Jack Shian and the King's Chalice Part 25

Reasons To Be Cheerful

Jack was half-surprised when, moments later, he found himself in the dark by the castle chapel. He wandered around to the deserted rampart walls over which he'd first seen the city spread before him. Midsummer was a world away. Jack shivered as he gazed at the glowing lights of the New Town far below.

All those humans, and now we're told our destinies are shared. How can we be Shian if we have to mix with them? Something must get lost.

Jack leant against the wall, his chin on his forearms, and pondered.

A cough startled him out of his reverie. Wheeling round, his first impulse was to run, but a rea.s.suring voice said, "Don't worry, Jack. It's just me."

With a surge of relief, he recognised his grandfather's voice.

"I got a fright." His heart was still pounding.

"Don't you fancy coming to the party?"

"I just wanted a bit of s.p.a.ce. I can't get my head around everything, you know, up in Dunvik."

"I know. And I'm sorry I haven't been around to answer your questions since we got back. We had to make arrangements about the Chalice, but that's done now. But first of all I must thank you for stepping in when I got hurt. Your exceptional courage tipped the balance. Amadan couldn't cope with what you did. We're all in your debt."

"I thought he'd killed you."

"He had. But somewhere inside, you found the strength and the belief to challenge that. And you could never have done it without the Chalice. You believed in it, Jack."

"I just knew it was the right thing to do. Gosol's not just a charm, is it?"

His grandfather looked across at him kindly. "Gosol's about everything being joined up. Like everything you do having an effect on everyone else. And it's doing the right thing for the right reason. You must have really believed it for it to work like when Konan had you by the throat. You kept your head and used the Aximon, didn't you? It could only work if you truly believed. Gosol and the Aximon know this."

"Tamlina was right," said Jack quietly. "I had met Konan before. He tried to grab me on the High Street at midsummer, but I got away."

"Jack," said his grandfather after a few moments, "you should have told us. We don't want to keep you in a cage, but we can't expose you to risks like that."

"So what did happen to Konan?"

"I know you thought your uncle had killed him, but Doonya fused him into that oak. It's a hex Konan's alive, just part of the tree. I doubt he'll ever get away."

"So he's as good as dead, then?"

"In the past there would have been no question. Attacking Shian children would have earned a death sentence. But you heard what was said: Gosol demands that we have more respect for life than that."

"But that monk killed the Brashat who attacked Rana," pointed out Jack.

"He thought she'd been killed. He was trying to prevent more deaths."

"If Konan's still alive, he might be able to tell us where my father is."

"You never know. A counter-hex might work. As for finding your father, well, we know more now than we knew a while ago. And it wasn't the Brashat who suspended him; that was the Grey. So, we can keep looking."

"What about my mother and Cleo?" Jack's voice was almost a whisper.

"The Brashat are out of the frame for a while. If she hears of it, your mother may feel it's safe to return."

"But after everything in Dunvik, we don't even get to keep the Chalice. We searched for it, and found it. Now we've got to share it with the humans and even the Brashat."

"The whole point of the Chalice is not to own it, Jack, but to share it. And Matthew was right: if one group owned it, there'd be warfare."

"It's complicated," Jack said at last. "Some things you're sure of turn out to be lies. Like the Congress: Rowan was a traitor; he nearly got us killed."

Grandpa exhaled loudly. "Shian and humans are very alike in that respect. Some just want to be on the winning side. But if anything, he faces a worse punishment than the Brashat. He'll always be an outsider to them, and he knows we'll never trust him again."

Jack stared out across the rooftops of the city, the house and streetlights twinkling below. He found he could muster no sympathy for Rowan.

"There's other things I don't understand," he said eventually. "The Norse warriors and the monks were ghosts; they could hold iron axes and swords, so they're not Shian. How could they be part of a Shian battle?"

"There were ghosts. They appeared on Hallows' Eve because it's a special night, the kind of night when ghosts can be summoned. You did that with the ram's horn. That's why we could recover the Chalice too. It's called a 'thin time'; the boundaries between different worlds can be crossed. There's 'thin places' too, like the cave."

"But how come the ghosts didn't disappear at midnight? They were all chanting Gosol, and Comgall even spoke to the commonwealth."

"Over the centuries we managed to forget something. The clue is in the name. Christmas Eve doesn't mean much without Christmas Day, does it? The same goes for Hallows' Eve. We were only looking at the first half of things. A long time ago I must have been told this, because it came flooding back when Cosmo challenged Briannan. And it's like Matthew said: Briannan committed infama a crime against Nature when he thought the Chalice would give him power over death, and even Nature itself. The Chalice has Gosol, and Gosol is the reason for life; it's what's been there forever."

"The creator force?"

"Not just creation, but its goodness. That sureness gave me the strength to challenge Briannan. You saw the look on his face when the Nors.e.m.e.n came? Ghosts he could handle, because they would disappear at midnight, and they certainly would not have iron swords. 'More than ghosties', well, Briannan couldn't handle that. And Hallows' Day is one of those exceptional days when the Chalice can show its power, as you proved."

"So the Chalice can defeat death, but only at certain times?"

"And only if you believe enough. It's not like a charm. Sadly, it didn't bring Radge back, though Tom tried."

For anyone to die is sad, thought Jack, but all the Cos-Howe crew came along knowing the risks. And we did get the Chalice, after all.

And yet something still gnawed away at Jack's insides.

"I feel I should be happier," he said dejectedly. "We beat the Brashat, and we got the Chalice, but I feel like something's missing."

"That's not hard to explain: we still haven't found your father. But you've a lot going for you. I know he doesn't always show it, but Doonya's really proud about what you did. It was your belief, a real belief in the rightness of what you were doing. That's the true power of Gosol, Jack. You used that when you attacked Amadan, and when you brought me back.

"Jack, you've done a lot of growing since you arrived from Rangie. This is not the end; there's the Sphere to seek now. We can't do much over the winter, but when spring returns we start again."

Jack smiled at the thought. Memories of carefree days in Rangie stirred in his mind.

"We'll start by looking for those ma.n.u.scripts. Did you know it was Fenrig who left them in the chapel? He must have stolen them from his father. He's not letting on where they are, but we'll get them. And who knows? Maybe they'll lead us to your father. Now come on below to the party. It's cold, and the musicians will be playing soon."

Jack realised that it was indeed cold up on top of the castle. Things were beginning to make sense, slowly. As his grandfather put his arm around his shoulder, Jack felt a lot warmer inside. There was a lot that had gone well that week. And he did feel like hearing some music. They walked to the side of the chapel and were soon back in the Shian square.

Rana came running up. "Come on, Jack! The Sceptres are about to start!"

Even as she spoke, there was a crash of drums and a dramatic chord from guitar, fiddle and flute. Within seconds, the top of the square was a whirling reel of bodies and stamping feet.

Lizzie handed Jack a goblet of tayberry juice. "Cheers!"

Jack took the goblet and smiled back. It was good to be alive. He saw Cosmo and the other Cos-Howe boys in the throng, and Petros and Ossian talking with Purdy and Freya. Freya waved at him, urging him to join in as they threw themselves into the ma.s.s of dancing bodies.

There is more to do, thought Jack. But let's enjoy tonight.

1.

My Enemy's Enemy

The third echo was ... silence?

Silence preceded by a hollow emptiness.

Jack had just enough time to be surprised before his eardrums were hammered by a deafening thunderclap. Jumping in alarm, he clasped his hands over his ears.

Screaming, Lizzie tried to do the same but too late. A trickle of blood emerged from her right ear, and she cooried into her grandfather.

Jack stared in disbelief as the Blue Hag swayed alarmingly on the small hill she had just climbed. Three times he had watched the old woman as she had shuffled up an incline to perform the ancient Shian ritual for clearing the snows at winter's end. Three times on reaching the top she had drawn her long staff upright and thudded it into the ground. Reverberations in the surrounding hills had melted the snow for fifty yards around her. Or at least they had done so twice. But the third time nothing.

The staff had hit the ground, just like before. But this time, there was no sound until the thunderclap. The Blue Hag steadied herself and peered round, perplexed. Her gaze pa.s.sed over Jack, Lizzie and their grandfather, and came to rest on a much higher hill to Jack's left. He followed her eyes. There, standing at the very summit some two hundred yards away, he could just make out three figures. One of them waved something above his head a sceptre perhaps? and then came the sound of distant cheering. The sky above the figures darkened, there was a crack of thunder and a single lightning strike scorched a solitary tree on the hillside. Howling curses in their direction, the Blue Hag retreated quickly down the hillside.

"Who in Tua's name are they?" exclaimed Jack. The taste of treachery fouled his throat, like the time he'd realised Rowan had sold out the Congress four months earlier.

Grandpa Sandy had withdrawn his own sceptre from his cloak. Fingering it agitatedly, his stern look was fixed upon the distant figures. Jack saw him clench his jaw.

Lizzie rubbed her right ear and squeaked in alarm as she saw the blood. Cowering behind her grandfather's cloak, she peered fearfully at the distant figures as one of them rose from the ground and did a graceful pirouette in the air. The manoeuvre had lasted fully ten seconds. Grandpa's face relaxed, and he lowered his sceptre.

"Kildashie," he said simply, emphasising the second syllable. "I'd almost forgotten what they were like."

Jack looked again at the distant figures, but could make little out. Then he saw the one with the sceptre wave it in an arc above his head. There was another loud peal of thunder, and it began to rain. Not just ordinary raindrops: huge smudges of water that drenched within seconds.

"Why'd he do that?" complained Lizzie, trying to pull her coat over her head. "I'm all wet. And my ear hurts."

As more thunderclaps resounded around the hills, Grandpa Sandy waved at the figures, beckoning them over. After a short consultation, they began to glide from their hilltop, their cloaks flapping in the wind.

"Are they flying?" asked Jack. They reminded him of the two hags who had flown at the back of the Brashats at Dunvik.

"No, they can't fly." Grandpa kept his sceptre in his hand. "They live on islands far out into the ocean. They use their cloaks to glide."

The three men landed and made their way with effortless haste up towards them. Jack could see that they were all tall, with long straggly hair that swept about their faces. The one bearing the sceptre was in front, taking huge strides. Within seconds they had reached Jack and the others.

"Shian of Kildashie," said Grandpa Sandy slowly and evenly, "I have not seen you for many years. What brings you so far from your islands?"

Their leader stood, his long sceptre planted firmly on the ground. He gazed long and hard at Grandpa Sandy before replying.

"I am Tig, from Hilta. These are Boreus and Donar. We have come to renew old acquaintances, now the Brashat are vanquished."

"I well remember your dealings with the Brashat." Grandpa Sandy paused, considering how best to phrase things. "But you should know better than to interrupt the Blue Hag. She will be hard to placate now, and that will prolong our winter."

"What is that to us?" sneered Boreus. "Your sheltered winters are like Spring."

Jack squinted up at the rain-sodden sky. Dark clouds swept across the heavens, and the wind howled around them.

"But these are not your islands." Grandpa Sandy pressed his point home. "Here we mark the new Spring with this custom. You have disturbed the rhythm of the snow's end."

Boreus growled under his breath, and aimed his sceptre at a tree a little way down the slope. There was a flash, and the tree burst into flames. He moved forward menacingly, but was instantly halted by Tig's raised right forearm. Tig turned and muttered to his colleague, who retreated, scowling.

"I apologise if we have overstepped the bounds of hospitality," said Tig with an ingratiating smile. "We hope to be able to join you in the celebration of your Spring." He looked up at the sky, his brow furrowed briefly, then he waved his sceptre expansively over his head. The skies lightened appreciably. The rain dwindled to little more than a drizzle, and the wind dropped.

Lizzie, impressed, stepped out confidently from behind her grandfather. The ringing in her ears had stopped.

"How did you stop the echo?"

Tig looked sternly at her, and she quickly averted her gaze.

"My granddaughter is eager to learn," said Grandpa Sandy, putting his arm protectively around Lizzie's shoulder.

"There are times for lessons, and times to watch in wonder," said Tig evenly. "We will leave you now. But there is much we need to discuss with your Congress. Tell Atholmor that we wish to see him soon."

Without further word, the three Kildashie turned and strode off.

Jack had remained silent since their arrival. As the Kildashie reached the edge of the wood he turned to his grandfather.

"Grandpa, I don't trust them. Stopping the Blue Hag's infama, isn't it?"

"Infama? You mean against Nature?" asked Lizzie.

"You may be right, Jack," said Grandpa. "They're wild, I'll grant you that."

"I got the same feeling as I got with Konan last year." Jack thought back to his first encounter with Konan the Brashat in Edinburgh's High Street, and their subsequent clash at Dunvik just before the battle.

"They are rather uncivilised," his grandfather conceded. "I'd heard rumours that they've destroyed a lot of trees on their islands, and they don't seem to mind being out in the winter weather, like we do."