Freax and Rejex. Robin Jarvis

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Freax and Rejex - Robin  Jarvis


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      Marcus was too busy ogling her bottom in that short skirt to be offended or discouraged. It was only early evening Friday – still plenty of time.

      Jody had emerged to watch the coaches leave. Leaning against the cabin wall, she saw them turn off at the junction and disappear behind the trees in the distance.

      “On my own now then,” she murmured. “No change there.”

      A small hand slipped into hers. “No, you’re not,” Christina said. “You’ve got me.”

      The unexpected human contact and the simple, loving statement took her totally by surprise. Jody looked down at the seven-year-old, but the grateful smile froze on her lips. What was she doing? She wanted to tell her they would be like sisters this weekend and that she would protect her. But what about afterwards? What if Christina did get snatched away by the power of that book like everyone else in her life? She couldn’t endure the pain of losing another person she cherished. She couldn’t put either of them through that.

      Jody shook her hand free. “Go make friends with kids your own age,” she said coldly. “I don’t want you hanging round me all the time. I’m not here to nanny nobody.”

      Christina flinched as if she had been slapped. Then she ran around the cabin, out of sight.

      “You’re a spiteful mare, you are,” Charm said as she walked past to go inside. “That’s just cruel.”

      Jody didn’t answer, but she despised Charm more than ever for being right.

      Over by the stage, the Ismus surveyed the remaining crowd. The entertainers and stallholders were milling around, enthusing about their other existence, while the younger children were either crying or staring in crushed silence at the empty forest road.

      “Now the weekend can really begin,” Jangler’s enthusiastic voice broke into the Ismus’s solemn contemplation. “Won’t be long before dusk and then, in the night…”

      The Holy Enchanter considered the old man gravely. He came to a decision.

      “Walk with me,” he said brusquely.

      “It’s almost time for dinner,” Jangler reminded him, consulting his watch and schedule. “There is a feast prepared in the main block…”

      “That can wait!” the Ismus snapped. He signalled to his bodyguards to remain and strode away.

      Jangler nodded meekly; he had been looking forward to soaking his feet while the feast was going on. With delicate, hobbling steps, he followed the Holy Enchanter through the compound. What was on his Lord’s mind? He seemed so preoccupied and troubled of late. In silence they crossed the grassy area behind the cabins, and passed into the trees beyond. The new leaves were rustling lightly overhead, stirred by the gentlest evening breeze.

      “Is it something I have done, my Lord?” Jangler asked. “Have I displeased you? Has the day not gone in accordance to your plan?”

      “It could not have passed more smoothly,” the Ismus said. “Miss Kryzewski will send an enthusiastic report back to America and, while her government puzzles and dithers over it, the delay will be enough for the book to take a firm hold there. Within four months the home of the brave shall fall – to my most intelligent design.”

      “Then what disturbs you? That’s splendid, is it not?”

      The Ismus looked back at the compound. A blanket of soft purple shadow had stolen over it. The sun was low. Its amber light caught only the tops of the surrounding trees. None of that was reflected in the darkness of his eyes.

      “Those children disturb me,” he whispered.

      “The aberrants?” Jangler asked in surprise. “No, no, no. They present no problem. I’ve never seen a more thoroughly subdued and timid lot. They’ll be no trouble. They’re utterly cowed and defeated, just as it should be. They’re nothing, just insignificant wastage.”

      “You think so, do you?”

      “I know it, my Lord. I’ve encountered disruptive elements before now; there’s none in that dismal collection. They went to their chalets as compliant and docile as rabbits to hutches. Submissive and harmless dregs, that’s all they are. The gullible clods truly believe they’re only staying here for the weekend! They don’t know what your true intent is, or what the bridging devices are for. Not the vaguest idea, I’m sure.”

      The Ismus shook his head. “You are mistaken, Jangler,” he uttered. “One of those docile rabbits could be the greatest threat to the world of Mooncaster imaginable.”

      “You’re having a jest with me! Nothing can endanger the blessed Kingdom, nothing!”

      “One of those children back there… is the Castle Creeper.”

      The old man caught his breath and slowly removed his spectacles. “Are you sure?” he asked in a shocked, dismayed whisper.

      “Oh, most definitely.”

      “But Mr Fellows doubted such a personage could exist. Theoretically it’s possible, but…”

      “Yes, I doubted! There was a chance! Incalculably remote, but a chance nevertheless.”

      “But to have been found so soon, in this country… and a child?”

      The Ismus closed his eyes. The shadows of evening deepened in the hollows of his gaunt face. Beneath the enclosing trees it grew chill.

      “I have sensed the incursions,” he said with a slight shudder. “Felt every trespass, as keenly as a cold scalpel razoring through my skin. One of those children, one of those ‘harmless dregs’, has the ability to enter the Dawn Prince’s Kingdom, to insinuate him or herself into my wondrous creation, yet not become a part of it. Somehow they do not assume one of the prescribed roles. They appear in Mooncaster as they are here, whilst retaining a footing in this world and, with each fresh visit, their presence gains in strength.”

      “Then we must kill every child in the camp at once!” Jangler insisted – appalled by what he was hearing. “Massacre them! We can set up another bridging centre in the next country that falls. The Castle Creeper is a threat to the Realm – a deadly menace!”

      “Only if he, or she, strives against us. Have you forgotten what the Creeper is capable of? Must I remind you of what only they can do? What even I, even His Majesty the Dawn Prince, cannot?”

      Jangler blinked and groped through his memory for the relevant passage. Then, in a voice wavering with excitement and wonder, he quoted the hallowed text.

      “And who can hinder the Bad Shepherd’s wild, destructive dance? None but the unnamed shape; the thing that creeps through the castle and the night.”

      “Yes!” the Ismus declared. “Now do you see?”

      Jangler exhaled. His eyes were sparkling. “We must discover which of them is this Castle Creeper!” he said urgently. “There must be no delay!”

      “It is too soon!” the Ismus warned. “That would be the ruin of this one incredible chance. We must wait, we must watch, keep those aberrants close and under scrutiny. When the Creeper is grown in strength and conceit, they will betray themselves. Then we shall know.”

      “What are my Lord’s wishes?”

      “Live up to your name,” the Ismus instructed with a foul grin. “Be the gaoler of that place. When this weekend is done, you will remain. Keep the children under lock and key.”

      “It shall be just as you command and I shall report to you every day.”

      “No need,” the Ismus said with a low chuckle. “I will monitor everything, know everything, before you do, Jangler.”

      “My Lord?”

      The Ismus took three steps back and threw open his long arms.

      “Dancing


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