Behind the Sorcerer's Cloak (16 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

________________________________
F
RIENDS AND
E
NEMIES

Myrddin and Holly stopped talking and stared at Chantel.

Chantel was no longer the worried waif from the morning. She beamed from ear to ear as she held the staff.

Myrddin gave a roar of delight. He leapt out the chair, enfolded Chantel in a gigantic hug and stretched out his arm.

With a spit and a crack, the staff leapt toward him. The crystal at the tip sparked with the fiery light of a magnificent diamond as the shaft slammed into his palm.

Myrddin seemed to grow. His red hair and beard crackled with static electricity. His dark cloak swirled with the million hidden colors of magic. The Myrddin was whole again.

“Myrddin's st—staff was in our bedroom? I don't believe it!” stuttered Holly.

Chantel emerged laughing from the tangle of cloak, staff and beard. “You should see your face.” She went into a fit of giggles, but shook her head. “Course it wasn't in the bedroom. I did what you said, Holly. I did mindspeak and Earth Magic while you were all arguing. I spoke to Manannan, and he took me to the secret passages where the staff was hiding. The white cat showed me the way. The staff let me hold it, and I made friends with a big black dog. Manannan brought me back.”

“Just like that?” said Holly.

“Pretty much,” said Chantel.

Myrddin laughed till his eyes streamed with tears. “Oh dear, dear, dear. The innocence of the young makes a fool out of the wisdom of the ancients. I knew Manannan was keeping the staff safe. If I wasn't so distracted I would have realized all we had to do was ask. Well done, Chantel. Well done.”

He stroked his staff and murmured something under his breath. The staff transformed into a large but normal-looking walking stick.

“Why are you disguising it?” said Chantel. “Aren't you going to use it, Myrddin? Please fix everything. Rescue Adam and magic everything else right.”

Myrddin sobered up. “I will try, Little One. You have helped make us stronger. But we must keep my staff hidden for now. The Dark Being must not know you have retrieved it. As long as she thinks she can find our tools for herself she will not be in a rush to invade and destroy everything. If she realizes the tools are found, she will have nothing to lose and will confront us. We need time. Time to restring the necklace and waken the Lady. Time to rescue Adam and to fix whatever is wrong with Ava…” He stopped, seeing Chantel's happiness fade away. “Have faith, Little One. Keep the light in your heart. You have tipped the odds in our favor…”

With a clatter and a shout, Owen erupted into the holiday flat, closely followed by a harassed-looking Mr. Smythe.

Owen had cobwebs in his hair and smudges of dust on his face and clothes. He was waving an old wooden board in the air.

“Holly, Holly, you're gonna love this…” Owen brandished the board again. “I found the entrance to a secret passage in the cellar, and look what was inside…” Owen flashed the board at Mr. Smythe. “They're runes, aren't they?”

Mr. Smythe peered over his glasses. “They certainly are.”

“I knew it,” said Owen with great satisfaction. He thrust the board into Holly's hands. “You know what this is, don't you? It's that board you saw in your dream, the one with Breesha's name on it. It was in the secret passage…” He ran out of breath.

Owen rushed over to the sink in the galley kitchen, turned on the water and stuck first his mouth, then his face and head under the tap.

Holly laid the board on the table.

Owen re-joined them, shaking drips from his hair and wiping his mouth in his sleeve. “Fantastic, isn't it?”

“Owen! Go drip somewhere else.” Holly held him at arm's length. “What makes you think this is the board from my dream? I know it looks old, but any one could scratch runes on an old piece of wood. It could be a joke. Or something for the Viking festival we've seen posters about, or…”

Owen bent down and shook his hair, wiped the drips from his face with his hands, and wiped his hands on the seat of his pants. “No, no, you don't get it. I asked Earth Magic to help me find the secret passage, and part of the cellar wall collapsed…”

Myrddin, Holly and Chantel gave a shout of laughter.

Mr. Smythe looked appalled.

“…and the board was by the entrance. I knew it was a magic board. Mr. Cubbon did too, but he won't tell. The runes were glowing in the dark. Mr. Cubbon distracted everyone so I could hide the board under my T-shirt before anyone else saw it. He helped me sneak it up here…”

Mr. Smythe moaned. “The landlord. What will the landlord say?”

“Don't worry about him,” said Owen, laughing. “He's as pleased as punch. He says the passage will put him on the tourist map. He's already phoned the museum. There's a whole bunch of people down there now with torches and hard hats, exploring where it goes.” His voice grew frustrated. “They won't let me go with them, in case it's not safe.”

Holly wasn't listening. Gently she drew one finger over each rune, tracing them.

Chantel nudged Owen and pointed.

As Holly's finger passed, the runes shimmered for a moment, as though touched by sunlight.

“It
is
the magic board,” whispered Holly.

Everyone pored over it.

“Runes are just scratches,” said Chantel, disappointed.

“That's right. That's how they were invented,” said Mr. Smythe. His voice was animated. Here was something he understood. “Runes developed from lines scratched on wood, to keep count of simple things: baskets of fish, or a number of days. Eventually they became more elaborate. People added cross lines so individual runes developed special meanings. An alphabet was developed, but because so few people could read it, it began to be used as a magical code.”

Mr. Smythe took out his pencil and notebook and began scribbling.

“What does this say?” asked Chantel.

Mr. Smythe tore a page. “Here's the Futhark, work it out.”

“Futhark?” chorused the cousins. They giggled.

Mr. Smythe laughed. “
F
,
U
,
Th
,
Ar
,
K
. The name comes from the sounds made by first five runes just like alphabet comes from the first two letters in our Greek alphabet:

Alpha, Beta.”

Holly chuckled. “Yup, we all knew that!”

They pored over the scrap of paper.

“It start's with a
K
.”

“This letter's
U
.”

“Two
L
's are next.”

“Is this
A
or
Y
?”

“
N
.”

“
KULLYN.”

“Is it a name?” said Holly doubtfully.

“It's either Welsh or Manx,” said Mr. Smythe. “I think it would be written
Cullyn
with a C in today's alphabet, and pronounced Hoolin.” He paused and scratched his head. “I've come across it before, but I don't remember what it means. I'd have to look it up.”

Myrddin clapped his hand on Mr. Smythe's shoulder. “Well, well, well. Holly was right, my friend. You have a role here.”

“I…I do?”

“The museum is across the road. Instead of coming to Barrule with us, use your research skills to see if you can find reference to a rune board, or if the word
Cullyn
crops up in the history of Peel or Pheric's Isle.”

Mr. Smythe looked like a condemned man with a reprieve. “I don't have to go through the dratted portal? I can stay here and research in the museum?”

Myrddin eyes twinkled. “You most certainly can.” He gathered the children together with a movement of his arms. “I will take the children, but we will meet back here for tea at five o'clock and have an early night…” He stopped and looked over to Mr. Smythe.

“SMYTHE, are you listening?” he roared.

Startled, Mr. Smythe dragged his attention away from the rune board. “Er…what was that…er…five for tea? Well, yes, of course.” He turned back to the board.

Shaking his head, Myrddin marched down the corridor and opened the door into the street. Fog billowed in. He disappeared within its folds.

“Wait for us!” called Owen. “Bye, Mr. Smythe.”

The three children rushed out, banging the door behind them.

Mr. Smythe was left at the table, gazing at the board. “Magic runes. How marvelous,” he whispered. “What a day, what a day.”

Adam surfaced gradually from his long heavy sleep, into a place of grayness. He had no idea if it was day or night, or even where he was.

His eyelids fluttered then half opened. He lay, thick with sleep, trying to think properly. “I was dreaming,” he muttered. “Dreaming about flying like Ava.”

Something tickled his chin.

He moved his hand from under his cheek. A feather, a soft piece of down, lay in his palm. “Ava?” he muttered. Memory stirred. He remembered flying, flying through mist, but as a boy on the end of a cloak, not as a bird. He stared at the feather again. It puzzled him. Where did it come from? It reminded him of a down-lined duck nest he'd once found. A wave of homesickness swept over him. He didn't know where he was, but it wasn't Earth. He'd give anything to be safely back there. He sniffed.

The feather flew up and tickled his nose. Adam gave a tiny grin and pulled it away. Could it be Ava's? He held it up in the grayness and it shimmered. He was still too sleepy to figure it out, but the words, “Keep the light in your heart,” ran through his mind. Feeling comforted, he tucked the feather into his pocket and drifted off into another doze.

Mr. Cubbon emerged from the Castleview Inn, brushing cellar dust from his sweater. Puffing with exhaustion, he plumped down on the bench outside to catch his breath. Exciting things were happening. Magical things. Experiences he had not known since childhood were happening again. He was thrilled to be able to help the youngsters, and gleefully waiting to share some information with Owen. The museum people had discovered the passage ran to a smugglers cave on Pheric's Isle, but the raven had told him the real secret. All this was tiring though. He needed a little rest.