Wicked Runaway: A Mark Cannidor Adventure

Chapter Ten

‘This cannot be happening,’ Captain McGough muttered. ‘If Malcheffi finds out you’ve taken this, then we’re all toasted. That has every detail of his life. Every detail of his plan to tear this country apart’.

‘It’s not the only thing we’ll be toasted for,’ Jeremiah said excitedly, taking the diary right out of Mark’s hands. ‘Just think of it this way. We have every plan Malcheffi has right in our possession. We could use this against him. WE know everything he knows now. See?’

Jeremiah opened the book for everyone. But there was nothing to see. Jeremiah had intended to show everyone Malcheffi’s writing. The letters should have flowed on the page, revealing every little secret.

Except the pages were blank. It was clear to Mark that Malcheffi must have obscured everything in such a crafting way.

Dark magic. There was nothing else to it. As Mark thought more about it, he found it was obvious. Why would he leave a trace of his work in the first place?

Captain McGough snatched the book right out of Jeremiah’s hands. He studied the pages intently, looking for any scrap of evidence he could find that Malcheffi had written something in here. There was nothing. Not even any dents in the pages where Malcheffi had written. Giving up the ghost, Ste tossed the book to the other side of the room.

‘Well, this is b****y fantastic, isn’t it?’ Captain McGough snapped. ‘We are in possession of stolen goods, and they are flaming well useless! What the hell was that man playing at? He knows every damn trick in the book!’

‘That might not be the case, though,’ Mark responded, standing up. ‘True, the pages are blank. But we have the powers to reveal the information we want. Remember? Show me’.

Mark knew he sounded silly saying it. But they had to try. Surely.

‘It doesn’t quite work that way, thank you very much!’ Captain McGough snapped, as Jeremiah collected the diary back up from the floor. ‘Sensitive information can only be revealed to the person who desires to share their secrets’.

‘But what about the map?’ Mark asked.

‘The map may have shared its contents because its creator used fewer protective enchantments. But a diary is a private record. It is only designed for personal use. Protected by all sorts of nasty little enchantments. See?’

The captain waved the blank pages in Marks face, aggressively proving his point.

‘Now do you understand? No other person can read this diary’.

Mark felt as though Ste was being rather patronising. All the same, though, he wasn’t prepared to give up without a fight.

‘So, let me get this straight,’ Mark said. ‘The map – who allowed it to reveal its secrets?’

‘I did’.

Mark blinked wildly.

‘That map is yours?’ Jeremiah asked, surprised.

‘Of course, it b****y well is!’ the captain exclaimed. ‘When your mother and I first came to the island, we were the only people who discovered that Alliva was not printed on any published map. Only wizards could reach the island by magic. So, we stole an old map from the university library, and created an enchantment which meant that the country was only revealed to the person who asks for it’.

‘Fine,’ Mark said. ‘So, that document you created was manipulated’.

‘In a way, yes,’ Captain McGough affirmed.

‘Well then, surely there must be another way to access the maps secrets. You are a wizard, right?’

‘A pirate, for your information’.

‘A pirate who manipulated a live document by magic’.

They had reached a nasty stalemate. Captain McGough shook his head.

‘Fat chance, lad,’ he responded. ‘It’s no good. Only the wizard who enchants the document can choose who it reveals its secrets to. Now – back to the parlour. All of you’.

On his way out, Captain McGough slammed the diary right into Mark’s chest. He fumbled awkwardly and held the diary in his hands, studying the cover once more.

It just wasn’t possible. Mark swore he had all the answers he needed. He felt trapped at that moment. Just trapped. There was no point in trying any more. He might be better just handing himself in to Malcheffi as soon as he arrives on the island.

What would that prove, though? Mark asked himself. It would be admitting defeat without even trying. But why did the darkest of wizards want to see him dead anyway?

It was a total mystery. And Mark just did not have an answer. He felt like just throwing the book overboard. Destroy the book. Destroy all of its secrets. But that would be admitting defeat too. And now he knew a little bit about magic, he knew that this was his only option.

He looked down at the book, with its golden handwriting, its elegant clean pages, almost as if they were made from pearls. There had to be a way.

‘Show me,’ Mark whispered.

Nothing.

It was hopeless.

But he wasn’t going to give up.

‘Cheer up, mate,’ Jeremiah said on their way back to the Twelve Green Bottles. ‘You’re not the only person admitting defeat here. Many Allivans are trying to move out of Gold, to the countryside, where it’s quiet. There was one kid I spoke to this morning in the town. Said his family were trying to relocate to the northern island of Salvador. Impossible to get to, mind. The only way to cross over to the island is by having your own boat. Then again – it’s a job to survive once you get onto the island. All those different curses you have to get past. Once you’re on the island, there’s no getting off it. That much I can tell you’.

‘Stop trying to scare the poor lad,’ Sophie chimed in. ‘It’s not his fault there isn’t another way’.

‘I’m not scared, okay!’ Mark snapped. ‘Look – I just want to find my parents and go back to England. As much as I like you two…’

And there it was. He finally admitted it. Sophie and Jeremiah were the closest friends he had in his life. Even though he had socialised with other children in his village, Sophie and Jeremiah were different. They were heroes, and they seemed to have a lot of respect for him. They cared in a way no other person had. They were relatable, knowledgeable, reliable…it would be a shame to think about leaving them.

Mark felt guilty that he wanted to leave. But it was his fault that he was in this mess. And the only way to get out was to work with these two. In actual fact, he felt that he was actually going to enjoy that. He had never considered himself close to anyone before. Even Nicholas and Rupert seemed distanced at times. Sophie and Jeremiah were such good people. Elizabeth was so kind as well. Ste – not so much. Mark just figured that he was quite lucky to be surrounded by them.

Dinner that evening was beef and potatoes with gravy. Mark didn’t feel all that hungry, but forced his food down, nonetheless. With all the bother that was going on with the map, and the fact that he was feeling homesick, dinner that evening didn’t feel all that appetising. Back at Battalion Manor, a roast of beef with vegetables would have been a welcome delight. Afterwards, he would wash the gravy down with a good old slice of his mother’s home-made bread. Whilst it was certainly a taste of home, it wasn’t the same. It was not as exciting as it would have been if he was back with his parents, laughing about the day that had just been, singing songs and feeling merry and pleasant. Today was not that at all. As much as he started to admire the people surrounding him, Mark just craved his own surroundings.

He skipped rhubarb crumble and went straight to his room after feeling full of food. If he made any attempt to eat more food, he would probably feel sick. Jeremiah had encouraged him to stay behind and play games with some of the other guests, however Mark was in no sociable mood at all. He just felt like going up to bed and forgetting this whole day ever happened.

There was nothing else that could be done about the diary. As he lay down on his bed, he felt useless. If he had ample opportunity to read the contents of Malcheffi’s diary, he would be looking for every possible way to expose his secrets. Yet, the diary that was staring down at him was just a blank notebook. Whichever charms Malcheffi had placed on the book clearly could not be bypassed as far as Captain McGough was aware. No matter how determined Mark was to consider a new plan to get inside the diary, there was no clear solution.

He tried writing in the diary using the quill that his father gave to him for his birthday. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that this must have been a magical quill, one where the ink flowed from the inside of the pen. He tried, and he came up with the following:

My name is Mark Cannidor

Yet, as the quill touched the paper, the ink did not flow. In fact, as Mark looked closely as the book in front of him, there were no dents left in the space he wrote in.

He tried to write the same piece again. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Mark was half expecting the diary to react. Would it set alight? Would the diary scream at him, spit some sort of poison out at him, perhaps? No. It soon became plain clear that this book was just too sophisticated. Nothing more could be done. Instead, he placed the diary under his pillow and slammed himself down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Mark was a contemplator, and normally did not get things done straight away unless it took minimum effort. There were never any obstacles which prevented Mark from visiting the outside world when he was at home. In fact, Hazel Cannidor normally encouraged her son to go on trips to the Docklands by himself, where he could give himself some inspiration for his writing. Yet, Mark never did. However, he found himself drawn to the woodlands surrounding Battalion Manor, where he thought about his life and dreamed of his future.

As Mark slowly began to drift off to sleep, he realised that his future did not lie here in Alliva. As much as he admired Sophie, Jeremiah, and Elizabeth, he just felt out of place. He just wanted to sail back home, to the place he loved the most. Just anywhere away from magic. He just couldn’t help but ponder about what could have been.

‘You said he would be leaving tonight!’

Mark sat upright.

There were noises next door. Shouting. The sort of shouting you would hear from someone having an argument.

‘It’s just for one more night, I promise. It’s just because we still have some unfinished business to take care of. First thing tomorrow morning, we will be finished, and he’ll be gone. Then we can concentrate on helping Harry’.

Mark recognised that other voice.

Surely, that couldn’t be…

‘What’s wrong with you?’

Mark turned round and saw that Jeremiah had come back upstairs. He was carrying a large goblet and a plate of pudding. Mark knew Jeremiah was going to be in trouble for bringing food and drink to his room, but he didn’t care at that point. There was a commotion next door and Mark wanted to know what it was.

‘Do you hear voices next door?’ Mark asked, as the woman next door shouted that the man was a spineless git and wanted him out immediately.

‘Oh, that’s Ste and Lizzie,’ Jeremiah chuckled, tucking himself into bed. ‘They argue a lot. They can never work well together. I don’t see the point in them even trying’.

At that moment, Mark heard the breaking of glass.

‘GET OUT OF HERE!’

Then a door slammed.

‘That’s the end of that, then,’ Jeremiah said, yawning as he finished his pudding. ‘Perhaps we can get some rest now’.

At that point, Jeremiah turned away from Mark and began to snore peacefully.

Mark certainly hoped so. As sleep had escaped him, he crept towards the window and watched the moonlight shining over the sea. Just dreaming of his escape from Alliva. As he had previously dreamed of a world outside of Battalion Manor, this time he longed for the world outside of this strange, unique country. He had explored most of the city today with Elizabeth and Sophie, and it looked the same as any old town. There were shops, restaurants, people, and places to see. He might have enjoyed Gold a little bit more if he had chosen to visit for a vacation. But this was different. This was an occasion where Mark had come here against his will. All he had to do now was wait for the perfect opportunity to escape. The perfect time to leave and head back home.

Waiting. Just waiting…

Jeremiah could not have been more incorrect. The next morning, Mark walked down to breakfast to find Sophie comforting a distressed Elizabeth. It was noticeable that Elizabeth was not her usual self. Of course, her purple hair was a wild mess. She had bags under her eyes, and she was shaking as she drank her morning coffee against her will.

This was not good.

‘What’s happening, Sophie?’ Mark asked as he brought a bowl of porridge to their table.

‘Ste and Elizabeth had a fight last night,’ Sophie replied.

He knew it. Something had upset their relationship.

‘I don’t understand,’ Elizabeth explained rapidly, talking as if she was by herself. ‘Ever since we returned to the island, he hasn’t been himself at all. He seems more bothered about business and money, but he doesn’t seem to care about…me…’

Elizabeth started crying.

‘There, there,’ Sophie sighed, patting Elizabeth on the back. ‘It says a lot more about him than it does about you. You don’t deserve this’.

‘But you can appreciate where I’m coming from, can’t you?’ Elizabeth continued, drying her eyes with her handkerchief. ‘I mean – he expects me to do all the dirty work! The cooking, the cleaning…I feel so…bored. And it’s just not fair…’

‘I know what you mean,’ Mark said glumly. Of course, he didn’t. As far as he knew, Edward and Hazel Cannidor were happy with their own lives. At least, he thought they were. Either way, he didn’t want to see Elizabeth feeling this miserable. He was determined to cheer her up.

‘Where is the captain, anyway?’ Mark asked.

‘Oh, who cares?’ Elizabeth snapped. ‘He can rot for all I care!’

‘Well, then you’ve just answered your own question, haven’t you?’

‘Excuse me?’ Elizabeth and Sophie asked at the same time.

‘You said it yourselves,’ Mark continued. ‘He can rot. Why let him destroy you when you’re much better woman than that?’

‘He is right, you know,’ Sophie agreed.

Elizabeth nodded, smiling through her tears. She had to do the right thing. If not for herself, then for Mark, Sophie and Jeremiah.

‘I’m sorry you children had to see me like this,’ Elizabeth said, fighting back her tears. ‘It’s not been easy over the past few months. What with Malcheffi coming back into power and everything. Ste is just trying to claim victory in a battle he cannot win. And the worst thing is that he knows I don’t like coming to Alliva. I was born here, but I would sooner stay away if I can help it. He knows…he knows everything, I suppose’.

‘Why don’t you like coming to Alliva?’ Mark asked.

Elizabeth shrugged.

‘It’s a long story, I guess,’ Elizabeth responded. ‘It all started…’

Just before she had an opportunity to begin her story, Quinte, the old wizard who suggested using magic to get the Sellina out of the storm, stumbled into the parlour. He was balding, with half-moon glasses, a grey beard, and rather pudgy. He was dressed like a farmer, except that his clothes were cleaner than the ones Mark and his parents wore on the farm. For some reason, he seemed unusually cheerful.

This did not sit well with Mark.

‘I’ll explain another time,’ Elizabeth said, smiling nervously. At that moment, there was no sign that she had been crying. She wiped her tears and cleaned herself up almost instantly. Then she stood up and approached Quinte who was waiting by the door.

‘I thought I told you to get going?’ Elizabeth snapped.

Quinte laughed.

‘Oh, that…yes, well I suppose I will,’ Quinte responded, chuckling as if Elizabeth had just told a funny joke. ‘I was just hoping to see the captain, that was all’.

‘I don’t even know where he is, so I doubt that will be possible!’

‘Oh, please!’ Quinte pleaded nervously, acting as though he was on the verge of tears. ‘I have unfinished business! I’m trying to work towards strict deadlines here! I promise you this will be quick. I have to sign the paperwork before I can take her on her merry little way’.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Elizabeth asked, folding her arms.

‘Oh, don’t you know?’ Quinte asked, pretending to be confused. ‘I thought the captain would have shared something as big as my special purchase. Did he not tell you that I had bought the Sellina? Not for pennies, either. Twenty-five million Hules, that thing cost me. And I must say, it is a grand little investment, too. I believe I have treated myself quite nicely’.

Elizabeth gasped in sheer horror.

‘Have I said too much?’ Quinte asked, in a poor attempt to fake sympathy. ‘Oh dear – aren’t I clumsy?’

Quinte sniggered.

At that moment, as Elizabeth raised her fist to Quinte, Captain McGough entered the parlour from the back door. It all happened in quick succession. The punters stopped talking to enjoy the unfolding drama. The captain stopped short on himself as Sophie shouted for Elizabeth to stop what she was doing. Elizabeth barely had time to hit Quinte before she turned round and noticed her husband stood in the rear door of the Twelve Green Bottles.

‘What is this?’ Captain McGough asked. ‘What on earth is going on?’

Elizabeth decided it wasn’t worth beating Quinte. The real person she had to take her anger out on was on the other side of the room.

‘You could have told me you were selling the Sellina!’ Elizabeth shouted as she rounded on the captain. ‘Twenty-five million Hules! And you didn’t bother to consult me! And what, may I ask, was so important about the money that you decided to sell our ship?’

Ste gulped.

‘Elizabeth, wait…’

‘SHUT UP, QUINTE!’

Mark gulped nervously. He wasn’t used to seeing people shouting. Not in the slightest. His parents only had minor disagreements, but they never fought or argued on the farm. No, they were happy. And they had no secrets. At least, Mark didn’t think they had. He so badly wanted to leave the parlour at that point. Sneak out and get some fresh air. But he thought if he did, he would make things worse. Indeed, Sophie was tugging on his arm. Urging him to stay where he was.

‘Alright, I’ll tell you,’ the captain continued. ‘I was going to sell the Sellina to Quinte, yes. But it was so that we could…buy this place’.

Elizabeth laughed loudly.

‘What place?’ Elizabeth snorted nastily.

Ste shrugged and opened his arms.

‘You know…this fine piece of beauty’.

Elizabeth clicked that Ste meant the Twelve Green Bottles.

‘And what use is this place going to do?’ she asked, scowling.

‘I was going to use it as headquarters,’ Captain McGough mumbled.

‘I didn’t hear that!’ Elizabeth spat.

‘I SAID I WAS GOING TO USE IT AS HEADQUARTERS, OKAY?’ the captain yelled. ‘I was planning it all along. For months, we have been trying to build a home guard to protect this country against Malcheffi. Harry and I – we’ve been working together to establish the best plan of action. We’ve written letters to each other. We’ve met a few times, I’ll admit that. And for months, I was under the very impression that you were BY MY SIDE! I guess I was wrong, wasn’t I?’

‘How dare you turn this on me?’ Elizabeth spat. ‘I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation. Don’t you realise that you should have consulted me first?’

‘It wasn’t as simple as that,’ Ste muttered.

‘WELL WHAT WAS IT THEN?’ Elizabeth shouted. ‘Just one of your foolish games, was it? A desperate bid to make things go your way?’

Ste bit his tongue. His wife had gone too far. In fact, he wasn’t going to take any more of this. He had to stand his ground. He had to make her realise that he was right.

And with that, Ste left.

The whole parlour remained quiet for a few moments. No one dared to speak. Only Quinte made a move to leave the parlour. The only sound was that of the door closing behind him.

‘Umm…Elizabeth…’

‘WHAT!’

Mark stopped. He wanted to comfort Elizabeth, but he didn’t want to get onto her wrong side.

Elizabeth just stood there, rooted to the shop. She did not want to move. However, Mark noticed that a b****y red tear was starting to escape from her tear ducts. Vampires cried blood. How remarkable, Mark thought.

‘If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my room,’ Elizabeth muttered. ‘Carry on’.

And Elizabeth ran upstairs, sobbing.

The chatting resumed and the punters carried on with their food and drinks.

‘I really don’t like how the captain has walked all over Elizabeth like that,’ Sophie whispered to Mark.

‘It’s not the only thing I don’t like,’ Mark said as Jeremiah joined them. ‘Why Quinte? Why is the captain selling the ship to him?’

‘Oh, that?’ Jeremiah chortled, chewing on a roll of bread. ‘They’ve had this deal in place for months. Our Ste reckons Quinte could use the ship to build up an empire to fight Malcheffi’.

Mark didn’t agree with that at all.

‘I don’t think Quinte is fighting against Malcheffi,’ Mark whispered. Now he thought about it, Quinte was one to make things go his own way. The way he suggested using magic…ever since he had set foot on Alliva, not one person used magic. At least, not as much as he thought. He was adamant that magic could be used as a resolution to every little life problem. So, why did Allivans not walk round with wands wherever they went?

In addition to that, Mark had witnessed the way in which he spoke to Elizabeth. And it occurred to him that Quinte Hornby was just putting on a display. A front, a mask which was glued on. Mark somehow hoped that the mask would be unveiled for what was really inside of him.

Then something occurred to Mark.

‘How could you not tell me!’ Sophie shouted out of the blue, punching Jeremiah on the shoulder.

‘Don’t look at me! I don’t get involved in Ste’s businesses’.

‘It still doesn’t explain why the captain had to sell the ship,’ Mark explained. ‘I mean, what’s the point in buying a hotel or restaurant or whatever you want to call this place? What’s the point in staying in one place when, realistically, we could be out there fighting the enemy? Hunting Malcheffi down before he has a chance to dock here?’

‘I know what you mean, mate,’ Jeremiah said. ‘But I think the captain just wants this place as collateral. You know what I mean?’

‘Rubbish!’ Sophie snapped. ‘He wants headquarters for the Sellina to give his crew a place to rest. This place will be like a sanctuary. A place where its members can be healed and fed and…what are you looking at?’

For Jeremiah was laughing at Sophie.

‘He’ll sell it on for a profit, that’s what he’ll do,’ Jeremiah chortled. ‘I know what he’s like. He’s got twenty-five million for Sellina. He’ll buy this place for, what, ten? Pocket the difference, improve the place, then sell it back again. It’s sneaky, but it works’.

At that point, one thing occurred to Mark. The Sellina was his only gateway back to England. Even Ste told him they would return to England once all this mess with Malcheffi had been cleared up. That’s when he realised that he had been lied to. He had been led on by the captain, and now his ambitions had been disparaged because some ship had been sold? One thing was certain. He no longer trusted the captain. Whatever his plan was, Mark had to get in the way somehow. He had to put an end to this.

Can you really blame Elizabeth for feeling so angry?

Mark stood up on his feet.

‘Where are you going?’ Jeremiah asked. ‘Sophie and I are going frog hunting today!’

‘I’m going to find the captain,’ Mark said. ‘I demand an explanation’.