Vega Jane and the Rebels’ Revolt Page 5

  A sword against a wand was not really a fair fight.

  Harry Two nudged my arm and glanced at the window. He wanted me to look back outside.

  Endemen and his blokes were talking in low tones.

  ‘They must have gone another way,’ said one of the men to Endemen.

  Endemen was frowning, his gaze sweeping around. Occasionally his gaze hit the house squarely, but he looked right through it.

  The wonderful truth hit me.

  I said, ‘He can’t see the house.’

  ‘Aye, he can’t,’ agreed Delph.

  ‘Is it because of your invisibility spell?’ asked Petra in a low voice.

  I shook my head. ‘I can’t think how it would be able to hide a place this big.’

  ‘Look, they’re heading off,’ exclaimed Delph.

  We watched as the men walked back to the woods. As Endemen reached the treeline, he turned around for a moment and looked thoughtfully in our direction.

  As though attached at the hip, the four of us immediately ducked down below the windowsill.

  When we looked back out a few seconds later, he was gone.

  We collectively breathed a sigh of relief.

  I turned to look over my shoulder at the interior of the house.

  ‘Who lived here, I wonder?’ asked Delph.

  ‘Dunno. But I’m awfully glad it is here.’

  ‘What do we do now?’ Petra wanted to know.

  I squared my shoulders.

  ‘Find out what this place is, of course,’ I said firmly.

  7

  EMPYREAN

  Virtually every building I’d ventured into since leaving Wormwood had held elements of incredible danger. This place might not be any different.

  ‘Be alert,’ I said to the others as we moved forward.

  The first obvious thing was the size of the place. Though from the outside it didn’t appear nearly that large, it seemed to me that both Stacks and Steeples would fit comfortably inside this place.

  A suit of armour stood guard in the large entrance hallway. It was spotless, though it had several large dents in it. In a holder by its side was a long, deadly-looking sword.

  Every room we entered seemed larger than the last. The walls were wood, or stone, or tile, or even metal. The furnishings were large and comfortable. There was weaponry on the walls, battleaxes and lances and swords and knives and other things I didn’t recognize, but which looked deadly enough.

  The place was lighted by things we couldn’t see. It seemed to me that captured in the ceiling were little swirls of illumination, almost like the cucos we had seen back in the Quag.

  There were fireplaces aplenty, and bathrooms like the one I had seen at Morrigone’s ages ago.

  We entered a book-lined library with a large desk and comfortable chairs. Next, there was a kitchen so enormous it was hard to see the other end. It had a huge blackened metal stove and a fireplace with a large pot hanging from an iron hook. There was a long wooden table for eating and a cupboard full of plates, cloth napkins, cups and utensils, all neatly stacked.

  I poked my head into another cupboard that was full of food of all types, again all neatly organized and obviously fresh. Though the style was old, from the worm-eaten beams on the ceiling to the venerable and colourful rugs on the knotty walnut floors, it all looked well kept.

  And yet it was abandoned. Strange.

  What fascinated me the most were the portraits on the walls. They all had the names of the subject on a little brass plate attached to the frame. I recognized some of them.

  Bastion Cadmus’s painting hung over the enormous fireplace in a room that was the largest we had seen thus far. He was a tall, strongly built, fierce-looking fellow with a short black beard, startling green eyes and thick brows that nearly touched in the centre of his forehead. I could understand why our lot had made him their leader. His masterful, tough, confident appearance seemed to fit the type.

  So was this his old home? If so, that gave me some hope. He was a good bloke.

  Astrea Prine’s portrait occupied a prominent place in the library between two sets of bookcases. She looked like she had when we’d stayed at her cottage in the Quag. Young, intense, a bit foreboding really. A portrait of my ancestor Jasper Jane hung in a dark corner of a short hallway. Maybe because he liked to dabble in dark sorcery. But he had helped me in the Quag, or at least his soul had. Although the Fifth Circle of the Quag, which he had designed, had very nearly killed us all!

  Then there were many other portraits of people I had never heard of, but who apparently held some important place in the magical world.

  I found Delph in one corner of a room off the main hall staring up at one painting. I went over. The image was of a male astride a winged slep, or horse I guess these blokes would call it. On his shoulder was a large, menacing-looking hawk.

  ‘Who is it, Delph?’

  He pointed to the nameplate at the bottom of the painting.

  ‘Samuel Delphia,’ I read aloud. ‘Delph, he’s an ancestor of yours!’

  Delph nodded. ‘It looks like he gets along with beasts. Same as Dad. Bet they woulda got on right well.’

  I put my hand on his shoulder. ‘I bet they would have.’

  He rubbed his eyes and wiped at his nose. ‘I miss him, y’know, me dad. Hope he’s OK.’

  ‘I miss him too, Delph. But remember, he wanted you to leave Wormwood.’

  ‘I know, Vega Jane. I know.’

  Then his expression changed.

  ‘Hang on, though. There was that bloke Barnabas Delphia back at Wolvercote Cemetery. And now Samuel. They were both magical – but I’m not. No mark on my hand or nothing.’

  I studied his face. Delph wanted to be magical, more than anything. But it wasn’t in my power to make him so.

  ‘I know I never would have got this far without you, wand or not.’

  He smiled at me and then looked around. ‘You think this is a friendly place, eh, Vega Jane? I mean, it seems to only have our kind in the paintings. No Maladons, right?’

  ‘Right,’ I said cautiously. ‘But remember how things started with Astrea Prine. And she’s our kind.’

  At my words, Delph instantly gripped his sword more tightly. Petra and I kept our wands at the ready.

  I wanted to believe that this was a friendly place, but I had been fooled before.

  Finally, I led us back to the kitchen and we set about making a meal, although I kept us invisible. We needed to keep our guard up.

  I got the stove hot and put cured ham and sausages and a great slab of beef that was perfectly fresh into a big skillet. Petra started cutting up vegetables she’d found in containers in the pantry. Delph got the kettle in the fireplace filled with water from a pump in the sink and started a fire under it. He announced that he would be making soup.

  There was a chamber off the kitchen behind a thick door. It was freezing inside and for good reason. In addition to the meat I had already got out, there was milk and cheeses and other perishables, including dough for bread. I took as much as I could carry.

  Very soon the aromas of all the cooking food commingled into a mass of flavourful scents that made my mouth water. Poor Harry Two was actually panting in anticipation. But still, I felt uneasy.

  Petra seemed to feel the same. She whispered, ‘Vega, all this food here is good and fresh.’

  I nodded.

  ‘Someone lives here,’ I whispered back. ‘They might be here right now.’

  ‘Why don’t they show themselves?’

  ‘Well, we haven’t shown ourselves yet.’

  ‘Right, but they must know someone is here. We’re moving things around.’

  ‘They might be scared. Things floating through the air and all.’

  ‘They might,’ she said, clearly not believing this.

  Petra and I had laid out the plates, bowls, cups, utensils and napkins on the long wooden table.

  I put food down for Harry Two, and when everything was ready we com
menced eating, and didn’t stop until our bellies were near to bursting. I had never had enough food to eat growing up and I savoured every mouthful, every bite and every swallow of the deliciously cool milk. After all, I had no idea what the next day would hold for us.

  We finished our meal and walked up to the second floor of the house, reached by a broad, balustraded stairway that reminded me of the one at Stacks.

  I looked at the others. ‘Maybe we should all stay together and invisible for the night.’

  ‘No way,’ Petra snapped. ‘That’ll make us an easy target. We searched this floor. There’s no one up here and there are three bedrooms in a row. We can each take one and we’ll be close enough to cry out if something happens.’ She paused. ‘Or Delph can stay with me and Harry Two with you.’

  ‘Why not Delph with me and Harry Two with you?’ I retorted.

  ‘Because your canine will be pining all night for you.’

  I glanced at Delph, whose face had turned red. ‘Let’s just each take a room,’ I said tersely. ‘Delph’s room can be in the middle and I can put a shield spell on his door so nobody can disturb him.’

  Petra gave a faint smile. ‘Fine,’ she said.

  ‘And the term is dog, not canine,’ I pointed out.

  I released the tethers, and we said our goodnights and trudged off.

  I turned my ring around so I became visible. If anything were going to attack us, I didn’t want them to only go after Delph and Petra.

  My bedchamber was large and well furnished. I hung up my few pieces of clothing in an ornately carved wardrobe, undressed and climbed into bed.

  The house had inexplicably grown dark as soon as we finished our meal, so we had found and lit some candles, which we had carried upstairs.

  Harry Two jumped up on to the bed and settled down at the foot of it.

  I blew out my candle and lay my head back against the pillow.

  That’s when I saw it.

  Or rather her. A woman was staring down at me from the ceiling.

  I very nearly screamed.

  Then I realized it was simply a painting of a young woman. She had long, flowing blonde hair and large blue eyes. Her cheeks were pink and healthy, but the expression on her face was the saddest I had ever seen.

  I felt my own mouth curving downward and my forehead knot into a frown as I stared at her.

  I wondered who she was. Why her portrait was on the ceiling and not framed on the wall like the others.

  And why I could see her at all, given that it was pitch dark.

  I sat up and lit my candle.

  That was when I received my second shock.

  She’d disappeared. The ceiling was now merely blank plaster.

  I thrust off my bedcovers and stood on the bed and then on my tiptoes to get a better look. I held my candle as high as I could.

  There was nothing to see.

  I sat back down and blew out the candle.

  And waited.

  Sure enough, she appeared. Only now her hair waved slightly, as though in a breeze.

  I grabbed my wand off the nightstand and held it ready.

  But she made no sudden movements. Her eyes now blinked and her mouth moved slightly. I had the distinct impression that she was watching me.

  ‘Who are you?’

  The words floated down to me, soft, lovely sounding, but inked in them was despair and loss.

  ‘I-I’m Vega Jane.’

  I gasped when the woman, body and all, floated down from the ceiling to sit next to me.

  Harry Two turned to stare at her. But he made no sound. This gave me courage; usually he sensed danger before I did.

  ‘Vega Jane?’ she said.

  The large eyes took me in, from head to foot.

  I nodded. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I am called Uma.’

  Uma? Uma? I had seen that name somewhere; I just couldn’t remember where.

  ‘Is this your home?’ I asked.

  I realized, though, that I could see pretty much right through her. Her clothes were not of this time. She was clearly from the past.

  ‘No. But I came here often. I like it here.’

  ‘Are you . . . ?’

  She nodded. ‘I am dead. And have been for a very long time.’

  I realized where I’d seen the name before. On a gravestone at Wolvercote Cemetery, right before we’d entered the First Circle of the Quag.

  ‘You’re Uma Cadmus? Your father was Bastion Cadmus!’

  She nodded.

  ‘Are you a ghost?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not a ghost, no.’

  ‘I’m not seeing your soul then, am I? I saw my ancestor Jasper Jane’s soul once.’

  ‘No, I am not a soul.’

  Well, I had exhausted all my possible choices. ‘What are you, then?’

  ‘Regret.’

  ‘Regret? What does that mean? We all have regrets.’

  ‘Indeed we do. But some are far greater than others. If they are powerful enough, they can consume you completely. That is my fate. For eternity.’

  With that ominous answer, she vanished. I lay back in bed after giving Harry Two a reassuring pat.

  So this wasn’t her home, even though there was a large painting of her father downstairs. This place must have belonged to someone else. And regret? I wondered what she regretted so much.

  I pulled the bedcovers up closer around me, as though the bit of fabric would protect me from all evil.

  That’s when I heard the scream.

  8

  THIS HOUSE OF MINE

  I sprinted into the hallway, Harry Two barking at my heels. I released the shield spell on Delph’s bedroom door and it flew open, revealing an anxious-looking Delph in his nightshirt.

  ‘It’s Petra!’ I exclaimed.

  We ran to her door, my wand out and ready. Delph reached the door first and tried to open it. He bounced off.

  Petra screamed again.

  Delph charged the door once more, slamming his full weight against it.

  He was flung back off like he weighed nothing.

  I pointed my wand and said, ‘Ingressio.’

  My spell rebounded, but I saw the door buckle a bit.

  ‘Impacto,’ I cried out, and the door exploded into fragments.

  We rushed inside to see Petra hanging upside down from the ceiling, a maelstrom of light, flashing figures and fire all around her struggling body. Objects were striking her from all angles, and each collision caused another cut to her skin.

  I was so stunned by what I saw that for a moment I didn’t know what to do, but Petra’s cry focused me once more.

  ‘Vega! Help me!’

  I raised my wand and cast a shield spell around her.

  The lightning-fast objects bounced off it and whizzed around the room.

  Delph, Harry Two and I had to duck.

  I raised my wand once more. ‘Paralycto.’

  The explosion of whizzing things froze in mid-air.

  We slowly rose. I pointed my wand at Petra at the same time as I said to Delph, ‘Get ready.’

  I shouted, ‘Unlassado.’

  A light shot out from the point of my wand and hit the ceiling next to Petra’s feet.

  She was freed and plummeted down, into Delph’s arms.

  I watched as she wrapped her arms around Delph’s thick neck and buried her weeping face in his massive chest.

  ‘’Tis OK,’ he murmured to her. ‘’Tis all right now, Pet.’

  Delph looked past me over her head, and I saw his eyes widen in terror.

  I whirled around, my wand at the ready.

  The breath caught in my throat.

  In the doorway stood the suit of armour that had been in the entrance hallway. Even as I watched, a gloved hand rose and opened the metal visor.

  I staggered back because there was no face behind the visor, only darkness.

  A voice boomed out as the gloved hand pointed straight at Petra.

  ‘She is a Malado
n! She must die the death of a thousand wounds.’

  I kept my wand raised.

  ‘I’m . . . I’m not a Maladon,’ Petra said weakly.

  ‘Liar,’ roared the armour. ‘We know. We always know when one is in our midst. And we are never wrong. We waited until she was alone, lest she try to hurt the two of you.’ Now the helmeted head turned in my direction. ‘You are obviously a sorceress and not a Maladon. Thus, you must kill her. She is your sworn enemy.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘She’s not my enemy. She’s my friend.’

  ‘Kill her!’ the suit of armour screamed.

  ‘No!’ I yelled back.

  ‘Then you leave me no choice.’

  It drew out its long sword and raised it up high.

  I darted to stand between the armour and Petra.

  ‘To kill her, you have to kill me. And I’m, well, I’m a handful, I am,’ I finished awkwardly.

  The armour stared at me. If a faceless thing can stare, that is.

  ‘You turn against your own people?’ said the armour.

  ‘I turn against no one. Um, what is your name?’ I asked, trying to calm things down.

  ‘Lord Unctuous of Pillsbury,’ he announced in a dignified voice.

  ‘OK, Lord, um – is it Lord Unctuous, or Lord Pillsbury, or all of it?’

  The armour took a moment to consider this. ‘Lord Pillsbury will suffice,’ he said.

  ‘OK, Lord Pillsbury. Petra here has helped me fight and defeat a number of Maladons already. We just managed to escape a bloke calling himself Mr Endemen, right outside the house.’

  When I said the name Endemen, I saw Lord Pillsbury’s metal body flinch.

  He said gruffly, ‘Endemen? Endemen, did you say?’

  ‘Yes, I do say. Who is he?’

  ‘A Maladon,’ barked Pillsbury. ‘A horrible, mad, evil, ruthless, disgusting—’

  ‘Right,’ I said, interrupting. ‘Well, that one I’d figured out on my own.’

  ‘He is very dangerous,’ Lord Pillsbury said more soberly.

  ‘I saw him kill two blokes and smile about it.’

  Lord Pillsbury shivered in his armoured hide. ‘Most distasteful.’

  ‘But he couldn’t see this place, could he?’ I said.

  ‘Obviously not. Else he would be inside now, attempting to murder us all. The enchantments around this structure are designed to make it totally invisible to Maladons.’