by Vance Huxley
“But you did not order me, and I did not go far away and leave you unguarded. Now the problem is solved. You must learn to subvocalize.”
“What?”
“Your mother told me the word for speaking without noise, so we can talk in public. I still need to get my wits back because they contain much of my magical knowledge. We must find a way to break the wards and get inside Castle House, but until then we can use the gardens to teach you magic.” Ferryl paused while Abel wondered about these wits. “Until I gain my wits, I can only remember a few glyphs. I memorised the one for the guardian, for if the stone holding me ever failed.”
Abel thought about that while he cleaned his teeth and got dressed. “It’ll probably be a week before we can go back to the gardens. After all there’s that big hole and missing tree, and a clear trail inside the garden. The place will be knee deep in coppers and maybe a reporter with a camera by now. They’ll be trying to work out how that tree got over there and why it’s in bits and covered in purple gunk.” Abel flinched at a sudden thought. “I hope they don’t break that stone slab to see what’s underneath.”
“Only a few bones though they’ll never find out. None of them will go into the garden. I told you, your pursuers were hunting wounded prey or they would have been dissuaded. I strengthened the barrier at the front as we left and now non-magical humans will only go inside if it is that or death, and maybe not then. Any magic users will be badly hurt if they try.” Ferryl seemed very sure. “The Bound Shade will have reverted to its natural state, long dead, and rotted away. The fluid energised it and will dissipate without a host, losing colour and any power. Your local militia, policeman, will look from the road and decide there is no need to go inside.”
Exactly why a dead tree would be called a Bound Shade went onto Abel’s list for later. “What about the big hole beside the road and the ripped tarmac?”
“I do not know. If someone brings in a sorcerer or priest that could cause a problem, though I have learned nobody believes in witches or magic any more. Unless the police retain a magic user or contact the church, our only danger is if another sorcerer finds out. If a sorcerer or priest tries to get inside the garden we will need solids glyphs, several of them.” Ferryl paused. “Someone may be curious about the bones in the hole. Have any children gone missing?”
“Christ, no.”
“Will you please stop calling on a God you have just rejected! Are you trying to attract attention? It will not be amused.”
“Sorry. It’s a habit. Lots of people say my, er, the G word, or the C word, without really believing in them. The English are well known for not being very religious.” Abel didn’t feel too comfortable with the idea now. He’d been taking names in vain all his life, and something might have been listening? “I didn’t reject God. My parents put that on me and I’ve never believed in religion and all that.” Or magic Abel thought, and quickly shelved the subject for now. He went back to Ferryl’s other question. “Why would there be missing children?”
“If it has been there so long, the Bound Shade will have fed now and then. They are known to take whatever is convenient, which can be a child or vagrant though the instructions would have bid it be discreet. It probably ate stray dogs or foolish birds since neither see any harm in a dead tree. How long will your police be there? I must teach you some basic magic straight away, so you are at least capable of warding your home.”
“Can’t you do it, ward the house? Not that I don’t want to learn, I just don’t want to wait.” As Abel came downstairs two little crawling things stared in surprise and scuttled out under the door through a crack that should be too small. That had to be magic. “To stop those.”
“They will eat pests, ants and flies. Much better hunters than spiders and pictsies don’t leave dusty webs.” Ferryl tutted, which in Abel’s head seemed even worse than out loud. “Laziness is not a good trait in a student, and it will be easier to keep the wards strong if you lay them.”
“Surely we can get rid of the ones that crawl in the food? Tell me about pixies while I have breakfast, because I’m fairly sure I’m going to need all my strength today.” As he listened Abel wished he’d waited until after eating. Ferryl gave him a lecture on pictsies versus piskies and pixies, brownies, sprites, haunts, various sorts of goblins and hoblins, and a multitude of creepies and crawlies that definitely made Abel queasy. The lecture included eating more meat and exercising so he could stand the strain of wielding glyphs. Abel agreed if only to shut her up and set into persuading Ferryl to ward the house, right now, promising to learn how as quickly as possible. He could have ordered her, but wanted to save that for when he needed to. Ferryl Shayde didn’t seem the sort to like orders very much.
Eventually Ferryl agreed, and they worked around the windows and doors while Abel’s hand drew invisible glyphs. “These should be incised. They would be much stronger. You have a cat!” Ferryl sounded delighted when Mrs. Tabitha, a fat tortoiseshell cat, sauntered over to exchange purrs. After having her tummy stroked, Mrs. Tabitha left to sunbathe, probably. “She will let me know if something unpleasant tries to enter. Unless it is small enough, then she will kill it herself.”
“Cats can see creatures?” Abel stared after Mrs. Tabitha. “They hunt them?”
“Not hunt, kill, because the creatures are made of magic and are not edible. Cats can only kill those without strong venom. They cannot see the magical creatures clearly, but I have gifted Mrs. Tabitha knowledge of magic so she can see the creatures properly and she will be a very efficient lookout. Cats have more sense than to attack the seriously dangerous types.” Abel added that to the list of things to think through once he had a spare week to sit in a dark room and make sense of it all. Hopefully, he wouldn’t start finding dead creatures outside the back door where Mrs. Tabitha usually left her mice and birds. Right now, Abel needed to concentrate on learning magic.
2 – A Glyph from the Gods
From the look of it Abel wouldn’t be having magic lessons today at least, and he doubted he’d get any tomorrow either. Two strips of police tape and traffic cones marked off the worst damaged section of the road outside Castle House, also blocking access to the hole where the Bound Shade had lived. A police panda car and a council van were parked further along the road, the other side of the big hole in Castle House’s fence. A bored looking copper directed the occasional car past the cones. Another copper and a workman in an orange jacket peered into the garden, but they weren’t crossing the boundary. Abel joined the half-dozen villagers who stood by the tape, some of them taking pictures with their phones. “What happened?”
Kelis turned. “Hi Abel. Nobody knows. Someone must have called the coppers because of all the mess and damage. There’s no sign of that dead tree, unless it’s at the end of that mess.” She pointed at the trail of damage in the gardens.
“You think it ran off?”
She giggled. “Yeah, or maybe it fancied some company and the trees over there threw a party. It’s probably laid in there, drunk as a skunk. Tomorrow it’ll be back in place but with a lousy hangover.”
“That will worry the coppers more than some gyppo nicking it for firewood.” The speaker’s smile died as he saw Abel’s face. “Did they run over you on the way through?”
“No Stan. He got into a fight with Henry.” Kelis sounded happy about that, probably because her hands and face didn’t hurt. “Have you seen Henry?” Last night both Kelis and Rob had speculated on what Henry’s face might look like.
“Yes. Did you do that, Abel, give him that black eye?” Stan, a pensioner and allegedly an ex-poacher, inspected Abel’s face and hands. “His face is swollen as well, but not as badly as yours. You lost, but well done anyway.”
Since one hand had straps on it, the other was bruised and scratched, and running into a tree hadn’t improved his already swollen and bruised nose and face, Abel could only agree. “I always lose, though I knocked Tyson down as well.”
“Really? I’ll loan
you my shotgun to make it fairer next time, if you wipe off the fingerprints afterwards.” They all laughed because Stan really would like to see the Copples knocked back, but never let anyone near his shotgun. “Something happened to that bloody dog as well because its shoulder is all strapped up. At least the thing will leave Bugsy alone for a bit.” The ancient Jack Russell wagged his tail. Cooch harassed the smaller dog, but Tyson never let it get serious because Stan had threatened to shoot Cooch if he bit Bugsy.
“Maybe the Gyppos ran Cooch down.” After a bit more talk while watching the policemen and council worker scratch their heads, Abel more or less gave up on visiting the garden today.
“Your policemen are diligent, and slow. We must go around to the back gate.” Abel opened his mouth to point out he’d never heard of a back gate, then realised if anyone knew it would be Ferryl.
* * *
After a long walk out in the fields, and into a small wood Abel never knew existed, they approached a gate in a stone wall. “Will it be locked, or have a guardian?”
“Nobody comes into this wood.”
Abel looked around him and nothing scuttled or slithered in the shadows, or nothing creepy anyway. Conversely, a perfectly normal squirrel looked at him from high in a tree and birds were flitting about, singing merrily. “Not the little crittur things, but animals do. Does that mean people can wander in here as well?”
“They will not do so without good reason, and will be stopped by the main spell on the fence and wall.”
“Does that mean you could put a barrier around the whole village?” The place wasn’t exactly overrun but the magic creatures gave Abel the heebie-jeebies. Despite them allegedly being made of magic he didn’t like them in his food, clothes and bed. “Then I wouldn’t have to ward the houses.” He didn’t fancy that, explaining to everyone in the village why he wanted to draw invisible shapes with his finger on windowsills and doorsteps.
“A witch should be doing that, unless you want to become the local warlock? The villagers should be paying for hexes against whatever causes them trouble.”
“But they aren’t, probably because they’ve no idea they need hexes. I’ve thought about it and there isn’t a witch, I’m sure. So back to the first question. Can we ward the village, because that would be easier to explain? We could do it outside the fences.” Abel waved a hand to indicate the wood. “This seems to work.”
“The boundary here is powered by magic from trees. We could build a magical deterrent anywhere there are enough trees in the right places, trees without a resident, but it will take a long time.” Her voice suddenly became more urgent. “I didn’t expect another one, not with such a wide barrier. Let me have control!” A crackling and creaking heralded a dead tree wrenching roots from the ground, its pale mauve eyes fixed on Abel.
“Ok. Can you deal with it? Or make me run faster?”
“I can teach it respect, so that we can get into the garden and construct a solid glyph to threaten it in the future.” Abel watched his finger wiggle a bit and a smoky shape flew across the gap to strike the Bound Shade. At least Abel knew what a Bound Shade was now, a creature’s essence captured at the moment of dying and used to keep a semblance of life. According to Ferryl there would be something inside the tree, a glyph of some sort, to strengthen the captured being and force it to obey a set of instructions.
“Is it meant to do that?” Flame gouted from the trunk and an unearthly screech set Abel’s teeth on edge. The Bound Shade moved back, stumbling and in obvious pain.
“Not really. That should have burned it just enough to ensure respect. Air-drawn glyphs don’t have the power of carved glyphs.” Ferryl sounded puzzled. “I shouldn’t be able to hurt it that badly without using a solid glyph.”
“Can you get rid of it? You know, just in case some kid is frightened by something else and runs in here? Worse, the Bound Shade might get loose.” The last one had frightened Abel badly, at least partly because it took too much damage before it quit.
“There will be nothing to stop anything magical that can overcome their discomfort long enough to reach the gate. They may try to break through the inner barrier.”
“We can make something else, or strengthen the barrier like you said you did at the front? A stronger warning rather than a killer tree?” The creature had stopped making any movement or noise, but Abel thought it only wanted him to turn his back.
“As you wish. I will try since it seems susceptible to air-drawn glyphs. We can adapt the barrier.” The smoky glyph looked bigger this time, and Abel felt a sensation as if something flowed out of his hand. He got an impression of shape as well, a wobbly pyramid with something in the middle. The Bound Spirit stirred as if to try and avoid the glyph but much too slowly, and the innocuous puff of smoke struck right between its eyes. Flame gushed out, followed by purple liquid but not for long. This time the noise cut out mid-screech. The limbs flopped, much quicker than the last time Abel saw one die, while the main trunk slumped before slowly keeling over. “Very strange. I will look for the glyph when we come back, in case it is stone or iron and didn’t burn.”
“Can we go in now? Is that thing finished?” Abel tried to turn and couldn’t.
“Yes. Would you like control back now? I do not need it to pass through the gate.” He could hear the humour in Ferryl’s voice, but didn’t trust it. Not being able to move had come as a hell of a shock and once again Abel had given her control without a second thought.
“Yes please.” Abel poised to use her true-name, but suddenly his limbs were back under control. The snigger as he wobbled for a moment didn’t help his peace of mind.
* * *
The cliff face hadn’t been the garden boundary at all, the grounds went back much further. If he’d run the right way and found the steps up the cliff Abel might have still been wandering, lost in the untended semi-jungle. Ferryl knew the way and directed him to the stone slab. True to her prediction the remains of the fight looked like dust and scraps of rotten wood, with no signs of liquid. At least the Bound Shade had taken a curved path to the glade, following Abel, so they were out of sight of the road. As asked, Abel rooted around where the trunk had fallen until he uncovered a yellowish piece of stone.
“That is the glyph. Typical of the sorcerer. He put nothing in there to lead back to him, only me. This is an insult, using my wits to animate a dead tree!”
Abel inspected the yellowish rock with something burned into it. “Your wits are rock?”
“No, burned into the bone. It is the best way. He cut them out, all of them.” Abel stared at the little nub of bone in horror. He had absolutely no idea of how much pain digging out lumps of bone must inflict, and never wanted to find out. “The one on my head hurt the most.” Now Abel remembered the hole in her skull. “If he used another in the Bound Shade guarding the back that explains why it died so easily. My wits will have little defense against me, not when I have your magic to use.”
“Can you use these now?” Abel tossed the little bit of bone up and down. “This one anyway?”
“Not yet. I would like to check the other Bound Shade, then we can hide them until I have flesh again. First, you must learn magic so that I can leave and find a body. You will complain, and be bored, and try to go too fast, and I will laugh.” Finding some of her wits seemed to cheer Ferryl up.
* * *
Though she wasn’t joking. Hours later Abel looked at yet another demonstration, dust jiggling up and down just clear of his palm. He picked up a leaf instead, and moments later it hovered, motionless. When the leaf suddenly burst into flame he couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “You keep doing that and saying I can, then I try and can’t. Why am I even trying? It’s not exactly deadly if another Bound Shade turns up, is it?”
“I warned you. You must learn how to do this, under control or you will try to lift a stick and pull up a tree. You will try to blow a fae or goblin away, and blast the thatch off a roof. The tiles off a roof. Worse, the strain of doing so while
you are still weak may break something, a hand or arm.” Abel tried again but the dust just laid in his hand. “You must direct the flow, channel the magic inside and feed it to the glyph. Draw it on your hand again and try until it works. I will check the rest of the boundary.”
“You are leaving?”
“You are safe here. These trees have no guardians. Sooner or later you will recognise the feeling and know how to activate the glyph and then it will be easier, but watching this part is boring.”
“What if another Bound Shade or even a fae, a flying stinger, comes?” Abel felt decidedly nervous about either. “If I can’t make dust dance I’m not going to put up much of a fight.”
“So learn to make dust dance, then how to throw glyphs. I will remain if you wish, but nothing will come through the barrier. I wanted a little freedom to fly on the wind. It has been a long time.”
Abel wasn’t sure if the wistful tone in the last bit had been added deliberately or not, but either way he could see her point. “All right. As long as you come back if a tree decides to have a stroll around.” He heard a little giggle, and felt an odd sensation as if something flowed out of his arm. The air rippled in front of him, lifting the dust in little whirlwinds, then the rippling left the clearing raising a trail of dancing leaves.
Abel suddenly felt very alone. He looked at the tattoo and although very well drawn, he could see the difference. The picture looked flatter, and he even touched it to see if she responded. No, Ferryl really had gone. He concentrated on his hand again, drawing the glyph with a finger on the palm of the other hand. A coil, an overlapping circle, with a smaller version going the other way inside. Since Abel only used his finger there wasn’t a mark on his palm, but allegedly he only had to imagine the shape there. Abel placed a leaf on his palm and concentrated. Once again the leaf wasn’t impressed.
* * *
Ferryl had it exactly right, watching hours of fruitless training over the following days would have been really boring. She spent most of Abel’s spare time wandering, or rather floating and flying, around the garden and revelling in being out of the hole. Abel tolerated the jokes about his lack of progress, because he could feel the sheer joy in his tattoo when Ferryl flowed back in. After two hundred years, being free again must be a terrific buzz. Unfortunately, despite the time Abel spent stood, sat or laid in the cave, staring at his palm, neither the dust nor leaf stirred.