The Everdark Realms: The Awakening

By Ella Hazelwood

Everdark Realms: The Awakening is the second book in the Everdark Realms fantasy series. The comet of the Everdark Alignment has crossed the sky, the alignment is over, but not everything has returned to normal. The dark magic that descended from the mind of Master Alberon has left a scar across the island of Amitav. A curse has settled leaving families trapped, broken and sick and those gifted with the powers to change it have been torn from the fabric of reality. The adventure continues seeing our heroes venturing across the land to heal their world and save their people. Creatures of all forms descend upon them, standing in their way at every turn but the blessing of the alignment is upon them, bringing them together with those who can help them best. Master Alberon watches them closely and begins to hunt his now independent apprentice as she strikes out to find her place in the world. When an unexpected visitor arrives at his door, his plans get thrown out the window, but has a powerful advantage fallen into his lap just as his plans begin to crumble?

• Language: English
• Publisher: ReadOnTime BV
• Release date: Jul 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781742844671

Book preview

Prologue

Beyond the Dark

The people of Amitav all dealt with catastrophe differently. Some reacted with fear, running for protection like the Sapphyrians. Others, like the Aistríonians and the Jishakus used their fear to fuel hatred. The Aquillians, living under the sea, were confused by the chaos happening above the water, unsure what had sunk down into the depths to torment them. And then there were those who acted admirably, concerned for their neighbours Luna Lukkos or otherwise, in the City of Monkish. Then there were those who remained unaffected, or so they thought.

The Illumiens had begun to feel the tremors of unrest, and although this was good for trade and spell sales for those who connected with other races, it still left some of them shaken, watching the horror sweep the land in their scryings. But high above in the Illumien tower, a pinnacle of black stone, a figure loomed, pulling strings like a puppet master.

There is a text. All Sapphyrians knew of it...and also a few Illumiens. It is the text of creation and destruction, of war and peace. If spoken by one pure of heart, its poison would seep into the mind of the reader. Sometimes that malice made its way insidiously into the land and only the reading of the other half of the text could halt its corruption.

There is also an amulet. Its history has been passed from generation to generation but as time went on the amulet was broken, the pieces eventually split up. Some were kept safe, some were used and some were lost. The history was diluted from story teller to story teller, but one thing remained the same through all the tales: this amulet was from the Ancients themselves and if reformed could be used to seal away the dark, at least for a while.

Part One

The Luna Lukkos:

Saboo and the Mask of Ebb

Chapter One

Let me go!

Saboo flew through the air held by the bony hands of a Calavera. He tumbled and somersaulted, head over tail. The wind slapped against his face, burning his skin and ripping out his hair. He closed his eyes tightly as she dropped him and he fell, his arms waving around recklessly. The Calavera’s hand snatched him from his free fall, jerking him from side to side. Its morbid eyes glowed in the darkened sky. Saboo was dropped again. The air tore past him, coursing up his arms and tearing his clothes.

He was swiftly caught once more, this time by a different Calavera. It flipped him around and tore at his backpack. Its grotesque hand reached inside, blindly grabbing at something. It pulled its hand out, dropping the pack. Saboo watched it fall away and disappear in the flurry of tree tops. Saboo tried desperately to punch at the witch as they wrestled in the air, but her hands were too quick. He was now being held by the neck. He squirmed to get free but the Calavera’s grip was too strong. Saboo gargled, managing to get a few words out.

‘Let…me…go!’ he choked, his face going blue. The witch’s octopus-like legs wrapped around his body and squeezed him tight. Saboo could feel the remarkable pressure they housed. The Calavera’s gold chains clanked against its chest, her yellow, round earrings glimmered and reflected the moon’s glare. Saboo tried to push it away, his fists bouncing off the witch, its body as hard as steel.

The Calaveras took turns carrying him. They tossed him to one another, recklessly throwing him high into the air and catching him like a play-toy. The speed they achieved was inconceivable; Saboo’s ears were pushed flat against his head, his tail streamed out behind his body. Saboo was panicking, he didn’t know where they were taking him, and he had lost all bearings of his surroundings. One moment he was standing on the stage in the Monkish City. He had seen the comet descend and everything had illuminated in all its glory, the next thing he was being taken by the Calavera witches.

Saboo looked up at the witch, saw the malevolence in its face, and knew they were going to kill him. He thrashed about, but its grip got tighter, almost cutting off his airway completely. Saboo reached up, his lungs constricting, and snatched at the Calavera’s necklace. He pulled down on it hard, breaking it in half. The Calavera screeched, plummeting towards the ground at a remarkable velocity. Then, as Saboo started to lose consciousness, he noticed it was holding the Mask of Ebb in its free hand. The tusks jutted out, carved with alarming detail; the small inscriptions glowing and radiating before him.

Saboo reached for it, his fingertips caressing the mask.

The witch screamed, sending its morbid howl out over the lands of Amitav. Suddenly Calavera regained her strength stolen with the necklace and pulled up sharply moments before colliding with the ground.

They flew higher and higher. The other witches started circling them. The Calavera holding him brought the mask up over his head; its laughter was frantic and supernatural. With one quick strike, the Calavera slammed the mask onto Saboo’s face.

The wood seared to his flesh, burning the hairs around his face. Saboo screamed in pain. It burnt like nothing Saboo had ever felt before; even compared to when the Lepordconda had bit the end of his tail off, this was a million times worse. He could feel his hair being singed, and he could smell it. The mask gave off a sonic wave of energy, and the Calavera dropped Saboo, screaming in terror. He fell from the hovering creatures, desperately trying to pull the mask off his face. It was searing to the touch. He could hear his smouldering skin moulding to the wood. The tusks felt alive, as if they had become part of his face now. His eyes were fused shut.

Saboo was dropping like a stone from the sky. The Calaveras watched him fall, their long tentacles wavering in the clouds around them. They stared with grotesque eyes, waiting for him to hit the ground. Saboo tried frantically to tear the mask from his face, his fingers gripped the sides and he pulled and pulled. His ears rung out loud and his hair was being pulled by the friction. Then, his eyes shot open, he could see normally out of the mask. Its wooden jaw moved and he was able to scream for the first time since it was scorched onto his face. It was a gut-wrenching howl of pain. He could sense the ground coming up closer and closer. Looking down, his heart sunk low into his stomach. He wasn’t about to fall upon the hard ground, instead, he was about to land in water.

His splash exploded high into the air. The water was freezing. Every muscle in his body tensed. His body hair felt heavy and thick. Water was the only known fear of the Luna Lukkos. That was the reason they lived in trees and hated it when it rained.

His eyes shot open, manically looking around. Everything was dense and murky. Water filled his nostrils. His teeth clenched shut, trying to stop even more water from getting into his mouth. He swallowed, choking on the pungent liquid. He felt like he was suffocating. He tried kicking to the surface, but it was useless. There was nothing to kick off from. Wherever he was, the water was too thick and slimy.

Saboo sunk like a fishing line sinker. The cooling water soothed his burning flesh. He sank into the abyss, finally hitting the bottom. There he drifted like dead wood amongst the old decayed trees. Logs brushed against his elbow and struck his legs. His tail weaved around a slimy rock. Air bubbles erupted from his mouth, floating upwards to the surface. Saboo blinked several times. His eyes stung from the water. Saboo’s feet sunk deep into the mud and his tail drifted lifelessly.

With a flash resembling red lightning, his mask erupted with searing heat. Saboo screamed, letting out more air. Bubbles again erupted from his mouth, pouring upwards in great bursts of ballooned air. His lungs tightened and his mind shut down from lack of oxygen. This is the end, he thought, as his consciousness balanced on the edge of death.

Then a bizarre assortment of memories drifted across his vision: playing with the hide-and-come-find rock, wrestling with his brother Taboo, his father fixing the roof and his mother cooking with a huge pot. Suddenly something hard nudged his back and pushed Saboo forward. For that moment the memories stopped and floated away. In front of him was a muddy slope. Tree branches and stones stuck out from it. Saboo drifted towards it.

Before long, the memories started again: his birthday cake with twelve candles on it, blowing them out and being allowed to have a corner piece with the most frosting. But again he got another nudge in the back. This time he was pushed against the rocks and branches. The air in his lungs was rapidly running out. He remembered Yallee, and how she hadn’t returned from the Everdark tasks.

His eyes opened. In front of him was a branch encrusted with pond weed and surrounded by small fish. The last of his bubbles escaped his mouth. He started to climb. One hand after the other he pulled himself up. His legs pushed hard against the rocks. He could see the surface, glimmering with the reflection of the moon.

Saboo darted up like a rocket from the bottom of a quagmire. His lungs tensed up and he was about to choke on water when he hit the top. The jaw of the mask flapped open and he inhaled fresh air, filling his lungs with great gulps. He thought they were about to explode. He felt dizzy and his vision danced around uneasily. Slowly Saboo pulled himself from the water.

He climbed over to the edge and crawled out. His body felt beaten and sore; his face blistered with burns. The pain was too much to handle and he toppled over. Falling forwards, he crashed into the muddy bank and fell unconscious.

***

The Monkish City erupted in hysterics. People ran everywhere. Lightning flashed all around them. The blue comet in the sky soared brighter and flashed on the spot where Saboo stood only moments ago.

Taboo was pushed to the floor by all the commotion; he got up and sprinted to the area where the blue ray had shone. As he stepped closer, the ground began to shake. The Elder dodged people running past him, his cane out to the side.

‘No,’ he screamed. ‘Get away from there!’

But it was too late. The beam disappeared and Taboo was shot through the air. The Elder raised his cane and pointed at the young Luna Lukkos. A series of mixed colours, sparks of silver and green, shot from the cane’s tip. Taboo was caught by an invisible field and lowered gently to the ground. His mother shrieked as she looked desperately for her sons.

‘Saboo!’ she cried out. ‘Saboo!’

His father ran to the stage and looked around, throwing chairs and tables over in his wake.

‘He’s gone,’ he yelled. ‘Saboo is gone!’

Tears welled up in his eyes. Then, as hurricane winds lashed around them, Aramoss stepped from the shadows and looked into the air.

‘He has been taken.’

The Mantilla father grabbed him around his neck and shook him.

‘Where? Where has he been taken?’

Aramoss, the dog faced boy, pushed him away and grinned a devious smile. He turned and ran from the stage area.

Taboo shook his head, lifting his hands up and checking for anything broken. The Elder ran to his side.

‘That is a most powerful light you stepped into, young one.’

Taboo looked up at him.

‘If you are not the chosen one, it could have killed you.’

Taboo let out a sigh of relief; the Elder had saved him.

The Mayor ran to his son and tried to gather his arms around him, but he was too big. Wez just stood there with his mouth open, his tongue lulled to the side. His troll wife covered her face with her enormous, hairy hands. She grunted and tried to crawl under a table.

Sedgewick climbed on the troll’s back and leapt onto the stage. He pulled his piece of chalk from his rear pocket and drew a series of diagrams and symbols. The harsh winds started to die down. The wind kept its distance from the runes Sedgewick had drawn. The hex was enough for the city’s people to get to their feet and leave quickly. Sedgewick ran to the Elder who stood by Taboo.

‘This is not right!’ the Elder cursed, slamming his cane down on the ground, ‘Something has disrupted the Everdark.’

‘It’s the realms, Elder,’ Sedgewick said, pointing to the drawings he made. The Elder followed his assistant to the stage. It was covered in spilled wax, chairs and damaged signs. They pushed a sign away, it read: BLONK FOR LEADER. The Elder knelt down and looked at the scrolls. Only four symbols were left untouched by the winds.

‘There will be great chaos,’ the Elder muttered under his breath. Suddenly, the symbols burst into flames. Smoke poured from the stage as the fire took over, licking high into the air. Then, from behind, came a loud ruckus. It was the Mayor, pushing his son forward.

‘My son!’ he bellowed like an injured calf, ‘He is the new leader! All hail the new Leader of Monkish City!’ He turned to the empty auditorium and waved his hands in the air, trying to get a reaction from anyone, but there was none.

‘Get down you inept fool!’ the Elder snapped. ‘Your son is not the leader, the leader has been chosen.’

The Mayor, his face round and red from the wind whipping at it, ‘Well, great Elder,’ he said sarcastically, ‘where is our fearless leader?’

Around them, leaves dropped from the overhanging canopy. Chairs lay strewn around the ground and tables were turned upside down. In the middle, Wez’s troll wife was curled up in a ball. She opened one eye and blinked. She coughed and spat out a small sign that read, Yallee Will Win. The fire on the stage died a little as villagers returned to toss buckets of water on it and threw heavy blankets on the flames.

‘Something has interrupted the motion of events…someone with dark magical abilities is behind this,’ the Elder said softly.

Suddenly the morbid sound of the Calaveras returned. Everyone looked up in horror. They didn’t have Saboo with them. Saboo’s father leapt through the smouldering fire, trying to grab at them.

‘Where’s my son?’ he howled. His tail whipping furiously.

The Calaveras stayed out of striking range, their tentacle legs coursing through the air, wiggling and squirming with a life of their own. Their morbid mouths opened and they started to speak an unearthly tongue. The words came out backwards and muddled. With a bright spark of electricity, a crimson blast hit the ground. Everyone standing close by was knocked to the floor. The Calaveras laughed and disappeared into the sky. A strange yellow mist floated steadily over the Monkish City. The Mayor sat down, his belly hanging low over his belt.

‘What was that?’ he said, scratching his head.

The Elder lent on his cane, beside him Sedgewick was lying unconscious.

‘They’ve put a spell on us.’

Chapter Two

Happy Harvest

Morning came slowly, casting its yellow rays over everything, exposing the colours of the rocks and trees. Its heat was settling on Saboo’s back. He felt his arms warmed in the sun. His tail lay limp. He was belly down, his face twisted to the side. Mud had gently settled around his body as the tide had gone out. The mask no longer hurt, but he could feel it still welded to his face. It felt like an extra appendage.

He tried to lift his head but it was half stuck in the embankment. His new tusks were wedged in tight. Slowly and with effort he prised himself free. Clumps of dirt and muck caked his hair. It felt awful. Standing proved to be quite difficult. His knees were wobbly from being beaten by the Calavera witches. His mind, on the other hand, was worse. He didn’t know where he was and his skull throbbed. His stomach rumbled for food. His tail felt twice as heavy. He bent down to pull some of the mud from it and realised there was a fish caught in the hairs. He tossed it back in the water and headed through the mangrove trees, away from the water.

When he spoke, the mask felt weightless, as if it was a part of his skin now.

‘Where am I?’ he whispered to himself, looking around. Trees were plentiful and lay looming over worn trails. Branches were so thick with leaves that they drooped down onto the ground. He could hear the soft clap clop of horse hooves. He followed the noise and emerged from the thicket of trees to see a horse pulling a carriage down a winding path. In the carriage was a mountain of small cabbages, all purple and ready to eat. They stunk, but the driver didn’t seem to notice. Saboo raced over to him.

‘Hey!’ he called out, making his brain throb. ‘Hey you! Where am I? Do you know the way back to Monkish City?’

Saboo rushed in front of the moving cart, waving his arms around wildly. But the driver didn’t appear to see him. The horse’s enormous nostrils came bearing down on him, its huge feet thundered as it struck the ground.

‘Wait!’ he yelled. The horse strode past Saboo, knocking him to the side. Saboo got up and dusted himself off; he followed the cart as it went along the road.

‘Hey, wait! Why won’t you stop?’ he begged. Before long he gave up. He stood in the dusty undertow of the cart, the stench of cabbage wafting up his nose. The mask twitched a bit and Saboo could smell the stench no more.

‘It’s like he didn’t even see me?’ Saboo said watching the wagon disappear over a hill. He stood in the gleaming morning sun and felt a cold shiver run up his spine. Then someone spoke;

‘No one can see you,’ the voice said, sounding like ice. Saboo froze. The hair on his arms stood up and his knees turned to jelly. Slowly, he turned around. Behind him, just on the water’s edge, was a ghostly apparition of a Viking. Its helmet was dinted and one horn was missing. Its transparent blue beard ran down the length of its chain-mail chest plate. In its hand it held a double headed axe, but it was like mist, smoking in his grasp. The ghostly phantom stepped forward and waved his axe towards Saboo.

‘Aye! It’s your mask,’ he said, rolling his R.

Saboo started screaming. He turned and ran. The ghost Viking followed him.

‘Stop running ya furry Mok-Jop!’ he yelled.

Saboo would rather his chances with the unknown forest than with a spectre. He sprinted across the dusty trail and into the surrounding woodland. Looking back, only briefly, he could see the Viking gaining on him. He screamed again when he noticed the Viking wasn’t even running, he was floating. Saboo ran through the scrub, his arms flailing around. He got to a clearing and caught his breath. He feared the apparition was still chasing him, so he kept running.

Down a small stone path, he came to the edge of the forest. In front of him were numerous cottages. Closest was a small barn type lodge, it had a rather tall, crooked, chimney with black smoke bellowing out of it. Saboo ran to its large wooden door and pulled at the handle. The hinges were so rusty that they wouldn’t budge. He could feel the coldness again, creeping up his tail and into his ribs. Saboo didn’t look behind; instead he jerked the door as hard as he could. It swung open with a loud crack. He raced inside and slammed it shut behind him. His lungs ached as the air was pumped through them. Catching his breath was harder than he thought, especially when a ghost was chasing you.

The Mask of Ebb twitched once more and Saboo’s breathing came back to normal in an instant. He turned around and looked through a crack in the wood work; the apparition was walking back to the water’s edge. His axe was flung over one shoulder and he was muttering to himself. Saboo could only make out the curse words. As if his ordeal would never end, the door on the other side of the barn was kicked in and a very large, brawny man stood there with a hammer in one hand and a very long piece of steel in the other. The tip of the steel rod was glowing orange with heat.

‘Who’s there?’ the man yelled, his eyes squinting in the dark. ‘Come out now or I’ll weld you to my bracket and take you for a ride around the paddock!’

Saboo dared not move. The rod was smoking hot and the man looked like he meant business.

‘I don’t mean any harm…it’s just that a ghost was chasing me,’ Saboo pleaded, expecting him not to hear him like the cart driver.

‘Who said that?’ the man barked, stepping deeper into the barn, his hammer raised slightly.

‘You can hear me?’ Saboo said.

‘Come out of your hiding spot. Right now!’

‘I’m right here,’ Saboo said, standing only five feet from his face. The man waved his steel rod through the air, Saboo moved backwards.

‘What magic is this?’ the man demanded to know. His eyes darted around the room. Cobwebs hung in every corner, broken stage coaches and bales of hay lay around against the walls.

‘I don’t know what type of magic this is,’ Saboo whispered.

The man watched as the smoke from his burning steel rod drifted and curved around something that he couldn’t see. It curled up an invisible object and fell back down, as if it floated over a shoulder or a head.

‘Stand still,’ the man instructed. Saboo stood still, watching as he paced forward.

‘A ghost was chasing you?’ the burly man said, bringing his hammer up to Saboo’s shoulder height.

‘Yeah,’ Saboo yelped, almost feeling the coldness return.

‘Serves you right for going near the water in the morning.’ With that the man prodded his hammer forward, it hit Saboo’s shoulder and knocked him back several feet.

‘Ouch!’ he cried. ‘That hurt! I’m already sore from falling in the water and having been beat up…hey, can you see me?’

‘No,’ the man answered. ‘You appear to be invisible.’

‘Invisible? How did that happen?’

‘You tell me,’ the man said, lowering his hammer.

For the first time, Saboo noticed the man’s clothes. He wore a long black apron with a very full utility belt. His bushy moustache curled at the ends and his hands were in large rubber gloves.

‘Are you a butcher?’ Saboo asked, looking down at the man’s leather boots.

‘A butcher? If you saw how many pigs I own you wouldn’t say that,’ the man laughed. ‘No, friend. I am a blacksmith.’

Saboo walked around the man and peered out the door the blacksmith had come through. Outside there appeared to be a small village. Its bustling streets were full with carts and men were carrying baskets of coal and wood. Vendors had stores on the sides selling vegetables and bones sharpened into blades.

‘I cannot help you, but I may know someone that can,’ the blacksmith said, staring at the empty space where Saboo stood a moment ago.

‘Really?’ Saboo said, excited, making the blacksmith leap into the air.

‘Yes, and don’t sneak around like that! I can’t see you, you know.’

Saboo hadn’t got used to being invisible yet.

‘Come with me,’ the blacksmith said, heading for the door.

Saboo moved to the side and looked through slits in the wooden walls at the world outside. He suddenly felt very alone.

‘My name is Saboo Mantilla,’ he added.

‘Come with me Saboo,’ the blacksmith said. ‘We have to go see a witch.’

The blacksmith placed his hammer on a hook near the door and stuck the steel rod back into the furnace that was blazing at the front of his store.

‘Follow me,’ the blacksmith said, hanging his apron up on the door and closing it, ‘and don’t get yourself noticed.’

Saboo thought that would be hard, since nobody could see him. The two ventured from the storefront and headed through the city. There was a massive crowd of people, all pacing around with bizarre decorations and smiling jubilantly.

‘What’s going on?’ Saboo whispered.

The blacksmith ignored him until a group of people had walked out of earshot.

‘It’s All Hollows Eve in a few days…and they’re preparing,’ he finally answered.

A young woman dragging a small child stopped near the blacksmith. She looked at him talking to himself. Her child had a lolly in its mouth and one stuck in its hair.

‘Excuse me?’ she said. ‘Did you say something to me?’

The blacksmith stopped walking, he looked nervous. Saboo stood beside him. It felt weird to be invisible. But Saboo thought he should be somewhat used to it, growing up in a large family can make you feel that way from time to time.

‘Oh…ahhh…’ the blacksmith said, ‘I was just commenting on how great this year’s festival is looking…’

The woman nodded as she ran her fingers through her gawk-antelope fur coat.

‘Yes, it will be grand! As long as the tundra bats don’t decide to be sick on my stall again this time!’

The blacksmith nodded impatiently. Saboo scratched his head and felt the mask attached to his face. It almost felt like his own skin.

‘Oh, well I must be off…Happy Harvest!’ the woman said with a smile.

‘Yes, and same to you. Happy Harvest!’

The woman dragged the child by his ear. He looked up at where Saboo was standing, looking him directly in the eyes. Saboo gave him a little wave and the child turned back to his mother.

‘You’re going to get me into trouble!’ the blacksmith said, angrily.

‘I can’t help that!’ Saboo said, tossing his arms into the air, ‘No one can see me! Except maybe that child?’

The blacksmith stopped as they approached the centre of the village. The cobblestones underneath were cold and rough. Lantern posts stood like intricate lighthouses at the crossroads. Wooden signs hung from rusted chains, pointing to various places in the village.

‘Good morning Blacksmith,’ an elderly lady said as she walked by, her long, reptilian tail swaying from side to side, ‘How are the pigs?’

‘Oh, good morning Grandmother Hotep, they are fine, yes, yes. Eating everything they can, as usual.’

She smiled and continued on her way.

‘Was that your grandmother?’ Saboo asked, trying to catch up as the blacksmith marched along a nearly vacant street.

‘My what? Oh no, no, no. That’s what everyone calls her. Now come on.’

They rushed along the rigid sidewalk. Saboo was almost running to keep up. They came out of the cluster of small shops and houses and took a worn path along a small dry river bed. Saboo looked back at a large posted sign carved out of wood arching over the road, it read: Viking’s Helm.

The gentle neighing of horses in their stables made Saboo look around, a man was unpacking a cart of purple cabbages.

‘That’s him!’ Saboo screamed. The blacksmith looked around frantically.

‘Who?’

‘The cart driver! He didn’t stop, even though I was yelling at him from the side of the road.’

‘Him? That’s Old Deaf Eddy. He’s as deaf as a gargar-moth!’

The cart was being unloaded by the cart driver and a small boy. The contents were being stacked inside a small road-side hut. Saboo caught himself staring and turned around to see the blacksmith, but he was walking away. He ran to catch up. They both steered around the rocky edge of the path and came to a flatter plain that held three small cottages – all of them grey – and all of their chimneys belching thick black smoke. The blacksmith stopped. He appeared to think for some time, scratching his chin, his robust moustache twitching slightly. After a few seconds he stomped one foot on the ground and headed for the nearest cottage.

On the front door was a mimosa-goat skull. Its horns twisted around in two full circles. Saboo didn’t like the look of it. The blacksmith brought his large, beefy hand up and thumped the door twice. The door was flung open in an instant. A little woman stood there, her hair done up high like a bee hive. Her fingers were long and pointy. Saboo lent in closer to look at her. Her eyes where milky white.

‘Yes? What?’ she yelled. ‘Two chickens round the back. You can lop their heads off if ya want, just leave me the giblets!’ she cried out. The blacksmith huffed a great big lung full of air.

‘It’s me Miss Hailstorm.’

The old woman stepped out of her entrance and reached forward with her bony hands. Her finger tips touched the blacksmith’s abdomen. She could feel the heat on him from the furnace he used in his trade.

‘Lawless Blackstone!’ she wailed in joy. ‘I thought it was the butcher…never mind. That bucket you made me for the well is busted too. May as well take a look at it while you are here.’ She turned to go back inside.

‘Wait…no, that’s not why I’m here.’

Lucy Hailstorm stopped and lifted her head up. Her eyes shone grotesquely in the sun, like looking into two glasses of milk.

‘Who’s your friend?’

‘You can see me?’ Saboo gulped.

‘Tell him I can’t see him,’ Lucy said to Lawless.

Lawless Blackstone looked grumpy, he hadn’t wanted to track through the city to bring an invisible person to a witch, let alone be a translator. Being up here always gave him the creeps.

‘She can’t see you!’ he snapped.

‘But she can hear me?’ Saboo said, his tail resting on the ground.

‘Nope,’ Lucy Hailstorm said.

‘She said no,’ Lawless replied.

‘I’m confused?’ said Saboo.

‘Don’t be,’ Miss Hailstorm said. ‘Come on in and we’ll take a look at that mask for you.’

Saboo looked at the blacksmith. He had remembered his name from somewhere, Blackstone. It was so familiar.

Once inside, the witch pulled a chair out from her table. ‘Sit here my young, lost, friend.’

She went over to a cauldron which was sitting comfortably above a small fire. The witch retrieved a long stick from the rack beside it and stirred the hot brew. Occasionally it bubbled over, and hissed in the fire.

‘Now,’ she said in a commanding voice, ‘let’s see about this mask.’

She walked over to Saboo, putting one foot on a stool and the other firmly planted behind her. Her hands reached out and gripped the mask.

‘Do I have it?’ she asked.

Saboo could feel her strong fingers gripping the wood.

‘Yes,’ Saboo said.

The witch waited for a moment, then looked over to the blacksmith.

‘He said yes,’ Lawless echoed, his arms crossed over his chest.

‘Good.’

The witch dug her fingertips into the mask and pulled backwards with all her weight. Saboo was nearly lifted off his chair. He had never seen such strength in an old lady before. She finally let go and stood back, scanning Saboo with her cloudy eyes. She was looking him up and down. I thought she was blind, Saboo thought to himself.

‘Blind since the day I was born!’ Lucy roared. In fact, the people of Vikings Helm knew her simply as Blind Lucy.

She went to her cupboard and opened the batwing doors. She tossed bottles behind her, feeling the lids and weighing them in her hands. Saboo thought it a good idea to stop thinking altogether, he wouldn’t want to think something awful and have her read his mind.

‘I know it’s in here,’ she