Read Online Jack Shian and the Destiny Stone by Andrew Symon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Andrew Symon
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appeared to recognise the tiny figure before him, and he grimaced.
“Lie down!” shouted Jack. “We need to fix your cuts!”
Whether he intended to or not, Caskill now toppled backwards onto the ground. Gilmore ran up, unwinding strips of cloth from his knapsack.
“Let me through!” he demanded. “I’ve got the haemostat bandages!”
He swiftly compressed the worst bleeding points, and tied swathes of bandage around these. The blood, which had flowed freely, now ceased. Armina, making swift work of spreading jyoti paste onto the less severe wounds, muttered under her breath, “If only my sceptre worked properly; then I’d have this fixed in no time!”
The crowd grew around the giant’s recumbent body. He seemed to be sleeping.
“What a fight!” gasped Petros. “Did you see the brains go flying? Wicked!”
“It was the eagle that really helped,” said Jack. “Where’d it go?”
In all the exhilaration of the end of the fight he hadn’t noticed the bird fly off. Now he saw it, perched on a rock not far away. Jack waved at it.
I don’t know why I did that. It’s not like it understands.
The eagle inclined its head, hopped off the rock, and took a few steps towards Jack, its dark brown plumage looking ominous in the fading light. Jack’s mouth went dry. From a distance he hadn’t appreciated how huge this bird was.
I’m no bigger than a lamb to this thing. And it eats them for breakfast.
The bird, however, stopped; then spread its wings out …
Loki’s tricks! They’re enormous!
… and gave a shrill cry, before turning and taking off. Within seconds it was lost to sight.
“It sounded like it was talking to you,” said Rana.
Jack didn’t move. Was that the same eagle which had followed the boats? And what was that tied to its leg?
A rumbling sound from behind him made Jack turn round. Caskill was trying to sit up; the effort was making him splutter and cough. The giant sat for a moment, and stretched his neck. Then, turning, he spat. Copious amounts of phlegm and blood sprayed onto the ground.
“Urrgh!” squealed Lizzie. “That’s gross!”
However, Caskill seemed to feel the better for it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and smiled.
“U’isk.” The grunt had a definite note of satisfaction.
“Caskill, we need you to get the flag now. We must get into the Hebseelie Court by midnight. Can you get to the castle?” Grandpa’s voice was tense, urgent.
Caskill looked up at the castle on the promontory above the shore.
“Ar’mor’.”
“Yes, Ardmore. You must retrieve the Shian flag for us. If you do that, we will give you the charm that makes your stone work.”
Caskill looked down at the charmstone in his chest. The fight had dislodged it, and it hung loose. He looked around anxiously. Then, seeing Jack, he pointed at him.
“Uh!”
Me?
“Come on Jack. He wants you to tell him.” Grandpa reached out and took Jack’s arm, pulling him forward.
“Me tell him?”
“Come on! There’s no time to lose! We must get to the Hebseelie Court!”
Jack stood before the seated Caskill, and spoke in as clear a voice as he could.
“Caskill, I vow that we will give you the charm you need. But please, fetch us the flag. Then you will be free to go.”
Caskill reached forward, and made to pat Jack again. Remembering the last two crashes on his head, Jack’s first instinct was to duck; but he saw that the gesture was kindly meant, and he gritted his teeth.
Thump!
Oww! Jack screamed inwardly, but determined not to show this. Caskill, satisfied with the arrangement, levered himself into a standing position, and looked up towards the castle. He paused and looked thoughtful (or as thoughtful as a giant can). Then, apparently deciding on his course of action, he set off along the shoreline to where a rough track led up to the castle walls.
“Come along! We’ll wait for him by the bourtree. And the tide’s coming in; we need to get off the beach.”
Grandpa
“Lie down!” shouted Jack. “We need to fix your cuts!”
Whether he intended to or not, Caskill now toppled backwards onto the ground. Gilmore ran up, unwinding strips of cloth from his knapsack.
“Let me through!” he demanded. “I’ve got the haemostat bandages!”
He swiftly compressed the worst bleeding points, and tied swathes of bandage around these. The blood, which had flowed freely, now ceased. Armina, making swift work of spreading jyoti paste onto the less severe wounds, muttered under her breath, “If only my sceptre worked properly; then I’d have this fixed in no time!”
The crowd grew around the giant’s recumbent body. He seemed to be sleeping.
“What a fight!” gasped Petros. “Did you see the brains go flying? Wicked!”
“It was the eagle that really helped,” said Jack. “Where’d it go?”
In all the exhilaration of the end of the fight he hadn’t noticed the bird fly off. Now he saw it, perched on a rock not far away. Jack waved at it.
I don’t know why I did that. It’s not like it understands.
The eagle inclined its head, hopped off the rock, and took a few steps towards Jack, its dark brown plumage looking ominous in the fading light. Jack’s mouth went dry. From a distance he hadn’t appreciated how huge this bird was.
I’m no bigger than a lamb to this thing. And it eats them for breakfast.
The bird, however, stopped; then spread its wings out …
Loki’s tricks! They’re enormous!
… and gave a shrill cry, before turning and taking off. Within seconds it was lost to sight.
“It sounded like it was talking to you,” said Rana.
Jack didn’t move. Was that the same eagle which had followed the boats? And what was that tied to its leg?
A rumbling sound from behind him made Jack turn round. Caskill was trying to sit up; the effort was making him splutter and cough. The giant sat for a moment, and stretched his neck. Then, turning, he spat. Copious amounts of phlegm and blood sprayed onto the ground.
“Urrgh!” squealed Lizzie. “That’s gross!”
However, Caskill seemed to feel the better for it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and smiled.
“U’isk.” The grunt had a definite note of satisfaction.
“Caskill, we need you to get the flag now. We must get into the Hebseelie Court by midnight. Can you get to the castle?” Grandpa’s voice was tense, urgent.
Caskill looked up at the castle on the promontory above the shore.
“Ar’mor’.”
“Yes, Ardmore. You must retrieve the Shian flag for us. If you do that, we will give you the charm that makes your stone work.”
Caskill looked down at the charmstone in his chest. The fight had dislodged it, and it hung loose. He looked around anxiously. Then, seeing Jack, he pointed at him.
“Uh!”
Me?
“Come on Jack. He wants you to tell him.” Grandpa reached out and took Jack’s arm, pulling him forward.
“Me tell him?”
“Come on! There’s no time to lose! We must get to the Hebseelie Court!”
Jack stood before the seated Caskill, and spoke in as clear a voice as he could.
“Caskill, I vow that we will give you the charm you need. But please, fetch us the flag. Then you will be free to go.”
Caskill reached forward, and made to pat Jack again. Remembering the last two crashes on his head, Jack’s first instinct was to duck; but he saw that the gesture was kindly meant, and he gritted his teeth.
Thump!
Oww! Jack screamed inwardly, but determined not to show this. Caskill, satisfied with the arrangement, levered himself into a standing position, and looked up towards the castle. He paused and looked thoughtful (or as thoughtful as a giant can). Then, apparently deciding on his course of action, he set off along the shoreline to where a rough track led up to the castle walls.
“Come along! We’ll wait for him by the bourtree. And the tide’s coming in; we need to get off the beach.”
Grandpa
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