by J. R. Wallis
‘He went right up to the picture and the Trolls came alive. They let him open a door with the key he had, just like this one.’ Ruby took out the key she’d made. It looked more ugly and misshapen than she remembered. She ran her fingers over the disfigured end and then inspected the toothy shape of the bit, wondering if it would work. ‘Well, sort of like this one.’
Jones examined the key, turning it through his fingers.
‘Will it work, Jones?’
‘It ain’t the key I’m worried about. It’s them Trolls.’
Jones looked up at the picture again and Ruby realized what he must be thinking.
‘They’ll only let Givens open the door, won’t they? So that means we’re not getting in.’
‘Maybe we can if we can make a good enough fæcce of Givens to fool them.’
‘Don’t we need magic for that?’
‘There’s other ways to make a fæcce.’
‘Oh, I thought—’
‘When I cast the spell to catch the Vampire the other night, the magic was louder than ever after I got home. I couldn’t sleep.’
‘But if we find the Cutter and he solves your magic problem and mine, it’ll be worth it, won’t it?’
‘Maybe, but I’m an ordinary boy and ordinary boys don’t use magic.’
‘Come on, Jones.’
‘No. We’ll make a fæcce without magic. Everything we need is bound to be here.’
It didn’t take long to find things they could use to make the fæcce. Ruby pulled out black strands of hair from a brush lying on the dressing table in Givens’s bedroom. There were some nail clippings in the bin too. Meanwhile, Jones shook out some unwashed shirts over a sheet and collected white flakes of skin and more strands of hair.
As they worked to collect what little pieces they could of Givens, Thomas Gabriel looked through the various potions and mixtures on the shelves in the cellar. When he found what he was looking for, a jar of yellow crystals and one full of a red powder, he took them upstairs and began to run a bath.
As he swirled the crystals into the water, turning it bright yellow, he tried not to think about the magic inside him dissolving into nothing too. He whispered a little prayer asking for the wyrd to be kind to him and grant what he wanted most in the world: to find this man called the Cutter who could help him right his Commencement.
‘I’ll be a good Badlander,’ he said as the water stilled and he saw a hazy reflection of himself in the yellow surface. ‘I just need the chance to prove it.’ There was no time to say anything else as Ruby and Jones arrived with the parts of Givens they’d managed to find, and he gave the water a swirl again, making his face vanish.
After everything had been dropped into the bath, Thomas Gabriel held the jar of red powder over the water.
‘I hope this works,’ he said. ‘Making a fæcce like this isn’t the best way.’
‘Told you we should’ve used magic,’ said Ruby, punching Jones playfully on the arm.
‘Pour all the powder in. It’s bound to work then,’ said Jones rather curtly and he glared at Ruby.
The water turned red instantly. It bubbled and foamed, giving off small plumes of steam. Suddenly, a light flashed so brightly it left red splotches inside their eyelids each time they blinked. When the water turned black, Jones leant forward eagerly.
‘Here we go,’ he said.
He pointed at a set of fingers as they reached up out of the water, dripping as they flexed and clawed at the air, pale and weak at first. But the more they wiggled, the stronger they became.
It took a couple of minutes for the head and torso of the fæcce to emerge. It sat up in the bath, panting from the effort, its black hair plastered across its head. It was a sickly-looking version of Givens. So pale, in fact, that its skin was grey, the colour of soggy cardboard.
‘It doesn’t look great,’ whispered Thomas Gabriel. ‘It might not last very long.’
‘Let’s get it moving then,’ said Jones.
He gave the fæcce a towel and beckoned to it to stand up. Its movements were jerky, similar to the way a puppet might move if it had come to life, but it soon got the hang of moving more naturally.
The boys dressed the fæcce in clothes from Givens’s wardrobe as quickly as they could. Once dressed, the creature seemed to have a more human air about it.
‘You’re a man,’ Jones told it.
‘You’re Randall Givens,’ said Thomas Gabriel. ‘A very important person.’
‘How have I become so important?’ asked the fæcce in a rather croaky voice.
‘You’ve done lots of important things.’
‘I don’t remember them.’
‘That doesn’t mean they didn’t happen.’
The fæcce opened its mouth and then shut it. Ruby saw something drip from its scalp. One of its ears slipped a little.
‘Come on,’ said Jones, leading it quickly out of the bedroom. ‘We need you to do something for us.’
Negotiating the stairs wasn’t easy, but eventually they made their way to the door of Givens’s study and Ruby gave the creature the key she’d made and told it what to do before pushing open the door.
The fæcce walked towards the picture and the Trolls on either side came to life and lunged forward out of the canvas to sniff the air. Ruby, Jones and Thomas Gabriel watched through the doorway, hoping the Trolls would be fooled. And then the two creatures in the painting nodded at each other and slipped back into the picture, their arms folded. Their murky green eyes watched with some contempt as the children dared to come closer, but the Trolls didn’t say anything or try to grab them.
The fæcce reached out with the key towards the picture. Everything on the canvas started moving and the small house in the background shot forward until it filled the frame. Then the fæcce pushed the key into the lock of the door that now loomed in front of them.
With a click, the door unlocked and swung open. Ruby and the others peered down a corridor, hewn out of rock, lit by candles flickering at intervals in brackets fixed to the walls. The smell of damp stone was in the air and they could hear the sound of water drip-dripping somewhere in the darkness. The bobbly stone walls ran all the way down to a left turn just visible about a hundred metres away.
‘After you,’ said Jones, holding out his hand to the fæcce and urging it forward. It smiled, causing its lips to wobble. Jones worried they might fall off, but they held firm and then the fæcce led them down the corridor, creeping through the shadows, and past the wimpling walls as the candles flickered.
The fæcce’s head had already begun to look slightly lumpy on one side, and the dim light made it appear even worse, more potato-shaped than human-like.
‘We need to be as quick as we can,’ whispered Thomas Gabriel to the others. ‘Once that fæcce falls apart, it won’t fool the Trolls any more and we could have a problem as soon as we come back into the study.’
Jones nodded in agreement and started walking faster. Ruby quickened up too and grabbed the fæcce by the hand and hurried it on, wary of pulling too hard and causing any damage.
They turned left at the end of the corridor and walked towards a large room, which looked like it could have been a crypt or a tomb. More candles flickered, throwing shadows round the walls, which glistened with damp, and highlighting patches of emerald green slime. Water was dripping somewhere.
In the middle of the room was a white marble pedestal and on it sat a head with its eyes closed. It was perfectly preserved, not shrunken or sallow. Although the face was old and lined, there was a healthy colour in the cheeks and the lips were red and plump. The nose and the ears were large, out of proportion, reminding Ruby how old people’s faces always seemed to grow bigger in certain places but not in others. Hair sprouted out of the ears like white wire.
Water kept dripping. Plip-plop. It was cold.
Ruby, Jones and Thomas Gabriel looked at each other, unsure what to do. And then the head opened its eyes.
ELEVEN
The head blinked like a bird, confused at first. And then it glanced at the fæcce and sighed wearily under its breath.
‘Whatever torture you’ve got planned for me this time, Givens, I’m not telling you what you want to know. What makes you think I’ll change my tune after two hundred years of being here?’
‘I . . . we . . .’
Ruby stepped forward as the fæcce continued to stutter over its words, unsure what to say, and cleared her throat. ‘This isn’t Givens. It’s a fæcce.’
The head frowned.
‘We’re not here to hurt you.’
The head gave a chuckle, which grew into a great, guttural laugh.
‘Oh, very good, Givens. This is good! You’ve conjured up a girl to help twist my mind around. Now that is novel.’
‘She ain’t made up, she’s real,’ said Jones, stepping forward. ‘And she’s telling the truth.’ But the head didn’t seem to notice the boy as it whispered excitedly to itself. So he stepped even closer. ‘We’re here to ask for your help,’ he said, raising his voice. ‘We’ve heard you’re skilled in sorting out magic.’
The head blinked at him, suddenly serious and frowning in concentration. Its tongue darted out between the lips as if trying to get a better sense of Jones by tasting the air around him. ‘Hmm,’ it said. ‘Got a problem with magic, have you?’ Jones nodded. The eyes in the head flickered as they looked him up and down and then the head pouted as if in admiration of the boy. ‘Interesting to see a Commencement go wrong like that. Very rare. Very rare,’ it repeated, as if in conversation with itself. ‘What happened to the rest of the magic? Where did it go? Got lost, did it?’
Ruby raised her hand. ‘I got it.’
The head looked genuinely surprised for a moment and then it grinned. ‘Now I wasn’t expecting that! Never in all my days. First, a fæcce and now a girl claiming to have magic.’ It laughed and tutted to itself. ‘What a day!’
Then the head looked at Thomas Gabriel. ‘What about you? Have you brought me something too, some rare occurrence for me to ponder whilst I pass the time imprisoned here? Step closer, boy! Stop hanging back there in the shadows of this wretched light.’
Thomas Gabriel took a few stuttering steps forward only for the head to sniff the air before screwing up its face and sighing. ‘No, nothing new at all. I’ve met your like before, ones who wanted magic when they weren’t supposed to have it. You stole your magic, didn’t you? Ripped the key from your Master’s neck no doubt and forced your Commencement. So now the magic’s rotting inside you.’
Thomas Gabriel bristled. He stood up as straight as he could. ‘I was supposed to have it because I’m meant to be a great Badlander. And I’ll do anything you want if you can help me keep my magic so I can prove it.’
The head laughed. ‘That’s the spirit! I was like you once. Young and full of ambition.’
‘Who are you?’ asked Jones.
‘I am Augustus Drewman. Or at least what’s left of me is.’
Thomas Gabriel took a few steps back, clasping his hand to his chest like some bad actor on the stage.
‘Sir, I didn’t mean to insult you. I didn’t—’
‘Augustus Drewman’s supposed to be dead,’ said Jones.
‘And I might prefer it if I was,’ said the head.
‘Sorry, but who exactly are you?’ asked Ruby.
‘Augustus Drewman was one of the greatest Badlanders ever,’ Thomas Gabriel told her in a hushed voice. ‘He’s killed more creatures than anyone else in the Badlands.’
‘Go on,’ said Drewman. ‘What else do they say about me?’
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as Jones and Thomas Gabriel looked at one another, then Jones cleared his throat.
‘Augustus Drewman turned bad with magic. It changed his brain to mush and sent him mad,’ he said. ‘He died over two hundred years ago.’
The head laughed. ‘If only! At least then I’d be spared this miserable existence. That’s just the story the Order created to keep apprentices in line, to give Masters bedtime stories to tell their boys and strike fear into their hearts.’ The head licked its lips. The rickety teeth in its mouth were stained the colour of tea. ‘Do you want to know what really happened?’
Jones nodded. So did the others.
‘I became so powerful that the higher members of the Order grew jealous. So they set upon me and brought me to this place to make me tell them how I was able to manipulate magic so successfully.’
‘What was your secret?’ piped up the gun in Ruby’s hand.
‘The Black Amulet,’ said Drewman, smiling as if picturing the object in front of his eyes.
‘Never heard of it,’ said the gun. ‘This old fool’s gone crazy. Who knows how long he’s been in here. He’s wasting our time.’ The others looked at each other and Jones shook his head.
‘I’ve never heard of the Black Amulet either.’
‘Nor me,’ said Thomas Gabriel.
‘Very few have,’ continued Drewman. ‘I found it in the ruins of an old hill fort overrun with Wraiths. How it came to be there I don’t know, but I’ve always suspected it was made by the Wraiths I killed. The amulet enhanced my magic, but it’s dangerous. It works using áglæccræft. Even though I resisted the power of the amulet using bitter potions, it started tearing my heart and mind apart eventually, encouraging me to do things no man should do. When I saw how dangerous it really was, I hid it away where no one would ever find it before it destroyed me or anyone else.’
‘So that’s what the Order wanted?’ asked Jones.
‘Yes, but when I wouldn’t tell them where it was they combined their magic into one powerful spell and split my body apart. My arms and legs and torso were taken away and hidden, leaving only my head imprisoned here. But I’ll never give up the amulet to the Order. It’s not for men like Givens. It’s not meant for any man.’
‘Can you really cut magic out of people?’ asked Jones. ‘Sort out Commencements that have gone wrong?’
‘Yes, I have that skill, but not without the rest of me. I need my body to perform such a rite.’ It grinned. ‘So that’s why you’re here?’
Jones nodded.
‘I need the magic he’s got to be a proper Badlander and cast spells,’ said Ruby.
‘You tell ’im, girl,’ said the gun.
‘I’m here to get my magic fixed too,’ blurted out Thomas Gabriel. ‘Or else I’ll lose everything. We’ll get you out of here and find the rest of you so you can help all of us.’
‘Impossible,’ said the head. ‘There’s a powerful hex keeping me here that I can’t undo, let alone any of you. Pluck a hair from my head. Go on! Take a couple.’
Jones marched up to the pedestal and plucked two white hairs from the top of the head and held them between his finger and thumb.
‘Good, now take them into the corridor. Go on.’
Jones did as instructed and walked towards the opening that led out of the room. As he moved closer to the door, the hairs begin to glow, each one sending up a winding trail of grey smoke. He stopped and looked back at Drewman.
‘Keep going!’ shouted the head. ‘Any bit of me that leaves this chamber burns to ash. Let them burn down, but don’t drop anything. You’ll see why in a moment.’
So Jones carried on, the hairs between his thumb and finger held above his other cupped hand to catch anything that fell. When he stepped out of the room into the corridor, both hairs set alight like fuses and burnt down to a crisp in seconds, the black ash falling into the palm of his other hand.
‘Now come back!’ shouted Drewman. When Jones walked back into the chamber, the ash reconstituted itself into two white hairs lying across his hand. He stared at them, amazed.
‘The Order keeps the rest of my body as ash somewhere outside this chamber. When they first put me here, they’d bring the other parts of me back in three golden boxes to make me whole again. Only then could I be tortured into telling the Order everything they wanted to know about the amulet. They
said they’d release me if I did. But I kept saying no and eventually they stopped bringing the rest of my body and resorted to other means of breaking me over the years. Now, the most recent men to have risen up the Order prop my eyelids open for weeks sometimes so I have to look at myself in a large mirror to contemplate what I am. Recently, they’ve started using potions to break my mind. Givens is a master at mixing them. He makes me inhale them and sends my brain spinning off in all sorts of directions.’
‘But not telling them means you’ll be stuck here forever,’ said Ruby.
The head sighed. ‘Yes, it does.’ Its voice sounded a little cracked and broken. ‘But that’s an idea I’ve had some time to get used to. Perhaps it’s the price I’ve paid for all the power I once had.’
The head paused. Smiled. Started to laugh so hard it took an effort for Drewman to find enough breath to be able to speak again. ‘But now I have an opportunity to get my own back.’
‘I told you the old guy’s lost it,’ muttered the gun.
‘How?’ asked Jones, waving his hand to shut up the gun.
Drewman grinned, his eyes fixed on Ruby. ‘Her! Did you know that before the Order was founded girls and women did magic too?’ Ruby’s eyes opened wide as she shook her head. ‘But men took it away from them and made it their own when the Order was created. It’s been kept a secret for centuries. Anyone who dares to mention it is expelled. Or worse. The Order’s rotten. Always has been. Full of selfish men who think they’re better than the ordinary people they’ve sworn to protect. I knew that even before they imprisoned me here. That’s why I couldn’t let them have the Black Amulet. And you, girl, you’re the one who can shake them up. If I can give you what you want, you can change everything.’
‘Someone else told me the same thing,’ said Ruby, nodding. ‘That I can make a difference.’
‘Yes, you can and that’s why I’ll help you,’ said Drewman. ‘Find the three golden boxes containing the other parts of my body and bring them here to make me whole again. Do that and I’ll correct your Commencement, make you an ordinary boy,’ he said to Jones, ‘and you an extraordinary girl.’