PathFinder (18 page)

She turned to Nicko and Snorri and hugged them both. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for
everything
.”

“We shall come with you to the doors, Tod,” said Snorri.

But Tod wanted to be alone with the night-time
Magyk
chasing through the courtyard. Proudly, she held up her purple password card. “I’m fine, thanks. I’ve got my night password.”

Nicko understood – sometimes he just wanted to be alone with his boat and the sea. “Tod’s OK,” he said to Snorri. And then to Tod, “We’ll be at the boatyard tomorrow. Come and see us, yes?”

Tod smiled. “Yes, please.”

Nicko gave her a thumbs-up and closed the gate.

Tod wandered slowly across the courtyard, savouring the sensation of moving through
Magyk
, feeling as if she were walking underwater. A delicate purple light suffused the air; long, slow, lazy arcs of indigo, green and orange were dropping down from the Wizard Tower like pinpoints of light from an enormous firework. Tod walked dreamily through the lights, some of which landed at her feet, bouncing up into the air again and then zooming away, flashing upwards like shooting stars in reverse. The air felt sharp and alive, popping and fizzing as she drifted through it, heading towards the shimmering marble steps that rose up to the silver doors.

At the foot of the steps, Tod stopped and looked up at the Wizard Tower, entranced by the myriad of purple windows flickering so subtly that she could only see the movement when she looked away from them. One in particular – the
UnStable
window that Dandra had showed her that morning – caught Tod’s attention. As she gazed at it, trying to figure out whether it was there or not, she became aware of another kind of movement. She swung around and to her horror, Tod saw the unmistakable pale, flat-headed shape of a Garmin lurking in the shadows at the base of the Wizard Tower.

A flight of steps had never felt so long and so exposed. Tod raced up them, and at the top, with a stab of fear, she realised that she had forgotten the password and
she no longer had the purple card in her hand
. Near to panic, Tod guessed she must have dropped it as she fled up the steps. Slowly, she turned around and there was the slip of card lying dark against the white of the lowest step. But not far beyond it stood the tall, unwieldy shape of a Garmin.

Confused by the onslaught of the courtyard
Magyk
, the Garmin was standing still, its big, heavy head swaying from side to side. Tod could tell it had not seen her. She had a few moments to retrieve the password – and she knew that if she hesitated, those moments would be gone. Going against all her instincts Tod crept down the steps, towards the slip of purple and towards the Garmin. Reaching the last step but one, she snatched up the card and turned to run back up. Her sudden movement was her downfall.

Click-click-click
.

A metallic flash of yellow eyes caught her gaze. Tod tried to look away but all her strength had left her. Nothing seemed to work any more.

Click-clicker-click
.
Click-clicker-clicker-click
.

No more than half a minute later, the tall silver doors to the Wizard Tower opened and Dandra Draa came hurrying out. She stopped and listened, then she hurried down the steps. The
Magyk
was disturbed –
something was wrong.

An Incursion of Ill Intent

Marcia Overstrand was sitting
in her favourite place in the world – a window seat high up in the circular, central room of her Keep.

Marcia rarely went to bed before the early hours of the morning, and many a night would she wander through the Keep with only a lighted candle for company, getting to know every night-time creak, every shadow, every strip of moonlight that glanced in through its arrow-slit windows. After the thrum of the Wizard Tower, so full of people demanding her time, Marcia savoured the luxury of being alone, of having space and time to think and maybe – when she finally unwound from the frenetic years of being responsible for everything – rediscovering her own personal
Magyk
.

To reach her window, Marcia had climbed some narrow steps set into the window alcove, which nestled inside the ten-feet-thick walls, and was now sitting on the rug and cushions, gazing down at the scene below. The nearly new moon cast little light, but lanterns illuminated the lumps and bumps of the ancient, earth-covered outer walls that surrounded the Keep. Beyond these was a fine stone quay – newly constructed with a line of lanterns placed along it, ready to guide a ship called the
Cerys
safely home up the wide and wild estuary.

Revelling in the silence, the peace of the old stones and the knowledge that no one was going to bang on her door and demand that she
do something right now
, Marcia gazed dreamily out at the night. The water was high and Marcia – who had once paid very little attention to tides and all things concerning boats, but who now knew the tide times backwards – wondered if tonight she would see the
Cerys
coming home once more.

The evening mist began to roll in. Soon it covered the white stone of the quay and was creeping up the grass. It lay low like a blanket so that above it, Marcia could still see the star-filled sky. With the arrival of the mist, Marcia supposed she had her Keep to herself for another night. She settled herself among the cushions and picked up a much-thumbed book, Marwick’s house-warming gift to her, a precious copy of
The Ancient Ways of the World
.
Marcia drew her thick woollen cloak around her against the night chill that was creeping in. She turned to chapter thirteen, ominously titled “Incursions of Ill Intent”, and began to read.

Marcia was not entirely alone in her Keep. On the lower levels lived three Drummins. Drummins were small humanoid creatures who originally came from the Great Chamber of
Fyre
below the Castle. Marcia had been deeply suspicious of Drummins when she had first encountered them, for they were the result of the ancient Alchemists tinkering with human life, of which she did not approve. But over the seven years since their rediscovery, Marcia had grown to like and respect them. And so, when she had moved into the Keep and three elderly Drummins had offered to come with her, Marcia had not needed much persuading. They were quiet, practical creatures and she knew she could rely on them.

Fabius, Lucius and Claudius Drummin preferred not to venture above ground. Their domain was beneath the earth and they were perfectly happy guarding the Hub and tending the fire in the kitchen. So when Marcia heard a soft, apologetic cough beside her, she looked up to see a pair of ginger eyebrows beneath which the large dark eyes of Fabius Drummin gazed at her. The Drummin’s broad, suckered fingers gripped the deep stone window sill and his face was anxious beneath his long, plaited beard.

Marcia put her book down at once. “What is it, Fabius?” she asked.

Fabius was a Drummin of few words; like most Drummins, he preferred to use signing. “Trouble,” he said.

Marcia was down the window steps in an instant. The Drummin scurried across the main chamber and Marcia hurried after him, heading through the archway and on to the stone spiral stairs that would take them down to the lower levels. Fabius turned around and placed his finger to his lips to caution Marcia to be quiet; Marcia was glad that she was wearing her soft, purple fur boots, which allowed her to pad as silently as any Drummin – although clearly not quite as silently as Fabius would have liked. They descended through three levels. The first level was the entrance chamber, and once they were past that and heading down to the second level, the temperature began to rise. This was what the Drummins called the Fire Pit, though it was actually the kitchen where they tended the fire, cooked very simple food and slept.

Marcia and Fabius continued down the narrow, gently curving stairs, with a musty smell of damp earth becoming ever stronger as they headed for the Hub.

The Hub itself was relatively small. Down in the foundations of the Keep, the walls were extremely thick, but radiating into them like spokes from a wheel were twelve vaulted tunnels, each with a stone arch at its opening. The arches were labelled with PathFinder numbers one to twelve. The tunnels did not appear to be long – about twenty feet at the most – because each one ended in strange swirling white mist, which Marwick had called the
Vanishing Point
.

Marcia hurried into the Hub to find the other two Drummins waiting, their notoriously sharp flick-knives held ready to open in the blink of an eye.

What is the thing?
Marcia signed. She was not as good at Drummin signing as she wanted to be and her attempts provided the Drummins with much amusement, though they appreciated the fact she was trying to learn.

Garmin out of Way Two
, Claudius signed, pointing at the arch behind him with the figure
II
on the keystone.

Into
Seven
, added Lucius, rather unnecessarily pointing at the almost opposite arch sporting the number
VII
.

Unfortunately
, finished Fabius.

Marcia was horrified. Too flustered to sign, she whispered, “
Garmin?
Are you sure?”

The three Drummins nodded in unison.

Shh
, Fabius signed.
They are coming
.

Which road?
Marcia signed.

Seven
.

A feeling of relief washed over Marcia. If the Garmin were coming back from the Wizard Tower so soon, surely they would not have had time to do anything terrible. Marcia’s relief did not last long – a moment later a streak of white burst out of Way VII. She was aghast. The creatures were terrifying – and far bigger than she had expected. They hurtled across the Hub, oblivious to its occupants, and then they were gone, white skin and sinew disappearing into the shadows of Way
II.

Marcia was shocked. She raced across to Way II and, summoning all her energy, she pulled a shimmering purple
Magykal
Seal
across its arch to protect it against any more Incursions of Ill Intent. Marcia was just beginning on the next arch – for she had no idea what else might be coming through – when a shout from the Drummins made her swing around. Coming out of Way VII was another Garmin, but this one was in great distress. Limping, its mouth hanging slackly open with thick drools of saliva dripping down, its flat, forked black tongue lolling out, the creature blundered blindly towards Way II, hit the
Seal
and bounced off, stunned. Marcia and the Drummins froze, revulsion prickling their skin. They watched the crea­­­ture stagger in circles with its great flat head drooping down and then wander unsteadily out of the Hub and up the stairs.

Three Drummin flick-knives snapped open. “We will get it,” Fabius said.

Stunned, Marcia watched the Drummins race up the stairs in pursuit. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and stop her hands from shaking. She must
Seal
the other Ways – and fast. Marcia was renewing her attention to Way
III when she heard a hollow, echoing sound coming from Way VII – footsteps.
Human
footsteps. Hurried. Panicked.

A moment later, Dandra Draa came racing out, carrying a large, shiny silver cocoon in her arms. “Alice!” cried Dandra.

“What?” said Marcia.

“
Alice
. Oh, I mean, Tod. She’s in here – in a Garmin cocoon. Oh, Marcia. I promised Cassi I’d look after her and look what’s happened! Oh, please help.
Please!
”

“Upstairs,” Marcia said briskly. “We need warmth, fire. We must hurry.” It was only as she headed across to the stairs that Marcia remembered the lone, injured Garmin at large somewhere above. She stopped, unsure what to do, and at that moment something huge and white appeared, airborne, heading down the stairs towards her. Marcia leaped out of the way just in time. The creature hit the flagstones with a
crunch
and lay immobile. A heavy footfall came thundering down the steps after it and, to Marcia’s astonishment, a piratical-looking man came into view, brandishing a heavy stick. “Milo!” she cried.