Jack Shian and the Destiny Stone (6 page)

“It's a loch,” explained Stram. “This guy fishes on the other shore.”

The four clambered into a small boat, and Gilravage and Stram expertly rowed them across the misty loch. In a few minutes they were within thirty yards of the far side, and in the fading light Jack could make out half a dozen people sitting on the shoreline with fishing rods.

“They're all humans, yeah?”

“Just watch,” said Ossian, “you'll like this.”

Jack strained to see what was happening, but for several minutes there was nothing more exciting than one of the men getting up and having a stretch. As he turned to sit down again he held his hands about two feet apart, gesturing to one of his friends. Loud braying laughter echoed over the water.

“Boastin' again,” muttered Gilravage.

“You call this entertainment?” Jack rubbed his icy hands together. “Even Murkle's lessons are more exciting. And I'm starving.”

“Just listen,” said Stram. “He'll start any minute.”

Sure enough, a loud imperious voice carried over the water to the small boat.

“My great grandfather bought the estate back in the '30s. We come up once a year for the fishing.”

Jack looked more closely. The man was clearly holding court.

“He thinks he's the laird,” whispered Ossian. “The best dressed bad fisherman in the country – and his cronies are no better. He just brings them here to impress them. They can afford anythin' they want, but they know the value of nothin'.”

“The old house had lain empty for ages. Great grandpapa had to gut the place, basically. But he planted some apple trees – that's when he came across this.”

The ‘laird' showed his friends a quartz amulet which he wore around his neck.

“He found it in a chest buried in the garden. Sort of shaped like a pot, or something. No idea what the symbols are – look like ancient runes to me. Some local chappie says they're crescent moons …”

Jack's ears pricked up.
Crescent moons?

“… anyway, hundreds of years old. But I've always believed it brought me luck when fishing. Never fail to catch a whopper. Hwuh, hwuh.”

He sat down again, pleased with his little joke, and picked up his rod. The amulet sat on his ample chest, glinting in the fading light. Lazily, he took a long swig from his hip flask, then passed it along the line to a chorus of ‘Thank you, sirs'. His face radiated contentment.

The ‘laird' had been sitting there for only a minute or two when suddenly he leapt up as his line went taut. He let the line play out for a while, then, as it slackened, started to reel it in. Jack watched as the other fishers gathered around to offer advice and encouragement.

A thought occurred to Jack.

“Can they see us?”

“'Course not,” replied Ossian. “The boat's charmed, it's invisible. Those Dameves are in for a shock.”

Jack watched as the fisherman slowly reeled his catch in, the splashes getting larger as the fish neared the shore.

“What's he caught?”

“More than he bargained for,” said Ossian, as the fish was reeled in.

One of the other fishermen let down a net, and scooped up the catch. The ‘laird' lifted the furiously wriggling fish – at least two feet long – out of the net, and held it aloft. Its wriggles slackened off, and the group passed around congratulations and estimates of weight. As the ‘laird' reached into the fish's mouth to release the hook, the fish began to grow.

Within seconds it had doubled in size, and the laird struggled to keep a grip. The fish lifted its head, gave an almighty shake and dislodged the hook in its mouth; then, it made to bite the laird, who dropped it and fell over. The others had all stepped back in amazement as the fish, landing on the ground, exploded into several smaller fish. These now began to squirm and flip down the bank to the water's edge. Reaching this within seconds, they slid quietly into the dark water.

There was a moment of absolute silence: the fishermen stood transfixed by what they had seen; the ‘laird', still on the ground, stared, open-mouthed at the now still water. Without warning the fish – restored to its swollen size – poked its head out of the water, and uttered a deep roar that echoed across the loch. Then, sliding down into the water again, it swam away. The ‘laird' looked as if he was about to die.

Ossian laughed wildly, rocking the boat from side to side.

“That'll teach 'em to brag about the one that got away,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes. “They're boastful, that lot, always goin' on about how they nearly broke the record. Serves 'em right.”

“Time to get the charmstone,” said Stram matter-of-factly, and he and Gilravage rowed to within a few feet of the shore. Jumping out of the boat, Gilravage made his way determinedly towards the stunned fishermen.

If the exploding fish had been cause of enough surprise and shock, the sight of a two-foot man emerging from the loch put paid to all notions of a peaceful night's sleep to come.

“He's stayed Shian size,” hissed Jack. Having been so used to growing to human size when in the human parts of Edinburgh – and on Ilanbeg – Jack had almost forgotten how much smaller Shian were than humans.

Gilravage strode boldly up to the ‘laird', and bent down. With a flick, he produced a small knife, and swiftly cut the chain holding the amulet. Then, grabbing the laird's hip flask, he made an exaggerated swigging motion with his right hand, before heading back for the water and – to the watching humans – disappearing.

As Gilravage clambered back into the boat, Ossian and Stram took the oars. All four were laughing uproariously.

“Can't they hear us?” asked Jack through tears of laughter.

“Aye, but they still can't see us,” replied Stram happily. “What're they goin' to say? A big fish exploded into lots of wee fish, and yelled at 'em? Then a wee man appeared and stole his lordship's charm? That's one story they won't tell; nobody'll believe 'em.”

“That's Phase One complete, Jack. Glad you came? Now we can go and find Caskill.”

 

As Ossian and Stram rowed along the loch, Gilravage turned the amulet over in his hands, delighted with his prize. Still being Shian size, the amulet more than filled his hand.

“How’d you know his lordship had the charmstone?” asked Jack.

“Your tutor’s been comin’ along this last while,” replied Gilravage. “You’ll see him soon.”

My tutor?
Jack’s mind whirled.
It must be Murkle. That’s it!
He
told us about the crescent moons.

“It does look like a pot,” said Jack.

“It’s a cauldron, not a pot,” replied Gilravage. “And those aren’t runes. But it
is
Norse, I know that much.”

“The Norsemen came all the way down this coast, hey? I mean, Dunvik’s not far from here, is it?”

“They left behind all sorts. This should be worth a bit.”

A jetty at the mouth of the loch appeared out of the mist, and the boat nudged into it. They all clambered ashore.

“They’ll be waiting for us. Come on.” Stram took the lead, striding quickly through the dusk.

The mist had settled, taking visibility down to a few yards, and Jack could barely see Ossian ahead of him as they made their way through dense undergrowth. Jogging to keep up, he gradually became aware of the sound of cascading water.

“What’s that?”

“It’s whit keeps most folk out o’ the cave o’ the wells,” replied Gilravage.

Jack’s mind was working overtime.
The cave of the wells
. It was another name he knew from Murkle’s dreary lessons. Murkle was definitely nearby.

Sure enough, as they reached a gnarled oak tree, Jack saw several of the Shian square residents huddled over a fire. There was Grandpa, and Murkle and Daid, Gilmore and Finbogie; and about a dozen McCools. The smell of roasting meat assailed Jack’s nostrils, and his stomach rumbled.

“Sit down, sit down.” Gilmore fussed around as the new arrivals gathered round the fire. “We’ll get you some food. Did you get the charmstone?”

Gilravage produced the amulet, but hesitated for a moment.

“Do you not trust us?” Grandpa Sandy appeared out of the mist. “I take it Ossian has explained the necessity of this action. Believe me, if there was another way we would not be here.”

“How much is it worth?” asked Gilravage.

He had no time to respond. There was a swish, and two seconds later he lay on the ground, with Finbogie standing over him, sceptre pointed at his throat.

“More than your life is worth, fisherman. Hand it over.”

Gilravage proffered the amulet, and got to his knees.

“I was only jokin’.”

“This is not the time for jokes,” spat Murkle. “Who knows what waking this giant may do? But we have no choice. We must get the flag.”

“I think we could all do with some food.” Grandpa Sandy spoke evenly. “And I urge you all to save your energies for tomorrow. There is a bothy nearby where we can sleep.”

“Grandpa, where are the others? Dad, and Petros and the rest of them?”

“They have gone ahead to prepare for tomorrow. The Hebseelie will convene at Balbegan. That’s not far from Ardmore castle, where the flag is kept.”

“But shouldn’t we stick together?”

“We have to be cautious; they’re mostly Seelie here, but they’re different. Each boat crew will seek their own shelter. Phineas is scouting ahead; he’ll make sure we’re all in the right place for tomorrow.”

“So who’s going to wake this giant up?”

“Oh, that’s easy. It’s you and Murkle.”

Jack did not sleep well that night. For one thing it was cold, and even in a bothy crammed with people, there was precious little warmth. But what really kept him awake was the thought of going into a cave with his least favourite tutor to wake up a giant. How was that for a Hallows’ Eve surprise?

Breakfast was eaten in near silence, everyone preferring the company of their own thoughts to the conversation of others.

“Grandpa, we’ve got the amulet to wake Caskill. What am I supposed to do?”

Grandpa Sandy looked hard at Jack.

“Jack, waking this giant will not be that simple. The legend says that we must charge his heart – that’s what the amulet is for.”

Jack’s astonished expression told its own story.

“The amulet has the power to awaken Caskill, but only with the right charm; and you must find him first.”

“But he’s in the cave; you’ve already said.”

“Jack, that cave stretches far into the mountain; and it’s dark. There are tunnels and wells in there; it’s dangerous.”

“Then why don’t we all go in and look for him?”

“We need to win him over. Giants aren’t used to crowds. If we all go in, he’ll think he’s being attacked, especially if he sees fire torches. That’s the surest way to turn him angry.”

“Can’t I have a sceptre if it’s dark in there?”

“You’re not allowed one; you know that.”

“So what do I do in there?”

“Marco and Luka have great faith in your ability to see the right way. You must use the Sphere. There’s no harm in you knowing now, but while Marco was keeping it safe, several of the Congress tried to use it; and we couldn’t.”

“You mean I’m the only one who can make it work?”

“Jack, our powers are not as strong here. Maybe we’re too far away from the Stone in Edinburgh – the Kildashie have the benefit of that now; but you have the benefit of the Sphere.”

“Young man,” said Murkle quietly, “your role in that cave is to keep me on the right path. This is not something I ever expected to be asking of an apprentice; but your grandfather is correct: the powers we would normally use do not work well here.”

“We can take you as far as the great cataract; we will wait for you there.” Grandpa smiled at Jack.

“And Caskill will get us the flag from Balbegan, which means we can summon the Hebseelie Court?”

“Yes,” said Murkle, becoming excited. “My first trip here. I’ll be the first one to waken Caskill in 100 years … Caskill – the only one who can get the flag because of …”

Grandpa Sandy’s hand extended out and gripped Murkle’s arm. The tutor stopped abruptly, then swallowed hard.

“Because of what?” Jack fought down a rising sense of panic. “What’s stopping anyone else from getting the flag?”

“One task at a time, Jack. Just be true to what you know is right.” Grandpa looked Jack directly in the eyes, and smiled. “We’re relying on you.”

Jack thought that Murkle was looking sheepish. Had he something to hide? And what did he mean – this was his first time here? Hadn’t Gilravage said his tutor had visited Nebula already?

It was with a heavy heart that Jack made his way with the others to the foot of the great cataract. Thousands of gallons of water gushed between the two rock faces, falling 100 feet before crashing into the waters of Loch Lin. A fine spray met them as they got close.

“Murkle will summon us if we are needed. You go and show him the way.”

Jack looked at the waterfall. There seemed to be no point at which you could walk under it – it fell straight into the loch, with a noise that drowned out all conversation, and a force that ruled out any notion of swimming under it.

“Come along, come along,” mouthed Murkle. “Let’s be getting in there.”

He walked to the side of the great cataract, where a barely discernible path disappeared under the torrent of water. Unable to hear him, but taking his cue, Jack followed. Holding his sceptre forward, Murkle shouted,

“
Obturamentum!
”

It came out as a high-pitched shriek, and an inverted V-shape formed in the curtain of water, just three feet high. Murkle grabbed Jack’s arm and dragged him through. The moment they were on the other side, the V-shape disappeared.

The cave was curiously quiet after the deafening noise on the outside; and almost pitch dark. Murkle struck his sceptre on the ground, and held it aloft. The crystal glowed brightly, throwing a dim circle of light around them. The circle didn’t extend very far, however, and Jack wished he’d been allowed to have his own sceptre.