Zival swayed from the force of it, loosening his grip on Ian. The Scravens hissed through their teeth, looming over her, but as light flared from the goddess they shrank back, their eyes fearful, and Zoé was sure the incantation had weakened them.
Baring his teeth in fury, Zival swung around and lunged at her. At the same moment she felt her feet leave the ground. The goddess was lifting her up into the air! Zoé was stunned to find herself in Arianrhod’s grasp, floating high above the cavern floor.
Blue flames streamed from the goddess’s eyes, striking one of Zival’s wings, and a sharp burning smell filled the cavern. Screaming, he lurched to one side, talons flying up, wings opening, releasing Ian. Zoé saw her cousin fall to the ground.
Zival gave a shrill cry of rage as one wing caught fire. Smoke and ash swirled through the cavern as the flames leapt higher, throwing wild shadows against the walls. Zoé watched the Scravens circle desperately overhead, beating the air with their wings and flying out through Dragon’s Mouth, abandoning their master.
Zival stumbled to the archway, flapping his good wing and shrieking in frustration as the charred wing failed to move. Losing his balance, he lurched sideways, claws sliding across the surface of the puzzle, his grotesque form skidding uncontrollably to the edge of the cliff, talons grasping at the air. Zoé watched, astounded, as he slipped over the side and plummeted down, down, down into the crashing waves below.
The next thing Zoé knew, her feet were on the ground. She sprinted to Ian, placed one hand on his arm and shook him gently: “Wake up, Ian, wake up!”
He looked brittle and delicate, his eyelids fluttering open and shut, his complexion a sallow green. Yet she was certain he was alive, because she felt his heart beating beneath her hand.
Swallowing back a sob, she lifted her cousin into her arms, willing his breath to grow stronger. “You were so brave, Ian,” she whispered into his ear. “I can’t believe it—you stood up to Zival!” The thought of losing her best friend in the entire world was suddenly too much to bear; tears began streaming down her cheeks.
At the sound of her voice, his eyes blinked open for a moment, and on his face was the ghost of a smile. She felt her heart turn over.
“Is Ian okay?” cried Pippin, running over. “Is he a … Scraven? Say no, Zoé—tell me he’s not!” she pleaded tearfully.
“He’s alive, but—” Zoé began.
Seeing Ian’s fists unclench and his face relax, she felt her spirits lift. Then his eyes slowly opened.
“He’s coming round, looks like,” whispered Pippin.
To Zoé’s relief, the color came rushing back into his face. He stared blankly at Zoé and Pippin, looking confused, then recoiled in terror.
“It’s all right, Ian, it’s us, me and Pippin,” she said. “Zival’s gone, he fell through Dragon’s Mouth into the sea!”
“You’re not a Scraven, are you?” asked Pippin.
“N-no,” murmured Ian, rubbing the side of his face. Zoé could see the faint imprint of scales on his skin. “I don’t think so.” He looked around, slowly adjusting to his surroundings. “Did you just say Zival fell into the sea?”
“Food for the fish,” said Pippin, grinning.
“But how …?”
Suddenly Bron appeared with a puzzle piece. Handing it to Zoé, she said in a solemn tone, “We need to know if he’s one or not.”
Hand trembling, Zoé held the glass to her eye, gazing down at Ian. At first she saw a swirling blue light; then Ian’s face swam into view. There was no third eye.
She held her breath, thinking she might faint.
“He’s not a Scraven, he’s Ian! Bron’s incantation saved him!” Zoé shouted. “Arianrhod’s magic worked, too!”
Shaking and weeping, she gave Ian an enormous hug, then all at once the three kids were hugging one another.
“Come see what happened,” she said, helping Ian to his feet.
They stepped to the edge of Dragon’s Mouth and peered over the cliff—Zoé growing dizzy as she looked down and Ian’s face going pale—searching for traces of Zival. There were gulls and waves and rocks, and the Sea Kestrel chuttering toward Caldey Island—but there was no sign that a Scraven had fallen into the sea off the cliffs of Tenby.
“Zoé whacked Zival’s wing with the goddess,” Pippin told Ian, “and then the goddess lifted Zoé right into the air! His wing caught fire, all dramatic like, and he slipped on the glass puzzle. Then over the edge he went.”
“You’re braver than any smuggler or ship’s captain!” said Ian, looking at his cousin with admiration. “You’ll go down in the history books. ‘Braver than any pirate who ever set foot in Tenby,’ that’s what they’ll say.”
“I’m tough, all right,” joked Zoé, her face going red. “Not really, it was Arianrhod. And Bron, too … and Pippin and, well, all of us really.”
“A pity the Thirteenth Piece went down with Zival, but there you are,” said Bron, and Zoé felt her heart sink. “We’ll have to destroy the puzzle. Do we smash it or throw it into the sea?”
“Neither,” said Pippin with a lopsided grin. Reaching into her pocket, she whipped out a chunk of blue glass. “When Zival let go of Ian, this fell from his claw and I chased it across the cavern.” She handed the puzzle-glass to Zoé.
“The Thirteenth Piece!” said Ian in an awestruck voice.
Zoé gazed at the glass, the reality of the past few days suddenly hitting her. Knowing she could never go back to Wythernsea, she felt herself spinning away from Miss Glyndower, and Gwyn and Tegan, cut off from their sunlit world, their joy and beauty. With the puzzle sealed, all that she had been, all that she had experienced, would disappear.
But she had no choice: she had to let them go.
First she put back the piece Bron had given her. Then, taking a deep breath, she emptied her mind and, holding the Thirteenth Piece inches above the puzzle, let it fall. The glass rolled, landing on the image of the dragon, at the center of its wing. A moment later it snapped into place with a delicate clink! Zoé watched, as if in a dream, as the dragon seemed to stir, turning around and around, its wings seeming to move ever so slightly, talons opening and closing, stony eyes gazing up at her.
The Thirteenth Piece, glowing like a blue gem, was now embedded deep inside the dragon’s wing. The dragon went still, as if nothing extraordinary had happened, and Zoé rubbed her eyes, unsure of what she’d just seen.
“The gateway’s sealed,” she said with an air of finality.
Pippin glanced up and Zoé saw a funny look on her face. “Um, did I just see that dragon move?”
“I think it did,” whispered Ian. “But maybe we should keep it to ourselves. What do you think?”
The others nodded.
“No one would believe us anyway,” said Zoé.
“Ian? Magpie?” Granddad, looking somewhat distressed, came stumbling toward them, Bron’s jacket thrown over his shoulders, and Zoé felt a lump at the back of her throat. “Are you kids all right?”
“They’re golden, Mr. Blackwood,” said Bron, and Zoé saw the lines in Granddad’s face relax.
“I fell asleep back there, see,” said their grandfather, shaking his head. “I dreamed of this terrifying beast coming out of the shadows. It seemed frightfully real.”
“Don’t worry,” said Zoé, hugging her granddad. “The scary beasts are gone.”
“Everything’s shipshape, Granddad,” said Ian, giving their grandfather a bear hug.
“How about if I bring a ladder round to your cottage, John?” said Stokes. “I’ll put the weathervane back on yer roof.”
“Thank you, Stokes, I’d like that,” said Granddad. “The roof is where she belongs.”
“Look at the Thirteenth Piece,” Pippin whispered to Zoé and Ian. “Like a jewel, it is, like it’s always been there.”
“Er, I know this defies the rules of logic,” Ian whispered back, “but look how the pieces fused themselves together into a solid circle of glass.”
“Oh my gosh,” said Zoé. “It’s not a puzzle anymore!”
A wind smelling like the sea blew in, pushing away the fog, and thick beams of afternoon sunlight fell through the mouth of the cavern. High over the water they glimpsed the winged outlines of Scravens, soaring over the town as little more than empty husks, fragmenting and splitting apart, crumbling into the sea, carried off past Caldey Island, moving inexorably toward the horizon, until at last they were gone from sight.
“It’s the end of the Scravens!” yelled Zoé, and everyone cheered, voices echoing off the walls of Dragon’s Mouth cavern. “Tenby’s free at last!”
They emerged from the tunnels into the warm, sunlit afternoon. The air was crisp, charged with light from the sea. Zoé was already planning a story that would include all the strange and terrifying details of the past few days. The title would be “The Scravens of Dragon’s Mouth.”
“Zoé and I won’t be long,” Ian was telling Granddad. “We just want to check on our friends in town.”
“See you back at the cottage then,” said their grandfather, his tone growing lighthearted once again.
“See you, Granddad,” said Zoé, lifting her face to the sun. At last it felt like summer. “But before we go—” She was about to launch into the explanation they’d promised Granddad, but she realized suddenly that it was all far too complex to explain in a few sentences. “Can we tell you everything when we get back, Granddad?”
“Sure thing, kids. Cheerio, then.” Leaning down, he embraced them both. “I’m looking forward to a cracking good yarn when you return, don’t forget.”
“It’ll knock your socks off,” said Zoé.
“Deal, Granddad. Oh, and thanks, Mr. Stokes,” said Ian, startling Stokes by shaking his hand. “For everything.”
Zoé shook his hand, too, knowing she’d totally misjudged Stokes: he’d turned out to be their friend after all. Stokes had helped them get past the Scravens and guided them through the tunnels to Dragon’s Mouth. Not bad for a crusty old museum curator.
“Ach, nothing to it,” said Stokes, smiling. It was the first time Zoé had ever seen him smile in a normal sort of way. “Watch your backs, eh? That’s my advice.” He knitted his brows together, looking more like his old self. “Always treachery afoot in pirate towns like Tenby.”
“We’ll be careful,” said Zoé cheerfully.
Zoé, Ian, Pippin and Bron set off, making their way through the streets of the Old Town.
“So, are the Afflicted okay now?” Pippin asked. “They’re human beings again, right?”
“Miss Glyndower said the Scravens would be cast out, remember?” said Ian. “And the humans would turn back into their true selves.”
“With Zival gone, the Scravens are history,” said Zoé.
Everywhere she walked, she found herself crunching over glass lenses, plastic and metal frames, and fancy eyeglass holders. Hundreds of pairs of tinted glasses were scattered all over the cobbled streets, dropped into the gutters, and thrown into dustbins.
“What’s with all these glasses?” asked Ian.
“Folks’ve got rid of their specs,” said Bron. “No need anymore. A good sign, when all’s said and done. They’ve been, well, de-Scravenized.”
De-Scravenized, what a cool word, thought Zoé, deciding to use it in her story.
From time to time she held up the fused puzzle, curious whether it still had the power to show her things, and looked with trepidation through the blue glass—slightly awkward, yet no one seemed to notice. None of the people she looked at had a third eye.
They passed several townspeople Zoé remembered as being the Afflicted—Mirielle Tate, Dr. Thistle, Dr. Brown and all the optometrists from Zival’s Optical, Ned Larkin, Philip Fox, the baker Mrs. Owen and her son Derek. Everyone seemed to be, understandably, confused, staring at one another in disbelief, as if they’d just awoken from a nightmare, and she noticed the dark lines of their faces were already beginning to soften. Many of them were talking excitedly about sightings of gigantic winged creatures.
“I know what I saw,” Mirielle Tate said to Mrs. Owen, walking arm in arm along Upper Frog Street, “and what I saw was the dragon of Dragon’s Mouth, the very same one my granny told me stories about. It was every bit as real as you or I.”
“Aye, was the legendary dragon, to be sure,” agreed Mrs. Owen, looking thoughtful, “and no one will ever convince me otherwise.”
Every so often Zoé would catch Ian’s eyes and smile, knowing he was thinking the same thing she was. We’re so lucky to have each other, can you believe it? No one in the world would be daring enough to go on an adventure like this one. He was like a brother—better, even. And her heart would flip over, recalling how she’d almost lost him to Zival.
And Pippin! How could she ever forget Philippa Jenkyn Thomas? Fiery and brave, Pippin had proven to be the truest of friends.
Wandering the familiar streets of old Tenby, Zoé could feel the presence of the past gathering around her: spirits, friends, relatives, ghosts, all connecting her to what came before—and what was yet to come—whispering long-lost secrets, embracing her, welcoming her.
Okay, magic was about spells and enchantments, but magic was about other things, too, like knowing who you were and where you belonged. It was the history handed down from generation to generation, passed from grandfather to granddaughter, cousin to cousin, friend to friend. Magic was in the cobbled streets, the timbered houses and crumbling castle walls, the shifting patterns of the sea. Magic was everywhere, if you opened your eyes and looked.
When they reached St. Julian’s Street, Zoé was surprised to see townspeople gathered outside Zival’s Optical Shop with hammers and nails and two-by-fours, boarding up the front door and windows.
“Hey, what’s occurrin’?” Bron shouted to Mrs. Prosser. Zoé gazed up to see Dr. Marriott’s housekeeper at the top of a ladder, whacking at Zival’s neon sign with a rolling pin.
“A disgrace, this,” Mrs. Prosser shouted back. “If the Board of Health won’t shut it down, then we citizens of Tenby will!”
“Mrs. Prosser,” Ian yelled, “can you tell us where Dr. Marriott is?”
“You’ll find the professor at the King’s Ransom, said he fancied some soft ice cream.”
“Here’s where I leave you,” said Bron. Uncharacteristically, she opened her arms, and all three children hugged her at once.
“Thank you, thank you,” they whispered.
With a mysterious smile the silent seeress threw back her shoulders and strode off into the sunlight.
Zoé pushed open the door to the King’s Ransom Café and a familiar smell of smoked bacon wafted through the air. Sitting at one of the vinyl-covered tables were Fritha Pooke, Philip Fox and Catherine and Trevor Beedle. Zoé held up the puzzle and looked through it, relieved to see that none of them had third eyes.
“Hey, hiya,” said Pippin. “How’s everything going?”
“Great,” said Catherine, smiling in a friendly way.
“Maybe we can get together for a game of Caldey Ghost Pirates later?” said Zoé. “It’s more fun with lots of kids playing.”
“Cool idea,” said Philip.
Trevor threw her a big grin.
The old wall fixtures emitted a dim light, giving the café a grainy, out-of-focus appearance. It’s like coming home, thought Zoé, admiring the daffodil wallpaper and the chalkboard advertising Special today~pork pie & chips and Fresh strawberries & clotted cream.
Sitting in the corner, George Marriott was dipping his spoon into a dish of ice cream.
“Dr. Marriott!” Zoé shouted.
He looked up with a puzzled frown, then smiled and raised a hand to greet them, and Zoé knew right away he was back.
“I had a funny turn this morning, wasn’t myself at all,” he said, and the three kids exchanged knowing looks. “I certainly needed this ice cream, though. Try some, it’s delicious.”
“We’re returning The Book of Astercôte,” said Pippin, pulling
it from her backpack. “Thanks for the loan.”
“You’re very welcome,” said their old friend, leaning back in his chair. “Well now, I’m eager to hear the latest. Have you accomplished your mission?”
Everyone started talking at once, telling Dr. Marriott what had happened—leaving out the part where he’d been turned into a Scraven, of course. As Granddad was fond of saying, Let sleeping dogs lie.
“Oh my gosh,” said Ian, opening the flap of his messenger bag. “I completely forgot about this!”
Zoé leaned forward, curious.
“Whatever’s that?” asked Pippin.
Ian dropped a small object into the palm of Zoé’s hand—it fitted perfectly—and she looked down to see a small dragon carved of blue glass.
“Right before we left Wythernsea, when we were saying goodbye, Gwyn Griffiths gave me this,” Ian explained. “Years ago his grandmother shared her ancient medical knowledge with the Astercôtes, and in turn they gave her this dragon made from Wythernsea glass. They said it could lead to an escape route in times of danger, a secret way between Wythernsea and Tenby—I’ll explain the details later. Gwyn wanted us to have it.”
“A gateway, in other words,” said Dr. Marriott, straightening up. “You know, this may sound totally outlandish, but I’m wondering. Perhaps it’s high time we begin again, to organize a completely new Society of Astercôte. What do you say?”
“You mean … we’d be members?” said Ian. “We kids would be the new Astercôtes?”
“Is it even possible?” whispered Pippin.
“We can travel back to Wythernsea?” Zoé could hardly believe what Dr. Marriott was saying.
“Yes to all your questions!” said the professor, smiling broadly. “There’s a chapter in The Book of Astercôte which contains all the information we’ll need. If we make a go of it this time, ensuring that this portal is without flaws, then why not give it a try?”
A ripple of excitement passed among the three children and Zoé couldn’t stop smiling. Am I really going back to Wythernsea? That means I’ll see Gwyn and Tegan and Miss Glyndower again!
The Glass Puzzle Page 23