by Vance Huxley
“A glyph?” Abel flinched. “Another burning tattoo? The pain is bad enough but Mum will go crackers.”
“No, not a glyph. You must create something unique because every human ward I ever saw looked different.”
“Wrong person. I’ll get Kelis to help me.” Abel stood up, ready to go. “I’m still not convinced about another tattoo.”
“Stop! Please, listen. If someone controls you, they will control me. I am not yet strong enough to live without this tattoo, and they would bind me properly. At the very least they would make you give up my name, and I am still sworn to serve you.” Ferryl sounded panic-stricken. “You must do this, now.”
“Not a chance. Not another tattoo. I’ll be grounded for a year.”
“Make it a part of mine. Your mother never looks closely, so add a little bit.”
“A tiny one? Is it really that important?” Abel thought about it and his mum avoided looking at Ferryl’s tattoo if it accidentally showed. “What would have happened if Seraph had known what she was doing, and used real intent?”
“I believe you would have come home, and never gone to the school again.” Abel couldn’t ignore the total sincerity in that.
Though he still worried about his mum’s reaction. “Maybe a tattoo on your tattoo’s arm? What happens when you leave?”
“Not on me. You could put it close, as if it belongs. Intent matters more than size, so it can be small. Please?”
Abel gave up. He didn’t know enough to argue, and Seraph really had an effect. A chill went up his spine at the idea of someone like her ordering him about. “I’ll try.” He pulled out the sketch pad and a pencil, but coming up with a design wasn’t easy because Ferryl insisted she couldn’t help. Worse, she flew out of the tattoo so he had to draw without any help. Half an hour later Abel sat back to inspect the latest result. “What do you think?”
The sense of something flowing into his arm heralded Ferryl coming home. “Very good. Soft, gentle curves, to reflect your nature, with a small solid centre for strength and surrounded by sharp edges proving you will protect you and yours. Why is it a plant, a flower with roots?”
Abel stared at the drawing because he hadn’t actually tried for all that but could see it now, sort of. “So it fits with your tattoo. I could have put it in a pot but prefer this. We all have roots.”
Barely an echo of a whisper, Ferryl replied, “Not all of us.”
Abel didn’t think he should have heard that, so he moved on. “I’m not sure I can draw this on my arm.” He chuckled. “I can’t keep rubbing a tattoo out and trying again. Not only that, but I can’t stand the pain of several attempts. I’m not keen on suffering once. Will it hurt every time I draw a line, or when it’s done?”
“No drawing for this. Memorise your ward, really memorise it, then place your finger and imagine it in place before activating. Pushing magic as you call it.” Ferryl chuckled. “The pain will be less because this is welcomed, your magic to your magic. Try not to scream.”
“That was a surprise.” And pain, Abel admitted privately, and braced himself. After a moment’s thought he wadded up a few tissues to bite on. He took his time, making sure he’d got the little picture memorised perfectly, then took a deep breath and held out his arm so he could see it clearly. Abel hesitated again, but finally put his finger down firmly, near to Ferryl’s cat-woman. He imagined the flower growing there, protecting him from the likes of Seraph. The magic pushing, which is how it really did feel, came easier after all his practice and then Abel snatched his finger away and bit hard on the tissues.
“Very good. A solid connection with crisp clear lines and real intent.” Abel looked at his arm and Ferryl’s tattoo leant over to sniff at the little plant. Two tattoo butterflies fluttered round it before landing on her ears. “It smells welcoming, calming, but too spikey for butterflies.”
Abel couldn’t smell a thing but he thought the tattoo came out much better than his drawing. The blue and purple flower looked almost alive, and the roots really seemed to disappear into his arm. He touched it. “Oh! That feels strange.”
“You are touching your own magic. What does it feel like?”
“Soothing. Calming, as if everything is all right.” He stroked the flower gently. “Should it feel like that?”
“I don’t know. I have warded the bodies I am in, but the magic is theirs so I have never been able to touch my own.” Ferryl sounded sad and Abel almost asked why not, but he still worried he might not like the answers.
“Can we go out now?”
“Oh yes. The next time Seraph tries to bind you, she will be rebuffed. Hopefully it will hurt her.” Ferryl’s tattoo beamed happily and more butterflies appeared. “I feel much safer.”
“That’s me protected. Just the village and school to go.” Abel braced himself before asking because he might not like the answer. “Have the extra magical creatures stopped arriving?”
“No. There have been none strong enough to get past Mrs. Tabitha, but now they are testing all around the village. I fear something or someone is testing. For that reason I will burn the paper with the drawing. I do not know if it can be used against you but it is your own ward, drawn by your own hand, so better to be safe.”
“Will you show me how?” Ferryl must have been in a terrific mood because on the way to Rob’s she allowed Abel to create a tiny flame glyph all by himself. The wobbly pyramid he’d glimpsed Ferryl using turned out to look like a cartoon flame with a smaller one inside. Abel used his first attempt to burn his drawing, though first he had to suffer a litany of warnings about burning haystacks and houses.
* * *
Four days later, on Saturday, Abel still hadn’t been able to protect the school. He spent part of Saturday afternoon grubbing about in a hedgerow at the opposite side of the field behind the council houses, binding them all into a deterrent for part of the village. Not a strong one, because once again the dryads in the trees here and there along the hedgerow refused to part with any magic. None of them believed he could or would guard the young.
Even if small magical creatures could go around the ends of this stretch and stronger ones would walk right through, the barrier wouldn’t be useless. According to Ferryl, passing across it would be uncomfortable and many would wander off elsewhere. Better yet it might catch some. Abel had already despatched one creature caught in the magical mesh between his mum’s fruit bushes. The number of flyers in Abel’s back garden had decreased dramatically even if they could still get in from the gardens each side.
The effort of creating glyphs for this whole stretch tired Abel, so despite a slight drizzle he headed to Castle House gardens. Part of the fatigue, according to Ferryl, would be the lowering of his personal magic levels. She suggested sitting on the stone slab because he seemed to recover faster there. Ferryl thought he might be picking up some leakage from the magic trap, because his blood cracked the holding glyphs.
The alternative might be that his distant blood connection to the sorcerer allowed Abel to connect with the stored magic. Abel didn’t understand that part, but Ferryl insisted she could taste the connection in the first drops to land on the slab. While discussing it, Ferryl came to the conclusion that only Abel’s connection to the sorcerer let him crack the glyphs. Abel went around it with her several times, but his tattoo insisted. He wasn’t keen on her reasoning, that the sorcerer probably used magic to seduce local women and Abel’s ancestral blood-link came through a discarded bastard. If he’d been a direct descendant, Ferryl’s relentless logic insisted, Abel would have inherited Castle House.
After sitting on the slab for a while the slight drizzle increased to light rain. Abel moved into the shallow cave where the guardian used to sit, while Ferryl went off to inspect the boundary. If anything had tried too hard to get in, she would use Abel’s hand to strengthen the place. Abel didn’t mind, he sat quietly practicing making dust hover and a leaf float. He couldn’t keep the leaf still but had found that when he became frustrated,
stroking his little flower calmed him down. “I’ve looked and looked but there’s no wires. How are you doing that?”
Abel jumped to his feet, then calmed a bit because he recognised Kelis’s voice. Even so, he wondered why Ferryl hadn’t detected her arriving. “Do what? What did you think you saw?” He’d sat on his jacket, but picked it up to put on and hide the tattoo.
“Hah, nice try. I’ve been stood here for a while, watching. You did it with dust and a leaf, made them sort of dance about. Why do you keep touching that tattoo in between? That’s downright kinky, now that I think about it.” Kelis had been walking closer as she talked and her eyes narrowed. “That’s new.”
“What is?” Abel casually pulled the jacket sleeve up over his tattoo. “You’ve seen Ferryl Shayde before.”
“There’s more.” Kelis had come close enough to tug on his sleeve now. “Come on. Is this why you come here?” She cupped her hand and jiggled it.
“I come for peace and quiet. Why are you here?” Because according to Ferryl, Kelis shouldn’t be able to walk through the boundary.
“For peace and quiet.” Kelis touched her arm then snatched her hand away and a faint blush stained her cheeks. “Dad’s home.”
Which, Abel assumed, meant drunk and he’d hurt Kelis, though she’d be embarrassed if Abel mentioned it. “I’ve not seen you here before.”
“No, I’ve never liked the place but then a strange thing happened a couple of weeks back. I wanted to see what happened at the end of the trail, where the tree got drunk or the gypsies stopped the truck. I set off a couple of times but changed my mind.” Kelis stopped talking and frowned as if struck by a thought before continuing. “Have you still got those pebbles, the ones with the pretty symbols on?”
“Not on me.”
“You haven’t got the white one at all, and I’ve just realised something else. The strange thing I just mentioned is that I suddenly found the garden quite inviting, and came inside to have a look. I liked it so I come back when I want privacy.” Kelis pulled something from her pocket and held it up. “The something else I’ve just realised is that it happened right after I picked this up off the road.” Abel stared at the white pebble with the glyph on. “How much of that complicated magic system you produced is real, Abel?”
“It’s a game, Kelis, just a game. Magic isn’t real.”
“What we do in your room or Rob’s isn’t magic, but dancing leaves might be. Now show me your tattoo, Abel, please, the one you stroke before making leaves dance?” If she’d been mocking or demanding Abel could have stormed off in a huff but Kelis just stood there, smiling quietly and holding up the pebble.
Abel peeled off his jacket and turned his shoulder towards her and away again. “See, furry babe with strategically placed tail.”
“She’s been planting a garden, a very strange one. Did it grow or did you win a few quid on the lottery again, Abel?” Abel’s mind ran around in circles because another tattoo wouldn’t fly, not after the trouble with the first one. “You may as well turn your shoulder this way so I can see properly.”
With a sigh, Abel let her have a proper look. “It’s to help my concentration. Stroking the tattoo helps me calm down.”
Kelis giggled. “Stroking which tattoo? I’m sure stroking one of them is illegal, or kinky at the very least.”
“Stop it.” Abel had to laugh. “The flower you idiot. I don’t suppose the other one feels furry anyway.”
“Hang on.” Kelis touched his arm, then again. “Nope, not furry. The flower isn’t spikey either. What is it?”
“A tattoo?” Abel pretended to cower away from her glare. “I don’t know. An Abel-flower.”
“Does it really work, calm you down?” Kelis looked closer. “It’s really good, realistic in spite of the colour and odd petals.”
“It works if I just relax and let it. All my stress floats away and I feel really peaceful. It’s probably nothing to do with the flower.” He tried, but Abel already knew his attempt at acting innocent didn’t have a chance.
“And coming into this garden has nothing to do with the pebble, except now I’m realising the couple of times I’ve changed my mind I wasn’t wearing this jacket. The one with the pebble in the pocket?” Kelis’s eyes narrowed and she stopped smiling. “Now give. This is magic, hallucinogenic gas, or very strange and I’d love to hear your explanation.” She bent down and picked up a leaf. “Make this dance again, and use any wires you like.”
Abel looked at the leaf, and Kelis, and gave up. He’d been dying to tell someone, or Kelis and Rob at least. “All right.” He put the leaf on his palm, touched the flower for a moment with the other hand, and let the magic flow. The leaf danced up, jerking about and then fluttering off to the side. “Magic.”
“I knew it! All right, maybe I didn’t, but wow!” Kelis glanced around, suddenly not so sure. “Real magic? Hang on, are those other things real, the ones you introduced into the game?” Her eyes widened. “Is Ferryl Shayde real?”
“The creatures are real but you can’t see them unless you can use magic. They really are gross. Ferryl Shayde is a tattoo.” She was, sort of, Abel thought.
“So show me. Magic first, then the creatures. You can stop them, can’t you? You must be able to because you aren’t worried about them. You said a lot of them are harmless.” Kelis picked up a leaf and put it on her palm, eyes alight with excitement. “Come on, what do I do next? Do I need a tattoo?” Her face dropped. “I daren’t have one like that.”
This had all happened too fast, and without Ferryl here to advise. Abel didn’t know if Kelis had already been awakened to magic as Ferryl put it, just by knowing it worked. A chill ran up his back because in that case Kelis could be controlled by her name, by someone like Seraph. She needed a ward! “You need your version of the flower, a ward, before you learn any magic. Otherwise you’ll attract creatures and you’ll see them now. Worse, someone who knows how might try to control you.” Abel tried to make his voice as grave as possible. “I daren’t show you magic until then. Your ward doesn’t have to be where mine is.”
They went around that a bit, because Kelis thought he just didn’t want to show her. Eventually she accepted she had to wear a mark, a ward, but then started to worry what it had to be. “Does it have to be a tattoo? How about a drawing in indelible felt tip? Then if Dad or Mum see it I can swear it’ll wear off. I can keep renewing it.” Kelis grinned, eyes still alight with excitement. “Come on, try it, draw one. Will you be able to tell if it’s worked?”
“You can. You’ll feel it when you touch it.” Abel sighed and gave up. “You are supposed to make up your own.”
“No, I like the flower. It works for you, so that’s what I want as well.” Kelis inspected it. “Without that creepy root. I’ll put it someplace private so Dad won’t spot it. Oh. Not too private.” She sniggered. “Not if you’re drawing it.”
“You could draw it.” Abel sniggered as well. “Even then remember you might want to stroke the flower in public.”
“Ooh yes.” Kelis rummaged in her pocket and pulled out a marker pen. “Good thing I’m an art nut.” She took off her jacket and rolled up her sleeve, debating. Abel realised Kelis must be distracted because she’d bared the finger-mark bruises on her arm, something Kelis never did except by accident. “Not on the outside, like yours. On the inside of my arm I think, then I can cross my arms and my hand will tuck under and,” she tucked one hand out of sight under the other arm, “just there. A bit below my armpit where I can reach it inside my jacket.” Kelis held out the pen. “Come on. I can’t draw there.” She held her arm straight up. “Don’t tickle.”
Abel hesitated for long moments, then gave up and took the indelible pen. It would wear off eventually, and Kelis could make her own. “Hold still.” Firm strokes, with intent, Abel reminded himself. The intent came easily; to ward Kelis from control and magic creatures and to stop the pain, the stress when her Dad acted up, make her feel safe. He drew a slightly stylised version of
the flower which would look the same upside down, and thought it looked pretty good.
As he finished, Kelis jerked a little, then twisted her head and arm to see the result. “Hey, pretty good. I’ll leave it a minute to dry.” She held up the pebble again. “Do I have to buy an engraving kit and run around with a pocket full of pebbles, or is it like the game?”
“A bit like the game. I drew the glyph for the leaf and dust on my hand with my finger ages ago. Not actually draw because a finger doesn’t leave a mark, so you have to picture where it is. This is a very weak spell.” Abel remembered what Ferryl could do with concentrated wind. “You have to be gentle and learn real control before trying anything else. Promise?”
“I’d promise pretty much anything if you really teach me to do magic. Can’t I draw the symbol on my palm with my pen?”
“No because there will be more glyphs eventually, or so I believe.” Abel daren’t tell her he already knew another or Kelis would want it now. Remembering his first success with wind, Abel didn’t want that sudden surge to happen with fire. “But they only come after mastering this one.”
“Like levelling up in a game? When do I see the creatures?” Kelis looked round. “I can’t see any yet.”
“There aren’t any inside this garden. You get in through the fence because of the pebble, I get in because of magic, and everyone else finds a reason not to come here.” Abel smiled. “Unless they really are motivated. Tyson and Henry were chasing me when they came in here.”
“When you hit them?” Kelis inspected the trampled trail to the clearing, not as bad as it had been now the bushes were growing. “What really made that mess? You said something about a tree running in here and I thought you were being funny.” Her smile faded. “Just how serious were you, and are trees likely to chase me?”
“Very serious, but it was a special tree and the stone statue that lived in this cave killed it. Neither survived the fight.” Kelis stared, eyes wide. “There aren’t any more trees or statues like that.” Abel kept near enough to the truth or he’d get mixed up. More than that, he didn’t want to scare Kelis too much to start with. Once again he wondered why Ferryl hadn’t heard or sensed something and come back.