‘And you’re letting me compete against her?’ said Niamh incredulously.
‘Oh, don’t worry. She won’t be able to do anything to you here,’ said Karalina. ‘She may be nasty but she’s also clever. If you upset her she’ll wait and wait until she can find a moment to take you out when no one is watching. She may be insane but in her mind missing the season would be worse than ending up in jail.’
Niamh shook her head. Was everyone at Flamville a complete nutter, she asked herself.
Ms Maladicta threw back the tent flap letting a welcome breeze of cool air into the increasingly stuffy tent. ‘Let’s go.’
There was another cheer as the three girls walked down the open channel between the crowd towards the spell casting range that had been set up facing the hills at the foot of which the town nestled. Niamh let out a small groan as she saw who was standing beside the other contestants. Scrabbler, Clean Cut and Clipboard – the same officials that had tried to stop Grady racing in the Samhain schools race. They were waiting with the patient expression of those who know the regulations give them (for a short time at least) unbridled power over others.
‘Ready to go are we?’ said the vampire whose name Niamh remembered was Van Helsing.
‘Of course,’ said Ms Maladicta. ‘And do you have all your forms completed as you require?’
The vampire turned to Scrabbler, who consulted his clipboard which he held like some sort of magical totem. He scrunched his nose as he ran down a piece of paper, flicked over to the next page ticking lines as he went, and then flicked over another page before sniffing in obvious disgust at the forms being in order. There was nothing Scrabbler liked better than finding an incorrectly completed form. He nodded to Van Helsing who smiled the oily smile that Niamh had begun to recognise as uniquely vampirish.
‘Let us begin. To your ranges, ladies,’ he said, bowing.
Niamh and her team mates strode to the shooting range. The crowd seemed to have doubled in the last few minutes and the stands were now packed with fans. Candy floss sellers twirled fluffy balls of the brightly coloured floss with their wands before flicking them expertly onto a stick for the rapt children awaiting the sticky treat. Other stalls sold a dazzling combination of sickly sweet and multi-coloured slushie drinks or exotic looking foods. The cacophony made Niamh’s head swim as she walked alongside her taller and more confident team mates.
‘Remember,’ said Ms Maladicta, striding alongside. ‘You are not representing Rookwood here but everyone knows who you are. I expect only the best standards of sportsmanship from you – no matter what may be thrown at you.’
The girls all mumbled phrases along the lines of ‘Yes Ms Maladicta’ as they stepped up to the spell casting range.
Scrabbler, Clean Cut and Clipboard stood behind a garishly dressed official who sported a circus master moustache and a circus elephant girth. His bright chequered waistcoat strained at its gold buttons while over the top of it sat a long tailed jacket with cuffed sleeves. The circus effect was reinforced by his top hat and shiny boots with red folded-down tops.
‘Is everyone here?’ he said, his voice booming out above the noise of the crowd.
Clipboard ran his eye down a list, ticking furiously. He leaned forward to whisper in the circus master’s ear who then nodded, apparently satisfied.
‘Welcome along everyone!’ he said, beaming at the crowd. He clearly had no need for a loudhailer as his wobbling chest was a natural amplifier. ‘For those of you who do not know me, I am Victor Vanderbilt from the Morrigan’s Lake Sporting Society. I will be running the competition today to see fair play all round.’
There was a polite smattering of applause from the crowd though none, Niamh noticed, from the Flamville spell casters.
‘The competition for the Troll Trophy will start with three rounds of five shots for each spell caster. At the end of the three rounds the top three spell casters will compete in three more championship rounds of three shots each over the national competition distance – a full twenty-five metres further than the standard range. If, at the end of that, there is no clear winner, a moving target decider round will be completed with the first spell caster to miss being eliminated.’
Niamh gulped. Aurelia noted her discomfort and whispered to her. ‘Don’t worry. Relax and breathe. Pretend it’s practice at school.’
Niamh nodded and tried to smile, but it felt forced. Butterflies appeared to have taken up residence in her stomach.
There were twelve identical ranges set up on the common. It seemed that there was an unspoken agreement that each school would provide three shooters despite this not being a school competition. The Sandune shooters didn’t appear to be taking any of it seriously having turned up in board shorts and jandals. A surf tanned girl with braided blonde hair gave Niamh a chin-up nod of her head. The elves from Titania College clearly didn’t know each other well as they appeared to be stiffly introducing themselves around their group. They were positively chilled out in comparison to the Flamville College girls however, who stood closely together with Hegeline seemingly berating or exhorting them – Niamh couldn’t tell which.
‘To your marks please,’ said the ebullient Mr Vanderbilt.
Niamh glanced behind her to where the rest of the royal group had been seated. She had been placed in the middle of the range directly in front of the royal seating. Grady gave her a thumbs-up to which she could only smile weakly in return.
‘Stop worrying,’ came a voice in Niamh’s head.
‘Don’t interrupt me,’ she thought back. ‘I’m trying to concentrate.’
‘I can help you,’ came the girl’s voice.
‘How?’ said Niamh curiously.
‘I can help guide the spell. You need to let me have a little control.’
Niamh thought about this. For a moment Persephone’s voice sounded overly eager. And to Niamh the thought of handing over control of a spell to a voice in her head did not seem clever.
‘Not yet. Maybe another time.’
‘As you wish,’ said the voice floating away.
‘I’m handling the voice in my head quite well,’ Niamh thought to herself. ‘But now I’m having conversations with myself. Hmmm. Not sure which I should be more worried about there…’
‘Spell casters ready!’ boomed Vanderbilt again.
Each of the girls called ready in turn. Niamh tried to sound confident as she did so but only managed a shaky response.
Vanderbilt waved his wand and the protective spell grid sprang up around the range.
‘You may start on the count of three,’ he said, smiling. ‘One!’
Niamh steadied herself and took up the spell casting position she had been taught, arm raised, feet apart and wand poised.
‘Two!’
Niamh glanced at Hegeline Baskerville, who had taken up position immediately to Niamh’s right. Hegeline was a left-hander and saw Niamh’s glance. She returned it with an evil little scowl.
‘Three!’
Niamh jumped as the other spell casters unleashed their first volley of spells. Hegeline’s spells were a dirty red colour and thumped into the targets with an angry sound. A scoreboard at the end of the range showed Hegeline and Aurelia had scored exactly the same – nine points for hitting the inner circle but not quite the bull’s-eye. Niamh watched the scores flash up – she had no points at all. With a blush she realised she had not sent her first spell yet but still stood in her casting pose. She felt the blackthorn wand sitting smoothly in her hand. It seemed to pulse as if eager to be used. She breathed deeply and whipped her wand hand around in a blur. A bright bolt sped from the tip and slammed into the target. She relaxed, looked up, and saw ten points register against her name.
‘Well done!’ said Aurelia from Niamh’s left. ‘Now, same again!’
‘Woohoo!’ yelled Grady, standing up in his seat with a fist pump.
‘Sit down,’ said his father. ‘That’s not exactly princely behaviour!’
Grady gave hi
s father a disbelieving look and was about to launch into a defence of his behaviour before “The Hand” came up. He sat down, hands tucked under his thighs. Now was not the right time for an argument.
‘Luck only lasts for so long,’ said an angry voice to Niamh’s right. Hegeline was setting herself for another cast but there was no mistaking the murder behind her eyes at being in second place.
Niamh smiled to herself. If she was upsetting the Flamville caster then she must be doing something right. She settled herself and turned back to the targets.
Bolt after bolt sailed down the range. The crowd oohed and aahed as the spell casters swapped places on the leader board. By the end of the three rounds, Hegeline and Niamh were separated by the single point with which Niamh had led by from the first round. Aurelia had faded to fourth place and looked crushed at missing out on the championship round. The Sandune College girl who had curtly nodded at Niamh at the start was receiving pats on the back from a group of well-wishers. She turned to Niamh and gave her another nod – this time with a little more respect. She sauntered over to Niamh and extended her hand. She was taller than Niamh but not by much. Her willowy figure belied more strength than first appearances might suggest. Muscles showed clearly beneath the skin of sun-browned forearms. Niamh took her hand and felt a crushingly strong grip as they shook.
‘Well done. My name is Cory.’ Her accent was clipped, her speech matter-of-fact. ‘You don’t need to introduce yourself. We all know who you are.’
‘It’s an occupational disadvantage,’ said Niamh.
‘Sorry?’ said Cory, looking puzzled.
‘Everyone tends to know who I am, so I always start conversations at a disadvantage.’
The other girl laughed, her serious demeanour falling away.
‘Isn’t Cory an odd name for a girl?’
Cory winced. ‘Most people think that. But it’s better than Coralina. That’s my real name.’
Niamh blushed. ‘Sorry. I should think before speaking. Normally it’s my brother who opens his mouth to change feet. Not me.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Cory with a laugh. ‘It’s an unusual name. And I’m sure someday I’ll come to like it. But for now it’s just Cory.’
Niamh smiled at her. It was hard not to like this girl, even if she was going to be a competitor.
‘Watch your back,’ said Cory quietly. ‘I’m not sure Hegeline likes you much.’
Niamh glanced past Cory to see Hegeline glaring daggers at Niamh. Clearly she didn’t like coming second – even if the competition wasn’t over yet.
Victor Vanderbilt’s voice erupted from behind them. ‘In first place we have the Princess Niamh O’Connell.’ This brought a massive cheer from the crowd along with a whoop from Grady who didn’t appear to be learning his lessons.
‘In second place, Hegeline Baskerville.’ This brought polite applause but noticeably more restrained across the crowd than it had been for Niamh.
‘And in third place we have Coralina Carraig!’ This brought another big cheer from the crowd but especially from the group of Sandune supporters in the stands. ‘It’s time for the top three to move into the championship round so would all the other competitors clear the arena.’
Frantic activity surrounded the targets and a swarm of faeries buzzed around the range, clearing away blasted dragon scales and debris from the pummelling of the spell casters. The remaining targets were whisked away and replaced by three new ones but placed considerably further away. Niamh groaned. These targets were going to be much harder to hit. She had never cast over such a long range. The targets were at least one hundred metres away now and the new bull’s-eyes looked even smaller.
‘The secret is to not panic,’ said Ms Maladicta quietly. Niamh jumped. She hadn’t heard her principal approaching over the noise of the crowd. Niamh spun round to face the witch. Ms Maladicta stood serenely in her shimmering purple gown which looked out of place among the normal day to day outfits worn by the majority of the crowd. Oddly, thought Niamh, she found it comforting to see such a witchy presence from time to time. The normality of most of the people she met (elves, dragons, faeries, and vampires aside) made Avalon sometimes appear not quite as magical as she felt it should. But then, the dragons skirting overhead and the occasional visits from a phoenix meant no day here was ever going to feel like her old home.
‘I’ll try,’ said Niamh, taking a deep breath. ‘But they look far away.’
‘There’s no difference between hitting these targets and hitting the closer targets. I know the skill to hit these runs in your family,’ said the witch, nodding towards Niamh’s mother in the stand. ‘So trust your … inner voice,’ said Ms Maladicta, smiling.
Niamh stiffened. She couldn’t know, could she? But before Niamh could give it another thought Ms Maladicta turned and swept away.
Aurelia had been standing to the side waiting for the principal to leave. She bounded over and grabbed Niamh’s hands in hers. ‘She’s right. Trust in your aim. It’s no more difficult to score bull’s-eyes on this than it was before.’
‘You make it sound so easy,’ said Niamh.
‘It is,’ said Aurelia. ‘Just don’t let Hegeline win!’ she said, slapping Niamh on the back and giving her a push towards the range.
‘Spell casters to your marks,’ rumbled Vanderbilt loudly.
‘Good luck,’ said Hegeline, sweeping over to Niamh. ‘I hope you’ll be satisfied with second place. Don’t be too disappointed. I’m sure you’ll do the best you can.’
Niamh had never seen such a smarmy attitude and immediately went from nervousness to anger. Before she could say anything Hegeline turned her back on Niamh and made her way to her casting point. Niamh fumed as she wished she could be more quick-witted with a pithy retort to the evil natured girl’s insult. But it was too late, as Vanderbilt called them to attention.
‘On my count! One … two … three!’
Niamh and Cory whipped their wands round as one, though they were both slower than Hegeline whose firebolt sped true at the target. But this time a spurt of red energy also burst sideways from Hegeline’s wand, flashing across both Niamh and Cory’s line of sight. Niamh winced as she cast her spell and Cory dropped her wand as the spell clipped the back of her hand. The firebolts from all three spell casters thumped into the targets and the scores flashed up – ten points for Hegeline, nine for Niamh, and eight for Cory.
‘Ooops,’ said Hegeline, feigning shock. ‘Must have been a little misfire that time. Hope you aren’t hurt,’ she said to Cory.
Niamh barged past Hegeline to Cory. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I don’t think I can use this hand again today,’ she said, wincing. She cradled her hand gingerly while the Flamville College shooter sneered. A still smoking angry red welt had risen on the back of it.
‘I can fix that,’ said Persephone’s voice, jumping into Niamh’s head.
‘How?’ said Niamh out loud.
‘What?’ said Cory, looking confused. ‘Isn’t it obvious? That … cow’s spell hit me.’
Niamh stifled a laugh as she saw the look of pure hatred crawl over Hegeline’s face. She had obviously heard the comment. ‘Sorry. Yes that was obvious.’ Niamh made a mental note to herself to remember when she needed to keep the conversations internal. ‘How? What do we do?’ Niamh glanced up. The medical team was scampering across the common towards Cory. ‘And it better be quick.’
‘Take your wand and imagine yourself to be as cold as ice. I will add the element of Air you need.’
‘What?’ said Niamh.
‘Do it!’
Niamh took her wand and pointed it at the wound.
‘What are you doing?’ said Cory.
Niamh looked her directly in the eyes. ‘Trust me.’ She turned her attention to the wound and imagined ice cold water running from the tip of her wand to the wound. As she did so a feeling of energy rushed into her from all sides. The energy coursed through the wand tip and mixed with her thoughts. A bright blue
glow emanated from the wand and drifted slowly from the tip to envelop the wound. Cory stiffened with shock as the spell touched her. The blue glow built into a bright light before fading and sinking into her hand.
‘How … how did you do that?’ said Cory, holding up her hand. The red welt evaporated before her eyes. The golden tanned colour of her skin looked a little pink where the welt had been but in seconds the pinkness faded and it became impossible to tell there had been any injury at all.
‘How’s that?’ said Niamh, standing back, feeling a little breathless. The power that had surged through her had faded and left her feeling weak.
Cory flexed her hand. ‘That’s amazing. I can’t feel a thing.’
‘Is that legal?’ said Hegeline, stalking over to Clipboard who recoiled a little at being spoken to directly by someone other than the officials. He pulled a notebook from his pocket and thumbed hastily through page after page before leaning close to Vanderbilt’s ear and whispering something.
‘Apparently so,’ said Vanderbilt. ‘There is nothing in the rules to stop a competitor from aiding another due to an injury.’
‘Well … well … well it should be!’ spluttered Hegeline. ‘I mean, you can’t go round helping people like that, can you?’ she said, gesticulating angrily at Niamh.
‘Well, you certainly couldn’t,’ said Niamh calmly. She found it strangely satisfying to see the Flamville spell caster looking so discombobulated by her healing.
‘Thank you,’ she thought to herself.
‘You’re welcome,’ said Persephone’s voice, once again drifting away.
Cory turned to Niamh. ‘Thanks,’ she said politely. ‘Maybe I can do the same for you one day, but … I don’t have any idea what you just did.’
‘Neither do I,’ said Niamh, smiling. ‘But at least you can keep shooting.’
‘Yeah. Thanks,’ said Cory, returning the smile. ‘Are you sure you still want me in the competition? Less chance of losing if I’m not around.’
‘No,’ said Niamh. ‘I’d rather she had two people to get angry at rather than one. Less chance of her spells hitting me that way!’
Azrael's Twins and the Circle of Stone: Book Two of the Nearworld Tales Page 10