Xinder Rises Read online

  ‘A knife, Danny? You know you shouldn’t carry one of those at school.’

  Danny’s heart skipped a beat. ‘It’s only plastic. A stage knife, you know ... drama stuff.’ He smiled, bending down to pick up the knife, and beating Sap to it. ‘The bloke who owns the coat is the lead part in the play.’

  ‘He certainly has an interesting taste in knives,’ Sap commented, raising an eyebrow. ‘Well, on you go, young Danny, and remember to save those footballs.’

  Danny set off to catch up with the girls. As he ran, his heart was thumping like a huge bass drum, and his head buzzed with a mixture of dread and excitement.

  * * *

  Sap knew it was a beauty; a knife worthy of a powerful man. From the clinking noise it made when it dropped on the floor, he would have bet a coin or two that it was made from silver and steel. From the way the light reflected through the stones on the handle, he’d have taken another wager that its jewels were unique; most likely rubies and pink diamonds.

  It wasn’t a plastic knife. Not in a million years.

  He couldn’t remember how he could tell a cheap knife from a proper knife, but he had been the one to show Danny how to master a knife all those years ago: how to test the balance and weight that would determine the revolutions and power of the throw.

  Sap mulled this over, wondering what light his brain might shed on the subject. No, nothing there, just a deep penetrating pain in his mind, like toothache.

  And why did that funny old coat stir his curiosity? The lining had taken his breath away. Was it the pattern?

  He’d seen thousands of patterns of snakes and trees, or snakes slithering around poles, all the way through his long life.

  Why did this one make him feel nervous and thrilled at the same time?

  He replayed the moment he glimpsed the lining for the first time. That odd feeling again, as if the snake had actually moved, as if it had slithered up into the tree right there on the fabric itself.

  Sap paced around the room.

  He’d noted the buttons too. A matching crest of a snake winding through branches.

  Nothing I can do about it now, he told himself, whatever it might mean.

  Suddenly, a thought smashed into his head, electrifying his entire body.

  He sat down in his large, worn armchair, cupping his face in his big, leathery, old hands.

  What if the fabric from that jacket wasn’t from Earth?

  He’d never seen fabric that had the ability to change shape here on Earth before, but, if he remembered correctly, the marks of the snake and the tree were from ... Genartus?

  A surge of energy rushed through his body, making him feel strong for a second or two.

  Time to research those old carvings, he thought, to shed light on that overcoat’s true home.

  8

  Danny, Thursday

  Assured by Olivia’s dream diagnosis, the girls had a spring in their step as they headed down the track. From the top of the hill, the banks on either side of the road gradually increased in height, as if a giant digger had gouged the lane out of the hillside. The lane acted as a drain taking the water off the hill, and even in the driest summer a constant trickle dribbled from the moors to the river below.

  Branches of oak, ash, maple, wild cherry, crab-apple, blackthorn and hawthorn made a thick canopy high above the road and today, it was coloured in a mat of rust, red and gold autumnal colours.

  On a clear day it looked as if glitter had been sprinkled on the track as the sunlight flickered through the trees. Today it was almost pitch black, and the tree roots supporting the bank twisted through the rock and soil, reaching out like the arms and legs of decaying corpses. Sas still called it ‘the big graveyard ditch’, but the children were used to it; it was their daily walk to school. The idea of it being scary had long gone.

  Nonchalantly, Danny told the girls that the coat was Fitzpatrick’s dad’s, and they must have got muddled up in the cloakroom. But although he slumped along quietly, his heart was thudding in his chest, and his brain worked overtime as he tried desperately to remember what had happened during the night.

  The girls didn’t bother to question him further.

  For someone as disorganised as Danny, mistaking a coat was as common as being late for a lesson.

  Half way down, they stopped by a large oak with a huge bough that leaned over the road. Anika climbed nimbly up the steep, tall bank, using the roots as handgrips. At the top, she uncoiled a rope wrapped around the branch and tossed down the slack end.

  Danny went first. He took off, climbing the rope until his feet settled on a large knot at the bottom. Swinging backwards and forwards, the warm wind rushed through his hair.

  As the line slowed, he jumped down, running to a stop.

  ‘Pathetic, Dan,’ Anika said. ‘What’s up with you?’

  ‘Nerves,’ he replied. ‘Not really in the mood.’

  Olivia went next. She sat on the knot and swung backwards and forwards at a leisurely speed, as she always did. Finally, Anika mounted the rope and asked Danny to pull her up the hill as far as he could.

  ‘Watch this,’ she said, her eyes glimmering.

  Danny let go, and Anika soared forwards, hair flying, until she was horizontal with the bank, touching the canopy. She swung back, screaming in delight, and bashed into the bank on the other side.

  ‘Anika! Enough. We’ve got to go to school,’ Olivia said, trying to catch the rope. ‘Kill yourself on the way back, but we’re running late as it is.’

  ‘Oh sure,’ Anika said, coming to a stop and tucking the rope around a protruding root system. ‘I bet we’ll be too tired, or it’ll be too dark, or some other rubbish excuse as always.’

  ‘Ani,’ Olivia replied, ‘after today, you have all of half term to swing yourself into hospital.’

  At last the steep track levelled out and the height of the bank lowered, like the end of a playground slide. At the old wooden bridge, the children peered over the handrail at the water running beneath and looked for fish gliding in the pools next to the chunky oak uprights.

  Olivia noted how, in the strange light, the school tower to their left looked enormous compared to the tiny boathouse by the river. She wondered if the old rowing boat they’d once played around in was still fit for purpose.

  The children arrived at the lush, velvety green football pitch. White posts all the way round balanced safety ropes to keep the spectators at bay. Set back from each corner, the moveable floodlight towers dominated the pitch like metallic giants standing guard.

  Anika ran across the bold, alternating stripes with its tattoo-like, fresh white markings. She practised kicks, flicks, and tricks and commentated loudly on the goals she was going to score later.

  Before long, they were across the playing field, and heading up the steps to their form rooms.

  Luna

  Luna drew her arms together, taking comfort from the warm glow of her electrical current.

  She soothed the burns from where the boy’s eyes had scalded her, and wondered whether Guda was right.

  Had nature, the universe, got it wrong?

  Could the Sacrum, mere children, survive nature’s fury, and nature’s power, and go on to find the egg-stones of creation?

  This undertaking had never been designed for children of mankind. But nature’s wishes cannot be resisted. Not at any cost.

  What about the old man, too? Time had taken its toll. He was old, but was he now, in a curious twist of fate, a liability?

  One by one, she dipped her slender fingers into her infiniti.

  She would make sure a dream was given to Sap every night that would somehow, somehow, stir him into action.

  Luna stretched out a digit, dipped it in her infiniti, and watched the blue light swirl in and around her finger like thread spinning around a stick.

  With these thoughts, she dipped her head and inverted through her infiniti, vanishing into thin air.

  Danny

  Danny noticed Fit
zpatrick sitting quietly at his desk, reading a book.

  Let sleeping dogs lie, he thought, especially unpredictable dogs.

  Without any fuss, Danny made his way to the other side of the room, draped the coat over the back of his chair, sat down, and put his head in his hands. He desperately tried to remember what the ghost had said. A meeting, something about a lion and a horse? After writing down a couple of variations, Danny realised that it might be something to do with strength and courage.

  He remembered that he would be saved, but from what exactly?

  Hadn’t he agreed on something as well, such as joining the ghost in some form of partnership? It didn’t make any sense but, and it was a huge BUT, the ghost’s coat and dagger were right here in this room. So it couldn’t be a false memory, regardless of Olivia’s certainty that their recent experiences were figments of their imaginations.

  Danny teased the nicks on each side of his chin. Another reminder.

  He pulled out a piece of paper, and nibbled the end of a pencil.

  "Possible meeting place", he wrote.

  He racked his brain. Was it down by the boatyard, or up by one of the big willow trees? He wrote both down, but shook his head. No. Neither option rang true. He wondered if it was the alley above the football pitch, and he wrote that down as well.

  He underlined it twice and leaned back in his chair. Yes, that one rang a bell.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a friendly, slightly painful, wallop on his shoulders. It was Ryan Williams who had bounced into the room. ‘Morning Danny. You’re not by any chance writing a "to-do" list, are you?’ he said sarcastically.

  Danny smiled. If Fitzpatrick was an otter with big lips, Ryan was a laughing donkey. ‘No, don’t be ridiculous,’ he said.

  Ryan read the list. ‘Lost something?’

  ‘Nah. Just trying to remember a dream.’

  ‘Oh, well that’s OK,’ Williams said, cheerily. ‘So long as it wasn’t a big and complicated one?’

  ‘Well, as a matter of fact, it was.’ Danny smiled. ‘Now, go away and leave me to think.’

  ‘News alert!’ Williams announced to the room, his grin almost completely covering his face. ‘Danny Delaux is thinking! Give him plenty of room, oxygen at the ready.’ Ryan leant down again. ‘Next, you’ll be telling me Anika’s caught the same bug,’ he whispered. ‘Good luck!’

  He smiled and sprang off like a big, energetic puppy to his desk at the back of the room.

  Fitzpatrick

  Fitzpatrick listened in to Danny’s conversation with Ryan. He’d bet money that Danny had forgotten something again. By the looks of it, this time the object was more important than usual.

  Fitzpatrick stood up quietly. ‘Morning, Danny, everything cool?’

  Danny groaned. First Ryan, now Fitzpatrick.

  ‘Not really, Fitzy,’ he replied.

  ‘Lost something?’

  ‘No,’ he started. ‘Well, kind of.’ Danny groaned. ‘Actually, I had another dreadful nightmare. Trying to remember it.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ Fitzpatrick replied.

  ‘Yeah,’ Danny said. ‘A couple of really strange experiences, but, poof, gone for ever.’

  Fitzpatrick laughed. ‘Want to talk about it?’

  Danny stared at Fitzpatrick. ‘I told you, I’m not talking to you after what you did yesterday.’

  ‘Really?’ Fitzpatrick sighed. ‘Look, I had a think and last night I decided that I’m going to change. No more jokes, no more pranks. I promise—’

  ‘You said that before, and let me down. In fact, you lied to me. Christ! Fitzpatrick, I had to own up for your stupidity, and you made me feel like an idiot. Luckily Olivia didn’t believe me.’

  Fitzpatrick sucked in his cheeks. ‘I’ve told Jackson and Pulse that I don’t want to be part of the gang. When I’m with them, I act like a ... well, like a total dickhead. I don’t know what comes over me. The bottom line is that I’m actually sick of it, too.’

  Fitzpatrick noted Danny’s look of disgust. ‘Dan, if you don’t believe me, go and ask them,’ he continued. ‘They’re over there in the corner playing on their phones like happy little freaks. Seriously, I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. I really don’t.’ He dropped his voice and briefly stole a look over his shoulder. ‘I want to be your friend.’

  ‘Blimey, Fitzy, this isn’t the time. Right now, I’ve literally got a nightmare on my hands. I’m not going to trust you until I know you mean what you say.’

  ‘What do you want me to do? I’ve promised I won’t be nasty to either of your sisters. I’m going to put all that anger behind me. I won’t even speak to your sisters if you don’t want me to.’

  ‘I bet you’ve already arranged with your Newton mates that Anika’s going to get a kicking though, haven’t you?’

  Fitzpatrick winced. ‘There’s not much I can do about that now, is there?’

  ‘The only reason you’re being ‘Mr Nice’ is because if they kick her out of the game we’ll lose and she won’t play in the team after half term. That would leave room for someone else. And that person will probably be you.’

  Fitzpatrick’s expression had changed. ‘You know what, Danny,’ he spat. ‘I meant what I just said. Throw it back in my face, why don’t you.’

  ‘Well, that’s rich, coming from you,’ Danny said, standing up. He looked him in the eye. ‘I swore on my life that I wouldn’t tell anyone about the glass and I kept my word. You, Fitzy ... well, you’re a lying, deceitful disgrace to your dead parents, your aunt, your school and, more importantly, to yourself.’

  Danny noticed an unusual silence.

  From the corner of his eye, he noted how the whole class had stopped and stared at them, their mouths ajar.

  Sola

  The Animais was astonished to learn a couple of things. First, that it was Xinder who knew about the children’s dreams and their gifts. Second, that Danny had no idea about his own gifts; but Xinder knew enough about them to exploit him.

  Sola thought it through, reaching the same conclusion. One of them must have gone to Xinder. But Animais were neutral in all things. They did not meddle, and they never had.

  Only four Animais Elders had seen the gift ceremony: Luna, Guda, Juno and herself.

  Was Luna bitter about appearing in front of the boy? No, it didn’t add up.

  What about Guda? He was the one who had objected to the Gifts of Genartus being given to children, but he was also the most passionate Animais about giving dreams.

  Or Juno, the quiet one?

  Yes, Sola thought, maybe it was her. Why? What was her motive?

  Another thought whistled into Sola’s mind. Xinder was a spirit, so what if he had travelled through one of their infinitis, or perhaps the infiniti of another Animais, to escape Halaria?

  It was the only possible explanation she could think of.

  She searched her vibrations.

  Nothing close by.

  This Animais would have to be caught in the act. But Animais moved so fast through the universes, it was as if they were a multi-dimensional fluid.

  Catching one would not be easy.

  Fitzpatrick

  The silence was broken by the bell.

  ‘By my watch,’ Mr Steele said, hitching up his sleeve and twisting his arm as though showing off a priceless treasure, ‘the time is approaching half past nine. After I have dismissed you, you have an extended free period. Please use this for last minute drama rehearsals; like learning your lines, Mr Ford; or practising your clarinet, Miss Buxton; or for recital practice before the programme this afternoon, Mr Anderson.’

  Mr Steele stuck his nose in the air and twitched his moustache. It was a signal that he was going to say something profound. ‘Now, about the weather. There is a rather large cloud brrrewing right above us.’ He rolled the ‘r’ rather dramatically.

  ‘To put your minds at rest, our headmaster has been in touch with the Met Bureau to find out if this might be a cause for concern. I am happy to report th
at, as far as they know, there are none. This morning and this afternoon, there is a high chance that we may get a little wet; indeed there may even be a possibility of a heavy downpour. But all school activities are scheduled to go on as usual.

  ‘Anika Delaux, please remove that lipstick from your desk. Now, remember, class, just in case lightning strikes, what would be the best course of action to take? Anyone? Ah, yes, Alexander?’

  ‘Put up your umbrella, sir.’

  ‘No, you do not, Alexander. And stop laughing. Allen, will you desist from flicking paper balls at Anika please?’ He glared at the boys, ‘Umbrellas, as you know perfectly well, are for repelling water. I’m talking about lightning strikes.’

  Steele raised his eyebrows in anticipation. ‘Fitzpatrick, what would you do?’

  ‘I’d get the hell out of there before I was shrivelled to a crisp.’

  The class laughed.

  ‘Well, it’s better than holding up an umbrella, but where would you go?’

  Little Jimmy Nugent put up his hand.

  ‘Yes, Nugent.’

  ‘I’ve been told that, if you get in a car, the rubber tyres would earth the strike, wouldn’t they, Sir?’

  Mr Steele clasped his hands together. ‘Very good, Nugent, and you’re absolutely correct. Either get indoors, or hop in a car—’

  ‘My granddad,’ Nugent continued, ‘got killed by a bolt of lightning in 1983, while walking his bull terrier called Plank—’

  ‘Did he, Nugent?’ Mr Steele sensed one of Nugent’s stories coming on. ‘How fascinating. Perhaps you might fill me in another time.’

  Steele turned back to the pupils. ‘Now, Class, do your best today and make us all proud. Afterwards, have a safe and relaxing break. You are dismissed.’

  The pupils instantly divided into several small groups. Danny remained in his chair, twiddling his pencil.