‘I’m not going anywhere without my hat,’ she said aloud to the bindweed. She reached out and grabbed a sticky, slick thorny strand of the stuff and it tried to wrap itself round her wrists. ‘Without a hat, a witch is just a bad mood trying to happen,’ she told the weed, grabbing it between her two fists and yanking it tight. Before the weed knew what was happening, Alditha had wrapped it round her head and tied its thorny ends together. Like a snake obeying the instinct to bite, the bindweed sank thorns into her head. ‘And there’s no wizard alive-’ she snarled, sticking out her tongue to fight the bindweed’s influence on her mind, ‘more in tune with plants than any witch born.’ When the weed had first got hold of her, she’d been unconscious, stunned by the orb. But now she was in control of her thoughts, and as she pushed back against the bindweed, she smiled, tasting victory.
‘Fetch,’ she told it, and like a flock of birds coming together to fly south for the winter, the bindweed she’d tied round her head hissed to another strand, and another, which wound around her head, and built itself up, and up, reaching to a thorny point. A witch’s hat made out of living, interwoven bindweed, connected directly to Alditha’s mind. ‘That’s better,’ she said, ‘now, who do you belong to, hand?’ The hand pointed a forefinger to show her the way, and with a determined stride, Alditha began to follow it. If only I had a ring made of black cherries for good measure, she thought to herself.
__________
‘You’re having a laugh, aren’t you?’
Odiz faced another impenetrable hedge of bindweed. The spinning blue gyroscope spun faster, insisting the way ahead was through the hedge. Odiz turned his back on the hedge and began to retrace his steps. There was a slick, slithering, hissing sound, and he saw another wall of the Maze unweave itself, then reform in front of him.
‘Oh I see. Like that, is it? Whichever way I go, you’re going to stop me?’ He sniffed. ‘Cunning,’ he granted. He held up the spinning gyroscope again. ‘Well, fireballs to this then.’
Odiz blasted three fireballs at the wall of thorns, leaving a human-shaped hole in the bindweed, which fizzed and bubbled and squealed.
‘Never could see the point in a piggin’ maze,’ he muttered to himself. ‘S’just getting lost, for fun.’
He stepped through the hole he’d made and followed the gyroscope forward.
__________
‘You’ve done what?’ said Harper.
‘I’ve raised the Sleepers,’ said Celeste.
‘You’ve demolished our shops and houses, that’s what you’ve done.’
Celeste looked at the pyramids that had replaced some of the key buildings around the square. ‘Not sure how long the revival process took in the old days,’ she said to herself. ‘Probably not long, though. Given the local timeframe, maybe an hour.’
‘What’s your name?’ asked Harper suddenly, widening his large eyes towards her.
‘Hmm? Oh, my name is Celeste,’ said Celeste. ‘What’s yours?’
‘Teacup-girl,’ he said. ‘You’re the teacup-girl. You’re an alien. HELP. I’VE GOT ALIENS IN MY GARDEN.’
‘And you’re a talking owl,’ said Celeste, calmly, ‘but we have bigger things to concentrate on at the moment. Two bigger things. We have a local wizard who frankly seems a little unstable, and who’s got his hands on some Astarian technology, heading this way.’ She threw a nervous look at the nearest pyramid. ‘And then we’ve got these.’
‘Alien,’ squawked Harper again. The word, yelled by their fearless leader, caught the crowd’s attention. It caught Gunkin’s too, cowering in his hiding place behind the Hedge.
Gunkin saw his hopes of creating an army with Harper as its figurehead dissolving in front of his eyes. If the Gardenfolk got the idea that this girl was the terrifying alien who was going to come and steal the food out of their mouths, it was probably a lost cause. It was always the way—once you could put a face to the danger, and they turned out to be just like you, fear tended to die.
Celeste walked up to the cryo-pod, pulled her oblong scanner out of her pocket and waved it at the smooth, metallic pyramid. She was probably in trouble, she knew. She wasn’t supposed to initiate the revival process, she was only supposed to find them and report back. This would be where things got...complicated. She knew enough of the story and Astarian design to understand that the pyramid, the bit they could see, was like the tip of an iceberg—there would be more still beneath the surface, and the Astarians themselves would be at the bottom. The bio-mechs would be the first things to come back online.
They might already be awake for all I know, she acknowledged, thumping her scanner. It was useless. Either the pyramid was shielding its occupants from her scans, or the scanner was just having one of ‘those’ days and refusing to tell her anything.
‘Alien,’ yelled Harper, flinging a dramatic wing in her direction. Gunkin grabbed him, shoving a determined goblin hand over his beak. ‘No need to worry, chief,’ he smarmed. ‘These nice people don’t need to be suspicious of a little girl, do they, no matter how she dresses or what colour her eyes are? Not when their homes and shops and belongings have been flattened by these pyramid-things?’
‘Bufft theirrrallientooo,’ squawked Harper round the goblin’s fingers.
‘Are they now?’ asked Gunkin, thoughtfully. ‘Alien pyramids just popping up out of the ground? Today’s just got “one of them days” written all over it, hasn’t it?’
‘He’s right, if that matters to you,’ Celeste called from the nearest pyramid. ‘This is alien technology.’
Gunkin brightened. ‘So the aliens are not happy just to invade, brothers, sisters, Gardenfolk,’ he called out. ‘They wanna drop great big pyramids of doom on our heads, on our homes.’
‘Oh do be quiet, you infuriating little creature,’ snapped Celeste. ‘They didn’t drop from anywhere, they were here long before your-’ She stopped. ‘Talking owl.’
She blinked. Astarians didn’t blink often, because their eyes didn’t need to stay moist. But Celeste did it every now and then, when she was thinking too hard. She turned to face the crowd. Walking rock-like creatures looked back at her. Vegetables turned eyes in her direction. Mushrooms inclined their caps to her.
There had been no intelligent life on the planet when the original survey team had come to look. That was what had made it such a promising option for the Astarian fleet. But now there was sentient life everywhere here. She’d known something was odd the moment she’d landed in the Garden, for Astarian craft didn’t take on the form of local objects without reason. But where had all the intelligent life come from in such a short space of time? Celeste realized she’d been avoiding this question since arriving in the Garden.
‘And you have a legend of the Gardener,’ she continued uneasily. ‘Don’t you? Ven Tao, the Gardener, you know who that was, and you know what he did?’
There was a murmur of agreement from some of the crowd, who were shushed by others, who weren’t sure they were allowed to talk to the alien.
‘How?’ said Celeste. ‘How do you have a legend from before there was any intelligent life here? Who told you the legend?’
The crowd was uncomfortable. ‘’s just always been,’ said a man with a dark brown beard spilling down over a big body. ‘Ven Tao did the thing with the Shears of Destiny and the Secateurs of Fate, and, and...and then it was Midsummer Hallowe’en.’
‘Always is a very long time,’ said Celeste. ‘Believe me. I’m assuming you tell the story to your children, and your children tell it to their children and so on. The question is who told it to the first children capable of passing it on. How did that happen?’
‘Well, I dunno, do I?’ said Brown-Beard. ‘S’pose someone saw it, and told it on.’
‘Except they didn’t,’ said Celeste firmly. ‘No-one saw it and lived. Of course, it’s recorded in the mapping database. In the Astarian...’ She shook her head. It was too incredible a thought, and she didn’t want to jump to conclusions. ‘When’s the next one? T
he next Midsummer Whateveryousaid?’
‘You daft or some’ing? ’s tomorrow night, innit?’
‘Of course it is,’ Celeste muttered. ‘Because there’s nothing like a little extra pressure. The drive must be priming itself already, trying to find new dimensions, that’s why it woke up when I touched it. Err, and yes, incidentally, I have a feeling I am daft. Or some people like me were daft. What nobody ever tells you is that daftness can have consequences.’
‘Consequences like having pyramids dropped on your house? Oh, I’m sorry, like having pyramids burrow up from underneath your house?’ asked Gunkin, half-sarcastically.
But only half, Celeste realized. Part of him was much cleverer than most of these people. Part of him really wanted to know what was going on.
‘Well-’ she said, but then the pyramid went ping.
Pyramids rarely go ping anywhere in the universe, so it drew everyone’s attention. As they watched, the tips of each of the pyramids seemed to separate themselves, forming a mathematically perfect miniature pyramid of their own. Then the mini-pyramids began to pulse with colours: pinks and greens and blues, and some that only Celeste’s eyes could see.
‘It’s begun then,’ she said. ‘Final thawing and revival.’
‘Revival of what?’ said a voice like cat-claws down an eyeball. People had been so busy getting on with their public meetings and raising the Sleepers, they hadn’t seen Skoros and his orbs approaching. But the kind of people who become evil dictators really hated to be ignored. He waited until everyone was looking at him before gesturing to the three orbs he’d brought with him.
‘Skoros,’ yelled Harper. ‘And he’s in league with the aliens, look.’
‘He really isn’t,’ said Celeste. ‘Although I think he has Alditha held hostage somewhere.’
‘But the balls,’ said Harper. ‘The balls of whizziness-’
‘Stolen, yes. And yes, you all should know, they’re dangerous as long as they’re under his control.’
‘Really, Celeste?’ said Skoros. ‘Well here’s some news for you. I am the King of the Garden now. My will is law. That makes you a dangerous alien outlaw if I say so. Any questions?’
Brown-Beard—whose real name was Timmoluk Van Der Buck—shuffled and humphed. ‘Yeah, who died and made you king?’ he grumped, making some of his friends chuckle.
Skoros snapped his fingers. The orb to his right floated forward and spat a beam of deep, harsh red light at Timmoluk. He turned red, and white and grey as the light hit him, then turned into a small whiff of ash.
‘Any further questions?’ asked Skoros.
__________
‘Yours, I believe,’ said Alditha, dangling Odiz’ severed hands from one of hers like a pair of odd, fleshy gloves.
‘Nice hat,’ Odiz huffed. The mage grinned at the witch, who gave the brim of her new thorny hat the barest of touches in acknowledgement. Odiz’ hands leapt the gap between them and clambered up his body, like eager kittens, to sit on his shoulders. His beard split into two strands and stroked the hands.
‘Complicated life you lead,’ sniffed Alditha. ‘See you’re using spells to find your way through.’ The faintest hint of a smirk caught in her voice, as though using anything as brash as spells was beneath her.
‘We must hurry,’ said the mage. ‘Seems like Big Red’s tied up somewhere in the Maze, and there’s a faint reading for Sagar, too. I doubt either of them are happy with our friend Skoros.’
‘Skoros,’ Alditha spat. ‘When I find that beardless wretch, I’m going to-’
‘Steady,’ Odiz cautioned, frowning. ‘Don’t let the hat do your thinking for you.’
‘Oh, it isn’t, I promise you.’ Alditha felt the rage of the bindweed in her veins, felt its fury. ‘Though your warning is a good one,’ she acknowledged.
‘Big Red then?’
Alditha nodded and they set off together.
__________
‘No?’ sneered Skoros. ‘Then answer mine. Who or what is unthawing in these pyramids?’
‘Reinforcements,’ said Celeste, wishing she was altogether taller.
‘Really?’ There was a manic quality to the twitch in Skoros’ grin, like the ominous cracking sound you hear on frozen ponds when you’re far too far out on them suddenly.
‘Really,’ she assured him. ‘Reinforcements who’ve been asleep for a long time, and who might, just possibly, be a little bit cranky at being woken up. How’s your arm?’ she added, as if to twist the knife.
He held up his wand. ‘Fine, thank you. Amazing what one can do with magic.’
Celeste snorted. ‘Magic. Honestly, you people. It’s a simple sigma field.’
‘Still useful though.’
‘Just proves you have no idea of the potential of the orbs. One of those could have put it right for you in half a heartbeat. You killed the trees of course.’ It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Of course he’d killed them. People like him always did.
‘My trees,’ he corrected her. ‘Just as these are my people.’ He paused, read the banner and the few placards that were around the square. ‘Very distinctly my people. Look, they don’t seem to care much for aliens around here, do they?’
‘They’ve been misinformed.’
‘Sure of that, are you?’ He sniffed. ‘Their alien looks rather like your Alpha.’
‘I mentioned the reinforcements, yes? Keep talking, Skoros, and you might just see how dangerous we aliens can be.’
‘Condemned out of your mouth. My people, see how the alien child boasts. See how she threatens.’
The crowd no longer knew how to play their part in this confrontation at all. They had gathered to learn about the evil aliens, but no-one had signed on to support Skoros. Now Skoros had killed one of them, using alien technology, but was claiming it was the alien girl who was the baddie. In their heart of hearts, most of them wanted to just shuffle off and not be there, and some of them wanted to mourn Timmoluk, who’d been a really good bloke who’d always stand you a drink if you needed one. What they’d all have agreed on, if anyone had asked them, was that they didn’t want to be stuck in the middle between an alien girl and the mad wizard who was declaring himself King of the Garden.
‘Let them go, Skoros. Let them go, and don’t make the mistake of trying to torture me again, and we can talk. I’ll even introduce you to the Sleepers if you want.’
‘As opposed to what, exactly? Me killing you here and now, or holding you hostage for the good behaviour and knowledge of your “Sleepers”? Assuming of course you’re even remotely important to them.’
‘Hostage? Really? You didn’t learn from your last attempt?’
Skoros pointed his wand at the orb on his left, and a green beam shot out of it, surrounding Celeste and taking her breath away. ‘Only to be more persuasive,’ he told her. He angled his wand, and the orb flew higher, far above the heads of the tallest trolls in the crowd. Celeste was pulled silently into the air, bobbing behind the orb, supported on a string of energy. ‘Take her back to the castle and hold her there,’ he told the orb, and it moved off, dragging Celeste behind it. ‘Friends, subjects, Gardenfolk, we have vanquished the alien threat that...erm...threatened us. Go from this place and be...jolly, or whatever it is you people do. Spread the good news across the Kingdom of the Garden. No-one is to come within the square for the span of one night and day, but then we invite you as our honoured guests to attend us here for my coronation...erm...my inauguration...or should I say, my crowning, as your rightful king, on the night of Midsummer Hallowe’en.’
The crowd looked at each other, unsure what was happening.
‘Cheer,’ said Skoros, motioning for another orb to buzz in front of them. A loose and ragged wave of cheering went up. ‘That’s better,’ said Skoros. ‘Now, leave us.’
The crowd dispersed. Gunkin and Harper were keen to disperse with them, but found their efforts blocked by orbs.
‘Not you two,’ said Skoros. ‘I’d like a word.’
&
nbsp; __________
‘Thank you, thank you,’ said Big Red simply, as Alditha and Odiz freed him from his temporary prison of Blackheart Bindweed. ‘I don’t think I could have taken much more of that.’ He rubbed himself down, shedding several patches of leathery red skin that had become entangled with the bindweed. ‘So, what do we do now?’
‘Depends what that maniac’s up to,’ muttered Alditha. ‘I mean, other than settling scores and showing off, what does he gain from keeping us here?’
‘Power,’ said Odiz, blasting away at the remaining bindweed that threatened to hamper their escape. ‘Damned orb thing—impressive bit of kit. Together, we could stand up to them. Maybe that’s why he took us out. Surprised he didn’t have a few of ‘em guarding Big Red, unless he’s saving the rest for-’
‘I wouldn’t be that impressed,’ Alditha cut in. ‘He didn’t build the orbs. Just cannibalized one and made the others do what he wanted.’
‘He didn’t build them?’ Big Red remarked.
‘I’ve met the real owner,’ said Alditha. ‘Assuming we survive this, I’ll introduce you. And sorry, but I’m not buying your theory. Clearly, we were all knocked out by the orb. So was the real owner. Not convinced we’d have done any better if we’d all joined forces, and frankly how likely would that be?’
‘Mayyybe,’ said Big Red, ‘mayyybe it’s something only we’ve got. Wizards, witches, demons?’
‘Knowledge,’ said Odiz bluntly. ‘Sorry, being an idiot. Been a trying day. Damned fool boy was asking about the symbol of the EngineSeers.’
‘The what?’ said Alditha and Big Red together.
Odiz rolled his eyes. ‘See what ya miss if you’re just messin’ about with plants or faffing with the elemental wossnames. The EngineSeers were a bunch of ultimate mages. Mixed blacksmithing and magic together for the ultimate power.’
‘You mean like Skoros has been trying to do since he was knee-high to a mole?’
‘Well, quite. Got to give the lad credit—can’t have been easy to grow up in that family with about as much native magical talent as a lentil casserole. Still, he’s found his niche.’
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