Jack Shian and the King's Chalice (8 page)

Petros gently released Jack’s grip on the goblet and set it down. “You can have more later if you want some,” he said. “Ossian, can I have a word?”

The pair stepped away from the table for a few moments. When they returned, Ossian pushed the goblet further away from Jack.

“Mebbe it’s a bit strong. I just thought it would help you after the wrestlin’.”

Jack’s head was not ringing so much now. He looked at Rana and Lizzie, and smiled weakly.

“I’ll be all right. Back’s a bit sore, that’s all.”

Ossian sat and looked at Jack. “You sure you’re all right? Cosmo was really impressed wi’ the way you kept gettin’ back up. He thinks you’ll bring us luck tonight.”

“What d’you mean?” asked Jack, slowly starting to get his thoughts in order. “Luck for what? And what was all that stuff about a mascot?”

“We’re goin’ to France for a game o’ Shian football. We do it every year, to play for the King’s Cup.”

“But we’re starting work tomorrow,” said Jack. “We can’t go anywhere else today.”

“Tonight, you mean.” Rana was getting annoyed. “We should’ve been at the castle ages ago.”

“It’s just a game o’ football,” said Ossian. “Cos-Howe against the Claville boys. They’ve been doin’ it for years. ’Course, the Stone bein’ back has made the journey a lot easier.”

“We’re already late,” Lizzie sided with her sister. “What’ll Mum think?”

“I’ll send a grig to let her know we’re OK,” said Ossian. “The grig can take the bags as well.”

“How will a grig carry all our bags?” asked Rana incredulously.

“Wi’ a charm, o’ course,” replied Ossian testily. “Now, has anyone got anythin’ to pay her?”

Petros reached into his pocket and took out a tiny coin. “Is that enough?” he asked.

“That’s fine. I won’t be long.”

Ossian, however, was gone for ages. The party continued, and every now and then someone would come up and compliment Jack on his courage. Jack’s back still ached, but the glow of the praise had a remarkably painkilling effect. He took another sip of the wine, and this time it did not burn his mouth.

Jack was basking in the unaccustomed feeling of being praised for his bravery, when one of the Cos-Howe group came up. Expecting another compliment, Jack looked up eagerly. His anticipation, however, was misplaced.

“Kids” snarled the youth, and turned on his heel.

Jack blinked in astonishment.
What was all that about?

Lizzie began to fidget, asking repeatedly what time it was. Petros tried to sound as if he was in control.

“I think the castle’s about two miles away, but we could easily get lost. It’ll be getting dark soon. Why don’t we just hang out with Ossian and go and watch the game?”

“How are we getting to France?” asked Rana. “That’s a long way. I want to go home.”

“Ossian said the Stone had made the journey easier,” stated Petros. “That’s got to be worth trying.”

There followed a heated discussion about the rights and wrongs of travelling to France. Eventually, Petros said to his sisters, “All right, you two can try and get back on your own. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’ll get lost, and then what will you do?”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” said Jack encouragingly. “How often will we get the chance to do this again?”

Ossian returned and informed them that a grig had been despatched to tell Aunt Katie that they were all all right. The music had died down, and Jack could see that people were starting to drift towards the great wooden door.

“How are we getting there?” he asked.

“Horse and hattock!” replied Ossian.

Emerging through the great wooden door, Jack saw that about thirty people had congregated in the entrance chamber. Ossian was busy explaining to Petros about the history of the game against Claville. Rana and Lizzie followed reluctantly.

Cosmo, organising people into small groups, caught sight of Ossian.

“Can you get the others to France all right? You’re good with horses.”

Ossian indicated that this was no problem. He ushered them together to face the side wall of the chamber, ensuring they were all holding hands. Holding up his own right hand against the rock wall, he whispered, “
Effracto.
”

A section of the rock wall opened away from them, like a hinged door.

“Come on, quickly!” snapped Ossian.

Stepping smartly through the doorway, they changed back to human sizes again.

“You don’t get very long,” explained Ossian. “That’s why you do it in small groups. But we need to be human-size to get the horses.”

“Where are we getting the horses from?” Rana’s excitement at the prospect of riding was enough to make her forget her earlier concerns.

“Down here.” Ossian set off at a smart pace.

After crossing a couple of streets, they found themselves in a part of the city that was not built up. Around them to the left and right appeared to be grassland, and ahead of them was a hill.

“That’s Arthur’s Seat!” exclaimed Petros as he looked up.

“The back o’ it,” corrected Ossian. “Come on, it’s no’ far.”

“Can’t we get home from here?” asked Lizzie. “I think I can remember the way.”

Petros looked at the rising rock face in front of them. “No, we came down a different part of the slope. Anyway, you can’t work the charm to get into the square yet.”

Lizzie followed on, sulkily. Rana hung back a little, and left her alone. Skirting round the base of Arthur’s Seat, they came to a low wall in deep shadow. Jack could just see that about twenty others were crouched down at the wall. Cosmo held his forefinger up to his lips. Dutifully, they fell silent, tiptoeing forward quietly.

“Three of us’ll go in,” stated Cosmo. “Ten horses should be enough.”

“Ten horses for twenty-five of us?” whispered Rana.

“Shhh! Keep your voice down,” hissed Ossian. “You’ll see.”

He followed Cosmo and one other as they vaulted the low wall.

“Where are the others?” said Jack. “There was more than this in the entrance hall.”

“Dunno,” Petros said blankly. “Maybe they’re going another way.”

“Are we just going to take the horses?” asked Lizzie.

“Are you still complaining?” retorted her brother.

“But taking them is stealing.”

“Oh, unlike your ‘finding’ things up at the castle,” said Petros. “Anyway, we’re only borrowing them. Ossian said they’ll be back before dawn.”

“Dawn?” exclaimed Lizzie. “We’re not staying up all night, are we?”

“’Course not. I just meant they’ll be back in their stables before the humans know they’ve gone.”

Jack was wondering what it would be like to stay up all night, when a low whistle from behind the wall made him start.

“Come on. You and me’ll go together,” whispered Petros. “Ossian’ll take the girls.”

“D’you mean I don’t even get my own horse?” demanded Rana.

“Can
you
make it fly?” asked her brother sarcastically, as two horses came sailing silently over the wall.

“Up you get,” said Ossian. He indicated to Rana to leave a space for Lizzie. Mounting quickly, Rana edged back on the saddle-less horse and helped her less confident sister up.

“Hold tight to my belt,” said Ossian.

Jack and Petros both vaulted onto the back of the second horse. At a signal, all the horses proceeded forward at a trot along the base of Arthur’s Seat. The trot quickly became a canter, then a gallop. As each mount reached full speed, its lead rider called out, “Horse and hattock!”

The sudden rise startled Jack. He gripped Petros’s belt with all his might as the chilly wind whipped past him. Slowly, Jack got used to the sensation of speed and cold, and dared to open his eyes. Petros, holding tight to the horse’s mane, looked around occasionally to check Jack was all right.

After thirty minutes, the horses began to descend. Looking down, Jack saw a trail of lights, a flame circle at its head. Within minutes, they had all landed in a small field ringed with Shian bearing torches. The horses were shuddering with the fear or thrill of the experience, but none made any sound. Each lead rider led his horse towards a small enclosure by the edge of the field. Left with some hay, the horses appeared none the worse for their flight.

“How did you like that?” asked Ossian, smiling.

Rana hugged him in reply. Lizzie, relieved to get down out of the cold wind, mumbled indistinctly. In fact, on ground level it was a pleasant summer’s night.

“That was brilliant.” Petros’s eyes were gleaming. “What a rush, Jack!”

Jack
had
grown used to the flight, but still had a nagging feeling that he should have enjoyed it more.

“Welcome,
mes amis
!” A tall dark-haired man shook Cosmo’s hand. “Are you in good form for tonight’s game?”

“You’re in for a surprise, Henri.” Cosmo eyed him steadily. “We’ll be taking the cup home with us tonight.”

“Ah, ever the optimist,” replied Henri happily. “Do you need time to get ready, or shall we start?”

Glancing round at the rest of the Cos-Howe group, Cosmo turned back to Henri. “Whenever you like.”

Henri climbed onto the stone wall and signalled for silence.

“My friends, welcome to our game. Tonight we celebrate the five hundred and thirty-eighth match between Claville and Cos-Howe. I am pleased to see that our visitors have brought some young supporters along. For their benefit, our ancient town has two stone gateways, one north, one south. The team who scores first wins. Players may fly; charms and hexes must last no longer than two Shian minutes and must not cause lasting damage. Please disturb our human hosts as little as possible. We play for the honour of lifting the King’s Cup.”

Henri drew a sceptre from his cloak and sketched a thin line of flame in front of him, and whispered, “
Calixignis!
”

To Jack’s astonishment the flickering flames created the outline of an ornate goblet. A great cheer greeted its appearance.

“Wow!” exclaimed Petros. “They must play for a fire cup each year.”

“Yes, it is a copy,” said a Claville player. “The real King’s Cup disappeared years ago. They say one day the ghosts who made it will return, when the Cup is found.”

“Grandpa didn’t believe the King’s Cup existed,” stated Jack. “He said it was just a story about making the Stone’s power stronger.”

“It’s not much use if it’s only a fire copy,” said Lizzie huffily.

“But it proves there is a real Cup – or at least was. You can’t have a copy of something that never existed. That could be really powerful if we got it.”

“Yeah, and really bad if the Brashat got it. Remember what they did at midsummer.”

“Look at those markings,” said Rana, indicating the decorations on the cup. “I’ve seen that pattern somewhere before.”

“In accordance with our rules, the visitors may choose which gate they will defend,” announced Henri.

“We’ll take the north end,” replied Cosmo. “Who’ll look after our mascots?”

“My brother Philippe will take them. They will get a good view from the town hall tower.” He motioned to a lad of about fifteen, who came forward.

“My cousin should go too,” said a dark-haired youth from the Cos-Howe group. “He’s not old enough to play.”

Jack recognised the youth who had snarled at him back at Cos-Howe. Next to him stood a young lad about his own age. Cosmo strode up to the man who had spoken and hissed, “Who said you could bring your cousin, Grulsh?”

“Ossian’s brought along some kids.” Grulsh shrugged. “What’s one more?”

Realising that a public argument was not in his team’s best interests, Cosmo merely replied, “I’ll see you after the game.”

“I’m Fenrig.”

The youngster stepped forward and stared at Jack and Petros. The statement had carried no hint of friendliness, and Jack experienced a strange heart-sinking feeling. Had he seen Fenrig somewhere before?

Requesting them all to follow, Philippe led them hastily to the town square, on one side of which was an imposing building.

“
La mairie
,” Philippe explained. “Our town hall.”

The humans seated at cafés around the square took no notice of the group of youngsters as they approached the building.

“Around the side.” Philippe led them around the corner of the building and touched a stone in the wall, about five feet from the ground. The outline of a door appeared, Philippe uttered a charm, and the door opened.

“Upstairs,
vite!
” He ushered them inside.

At the top of the stone stairway, Philippe led them across a small room. Opening the full-length windows, they stepped onto a balcony overlooking the town square.

“From here we can see much of the town,” explained Philippe.

“Pretty small town, I’d say,” whispered Petros out of the corner of his mouth.

Streetlights around the town square illuminated the café areas. Looking down, Jack could see the humans sipping their drinks and chatting.

“The north gate.” Philippe gestured to his right. “And over there,” he pointed in the opposite direction, “we will defend the south gate.”

At a distance of perhaps a hundred yards in each direction was the outline of a stone gateway. Streetlamps illuminated a small square in front of each.

“Here come the captains.”

Henri and Cosmo were marching into the square. Between them strode a tall old man in a long robe, who carried a slim leather-bound book under his arm. Behind them were three members of each team. Jack recognised Oobit, Gandie and Radge.

“The man in the grey robe, he is Matthew, the referee,” explained Philippe.

“Is he from Claville, then?” asked Rana. “That’s not fair.”

“No, he visits here now and then. They say he is over a thousand years old.”

The referee held up a sceptre, and a glow lit up the whole square. Jack experienced a strange feeling he knew he’d felt before. He looked down. The hubbub of café chatter had ceased. As the sky brightened to that of a late summer’s evening, Jack recalled the climb up to Falabray.

Henri and Cosmo stood facing each other, with their teammates behind them. Matthew spoke briefly then threw the ball straight up into the air. The two captains leapt, but Cosmo got there first. Before he even landed, Oobit, Radge and Gandie had hexed the four Claville players in what was clearly a well-rehearsed strategy.