The Last Phoenix (15 page)

Jess shook her head to clear it of Fenella's voice. “The first dewdrop has a glimmer of gold.”

Jason peered closely at the stone, but a vengeful gust of wind blew cold, stinging rain into his face.

The wind-borne voice hissed out with the rain:
“Leave here now, and learn another's truth…”

“This stone thing is definitely talking.” Michael backed away. “That is so not good.”

“We're not taking the dew for ourselves,” Jess shouted over the rising howl of the wind.

A savage gust knocked Milly off balance, and she fell to her knees before the statue. She stared in surprise at a scintilla of sunlight caught in one of the raindrops. It reminded her of Fenella's glowing jewel.

“Jess,” Milly shouted. “I think I've found the golden one!”

Jess crouched down to see and nodded excitedly. “You have! Oh, well done, Milly!”

The voice swelled to a blustering shout.
“BEWARE…”

“Our friend can't hatch her egg without it!” Milly yelled up at the statue.

Then she noticed Jason had pulled out his pipette with the yellow teat. “Here we go, then!” he cried.

“But that drop is tiny, and there are so many others around it!” Jess called. “And you
have
to get the whole of the drop, Jason.”

“No pressure, then, mate,” Michael called.

Jason slowly raised the pipette. “The silphium may not have done wonders for my inner athlete, but that's because I've had no athlete's training…”

“But you've been training to be a geek your whole life!” Michael realized. “Cool! Go for it!”

The voices blew and billowed up around them and the wind itself seemed to carry a new note of warning.

“Beware eyes behind glass…”

“Do not take the dew…”

“Beware false lines on parchment…”

“Don't let the voices put you off, Jason,” Jess urged him.

Faster than a striking cobra, Jason stabbed down at the stone with the pipette and then drew back his hand. “Got it!”

Abruptly, the wind dropped and died away to nothing. The clouds shrank away from the statue, as if suddenly
afraid. Sunlight, golden and cruel, flooded down over the barren, silent summit of Mount Quamquangle. The children looked at each other uneasily.

“Sunlight,” said Michael quietly. “Well, that's meant to be a good omen, isn't it?”

No one replied. The sudden calm felt unnatural, like feeling the crisp freshness after a storm when there had
been
no storm.
Like we took a short cut,
Jess thought privately.
Again
.

Jason put the pipette carefully into a test tube and placed it in his pocket.

“I think I'd like to go back now,” said Milly quietly.

Jess pulled out the feather, and they each took hold.

“Time before us, take us on,”
Michael commanded. “To our starting point, seven hours from now.”

Milly smiled gratefully as the golden speckles of the magical feather crept into her view, brighter than the thin mountain sunlight. She was glad when the barren crag faded from her sight, but as the workshop faded back into existence around them, the shadow of the statue seemed to linger in her vision. The statue that gazed down over all, from the top of the world…

“Warmth!” Michael gasped, stamping up and down, trying to get the circulation going in his legs. “Wow, was that ever cold.”

Jason let go of the feather and checked his watch. “It only took us thirty minutes.”

Milly beamed through chattering teeth. “George the gryphon's smile must really have brought us good luck!”

“We've got the lot,” Jess declared. “Tomorrow's sunlight, the ash of Fenella's old nest, the silphium, and the dewdrop.”

“The full package,” Michael agreed.

“Fenella will be so pleased,” said Jason, as Jess slipped on the oven gloves and started to open the door.

“We've got everything you asked for, Fenella!” Milly cried. “You and your egg are going to be…”

Her voice choked off as the door swung open—and she saw that the kiln was empty.

Michael frowned. “I don't believe it.”

“She's gone,” Milly whispered, staring in shock. “Fenella, the nest, and her egg—they've all disappeared!”

“F
enella can't have just gone!” said Jess, looking around. “She must be here somewhere.”

“Wait,” said Jason. “Look, the kiln's not working. The power's cut off.”

“This is weird,” said Michael uneasily. “No bird. No egg. No nest. No power.”

“Let's look at the map,” Milly suggested. She wrapped her ragged raincoat more closely around her, still feeling some of the mountain chill in her bones. “If something's lost, the map always shows us where it is.”

Jason pulled the map out of his pocket and unfolded it. It had changed once again. Now there was a small building marked in one corner and the rest of the paper was taken up with a much larger building crisscrossed with lines. It looked like lots of rooms overlaid on top of each other with corridors in between.

“It's a house,” Jason said. “I think it's Mr. Milton's house—and the small building is the workshop.”

“And
that
must be Fenella!” said Michael, stabbing his finger down on a red cross in the middle of the big building.

“So what's this?” said Milly pointing to another much smaller cross, marked on the map.

“I bet it's the egg in the nest,” said Michael.

“But why are they in Mr. Milton's house?” asked Jason.

They were all silent for a moment. Each of them frowning, lost in worried thoughts.

Milly's face was pale. “Do you…do you think something bad might have happened?”

Michael shrugged helplessly. “She wasn't looking too hot last time we saw her.”

“Hot,” Jess echoed. “Of course, if the kiln has packed up, she might have gone looking for warmth in Mr. Milton's house.”

“She might be in his oven,” said Jason anxiously. “We've got to find her!”

Milly was already racing across the lawn. Jason pulled away from Michael and Jess and caught up with her easily, barely out of breath. In a single athletic bound, he leaped up the five stone steps that led to the back of the house and ran up to the big French windows that led inside. They stood ajar, but he hesitated. “I suppose we
can't just go in, can we?”

Jess lingered at the foot of the steps. “Maybe we should go around the front and knock.”

“And say what?” asked Michael. “Sorry, Mr. Milton, but there's an invisible phoenix flying round your house, can we have her back, please? Oh, and we need to look for her egg on the way!”

Milly shrugged. “He said we could drop in anytime, didn't he?”

“But then he'll take us to his living room so he and his old duffer mate can bore us to death,” Michael pointed out. “I say we go straight in and find Fenella.”

Jason looked at the map. The big red cross was right in the center. “Michael's right. Fenella might need that dewdrop right now.”

“If we run into Mr. Milton, we could say we came to say bye or something,” Milly said with sudden inspiration. “Anyway, if the door's open it might mean he's in the garden.”

They glanced about, but there was no sign of the old man.

“Someone should stay out here as lookout, just in case he is outside,” said Jess.

“You stay, Mil,” said Michael. She opened her mouth to argue but he shushed her. “You can wind people around
your little finger, you know you can. If old Milton comes along you'll be able to make up some sort of story and distract him while we get out.”

Milly's frown softened. “I suppose so.”

“That's a really good idea.” Jess nodded. “Maybe you should stay out here too, Jason.”

Jason shook his head. “We might need to climb up and get Fenella or something. Then my extra agility might come in useful.”

“Okay, the three of us will go.” Jess reached into her pocket. “Here, take my cell phone, Milly. Ring Michael if you see Mr. Milton.”

Milly took it quickly. “I will.”

“Meanwhile we'll go in and get Fenella—and the egg,” said Michael. He looked at the others. “Let's go!”

 

Leaving Milly on the lookout, Michael, Jess, and Jason moved cautiously into a large sitting room. The smell of furniture polish hung in the warm, still air. The walls were paneled in old dark wood. It felt very strange to be standing there—
strange and wrong
, Jess thought, her skin prickling.

There were big double doors on the other side of the room. Michael nodded at them, and Jess and Jason followed him over. Michael turned the handle and they found
themselves looking into a long corridor lined with portraits in ornate gold frames.

Jason got the map out. “I think we're here,” he whispered, pointing to the map. He traced a winding route from where they were to the biggest red cross with his finger. “And this is where we have to go.”

“Lead the way then, mate,” Michael said in a low voice. “You're the whiz with maps.”

With Jason in the lead, they set off down the corridor. Jess half expected Mr. Milton to open a door at any moment and see them. Her breath felt short in her throat, her palms were sweating. What would they say to him?

“One, two, three…” Jason muttered, counting the doorways as they went. “
Four!
I think we have to go through this room!”

Michael put his hand on the door and slowly opened it. It led into a small sitting room. The curtains were closed and the furniture was covered in sheets. On the other side there was another door. When they went through it they found themselves in another corridor.

“This place is like a maze,” Jess whispered.

They turned right and went down the corridor before going up three steps. They passed strange objects on the landing—a tiger skin was hung on one wall, its mouth wide. There was an old dusty carousel horse in one corner.
A stuffed crocodile in a glass case lay in another, glaring beadily at them. A display of old medical instruments cluttered a tabletop.

Several times the corridor split into two and they had to choose whether to go left or right. Jess's head began to spin. She didn't like the twisty, turning corridor, didn't like all this weird, old bric-a-brac. “Are you still following where we are on the map?” she asked Jason in a low voice.

He nodded. “Fenella should be in the next room on the right.”

They reached the room and paused. Michael listened. “There's no sound,” he reported, and slowly opened the door.

They were in a study with a big desk and bookshelves. The chair had been pushed back and a pen was lying by some paper without its top on. There was a half drunk glass of water. It looked as if someone had been there recently.

“Fenella!” called Jess softly.

The three of them looked around. “She's not here,” said Michael.

“I'm sure this was where the map wanted us to go,” said Jason. He looked down at the parchment and cried out.

“What is it?” Jess asked in alarm.

Wordlessly, Jason held out the map, and Jess and Michael both gasped.

The parchment was blank. Every line, every marking, had completely vanished.

A cold feeling shivered over Michael's skin. “How could that happen?” He took the parchment to check the other side—but at his touch it crumbled like stale flaky pastry.

“The map!” Jess cried. “You clumsy—”

“It wasn't my fault,” Michael protested, staring at the brittle fragments that were all that was left of the map. “It just fell apart.”

Jason picked up a piece and it disintegrated. “Maybe—maybe it ran out of magic.”

Jess felt sick. “What if this means we're too late? What if Fenella…?”

“Don't,” said Michael through gritted teeth. “She's okay. She's got to be—”

Suddenly a squeal of hinges tore through the air. The door to the room was swinging shut.

On instinct, Jason dashed across the room and stood in the doorway. But the door was still trying to close, as though someone invisible was leaning against it.

“Quick, get out!” Jason gasped. “I can't hold it.”

Michael and Jess bundled out through the closing gap. Jason moved aside with them—and the door banged shut.

“What was
that
all about?” Michael whispered.

“I don't know,” said Jess. “This all feels really wrong.”

Jason nodded. “Let's go back the way we came.”

They set off down the gloomy passage. But it was hard to remember which way to turn and which rooms to go through.

“I don't remember that,” Jess said pointing to a glass case of stuffed snakes.

“Me neither,” said Michael anxiously.

The more they wandered around, the more bewildered they felt. Jess felt panic clawing inside her. “What happened to the stairs?”

“It's like they've vanished,” Michael said grimly.

“The house
can't
be this big,” Jason said miserably, “it just can't be!”

“We're lost,” Jess agreed. “Completely and utterly lost!”

 

Milly had spent the first five minutes after the others had gone looking eagerly around for any sign of Mr. Milton. But when he failed to appear, she sat down on the stone steps, feeling bored.

It was dull being here on her own, and she couldn't wait to see Fenella again and show her the dewdrop.

She's going to be so happy,
Milly thought.
We've got everything she needs now to hatch her chick.

Of course, Fenella had urged her to taste the dewdrop.
Could it really help her to sing? She knew that she wouldn't be Annie—but was that because she did taste the dewdrop, or because she didn't? How could she ever know?

She sighed, tired from trying to make sense of it all. Where
were
the others? She took the mobile out of her pocket and called Michael. The call went straight through to Michael's voicemail.

Maybe there's no signal inside the house,
Milly thought. She went to the door. Perhaps she should go after them…

But as she reached the door she heard a sound that made her freeze. It was halfway between a squawk and a loud shriek.

Fenella!
Milly thought.

The sound rent the air again. It seemed to be coming from outside somewhere, around the corner of the house.
She must have got back out,
Milly thought as she leaped down the steps, her heart pounding. And it sounded as if the phoenix was in trouble.

Milly didn't stop to think. She charged across the paving stones and around the side of the house. She hadn't seen this part before. There was a pale octagonal stone building linked to the house by a covered passage. The building had windows on each of its eight sides. One of them was open and through it came another horrible cry.

Milly raced up to the building. She was about to burst through the door when common sense suddenly gripped her. What if someone—or something—was threatening Fenella? Something really bad?

She ran to the window instead and peered in.

Fenella, her feathers still pale and tarnished, was perched on a stone table right in the center—and Mr. Milton was in there too! He had his back to her and was picking something up from one of eight cluttered workbenches lining the room. What was going on? Maybe Fenella had flown inside and then Mr. Milton had found her there…

Milly frowned as she suddenly noticed a locked manacle around Fenella's leg. It was attached by a chain to a stout metal ring in the center of the table. The phoenix seemed to gather her strength and rose up into the air, wings flapping, shrieking loudly as she fought against the chain.

Goosebumps prickled across Milly's skin. What was going on?

“Be quiet, phoenix!” snapped Mr. Milton, swinging around. His eyes met Milly's through the window. “Ah, hello, my dear,” he said, with that familiar smile. “I'm so glad you decided to stop by.”

He reached out one hand in her direction and clenched his fist. Milly felt her throat tighten. She gasped as her vision spun and her legs buckled beneath her…

And suddenly she was
inside
the octagonal room, sprawled on the patterned stone floor, looking up at Mr. Milton. And in a heartbeat, the old man had changed. Gone were the old, tweedy clothes—now he was wearing an expensive dark suit and a black fez with two white tassels. He was no longer stooped, but seemed tall and powerful.

“The board is set, the players are assembled…” The smile on Mr. Milton's face twisted into a cruel leer. “Let the final game begin.”