Jack Shian and the Mapa Mundi (22 page)

“I'd only hold them back.” Petros squeezed his sister's arm.

Grandpa swiftly tied the young Brashat's arms behind him, and he was pushed unceremoniously over to the tunnel entrance. Petros walked slowly behind Fenrig, holding the rope, with Lizzie bringing up the rear. As they started off down the tunnel, Jack could hear Lizzie complaining to her brother.

“C'mon,” said Jack. “Let's go.”

Flicking the Sphere back into a flag, he tied it around his neck and strode out determinedly onto the column bridge, the sword still tucked into his waistband. As he marched forward, so his stomach lurched upwards – ten times stronger than when leaving the Shian square. The bridge extended swiftly in front of him. The columns seemed smaller – at most two feet across – and they bounced down and up slightly as he stepped on them.

Encouraged, Grandpa Sandy and Rana were quickly behind him, and within seconds the three were running over the curious bouncing bridge. The coastline to their left was several miles away, but as they advanced, so more of the bridge appeared in front of them. And, once they were well out to sea, the columns seemed to be getting thinner and the bridge narrower – not much wider than their feet.

“How long have we got?” asked Rana, anxiously balancing on the narrow bridge.

“Haven't you noticed?” laughed Jack as he looked back at his cousin. “We're giants!” The stretched feeling was … weird. Good … but weird.

Rana stopped for a moment, and looked around. The coast
was
nearer; and there was the occasional boat in the distance, but nothing close enough to guess size.

“Jack's right,” replied Grandpa. “Only giants can use this bridge. We've grown.”

Taking huge leaps over the springy columns, the three made quick progress down the coast. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the Antrim shoreline came into view.

“Can't we rest for a bit?” puffed Rana, slowing down.

“Once we reach the shore,” shouted Grandpa encouragingly.

As the coastline grew bigger, so the columnar shapes beneath them seemed to grow larger.

“We're shrinking!” shouted Jack. “That'll slow us down.”

He pressed on, afraid that the sand timer would run through before they got to the shoreline … and, somewhere, his father. With relief, he saw the coast was just a hundred yards or so away now, but there was smoke there …

He slowed down.

What did the manuscripts say was at the end of the bridge? The pit of torment?

Jack had no time to think further: a flame shot past his head, out to sea. Then another. Soon, the three of them were being assailed by a volley of hurtling balls of fire. A great smoke obscured the end of the bridge.

And then Jack saw them, emerging slowly from the smoke. Five … no, six fiery demons, all like the ones he'd seen … where?

A sickly smell assailed him. What was it?

With a great shudder, he remembered. Phosphan. That meant … Keldy. And Malevola.

Grandpa Sandy had been running just as fast as him. Now he saw his grandfather stumble and fall, twenty yards from the shore, as a fireball caught him on the leg. His sceptre fell, splashing into the water. He groaned loudly.

“Grandpa!” Jack shouted, running and kneeling over him.

The smoke cleared, revealing Malevola on the shoreline, the six demons huddled around her feet. Tall and majestic in the gloomy light, her eyes glared furiously at the three figures on the bridge. She held her sceptre in front of her, a glow emanating from it.

“Miserable creatures!” she thundered. “Did you think you could get past me?” And she brandished the ring on her left hand. Tamlina's ring. It flashed in the rays of the dying sun.

“Murderer!” shouted Jack, taking the sword from his belt.

Malevola cackled, an evil laugh that carried out over the water.

“Pathetic Shian-lings. All you have done is bring the treasure to my hands.”

Malevola held her right arm out towards Jack, and a beam shot out that quickly encased Jack's sword, melting it in seconds, leaving just a short stump. Dropping this, Jack instinctively tried to hide the flag behind him. Jack heard the sound of sobbing.

Grandpa was trying to talk, but the effort was too much. His shoulder and his leg reeked again, the same Phosphan stench that had lasted for weeks after Malevola's attack.

“We're Shian size again, aren't we?”

Jack nodded.

“Show me … the sand timer,” he managed to whisper.

Jack searched in his pocket and drew out the timer.

“Planus!”

The timer still wouldn't turn on its side.

“A timer!” mocked Malevola. “By salt water? And they said you were clever, Sandy of the Stone. Yes, I know your name. I have made it my business to find out about you, and your houseful of brats.”

Like Jack, Rana had cowered down by her grandfather. Now she stood up and faced Malevola.

“You're an evil witch! You don't deserve …”

But she got no further. A demon hurtled a ball of flame at her so quickly that she had no time to respond. Catching the side of her head, it set fire to her hair and knocked her off balance. She stumbled, then ran, screaming, into the sea.

Dumbstruck, Jack peered over the edge of the bridge, but there was no sign of his cousin. He stood up and made to run at the enchantress.

“No, Jack,” his grandfather whispered. “That's what she wants.”

Jack crouched down again, looking across at the shore, where Malevola was making for the bridge.

“She's limping!” he shouted.

“Yes, you foul child. Your hex at Keldy made its mark on me. But if I cannot run to kill you as Malevola, then I will kill you as …”

She held her arms above her head, then swept them both down in an extravagant arc. There was a flash of smoke, and in her place stood a wolfhound. Grey haired and five foot at the shoulder, its mouth slavered and it snarled evilly.

Jack gulped. Uncle Doonya's Kynos hexes were not going to be much use here.

The six demons, each no more than a foot high, cavorted around the huge wolfhound as it started to slink slowly onto the bridge. Never did its eyes leave Jack and his grandfather. Its head slung low and its shoulders rippled as it slinked towards its prey.

Jack looked around him. The bridge stretched back towards St Fingal's cave, but there was no question of outrunning this beast. And Grandpa's sceptre was lost, somewhere under the waves, along with Rana.

As the wolfhound advanced, Jack heard his grandfather's hoarse croak.

“Don't let the devils take me.”

Grandpa? Scared?
Then Jack saw the pain in his grandfather's eyes. No, more than pain: agonised terror. The Phosphan was bad enough, but to be tortured by demons …

The demons were advancing with the wolfhound as it slinked forwards in the last light of the day. Fifteen yards away, twelve … ten …

Demons. But Grandpa had called them devils.

The devil's shoestring!

Jack swiftly tied the flag around his neck and searched his Sintura belt. Gratefully, he hooked his fingers around the tiny wristlet. Slipping it onto his wrist, he pointed his arm at Malevola and shouted, “
Abcanidæ!
”

The wolfhound stumbled, its hind legs caught. Snarling furiously, it tried to jump forward, but its rear legs refused to work, and it slumped onto the bridge.

Great
, thought Jack.
Now I'm supposed to use the jomo bag. But I've only got two kinds of dirt in there – from Dunvik and the island
.

The demons, uncertain for a moment at their leader's immobility, now began to advance on Jack and his grandfather again.

Six of them
, thought Jack.
And I'm out ideas
.

His grandfather's sobs of pain were becoming weaker. Jack looked frantically around. He'd stopped Malevola – again – but still not finished her off. And her demons were about to make short work of him and Grandpa.

“Catch, Jack!”

With a great splash, Rana rose above the water's surface and threw the sceptre at him.

For half a second, Jack couldn't believe it.
She must've held her breath for a minute!
Then he turned the sceptre on the six small demons and uttered, “
Gosol!
”

A bolt shot from the sceptre. The six demons screamed and began to swirl rapidly around. In seconds they were small balls of flame, spinning round so quickly they formed a ring of fire. Then, with a loud scream, the flames rose into the air and arced up and then down, hitting the water beside the bridge with a great hiss of steam. The water bubbled for a moment, then settled.

Jack now aimed the sceptre at the wolfhound as it lay snarling. It tried to get up, and managed to half-rise before collapsing on the bridge again.

“No, Jack,” Grandpa Sandy gasped.

“Spare her?” Rana demanded incredulously as she scrambled onto the bridge. “Finish her off, Jack.”

“The ring. Get the ring back first.”

Rana stooped down and picked up the stump of Jack's sword. She was swiftly on the wolfhound, which snapped and tried to bite her, but it was weak, and she deftly sliced off the paw on which Tamlina's Triple-S ring sat. Slipping the ring off the bloody paw, she held it up triumphantly and asked, “Can I do it? Please? I saw a really good hex in one of Armina's books.”

Smiling, Jack shrugged and handed her the sceptre. Carefully, Rana put the ring on the chain around her neck and pointed the sceptre at the whimpering beast. It looked up at her in mute appeal and wagged its tail.

Rana hesitated.

But just for a moment. A renewed gasp of pain from her grandfather removed all doubt from her mind.

“
Til Helvete!
”

The sceptre sparkled; a beam shot from it and hit the wolfhound as it lay on the bridge. With a great flash, the beast disappeared.

Silence.

“A Norse hex?” croaked Grandpa in wonder.

“It had to be: she was from Tula. Only a Norse hex would work.”

A distant howl began, and the sea, which had been calm, suddenly started to froth and foam. Waves hit the bridge and sprayed up, soaking Jack, Rana and Grandpa. A thunderclap rent the air and great lumps of rain began to fall.

The hexagonal columns started to sink down.

“The bridge is going!” Jack shouted.

He stooped down, picked up the swordfish stump and managed to lever his grandfather up to a sitting position.

“You've got to walk, Grandpa. It's only twenty yards.”

But Grandpa Sandy was too weak for even this. Before he had managed to stand, the bridge was below the water. He stumbled forward, splashing as the waves rose up.

“Make sure the sceptre's safe!” Jack shouted at Rana. And he pushed his grandfather off the bridge.

Grandpa Sandy gasped in surprise, then sank beneath the waves.

He surfaced; an outraged splutter was mixed with an urgent intake of air, then he went under again.

Jack jumped in. Cupping the old man’s chin firmly in his left hand, he swam furiously for the shore. His grandfather’s struggles made the task no easier, but he thankfully had only a short distance to swim.

Rana had waded to the shore on the remnants of the disappearing bridge, but as she made the shoreline the last of the sea columns vanished. She helped an exhausted Jack to drag their grandfather clear of the water, and as they got further above the shoreline the sea became calm again. The wind blew the last of the clouds away as the moon rose in the darkening sky.

Jack huffed as he took deep breaths in.

“I’m sorry, Grandpa. But you were going to take ages, and the bridge was sinking.”

His grandfather’s feeble wave seemed to indicate that he understood.

“I’ve got the sceptre,” said Rana helpfully.

“Then let’s get a fire going. Is there any shelter?”

Rana scanned the rocky shore.

“There’s a rock overhang up there.”

Dragged upright by Jack, Grandpa Sandy leant on his shoulder as he hobbled up the beach.

At least last time I had Ossian to help me. Grandpa weighs a ton.

Rana, having scampered ahead, now came back and joined Jack in helping their grandfather to where a jutting rock provided some shelter.

“I must rest,” he gasped, collapsing down onto coarse, dirty sand.

“The last time we did this, a lion jumped out at us,” remarked Jack, as he stuffed a little of the dirt into his jomo bag.

“Well, Marco’s not here. Go and get some firewood. Then I can look at Grandpa’s wounds,” said Rana.

Jack soon returned with some driftwood and used the sceptre to light a fire.

“
Ignitas!
” Seeing Rana’s look of surprise, he added, “Ossian showed me.”

The fire smouldered in the stiff breeze, producing more smoke than light.

“Is that the best you could do?” demanded Rana.

“Well, why don’t
you
go and look for some dry wood? I’m cold.”

“We’re
all
cold,” Rana shouted back.

“Please.” Their grandfather’s hoarse whisper reached them. “Don’t argue. We must conserve our strength.”

“What happened to your leg, Grandpa?” asked Rana anxiously.

“It was Malevola, wasn’t it?” said Jack. “She opened the Phosphan wounds again.”

Grandpa Sandy nodded, wincing with pain. The Phosphan stench was unmistakable.

“What do we do now?” Rana grimaced as the fumes assailed her nostrils.

“We must find Phineas,” whispered Grandpa. “Jack, show me the timer.”

In the feeble light of the fire, Jack held it for his grandfather to see. There were only a few grains of sand left in the top chamber, and it still wouldn’t tip onto its side.

“We must get away from the sea. Then we’ve a chance with the timer.”

With infinite difficulty, Grandpa Sandy forced himself to stand, leaning on Jack once more. He looked out towards the sea again.