The Devil's Paintbox. Robin Jarvis

      

      First published in Great Britain in 2017

       by Egmont UK Limited

       The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN

      Text and illustration copyright © 2017 Robin Jarvis

      The moral rights of the author/illustrator have been asserted

      First e-book edition 2017

      ISBN 978 1 4052 8024 2

       Ebook ISBN 978 1 7803 1733 5

       www.egmont.co.uk

      A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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       A colour a day to brighten our play. But once begun can’t be undone, till all are gone and washed away.

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Copyright

       Map

TRIALLUM

1

2

3

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       5

       6

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       17

       Back series promotional page

       TRIALLUM

      Indistinct shapes, blacker than the eternal night that reigned over this furthest region of the sea, guided the shadowy figure to the place appointed. A pale luminescence glimmered from the mouth of an unseen cave and a monstrous terror of the uncharted abyss, with a forest of teeth, swam forward. The glow emanated from countless growths on its grotesque head and by that ghastly radiance the spirit of Mister Dark found he was standing upon a finger of rock at the edge of an immense trench that no light would ever reach.

      The creature circled him and he could feel many hostile eyes spying from crevices in the surrounding stones. Foul voices, thick with slime, were gargling and whispering; distorted shells scurried and barbed tentacles reached towards him. The water seethed with resentment.

      If Mister Dark had been a living man he would have been paralysed with terror, for beyond these attendant courtiers he could sense he was in the presence of Them.

      The Lords of the Deep were watching.

      Mister Dark’s nerve almost failed. Malignance crashed over him in violent pulses. Dropping to his knees, he waited for Their judgement.

      He could feel Them invading his mind, shredding through the intricate plots and schemes and laying bare his most secret desires.

      ‘Forgive me! I humbly beg you!’ he cried. ‘Indulge me this one more chance. I swear this time I shall succeed.’

      Shuddering, he shrieked in pain as he felt Them withdraw sharply from his thoughts and he fell forward, nearly plunging into the trench.

      The sea grew even colder and he waited for a pronouncement.

      In that remote region there was no concept of time, no way to measure the hours. He did not know how long he remained on that perilous outcrop.

      Eventually he heard sounds approaching. Something was scuttling up the rock. Rising, he saw two crab-like claws rear over the edge, followed by the helmet of a Roman gladiator.

      ‘Emissary,’ Mister Dark greeted it. ‘What is the decision?’

      The creature within the helmet poked its stalk eyes through the visor at him.

      ‘You are fortunate,’ came the gurgling voice. ‘Your scheme has found favour. The terms are agreed. If you succeed, your requests will be granted.’

      ‘Thank Their exalted Majesties!’ Mister Dark called out.

      The helmet bobbed up and down on spindly legs and the pincer claws snapped in irritation.

      ‘Know this,’ the emissary warned. ‘Should you fail, there is