Ned’s Circus of Marvels: The Complete Collection

Three more gor-balins came out of the shadows of the tent towards them. Though roughly the size of an ordinary human, their eyes were lifeless and black. Their ears and noses were sharp and crooked, and their skin a mottled grey, with veins of pitch-black ash and lips the colour of coal. They opened their mouths in unison and bright red embers poured from their lips. Whatever burned in their chests in place of hearts stank of sulphur and soot. Two of them ran at the Farseer, their sword arms poised to strike.

“Famil-ra-sa,” she whispered.

And from out of her pink sleeves poured Frimshaw, Hookscarp, Orazal and Groir. The demure little creatures Ned had seen at the bonding were gone. Now they glowed a hot scarlet and their faces were twisted with anger. Frimshaw and Hookscarp leapt at one gor-balin, and in an instant had reached into its mouth and pulled out the fire that burned in its chest. In its final smoky breath, the gor-balin opened its lips and hissed like a steam engine, while its lifeless body shrivelled to ash. Orazal and Groir dealt with the other in the same way, which left only the third.

The gor-balin was closing in on Ned at a pace. Mystero – in his half-man, half-mist state – was braced, and Ned held his sword before him, trying for all he was worth to channel everything the French Master at Arms had drilled into him – when the gor-balin suddenly stopped dead. Its shadow, however, did not. The blackness beneath the assassin grew larger and began to pulse as two great arms reared out of its edges and pulled something else up and out of the ground. The gor-balin dropped its sword. Even a creature without a soul knows its end. The shadow was Gorrn. It grew upwards violently, till it had completely engulfed the gor-balin, before closing up around it like the mouth of a whale and swallowing him down into the ground.

“Wow, that was gross,” said Ned in disbelief.

“Yes, I think it was a little,” agreed Kitty, while looking rather pleased.

From somewhere beneath their feet, Ned could have sworn he heard a belch.

***

Across the grounds, the battle was starting to even. Most of the troupe had now given up their attempts at dousing the flames. With their homes lost, there was little to do but fight. Sar-adin’s assassins were being beaten further and further back. All, that was, except for Sar-adin himself.

The Ifrit fumed and raged more fiercely than ever, like an animal being forced back into its cage. Except that Sar-adin was fiercer than any animal.

Benissimo ordered Scraggs to turn one of the firetruck’s hoses on him, with no effect, and every bolt or bullet launched in his direction was a spit of ash by the time it struck.

“You’ve got to talk some sense into Ned,” said Mystero to Kitty. “He’s refusing to escape through the mirrors, and the Demon won’t stop until he has you both, Kitty, not now the boy’s come into his powers.”

Kitty looked Ned up and down.

“We’re supposed to run away together, you and I, but I think it’s about time you got to make your own decisions, dearie.”

“I’m tired of running, Kitty. Besides, they need us.”

“Oh for goodness’ sake,” muttered the Mystral.

“And we would be missing all the fun, now, wouldn’t we, my little cracker-jack?” agreed the Farseer with a smile. She took Ned’s hand and marched him through the raging battle to the centre of the encampment, where Benissimo stood, head to head with the Ifrit.

Maybe the letter was right. Maybe his mum really had put the bravery he needed inside of him. Now facing the Demon, he hoped that he would find it before his legs buckled.

“Why don’t you leave my family alone and pick on someone your own size?” shrilled Kitty.

The sight of an old lady scolding a fire-Demon would have been funny, had it not been real. Benissimo spun to face Kitty, then Ned, with a look of absolute fury.

“You two are NOT supposed to be here! And you’re DEFINITELY not supposed to be drawing his attention to you!”

“Oh do stop bleating, you old goat. You can’t possibly beat him without us.” As she spoke, the witch put a hand on the Ringmaster’s shoulder and started to glow. It was gentle at first, but her light quickly grew brighter and brighter till Sar-adin winced with pain. The Ifrit shook for a moment, before steadying himself and launching a fireball directly at the Farseer. She stood her ground as a protective shield of energy bubbled in front of her.

“Your light will not harm me, witch. Give me the boy,” roared the Ifrit stubbornly.

“I’ll do no such thing,” said Kitty, her face still locked in concentration as Benissimo braced to support her. “You know, Ned, a little help would be nice. After all, it’s you he wants.”

“Help, err, OK, and umm … how exactly would I be doing that?”

Ned was already racking his brains, trying to recall a helpful page from his Manual – something he could create that might vanquish this fiery Demon …

“Well, you can clearly make sand, dearie, so I’m fairly certain you could knock up a little rain. On the count of three …”

It didn’t seem very imaginative; what about a defensive wall or even a weapon? But even though the hoses were having no impact on Sar-adin, Ned knew better than to question Kitty, wise, brave and potty as she was.

He shut his eyes tight, blocking out everything around him and cast his mind to the skies. It would be easier than making sand, he thought, as he looked up at the sky. The elements had already done half the work for him.

“One.”

High up above the campsite, he focused on the clouds. He could use them, use their water vapour to form his rain. He willed their atoms closer together, saw the strands of vapour compressing to his will and the ring hummed at his finger obediently.

“Two.”

It was enough to See the droplets form – gravity took care of the rest and they plummeted towards the Ifrit.

“Three,” said Kitty.

In the split second it had taken for Ned’s mind to both power and guide his Engine, Kitty had focused all of her strength. She stood, like a white beacon to Sar-adin’s darkening fury, and unleashed her attack in a shockwave of pure light. It hit the Ifrit at the precise moment that Ned’s first raindrop landed on his head. To Demons who are born in the ground, fresh falling water from the skies is like acid, especially when already weakened by the light of a Farseer.

“Roarghhhhh!”

Ned closed his eyes and concentrated, till every muscle in his face and neck felt like it was going to break. A great deluge of water poured down on the Ifrit, the rain now coming so thick and fast it forced Sar-adin to his knees. As the droplets cut at him, steam poured from each new incision. He arched his back and roared with anger, his disguise breaking away, falling in boiling chunks to the ground. Bit by bit his human form dissolved, till the real monster beneath rose up for a final stand. The horned monstrosity became a crumbling vision of darkness and hate.

“This is not over, witch!” he half-bellowed, half-rasped, any semblance of humanity now gone from his voice.

The Ifrit burst into flames and launched himself at the Farseer in a last act of blazing violence. Still drained from her outburst, Kitty’s shield faltered. In the beat of a second, Ned tried to conjure up a barrier of his own making, his ring finger buzzing noisily. The air between the Demon and Farseer crackled with strands of Ned’s hastily woven ice. If he’d had more experience, or time, they might have held. But Sar-adin splintered his creation into broken shards and Kitty was flung to the ground. When the smoke cleared, only Kitty lay there, alone in the mud. Sar-adin and his embers were nowhere to be seen.

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