Niamh hadn’t really thought about how she did the spell before that moment. She stared at Ms Maladicta, blinking. ‘No Miss. I didn’t really think about it.’
Ms Maladicta sat back in her chair and took off her spectacles, staring at Niamh with deep violet coloured eyes. Niamh hadn’t noticed them before but now she could see them they made the principal look a lot less human than she had before. ‘Never mind. I’m sure it will come back to you. But tell me, Niamh, do you think being clever with that spell was enough to warrant what you did next?’
Niamh slouched down, her hands crossed in front of her in her lap, and stared at her feet. This didn’t feel fair but she knew there was only one answer she could give. Eventually through clenched teeth and jaw she dragged it out. ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘But ...’ she started to say, before her mother raised a finger which was her way of letting Niamh know that right now was a really, really good time to stop talking.
‘No it wasn’t, Niamh,’ said Ms Maladicta calmly. ‘However ... what you did out there was very, very powerful magic.’
Niamh looked up with questions in her eyes. ‘But others can do it too, can’t they?’
‘Not at your age,’ said Ms Maladicta.
Her mother could hear the excitement in her voice. Niamh was hopeless at hiding when she felt pleased about something she’d done – especially if it had stepped over the line between naughty and nice and despite what that might do to her Christmas wish list.
‘It would be fair to say that the last person who did that ended up in a great deal of trouble – didn’t they Grace?’ said Ms Maladicta, looking sideways at Niamh’s mum.
Both the children looked up at their mum with gasps of surprise. A red bloom had started in Grace’s cheeks and was making its way down her face, heading rapidly for her neck. Merritt lowered his head, suppressing a chuckle with a hand over his mouth.
‘Yes, well that was completely different, wasn’t it,’ said Grace, trying unsuccessfully to brush off the embarrassment.
‘Not very much, my dear,’ said Ms Maladicta, ‘but you are going to have to teach these children of yours some control or we’ll have blown the entire gargoyle first aid treatment budget by the end of the first term and you know how hard it is to get the disgusting cement sludge they use as repair kits! Slow they may be in movement, but they know how to make a fast buck.’
Turning back to the children, Ms Maladicta tried to use her sternest look. Grady thought it was a pretty good one too. If eyes really could burrow through your head then the principal’s were diamond-tipped drill bits! ‘There’s no option but some good old-fashioned detention,’ said Ms Maladicta.
Niamh looked crestfallen. ‘But that’s so unfair! Those boys would have really hurt Grady if I hadn’t stopped them!!’
‘Yes, I think we’ve already covered the fact you think its unfair, Niamh ... and Grady,’ said Ms Maladicta, lifting a warning finger at Grady as he started to open his mouth. ‘But be that as it may you need to learn restraint in using your magic. It’s all very well being a powerful witch or wizard and using your power without a thought for how it is being wielded, but that’s just showing off. The really great wizards, and I mean the greatest of any age, became that way by – and this is a really important piece to remember – not using their magic when they could.’ The principal paused and stared at the children over the top of her spectacles. Grady simply stared back at her thinking, You really are daft, aren’t you, and glanced at his sister who understood immediately what her brother was thinking.
‘Ummm,’ Niamh muttered as she looked back to the principal, ‘I’m not sure Grady really understands what you mean,’ she said, trying to hide her own confusion at the cryptic comment. Grady started to react to Niamh’s implication he was a bit simple but another finger lifting by Ms Maladicta cut him off before he could get the words out. Grady was beginning to hate that finger and started imagining inventive ways of making the principal one digit short on her hand ...
‘Whatever you may think about Reg and his “friends”,’ said Ms Maladicta with the commas dropping in with a clang around the word, ‘doing what you did while inventive though it may be is just not allowed at Rookwood. So, for your detentions I’m going to get you, Niamh, to spend some time with Ms Pussywillow to learn how to channel that anger, and you, Grady, will be spending some time at the dragon pens learning about the ... basics of fire generation and its uses.’
Niamh and Grady didn’t know whether they were meant to be happy or upset at the punishments handed out, so tried to go for blank astonishment. It was a look they used on their parents to much success (or at least in their own minds it was successful, which passed for the same thing) and both hoped it might convince the stern-looking witch in front of them that they were contrite for their actions.
‘When do you want them to start their detentions, Ms Maladicta?’ said Grace, trying to look suitably concerned at Niamh and Grady’s punishments.
‘Oh, tonight I think would be about right,’ said Ms Maladicta. ‘Niamh can report to Ms Pussywillow after school tonight at the target range and Grady should present himself to the dragon pens at the same time. Detention will be for an hour each Wednesday until ... well until I think they have got the message.’ Ms Maladicta gave each of the children a mechanical grin before continuing. ‘Now, both of you, back to your classes. I have some more things to talk about with your parents and they don’t include you two, so off you go.’ As she said the last words, the door to the office swung open and the chairs they were sitting in shot backwards away from the desk, upending the children who only just managed to keep their feet.
‘We’ll see you tonight,’ said Merritt. ‘And we’ll talk about this then,’ said Grace with just a hint of menace in her voice. Grady started to say something but this time it was Grace who managed to get the digit up in the air, stopping him before the words left his mouth.
Glowering but recognising this was one of those moments when grown-ups weren’t about to see reason, Grady grunted and turned to march out the door beside his sister.
As they stepped into the outer office and the door began to swing shut behind them, they heard Ms Maladicta start to talk to their parents about ‘breaking that behaviour’, but before they could hear more the conversation was cut short by the door clicking closed.
‘Fun, was it?’ asked Ms Vole as the children filed past her.
Niamh decided she wasn’t about to give the old troll the pleasure of seeing them upset so turned brightly to the secretary and said, ‘Yes, thank you. Ms Maladicta really is very lovely, isn’t she!’ before turning on her heels and practically skipping out of the office.
Grady just gave Ms Vole a tight-lipped grin before racing out the door after his sister. Niamh had started to walk off down to the stairs off to the right of the office. ‘What do you think?’ he said to her. ‘Are we really in trouble or do you think she was just trying to be nice to us because of who we are?’
‘I think we’ll have to wait till we get to detention to find that out,’ said Niamh. ‘But,’ she said smiling, ‘it’ll be worth it for what we just did, don’t you think?’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Grady in agreement. ‘Those firebolts I used were pretty awesome, weren’t they?’
‘And what about when I picked all of them up and smashed them against the wall! That just felt so easy!! Come on, race you back downstairs?’
The two children bounded down the stairs. They raced head to head, leaping and spinning round the corners in the stairwell. They were moving so fast that they had no time to react to the sense of dread that overcame them. The floor beneath them suddenly became a gritty, sticky, sand-like surface and they came to a grinding halt. The air around them had thickened and the light from the windows seemed to be coming from very far away. Shadows started to fill the hallway as the school receded into the background and a gloomy grey half world enveloped them.
‘They’ll never accept you, you know,’ said a voice from the midd
le distance. It felt to the children like the voice had started inside their heads and bypassed their ears as if there was someone inside their head. ‘Your powers will scare them now they’ve seen what you can do,’ the voice continued. A figure began to materialise, at first seeming a long way away, as if coming from a great distance. They could not see the face from which the voice emanated. It wore a deep black cloak tied at the waist like one of those medieval monks in Grady’s storybooks. The speaker’s head was hidden in the folds of a deep cowl which cast a gloom even deeper than the shadow world they seemed to be caught inside. The school was still there, they could see it looked like a 3D postcard they couldn’t touch or reach as it flickered outside the thick grey gloom in which they were bound. Niamh tried to reach for the magic again but seemed to fumble for it as a dread overcame the control she had had in the courtyard facing the boys.
‘Yes,’ chuckled the figure, coming closer. ‘It’s elusive, that magic, when you are learning. But don’t worry, it gets easier to control.’
‘Who are you?’ said Grady, his voice quavering just a little as the figure advanced on them. As it did so it seemed to grow larger and behind it they saw shadows flickering back and forth. Niamh realised the flickers weren’t just shadows but were resolving themselves into forms – slender winged creatures but insubstantial, sometimes appearing solid, sometimes slipping into the folds of the fluid shadows around them. The monk saw Niamh’s eyes widen as she regarded the evil-looking creatures.
‘Banshees,’ said the figure flatly.
‘What?’ said Grady, who by now had also become transfixed by the creatures.
‘Banshees,’ said the figure again. ‘But don’t worry, they won’t hurt you here ...’ The inky blackness behind the figure swirled and coalesced into the shape of an ornate chair with a high throne-like back and deep curved sides. The figure unfolded himself down into it. Niamh thought its movements looked vaguely familiar but she could not say why. As the monk sat back into the chair he placed his hands on the armrests. Niamh realised with a gasp that he was no more substantial than the smoky atmosphere from which he had appeared. The fingers appearing from the end of the robe formed and reformed themselves, one moment looking like normal hands, the next more like spectral bones, then like talons on an aged vampire. The deep sides of the chair made the gloom around the monk’s face even more impenetrable. Silence descended over the group as the children stood facing the chair and its occupant.
‘Well?’ said the monk. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me who I am?’
‘Alright,’ said Grady. ‘Who are you then?’
‘At this stage let’s just say that I’m your ... friend. And trust me, once it becomes known how much power you have you won’t have too many of those around here.’
‘Why wouldn’t we?’ said Niamh with a touch of anger in her voice. ‘Everyone around here knows who we are. And at least we’re not the ones hiding in shadows.’
‘Yes, but they don’t know what you are, do they Niamh,’ hissed the monk, leaning forward and gripping the arms of the chair with hands looking more talon-like as he did so. Niamh thought she had unsettled him for just a moment, but the talons relaxed and reformed into hands, though deathly pale. ‘I know what you are even if you don’t know yourselves yet. Did you enjoy that experience today? The magic, I mean – not that little session with your headmistress.’
‘We’re not telling you anything. Whether we enjoyed it or not is for us to know.’
The monk chuckled to himself. ‘Well, you may be young but you know how to handle yourself, don’t you Princess. And what about you, young man,’ said the monk, turning to Grady. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think I don’t have to tell you anything is what I think,’ said Grady, moving a bit closer to his sister. ‘I think you should be a bit more worried about us than you are,’ he said, drawing his wand and nudging Niamh to do the same.
‘Oh put them away, you silly boy. I’m not going to hurt you. And besides, you can’t use them here. You couldn’t touch me with them even if you could. Where we are does not exist in Avalon.’
‘Where is it, then?’ asked Grady.
‘Let’s call it the space in between Avalon and ... everywhere else. It’s a void that only those with the right training can reach. And you don’t have that training yet. Now, time is running short so do you want to know what I’m here to offer you?’ said the monk.
‘What do you mean? What can you offer?’ said Niamh, still holding her wand at the ready. She might not have much control over magic at the moment, but the wand was all she had and if she had to she’d poke the monk’s eyes out, if there were any, before she’d put the wand away.
‘I can help you control that magic you’ve just found today and channel it in ways you can’t possibly imagine right now. There are those out there who will become scared of your talents and skills and jealous of them as well. Great power like yours causes great fear in those uneducated masses out in the rest of the world. You will face hatred from those small-minded little wizards and witches, people who don’t understand you, just as they don’t understand me.’
A sudden realisation dawned on Niamh. ‘You live in our world now, don’t you?’ she asked.
The monk rose from the chair which dissolved into the shadows behind him. As he stood he seemed to loom higher than he had previously, as if he had been at a great distance before and had suddenly raced across the intervening space without seeming to move.
‘You are very clever, Princess, aren’t you?’ the monk’s voice boomed out from above her.
Niamh felt suddenly very scared and reached for Grady’s hand.
‘But you are also very young and very weak,’ said the monk, shrinking as if he were Alice in Wonderland after drinking the stoppered potion. Behind him though, the banshees moved in closer having sensed anger in their master. The monk’s cowl fluttered as one of the creatures shot past. ‘Get back!’ roared the monk at the batlike creature. His hand flicked out from the deep sleeves and a bolt of blue fire rocketed from his fingers and slammed into the banshee. Instantly it was consumed by a crackling blue light before winking out as if a switch had turned off a bulb.
Niamh and Grady realised they had stopped breathing. The monk turned to look at them. ‘I told you. I’m your friend. They won’t touch you here. Or at least, I won’t let them.’ The children still stood staring at the space where the creature had been only seconds before. ‘It’s okay to breathe again,’ said the monk.
At his words the children relaxed slightly but did not release their grip on their wands. ‘How did you do that?’ asked Grady after a moment.
‘Would you like to learn?’ said the monk. ‘I can help you but you have to learn to trust me and I have to learn to trust you as well.’ Niamh noticed the monk’s voice had become very smooth and soothing. His tone was almost melodious, enticing and willing the children to listen to just how good and trustworthy he was. Niamh thought the voice seemed to say ‘Surely no one who protected you from the banshees could be bad?’
Niamh started to drop her wand as she relaxed. As she did so a glow seemed to brighten the monk’s cowl for a moment. A voice suddenly rang inside her head driving away the soothing sounds of the monk – ‘Get Down! NOW!’ it screamed at her.
Without thinking Niamh dived for the floor, Grady mirroring her move. They hit the sticky black sand-like ground and covered their heads with their hands. A second later a blaze of fire roared over their heads. The monk snarled and held his hand before him as if the magical blast could be deflected with just the palm of his hand. The incandescent air smashed into him with a furious sound. His cowl and robe exploded in a burst of red hot fire and, just as the banshee had only a few moments earlier, his form suddenly winked out of existence.
The children raised their heads. The inky blackness was suddenly gone, the floor beneath them was just the marble of the corridor again, and daylight streamed in from the windows along the wall. They looked behind them to whe
re the baleful fire had come from. Standing there, breathing heavily, were Murdock, Ms Maladicta, and the children’s parents – wands outstretched still pointing at the spot where the monk had been.
‘Mum! Dad!’ yelled the children, scrambling off the floor and running to their parents. Merritt and Grace lowered their wands and scooped them up in their arms, checking them for damage from the blast. ‘Mum,’ said Grady. ‘Who was that?’
Murdock answered in calm and measured tones. ‘Now you know what you’re up against. That, my young friends, was Balthasar.’
Chapter 18
Blasting Spells and Dragon Dung
The children had barely recovered from their rescue before they were hustled out to the main school entrance. As they scampered out into the daylight, jet black dragons swooped down ridden by wraithlike black clad riders. The children were practically thrown onto the back of the dragons as they touched down.
‘Hang on to me,’ said one of the riders from beneath his black visor to Niamh.
She nodded, glancing over at Grady who was doing the same. As soon as they were balanced on the dragons’ backs they felt a web of magic spring up around them, holding them in place. The dragons bunched their legs, spread their black leathery wings, and suddenly shot skyward accelerating at a pace which made the children scream.
The dragons moved like arrows towards the castle, the ground rushing past so fast the children realised there was some sort of special magic at play. The sky flickered from dark blue to purple and then back to light blue again. In moments it seemed they were over the mountains and above the castle. This time they did not land towards the stables or on the main landing strip outside but dived, arrowlike, from a great height above into one of the inner courtyards. The children had no breath left to scream as they landed with barely a bump, but sat motionless and wide-eyed. For a moment they stayed where they were, holding tightly to the waists of their rescuers. A flash of light made them look up as four more of the magic beasts dropped out of the sky with a clap of thunder and a flash of light. As these hit the ground their passengers – Grace, Merritt, Ms Maladicta and Murdock – were already off and running before the dragons came to a halt.
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