Shadow Spell (3 page)

‘Gotcha!' snarled a voice in her ear and Nin felt herself seized and lifted from the ground. Her world spun and she got a glimpse of paint-stained dungarees and long hairy, bony arms.

Everything happened dizzyingly fast. Hanging upside down in the bogeyman's grip, Nin screamed and reached
out, seeing the Sanctuary door slip away as he hauled her roughly back across the ceiling of the cave. She fought hard, trying to break free, but Bogeyman Bale's arm was wrapped firmly around her hips. All she could do was scream helplessly, until she felt something fasten on to her forearm and saw Jonas appear right below her.

‘I've got you!' he yelled, holding on with grim determination.

Bogeyman Bale jerked to a startled halt as Nin slithered in his grip, dragged downwards by Jonas. For a split second she was hanging in midair looking back between her own boots to the front of the cave.

The bogeyman roared with fury and lurched back into movement, dragging Nin and Jonas several steps across the ground towards the stone arch. And Taggit.

Seizing Jonas around the waist, Taggit pulled back in the opposite direction, barely breaking his stride as he dragged them all towards the Sanctuary, Bogeyman Bale snarling and yelping desperately as they went. Nin screamed again, this time with pain as well as fear. The bogeyman's grip had slipped to her legs, but he was still holding on hard and she had Jonas and Taggit hauling on her arm. She could feel the strain in her joints and back and had a terrifying vision of herself flying apart in their grip, her spine snapped and her arms ripped free.

Ahead of them, the door to the Sanctuary opened, spilling light into the cave. A woman stood in the entrance taking in the fight with astonishment.

‘Elinor!' yelled Jonas as he struggled, seeing the
Lockheart sister who had cared for him after his escape from the Storm Hounds.

Elinor pulled the door wide and then spotted a terrified Toby hovering in the background. She held out her arms and he ran towards her, darting around the struggling knot of figures in his path and into the safety of the Lockheart Sanctuary.

Hauled along by the combined strength of Taggit and Jonas, Bale howled with fury, raking down chunks of rock as he scrabbled to hold on. His grip slipped and Nin gasped, feeling the clawed fingers dig through her jeans, tearing the cloth and her skin beneath.

Nin was half in and half out of the Sanctuary door when the tip of the bogeyman's claw crossed the threshold and something happened. The cave shook and there was a moment of white light so brilliant she could see nothing else. The light went out and was replaced by a grinding sound loud enough to drown out all the screaming and shouting.

Bogeyman Bale gave one last haul on Nin, his claws raking deep, then let go. Holding Toby, Elinor sprang back as Taggit and Jonas collapsed just inside the door. Suddenly released, Nin flew over their heads, whirling through the air into the Sanctuary. The last thing she saw before she smashed against the wall was the bogeyman drop to the ground and turn to run as the rocky ceiling and floor of the cave began to move, rumbling together with a sound like thunder.

Then the door swung shut. The walls shook and
Jonas, trying to get back on his feet, fell to the ground again.

‘What's happening!' he cried.

Around them, the cool stone of the corridor rippled into a deep gold wood. There was a smell of fresh air and a sound like wind. In front of them the blackened oak door bleached gold and started to grow taller.

‘Sanctuary's movin',' yelled Taggit over the noise.

‘Nin!' wailed Toby from behind them.

They turned to look.

Elinor was kneeling beside Nin, leaning over her as she lay horribly still. She was crumpled on the floor where she had fallen, the walls rippling around her. And there was blood.

‘Here now,' the sister's blue-clad shape leaned over Nin, supporting her head, holding something to her lips.

‘Will she be all right?' asked Jonas. He looked ash grey in the candlelight.

Nin spluttered, half waking as she took a sip of the bitter-tasting liquid. It had a smell like iron and blood.

‘Drink a little more.' Elinor tipped the cup again, persuading. ‘She split her skull, her leg is torn and she's lost a lot of blood,' she said, answering Jonas. ‘All she needs to heal is time, but we don't have time. Strood is already at work.'

Jonas sent a glance out through the half-open door into the narrow hallway of twisted wood and interlaced
branches – so different from the cool stone that he remembered. But there was more than that. He could sense a feeling of growing unease in the air. It made him wonder exactly what Strood was up to that could even disturb the safety of the Lockheart Sanctuary.

But there were more immediate things to worry about.

‘It's just … I always thought taking crowsmorte in a dissolved form was dangerous?' he asked.

‘True,' said Elinor, ‘but we need Nin to get well quickly and so it is a risk we must take.'

Nin half opened her eyes and murmured. She could hear their voices, but the words meant little. She was unspeakably tired, every single particle in her body ached and she was so, so cold. She took a last sip and lay back, hearing a gentle humming that seemed to come from a long way away. She wondered if it was outside, or maybe just in her head.

‘But,' Elinor went on, settling Nin on her pillow, ‘I made this potion with my own hands and as carefully as I could.'

Nin sighed and murmured. The heaviness in her limbs was already growing less and soft clouds were gathering around her, cushioning her against the pain. Lights glimmered in the corners of her eyes and the humming drew closer.

‘Now let her rest,' said Elinor softly. ‘The crowsmorte will do its best work when she's asleep.'

Nin drifted, the world around her moving away faster
and faster. And as Elinor's voice receded, so the humming grew until it was not just a tuneful sound but real singing, low and soft and so warm it made her spirits rise. The glimmers were there too, dim like candles, dancing in a pattern of soothing light and shade.

‘That's right, sleep the pain away,' said Jonas, although his voice was deeper and more musical than it should be.

So she did.

Jik awoke to the sound of the waves crashing on to the beach. The tide was in, but far enough away not to be a problem. He lay for a moment, watching the sky. The electric feel of gathering magic crackled in the air and out over the sea flames licked the horizon. He thought that he must have been cooking for a long time if morning was on its way. A very long time. He wondered if it was because he was a Fabulous now, and Fabulous took longer to mend than mere Land Magic.

Dawn ignited and billowing flames raced overhead, filling the sky with fierce light. It was a red so deep it was the colour of rubies.

‘Weird, if yer arsk me,' said a voice. ‘Not yer normal Drift mornin', eh?'

Skerridge was sitting, crouched on a rock, looking down at Jik. He was still in Natural Bogeyman shape, just in case anything turned up that called for a burst of superspeed or a good dousing in firebreath. Superspeed and firebreath didn't work in anything other than Natural Bogeyman.

‘Yik!'

‘Gold's yer norm. Or a nice 'ot orange, but not
that
. Looks kinda doomy. Fink it means anyfin'?'

Jik sat up, scattering ashes. It was the second dawn he had seen that red, the first being just a couple of days ago, and he definitely thought it meant something. He just didn't know what, though he was pretty sure it wouldn't be nice. It made him think strange thoughts about cataclysms and the End of the World.

Skerridge squinted down at him. ‘Looks t' me like yer've grown! Yer'll be up t' Ninevah's middle, I reckon.'

Hopping to his feet, Jik shook off the dusty remains of the fire. The ground certainly seemed a little further away than it used to be. Overhead the glow died, the flames burning out into a clear morning. He looked up and down the beach.

‘Wik Nik gik?'

‘Oh, the Redstone kid's in trouble, wouldn' ya know it! Or at least she was. Now she's safely cosied up wiv the sisters. That racket I 'eard last night while ya was still cookin' was the Sanctuary closin' its door and movin' somewhere less tricky.'

‘Kik dik thik?'

‘Course it can do that!' Skerridge sniggered. ‘Reckon tha's one sorry bogeyman what fort 'e could catch Ninevah Redstone, eh?' His snigger turned to a frown. ‘Wonder what the ovver BMs are up to? Accordin' t' the bellringer, Strood's plannin' t' finish off the Seven.' He shuddered. ‘I know they ain't sorcerers any more, jus'
the remains of sorcerers, but the Seven are … well … they're the last breff of Celidon, see. An' if 'e wipes out every last trace of the old world, then it really 'as gone ferever.'

Jik had never known the Land back when it was called Celidon and had been the home of many different Fabulous, from cruel faeries to graceful elves and powerful sorcerers. He had been born far too late, long after the plague had come from nowhere and killed most of the Fabulous, wiping some species out of existence altogether. Now the Land was lived in mainly by Quick and was called the Drift. And it was still dying, still being devoured slowly by the plague that was turning its wild woods and green valleys back into misty Raw – the base magic it had all been created from back at the dawn of time. Soon it would all be gone. Every last bit. Like a fantastic sandcastle washed away by the sea.

But Jik knew even more than that. He had crossed the Heart of Celidon, the oldest patch of Raw in the Drift, and knew that the plague was not just killing the Drift by sending it back to its original state. If that had been all then there would have been hope that one day the Raw might give birth to a new Land and a new kind of Fabulous. But Jik knew that such a thing would never happen. He had seen that at the heart of the Heart was
nothing
. Not even Raw. The plague was killing magic itself and once the Land had gone,
nothing
was all there would be. Forever.

Jik sent a glance back at the dark shape of the House towering over the beach. A stiff breeze had got up and the sea horses were throwing themselves against the rocks in a frenzy of foam.

Skerridge huffed thoughtfully. ‘Not t' mention the consequences,' he went on. ‘Somefin' as big as killin' off the last breff of Celidon is bound to 'ave 'orrible consequences.'

Jik stared at him anxiously.

‘Fing is, what're we gonna do about it, eh? I 'spect yer finkin' o' trackin' down Nin. Bet yer can sense 'er whereabouts already, eh?'

‘Yik!'

‘Fort so. But she's wiv the sisters, right? So she's safe fer the moment, which leaves yew an' me free t' do somefin' useful.' Skerridge bared his jagged jumble of teeth in a grin. ‘See, I've been turnin' fings over while ya was cookin' an' I gotta plan. It ain't much, but it'll get up Strood's nose a lot, which by my reckonin' is worf it. Wanna come along?'

Jik knew in his mud that Skerridge was right and Nin was safe from Strood, for now at least. And it would be good to help slow down the darkness gathering around the last remains of Celidon. So he nodded.

‘By the way, d'yer know yer glintin'? Mus' be somefin' t' do wiv all that salt an' sand mixed in wiv yer earf. S'gone all quartzy.'

The mudman checked himself over, turning his arms this way and that and then holding them up to the sun.
Skerridge was right. Set in the mix of red and dark earth that made up his body were tiny glints of crystal, most of them concentrated in his hands and feet, though there was a general scattering everywhere else.

‘Good fing too,' said Skerridge approvingly. ‘It'll make ya nice an' tough. Come on then.' He jumped off the rock and started lolloping up the beach in a flurry of sand.

‘Wik?' asked Jik, falling in next to the bogeyman.

‘We're off ter the Widdern, tha's where. We're gonna be a nice surprise fer someone!' Skerridge chuckled. ‘Then after we get back, we can go an' find Nin. Strood ain't daft an' 'e's bound to 'ave a backup plan.' He frowned. ‘Fing is, I carn' 'elp wonderin' – what did 'e want wiv the tiger an' the ‘uman Quick?'