Jack Shian and the Mapa Mundi (17 page)

“That may be difficult,” pointed out Marco. “The low road is accessible here, but not on the mainland.”

“So we’re stuck here, then?” Rana had crept downstairs and had been listening from the doorway.

“The damage to the low roads is extensive – I have checked. That suggests an organised enemy. But it is not the work of the Kildashie.”

“There was a Dunter and a demon with Malevola when she killed Tamlina,” stated Jack. “And Grandpa told me about Boaban Shee last year. And there’s always the Hobshee – not all of them got suspended.”

“I see that you know a great deal about these things,” said Marco with a smile. “That is useful. We will try to make contact with your family.”

“They were going to Keldy,” replied Jack. “We were supposed to go too, only we ended up in Dunvik.”

“I gathered as much,” said Luka. Then, seeing the look of surprise on Jack’s face, he continued, “Your grandfather is quite alert when he is awake. But the concussion has revived previous troubles. It may be some weeks before he is fully recovered.”

“Weeks!” exclaimed Rana. “He’d only just got over the Phosphan curse.”

“The Phosphan has not completely left your grandfather; and I fear the Dunter’s blood has made things worse,” explained Luka patiently. “But when you have eaten, Marco will show you around.”

After breakfast, Jack and Rana were shown the island. While small – only two or three miles long – there were many small coves and beaches that called out to be explored.

“I’ll show you the best spots for fishing,” announced Marco as he indicated one such inlet. “And there’s someone you’ll meet sometime. He’s been here for many years, but he’s a little nervous of strangers. There’s a special fish that he’s been trying to catch. Maybe you can help him to land it.”

Jack and Rana explored the island over the next few days and quickly concluded that there weren’t many parts that didn’t have a sea view. Lengthening days and settled weather meant the peace of the island was undeniable. Time slipped by effortlessly.

It’s so peaceful here
, thought Jack as he sat and watched the sinking sun light up the clouds with a brilliant display of reds and oranges.
No trouble with Kildashie or Dunters … No more lessons with Murkle
…

Jack shook himself.

No, that’s not why we’re here. We’re on a mission – kind of. Fishing’s all very well, but we’ve more important things to do.

However, Luka’s prediction about Grandpa’s lengthy recovery proved to be accurate. The lazy pace of life did not change over the next few weeks, and so it was that Jack and Rana found themselves looking forward to the quietest midsummer either could remember.

Midsummer’s day arrived without even a whimper. Despite detailed explanations from Jack and Rana, neither Marco nor Luka seemed inclined to celebrate the day. Even being shown the seasons wheel on the wall, which now indicated midsummer, did not seem to excite them. Grandpa Sandy did not seem concerned either, pointing out that it was hard to have a big celebration with only five people.

Jack returned to the house after a fruitless morning’s fishing. He slumped moodily into a chair in the front room, swinging his empty satchel by his side.

“No joy, then?” enquired Grandpa Sandy kindly. There was a spark in his eyes once again as he watched his grandson. “Marco’s got some good news. The low road’s open again.”

“You mean we can leave?”

“First we should find out how the rest of the family are. I’ve dispatched a grig to Keldy; we should hear back soon.”

“I never understood how the low road could go under water,” said Jack thoughtfully.

“The low road has its own rules. But it’s interesting that Marco and Luka don’t seem to use it.”

“Marco said they
had
used it a while ago,” said Jack. “But they’re not Shian, Grandpa. Luka told us. This is an old human’s house. And we’re human size here.”

“Indeed.” Grandpa Sandy looked thoughtful. “That may explain some things I have been pondering. But I do believe that midsummer may prove to be significant.” His eyes were smiling.

Jack thought back to the previous midsummer. All the excitement, the biggest festival in years, thousands of Shian from all over … and then the Brashat and their Hobshee thugs had spoiled it all. That had been the start of all the trouble.

Rana nearly exploded with excitement when she was told the news. Arriving back at the house fish-less, her spirits soared at the thought of seeing her family again.

“Can we leave soon? I’ll get my things.”

Grandpa Sandy tried unsuccessfully to calm her down.

“We can go to Keldy, then work out how to get those Kildashie out of Edinburgh,” she chattered happily. “And I can tell Lizzie about all the things we’ve done here.”

“You will see your family soon enough.” Standing by the doorway, Marco’s face was set, serious.

“What’s the matter?” quavered Rana.

“The grig has returned. Your family are only minutes behind her.”

Grandpa Sandy stood up and walked over to Marco, taking him by the arm and leading him outside. Returning a few moments later, he announced, “Come along. We’ll go and meet them as they arrive.”

Jack and Rana followed him outside, unsure what to think. They quickly made their way towards the small copse that marked the low road entrance and had only a couple of minutes to wait before there was a whirr of activity.

Aunt Katie and Aunt Dorcas were first to arrive, both clutching Lizzie tightly. They stumbled off the mound, rising instantly to human height. Lizzie was crying and making retching noises. While Aunt Dorcas tried to console her, Rana ran and hugged her mother.

Within seconds, another whirring noise announced the arrival of Petros and Ossian. Jack’s initial pleasure on seeing his cousins was halted when he saw that Fenrig and Morrigan were with them.

What’s going on?

A further flurry of activity heralded a third group. Armina, tall and majestic, was holding hands with Uncle Hart, who had an angry weal across his closed eyes. All the new arrivals were dishevelled, their clothes dirty, their hair unwashed and tousled. All but Uncle Hart were clutching a bag of some sort, clothes and belongings picked up hurriedly as they’d left.

The scene was one of confusion. Relief, sadness and surprise mixed together. Jack cautiously approached Petros, but didn’t know what to say. His cousin looked wretched. Fenrig and Morrigan retreated to the edge of the crowd, watching silently as puzzled embraces were exchanged. Grandpa Sandy walked up to Uncle Hart and hugged him, but his son seemed unable to respond. Grandpa Sandy looked fearfully at Armina.

“What has happened?”

“Keldy has been taken,” she replied simply. “Hart is blinded – for now. Pierre is a prisoner of the Thanatos. They have colluded with the Kildashie and others. And it’s like winter is back – the fields are frozen.”

“But it’s midsummer!” exclaimed Jack

“Dad’s been captured,” sobbed Lizzie. The journey’s nausea had passed, leaving her free to dwell on her anguish.

“Who’s taken him? And why?” demanded Rana.

“The Kildashie and the Dunters made a deal – an Unseelie alliance,” explained Aunt Katie, trying to comfort her daughters, “and they brought in the Thanatos.”

“Thanatos?”This was a new name to add to Jack’s list.

“They’re the condemned,” gasped Uncle Hart, his eyes tightly closed. “They hover just this side of death. When they fight, they know they’ve nothing to lose.”

“Why not? And why are they condemned?”

“If they’re defeated, they know they’re going to Sheol. Whatever they did in life, it was bad if that’s their punishment.”

Jack shuddered. Sheol: Shian hell, the worst fate imaginable.

“Why would they bother with the Kildashie?”

“The Kildashie have promised them the Chalice. The Thanatos think that it will keep them alive.”

“And so they won’t go to Sheol?”

Uncle Hart nodded. “We think so.”

“But the Chalice doesn’t work like that. It’s not a magyck; it’s about belief.”

“These are desperate creatures, Jack. They’ll try anything to avoid …”

“Dad tried to take ’em on,” mumbled Petros. “But they move like lightning. One of them drew his sword across Uncle Hart’s face.”

Jack was overwhelmed. It was so good to see his cousins and the others again, but the news that things had got even worse was hard to take in. His uncle’s face looked hideous.

In a daze, Jack led the bedraggled refugees back up to the house. When they arrived, Marco and Luka were standing by the door. They seemed unsurprised by the unkempt and distressed condition of the new arrivals. Holding up his hand for attention, Marco announced, “Luka will attend to your injuries. Our house is open to you all, but you see that it is not big enough for everyone.”

“Grandpa can fix that,” stated Rana.

“I’m afraid that Shian charms will not work on this house,” replied Marco smilingly. “But it is midsummer, and I am sure that you younger ones will be happy to sleep out in tents. We have canvas enough.”

“And you will be safe here, so do not fear.” Luka spoke up now. “If matters are as serious as you say, then Marco and I will have work to do elsewhere, once I have seen to that man’s eyes. You may stay here for as long as you need. Marco and I will leave the house to you.”

“I saw Trog today,” stated Marco. “He lives down on one of the bays. He was quite excited when I told him about you all. He believes the arrival of our young visitors – or one of them – is a matter of great fortune.”

Jack looked quizzically at Marco.

“Trog?”

“It’s not his real name. We call him that because he lives in a cave. When he arrived he was known as Erik Bloodaxe. He doesn’t like his old name.”

“How come Rana and I haven’t met him before?”

“I haven’t seen him myself since you arrived. He’s practically a hermit, and shy of visitors, but something makes him think one of these young ones may be the answer to his prayers. In fact, Jack, I can take you to meet him now.”

The house still looked like a ruin from the outside when he arrived back two hours later, but Jack hardly noticed. Filled with excitement, he could hardly wait to tell the others of Trog and his cave. As he approached the house, he saw that several small tents had been erected outside, but they were all unoccupied.

Stepping inside the house, Jack found everyone was crammed inside the now familiar interior. But his anticipation was dashed as he saw the look of defeat on the face of Petros, Rana … well, everyone. Everyone, and Finbogie too, whose stern gaze met Jack’s astonished look.

“Midsummer opened up the low road, Jack,” said his defence tutor. “But it’s done something else. You remember that Daid said he’d touched the Stone at Oestre? I’ve just come from Edinburgh, and midsummer’s worked the same trick. If the Kildashie can work out how to get the Stone out, it’s all over.”

That was it, then. Hundreds of years of waiting to get the Stone back, and now the Unseelie had just walked uninvited into Edinburgh and midsummer had granted them the Stone. Just great. To say nothing of them turning midsummer back into winter.

Jack rounded on Marco and Luka, demanding, “Can’t you take the Kildashie on?”

“Young man, you mistake our purpose here. My brothers and I are teachers; we do not interfere directly in the affairs of people. Or, at least, only rarely.” Luka spoke calmly.

“But you have the powers of Gosol,” Jack persisted. “And you’ve told us that we always have to fight for what’s right. Isn’t fighting evil part of what you do?”

“We
are
part of that fight,” continued Luka. “But we operate through people – human or Shian. If they learn well from us, then they will know what to do. That is our commission.”

“Well, tell us then: what do we do?” Jack shouted angrily.

Aunt Katie stood up and moved over to Jack, putting her arms around him. Her eyes were moist, but she looked firmly into his eyes.

“Jack, trust them. They’re good men.”

“But how?” Jack wanted to push his aunt away.

“We cannot give you all the answers.” Marco spoke up now. “But we can show you how to find them. And I have already started that. Perhaps you ought to tell the others what you have learnt this afternoon.”

“Well … we went to see Trog. He’s not that old … I mean, he doesn’t look all that old. He’s a warrior-something …” Jack broke off.

“Warrior-savant,” interjected Marco.

“Yes. He used to be a warrior, now he spends his time seeking wisdom. His cave is tucked away; you hardly notice it. Rana and I have been here a month, and we’ve never even seen him. For seven years he’s been trying to catch this big fish. It’s something to do with finding wisdom, or good luck …” Jack’s voice trailed off.

“Trog is a warrior who came here with the Norse invaders.” Marco took over. “But he’s no ghost, like the ones you saw last year. He was left for dead, but his body had fallen by a well whose waters have powers that stop ageing. But once taken, that person cannot leave. They must return to drink the waters of the well every full moon, or their body will wither and die, and their soul with it.”

“You mean he just drinks from the well and he’ll live forever?” Rana sounded incredulous. “Then why doesn’t everyone go there?”

“His long years come at a price,” stated Luka. “He is slowly atoning for his bloodlust, but the anger can flare quickly. He needs wisdom if he is to have a peaceful death. To get that wisdom, he believes he must catch and eat the swordfish of fortune.”

“It’s this enormous fish,” blurted out Jack. “The first person to taste its flesh will be shown where the
Mapa Mundi
’s hidden. It’s a map that shows its owner where his heart’s treasure lies. Trog believes it will lead him to a peaceful death.”

“The manuscripts said that about the Sphere.” Grandpa Sandy’s voice was weak. “The third treasure.”

“But a map’s not round,” pointed out Jack.

“Globe maps are,” asserted his grandfather. “And if this one shows the right path to follow, that must help us.”

“We can get the Stone back and get rid of the Kildashie.” Rana sounded triumphant.