Blind Man's Buff

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  Hidden in the shadows behind the great stacked boxes of weapons, Granny clambered onto Hermes’ back, but Zakmeister marched forwards to face his brother.

  It was Alfie who made the first move. Zakmeister was speaking, his voice furious. “My own brother,” he spat, “sides with cruelty and dishonour.” As everyone watched Braxton, Alfie twisted around and grabbed the man who had nearly sent him hurtling into the precipice, spinning him first back against the far wall, and then, rebounding, headfirst into the Belt of Justice.

  The man screamed and scuffling desperately to keep his feet, lost balance and fell. He tumbled over the bleeding rope, belly down, and swung there, calling for help.

  Meanwhile Hermes rose into the air and with both hands outstretched, Granny sent down magical bolts of green lightning. One of Braxton’s men was hit full in the face and he too tumbled onto the Belt of Justice and swung there, reaching up but unable to find a hold.

  Braxton was speaking to his brother. “You’re the dishonourable fool, brother dear,” he said. “The Hazletts rule our land and have done for five hundred years. You’re the traitor. You dishonour our family.”

  “Both our parents supported the Octobrs,” Zakmeister pointed out.

  “And both were traitors,” Braxton said.

  Zakmeister was the tallest and strongest of the two brothers, but Braxton was energetic and moved quickly. Both were skilled warriors, and both had excellent magic. They looked alike, their dark skin smooth and beautiful, seeming almost polished, their hair thick and black. But there was one great difference. Zakmeister wore his hair long, sometimes plaited, whereas Braxton’s hair was so short he did not even need to comb it.

  Now Zakmeister reached forward and clasped his brother’s neck, pulling him over. They both fell together on the ground, grabbling and cursing.

  But as Braxton’s four remaining men ran to attack Alfie, Bayldon, Nathan and Messina, so Granny sent down more bolts of burning lightning, like spears from above, and one man was struck, while another fell close to the Belt of Justice. He peered down, saw his two companions struggling there, and with a shout, he jumped over it and raced away.

  While Braxton and Zakmeister continued to fight, Bayldon drew his sword, and forced one of the remaining men into the chasm. Then he strode over to help Messina. There was only one of Braxton’s men left, and he was fighting hard with Alfie.

  Nathan, his mother and his father stood silently gazing at the stack of weapons. Nathan was once again holding up his knife. He had asked for help from Clarr to destroy the weapons without destroying the tower or the people.

  Alfie had knocked his attacker unconscious and strode over to join Nathan. Sam and Peter also stood there, while William, Hambrick and Tansle stood on the opposite side of the room. Zakmeister lay, half breathing with his brother gasping beside him. They had both stopped fighting, equally exhausted.

  “These are vile weapons,’ Bayldon said. “Grenade launchers, and rocket launchers. Rifles and machine guns.”

  “We could explode them,” Messina said. “But such an explosion would kill us too, without doubt.”

  “Better we die now, than leave these for the Hazletts,” said Bayldon. “These could kill all our people, everyone.”

  “Something’s happening,” whispered Nathan. “Wait, “It’s the knife.”

  The Knife of Clarr was spinning in his hand, faster and faster. Nathan had no control, the knife was pointing outwards, and as it continued to spin, so out oozed a sticky red thread which looped and climbed and slowly began to cover all the room. It stuck to the cold rocky walls, and it slid across the tiled floor. It covered the plinths were people had stood behind the ice wall, and it hung from the doorway. It clambered over the Belt of Justice, and even whirled up to the ceiling, catching on to the high beams. It did not stick to people, but within only a few moments it had completely covered every part of the room and everything else in it. Nothing could be seen except the trailing red strings, and the astonished people staring around. Now even Braxton was frightened, and sat where he was on the ground, unable to move.

  Although he still held the knife high, there was nothing else Nathan could do. He looked to his mother for guidance, but Messina seemed as astonished as everyone else.

  The great hoard of weapons was now entirely invisible, hidden beneath the interwoven red glue, and not one box or chest showed. There was simply an enormous pile of red sludge.

  A low buzzing filled the air. Nathan and Granny put their hands over their ears, and Braxton buried his head in his hands. It was giving Peter a headache, so he once more pulled out his lute, and began to play. The soft tune was the same as he had played before, and both Zakmeister and Bayldon began to chant. Their voices harmonised and were soft and low, almost sounding like magic.

  “It is the horror of killing,

  And the sadness of fading,

  And the end of our dreams that means we must part.

  It is not even the losing,

  Nor the sadness of failing,

  But the hatred that blinds the hopeful heart.

  Born of joy, Lashtang sings.

  But Lashtang dies under Hazlett kings.

  Sweet magic glows with bright healing light,

  But dark wizardry creeps out to hunt in the night.

  So the Bannister’s muster brings us cheers of delight,

  As we Bannisters call on our people to fight.”

  The low buzzing ceased abruptly. The air cleared. It seemed warmer and fresher. And then, quite suddenly. The threads were gone. No red sludge remained. The chamber was clean and bright. Not a single sign of the sticky red web was visible.

  And the entire pile of weapons had also gone. No box, no label, no fallen rifle nor packet of bullets showed in any place.

  Indeed, the entire chamber had altered. The great circular walls seemed washed, tall and smooth and white up to a white vaulted ceiling. The floor was as it had always been, tiled and flat, but now there were no puddles nor icicles, no frozen shards nor splinters of frozen water. The tiles gleamed. The circular plinth which had enclosed the room, being the raised platform where those trapped had stood, had also quite gone. There was no dais of any kind, nor was there the first base of the ice wall which had usually stood, imprisoning those kept behind it. No platform. No wall. Only a quiet round room swept clean and washed, white and bright and lacking any indication of its use.

  Nathan ran to the narrow pit where lay the Belt of Justice. “Look,” he yelled. “It’s all changed.”

  Braxton’s men who had fallen there were no longer visible. They had gone. And the belt itself, attached to the wall at either end, was as clean and pale as if brand new.

  “Justice,” whispered Bayldon. “Justice has come at last.” He looked over at Braxton, who stood shivering, utterly confused.

  Zakmeister stared at him, a slow smile brightening his face. “Well, little brother,” he said softly, “it seems you’ve been wasting your time. How much effort, money, and hard work did it take you, I wonder, to get yourself and your men into South America, to buy this appalling heap of vile weapons? And all for nothing. You claim to be a great wizard, but the magic of a young boy has taken all your toys from you.”

  Speechless, Braxton stared back. William Octobr stamped his foot. “And you promised me if I helped spy for you, you’d win this war and give me and my family back our positions of importance. But you fooled yourself. It’s we Octobrs who have the power, not you.”

  Turning on the old man, Messina glared. “Fool and traitor,” she accused him. “It was you who abandoned pride hundreds of years ago when you surrendered to Lester Hazlett. Now you spy for Clebbster Hazlett. When we Octobrs win this war, you’ll get no favours from me.”

  It was Hambrick who marched forwards. “But through no fault of my own, I’ve lost on both occasions. Back when Lester Hazlett invaded, I should have been the heir, and the next emperor. Now I have lost my rights again.”

  “My heir is my son Nathan,”
said Messina at once, “But you may stay in Lashtang, if you wish, as long as you swear not to interfere with my plans. Or you may go back to medieval London. Or you may go to modern England and make a new life with your daughter and father.”

  “Justice, they says,” muttered Alfie, watching Hambrick Octobr’s anger. “Tis fair enough, I reckons. If it were a Tudor king, he’d have you all wiv yer necks on the block and the axe ready.”

  “I’ve no interest in where those fools end up,” said Braxton, striding forwards. “I want to know where my possessions are. They belong to me. Where have you hidden them? Nothing so large and heavy can just disappear in moments.”

  Actually Nathan had no clear idea himself, but he wasn’t going to admit that, so he said, “The Knife of Clarr has magic beyond us all, and in the Tower of Clarr itself, it is more powerful than anyone else.” He had never known the knife to be so powerful, and was impressed, but this was something else he did not admit. He simply wondered if his beautiful knife was growing stronger every day, and he smiled, secretly excited.

  “Except Yaark, who holds the key,” said Braxton.

  Messina was delighted that Yaark was not present. “I believe the Lord and the Knife of Clarr are both more powerful than simply the key,” she said. “You are alone now, Braxton, and must face the washed Belt of Justice.”

  With his sword held directly under his brother’s chin, Zakmeister stood tall and unmoving. “I’d imprison you here,” Zakmeister said, “but the ice wall is destroyed, and I have no wish to see it rebuilt. And any other prison, you could escape with magic. So I have no choice, little brother. Say your last words before I take your life.”

  Braxton turned a little wildly, looking first at Messina. “And if I change sides? If I promise to work for you?”

  “I should never believe it and never trust you,” Messina replied. “And for what you have done, you deserve to die.”

  “My magic is still stronger,” Braxton said, narrowing his eyes. And as Zakmeister waited, suddenly his brother turned, both arms out, and immediately he stood a little breathless, with the small child Tansle grasped in his arms. “I die, she dies with me,” he said. Tansle began to cry, struggling to get away but Braxton held her by one arm and around her neck. “What now?” he demanded.

  Both Hambrick and William Octobr rushed forwards, pushing Zakmeister out of the way. And in the chaos, and the push and shove, there was a flurry of cold wind, and both Braxton and Tansle disappeared. His voice was a fading echo. “I’ll be back,” he called. “I’ll find my weapons and I’ll take them to the Hazletts. You won’t find your cowardly daughter, she’ll be trapped somewhere again. And you’ll never kill me, not with swords nor with magic.” And then even the faint voice disappeared. The rush of wind had gone too.

  It was Sam, standing holding to Hermes’ neck, who said, “I’ve still got some of that red sticky stuff in my hair.”

  “Me too,” said Peter sadly, scratching his head. He had stopped playing his lute some time ago, but he held it lovingly.

  Everybody else hurriedly patted their hair, discovering whether any of the threads of red glue remained. One by one, they nodded.

  “Just a tiny bit,” Nathan said, “right over my ear.”

  “I have quite a blob,” sighed Granny, “just where it’ll probably fall onto my nose if it melts.”

  “Tis on the top o’ me head,” said Alfie, and pulled at it, showing his fingertips where spots of red had stuck.”

  Messina and Bayldon both nodded. Bayldon laughed, “it suits you my dear, just like a red rose. Mine is nearer the back. It’s bound to fall down my collar if I don’t get it off first.”

  Sitting in the very centre of the circular room, Hermes had a large and oozing spill of the stuff on his neck, which showed strongly against his white feathers. Next to him, his sword still in his hand, Zakmeister patted the top of his head, then showed the palm of his hand, which glowed red on his dark skin. “It has a strange perfume,” he said. “Not the usual acid smell of magic, but something more pleasant. I’ve never smelled such a thing before.”

  “How strange,” Granny added, “that we each have a little on our heads, like tiny hats. It’s like a message.”

  “The red gunge sent everything invisible and cleaned it up.” Sam pointed to the bright white walls. “Perhaps we’ll go invisible too.”

  Looking around, Zakmeister frowned. “I vote we return to the cottage, and clean ourselves up,” he said. “I need to wash my hair and think of a plan to destroy my treacherous brother.”

  “One moment.” Granny held up a finger. “The Knife of Clarr does nothing by mistake. Each of us, even Hermes, has a residue in the same place. On our heads. I believe we need to climb up and search the very top of the tower.”

  “The battlements?” Bayldon sighed. “It’s a long climb and will be thick with ice and snow.”

  “We have no choice,” said Granny. “This is a sign and a message. We’d be fools to ignore it.” She looked across to William and Hambrick. “You two may go where you wish.”

  “When I have my granddaughter back.” William was shaking with fury. “I shall go and look for her myself.”

  Hambrick took his arm, and they slowly left the tower by the front gates, but the others took a different passage, and stood looking up at another long winding stone staircase, chilly, draughty, and lost in shadow.

  “Climb? Or magic?” smiled Granny.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Bayldon stood at Nathan’s back, both his hands on his son’s shoulders, as they gazed out together across the great mountain peaks, the mighty cliffs beyond, the endless freeze of thick white snow, the chasms, crevices and precipices tipping from mountainsides into bottomless pits, and the wide pale sky above.

  There were eagles flying high across the cloudless expanse, and far, far away in the distance were the tops of trees, and even further away, the dark line of the ocean.

  But at their feet, lying in great broken piles across the wet, snow encrusted stone, were the boxes of Braxton’s smuggled weapons.

  One by one the others appeared behind them, emerging out onto the turreted battlements of Clarr Tower, the wind suddenly in their faces, and gasped as they saw the tumbled boxes.

  “It is not what I expected,” Messina said, kicking at the debris strewn across the ground.

  “But it’s exactly as I thought,” said Granny, tucking her hands into her large pocket with a shiver. “We all had those threads in our hair. So we were being told to find what had appeared up above our heads.”

  “Wot does we do wiv ‘em now?” asked Alfie. “Does you want ‘em yerselves?”

  “Certainly not,” Zakmeister said. “These inventions are not suitable for Lashtang, they are cruel and vicious.”

  “Besides,” admitted Bayldon, “none of us know how to use such things. Rocket launcher, grenade launcher, machine gun! I don’t know and I’ve no wish to learn.”

  “I think they’re broken anyway,” said Nathan. “Look. Bits of black plastic and twisted metal. All the boxes are in ruins with wooden splinters and soggy cardboard. Can we blow them up?”

  “But not here,” said Messina. “The whole tower would be destroyed.”

  “Good,” muttered Peter. “It’s a dark horrid place of ice prisons and horrible caves underground.”

  “It offers a direct route to the veil, and the departure from Lashtang,” said Granny, “and there are other magical secrets here. Anyway, it would be dreadful if the Lord of Clarr destroyed his own domain. We should take these weapons to the marshes, and destroy them there.”

  “No, no,” said Ferdinand, poking his head up from her pocket. “Many good folk live there. I once did myself. They all came to the muster, but now they’ll be returning home.”

  “Then there is only one thing to be done,” said Bayldon. “These boxes must all be taken off and dumped in the ocean.”

  “They’s ruddy heavy fer carrying all that way,” Alfie pointed out.

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nbsp; “Magic, young man, magic,” said Zakmeister. “Let us combine our forces, and begin now before that wretched traitor William Octobr discovers where we are and tells Braxton and the Hazletts.”

  Messina, Zakmeister and Granny stood in a tight circle, with Hermes standing in the middle. Hermes slapped his flat feet on the wet stone, while the others raised their arms high into the wind. Gradually the smashed weaponry and broken boxes began to rise into the air. It looked very strange to Nathan, who stood back watching, but he was extremely pleased to see everything disappearing.

  “Look,” Peter pointed.

  Way out to sea where huge waves pounded the horizon, a massive many legged creature breached from the water, pale green and so large, it could be seen even at that distance.

  Where the strange monster once again disappeared into the sea, there, one by one the boxes hurtled underwater. The huge splashes could be seen but not heard.

  “That’s Drassog, the giant octopus,” said granny, shading her eyes and peering into the distance. “I haven’t seen that dangerous creature for many years. It used to destroy our ships out at sea, and tried to kill our sailors.”

  “Now it can destroy all those weapons instead,” smiled Messina. “A good dinner, I suppose. But I hope it gets indigestion.”

  The last piece of Braxton’s hoard had been sent into the ocean, and it had begun to snow again, when Bayldon said,’ Good. This has been a great day. Now it’s time to return home and see how the others are.”

  “Down all those wet slippery steps?”

  “No,” smiled Messina. “By magic. Everyone stay very close together.”

  It was once again a brilliant summer’s day when they all found themselves standing in a huddle outside the cottage. The ice and frozen snow of the mountains was far away.