by M S C Barnes
She tutted and now The Caretaker stood and placed a delicate hand on her shoulder. Frowning with annoyance, Trudy sat back down, this time not next to Zach.
The Caretaker, piercingly blue eyes focussed intently on Zach, perched on the fireside plinth, facing him. Seb still couldn’t tell, after three months of knowing this Guardian, whether he was looking at a male or a female. With perfect aquiline features and long, glossy black hair, a lithe, athletic body which was always concealed by a baggy hoodie and slim jeans, it was impossible to be sure. And he found himself, for the thousandth time, studying the face, the body, the hands, trying to confirm one way or the other.
“Your constant battles with Trudy are not helpful, Zach.” Even The Caretaker’s voice, which was soft yet husky, could have been male or female. Seb searched for feminine or masculine tones but could identify nothing obvious. “This is not a competition for dominance,” The Caretaker continued. “We work as a team to guard the Custodians. If one is more experienced and more knowledgeable, does it not make sense to learn from them?”
Zach stared back belligerently for a moment and then leant forward, grabbed his shoes and socks and, ignoring everyone, began putting them back on.
Now Aelfric stood.
“Zach, I am unsure why you choose not to explain the one essential point that would diffuse this discussion,” he said, looking at Zach. Puzzled expressions spread among the gathering. Zach remained staring at the floor and didn’t reply.
Nat got up and walked over to him.
“Aelfric is right Zach, you should tell everything because, at the moment, Trudy and The Caretaker just believe you are arrogant and thoughtless,” she said gently.
“I don’t care what they think,” Zach mumbled his lie.
“Okay. Dierne, Alice.” Aelfric waved a hand towards the fire and the Dryads flitted up above the tall flames. “Let’s see what really happened shall we?” He smiled at Zach as the Dryads began circling in opposite directions, leaving their trails in the air. In moments a column of green had formed from them.
“There’s nothing to see!” Zach raised his head. Trudy looked confused.
“Torhtian nú!” Aelfric said as the green column reached the height of the domed roof and the Dryads re-materialised beside it. To the sound of a thunderclap, the column flattened, forming a thin disc which now upended and began spinning in the air. Seb had seen this many times now, as had the others, but it still amazed him. His startled face was reflected back at him as the disc span so fast it created the illusion of a solid surface, a mirror.
Within the mirror an image appeared: Zach, stepping onto the snow through an ornate door that hung within the bare branches of a large hawthorn bush. He was followed by Nat, Aiden and Scarlet. As Dom stepped through, the Zach in the image exclaimed, “Oh, you’re having a laugh aren’t you?”
The picture span and they were now seeing what appeared to be Zach’s eyeball view of his surroundings. The image skimmed from the small snowman, which had been the first thing to catch his attention, to a quick scan of the area under the trees, where he noted The Caretaker stood, hidden by shadows; he glanced at the Dryads also under the trees, and appeared to count their number quickly, then he checked the tree branches. Finding nothing of note, he transferred his gaze to the vast field in which they stood, scanning from the left, across the horizon, to the right and finally he took stock of the group in front of him, facing the small golem: the ten Dryads flanking Aelfric, Aelfric himself, Greg, Trudy and then Lily... And here his eyes stopped. He looked her up and down, and seemed to dwell on her for more than a second before his eyes finally returned to the relentless jumping of the snow golem.
His laughter could still be heard as he stepped forward, drawing up close to Trudy but not joining her. “That’s enough Zach,” Trudy’s voice barked. “This is not a laughing matter.”
“Are you kidding?” Zach’s voice answered with a laugh, but he wasn’t looking at the golem. He had taken another glance at Lily, noting her blue lips, her shallow breathing, the obvious shaking of her body. He gazed down at her skeletal legs, buried to the calves in snow. “I mean, look at it.” He looked once more at the golem as Trudy continued to scold him for laughing.
Those around the fire now heard him exclaim: “I thought they were made of mud,” and the sound of crunching footfalls as he joined Trudy. His eyes didn’t leave the golem but suddenly, in their peripheral vision, his staff appeared.
“Golems usually are,” Dom’s voice was heard, accompanied by more scrunching sounds as he joined Aelfric. Zach’s eyes glanced to locate Dom’s positioning and then fell on Lily again. He looked at her lips, at her hunched shoulders and shaking body then looked again at the golem.
“Seb, you need to move forward, take over,” Greg’s voice was heard, encouraging Seb and then Seb’s own voice followed by more snowy footsteps.
Zach’s eyes watched the golem, occasionally flicking up to the treetops and across the horizon but often they found their way back to Lily, as the exchanges between the others continued. And now Lily was nudging Scarlet forward to join Aelfric and Seb, and here Zach totally disregarded the golem, watching how awkwardly Lily moved, how she was hampered by the shaking of her body and the deep snow.
“When Seb lights it Scarlet, you will see markings on the forehead. You need to relay them, in silence, to Alice. He will then pass them on to Seb. Do not read them out.” Zach watched Lily carefully as she spoke, as if noting the difficulty with which she formed the words. “Do you understand? Do not speak them aloud.”
He was still chuckling and his eyes darted back to the golem. Then they conducted one last sweep of the whole area, the trees, the Dryads, all those gathered in front of the golem and then back to Lily.
Trudy’s voice sounded angry behind Zach as he stepped forward and stared at the golem. “Stand back Zach.”
His own words were jovial as he took one last glance at Lily. “I can’t see what the fuss is all about. It’s so ridiculously small. I could squish it easily.” He watched his own shoes as they landed on the miniature golem and then the image faded and everyone stared at Zach.
“What can I say?” he muttered after a moment. “She needs to eat more.”
Without saying a word, Lily, who now seemed back to her normal self and actually had a slight rosy tint to her crêpey cheeks, got up from the bench, gave Greg’s hand a squeeze and then walked over and hugged Zach. He looked about as awkward as it was possible to look.
Trudy sat, mouth agape and The Caretaker looked surprised.
As Lily let go of Zach and returned to her seat Aelfric said, “Are we all clear on Zach’s assessment now?” He smiled at Trudy and The Caretaker. They both nodded.
The Importance of Words
Zach still stared at the floor, frowning. Seb guessed he was embarrassed. Zach enjoyed having everyone believe he was loud, rude and uncaring. Now his concern for Lily had shown there was a softer side to him and he couldn’t deny it.
Aelfric, noting his awkwardness, diverted attention from him.
“Dom, what are your thoughts on this golem?”
Dom, like everyone else, had been staring, wide-eyed at Zach and now checked himself before glancing down at the open book on his lap. He cleared his throat.
“Well, the main reference to golems is as we have said.” He stabbed a finger at the left page. “Golems have only ever been referred to as being formed of clay or mud. I can find no reference to them ever being formed of snow.” His voice was slow and ponderous, but Seb, captivated by the thought of spells that animated inanimate matter, listened intently as Dom continued. “However, there is nothing to say they must be made of clay. The requirement is for inanimate matter that can be moulded, and so snow would meet the criteria. What is of concern is the spell itself.”
Seb was intrigued as to how writing words on the forehead of a snowman could possibly bring it to life. He imagined someone using a pencil to scribble the words on this golem’s head and sudde
nly that nagging thought he had struggled to grasp, just before stepping through the doorway from the school to the snow-covered field, took shape. Who? Who cast the spell?
He spoke the thought aloud, “Who created it? Who cast the spell?”
Dom’s eyes lifted from the page to Seb. “That is what we are trying to establish, before they —”
“Before they can create another one,” Scarlet said, trying, unsuccessfully, to disguise the excitement in her voice.
“Yes, Scarlet,” Aelfric said softly. “It is rare we encounter a golem but we have learned, through bitter experience, that once someone masters the art of liffæstan — the ability to endow with life — they learn quickly, and they are driven to repeat and improve on their triumph.”
“Bigger snowmen then.” Zach, interest piqued, forgot his embarrassment and looked up, smirking.
“It is not the size that is the issue,” Aelfric said. Turning to face the still-spinning disc, he waved a hand at it. “The spell is of concern, I agree, Dom. Let’s see if the impression goes back far enough to show us who cast it.”
Aelfric used Torhtian mirrors on key occasions when the groups needed a clearer picture of an event. Lately he had predominantly used them to show where Zach’s actions had caused issues. Apparently, these mirrors could, where there was a direct link between one of the members of the groups and a specific event, show that event and also the minutes that led up to it. Aelfric had used such a mirror to show Seb and Scarlet the car accident which had resulted in their father’s death, their brother’s birth and the overtaking of his body by a trespassing soul. He had been able to do so because he was linked to that unfortunate event, arriving at the location seconds after the trespassing soul had achieved its aim.
So now they all stared at the mirror, watching their own reflections, waiting. Suddenly the image of the snow-covered field and the isolated copse of trees appeared once more. Now, though, it was snowing and, through the heavy fall, a figure could be seen, kneeling beneath the branches of the foremost tree. Dressed in a bulky parka jacket, with the fur-lined hood pulled up over the head, baggy, tracksuit trousers and Wellington boots, it was impossible to even tell if this figure was a man or a woman, let alone who it could be. The figure had dug a deep hole in the snow and now, rummaging in a satchel bag, pulled out a small Thermos flask and, with gloved hands, unscrewed the lid. It tipped the flask upside down, and carefully emptied the contents into the hole before scooping the snow back over it. Placing the Thermos back into the satchel, the figure stood, turned and without a backward glance, strode briskly away.
Aelfric pointed, making the mirror’s image pan left to follow this figure but within seconds the whole picture became covered in a black cloud and disappeared. He waved his hand and the image cleared; it had, once more though, returned to show the copse of trees. The snow still fell relentlessly and the tracks of the strange figure were covered over in minutes. Beneath the trees everything was still. Minutes passed and gradually the snowfall lessened and then Aiden pointed.
“Look there!” he squeaked.
Below the foremost tree there was the slightest movement in the snow, nothing obvious, just a very small disturbance, like the burrowing of a mole trying to break the surface of a garden lawn. And now Trudy suddenly appeared, stepping into view as though the mirror were a movie camera and she had just walked into shot from behind it. Putting a hand back to indicate to those behind her to stop, she spoke quietly.
“I see something below the trees.”
There was the sound of scrunching and The Caretaker appeared.
Aelfric waved his hand again and the image cleared then reappeared, once more showing the kneeling figure below the trees. He waved it again but the image repeated from the same point, the kneeling figure rummaging in the satchel.
“It will go no further back,” Aelfric said. “Torhtian ende!” he called and a thunderclap sounded, the disc stopped spinning and then flipped to lie flat above the fire. Aelfric waved his hand and the disc fizzled into a green haze, then vanished.
“Dom,” Aelfric turned back to the old teacher, “the spell is all we have to go on.”
Dom, looking worried, jabbed a finger at the book. Seb, like everyone else, leaned in closer to see what he was pointing at. The pages were old and time worn, and the writing was faded. On the page Dom indicated was an illustration which, from where he sat, looked to Seb to be of a shallow bowl with wisps of smoke twirling up from the ashen contents inside it. The wisps rose close to the top of the page where they formed two words Seb couldn’t read.
Coughing, Dom said, “To animate that which is lifeless, the teachings say, you inscribe the name of God,” he glanced up at the enthralled gathering, “or the word of Truth.”
“God,” Zach snorted. “You’ve spent months teaching us there is no ‘God’.”
“No we haven’t, Zach,” The Caretaker said, surprised.
“Well, yes, you have!” Zach challenged. “You’ve told us that all souls start as humans, travel again and again to live lots of lives in this reality, then eventually we turn into Dryads.” He glanced at Dierne. “That’s cool. And then...” He grimaced. “Then we become shiny, tiny, fairies. Not so cool. No god. Just Nature’s laws and magical realities. No Heaven. No Hell. No damnation. And this is as close to paradise as we’re going to get ... which is quite disturbing really.”
The Caretaker interrupted. “We have never spoken of God.” There was still a touch of surprise in the husky voice. “We have never discussed that broad and complex topic.”
That’s true, actually, Seb thought. Having learned about the eternal travelling and development of souls, and that the pattern and system for their visits and transition to the next reality was controlled by Nature itself Seb, like the others it seemed, had just assumed that meant there was no God. After all, where would God fit in to all that?”
“So there is a God then?” Aiden asked.
“As Morgan says, that is a broad and complex topic and not one we have time to discuss now,” Aelfric redirected the conversation. “The teachings refer to the use of the name of God or the word of truth, Dom. This much we have always known. And there is nothing that refers to using other words?” Aelfric perched on the plinth as he spoke, Dierne flitting down to stand beside him. Dom shook his head, his forehead almost folding as he frowned.
“No. No other words. The name of God or the word of truth,” he sounded disturbed and gazed back down at the open book. “There were several words used on this occasion and, try as I may, I cannot find what they mean and how they would meet the requirements for an animating spell.”
“Greg,” Aelfric looked at him, “Can you see any meaning or translation?”
O I see we care in new. Seb remembered the words as though he were hearing Scarlet’s voice through Alice in his head again. O I see we care in new. They sounded English but made little sense.
“No.” Greg frowned, uncertain. “They do seem to have meaning, but ... well, nothing that is clear to me.”
“Maybe it’s an anagram?” Scarlet looked at Lily. “Did you see them too Lily?”
Lily was nodding and smiling. “Yes, and that is possible, since in their written form they seem to make no sense either.” She swivelled from Scarlet to Dom. “Can we write them Dom?”
He nodded. “Yes. There will be no harm in replicating what you saw.” The old man now fumbled in his jacket pocket and took out a small, green notebook, from the spine of which he pulled a tiny pen. He handed these to Scarlet.
“You should let us have our mobile phones. There are loads of websites, and apps too, that will help solve anagrams,” she stated petulantly. Scarlet wholeheartedly disapproved of the school policy which meant that, every day she had to deposit her mobile phone at reception. Aelfric had told her many times that the unseen transmissions from them caused disruption across the realities around them. Scarlet herself admitted to seeing the disturbances in the air, her amazing eyesight affording her a per
spective that only Seb, Lily and Aelfric shared. But she was so attached to her phone that she refused to accept it was an issue.
In seconds she had scribbled the words she had seen onto a page of the notebook and held it out for everyone to see:
OH I C WE CARE IN NU
“Well that’s just plain unhelpful,” Zach complained. “It makes less sense than before.”
Seb stared at the page thinking Zach was right. In the corner of his eye he noticed Aelfric stand.
“It does look like it could be an anagram,” Aiden suggested.
“Or it might have been written by a numpty who couldn’t spell,” Zach laughed.
“No,” Dom said. “The letters will be precise. The spell would not work otherwise.”
“If I had my phone I could search the internet,” Scarlet said, huffing.
“Look.” Aiden, excited, pointed at the notebook. “The writing is changing.”
He was right. As they watched, the letters Scarlet had scrawled began moving around on the silvery-white page. Dom reached out a hand and took the notebook from her. He waited as the letters twisted and swirled, changing position and shape.
“This is íwan parchment,” he said, as though that was explanation enough for the curious watchers.
“And what does that mean — for those of us who are clueless?” Zach said, standing and leaning over to see as the letters carried on dancing around the page.
“It will only allow the truth to be written,” Dom said. “If you like, it reads between the lines. Only the absolute meaning of whatever is written on this parchment will show. There can be no hidden messages.” He watched the writhing letters, his expression hopeful. But, as the letters continued to warp and change, he glanced up at Aelfric looking worried.
“I guess, it’s not working then.” Zach put his hands on his hips. Another few seconds and the letters formed into three nonsensical groups: hine ic onwrecau, then suddenly slipped and, as if they were made of melted wax, slid down the page and off the end of the notebook. The ink fell to floor at Dom’s feet, leaving a black splodge on the marble tiles.