Free Jack Shian and the King's Chalice by Andrew Symon Page A

Jack!”
    Jack had grown used to the flight, but still had a nagging feeling that he should have enjoyed it more.
    “Welcome, mes amis !” A tall dark-haired man shook Cosmo’s hand. “Are you in good form for tonight’s game?”
    “You’re in for a surprise, Henri.” Cosmo eyed him steadily. “We’ll be taking the cup home with us tonight.”
    “Ah, ever the optimist,” replied Henri happily. “Do you need time to get ready, or shall we start?”
    Glancing round at the rest of the Cos-Howe group, Cosmo turned back to Henri. “Whenever you like.”

14
Shian Football
    Henri climbed onto the stone wall and signalled for silence.
    “My friends, welcome to our game. Tonight we celebrate the five hundred and thirty-eighth match between Claville and Cos-Howe. I am pleased to see that our visitors have brought some young supporters along. For their benefit, our ancient town has two stone gateways, one north, one south. The team who scores first wins. Players may fly; charms and hexes must last no longer than two Shian minutes and must not cause lasting damage. Please disturb our human hosts as little as possible. We play for the honour of lifting the King’s Cup.”
    Henri drew a sceptre from his cloak and sketched a thin line of flame in front of him, and whispered, “ Calixignis! ”
    To Jack’s astonishment the flickering flames created the outline of an ornate goblet. A great cheer greeted its appearance.
    “Wow!” exclaimed Petros. “They must play for a fire cup each year.”
    “Yes, it is a copy,” said a Claville player. “The real King’s Cup disappeared years ago. They say one day the ghosts who made it will return, when the Cup is found.”
    “Grandpa didn’t believe the King’s Cup existed,” stated Jack. “He said it was just a story about making the Stone’s power stronger.”
    “It’s not much use if it’s only a fire copy,” said Lizzie huffily.
    “But it proves there is a real Cup – or at least was. You can’t have a copy of something that never existed. That could be really powerful if we got it.”
    “Yeah, and really bad if the Brashat got it. Remember what they did at midsummer.”
    “Look at those markings,” said Rana, indicating the decorations on the cup. “I’ve seen that pattern somewhere before.”
    “In accordance with our rules, the visitors may choose which gate they will defend,” announced Henri.
    “We’ll take the north end,” replied Cosmo. “Who’ll look after our mascots?”
    “My brother Philippe will take them. They will get a good view from the town hall tower.” He motioned to a lad of about fifteen, who came forward.
    “My cousin should go too,” said a dark-haired youth from the Cos-Howe group. “He’s not old enough to play.”
    Jack recognised the youth who had snarled at him back at Cos-Howe. Next to him stood a young lad about his own age. Cosmo strode up to the man who had spoken and hissed, “Who said you could bring your cousin, Grulsh?”
    “Ossian’s brought along some kids.” Grulsh shrugged. “What’s one more?”
    Realising that a public argument was not in his team’s best interests, Cosmo merely replied, “I’ll see you after the game.”
    “I’m Fenrig.”
    The youngster stepped forward and stared at Jack and Petros. The statement had carried no hint of friendliness, and Jack experienced a strange heart-sinking feeling. Had he seen Fenrig somewhere before?
    Requesting them all to follow, Philippe led them hastily to the town square, on one side of which was an imposing building.
    “ La mairie ,” Philippe explained. “Our town hall.”
    The humans seated at cafés around the square took no notice of the group of youngsters as they approached the building.
    “Around the side.” Philippe led them around the corner of the building and touched a stone in the wall, about five feet from the ground. The outline of a door appeared, Philippe uttered a charm, and the door opened.
    “Upstairs, vite! ” He ushered