Jack Shian and the Mapa Mundi (16 page)

“
Felavert!
”

The lion halted: it looked like it was trying to move, but couldn’t.

Now what?
thought Jack.
Now I’m supposed to get out of here; but I still can’t. Grandpa’s sceptre is in his cloak, and he’s not even moving. At least Rana’s stopped screaming
.

The lion tried to move forwards again, but its legs would not cooperate, and it stumbled to its knees.

And then the mist in Jack’s head cleared. Just as he had with Konan the treeman, he thrust his right palm out towards the lion and shouted, “
Gosol!
”

There was a loud crack and a puff of smoke. When it had cleared, the lion had gone, and before Jack and Rana sat an old man clutching an ancient leather-bound book. He got to his feet and brushed himself down. Jack was so taken aback that he had no idea what his next move should be, but the old man took the initiative.

“Your heart is true, young man,” he said, a kindly smile in his eyes. “You use that power well. Come, let us see what has happened to your grandfather.”

“You nearly killed him,” shouted Rana.

The old man looked steadily at her. “I believe he fell,” he answered in an injured tone.

Grandpa Sandy had regained consciousness and was sitting rubbing the side of his head.

“Blasted stone,” he muttered.

Then, looking up and seeing Jack and Rana with the stranger, he got to his feet, but the effort was too much, and he sat down again.

“I am afraid that your sudden appearance made me stumble,” he said slowly. “That rock–” he indicated a stone partly covered with sand “–caught me on the temple.” He rubbed slowly at a large graze on the side of his head.

“Let’s have a look at that,” said the stranger, kneeling down to examine Grandpa Sandy’s head and placing the leather book on the ground.

Having inspected the graze and looked in Grandpa Sandy’s eyes, he pronounced, “We should get you to lie down for a while. My house is not far. You’ll be safe there.”

Jack was looking quizzically at the leather-bound book on the ground.

I’m sure I’ve seen it before somewhere. But where?

He stooped to pick it up, but the old man beat him to it.

“I’ll take care of that,” he said firmly. “Follow me.”

The path led them towards an old ruined cottage. Just one storey high, it had no roof and only two and a half walls.

“Is that his house?” hissed Rana to Jack. “There’s hardly any of it left.”

The old man stepped up to what had once been the front doorway, tapped a weather-beaten symbol carved into the stone lintel, and stepped through. Jack ushered his grandfather in next. Stepping over the portal, they entered a brightly lit, well-furnished room. Wooden beams held up the ceiling, the walls were adorned with pictures, and shelves were crammed with books. Rana entered last and let out a yelp of surprise as she caught sight of the room’s interior.

The old man guided Grandpa Sandy over to a sofa and made him lie down. Disappearing into the next room for a minute, he returned with a bowl of water and a clean cloth.

“I can do that,” announced Rana, glad to have something to do. She took the damp cloth and gently washed the graze on her grandfather’s head.

The old man indicated to Jack that he should sit down, and Jack did so, gratefully. Jack’s mind was racing. This didn’t seem real, and yet he was sitting on what felt like a real chair. The outdoor sounds of wind and sea had died down to almost nothing, and a fire crackled in the grate.

“Please, can I ask who you are?” he managed.

“I am Marco.”The old man’s tone was even.

“We heard you were a cat. I didn’t realise you were a shape-shifter.”

“I have been many things. My lion is how some people know me.”

“And please,” Jack continued, “your book. It’s like Matthew’s. D’you know him?”

“My brother,” replied Marco. Then, seeing the look of puzzlement on Jack’s face, he continued, “Not my blood brother. We are four of many who echo the word.” He leant forward and showed Jack the front of the book. In very faint letters Jack could just make out the word “Gosol” on the cover.

“You have the power of Gosol?” asked Jack breathlessly.

Grandpa Sandy tried to sit up at the sound of the word.

“We teach it. And you have clearly learned it, for you used it just now.”

“I was taught that Gosol was the key to three treasures linked to the creator force,” said Jack excitedly, “and that it has to do with believing in what’s right.”

“And acting on that belief lets in the light,” added Marco. “Gosol will let light in, even through the tiniest crack. You’d be amazed what it can do.”

“My grandfather taught me some of that … And there was someone else – but she’s dead,” added Jack.

“One of our followers, I know.” Marco sounded sorrowful.

“You knew Tamlina?” asked Rana. “How?”

“I have been around for a long time,” replied Marco. “I travel, and I teach. She came to us late, but she learnt well.”

“A Brashat told us you were here,” said Jack. “He didn’t want to, but I made him. I’m looking for my father.”

And with that, Jack told Marco the story of his father and Konan, and their imprisonment by the Grey; and how Konan had managed to escape, though his father was still suspended somewhere. He talked of how they had recovered the King’s Chalice the previous year, after a battle with the Brashat, when the longship warriors and the monks had sailed through the forest. Marco smiled as Jack related the story of Comgall the monk and his leniency when the Brashat leader Briannan was defeated. Jack told of how the Kildashie had moved from their islands far out in the western ocean and had now overrun the Shian square in Edinburgh.

“And now you seek the Sphere to help you recover your homes?” Marco concluded Jack’s tale.

“And find my father,” added Jack quietly. “The two are together, I’m sure of it: where we find one, we find the other.”

“And finish off the Kildashie – they’re bad,” added Rana. “It always got really cold when they were around. Like a winter that didn’t stop.”

Marco pondered for a moment.

“We had heard rumours of
infama
happenings on the mainland. It appears that they were true.”

Grandpa Sandy had been lying silently on the sofa, listening intently. Now his head rolled to one side, and his reeking arm steamed gently.

That smells foul!

“I fear that knock to your grandfather’s head has done more harm than we realised,” announced Marco. “I will summon my brother Luka: he is a physician and will know what to do.”

With that, he stood up and moved to the front door. Tapping the stone lintel again, he muttered under his breath.

“
Luka, referfrat
.”

Marco walked silently back to the sofa and knelt down. Eyes closed, he muttered inaudibly, then paused.

“Your grandfather has been ill already, I fear.”

“Malevola poisoned him with a Phosphan curse,” explained Jack. “Armina took care of him, and he’d almost recovered.”

“Is he going to be all right?” enquired Rana anxiously.

“We may need to summon Armina as well. These illnesses may not be within Luka’s knowledge.”

“We tried to get back to Keldy: that’s where the rest of our family are,” stated Jack. “But the low road was sabotaged, we couldn’t use it.”

“It is some time since we used the low road here,” said Marco thoughtfully. “I fear it will not be any use if the rest of the network is damaged.”

“Couldn’t we try it anyway?” asked Rana plaintively. “I want to see my mum and dad.”

“The most pressing matter is to ensure your grandfather is all right,” stated Marco emphatically. Then, relaxing, he continued, “But I’m sure we can see if the low road can be made to work.”

Jack and Rana looked at each other. For several minutes, nobody spoke. Jack looked over at his grandfather.
He looks like he’s sleeping
, thought Jack.
So peaceful.

“Marco,” began Rana, “where are we?”

“You’re on Ilanbeg, by Loch na Keal.”

“But why would Konan send us here?” demanded Jack. “I asked him where my father was, and Gosol made him reply. Is my father on this island?”

Marco looked thoughtfully at the youngster.

“You have courage; something tells me that you do not fear much. But you should respect real danger.” Seeing the look of incomprehension on Jack’s face, he continued, “Your father is not on this island, young man. But there may be ways to find him, if you prove yourself worthy.”

“He’s alive then?” Jack’s voice rose as excitement and trepidation welled up inside him. “If he can be found, I’ll find him. Where is he?”

“First, you must prove yourself. And the time for that has not yet come. But we can make preparations, so that we are ready.”

Jack thumped the chair in exasperation. “But when’s that?”

“When the moon rises after midsummer.”

“That’s a month away!” exclaimed Rana.

“We have plenty we can do in the meantime,” answered Marco evenly. “I believe there is some more firewood outside, if you would be so good as to fetch it.”

Jack stood up nervously. “I … I’m sorry I shouted,” he mumbled. “I just want to find my father.”

He moved uncomfortably towards the front door. Passing through, he glanced back at the room and saw the walls and the furnishings disappear. True to Marco’s word, there was an untidy stack of kindling and small logs at the side of the house. Grasping several pieces, Jack went back through the front door. As he did so, the room materialised again.

“It keeps unwanted visitors away,” said Marco, who had been watching Jack closely.

Jack set the logs down by the fireplace and arranged a couple on top of the dying fire.

“I hope you like fishing, because you can get some practice in,” stated Marco.

“I’m good at fishing,” announced Rana cheerily. “We do it all the time in Rangie.”

“Not sea fishing, then?” asked Marco kindly.

Rana looked at Marco. “Is it very different?”

“Certainly. But you can show me what you know tomorrow. And now, I think we can eat a little.”

Grandpa Sandy had not woken up by the time supper was finished. Rana, unsure whether this was a good sign or not, indicated to Marco that she would sit with her grandfather until he woke up.

“That may be a long wait, young lady.” Marco’s tone was even. “Luka will be here tonight; he will know what to do. You can dry your clothes by the fire.”

Jack and Rana climbed upstairs to a small, furnished twin bedroom and settled down to sleep. So much had happened in the last couple of days. Attacks and unplanned journeys, Dunters and Aquines. But it was disconcerting that Grandpa was unwell again.

“D’you trust Marco?” asked Rana, snuggling down under the bedclothes.

“I think so. He seems kind.”

“But he’s a lion; couldn’t he be dangerous?”

“His book is like Matthew’s: didn’t you notice? It has ‘Gosol’ on the cover. He must be all right.”

“If he’s got that much power, why can’t he wake Grandpa up?”

“Perhaps the bump on the head started up the Phosphan curse again.”

“Maybe. I thought he was just resting.”

A steady rain pattered against the windowpane, and a low murmur from outside heralded a rising wind.

“Did you see that little wooden wheel on the wall?” asked Jack. “It’s like the one the Blue Hag had when she was clearing the snows. It shows the seasons.”

“I wasn’t there, silly,” said Rana sleepily. Then, after a pause, “It’s funny being on an island, isn’t it? It feels safe here.”

Jack lay and thought about how much better it would be if Petros and the others were here too.

But at least I’m getting closer to my father. Even if I don’t know where he is, I’m sure I’m getting closer
.

Jack slept soundly, dreamlessly, oblivious to the wild storm that raged throughout the night. When he finally awoke, the sun was streaming through the small window. Rana’s slow, heavy respirations signalled that she was still fast asleep.

With a jolt, Jack remembered his grandfather. Dressing hurriedly, he clambered downstairs, but stopped in his tracks as he entered the front room. An old man sat by the sofa. Wisps of white hair fringed the back of his head, and a short, straggly beard fell from his chin. He appeared to be sleeping. Jack saw that his grandfather remained stretched out on the sofa, and he crept cautiously forward. A loud creak from a floorboard caused the man in the chair to stir. Opening his eyes, he looked first at Grandpa Sandy, then up at Jack. He smiled.

“Your grandfather is still sleeping. Would you like some breakfast?”

Nonplussed, Jack was grateful when Marco entered.

“I see you’ve met my brother Luka,” announced Marco. “Do not be afraid; he is a physician and will take care of your grandfather.”

Jack sat down at the table, where breakfast had been laid out.

“Is Grandpa all right?” he mumbled.

“I fear he has encountered many troubles,” answered Luka. “Phosphan weakens the body and lingers long. Yesterday’s concussion has not helped.”

“When will he wake up?”

“When the time is right.” Luka smiled again and looked over to the wooden wheel on the wall. “His troubles are far greater than yesterday’s accident. Did you meet any evil creatures on your journey?”

“A Dunter in Dunvik threw some blood at Grandpa. The blood made his arm stink – like a burn. I got rid of the Dunter,” added Jack. “Finbogie taught me how.”

“We could do with the help of such people,” mused Luka. “Treating Shian curses is not my strong suit.”

“You mean … you mean you’re not Shian?” Jack’s voice quavered.

“We have been around for many years, but no, we are not Shian. Haven’t you noticed? You’re human-sized here.” Luka spoke evenly, his voice reassuring. “We can do much, but there are limits to our powers. We are not magicians.”

“But you’re a physician,” blurted out Jack. “You must know how to heal him.”

“The greatest healer is time, my friend. Patience, mixed with knowledge and belief.”

“So what can we do then?” asked Jack plaintively.

“We wait. And we will try to arrange for your friends Armina and Finbogie to come here.”