Wychetts and the Key to Magic

by William Holley

Chapter 3- The Key to Magic

  The noise was laughter. Inglenook was laughing.

  Then Bryony and Edwin started laughing too, as much from relief as anything.

  After a few moments Inglenook found his voice, and the trembling ceased. “You really should be more careful with your aim, young Masters.”

  “We’re sorry,” said Edwin.

  “What do you mean we?” muttered Bryony, getting to her feet. “You’re the idiot who threw the bucket.”

  “You soaked me in semolina,” protested Edwin, before magically cleaning himself up. “It’s your fault.”

  “It is nobody’s fault,” said Inglenook, licking a dollop of baked beans from his lips. “Except maybe my own. For as the Keeper appointed by the Wise Ones, it is my duty to teach you to use the power wisely.”

  “You’ll have your work cut out there,” sighed Stubby. “It’d be easier to teach an elephant to hang-glide. And less of a hazard to the general public.”

  “Thanks for your confidence.” Edwin shot the mouse a glare before turning back to the fireplace. “I want to learn, Inglenook. I want to know all there is to know about magic.”

  Inglenook smiled. “I am afraid that is impossible, for there is no one who knows all there is to know about magic. Not even the Wise Ones made so bold a claim. Except one, of whom we will not speak further. But I can teach you all I know, which is a pretty good start.”

  “Great,” beamed Edwin, rubbing his hands together. “Could we start right now?”

  “We’re going on holiday in a few minutes,” Bryony reminded Edwin.

  “I don’t want to go,” said Edwin. “I want to stay here and learn about magic.”

  Inglenook smiled again. “You can still learn about magic, even on holiday. You see Wychetts’ power is not limited to the confines of this building.”

  “That’s not what you told us before,” said Bryony. “You said Wychetts’ magic couldn’t work outside the house.”

  “Indeed I did,” conceded Inglenook. “And that is the case for all Level One Guardians. But you have now reached Level Two.”

  “We have?” Edwin swapped a bemused glance with Bryony. “How did we do that?”

  “You have been here one whole month,” said Inglenook. “In a Guardian’s early days the magic is always unstable, but now you have learned to control the power.”

  “Control?” Stubby didn’t sound so sure. “Is that what you call a bucket of baked beans in the face?”

  “That was a momentary slip,” Inglenook assured the mouse. “Such things will happen from time to time, even with the most experienced Guardians. Even the Great Grimbald, Most Magical High Chief of All the Wise Ones, was prone to the odd baked bean spillage every now and then. But over the past few weeks, the young Masters have demonstrated their readiness for the next stage of magical practice.”

  Something thin and metallic floated out of the fireplace, and hovered above Edwin and Bryony.

  “What’s that?” asked Bryony, peering up at the object.

  “It looks like a key,” observed Edwin.

  “Indeed it is,” explained Inglenook. “The Wychetts Key.”

  Bryony frowned. “But we’ve already got a door key.”

  Inglenook’s smile broadened into a grin. “This is not the key to a door, but the key to magic itself.”

  Edwin examined the hovering key. It was larger and longer than a normal door key, with three irregular shaped teeth at one end. The other end was circular, and with markings on it. As he peered more closely he could make out what looked like a face. A weird, half human, half animal face that looked very familiar.

  “It’s you,” he breathed, switching his gaze back to Inglenook. “You’re on the Key.”

  “That is so.” Now Inglenook’s voice was coming from the Key as well as the fireplace. “Through the Wychetts Key you may communicate with me, and call upon the power of the Wise Ones wherever you may be.”

  “Wow.” Edwin was impressed. “You mean, like anywhere?”

  “There is no range limit. Although,” admitted Inglenook, “excessive usage may incur charges.”

  Bryony was horrified. “You mean we have to pay?”

  Inglenook chuckled. “Of course not. But the Key has only a limited supply of magic. Once the magic runs out, it will have to re-charge itself before you can use it again.”

  Edwin nodded. “So we have to take some sort of magical power adapter?”

  “There is no need. Simply refrain from using the Key for a while, and it will re-charge itself. The length of time required to re-charge will depend on how much magic is used.”

  “That’s cool,” crooned Bryony, her dark eyes fixed on the floating Key. “So we can take the Key on holiday with us, and use Wychetts’ magic?”

  “That is the idea,” said Inglenook. “Subject of course to the usual safeguards imposed by the Wise Ones to prevent misuse of their power.”

  Stubby shook his head. “Do you think it’s a good idea allowing those two to wreak havoc in the outside world?”

  “They are Guardians,” replied Inglenook. “Descendants of the Wise Ones. I trust them.”

  Stubby tutted. “Wooden face, wooden brains.”

  “Where’s the other one?” asked Edwin.

  “There is but one Wychetts Key,” said Inglenook.

  “But there are two Guardians,” said Bryony.

  “That may be so,” agreed Inglenook. “But there is, and only ever has been, one Wychetts Key.”

  “Then make another one,” suggested Edwin.

  Inglenook smiled apologetically. “The Key was forged centuries ago by the Wise Ones themselves. I do not have the necessary means to create a second Key. Besides, there is no need. One Key has always sufficed, no matter how many Guardians there have been.”

  “So which one of us is going to keep it?” asked Bryony.

  Inglenook smiled again. “That is for you, as Guardians, to decide.”

  “That’s a tricky one,” mused Bryony, tapping her chin. “I mean… we’re both Guardians, right?”

  “Yeah,” said Edwin. “Both Guardians. With equal rights to use the magic.”

  Bryony nodded. “Which means there’s only one way to decide it. It has to come down to which one of us is the tallest.”

  “Huh?” Edwin wrinkled his nose. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Nothing really,” said Bryony. “Except whoever is the tallest can do this.” Bryony jumped and plucked the Key from the air. “Which I suppose means it’s me. Bad luck, Edwin.”

  “Hey!” Edwin tried to take the Key from Bryony, but she held it just out of his reach. So he tried to make a grab for Mr Cuddles instead, but she held the toy behind her back.

  “That’s not fair!” Edwin squealed with frustration. “You shouldn’t have the Key just because you’re tallest. The one who gets the Key should be the one who deserves it, which is me. I don’t use magic to get my chores done. I only use it for proper things.”

  “Like chucking baked beans all over Inglenook?” Bryony feigned a sad expression. “That just proves you shouldn’t have the Key. You’re way too immature.”

  “No I’m not,” said Edwin.

  “Then why are you wearing nappies?”

  “Huh?” Edwin wondered what Bryony was on about, then looked down and saw that he was wearing nappies. “Hey… cut that…” Edwin’s protests stopped when a large plastic dummy materialised in his mouth.

  “Sorry.” Bryony cupped a hand to her right ear. “Can’t quite hear you. Do you need changing again?”

  As tempting as it was to retaliate, Edwin wanted to prove that he was better than Bryony. He spat the dummy from his mouth and wheeled round to glare at Inglenook. “See? She isn’t fit to carry the Key. She’s too childish.”

  “Me childish?” Bryony laughed. “You’re the one who just spat their dummy out.”

  “See what you’ve started?” Stubby shook his head at Inglenook. “There will be no end to it now.”<
br />
  An enraged Edwin yelled at Inglenook. “You can’t let Bryony take the Key. It isn’t fair!”

  “I cannot control who holds the Key,” advised Inglenook. “It is up to you as Guardians to learn how to share the power.”

  “I’m not sharing the power,” said Bryony, slipping the Key into her trouser pocket before aiming a triumphant smirk at Edwin. “Now I have Mr Cuddles and the Key. I am so going to enjoy this holiday.”

  Edwin gave up trying to prove himself more responsible than Bryony, and was about to wish up another bucket of baked beans when Jane poked her head round the door.

  “We’re all packed and ready, kids. So come along, we don’t...” Jane stopped mid sentence, and her eyes widened as she looked at her son. “What on earth are you wearing, Edwin?”

  “I, er…” Edwin glanced down at his nappies. “New swimming trunks. Do you like them?”

  “They look a bit odd,” said Jane. “Are you sure they’re watertight?”

  Bryony sniggered. “They’d better be. I think he’s just wet himself.”

  A confused looking Jane ushered Edwin and Bryony into the hallway. From upstairs came more thudding noises.

  “Is Dad still packing?” asked Bryony.

  Jane nodded. “He insisted on doing the last few bits himself.” She walked to the bottom of the stairs and called up. “Have you finished yet, darling?”

  “Just on my way down,” came Bill’s muffled response. Then there was another thud, followed by a shuffling noise. And then a large suitcase came crashing down the stairs, trailing an assortment of clothes behind it.

  Jane jumped out of the way as the suitcase hit the floor. A pair of legs stuck out of one end, flailing helplessly.

  Jane lifted the suitcase lid, and Bill’s head emerged from beneath a mass of screwed up clothes. “Think I’m done now, darling.”

  Shaking her head, Jane helped Bill out of the case, and then set about retrieving the clothes from the stairs. Bill turned to Edwin and Bryony, grinning enthusiastically. “So are we all excited about the holiday?”

  “I am,” said Bryony. “Edwin isn’t.”

  “Oh?” Bill looked at Edwin. “Wow. Like the new trunks. I’ve got a pair like that somewhere. Not sure if I packed them, though. Maybe I’ll go back upstairs and look for them.”

  “No,” said Jane, cramming Bill’s clothes back into his case. “We’re running late as it is. We don’t want to miss the flight.”

  “Flight?” Bill looked confused. “Who said anything about a flight?”

  Jane glanced up at her husband, her auburn eyebrows arching. “I thought we were flying to Spain?”

  “We would be,” said Bill. “If we were going to Spain.”

  “What do you mean if?” asked Bryony. “I thought we were going to the island of Los Sol, off the coast of Spain?”

  “So we are,” said Bill, grinning. “But not the one off the coast of Spain.”

  “There are two islands called Los Sol?” Jane looked puzzled.

  Bill nodded. “I only found out myself this morning. There’s one off the coast of Spain, and there’s another one. Where we’re going. Off the coast of Kent.”

  “Kent?” Bryony scowled at her father. “That’s in England.”

  Bill shrugged. “Only geographically speaking.”

  “Oh Bill,” sighed Jane. “I thought we were going abroad. I’ve spent a fortune on sun screen, insect repellent and stomach pills.”

  “Don’t worry.” Bill patted Jane’s shoulder. “We’re going to Kent, so there’s still a chance you might go down with a nasty illness; it won’t all have been a waste.”

  “He always does this,” grumbled Bryony. “A couple of years ago we were supposed to be going on a once in a lifetime safari trip to Africa, but ended up having a picnic in the local park.”

  “You got up close to the wildlife,” Bill reminded her.

  Bryony gritted her teeth. “Only when I sat on a wasp.”

  “Don’t worry.” Now Bill patted Bryony’s shoulder. “You’ll love our holiday destination. The island of Los Sol has everything we need for a great week. A beautiful five star residence, our own private beach, and lots of active nightlife. And of course, the most essential ingredients: sun, sea and sunshine.”