Seven Sorcerers (17 page)

‘I never knew that.’

‘See. We bogeymen know stuff. Tha’s why it ’eals as well as kills, because it was designed to grow a body. I bet ya can guess why makin’ it into a potion an’ drinkin’
it gives ya weird dreams that might or might not be the future?’

‘Because of the fortune-teller thing,’ said the Dark Thing excitedly. ‘Getting into his blood and all that! Crumbs.’

‘Right! Well, number four was Azork. Vain and selfish, even by Sorcerer standards. Anyway, ’e quickly figured out that the simplest way to go on existin’ was to become a Dread Fabulous, cos dread is so much stronger than desire. Fear bypasses years o’ Quick evolution and takes ’em right back to their oldest ancestors. It’s like, primeval.’

‘It didn’t save the faeries, they were a Dread species.’

‘Well, yeah, but they was jus’ too fancy. Us wha’s left, we’ve got the real edge on fear wiv a capital eff. Show me a kid what doesn’ dread the bogeyman an’ I’ll eat me waistcoat. An’ as to the tombfolk, when it’s dark and an’ they’re alone ya won’t find a Quick livin’ what doesn’t wonder if there ain’t somefin’ nasty in the night wiv ’em.’

‘So, what? Azork became a tombfolk?’

‘Tha’s it. As yer know, sorcerers carn’ lose contact wiv the Land. If a sorcerer is stoopid enough to try flyin’ then ’e becomes a spirit of the air an’ fades away. No turnin’ back eiver. Sever that connection jus’ once and it’s gone. Doomed to a slow deff. Unless …’

‘Unless he chooses to prolong his existence by feeding off the Quick?’

‘Uh-huh. ‘Course, sorcerers tended to look down on
the tombfolk as being kinda dumb to give up all that sorcerer power just so’s they can float about a bit. So Azork likes to call ’imself a Daemon of the Night, but what it boils down to is tombfolk. I know, I met ’im jus’ the ovver night!

‘Quite,’ said the Dark Thing loftily. It was silent for a moment, thinking about it. ‘Still, must be more interesting than being a tree or a bunch of bricks. Not a bad solution. Next?’

‘’Ang on a mo. S’firsty work, all this talkin’. Got a drop o’ honeymead?’

The Dark Thing gave him a look. Or at least as near as it could come to one, what with the no eyes problem.

‘OK, OK. I’ll settle for a splash o’ water. Parched I am.’

‘Dig under that stone, the flat one over there. Be quick about it.’

Skerridge nipped over to the stone and heaved it up. He dug, quickly enough not to be seen to be dawdling, but not nearly as quickly as he could have. After a while, water began to fill the hole.

‘Are you done yet?’ snapped the Dark Thing.

‘Found it. Coupla moufuls, tha’s all.’ He drank deeply. ‘Ahh tha’s better.’ He took another slurp, making it last as many seconds as he could. Skerridge was counting.

‘OK, fink I can go on now.’

‘Too right!’

‘Don’ be like that. I may be Fabulous, but I’m still physical. Bet ya don’ ’ave to worry about fings like that, eh? Mus’ be ’andy.’

‘It is very useful in many ways, but … GET ON WITH IT!’

‘Am doin’! Was jus’ int’rested is all! Right, where was I?’

‘The fifth Sorcerer.’

‘Fifth was anovver sorceress. Senta Melana, the beautiful one. She chose to earf ’erself. Cut off ’er ’and to make an exit point an’ poured all of the magic inside ’er into the Land. Must’ve taken some doin’, spoilin’ ’er own perfection like that. Anyway, she went to live in the Widdern as a n’ordinary mortal. Wivout a soul o’ course, cos ya can’t jus’ get ’old o’ one o’ them.’

‘Wouldn’t that kill her?’

‘Not straight away. She’d’ve ’ad a few years left until ’er body crumbled.’

‘Then she’s dead?’

‘She realised that Quick live on in their children.’

‘How so?’

‘Don’ ask me, I’m jus’ a pore ole bogeyman! Anyway, she married a Quick and ’ad kids, an’ then they went on to ’ave ovver kids an’ so on. Out there in the Widdern there’s probably some of ’er line still livin’ on.’

‘Seems a bit unsatisfactory to me. Next?’

‘Ava Vispilio,’ said Skerridge in a dark voice. ‘Vispilio’s idea was like Morgan Crow’s, but far deadlier and more efficient. Crow planned to transfer ’imself into anovver body grown in ’is image. Ava Vispilio planned to transfer ’imself into anovver body too. But he wasn’ gonna make one, he was gonna nick somebody else’s!’

The Dark Thing gasped.

‘Mean eh? He wasn’ daft. Vispilio knew ’e’d need a body wiv its own source o’ life. ’e also knew that he wouldn’ be able to take ’is magic wiv ’im. Although ’e would still be sorta livin’, it would really be just some ovver pore git wiv Vispilio in charge!’

‘What happened to the … you know …’

‘The pore Quick what got taken over? Dunno. But I reckon that they wouldn’ die, they’d jus’ ’ang around in there wiv ’im. Powerless to stop ’im doin’ anyfin ’e wanted wiv their body. Nasty eh?’

‘Dreadful,’ said the Dark Thing with admiration.

‘It was a powerful magic. He got a ring an’ cast spells to tie ’is bein’ into it and make anyone what’s wearin’ it belong to ’im. When the body e’s in gets old or sick all ’e ’as to do is give the ring to someone else. They put it on and there you go! Vispilio’s got anovver body.’

‘What if they didn’t put it on?’

‘Why wouldn’ they? Only need to slip it on for a mo’.’

‘But if they didn’t?’

‘Clever ain’t ya. Yer’ve spotted the one weakness.’

The Dark Thing preened.

‘If, for some reason,’ went on Skerridge, ‘nobody would put the ring on, Ava Vispilio would die.’

‘So,’ said Nin, ‘if nobody put the ring on, he’d die?’

‘Not straight away. But he would be trapped inside the ring, with no source of energy to sustain him and eventually
he would die. So remember, never take a ring from anyone. Here in the Drift you don’t know what it really is.’ Nemus Sturdy sighed. ‘Of course, you met him didn’t you? It was Vispilio inside Dandy Boneman. Shame you didn’t find the ring. You could have brought it to me. Buried it in my roots. I’d have kept it safe. But now I fear it’s still out there, and remember this,’ he leaned close, his green eyes looking into hers, ‘you would not know it again for it changes every time, depending on the soul it’s captured.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Nin said firmly, ‘it’s lost in the bracken where no one will find it.’

‘We can always hope,’ said Nemus sadly.

‘So, tell me about the last one, the seventh Sorcerer.’

‘Ahh, Simeon Dark.’ Nemus Sturdy shook his head. ‘There are a lot of stories I could tell you about Dark, but not what happened to him in the end. He just disappeared, you see. Legend has it that of all the seven he was the only one to find a way to stay alive and
still be a sorcerer
. Unfortunately no one knows if that’s true. Now, dawn is only a little way away and you have a long journey ahead, so would you like to sleep without dreams a while?’ asked Nemus kindly. ‘It will clear your head.’

Nin smiled at him. ‘Thank you. And I feel like I know a lot more now.’

‘If you come back this way we can talk again. There’s more I could tell you. About the way things were and about how they became what they are now.’ Nemus
sighed. ‘My beautiful Celidon, you should have seen it.’

‘I wish I could,’ said Nin as she felt herself drifting towards sleep, ‘thanks again.’

‘You are welcome,’ the once-sorcerer smiled, ‘just remember me.’

‘And now,’ said the Dark Thing eagerly. ‘The seventh Sorcerer. Simeon Dark. Tell me about how Simeon Dark managed to cheat the plague! Because if there is a sorcerer still alive, as you say, then the might of Celidon has not gone altogether. So, bogeyman, tell me where the last sorcerer is now!’

Skerridge blinked at the Dark Thing.

‘Come on, bogeyman, I’m waiting! Because if you’ve been lying to me …!’

‘Fing is,’ said Skerridge slowly, peering upwards. ‘Fing is, yer never, ever gonna know. D’ya know why yer never gonna know?’

The Dark Thing snarled.

‘The reason yer never gonna know,’ said Skerridge carefully, ‘is cos that up there …’

The Dark Thing howled.

‘… is daylight.’

hen Nin woke up the morning sun was shining through the leaves of Sturdy’s Oak on to her face. Skirting the edge of the clearing was a chalky strip of path, trying to look as if it had never been anywhere else.

‘Good sleep?’ asked Jonas. ‘It’s later than I would have liked, so are you ready to go?’

‘IK!’

‘Jik? I take it you didn’t have a good night then?’ Nin grinned at him. ‘I’m glad you’re OK, though.’

Jonas was already on the path and looking impatient. Nin hurried to grab her pack and catch him up, with Jik falling in at her heels as usual.

The rest of the trip through the forest would have been enjoyable, if they hadn’t been too busy worrying about the things that lived in it. Jonas kept glancing over his shoulder and Nin got the feeling that something was following them, keeping pace slightly behind and off the path. Jik didn’t seem worried, though, and somehow Nin found that reassuring.

They stopped once to eat some of the rough bread and salted meat found in Dandy Boneman’s pack, but that was all. Even so, when they finally tumbled out into a field of poppies that flickered like tongues of scarlet flame, the sun was already past its height.

As they cut a path through the field, the poppies’ bright glow winked out under their feet, exploding into the air in a shower of sparks. Looking back, Nin could see the trail they made, dark against the red leading from the forest, which reared against the sky, a wall of trees that looked almost impenetrable. She could hardly believe they had just walked through it. When she looked back again, several fields later, the forest was just a ribbon of shadow on the melting horizon.

Ahead, the sky was filled with a misty haze that turned it the colour of amethyst. Jonas told her they were getting near to the Heart and what she could see reaching into the sky was the vast patch of Raw that the Heart had become.

‘Why is it called the Heart of Celidon?’

‘It was once the great city of Beorht Eardgeard, where the Sorcerers went during the plague. It was also the first part of the Land to become Raw and they say something terrible lives there.’

As they drew closer, Nin watched the towering wall of Raw nervously. There was something menacing about the way it looked like fog, but didn’t behave like it, staying where it was, dense and unmoving in the still air and the sunshine. On its misty edge, shadows gathered,
stirring restlessly. A dead tree reached out with bone-white branches and a nearby stream sobbed quietly. It all felt like leftovers from the end of the world. Which, in a way, it was.

She felt her skin prickle as the penny dropped and she suddenly worked out what it was.

‘The Raw! Dandy Boneman said the Land and everything in it was made of raw magic and that the plague was killing it. And that cloudy stuff is called the Raw. So I’m guessing it’s like, bits of the Land that have died of the plague, right? Land that has gone back to the Raw?’

‘Spot on, kid.’ Jonas had unrolled the crowsmorte net and was cutting it into halves with his knife. ‘It’s getting dark and I don’t want to risk the tombfolk, I have a nasty feeling they’ll be looking out for us. Here.’