by Lari Don
Molly slid back down the slope a little, so she wasn’t visible to the fabled beasts on the other side of the hill, then sat up. Her friends followed her.
The fairy said, “Don’t mind me, I’m just… I’m just on my way to sanctuary…”
“You’re shaking with tiredness.” Beth held out her hand. “Rest for a minute.”
“No. I can’t land, so I can’t rest.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” the fairy sobbed again, “because I’ve been cursed!”
“We’ve all been cursed,” said Molly. “Tell us about yours.”
“I’m a daffodil fairy. A couple of years ago, I offended a primrose fairy by saying that my yellow was the true yellow of spring, and she cursed me so that whenever I land on one of my own flowers it withers and dies. That was horrible enough, but recently everything I land on – snowdrops, trees, grass, every plant I land on – dies. I don’t even want to know what would happen if I landed on animals, or people, or dryads… So I can’t land. I can’t ever land.”
“Yes, you can.” Theo scrabbled under the heather and pulled out a rock. He brushed the earth off and laid it flat on the ground. “You can’t kill stone. Land on this.”
The fairy fell out of the air so fast she almost rolled off the rock. But she righted herself and perched on the top, then sighed in relief.
“Can’t you ask the primrose fairy to lift the curse?” suggested Molly. “She won’t want you to kill everything you land on: it puts her own flowers at risk too.”
“I’m sure she would lift it, but she won’t be easy to find until her flowers start to bloom, which could be weeks away.”
“Are they all seeking sanctuary too?” Innes pointed over his shoulder. “The beetle-spitting boys, the wolf boy, the jaggy girl and all those monsters?”
The fairy nodded. “We’ve been summoned: victims whose curses have become enhanced, and casters who enjoy seeing their curses get stronger and don’t want to be forced to lift them. We’ve been summoned and offered sanctuary. We’ll be safe from those who’re horrified by our curses, and all we have to do in return is fight for Corbie. I’ll be able to rest, because I can’t kill the fossilised trees in Stone Egg Wood.”
“But you don’t want to be part of a curse army, do you?” asked Molly.
“I’m sure no one will actually expect me to fight,” said the fairy. “What use would I be? I’m only going because the other fairies shout at me when I hover near their plants.”
Atacama said, “But if you kill every plant you land on, then you could be a dangerous weapon. Corbie will use that. He will use you.”
The fairy frowned, then fluttered up into the air. “Thanks for the rock and the rest, but I have to go. We’ve been asked to prepare for the welcome feast tomorrow, and I don’t want to be late.”
“Please don’t go,” said Beth. “Don’t let him turn your curse into a weapon. Flower fairies aren’t soldiers.”
“I’ve killed too many flowers to deserve the name ‘flower fairy’ any more. I must go to Stone Egg Wood and learn how to live with my curse.”
She flew away.
Innes said, “Corbie is building his bigger army.”
“We have to find that box,” said Molly. “And hope whatever’s inside is more powerful than all those creatures marching towards Stone Egg Wood.”
Chapter Twenty-one
As the cold afternoon faded into an icy evening, Molly and her friends trudged over the moors, then down the lower slopes into the fields, across a shallow river and towards Beth’s woods.
“Are you sure you want to take us into your woods?” asked Molly. “You said you didn’t want me to endanger your trees again.”
Beth sighed. “I was too upset by my injured tree to think clearly yesterday. I know you’re doing the right thing, trying to stop the Keeper and Corbie. I want to do the right thing too.”
So Beth led them all to her wooden house. “We were ambushed by crows again,” she told her Aunt Jean as they walked into the kitchen. “Everyone needs to eat, and Theo needs to borrow more sensible clothes.”
Jean looked up from the bowl she was stirring. “You’re all welcome to stay the night. I’ll call Doreen and tell her you’re here, if you want, Molly?”
Molly nodded. “Thanks.”
Innes said, “Do I smell cake?”
“That’s not cake for now, that’s cake for later.” Rosalind bounced out from under the table. “We’re baking for my birthday party tomorrow! The first cake got a bit burnt, and the second cake got a bit dropped on the floor. But this cake will be just right!”
Beth said, “I’m sure it will be lovely.” She picked Rosalind up and birled her round, then said, “Aunt Jean, do you know anything about a mysterious box, possibly connected to Mrs Sharpe or the crows of Stone Egg Wood or the Promise Keeper?”
Her aunt frowned. “I don’t think so.”
Beth led her friends upstairs, with Rosalind chasing after them.
“Have you got me a present yet? What have you got me? You’re not meant to tell me, so don’t tell me, but give me a clue. Have you got anything yet?”
Innes said, “Yes, we’ve got something. But it’s locked in a cage, so it doesn’t eat anyone before your party.”
Rosalind shrieked, then giggled and ran back downstairs.
“We still don’t have a real present for her,” said Molly.
Beth said, “That’s hardly our main problem. We don’t know where to look for that mysterious box tomorrow.”
Beth had a big room, so there was plenty of space for the duvets, cushions, pillows and quilts that she heaped up, and for the tray of hot chocolate and slightly burnt cake that Jean brought for supper.
“I’m too tired to eat,” said Innes. “I just want to sleep.” Then he ate half the cake before lying down.
Atacama curled up and started to snore. Molly tensed and waited for the flash of heat. But it didn’t come. Apparently snoring wasn’t a predatory enough noise to turn her into a goat.
As she lay there, snug under a patchwork quilt, she listened to Atacama’s snores and to Innes and Theo whispering sleepily on the other side of the room. She thought about Snib, who’d been lying on her own floor last night.
Molly had trusted Snib. She’d liked her.
But she wondered if she could believe anything the crowgirl had said.
Snib had said that Mr Crottel was at Stone Egg Wood. That was true, because Molly had seen the deephound with Corbie’s recruits.
Snib had said that the name of Molly’s curse-hatched was Mickle. That might be true, too.
Snib had said that she wished someone would break the link between curse-hatched and curses. Her voice had sounded so sad, so hopeful, Molly couldn’t believe that wasn’t true.
But if any of what Snib had said was true – if she wanted to save her brothers and sisters from Corbie’s ambition, if she didn’t want to be linked to curses, if she cared about curse victims – then why had she spied for Corbie? Why had she made friends with Molly, then betrayed her? Why had she betrayed the whole team?
Molly sighed. She sat up in her warm quilt nest and leant on the edge of Beth’s pine bed. Beth was awake, looking out of her window at the stars framed by the branches around the house.
Molly whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry the smelly green dog bit your tree, I’m sorry I trusted Snib and I’m sorry I never quite manage to get rid of my curse.”
Beth said, “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I nag you about your curse. I do know it’s not the darkness you like, it’s the speed.”
She smiled at Molly, then yawned.
Molly grinned back. “Night night, then.”
Beth said, “Sleep tight. If you can, with Atacama snoring…”
But they slept soundly all night.
And Rosalind woke them in the morning. “Wakey wakey! Time to go on a quest for my birthday present!”
They sat up and sang her a slightly out-of-tune ‘Happy Birthda
y to You’.
Atacama stretched, wiped his paws over his face and ears, and said, “Well, I’m ready.” The rest of them took turns having a quick wash in the bathroom, and Beth borrowed clothes from her uncles to replace Theo’s ripped tunic and cloak. He didn’t look quite so exotic in a blue jumper and grey fleece.
“Breakfast, then we’ll work out where to find that box,” said Beth, as she ran down the stairs. She slid the carefully iced birthday cake to one end of the table, so they had space to spread honey on slices of bread.
Aunt Jean was arranging fairy cakes on wooden platters. “That box you were asking about, Beth, is it important?”
“Yes, it might stop those crows becoming even more powerful.”
“Then ask your Uncle Pete. I don’t discuss magic with Aggie Sharpe. She and I have had too many arguments over the years, so we stick to safe topics like crochet and politics. But Pete often visits her farm to drink herbal tea and discuss plant lore and magical ethics. He might know about a box.”
“Where is he?”
“Working with the pine that fell last week.”
Beth finished her bread in three bites, then ran out the back door, followed by her friends.
“He’s leaving a portion of the fallen pine to encourage new life in the woods,” she explained as she led them through the trees, “and harvesting the rest for heat and light and craft.”
The thunk thunk thunk of an axe guided them across the woods to the tall wrinkled old man.
“Uncle Pete! Do you know of a box with links to Mrs Sharpe or the crows or the Promise Keeper?”
He frowned and aimed the blade at a branch jutting up from the fallen trunk. “I wonder if it’s time for that box.”
He chopped and the branch tumbled down.
Then he looked up at Beth. “The year you came to us, one of my oldest trees fell during the winter storms, and I was considering what I could create with the wood I harvested. Aggie Sharpe said if I made a box, she would put it to very good use. So I made her a middling-sized box, of polished pine, with a subtle pattern of knot-holes on the lid, and invisible joins at the corners. My best work. Then the witch put something secret inside, locked it and hid it away. I haven’t seen the box since.” He sighed and swung the axe again.
“What secret did she put in it?” asked Molly. “Where did she hide it?”
“It’s not hidden if you tell someone. And it’s not secret if you share it. So I don’t know. But I do know that the spell to hold it closed was so strong that it drained her. Aggie’s tatties and onions were very poor that year and a bit straggly the year after. She said it was worth it because the box and its contents would be needed one day. And I know that it was an object the crows valued, that’s why she took it and hid it. She’s never liked crows.”
Beth looked at her friends. “So we’re searching for a beautiful pine box.”
Theo leant forward and asked, “How do we open the box? How do we use what’s inside?”
He leant back again fast as Uncle Pete swung the axe. “I don’t know any of that, young man. Why not ask the old witch herself? She likes answering questions. That’s why she runs all those workshops.”
Beth thanked her uncle and they all turned to leave the woods. “If the box belongs to Mrs Sharpe,” she said, “then we should start our search at Skene Mains Farm.”
Uncle Pete shouted after them, “Be careful. It’s not easy to find something hidden by a witch. And it’s not wise to open it.”
***
“Mrs Sharpe’s farm has a lot of buildings and even more fields. Where should we search first?” asked Molly, as they crossed cold ridges of earth in the tattie fields they’d dug together last autumn.
“The farmhouse,” said Atacama.
“Her house will be protected by witch’s wards,” said Innes.
“Therefore it’s the most secure place on the farm,” said Atacama. “The only place that isn’t open to customers and workshop pupils. Theo, can you use your magic – very carefully – to get past her security?”
Theo shook his head.
“Can you talk us through it, then? Like you taught Molly to make a boundary?”
“Probably.” He glanced round them all. “Beth, you contain lots of strong growth and healing magic. Innes, you’re full of transformation magic, so if you can follow my instructions without arguing, you’ll be fine. Atacama, sphinxes are connected to the same classical magic as my family, so you should be able to work simple spells. And Molly, you have all that latent magic from your witch ancestors.”
“No, I don’t!”
“Yes, you do. Remember when I used a revealing spell in the Keeper’s Hall last year, and it showed that white light in your hand? That was your latent magic. It gets stronger every time you manipulate your curse. You’re becoming a witch, Molly, whether you like it or not.”
Beth stepped away from her.
“But I haven’t chosen this, Beth! I don’t want to be a witch!”
“You might have to choose it,” said Innes, “if you’re going to defeat that massive dog in magical combat. Just embrace it, Molly. Power is nothing to be afraid of.”
Molly sighed. “Unless you’re so powerful you can blow up the land you’re standing on, like Theo.”
Theo said, “You’d be a witch, not a magician, with access to less power, so less chance of causing harm with it.”
“Witches cause harm all the time,” said Beth. “A witch cursed my trees to burn. A witch cut us with those ice-blades on the moors. Mrs Sharpe’s failure to guide Estelle properly led to the charged-up curses. Witches are dangerous. Witches are dark magic. Witches are…” She sighed, and looked at Molly. “Witches are everything that’s wrong with the magical world. I can’t be friends with a witch.”
“I’m not a witch yet, Beth. I don’t even know any magic spells!”
Innes laughed. “You can shift into a hare or a mouse at will. You can shift back by creating a boundary. That’s magic, Molly. Those are spells. You already do magic spells.”
“But I don’t choose to do magic. I only do it when I have to.”
Beth frowned. “All those races with Innes? All those times you shift to run somewhere faster or more easily? You already use magic for fun and for convenience.”
Molly turned away and walked off towards the farm buildings, not sure how she should reply to Beth, and even less sure what she should do with Theo’s revelation about the white light that had glowed between her fingers last autumn.
When they all reached the farmyard, Innes said, “My mum’s been buying fruit and veg from Mrs Sharpe since I was a baby, and I’ve been in the shop, the bunkhouse, the sheds, the barns, the workshop, but never in the farmhouse.”
“So that’s the logical place for the box to be,” insisted Atacama.
Theo said, “She has the house locked up tight.”
“I could kick the door in,” said Innes. “Please, let me kick the door in.”
Theo shook his head. “It’s locked up tight with magic. I can feel the witch’s wards: the layers of spells protecting every door and every window, as well as the ground below the house and the air above. The front door could be wide open and there would be no safe way in unless she invited you. Her witch’s wards will crash down on anyone who goes in uninvited.”
“I could sneak in as a mouse,” said Molly.
“Not this time. Nothing can get in.” Theo sighed. “Obviously, I could get in, if I didn’t mind destroying the house and probably everyone within twenty miles. And if I wasn’t so powerful, if I could use just a tenth of my stored energy, I could get in with no damage at all. But I can’t. So I’ll try to teach you all the safest way past witch’s wards.”
Beth said, “I’m a dryad, not a witch or a magician. I don’t do magic spells. It’s not right, it’s not my role in the world.”
Molly said, “I shouldn’t really, either, should I? I’m just a girl, and a part-time hare, and a reluctant mouse. I’m not a proper magic-use
r. And of course, I don’t want to be. I’ll just watch.”
“No,” said Beth. “Watching will encourage them. Come on Molly, let’s search the other buildings and find the box before they blow themselves or the house up.”
Molly walked away from Theo explaining how to identify and separate strands of magic, and followed Beth towards the bunkhouse.
Beth found a key under a bucket by the door. “I’ll search downstairs, you search upstairs.”
Molly ran upstairs to the top-floor bedroom she and Beth had shared briefly last year. She looked out the window and saw the sphinx and the two boys standing three steps away from the back door of the farmhouse. Atacama was batting bright sparks of what must be magic between his paws. Innes and Theo were laughing.
Molly sighed, then looked under the beds. She found a balled-up pink sock, but no pine boxes.
She opened the wardrobe, which had the only door on the witch’s property that creaked satisfyingly, and saw nothing but clothes hangers. She walked across the tiny landing to the room Innes and Atacama had shared. It was empty too, with a view of the cold hills in the distance.
The floor below had higher ceilings and more rooms, but contained nothing except beds, wardrobes and four months of dust.
She ran downstairs. Beth was teetering on a stool, looking in the highest kitchen cupboards.
“Nothing upstairs,” said Molly.
“Nothing here either. Maybe Atacama’s right and this is too public for something she wanted to hide. But I won’t help them break into the house until we’ve searched everywhere else.”
They checked sheds and barns, and found cobwebs and echoes. They checked the shop, and found one wrinkled brown apple and bare shelves.
As they left the shop, Molly glanced across at the boys. They weren’t laughing now.
Atacama was lying on the ground, pinned down by a shimmering wall of light, which Innes was struggling to lift off him. Theo’s hands were clenched behind his back, as he forced himself to stay away from the sphinx.
Molly ran towards them. “Do you need help?”
“Yes, please!” said Theo. “Innes has more muscle than magical sense, and I can’t explain to him how to lift that shutter up.”