Maddigan's Fantasia (35 page)

Timon stood apart from the Fantasia, a ghost on the edge of the bush, as Garland told her story, with Boomer interrupting, pointing and adding bits that Garland did not know about. (‘I looked into the power book screen and this – this
thing
looked back at me.’)

At the end of it all, Yves looked over at Timon then back to Garland. ‘How can you prove any of this?’ he asked mildly, and Timon spoke for the first time.

‘Look!’ he said, and, tugging the scarf away from his neck he stepped forward a little, wincing at the stronger light of the fire
and the Fantasia lanterns. Everyone could now see green scales, spreading up from under his collar, covering his throat and neck, creeping up onto his cheeks, and into the hair at the back of his head. Just for a moment his eyes shone green. ‘Look!’ he said again in a different voice, and they could all see him gritting his teeth and struggling until the greenness died out of his eyes once more. ‘Kill me! Kill me quickly,’ he said, choking. And the Fantasia burst into one of their great, sprawling arguments.

‘Vote on it! Vote on it!’ yelled old Shell, but Yves held up his hand. ‘We
don’t
harm a member of the Fantasia,’ he said. He glanced sideways at Maddie. She looked down into Garland’s eyes, and then they both looked towards Yves and nodded. ‘It’s our code!’ said Yves. ‘But all the same, we’ve got to protect ourselves. Let’s see what we can come up with.’

Amongst the rusting pieces of car, the old refrigerator and the other strange leftovers on the edge of the clearing was an old iron post rising from among the weeds and ferns. Tane and Yves chained Timon to the post.

‘It’s just to stop this Nennog of yours getting too impulsive with you. And it’s not hurting you, is it?’ asked Tane, padlocking the chain.

‘It’s very thoughtful bondage,’ Timon replied, putting up his unbandaged left hand, his scaly hand, to touch the scales on his throat. ‘They’re spreading,’ he said. ‘They’ve spread since this morning.’ He looked over at Eden, watching him with a mixture of distress and concern. ‘I hate to admit it but you’ve been the clever one,’ he told him.

‘You’ll get over it. We’ll save you!’ Eden cried. ‘At least we can
talk
about it now.’

‘Well, I’m in the right place,’ said Timon. ‘If I turn into some sort of lizard, there’ll be work for me in this Fantasia. Maybe people will pay to see me.’ And then he recoiled, straightening
himself against the post and crying out in pain. ‘It’s such a fight!’ he screamed. ‘And he hates it when I try joking.’

Eden took a few steps towards him, but Maddie grabbed his collar and yanked him back again, shouting at him to keep clear.

Eden turned towards her. ‘But it might be all right!’ he cried. ‘We’ll get to Solis with that converter, and …’ he turned back to Timon ‘… and when they get it installed and working it will change the whole future, won’t it? There mightn’t even be a Nennog any more, and then …’

‘There mightn’t be any of us either,’ said Timon. ‘Good thing too.’

Garland watched from beside Yves, feeling strangely comforted by his height and strength.

‘Are we leaving him here?’ she asked.

‘Just for two or three days,’ Yves said. ‘It’s what he told us to do. We’re leaving food and water, and we’re taking all those communicators and things he had with him. We’ll reach for Solis, we’ll pass over the converter and then we’ll come back for him. But we’ve got to get there first.’

‘I could wait with him,’ said Garland, but Yves shook his head.

‘What if that monster succeeds in taking him over?’ he said. ‘And we don’t know what’s ahead of us. We might need every single Fantasia person, if we want to move quickly, and then there’s your mum. Maddie wants you beside her every moment of the day from now on. No more sneaking off. No more running away.’

Garland moved cautiously towards the post and to the chained Timon. ‘I don’t know,’ she said feebly.

‘None of us do,’ said Timon, smiling a little.

Behind her the weary Fantasia people were climbing up into their vans, hooking their lanterns over the van doors, getting themselves ready to set off yet again even though it was the middle of the night.

Timon suddenly twisted and cried out wordlessly, then relaxed again. He looked at Garland, gave her a curious, collapsed smile … but she knew it was still Timon who was smiling at her. There was nothing of the Nennog in that expression. ‘Will you still love me when I’m a monster?’ he asked, and laughed breathlessly.

Garland stepped forward. The scaly hand rose as if to grasp her but he hit it away with his other hand, and it fell to his side once more, the chain ringing.

‘Garland!’ Maddie was calling from the running board of their van. ‘Now! Now!’

‘You’re not a monster,’ Garland said to Timon. ‘I can still see you. I know you’re there.’

And at that moment there was a sudden scream. Goneril!

‘Yves! Yves!’ she was calling. Garland turned and saw her scuttling from her van to Maddie’s.

‘She’s gone!’ she was screaming. ‘She’s gone again!’

Boomer came racing over to where Garland stood, staring in confusion. ‘Did you know about it?’ he shouted. ‘Did you?’

‘Hey, I don’t know much about anything any more,’ Timon said weakly.

‘What’s happened?’ Garland cried.

‘Jewel’s gone!’ Boomer shouted back. ‘She was in Goneril’s van and now she’s gone again. It must have been Ozul and Maska!’

Yves came running towards them, with Byrna and Nye at his heels. ‘Guard him!’ he cried. ‘That’s all we can do right now. Don’t listen to any story he might tell you. Just guard him.’

Garland looked up at Timon, saw his weary face turning towards her and saw, just for a second, the greenness and the convulsion as the Nennog tried to reach back through time and take him over. ‘Jewel,’ he sobbed, struggling in his chains. ‘Jewel.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Garland said. ‘I found her once. I’ll find her again.’ And off she ran.

We have to find Jewel,
Garland wrote. But she was not writing in her book. She was writing in her head as she pulled her tough boots on.
I am scribbling my thoughts in my mind – there isn’t time to write. We have to go and search again for Jewel. I’ll write it down properly later
.

And then she set off into that very early morning.

The Fantasia had never felt as disconnected – as alien – as this. Garland looked over to check on Timon. There he was, chained, and even from a distance she could see his golden princely hair hanging limply down around his ears. Garland felt sure that if he tried to brush or comb it, it would come away with the comb, leaving him completely bald. And then, she thought, the green scales would creep up and cover his whole head. Perhaps they were doing this already.

Nye was sitting at a small distance from Timon guarding him. As Garland watched Boomer came sidling up, looking apprehensive but curious too.

‘Don’t get too close,’ Nye warned him. Timon’s eyes opened. He stared at Boomer then grinned a grin which had something of his old teasing grin about it, but was also somehow unpleasant too. At that moment, almost as if it had been called on to take part in an act, a fly began to buzz around Timon.

SNAP! It was over almost before Garland could be sure of what she was seeing. Timon’s lips had parted, and a thin green tongue had shot out and flicked the fly into Timon’s mouth. Then he looked over at Boomer. ‘Hey! Want to join me for breakfast?’ he asked.

Boomer stepped back. Garland stared at Timon and he stared back too. ‘I did warn you,’ he said at last.

‘We’re having a little parley,’ she said. ‘And we’re going to search for Jewel.’

Then she turned and walked away beside Boomer, leaving Timon chained there.

There they all were – clowns and acrobats, tumblers, trapeze artists, and a tightrope walker – all getting ready to search and shout their way through the surrounding countryside. ‘My Jewel,’ Goneril was crying. ‘I should have fought them harder.’

‘You did your best.’ (Maddie was trying to comfort her.) ‘Face it you’re not as young as you used to be.’

‘I’m tough though,’ Goneril cried indignantly. ‘I’m a tough old chook!’

‘Listen! Listen!’ Yves shouted. ‘We can’t all set off searching for Jewel. Some of us have to go over there to Solis. We just have to carry that converter to the Duke, now, now,
now!
Tomorrow is the summer solstice … the longest day.’ And now, within easy walking distance they could see Solis, new towers being built, old ones being repaired, a flow of people going towards the gates, a flow of people coming away.

The voices broke out once more, everyone offering some idea about what to do next.

Garland was, perhaps, the only silent one. She had no idea what the Fantasia should be doing. She knew that Yves was right. The Duke must have that converter they had struggled so hard to bring to him by the summer solstice. He absolutely must have it! Yet Jewel must be found. She absolutely must be found. As she looked from face to face she was distracted once again. Boomer! Where was Boomer?

He was not difficult to find. He was with Timon again, talking to him. Garland could see his lips moving. As the Fantasia voices clashed and blended, she strolled back towards Timon herself.

‘At least I don’t look like a lizard,’ Boomer was saying indignantly.

‘Puberty’s hard for all of us,’ Timon replied. ‘Where’s Eden?’

‘Keeping his distance,’ Garland called to him. ‘He’s really unhappy about everything.’

‘… and I don’t eat flies for breakfast,’ Boomer was adding.

‘Flies are pests anyway,’ Timon said, pushing himself forward against his chains – chains which suddenly seemed as if they might be too fragile to hold him. Boomer quickly stepped back as Garland moved forward. Although she’d seen Timon once already that morning she could not quite hide how alarming and strange she found him. He seemed to read her thoughts.

‘I’m the Beast. You’re the Beauty,’ he said. ‘It’s all a story, isn’t it?’

‘How are you feeling?’ Garland asked him. Deep down she really anxious about him – anxious about the Timon he had used to be – anxious about Timon she still felt to be lurking somewhere in the mixed-up creature chained to the post.

Timon must have seen this, for he seemed to relax a little, and when he smiled at her, the smile that came though the green scales was truly Timon’s smile. ‘I feel all the better for seeing you,’ he said.

‘But watch him!’ said Nye.

‘Yes, do watch me,’ Timon agreed. ‘I’m not reliable.’

‘Just tell me,’ Garland said, ‘have you got any idea where they might have taken Jewel?’

Once again, within a second or two, Timon seemed to change.

‘I could have a few ideas,’ he said. He lowered his voice. ‘Look, if you were to let me go … or if you distracted …’ He jerked his thumb sideways at Nye.

‘No!’ Garland said sternly. ‘No way!’

Timon relaxed once more. ‘She just might come back to us if we wait,’ he said, ‘because Maska and Ozul must have taken her. But they won’t leave me behind, will they?’

‘Things are getting desperate. They might,’ said Garland.

‘Not now I almost count as the Nennog’s child – his son and heir,’ said Timon. ‘And they can’t talk to him any longer. Not without dealing with me first.’

‘And if they want to talk to Timon, they’ll have to talk to
me
first,’ said Nye. Then he pointed to the parley. ‘Look! It seems they’ve got something organized. If I was you, Garland, I’d whisk over there and see if I could find anything useful to do.’

‘They’ll have worked something out,’ Garland told Timon. ‘The Fantasia is really clever with tricks – every sort of trick. Don’t worry! We’ll save you in every way. And we’ll save Jewel too.’

She turned and ran back to the heart of the Fantasia parley, anxious to find out what they had decided.

Of course
they were being watched.

As Maddigan’s Fantasia began to organize once more and the first van began to jolt its way down the remains of an old motorway towards the gates of Solis, Maska watched, grinning to himself. In between the moving vans he glimpsed Timon sitting on the ground, chained to the post. They were leaving Timon behind. Even Nye was going with the vans. Timon’s only guardians would be his chains.

So, when the last van had moved on its way, Maska moved too, jittering towards Timon, like a mixture of scarecrow and a damaged toy man. Most of his hair was gone and the skull beneath it looked as if it were made of rusting iron. When he smiled anyone could see his teeth were missing and one of his eyes had turned upwards in his head so that he seemed to be looking out at the world with one eye, and back into his own head with the other. His movements were jerky – a little incoherent – but for all that he still moved quietly, and Timon, singing quietly to himself, seemed unaware of him until
Maska was only a few steps away from him. Then Timon spoke.

‘Fresh air, trees, solitude. Hey! What could be better?’

Maska came to a sharp but not altogether tidy stop.

‘Enjoying yourself then?’ Maska asked. Suddenly Timon turned to look directly at him and Maska stepped back so wildly it seemed that he might topple backwards. ‘Sir!’ he said. Then he added, ‘You cannot
be
the master.’

‘Where’s my sister?’ Timon asked. ‘And where’s Ozul?’

Maska answered these questions with a question of his own: ‘Where is the communication unit?’

‘Release me, and I might give it back to you,’ Timon answered.

‘I am not here to help you,’ said Maska. ‘You are my master, but without being altogether my master. Not yet!’

Suddenly, in spite of his chains, Timon was on his feet. When he spoke it was in an entirely different voice … a voice filled with a savage thunder. ‘Release him or feel my anger.’

Then, astonishingly, the bushes at the edge of the vanishing road suddenly swished wildly. Out sprang Garland, confronting Maska with a drawn arrow. Maddie … Tane … Eden … suddenly closed in on him all pointing arrows at him.

‘Where is Jewel?’ Maddie cried.

Maska stared at her, then looked back at Timon.

‘How wonderful it is to have friends who care for you. Do you think their tricks and traps worry me? Well, tell them,’ he cried, ‘tell these fools. They can fire their darts as much as they like, but they can’t hurt me.’