Spellbound Chronicles – Blood Line

by Suzanne Maguire

  “I bet you weren’t expecting that,” he chuckled.

  They couldn’t speak.

  “I see you are tongue-tied,” he continued, “so I’ll start the ball rolling myself. My name is Balgaire. I am what you call a wizard – a good one, I hasten to add.”

  Still no response from Larna or Aron.

  “As you see, I have powers which enable me to materialise through other people.” He laughed self-consciously. “It beats having to walk here. Saves time!”

  “Why are we here, Balgaire?” asked Larna, finding her voice at last and coming straight to the point.

  Balgaire indicated the audience with a wide sweep of his arm.

  “We need your help to stop this mutation becoming more prevalent,” he explained. “The poison in their bodies has begun to mutate again. If it’s not reversed, everyone here will eventually change completely into the animal whose dominant DNA was in the system of their forbears. For example, Tiblou’s family will revert to being wolves. Many have already gone through this transition already. It’s heart-breaking.”

  “I still don’t see where we fit into all this,” put in Aron. “How can we, a couple of school kids from the past, possibly help you?”

  “We need to take a little blood from you both,” explained the wizard. “Because of your bloodline, your family history that goes right back through Pamela and Andrew and beyond, you’re not contaminated. So we need to access your pure D.N.A. to produce a new serum that will halt and hopefully reverse all these horrific mutations.”

  Larna felt a huge wave of relief flooding through her. It wouldn’t be a problem to give blood. Strictly speaking, they weren’t old enough to do so, but this was a dire emergency and it would only be the once. It wouldn’t take long, either. They could do their good deed and go back to their own time, something she longed to do and knew Aron did too. But her elation was only momentary. Her spirits sank again as Balgaire told them about the evil force behind the new mutations.

  “The speeding-up of these mutations, which have been stable for hundreds of years, is the work of a warlock called Mordrog. He was a pupil of mine when he was young, a brilliant student who learned everything I taught him with effortless ease, but when he grew up he turned to the dark side and started using his new-found powers for personal gain. Now we are deadly enemies. He intends to destroy me and I intend to stop his evil plan.

  “And what is that?” asked Aron.

  “When the mutations are complete, our people become animals with a human brain and the power of speech. They are highly sought-after in the outside world where they are used by the military. They are used for spying or are thrust into your endless conflicts and many get injured or slaughtered. But, if Mordrog has his way, there’ll be a steady supply of them in the future. Each one commands a huge price and he’ll be rich beyond his wildest dreams before long, money he can invest in further evil deeds. And nobody knows anything about this business except the poor souls whom he enslaves. The whole thing is kept top secret by the military.”

  “So it’s not just a case of giving blood and going home,” murmured Larna, speaking her thoughts out loud.

  “Mordrog will do everything in his power – which is awesome – to stop us reversing these mutations,” sighed Balgaire. “So it’s no use your giving your blood until it’s safe to do so. Mordrog has to be defeated before anything can be changed.”

  Larna looked at the sea of worried faces surrounding her and something surged within her. She couldn’t leave these kind people to their fate. She glanced at her brother who was thinking exactly the same. He gave her a nod. So she turned to their new friends with a brave smile.

  “We’ll stay and help in the fight,” she said.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Outside the café, the leaves on the ground began to swirl about and then started hammering on the door and windows as if sounding a warning. Fear clutched everyone’s heart and, before anyone could stop them, Larna and Aron got up and walked to the door. Some force was drawing them outside as if by an invisible string. Knowing what this must be, Balgaire hurried after them, anxious for their safety. The three of them stood amidst the dancing leaves until a menacing figure materialised in front of them. Larna knew immediately it must be Mordrog. He was over six feet tall with greasy black shoulder-length hair. His eyes were amber with a rim of red, as if he’d been awake for years. The rest of him was hidden beneath a swathe of jet-black clothing, from neck to toe. His stare was menacing as if emitting waves of evil. Larna and Aron felt terrified.

  Uncle Roger appeared in the doorway behind them, spreading his arms to hold back everyone who had followed him out of the café. He was the first to speak.

  “What do you want?” he demanded contemptuously.

  Mordrog put his hands on his hips and sneered, “I heard you had a couple of guests. It would be very churlish of me not to welcome them personally, don’t you think?” Then he leaned forwards in an aggressive manner. “What have you been telling these young people?”

  Roger took a couple of steps forwards to face him, the other diners pressing their backs against the café wall in obvious fear of the confrontation.

  “You have no business with our visitors and you are certainly not welcome here.” said Roger defiantly.

  Larna found herself literally rooted to the spot, unable to move her legs. But she found her voice. “You’re Mordrog, aren’t you?” The warlock turned to look at her. “So,” he said, inclining his head, “I see I have been mentioned already.” He leaned towards Larna who tried to back away but couldn’t. Instead, she lost her balance and finished in a squat, looking up into amber eyes which seemed to peer deep inside her head.

  “Stay away from her!” yelled Roger.

  Balgaire began to laugh. A high-pitched cackle, cruel. Aron tried to move closer to help his sister but found he was also stuck to the spot. They were both petrified. Then Mordrog turned to Roger, breaking eye-contact with Larna, who gave a huge sigh of relief and pulled herself upright again.

  “I sense that you are about to threaten me, in front of witnesses, and these nice young people.” He laughed again. “Am I supposed to quiver in my shoes and run away?” “I wish you would,” snarled Roger. “You’ve caused enough pain and suffering here, so don’t even think of involving them in your evil plans.”

  “You are threatening me! What evil plans?”

  “You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. You have dispatched so many of our friends to the other side, condemning them to perpetual slavery, humiliation and despair at the mercy of corrupt moguls of industry and war mongers.”

  Mordrog threw his head back and laughed, then just as abruptly became serious. “You should be very happy,” he muttered. “At least they are still alive.”

  Uncle Roger quivered with rage and raised his fist. For a minute Larna thought he was going to deliver a hefty blow to Modrog’s chin, but Balgaire stepped forwards just in time.

  “What do you want?” he asked with a weary sigh.

  “I thought it was time to introduce myself to our visitors. And there is another side to my business which no doubt differs from whatever you’ve filled their heads with. They might even favour my version above yours and refuse to help you.”

  Chet appeared and pushed his way to the front. “You are unbelievably conceited if you think anyone would trust a thing you say.”

  Modrog spun round and glared with such intensity that Chet began to shake. “Nobody asked you,” he sneered and increased the power of his gaze causing Chet to double up with pain and crumple to the ground, head in his hands.

  “Why are you doing this?” Aron yelled. “You should be ashamed of yourself !”

  Larna felt overwhelming pride for her brother and would have hugged him if she’d been able to move.

  “What lies have you been told?” demanded the warlock. “I help these creatures to find their destiny. They aren’t sad, I give you my word.” He held out his right arm to shake Aron’s ha
nd. Larna’s brother responded by shoving his hands deep into his trouser pockets.

  Prompted by her brother’s courageous outburst, Larna felt she had to make a stand too. “I don’t believe a word of what you are saying. They must be suffering. In fact, I think you enjoy making them suffer. You must have made your millions by now, so why don’t you leave the rest of them alone?”

  “I don’t like your tone, Larna. There’s no need to be so critical. I consider these people as friends, that’s why I help them move on.” He tapped his chest. “You must think I have an empty space in here, but I don’t. I have a heart, a rather large one as it happens.”

  Larna could feel herself being drawn towards him. He was exerting some kind of mental power over her and everything else was becoming distant and quiet. It was just the two of them facing each other, eyes locked. Then the tension was broken by a strange surprise.

  Something moved in one of Balgaire’s vast pockets, working its way up, trying to squeeze itself out. It emerged, coughing and spluttering; a four inch… something… that began to grow to about eight inches. Larna realised it must be a type of fairy. Obviously female, wearing a long, black, lacy dress with three-quarter sleeves showing tiny wrists and hands, with three fingers and something at the side resembling a thumb.. Her feet were hidden. She unfurled translucent, rainbow-coloured wings which, as they stretched and fluttered, began to darken until they matched her dress. Her delicate features were neither beautiful nor ugly, just unusual. Her eyes were coal black, like her full lips. Masses of long wavy bright purple hair framed her face, the only relief from the black. The Goth-like creature in front of them seemed to possess a gentleness that was appealing. She flew up and hovered in mid-air by Balgaire’s left shoulder. Larna longed to know who she was, but it wasn’t the time to ask. With a smile, Balgaire turned back to Mordrog. “You were saying?”

  The warlock recovered his composure, but did not look back at Larna. Her vision suddenly returned and so did the background noises. She realised he had been hypnotising her… and succeeding. Sensing he was getting nowhere, Mordrog tried another tack. His voice became coaxing.

  “Why don’t you join me?” he said to Larna and Aron. “I can make you unbelievably rich! Imagine… ” he waved the air as if conjuring up pictures of his promises… “you would be able to buy anything your heart desired.” He paused to let his words sink in. “Dream it and you will have it. Ask me and I will make it happen. All you have to do is come over to my side… ”

  Balgaire spoke up, “I credit these youngsters with more sense than to fall for that drivel. It appears you’ve had a wasted journey.”

  “I see the puppet-master speaks for his little friends! Come on, you two, can’t you speak for yourselves? When you are older you will have huge dreams which can only be fulfilled with a bottomless purse.” He started to concentrate more on Aron, sensing he may be more susceptible to the prospect of an easy life. “Just think what you could buy for yourselves.”

  Everyone’s eyes were on them now. Larna’s legs were beginning to turn to jelly and she wasn’t certain how long she could remain upright under such pressure. Aron, too, felt very distressed. The warlock’s overpowering will was making them waver. Annie sensed this and intervened.

  “Oh do shut up. Mordrog! You heard them. They’re not going to take any notice of you or listen to your nonsense.”

  He looked down on Annie with disgust. “Your progeny have inherited your bad manners, madam, and your recklessness. Why do you persist in meddling in my affairs, especially when you know that all will suffer the consequences from your interference?”

  Mordrog’s eyes started to turn red from the rims inward again as he sought out Larna and Aron. Still anchored to the ground, they felt the twin beams boring into their minds. Both their hearts began to race, their eyes rolled up, as the warlock slowly sapped their resistance. Then, suddenly, Annie rushed forward, both arms outstretched, and with an angry cry, gave Mordrog an almighty shove. Taken completely by surprise, he lost his balance and sprawled on the ground in an ungainly manner. The hypnotic rays wavered and faded and the freed pair found they could move again. Everyone looked shocked and fearfully drew back. But Balgaire stepped forward to banish the villain.

  “Return to the black hole you came from,” he ordered. “We never want to see you’re vile face again.”

  Mordrog knew he’d failed to win Larna and Aron over. So, once again, the leaves rose from the ground and formed a circle above the warlock’s head. They began to spin. The force dragged in more twigs and small stones from further afield like a giant vacuum. The circle grew tighter and tighter around Mordrog so all that could be seen was a look of hatred and fury on his face before he disappeared.

  “You will pay for this!” he snarled.

  * * *

  As the leaves settled down again, a strange smell reached Larna’s nose, making her head reel. It was an exhilarating smell, full of life and power.

  “Where did Mordrog go?” Aron wanted to know.

  “We… ” Balgaire pointing to his little friend, “have sent him back to the Dark Side using our combined strength and the potency of the leaves. I’m sure you can smell the cleanness of the air now.” He wiped his brow on the back of his sleeve. “But, he will be back, that is a certainty, and the battle will begin in earnest.”

  This was a terrifying prospect. In an attempt to change the subject Larna asked, “Who is your friend, Balgaire? She’s awesome!”

  The aura round the tiny being began to glow and the translucent wings to flutter whilst emitting wonderful colours which seemed to float in the air then slowly disappear like star dust. It was breath-taking. She flew over to Balgaire and whispered in his ear. Larna heard the gentle sound of her laughter. Then she flew to her and she felt the fairy’s soft touch on her cheek, gentle kiss of air that made the teenager catch her breath in wonder.

  “Her name is Violet,” said Balgaire. “My little miracle-worker stays close to me, sensing when I’m in danger and need her most.” He smiled again. Unfortunately, she’s the last of her kind which makes her unique. Extra special.”

  By now, the diners had gradually drifted back inside the Kitchen Café and were starting to go home. Balgaire spoke softly to Violet, thanking her for her help before bidding her farewell. Until the next crisis, no doubt. In a flash she disappeared. This left Balgaire, Tiblou, Chet, Annie, Aron and Larna wondering what to do next.

  The wizard raised his arms to the sky, closed his eyes and mumbled something unintelligible. The leaves that had encircled Mordrog slowly drifted towards Balgaire and, in slow motion, began to circle him. More and more gathered speed until he could no longer be seen. The perfume from the flying leaves was heady and strong. Larna stepped back and nearly fell. Aron steadied her. What was happening now? A faint amber glow from within the mini-whirlwind emitted rays which spun like a dizzy top. As suddenly as it began it slowed, gently scattering the leaves which fluttered to the ground, leaving Balgaire swaying slightly and breathless. For a few seconds he just stood there, in front of the youngsters, looking spaced-out. The amber light seemed to glow then fade, rhythmically, as if beating in time to his heart. Aron and Larna glanced at the others. They didn’t seem to find this unusual at all. As the pulsing light began to dim, Balgaire shook his head several times and seemed to return to his normal self.

  “I have taken a glimpse into the future,” he explained, “and what I have seen is very worrying. We must leave here at once. Otherwise it will be too late!”

  “Too late for what?” queried Larna.

  “Too late for you to give your blood. Mordrog will do everything in his power to stop that happening.”

  Balgaire beckoned everyone to follow him. As they hurried away from the café, they turned and waved goodbye to Uncle Roger.

  “Good luck, you two. Hope to see you again soon,” he called.

  “Come along, please, before it’s too late.” The urgency in Balgaire’s voice abruptly ended the farewell.


  The scent from the leaves wasn’t quite as strong and the fragrance now had a soothing effect on the senses. Aron looked remarkably calm under the circumstances. Suddenly realising her brother wasn’t scared anymore, Larna laughed out loud, then self-consciously clapped her free hand over her mouth. Aron grinned at her and winked.

  They rushed right past Tiblou’s house and, for a split second, Larna thought they were going to get lost. Lagging a bit behind Balgaire and Tibs, but ahead of Annie and Chet by a couple of paces, she wondered where they were being taken. Hurrying deeper into the woods she noticed the leaves had lost their heady perfume altogether and that’s when the feeling of euphoria began to wane. As she tried to analyse her changing emotions, Larna had a strong feeling that they were being watched again. Turning her head, she thought she saw movement in the trees. She looked again. Nothing. But as she hurried to catch up with the others, she glanced back quickly and caught sight of a pair of angry greeny-yellow eyes peeping from behind a large tree. Watching them.

  Balgaire must have sensed a presence too. He stopped and turned sharply. As he raised his wand, the watcher scuttled away and was lost in the maze of darkness. Whoever, or whatever it was, was scrawny, not very tall, about four feet. And ugly. The incident was over in seconds and Larna was thankful Aron hadn’t noticed anything amiss. They continued, picking up speed again, still in the light and still in a northerly direction. It wasn’t long before they came to a clearing and saw a strange-looking house straight ahead. It was most peculiar with a shiny blue roof and an upside-down appearance. There were windows of all different shapes and sizes, more downstairs than up. The frames were blue, just like Balgaire’s hair. The chimney pot was on the side of the house, not on the roof. The front door was also blue, and circular. Matching shiny blue roof tiles were also attached to the lower section of the structure, completing the illusion of a topsy-turvy house. The garden had an abundance of the most beautiful and unusual flowers they’d ever seen. There were some large yellow flowers that appeared to grow in the shape of a smile. Truly amazing. The wizard noticed Larna’s reaction and smiled.