Blind Man's Buff

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  “We ain’t got no pens nor we ain’t got no paper.”

  “I am perfectly capable of delivering that message,” said the largest crow, with half an eye towards Dimples. “I shall leave immediately.”

  Dimples cuddled closer to Peter’s neck, almost inside his collar. “You can’t eat me. I’m not really a spider,” he said in a piteous voice, “I’m a tailor.”

  “I remember you,” sighed the crow. “You made my best suit a few years ago. Nice smart black for my wedding day. But unfortunately, it doesn’t fit me anymore, though I’m still wearing black.”

  “Won’t ever wear black again after this,” mumbled the second crow.

  “And,” said Alfie, interrupting this conversation, “we wants Hermes back ‘ere if he can.”

  “Delighted to pass the messages,” said the first crow, and both rose up into the bright sunny sky, spread their great black wings, and flew off directly west.

  “Well, that’s that then,” said Sam. “We just sit and wait.”

  They did not have to wait long, Hermes flew with more than simple speed, his magic swept him through worlds. He arrived with a squawk, landed beside Alfie, and flopped down in the long grass.

  “Young gentleman,” Hermes said with a ruffle of his feathers as he folded his wings, “the news is of exceptional excellence. Her grace the illustrious empress has immediately gone to the Tower of Clarr, accompanied by the illustrious empling, the illustrious empole, the illustrious Lady Altabella and Lord Zakmeister. I have been instructed to bring you to the tower, and as the Messenger of Clarr, I am more than delighted to transport you to the Tower of Clarr.”

  Alfie chuckled. “Tis a long way o’ saying it,” he nodded. “But ‘tis wot we wants. Is Pops there too?”

  Hermes tapped a large flat webbed foot, and said, “The illustrious empola has stayed in the cottage with gentleman John, the Lady Tryppa, Lady Alice and the wise lord Sherdam. They are treating the great Gilden, whose recovery will be slow.”

  Sam was surprised. “What’s Gilden doing there? And why is he hurt?”

  But Alfie said, “We ain’t got time fer all that. Nat will tell us when we sees him. Now, Hermes, me friend, is you ready?”

  “Most certainly,” Hermes said, and stood while first Sam, then Peter and lastly Alfie climbed onto his back, put their legs beneath his wings, and held on to each other. Ferdinand hopped into Sam’s pocket, but they had to say goodbye to Sorazella and Dimples, who promised to spread the word that the muster was now officially over. By this time the crows had arrived back, but they were tired, and had no wish to travel all the way to Clarr and the mountains and the crows were sent in the opposite direction with the same message.

  Everyone said goodbye and thank you to the three toads, who proclaimed their intention of returning to Clarr themselves, but preferred not to ride on large feathery things with big beaks and beady eyes.

  “It will take us some weeks to arrive,” one toad said, “but we have no special duties anymore, and can waste time if we wish.”

  “My friend is the empole, Lord of Clarr,” Peter said with a big smile, “He’ll meet you and thank you all soon, I’m sure.”

  “Hope we don’t look the same as now,” grumbled the second toad. “Cos me name’s Ben.”

  “And my name’s Ben too,” said the smallest toad.

  The largest toad rolled his big round eyes. “And me name’s Ben too,” he said. “Chief guard o’ the tower.”

  “I looks forward to meeting you under better circumstances,” said Alfie.

  “But the muster has to continue,” squeaked the fieldmouse. “We cannot stop now,” and he called to Dimples. “We can make our way to Peganda, and call on everyone along the way. At Peganda we can form our own group and start spying.”

  “Oh yes indeed,” cried Dimples, rushing back through the long grass. “We’ve spent so long with nothing to do. This will be most satisfying.”

  “Exciting,” growled a large lizard.

  “And no one in Peganda will see us,” piped up a tiny voice from presumably from a creature too minute to see. “We can spy without ever being seen.”

  “Just like them Epilogs,” nodded Alfie.

  “Brilliant idea,” cried Sam, waving his arms. “So one day soon we’ll see you in the city, and it will be fun all getting together again,” and they all waved goodbye.

  “So, up and off,” called Peter, and Hermes ran a few paces, spread his wings and rose into the bright sunshine.

  They could look down and see the great swathes of land fleeting below, but Hermes flew with magic speed, and it was impossible to see any of the details. His speed did not seem to be affected by having three passengers on his back, and he zoomed through cloud and dazzle alike. The sun was in their eyes, the wind in their faces, and it seemed that Lashtang was a far smaller place than they knew it really was.

  Soon the mountains of Clarr rose up before them in a hundred spires and peaks, Some crags soared higher and higher, and some dropped in a sheer precipice to a narrow valley pass below. The air was ice, and every rock, every slope and every towering point was thickly covered in snow.

  From where the mountains bent or cracked, there were thick freezing icicles and stalactites, and it was so cold, it was difficult to breathe.

  Hermes landed on a ledge very close to the tower itself, which rose like a narrow monument of pale stone. It was also partially covered in snow and ice, but the high top where the battlements were, was the only part completely covered.

  “My companions, the lesser messengers,” said Hermes with pride, “cannot yet fly this high, and the ice makes their wings heavy. But I am long practised.” And as Alfie walked towards the great open doors to the tower, Hermes and everyone else followed.

  The others were already standing in the circular entrance where the huge puzzle of coloured mosaics was spread over the floor, pointing to the different passages and doorways.

  Alfie hurried over to say hello to Nathan. “Nat, I were proper worried,” he said. “But now you looks yerself again.”

  Shivering but smiling, Nathan said, “It was creepy. But now I’m fine. One day I’ll tell you all about it.”

  “And Pops is looking after Gilden?” asked Sam.

  “She found him all sick,” nodded Nathan. “It was Yaark, I expect. Gilden was chained up in the caves down below. So we came all the way here to help Gilden, took him all the way back to the cottage, and then got the news to come all the way back here for the hoard of Braxton’s weapons.” Then he looked around and chuckled. “Not that we had to walk here and back. It was all whizzing around by magic. But crawling about down in those tunnels and caves – well, that’s horrible. No good magic down there.”

  It was Messina who called from the arched entrance to the ice chamber. “Come along, boys,” she said. “Braxton, Yaark or the Hazletts might appear at any time, and I’d sooner deal with this before they do.”

  Zakmeister and Bayldon had already started walking on ahead, but Granny stayed to walk with Nathan, Alfie, Peter and Sam.

  It was a long path, but nothing like the tunnels below. The way was flat and wide, well paved and mostly straight, but there was little light and everybody was a little nervous of suddenly tumbling into the crevice with the bloody rope without seeing it first. Sam was equally nervous of Yaark suddenly appearing behind him, and was careful not to trail behind, but Alfie said, “Not to worrit, Sam, me mate. I ain’t scared o’ nuffing and will come behind. Shall protect our bums, I will.”

  They knew they were nearing the chamber of ice long before they reached the door, for the brilliance of white light burst through into the passageway. Everyone walked faster. Now Bayldon, Zakmeister and Granny followed Messina, who strode ahead, smelling for the acid stench of magic. Then, abruptly, she stopped, and looked back.

  “The Belt of Justice.” Messina pointed down into the long narrow crack where the thin sliver dripped blood. “I believe it tells us the truth of Lashtang’s declining co
ndition. We are failing. The rope spills more blood than ever.”

  Crowding around, the others looked down, and Zakmeister nodded. “Then it’s time we brought justice back,” he said, and with one long-legged stride, he crossed the chasm.

  Everyone followed as they could, most jumping, some running and leaping, while Hermes carried both Granny and Sam over on his back.

  The huge chamber opened before them. Along the far wall, the ice had been closed in once more. Shining and clear like glass, it made a thick wall, but it was no longer as beautiful or as perfect as it had been before. This time there were falls and cracks, lumps and bumps, and places where the ice had turned brown. But there, trapped behind it were William Octobr’s family, his little granddaughter Tansle who sat on the ground with her head down in her hands, since she had obviously been crying before being frozen. Beside her stood her father. His hand was on her shoulder and he looked desperate, his hair in a brown and golden tangle, and one hand clenched into a furious fist.

  Before them stretched across the whole wall was the enormous hoard of weapons. There were great chests labelled as Magpul FMG-9, and although nobody knew what this was, they could most certainly guess. There were twenty five huge chests of something listed as the Double-Lock Robo Rocket Launcher, and more chests than anything else of the KAC M110 Sniper Rifle. Other smaller piles seemed to hold hand-guns, grenades and land mines. It was the nastiest collection that Nathan had ever seen in his life, and the last sort of thing he had ever expected to see in Lashtang. He flopped down on the tiled floor in a stunned silence.

  Granny immediately sat beside him, both arms around his shoulders. He was quite impressed by this, as he knew she hated sitting on the cold tiled ground because she had such a lot of trouble trying to get up again.

  “My brave and beloved empole,” said Granny, “you are the Lord of Clarr. You can now put all this right.”

  Messina walked up to the ice wall, running her fingers across the uneven surface. “This has been erected in a rush,” she said. “It has many faults and mistakes. I believe that will make it easier to destroy.”

  Bayldon gave it a hearty kick, but the ice didn’t budge. “I remember being stuck behind this vile place for all those years,” he said. “I couldn’t think properly, and I wasn’t aware of the passing years, but I remember stabs of sudden pain, sudden moments when I realised what was happening, and a deep sense of sadness when I knew I was trapped and my people were being destroyed.”

  Nathan looked up at Granny. “So that horrible blood-soaked crack out there is definitely the Belt of Justice?”

  She nodded. “It can never be cut. But if we ever brought true justice back to Lashtang, then it would be clean and smooth. The blood is a sign of bitter turmoil and injustice in the land.”

  “I tried to cut it once. It nearly killed me.”

  Bayldon came back to help him up. “To kill you, my boy, would have been a terrible injustice indeed. It would never have happened. But one day it will lie clean and white, and there will be peace all across the country.”

  “Then I’d better break that horrid ice wall,” sighed Nathan, grabbing his father’s hand as he was hauled up. He walked across to examine the places where the wall already seemed to have cracked, but the splits and holes did not pass all the way through. So once again he pulled out the Knife of Clarr.

  The blade of the knife shone in the existing brightness of the room. Everyone else clustered around. Even Ferdinand was hopping around, tapping at the ice. Alfie and Sam were still peering down into the crevice where the Belt of Justice was continuously dripping, its whole length covered in the slime of crimson blood.

  Peter had taken out his lute, and began to play a very soft melody, hoping that his music might help. He sat, his fingers to the strings, plucking the first notes of the melancholy melody.

  “Don’t stop, young Peter,” called Messina. “The Lady Tryppa made that lute and I believe it has magic powers. I also believe your music is beautiful, and brings a special feeling which helps the magic work.”

  “Makes them Hazlett twins buzz off,” grinned Alfie, looking back, and once again walking over to join the others. “Tis mighty clever, both Pete and the lute. Reckon them nasty twins just don’t like music.”

  But then they heard something stumble and fall behind them, and all whirled around. Old William Octobr, hands outstretched to steady himself, was trying to see where to jump. He had come from the long dark passage unnoticed, but now, almost completely blind, he could not see how to cross the Belt of Justice. “My son? Where is he?” the old man called, “Where is Hambrick? And where’s my beloved little Tansle?”

  Chapter Thirty

  Messina nodded to Hermes, who flew over the chasm, collected the old man, and brought him to join the others. He tottered to the ice wall and peered in, his nose to the great freeze. “Is it them? Are they alive?” William begged.

  It was Messina who took his arm and drew him back, saying, “My lord, yes indeed, this is your son and his daughter and both are alive and appear unharmed. But they are trapped and could remain there until someone, for whatever reason, breaks the ice. That is precisely what we intend to do, not only to free your family but also to destroy the appalling hoard of weapons that Braxton has stored here to use against us in the war to come.”

  “But if you explode dangerous weapons,” stuttered William Octobr, “you could kill my son and granddaughter.”

  “Reckon you might blow up that there belt o’ justice an’all,” frowned Alfie.”

  “My magic,” Messina said, with a haughty stare, “is not so uncontrolled,” and she looked down her nose. “My magic does precisely what I tell it to, and no more nor less.”

  “And mine,” said Nathan, still holding the Knife of Clarr, “is just hit or miss. I don’t understand enough.”

  But it was Nathan that everyone else was now looking at, and at the blazing silver light coming from his knife. Only Hambrick and Tansle, caught in ice, did not move or change expression. The old man, blind to most things, now turned to the light with a wide smile. “That’s a magnificent beam of sunshine you have there, my boy,” he said. “Is it a flame? Or a torch? “

  “Neither.” Nathan grinned. “Nor sunshine. It’s magic. Weren’t you ever the Lord of Clarr when you were the emperor?”

  Shaking his head, William moved back, staring at the ice wall. He was fumbling with something beside his ear, where his long white hair had become knotted. Sam reached out a hand to help but William pushed him away. “No,” he muttered, “in my day there was the knight’s order of Clarr. I nominated the leader. He was the lord. Long dead now, of course. I took the knife to keep it safe from the Hazletts, and that’s why you found it in my smithy after the fire. So I imagine the knife has made its own choice.”

  ‘Then I’m honoured if it chose me.” Nathan held the knife high. “but I’m not so experienced yet. The magic of the knife works best in Clarr itself, but sometimes it does wonderful magic and then other times it doesn’t do much at all.” He spoke the words he had always used. “This is the Lord of Clarr to the Knife of Clarr. The wall of ice must be broken. It is of the greatest importance. Please crack the ice and shatter the wall.” He held the blade even higher so that its light gleamed directly across the ice, glowing on the faces of the two people trapped there.

  Everyone waited. There was no immediate event, no sudden explosion and no movement behind it. But then, as the light from the blade gradually faded, so a long forked crack, like a thread of silk, travelled across the frozen wall.

  It widened a little, becoming a dark line, and spread, its branches springing out in every direction. Where it had started was a tiny hole, and here Nathan thrust the point of his knife, pushing it hard into the little space. With an echoing break, the wall began to splinter, falling in huge shards to the ground. Some melted into puddles, others lay like massive icicles across the ground, and in moments, the wall was no more and the ice was a wasteland of destruction. />
  With an expression of utter bewilderment, Tansle jumped up, hopped down from the dais, and ran straight to her grandfather, who clutched her to him. Hambrick, on the other hand, was scowling, and shouted, “Who brought me here?”

  “Yaark, Braxton, or both, I presume,” said Messina. “It might be a more generous question to ask who rescued you. And that, I can tell you, is my son Nathan, the empole.”

  Saying thank you to no one, Hambrick marched over to his father. “I was searching for you for months,” he said. “Now we’re all together at last, we can get out of here. I suggest back to medieval London.”

  William was once again fiddling with his ear, but he frowned at his son. “There’s no life back then for a half-blind man. I’m staying here to claim my dues. And after the time I’ve spent trying to find and rescue you, you should be thankful to do whatever I decide.”

  Zakmeister was puzzled. “What’s going on here? You’ve been rescued, but you have neither dues nor rights. The days of your power and then your surrender are far in the past. Go where you please.”

  The clank and clang of heavy boots interrupted everything. The echo seemed explosive. Messina whirled around and faced William. “What have you done?” she demanded.

  “Why me? Why blame me?” he whined. “Why should I have done anything wrong?”

  “Because you’ve been fiddling with some sort of device in your ear,” Messina accused him, grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to her. She pushed his head to one side, and pulled a small button of wired metal from behind his ear. “You’ve been relaying messages. Who to? Braxton?”

  “I had to do it,” William whimpered. “Or he threatened to kill little Tansle. I had no choice.”

  “And we promised him a position of authority after we win the war,” laughed a new voice from behind them all, and Braxton jumped the Belt of Justice, and faced his brother.

  Tansle and Hambrick clung to each other in the far shadows of the room where ice shards still littered the floor. Sam and Peter moved aside, confused, while Nathan, Bayldon, and Messina strode forwards, glaring at Braxton and his men. Heavy footed and well armoured in chain mail, his men followed him, six of them, angry-eyed and holding unsheathed swords. One grabbed Alfie, slinging him back against the doorway, where he only just managed to avoid the open drop and the Belt of Justice.