The Apprentice Witch

by James Nicol

  For a protection spell it was normal just to summon Erṯe, but Grandmother had always taught her to add another glyph to the spell. As Arianwyn drew the shape of the glyph in the air in front of her, she also called out ‘ʘru!’, summoning the glyph of light.

  It was not one of the cardinal glyphs, and its properties often proved unstable or insubstantial, but this was an old family spell and Arianwyn wouldn’t consider using any other.

  The glyphs flashed in the air for a moment and magic flowed towards them. She repeated the glyphs, adding these to the spell and then they began to multiply on their own, expanding and growing, invisible to any non-witches who might be watching.

  One final blinding flash and Arianwyn felt the magic rush towards her. She raised her hands, sending it towards the Spellorium, and began to form the protection barrier.

  Now, as the actual spell formed, it glistened briefly, illuminating Kettle Lane with a magical glow that could be seen by anyone. Arianwyn saw a few eager faces peering from windows and doorways, drawn by the light of the spell.

  And then it was set.

  The visible part of the magic faded from view but Arianwyn could feel the energy thudding and humming around the building.

  It was a strong spell, she had done well.

  At last.

  Witches have always held an important role within the communities of the Four Kingdoms. In ancient times they were sought for their powers of divination, cures to treat illness and to help protect against dark spirits, particularly by the crafting of charms. Charms can be effective protection against a variety of dark spirits and come in various forms, the most common being those created in small glass spheres containing natural objects and bound or activated with a series of glyphs.

  THE APPRENTICE WITCH’S HANDBOOK

  Chapter 12

  THE DISTRICT SUPERVISOR

  oapy filthy water splashed across the cobbles of Kettle Lane and swirled down into the drain near the Spellorium. Arianwyn paused for a moment and glanced along the lane. She had been in Lull for a week and was busy cleaning the Spellorium and the apartment above, from top to bottom. She paused for a moment and watched people coming and going busily in and out of the shops.

  She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, picked up her bucket and turned to go back into the Spellorium to carry on cleaning. But then the shrill call of a motorcar horn rang along the lane and a huge silvery green car came charging over the cobbles. It was a shiny open-topped car that seemed to fill the whole lane. Shoppers threw themselves out of its path.

  Arianwyn leapt back on to the steps of the Spellorium just as the car pulled up right next to the door. The driver peered straight at her through bright green driving goggles. Massive froggy eyes blinked and a trumpet-loud voice rang out: ‘You Arianwyn Gribble, then?’

  Arianwyn nodded and clung tighter to her bucket.

  ‘MARVELLOUS!’

  A tall, broad figure swathed in a long trench coat unfolded itself from the vehicle, swinging a large satchel over one shoulder. The figure had leather driving gloves that reached right up to the elbow. A bright silver star shone from the right-hand side of the coat.

  ‘I’m Jucasta Delafield, dear. Your district supervisor!’ She thrust a gloved hand towards Arianwyn.

  ‘Oh, of course. Mayor Belcher said you would be coming!’ Arianwyn fumbled with the bucket, which fell with a clang against the cobbles. She blushed and reached for Miss Delafield’s hand. ‘It’s good to meet you.’

  Miss Delafield’s eyebrows rose over the top of her driving goggles. She paused for a moment and glanced up at the Spellorium as though she was expecting to see someone at the window. Then she seemed to take a deep breath and strode past Arianwyn inside. There was the definite sound of a tut as she passed.

  Retrieving the bucket, Arianwyn noticed a few people had stopped to watch the goings-on. She flushed some more and turned quickly to follow her supervisor inside.

  Miss Delafield had stopped dead in the doorway, and stood gazing straight ahead.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Arianwyn asked carefully, glancing towards the little pot-bellied stove. Bright warm flames danced in the window of the door.

  ‘Oh no, dear, that’s fine. Thank you,’ Miss Delafield replied, as if coming out of a dream. ‘I have my own with me.’ She reached into her satchel and pulled out a large thermos flask and a slender cocktail glass. Arianwyn was surprised it hadn’t been smashed to pieces in the bag. Unscrewing the lid of the flask, Miss Delafield proceeded to pour herself a drink. It was bright blue and had a very pungent odour.

  ‘Would you care for some, dear?’ Miss Delafield raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘It does wonders for the complexion.’

  Arianwyn stared at the blue drink for a few seconds and then caught a whiff of something really quite foul. ‘No that’s all right.’ She smiled. ‘I think I’ll stick with tea!’

  ‘Now then, my girl,’ Miss Delafield said, placing her glass down carefully on the counter and pouring some more of the blue liquid, ‘how are you settling in? Do you like the old place?’ She shrugged off her coat and stood solidly by the desk, examining Arianwyn’s cleaning efforts.

  ‘Yes, it’s great. It’s in quite a state, though. I’ve been staying at the inn since I arrived.’ Arianwyn swung the bucket gently as she spoke. ‘The last witch seems to have left everything behind – do you know who she was?’

  ‘Umm . . . no idea!’ Miss Delafield said eventually. ‘I could check the register and see but certainly Lull has been without a witch since before I was supervisor. We’ve dealt with the bulk of problems from Flaxsham but the C. W. A. seemed to think we needed somebody here on the ground! No doubt some interfering busybody who ought to keep their nose out of other people’s business!’ Miss Delafield’s voice had risen sharply and her cheeks were flushed.

  Arianwyn felt her insides twist with shame as Miss Delafield’s gaze fell on the moon badge. Arianwyn instinctively started to move her hand to cover it and there was an uneasy silence as Miss Delafield worked out the connection.

  ‘Oh. I see, dear. Well – yes. Of course your grandmother is very well respected within the witching community . . .’

  ‘I know exactly what you’re thinking and I feel the same way,’Arianwyn said. She felt suddenly and unusually bold. ‘But I’ve vowed to do my work and I promise to try my hardest to serve Lull to the best of my abilities. I don’t know what happened at the evaluation but—’ For a second she considered telling Miss Delafield all about the unknown glyph, but the moment passed quickly.

  Miss Delafield half smiled and said in her businesslike voice, ‘Anyway, dear, you’re here now, which will be a great help, I’m sure. How has it been going so far?’

  ‘It’s all been quite quiet, but . . .’ She trailed off.

  Miss Delafield was gazing at Arianwyn levelly. She clearly knew more than she was letting on. ‘And how are you getting on with the mayor? Frightful old snob in my opinion, but best not to get on his bad side.’

  ‘He’s been very . . . helpful.’

  ‘Ha! I’m sure he has!’ Miss Delafield winked and pulled open her huge satchel, the straps and buckles jangling.

  From its depths she dragged out a huge leather-bound book. Tall and narrow, its red cover looked very official and was stamped with a large silver star. Miss Delafield placed the book reverently on to the counter. ‘This is your ledger. You’ll record all of your appointments and work in here, please, and then when I visit I will check against the work you have completed, for my district report to the C. W. A.’

  She flipped the ledger open and ran a gloved hand across the blank pages that were faintly marked with red and green lines. ‘Date here, nature of problem. Resolution in this box and date here. Please leave this area blank for my comments.’ She prodded the page firmly.

  Arianwyn stood mutely staring at her, fiddling with the bucket briefly before muttering, ‘Yes, of course.’ It felt suddenly very real to her.

  ‘Beg par
don, dear?’ Miss Delafield asked loudly.

  ‘Sorry. I said, yes, of course,’ Arianwyn said more firmly.

  ‘Are you going to pop that bucket down, dear?’ Miss Delafield asked, a small smile playing across her lips.

  Arianwyn felt her cheeks warm and she quickly placed the bucket down on the shining dark floorboards.

  Miss Delafield reached once more into the satchel and this time she took out a sheaf of papers, different sizes and colours. She dropped them on to the ledger. ‘These are the outstanding appointments which will require your attention sooner rather than later.’

  Arianwyn peered at the papers and her stomach wobbled nervously. She gulped.

  ‘And of course you’ll have your cataloguing duties once the spirit lantern arrives.’ Miss Delafield sounded less than impressed. ‘Oh, and this is the most recent C. W. A. newsletter.’ She tossed a flimsy magazine down on to the counter.

  ‘New Witches Off to a Flying Start’, it said on the front in huge bold letters. Arianwyn peered closer and came face to face with a photograph of Gimma Alverston. She gazed perfectly out of the newsletter, laughing and waving. Arianwyn groaned and flipped it over. She’d throw it in the bin as soon as Miss Delafield had gone.

  Arianwyn heard raised voices from the street and Miss Delafield turned just as the door burst open. A boy not more than ten years old staggered in, the bell charm jangling wildly. ‘Miss. Miss? Miss . . . Witch?’

  He was out of breath as he skidded to a stop just in front of Arianwyn. ‘Me mam’s sent for you, says you’re to come straight away,’ the boy said breathlessly.

  ‘What’s the matter?’Arianwyn asked.

  ‘She’s found a snotling nest in the under-stairs cupboard and wants you to come and sort it out right now.’

  ‘Right!’ Arianwyn said, struggling for a moment to think things through.

  ‘Do you need me to come with you, dear?’ Miss Delafield asked, watching Arianwyn carefully.

  ‘No. It’s all right, I think I can manage a few snotlings,’ Arianwyn replied.

  ‘Well, I’d best not keep you when you have plenty to be doing. Off you go!’ she beamed.

  Arianwyn smiled at Miss Delafield and then at the young boy as he hopped from foot to foot. Then she grabbed up her coat and followed him as he raced out of the Spellorium.

  Chapter 13

  THE SNOTLING NEST

  he boy disappeared through an arch and down a narrow alleyway. Arianwyn followed and found herself at the back of the church-yard beside a short terrace of dilapidated cottages. The church loomed over everything.

  Damp washing flapped limply in the icy breeze, the lines zigzagging the lane. Arianwyn ducked beneath the laundry and followed the boy to the shabbiest-looking house in the terrace.

  The boy kicked on the door and yelled ‘Mam! Witch is here!’ Then he ran off to join a small group of children playing a game at the end of the terrace.

  Arianwyn was just about to knock on the worn door when it swung open. A shower of rotten wood fell down from the lintel.

  ‘Yes, what is it?’ The woman balanced a fat baby on one hip. Her apron was splattered and smeared with various stains. She bore a floury smudge across her red cheeks with more dusting her frizzing hair.

  ‘What?’ she demanded, glaring at Arianwyn.

  ‘Er . . .’ Arianwyn stammered, ‘I’m Arianwyn Gribble, the new witch. I’ve come to deal with your snotling problem.’

  The woman’s face relaxed. ‘Oh, thank heavens. Pesky little blighters have been driving us up the wall.’ She peered out into the street. ‘Where’s that boy got to? CYRIL!’ She looked up and down the terrace quickly, then boomed, ‘Cyril Myddleton, get home this instant!’

  The only answer was the sound of laughter and quick feet on cobbles. The woman frowned at Arianwyn. ‘Well, you going to come in?’

  The door swung wide, with another shower of rotten wood, revealing a cluttered kitchen dominated by a massive table that seemed to be almost entirely covered with stuff.

  Washing hung from an airer over a hulking range which smoked profusely, the kettle was whistling away to itself, billowing clouds of steam up towards the ceiling. The sink was piled high with pans and dishes in various states of cleanliness. On the table, Arianwyn could now make out an assortment of mixing bowls, tins and jars of flour, dried fruits and sugar. Eggshells were spread across an open cookery book and some had fallen to the floor. Two vast baskets were stacked high with yet more laundry.

  Playing on a rug near the range sat two chubby, rosy-cheeked toddlers, probably no more than two years old. They looked like fat little cherubs in paintings, Arianwyn thought, just as one raised the building block he had been playing with and brought it crashing down on the other’s head. The other child started to wail and lifted his arms towards his mother.

  ‘Caspar! Naughty!’ The woman scolded without any real enthusiasm. ‘You don’t hit Jaspar like that!’ She hefted the baby further up on her hip. ‘All I do is cook, clean and wash.’ She sighed. ‘I’m Blanche by the way, Blanche Myddleton.’

  Arianwyn shook the woman’s floury hand.

  ‘Where’s the nest?’ Myddleton went off to fetch them Arianwyn asked.

  ‘This way!’ Mrs Myddleton led her through a door and into a small gloomy hallway, the only light coming from a tiny window at the top of the staircase.

  ‘There, in the under-stairs cupboard.’ Mrs Myddleton gestured to the small door.

  ‘How many are there?’ Arianwyn asked, shrugging off her coat and rolling up her sleeves. It was strange for snotlings to be awake at this time of the year; usually they preferred to hibernate until the warmer months.

  ‘I’m not sure really, maybe three of them. I saw them stealing cake from the bread bin this morning!’

  Three. That was OK. Arianwyn was sure she could easily deal with three half-awake snotlings. A simple stunning spell and then banishing, she just needed something as bait . . .

  ‘Could I have those eggshells?’

  As Mrs Myddleton went off to fetch them, Arianwyn pulled open the cupboard door.

  In the darkness, she could just make out the shape of the snotling nest tucked into the corner of the cupboard, half hidden behind a pile of shoes and a broom. It looked like a matted ball of rags with a small hole near the top. The snotlings had most likely shredded up a few coats and scarves from the cupboard with their sharp needle teeth, possibly a bit of carpet or rug, to make the nest.

  Arianwyn crawled into the space, minding the snotling droppings that littered the floor, wrinkling her nose at the pungent stench. Carefully shoving the shoes and broom to one side, she suddenly pulled back. The nest was larger than she had imagined, much larger indeed!

  ‘I think you might have a few more than three,’ Arianwyn called over her shoulder.

  Mrs Myddleton came hurrying back with the eggshells cupped in her hands; she gave a quick gasp when she saw the size of the nest. ‘You going to be all right dealing with them all on your own?’ she asked, looking sceptically at Arianwyn.

  ‘It’ll be fine. But can you keep the children in the kitchen? Snotlings aren’t that dangerous, but they’ve got really sharp teeth.’

  Mrs Myddleton nodded and wandered back to her various jobs in the kitchen. Arianwyn noticed the two toddlers peering around the door before a sharp call from their mother sent them scampering away again.

  Scattering the slimy, sticky pieces of eggshell on to the floor, Arianwyn gave the nest a quick shake and reversed quickly out of the cupboard.

  She didn’t have to wait too long before the nest started to quiver ever so slightly and then from the small hole at the top a snotling emerged. He was about as tall as a school ruler and a sickly green colour, but not particularly slimy (which was the curious thing about snotlings). He did have a few short and sharp-looking spines growing on his shoulders, though.

  The tiny little beast was bleary-eyed and dozy. He tumbled down the side of the nest, shuffling sleepily across the floor of the cupb
oard and following the scent of the eggshell.

  He didn’t get far. Arianwyn cast her stunning spell at him, sending him falling backwards on to the floor with a soft thud.

  Reaching into the cupboard, she dragged his limp body quickly out into the hall and left it to one side, waiting for the next one to emerge from the nest.

  Chapter 14

  SPLAT!

  t was so easy. Snotlings were not the cleverest of creatures and were easily lured by the aroma of the eggshells piled on the floor of the cupboard. After half an hour there was a pile of four snotlings in the hallway and it had been quite some time since the fourth one had emerged. Crawling back into the cupboard, Arianwyn gave the nest one final vigorous shake, but nothing happened. After another quick jab and still no movement, she was satisfied all was well. She would just need to raise the banishing spell and return them to the void.

  ‘I think that’s it!’ she called as she backed out of the cupboard, relieved to have completed her first official task without any trouble. She gave a huge sigh of relief, unaware she had been holding her breath.

  But as she emerged back into the hallway she saw the Myddleton twins dragging two of the stunned snotlings off into the kitchen like a pair of rag dolls. That was bad enough, but things took a sudden turn for the worse when a high-pitched growl, something like and angry cat, sounded from behind her.

  Turning, she saw another three snotlings had crawled from the nest, and one of them had a huge thick crest of brown spines. It was a female, a she-snotling, and females were always more vicious and dangerous than the males. And the she had just seen Jaspar and Caspar dragging her nest mates away!

  ‘Oh, rune-rot!’ Arianwyn groaned and as quickly as she could she hurled a spell orb at the new snotlings in an attempt to stun them.