Robin Jarvis-Jax 02 Freax And Rejex (31 page)

He tracked their course for some moments then sucked the bitter air between his teeth when he saw where they were headed. He hadn’t noticed it before. It was partly hidden by the shrouding pines. But there, in the middle distance, was a solitary tower.

Silhouetted against the wintry sky, it stood bleak and threatening. The frosty moonlight gleamed dimly on its rough stonework and curved round the tiled pinnacle in the centre of the crenellated crown. Fearsome spikes jutted from the tapering sides and the faintest greenish glow near the top betrayed an arched, open window.

“
Okaaaay
,” Lee murmured uneasily. “Wild guess – that ain’t the Fairy Godmother’s penthouse crib.”

It was time to go. The miller’s bread could wait for another day. He wasn’t going to stop here another minute more. He turned around to retrace his squelching, splintering steps, then halted.

A soft pink light was drifting behind the grasses. A glimmering rosy flame was floating over the water.

“Oh, don’t you be a will-o’-the-wisp!” he hissed. “You guys is always bad news!”

Uncertain what to do, he waited and the glow sailed nearer until he finally got a proper look. It wasn’t a will-o’-the-
wisp.

The flame was inside a small, jewel-like lantern, no bigger than his cigarette lighter. The lantern was swinging from an ornate hook above a shapely, miniature boat with delicate, filigree dragonfly wings at the stern. It was all made from gleaming, glinting gold but only the size of a shoebox. Sitting upon silken cushions within was a doll, with a beautiful, cherubic face and long, golden hair that tumbled over her shoulders. Live butterflies, drowsy with the cold, were sewn into those cascading tresses and she wore a gossamer gown, embroidered with silver flowers and tiny crystals. Just as Lee was wondering what on earth a doll in a blingy boat was doing out here on a night like this, she moved. With a jolt, he realised she was real.

The boat continued to sail slowly by on the marsh’s sluggish current. The girl turned to look at him and her pale face dimpled in surprise.

“By the good earth’s blood!” she declared. “What are you? You are tall as a tree and your visage is as the very night. Are you a giant emissary sent by the King?”

Lee overcame his own shock and grinned at her. This sick place was full of mad surprises.

“No,” he said. “I don’t have nuthin’ to do with the castle guys if I can help it.”

“Not those kings, silly,” she laughed sweetly. “There are many monarchs above and below this land. I myself am Telein – daughter to the king ’neath the stone hill.”

“Well, hello, Princess,” he answered, smirking as he made a clumsy bow.

“You are not of the Marsh King’s court? Strange, there ought to be someone here to greet me. ’Tis most discourteous.”

“I’m just passin’ through,” he replied. “Don’t know no Marsh King.”

Telein sat forward in the boat and cupped a hand round her mouth. “Then you are indeed fortunate,” she whispered. “’Tis rumoured he is uncommon ugly.”

Lee chuckled. He liked this dainty princess.

“Mind if I aks a personal question?” he ventured.

“I do not see how I could prevent it,” she replied pertly. “But I may choose to withhold my answer.”

“Don’t mean no disrespect, nor nuthin’, so don’t take this the wrong way, but – is you a fairy or a gnome or elf or what?”

Telein rocked back on her cushions and clapped her hands in amusement.

“Verily you are an untutored fellow!” she laughed. “I am of the tribe of Danu. In truth, could you not tell? Are we so forgotten?”

“I’m a real newbie round these parts.”

Her bright green eyes stared off into the gloom. “We were here long before the Dawn Prince raised the walls of Mooncaster,” she said. “And before the Lamia fouled the sky. But we forsook this upper world, ages past, and made our abode deep below – in the golden caves.”

Lee wasn’t any wiser but he let it pass and crouched down to be level with her. She really did have the prettiest, cutest face. The soft lantern light danced in the boat’s burnished timbers and reflected up into her eyes – making them sparkle with brilliant, emerald fires.

He wished he still had his phone to take a photo. He didn’t know enough fancy words to ever describe her. A Victorian romantic painter like Millais could have conveyed the intangible bloom in her cheek, the lustre of her curls and the hint of a smile that pulled and played at the corners of her lips. And a poet would have expressed the exquisite, otherworldly nature of this vision far more eloquently than Lee could ever hope to articulate.

“So why’s you out in your iddy-biddy, pimped-up dinghy tonight?” he asked.

“I journey to see the Marsh King,” she explained. “From the rock mouth I have travelled, whence I joined the poisoned stream and passed through
the empty, sleeping land. Now my voyage is ending. Each midwinter a maiden of the Danu must come pay tribute to the ruler of this kingdom. This year the honour is mine.”

“Tribute? What, sing and dance and tell him he’s the greatest – crap like that?”

She gurgled with laughter. “I am no nightingale,” she said. “The king’s ears shall be sorely grieved if he commands me to sing. Lilts and refrains trickle ever through my fingers.”

“Ha, you an’ me both. I can’t hold a tune either! Don’t stop me though.”

Telein smoothed the folds of her gown. “Would that singing were my only duty this night,” she said with a heartfelt sigh.

“Whassup?” Lee asked gently.

She clasped her tiny hands beneath her chin to keep it from trembling. “This is my bride night,” she pronounced. “And this vessel is my dowry.”

“No way! You’re marrying that uglord? What the hell for?”

“The Marsh King takes a new wife every midwinter,” she explained solemnly. “It is the bargain ’twixt our peoples. A meagre price to pay for peace, else he will send his army to assail our golden chambers. It has been thus for many years.”

“It’s extortion is what it is.”

“You speak a puzzling tongue, my night-faced giant.”

“Right now I’m fluent in the language of Angrymad. You can’t get wed to no serial sleazebag gangster you never seen! What happened to all them other wives? How many does he want?”

Telein shook her head. “No one knows,” she answered with a worried frown. “Once the stream bears the brides from our hill, neither word nor token ever comes back to us.”

“Girl – your Royal Highness – you gotta get outta that tacky ride! Right now!”

“I cannot. I shall do my duty. The bargain must be kept. The wary peace will hold.”

A sudden surge in the current took hold of the glittering craft and it
was whisked further out over the marsh. Lee jumped up and ran along the boggy causeway to keep pace with it, but the boat whirled unerringly closer to the centre of the freezing waters.

“Honey!” he shouted. “Trust me, get outta there.”

“I am confounded as to why there is no retinue to greet me,” she murmured, peering into the empty darkness beyond the reach of the lantern’s rosy light. “Where are his halls and mansions?”

“Princess!” Lee yelled. “You listen to me! Get back here – fast as you can.”

She looked around her, distracted. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Where was the music? The feasting? The cheering subjects? Her unease turned to fear. This evil, desolate place was heavy with menace and danger. She had to get away.

“My giant!” she hailed across the marsh. “Save me. I beg you. I cannot swim!”

Lee was already kicking off his trainers and wading into the icy swamp. He had only advanced two paces when the sucking mud pulled him down and closed about his waist. He had to fight to dredge himself back to the bank and lay there, gasping and steaming from the effort. He couldn’t reach her. There was nothing he could do. He had to think, quickly.

“Use your hands as paddles!” he shouted desperately. “It’s the only way!”

Nodding, she knelt forward into the prow and put out her arms.

And then it happened. The boat pitched alarmingly as huge bubbles erupted beneath it. The lantern swung off its hook and splashed into the foaming water. It glimmered like a pink star as it journeyed down into the murk and Telein shrieked in horror and despair. The dwindling glow had disclosed a vast, dark shape rising from the miry deep.

The boat tipped and capsized. The golden timbers sank instantly. The princess was flung clear and she thrashed her tiny hands, trying to keep afloat.

An immense island of slime and sludge lifted up behind her and founts
of black mud squirted from crusted nostrils. Then two great speckled eyes blinked open. It was an immense and ancient frog, grown bloated and huge over countless years. The Marsh King was here.

Lee roared at the princess to kick with her legs and waved his arms to show how to pull herself through the frothing waves.

“Don’t look back!” he bawled at her, his own legs shaking at the sight and stench of that monster. “Keep looking straight at me; don’t you turn round. Come on! Swim to me. You can do this! Come on!”

She struggled and spluttered, bobbing up and down on violent, scummy swells as Lee looked on helplessly.

The Marsh King’s tawny eyes roved over the foaming surface of its watery realm and fixed on Telein’s terrified floundering. The glistening ridges of its head slid forward silently and a cavernous mouth opened, revealing a row of needle-like teeth. It bit down hard.

Lee fell back and covered his face. The princess’s agonised screams did not last long. The Marsh King champed and chewed and swallowed her down. Then it swung around and its hungry stare fell on Lee.

The horror-stricken boy was on his hands and knees. He felt sick. He had to get out of this psychotic train wreck of a place. He couldn’t take any more.

Lee slithered to his feet. Then fell down again. His foot was caught. He turned to look and yelled. The end of a pallid, mottled tongue was wrapped about his ankle. The rest stretched across the marsh, down into the enormous frog’s mouth. Then it began to drag him from the bank.

The teenager kicked at the tongue with his other foot, but it was no use. It was hard as iron. He lashed out with his fists and tore at it with his fingers, but it was hopeless and he was towed back into the water.

Frantic, he reached into the pocket of his trackie bottoms and took out a penknife. Then he stabbed and slashed like a maniac. Black blood gushed out and the Marsh King bellowed. The tongue whipped back into the awful mouth and the eyes enlarged with wrath. The swamp boiled as the monster reared up and plunged forward.

Lee hauled himself from the mud and ran over the quaking path, snatching his Nikes as he lurched by. The Marsh King’s gargantuan bulk came lumbering after. The boy heard the splayed, webbed feet slapping over the bank at horrible speed and clouds of angry breath came billowing around him. He slammed his fears to the back of his mind and focused on getting back – to that other place, what he knew as the real world. He summoned the memory of the cabin; the feathery duvet beneath him, even the overpowering smells of Marcus’s shower gel and body spray… He leaped into the air and the Marsh King bore down.

Lee’s legs kicked and he hit out with his fists. Then he fell off the bed.

It was dark but warm and dry and Marcus was snoring. Lee almost wept in relief. He was back and he was covered in mud. Exhausted and distraught at what he had seen, he stumbled downstairs and hit the shower, still fully dressed.

“That were too close,” he told himself. “Last time – that were the last time.”

Ten minutes later, his wrung-out clothes were hanging over the mezzanine banister. He threw off the muddy duvet and collapsed on to the bed. He prayed he wouldn’t be haunted by images of Telein, but knew he would never forget that last glimpse of her, disappearing down the monster’s throat.

Sleep claimed him.

It was after midnight when the Bakelite devices began to hum and unconsciousness stole over the children. Above their heads the dials glowed and static crackled. Another creaky song from the 1930s came winding from the brass grill.

From one of the cabins a figure crept out into the night. It made its way stealthily in front of the others. Reaching the far end, it stooped at the gaoler’s door.

Jangler was dozing in his armchair with a handkerchief over his face, so he didn’t notice when one of the camp’s postcards, present in every bedside drawer, slipped in over the carpet. On the back, written in Austerly Fellows’ unmistakable, forthright hand, a simple message read:

My dear Lockpick,

I thought you should know – there is a mobile phone hidden in this camp.

I
T WASN’T QUITE
light when the handbell rang outside the chalets. Jangler swung it vigorously. The postcard was stuffed into his pocket. He had just overseen the departure of the latest transit van of new arrivals from the camp and was fairly confident nothing else had come through. Now it was time to act on this information from Mr Fellows.

Captain Swazzle and three of his guards came staggering from their hut, clasping their pounding heads. Their beady eyes were redder than usual.

“Get the aberrants out here!” the old man ordered brusquely. “Without delay!”

The Captain squawked at the other Punchinellos and they went barging into the cabins, where the children were slowly coming round, aching and bruised as usual.

Still blinking, and before they had a chance to get dressed, they were lined up in rows outside. Captain Swazzle made them bow and curtsy. Even Jody was hauled out and forced to stand with them. The girl gritted her teeth. Her back was healing slowly, but it stung like mad. At her side, Christina slipped her hand into hers.

“Why’s he so cross?” the seven-year-old whispered.

Jody shook her head. No one knew. They hadn’t seen the old man possessed by this cold rage before.

“It’s loads earlier than normal,” Maggie murmured. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve not put me face on yet,” Charm grumbled.

Lee stared at the ground. He didn’t want to catch anyone’s eye. He hadn’t recovered from his harrowing experience in the Frog Marsh. He didn’t know if he ever would.

Jangler’s face was grave and severe.

“A despicable attempt has been made to thwart my Lord’s great design,” he began. “Bleating emails were dispatched from this camp to certain news desks in the United States. Complaints were made about your treatment here, accompanied by a photograph of the dead boy.”

Alasdair’s heart jumped. How did he know that? The other children stirred uncomfortably. Spencer fidgeted with his hands. He wished he had brought his Stetson out here with him. He was beginning to feel anxious whenever he was parted from it.

“There are those among you who believe they deserve better,” the old man continued scornfully. “To do so questions the wisdom of the Holy Enchanter. For the final time I will say this: you are the lowest form of unwelcome parasite to crawl upon the surface of this dream world. You are tolerated purely because of my Lord’s grace and compassion. Were it my choice, you would be slaughtered where you stand right now. But I am a good and loyal servant, so I must keep you alive. But know this, from here on there will be no more leniency. If rules continue to be flouted, the punishments will make you wish the sordid fumblings of your parents had never taken place.”

Alasdair’s jaw muscles tightened. Soon that overinflated little oaf would stand trial for crimes against humanity and he couldn’t wait to give evidence.

Jangler had a quick, inaudible conversation with Captain Swazzle, who then shouted at the Punchinellos in their own language and called the one down from the skelter tower. The guards went back into the cabins and started searching, turning over beds and ransacking cases.

“Och, no,” Alasdair breathed. It was obvious what they were hunting for.

Maggie saw Marcus biting the inside of his cheek. He looked sick with worry. What was he hiding? Before she could begin to speculate, Yikker came striding out of her cabin with the phone and Anchu swaggered from Alasdair’s, twirling the charger. Jangler made them show him where the
items had been found then returned to his step.

“So,” he said coldly. “Once again you demonstrate I have been too tender-hearted. A whipping was not lesson enough. I was too mild. This time it must be more memorable, more lasting. Take her away!”

Captain Swazzle strode towards the children. “Jody Jody Jody…” he snickered, wagging a finger.

The girl sagged and shook her head. “Please, no!” she pleaded. “Not again!”

“You’ll have the skin off her back!” Maggie cried.

“It wasnae her!” Alasdair yelled. “It were me. I sent them emails! She had nothing to do wi’ it. I hid the phone under her mattress. She didnae know anything about it. Leave her alone. Get your filthy hands off her!”

Not thinking of his own safety, he ran at the Captain. With one effortless smack, Swazzle sent him flying. Then he caught hold of Jody and dragged her from the line. Christina clutched at her, but the Punchinello thrust the little girl aside.

“Jody Jody Jody…” he taunted, marching her away.

Alasdair would have sprung back up, but Yikker was ready with a spear and eager for him to do something reckless. The other guards levelled their weapons at the rest of them.

“Stay down!” Marcus’s voice called.

The young prisoners stared helplessly after Swazzle and the girl. Where was she being taken? The Captain skipped a little dance. Her fear was glorious to see. Jody thought she was going to be tied to the maypole but, when they passed it, she became even more afraid.

“Where we going?” she cried.

“To special place,” Swazzle cackled. “Just for Jody. Lucky Jody. It nice – it snug.”

He pushed and pulled her past the cabins, towards the main block where he hauled her down the side and out of sight. Presently the others heard a confused clangorous din of metal objects being slung to the ground, quickly followed by the girl’s muffled screams and frenzied hammering.

“What’s happening?” Maggie cried. The other guards sniggered.

“You’re stark raving mad!” Alasdair yelled at Jangler. “The UN are gonna crucify you!”

“The UN?” Jangler repeated, with a mystified lift of his eyebrows. “Oh, you think your puling missives achieved something, do you?”

“You’ll find oot soon enough!”

The old man clasped his hands in front of him and gave a cruel smile. “Dear Miss Kryzewski and Sam have been so frightfully busy,” he said proudly. “Ever since their return to America they have been exceedingly liberal with the contents of several crates that have been sitting patiently in the docks for a month or more. They were especially generous in the major newsrooms. I’m afraid, within moments of your tattling emails arriving, they were deleted.”

Alasdair’s face fell. “That’s no true!” he said.

“Aberrants are not worth lying to,” came the contemptuous response.

The boy’s hopes were utterly crushed. He was devastated. It felt worse than if the Punchinello’s spear had pierced him.

A quacking laugh sounded over by the main block and Captain Swazzle waddled back into view. The urgent hammering continued, together with Jody’s stifled screams to be let out.

“Where is she?” Maggie demanded. “What’s he done with her?”

Jangler was only too delighted to explain. “You may not have observed a small, padlocked door around the back of that building,” he said. “It’s a poky little cupboard of a thing, used to store tools and suchlike. The shovel I loaned you the other day is kept there. Or rather it was. I do believe our gallant Captain has just divested it of those handy sundries and deposited the interfering Jody Barnes within. And there she will remain, for three days and three nights. During which time she will be given no food and no water and, it is to be hoped, learn the error of her ways. During the period of her confinement, if any of you are caught trying to communicate with her, she shall remain an extra three days and nights and you will first be whipped and then thrown in there the moment
she is let out. Do I make myself clear?”

The children were too shocked and aghast to react.

“Three days?” Alasdair eventually said. “That’s inhuman! It’s torture!”

“And now,” the old man addressed him, “what of you? So much to say for yourself, so self-righteous, so indignant, so exceedingly tiresome. This phone cable was discovered in your belongings. Whatever shall we do with you?”

“I dinnae care!” the boy shouted in defiance.

Jangler considered a moment then muttered something to Captain Swazzle who gave a raucous laugh and disappeared into the Scot’s cabin. When the Punchinello returned, it was carrying the boy’s guitar.

“I’ve heard you trying to play this,” Jangler declared with a disdainful sniff. “There are few things worse than amateurs inflicting their lamentable efforts on others. Thankfully the hallowed text has consigned those dismal television talent contests to the past. I view what is about to happen as a benevolent act in the interests of the public ear. Captain, if you please.”

Swazzle grinned and proceeded to smash the guitar against the corner of the cabin. Then he threw the splintered body down and trampled the ragged remnants into even smaller fragments.

“Most gratifying,” Jangler remarked. “That was the most tuneful sound the deplorable instrument has made in the whole time it’s been here. Now for the other part of the punishment. Captain, if you would be so kind – break one of his hands.”

Still clutching the stump of the fretboard, its severed strings waving in the air, the Punchinello came striding over to Alasdair. The other children flinched and looked away. Jangler blinked up at the brightening sky.

“I think we’re in for a spot of rain later,” he observed.

No one knew how Alasdair got through the rest of that day. After Swazzle had gloatingly obeyed the order, the boy writhed on the ground, howling. Jangler took no notice and forbade any of the children to go to him until the first reading from
Dancing Jax
was over. Once that was done, to ensure they all realised the futility of rebellion, he announced they too
would do without food for the next twenty-four hours.

As soon as permission was granted, Marcus raced to the main block where the medical kit had been returned to the kitchen. On his way back he halted. Jody had stopped thumping against the door of the tool cupboard, but he could hear her sobbing in there. The tools were still strewn over the grass. The boy glanced warily around. He wasn’t in sight of any guard. It was the work of a moment to pick up a trowel and tuck the blade into the waistband of his joggers and cover the handle with his shirt. Then he ran back to the others.

Charm watched Lee helping Alasdair to his feet.

“Can I help?” she offered.

Lee glanced at her, but all he saw was the face of the tiny princess in the golden boat. He shook his head quickly and turned away.

“You all right?” she asked.

“What do you see about this situation that could possibly be all right?” he snapped back.

Charm took a step back. “Sorry,” she said hesitantly. “I was only…”

“Well, don’t!”

She moved away, not understanding what she had done to upset him. Standing nearby, Bezuel the guard had seen what had happened and came prowling over.

“No be sad,” the Punchinello wheezed in her ear. “You pretty. Me want.”

His voice made her jump and she was unnerved to find him leaning in so close. She hated the way those eyes ogled her and his breath was rank. Making a hurried excuse, she dodged aside and got away.

“Bezuel want eat you,” the guard called after her.

The girl didn’t know how literally he meant that. The guard’s attention made her feel ill and she needed to have a hot shower.

Lee had helped Alasdair into his cabin where Maggie tried to inspect the injuries to his hand.

“Don’t you touch me!” the Scot snarled.

“I know it hurts, babes,” she said soothingly. “But I’ve got to look at it. It needs bandaging.”

“Fine! But no by you. Get oot!”

Maggie drew away in surprise. “Why? What’ve I done?”

“What have you done?” Alasdair snapped vehemently. “This is all your fault. You and that fat mouth o’ yours! I told you not to go shootin’ your gob off to everyone last night aboot the phone, but you wouldnae listen! That old bumwipe musta heard you.”

The girl uttered a dismal cry. “I didn’t know!” she spluttered. “I didn’t think…”

“You never think!” he shouted. “Get oot!”

“Best if you go,” Lee advised her.

Maggie ran out in tears, blundering into Marcus as he came in with the medical kit.

“What’s up with you?” he asked.

“Out of my way!” she said, pushing past. She returned to her own cabin, where Christina was tidying Jody’s bed.

“He thinks it’s my fault,” she wept.

The seven-year-old straightened the pillow, pulling out the corners, making it perfect. Then she sat on her own bed.

“It is,” she said matter-of-factly, hurting Maggie even more. “You can’t keep secrets. My Jody would be here if it weren’t for you. You’re why she’s been locked up and I can’t see her.”

Marcus, meanwhile, was wondering how to bind Alasdair’s hand and put his arm in a sling.

“Why don’t you get one of the girls to do this?” he asked. “Maggie’s been doing great so far, changing dressings and seeing to cuts and bites.”

“Just do the best you can,” Lee urged.

“I’m no first-aider,” Marcus confessed. “Mind you – I never used to miss an episode of
Casualty
– oh, those sexy nurses!”

“Does your libido no ever stop?” the Scot asked through gritted teeth.
His face was bleached of colour and pouring with sweat.

“Sorry there’s no painkillers, dude,” Marcus said. “You’ll just have to bite on a bullet like they do in films.”

“I would if I had one!”

Lee looked around the cabin and grunted. He passed Alasdair a copy of
Dancing Jax
that was lying on the floor; strange how these were always scattered about the carpet first thing in the morning.

“Chew on that,” he said.

“As long as it doesnae poison me,” the Scot replied, taking it with his good hand and clamping the spine between his teeth.

“Why should you be any different?” Lee remarked.

Marcus started bandaging the broken hand. Even though the circumstances were appalling, he was secretly pleased that he had finally managed to be accepted by these two. As nightmarish as life in this camp was, he no longer felt so alone. He tried to be as gentle as possible and slung Alasdair’s arm up to the opposite shoulder.

“I’ve no idea if it’s the right thing to do or what,” he said. “That hand’s a mess. You won’t be playing the banjo again for a while, amigo.”