Standing at the foot of the cradle, tears gently started to trace their way down her cheeks. Ornately engraved in ancient lettering was the name ‘Primrose’. She was at a loss, emotion welled up as she realised this was indeed the cradle in which she would have slept as a baby. What dreadful thing had happened to her for her past to be taken away from her so cruelly? She must have been truly loved for this to have been carved just for her.
Tentatively, she stretched her right hand out to caress her name. As her fingers lovingly stroked the letters, the feeling of a million butterflies fluttering their wings danced daintily at her finger tips. Flecks of golden dust materialised in front of her eyes. Primrose stepped back in shock, brought her hand close to her face and watched the sparkling dust float away, totally mesmerised.
‘That’s so cool,’ she gasped and delicately traced an arc through the air and watched spellbound as a golden rainbow formed.
‘I have magic,’ she marvelled.
Once more, she looked at the cradle and leant towards it. After placing her left hand on the top rail she felt short, sharp pains travel up her arm. She then felt a violent onslaught of pins and needles that stung viciously like wasps travel up her arm. From the finger tips of her left hand trailed a thin wisp of grey smoke. She grabbed the aching limb with her right hand and the pain disappeared as quickly as it came.
Primrose was terrified. She looked at both hands, both hands looked normal, both hands held magic. How on earth was she supposed to handle this? She had no one to guide her. This was definitely not so cool. She looked around blindly and implored, ‘Tell me! What am I supposed to do now?’
On the other side of the room, a rocking chair started to move and creak. Primrose took the cue and went to sit down. She needed to calm down, think logically, contemplate this last revelation and let the Tree guide her. She closed her eyes and rocked gently to and fro until her nerves calmed.
Opening her eyes, Primrose looked back at the cradle. The workmanship was remarkable, the carvings intricate and beautiful. Hundreds of primroses decorated the spindles and rails, but one panel on its side depicted one whole flower. The outline of the panel glinted slightly, as though it had caught the sunlight, but there was no sunlight inside the Ancient Tree!
Once more, Primrose approached the cradle to study the flower more closely. There seemed to be a small protrusion, barely visible in the middle of the flower; she pressed it with a finger on her right hand - she dared not use her left! A small click was heard and the whole panel moved slightly to reveal a secret drawer.
Carefully, gently, still using only her right hand, which seemed to be behaving itself and emitting no magic, she pulled the drawer open and saw three things: a letter addressed to her, a silver bracelet with a solitary diamond shaped like a primrose and an ancient embossed book with magical symbols titled ‘Harnessing Magic’.
‘You wonderful, wonderful Tree,’ Primrose spoke aloud, as relief flooded through her body and the fear that had started to engulf her began to subside.
She picked up the three items, reverently, and took them to the table and sat down on one of the bench seats. She held up the bracelet, appreciated its beauty and knew for certain it belonged to her. She slipped it onto her left wrist; it seemed the right thing to do, and then she carefully opened the letter and began to read.
Dearest Primrose, our ray of sunshine,
Know that I and your father loved you dearly. You were the most perfect of babies, always ready with a smile or a chuckle whenever we held you. It breaks my heart to know that if you are reading this, I am not in this world and nor is your father, that we failed to protect you.
Tonight, your father and I have just received a message, a plea for help. My magic and your father’s expert knowledge are required to prevent an impending flood. Beavers further upstream are behaving bizarrely and endangering life.
The weather lately has been atrocious, there will be floods and the beavers are holding too much water in the Forest Lake and making matters dangerous. Our home is threatened.
I have not got much time for explanations, so please forgive my haste and take heed of what I write. It is important.
For your protection, place the bracelet on the wrist you feel or know it needs to go on. There is a huge likelihood you will inherit both types of magic. Read the Ancient Tome, from the beginning to the end. It is imperative you don’t skip, miss or ignore any page. Something lurks in this world, which has threatened our family once before, and although it was beaten back, it was not vanquished. I feel it is building again.
If you feel that strange, inexplicable things have been happening recently, don’t venture outside until you have mastered the Invisibility and Barrier Protection Spells. You will find a yellow cloak that will give the temporary protection of invisibility. It can be found on the third floor. Keep yourself hidden at all times.
The Tree and Tome will reveal extra secrets as you read and master your magic.
It pains me that this letter is filled with dire warnings, but I have an uneasy feeling about tonight - something feels wrong - a premonition perhaps.
Be on your guard, let others earn your trust and trust your feelings - your inner self. Again, I can’t stress the importance of keeping your presence and identity a secret from strangers. Stay hidden. Use the cloak and the magic.
I promise you, we will meet again and probably in the most unexpected of places.
Know that we love you, with all our hearts and souls, to the furthest stars and back.
Till we meet again
XXXX
P.S. If possible I will endeavour to give you a sign as you finish reading this letter. Keep the letter and Tome hidden in the drawer. It will open only for you and me.
Primrose looked up, once more tears streamed down her face. She let out a heart-breaking sob but saw and sensed nothing. Bitterly disappointed, she was about to screw the letter into the tightest of balls, when she smelled something - the sweet smell of roses filled the air around her and then she felt the warmest of hugs. Her senses heightened - the scent was oddly familiar. She sensed the comfort it offered and succumbed to it. Her body relaxed, and she seemed to float and fade.
Primrose panicked. She felt something pulling at her. She fought against the feeling and opened her eyes. Her relief was enormous, everything felt normal again and the scent of roses had faded. Something confused her though; the smell of roses was not one of the perfumes her mother had used, so, why did it seem so familiar to her? And more worryingly, why had she felt as though something was trying to take her away from the Ancient Tree?
Primrose stood up and placed her mother’s letter next to the Ancient Tome, her hands itched to flick through the pages, but she knew the word imperative had been written differently for a reason. She needed to calm her nerves.
It was time to examine the third floor.
From her bedroom, she slowly climbed the smaller staircase, which was still decorated as richly as the first one. The stairs spiralled more tightly, keeping to the curvature of the Tree. She reached a door and rubbed her hands down the sides of her black jeggings, for some unexplained reason they felt clammy.
Slowly, she opened the door to reveal a small circular room - a cloakroom that tapered upwards to a trap door. Primrose thought she must have reached the top of the Ancient Tree by now. Around the walls various coats hung from carved wooden pegs, depicting the heads of different forest creatures. On one peg, a beautiful leather belt hung with a silver clasp shaped like a wolf’s head, with two brilliant diamonds for its eyes. Various types of footwear were arranged orderly and in pairs under the coats. In front of her was a full-length mirror, with a yellow cloak hung next to it.
Staring back at her was her cleaner self. Short, golden hair outlined her face, and the spiky look and grime had gone. Her skin was extremely pale due to the lack of attention from the sun, and her cheeks wer
e puffy from recent shed tears.
Primrose almost did not recognise herself. She noticed with surprise that she was quite pretty and that she seemed to look older than the figure that had stared back at her the night before. Maybe, she had not been mad but correct when she had considered the idea that Vile Vi had actually been tampering with time. Now, that she was out of her mother’s jurisdiction and no longer a statue - time might be catching up with her. This thought unsettled her a bit; just how old would she be the next time she looked at herself?
The yellow cloak hung from a peg next to the mirror; according to her mother’s letter, this should be the Cloak of Invisibility. She stretched out her hand and removed it; surprised by how light and delicate it felt.
She swung it round her shoulders and her reflection from the neck down disappeared. Just her head, disembodied, floated in the air. Primrose giggled for the first time that day and jiggled about; amused to see her head float around the room. She could not help it, but the desire to play about was overwhelming. To her head she added the odd hand, leg or foot, making them appear and disappear at random. She had never seen anything so funny. Finally, she slipped the hood over her head and disappeared completely.
Hidden behind the cloak, a wooden ladder was fixed against the wall and led upwards to the trap door. Primrose decided the only way to go was up.
Standing on the roof of the world, Primrose took in the 360-degree view. The entire forest could be seen from this excellent vantage point and to her delight no one could see her or would even realise she was there. She stood quietly, breathed in the clean, fresh air and listened to the wind dance around the boughs, branches, twigs and newly unfurling leaves. She had never felt so alive.
A sudden, faint noise reached her ears and she turned towards the sound - just the wind she thought, trying to free itself from the interlacing branches. Primrose saw a small hole in one of the topmost branches emit a small puff of dirt, she smiled, as she realised she must be sharing her home with a woodpecker and had just missed it. As she looked around, her eyes spotted a small, reddish-brown owl. The owl threw something onto the ground and flew off. It did not look back.
As she turned to go back inside, her eye caught sight of a metal contraption hidden amongst some vines. She noticed it was some sort of pulley. Could this be another way down to the forest floor, she wondered. But that discovery would have to wait; it was time to go back in, she had some reading to do and a panel to investigate.
Back in the main room of the Ancient Tree, Primrose stood and stared at the strange markings on the panel, near the trap hatch. She had a strange feeling that the Ancient Tree was trying to tell her something, but she had no idea what it was. To her, the marks resembled angry, reddened scars radiating outwards from a central point. The centre was slightly concave and blackened, as though something must have hit it with tremendous force. She couldn’t help wondering how the markings were made.
A blast of energy suddenly surged past her, catching her unawares. It twisted her slightly and then smashed against the panel. It ricocheted around the room and burst through the trap door and out of the Tree.
Both of Primrose’s hands lifted against her will and stretched towards the panel, the left hand more dominant in its need to touch it. The bracelet throbbed. Primrose maintained control - just - she forced her right hand to take hold of the bracelet and brought both hands down to her waist.
Breathing deeply, she tried to calm her shredded nerves and turned her back on the panel. She told herself that this strange event was the result of some kind of residual energy. The Ancient Tree had tried to tell her what might have happened in the past, but she was still none the wiser. She really must remember, in future, to be more careful of what she wished for. The Ancient Tree had an uncanny way of reading her thoughts and bringing them to life in extreme and very unpredictable ways.
On the floor, near the trap door, she noticed a moth fluttering around in circles; it seemed disorientated and must have felt the sudden surge of energy too. She bent down and gently guided it into her right hand and then placed it carefully onto the kitchen table, away from the energy trail. The moth paused, appeared to look at her and then flew away. She never saw it again.
She felt her stone foot throb; she had been on her feet too long.
Primrose looked at the panel once more, she was not going to touch or go near it again, at least not until she knew how to control her magic, without putting herself in danger.
Absent-mindedly, she rubbed her left hand and a memory returned; she had seen Briony do the same thing once on one of her ‘Awakenings’. The ‘Awakenings’ were times when Briony would change her back to human form, and see if she was ready to apologise and change her ways, but Primrose had taken great delight in unnerving Briony instead. Primrose had sensed a weakness and couldn’t help but take her anger and frustration out on her. Now, she felt vaguely uneasy about those times. Primrose had not been kind to Briony. She wondered whether Briony had had both kinds of magic as well and had been scared of it and her? Silently, Primrose mouthed the word ‘sorry’.
Primrose sighed, there was nothing she could do about the past, but she could make up for it in the future. She had some serious reading to do: she needed to fully understand her magic and for the first time ever she was going to follow her mother’s instructions - she would read that Tome starting at page one and not skip a page. She was convinced her life depended on it. She picked up the Tome and walked towards the plush, comfortable, red seats to begin her study: the importance of controlling her magic was paramount.
It was not until she sat down, that she realised she had actually walked with two feet! She had actually walked properly with two, perfectly formed, wonderful feet. As she stared at them, delighted in the rejuvenation of her right foot, she wriggled her toes and once more found herself crying, but this time the tears were of joy, relief and happiness.
It suddenly dawned on her that the transformation of her right foot had been a gradual affair. She had felt the first tingle when she had allowed the baby otter to snuggle against her for warmth. She also thought she had felt something when her thoughts had praised Victor for his persistence in his search for her. Even when she had never given up trying to find the entrance into the Tree, she had noticed a difference in her foot; especially as she had not lost her temper - a rare thing for her when she became angry.
That morning she had also helped a disorientated moth, and agreed to take her mother’s advice. More importantly, she had also said sorry for the way she had treated Briony. Primrose briefly wondered what would happen if she reverted back to her old ways and felt the dull ache and a heaviness invade her foot again. She smiled; Briony had been extremely clever when she had cast that spell.
Stretching out her long, slender legs, Primrose settled more comfortably onto the sofa and started to read. Occasionally - no, let’s be truthful here - often giving her right foot a sneaky glance, just to make sure. She had never been happier.
5. Victor examines the otters’ hole
The small owl hovered above the heads of Velvet and Victor and wondered what they were up to. They were behaving extremely oddly next to a partially hidden hole in the steep river bank. Victor was dangling rather precariously from a thin branch; swinging erratically, his legs seemed to be trying to grab or feel for a purchase on the near vertical bank. The owl thought the fragile branch would break at any moment and result in Victor falling unceremoniously into the river. Velvet was shouting out various words of instructions, which seemed to be aggravating Victor to no end.
‘Left a bit, right a bit, nearly there, pity. You just missed it that time. No, left a bit - not that much! You nearly had it that time!’
Landing lightly and quietly on the bank next to Velvet, the owl peered inquisitively over the edge.
‘That’s it!’ Velvet squeaked excitedly, peering short-sightedly down the bank.
Victo
r missed his target once more.
‘Shame, you were so close,’ Velvet commiserated.
‘He’s going to get dizzy swinging about like that or pull his arms out of his sockets. What’s he trying to do?’ the owl asked, moving its head side to side, matching Victor’s swings.
‘Hey, Owl! Good to see you. Did you know he’s scared of water? Didn’t tell me that until he went over the edge.’ Velvet giggled in amusement, feeling that it was about time someone else got wet other than himself. Velvet had been soaked twice recently, once by an overturned bird bath and another time by a jug of orange at one of Elina’s picnics.
‘Some guidance down here would be appreciated,’ Victor called, his voice rising in mounting panic. The water looked extremely deep to him and very cold. He was beginning to think that that was where he was heading, and very shortly by the look of things.
‘Couldn’t give him a nudge in the right direction, could you?’ Velvet queried, ‘Your eyesight has got to be better than mine.’
‘Depends if he’s going right or left,’ the owl remarked gravely, still moving its head from side to side in time with Victor’s swings.
‘Into the hole would be much appreciated,’ Velvet laughed, ‘it’s the otters’ home or it might have been until Primrose scared them away. It’s the only place Victor didn’t search. He wants to make sure she didn’t hide in there.’
‘Velvet, if you don’t do something soon I’m going to fall!’ Victor’s voice screeched from below.
‘Don’t panic. Help is on the way,’ Velvet replied.
The owl flexed its wings; then rose gracefully and effortlessly into the air. Silently and swiftly it swooped downwards and aimed at the alarmed Victor.
Victor was startled. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a bird hurtling towards him. Knowing nothing of Velvet’s plan, he knew he was too big to be carried away, but he could always be knocked from this thin, fragile branch to which he hung onto so tenaciously. Victor didn’t fancy being torn into smaller chunks as he lay injured on the bank below. If he’d been able to climb, he would have been up that branch like a shot; instead he closed his eyes, hoped for the best and prayed for a quick and painless end.
Unlikely Allies Page 3