Xinder Rises Read online

  Noting the direction, she wondered if it hadn’t come all the way from Appleside Farm.

  Mrs Puddy

  Candlelight filtered in to the corridor, and a soft light spread under the door into the attic room. Mrs Puddy rushed in, out of breath, her hair hanging down to her waist and her sharp eyes accentuated by the glow of the candle.

  ‘Goodness me! Oh, my dear boy,’ she said, rushing over to him. ‘I never heard such a terrible scream in all me life. I thought you’d died.’

  Nursing him, she dabbed the sweat from his brow.

  ‘I ... I had the strangest dream, Mrs P. I swear, I was about to be stabbed by ... by a—’

  ‘Is that right?’ Mrs Puddy cooed. ‘Stabbed? Goodness graciousness me.’

  ‘It had an electric hole in its middle—’

  ‘Well, well, I’m sure it did. Now, I think you’re old enough not to be getting all a-tizz with that kind of bunkum,’ she continued, helping him back to bed.

  ‘Come, now. Lie back and get yourself off to sleep.’

  ‘Please, don’t go.’

  ‘I’m staying right here till you’re back in the land of nod,’ Mrs Puddy said. ‘Now, don’t you worry about a thing.’

  Mrs Puddy sat on the edge of his bed for some time. When he yawned, she stroked his hair and laid him down under the duvet, his head nestling into the comfort of a pillow.

  A gentle, faraway tune came to her. A song that had been sung to her by old Sap, who had once sat by her bedside himself. She hummed it quietly, the music soft and soothing.

  Before long, Danny’s breathing slowed, and he slipped into a deep slumber.

  Mrs Puddy kissed the young boy on the forehead.

  What was it, she thought, about this scruffy young lad? Sensitive, but coated with a layer of steel, just like old Sap.

  Guda

  Guda shifted uneasily. ‘Time is moving, Xinder,’ he said. ‘On Earth, the storm spills its anger when the Earth’s sun moves to the highest point in the sky. It is time to go to the boy. It is known that one of his Gifts of Genartus failed.’ Guda hesitated. ‘His "courage" may not be with him.’

  ‘Excellent, excellent!’

  ‘Soon, the boy sleeps. He has seen the Prophecy in his dreams. One part of it he does not understand at all. Death confuses him, for he is young. That part relates to your mother, the one female Founder of Genartus. To him, she is known as the Ancient Lady. He dreams of her murder but it frightens him.’

  ‘Her death and her end,’ Xinder replied. ‘The power of life. I could use her murder to manipulate him.’

  ‘Indeed. Come with me.’

  Xinder guffawed. ‘There is hardly a stone unturned in your scheme. But hear me out one more time. How will the boy trust a spirit?’

  ‘It may not be enough to remain invisible,’ Guda said. ‘Can you bear garments?’

  The ghost scratched a non-existent chin. ‘There is a long, light overcoat with which I use to visit my primitive subjects. I have the strength to wear it for a short time.’

  ‘Then gather it,’ Guda said. ‘Hurry. Bring anything else that you require.’

  Xinder drifted away, his invisible presence marked only by the swaying movement of dust and papers wafting off the floor.

  Shortly, he returned wearing a rimmed hat, a scarf, and a long overcoat.

  Guda stretched out a spindly opaque hand. ‘Hold me. Feel the energy of the infiniti pulling you in.’

  ‘Yes. The force is strong.’

  ‘Good. Now crouch down, and dive like a bird as you have done before. Do this quickly.’

  A tingling, gassy fizz vibrated through his ghostly frame.

  ‘When you are ready, go!’

  Xinder thrust forward, a mild burning sensation shuttling through him. A millisecond later, he found himself lying on a worn carpet in a dark, creaking house.

  He scoured the room, vibrations from objects and walls filling his mind with a picture, a sense of the world around him.

  ‘You have little time,’ Guda said. ‘Do the rest alone. Return to the fireplace at the bottom of the house. When you are done, hide in the chimney. I will be back before the sun rises, before the old man stirs.’

  Xinder floated towards the stairs.

  ‘Remember,’ Guda called after him, ‘make an ally of the child.’

  ‘If he fears the murder of the Ancient Lady,’ Xinder replied, ‘I will play on it.’

  ‘Good. Arrange a place and time to meet him before the storm breaks. Go now, in haste, Xinder. Do your bidding.’

  Danny

  Danny woke, his brief sleep disturbed.

  He exhaled loudly, opened his eyes, and looked out into the blackness of the room.

  Was there someone at the foot of his bed?

  ‘Ani? What d’you want?’

  A windy chuckle came back at him. It wasn’t either of his sisters.

  Danny shuffled into a sitting position, stretched his arms out, and searched the room. Before long, he was able to make out a figure. A human figure, wearing a long coat and a wide-brimmed, cowboy-like hat.

  Danny slipped back under his duvet. ‘Who is it?’ he called out in a weak voice.

  ‘Aha! Hello!’ the voice said, huskily.

  Shivers raced up Danny’s back. ‘What can I ... er ... help you with, Mister?’ Danny eventually stammered.

  ‘You are the boy, aren’t you?’

  This wasn’t the kind of question a burglar would ask.

  Danny couldn’t think what to say, so he remained silent as his eyes adjusted to the light.

  ‘Ah! Forgive me for another little intrusion,’ a deep, crisp voice said, ‘but I have something to share with you.’

  The cloaked man approached. As he neared, he raised his head.

  Danny’s eyes bulged. Beneath the hat, he saw straight through to the curtain.

  ‘Now, boy, I need to speak with you about a rather urgent matter. The thing is, this time I need a favour.’

  ‘No!’ Danny reeled. ‘Not you, again?’ he blurted.

  ‘I tell you what,’ the ghost said, moving closer, ‘perhaps you need a reminder?’ In a flash, Xinder whipped out a knife.

  Danny froze as the knife floated through the air towards him. Moments later, he felt a nick just under the left side of his jaw. A drop of blood ran down his chin. Danny sidled down his bed.

  The ghost moved closer, inspecting the damage. ‘Goodness, now it matches the other side,’ Xinder said, coldly. ‘You do believe I exist, don’t you?’

  Danny’s bones rattled. He nodded.

  ‘Good,’ the ghost said. ‘Let’s be quite clear about that straight away.’ Moving a little further from the bed, he said, ‘you might be aware that you are on the threshold of something rather extraordinary. There are mortal challenges you must face. I am sure you know of them...’

  ‘The dreams?’ he stuttered.

  ‘Precisely,’ said the ghost, chuckling. ‘The dreams.’

  Danny shivered. ‘I don’t understand.’

  The ghost sucked in a mouthful of air. ‘You’ve heard about Genartus?’

  Danny’s brain fizzed. Why was this ghost so interested in a place that only figured as whispers in his mind?

  Danny kept as still and as quiet as he could, hoping like mad that the ghost would say his piece, not mutilate him any further, and go away.

  The ghost stared at Danny for a few moments. ‘Well, Genartus is where life began, where all things were created. But more recently it’s been, how should I say, put on ... standby. The thing is,’ the ghost continued, ‘there’s a slim chance it may operate again, which would mean terrible things must happen to my mother.’ The ghost paused as though taking stock. ‘Everything clear so far?’

  Danny had no idea what the ghost was talking about, but nodded anyway.

  ‘Good. Now this event is known as the Prophecy of Genartus, and it involves you, my boy,’ the ghost said, leaning in. ‘I would like to help you in your quest and, in return, you can give me a hand. How
do you say it, a tit-for-tat arrangement?’

  Danny tried to remember to breathe. His eyes strained in their sockets, forgetting to blink. He sensed that the ghost was smiling thinly at him.

  ‘In due course, I need you to take good care of the Ancient Lady, see that no harm comes to her.’ His voice trailed off as he searched Danny’s face. ‘You do know about the Ancient Lady?’

  Danny stayed silent.

  ‘Well, you see,’ the ghost continued, ‘she’s my mother and a sad old woman who’s been hanging on to a mere thread of life for an awfully long time. But she’ll never see any of it again because, like me, she’s blind. Eyes gauged out.’ The ghost paused solemnly as if remembering her. ‘One day, maybe, I’ll tell you more about her, but, to cut a long story short, boy, she took the noble but worthless step of sacrificing herself to keep a spark alive.’

  ‘A spark?’ Danny said, barely able to squeeze the words out. ‘Of what?’

  ‘A spark of life, I suppose.’

  Danny thought he’d better play along. ‘If you save your mother, will it mean you stop being a ghost?’

  The ghost was thankful Danny couldn’t see his face. ‘Of course not,’ he sobbed trying to bury the amusement in his hurt voice. ‘My body is gone, but my spirit is forever.’

  ‘But will I stop having dreams about ... about death.’

  ‘If you help me, then I solemnly promise that from this moment forth, this is exactly what will happen. No more violent, murderous dreams, young man.’

  Danny exhaled. ‘What ... what do I have to do?’

  ‘In due course, you must protect her, that is all,’ the ghost whispered. ‘There are some people that would want her dead. These people may think they are right, but rest assured they are mistaken. Dreams often show what you fear; they indicate the opposite action to what you must do. In this case, you must protect her from harm – do you understand? I’m really asking so little.’

  Danny smiled. Looking after this Ancient Lady seemed entirely reasonable.

  He nodded, hesitatingly.

  ‘Splendid,’ said the ghost, whose invisible gaze seemed to rest on Danny for rather too long.

  6

  Wynn-Garry, Thursday

  Dancing! That’s what he’d forgotten, the blasted Scottish reels! What had made him agree to that?

  Goodness me, he thought. All that twirling, stamping and clapping. The sets and the do-si-doing. He’d be expected to lead from the front!

  Wynn-Garry shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Drat. He hadn’t done any reeling for years. It wouldn’t do to make a tit of himself in front of his esteemed guests.

  He climbed out of bed and studied his watch. Very early, even by his standards.

  Drawing the curtains, he levered the windows open. Fresh air shot in and he breathed deeply, the oxygen waking him, and a soft wind brushing through the room. He frowned at the big cloud above, hoping that it might have blown away overnight.

  He hummed a tune while moving downstairs to his office. He flicked through his old vinyl records until he came to the ‘Scottish Reeling Classics’. Blowing the dust off, he pulled out the black disk and placed it over the gramophone deck.

  He’d start with the “Dashing White Sergeant”.

  The sound crackled as the reeds of the bagpipes filled with air.

  Wynn-Garry, clad only in boxer shorts and string vest, made himself a bit of space by moving a couple of chairs and exercise books off the floor. Placing a hand behind his back, he began hopping up and down.

  Imagining a circle of his guests, he ‘set’ to an imaginary lady, clapped and turned. Yes, that was it. ‘Set’, clap to your partner, turn, figure of eight, and bow.

  Onto the next.

  The music of the Highland Band filled the room. Wynn-Garry skipped through the song, growing in confidence as the memories came flooding back.

  Hop, clap, and turn. Bow and twist.

  After the third tune, he collapsed into his armchair, and sipped a glass of water.

  He wondered about his guest list. Pity, he thought, that the Delaux parents couldn’t have made it. He shook his head. One minute here, the next they’d gone. No wonder the faces of the children had dropped when he’d passed on the news. Such was the archaeologists’ life, he supposed.

  In the public eye of archaeology, they were very much seen as stars in their field, even if they didn’t show it. They would have fitted in happily with the guest list of prominent men and women of the area.

  His train of thought moved on to the children. He had to admit the set-up up there on the moors was more than decent. The old man looked well, Mrs Puddy obviously cared for the children splendidly, and the house was in good order. Wynn-Garry examined his hand and wondered if he shouldn’t have talked to Olivia further. Oh, well, the deed was done.

  A passing thought struck him. He wondered whether he should ask the Delaux children to come along to the party. Make a bit of a fuss of them. Perhaps they could help the catering staff with their chores. He nodded at the thought. Olivia was his most gifted pupil, a prize-winning scholar, and Anika their greatest athlete. He could make a show of them, and introduce them to his guests.

  Danny could look after the coats. Then again, he’d probably lose them.

  He walked over to the gramophone and turned over the record. It was a sterling idea. He’d ask the children after the football match, as a surprise. A consolation prize, or maybe even as a reward for Anika? The gesture would also show Olivia that he took her seriously.

  Wynn-Garry smiled as he bowed to the music, clapped his hands, and, with one arm in the air, spun and hopped his portly frame around the room until the music ran its course.

  After dinner, the disco. What better way to get everyone going, than by having a few of the youth around to start the dancing? Rumour had it that Anika was a very energetic dancer, particularly at a type called “rave”.

  He pondered this thought as he selected another disc from his collection, ‘Disco Hits of the Seventies’. A cracker, if he recalled.

  The music came on. Wynn-Garry nodded his bald head in time with the beat.

  Feeling his body come alive, Wynn-Garry thrust a hand high into the air, and gyrated his hips.

  ‘Anika Delaux,’ he said, as he moved in time with the music, ‘will be second fiddle to these kinds of moves!’

  Xinder

  The boy – this Sacrum – has absolutely no idea what is going to happen, Xinder thought, as he hovered into the middle of the room. He has found no meaning in his dreams. Do these people ignore visions? These Sacrum will never survive the storm, let alone find the cave of riddles, the one place they must reach that shows the secrets to gaining the egg-stones that lead to Genartus. It is time to execute the plan.

  He floated back to Danny’s bedside. ‘There is another way,’ he crowed.

  Danny didn’t move a muscle, the leadenness of sleep preventing him.

  ‘I want you to consider joining me, physically, as my flesh and blood.’

  Danny yawned. ‘Really? Join you?’

  ‘Not right now of course. I’d like you to think about it. But joining me will save your life.’

  Danny stretched his arms out wide. ‘Save my life,’ he repeated. ‘Sure.’

  ‘Good-good. I’m thrilled ... delighted,’ Xinder said, feeling the weight of his coat on his frame. ‘About the knife,’ he continued. ‘I don’t have time to explain things in great depth, so occasionally it pays to use other means.’

  ‘But, Mister ... Sir,’ Danny said, summoning up his courage, ‘if I did this joining up thing, what’s in it for me?’

  ‘For you? Ah yes!’ the ghost crowed. ‘What’s in it for you, aside from saving your existence on this planet?’

  The spirit drew himself up as best he could.

  ‘I hold the secrets of ages past, boy. I will give you strength and courage, so that you are feared and respected. You will have the power of a horse and the courage of a lion. I give you my word. All you have to d
o is meet me tomorrow morning. Somewhere safe. Then, I will show you alone what happens. When you know the facts, you will choose to join me freely.’

  His voice turned darker.

  ‘A terrible time is coming, boy. You have seen the Great Prophecy now, and, deep down, you know it is a hopeless quest. I offer you a different salvation.’

  ‘The prophecy,’ Danny stammered. ‘It’s the nightmare, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ the ghost crowed. ‘Meet with me in no more than nine hours, and no less than eight. Tell me a place where no one will see us.’

  Danny tried to think. ‘Er ... there’s a back alleyway above the bank of the football field near the school,’ he said, trying to swallow a yawn. ‘You’ll know you’ve found it when you see two houses leaning in on each other, sort of head-butting each other. It’s usually pretty quiet.’

  ‘Excellent,’ the ghost gushed. ‘Wear a long overcoat, like mine, and a scarf. Do you have a scarf?’

  Danny didn’t, but he lied and said he did.

  ‘And do you like sweets, boy?’

  ‘A bit,’ Danny replied, feeling happier now that the ghost appeared to be wrapping things up, even with such a strange question. ‘But Sap’s the sucker for sweet things in our house. He’s always dipping his fingers in the sugar bowl, and getting told off by Mrs Puddy.’

  The ghost chuckled. ‘Is that so?’

  A groan from the bed nearby signalled that Anika was stirring.

  ‘I must leave. We will meet in a few hours in the alleyway,’ the ghost whispered, drifting to the door. ‘Tonight’s chat, young man, is our own little secret. Any tongue-wagging and the deal is off.’

  Xinder stopped, as if an idea had popped into his head. ‘Tell me your name, boy?’

  ‘Danny Delaux.’

  ‘I will save you, Danny Delaux.’

  Danny caught a glimpse of the knife.

  As the ghost reached the door, he turned. ‘Be in no doubt that your life will change forever in a few hours from now. The strength of a horse and the courage of a lion! You will never regret it.’