Max Stone and the Lost Star of Zirdon (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

THE ATTIC

Max sat in the kitchen staring out at the rain.

He was bored.

Part of him wished he had gone into the Saturday Fair with his Gran. Saturday in Listowel was fair day and his Gran always picked up her old friend, Mrs DeLahunte, for the day.

‘Oh I know she's old and a bit bothersome at times, Max,' she had said to him last night, ‘but she rarely gets out during the week. Her daughter is over in England and, well, she doesn't have anyone else.'

Mrs DeLahunte was a very nice old lady and Max's worst nightmare all rolled into one. She could talk for hours, nonstop, in a high pitched voice that sounded like she was annoyed most of the time. She also had an irritating habit of pinching Max's cheek and telling him how cute he was and how she remembered that he wore nappies when he came down to Kerry first. What bugged Max most of all was that she could spend up to 20 minutes in a butcher shop trying to pick out which pork chop she would have for her Saturday tea. She would then moan about it all the way home in the car. How much it cost, the way they always trimmed the fat off and kept the best bits for themselves.

No, Max had learned his lesson about going with his Gran to Fair Day in Listowel last summer.

Outside it lashed rain. It wasn't the sort of soft rain you could put a coat on and still go out and have fun. This was the torrential type. Huge drops fell from the sky to splash into the puddles below and it seemed like there was no stopping it.

His Gran, who had left before Max got up just after nine, had left him a very nice note on the Fridge.

‘
Dear Max,

I've left brown-bread and homemade raspberry jam on the counter for your breakfast. For lunch I made the tomato soup you like and if you get peckish help yourself to anything you can find in the fridge.

Hope to be home by six, and Oh! Don't stray too far from the house!!

Love Gran. X X X'

Max took the note to the window and looked outside. There was no fear of him straying too far from the house, he thought miserably. There was no fear of him straying anywhere at all.

Outside, black rain clouds gathered and he watched his plans for a day of hunting rabbits in the old sand dunes behind the house wash away. He had planned to go hunting rabbits with the slingshot his Granddad Arthur had given him when he was ten. First, he had planned a bit of target practice by the giant apple tree in the back garden. He and his Granddad had tied targets, coke bottles, tin cans and a tin baking tray from Gran's kitchen. She had scolded both of them for that one but it always made such a satisfying clang when you hit it, that it was worth it. There was no chance of that now. It was simply too wet and miserable out.

He enjoyed his breakfast of brown-bread and jam, put his plate away in the sink and wandered into the old sitting room where his Gran kept her little old TV set. Max was sure it must have been an antique by now. It was one of those portable types that sat on top a pile of old books in the corner. He flicked the set on and his heart sank a little when the screen snowed a crackly white. No reception.

‘Ah man' Max groaned. He fiddled about with the ariel, the old fashioned rabbit ears that sat on top of the TV, to see if it would make any difference, but nothing.

Outside the rain got heavier.

The kitchen clock read 10.00 and he had a whole day to kill.

Now, in any ordinary house this might have been difficult, but in this old mansion there were rooms to be explored, ones his Gran probably hadn't been in since his last visit. He made his way to the large old room on the first floor, just above the kitchen. In the old days, when the house had servants and bustled with life, dinner parties were thrown in here. He opened the door to the high-ceilinged room and he marvelled at how his Granddad had transformed it from a dusty old dining hall to a trophy cabinet. All of the animal specimens and other things he had brought back from Africa were on show in here. The large dining table was still there, of course, only now it was covered with dozens and dozens of stuffed monkeys, ant eaters and snakes.

On the walls hung the heads of huge beasts his Granddad had hunted. A huge collection of Voodoo masks, old black magic from the deepest Africa, hung around the walls. Set against the far wall sat dozens of tribal hunting spears and Max dived right into these. In his imagination he created the scene and he was Max Stone, explorer and adventurer and he had to ward off the evil spirits. He imagined the drawing room transformed into the plains of Africa and the Voodoo masks became the evil spirit lords he had to hunt down. The tribal spears became his weapons and the monkeys his friends who warned him when a spirit lord came up from behind.

He played his game of make-believe for ages, lost in the magic of the old room and treasures from afar.

About midday he began to feel hungry and Max made himself more bread and jam down in the kitchen. The soup would keep until later. As he ate he listened to the rain beating against the windows. His imagination wandered to the attic.

‘Ah, the attic,' he thought.

This was a place he knew Granddad Arthur kept many of his secret treasures; he had heard him talk about it in hushed tones to his Gran many times when he was younger. There would be some cool stuff to play with up there.

Max left the kitchen and climbed the first flight of stairs where his and his Gran's bedrooms were and went on up to the second floor. This floor of the house was not often used. When he reached the landing he looked around. It smelled up here, a little dusty and old, and he wondered when his Gran had last ventured up. This floor of the house had a lonely feel to it.

He carried on to the end of the corridor towards the little stairs that lead up to the attic. Max took it step by step - the light got lower and dimmer as he moved higher up the narrow staircase. When he reached the top he came to an ancient looking wooden door with a round porcelain handle. He reached out his hand and turned, holding his breath.

Nothing happened.

It was locked.

Of course he thought to himself, his Granddad wasn't about to hold all his secret treasures in a room that wasn't locked.

What would he do?

How would he get into the attic? And then a thought struck him. At first he thought it was silly. There was no way it could be as easy as that, was there? But he decided to try anyway. He had seen it in an old TV show his Gran liked to watch, called Colombo. The detective always wore a shaggy looking brown coat, and even though he didn't look that bright, he always solved the case. Anytime Colombo faced a locked door, the first thing he did was to reach up and try the top of the door frame. Maybe there was a chance.

He reached up on his tippy toes and just about reached the top of the door frame. He fished around for a few moments until his fingers touched off something long and cold. It had a smooth shaft and it felt like a key. He reached higher, trying to get it down. With a leap he flicked it down.

A shiny silver key fell at his feet.

He had the key to the attic.

He slowly turned the key and pushed open the creaky old door.

He wasn't entirely sure what he had expected, but this sure wasn't it. For a start, the attic was much, much bigger than he had imagined. The window he had seen from outside let in the gloomy light from outside. The attic was stacked high with boxes and he turned to his left looking for a light. He found an old-fashioned string cord and pulled. A bulb in the centre of the room flicked on and cast a dim light.

As he looked around he thought this was a most fantastic place.

To his left stood a row of stuffed animals that just had to be make-believe. In an ornate glass cabinet stood an enormous powerful eagle with two heads. In its talons, that seemed to be made from ninja swords, it gripped a ginormous hare-like creature. In a much smaller cabinet perched a large chicken with four wings. In the glass case next to this one was a wild boar with a face so terrifying and so full of tusks it just had to be from a movie set. ‘Or', Max thought, ‘
from an alien planet
.'

All around the dusty wooden room stood jars that contained very strange blobs with rows of teeth that peered out at him. They all appeared to glow faintly in the dim light of the room. On a table in the centre of the room stood more jars with even more curious creatures. Max swallowed hard and took a step closer. He had that sort of feeling that one part of him wanted to turn and run but his curiosity got the better of him.

A faint light shone on a gold and green gloopy liquid in tall jars. Inside, creatures that must have been born in the depths of hell, with twisted snarls and rows of gnashing teeth, stared out at him. Beside these stood spiders with impossibly long fangs, and poisonous looking tips. Two-headed-lizards with bright markings lay next to what he could have sworn were baby dinosaurs.

Max took two steps backwards, swallowing hard. He nudged off the edge of the table as he walked backwards sending a jar with bright gloop into a wobble. He reacted fast and steadied the jar before it fell. Phew, that was close. He felt a tiny trickle of sweat on his forehead and he tried to keep calm.

To his right stood a large jumble of boxes, and behind them on the wall hung a vast collection of swords and weapons Max had never, ever seen before. He knew his Granddad was a great hunter. He had once seen his machete and the heavy cross bow he always took with him on hunting expeditions.

The weapons on the wall were something different altogether.

Ornate harpoons with silver handles and three pointed arrows hung on the wall. Next to them hung blades that swirled at dangerous angles and had been designed for creatures not of this world. These blades had complicated handles and seemed to be forged from unknown metals. Under these were guns, or what Max thought were guns. These had been crafted from steel so highly polished they shimmered in the dim light of the attic.

Further into the room a jumble of rugs stacked to his right caught his eye. Max reached out his hand to touch one of them and the rug responded to his touch as though it were alive. He jumped back in surprise.

This place sure gave him the creeps.

And then he spotted something just under the window, a small red Swiss army knife - the sort with all kinds of blades and bits for camping.

Max knew that this wasn't just any Swiss army knife; this one had a dragon logo painted onto it. That was his Granddad Arthur's. Before he died his Granddad had promised to give Max this particular knife when he turned eleven. He remembered it well.

It stood on a small ornate looking box just under the window sill. As Max looked over a small ray of sunshine reflected off the dragon logo on the knife. He reached over and took the knife in his hand.

His Granddad had promised it to him after all, and now he was thirteen. Of course his Granddad hadn't lived long enough to give it to him, but he figured it would be ok.

Max Stone marvelled at the penknife. It felt good in his hands. It had three blades of different sizes, a small screwdriver, a corkscrew, a can opener, even space for a small little tooth pick. This had been had been lost but Max didn't mind.

This was the coolest knife he had ever held in his whole life.

Max's eye was drawn to the interesting box that the knife had been sitting on. It was almost as if, well as if he was
meant
to find it. The penknife
and
the box! It was as if it had been left there for him by his Granddad Arthur. He slipped the penknife into his pocket and reached out and picked up the box.

The box itself was about twice the size of an old fashioned cigar tin but made of deep brown wood with a gold trim all along the edge.

The surface was highly polished, and the trim along the edge looked like a very precious metal. But it was the alien-looking symbol in the middle of the box that really made it stand out. It had been skilfully carved, showing four blades in a star formation surrounded by a circle.

His fingers trembled a little as he flipped open the box.

His eyes lit up at the contents. Inside lay a scroll, and a curious-looking stone of some sort. The box had been carefully lined with tinfoil and he cautiously lifted out the precious paper. It was an ancient looking map and Max opened it out onto the wooden floor of the attic. He placed his penknife at the top of the fragile old map to stop it rolling back and the stone from the ornate box at the other end.

‘Wow' flashed into his mind and Max wondered at the alien symbols on the map. It was full of names and words he had never heard of.

In the centre stood a proud looking city marked the ‘City of Elgonze'. To the right, and drawn in his Granddad's own handwriting, was a small hut marked as Mar-Hoc-Seia's house. Max couldn't imagine why, but he was sure that this was important.

To the North of the city his finger traced a large river named the Zagger Zee, a river that wound its way through jagged-looking mountains. To the north of the city and just across the Zagger Zee River a small “x” had been carefully marked. His Granddad had taken particular attention to make the mark ‘
The Stone of Azul'
in fine writing and Max knew it meant something special but he had absolutely no idea what that might be.

He looked more closely at the stone he had taken out of the box and it felt smooth and highly polished in his hand. It began to glow slightly and started to feel warm and inside the stone he could see something. He pointed it in the direction of the small attic window and it came alive in the light.

A small blue spec inside the stone seemed to have an energy of its own. He rubbed the stone and polished it, hawed on it and polished it again.

He took the stone for a closer look right up to the small attic window and another ray of sunshine broke through the clouds. The stone responded to the light. Max could make out some sort of blue symbol deep within the stone. He squinted his eyes to get a better view and it looked like a tiny blue star had been captured inside the stone's smooth surface