The Wildwood Arrow

by Paula Harrison

  She needed to be completely sure that the prophecy had nothing to do with her. Running downstairs, she went straight to the computer in the corner of the sitting room. The new carpet, put in after the flood, cushioned her feet. Kim and her dad were talking in the kitchen. Toby galloped in wearing a Superman cape.

  “Fly, Laney!” he yelled.

  “Toby! Shh!” Laney leaned down to switch the computer on.

  “Fly! Woo!” Toby ran round and round the sofa with his little cape billowing out behind him. As soon as he got close enough, Laney grabbed him and gave him a tickle to stop him yelling anything else about flying.

  There was a knock at the back door and Laney heard Simon, her dad’s workmate, come in.

  “I’m nearly ready, Simon. Just got to put some things in the van,” her dad called back as he walked through to pick up his jacket. “Oh, morning, love. I thought you’d be enjoying your last chance for a lie in.”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” said Laney. “Must be the thought of going back to school.”

  Her dad lowered his voice. “Did you go to the training session yesterday? Was it all right?”

  The Mist training was the last thing Laney wanted to talk about, but her dad was being so nice. “It was OK – you know. Thanks for asking Frogley if I could go.”

  Simon appeared, leaning against the doorframe and looking tall and gangly. “You’re up bright and early, Laney.”

  “Hi, Simon.” Laney smiled. Simon’s eyes were gold-ringed like her dad’s. She thought again what a perfect job plumbing was for two Mist faeries. Just then the computer screen loaded and she typed in her password.

  “OK, I’ll meet you there, Robert,” Simon told Laney’s dad. “Bye, Kim.” He made his way out through the front door.

  Laney angled the screen so that no one would see it unless they came right over. She typed in wolf moon, but it came up with very little. Then she tried red moon, which brought up a lot of images. She thought for a moment and typed dates of red moons.

  Only one astronomy website listed the dates when red moons had been seen in the sky. Laney scanned the list for the year of her birth. There had been a red moon that year, but not in July when she was born.

  She became aware of how quiet it was. Twisting round, she saw Toby on the floor playing with a plastic teapot. Voices came from the kitchen, but they were muffled. Laney got up and crept over to the doorway. Adults always made it so obvious when they were saying stuff they didn’t want you to hear. The way they dropped down to a whispering tone was a dead giveaway.

  “It wouldn’t be that hard to move,” Mr Rivers was saying. “It would be so much easier for me if we were living in town. Most of my jobs have been in Pennington lately so there’d be much less travelling. You’d be closer to the shops. Everything would be more convenient.”

  “Since when have I wanted to be closer to the shops?” Kim’s voice rose in amusement. “We’ve been here for nearly seven years now. What’s wrong with Skellmore all of a sudden?”

  “Well, Laney’s getting older now. There’s more for her to do in town, and she wouldn’t have to get the bus to school every day.”

  “She’s made new friends here lately though. I don’t want to take all that away from her.” There was a pause and the sound of a cupboard closing. “You haven’t fallen out with someone, have you? I know some of the people who live here are a bit strange – that Gwen Whitefern with all her odd hats. I often think there must be something funny in the water.” Kim laughed.

  A knot twisted in Laney’s stomach. She knew why her dad wanted to move. He wanted to get her away from other Mist faeries, and from Claudia and Fletcher. He probably only got her invited to the Mist training so that she’d stop trying out her powers at home while all the time he planned to persuade Kim to move house. Then he could stop her from seeing Skellmore people altogether.

  “No, I haven’t argued with anyone. I just think it would be better for all of us if we lived in town.” Mr Rivers’ voice was almost too quiet to hear.

  There were footsteps and Laney dashed back to the computer. She clicked off the screen with the dates of the red moons just as her dad came through and picked up his toolbox from the hallway.

  “Toby! Breakfast time!” Kim called, and Toby galloped off to the kitchen.

  After her dad had left, Laney switched off the computer. She knew her dad didn’t trust the other faeries. He didn’t even trust his own tribe, the Mists, but every faerie’s power ran in their family and there was nothing he could do about passing it on to her. Sometimes she wondered if Toby would turn out to have powers when he was older too. Kim was human but maybe only one parent had to be a faerie for the magic to be passed on.

  She knew her mum had been a faerie – her dad had told her so. She’d become ill and died when Laney was really young. Would she have understood why Laney was hunting so hard for the Myricals – how she’d seen the damage caused when one Myrical fell into the hands of the Shadow and felt she had to stop it happening again?

  On a sudden instinct, Laney reached up for a blue shoebox that sat on the top shelf of the bookcase. She brought it down and opened it. Her birth certificate lay on the top of a pile of papers. 15th July – it was there in big red letters. That settled it. She had checked – there were no red moons anywhere near that date. She smiled – she was in the clear.

  Under the date of birth on the certificate were two lines labelled name of mother and name of father. She gazed at her mother’s name: Cordelia. The surname was too smudged to read, but she knew that it was Brightsea. It was a beautiful name that sounded like a rolling wave, especially if you said it aloud: Cordelia Brightsea.

  She rifled underneath, picking out an envelope with some photos inside. There weren’t many photos of her mum or herself when she was little. Her dad had said that some of them got lost when they packed up to move to Skellmore. She looked through them, pausing over one of her mum holding her as a little baby – a tiny, blue-eyed thing with hair like fluff. Her mum was smiling and her short brown hair was ruffled by the wind. Behind them, a mass of bare tree branches pointed up at a wintry-looking sky.

  The garden in the picture seemed so familiar – probably because she’d looked at the photo so many times. She wished she could remember more about her mum. Not the big stuff, but little things like her mum’s favourite food or how she’d brushed her hair. She didn’t know those kinds of things because she’d only been two when her mum died.

  She closed the shoebox and put it away. It was like putting away a piece of herself, but she had to go. There were Myricals to find – and first she needed to go and apologise to Gwen.

  Laney walked swiftly down the front path. The church steeple rose up on her right, grey in the morning sunshine. Laney wondered how many faerie flights that spire had seen – how many secrets it held. She turned into Beacon Way and walked down the hill. A sleek grey cat sat at the entrance to The Cattery, Claudia’s crescent-shaped road, and it fixed unblinking eyes on her as she went past. Laney stared back. Sometimes she wondered if the cats knew more than she did. The Greytail house on the corner gave a long, low growl as she walked on.

  Hearing shouts in the park, Laney looked through the hedge. Craig Mottle and Jack Turney were mucking around on the roundabout. A bus rumbled down the High Street and in the swirl of dust it left behind Laney caught sight of Mr Stingwood. She stopped, not wanting to run into him after what her dad had told her the day before. Stingwood was the Thorn Elder from Gillforth village who’d performed the Seeing Thread test on her when she first Awakened. He was deeply suspicious of her and she knew he’d do all he could to stop her, Fletcher and Claudia being friends.

  She watched him walk up to the door of the minimart, leaning on his walking stick, and then turn sideways to fit his massive shoulders through the doorway. Just as he was halfway through, Sara Thornbeam, Fletcher’s little sister, came racing round the corner, nearly bumping into him.

  “Get out of it, you little—” He waved h
is walking stick at Sara, who ran away. His eyes were fierce underneath his bushy eyebrows.

  Laney hung back until he’d disappeared inside. She would never forget the nasty spells that had come from the end of his walking stick on the night of the flood. Hurrying past the shop, she took the turning into Gnarlwood Lane. The air here usually felt quieter but more alive somehow, as if just breathing it in would make you grow. But today it didn’t feel the same and the trees that lined the road creaked restlessly.

  Laney knocked on Gwen’s ivy-covered front door and waited. The door swung open slowly as if the wind had moved it, then Gwen stepped out of nowhere. She held a deep-purple flower in the middle of her palm and the petals clenched then opened in a steady rhythm. Laney coughed as a bittersweet smell filled her nose and throat.

  “Gwen, I’ve come to apologise about what happened after you went out last night.” Trying not to stare at the pulsing flower, Laney met Gwen’s eyes and was shocked by the coldness in them.

  “Do you think an apology will make up for what you’ve done?” Gwen said quietly, the breeze ruffling her white hair. “You destroyed my Spirit Smoke – a blend made by my mother that I have been using for nearly seventy years, and there’s damage to my rowan tree that will take many months to repair.”

  Laney turned scarlet. “I’m so sorry! It was my fault, not Fletcher’s or Claudia’s. I had the idea of finding out more about the Myricals using the Spirit Smoke and—”

  “The Spirit Smoke was not a toy.” Gwen’s voice stung like nettles. “It was made from grains of memory and experience going back hundreds of years, and held the knowledge of many generations.”

  “I know I shouldn’t have—”

  “And the rowan tree was providing ingredients for an important enchantment.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Laney said again. “Maybe I could go and gather something from another rowan tree – that way you could still get the things you need.”

  “No, thank you.” Gwen was silent for a moment and ivy from the walls crept over Laney’s arms and down her back. “Now you will have to excuse me.” And she shut the door.

  Laney pulled the ivy off her clothes and retreated down the front path. She looked back at the house as she closed the garden gate. Black smoke was rising from one of the huge trumpet-shaped flowers that formed the roof. Laney turned away. She’d never seen the Thorn Elder so cross before.

  When she finally crossed the river and reached the fields on the other side, she found Fletcher sitting on a fence glancing at his watch.

  He jumped down when he saw her. “What did Gwen say?”

  “She’s really angry with me,” said Laney. “You were right – we never should have used the Spirit Smoke. It was a bad idea.”

  “I did mend most of her plants, but there were a couple I couldn’t fix,” said Fletcher.

  “One of the broken ones is a rowan tree that she really needed for an enchantment. She was making magic when I got there, with this purple flower that kept opening and closing its petals. Do you know what it was?”

  “I’m not exactly an expert on Mystic spells.” Fletcher handed Laney the adder stone and unfolded his map. “Let’s start. There’s no point waiting for Claudia. I bet she’s still asleep.”

  They scanned two fields in quick succession.

  “We’re getting faster at this now,” said Fletcher, marking them off on the map. “What’s with you today? You’re really quiet. Are you still worrying about what Gwen said?”

  Laney checked the last field again with the adder stone. She’d actually been thinking about Mist training and the disaster of the boiling lake. “It’s not that. I’m just tired of looking through the stone.”

  “OK, let’s swap over.” Fletcher took the adder stone and gave her the map.

  Laney raised an eyebrow. “You’re actually trusting me with the map? You’ve been holding on to it for six weeks. Are you sure I won’t ruin it?” As she opened it out, a light rain began to fall on the paper and she hurriedly closed it up again.

  “Hey, look what you did.”

  “What?” Laney struggled with the map that had folded up crooked.

  “Look!”

  Laney looked. Rain carried on falling on her head, on the grass and on Fletcher. But just above the map, a patch of raindrops hung still in the air. She reached out a finger to touch one and they all fell together. Then the rain shower stopped, leaving the grass sparkling with water.

  “You held those raindrops still without realising you were doing it,” said Fletcher. “I haven’t seen you use your Mist powers for weeks. The training yesterday must’ve really helped.”

  “I—” began Laney.

  “That’s a joke,” a snide voice spoke behind them. “Seeing Laney control her power is about as likely as seeing a pig win a gymnastics competition.” Jessie stood there, smirking.

  “So it was you making it rain,” said Fletcher.

  “Oh, well done. Give the stupid Thorn a medal.” Jessie folded her arms. “Didn’t you notice it was only raining over you and not the whole field?”

  “Do you have to be like that?” Fletcher looked at Jessie steadily. “Laney actually did control her powers just then.”

  The wind whipped up Jessie’s dark curly hair. “No, she didn’t. She did it by accident again. She’s always doing things by accident.”

  “I am here, you know,” said Laney.

  “I was trying to forget,” Jessie snapped back. “What are you doing anyway? If Frogley finds out that you’re spending all your time with other tribes you’ll be for it.”

  “Yeah, and you’d love to be the one to tell him, wouldn’t you?” Laney folded her arms.

  “I bet your mum wouldn’t be too impressed about you spending time with Laney either,” Jessie told Fletcher. Suddenly she leaned towards him, trying to get a closer look at the adder stone. “What’s that?”

  Fletcher shoved it in his pocket. “You should go,” he said shortly.

  Jessie’s gold-ringed eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t staying anyway! But before I go, I’ll show you a real Mist spell that’s better than any pathetic effort from her.” She sneered at Laney and then with a sweep of her hand she conjured an arc of water that rose out of the river and curved over the fence.

  Glistening beautifully, the water lunged at Fletcher, hitting him hard and knocking him off his feet. Soaking wet, he flicked his fingers to summon a spiky bramble out of the hedge but Jessie just laughed at this move. “You won’t get me with that thing. Let’s face it – you Thorns aren’t really winning types.”

  “What’s your problem?” Laney moved in between them, blocking Jessie. “The only reason he hasn’t beaten you already is because he’s nicer than you are.”

  “How sweet! But that’s just a sign of weakness.” Jessie closed her eyes for a second and whispered something. Then she pushed Laney aside and pointed at Fletcher.

  The water all over him froze instantly into a sheet of ice encasing every patch of his skin and clothes.

  “No! Change him back!” Laney stared at the frozen Fletcher in horror.

  “No way.” Jessie’s voice lowered. “I’m on to you. You can try and pretend that you’re just a dopey girl who can barely lift a water drop. But I’ve seen stuff and I knew you were a freak ages ago. When all the other Mists see you for what you are you won’t be coming back to training.”

  “Get lost, Jessie.” Claudia vaulted neatly over the fence. “Isn’t it bad enough that we’ll have to see you at school on Monday?”

  “Oh great!” sighed Jessie. “It’s the Greytail.”

  Laney held Jessie’s gaze and her hands glowed with heat. “Get lost, Jessie, before we make you.”

  “Like I said, I wasn’t staying anyway.” Jessie walked off without looking at Fletcher’s icy figure.

  Laney knelt down next to Fletcher. She could see his eyelashes, each one enclosed in frosted whiteness. Her face darkened. She would get Jessie back for this.

  “Well, I suppos
e we have to defrost him,” said Claudia. “Although I quite like him like this. Not so bossy.”

  “Is he all right under there?” said Laney. “He looks almost…” She didn’t want to say dead.

  “I have no idea. Ice is your department, not mine.” Claudia poked one of Fletcher’s ears. “Frozen solid! Weird! I wonder if he can feel anything.”

  “Claudia!” A sick feeling rose in Laney’s chest. “I’ve never done any magic with ice. I’ve never frozen anything.”

  Claudia sighed. “Seriously, think about it. You don’t have to make the ice. You just have to melt it.”

  Laney’s brain cleared. Claudia was right. “OK, be quiet a minute.” She took Fletcher’s ice hands in hers and closed her eyes. Melt … just melt… She tried to imagine the ice turning to water and dripping off his fingers.

  “Er … I think you should stop now,” said Claudia.

  Laney opened her eyes to find steam gently rising from Fletcher’s clothes and his hair standing on end. He blinked, dazed. “Wow, I feel really warm. What happened? Where did Jessie go?”

  “She scarpered after turning you into an ice cube,” said Claudia. “Laney’s just thawed you out.”

  “Urgh!” Fletcher wrung water out of his sleeve. “That’s why everything went white. At least she didn’t get a proper look at the adder stone. I really don’t want her finding out what we’re doing.”

  “I don’t think she knows anything,” said Laney.

  Claudia turned to her. “Good job, Water Girl. I don’t know why you’re worrying so much – you’ll make a great member of the Mist tribe.”

  Laney wished she felt so sure. Jessie’s words echoed inside her head: I’ve seen stuff and I knew you were a freak ages ago.

  What had she meant? Laney’s powers had only emerged six weeks ago. Before that, she had just been a human with no powers at all. There had been nothing to see.

  After two more days of Myrical hunting even Fletcher had to admit they weren’t getting much further. Claudia wanted to hatch an elaborate plan to pay Jessie back but Fletcher refused to be a part of it.