and we have to go and find him. Or perhaps it’s showing us the time, so it’s a way of saying Gilden is in that cave and needs saving right now too.”

  “Well, we know where Nat is,” said Alice. “And we aren’t far away now. Let’s go straight to the cottage.”

  The pictures were disappearing and once more the Chord of Destiny returned to the swirling patterns, wings and music. Poppy grabbed Alice’s hand. “Off to the cottage, then,” she said, “and fast.”

  Running once more to the back of the palace, they raced over the small grassy slopes and between the little hills, the sunshine scorching their backs. In Lashtang women wore tight trousers under long split skirts, so it was easier to run than it would have been in medieval clothes, and after a short time, they saw the cottage, its thatched roof shining in the sun, and no smoke coming from the chimneys.

  Poppy called loudly, “Nat, are you there? Granny? Is anyone there?”

  At her voice everyone crowded outside, staring in surprise. Nathan was still in his pyjamas, but it was too hot for the dressing gown. “What’s the matter?” he yelled back.

  “Oh, thank goodness you’re alright,” said Poppy, quite breathless, and fell in a heap by the cottage door. Granny helped her up.

  “You had better sit down and explain,” she said, also welcoming Alice in a double embrace. Then she turned to Nathan, saying, “Bring out some of that nice cold lemonade I made this morning.”

  They sat outside on the grass, only Messina and Granny on chairs, while Nathan told his story and Poppy and Alice told theirs. They drank ice cold lemonade and ate chocolate biscuits which Granny had also made and talked about what they should do next.

  As usual, everyone had different ideas.

  “Reckon we should go find Yaark and chop his head off,” said John.

  “But that’s the trouble, isn’t it,” said Poppy. “You’d chop off someone else’s head and Yaark would just float out and get into another. You’d always kill the wrong person.”

  “That’s why he sometimes looks like half a moose and half a bat and bits of this and the other.” Nathan sighed. “It’s horrible. I feel sorry for all those animals.”

  “Especially Gilden,” insisted Poppy.

  “Might be a ruddy nice moose,’ said John. “Not wot I’s ever met a moose.” He thought a moment. “Doesn’t even know wot they looks like.”

  “A sort of a stag,” said Granny helpfully. “But bigger antlers.”

  “Don’t feel sorry fer them maggots,” John added.

  Messina clapped her hands. “I recommend a serious discussion,” she said, “and first we must consider –”

  “What to do first,” interrupted Tryppa.

  “And then do it,” said Bayldon.

  Ninester sat a little in the shade, cuddling his llama. “I’ll be very good and do it now if someone tells me what to do,” he said.

  But Nathan stood up in the middle of everyone, saying suddenly, “That tunnel and the rocky cavern with the lake and the waterfall – I’m sure I know where that is.”

  Poppy looked up hopefully. “Are you sure? Can we go there?”

  “I suppose we could,” said Nathan, absently rubbing at his neck again, even though now there was nothing to show, not even scars. “It’s the caves of Clarr, I think. Yes, it has to be. I went through places exactly like that when I was trying to get away from Braxton. And I know where we came out. It was so dark, and I must say it was confusing and I couldn’t say exactly which cave was which, but there was at least one with a waterfall.”

  “Then I’m going to Clarr right now,” said Poppy. “Can I take the sky-train?”

  “Reckon I’ll come,” said John.

  Messina interrupted. “There are certainly caves and tunnels beneath the Tower of Clarr,” she said, “although I have never explored them. They have often been used as prisons and dungeons in the past, and there is a way out within the tower. But that’s all I know. I agree that several of us should go, not only to rescue this friend of yours, but also to make sure there are no other prisoners.”

  “I believe I should go,” said Zakmeister. “Who else wishes to come?”

  Immediately Poppy ran to his side, followed by Nathan, John and Alice. Granny also stood. “I shall come with you,” she announced. “But I believe Messina, Bayldon and the others should stay here, ready for any other necessity. The muster may now be complete, and the discovery of Braxton’s hoard of weapons could happen at any time. Messina, Sherdam and Tryppa, being the others with the greatest magic, should be able to attend to this, and destroy the weapons once found.”

  Sherdam nodded, though seemed rather disappointed. “I intended coming with you, Altabella,” he said. “But I believe you are right. We shall stay here, but you must call if you need any of us. If you send the call by magic, especially if you use the Clarr Tower echoes, I shall hear.”

  “Very well,” Granny said. “And Hermes must stay here in case messages must be sent to us or the muster. I hope to be back soon.”

  Poppy was itching to leave, but Nathan was changing from his modern pyjamas into his proper Lashtang clothes, and in the privacy of his own room, he was feeling rather dismal. He had hated the caves of Clarr and had terrible memories of desperately trying to find his way in the dark, with visions of being caught by Braxton and eaten by a three-headed dog. However, as the Lord of Clarr, he felt it would be very wrong not to go. Sometimes the bites on his neck still felt a little sore, but he knew they had disappeared, so he said nothing about it. Now he just hoped everything would start working out well.

  He carried a thick cape for he remembered how cold and damp the caves were, grabbed one of the golden figs from a bowl, on the table and hurried out onto the warm grass. “Right,” he said, “let’s be off.”

  “No sky-train necessary,” said Granny, who was now also carrying a coat and had two golden figs secretly tucked safely into its pocket, “Zakmeister and I can wiz us all to the tower by magic. Please stand close together.”

  Both she and Zakmeister raised their hands and in two twists and two whirls, everyone found themselves standing in the snow at the entrance to the great Tower of Clarr. As always, ever since Nathan and Peter had flung them open more than a year previously, the main doors stood wide open and the winds rushed in. The snow had also been blown in and now covered the mosaics in the circular entrance.

  Everyone shivered and quickly pulled on their coats and capes. Ninester had insisted on giving Poppy his dressing gown and she had thoug
ht she might look rather silly in a red woolly bedrobe over her Lashtang clothes, but now she was pleased for it was extremely warm. Even though it was still summer, up in the mountains it was always freezing and the icicles dripped from the top of the doorway.

  They crowded inside and stared around. Nathan looked behind him. “The steps down to the caves are endless,” he said. “And I’m not sure where they start now, because it’s all covered in snow and ice again. The steps came up right next to these doors, but just outside.” He kicked at some of the snow but it did not move. “And I swore I’d never come back to these caves,” he muttered. “But now, here I am.”

  “Why don’t you wait in the tower?” suggested Zakmeister.

  But Nathan shook his head at once. “I’m coming down with my friends,” he said. “But I’ll make sure the knife shows us the way.” He rummaged in his large inner pocket within the coat he wore, and pulled out the Knife of Clarr, holding it up to the fading light outside. “This is the Lord of Clarr to the Knife of Clarr,” he said. “I need to travel within the caves and tunnels of Clarr and the underground river. Please protect us, and show us the way and the quickest tunnel to the waterfall.”

  Immediately a flash of light from the knife’s blade shone directly at the snow bank outside, and with a faint sizzle, the snow began to crumble. John and Zakmeister ran to the same spot and kicked at the freezing piles where snow had turned to ice. Slowly it all began to melt. Nathan continued to hold up the knife, and the light from the blade started to melt the top layer of snow.

  “There,” pointed Poppy. “I can see the first steps. Steep and narrow and carved into the rock.”

  She hurried forwards and tested the first step down, but immediately she slipped and started to fall. Nathan ran to grab her but was too late. In a race to help her, everyone else rushed to the staircase and ran downwards. Nathan was first, and after three steep steps, he also slipped, scooting forwards off the icy rock, and down. With a yell he hit his back on every step, but whizzed down as if this was a helter-skelter. Behind him came John. When Alice started to slip, Granny was able to grab her so that Alice, then Granny and finally Zakmeister all managed to walk the stairs, slowly and with considerable care.

  But Poppy, Nathan and John landed in a painful heap way down below where the steps ended on a sloping path. They struggled up and rubbed their bruises.

  “That was horrible,” mumbled Poppy faintly, “and frightening too.”

  “But we come a long way mighty fast,” John pointed out. “I ain’t complaining.”

  “Well, I am,” said Poppy, straightening Ninester’s dressing-gown, checking on the two golden figs she had hidden in the woolly red pocket, and rubbing her back. “My bum is really sore.”

  “We’d better walk slow, so Granny and Alice and Zak can catch up,” nodded Nathan. “We don’t all want to get separated.”

  The knife was now the only light, shining pale in the black shadows. The tunnel was as narrow as the stairs had been, and sloped down. The rock was wet but no longer slippery, for the ground was uneven with craggy holes and bumps. A bitter chill whispered like wind whining, gathered around them and when Granny called from behind, everyone jumped and stopped at once.

  “What a very unpleasant place,” murmured Granny. “We had better keep together.”

  With Nathan leading and the others scurrying behind, Alice, Poppy and Granny holding hands, they groped through the pitch black tunnel. Sometimes even the light from the knife failed to show the path, and often they tripped over the bumps on the ground. The shivering cold continued to increase, and so did the muffled sounds of underground water and ghostly whispers.

  “This must cover the underground River of Murgle,” Zakmeister said. “Once, long ago, they say it was above ground, but then there was an earthquake.”

  “Surely no one lives down here?” asked Granny.

  Nathan called back, “Crabs and fish and lizards. I saw them here before.”

  “I’d hate to be here on my own,” said Alice.

  “I did hate it,” answered Nathan. “But I didn’t get any choice.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  It was freezing and long white icicles hung from the roof of the tunnel. Sometimes it widened but then narrowed again, with the incessant whisper of flowing water beneath their feet.

  Once, and very suddenly, came a howl of agony from somewhere behind and everyone trembled, but Zakmeister said, “It must be the wind.”

  Then, with a sudden fall of broken ice shards, there was a wailing screech and everyone stopped, horrified.

  “Wot were that?”

  “I have no idea,” said Granny. “But I refuse to be frightened. No doubt Braxton or the Hazletts have left magic here to scare away anyone coming to rescue prisoners.”

  Alice backed against the cold rock wall. “There might be ghosts. What about prisoners who have been left here to die? They might haunt the tunnels.”

  “Those who are still alive,” said Granny with a sniff, “are far more frightening than any poor soul who is dead. Besides, there are no nasty bones. Just noises. Let’s get a move on.”

  There was a small cave with a dark pool of water in its dipping centre, but there was no waterfall and no sign of Gilden or any other prisoner. Zakmeister walked to the edge of the pool and stared into the dark water. “Yes indeed, there are crabs,” he said. “Very white and tiny crabs and small fish as well. They live without light.” Then he jumped back, with his hand to his neck. “I felt fingers,” he said, and his voice was shaking. “What was it?”

  “Just a draught,” said Granny, trying to keep cheerful.

  But a great howl of rage echoing through the caves and tunnels made everyone stop and tremble.

  “This is what happened in the tunnels when I was here alone. Then it was worse in the old castle where I went with Hermes,” mumbled Nathan. “Fibillank or whatever it’s called. It was horrible, and chains came out of nowhere. But it was just magic.”

  “Bet tis Yaark,” muttered John.

  Nathan nodded. “I expect so, since he’s the warden of the key here. But I’m the Lord of Clarr, and I ought to be able to make it safe again. I hate chains and iron manacles.”

  “There are chains here too,” whispered Poppy. “I saw them. Gilden is chained to the wall.”

  “I can break any chains with magic,” said Granny. “But I am surprised that Gilden has not been able to produce enough magic to free himself entirely. I thought you said he was very powerful?”

  Poppy shook her head. “Yes, I thought so. But Yaark is more powerful than any of us.”

  Granny pulled a face. “That is yet to be seen,” she said. “My dearest Messina is more powerful than any of the villains out there.”

  “Hope so,” said John under his breath. “Reckon tis the only way we gonna win this war.”

  There were many caves, and the tunnels wound through from black to blacker. The whistle of the wind followed them, creeping around their necks and ankles like freezing hands trying to trap and hurt them. Some of the noises were strange and sometimes there was a tumble of rocky stone, or crashing stalactites at their feet, especially frightening in the deep darkness. Echoes swirled around them and the icy breezes ruffled their hair.

  They walked slowly, feeling their way along the black rock walls, pulling away with a gasp when they felt the ice of fingers grabbing at them, or the whispers directly in their ears. As the tunnel once again narrowed, they all felt that someone invisible was pushing past them, and Alice actually slipped and stumbled. Yet they could see no one.

  “Maybe Epilogs?” muttered Zakmeister, but no one bothered to answer.

  Step by step they walked deeper into the caves. The way sloped constantly downwards, as if they were walking into the centre of the planet. But it was still freezing cold. Water trickled down beside their feet, and sometimes they had to splash, and be careful not to slip.

  “I thought we’d come deep enough after all those steps at the beginning
,” whispered Alice, “but we keep going down even further.”

  “We started on a mountainside,” said Nathan. “Now we’re really going underground. But you’d think it would get warmer.”

  “Tis still ice,” said John.

  “But,” said Granny softly, “I think I can hear a waterfall ahead.”

  At the same moment, the tunnel was filled with a terrible smell. The acid spice of bad magic was strong, and the stench of dirty water, stale and rotting food, and the even more bitter stink of blood.”

  Poppy stopped, took a very deep breath, said, “This must be the place,” and hurried forwards. Then once again she started to slide, and cried out. “Help her,” yelled Nathan, “she’ll be caught in the waterfall and drown,” and he tried to grab her.

  John flung himself downwards on the rocky path just in front, so that Poppy fell on top of him once again. Zakmeister grabbed them both. “No running,” he said. “This is a place of unknown danger.”

  The light from the knife seemed to be fading, but Nathan held it higher, and it shone out. But immediately they were blinded by the sparkling spangled white of the waterfall cascading just around the corner of the tunnel. “Hold hands,” yelled Nathan, and everybody grasped the hand next to them, shuffling forwards with extreme care.

  And there it was before them. The huge crashing water tumbled in a haze of rising mist and dancing spray. The water sounded louder than thunder, and it spangled like a thousand icy diamonds. Beside it, drenched in the mist, were rocky steps leading down. Then, down a long way to the very bottom, and hard to see through the spray and rushing water, was a large cave. The waterfall pounded into the lake which filled the centre of the cave, but around the lake’s edge was a wide bank of black stone.

  Nothing else could be seen, for the water blinded them and the cave was a very long way down, but hoping they had come to the right place, they all began to climb. Zakmeister stepped down first, determined to break the fall of anyone who fell and slipped behind him. But no one slipped. They hung on to the walls and the small bumps in the rock, and stepped so slowly that it took a long time.