Jack Shian and the Destiny Stone (15 page)

Ossian was looking strangely at Morrigan. “Do you really know how to open the bridge?” he said, a mixture of awe and fear in his voice.

She looked back at him calmly, but said nothing.

Phineas now walked up to her, and looked hard at her. There was a brief flicker of a smile, then he turned away. As he saw Jack looking on in astonishment, he winked quickly.

What’s going on? Dad can’t be doing deals with an Unseelie like Morrigan!

“I demand to know how this … this girl can work such dark magycks!” spluttered Armina. “It is far beyond her age!”

Without speaking, Morrigan took out a small crystal sphere from her pocket. She passed her other hand over it, and revealed a distorted image in the globe.

“It’s Fractals’ Seer!” exclaimed Gilmore.

Wordlessly, Morrigan threw the globe high into the air and clapped her hands. Instantly changing into a hoodie crow, she flew up, and caught the globe in her claws, before descending and hovering in front of Fenrig. With a squawk, she dropped the globe into her brother’s waiting hands. Settling onto the ground, she changed back into her usual figure.

Jack was impressed. It was the first time he’d seen Morrigan shapeshift since Dunvik, more than a year before.

Fenrig smiled, and embraced his sister.

“Parlour tricks!” sneered Murkle dismissively.

In a flash, Morrigan had grabbed the globe back, and cast it at the Shian tales tutor. It hit him in the forehead, and exploded with a shower of sparks. When the sparks cleared, Murkle had vanished.

“Does anyone else doubt me?”

Morrigan’s voice had deepened to a growl; fierce, powerful … and exciting. Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle.

“Where … where have you sent him?” asked Daid nervously.

“To the end of the bridge; if you wish to see him again, you’d better come to Tula.”

“Enough!” Iain Dubh spoke firmly. “You have the gift; from where, I do not wish to know. So tell us: where is the start of this bridge?”

Morrigan eyed him playfully for a moment, enjoying her moment of triumph.

“It’s nearby; it’s always nearby, if you know where to look.”

Jack thought he heard Armina mutter “Dark magycks!” under her breath.

“What about the boats?”

Morrigan now eyed Enda carefully. “Leave one man on each boat,” she said simply. “The rest will come with us.” There was no mistaking the authority of her voice.

Jack turned to his father. “What’s so dangerous about the bridge, that Armina doesn’t want to use it?”

“It plays tricks. For one thing, you lose all sense of time on it. Armina was right: we could be stuck on it for weeks. But we’ve no choice now: we can’t sail, and we can’t fly. So, the bridge it is.”

“Why’s it called the Bridge of Impossibilities?”

“Because it does things it shouldn’t. I’m only going on what I’ve been told; and that was many years ago. The one thing you can count on is that it won’t be like any other bridge you’ve been on. And there’s no time to lose; our hand is forced. Do you agree, Enda?”

The Irishman looked back at Phineas.

“I hate to leave the boats; they’re our home. But you’re right. Let’s get ready.”

“We may be on the bridge for a while,” barked Morrigan. “Take only fresh water and fey biscuits; anything else is too much to carry.”

The crews had soon taken what they needed from the boats. While Gilmore distributed the food and haemostat bandages, Finbogie ensured that everyone had a sword.

“Remember the hexes,” he warned. “And aim for their ankles.”

“We’ll sail for Novehowe when we can,” promised Dermot, as the group set off.

When she reached the cliff face, Morrigan began to move along it, adjacent to the sea line. The pebbly beach scrunched as the crews followed her. Every few paces she would pause, and tap the rock face.

“Is she looking for a way in?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know how the bridge is opened,” admitted Phineas. “We were never taught dark magycks like this.”

Murkle never taught us anything useful
, thought Jack. Then he reflected that one or two lessons had managed to seep into his memory – such as waking the giant’s bridge.
Columns awake!
he mused.
I wonder if this bridge is like that one?

Morrigan had stopped and paused a number of times. The incoming tide was close to the rock face here; the water soaked their ankles.

I don’t like Trog’s knife getting wet,
thought Jack, aware of the blade strapped to his right leg.
It’ll rust.

“Are you sure you know where it is?” asked Ossian, his teeth chattering.

Morrigan spun round and flashed a look of contempt that had Ossian turning scarlet. Mumbling, he looked down at his feet.

The sea was up to their shins now.

“It’s freezing!” said Jack, as the feeling in his toes died away.

“Cold feet will be the least of your worries soon,” cautioned Daid, as he moved up beside Jack. “This trip will beat even your flight to Dunvik last year. I hope you’ve been practising your swordplay.”

Jack thought back to the repetitive lessons with Finbogie. They’d been fun for a while, but the need to practise so often had lost its appeal.

I wish she’d hurry up and find the start of this bridge
, he thought, as the waves splashed his thighs.

Without warning, Morrigan gave a cry of triumph. Taking the sceptre from her cloak, she struck the rock face three times, each time calling, “Papa Legba!”

There was a moment of stillness after the third strike; even the waves seemed to stop. And in that period of tranquillity, Jack saw a frail old man appear, standing thigh-deep ahead of them. He limped up to Morrigan, and enquired in a thin reedy voice, “Are ye ready?”

“We are.”

Dishevelled and grimy, he didn’t look like he could achieve much; but there was something earthy about him – almost primal. He held up his hands, then brought them down together with a resounding clap. Numb as his freezing feet were, Jack felt the stones underneath him shift; and then he sank, quickly and wordlessly, beneath the waves.

Falling into the pit at the end of the giant’s bridge had been weird: cold, slimy, and silent. This was different: it was cold, yes; but this time there were screams and yells all around him, as the crew members tumbled down an icy chute. Furiously trying to keep a hold of his sword, Jack felt his satchel almost torn from him.

I’m not losing that! That’s food for three weeks!

Jack came to rest in a heap, with bodies strewn around him.

“’Scuse me,” said Enda apologetically, as he disentangled himself from Ossian and Daid.

There were groans and mutterings now, as those who had landed badly examined themselves for breakages.

“Come along!” the old man snapped.

Jack looked around. They were in some sort of cave. It wasn’t dark, more … gloomy. Jack could make out side walls, and a high roof. He was glad of the warm clothing Gilmore had provided.

The old man had set off, limping, on what looked like a rock path. Then, reaching two boulders a few paces on, he stopped, and turned.

“Line up!” The sharp order came in the same reedy voice.

“Right! By crews!” Enda shouted the order down the line at the thirty would-be travellers.

“Who’s leading Dermot’s crew?” Ossian challenged Enda.

“You take it. Kedge maybe isn’t ready for that, and Arvin’s not what you’d call a captain.”

“I’ll keep you dancing, though,” laughed Arvin, shouldering his squeeze box.

“I thought Armina said only dark magycks could open the bridge,” whispered Jack to his father. “That wasn’t dark; the old man just clapped his hands.”

“This is not the bridge,” snapped Papa Legba, whose hearing seemed remarkable. “You’ll know when we break the seal what dark means.”

Jack shuffled his feet awkwardly.

“The Bridge of Impossibilities can only be crossed by those true of spirit.” Morrigan walked along the line of travellers, eyeing each carefully. “You,” she snapped at one of the HebShian crewmen. “What is your name?”

“T … Tonald.”

“Your spirit is weak. You shall lead the first group. Take two of your comrades.”

Why?
thought Jack
. Why put someone you think is weak in front? Unless …

“We are about to break the seal and start on the bridge,” drawled Morrigan in an imperious voice. “And not all of us will see Tula. Crossing the bridge entails certain … expenses.”

She sounds just like her father
. Jack’s mind flitted back to his first sight of Briannan at the midsummer festival.

“Right! In threes!”

The old man stood on one of the two boulders, and indicated for the first group to come along. Taking a sceptre from his belt, he waved it over Tonald and his two HebShian friends. Jack was astonished to see a bubble encase the three of them: a flexible, clear bubble that moved as they did.

It’s like … what’s that stuff you see in the High Street all the time? The humans wrap things in it … Plastic.

Papa Legba now reached into the bubble with a fistful of weeds. His arm passed into and out of the bubble without breaking it.

“They’ll replenish the air. You may be in there for a long time.”

Jack heard Morrigan giggle, and turned to see her sneer at Armina. The enchantress, for her part, seemed powerless.

“Keep coming!” barked the old man. “Quickly now! You need to get into these pustulas.”

Armina now stepped forward.

“This is foolishness! This girl cares for no one’s interests but her own!”

“But we have no choice,” urged Iain Dubh. “We must go this way.”

“I will have no part of it,” said Armina determinedly. “Let us return to the boats. Come, Jack!”

“Too late for that!” sneered Morrigan. “The gate above is closed; if you stay here, you will drown!”

There was an uncertain milling of bodies, as some pressed forward, and others joined Armina as she sought to find her way back. Morrigan’s warning, however, proved to be accurate: a gush of sea water from the chute changed the minds of those who had decided to retreat.

Jack shuffled forward, but in the gloom and confusion he found he had been separated from his father. Worse, he was next to Fenrig. Papa Legba grabbed the two of them and shoved them next to one of the HebShians. In an instant they were encased in the bubble, and within a minute all the other travellers had been enclosed in threes in the pustulas.

The pustula was clear; and he could breathe all right; but the inner surface was greasy, and it smelt rank. It reminded Jack of when he’d had to clean Murkle’s grimy stove. The HebShian clutched the weeds Papa Legba had thrust in.

“The pustulas will allow you to move and breathe on the bridge!” snapped Papa Legba. “You’ll walk for six hours, and rest for one. Speak little; conserve the air within. Now one of you must open the bridge. Whose blood will pay the price?”

Morrigan stepped out of her bubble, drew her sword, and thrust it through Papa Legba’s heart.

As the old man’s body crumpled to the ground, Morrigan stepped forward and snatched his sceptre.

“Papa Legba is dead! I control the entrance to the bridge! Does anyone dare challenge me?”

Though in his pustula, Jack could hear perfectly what Morrigan was saying. And it chilled him to his bones.

She killed him! He’d helped us, and she just killed him!

Armina manoeuvred her pustula over to Jack’s, and said, “Keep a close watch. Remember the
Mapa
; and the ring. Be on your guard.”

Jack looked furtively at Fenrig. Was he really going to have to share this bubble with Morrigan’s brother?

“There’s no time to lose!” shouted Morrigan, revelling in her power. “Everyone up to the boulders now!”

When the nine bubbles were packed in close together, Morrigan pointed Papa Legba’s sceptre at the rock floor and shouted, “
Brigadoom!
”

There was a soundless explosion, and the rock floor gave way. Suddenly, Jack felt his pustula drop; then float down for several seconds in increasingly cold water until they came to rest on what looked like a bridge – an old rickety wooden bridge, with rope sides. An old rickety
underwater
wooden bridge. Startled fish swam away as the pustulas floated down.

Shivering, Jack peered ahead. He could still breathe – the pustula sealed him off from the water; but the bridge led into darkness. Every now and then there was a glow ahead to one side of the rope handrails.

Seeing that all nine pustulas had landed safely, Morrigan indicated the way forward, shouting to Tonald and his comrades to take the lead. Clearly nervous, Tonald advanced cautiously forward. The sea made a strange glooping noise as the pustulas proceeded.

Jack’s pustula was fourth in line. His father was just ahead of him, with Iain Dubh and Ishona; and Morrigan was in charge of the second pustula, with Fergus and Archie. Jack elbowed his way to the front of his pustula.

“Watch what you’re doing!” snarled Fenrig. “It’s foul enough in here without you shoving.”

“Your sister says we’ve got to go this way. Are you going to argue with her?”

Caught in a dilemma, Fenrig opted not to reply, but fell into step behind Jack. Though adult, Cal the HebShian seemed reluctant to take the lead.

Jack could see past the pustulas in front: it was almost pitch dark, but the line was moving.

“What are those glowing things up ahead?” he asked.

“Ye’ll see soon enough.”

It was the first time Cal had spoken. His voice was soft, like a gently flowing stream. And he was right: within half a minute they were approaching the first glowing object. With a lurching feeling in his stomach, Jack saw that it was a skull. A human skull, lit from inside.

Jack’s surprise was quickly followed by astonishment: he distinctly heard Morrigan cheer as she passed the skull, while Fenrig made retching noises behind him.

He’s not joking: he’s really feeling sick. And his sister’s loving this!