‘Ratty,’ she said urgently, tugging at her friend’s arm. ‘Please, listen to me. You have to stop being afraid!’ Already she knew her words were wasted. Ratty was plainly terrified and, with every second that passed, Morghul seemed to swell in size.
A loud smash made her jump. Solomon was standing by the cauldron, the hourglass in pieces at his feet. He stared at Morghul, his face a strange mixture of delight and disbelief. ‘You?’ he whispered. ‘All this time . . .
you
were the hidden memory, the secret ingredient? And yet you dared to seek me out, to hide under my very nose. Why?’
‘You should know the answer to that,’ Tanya said. She stepped away from Ratty to the edge of the cage. ‘You took Ratty’s memory of him and locked it into the hourglass. Without it, Ratty couldn’t imagine him or fear him and, apart from your glamour, that was all he had to give him life. He wanted the hourglass just as much as you did, but knew that without you he’d never find it.’
Solomon smiled faintly. ‘A risk you shouldn’t have taken, my friend.’ He made a circling motion with his hands. Silver chains appeared, binding Morghul’s hands and feet. Solomon beckoned and Morghul was propelled towards him as if held by an invisible rope.
‘I’m afraid it’s into the cauldron with you,’ Solomon said, with a contented sigh. ‘A life in exchange for a life.’ He reached up and stroked the faded, lacy dress, then lifted the lid of a small box on a table next to the cauldron. From it, he took something thin and white: a skeletal hand. A jewelled ring glinted on one finger. Tanya felt a scream rising in her throat and bit it back.
‘We’re almost there, my love,’ Solomon crooned, placing the skeleton’s hand back in the box. ‘Bone of the beloved and the last garment worn.’ He turned his attention back to Morghul. ‘But first it’s time for the sacrifice.’
‘You can’t do this,’ Tanya said. ‘If you destroy Morghul, you’ll destroy part of Ratty’s imagination – part of
him
! Do you really want to be responsible for that? For killing the part of him that’s able to create and believe? The part that’s able to listen to stories and bring them to life in his head? He’ll never be the same!’ Her voice rose to a shout. ‘Never!’
Solomon hugged the box to his chest, his triumphant look replaced by one of sadness. He looked older suddenly. Tired and haggard. ‘Imagination is overvalued,’ he said bitterly, running his finger over the lid of the box. ‘Memories, imagination . . . it’s all the same. For years I’ve lived in mine and it’s a lonely place. All that matters is what’s real. And what’s real is life, the here and now.’
‘No,’ said Tanya. ‘You’re wrong. Memories make us what we are, and imagination lets us dream of what’s possible. What we can be. No one can put a value on that.’
And, just for a moment, Solomon hesitated. But it was only a moment and it was over too quickly. The cold eyes hardened, filling with feverish madness once more. ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘I
will
bring her back! No matter what the cost.’ He beckoned once more, eyeing Morghul greedily as the creature stumbled towards him.
Tanya shook the bars of the cage desperately, but it was useless. There was nothing,
nothing
she could do except watch as Morghul neared the cauldron. And then she froze, for Morghul had stopped. She glanced at Solomon. His face was blank with confusion and he gestured wildly, cursing under his breath at the unseen magic that was clearly failing him. And now Tanya could see why: Morghul was changing. The lumpy-porridge texture of his face was smoothing out like moulded wax, taking on new features. Features, she realised with horror, that encapsulated Ratty’s worst nightmares. Rotting flesh peeled from the skull, while blackened tooth stumps gnashed behind the lips.
As Solomon looked on in horror, Morghul’s lips drew back in a terrible smile and he lifted his hands, shattering the silver chains that bound them like they were no stronger than paper. A piece flew into Solomon’s face, striking his cheek and leaving a huge welt there. He threw his hands up, staggering back. Next, Morghul kicked out, separating the bonds that held his legs.
‘No!’ Solomon cried, recovering himself. ‘No, no, no!’ He lunged at Morghul, his eyes burning bright with madness as he tried to drag him to the cauldron – but he was no match for Morghul’s strength, not any more. Morghul seized him by the neck, squeezing hard with a rotting hand. Solomon’s face turned red and terrible choking noises forced their way from his throat. He clawed at Morghul’s face, forcing the monster to release his neck, but still Morghul grabbed at it.
Tanya turned to Ratty. His fear had paralysed him, leaving him unable to do anything but watch as the horrible scene unfolded.
‘Make it stop, Ratty!’ she begged. ‘You have to!’
Ratty’s head shook very slightly. ‘I can’t . . . he’s too powerful . . .’
Tanya grabbed him and shook him hard. ‘He’s only powerful because you’re letting him be! You’re the only one who can stop this, don’t you see? If you don’t, you’ll never be free of him and he’ll grow and grow until he takes you over completely!’
‘I can’t,’ Ratty repeated. ‘I don’t know how.’
His voice was empty, devoid of hope. Somehow, the sound of it terrified Tanya even more than the sight of Morghul. She glanced around the cellar, dimly aware that upstairs Oberon was barking from behind the closed storeroom door. She balled her hands into fists. Don must still be up there, trapped and in toad form. There was no hope of him coming to their rescue. And, even if he did, she did not know how he would stop what was in motion. She did not know how anyone could, even Ratty.
A sudden movement caught her eye. There, on the cellar steps, a shadow lurked in the beam of light coming from above. It loomed large, like a demon, with wild hair, pointed horns and a long tail swishing from side to side. Tanya felt the tiny hairs on the back of her arms rising, then realised what she was looking at. The beam of light widened and a small, fearful face peered round the door into the cellar. At the back of Tanya’s mind, it triggered something, something Don had told her. A bold little idea began to tap in her head.
‘Turpin!’ Tanya mouthed. ‘Here, quickly!’
Turpin hurried down the steps, moving swiftly through the shadows. With Solomon and Morghul still jostling for power, neither of them noticed as she slipped into the cage.
‘He is changing,’ she said, nodding at Morghul. She sounded more afraid than Tanya had ever heard her. ‘Ratty has remembered?’
‘Yes,’ Ratty said softly. ‘I remembered.’
‘Then hope is lost,’ said Turpin. ‘Whichever one of them wins.’
‘Hope isn’t lost,’ said Tanya. ‘Not yet. Listen, I have an idea, but we have to be quick. Can you go back upstairs and fetch the rucksack and sneak it to me without them seeing you?’
Turpin nodded. ‘Yes. Turpin is good at sneaking.’
‘Good,’ said Tanya. ‘Then hurry.’
Turpin squeezed through the bars again and scurried up the stairs. Morghul’s grunts and Solomon’s roars filled the cellar as they crashed around, each trying to gain the upper hand. Books and papers skidded across and littered the floor, and jars of ingredients and captive fairies smashed, with the fairies making hasty bids for freedom. It was clear that Solomon was losing, only hanging on out of the sheer will to survive, and that it could not last much longer.
Turpin reappeared, not only with the rucksack, but with Don in her arms and Oberon behind her.
‘Pa!’ Ratty exclaimed, as Don hopped on to his lap. ‘Heck, what a mess you’re in!’
Don hung his head miserably. ‘I’m sorry, Henry. I was hoping you wouldn’t have to see me like this.’
Tanya reached through the bars and dragged the rucksack to the cage. On the other side, Oberon scratched and whined, frustrated at not being able to join Tanya.
‘I know, boy,’ she said, unzipping the rucksack. ‘But you just have to stay there for now.’ From the rucksack, she pulled out the jar containing the Cornish brownie. ‘Listen to me,’ she told it through the air holes. ‘If I set you free, will you promise to help us?’
The brownie scowled and nodded reluctantly. Tanya removed the lid from the jar. A wisp of blue smoke curled into the air as the magical seal was broken.
‘I need you to use your magic,’ said Tanya. She motioned for the others to lean in close as she quickly explained her idea. ‘Everyone clear?’ she asked. ‘Ratty, can you do this?’
Ratty nodded. ‘I’ll try.’
‘All right,’ said Tanya. ‘Get ready.’ She nodded at Turpin, who slipped out of the cage once more and began to head for the cellar steps. A terrible choking noise stopped her in her tracks and startled them all.
Morghul had grabbed Solomon’s neck once more and, this time, Solomon did not appear to have the strength to fight him off. His eyes bulged then closed, and his face was swiftly turning from red to purple as he gasped for air. His hands flailed uselessly, then dropped to his sides. Morghul gave one final squeeze, then released him. Solomon’s eyes snapped open again, full of cunning. He seized a heavy candlestick, ready to strike, but his foot slid on a pile of books and he skidded off balance, thrown back against the large, bubbling cauldron. As his legs buckled against it, his mouth gaped in a terrible realisation of what was about to happen. He grabbed at the air, trying to regain his footing, but to no avail. He toppled backwards with a blood-curdling scream and vanished into the frothing, steaming contents of the cauldron.
Immediately, the cauldron started to bubble and hiss, and wisps of white steam began to rise up. Morghul turned back to the cage, his gruesome face flushed with victory. Solomon would not climb out of the cauldron alive. Of that Tanya was now certain.
As the cauldron gave a rumbling gurgle, several things happened: there came a sharp sound of a lock clicking and the cage door sprang open. Inside the cage, Don gave an enormous belch, which produced a large, silver moth, and promptly transformed back into his rightful shape. He stared at his hands, wiggling his fingers in disbelief.
Morghul fixed his blank eyes on Ratty, advancing slowly.
‘Now!’ Tanya hissed, giving Ratty a hard push.
Ratty stood up unsteadily, his knees shaking as he approached the side of the cage. ‘It’s time for you to go, Morghul,’ he said. His voice was quiet and nervous. ‘You don’t belong here any more.’
Morghul threw back his head and laughed. Even since the defeat of Solomon, just moments ago, his features had become more defined. His eyes, still black, were now more human and glistened with life in place of the dead, empty pits that had been there before. ‘I do belong,’ he said in a deep, throaty voice. ‘I belong with you. You made me. And, from you, my strength grows and grows.’
‘You’re not welcome or wanted any more,’ said Ratty. ‘You became something else, something wrong. And now I’m going to unmake you.’
‘And how do you think you’ll do that?’ Morghul mocked. ‘You’re not strong enough. Even Solomon wasn’t powerful enough, with all his magic!’
‘Because Solomon never created you,’ said Ratty. ‘I did. You only exist because of me.’
‘And yet you’re still not strong enough to defeat me.’
‘Maybe not alone,’ said Ratty. ‘But you’re forgetting something.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘That if I made you I can make others, too. And I did.’
‘You lie,’ said Morghul, but doubt had crept into his voice.
Ratty squared his shoulders, standing a little taller. ‘No, I don’t. See for yourself.’ He pointed to the cellar floor in front of him. Morghul looked down.
Behind Ratty, Tanya watched as the brownie, hidden from sight in his jar, began moving his hands in a furious working of magic. At the centre of his palms a tiny, golden ball glowed like a furnace and a beam of light fell before Ratty, creating a long, dark shadow on the stone floor. Yet, as Ratty stood unmoving, the shadow did not. It folded its arms and, before their eyes, began to change shape so that it did not resemble Ratty, but something else entirely. The hair grew wilder and stood away from the head in fierce tufts, and two pointed horns protruded either side of the head. Behind it, a cat-like tail swished aggressively.
‘No,’ said Morghul. ‘It’s not possible!’
‘Of course it’s possible,’ said Ratty. He folded his arms, looking bolder by the second. ‘I created you when I was only small.’ His voice was scornful now. ‘But now I’m capable of so much more. I made something else. Some
one
else. Another friend.’
At his words, Morghul’s eyes lost their glistening appearance and took on a dull, empty look once more. Tanya peered closer. Was it her imagination or was he shrinking a little, too?
‘It’s working!’ Don whispered beside her. ‘He’s starting to lose his form. Don’t stop!’
‘I made something bigger, stronger,’ Ratty continued. ‘Something that will crush you.’
The shadow on the floor began to pace, like a cat stalking its prey.
Morghul’s clothes became a little larger, a little looser. ‘You can’t crush me,’ he said, but his voice betrayed him. It was less clear, as though he were having to try harder to form the words.
Out of the corner of her eye, Tanya sneaked a look at the cellar steps. There, in the beam of light from above, Turpin pulled herself up to her full height, pacing from side to side and flicking her tail, watching as her shadow was magically projected before Ratty.
‘Surely you can see how powerful it is already,’ said Ratty. ‘Even as a shadow, it has its own form. You never did. Your shadow was just a copy of me.’
The rotting skin on Morghul’s face faded, and the skin began to take on the texture of lumpy porridge once more. In the jar, the brownie moved his hands apart and the ball of light split in two. At the same time, Ratty’s shadow moved away from the cage, separating from him.
‘I suggest you leave now,’ said Ratty. ‘My new friend is hungry.’
Turpin began stamping her feet on the steps, like a bull about to charge. The shadow between Ratty and Morghul did the same. Morghul shrank further still.
‘Keep going, Ratty,’ Tanya whispered. ‘You’re winning! Soon he’ll be nothing!’
The shadow moved towards Morghul, forcing him to step back. He glanced about nervously, as if looking for a weapon, or a place to hide . . . and then his gaze rested on the cellar steps as he caught sight of Turpin. The fairy saw him and tried to leap into the shadows, but too late. Recognition flared across his face and he began to smile once more.