Jenny Nimmo - Charlie Bone and the Shadow of Badlock

In the giant’s tower, Charlie gave Runner Bean a brief wave, before being lowered to the floor by Otus.

‘A dog?’ said Otus. ‘Their like is ne’er seen in Badlock.’

‘We must rescue him before those awful troll-things come back,’ said Charlie, making for the door.

‘Boy, wait!’ commanded Otus. ‘This is not as simple as it seems.’

‘Nothing here is simple.’ Charlie began to run down the stone spiral.

‘STOP!’ The giant’s huge roar echoed down the stairwell and Charlie was forced to obey. ‘It is most likely a trick, Charlie, to force you into the open. Come back, I beg you.’

Charlie reluctantly trudged back to the giant’s room. The situation would be hopeless, he realised, if both he and Runner Bean were caught. ‘I feel so guilty,’ he told the giant, ‘leaving him out there all alone, specially now he’s seen me.’

‘I know, I know.’ Otus lit a candle and set it on the table. ‘But all about us there are towers and watchers. Soon the darkness will come, a darkness like no other, Charlie. No stars shine in Badlock and moonlight is – scarce. So we will creep down our tower and rescue the poor dog then.’

The giant stirred the pot hanging over his stove. ‘I had a dog once, in the world we come from. It was a fine dog and we were scarce parted. Here in Badlock there are no dogs or cats. There are only bugs and slimy, creeping, cold-blooded things called durgles. And the birds fly on bony featherless wings, and they have long, fearful beaks.’

Charlie climbed on to the giant’s bed. ‘Why are there no dogs or cats?’

‘The shadow and his people consider a creature’s use is solely for the food it can provide, or for the pelt that can become a cloak, a jerkin, or even shoes. Every warm-blooded creature has been hunted, almost to extinction. Only squirras survive; they breed like demons, that is the reason, perhaps.’

‘What about blancavamps?’ asked Charlie.

‘Aha, the blancabats.’ Otus smiled. ‘They dare not touch the blancavamps, for they are ghosties.’ He ladled several dollops of steamy stew into two wooden bowls. ‘Come to the table, Charlie-my-descendent, and eat your supper.’

Charlie hauled himself off the bed and on to the tall chair, while the giant tore a round loaf in two and placed a piece beside each bowl. He then half-sat on the table and began to swish the bread into the stew, using it as a kind of spoon. Charlie did the same. Squirra stew was surprisingly good, but then Charlie was very hungry.

They ate in silence for a while. Charlie kept thinking of the dog outside the tower. How frightened he must be. And then the warm stew settled in his stomach and he could only think how comforting it was. Occasionally he glanced at his ancestor’s face. He could see no resemblance between the Yewbeams he knew and the giant. Grandma Bone and her sisters had tiny black eyes and thin lips, while Otus had grey eyes, and a wide, generous mouth. But, of course, many generations had come between them.

‘Tell me about your life,’ said the giant, scraping the last morsel from his bowl.

Charlie licked his fingers until every delicious trace of the stew was gone, and then he began. He told the giant how his father had been hypnotised by Manfred Bloor, and lived for ten long years in the school called Bloor’s Academy, while no one knew he was there. He went on to say how he, Charlie, had discovered his talent for travelling into pictures. He described Grandma Bone and her terrible sisters, and his friends, the normal boys like Fidelio and Benjamin. ‘Only Fidelio isn’t really normal,’ Charlie added. ‘He’s a musical prodigy and one day he’ll be famous.’

And then Charlie recounted some of his adventures with those other children, the endowed, descendants of the Red King, like himself. Emma, who could fly, Billy, who understood animals, Lysander, who could call up his spirit ancestors, Tancred the storm-bringer, Gabriel the clairvoyant, ‘And there’s Olivia.’ Charlie gave a chuckle. ‘She’s an illusionist, but the Bloors don’t know about her. She’s kind of our secret weapon.’

‘So this ancient man, Ezekiel, keeps you prisoner in his Academy for the . . . the?’ The giant looked at Charlie questioningly.

‘Gifted, I suppose you’d call it,’ said Charlie. ‘And we’re not really prisoners.’

‘But under his control.’

‘Sometimes we disobey.’

‘Good! Good!’ cried Otus, clapping his hands. He glanced up at the window. ‘Darkness has come. The dog can be rescued.’

‘Runner Bean!’ Charlie had almost forgotten poor Runner Bean while he’d been talking to the giant.

Otus led the way down the tower. He held the candle in an iron dish. It smelled like burning fat and cast huge leaping shadows on the stone walls. When they reached the outer door, the giant stopped and listened. Charlie waited beside him, scarcely able to breathe.

Otus had barely opened the door, before Charlie rushed out. He was met by such an overpowering blackness, he felt he might have been blinded. And through the terrible dark came the winds, first from one side, then another, driving him against the wall of the tower, dragging his legs, howling in his head.

‘RUNNER!’ Charlie screamed into the wind.

He waited for an answering bark. But nothing could be heard above the winds.

‘Best return, boy,’ called Otus. ‘He has been taken.’

‘No!’ Charlie ran blindly forward. Suddenly, he was falling. He landed with a groan on to hard, rocky ground. Putting out a hand, he felt a damp wall. Something scuttled over his fingers and he screamed again.

There came a deep, throaty bark and, even in his dangerous position, Charlie felt a surge of joy. ‘Runner!’ he called.

The giant’s voice drifted above the wind. ‘Cursed giant that I am. I should have warned you of the pits. Where are you, boy?’

‘Here!’ cried Charlie. He heard the thud of boots. A giant hand touched his, and then he was being hauled up the side of the pit. As he reached the top, a shaft of weak, ragged moonlight showed him a large yellow dog perched on the rim. ‘Runner!’ he shouted.

Runner Bean barked delightedly as the giant bundled boy and dog towards the tower. ‘Hush, dog!’ he said, pushing them both through the door.

Charlie grabbed the excited dog’s collar, while Otus closed the door and drew two heavy bolts across it.

‘Faith, that dog will have us all in chains before night has passed,’ the giant muttered.

‘Did someone hear us?’ Charlie stroked Runner Bean’s head, calming him down.

‘I fear my neighbour,’ Otus admitted, as he ascended the stone staircase. ‘His tower is close, and he is not a kind man.’

Now that Runner Bean had found Charlie, he seemed reluctant to climb the shadowy steps. Charlie had to coax him up with strokes and promises of bones, though he had no idea if any would be found once they reached the giant’s room.

The giant had thought ahead. By the time Charlie had enticed the nervous dog to the top of the stairs, Otus had fished two bones out of the cooking pot. Flinging them across the floor, he chuckled, ‘Chew on those, brave dog.’

‘I don’t think he feels very brave,’ Charlie remarked as he watched Runner Bean ravenously gnawing the bones.

‘Charlie, you must flee from here,’ Otus said gravely. ‘We cannot hope to hide that dog. Soon my neighbour will alert Oddthumb and his crew. You will hear the horn, and then you must be gone.’

‘But how?’ Charlie gazed round the giant’s room. ‘I can’t,’ he said in a strangled voice. ‘I don’t know how I got here. When I travel I have a wand . . .’

‘A wand?’ The giant’s eyes widened. ‘Truly, you are a magician, then?’