PathFinder (36 page)

“It’s not right what they did to her boy,” said one.

“We should have stopped it,” said the other.

“I would have if you had,” said his friend.

“You never said.”

“Neither did you.”

“Well, we can all go home now,” said another.

“
If
we’ve got a home to go to.
If
that sorcerer hasn’t set fire to it like he said he would,” said his friend.

Oraton-Marr was the last one standing on the balcony. He looked down with disdain at his sister, lying on her back like a stranded beetle. She was always
so
undignified. He saw the unrest in the Orm Chamber below, the guards deserting their posts, the angry fists shaking at him, the wagging fingers pointing and then, in the depths of the water of the Orm Tube, he saw a dark shape moving towards the surface – a shape far too big to be a boy. A sudden fear came over Oraton-Marr. Maybe the Great Orm had not died. Maybe it was a
living
Orm curled up on the roof of the Heart of the Ways. And maybe the living Orm had come to reclaim its egg. He sprang out through the curtain, grabbed the waiting egg from the guards and wrapped it in his cloak. Then he swung it over his shoulder like a huge sack of potatoes and leaped away in great bounds, heading for the Heart of the Ways. At that, the last of the guards quietly left the Chamber of the Orm.

On the balcony, the Lady struggled to her feet. A jeer rose up from below. “Get her!” one of the PathFinders yelled, and the shout was taken up. “Get her! Get her!
Get her!
” The Lady turned and fled, a roar of triumph following in her wake.

But the triumph was not for the Lady’s departure – it was for an unexpected arrival. In a cascade of black water, Simon Heap burst out of the Orm Tube with his son in his arms.

Halfway down the passage leading to the Heart of the Ways, the Lady bumped into her brother bounding back up. “Blocked!” he gasped. “Rockfall.”

“Oh no! What shall we do, Orrie?” his sister wailed.

“Clear it!” snapped Oraton-Marr. “Then meet me at the rendezvous.”

The Lady watched her brother spring away. It wasn’t fair, she thought. She always had to do the dirty work. Why was he
Magykal
and she wasn’t? Everyone seemed to have something special about them, even those grubby PathFinders. So why didn’t she?
It just wasn’t fair
.

ExtraOrdinaries

On the SnowPlain above
, a shimmer of purple light appeared at the foot of a tall spire of lapis lazuli and within it two figures – one in a purple fur cloak and matching beanie, the other in a shimmering multicoloured cloak and some rather ratty purple python shoes – began to materialise. Marcia and Septimus had successfully managed their
Transport
.

The last flickers of purple evaporated and they took stock of where they were. Above them the magnificent Blue Pinnacle of the Eastern SnowPlain rose up, dark against the star-dusted sky, but all around them was destruction. The snow had become mud littered with huge piles of spoil, in the middle of which was a gaping hole in the ground from which a column of light blazed up into the sky. As the disconnection of the
Transport
slowly left Marcia and Septimus, they saw a tall yet hunched shape come springing up from the light. It bounded away into the night in high, bouncing leaps.

“That’s
him
,” Marcia whispered. “That’s Oraton-Marr. Look at the way he’s moving. But I didn’t realise he was so hunched.”

“That’s not a hunch,” said Septimus, whose eyesight was much better than Marcia’s at night. “That’s the Orm Egg!”

“But
how
?” Even as she spoke, Marcia saw that Septimus was right.

“He’s not getting away with it,” Septimus said. “I’m going after him.”

Marcia stopped him. “No, Septimus.
I’ll
go. It’s too danger­­ous for you. You don’t have enough
Magyk
.”

Far below in the Chamber of the Orm, William Heap lay lifeless in his mother’s arms. Desperately, Simon tried to revive his son, but William’s lips were dark blue; his face was ice-cold and beginning to set like stone. Everyone looked on in horror. There was nothing they could do.

It was then that Tod remembered the whistle that Marcia had given her. She guessed that Marcia was still in her Keep, on the other side of the world, but there was nothing to be lost in calling her. And so Tod took out her silver whistle and blew.

A faint whistle came from beneath Marcia’s layers of fur under her cloak. She looked down in surprise.

“No,
I’m
going,” Septimus was telling Marcia impatiently. “Listen to you, you’re in no state to do anything – you’re wheezing with the cold. I’m going to get him.” And he was gone, racing across the snow, following the long, thin tracks of the spring blades. Another faint sound drifted up from beneath her cloak and Marcia at last remembered the silver whistle. With a jolt of fear, she realised that Tod was in trouble somewhere. But
where
? Marcia closed her eyes and tried to
Feel
where Tod might be.

And so it was that Marcia did not see Oraton-Marr stop and take a small
Darke Dart
from a holster he wore on his belt. She did not see him raise his hand and take aim at the young man in purple running towards him. Nor did she see Septimus stop, aware that something
Darke
had him in its sights.

But Marcia did feel something nudge her leg. Her eyes snapped open and she saw a panther, black as the night, crouched beside her. Its green eyes looked deep into hers and Marcia understood.

“Ullr,” she said. “Take me to Tod.”

Down in the Chamber of the Orm, Lucy was pleading. “Si, please … you
have
to do something. I don’t care what it is.
Darke
stuff or anything. But please, please do
something
.”

Simon was numb. He felt like his head was full of rock. He couldn’t think of anything at all.

Tod pushed through the crowd gathered around William. “Lucy, Lucy! Marcia can help!”

“But Marcia’s not here, is she?” Lucy said bitterly.

“On the contrary, Marcia
is
here,” a familiar voice said. “Stuck at the back of a crowd of nosy gawpers. Now get out of the way and let me through.” The anxious crowd around William parted and Marcia strode forward. She kneeled beside Lucy, placed her hand on William’s forehead and said quietly, “All will be well.”

Lucy looked at Marcia in disbelief – William lay heavy and cold in her arms, no longer part of the Living world.

But Tod understood what Marcia could do. She – along with everyone in the hushed Chamber of the Orm – watched as Marcia took a deep breath in, one that seemed to go on for ever. She saw Marcia lean over William Heap’s ice-blue face and begin to breathe out a stream of pinkish air. It came, tumbling and curling around William, surrounding him in a soft, warm cloud. Slowly the pallor left William’s face, the stony set of his features relaxed and then, suddenly, William sat up. He coughed, spat out a mouthful of water and was promptly sick all down Lucy’s front.

Lucy looked up at Marcia with tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you, Marcia. Thank you
for ever
.”

Marcia stood up. “He’ll be fine now. But excuse me. I have to go back and help Septimus.”

Simon sprang to his feet. “Is he in trouble?” he asked.

“Possibly,” said Marcia.

“I’ll come with you,” Simon said.

A Darke Dart

They found Septimus lying
in the snow, hands outstretched. A red dart with black flights was stuck into the soft part of his right hand – the web between thumb and forefinger. His hand was black and swollen but the Dragon Ring on his finger glowed bright, keeping the
Darke
at bay as best it could. Around Septimus’s wrist was a tight purple band where the black stopped – he had used his old Senior Apprentice ribbon as a tourniquet.

“Marcia,” Septimus whispered. “It’s a
Darke Dart
. Take it out. I … can’t.”

Marcia looked at Septimus’s hand in dismay – streaks of black were already snaking beneath the purple band and flowing up his arm. Marcia knew it was not easy to remove a
Darke Dart
. The flights were razor-sharp and the point had a venomous barb on the end that would tear Septimus’s hand as it came out and spread the poison still further. But Marcia also knew that Simon knew more about the
Darke
than she ever would. “Simon,” she asked, “can you do this?”

“Yeah,” said Simon. “I think I can.” He kneeled down beside Septimus. “Sep,” he said. “You must keep totally still. OK?”

“OK,” Septimus whispered.

From his Alchemie belt, Simon took out a tiny pair of wire cutters. “Marcia, I need you to hold the
Dart
steady. But be very careful. You know the flights are often poison-tipped?”

Marcia nodded. She cautiously closed her fingers around the body of the dart, well below the flights. Simon lay flat on the snow, squinting at Septimus’s hand. Very gingerly he placed the wire cutters around the point of the dart where it joined the body. Then, muttering something that neither Marcia nor Septimus recognised, he closed the wire cutters and cut through the point. Marcia threw the top of the
Dart
into the snow. The point of the
Dart
now stuck up through Septimus’s hand like a black spike.

“Right, Sep,” said Simon. “I’m going to hang on to the barb and Marcia will pull your hand straight up. Fast. OK?”

“Yep,” said Septimus.

Concentrating hard, Simon took hold of the poisonous barb. Marcia gripped Septimus’s hand.

“Pull!” said Simon.

“Aaaargh!”

It was done. All that was left in the snow was the point of the
Darke Dart
surrounded by a pool of red. Septimus sat up blearily, clutching his hand. “I can’t see,” he groaned.

“Your hat’s slipped down, Sep,” said Simon, gently pulling up Septimus’s beanie. “And this belongs to you, little bro.” Simon slipped the Akhu Amulet over Septimus’s head so it lay around his brother’s neck once again. “Thank you, Sep. I will never forget. Never,
ever
.”

Septimus smiled. “And neither will I,” he said. “You saved my life.”

The Snow Palace

As the sun rose on a
new day, Snow Princess Driffa, the Most High and Bountiful, took her Snow Palace back under control. She found her elderly sisters hiding in a cave with the last of the Palace servants – all being driven to distraction by their one remaining sorcerer.

The four sisters now set to work. Soon a well-worn road of compacted snow ran between the Blue Pinnacle and the Palace, on which Driffa’s fleet of silver sleighs ran back and forth carrying the exhausted prisoners to sanctuary. Furs were found to keep people warm, beds were made in the guest rooms and fires were laid in the huge brick chimneys that snaked up through the rocks at the back of the Snow Palace. The cooks came out of hiding and got to work.

Leaving Tod and Dan to spend time together, Ferdie, Oskar, Torr and William explored the Snow Palace. They spent hours going from one ice tower to another, travelling the seemingly delicate – but very strong – bridges that joined them. It felt like traversing a huge, sparkling spiderweb, but the spider that had once lurked at the edge was gone.

At the front of the Snow Palace was a wide promenade bounded by ramparts that overlooked the vast SnowPlain hundreds of feet below. It was warmed by braziers of burning logs suspended over fire pits, and people gathered around these, talking contentedly. And when they were warm, they would wander to the ramparts and gaze out at the Plain, watching the progress of the sleighs, the sun glinting off their runners, going steadily back and forth, beginning the long, slow task of setting everything to rights.

It was beside one of the fire pits that the Sarns and the Heaps met Samuel Starr. Samuel had been locked away with many of the other prisoners in one of the Iglopuks, but he already knew every detail of the events in the Orm Chamber. “When I heard the Lady had fled, I knew it was something to do with you, Ferdie Sarn,” he said with a broad smile. “I always thought you were more than a match for her.”

“It wasn’t just me,” said Ferdie.

“It was all of them,” Rosie Sarn said. “But none of us would be here now, Samuel, if it had not been for your helping them to escape from that terrible ship. We can never thank you enough.”

Samuel bowed. “It was my pleasure,” he said.

William – dutifully wearing the fur jacket his mother had taken from the Fire Pit – chased off with Torr to explore. “William! Be careful!” Lucy called out anxiously.