Jack Shian and the Destiny Stone (10 page)

“Tamlina had the Raglan stone, didn’t she?” said Rana thoughtfully. “When we first saw her she talked about it – when she came out of her trance.”

“I think my dad was trying to get it when he was captured by the Grey,” added Jack. “But I don’t think he ever told Grandpa, because he didn’t seem to know about that.”

“I’ve heard o’ the Raglan stone. It’s special,” said Ossian wistfully.

“Well, that’s more than the Congress then,” said Jack. “Grandpa doesn’t even believe it exists; and Iain Dubh didn’t know about it either.”

“If the Raglan was Tamlina’s, Malevola must have taken it when she killed her,” said Lizzie. “Only Malevola can’t have had it when Jack killed her …”

“When
I
killed her, you mean,” said Rana indignantly.

“You just finished her off,” interjected Jack. “Anyway, if Malevola’d had it on the giant’s bridge we’d never have defeated her. She must’ve left it on Tula. And now we’ve got to get it back.”

“Where
is
Tula?” asked Lizzie, straining to keep the exhaustion out of her voice.

“Way off the Cape Wrath coast,” said Ossian. “But it’s impossible to find; it’s always covered in cloud. No two maps agree where it is.”

“Dad said something about a bridge.”

“The Bridge o’ Impossibilities?” said Ossian scornfully. “If there’s anythin’ less safe than sailin’ to Tula, it’s usin’ that bridge to get there. It’s no’ for the likes o’ us. You’d need special powers to make that work.”

Morrigan stroked Ossian’s arm tenderly, and he turned and gave her a kiss.

Rana nudged Lizzie, and mimed ‘I’m-going-to-be-sick-I’ve-got-a-finger-down-my-throat’.

“Iain Dubh said something about dark magycks,” said Jack, smiling at Rana’s mime. “But that’s for Unseelie. We couldn’t use that; we’d be dismissed by the Congress.”

Doubts gnawed away at Jack. If his father and grandfather were arguing, what chance had they of keeping everything together? He looked around, but couldn’t see either of them. The rest of the Ilanbeg crew seemed to be enjoying the festivities. Some had mixed with the HebShian, and were sharing stories and songs. Ishona approached with a jug.

“Hallows’ Day special,” she announced, pouring a little into the goblet in front of each person. “We’ll have a toast.”

Jack noticed that the jug didn’t seem to get any emptier, despite Ishona pouring out liberal quantities. When everyone at the tables had a goblet-full, Iain Dubh strode up.

“A special toast for Hallows’ Day: Toussin gloria!” He raised and drained his goblet.

Encouraged, Jack swigged his goblet back. As the bitter taste hit the back of his throat, he spluttered. The room began to swim, and his vision blurred.

A roaring sound, like the loudest traffic noise Jack had ever heard.

Jack saw a blurred Rana and Lizzie fall off the bench.

Then …
birdsong
?! Then … silence; and darkness.

When Jack came to, he was lying on a low bed in a darkened room, covered by a thin blanket. A small candle beside his bed threw a dim glow, and he could just make out another bed a few feet away. Petros lay, snoring gently. With a sudden sense of panic, Jack’s hand went up to his neck.
Phew!
Tamlina’s ring was still there, holding the
Mapa Mundi
.
They didn’t find it. That’s something.

Jack tried to sit up, but immediately regretted it. His head thumped.

What’s going on? Where are we?

As if in answer, he heard Rana’s urgent whisper.

“Jack! Can you hear me?”

“Rana? Where are you?”

“It’s like a prison cell. There’s two beds, and a door.”

“Is Lizzie there?”

“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 would 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?

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.