by Cate Cain
Her reply came in broken snatches between gulps of air. “Yes, b-because you told me to. You sh-showed me the rite of exchange. Everything I have sacrificed – my eye, my hands, the very skin of my back, has been for knowledge – you taught me well. Why would you do that, my lord, if you … did not intend me to sit beside you as your equal? And wh-when you take Ann’s … power, you will be able to make me …”
“My equal?” Cazalon snorted. “You could never be that. You have been useful, Madame, but incautious, I fear. I am a great magician, as you say, and I kept our bargain. I gave you a little knowledge as you desired, but I am afraid you will never be great enough to use it. Your … deformity proved that. I cannot make you any more than your destiny allows, and your destiny is an inferior one.”
“But you promised.” Madame de Chouette repeated the words, swaying as she tried to keep herself from slumping forward.
“Promised what exactly, Isabel?”
“My face, my hands, my feet … You said I would be whole again.”
Cazalon shook his head. “But you can never be that, my dear, not now. Did you really think that I could make you young, beautiful – almost an immortal – when you have given away so much of your body over the years in exchange for power that there is nothing of value left to renew? No. You would always be a half-creature assembled from remnants.”
Madame de Chouette stared wildly up at him. “But that is also true of you. You have remade yourself from many creatures and men too. Why would you condemn yourself to a life of such pain, allow yourself to become a living mockery when you could never reverse that horror?”
Cazalon smiled. “Because when I am a god I will be perfect. I will throw off this stinking patchwork carcass and be born anew. But, sadly, you would always be as you are now. Perhaps it is kinder this way. You must know what I say is true, Isabel. Look into your heart.”
Her eye darkened with hatred. “I cannot. And you know why.” She spat out the words as if they were poison and ripped the black cloth from her breast, breaking the arrow in two. Jem started when he saw a gaping hole where her heart should be, and a glinting spider-like device twitching beneath her exposed, yellow ribs.
“I gave it to you …” Madame de Chouette began to cough. Something black and sticky oozed from the corner of her mouth and her whole body jerked violently. The ticking sound that Jem now knew to come from the clockwork heart became faster and faster.
Cazalon’s sibilant voice came again. “I always ensure those loyal to me get exactly what they deserve, do I not?” He started to laugh.
Madame de Chouette stifled a cry of agony, then suddenly she went rigid, her amber eye locking onto a point behind Jem. A slow smile spread across her face.
With one last huge effort, she raised her arm. “This is yours, I believe?”
Jem saw something flash as it arced through the air, then caught his breath as a small figure cloaked in silver fur emerged from the shadow of the trees.
Deftly, Ann caught the jewel tossed to her by the dying woman and held it aloft so that the moonlight glinted from its stones.
“Use it well.” Madame de Chouette choked out the words and fell forward. Her body jerked mechanically on the snow as the ticking began to fade.
Cazalon didn’t look at her but turned to face the silver-clad figure.
“Ah – Lady Ann has joined us at last, I see. I wondered if she could resist. Give it to me.” Jem could feel the physical pull of the words as the man spoke. “Bring it to me, Ann Metcalf.”
Ann shrugged back her hood and her white hair flew up around her head in the wind. “No. It is mine. It is part of my inheritance. You shall not have it – not one portion of it, Cazalon.”
She raised the brooch high above her head and it sparked in the moonlight.
“Bring it to me now.” The count’s voice coiled like an adder about to strike.
Ann’s voice came clear and strong. “It is mine and I will use it.” The brooch began to glow in her hand and waves of light rippled out from the jewel. Soon Ann was enveloped in a brilliant halo that shone like a second moon.
Tolly’s low voice came from beside him. “It’s time, Jem. Give it to me.”
Jem knew what Tolly meant. Although his feet were still rooted to the spot he reached into the folds of his fur and pulled the staff free. He extended it to Tolly, who caught the end and planted it firmly into the ice, pointing the head of the crystal bird at Cazalon. He closed the remaining fingers of his damaged hand around the blackened stick.
Cazalon’s ravaged face was unreadable. He folded his arms. “That is mine, boy. It is a useless weapon for you. You cannot wield its power …”
“You’re wrong there, Cazalon. He can!” Jem was defiant, but the next moment he was horrified to see Tolly take a jolting step forward, his movements clearly forced by Cazalon.
“And you, Ann Metcalf. Bring me your toy.”
Jem’s hope dissolved as the light around Ann began to fade. She too took a halting step forward, twitching like a marionette. The strap across her body that held a quiver of arrows snapped and fell to the snow.
“Jem, I can’t stop … I …” Ann began to move stiffly towards Cazalon, her face a mask of pain as she fought to resist.
She came so close to Jem that he was able to snatch her free hand. As he made contact with her bare skin, his ears filled with a familiar, thrumming sound. Instantly he found that he could move his feet. He dragged Ann towards Tolly, just managing to catch hold of his friend’s fingertips.
At the touch, a massive jolt of energy charged through him. Like the moment when they linked hands on the jetty, but a thousand times more powerful. Jem’s mind became a kaleidoscope of whirling colours and little explosions of brilliance.
He heard Ann gasp and felt Tolly’s good left hand tighten around his own. The air shimmered with silver sparks that danced and fluttered around their heads like tiny moths.
Tolly’s grip tightened. “It … it’s working. Look, Jem … Look!”
The bird-head was glowing faintly now. The light deep within the crystal appeared to spin and gather itself. Within seconds it was burning so fiercely that Jem had to look away.
“Enough! Give that to me. I command you,” Cazalon snarled in fury. He whirled about on the edge of the lake and came forward, but Tolly brandished the staff, warding him off. A beam of light crackled from the bird’s eyes, falling to point between the children and the lake, where it began to burn a narrow path through the snow that singed towards the limping figure of the count.
Jem saw Cazalon’s confusion. He paused and then he stepped back sharply, as the beam came closer to the trailing ends of his cloak.
“How is this possible?” He looked up, his coal black eyes burning with hatred. “When did you learn to use it?”
Tolly didn’t answer. Instead he stepped forward, dragging Jem and Ann with him. He held the staff higher so that the sizzling beam forced Cazalon further onto the ice.
Jem saw something glistening on the knobbles of the staff. He glanced anxiously at Tolly’s face. His friend’s eyes were tightly closed and his forehead was creased with concentration.
“We’re driving him away.” Ann looked up at Jem. “But what do we do now?”
Jem shook his head. “Perhaps the ice is thinner the further out he goes. If we force him to go far enough perhaps it might break?”
“But it’s not like any ice I’ve seen before. It’s dead.”
Cazalon raised his feathered arms at that moment, threw back his head and began to chant. The low rhythmic noise had a peculiar quality. It seemed to pull at the skin on Jem’s scalp and scrape at his face. He tried to shake the horrible sensation away, but it came clawing again. The surface of the lake began to undulate, the frozen black ripples cracking and groaning. Then the dead lake began to creep towards them, moving slowly, like treacle.
“No!” Ann tugged forward and raised her left hand. The silver crescent moon gleamed as it scythed through the air,
whipping past Cazalon’s head to clatter to the ice beyond him. Without stopping his chant, he grinned and turned to see where it had fallen.
“I don’t understand – I thought I could control it.” Ann’s voice was desperate. “I’ve lost it – again.”
Everything went dark. On the lake, Cazalon disappeared, although they could still hear his voice rising and falling in a song that had no melody.
Jem twisted his head to search for the real moon. It was hidden by cloud, creating darkness so thick that he felt it tighten around his throat, and then, horribly, try to force its way into his mouth and nose. If only the moon would reappear.
The moon!
He remembered Mingan’s story. When our people face the greatest enemy we believe the Moon’s Child will sing with the stars and the Great Mother will hear them.”
SING! That was another of the words burned into the side of the Fortuna’s hold.
“Ann, you m … must sing!” he choked. “Sing to the m … moon. S … sing so that C … Cazalon’s voice cannot be heard.” Jem was certain he was right. “Sing!”
“B … but I can’t even breathe.” Ann coughed and Jem felt her grip loosen.
“W … we m … must.” He clasped her tight.
“Sing … what, Jem?”
“Anything. I know! The T … Twelfth Night song from the feast at G … Goldings. I’ll sing with you.”
Jem began to splutter out the first line.
“We h … have travelled f … far and wide
To bring y … you joy on this dark n … night …”
By the third line Ann joined him. At first they sang with difficulty, gulping down painful lungfuls of air between the lines, but soon their voices strengthened and soared clear into the night.
“We link our hands and raise a cry
To turn away the evil eye …”
“Tolly, you too. You must sing with us.” Jem broke off and glanced to the left. The beam from the staff was as faint as a candle stub now. Jem tightened his grip on Tolly’s hand. “Together.”
Tolly began to sing alongside them, his voice shattered with pain.
“Now moon and stars shine bright and clear
To banish bane and welcome cheer.
We link our hands and raise a cry
To turn away the evil eye.
Let no malice harm this place
For we celebrate with grace.”
As they sang on, repeating the verses, the air began to quiver. The odd vibration made it seem as if a score of people, a hundred people, a thousand people, were singing at the lake’s edge. The chorus echoed from the rocks and stones. When the howling of a wolf entwined with their song, rising and falling with the verses, Jem allowed himself a tiny smile.
The full moon emerged from the clouds, flooding the scene with silver light. The howling came again and Jem saw that Mingan was gone, leaving only scuffle marks in the dirty snow.
He continued to sing and turned back to the lake. Cazalon had disappeared too now – but he saw something silver glint out there in the blackness. Ann’s crescent jewel!
As they sang on, the beam from the staff gathered a new strength and skipped out across the lake to ignite the spark of the jewel into a ball of pale blue fire.
The ball hovered there for a moment, flickering and spitting off little points of light and then, gradually, it increased in size until it seemed five, no, six, times the size of the moon overhead. It spun and billowed and then quite suddenly it flattened – spreading out across the entire surface of the lake.
Jem watched in amazement as the eerie fire danced across the frozen water. Then it flared, sputtered and vanished from the smooth, clear ice that once more reflected the shimmering circle of the moon.
“We’ve done it!” Jem broke off from a verse and shouted excitedly. “We’ve done it. The moon has come back to the water. Do you see? It’s what Mingan told us about – the promise in the legend …” He stopped as the moon’s reflection began to quiver and expand.
“What’s happening?” Ann turned to Jem, but he shook his head.
“Sing – we must keep singing. It’s working – that’s all I know.”
He began again another verse and Ann and Tolly sang with him. Tolly’s voice was becoming faint, and Jem squeezed his friend’s hand. “Keep going, Tolly – look.”
Now the moon’s reflection pulsed in the ice, and as it glowed, steam began to rise from its outline – delicate tendrils of silvery vapour coiling into the air. There was a tremendous cracking noise and a great roaring whoosh as a towering column of blue water erupted from the moon’s reflection in the lake. Jem could feel heat on his face as the sizzling jet spurted upwards and the ice began to melt.
“Annawan, come forth!” Cazalon’s voice was like the tolling of a bell.
Without breaking the song Jem turned his head.
The count was behind them, facing the trees beyond the longhouse. He spread his arms wide beneath the feathered cloak and spoke again. “Come, my creature. Do as I bid.”
A lumbering form emerged from the forest. Covered in tattered bandages of fur that trailed in the snow, the Witiko staggered towards them. As it moved, it swung its massive hooded head from side to side.
As it came closer, the stink of sweat, blood, faeces and decay filled Jem’s nose and throat. He gagged at the stench, even worse than that coming from Cazalon.
The only part of the Witiko’s body that was visible was its hands. As it came level with the longhouse, Jem saw fresh blood dripping to the snow from pointed black nails at the ends of fingers that constantly clenched and twitched. The thought of those fingers raking his flesh made Jem lose his place in the song. He felt Ann’s fingers tighten round his as he rallied.
“We link our hands and raise a cry
To turn away the evil eye …”
The creature lurched around the edge of the longhouse and paused uncertainly. Jem felt Tolly’s hand slip from his.
Cazalon didn’t miss the weak moment, and immediately made a sign with his twisted hand. “Take the boys!”
The Witiko grunted and swung its shrouded head towards Jem. The song died on his lips as he caught sight of two points glowing like red-hot coals in the depths of the hood. Tolly and Ann fell silent too as the creature swayed from side to side.
It lowered its head and squared its shoulders, ready to charge.
But at the same moment there was an ear-splitting howl, a huge thud and a spatter of snow as a great grey blur blocked its path. A gigantic wolf crouched low before the Witiko, growling so loudly that the sound reverberated through Jem’s feet.
The Witiko made to swipe the animal aside, but then it paused.
The wolf – Mingan – fell silent and arched his neck. The Witiko’s threatening hand came down gently on the weren’s head between his ears. Mingan twisted and licked the exposed skin of the creature’s arm. As Jem watched, the Witiko trembled.
Cazalon hobbled forward, his slanted eyes brilliant with malice. “Tame your son, Annawan.”
The Witiko gripped Mingan’s throat, twitching as it tried to resist Cazalon’s command. Black talons dug deep into the shaggy grey fur. Mingan snarled and then he whimpered.
Ann dropped Jem’s hand. “Tolly!”
Of course! She was right. “Use the staff, Tolly,” Jem cried out. When there was no reply he looked to the left. Tolly had collapsed, a heap of fur, the staff fallen from his hand. Ann was now kneeling beside him, but her eyes were on the terrible scene of the Witiko and Mingan, father and son, locked in battle.
“Good – that’s good. Harder, deeper, Annawan.”
Cazalon took a step towards them. He grinned, bent low and twisted his head so that he could look directly into Mingan’s eyes. “Do not kill him … yet, Annawan. I will do that when the time is right. Soon I will need the blood of the wolf prince to awaken the power of this place.”
“Never drop your guard.” Master Jalbert’s words sounded as clearly in Jem’s head as if the fe
ncing master had been standing next to him. Cazalon was completely engrossed – it was an opportunity!
Jem pelted across the snow and snatched up the staff. He turned, loped back and, brandishing it in two hands, hammered the crystal bird down with all his might onto Cazalon’s patchwork skull.
There was a crunch of bone and sticky blackness spattered onto the snow.
At first Cazalon didn’t move. Then he raised a claw-like hand to his broken head. His long fingernails probed the wound. His body began to tremble. He turned to look up at Jem, but his inkblack eyes didn’t seem able to focus. Jem took a step back and raised the staff again as Cazalon struggled to stand. Instead, he fell forward so that he was crouching at Jem’s feet on all fours.
Nadie’s wooden heart fell free from the neck of Cazalon’s feathered cape and swayed back and forth on its leather thong. Jem felt the Witiko’s eyes move to it.
It watched for a moment, its head following the motion of the heart, then it released its grip on Mingan and groped for the pendant, its black hand grabbing the leather thong.
“No!” Cazalon gasped, but the Witiko ignored him, jerking the thong to bring the pendant closer to its hidden eyes. As it did so it pulled Cazalon’s deformed face closer to its own so that the two hideous creatures stared into each other’s eyes.
Jem saw Cazalon’s mouth twist in fear and wondered what was hidden in the furs to repel a man who was himself a living corpse.
The Witiko grunted and stood, bringing up the pendant. It was so tall, it lifted Cazalon from the ground and his fur-clad feet kicked out at nothing.
It bellowed with rage and flung the man roughly over its shoulder, then thundered towards the lake, moving with incredible speed.
“Stop! I command you. No … No!” Cazalon screeched in terror as the Witiko charged, sloshing and sliding across the melting ice towards the tower of steaming water. Jem saw the count’s twisted hands beat upon the creature’s back and watched in horror as the man and the monster he had created were engulfed by the scalding fountain.