The Apprentice Witch

by James Nicol

  ‘We did have quite a gathering of people to welcome you.’ He gestured at the soggy bunting. ‘But it grew dark and then this terrible wind and rain started up so I sent everyone home.’ He sounded tired and a little angry.

  He peered at them through the blustering rain. Arianwyn noticed his expression change slowly from irritation to something else – was it concern? She turned to Salle. She had a thin red scratch across her cheek and her clothes were muddy. Her faded red coat sported a large rip near the pocket: clear signs of their adventures.

  Arianwyn wondered what she looked like and reached up to feel a large collection of twigs and leaves trapped in her hair. She glanced down at herself – her knees were scraped and her fine blue coat was streaked with mud.

  ‘What on earth has happened?’ the mayor asked in hushed and horrified tones.

  ‘We were attacked on the way into town, just as we came into Clover Hollow,’ Salle said quickly and went on to explain the incident with the crawler. Mayor Belcher listened intently, his mouth open in shock. Arianwyn was surprised at the liberties Salle took with some of the details, the crawler tripled in size and Mr Thorn, who had joined them, was agreeing with everything she said.

  ‘But you managed to banish the creature?’ the mayor asked, looking carefully at Arianwyn.

  ‘Um . . .’ Arianwyn faltered, unsure exactly what to say. ‘No, Mr Thorn hit it with his bus and scared it away!’

  ‘That’s a rather unusual method of dealing with a dark spirit creature, isn’t it?’ Mayor Belcher asked.

  Arianwyn chewed on her lip. ‘I lost control of my banishing spell as well . . . there may be a rift open in the wood . . .’

  The mayor stared hard, his eyes narrow, his full lips pursed. ‘Well this is not the best of starts, is it? Might I suggest we keep the crawler information between ourselves? We don’t wish to cause panic amongst the townspeople . . .’

  ‘Of course,’Arianwyn replied quietly.

  ‘Mr Thorn, will you take Miss Gribble’s luggage to the Blue Ox?’ The mayor turned to Arianwyn. ‘Just for tonight. We can get you settled into the Spellorium tomorrow, after we’ve gone to check on the rift.’ The mayor moved off to one side with Mr Thorn, issuing further instructions.

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t get rid of me that easily!’ Salle beamed and Arianwyn felt relieved that she wouldn’t be spending her first night in town in a strange place and all alone.

  ‘Now then,’ the mayor said, ‘we’d best be out of this awful weather.’ He led them up the steps of the town hall and out of the miserable night. Arianwyn turned and waved to Mr Thorn as Beryl rattled across the cobbles.

  The mayor took them into a dark hall with a wide sweeping staircase and gleaming tiles. Oil paintings and gilt-edged mirrors hung on the walls. He pulled off his heavy rain mac to reveal a smart suit with a long-tailed jacket and a regal sash of purple silk. An official golden crest the size of a small dinner plate was attached to it, which he adjusted in a huge mirror. Around his neck he wore a charm, which Arianwyn thought might be the kind used by farmers to keep their cows calm.

  He caught Arianwyn looking. ‘Better to be safe than sorry, and we have had such a winter for sightings of dark spirits. Very unusual for us, Miss Gribble, I assure you. I feel I must say that we hadn’t really expected to be allocated a witch at all, so I suppose we should be thankful we have you, even if you are still . . . an apprentice.’

  Arianwyn, unsure how to answer him, simply smiled.

  He glared at her badge intently. ‘I suppose you are able to do all the usual things . . .’

  ‘Mayor Belcher!’ Salle exclaimed in horror. ‘She’s a witch – of course she can do things.’

  Arianwyn wasn’t so sure after the recent adventure.

  ‘Heavens, yes, where are my manners? I do apologize, Miss Gribble.’ He was flustered, his eyes widening. He turned away and pretended to rearrange an ornate flower display in a massive vase.

  ‘Well, I think we should be getting back to the inn,’ Salle said quickly. ‘Arianwyn has had a long day and could no doubt do with some warm food and a nice bath.’ She wrapped a protective arm around Arianwyn.

  ‘Of course. I shall see you tomorrow.’ The mayor bowed low.

  Wrapping themselves up against the cold, Arianwyn and Salle emerged on to the town square. The Blue Ox inn stood on the far side of the square and it seemed like miles to Arianwyn as they trudged wearily through the wind and icy rain, which still fell in torrents. Salle took her through the huge archway that led to a back courtyard and then through a small door half hidden in the dark.

  A cosy sitting room waited. A tall lamp in the corner cast a soft light over everything. A man dozed in a worn green velvet armchair beside the cheery fire. A radio crackled softly, the crisp voice of the announcer reading the day’s news. ‘The king has passed a decree through the Royal Senate today, pledging further support for the destabilized area in the Urisian and Veersland border towns . . .’

  A beautiful woman, her hair the same colour as Salle’s, sat knitting by the light of the lamp. She glanced up as the door squeaked and, seeing Arianwyn and Salle, she leapt up, casting the knitting aside. ‘Where on earth have you been, Salle Bowen? It’s past curfew, you know!’

  Salle flushed and started to explain, but Arianwyn stepped forward, ‘I’m so sorry, it’s my fault.’

  The fire popped and the radio news ended. The Hylund national anthem began playing as the day’s programmes came to a close. The man jumped awake, startled from his dreams. He blinked bleary-eyed at the scene in front of him. ‘Evening, Sal. Who’s your friend?’

  ‘This is Wyn – erm, Arianwyn Gribble, our new witch!’ Salle said, beaming. ‘Wyn, this is my aunt, Grace Archer, and that’s Uncle Mathieu.’

  ‘Everyone calls me Mat, though,’ he said and shook Arianwyn’s hand enthusiastically.

  ‘We’re very pleased to meet you, Arianwyn,’ said Aunt Grace. ‘We’ve got your room all ready. Would you like something to eat before you go up? Or a cup of tea?’

  Arianwyn shook her head. ‘Thank you, but I’m so tired, I think I’d just like to go to bed. It’s been a rather long day.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Mat said. ‘Old Thorny told us all about the crawler!’

  Arianwyn caught sight of Salle gesturing frantically for Uncle Mat to shut up. Oh wonderful, she thought. The whole town will know by morning!

  ‘Well, I’m sure that story can wait until morning,’ Grace Archer cut in. ‘Let’s get you up to bed, shall we?’ She wrapped an arm tightly around Arianwyn’s shoulders and guided her out of the parlour. She smelt of soap and baking and warm fresh linen.

  Arianwyn was never so grateful to see a bed as she was that night, her trunk, suitcases and other luggage all stacked neatly in the corner of the small white-washed room. A huge wooden bed filled the space. It was covered with a thick pink eiderdown and several cosy-looking blankets. A dressing table stood against one wall and Arianwyn caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, pale and tired.

  ‘There’s a bath next door, and you can have a nice long sleep-in tomorrow, love. I’ll get you breakfast whenever you want it,’ Aunt Grace said, moving to draw the curtains. Then she stopped. She peered out into the night. ‘Will you look at that?’ she said, her hand rising to her mouth.

  Arianwyn crossed to stand beside her. Her bedroom window looked out over the rooftops of Lull, out across the shallow valley. The storm clouds had parted slightly to reveal a slice of the moon, and in the distance she could see a thick dark patch against the stormy night sky, which Arianwyn thought must be the edge of the Great Wood. Several little bright lights danced through the trees just briefly and then vanished.

  ‘What was that?’Arianwyn asked.

  ‘I was hoping you would know – you’re the witch! We’ve been seeing them every now and then all winter.’ Aunt Grace smiled warmly and winked.

  ‘Apprentice witch,’ Arianwyn mumbled and indicated her badge.

  ‘Not for long, I’m sure!’
Aunt Grace said firmly. ‘Goodnight, love!’

  The door clicked quietly behind her and Arianwyn was alone. She pulled on a nightdress and padded back to the window, watching the dancing lights. They whizzed in and out of the distant trees before vanishing, only to reappear a few moments later. Probably just sprites, she thought, before letting the curtain fall back across the window.

  She rummaged through her bag and pulled out the handbook, then clambered on to the bed. It was as soft as a cloud. She leafed through its pages, searching for anything to do with lights and woodland, but after only a few minutes the book had slipped from her hands and tumbled to the floor.

  Like other natural resources, magic exists within seams, pockets or deposits, which can be present in the earth, air or water. Magic is more abundant and plentiful in the wildest, most natural regions, and scarcest in the cities and built-up areas. The Four Kingdoms are naturally rich in magic and it is believed that some magical disaster resulted in the Uris being depleted of its magic many hundreds of years ago.

  THE APPRENTICE WITCH’S HANDBOOK

  Chapter 9

  BRIGHT AND EARLY

  rianwyn woke with a start. Salle stood over her, her hair wild from sleep. ‘Get up,’ she said giving her a gentle shake. ‘The mayor’s waiting for you downstairs!’ She moved to the window and pulled back the curtains. Pale light flooded the room.

  ‘Ouch!’ Arianwyn blinked and squinted. ‘What?’ she mumbled, still half asleep.

  Salle poured steaming water into a bowl on a stand near the window; most of it slopped on to the rug. ‘Hurry up, you may have gathered he’s not that patient at the best of times!’ She grinned.

  Arianwyn slid out of bed, picking up the handbook from where it had fallen and shuffling over to the washstand. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the dressing table. Her hair was a wild jangle of curls; she looked as if she had been electrocuted. She quickly splashed warm water over her face and tried to tame her hair before pulling on her crumpled and still-muddy uniform. She followed Salle downstairs, yawning as she went.

  They emerged in the main room of the inn; it was bright and warm, a fire crackling merrily in the grate. The huge flagstone floor was damp and glistened from the busy mop of Aunt Grace. She smiled warmly and pointed into the far corner.

  Josiah Belcher, looking quite out of place and rather uncomfortable, was squeezed behind a table tucked into a recess in the thick stone wall.

  ‘Ah, Miss Gribble! Good morning, good morning.’ The mayor rose to his feet, the table wobbling enthusiastically. ‘I thought I should let you have a lie-in after your long day travelling.’

  Arianwyn glanced at the huge clock above the fireplace. It was just seven thirty.

  ‘Thank you,’ she muttered.

  The mayor reached inside his coat and pulled out a shiny pocket watch which he clicked open and checked against the clock on the wall. ‘Now, despite my incredibly busy schedule, I thought it best to give you a tour of the town and the surrounding area myself.’

  ‘Now?’ Arianwyn said.

  ‘Unless you would like to arrange for this yourself . . .?’ The mayor pursed his lips and snapped the pocket watch shut.

  ‘Oh no, now would be lovely.’ She yawned. ‘Very kind of you, Mayor Belcher.’

  The mayor frowned and his eyes drifted to Arianwyn’s badge once again. ‘I’ll give you a brief history of the town as well; you may find it useful in your work.’

  Arianwyn stifled another yawn and looked briefly away. Then she recalled the rift spell that she had summoned in Clover Hollow the night before.

  ‘Please can we go to Clover Hollow to check if the rift spell took or not? An open rift to the void could be more trouble than we want to deal with!’

  The mayor looked uncertain, swallowed hard and glanced about the inn. ‘Erm . . . yes, of course. Well, shall we get on, then? I do have other things to do today.’ He sniffed.

  It was market day in Lull and the town square outside the inn was bustling despite the chill and early hour. Excited chatter filled the air as people caught up with the latest gossip and news, and judging from the curious looks as she and the mayor crossed the busy square, most of it seemed to be about Arianwyn.

  Once or twice she heard her name in whispered conversations. A few people hesitantly waved hello and she waved back or nodded a friendly greeting as she kept pace with Mayor Belcher. She noticed that lots of people wore some sort of charm either around their neck or tied to their clothes in some way. The charms were all old and as useless as the one Salle had on her bag. She’d never be able to keep up with demand, she thought.

  They passed market stalls where the vendors were calling out cheerfully to every passer-by.

  ‘Fresh fila cakes from Galus!’ The smell of warm pastries filled her nose as they passed one stall and her stomach rumbled.

  ‘Finest leather boots from St Ovel in Veersland!’ The mention of these faraway places made Arianwyn think suddenly of her father. She should write to him that evening and let him know about her first day in Lull.

  ‘Market day is our busiest day of the week. We have traders from all across the Four Kingdoms coming into town and it brings in everyone from the smaller villages and hamlets between here and Flaxsham,’ Mayor Belcher said, waving regally at people as they passed.

  They had reached the far side of the town square. ‘Most people live within the town walls although there are farms and a few other houses outside Lull. There are also some orchards on the edge of the wood where the famous Lull apples come from – you’ve no doubt tried them in Kingsport?’ Mayor Belcher smiled proudly.

  Arianwyn shook her head.

  ‘Really?’ The mayor looked as though he couldn’t quite believe it and quickly whisked out a small black notebook and started to jot something down.

  ‘Well, come along then!’ he said briskly. ‘Let’s get on!’ He set off at breakneck speed into the crowd. Arianwyn scrambled to keep pace, dodging around busy shoppers getting on with their day.

  As they walked through town, the mayor discussed his plans for improved street lighting, some new almshouses by the park gates and his ideas for the annual Lull Festival. Occasionally he asked Arianwyn her opinion and she quickly realized that if she didn’t agree with him his expression turned sour and he pulled out his little black notebook, scribbling something down.

  Eventually she decided simply to nod and say as little as possible.

  ‘And this is the town school,’ Mayor Belcher said as they came to a brief stop by high metal railings. A bell rang from within the building, and seconds later a swarm of excited and noisy children poured from the doors.

  There were suddenly eager faces gazing at Arianwyn through the green bars of the fence. ‘It’s the new witch!’ she heard a small girl whisper and suddenly there were even more smiles, while welcoming hands waved and reached through the fence. Arianwyn waved shyly back.

  ‘There’s a little more to being town witch than being a celebrity, you know!’The mayor huffed and reached for his notebook once more.

  Arianwyn sighed and followed as the mayor walked briskly on.

  They walked along Old Town Road in uncomfortable silence. The gate they had passed through the night before opened before them now. ‘This is the North Gate,’ the mayor said as they passed through. ‘The town has four gates. The West Gate is the main road in and out of town usually . . .’ But Arianwyn wasn’t really listening as she caught her first daylight glimpse of the land beyond Lull.

  A wide but gentle river wound close to the town and then out across the meadows and farmland to the east and disappeared into the thick line of trees of the Great Wood. The wood seemed to circle the town entirely, covering the rolling hills and stretching on as far as Arianwyn could see. There was only a small break, where the old track wound up and past a solitary bunch of trees that must be Clover Hollow, so close it was almost a part of the Great Wood.

  They carried on over the bridge, past an old abandoned build
ing with boarded-up windows. The faded yellow sign above the tall doors read ‘Kurtis Mill’. The road became the track across the meadows and was full of puddles. The mayor stepped carefully around these, which slowed them a little. Arianwyn wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

  ‘Thankfully we are not usually plagued with too many problems with creatures from the wood, but this winter we’ve had more sightings than I’ve ever known and several attacks on animals on the local farms. Luckily we are used to dealing with things on our own.’ He gestured to his charm.

  ‘Um, about these charms, Mayor Belcher. I’m not sure they will work very well against any creatures . . . unless you’re attacked by a herd of cows!’ Arianwyn couldn’t believe the words had flown out of her mouth. She stared at him.

  ‘Well, really!’The mayor went crimson and pulled out his little notebook once more.

  They walked the rest of the way in silence.

  As Clover Hollow loomed into view, Arianwyn paused for a moment. She reached out with her senses, waiting for the feeling of a creature nearby.

  The woods emitted a huge amount of magical power. Listening for the creature was like trying to hear a whisper over an orchestra. They would have to go further to be sure that the crawler had disappeared. As the trees closed in, Arianwyn felt increasingly anxious. Something niggled at her and she shivered.

  ‘Is it much further, Miss Gribble?’ the mayor asked, huffing and panting to keep up with Arianwyn’s stride along the track.

  She saw a crumpled patch of trees at the edge of the track just a little way ahead. ‘There, look! That’s where we were!’ She moved on quickly, hoping against hope that the rift spell had never really formed.

  The track was churned up from Beryl’s wheels, and the surrounding wood lay in quiet ruin, trees snapped and bushes trampled where the crawler had landed. No birds sang and the air was full of stale dark magic.