Jack Shian and the Destiny Stone

by Andrew Symon

  “She’s asleep. They must’ve drugged us.”

  Jack peered through the gloom. He could just make out the shape of a door ahead of him, and he tried to sit up again. The clanging in his head made him lie down instantly.

  “I can’t get up. Every time I try my head feels like it’ll burst.”

  “I’m scared. I thought they were on our side.”

  “So did I. It’ll be all right. Once Dad and Grandpa sort it out. We’ll be fine; you’ll see.”

  But as Jack lay there in the gloom, he felt anything but reassured. What had they got themselves into? He felt his eyelids closing …

  * * *

  When he awoke again, the room was unchanged. The candle sputtered gently.

  There must be a breeze. It’s certainly cold enough.

  Jack shivered, and pulled the threadbare blanket around him. If only I had one of Gilmore’s warm cloaks …

  Jack looked around.

  What is this place?

  “Petros! Are you awake?”

  “He’s asleep.”

  Jack started, and looked up. In the gloom he could just make out a figure standing over him. It sounded like …

  “I am Ishona. Have you slept well?”

  Slept well?! You drugged me, and my head’s pounding.

  “You’ve been asleep for a while. I hope our Hallows’ Day toast hasn’t left you too thirsty?”

  Jack licked his lips. His mouth was parched.

  “Why’d you drug us?” His throat felt like sandpaper.

  “You weren’t drugged. You just had some island potion. You’re obviously not used to it.”

  “How long … ?”

  “Have you been asleep? A few days. It’s for the best. Now, have some water, and I’ll see you again soon.”

  She bent down, placed a small jug and two goblets on the bedside table, and started to leave.

  “Where are the others?” Jack’s voice was little more than a croak.

  “They’re safe. You’ll understand when you’re all awake. Now, get some rest.”

  Jack drank a little water, but found he still couldn’t sit up. He yawned. Maybe just a bit more sleep. The room began to swim. His eyelids felt heavy …

  “Jack!” Petros shoved his cousin as he lay curled up on the low bed.

  Jack stirred, and slowly opened his eyes.

  “Whassup? What … ?”

  “We’re prisoners. And I’m starving. Even Ilanbeg was better than this place; at least we could move around.”

  Jack blinked. The room was still dark; the candle sputtered softly on the bedside table.

  “Ishona came in a while ago, but I couldn’t even sit up. How long’ve we been here?”

  “Dunno. But I don’t want to stay any longer. Let’s see if we can get out.”

  To his surprise, Jack found that he could sit up without his head bursting; but when he tried to stand his legs wobbled and he stumbled, knocking the candle over.

  “Oh, that’s brilliant!” shouted Petros. “Weren’t things bad enough that you had to take away the one thing here that might help us?!”

  “It wasn’t my fault; my legs just collapsed.” Jack hauled himself back onto the bed.

  A tapping sound came from the wall beside him.

  “Jack! You awake?”

  “Rana? Is Lizzie OK?”

  “We’re all right. What happened in there?”

  “Jack knocked the candle over,” shouted Petros.

  “Shhh! We don’t know who might be listening.” Jack tried to quieten Petros, but the sound of footsteps outside the room made him catch his breath.

  “If anyone comes in, we’ll rush them,” whispered Petros.

  Keys jangled; and the door creaked open, showering light into the tiny room. Unaccustomed, Jack and Petros shielded their eyes. Peering cautiously, they could make out a figure silhouetted in the doorway.

  “Come on; you lads must be hungry. I’ll take you to the others.”

  “Clavers?”

  “Aye, that’s me. They’re ready for you upstairs now. Come on; get your shoes on.”

  Jack tied his laces and got uncertainly to his feet. His legs felt weak, but he steadied himself against the bed, and edged over to the door.

  Clavers clapped an arm over Jack’s shoulder.

  “Ishona tells me you’ve been asleep for days. Not used to island potion, eh?”

  “Why’d you give us it? What happened to your laws of hospitality?”

  “We shared our meat and drink with you; and you’ve been safe. Come on, I’ll take you up to Iain Dubh.”

  Jack stepped out into the corridor, and saw that the bright light in fact came from just one burning torch opposite each doorway. Petros followed him uncertainly, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light. Clavers opened the door to Rana and Lizzie’s room next door, and they peered out nervously from the doorway. But something bothered Jack: Clavers looked somehow … older.

  “It’s OK.” Jack tried to cover his sense of foreboding by sounding cheerful to Rana and Lizzie. “We’re going to see the others.”

  The four youngsters followed Clavers warily as he made his way to stairs at the corridor’s end. Climbing up, they were ushered into a long room.

  “Is this the great hall?” asked Rana, peering in the gloom. “It’s totally different.”

  You’re not kidding, thought Jack. It’s freezing.

  “You saw it at Hallows’ Eve,” replied Clavers. “That’s a special night for the HebShian, when the Hebseelie Court meets. Most of the time we’re not so well … catered for.”

  The room was an almost total contrast. Gone were the lights, the tables, the food and drink, the sense of joyous celebration. Several HebShian milled around in the gloom, but none acknowledged the youngsters.

  “There’s Grandpa!” shouted Lizzie.

  In the dim light, Jack could make out his grandfather and father ahead of them.

  “Dad!”

  Phineas turned as he heard Jack’s shout, and smiled.

  “Did you sleep well?

  “We were poisoned; or drugged. We’ve been asleep for days.”

  “It seems strange to us; but they’ll have their reasons.”

  Jack squinted up at his father. What did he know?

  “This is a different place, Jack. They have their own way of doing things here. Iain Dubh will be along shortly; he’ll explain.”

  A door to the side of the hall opened, and Jack saw Iain Dubh and Ishona stride in, accompanied by four men carrying burning torches.

  “I trust you are all rested?” asked Iain Dubh warmly.

  Rested? Jack felt the hackles on his neck rising. This was getting beyond a joke. Then he saw that Iain Dubh’s hair was flecked with grey.

  “You call poisoning us restful?” shouted Petros.

  If Iain Dubh’s glance at the youngster was puzzled, Phineas’ glare was pure daggers.

  “You may not appreciate our situation,” went on Iain Dubh evenly, his voice huskier than Jack remembered it. “The Hebseelie Court has now agreed to join you, providing you enlist the Norseelie; but not everyone here agreed. You may notice that Saorbeg is not with us.”

  Jack could see that Clavers and Ishona were beside Iain Dubh, but he hadn’t realised the significance of Saorbeg’s absence.

  “So you drugged us while you had your arguments?” he spat.

  “Jack, hold your tongue!” retorted Phineas sharply.

  “You are under a misapprehension,” said Iain Dubh calmly. “Nobody has been drugged. You were clearly unused to our island brew.”

  “Not used to it?” Jack’s temper refused to subside, despite his father’s injunction. “We’ve been asleep for a week. What’s that if it’s not poisoning?”

  “You are a stranger here, young Jack.” Ishona spoke up now. “You clearly have never experienced island time before. You were not drugged; only asleep. And it was for the best. We had to discuss matters further here; I’m afraid with our meagre resources we wou
ld not have been very good hosts to you.”

  “Look around you, Jack,” said Phineas. “Hallows’ Eve brought this place alive; but it’s only like that for a few days in the winter. The rest of the time it’s like this.”

  Jack looked around the room. Despite the glowing torches he could see that the room was pretty bare. A small group of local Shian had brought some food, placing it on a table. But far from being the young and happy well-fed people he had seen when they arrived, Jack saw now that they were thin creatures, whose pinched faces showed their age and their hardship. They looked like they needed the food more than he did.

  “Food is scarce here during the winter months. We spend much of our time resting; it conserves our energy for when we need it. And if we are to attack the Kildashie before the spring, then we must conserve it well.” Clavers spoke slowly, emphasising his points.

  “Sorry,” mumbled Jack.

  “That’s all right. Most of your colleagues are still asleep. But there’s things we need to discuss with you now. Like why we need to get to Tula.”

  We?

  12

  The Gusog Feather

  Iain Dubh smiled as he saw Jack blink in surprise.

  “That’s right; we’re coming with you.”

  “Tula’s more complicated than we thought Jack,” said his father softly. “But the Hebseelie will help us. Come on; let’s eat.”

  Iain Dubh then waved his sceptre in an arc above his head, and the HebShian that had been milling around in the dimness now appeared bearing more trays of food. Jack’s stomach rumbled at the prospect, but when he saw the meagre fare on offer his hunger almost left him. It was scraps – scraps that looked like they were leftovers from Hallows’ Eve.

  “Not very sumptuous, I’m afraid,” admitted Iain Dubh. “But you’ve seen the best we can offer; we won’t see the likes again until the winter solstice.”

  “By which time we need to be at Novehowe,” added Grandpa Sandy firmly.

  “But first we have to get to Tula,” added Clavers, at which Grandpa Sandy snorted.

  Jack looked at his grandfather. He seems … distant; as if he doesn’t matter. But he’s a senior Congress member; he must be important.

  “You are not the only ones to seek treasure in Tula,” said Iain Dubh. “After we lost our flag, much of our strength went too. Soon after, our one remaining treasure was stolen. A golden feather, one that belonged to our ancestor Gusog.”

  “Murkle will have told you all this, won’t he, Jack?”

  Jack turned to his father and shook his head.

  “No. He never talked about that.”

  “A pity,” noted Clavers. “One of the great Shian tales. With his wings Gusog could control the passage of time; even the one feather that remained to us allowed us to speed our way through the harshness of winter until the return of spring. But it was taken, many years ago; which is why you see us like this.” He indicated the gloom of the hall.

  Jack looked around the hall. It was the gloomiest place he had ever seen. Then his eye caught something on the far wall.

  “Is that a season-wheel?” he asked. The symbols at the base of the wheel looked familiar.

  “It is. And you’ll see that it shows a long winter for us; and winter is death for many. The return of the Gusog feather would be as important for us as you getting the Stone back.” Iain Dubh spoke wistfully.

  “You see, Jack,” said Phineas, “we both have a reason to go to Tula.”

  Did Grandpa just snort again?

  “But we need your help, Jack. You’ve got something that will help us.”

  Jack’s heart raced for a moment, and he looked across at his father, and without thinking he put his hand up to Tamlina’s ring on his neck.

  “They know about the Mapa Mundi, Jack.”

  “Of course we knew you had it. Did you think we wouldn’t hear about something as important as that? People have been going up and down the coast since midsummer talking about it. And it will certainly help us – if it shows us our true path.”

  “Why didn’t you take it when I was asleep?”

  “Our laws of hospitality would not allow that, even if we’d wanted to. We’d rather ask you to join us.”

  “They haven’t woken the others, Jack; Murkle, and Finbogie and the rest. The Hebseelie need to know what you’ll do with the Mapa.”

  Jack looked around as one of the attendants coughed. He looked ill, even malnourished.

  “And getting Gusog’s feather back will help you to endure the winter?”

  “It’s no ordinary feather, lad. It’s the last of his wings; the last remnant there is of our ancestor.”

  “The gold feather’s charmed, Jack. It allowed Gusog to control time. Just that one feather meant we could survive the winter without starving: we could speed our passage through time. Without it – well, you can see what we’ve become.”

  Jack had to admit that the Hebseelie, after the Hallows’ Eve party, were a sorry sight. He grasped Tamlina’s ring and tugged it down, allowing the Mapa Mundi to fall about his neck. He pulled the flag until it was free, and offered it to Iain Dubh.

  “Marco told me it shows true believers their path.”

  “We know. And for us, that must be the path to the Gusog feather.”

  As Iain Dubh took the flag gently, it formed into a sphere, showing the two great map circles … but they were blank.

  “What does the map show?” Phineas leant forward to get a better look.

  “Nothing,” said Iain Dubh, handing the sphere back to Jack.

  Jack stared hard at the circles. Slowly, a dark castle formed in one of the Mapa Mundi circles; but not a regular picture: it seemed to be made up of tiny fragments.

  “It’s Fractals’ Seer,” said Clavers softly. “Malevola’s castle.”

  There was a thump as Grandpa’s head met the table, and he rolled to the floor. Jack jumped in surprise; but he was even more astonished by the next sensation.

  Phosphan?!

  Rana’s gasp confirmed to Jack that he was not mistaken.

  Ishona moved quickly to check Grandpa Sandy’s breathing. Kneeling down in the dim light, she listened intently; then sat up and smiled.

  “It’s all right. I think he’s just fainted. Probably hungry.”

  But Jack wasn’t so sure. There had been something unusual about his grandfather. Normally, he would take charge of things. Here he’d been … sidelined. And he’d definitely not been keen on going to Tula.

  Phineas bent down to scoop up his father’s body.

  “Just let me get him back to his room. I’ll see he’s all right.”

  “I think we’d better get Armina, Dad,” said Jack. “I can smell Phosphan. It’s like his wound’s opened up again.”

  Phineas grunted.

  What’s up with him? thought Jack.

  Armina, Finbogie and Murkle were quickly summoned, and while Armina and Phineas attended to Grandpa Sandy, Finbogie drew Jack aside.

  “They certainly have an unusual way of treating guests here. I’m sorry that I didn’t foresee the dangers of the island potion. But I wasn’t expecting trouble from the HebShian. They are Seelie, after all.”

  “Dad says they’re all right; they’ve just got their own way of doing things. But if we’re going to Tula, we’ll need to be well prepared, won’t we?”

  “Going to Tula is not possible, given our timescale,” butted in Murkle. “We must be at Novehowe before the solstice. Winter’s closing in; there’s no time for detours.”

  “But can’t we slow time down, like we did at midsummer last year?”

  “You should have noticed by now that our charms barely work here,” snapped Murkle.

  “Murkle’s right,” interrupted Grandpa Sandy. His voice was weak, like when Malevola’s hex had opened his wounds again on the giant’s bridge. “We have no time for diversions; and especially not to somewhere like Tula.”

  “But don’t you see, father?” said Phineas, trying to keep the
heat out of his voice. “Tula is the key. If we can get the Raglan …”

  “The Raglan is nothing,” shouted Grandpa, sitting up despite the pain. “One of Tamlina’s charmstones, no more. If it meant anything, the Congress would have known of it. Am I not right, Murkle?”

  Murkle pondered for a moment.

  “You are. In all my experience of Shian tales, I have never come across this stone.”

  “But the HebShian know about the Raglan,” warned Jack. “And they said we shouldn’t leave enemies like the Tula behind us.”

  “The island Shian will squabble and fight, like they’ve always done,” said Murkle coldly. “The Tula Shian have no reason to leave for the mainland.”

  “Nobody predicted the Kildashie coming,” urged Jack. “And if they ask the Tula Shian to join them, well … We should destroy them now.”

  “Destroy the Tula?” scoffed Murkle. “Have you any idea what you’re saying? You wouldn’t know where to start.”

  And I suppose you knew exactly how to deal with Caskill. You were hopeless in that cave.

  “But I can help there,” pointed out Finbogie. “Phineas and I have worked on the swords. They’re ready; we can at least take the Tula Shian on.”

  “Regardless of that, there is not time,” stated Grandpa firmly. He rose unsteadily to his feet now. “It could take weeks to sail to Novehowe at this time of year. Tula is a distraction; and a dangerous one at that.”

  “But father, Iain Dubh was right: the Tula Shian are a dangerous enemy to leave at our rear. And if we get the Raglan stone, that will multiply our chances.”

  “Enough! I will not hear of it. We sail for Novehowe. Our task is to persuade Magnus to join us. That’s the key to getting our homes back – and the Stone, and the Chalice. All else is just distraction.”

  Grandpa Sandy sat down, quickly weakened by the effort.

  He’s wrong, fumed Jack; and we’ve got to get the Tula Shian out of the way. Tamlina knew the Raglan was important …

  “Come on, Jack.” Phineas tugged Jack’s sleeve, and the two of them left the room.

  “Why’s Grandpa so against us going to Tula, Dad?”

  “Time is tight. If we’re to make Novehowe by the solstice, we’ll have to leave soon. But there’s other problems too.”