Jack Shian and the Destiny Stone (16 page)

“They’re the drowned,” said Cal quietly. “There’s many that neffer reach their destination.”

“What’s your sister so happy about?” demanded Jack indignantly as they passed the skull.

Fenrig didn’t reply. He looked unhappily at the glowing skull, then averted his gaze.

“Bit tough, your sister, isn’t she?” Jack couldn’t help twisting the knife in Fenrig’s unhappiness.

Fenrig’s silence was broken by Cal.

“We’ve some time in here; let’s not argue.”

“Have you done this before, then?” demanded Jack.

“Thiss? Neffer!”

“Then how’d you know about it?”

“Tales are told up and down the length of these islands. I know off your fisit to Ireland.”

“But what d’you know about this bridge? Why’s it take so long to cross it?”

“Time iss different down here, they say. It’s ass long ass it needs to be. We must keep moving. And there are creatures who don’t like anyone using this pridge.”

“How can we get lost if the bridge is going to Tula?” Fenrig butted in.

“The pridge can go anywhere. Did you not think it strange that it happened to be chust where we were? The start and end can be anyplace – safe or dangerous: that’s why you need spirit. Your sister wass right apout that.”

“So why’d she send your mate in the first bubble then? She said he didn’t have it.”

In the gloom, Jack was almost sure he could
hear
Cal blush.

“Ass ye said; she’s tough. And she’s no fool.”

By the time they had walked for …
how long? Let’s see, we were to walk for six hours and rest for one; we’ve done that a few times … oh, a long time, I guess.

Jack found his mind was surprisingly at ease, despite the intense cold. Cal was right: time felt different down here. He was well used to the swaying of the bridge, and the darkness around them.

It’s sort of trance-like: just keep plodding on.
He hummed to himself, one of Arvin’s tunes. The glowing skulls didn’t bother him now. Every now and then one would be attached to part or even all of a skeleton.
But after you’ve seen a few … well …

Jack
was
almost in a trance. The three of them had adopted a steady coordinated pace that meant they were close enough behind his father’s pustula, and far enough ahead of the three HebShian behind them that they weren’t in danger of getting their heels clipped.

Just keep plodding on … step-two-three-four … Just keep plodding on … step-two-three-four …

Jack’s mind began to wander. They’d been going for ages, but he wasn’t hungry, or even particularly tired. He’d got used to his satchel and sword as they swayed with his movements; it was all going swimmingly.

Jack laughed to himself.
Swimmingly
. Fish had got used to the nine pustulas proceeding along the bridge, and swam up close for a look every now and then. Some had even swum alongside for a while. Even in the gloom, Jack had learnt to tell different fish apart. Emerging from his daydream, Jack looked round.

No fish.

None?! It’s almost as if …

Without warning, a flash of navy light struck the bridge, and it swayed alarmingly. Jack was aware of dark shapes moving swiftly around the bridge, but their speed was so great that he had no idea what they were.

Then he saw the lead pustula pierced by three harpoons, and its inhabitants flailing madly as the seawater gushed in.

“Mer-attack!” Iain Dubh’s voice carried along the line.

Jack could see them now. Hideous mutants, there were too many of them to count, and they surrounded the pustulas which halted as one on the bridge.

“Close up!” shouted Iain Dubh, but the pustula inhabitants needed no encouragement.

“Don’t let them pierce the pustulas!” Morrigan’s voice now carried a hint of concern. “Use your sceptres!”

What sceptres?
thought Jack, then looked on with relief as Cal drew an emerald-tipped sceptre from his cloak, and brandished it against the pustula’s inner wall. The emerald glowed, and the nearby merfolk seemed repulsed. The gruesome creatures waved harpoons mockingly, as if inviting the travellers out to fight.

Jack’s relief was temporary, however: the merfolk seemed to be multiplying in number, and Cal could only face one way at a time. The attackers quickly realised that the pustula was vulnerable to its rear, and they swarmed around, keeping Cal guessing. As their boldness grew, so they started to stab their harpoons at the bubble wall … Closer … Cal frantically tried to fend them off … Harpoon ends prodded the pustula wall, but didn’t break it.

That’s a relief.

Then a gush of seawater: one stab had got through.

“Prush the wall!” shouted Cal. “The grease will seal it ofer!”

Jack did as he was instructed, and was thankful to see the hole repair itself. But it was a losing battle. The harpoon thrusts were coming in from several different sides now.

We can’t fend this lot off for ever.

Jack was right. A determined harpoon plunge cut clean though the wall, stabbing Cal through his thigh. He fell, blood gushing from the wound.

“Fix the wall!” shouted Fenrig, handing Cal’s sceptre up to Jack.

The young Brashat dropped to his knees, and scrabbled in his satchel for a moment. Then, removing a strip of cloth, he wound it round Cal’s leg.

“Haemostat,” he said simply, as Jack frantically smeared the inside wall, while moving the sceptre round so that the merfolk were kept at bay.

“There’s too many of them!” shouted Jack. “We can’t keep them away for much longer!”

“Well, what are you supposed to be good at?” demanded Fenrig. “Do that!”

Jack’s mind raced.
No time to use the
Mapa Mundi
now; we know our true path anyway. Tamlina’s ring’s no use, I’ve used my three goes on that
.

True path.
That’s to get the Kildashie out, before they bring a permanent winter; and to do that we must get the Raglan, and get to Novehowe. Marco said it was the right thing.

Then his mind cleared.

Gosol!

He didn’t even have to say the word, although it echoed in his head like a sharp cry. The stunned merfolk looked at one another, unsure what was happening.

But nothing was happening.

Then a blur, as a new shape appeared out of the gloom. Lots of shapes, in fact.

“It’s the selkies!” Fenrig’s voice almost broke with emotion. He looked down at Cal, who smiled weakly back.

The selkies now engaged in combat. Twice the size of the merfolk, they swam powerfully through the attacking force, snapping and biting, brushing aside the harpoons as if they were twigs. Though greater in number, the merfolk soon realised that they were no match for the selkies’ speed and strength, and they beat a hasty retreat.

As the mutant forms disappeared into the gloom, the selkies surrounded the pustulas, examining the inhabitants with interest. In various states of disarray, they were sealing the holes where harpoon thrusts had found their way through, and examining themselves and each other for injuries.

Finding he could stand, Cal got to his feet. The bandage around his thigh looked clean.

“Ye did a grand chob there,” he said to Fenrig. “I’d say ye were well taught.”

“They’re not hard to make,” replied Fenrig.

If Jack hadn’t known him better, he would have said Fenrig was blushing.

“Are you all right?” Phineas’ frantic voice came from the next pustula.

“We’re fine, Dad. The selkies came when I thought of Gosol. That’s amazing! Even underwater!”

“How many are lost?” Iain Dubh’s urgent call came from beside Phineas.

“Tonald iss gone,” said Cal sadly. “They were hit sefferal times – they neffer got a chance to use their sceptres.”

There was no sign of the lead pustula, which had slipped off the bridge and floated down to … wherever.

“And Murdo’s killed: a harpoon got his heart. There was no time to treat him.” Ossian spoke softly.

“I said there were dangers on the bridge!” snapped Morrigan. “Get rid of Murdo’s body; it’ll only slow you down.”

“You mean we can’t even bury him?”

“Don’t be stupid. How can you move the pustula with a dead body in it?”

“Ask the selkies.” Fenrig spoke calmly.

Indeed, the selkies were watching this debrief with fascination. One swam up to Fenrig, and stared at him. Fenrig and Jack stared back in astonishment as the selkie leant forward to show her left shoulder.

“She’s been shot!” shouted Fenrig. “It’s the one we treated back on Soabost!”

The creature inclined her head.

“Can you take our friend?” asked Fenrig. “We don’t want to tip him over the side of the bridge for the fish to eat.”

Two selkies swam to the last pustula, and waited while Ossian and Kedge pushed Murdo’s body through the wall. Cradling the body between them, the two selkies swam away into the darkness.

“Now we must go!” barked Morrigan. “The bridge is not safe for those who linger!”

The eight pustulas started on their way, and Jack was relieved to see that the selkies appeared to form a guard on either side. As they recommenced their regular pace, Jack glanced back at Fenrig.

He got me to call on Gosol. And he treated Cal’s leg; and he got the selkies to take Murdo
away. He’s almost … noble.

Fenrig intercepted Jack’s glance. A half-smile passed over his face.

The thrill of seeing off the merfolk lasted for a while; but after a few hours Jack realised that the end was not in sight. The marching was monotonous, almost hypnotic, and indeed Jack felt at times as if he was almost sleepwalking.

Step-two-three-four … just-keep-plodding-on … step-two-three-four …

Arvin had long since given up playing his squeeze box. The music had helped, even giving them a beat to march to; but he had evidently decided to use his energies for walking. Jack tried singing to himself, but he was too tired to concentrate. He had lost track of how many seventh-hour rests they had had, and his food and water stores were getting low.

We must've travelled miles. It can't be long now …

Jack felt his legs grow weak, and he stumbled. Without room to manoeuvre, Fenrig and Cal fell over him.

“Watch out!”

The pustula swayed on the bridge and threatened to fall over. Effortlessly, two selkies bore the pustula's weight until Jack found his feet again.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, aware that Fenrig was glaring behind his back.

“Just watch your step, lad,” cautioned Cal. “We've a way to go yet. D'ye want me to take the lead a whilie?”

“I need to rest.”

“Yeah, me too,” echoed Fenrig. “We've been going for days.”

“Time's different here, I thought ye knew that.” Cal didn't raise his voice.

“So how much longer?”

“A long way yet. I'll see if Iain Dubh will stop.”

Cal whistled, and in the next pustula Iain Dubh looked back. He seemed to read Cal's mind.

“It's too dangerous. Even the hour rests are too long.”

“They're just lads.”

“No matter. If we stop, we're easy prey. It's not just the merfolk we have to worry about.”

Cal shrugged. “You heard what Iain Dubh said. Just keep the rhythm going. After a while you can do it and sleep too.”

If we're asleep we're not on our guard
, thought Jack.
But I'm too tired to argue.

Step-two-three-four, gotta-keep-go-ing, step-two-three-four …

The pace was relentless, and after a while Jack realised he could no longer actually feel his legs. For ages he didn't dare look down, in case they weren't there.

Why isn't there some kind of charm that can keep us going? Or make us get there? No, mustn't think; blank out thinking … just keep going.

In time it was apparent that Jack and Fenrig were not the only ones to feel exhausted. A growing rumble of discontent came from the other pustulas as time wore on, so that Iain Dubh eventually shouted to Morrigan to halt.

“We can't!” she snapped. “We must keep going.”

“But people are falling over. Let them rest a while.”

“No!” shouted Morrigan.

Her entreaties worked – but only for a while. The stumbling and tripping became more frequent, the oaths grew louder and more bad-tempered as shins were kicked and people were trampled on. Eventually Iain Dubh called a halt.

“You can go on if you want,” he shouted at Morrigan. “The rest of us are having a proper rest.”

Morrigan wailed, an eerie cry that made Jack shiver. It made him think of …

No. No, it couldn't be that.

But the thought was in his mind now, and as he sank down to rest, Jack's mind raced back to the Woods of Keldy. That day when they'd found Tamlina wounded, when he'd first seen Malevola … There was no doubt about it: Morrigan sounded just like her.

Jack looked at Fenrig, but if his old adversary had heard his sister, he wasn't bothered. In fact, he was snoring gently.

“Rest now,” shouted Iain Dubh. “We'll take turns to watch. But when we move, we move on together.”

The selkie guard appeared to understand, although some seemed eager to keep going.

Morrigan shouted and cursed, upbraiding Fergus and Archie within her pustula, but they too had had enough, and dropped down to rest. She was left, fuming impotently.

Why isn't she tired?

Jack felt his eyelids close.

Mmmm, that feels good …

“Arise; go quickly!”

Jack woke to the sound of a sweet voice whispering in his ear. He looked round, but there was nothing to see – at least, not in the pustula. A selkie was hovering outside, peering in intently. Then the voice came again, “Get up! Go now!”

Fenrig jumped, startled by the sound.

And a third time: “Rise quickly!”

It was Cal's turn to be startled. There was urgency, and yet at the same time a strange sense of peace in the words. The selkie continued to hover outside.