The Wonders of Vale

by Charlotte E. English

  An enraged griffin. A fathomless anger was there, and a din filled my ears as of a thousand griffins screaming in unison.

  A unicorn, its hide rippling in waves of shifting colours. Its horn vanished, reappeared, multiplied; wings sprouted and faded; it melted into a pool of pale water and disappeared.

  A mighty troll took its place, a figure towering so high in my mind’s eye that the world fell away before him. He wore a crown I’d seen before, and in his face was a granite resolve tinged with incipient madness.

  I saw a tide of magick — a chaotic flood of colour, sound, light, cacophonic music — sweep over a Britain I knew, leaving nothing unchanged in its wake.

  Is this what people come to the peak for? I thought, distantly, and dissolved into a mirth I knew to be inappropriate, but could not contain.

  ‘It’s all right, Ves,’ Jay murmured in my ear, and I could hear him, though he spoke softly. The howl of the winds had died. ‘Are you okay?’

  I wasn’t immediately sure how to answer. It took me three long seconds to remember that Ves was me, my own name, and the man behind me with his hands over my face was Jay, and we’d come to this place of shrieking insanity for a good reason.

  What was it?

  ‘It’ll come to me,’ I said aloud.

  ‘I’ll take that as no,’ said Jay, though he carefully loosened the grip of one hand, and I regained a glimmer of sight in my right eye.

  And hastily closed it again, tight, for the gloaming somehow blazed with light, more brightly than high noon, though it was a pallid rather than a vivid glow, and everything ethereally a-shimmer.

  Emellana stood in the centre of it like a goddess, taller than seemed possible, and her eyes were afire with the same light.

  The lyre, to my mixed disappointment and relief, was no longer in her hands, and the music was gone.

  ‘So it’s been an interesting half-hour,’ I commented, as I waited for my seared eye to stop watering.

  ‘Could say that,’ Jay agreed.

  I thought I heard someone sobbing. ‘They’re enslaved,’ Miranda was saying. ‘Slaves.’

  Who? I wanted to ask, but realisation dawned as my sluggish brain caught up, and I didn’t need to. She meant the griffins, of course, and the unicorns.

  Including my Adeline.

  Emellana’s shoulders sagged. She swayed like a young tree in the wind, and would have fallen had not Jay and I hastened to catch her. We helped her to sit down, and she did so without appearing to notice the seeping wet earth beneath her, or the wind driving rain into her eyes. ‘I am very well,’ she insisted, smiling up at us, and I wondered how much the deep magick of that place, and whatever she had done to it, had addled her brain. If at all.

  ‘It is an old spot, you know,’ she said after a little while, looking around at the gloomy hilltop. ‘Ancient. Much older than Torvaston and his court. I found layers of magick running deep, so deep…’ She stopped speaking, and stared mistily over the landscape. ‘The griffins have always been here,’ she continued at length. ‘The griffins, and their like. The enchantments which bind them, however, are much newer.’

  ‘How much newer?’ I said.

  ‘Measurements of time are arbitrary constructions,’ she said, smiling vaguely at me. ‘It is impossible to determine anything of that kind from the traces I have lately read. I could not say this number of hundred years ago, or since that event. I can only say, that they have permeated the earth and the air of this place, but not to any great depth.’

  I thought about that. ‘If I understand you rightly, you mean to say that they probably were not laid down by Torvaston, or anybody else, as much as four centuries ago.’

  ‘Perhaps not, indeed,’ Emellana agreed.

  ‘But I saw him,’ I said. ‘At least, I am fairly sure it was him.’

  Emellana’s gaze turned upon me, and, at last, sharpened. ‘Saw him?’ she echoed.

  ‘I had visions,’ I elaborated, looking first at Em and then at Jay. ‘Surely it wasn’t just me?’

  Jay just looked at me.

  ‘Oh. Well, I saw… everything was very confused. I don’t quite know what much of it was. Enraged griffins, chaotic unicorns, and a troll king…’ I could dredge nothing more concrete out of my churning thoughts.

  ‘A king?’ said Jay. ‘How do you know he was a king?’

  ‘Because he was wearing a crown.’

  ‘That would narrow it down,’ Jay agreed.

  ‘And we saw that crown in the museum at Farringale,’ I continued.

  ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘Perfectly. Though, I cannot say that it means anything. I may have added that detail myself, or interpreted the crown in question as one that was familiar to me. It was a… confusing experience.’

  Jay said, thoughtfully, ‘That might be so. Otherwise, it’s going to be hard to explain how you saw Torvaston here wearing a crown he left behind in the old Britain.’

  ‘It could be a mental construction of Ves’s own,’ Emellana said, some of her old calm returning. ‘Time will tell, I suspect.’ She levered herself to her feet, leaning heavily upon me and upon Jay, and stood in silence for a moment.

  I began to wonder what had become of Miranda, and my pup. The latter I saw trotting gaily through the rain, apparently untouched by it, though her fur was slicked with wet. It took rather more effort to locate Miranda. I saw her at last, far on the other side of the hill, a bedraggled, sopping-wet figure with her face turned up to the rain, searching the sky. She’d got as close as she could to the griffins, whose regular flight patterns brought them nearest to that side of the hill.

  ‘Is she right?’ I said, nodding in Miranda’s direction. ‘Are they truly enslaved?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Emellana. ‘It is not mere pacification, or coercion. They are absolutely bound, stripped of all independent thought, or capacity for independent action. It is the type of magick long banned in our Britain.’

  ‘And here they’re using it to farm ancient mythical creatures like cattle,’ I said, feeling unusually grim. And it wasn’t just because I was wet to the skin and I had snakes coiling in my hair.

  18

  ‘We have to get them out,’ said Miranda, rejoining us. She was still bristling with fury, and stalked more than walked through the rain, her face a perfect thundercloud. ‘We can’t leave them like this.’

  I hesitated, picturing the chaos we would create if we somehow broke the magickal bindings which held the griffins and their ilk spellbound. ‘We—’

  ‘Ves,’ said Miranda. ‘Help me or not as you choose, but I will not leave this town until these creatures are free.’ Her fists balled as though she might hit me.

  I raised my hands. ‘Hey. We’re on the same—’ I stopped. I couldn’t say we were on the same side anymore, because we… weren’t. Were we? At least not technically. ‘We have the same goals,’ I said instead. ‘I don’t want to leave these poor beasts like this any more than you do — and I’m damned if I’ll even think about leaving without Addie. But we have to think about this.’

  Jay made a slight noise. When I glanced his way, he’d adopted an expression of bland innocence. ‘I said nothing,’ he informed me.

  I made a face at him. ‘I know I’m fond of barging in without thinking things through, and sometimes it’s the best approach — you don’t have time to over think, and basically talk yourself out of what has to be done. But you of all people know, Jay, that sometimes it’s just insane. Isn’t that what you keep telling me? And this is one of those times. This place is… way beyond us. We are far, far out of our magickal league here.’

  ‘We could…’ said Miranda, and stopped.

  ‘Exactly,’ I said. ‘Em? Could you get anywhere near those enchantments? Even with the lyre?’

  ‘I doubt it,’ she said.

  ‘Maybe we could do it together,’ said Miranda, and looked at me with the eyes of hope. ‘All four of us. We’re strong as a group.’

  Strong as a group. Fine words fro
m the woman who’d very lately abandoned her group, and tossed us to the wolves to boot.

  Not the time, Ves.

  I pushed my ugly thoughts aside, and tried to consider the question on its own merits.

  ‘Even as a group,’ said Jay. ‘We’re outclassed. It’s not even about quantity or potency of magick. Even if we were as strong in magick as the people here, we don’t know what to do with it. It’s beyond us in every conceivable way.’

  He was right, painful though it always is to admit one’s shortcomings.

  A rather depressed silence fell. My eyes followed the passage of a far-off griffin as it soared helplessly upon the tossing winds.

  ‘But,’ said Emellana unexpectedly. ‘We do know how to cause chaos.’

  I looked at her.

  ‘Or at least,’ she amended, regarding me with a twinkle in her eyes, ‘Ves does.’

  Jay was ungentlemanly enough to smirk. ‘Are you kidding? She’s famous for it.’

  ‘Positively legendary,’ Emellana agreed.

  ‘Hey,’ I said. ‘I’m standing right here.’

  Jay beamed at me. ‘And here’s your chance to shine.’

  ‘How would that even help?’ I demanded. They weren’t wrong. I probably could cause quite the ruckus, and the utter madness of the magick of Vale might aid rather than impede me. But what would it achieve?

  ‘This is a system of perfect order,’ said Jay. ‘And it is beautifully done, perfectly maintained. Those beasts out there — the unicorns back on the farms — they could be clockwork pieces in a giant mechanical system. It’s glorious. But the downside to such structures is, they do not adapt well.’

  Emellana was nodding in agreement. ‘The proverbial spanner in the works. Make enough of a mess, Ves, and I think we may see some interesting results.’

  ‘And that,’ Jay added, with a glance at Miranda, ‘we may very well manage as a group.’

  ‘With our lady of chaos to guide us,’ said Emellana, bowing her head in my direction.

  I wasn’t sure I liked what bordered upon aspersions upon my character, but since I could hardly argue that they were unjust, I let it pass. ‘I’m as willing to make a mess as you could wish me, I assure you,’ I said.

  ‘A productive, useful mess,’ interrupted Emellana.

  ‘Quite. But I’m still hopelessly outclassed out here. Did we forget that part?’

  ‘But,’ said Emellana. ‘We do have this.’ And the damned lyre was back in her hands, its moonlit strings glittering in the rain.

  ‘Woah.’ I took two big steps backwards. ‘I thought that was off-limits.’

  ‘Em,’ said Jay, scowling, and started towards her. ‘We agreed—’

  ‘We did,’ she said, unruffled. ‘But consider. This instrument has been soaking up magick ever since we arrived here. It is, at this time, far more powerful than it has ever been before, or likely will again. It almost overcame even me, when I wielded it just now. It is what we need. And who better to give it to than one whose peculiar affinity with the thing might just work in our favour?’

  ‘And what about its effect on Ves?’ Jay demanded.

  Emellana looked at me. ‘Have you ever played this lyre before?’

  ‘No. No one would let me.’ I signified my general agreement with this judgement by putting my hands behind my back. ‘I don’t think they were wrong, either.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘Because just looking at it is enough to overset me.’ I tried not to suit actions to words and gaze moonily at the pretty thing, and failed.

  ‘So I see.’ Emellana sat in thought, her fingers lightly stroking the moonsilver or skysilver or whatever it was that made up the lyre’s graceful curves. ‘I have heard of nothing that would account for that effect,’ she said at last. ‘I think, Cordelia Vesper, that it will have to come down to courage. You will not know what you can do with this lyre — or what it will do to you — until you try it.’

  I attempted a smile, though my guts were churning. I can’t explain what that thing does to me but I don’t like it. ‘An exciting new round of Trial and Error,’ I said, with a glance at Jay.

  He tried to smile, too, and failed. His dark eyes were worried. ‘Are you up for it, Ves?’

  ‘Addie’s out there,’ I said. ‘I brought her here. I can’t leave her here. If there’s no other way…’

  Emellana smiled faintly, serenely confident. ‘I believe all will turn out well.’

  ‘Oh, you do?’ I said politely. ‘That is a great comfort.’ I swallowed, and added, ‘Sorry. That was rude.’

  I was surprised by the wide grin that swept over Emellana Rogan’s face. ‘Wonderfully,’ she agreed.

  ‘Right.’ I stood straighter. ‘We need to be fast. The dregs of those awful potions won’t last us much longer. I don’t know about you, but I can feel crazy-insane Ves creeping up on me with every passing half-hour. Mir?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, appearing at my elbow.

  ‘The griffins are your business. I’m hoping they’ll be groggy and confused more than violently angry when we’ve broken them out, so you shouldn’t be in too much danger, but… be careful. Right?’

  ‘Right. I—’ She broke off, biting her lip.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I don’t know how to handle griffins. You’ve seen more of them than I have.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ I said, with a bright, bright smile. ‘None of us has any idea what we’re doing.’

  Her answering smile was sour. ‘Excellent.’

  ‘Welcome to my world. Though not quite. You know more about magickal beasts than anyone, and you’ve all the magick you need to help you. I may despise you at this time, but I know you can do this. Jay?’

  ‘Right here.’

  I sought out the flickering, pale shape of Adeline far above, and pointed. ‘Addie. I’m going to bring her back down here somehow. Will you… catch her? Not literally,’ I hastened to add.

  He smiled faintly. ‘I’ll take care of her.’

  ‘Thank you. And pup…’ I had to chase to catch up with her, but I scooped her up, and gave her to Emellana. ‘Keep her safe,’ I said. ‘Please.’

  Emellana took a firm grip upon my wriggling pup. ‘She will be well,’ she promised.

  ‘Great. Well.’ I looked up at the sky, out over the darkening, drenched town, and finally at Jay. ‘Here goes nothing?’

  ‘You’ll be okay,’ he said, looking steadily at me.

  I could have reminded him about the lengths he’d gone to to keep me away from the lyre, but that was a waste of time. ‘Listen. If I end up as a plate of pancakes again, I’m relying on you to turn me back.’

  ‘But you love pancakes.’

  ‘And I’d prefer to remain a pancake-loving Ves than… a pancake.’

  He smiled. ‘I’ll hang onto you.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I took a deep breath. I wasn’t worried about pancakes, exactly, only the absolutely unpredictable effects of putting that lyre into my, of all, hands — and doing it out here, when we were magick-swamped already, and mad around the edges.

  I’d make a mess, no doubt about that. And what would be left of me once I’d finished?

  What would be left of Vale?

  No time to worry about that now. Emellana was right; the only way to find out what would happen was to dive in.

  ‘Lyre, please,’ I said.

  Emellana tucked Goodie under one arm. She beckoned strangely at a button on her shirt, which shone, and twisted, and became a tiny, rapidly-growing lyre. In another moment, she was holding out the real, full-sized thing to me.

  ‘Nice glamour,’ I said.

  She inclined her head in grave acceptance of the compliment. ‘It is one of my better arts.’

  ‘I’d say so.’ I steeled myself, and held out one hand to the dangerously beautiful instrument.

  It called to me. My fingers itched as they neared the lyre, and then began to burn with a heat I found both abrasive and comforting.

  The cur
sed thing began to shine with a light that was… purple. My very favourite shade thereof.

  ‘You are so determined to seduce me,’ I muttered, and with a deep breath I made a grab for it.

  The gleaming silvery metal proved warm under my hands, soothing like a hearth-fire in winter — and terrifying, like a house-fire literally whenever.

  And I, little Cordelia Vesper, went up like a torch.

  19

  Have you ever been played by a lyre? I’ll wager not. I don’t especially recommend it; at least, not by this specimen. If it must be so, try for a mild-mannered, grandmotherly type; the sort that will have you baking Victoria sponge cakes and puttering about in the garden.

  Not the sort that will pump you full of all the magick it has been blithely soaking up until your nose bleeds. Not the sort that will use you and discard you like a sodding handkerchief.

  When I took up that lyre, it was as though either I or it (or both) ceased to exist; instead of the-moonsilver-lyre or Vesper-Cordelia, there was simply a force. And while taking up the lyre had enhanced my mother’s and Emellana’s ability to track past magicks, or imbued one or the other of my parents with the ancient magick of faerie monarchy, in my case the effect was, um, different.

  Forgive me if I sound deranged, for I doubtless was at that moment. In my case, the effect was to turn me into a magickal source all in my own self. I was, if you like, the human equivalent of a griffin or a unicorn.

  I’d have laughed if I hadn’t been so busy leaking blood.

  The lyre all but fused to my fingers, so that I could hardly have let go of it if I’d wanted to. And for a few agonising seconds, I desperately did, for it hurt. The lyre-through-me drank up every drop of magick in the vicinity (did I properly emphasise that this is a lot?), and then poured it forth again in a veritable ocean — only stronger, and… changed.

  I learned how it feels, when lightning arcs over a griffin’s hide. I learned what it means. It is a discharge of magick, because there is too much of it to hold.