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

them inside.
    At the top of the stone stairway, Philippe led them across a small room. Opening the full-length windows, they stepped onto a balcony overlooking the town square.
    “From here we can see much of the town,” explained Philippe.
    “Pretty small town, I’d say,” whispered Petros out of the corner of his mouth.
    Streetlights around the town square illuminated the café areas. Looking down, Jack could see the humans sipping their drinks and chatting.
    “The north gate.” Philippe gestured to his right. “And over there,” he pointed in the opposite direction, “we will defend the south gate.”
    At a distance of perhaps a hundred yards in each direction was the outline of a stone gateway. Streetlamps illuminated a small square in front of each.
    “Here come the captains.”
    Henri and Cosmo were marching into the square. Between them strode a tall old man in a long robe, who carried a slim leather-bound book under his arm. Behind them were three members of each team. Jack recognised Oobit, Gandie and Radge.
    “The man in the grey robe, he is Matthew, the referee,” explained Philippe.
    “Is he from Claville, then?” asked Rana. “That’s not fair.”
    “No, he visits here now and then. They say he is over a thousand years old.”
    The referee held up a sceptre, and a glow lit up the whole square. Jack experienced a strange feeling he knew he’d felt before. He looked down. The hubbub of café chatter had ceased. As the sky brightened to that of a late summer’s evening, Jack recalled the climb up to Falabray.
    Henri and Cosmo stood facing each other, with their teammates behind them. Matthew spoke briefly then threw the ball straight up into the air. The two captains leapt, but Cosmo got there first. Before he even landed, Oobit, Radge and Gandie had hexed the four Claville players in what was clearly a well-rehearsed strategy.
    As the four ran towards the south end of the square, a group of five Claville players converged on them, each from a different line, firing hexes and charms. The four Cos-Howe men fell. A Claville player grabbed the ball and made a dash for it. Leaping over a table around which sat four human statues, he skilfully hid the ball in the long pleats of his robe. Reaching a dimly lit side street, he was lost to Jack’s view.
    Jack could see Radge and Oobit coming out of their hexes and making off in pursuit. Gandie, however, remained frozen to the spot. As the action moved out of sight, Philippe turned round.
    “A good start for us, no?”
    “You wait,” said Petros confidently. “We’re not beaten yet.”
    Despite having never been in Cos-Howe before that day, Petros felt he owed this loyalty to his older cousin, clearly a rising star in the Cos-Howe group.
    “We never had to slow down time to play football in Rangie,” said Jack. “There weren’t any humans around, so we didn’t need to. It’s weird to see them like statues. I just wish we could see more of the players.”
    “They said we’d be able to see from here!” complained Rana.
    “You can see both goals, so you know when a team’s nearly there,” said Lizzie. “But I haven’t seen Ossian yet.”
    A bright flash shone to their left, and Jack saw a Cos-Howe player emerge from one street and turn into another. He was hovering swiftly above the ground, but close on his heels came two opponents. Jack saw Ossian join his teammate, turn and wave his left arm in a wide sweep. Instantly the two Claville players fell to the ground, crying out in pain. Ossian continued to follow his teammate, and play was lost to sight once more.
    “They must be near the south gate by now,” said Petros. “Can you see anything there?”
    Rana strained to see, but she shook her head.
    “I’ve got a telescope,” said Philippe. “Do you want to try it?” He offered it to Fenrig, who hadn’t moved from his position with his back against the balcony windows.
    “Are you scared of heights?” asked Rana.
    Fenrig didn’t