Spellbound

by Anna Dale

  Before going to sleep, she tried to add a bit about the Gloam to her diary entry for the fourth of August but her pens kept running out of ink. The next day she was frustrated again, when, after breakfast, she cornered Ginnie by the kitchen door and tried to ask her if she knew about the Gloam. Every time that she opened her mouth the words would not come out.

  ‘Are you feeling quite all right, Athene?’ Ginnie said. ‘Perhaps you should sit down for a minute. I’ll bring you a glass of water.’

  Athene was baffled by these two peculiar incidents. She puzzled over them for almost the entire day: on their six-mile cycle ride, in the car on the way to Brean Sands, during her swim, as she walked along the beach to fetch ice creams, while she was sitting watching Zach build a sandcastle (which she ‘accidentally’ kicked over shortly afterwards). By teatime, Athene thought that she might have finally figured it out.

  That evening, her parents seemed to stay up for ages, playing a game called backgammon in the living room. At last, they went to bed and no sooner had they shut their bedroom door and turned out their light, than Athene bolted downstairs, fully dressed, and hastened to where she had arranged to meet her two Gloam friends. Humdudgeon and Huffkin were waiting under the tree. They began to tell her something in excited voices but Athene interrupted them.

  ‘Why didn’t you think to mention that you could do magic?’ she said.

  Huffkin and Humdudgeon exchanged guilty glances.

  ‘It’s not as if it’s anything special,’ Humdudgeon said airily. ‘After all, the Glare can do it, too. Look at your horseless carriages and flying machines and funny little boxes with pictures inside …’

  ‘That’s not magic,’ Athene snapped. ‘It’s science. Remember what I told you about electricity? The only Glare magicians are people in white gloves who pull rabbits out of hats and stupid things like that. They do tricks – not magic. Not real magic like you.’ Athene gave the two Gloam a very stern look. ‘What was that spell you put on me? You could have asked first. It’s not very nice being magicked, you know.’

  ‘It was Pucklepod! He made us do it!’ said Huffkin.

  ‘We had no choice,’ Humdudgeon said. ‘If any of us meet a Glare we have to make sure that they won’t breathe a word to another soul. How do you think we’ve survived in secret all these years?’

  ‘You should have got me to promise,’ said Athene sulkily.

  ‘Too risky, my dear,’ Humdudgeon said. ‘The spell takes care of everything. It stops you from talking about us …’

  ‘And writing,’ Athene said. ‘My pens ran out of ink!’

  ‘Please don’t be cross with us,’ Huffkin said beseechingly. She slipped her little hand in the crook of Athene’s arm.

  Athene softened. She could see that the two Gloam had acted for the good of their kind. Even if she’d promised to keep quiet about them she mightn’t have been able to keep her word. ‘I suppose I forgive you,’ she said.

  Just then, a light came on in one of the upstairs rooms of the farmhouse. The two Gloam ducked behind the tree and Athene copied them. Then all three ran towards the fence and wriggled through it. They walked across the field as nightfall descended. Athene was still fascinated by the Gloam’s ability to do magic.

  ‘Now,’ she said, ‘suppose you tell me what other spells you know?’

  ‘The Humble Gloam don’t know much magic at all, really,’ Humdudgeon said as he limped along at her side. ‘Not like the Low Gloam. Their magic is powerfully strong. You don’t want to mess with them.’

  ‘Humdudgeon did,’ piped up Huffkin, ‘and just look what happened to him!’

  ‘What?’ asked Athene. She gave Humdudgeon a nudge.

  ‘I got roughed up a bit,’ he said.

  ‘He was knocked about so badly that he could barely walk!’ said Huffkin, outraged on her friend’s behalf. ‘He tried to help a Gloam girl who was being chased by three Low Gloam thugs. To give her a chance to get away, he took on all three of the rascals and got an awful beating. His leg still hasn’t healed properly!’

  Athene was impressed. ‘That took real guts, Humdudgeon.’

  ‘He’s a hero!’ Huffkin said with more than a hint of pride in her voice. ‘The most courageous Gloam this side of Shepton!’

  ‘Come, now,’ Humdudgeon muttered. ‘I wasn’t as brave as all that.’

  As the darkness deepened, Athene tripped and stumbled, unable to see where she was placing her feet. She found it hard to keep her balance on the hummocky ground.

  ‘Ow!’ she cried as she wrenched her ankle painfully.

  ‘Gosh, I’d quite forgotten,’ said Huffkin, patting her pocket. She brought out a pouch made from evergreen leaves. ‘Stop a moment, Athene. I’ve got something here that will make things a whole lot easier for you.’

  Humdudgeon rubbed his hands and gave a broad smile. Athene could see the moonlight glinting on his teeth.

  ‘What’s that thing?’ asked Athene as Huffkin opened the pouch and slid out an object that looked like a small, oval stone. The Gloam woman placed it in Athene’s hands.

  ‘It’s a shell!’ Athene said, feeling the object with her fingers. ‘One of those pretty, twirly ones – and there’s a piece of cork stuck into it!’

  ‘It’s a bottle, actually,’ Humdudgeon said, ‘and it’s got something special inside.’

  He took the little shell bottle from her and unplugged it.

  ‘We pinched this,’ Humdudgeon said.

  ‘Borrowed it,’ said Huffkin. ‘Well, old Dottle won’t miss a drop or two …’

  ‘Do you think you could kneel down?’ Humdudgeon asked Athene, ‘and put your head right back, my dear, and open your eyes as wide as you can.’

  Athene did as she was told. She wasn’t at all sure what the Gloam had in store for her, but nevertheless she had no qualms about trusting them.

  She gasped as two ice-cold droplets fell into her eyes.

  It was an instinctive reaction to blink and, as Athene did, the cool liquid spread to coat the surface of each eye. The feeling was a pleasant one and, what is more, it had the most remarkable effect on her sight. Instead of peering in the dark, and barely managing to recognise a thing, Athene discovered that she could now see as clearly as she could in the daytime; the only difference being that it was all in black and white, just like a piece of film footage from the olden days.

  ‘Wow!’ said Athene, getting to her feet. ‘That stuff you just put in my eyes is amazing!’ She smiled at the two Gloam and, for the first time, she saw their faces properly. Humdudgeon’s was narrow with a long chin and nose, beetling brows and a kindly grin. Huffkin’s face was fairer and more delicate; her eyes were merry, her nose pert and her hair was as fluffy as thistledown. Neither Gloam looked over the age of thirty.

  ‘There you are, you see,’ Humdudgeon said. ‘Being magicked isn’t so bad!’

  ‘I suppose not!’ said Athene and she laughed. She stared around her at the field of wild grasses, the trees, the hedgerows, and the farmhouse in the distance, all of which she could see perfectly.

  ‘We thought you’d be pleased,’ said Huffkin. ‘Goggle Drops are wonderful. Our old folk would be lost without them.’

  ‘Why would they be lost?’ asked Athene. ‘I thought that all Gloam could see in the dark.’

  ‘We’re born with good night vision,’ explained Huffkin, ‘but it tends to fail by the time we’ve reached old age. A Goggle Drop or two every few hours is all that’s needed to keep our sight sharp.’

  ‘Let’s explore!’ said Athene, linking arms with the two Gloam. It was such an exciting thing to be able to see in the dark and she was eager to take in as much of the night-time landscape as she could. ‘Where shall we go?’

  ‘There’s a badgers’ sett in Moggy Wood,’ said Huffkin. ‘There are seven cubs. Badger cubs are fun to watch.’

  ‘Yes! Let’s do that!’ Athene said. She had seen nature programmes about badgers on TV but she’d never glimpsed a real live badger in the wild. She would h
ave been tempted to break into a run if it hadn’t been for Humdudgeon. His lame leg meant that he could only walk at a leisurely pace and, to be polite, she would have to do so too.

  On the way to Moggy Wood, they had to cross a country lane. The two Gloam heard the sound of a car long before its headlights appeared over the brow of a hill. By that time, the three friends had hidden their eyes and crouched behind a thick hedge by the roadside. They stayed there until the car and its brash, blinding headlights had streamed safely past.

  Athene was the first to squeeze through the hedge and jump out on to the road. Rather than hurry over to the other side, she stood and gazed up and down the narrow lane. It seemed familiar to her.

  ‘I cycled along this road today!’ she said to the others as they pushed their way through the thorny hedge. ‘I saw a hare in that field over there and just a little further up there’s an old tree with a great big hollow trunk. It’s half dead, I think, and its branches are all gnarled and twisted. You should see it! Let’s nip round the bend and have a look …’

  ‘No!’ said the two Gloam in unison. They grabbed hold of Athene’s arms and stopped her from striding away.

  ‘Why can’t we?’ Athene asked, struggling to shake them off. (For two slight, diminutive people, their grip was surprisingly strong.) ‘It wouldn’t take a moment. Ow! Let go!’ she said. ‘You’re pinching me.’

  ‘It’s far too risky,’ Huffkin said.

  ‘’Course it’s not!’ Athene scoffed. ‘There aren’t any cars coming.’

  ‘Never mind the traffic,’ said Humdudgeon. ‘It’s the tree that’s dangerous.’

  ‘Why? What do you mean?’ Athene was bewildered. ‘How can a tree be dangerous?’ she said.

  Chapter Four

  Roasted and Soaked

  ‘It’s not the tree’s fault,’ said Huffkin, still clinging like a clothes peg to Athene’s arm. ‘Trees are good. At least, I’ve never met a bad one. It’s the fault of the Gloam who have magicked it. They have caused the poor tree to be evil.’

  ‘The Low Gloam have made their home in it,’ Humdudgeon explained.

  ‘The Low Gloam?’ said Athene. ‘Oh, aren’t they the ones who beat you up?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Humdudgeon. He seemed to wince at the memory of it.

  ‘You must have got it wrong,’ said Athene lightly. ‘You must mean some other tree. The Low Gloam can’t be living in my tree. It doesn’t have any leaves, for a start. They’d be spotted in two seconds if they lounged around in its dead branches.’

  ‘They don’t live up the tree,’ Humdudgeon said pointedly. ‘Why do you suppose they’re called the Low Gloam?’

  ‘They live under it,’ said Huffkin, ‘and if you so much as poke your nose inside its trunk, a spell will pull you underground and keep you imprisoned there. It’s the strongest sort of spell that can be cast. There’s precious little chance of breaking it.’

  Athene shivered. ‘That can’t be true,’ she whispered.

  Humdudgeon gave a wry smile. ‘It’s said that the Low Gloam keep you as their servant and work you to the bone until you drop dead. Still want to go and take a look at that tree?’ he said, releasing his grip on Athene’s arm.

  ‘Er, no … perhaps, I don’t,’ she said, walking the short distance across the lane. She halted by an iron gate and looked ahead to a wooded copse. ‘Can we see the badgers, now?’ she said.

  The next day dawned bright and sunny, but it was also unbearably hot. It was the sweltering kind of heat that makes you feel sticky and uncomfortable and disinclined to move very far. Athene and her mum and dad spent most of it lying in the Stirrups’ shady walled garden, sipping cool drinks through a straw and brushing off bugs, which kept alighting on their skin like minute grains of black rice. Zach, who seemed untroubled by the sultry weather, amused himself by running off and then reappearing with a range of different playthings: a croquet mallet, a fishing net, a tennis ball and a handful of felt-tip pens.

  At half past four he vanished again only to turn up a few minutes later with Ginnie and a tray in tow. While she held the tray steady, he handed out dishes of vanilla ice cream.

  ‘Thunderbugs,’ said Ginnie, when Athene asked her if she knew the name of the pesky insects that had bothered them all day. ‘They bring inclement weather. There’ll be a thunderstorm before too long, you mark my words.’

  The heat and the bugs and the forecast of a downpour put Athene in a really bad mood and when she went into her room to fetch a book and found one of Zach’s felt tips lying on her bed, she flew into an almighty rage.

  ‘Zach’s been in my room!’ she snarled, presenting her parents with the green felt-tip pen. ‘He’s been snooping about in my things! Tell him that he’s not allowed!’

  ‘Zach, old chap,’ said Mr Enright to his sheepish-looking son who was skulking behind a deckchair, ‘it’s not sensible to upset your sister. Better stay out of her room in future, eh?’

  ‘Yes, Dad,’ said Zach. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘There’s a good lad. There’s no harm done.’

  ‘Is that it?’ said Athene, shaking with fury. ‘Aren’t you going to tell him off properly?’

  ‘Did he break anything?’ asked Mrs Enright, sitting up on her sun lounger. ‘Did he cause any damage to your things?’

  ‘No,’ said Athene sulkily.

  ‘Well, then,’ said her parents in a way that told her that the matter was closed.

  With a livid scowl and with very bad grace, Athene stomped back inside the house.

  The evening dragged by just as slowly as the day had done. Athene was desperate for the sun to set because she was meeting the Gloam again. The previous night had been pleasurably spent watching a troupe of badger cubs playing rough and tumble, and tonight, Huffkin and Humdudgeon had promised to take Athene on a moonlit fishing trip.

  By nine o’clock, she had changed into her jeans and T-shirt with her swimming costume underneath. She was ready to set off but, worryingly, there were still some bumps and murmurs coming from her parents’ room. Athene forced herself to wait. Too het up to write her diary, she paced around the room. Then, when all seemed peaceful next door, she put on her trainers and made her move.

  After such a tiresome, frustrating day, Athene was impatient to see the Gloam. She rushed headlong through the house and out into the garden.

  ‘Humdudgeon? Huffkin, are you there?’ she called, having followed the grassy path which led to the front lawn. She drew closer to the sycamore tree, under which they had said they would wait. The ground beneath the tree was shrouded in darkness.

  ‘Hello, Athene,’ said Huffkin, emerging from the shadows. She was carrying a sackcloth bag. ‘Provisions,’ she said, patting its contents, ‘and some Goggle Drops for you.’

  ‘Ready for a spot of fishing?’ said Humdudgeon cheerfully, stepping into a patch of moonlight. Athene saw that he had three fishing rods strapped to his back and a jar full of worms in his hand. ‘Would you mind carrying the bait?’ he said.

  ‘Not at all,’ said Athene, taking the jar from him. She was relieved to hear that the worms were to be used as bait and weren’t Humdudgeon’s idea of a tasty midnight snack. She had already learned that the Gloam liked to eat small amphibians and moths and she wouldn’t have been surprised to discover that they were partial to worms as well.

  ‘Our canoe is down by the river,’ said Huffkin. ‘We keep it hidden in a blackberry bush.’

  ‘Great!’ Athene said. ‘Let’s go!’

  Hampered by the fishing rods, Humdudgeon was the last of the party to clamber through the fence. Just as he was about to step down into the field, he let out a startled gasp.

  ‘Well, hello,’ he said. ‘Who’s this?’

  Athene’s vision was misty from the Goggle Drops that Huffkin had tipped into her eyes. Once she had stopped blinking, Athene followed the gaze of her two Gloam friends. She found herself staring at an area of lawn a little to the left of the sycamore tree.

  Standing there, in his pyjamas,
was a small boy.

  ‘I’m Zach,’ he said.

  ‘He’s my brother,’ Athene growled. She had never in her life been so dismayed to see him. She cursed herself for being so careless. Zach must have heard her on the stairs and got out of bed to see what she was up to. Athene felt almost sick with rage. If the fence had not been between them, she might have grabbed his shoulders and given him a shake.

  ‘Zach, go back to bed!’ she told him.

  ‘Must I, Eeny?’ he replied. ‘Won’t you tell me who your friends are first?’

  Athene wouldn’t, but Humdudgeon and Huffkin were only too willing to introduce themselves.

  ‘What funny names,’ said Zach, peering at the Gloam in the darkness. ‘Did you say that you were going fishing in a boat? Would there be room for me, do you think?’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ Athene said firmly. ‘It’s a canoe. It wouldn’t seat four.’

  ‘I’m sure we could squeeze him in,’ said Huffkin. ‘He’s only a littl’un, after all.’

  ‘Happy to have you along,’ Humdudgeon enthused, clapping Zach on the shoulder and helping him over the fence.

  ‘But he’s a bit young to be roaming about at night,’ said Athene, ‘and he can’t swim very well … and,’ she added desperately, ‘he’s scared of things with scales.’ This last statement was a lie.

  ‘Don’t worry, Athene,’ said Huffkin gently, mistaking Athene’s anxiety for genuine concern. ‘Your little brother will be safe with us.’

  Athene’s longest sulking episode had lasted for an hour-and-a-half, but on the night of the fishing expedition she smashed her record to smithereens. She hardly uttered a word when they traipsed together over the fields; she didn’t lift a finger to help them drag the canoe from the blackberry bush and launch it in the water; she held on to her fishing rod loosely, not caring if she got a bite or not. Zach, in contrast, was fizzing with excitement; he squeaked when the Goggle Drops were dripped into his eyes, he gasped and cooed when he was told about the Glare and Gloam, and he whooped with joy when his line went taut and he hauled a wet, flapping trout into the boat.