Leapfrog, p.1
Leapfrog, page 1
part #5 of Bannister's Muster Series
Barbara Gaskell Denvil
Copyright © 2018 by Gaskell Publishing
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Afterword
Also by Barbara Gaskell Denvil
For all those who have helped along the way,
you know who you are.
Thank you
Hello again, and welcome back to the world of Nathan, Poppy and their medieval friends.
As you may have noticed from previous books in the series, in medieval England people spoke a little differently, and even today the English language has differences in America, Canada, England and Australia.
Spelling is often different too. In England one word is spelled ‘colour’ whereas the exact same word is spelled ‘color’ in America. What a muddle!
I have kept this to a minimum because I don’t want to make my book hard to read for anyone, but these characters all speak a little differently and I hope you don’t find it confusing.
I do hope everyone from all countries enjoys my books and do let me know if you have any problems with the language.
Best Regards,
Chapter One
"It's gone," Nathan said, going cold.
John sat glum, his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his hands. “I know,” he said, without asking what it was that had gone.
"I searched the floor,” said Nathan, marching over to stand in front of John. “I could just have dropped it. It feels like sort of part of me as if it’s glued on. It - it's – a bit like a brother."
Now John was holding his head as if he thought it might fall off, "I knows where tis," he said, half mumbling. "I were watching and I seen it all. Couldn't do naught, couldn’t move, nor twitch nor hiccup. But I seen them hooked fingers and I knows it were Clebbester, I seen them mucky fingers into yer pocket.".
"The fingers stole my knife?" Nathan was shocked, but he nodded. He should have guessed. "But I thought no one else can touch it."
"Can still touch. But gets burned." nodded John, squinting beneath his pounding headache. “Reckon that monster don’t care ‘bout burning. I seen smoke. Little flames an'all. But he took it."
Flopping down on the large armchair, Nathan stared up at the ceiling a moment. He said, “Without the Knife of Clarr, I don’t think I have any magic. I’m not the lord of anything. I’m not even an empole. I’m just a miserable kid who ought to go back to school.”
John shook his head and then wished he hadn’t. “It ain’t the proper moment to get proper sorry for yerself,” he said. “You ain’t got a knife fer a bruvver, nor you ain’t got no school to go back to. We gotta tell yer mum and yer granny. Who knows. Maybe they flings their arms in the air like always, and back comes the knife. If that don’t work, then we gotta go to Clarr.”
Messina had been standing in the middle of the small room, and ass usual when doing magic, her arms were in the air and her hands high above her head. But she sighed, lowered her arms, and smiled at John. “I tried to bring back the picture,” she said, “but it has been blocked. Whether this was Yaark, or whether it was Clebbester, the magic they have used is strong and I cannot unwind it. So, John, will you please tell me exactly what happened?”
Slumped in a large chair, Ninester was looking glum,. “Whoever it was, they ate my cake,” he said. “My dad did magic like that. Making me hungry and stuff.”
Little Smudge lowered his head, ears down in shame, but did not whimper. It was Irima, Ninester’s mother, who pointed silently at the puppy’s muzzle where spots of cream told their own tale. But Alfie, half whispering, said, “I reckon this is nasty business. If tis Clebbster, and it is, you can bet it is, being a nasty old man, then he’s crawled out of his cave to take over Lashtang after all. And he’s started here cos he knows exactly who we are. But he let you see everything, John. Why? You couldn’t get up nor even speak, but you saw. So why you? What’s he got planned for you?”
Poppy gulped. “Perhaps he didn’t choose John. For any special reason. He was the nearest or something.”
“Black magicians don’t do nuffin wivvout some mean reason,” decided John, agreeing with Alfie. “Don’t like this business none. Don’t like it at all.”
Getting up and running over to put her arm around John, Alice looked as though she too might burst into tears, but Messina spoke first. “The motivation of a monster is never easy to understand,” she said, “unless you’re a monster yourself. So we’ll not try. But I will put a special guard on you, John, since I agree that there must be some secret reason. And Clebbster’s reasons will never be kind.”
John was nearly shaking in his boots now. “Come off it,” he croaked. “I feels worse now than I did afore. I shall be off to count me toes or sommint.”
“We’ll all stay close together,” muttered Poppy. “And John mustn’t go to Clarr. Not yet, anyway.”
Ninester was now curled in his mother’s arms, and Irima was promising to bake him another cake. John was being hugged by Alice on one side and Poppy on the other, and was busy trying to shake himself free without causing offence. Peter was finding it all a little funny, but Sam didn’t think it was humorous at all. “I’s sick,” he said. “But let me see if my tiddly little bit of magic can help.” His short blonde curls were still silver and the tip of his finger was silver too, and looked as if it was shining brightly, so he sat down in the middle of the room on the big blue rug, held up the finger, and said, “Lady, can you help? What happened? Where’s the knife of Clarr?”
The voice was soft, but so clear that it echoed. “Clebbster Hazlett wishes to rule utterly,” called the voice. “He wishes control of the Meteor Stars. He wishes control of Peganda. He wishes control of the Tower of Clarr, and he wishes control of the Octobr family. The knife is on the great Table of Magnification in his new home within this village. But his hand is burned from the touch, and he will not risk leaving his home until his full strength returns.”
Three questions, three answers. Sam thanked the voice and scrambled back to the couch again. “Can’t ask more,” he said. “But did that help?”
“It helped a great deal,” said Messina, sitting beside Sam. “But it still leaves a great deal unknown. I must return to the cottage and see what help the others may give.”
Still marching around in circles, Nathan was the only one who could not rest. “I feel so weak,” he said crossly. “All weak and useless without my knife. I’ve carried it in my pocket every single day ever since I found it, and even at night I kept it under my pillow. I never realised it before, but it sort of gave me a special feeling. Now that’s gone, and I feel half lost. Cold and shivery and dizzy.”
“You, my boy,” said Messina, “need a good rest. But remember this. Yaark attacked you once and slipped inside your mind. The red jelly attacked you too and tried to get into your head. Now, without the protection of the Knife of Clarr close to you, you are more open to attack. Be careful.”
As usual his mother, who had never had much practise at being a mother, was making him feel worse and not better. “I’ll be careful,” he muttered. “Perhaps I should just go to bed and stay there.”
“You were in bed when the red jelly attacked,” Messina reminded her son. “So it will be best if you stay close to me and your friends.”
“Not me,” John turned away, upset. “Cos that beastly wizard got rotten ideas fer me too.”
“There’s no need for collapse,” Messina told them, once again raising her arms. “We shall return immediately to the cottage. Ninnester and Irima, are you coming?”
“Yes,” said Ninester at once, clutching his woolly llama.
“No. Yes, wherever my boy goes,” said his mother.
“Very well. Stand by me,” and as Messina turned around twice, the room became misty and vague, and within moments, it changed entirely into the larger living room at the cottage.
John sank down in the little armchair by the window and whistled one long note between his teeth. “’Least I knows that creep wizard ain’t gonna shove no long curly fingers through this window. He wouldn’t dare.”
Granny hurried in from the kitchen as soon as she heard the voices. “Wizards?” she exclaimed. “No wizard is permitted in this house. So tell me what’s happened.”
They all told the story together, John telling the part only he had seen, Nathan complaining about the loss of his knife, Alice and Poppy talking about the possible danger to John, and Messina relating everything else. Ninester asked if he could go to bed, as long as someone woke him as soon as there was dinner and cake, and off he went with hi s llama and puppy. Sam grabbed Mouse, who sniffed suspiciously at his silver finger, and they sat in the corner for a cuddle. Messina directed Nathan to follow Ninester’s example and go to bed, but he refused and insisted that he wasn’t tired. Meanwhile, Granny was back into the kitchen to bake three cakes and put the kettle on.
Having abandoned Bayldon and Zakmeister back at the apartment in Peganda, Messina asked Hermes to fly off and collect them, and meanwhile sat out in the garden to wonder just what she ought to do next. It was Nathan, standing behind her, who spoke abruptly. “We have to go to Clarr,” he said. His feet, silent on the soft grass, meant his mother could not hear his approach, so Messina whirled around in surprise.
“Nathan!”
He repeated the words. “We have to go to Clarr. I don’t know what I have to do there, but it’s like the knife is calling me. It’s urgent. I have to go. But John mustn’t come, it’s too dangerous for him. Clebbster has horrible plans for John and I don’t know why. But I’m going to Clarr.”
Messina stood up immediately. “You can’t go alone. I shall come, and once they get back, I believe your father and Zakmeister should come too.”
Shaking his head, Nathan paused, waiting, then said, “I can’t be sure I’ve got the message right. Maybe it’s just my silly head making things up. But I think I got called, and maybe it’s the knife calling. And it seemed to be saying not you nor dad, nor Granny nor Poppy. It can’t be anyone of the Octobrs because Clebbster wants you all behind ice again. But I have to go and get the knife back.”
She went white and shivered. “I won’t permit you to go alone, Nathan.”
“I’ll go with him.” It was Alfie’s voice. “I always wanted to be a warrior. I want to protect people and fight for them and make everyone happier. I want to learn, and I want to prove myself. So I’ll go with Nat.” Alfie smiled. “I’m good with a bow and I’m good with a sword and I’m quick on my feet. I’m the right one to go. John can’t and the others are too young.”
“I’ll go.” The voice behind was deep and low. Zakmeister had walked over the grass and daisies as silently as Nathan had before. “Three of us. Nat. Alfie. And me.”
Bowing her head, as though accepting the inevitable, Messina sighed. “Very well,” she said. “You’re certainly a great warrior, Zakmeister. And Alfie, you’re a brave young man. I don’t want Nathan to go at all, but he has to because he’s the Lord of Clarr. I must accept that. But you must all come back alive, or my life will end too.”
Nathan gazed back at his mother. It was the first time she had ever shown such deep emotion for him, and he felt a great heave of gratitude. But he wasn’t going to risk bursting into tears like everyone else, so he nodded, and turned away.
Three large cakes sat on the kitchen table. One was chocolate on top, with three layers inside, cream top and bottom, and custard in the middle. Down the sides were strange patterns in chocolate sauce.
Another cake was tall and orange with slices of fruit all over the sides and in the middle, mixed with the soft sponge cake. On top were more slices of fruit but once again these were cut into strange shapes.
The third cake was lemon cream with raspberries. There was another wide filling of custard filled with raspberries, but on top the berries had been arranged into one great swirl with the same unusual patterns inside the circle and all around the edge.
“I knows what them patterns is,” muttered John. “But I ain’t never seen cakes made like that afore.”
“How can you know?” Poppy demanded. “Is it another language?”
“Yer,” nodded John. “Tis the magic language, wot I don’t speak. “But I peeked in the window when Granny were doing them fings, and she were muttering spells. I hear her.”
“Magic cakes?” Poppy demanded.
Granny pottered in from the pantry and regarded John and her granddaughter. “Yes,” she said. “Magic. Eat too much, and you’ll all turn green and hang upside down from the apple tree in the garden.”
“Tell us the truth,” insisted Poppy.
Granny sat at the table, and began to slice the cakes with a huge carving knife. She pushed a large pile of little cake plates towards John and Poppy, saying, “Put a slice of each cake on every plate. Then give one plateful to everyone sitting in the main room. Then take one each for yourselves. Go on. – go on – you won’t be sick.” And she pulled one little plate towards herself and began to eat.
The cakes were amazingly delicious, but Granny refused to explain what the magic was.
Nathan, Alfie and Zakmeister left very early the next morning. It was still dark, but both moons were high in the northern sky, the silver moonlight and the pink moonlight merging into a soft luminescence. They were warmly wrapped in thick clothes, for they knew it was always bitterly cold up on the Clarr mountains, and even within the tower it was rarely anything better than chilly. Nathan wore a great big sheepskin jacket over his Lashtang clothes, with a woolly jumper on underneath. Alfie had put on the chainmail he’d worn at the Battle of Bosworth and wore a fur-lined cape over it. Zakmeister was heavily caped in scarlet fleece, lined in black which matched his beautifully polished skin. They stood outside for a moment
They had dressed and crept from the house as quietly as possible, not wishing to disturb the sleepers, and also not wanting a fuss of goodbyes. So they slipped out silently and stood on the shadowed grass as Zakmeister raised his hands, whispered two words, and whisked them off to the snowy slopes of the Clarr Mountains. What they did not see and could not know was the young girl who also crept from the house after them, keeping utterly out of sight until they had disappeared with Zakmeister’s magic. Then, with a fluff of feathers, Hermes strutted across the lawn.
“Hold on tight,” he told Poppy as she climbed on his back, “and if her illustrious highness the empress murders me afterwards for taking the illustrious empola to Clarr against her orders, I hope you will beg her forgiveness on my behalf, my lady.”
Poppy giggled into his thick white neck feathers. “Don’t worry, Hermes. I shall tell her the truth. I ordered you. You’re the Messenger of Clarr, so you have to go there if one of the royal family orders you. It wasn’t your fault. She can murder me instead.”
“If we survive long enough,” murmured Hermes as he flew off into the moonlight.
Chapter Two
“They’ve left already?” Messina was surprised. “I wanted to see them first. Say goodbye. Give advice.”
“Perhaps that’s why they left.”
Messina looked at her husband. “Bayldon, that’s unkind.”
“The boy knew he had to go, my dear. He didn’t want advice. He’s old enough to follow his own decisions.” Bayldon smiled. “He’s intelligent enough. Clever enough. He takes after you.”
“He doesn’t have the magic yet.” Messina sat at the kitchen table, but wasn’t eating. Her breakfast was going cold.
It was granny who shook her head. “The magic will come to him, as it does with all of us,” she said. “He needs to find it himself.”
“It never came to me,” sighed Bayldon.
“You’re not an Octobr,” said Granny. “Now, eat up all of you. I won’t have my nice4 cooking thrown in the bin. And then IU shall wake Poppy and Alice and John, Peter and Sam, and cook the same for them.”
“Poppy will be sorry when she learns her brother has gone off without saying goodbye,” said Messina. “But we’ll have plenty of other things to do. There’s still Yaark. Peganda isn’t entirely finished yet. And there’s those other stars and their horrid oxen. Jelly lumps. We have a lot to deal with while Nathan is away.”
“Yes. We have a great deal to do,” said Granny. “Including the cooking and the gardening. But I have no intention of staying here. I’m off to join Sherdam. He’s started a new orchard, you know, of golden figs. I think I shall join him. It’s too big a job for him on his own, and it’s too important.”
