The Apprentice Witch

by James Nicol

  ‘How interesting,’ Miss Delafield said to herself quietly. Arianwyn had noticed the appraising glance her supervisor often gave her, but it was different now, less ‘never mind!’ and more as if Arianwyn was a pair of the most superb driving gloves.

  Chapter 19

  THE DEMON OF LOW GATE FARM

  rianwyn woke with a start. She had been dreaming about her unknown glyph. She had seen it tangled in the branches of trees in the Great Wood, burnt into a stone in a strange place, concealed in the pages of a book in a vast library hidden in shadow and mystery.

  She glanced about the room. She’d nodded off by the fire, which still gave off a warm glow. It had been her first day off in weeks and Salle had gone into Flaxsham for another audition at the theatre – she’d begged Arianwyn to go with her, but she just wanted a quiet, restful day at home. Her first few weeks in Lull had been frantic and she felt quite worn out.

  Outside, the afternoon sky was heavy and grey. Her soup sat cold on the table next to her.

  The moon hare lay curled in her lap contentedly, a clean white bandage wrapped over its wounded leg. It had stayed by her side since she had rescued it in the Great Wood over two weeks ago. She had grown quite attached to the little creature, although she knew she would have to return it to the Great Wood once it was healed. It fidgeted in its sleep, making soft grumbling sounds as it dreamt. One of its back legs twitched for a second and then it was still again.

  Arianwyn stood slowly, trying to shake the chill dream she had woken from. She placed the sleeping moon hare back into her seat and crossed to the sink to fetch a glass of water.

  Just then, she heard a frantic pounding on the door of the store and a muffled shout.

  She hurried downstairs, brushing sleep from her eyes as she went. The moon hare, startled from his own dreams, followed her down the twisting staircase.

  Through the door she could see Mayor Belcher, red-faced and panting.

  She unlocked the door and the mayor half staggered, half fell inside. He looked to be in a fury and Arianwyn assumed she was about to be scolded for something when he collapsed against the counter and wheezed, ‘Deee . . . deeeem . . . demon. A DEMON!’

  ‘What? Are you sure?’

  The mayor nodded, still trying to catch his breath. Arianwyn had never seen him so flustered.

  ‘I heard people talking about it at the market a while ago.’ He took a massive gulp of air. ‘A demon! At Low Gate Farm. Apparently a group of townspeople have gone to look at it!’

  Panic fluttered in Arianwyn’s chest; she didn’t know what to do first. ‘We have to stop them. They could be in serious danger. Is it the crawler from Clover Hollow?’

  The mayor looked terrified. ‘I have no idea. What should we do?’ he asked.

  He was asking her? He must really be worried, she thought.

  ‘We need to get there as quickly as possible.’ She glanced across the room to where her broom stood propped in the corner. She hadn’t been flying for weeks, but there was little choice now. ‘You’re going to have to come for a ride on my broom, Mayor Belcher!’

  The mayor protested, a lot. He protested as Arianwyn pulled on her coat. He protested as she locked the door of the Spellorium and he was still protesting as he clambered on to the back of the broom out in Kettle Lane. He gripped her coat tightly. ‘You will fly carefully, won’t you?’ he asked, a wobble in his voice.

  The broom was much slower with two people on, especially one as rotund as the mayor, and couldn’t really gain its usual height, so there was little chance of any danger. Arianwyn moved them quickly through the town. People were pointing and giggling at the mayor, who was trying to remain composed and dignified but not doing a very good job.

  They flew out of town, following the mayor’s directions.

  The first signs of spring shone out on the grey day. Bright daffodils peeked at the side of the road and the trees of the Great Wood were fringed with green.

  ‘Here, it’s here!’ The mayor waved a hand frantically at the rickety old gate they were just passing.

  Arianwyn pulled the broom to a stop, reading the sign nailed to a post: ‘F. Caulls – Low Gate Farm – Keep Out!’

  Beyond the gate a couple of motorcars, a truck and several bicycles and carts were parked haphazardly.

  They walked quickly down the twisting track alongside a high stone wall. Arianwyn could just make out a cluster of buildings through a small copse of trees. As they drew nearer she could hear raised voices, thick with anger and fear. She glanced at the mayor and they both broke into a run.

  The farm had seen better days. The barn seemed to have only half of its door, and that was hanging from a single, rusted hinge. Dilapidated discarded machinery lay everywhere, and the whole place had a feeling of abandonment. A huddle of dirty geese bustled across the farmyard towards a large group of people standing near a small metal shed. The first spots of spring rain started to fall.

  A filthy, rangy, dog barked a warning at Arianwyn and the mayor as they approached, and the group fell silent and turned towards the new arrivals. ‘It’s just the witch,’ she heard someone mumble, and then a stout woman with wispy red hair stepped forward, her meaty arms folded across her chest.

  ‘That’s Mrs Caulls, the farmer’s wife,’ Mayor Belcher whispered quickly.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Caulls. I’m Arianwyn Gribble, the new—’

  ‘Yes, I know who you are!’

  ‘I gather you may have a creature causing some trouble around the farm. I’ve come to help.’

  Mrs Caulls eyed Arianwyn suspiciously. ‘It’s a demon we’ve got and no mistake!’ There were calls of agreement from the crowd.

  ‘You’re sure?’ Arianwyn asked. ‘Absolutely sure?’

  ‘I’m a simple woman, young witch, but I’m not daft!’

  ‘No, I, er, didn’t mean—’

  Mrs Caulls’s face had gone splotchy with large red circles. ‘I know what I saw,’ she continued, ‘and it was a demon, if ever there were one! Nasty little thing too, all deformed and bent out of shape. It was trying to get away, but the lads gave it what for and it’s gone to ground in the hen shed! We’ve probably killed it ourselves!’ She puffed her already huge chest up even more.

  ‘Wait, did you say it was little?’ Arianwyn asked. She was doubtful that a small collection of townsfolk would be able to even tackle even the smallest sort of demon. Such creatures rarely backed away from a fight. It didn’t add up: something odd was going on. ‘That’s very strange,’ she said and reached into her satchel, pulling out the handbook. She quickly flipped through the pages until she came to the chapter on demons. She turned the book to show Mrs Caulls line drawings of the three demon types.

  ‘Which one did it look like?’ she asked. Noticing Mayor Belcher’s questioning look, she added, ‘Demons are usually big, never anything smaller than a full-grown man at least. Why would it choose to form into something small?’

  ‘None of them,’ Mrs Caulls said dismissively, as though Arianwyn were stupid.

  ‘Well, how big was it?’ Arianwyn asked, tucking the book back into her satchel.

  ‘About so high,’ Mrs Caulls replied, and she placed her hand as if on the head of an invisible child. Arianwyn thought for a few moments, chewing her lip.

  ‘Well, can you get rid of it?’ Mrs Caulls asked.

  ‘Yes, of course!’ Arianwyn said with certainty and she stepped carefully past Mrs Caulls and set off towards the hen shed.

  The group of townspeople, including Mrs Caulls and Mayor Belcher, retreated some distance and Arianwyn summoned a protection spell around them. Although, if it really was a demon, she doubted the spell would hold for long if it chose to attack. She stepped towards the hen shed.

  Arianwyn peered into the black oblong of darkness. She saw nothing. Had it hidden anywhere else she would have cast a spell to reveal it but the spell wouldn’t work in the tin shed. The metal would distort any magic she used. Her best chance was to get a look at the thing and tr
y to lure it back outside. Or drag it out if it really was dead.

  She hesitated on the threshold, holding her breath.

  ‘Are you going to wait there all day long? Or are you going to come in?’ The voice echoed out of the dark, it was high-pitched and sounded rather annoyed.

  Chapter 20

  ESTAR

  rianwyn turned, wondering if anyone else had heard it. The crowd stood just as it had moments before.

  She could hear quiet murmuring and the soothing warble of the hens as she took more steps into the dark shed. The warm smell of feathers and chicken droppings filled her nose. It was so dark that she couldn’t see a thing. She breathed ʘru, but the metal of the shed meant she only managed to form a weak light globe that flickered before her and followed as she shuffled forwards. Arianwyn groped with her hands, worried she might at any moment walk into a wall or some piece of farm equipment with a sharp blade.

  The murmuring came to a sudden stop and all was silent except for the occasional sound of Arianwyn’s boots scuffing the dirt floor.

  She bent forwards, the globe light following her movement.

  Slumped against the wall of the shed on the straw-strewn floor was a small blue creature. It didn’t look like any demon Arianwyn recognized. In fact, it didn’t look like anything she had ever seen before.

  It had two twisted horns rising from its forehead and sweeping back over its shock of black hair, which was dirty and matted, much like the rest of it.

  The creature peered at Arianwyn with luminous yellow eyes and reached out a small blue hand, its fingers long and fine, ending in black claw-like nails. ‘Have they sent you to dispatch me?’ It sounded tired, defeated.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Arianwyn replied, taken aback by the creature’s honest question.

  ‘You’re a witch?’ The creature gave a loud, sharp cough, a cough that rattled in its chest and made it curl up in pain. Arianwyn winced.

  ‘Yes, I’m the witch from Lull, the town nearby.’

  ‘I don’t think you are!’ the creature replied indignantly. His words crisp and certain.

  Arianwyn paused for a second unsure what to say.

  ‘I know the local witch and you, young lady, are not she!’ He sniffed and looked away.

  Arianwyn was stunned into silence for a second, until curiosity got the better of her and she asked, ‘You knew the previous witch?’

  ‘Previous? Whatever do you mean?’ He sounded a little bored now.

  ‘I’m the new witch, my name is Arianwyn Gribble,’ she said slowly. ‘I’m afraid there hasn’t been a witch in Lull for nearly forty years . . . until now!’

  The creature seemed to be thinking about what she had just said, his face set in deep concentration. ‘Have I been away for so long?’ he mumbled to himself. ‘Time is so different deep in the wood.’

  ‘What . . . what are you?’ Arianwyn asked after more silence. ‘Some sort of gargus or frennark?’

  He looked slightly offended at the suggestions. ‘I am Estar Sha-Vamirian, Alemar of the third Jalloon. I think my mother was a wood sprite, if that helps – a blue one, obviously!’ He tried to pull himself up a little more, an action which clearly caused him pain.

  Something in his yellow-gold eyes told Arianwyn that there was nothing to fear from him. For a moment her mind cast back to when she had found the moon hare, and even further back to when she had rescued an injured phooka and argued with her grandmother to let her take it back home and care for it till it was well again.

  ‘They are not gentle creatures, Arianwyn,’ her grandmother had warned. ‘It will turn on you as soon as it is well. Leave it here, my love.’

  ‘NO!’ Arianwyn had said and scooped the phooka up into her hands defiantly.

  She had nursed it back to health, feeding it warm milk sweetened with honey and making it a bed out of a small box. After three weeks when it was well again it had scratched her arm with its sharp little claws and Grandmother had ordered her to take it to the park or she would have to banish it. She’d watched it scamper off into the park, tears streaming silently down her face. Then it had paused, turned and raced back to her. It had sung its beautiful song just for Arianwyn until she had forgotten about the angry red scratches on her arm.

  She looked at Estar now and wondered if he would hurt her, as the phooka had.

  Her heart told her no.

  ‘You’re hurt,’ Arianwyn said.

  He smiled weakly. ‘I’ve rather been in the wars recently, you might say.’

  ‘The crowd out there?’ Arianwyn gestured back to the oblong of light and the farmyard beyond.

  Estar raised an eyebrow. ‘They had a good try, but I was in a bit of a mess before that, to be fair.’ He gazed off, beyond Arianwyn.

  ‘Well, you simply can’t go on terrorizing the poor family that lives on the farm!’

  ‘Terrorizing?’ he repeated, clearly outraged and clutching his long blue hand to his bony chest. ‘I did no such thing, I can assure you! They set upon me!’

  It was then that Arianwyn noticed the creature’s legs. They were different from each other. The right was scaled and clawed like a bird’s or lizard’s, with three toes. The left was hairy and ended in a shiny black hoof like a goat’s, and round it was twisted a tangle of rusty barbed wire.

  The creature noticed her looking and said quietly, ‘As I said, I’ve been in the wars.’

  ‘Where have you come from?’ Arianwyn asked, deciding to start again.

  ‘From Erraldur!’ replied the creature, as though she should have known. But when Arianwyn just stared at him blankly he said, ‘It is the feyling settlement in the Great Wood.’ As if this would make more sense.

  ‘Feyling.’ Arianwyn let the word hang in the air briefly. ‘But that’s not possible, that’s just old stories.’

  Estar’s eyes widened. ‘Stories indeed . . .’ he muttered.

  Then she remembered the spirit lantern. She fumbled with the strap that held the case closed and then lifted it free. ‘I just need to take a picture,’ she said. Estar simply stared back at her.

  She lifted the lantern to her eyes and peered through the viewing aperture. The cloud of light that surrounded him was not the pale gold or white of a spirit creature. But nor was it the inky smudge of a dark spirit. The colours that shimmered around him swirled and changed, like an oily rainbow.

  He was something different altogether.

  Something new.

  She sighed heavily. It was forbidden to banish anything other than dark spirits to the void. But she couldn’t exactly let him go roaming around the countryside, for his own safety as well as the townspeople’s.

  Arianwyn sat on the floor, crossed her legs and stared hard at him.

  She looked once more at the scratches and bruises that covered the creature’s body; many were fresh but some looked much older. She reached into her bag and found a rather brown banana and a stale biscuit. She offered these to Estar, who ate them in just a few bites, including the banana skin, and almost at once his blue skin seemed to have brightened and he sat a little straighter. Next Arianwyn pulled out a clean handkerchief, wetting it in a nearby water dish that looked mostly clean. She reached towards the creature and wiped away at some of the worst-looking cuts. Then she carefully started to untangle the coil of barbed wire. Estar winced and looked away, his small body twitching in pain. As he shifted, Arianwyn noticed a large pattern, elegantly drawn in the compacted earth close to him. There was something so familiar and at the same time quietly disturbing about the shape.

  Was it? Could it be? She peered closer still. ‘What is that?’ she asked. Though she was afraid she already knew the answer.

  Estar’s eyes widened and he was just about to reply when a voice echoed through the shed: ‘Have you got it?’

  Arianwyn turned and saw the faces of Mrs Caulls and Mayor Belcher silhouetted in the open door. They peered blinking into the dark.

  ‘Yes!’ she replied, ‘I’ve found . . . it.’ She glanced apologetical
ly at Estar, ‘But it’s not a demon. Nobody’s in any danger.’

  ‘Wait here. Please,’ she whispered and walked quickly back towards the daylight.

  ‘It’s not a demon.’ Arianwyn repeated as she emerged from the hen shed. ‘I’m not entirely sure exactly what it is, but I don’t think anyone is in any danger from it. He’s been rather badly beaten.’

  ‘Well, don’t look at me!’ Mrs Caulls protested. ‘How was I supposed to know what it was or wasn’t? It didn’t have a label round its filthy little neck, did it? I’ve got children in the house!’

  Mayor Belcher stepped in, scowling at Arianwyn. ‘Dear lady,’ he began, ‘I am sure Miss Gribble meant no offence. I am certain she will go and deal with the creature right now!’ He glared at Arianwyn once more.

  ‘But I can’t just banish it . . .’ Arianwyn protested.

  Mayor Belcher grabbed her arm and walked her briskly away from Mrs Caulls. They stopped by the open door of the hen shed. ‘Get back in there and get rid of that blasted thing. I don’t care what you do or how you do it but I want it gone from the farm. Do I make myself clear?’ Mayor Belcher hissed.

  Arianwyn nodded mutely. An idea was starting to half form in her head.

  ‘Well, I suggest you get on with it, then!’ He gave her a gentle shove towards the shed.

  Arianwyn ventured back into the dark, her mind moving quickly.

  ‘It’s all right, I will turn myself over to the authorities,’ She could hear Estar shuffling towards her.

  If she handed him over to Mayor Belcher there was no telling what would happen and she might never find out what the strange pattern was, which looked so much like her unknown glyph.

  ‘You have to go!’ Arianwyn whispered urgently to Estar.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m not going to banish you. Can you walk? I can keep them distracted while you escape from the farm.’