Alison had had enough. She turned and tried to run from the circle of stones but a wall of invisible force prevented her escape. She howled in dismay but Nicodemus laughed all the more.
‘Mousey not leave now ring complete,’ tutted Akkikuyu. ‘You not listen mousey. Now, Nico we must begin yes?’
‘Truly,’ said the voice still, chuckling as Alison twisted and turned round the circle in vain. ‘I shall project my essence into the heart of your crystal, there shall I be safe from the heat of the fire. I hope that I shall still be able to talk to you, but my powers will be much weakened by the glass.’ The tattoo screwed up its ugly face and became quite still.
A black cloud moved over the stars. Alison stared at the crystal in her paws and saw a pin prick of cold blue light glimmer there. Slowly it began to pulse. The light grew and filled the globe until the crystal shone like a star fallen to earth. The glass became freezing to the touch yet Alison could not let go. Breathlessly and with great difficulty the voice spoke again; it was nearer yet somehow it echoed hollowly. ‘Quickly Akkikuyu,’ it said with an effort, an edge of fear creeping into it, ‘light the fire now! The spell must be completed soon or the keepers of the gate will draw me back and bind me ever stronger. I have but a little time here unless the exchange is made.’ Akkikuyu lit the bonfire.
The wood was so dry that it kindled easily, and soon the flames leapt up greedily. The heat singed her whiskers and scorched Alison’s face but the crystal remained icy to the touch.
‘Aaagghh,’ said the voice, ‘even here I feel the fire! You must hurry. Throw in the mousebrass, Akkikuyu.’
The fortune-teller fished out the brass that Isaac had made for her. It was a twisted, ugly thing, made in a spirit of hatred and vengeance. She cast it into the white-hot heart of the crackling flame.
‘Hear me Arash and Iriel,’ cried Nicodemus. ‘I send you a soul in my stead. A female unprotected by the Greenlaws. Accept her and let me go free.’
A deep rumble boomed in the night. Thunder was approaching. On the horizon, fingers of lightning zig-zagged down between heaven and earth. A freezing gale blew up
,
but protected by the circle of stones, the bonfire remained unaffected. Madame Akkikuyu threw some powders into the blaze and a ball of blue flame burst into the darkening sky.
‘Prepare the vessel Rameth so I might live again!’ Nicodemus screamed above the clamouring storm.
Akkikuyu hurled more powder into the flame. A blue column of smoke shot up into the air. The fortune-teller was frightened. She had not expected anything like this at all. If it carried on the fieldmice would come soon to see what was going on. She winced and clutched her stomach. Something was happening to her . . . something dreadful . . . A terrible pain ripped at her insides. She doubled over in agony, and as she did so, she caught sight of her own body, and cried out in horror.
Her fur was changing colour. Instead of being a sleek coat of black, it was now a bright marmalade orange with dark stripes. The secret, closed doors of her mind were forced open and she bellowed with fear as she remembered the past, and saw through Nicodemus’ disguise.
Nicodemus laughed amid the thunder and as he did so his voice changed – it became deeper, more sinister and absolutely evil. He crowed his triumph with insane jubilation.
‘Yes Akkikuyu,’ sneered the great deceiver, ‘it is I, your master returned. JUPITER has come back from eternity.’
‘No!’ she yammered plaintively. ‘You Nicodemus, spirit of field – Jupiter dead.’
‘Ha ha – I am the father of lies, Akkikuyu, you know that. You have helped to release me, I shall not forget. I intend to reward you with the highest honour that is mine to give.’
‘What honour?’ she asked in horror.
‘You have opened the door of death, Akkikuyu,’ he congratulated her, ‘but my old body has been destroyed.
You
shall be the new host for my dark spirit.’
‘Nooo!’ Akkikuyu tore at her hair and tried to flee, but like Alison she could not break out of the stone circle.
‘You cannot escape,’ tutted Jupiter. ‘Do you not listen? Continue with the spell!’
‘Never,’ she cried and slumped to the ground in a desperate heap, cringing from that terrible snarling voice. But unseen forces gripped her and the rat was dragged to her feet. Her claws were forced into her bag and a will outside her own guided them to the next ingredient. The powders were thrown into the flame.
‘Hear me Ozulmunn – bind her to me.’
Akkikuyu’s eyes stung and their black orbs trembled. A thin film of gold closed over them until only narrow slits were left. Her ears were pulled out of shape and she felt her tail grow thick stripey fur. Jupiter’s evil spells were changing her into a cat!
She threw open her mouth to scream but all that came out was a pitiful ‘Miaow’.
Madame Akkikuyu clapped her ginger claws over her mouth to stop the terrible noise.
‘Now, Akkikuyu, throw the girl into the fire, then smash the globe!’ commanded Jupiter.’
The rat’s feet dragged themselves towards Alison.
The mouse had witnessed everything with incredulous despair. She cried for pity as the striped ginger rat lurched towards her. But there was nowhere to escape.
‘Throw her in, Akkikuyu!’ Jupiter ordered severely.
Madame Akkikuyu blinked her tawny eyes and took hold of the mouse.
‘Please, please!’ begged Alison as the rat pulled her towards the flames.
The lightning flashed and crackled overhead. Thunder shook the ground and Jupiter laughed.
‘Please don’t throw me in,’ pleaded Alison, ‘please, have pity on me!’
With her golden eyes it seemed to Akkikuyu that for a moment Audrey stood before her. ‘Mouselet,’ she said. ‘Go, run free.’
‘I can’t,’ Alison wailed.
Jupiter heard them and scoffed. ‘You girl, have no choice. You have an appointment with the keepers of the gates of Hell. Dispatch her Akkikuyu.’
Madame Akkikuyu thought of the eternal torment that lay before her should Jupiter take possession of her body. She let go of Alison and shouted, ‘Mouselet my friend! It is I who have choice. I will not serve you again! Akkikuyu is free!’ With one terrific leap, Madame Akkikuyu cast herself into the middle of the fire.
The rat’s ginger fur became black once more . . . As the blaze roared up, Akkikuyu’s voice was heard one last time from the heart of the flames, ‘Akkikuyu tried so hard mouselet . . .’ and with that she died.
A bolt of lightning struck the circle and blasted the stones apart. Alison dropped the crystal and fled through the gap, escaping into the field.
The bonfire spluttered, the flames leapt higher and the tumult of the storm drowned out Jupiter’s voice calling from the glowing crystal.
‘The sacrifice has been made and They are satisfied. Release me child, release me. I am Jupiter, Lord of all Darkness! I command you to break open the globe!’ Without his tattooed eyes he could not see that there was no-one to hear him.
Bright, fiendish sparks shot out of the fire and fell within the cornfield.
Before long, the corn was ablaze.
The terrible spirit within the globe called out in pain as the fierce heat scorched the glass. The bonfire toppled over and fell with a flurry of burning ashes on top of the crystal. Jupiter’s furious cries were muffled.
In the Hall of Corn, the Scuttles, Arthur and Mr Woodruffe had decided that Audrey and Twit should go back to Deptford to tell the Starwife what had happened.
The rest of the fieldmice were mumbling and talking to each other in low voices. Some of them were repenting their hasty actions whilst others were sorry the town mouse had got off so lightly.
Suddenly a cry made everyone turn round. All the sentries were in the Hall; none had seen Alison Sedge crashing through the field. She burst into the Hall of Corn and shouted, ‘It’s the rat woman – she’s working for a devil,
she
is behind all this.’
But before anyone could question her further, another voice yelled out, ‘FIRE!’
All heads turned again. The sky was aglow and black plumes of smoke blew towards the Hall. Hot ash started to rain down and the Fennywolders squeaked in panic.
‘To the still pool!’ declared Mr Woodruffe, jumping on to the throne. ‘Fly as fast as you can. Save yourselves.’
The fieldmice streamed out of the great doors and through the corridor. They were met by the ravaging fire devouring the corn at a terrifying rate.
The Fennywolders could not escape that way they were beaten back into the Hall of Corn by the blaze and with a splintering
whoosh
the great doors collapsed behind them.
‘We’re trapped!’ cried the mice. It was getting difficult to breathe, as the air was sucked up by the flames.
One of the nests caught fire and began to bum furiously.
‘Over here,’ bawled Arthur, ‘it hasn’t reached here yet.’ Everyone ran to the Scuttles’ area and Twit guided them out through a narrow channel of choking smoke. It was so thick and hot that it burned the eyes and filled the lungs. Old Todmore coughed and spluttered in the blackness.
‘Where we goin’ you daft lad? I can’t see,’ he wheezed.
‘I knows this way in me sleep,’ Twit called back to him. The ears of corn above burst and spat down fiery missiles. ‘Come on,’ shouted Arthur, trying to sound calm, ‘nearly there.’
The babies gagged and cried, turning their tiny pink faces away from the glaring flames. Elijah and Gladwin clutched each other’s paws tightly as they crouched beneath blazing arches.
The heat was furnace hot and the tips of tails sizzled, whilst delicate ears roasted. A few times Twit hesitated, doubting the way. His whiskers smoked, but the noise of the inferno coupled with the lightning confused him.
‘This way,’ he decided, crossing his fingers. He dived through a wall of smoke and found himself in the glade. ‘C’mon,’ he shouted.
Soon everyone was there and they hurried over to the hawthorn bushes and dived into the pool.
‘Hang on,’ said Arthur. ‘Where’s Audrey?’
‘Not with me, Arthur,’ said Gladwin, getting worried.
‘I think she was with Mr Woodruffe,’ Elijah muttered.
‘But I haven’t seen him either,’ Arthur cried.
‘Then she must be still in there,’ said Twit looking back at the field. The fire was out of control.
‘Nothing could live in that,’ murmured Arthur grimly.
‘Oh Aud,’ said Twit.
When the fieldmice had left the Hall, Audrey and Mr Woodruffe heard a faint cry. They hurried back ‘and found Isaac Nettle lying on the ground. He had been overcome by the smoke.
‘Get on yer feet Nettle,’ snapped Mr Woodruffe. He pulled the mouse up and slapped his face firmly. ‘Let me be,’ whined Isaac miserably. He sagged down again. ‘Let me rest.’
‘Oh no Nettle, you’ve done too much harm this night to fizzle out now, you old goat,’ said Mr Woodruffe hauling him away.
‘Will he be all right asked Audrey anxiously as she looked desperately round at the burning Hall.
‘Aye lass, if we can get him out in time. Now come on Nettle, use yer legs.’
‘No,’ cried Isaac suddenly. ‘The brass, my son’s brass, it was in my paw. Where’s it gone?’
‘It must be back there,’ said Audrey.
‘Leave it Nettle.’
‘I must have it, I must. Jenkin, my lad!’ He struggled wildly with them.
‘If you go back in you’ll suffocate,’ shouted Mr Woodruffe. ‘Stay here! I’ll go.’
‘No,’ yelled Audrey. Mr Woodruffe charged through the thick clinging smoke and searched for Jenkin’s mousebrass.
There came a fierce roar as a line of burning nests crashed down behind. They formed a fence of fire between him and the others. He was trapped.
‘Mr Woodruffe!’ called Audrey. ‘Go child, while you can,’ he yelled. ‘You can’t save me. Take Nettle out of here.’ More nests tumbled between them and Audrey fled tearfully away.
Mr Woodruffe made it across to his wicker throne and sat on it just as the blazing walls caved in on him. The king died with his field.
Audrey tugged furiously at Isaac who was singing in a mad voice. The way was practically impassable now. Terrifying sheets of fire raged on either side of the path.
‘Glory to the Green,’ raved Mr Nettle insanely. ‘See his blossoms grow.’
It took all of Audrey’s failing strength to make him follow her, and the ground scorched her feet badly as she dragged him to safety.
‘Please, this way Mr Nettle,’ she implored.
‘What flowers are these?’ Isaac asked, staring up at blazing corn stems. ‘Come Jenkin, see this fair garden. What wonders have we here?’
‘Please Mr Nettle,’ she cried, yanking at his paw.
The flames swallowed the path behind them.
‘With red roses and orange blossom – how bright they are,’ marvelled Isaac. He coughed painfully.
Audrey pushed him further along. Her hair smouldered and she discarded her lace collar so she could breathe.
They came to the end of their journey. A massive wall of flames reared up before them. Audrey sobbed: they could go no further. They were cut off.
‘Praise be to Him who makes the flowers,’ ranted Isaac.
Audrey fell to her knees. The fire roared on every side and blazed overhead. She looked round dizzily and gave up. Audrey fainted.
‘Blessed be the new leaves of the hawthorn,’ rejoiced Mr Nettle.
Thunder split the sky and the clouds were rent apart. Heavy rain teemed down with torrential force. The pool filled and flooded into the ditch while the blazing field hissed and seethed.
Audrey opened her eyes. There was a low, rough ceiling over her head and she was in a small bare room. It was the Scuttles’ winter quarters.