Jack Shian and the Destiny Stone (8 page)

“Can’t we use horses, then? Or a low road?” asked Jack plaintively. After the excitement of the cave a long walk was a big anticlimax. And on Hallows’ Eve, too.

“The low roads here aren’t working,” replied his father. “Not even today. And we must move carefully: the local Shian are mostly Seelie, but they’re protective of their world here. Groups on horseback would be seen as hostile.”

“Fenrig says the Shian here are more like Brashat than like us.”

“Well, the island Shian don’t have much to do with the humans any more, it’s true. But not out of animosity. At least, not for a long while.”

“So what’s the story with the flag, then?”

“It’s Shian, only they lost it hundreds of years ago; it’s been kept in Ardmore castle since. We’re banking on it persuading the local Shian of our good intentions.”

“And it’s surrounded by iron?”

“That’s right. The locals would have loved to get it back, but the human family who keep it are canny enough to know how to stop that happening. Also, they have a friendly Urisk.”

“Murkle talked about a Urisk once. They’re pretty fierce, yeah?”

“Most certainly. For some strange reason, some attach themselves to human families. In this case that means the castle has an added defence for the flag.”

“But Caskill can beat him, can’t he? I mean, that’s the whole point.”

Phineas considered his reply. “He’s our best bet.”

Jack’s heart sank. Wasn’t this supposed to be a formality? What if Caskill failed?

The long walk continued after a break for lunch, and by the time the afternoon sun started to dip, Jack was really tired.

“Is it much further? My feet are blistering.”

If Jack was looking for sympathy, he was looking in the wrong place. With a great shout, Caskill began to move swiftly. For hours he had dawdled along, seemingly content to gaze at the autumnal countryside. But now his lumbering pace quickened to a loping run, and he uttered a series of yells.

“He’s caught the Urisk’s scent,” said Phineas. “It must be out of doors.”

The earth shook as the giant’s heavy footsteps thudded into the ground.

“Our presence here is not going to be a secret for much longer,” observed Telos wryly. “How far’s Ardmore?”

“A quarter of a mile. Ten minutes to walk it.”

“We’ve better get a move on, then.”

The company broke into a run. Rounding a bend, Jack saw his father and the others who had sailed up from Ilanbeg. Silhouetted behind them, in the grey evening light, was the castle, atop a cliff that fell sheer to the beach. And on the foreshore were Caskill and the Urisk, locked in battle.

Half human, half goat, standing eight feet tall, the Urisk’s long hair swept from side to side as it dodged the branch which Caskill swung around his head. The giant’s swipes were fast and powerful, but lacked precision, and the Urisk hopped and skipped nimbly out of the way each time.

“Caskill’s bound to get him,” said Petros with satisfaction.

“I’m not so sure,” replied Rana. “He’s clumsy – look.”

Caskill raised the branch above his head, and brought it down with a crashing blow, but once again the Urisk avoided this, hopping into the shallow water. Then, seeing Caskill overstretched, it leapt forward, snarling ferociously. Its jaws locked onto Caskill’s neck, and the giant dropped the branch. Caskill pulled at the beast’s body, trying desperately to tear it away, but it was obvious he was unable to breathe. Finally, with a thundering swipe and thump, he succeeded in dislodging the Urisk, which fell to the side, yelping and whimpering.

The two creatures circled each other now, each looking for an opening. Blood spurted from Caskill’s neck into the oncoming waves, and also trickled from his chest and sides, where the Urisk’s hooves and claws had slashed him. The Urisk dragged one leg as it circled cautiously.

“Won’t the humans hear them?”

“They can’t see the beach from the castle,” replied Phineas. “They’ll put any strange noises down to the wind.”

“Can’t we help?” Jack tugged his father’s sleeve.

“Against that thing? We’ve no chance. Look at the size of him.”

“Won’t your sceptre work?”

“Not here. The islands just don’t work for us.”

Jack looked with dismay at the two battling figures. Although taller, Caskill was slow and lumbering; and he looked exhausted already. But if he didn’t get past the Urisk, he’d no chance of getting into the castle.

Please. It’s what
must
happen!

Jack felt powerless. And when the Urisk leapt again, his heart sank.

The Urisk knocked Caskill to the ground, and began to tear noisily at his throat. Caskill flailed at the beast’s body, landing punch after punch. The Urisk, though savagely wounded by these blows, still clung on. Caskill’s swipes became weaker …

No!

Jack closed his eyes and concentrated hard.

Marco taught me to think positively. To get the Kildashie out, we need the Hebseelies’ help; and we can’t get to them without the flag. So we
must
get that flag. Which means Caskill must win this fight … He will win it! I know he will!

A screech from the air distracted Jack, and he looked up. An eagle!

The great bird swooped down and fastened its claws on the Urisk’s face. The Urisk, startled by this sudden change of tactics, yelped in pain and released its grip on Caskill’s throat. Thrashing with its claws, it succeeded in freeing its face from this unwanted attention. But one eye had gone; and the eagle’s retreat was just momentary. In a flash it had jumped forward, locking its claws into the Urisk’s remaining eye.

With a great roar the beast fell back, swiping manically at the bird; but the damage was done. Blinded now, and exhausted by the multiple body blows, he tried to crawl away.

Caskill, seeing his adversary weakened like this, found new strength, and stood up. Picking up the Urisk, he flung it hard against a rock. The beast had no time to recover, for Caskill was on it again, grasping and hurling it down again. The Urisk made a final attempt to defend itself, snapping its jaws ferociously. But Caskill was out of range; and, retrieving the branch he had used earlier, he swept it up into the air before bringing it crashing down onto the Urisk’s skull. Blood, bone and brains flew up.

The crowd watching stood up, expectantly. The Urisk lay, lifeless; Caskill, leaning on the branch, gasped in pain and exhaustion. Then he let out a roar that echoed around the bay.

Armina was first to move. She bounded down towards the shore, quickly followed by Phineas and Jack.

“You did it!” yelled Jack as they drew close.

Caskill, still gasping for breath, did not seem to hear. Jack saw with alarm that the charmstone in his chest was hanging loose.

“Will he be all right?” he asked anxiously.

Tutting, Armina drew a jar of paste from her sack, and started to smear this on the wounds on Caskill’s leg.

“I can’t reach his chest or neck; and he’s losing blood! Can’t you get him to lie down?”

Jack stood in front of Caskill and waved to him. A pause. Then Caskill appeared to recognise the tiny figure before him, and he grimaced.

“Lie down!” shouted Jack. “We need to fix your cuts!”

Whether he intended to or not, Caskill now toppled backwards onto the ground. Gilmore ran up, unwinding strips of cloth from his knapsack.

“Let me through!” he demanded. “I’ve got the haemostat bandages!”

He swiftly compressed the worst bleeding points, and tied swathes of bandage around these. The blood, which had flowed freely, now ceased. Armina, making swift work of spreading jyoti paste onto the less severe wounds, muttered under her breath, “If only my sceptre worked properly; then I’d have this fixed in no time!”

The crowd grew around the giant’s recumbent body. He seemed to be sleeping.

“What a fight!” gasped Petros. “Did you see the brains go flying? Wicked!”

“It was the eagle that really helped,” said Jack. “Where’d it go?”

In all the exhilaration of the end of the fight he hadn’t noticed the bird fly off. Now he saw it, perched on a rock not far away. Jack waved at it.

I don’t know why I did that. It’s not like it understands.

The eagle inclined its head, hopped off the rock, and took a few steps towards Jack, its dark brown plumage looking ominous in the fading light. Jack’s mouth went dry. From a distance he hadn’t appreciated how huge this bird was.

I’m no bigger than a lamb to this thing. And it eats them for breakfast.

The bird, however, stopped; then spread its wings out …

Loki’s tricks! They’re enormous!

… and gave a shrill cry, before turning and taking off. Within seconds it was lost to sight.

“It sounded like it was talking to you,” said Rana.

Jack didn’t move. Was that the same eagle which had followed the boats? And what was that tied to its leg?

A rumbling sound from behind him made Jack turn round. Caskill was trying to sit up; the effort was making him splutter and cough. The giant sat for a moment, and stretched his neck. Then, turning, he spat. Copious amounts of phlegm and blood sprayed onto the ground.

“Urrgh!” squealed Lizzie. “That’s gross!”

However, Caskill seemed to feel the better for it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and smiled.

“U’isk.” The grunt had a definite note of satisfaction.

“Caskill, we need you to get the flag now. We must get into the Hebseelie Court by midnight. Can you get to the castle?” Grandpa’s voice was tense, urgent.

Caskill looked up at the castle on the promontory above the shore.

“Ar’mor’.”

“Yes, Ardmore. You must retrieve the Shian flag for us. If you do that, we will give you the charm that makes your stone work.”

Caskill looked down at the charmstone in his chest. The fight had dislodged it, and it hung loose. He looked around anxiously. Then, seeing Jack, he pointed at him.

“Uh!”

Me?

“Come on Jack. He wants you to tell him.” Grandpa reached out and took Jack’s arm, pulling him forward.

“Me tell him?”

“Come on! There’s no time to lose! We must get to the Hebseelie Court!”

Jack stood before the seated Caskill, and spoke in as clear a voice as he could.

“Caskill, I vow that we will give you the charm you need. But please, fetch us the flag. Then you will be free to go.”

Caskill reached forward, and made to pat Jack again. Remembering the last two crashes on his head, Jack’s first instinct was to duck; but he saw that the gesture was kindly meant, and he gritted his teeth.

Thump!

Oww!
Jack screamed inwardly, but determined not to show this. Caskill, satisfied with the arrangement, levered himself into a standing position, and looked up towards the castle. He paused and looked thoughtful (or as thoughtful as a giant can). Then, apparently deciding on his course of action, he set off along the shoreline to where a rough track led up to the castle walls.

“Come along! We’ll wait for him by the bourtree. And the tide’s coming in; we need to get off the beach.”

Grandpa led the crowd past the track Caskill had taken. At the end of the bay, another path led up to a small enclosure, in the centre of which stood a gnarled bourtree.

Fifty Shian was a big crowd to gather around the one tree, but the spot was sheltered, and gave a good view of the castle.

“How does he get in?” asked Jack of his father.

“I’m guessing he’s been in before. He’s certainly the only one here who can brave the iron. None of us would get very far in there.”

“So why’d the humans have the flag?”

“Lost in the mists of time, I’m afraid. They’ve had it centuries, mind. And they’ve even used it in their own battles. It’s their talisman.”

“So why’s it so important to the local Shian?”

“It was theirs to begin with. Or so legend has it. At any rate, it’s the best way we have of gaining an audience with the Hebseelie Court. But I hope Caskill’s not long in there. We’ll need to get to Balbegan by midnight; otherwise the game’s lost.”

It’s not a game,
thought Jack.
I’ve seen the Kildashie. And what the Thanatos are doing is no joke either. We need this.

Twilight faded to night, and a fine drizzle settled on the waiting crowd. Jack shivered.

Some Hallows’ Eve.

Then he remembered that he’d spent most of the last Hallows’ Eve in a tree trunk at Dunvik.

This isn’t so bad, I guess. At least there’s a little moonlight.

But it was a long time before there was any sign of activity. A church bell rang the hours with increasing frequency. Eight o’clock came and went; and nine; and ten.

Jack looked over to where his father and grandfather were conversing with the McCools.
Are they planning an attack?

Eleven o’clock.

If we don’t get it soon, we might just as well admit defeat.

Quarter past.

Out of the gloom came a loud belch, and a growling laugh. Then, lumbering towards them came the figure of Caskill. He swayed gently as he approached, and belched again. In his left hand he proudly carried what looked on him like a small pennant …

The Shian flag!
A cheer went up from the crowd.

… while in his right hand he clutched loaves of bread, two hams, and several bottles of wine.

Caskill flung down his booty, and hiccupped happily.

“He’s drunk!” shouted Armina. “Do you mean he’s been in there having a party while we’ve been out here waiting for him?!”

Grandpa Sandy bent down and scooped up the Shian flag.

“We must get to Balbegan. There’s no time to lose!”

Turning to Jack, Phineas said, “Perhaps you’d give him the charm, Jack? I think he’d like that.”

Caskill had sat down, and was trying to persuade those looking on to share his food. Jack strode up. Despite the gnawing hunger in his stomach, he spoke resolutely.

“Caskill, we thank you for the flag. We must leave and go to Balbegan now. You may go where you wish. The charm you need is ‘Digitalis’. Do you understand?”