The Night's Realm Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Epigraph

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  Also by Nick Ward

  Copyright

  ‘Are you scared of the dark? Well, you should be. You may think you are immune to the terrors of the night, but you are not. Nobody is.

  I am the Magician, ruler of the Night’s Realm, and my dark fortress stretches as far as the eye can see. I have hundreds of children working for me, but I need more. Their fear is my lifeblood – it gives me my power.

  One of my trusted warlocks tells me there are lots more children ready for the taking. Are you one of them? Soon, when the night is at its darkest, I may come for you. And once I have you here, I will keep you for ever.

  1

  Billy Jones was crossing the park on his way home from school, kicking an old tennis ball about with his friend Tom.

  ‘No way!’ he said, hoofing the ball into the air. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Tom, heading it back to Billy.

  Saturday was Tom’s birthday, and he was getting an X-Station from his mum and dad.

  ‘So, d-do you f-fancy coming over to my place?’ he asked, stammering slightly as he always did.

  ‘Definitely,’ said Billy, catching the ball and putting it in his pocket. ‘I’m not going to miss out on an all-day gaming session.’

  They made their way out through the park gates and up the hill to a row of small shops.

  ‘Hold on a bit,’ said Billy, stopping outside the convenience store on the corner and feeling in his pockets for some change.

  He pushed the door open and immediately headed to the sweets. He grabbed a bag of his favourites and took them to the checkout. Mrs Rutland was usually behind the till, but today a crooked elderly man was standing there instead. He was an odd-looking person and Billy had to force himself not to stare. The man’s long nose and curved chin almost touched at their ends, and he was as bald as a coot and as wrinkled as a dried prune. If he believed in such things, Billy might have mistaken him for some sort of evil wizard or warlock.

  ‘Hi! Where’s Mrs Rutland?’ asked Billy, trying to stop himself from wrinkling his nose. The man gave off a strong, musty odour.

  ‘She’s not well, I’m afraid,’ said the man. He breathed noisily through his open mouth and sounded like a blocked drain. He scrutinized Billy intently. ‘I’ll be standing in for her until she’s better.’

  Tom appeared beside Billy with a can of Coke and waited as the strange man scanned Billy’s sweets.

  ‘That’ll be one pound twenty,’ the man said, but as Billy went to take the bag, the man held onto it and wouldn’t let go. He stared at Billy with eyes as dark as a bottomless well. It seemed to go on for ages, and an icy shudder ran down Billy’s spine.

  Then with a knowing smile, the man let go and Billy paid, snatched the bag up and hurried outside. He felt a slight stinging on his wrist, and saw he’d scratched himself. There was a little red mark, shaped like a tick. Billy felt thoroughly unsettled, and took a few deep breaths to calm down.

  Tom followed a few seconds later. ‘W-w-what was all that about?’ he asked, popping open his can and taking great gulps of Coke.

  ‘No idea,’ said Billy, starting to feel better now he was out in the sunshine. ‘He was really creepy, though!’

  Tom frowned and glanced at his own wrist. ‘I’ve been scratched,’ he said, licking the wound.

  ‘Me too,’ said Billy. ‘I think it was that old man’s fingernails. They were like claws.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Tom, draining his drink and lobbing the can into a nearby bin. ‘Anyway, about this Saturday – could you c-c-come over for half ten?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Billy.

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Tom. ‘And m-m-my mum said you could stay over, so we can play all night too if we’re quiet!’

  ‘You mean stay the night?’ asked Billy, his chest feeling suddenly tight.

  ‘Yeah. What’s the p-problem?’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Billy. His skin started to prickle and his heart began to race. ‘I – er – I’ve just remembered my cousins are visiting this weekend, and I’ve got to stay and keep them company.’

  ‘You’re j-joking, aren’t you?’ said Tom.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Billy, shrugging apologetically but feeling a huge wave of relief. ‘Perhaps I can come another time.’

  ‘Whatever,’ said Tom, with a disappointed sigh. ‘I’ll see you at s-s-school tomorrow.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Billy again, as they parted company to go their different ways home. He wandered past the cinema and up into Merlin Place, his face burning with shame. He hated lying to his best mate just to wriggle out of a situation he couldn’t cope with, but he didn’t want to become a laughing stock either.

  For the fact was, Billy Jones was afraid of the dark.

  Billy had been scared of the dark for as long as he could remember, but lately his fear had become much worse. He’d started seeing things lurking in the shadows of his room – creeping, crawling things that made his muscles freeze in terror and the breath judder in his chest. It made him feel stupid and ashamed. It was why he now kept a night light on in his bedroom, and why he couldn’t have stayed over at Tom’s house.

  ‘Hi, Mum!’ Billy called, as he clattered through the front door and dumped his bag in the hall.

  ‘Good day at school?’ asked his mum, as usual.

  ‘Oh, wonderful!’ said Billy sarcastically. He didn’t mention Tom’s birthday – she would only try and persuade him to go. Although they knew he had a problem with the dark, his mum and dad weren’t aware how bad it had become.

  Billy tried not to think about the approaching night, but as he played computer games up in his bedroom the sky outside began to darken, sending shadows stretching and creeping through the streets of the town. The evening seemed to fly by, and all too soon his dad called upstairs with the words he dreaded most.

  ‘Time for bed, Billy.’

  ‘OK,’ croaked Billy, his voice a little shaky from a sense of looming peril. It was the same every evening. As soon as bedtime approached, all of his fears started to bubble up inside him. He tried to put it off for as long as possible, but after he’d been called twice and warned once, Billy got ready and went downstairs. His mum and dad were sat on the settee, watching TV.

  ‘Night,’ said Billy.

  ‘Goodnight, sleep tight.’

  Billy hung around in the doorway. His heart started to thump as he desperately tried to think of ways to delay the inevitable climb back upstairs.

  ‘Off you go, Billy,’ said his dad. ‘You’ve got school in the morning.’

  ‘OK,’ he murmured in a small voice. He gave them each a peck on the cheek and then slowly went up to his room. He felt alone and helpless, and checked beneath his bed to make sure his torch and cricket bat were to hand. Then he climbed under the duvet, hoping beyond hope he wouldn’t get another panic attack in the night. He read until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any more, and finally drifted into a restless sleep.

  2

  Thump! A loud noise at Billy’s window had him sitting bolt upright, his eyes staring and heart pounding. It was the dead of the night and he could see the silhouette of a figure crouched outside on his windowsill! It moved across the curtains, casting shadows on his bedroom wall. Billy rubbed at his sleep-filled eyes, and when he looked back the figure h
ad gone.

  He sighed with relief – but now the shadows in his room deepened and stretched, and the walls appeared to close in around him. He could hear a soft, menacing hissing, as if a huge python was close by. The air turned cold and Billy’s heart began to pound. He felt his duvet move, and something clammy grabbed his ankle.

  ‘Get off!’ he screamed, kicking out with his other foot and striking something hard. There was a hiss of frustration and a dark shape scuttled across the floor. It disappeared into the deep shadows in the corner of the room.

  ‘Dad!’ Billy yelled. ‘Help!’

  He turned on his bedside light, just as his dad came hurrying in.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ his dad asked dopily, still half-asleep.

  ‘Something in my room,’ panted Billy, pointing to the corner. ‘It grabbed me. Tried to pull me out of bed.’

  ‘Oh, Billy,’ sighed his dad. He went over to the corner, lifted a cardboard box of old toys out of the way and peered down the side of the wardrobe. ‘Do you mean a rat or something?’ he asked, grabbing a coat hanger and tentatively poking about.

  ‘No, bigger than that,’ said Billy.

  ‘There’s nothing here, Billy, nothing at all. Come and look.’

  Billy climbed warily out of bed and edged towards the corner of his room. His dad was right.

  ‘You were having a nightmare, that’s all,’ said Dad. ‘OK?’

  ‘OK,’ said Billy, feeling confused and a little embarrassed for having caused such a fuss.

  His mum came into the room, hair in a tangle and carrying a mug of warm cocoa. ‘There’s nothing to be frightened of, Billy,’ she said, sitting on the edge of his bed. ‘Come and drink this, it’ll calm you down.’

  Billy got back into bed and took the mug.

  ‘What an imagination you have,’ said his mum, with a smile.

  Billy nodded, none too sure. He glanced at the window. Of course there was nothing there. Had he been asleep or awake? It was hard to tell – with his mum and dad in the room everything seemed perfectly normal. But the figure on the sill had looked scarily real.

  With a sigh Billy finished the drink and lay back on his pillow.

  ‘Feeling better now?’ asked Mum, straightening his duvet and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

  Billy nodded.

  ‘Good. Snuggle down and get some sleep or you’ll be too tired for school in the morning.’ She turned off the light and shuffled back to bed, but Billy’s dad hovered in the doorway.

  ‘I’ve got something for you,’ he whispered mysteriously once she was gone, and disappeared into the spare room. Billy could hear him rummaging about in a cupboard. When he came back he was holding something in his hand. ‘This might help,’ he said with a smile of encouragement, and handed Billy something flat and round.

  ‘It’s a clock!’ said Billy.

  ‘A pocket watch,’ said Dad.

  Billy held it up and turned it round, so it caught the light. The watch had a white face with large numbers covered by a shiny dome of glass. In the middle, a semi-circular window showed an enamelled night sky. The back was engraved with the picture of a sword and a bronze sun, and it looked ancient – much older than the rest of the watch. It had a small button on one side. Billy pressed it and the back popped off.

  Inside it was very plain, just a cover plate with a series of screws, but the reverse of the watch’s back was as elaborately engraved as the outside, and showed the sun on a heraldic shield.

  ‘Wow! It’s awesome,’ said Billy, clipping the back on again. It felt smooth and good to hold, but he wasn’t sure why his dad had given it to him.

  ‘It’s a talisman – a sort of good-luck charm,’ said Dad. ‘Your grandad was given it when he went travelling as a young man.’

  ‘Given it?’ Billy asked, wondering who would give away such a wonderful thing.

  ‘Well, he bought it, actually,’ said Dad. ‘From a wizened old mystic selling trinkets in an eastern bazaar. He said the sword was the symbol of an ancient order of knights, and that anyone who owned it would be protected.’

  ‘Yeah, right. I bet he was just a con artist with a sack full of identical watches,’ said Billy with a grin.

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ said Dad. ‘But your grandad insisted it helped him through a very dark time.’

  ‘What sort of dark time?’ asked Billy, intrigued.

  ‘He wouldn’t say,’ said Dad, staring into space as he recalled things from a long time ago. ‘He passed the watch on to me when I was having trouble with bullies at school.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were bullied,’ said Billy in surprise.

  ‘It’s not something I like to talk about,’ said Dad. ‘But it was pretty serious stuff.’

  ‘Did it work – did the watch protect you?’

  ‘You bet,’ said Dad, with a satisfied grin on his face.

  Billy was itching to know more, but just then his mum called from the next room, ‘Come on, Ted. Let Billy get some sleep. He’s got school in the morning.’

  ‘I’d better go!’ said Dad.

  Billy didn’t know whether his dad had made the whole story up, just to make him feel better, but the watch was really cool so he put it on his bedside table and settled back under his duvet.

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ he said. ‘Night.’

  ‘Goodnight, Billy,’ said Dad, and tousled Billy’s hair. ‘Just remember, we’re all frightened of something, but no fear is too big to overcome.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ mumbled Billy, as his dad turned off the light and went back to bed himself.

  Billy turned on his side and closed his eyes, but try as he might he couldn’t get back to sleep. His brain was too busy thinking. If he’d dreamed up the creature in his room, how come he could still feel where he’d been grabbed? He pulled up his pyjama leg and held his foot in the glow of his night light. There was a definite reddening of the skin where he’d been gripped.

  ‘Knew it,’ said Billy to himself. Then a frantic barking outside had him out of bed and scurrying across to the window.

  He pulled back the corner of his curtain and looked out into the night. The narrow road was lit by pale orange street lamps and appeared deserted. Across the way in Mr Taylor’s builder’s yard though, his guard dog, Janus, was kicking up a stink, barking and scratching at the gap between the tall gates.

  From the corner of his eye, almost invisible in the soft shadows, Billy saw a movement. Was it the silhouette of a figure? It was difficult to make out …

  Easier to see was the pale, wild-haired creature at its feet! It was larger than a child, but smaller than a full-grown man, and the sight of it made the hairs on the back of Billy’s neck stand up. It was a creature straight out of his nightmares, and of all the things that haunted his dark dreams it was these creeping, crawling things that terrified him the most.

  ‘That’s it! That’s what grabbed me,’ gasped Billy, his heart thumping wildly as the shapes silently disappeared into the alley that ran between the houses. The moment they had gone, Janus stopped barking.

  Still jittery, Billy climbed back into bed. He didn’t know what to think. He couldn’t talk to anybody about his fears. His mates would just take the mickey. Billy being scared of the dark at his age – what a wuss! And every time he had a nightmare, his parents said it was just his imagination, or asked if he was worried about something at school. But it was none of that. What he saw was real, he was sure it was.

  Billy reached out from under the covers and took Grandad’s pocket watch from his bedside table. It felt good in the palm of his hand, like a smooth, round pebble. He screwed his eyes tight shut and hoped his dad was right and that it would protect him from the terrors of the night.

  3

  Billy had become good at pushing any worries to the back of his mind, but his fear-filled night had seemed so real he was still jittery at school the following morning. At break time, as they sat on a low wall swapping Robo-warrior trading cards, Tom tried to convince him to stay ov
er on his birthday once again.

  ‘Go on, it’ll be great. We’ll be able to p-p-play all night!’ said Tom, but Billy wasn’t about to have a change of heart.

  ‘Sorry, I just can’t,’ he said, feeling nauseous with worry and rubbing the tick-like scratch on his wrist that had begun to sting again. Then the bell went and they ambled in for afternoon lessons.

  Tom was quiet all afternoon, and on the way home Billy could sense he was still disappointed.

  ‘I tell you what,’ he said. ‘I could come over during the day. Mum says my cousins probably won’t arrive till teatime.’

  ‘Really? Excellent!’ said Tom, brightening up immediately. ‘Come as early as you can. I’m getting the latest F1 game, and I b-b-bet I’ll beat you every time.’

  ‘No chance,’ laughed Billy, glancing into the convenience store as they passed by. He was glad to see that Mrs Rutland was back at work, and she gave him a cheery wave.

  ‘See you tomorrow, then,’ Billy said as he turned into Merlin Place and Tom carried on along Park Street. He checked his new pocket watch. It was four thirty and the little window in its face was now showing a radiant sun in a blue sky. Good, there was time for a computer game before tea.

  He hurried up the drive, but before he reached the front door he heard a loud tapping noise. He was shocked to see a bird was trapped inside their front room. It was frantically pecking at the pane, trying to get out. It was a large bird – a jackdaw, Billy thought, and it was obviously distressed.

  Whack! Billy jumped as the jackdaw hit the pane, leaving a smear of blood on the glass, its beady eye wide with terror.

  ‘Calm down,’ he cried, sure the poor thing would kill itself if it didn’t get out soon. He opened the front door and hurried inside.

  ‘Mum, there’s a bird in the house,’ he called, dropping his school bag on the floor and going into the kitchen. But his mum wasn’t there. ‘Mum!’ he yelled up the stairs, but there was still no reply. Perhaps she had popped to the shops.