LITMIR.BIZ

      He wasn’t going to make it.

      Leo was already running when he saw Jack stop, turn around and focus on Merry. He’d sped up when Jack started walking towards her – had screamed at her to run, with every spare bit of breath he had. But instead she’d tripped over, and Jack was only metres away from her, and she was throwing up her arm for protection, but Jack was running at her now with a sword in his hand and Leo was going to be too late, he was too late –

      In Leo’s memory, what happened next was almost in slow motion.

      Jack brought the blade down, aiming for Merry’s upflung arm. But it didn’t connect.

      Instead, Jack flew backwards, as if he’d run into some solid barrier. He flew backwards through the air and landed on his side some distance away.

      And then the world sped up again and Leo was on his knees next to Merry, trying to check for blood and hug her at the same time.

      ‘Are you OK? What happened – what did you do?’

      ‘I don’t know – I—’ she stopped and pointed. Leo noticed her hand was shaking. Then he spotted Jack; Jack, pushing himself back to his feet, lunging for his sword. He looked at Leo and snarled.

      ‘Oh, no …’

      Leo dragged Merry upright and got in front of her.

      ‘Run!’

      But Merry didn’t run. Instead, she was fumbling with the manuscript.

      ‘Merry – get away from here! Now!’

      Jack raised his sword again and Leo realised the blade was broken. But it still looked sharp. He pulled the kitchen knife out of his belt – wondered whether he would be able to buy his sister enough time to escape –

      ‘Ga to reste, đu eart werig, ga to reste …’

      Merry’s voice was faint and wobbly and she stumbled over the words, but that didn’t seem to matter. As she finished speaking Jack’s eyes rolled back in his head, the broken sword slipped from his fingers, and he fell inert upon the grass.

       I’m still alive. I’m alive, and he’s – he’s –

      ‘Is he dead? Leo?’

      ‘Um, hold on—’ Holding the kitchen knife out in front of him, Leo inched forwards until he could touch Jack’s neck. ‘No. Not dead. But he’s out cold.’

      ‘Oh, thank God …’ Merry collapsed, wincing and clutching at her ankle. Leo sank down next to her and covered his face with his hands. For a few minutes neither of them spoke.

      ‘That … that was not what I expected. I thought he was going to – to—’ Leo gave up. Merry didn’t blame him – there were really no words for what had just happened.

      Leo loosened the scarf around her neck.

      ‘You’re hyperventilating: try to calm down. I don’t want you passing out.’

      ‘OK.’ She took a few slow, deep breaths. ‘Tell me what happened. When I fell over, and he was about to—’

      Leo frowned.

      ‘You cast a spell on him, didn’t you? He just sort of … bounced off.’

      ‘I tried to cast one. It didn’t work.’

      ‘Well, it must have worked eventually; looks like it just kicked in a bit late.’ Leo picked up the manuscript from where she had dropped it and shone his torch on the page of writing. ‘Nothing here about what we’re meant to do next. D’you reckon we should have a go at—’ He coughed and tried again. ‘Should we try killing him?’

      ‘We can’t. Remember what it said earlier?’

      Leo flicked back a page.

       While the puppet hearts exist, Gwydion and his King of Hearts are both immortal.

      ‘Well – just ask it anyway. It would be better to get it over and done with.’

      Merry sighed, but she took the manuscript from Leo’s hands.

      ‘Manuscript, can we kill the King of Hearts now?’

      The answer materialised in front of their eyes.

       No. While the puppet hearts exist, neither the wizard nor the servant can die.

      ‘See?’

      ‘So what’s the plan? Just hang around until Jack wakes up and has another go at stabbing us?’

      ‘I don’t know, Leo. I have no idea what the plan is. OK?’

      Leo muttered something under his breath, but Merry decided to ignore it. He was probably feeling exactly as she was: that if she had to just sit here, with nothing to do but contemplate this terrifying, insane situation, she might just lose it. They were sitting some distance from the lake now, but the sound of the dark water lapping at the shore was still clear. She got up and stamped some feeling back into her feet.

      ‘I’m going to check out the lake. I won’t be long.’

      Leo nodded, so Merry jogged away from him towards the water. The night had become cloudy again and the lake was almost indistinguishable in the darkness; just a smudge of dark grey against the black of the sky. When she reached the water’s edge she shone her torch down into it, probed it with a dead branch lying nearby, but she couldn’t see or feel the bottom of the lake. There were no handy steps she could use to get underneath the lake and collect the puppet hearts, either. And there was no sign of any hiding place. It was completely impossible that Jack should have sprung out of the freezing water dressed in those heavy clothes and completely dry. But then, he was an Anglo-Saxon prince who had been asleep for the last millennium and a half. It was kind of ridiculous to expect him to obey the laws of physics.

      Merry made her way back to Leo and sat down again. Her brother had obviously found the backpack: he was pouring coffee, and handed her a cup.

      ‘Thanks. Has he moved?’

      ‘Uh-uh.’ Leo shook his head. Merry picked up the manuscript.

      ‘Can you tell us what to do now?’

      There was no response.

       Well, this is great.

      Leo stood up.

      ‘What are you doing?’

      ‘I’m going to chuck it in the lake.’

      ‘Chuck what in the lake?’

      ‘That.’ He directed the beam of his torch on to the hilt of the broken sword, still lying where Jack had dropped it. ‘If he wants it back, he can swim for it.’

      ‘No, that’s not a good—’ Merry began, but Leo ignored her. She shook her head and followed him.

      The blade of the sword was of some dark metal, its broken edge corroded away, but the hilt was similar to the hilt they had found in the trinket box. It had the same type of gold filigree work around the pommel and guard. Leo leant down, brushed his fingers across the gilded surface –

      ‘Ow – damn it!’ He snatched his fingers back. The tips were blistered. ‘It’s red-hot. I don’t understand.’

      Merry knelt down closer to the sword, frowning. She stretched out her hand –

      ‘Merry,’ Leo whispered, ‘look—’

      Merry shone the torch in the direction

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