Jenny Nimmo - Charlie Bone and the Shadow of Badlock

‘From the depths of the well we listened, Raven and me. We listened to screams, to roaring flames, to beams tearing and crashing, to moans and cries and boulders falling. And I smelt fire, and worse than fire.’ Owain lifted his glistening eyes to the sky and his chest rose and fell, as though he were fighting for breath. Tolemeo put a hand on his shoulder, and the boy continued, ‘And then it was quiet, very quiet, and I knew my father could never tell me to come out; I knew I would never hear his voice again. So I came out anyway. And they were all dead. Everyone.’

The giant’s mouth had fallen open, but his cry was silent. Roland turned his head to stare at Owain. Horror had dried up his tears.

Owain said gently, ‘When I came out it was snowing, and the castle walls were as shiny as glass, so shiny I could see my face in them.’

‘It was the work of a magician,’ said Tolemeo, ‘my father’s friend, Mathonwy. He sent a cloud of snow to smother the flames. But his help came too late to save Amadis and Amoret. I was in Toledo, my mother’s city, when it happened.’

Owain clasped Tolemeo’s hand. ‘I sent my raven to find him, and since the day Tolemeo arrived, we have been searching for you.’ He put his hand into his jerkin and drew out a mirror set in a jewelled frame. The glass was so brilliant it was as if the sun had touched their faces.

The giant gasped, and turned his head away. ‘Amoret,’ he murmured.

Tolemeo took the mirror from Owain and thrust it into the giant’s hands. ‘Take the mirror, Otus Yewbeam,’ he said sternly. ‘You have lost your wife but you still have your son.’

The giant was about to reply when Tolemeo suddenly spun on his heel, his nostrils flaring, his eyes wide and alert. ‘They are upon us,’ he cried.

‘I heard nothing,’ said the giant.

‘Nevertheless.’ Tolemeo lifted Roland on to his shoulders. ‘We have but a moment.’ He began to stride round the lake. ‘Otus, make haste. They approach.’

The giant stood, clutching the mirror to his chest. He looked up to the rim of the hollow, and there they were – a long line of shadows weaving through the trees. A deep, nasal roar filled the giant’s ears as Harken’s troll army began to run down the steep bank. Their tiny eyes and scribble mouths were all but hidden in the fleshy spread of their huge noses. They wore scaley breastplates of dull metal, and tall, ridiculous helmets that disguised their lumpy heads. Their weapons were cudgels, spears and deadly slingshots, and behind them came a group of hideous beings that were neither troll nor human.

The giant began to run, his long legs easily clearing the rocks at the lake’s edge. Ahead of him, he could see Roland’s small face gazing back from Tolemeo’s shoulders. ‘Run, Father, run,’ called the little boy.

The trolls’ bellowing filled the hollow. Rocks and spears began to rain down from every side, and now the giant could see that they were surrounded.

‘The Count is angry,’ a thick, rasping voice announced. ‘He punished me for your escape, Otus Yewbeam. And now I shall punish you.’

The giant recognised Oddthumb, leader of Harken’s guards. He was bigger than the others and his face was a corpse-like grey, but what marked him out was the thumb of his right hand, a huge, gnarled, stumpy thing, wider than his palm.

Otus ducked as a rock came winging from Oddthumb’s slingshot.

‘The mirror, Father,’ cried Roland. ‘Use the mirror to save yourself. Mother would have wished it.’

Tolemeo stopped and called back, ‘It’s the truth, Otus. Give them the mirror. It will slow them down. I will save your son, but you will have to fend for yourself.’

‘Save Roland,’ cried the giant, and he threw the mirror high into the air.

Every troll face was raised in fear and astonishment as the shining circle spun to earth, its radiance piercing their weak eyes and momentarily blinding them.

A howl of pain and fury went up. The mirror dropped at Oddthumb’s feet. He felt its weight but couldn’t see it.

‘Farewell, Otus!’ called Tolemeo.

The giant turned.

Tolemeo was rising from the ground with Roland and Owain clasped in his arms. Higher and higher. Now they were over the lake, and the feathered cloak billowed around them, while the dark water shimmered in the breeze. When they were higher than the trees that rimmed the hollow, two great wings spread behind Tolemeo. He swung in the air and lay like a swimmer, while the wings beat gracefully above him. He might have been a great bird soaring through the starlit sky, if you chose not to see the two small figures clasped to his chest.

A joyous smile lit Otus Yewbeam’s face, and in the long, solitary years that were to follow, the smile would return every time the giant remembered that moment.

The trolls had recovered their sight. They ran down to the lake, swinging their cudgels, grunting and swearing. The giant knew it would be useless to run. He saw that Oddthumb had picked up the mirror. The shadow would have what he wanted at last.

‘Pretty Cats!’

In the hall of number nine, Filbert Street, a small boy stood at the foot of the staircase. He looked sickly and too thin. Scraping a tangle of dull brown hair away from his face, he stuck out his tongue. ‘Flames! That’s what they call you, isn’t it?’

The three cats, sitting on the rail, stared down from the landing above. They had fiery coloured coats: copper, orange and yellow. The orange cat hissed; the yellow cat lifted a paw and flexed his dangerous claws; the copper cat gave a deep, threatening growl.

‘Why don’t you like me? I’m smarter than you. One day,’ the boy raised his fist, ‘you’ll be sorry.’

A door opened behind him and a voice called, ‘Eric, what are you doing?’

‘Come and look.’

Two women stepped into the hall. They would have been identical if there had not been twenty years between them. Both were tall and dark-eyed, with thin, chilly mouths and long, narrow noses. But whereas one had bone-white hair, the other’s was as black as a crow’s wing.

‘Look!’ Eric pointed up at the three cats.

The older woman uttered a throaty snarl. ‘What are they doing here? I’ve forbidden them, expressly .’

The younger woman, Eric’s stepmother, grabbed his hand and dragged him back. ‘I’ve told you never to approach those creatures.’

‘I didn’t,’ said Eric. ‘I’m down here and they’re up there. And anyway, they can’t hurt me.’

‘Of course they can,’ his stepmother retorted. ‘They’re wild creatures.’

‘With leopards’ hearts,’ her sister added. Raising her voice, she called, ‘Charlie! Charlie Bone, come here, this minute.’

A door opened upstairs and a moment later a boy with tousled hair leaned over the railing. The yellow cat walked up to him and rubbed its head against his arm. The other cats jumped down and circled his legs.

‘What is it, Grandma?’ Charlie stroked the yellow cat’s head and yawned.

‘Lazy lump!’ said his grandmother. ‘Have you been asleep?’

‘No,’ Charlie replied indignantly. ‘I’ve been doing my homework.’

‘Did you let those cats in?’

‘They’re not doing any harm,’ said Charlie.

‘Harm?’ Grandma Bone’s dark eyes became angry slits. ‘They’re the most harmful creatures in this city. Get them out.’

‘Sorry, Sagittarius.’ Charlie lifted the yellow cat off the banisters. ‘Sorry, Aries and Leo,’ he said to the cats winding themselves round his legs. ‘Grandma Bone says you’ve got to go.’