‘Well I don’t know about you, but I was scared last night. Really scared. Those things that were after me were as far away from safe as you can get,’ said Grady.
As the children spoke, a number of the castle faeries appeared in the room and bustled around the breakfast dishes before four of them lifted up the tray and dishes and spirited them out of the room. Niamh and Grady watched the faeries go but the little creatures suddenly seemed less magical. One of them cleaned up a few crumbs which had fallen on the bed around Grady. It seemed to the children that it hovered around them just a moment too long, giving them just a fraction too enquiring a stare before disappearing in the now familiar bright violet flash.
Niamh stared at the space where the faerie had been, the after-image still burnt into her eyes. ‘Oh, it’s hopeless trying to figure out what the adults are up to, Grady. Even if someone had cast a spell on us to make us act a bit reckless ...’
‘A bit!’ Grady interrupted.
‘Yes, okay, ridiculously reckless, but we still have no idea why. I mean, what’s the point? It’s either going to get us killed or, or ... actually I’m not sure what the “or” might be.’
‘Maybe it’s just something to do with being in Avalon? Perhaps just coming here makes us act madder because of the magic around the place? Bel did say they weren’t really sure how it might affect us, didn’t he? Why don’t we go and talk to him?’
Niamh thought for a moment before answering. ‘Well, we could do that if we ever knew where to find him, but it’s not like he hangs around the kitchen like a dog waiting for a snack.’
‘No, but he does tend to turn up when he’s needed. Once I’m up out of this bed why don’t we go find him?’
‘We could always ask Mum and Dad though, couldn’t we?’ said Niamh, with an almost guilty look on her face, as if the thought of not asking her parents was a crime of disloyalty.
‘We should, shouldn’t we ... but ...’ said Grady quietly.
‘But what?’ said Niamh.
‘But this feels really big, like it’s bigger than even something Mum and Dad would know about.’
‘Magically they are really strong though, Grady. If they don’t know what’s going on then who would know?’
‘Gilly – that’s who’d know. Why don’t we go and see him? He studies all this sort of stuff, about the nature of magic and whatever. He’ll know about it!’
Niamh’s face brightened at the prospect. ‘Yes! Gilly will know, won’t he! But I want to talk to Mum and Dad anyway, tell them what we’re doing.’
‘No, Niamh!’ said Grady, much more vehemently than Niamh expected. ‘This is between you and me. The less people we talk to the better. Some people round here might think we’re going mad, maybe in my case even madder than usual. Mum and Dad have their secrets, so this time it’s one for us to keep from them.’
Niamh bit her lower lip and looked at her hands in her lap before seeming to arrive at a crossroad, as if taking this path was going to lead them to a destination she didn’t want to reach. But she knew that Grady, while maddeningly annoying at times, often instinctively knew what needed to be done rather than what should be done. Duty and loyalty were competing players in this game and while her parents may have her unswerving love they had also taught her doing what was right was not always going to be popular. She suddenly realised that her parents may not have considered what might be the outcome of a right decision rather than a safe one in this new world. She knew what she had to do would almost certainly be right, but quite likely not be safe.
‘Okay,’ she finally said. ‘Let’s go and see him before I change my mind. Do you feel okay to get up?’
‘Of course I can. Do you think a bad day with a dragon is going to stop me? But we’re not going yet,’ said Grady, smiling.
‘Why not?’ asked Niamh.
‘Because all I need is another couple of decent coughs and I bet I can get hot chocolate and fudge out of Mum. Watch this!’ Grady let out a hearty cough and a short moan. Moments later his mum’s head appeared round the door.
‘Still feeling a bit sore there, are we?’ said his mum, with the sort of concerned smile that only mums can give. Niamh thought it must be some sort of training you get when you become a parent. Her dad managed to pull off the same trick, though he was rubbish when it came to making hot chocolate compared to her mum.
‘Yeah, Mum,’ said Grady theatrically. Niamh rolled her eyes.
‘Well lay back and I’ll get a treat for you, then,’ said Grace, smiling again.
‘Told ya!’ said Grady triumphantly after his mother left the room.
‘You’re pathetic,’ said Niamh, folding her arms in disgust.
Moments later Grace came back through the door with another tray containing a cup of steaming hot chocolate, a small plate with four pieces of fudge, and – most disconcertingly to Grady – another glass of the Bolivian bat venom juice. ‘Here you go,’ she said, putting the tray down beside the bed and passing the hot chocolate to Niamh. ‘Hot chocolate for you, and the best thing for your head Grady – another glass of bat bogies, just the way you like it.’ Niamh just about spilt her drink chuckling as Grady looked at the glass as though his mum had handed him poison. ‘Drink up!’ said Grace brightly. ‘Once it’s all gone you can have some fudge, but not before, okay?’ Grace winked at Niamh as Grady pulled the bed sheets over his head. Niamh thought it was turning into a decent morning after all!
Despite Grady’s best intentions, it wasn’t until the next day the children found themselves heading down through the library, past the golems, and into the entrance to the inner library. As before, the sight of the huge cavern filled with sumptuously rich layers of books and all manner of strange creatures studiously burying themselves in the pursuit of knowledge – or in the case of the vampires, a loophole to get their clients off the hook and themselves a big fee – was breathtaking. As both children found themselves staring out over the view before them, their eyes were drawn inexorably down to the entrance of the inner vaults. Niamh looked at Grady and said, ‘You can feel them too, can’t you?’ Grady knew exactly who Niamh was talking about. Even from here he could feel Azrael’s Twins stirring, as if the very arrival of the children had awakened them.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s find Gilly.’
They headed off down the stairs towards Gilly’s aerial platform. As they descended they could see the old man bent over a huge tome – his head tracing a line from one side of the page to the other before he wrote something into another book beside him.
‘Hello Gilly,’ said Niamh as they eventually stepped onto the platform. The old man said nothing as he continued to write in his book. Niamh and Grady just looked at each other before Grady repeated in a much louder voice, ‘Hello Gilly.’ This time the old man raised one finger towards the children while he continued to write. Eventually the scratching sound from the quill on vellum stopped and, after a quick check of his words against the huge tome, the old man turned in his chair to face the children, peering at them over the rim of his glasses. In his old gown and with his long beard he looked the very epitome of what a wizard should be, though there did not appear to be many of his kind left.
‘Young man, you may confuse rudeness for forthrightness in manner, but I do not. And I know your parents don’t either. Your father was very respectful, young Prince, so have a care. I may be old but I’m not deaf and certainly not blind.’ Tapping the huge tome he continued; ‘Transcribing some of these texts is very difficult and at my age the last thing I want to do is lose a train of thought. Goodness knows where I’d look to find it again if I did lose it.’
Grady shuffled his feet as he stared down at them. ‘Sorry, Sir,’ he said quietly.
‘Actually I may be a little deaf – what was that you said? Your feet may have heard but I didn’t.’
‘Sorry, Sir,’ said Grady, more clearly.
‘Very good then,’ said the old man, much more brightly. The serious look disappeared from
his face as he smiled, eyes sparkling in the glow of the cavern. ‘At least you know how to apologise. Now, what can I do for you two, hmmm? Have some intractable conundrum requiring resolution or merely bored with life in the castle?’
‘We’ve nothing intractable,’ said Niamh ‘At least I don’t think we do, but I’ll let you know once we find a dictionary to check out that word. And I’ve never eaten a conundrum or played one either, so I don’t think it’s that.’
Gilly roared with laughter. ‘Oh very good, madam. Yes, very good. I am sorry. I must remember that large words don’t always equate with good manners. Now I do believe we are even.’
The children relaxed again as the old man chuckled. ‘We wondered if you could help us understand something about this place, this world.’
‘Well ... I’m not sure I know enough about anything in this world to explain it very well, and the little I can explain isn’t very well known. But ask away. We may both be surprised by the answers.’ The old man sat back and folded his arms, his grey beard flowing out from his chin and over his stomach as if Father Christmas had forgone trimming his beard for a year.
Niamh wasn’t sure where to start. She stared at Gilly for a moment before glancing at Grady who for once had decided to let his sister do the talking. ‘What’s happened to us since we came here?’
Gilly gave another over the spectacle stare at the children, glancing from one to the other. ‘Is that all you want to know?’
‘Well ... yes,’ said Niamh. ‘If it’s not too difficult to explain.’
‘My dear,’ said Gilly; ‘You haven’t asked a clear question which I can answer and I don’t think I have an answer as a result. By the Gryphon’s Mane you certainly know how to ask the tricky ones, don’t you! But before I try and answer, why don’t you explain more about what’s prompted your question?’ Before the children could say anything else though, the wizard snapped his fingers and a faerie burst into view beside them. ‘I will need two more chairs, please, and you’d better grab these two some food and drink.’ The faerie nodded and winked out of view again in a violet flash. ‘You still look peaky, young man,’ he said to Grady, who hadn’t even thought about food until it was mentioned. His stomach was making grumbling noises unusually early in the day. ‘I’m guessing you have not yet recovered from your rather exciting night on the racecourse.’
‘Were you there?’ asked Grady.
‘No. But I was ... well informed, shall we say, about your exploits. I gave up on watching dragon racing a long time ago. Far too noisy for an old man like me. I prefer my quiet and less dangerous pursuits these days,’ he said, tapping the books beside him as though he was patting a faithful dog. ‘So try and tell me what you really mean by your question. And take your time. Age has granted me much more patience than you have, so I can listen much longer than you can talk.’
Niamh and Grady tried to explain their problem, but the more they talked the less sense they seemed to make. As Gilly saw it, the dangers they had faced and the experiences they were having were nothing more or less than most other children their age had to overcome. Apparently life in Avalon was a great deal different to life in the Old World.
‘You must remember, children, that a magical world is not all faerie cakes and ginger beer. There are great dangers here. And great power. If you want to survive here you must learn quickly how to look after yourself. Take Quinn, for example.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Grady, suddenly perking up.
‘That boy is hopeless at most spells, but he learned very quickly how to defend himself against all sorts of quite nasty stuff thrown at him. You know his parents were killed not long after he arrived in this land? And that he was lucky to survive?’
‘Yes, we heard that story not long after we arrived. But why did that make him good at defensive magic?’
‘Well, it’s a tough life when you lose your parents either in this world or where you came from. There are lots of children and families who don’t like people coming from your world.’
‘Why is that?’ asked Niamh, chewing on a particularly luscious piece of fruit which dribbled down her chin.
‘Oh, it’s the usual stuff. Anyone from anywhere else but here makes people feel uncomfortable. And people like you make some people here feel uncomfortable because you remind them of what was lost and can’t be found again.’
Niamh and Grady were completely confused by now and stared at each other. They had no idea what Gilly was talking about.
‘I can see you’re a bit lost, aren’t you?’
‘Completely,’ said Grady.
‘Well, you know that there is magic in the world you come from and magic in the world that I come from, but you see they once used to be part of the same magic. It was a sweeter magic back then some say – that the old magic could do wonders we can only dream of now.’
‘What happened then? What changed?’ said Niamh, thoroughly fascinated with where the story was going.
‘Many, many centuries ago the line of kings decided that the way magic was being used was going to lead to a great war, that the great warlocks and sorceresses would form alliances and armies of creatures, human and elves and others on one side, goblins and dwarves and all manner of dark creatures on the other. The magic was just too powerful, you see. It was intoxicating for those who couldn’t stop themselves using it for dangerous and dark magic. Some say there were even those who tried to reverse death and bring armies of the dead back to wage war. So the Warlock King and those on the side of light and good came up with a plan to stop the great magic being used in evil ways. They split it asunder. The deeper magic and power was left in one world and the weaker magic was left in the other.’
‘The deeper magic was left in our world, wasn’t it?’ asked Niamh, as understanding blossomed on her face. ‘But why? Why would the deep magic be left in the other world?’
‘Because there were few there who could use it, Niamh,’ said Gilly. ‘By this time most of the magical folk had already left your world. Oh, there were still a few faerie folk and magical creatures and elves left, but mostly they had already come to Avalon. All of the warlocks and sorceresses and wizards and witches had already left your world. They knew that staying there would only cause pain and suffering for all magical folk. You know the stories of how witches were burned at the stake. Well it wasn’t just witches that suffered. Any males who had the power were tormented too. Those without the power – the Giftless, we call them – would never allow us fortunate folk who do have the gift to live in peace. But even then there were some who wanted to use the power in ways which would have caused much more suffering and death to the Giftless. The deeper magic is strong, but very hard to resist. The idea of leaving the Old World to come to Avalon was too much for some and there has always been a deep hatred – by some – of the kings who brought us back to this world and cut us off from the deep magic. The power to use the deep magic was cut off from practically all the human magical folk who came to Avalon.
‘But why couldn’t you just go back to the Old World, to the source of the deep magic? We came here easily enough, so what would stop someone going back the other way?’
‘You don’t miss much, Grady, do you?’ laughed Gilly. ‘The way back is controlled by the elves. It’s like a doorway to which only the elves have the key.’
‘Wouldn’t they be tempted to use the deeper magic?’ asked Niamh.
‘Their powers use a magic we humans can’t touch. It’s as if, well ... you know how all living things vibrate in a certain way? I’m sure your mum has told you about it, being the sandal-wearing tree hugger that she is at heart.’
Niamh smiled at this description. Her father had used exactly that phrase to describe her mother. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know what you mean. Mum used to say she could feel it in the flowers and trees at home and that was why she was so good at growing them.’
‘Exactly!’ nodded Gilly. ‘Well, the magic the elves use vibrates differently, though that’s
a very, very imprecise way of describing it and possibly completely wrong. We can’t use that magic and it’s just about the only way to get back to the Old World.’
‘Just about?’ said Grady. ‘You mean there is another way?’
‘Oh yes, of course there is,’ said Gilly, rocking back in his chair, the lights around his desk casting strange shadows over his face. ‘The only other way back is by having control of Azrael’s Twins; they are the key to the Old World. Do you remember who created the Twins?’
‘The sorcerer Azrael,’ said both Niamh and Grady at the same time.
‘Yes, Azrael. Good, you remember. But do you know why he took that name?’
Niamh and Grady shook their heads.
‘Because Azrael is also the name of the Angel of Death. And the one who wields the Twins can bring unspeakable danger to both this world and the Old World.
Niamh and Grady fell silent. The knowledge of what the Twins could do hung heavily on them as even now they could still feel the pull of the statues in the vault.
‘Is there no way anyone from our world could use the power of the deeper magic? If they came on it by chance, perhaps?’
‘Oh no. We keep a very close watch on the Old World. Every now and then there are others who could use it that are born in your world. But we find them before they grow to have any control of the power, and bring them here. It is the only way to stop them stumbling onto the deep magic and hurting either themselves or others. You’ve heard of faeries stealing children?’
Niamh nodded. ‘Mum told us those stories, but we thought they were just trying to get us to eat our veggies. If we didn’t, the faeries would come and steal us away.’
Gilly chuckled again. ‘Well your mum was only half joking. It’s not just children, though. Some adults come to the power later in life. But there have been none for a long time.’
‘Is there anybody else like us? Who has come here recently?’
‘Well the last person, Niamh, was Quinn and his parents. They struggled when they came to this world. Quinn’s parents had absolutely no gift at all, so couldn’t use magic in this world. It was most unusual. Normally if a child is found, then the parents have the gift also. But it’s unusual for anyone to grow to adulthood without their gift showing in some way. It’s not possible to have the gift without someone in your family having had it. Sometimes it only comes from one side of the family, but that’s unusual too. Most magical folk get drawn to other magical folk. It’s hard to say why, except there is some sort of attraction like magnetism. How Quinn turned up we don’t know. It was terribly sad for Quinn when it happened, but for his parents it was worse having to live with the gifted all around them and no possibility of being able to use the magic themselves.’
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