The Crystal Code

by Richard Newsome

  ‘You’ve done a brilliant job,’ Sam said. ‘It’s amazing.’

  Novak bowed his head. ‘You are very kind.’ The man stared into the flames that danced in the grate; the light played across his wrinkled face. He seemed lost in thought. Then he spoke again. ‘Not all of Rudolph’s collection survived,’ he said. ‘There was a girl. A girl not much older than you two.’ He gave Ruby and Felicity a grave look. ‘She was a singer, said to have the finest voice in Europe. Rudolph heard stories of her performances in Vienna and insisted she come to his court in Prague. But her father did not want his daughter to go.’

  ‘What happened?’ Sam said.

  ‘You do not defy an emperor,’ Novak said. ‘The girl came to Prague. Her father was forced to bring her. When they arrived at the castle gates, the girl was admitted but the guards refused to let the father in. He was distraught, screaming to be allowed to go with his beloved daughter. She was dragged away. Some legends say the guards threw the father into the castle bear pit. Others say he stayed by the gates until he starved to death.’

  ‘How horrible,’ Felicity said.

  ‘The girl was so upset by her father’s death that she never sang again. Rudolph lost interest in her and she spent the rest of her life begging for scraps in the alleys of the castle.’ The fire flickered as a draught swirled down the chimney, sending the shadows into a frenzy.

  Novak looked deep into the flames. ‘On the first full moon of each new year, the spirit of the father is said to rise from his grave to search once more for his daughter. He can take the form of a man or of a bear. When he can’t find her, he steals the soul of the first female he sees.’

  Ruby turned her head to the window.

  ‘Is the full moon tonight?’ she asked.

  The man nodded.

  ‘And that’s what the garlic is for?’ Ruby said. ‘To keep the spirit away?’

  Novak dropped his eyes. ‘It is a silly superstition,’ he said.

  ‘It is no such thing.’

  The man’s wife stood in the kitchen doorway, a tray of food in her hands. She bustled into the room and set the platter onto the table. ‘I don’t see you putting the talisman aside,’ she said to Novak. ‘Look to the window. The moon is rising. Do you dare to take the garlic down?’

  The man muttered into his beard.

  The woman set out plates of stew and dumplings. ‘Come,’ she said, calling them all to the table. ‘Eat. And be thankful that we are safe indoors on the night that Ursus roams.’

  Ruby was pulling out a chair to sit at the table when she stopped. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said to the woman. ‘What did you say the father’s name was?’

  The woman knocked three times on the wooden tabletop. ‘His name was Ursus—the bear,’ she said. ‘His grave is in the hrbitov, the cemetery, beyond the hill.’

  Chapter 27

  Gerald checked the lock on the door and joined Ruby, Sam and Felicity on the rug in front of the fireplace. The evening meal had been consumed in near silence. Sam even waved away an inviting-looking apple strudel for dessert so they could retreat to their room as quickly as possible.

  ‘They’re not going to get the tourists flooding in here with stories like that,’ Sam said. ‘Ghost bears rising from the grave to abduct girls—happy new year.’

  Felicity rolled out the brass rubbing she had made from the belltower at the castle. She ran a finger along the route they’d taken to get to Hadanka.

  ‘Here’s the graveyard, just like Stephanie said.’ Felicity rubbed her hands along the goosebumps on her arms. ‘I love a good ghost story.’

  Gerald studied the map. ‘I say we go there tonight,’ he said.

  Sam gave Gerald an incredulous stare. ‘Are you insane? You heard what Novak said. There’s a bear out there.’

  ‘Sam,’ Ruby said, ‘surely you don’t believe that silly story about a father searching for his lost daughter.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Is it any more silly than a daughter searching for her lost father?’

  ‘Our situation has nothing to do with some stupid old superstition.’

  ‘A lot of those old superstitions are based on fact,’ Sam said.

  ‘Even the stupid ones?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘There’s a lot of stupid facts out there,’ Sam said. ‘Like Tycho Brahe being dead for more than four hundred years. That’s a good stupid fact. And now the guy who warned us about Brahe? Ursus. Well, it turns out he has been dead for four hundred years as well. I say we let the bear have his big night out and we check the graveyard in the morning.’

  Gerald shook his head. ‘I don’t buy it,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe in ghosts and I don’t believe in bears stealing souls. What I do believe is that tonight is the perfect opportunity for Brahe to do whatever he wants without having to worry about anyone seeing him. If the whole of Hadanka is tucked up behind locked doors and strings of garlic, he’s free to do whatever he wants away from prying eyes.’

  ‘So you think Brahe’s in town?’ Felicity asked.

  ‘I think we’re about three steps behind him on whatever bizarre journey he’s on. But Brahe holds the key to finding Alisha and Ox.’

  ‘What about Ursus?’ Sam asked.

  Gerald pulled on his jacket and fished his gloves from the pockets. ‘If you’re lucky you can ask him yourself, tonight.’

  The snow had finally stopped falling.

  Light remnants of cloud dotted the heavens as Gerald, Felicity, Sam and Ruby trekked out of the village. As they left the last of the houses behind, a huge full moon poked above the line of hills ahead and an ethereal glow coloured the sky.

  They wandered in silence. Past tennis courts closed for the season. Beyond a snowbound aero club, the runway a long strip of white. Past a junkyard, where a howl from the resident guard dog startled them.

  ‘Are you sure this is the way?’ Felicity asked Gerald as she re-wrapped her scarf around her neck.

  Gerald trudged on, following the country lane. ‘The sign back there said Hrbitov. I don’t think we’d miss it.’

  ‘Did you notice all the houses back in the village?’ Ruby said. ‘There was a string of garlic hanging in every front window.’

  ‘Superstitions can be stubborn,’ Gerald said. He wrinkled his brow. ‘What’s that smell?’ He turned a suspicious eye to Sam, then grabbed him by the front of the jacket.

  ‘Hey!’ Sam protested. ‘What are you doing?’

  Gerald managed to unzip Sam’s fleece. He pulled open the jacket to reveal a large string of garlic around Sam’s neck.

  Ruby’s glare would have cut glass. ‘You must be joking,’ she said.

  Sam zipped up his jacket, his cheeks burning red. ‘There was a spare one in Stephanie’s shopping basket as we snuck out,’ he said. ‘It’s not doing anyone any harm.’

  ‘Unless they’re downwind of you,’ Gerald said, screwing up his nose.

  Sam was unrepentant. ‘Well, that’s one thing we don’t have to worry about with Brahe,’ Sam said, as they trudged up the hillside.

  ‘What’s that?’ Felicity said.

  ‘He won’t be able to smell us coming.’

  They broached the top of the hill and stopped. The moon hung above the horizon, an enormous yellow disk in the sky. The lightly wooded hillside was carpeted with snow. At the bottom of the hill in the bowl of a valley, lit like a film-set beneath the full moon, nestled the graveyard.

  Ruby pointed, but she didn’t need to. Everyone had already seen it. A path cut across the hill and led straight to the cemetery gates.

  Gerald’s stomach tightened. The words of Mason Green echoed in his ears: I hold genuine fears for the safety of Alisha and Oswald. Gerald had to find his friends. He couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling it was his fault that they were in danger.

  He
raised a finger to his lips. Sound would travel for miles on a night like this. He gave a quick thumbs up and started the downhill journey through the snow.

  The four friends cut a swathe across the hillside until they reached the path to the cemetery. Gerald knew that anyone in the graveyard would be able to see the trail they had left. It stood out like a scar. He hoped that whoever was in the cemetery was too busy to be looking their way—or too dead.

  The gates stood ajar, as if unsure whether their task was to keep intruders out, or occupants in. Gerald shivered as he walked beneath the gothic arch that spanned the entrance. Ruby, Felicity and Sam were close behind.

  Good.

  Gerald needed friends on a night like this.

  Inside the gate the path forked, encircling a forest of gravestones. To the right, the snow was a pristine carpet; to the left, the path was clearly marked with two sets of bootprints.

  Gerald’s breath caught in his throat. Who were they about to find?

  Brahe or Ursus?

  Man or ghost?

  Gerald knew they couldn’t follow the path—they’d be too exposed. He turned to his friends and pointed straight ahead. They’d have to sneak through the labyrinth of gravestones. At any other time, the look on Sam’s face would have had Gerald in fits of laughter. But not this night.

  Gerald stepped from the path and between two gravestones.

  A layer of mist hung low over the ground. It parted like a curtain and welcomed the four souls as they stepped inside.

  The ground was pitched and rutted in corrugations where graves had collapsed under the combined weight of time, earth and sorrow. Headstones lay toppled and tiered like rows of giant teeth. Snow had settled along the tops of the blocks of granite that remained upright, like icing on Death’s birthday cake.

  Gerald moved gingerly between the stones, desperate to make no noise to alert the living, or disturb the dead. He soon lost sight of the paths. The mist closed in. A frozen forest of shadow and death surrounded them.

  Chink-chink-chink.

  The sound was like a metronome—a steady pulse in a place where pulses were not meant to be. Gerald held up his hand. He ducked a glance over his shoulder. Ruby, Felicity and Sam stood like marble memorials. Gerald pointed to a line of gravestones a few metres ahead. He crouched and crept to them, crawling into the shroud of mist. When Ruby, Felicity and Sam had joined him Gerald dared to ease an eye around the corner…

  Two men stood in the moonlight.

  One, wearing a large black coat, was perched on the side of an open grave. The other had shed his jacket, and stood in his shirtsleeves waist-deep in the ground, hacking at the frozen earth with a shovel.

  Chink-chink-chink.

  Gerald stared open-mouthed. The man in the coat turned his head a fraction—just enough for the moonlight to glint off his silver nose.

  ‘This is hopeless,’ the man with the shovel said. It was Pugly. His words came in pants of exhaustion. ‘This ground isn’t giving up any secrets.’

  Brahe glared down at him. ‘Dig,’ he commanded.

  Then Brahe swivelled his head towards Gerald, as if he had heard something.

  Gerald froze, half his head still poking out from behind the gravestone. A collar of mist gathered at his neck.

  ‘What was—’ Brahe began.

  Then the shovel blade hit wood.

  It was a clear, hollow sound. Like a knock on a door. A door that was never meant to be opened.

  ‘This is it!’ Pugly doubled his efforts with the shovel, clearing the soil from what must have been an ancient coffin.

  Brahe peered down from the edge of the hole. When the last of the dirt was removed he extended a hand and hauled Pugly out. The smaller man landed on his backside in a pile of freshly dug soil.

  ‘Wait there,’ Brahe said.

  Then he jumped into the grave.

  His heavy boots crashed through the coffin lid, splintering it into shards. The impact catapulted a skeleton upright, as if it had been shaken awake by the shock arrival. The skull bobbled on the top of the spine, silently protesting the intrusion.

  Pugly smothered a cry. His right hand clutched at the cross that hung around his neck.

  Brahe ignored his companion and batted the skull to one side. It landed at the smaller man’s feet, its sightless eyes staring at him accusingly.

  Brahe plunged both fists into the coffin and fished around among the ribs and vertebrae. Then his hand closed on an object. He pulled it up to his face and nodded before shoving it deep inside his overcoat.

  ‘Here, give me a hand up.’

  Pugly struggled to help him out of the hole. Brahe dusted himself down and tossed the shovel to his companion. ‘Fill it in,’ he said.

  As the smaller man set to work, Brahe dug into his pocket and retrieved the item he’d taken from the grave. He held it to the moonlight. Gerald caught a glint of metal.

  Then, from behind him, a pile of snow tumbled from a branch and hit the ground.

  Whether it was the movement or the sound, Brahe looked up. His face was as dark as murder. He pushed the stolen item into the folds of his coat, and in the same movement pulled out a handgun.

  Gerald whipped his head back and pressed himself into the gravestone. He shot a warning look to Ruby, and mimed a gun with his hand. Ruby’s eyes popped.

  Then there were boots scuffling through snow and the heavy breathing of a man on edge.

  Gerald tilted his head to look to the black sky. The business end of the barrel of a gun appeared over the edge of the gravestone just centimetres away, moving like a ship into port.

  Brahe was right above them.

  Gerald held his breath, biting the inside of his cheek.

  Then the bulbous end of a large metal nose hovered above. Gerald stared up into two carefully moulded silver nostrils. To his astonishment, he saw that the silversmith had etched in individual nose hairs. The whiskers on Brahe’s chin bristled. If Brahe should glance down, it would all be over.

  Then Gerald understood. The silver nose was blocking Brahe’s sight. The reflection from the moonlight was shining up into his eyes, obscuring his downward vision. All Gerald had to do was keep perfectly still, and wait…

  After a long moment, Brahe retreated. Gerald allowed himself a slow, silent intake of air. He glanced across to Ruby. Her eyes were still wide.

  ‘It’s done.’ The sound of a spade patting down earth floated to them. Brahe’s voice cut the night air. ‘Come. We have work to do.’

  Gerald tensed. If the two men came back their way, there was nowhere to hide. But the sound of boots crunching through snow receded as Brahe and Pugly made their way out to the path. Within a minute, the graveyard had returned to silence.

  Gerald placed a finger to his lips and indicated for Ruby, Sam and Felicity to stay put. He poked his head around the side of the gravestone. Then he stole out into the night.

  It took Ruby just five seconds to break cover and follow him. Sam and Felicity were only a second behind.

  Snow had started falling again, already covering Pugly’s handiwork. Gerald stood before the dirt mounded on top of the freshly covered grave.

  ‘Will you look at that,’ Sam said. He pointed to the headstone on the neighbouring grave. Carved into a slab of ancient granite was Ursus.

  ‘I guess he didn’t go looking for his daughter this year,’ Felicity said.

  Sam unzipped his jacket and gave the string of garlic a jiggle, releasing a fog of fumes. ‘Maybe he’s still hibernating,’ he said.

  The headstone on the desecrated gravesite tilted sharply backwards. Gerald leaned across the pile of earth and wiped away a layer of snow. What he revealed made them all shudder.

  A single name, carved centuries before.

  BRAHE.

 
Chapter 28

  ‘How many graves does one man need?’ Sam said. ‘And still be walking around? I mean, how dead do you have to be to need two graves?’

  ‘Not dead enough to stop you digging them up, apparently,’ Ruby said. She aimed a kick at the mound of dirt.

  Gerald cleared more snow from the bottom of the headstone. ‘Look, it’s got a date on it,’ he said. ‘1627. But didn’t Brahe die before that?’

  ‘I think the information at the castle said around 1601,’ Felicity said. ‘So this is a different Brahe?’

  ‘Whoever it is, or was, our Brahe stole something from his grave,’ Gerald said. ‘Something small and made of metal.’

  ‘Spare nose?’ Sam said.

  Ruby clipped her brother over the ear. ‘Enough with the nose jokes,’ she said.

  Sam rubbed the side of his head. ‘Well if we’re going to find out what it was, we better get after Brahe and his buddy before we lose them.’

  They headed straight to the path, and saw fresh footprints leading back towards the gates.

  ‘Hey Gerald?’ Sam said, boots crunching on ice.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Won’t Brahe see the trail we left in the snow getting down here.’

  The path curved. The arched entry was just ahead.

  Gerald considered the question for a second. ‘If he looked that way, I guess he would,’ Gerald said.

  ‘Well, don’t you think that’s a bit risky?’ Sam said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He’s not stupid. He’s sure to notice a trail that wasn’t there when he came over the hill.’

  Gerald walked on. ‘He was in a hurry to get going. Brahe and his precious time. I don’t think he’ll see it.’ They reached the gates and Gerald looked up the rise. ‘See?’ he said, turning to Sam, ‘The snow is already covering—’

  Gerald stopped at the sight of Brahe holding a gun to Sam’s left temple.