by James Nicol
Arianwyn shielded her eyes and ducked as one of the long windows in the council chamber shattered, sending tiny shards of glass out across the room.
The wind seemed to die as quickly as it had been born. Everything fell silent, the curtains dropping back against the windows, the room returning to semi-darkness. A thick column of smoke rose from the middle of the floor.
Coughing, Grandmother and the High Elder struggled to their feet. Colin hurried towards them. Arianwyn peered curiously at the smoke. It twisted and coiled. Shadows and another flash of blue danced at the centre of the rotating column. She thought she heard the snatch of words, a call, a scream?
But then it was gone.
The smoke column collapsed, drifting off throughout the chamber. The circle of light faded.
A wide oval was burnt into the floor and at its centre sat a rather bemused-looking squirrel, an acorn clamped tightly between its teeth. Its bushy red tail flicked this way and that. It studied them all carefully for a few seconds, obviously trying to work out where it was, and then it turned and scampered across the floor, passing through the smashed window, its angry chatter fading as it vanished out into the city.
‘What . . . what happened?’ Colin asked, helping Grandmother to her feet.
‘I’m not sure,’ Grandmother replied. She looked at the High Elder. ‘We clearly made some sort of opening into the Great Wood, but—’
‘Perhaps it was just the wild magic of the wood, or maybe it was too great a distance for the spell,’ the High Elder said, dusting off her robes. She sounded uncertain and rather annoyed.
Arianwyn’s mind retraced her encounters with Estar. He had the ability to transport himself at will. Perhaps that same skill had prevented or protected him from being pulled through by the summoning spell. ‘Could Estar himself have blocked the spell somehow?’ she asked.
‘What? I don’t know if that’s possible,’ the High Elder blustered. ‘Do you have any idea how powerful that spell was, Miss Gribble?’
Arianwyn blushed. ‘It’s just . . . the feylings seem to have a different approach to using magic. Well, Estar did anyway,’ she said softly, suddenly unsure.
‘I’m sure that’s all very interesting, if not terribly helpful,’ the High Elder huffed, and she fixed Arianwyn with a hard stare as though this were all entirely her fault.
Chapter 8
PLAN B
hat was rather disappointing, I must say,’ the High Elder muttered as she stalked back across the council chamber, her white robes billowing behind her. She looked thunderously angry as she reached the map- and photograph-strewn table. Colin poured some hot coffee from the pot that waited there and handed cups to the High Elder, Grandmother and then Arianwyn. Arianwyn held her cup for a moment, staring out of the long windows across the rooftops of Kingsport.
‘Is there anything else we can try?’ Colin asked as he poured himself a drink.
The High Elder nodded slowly. ‘There is an alternative.’
Arianwyn noticed Grandmother shooting the High Elder a sharp look, but the High Elder was unaware, or chose not to see it.
She continued. ‘As we have been unable to summon your friend, we will retrieve the book ourselves. We need to send a group into the Great Wood in search of the feyling city.’ The High Elder levelled her gaze at Arianwyn. ‘And I need you to lead that team, Miss Gribble.’
Colin gasped, choking on his mouthful of coffee, which he then spat on to the floor.
Grandmother stepped protectively in front of Arianwyn. ‘No, absolutely not, Constance. I won’t allow it!’
‘Maria, you have to understand that Arianwyn is our best hope—’
‘I do understand, Constance. But Arianwyn is my granddaughter, and I will not allow her to be placed in harm in this way. It’s reckless of you, to say the least!’
As the two elder witches bickered, and Colin mopped up the spilt coffee, Arianwyn wandered slowly away from them all, across the council chamber to the long windows. A hundred thoughts rushed through her mind as her shoes crunched over the shattered glass that sprinkled the floor like millions of tiny diamonds. She heard the High Elder say sharply, ‘And yet we still need the book. It is our highest priority, our duty to find it. This council could go down in history for this discovery, Maria – surely you can see that!’
‘I’m more concerned with my granddaughter’s safety than history books, Constance. Arianwyn is my highest priority!’
‘And if I refuse?’ Arianwyn interrupted, her voice steady. She glanced back across her shoulder.
The High Elder looked at the floor and sighed. ‘Then I don’t know what else we can do . . . we could perhaps try and send others to search – but no one else has your link with the feylings or your knowledge of the quiet glyphs. Who knows how long it might take? And all the while the people of Hylund are more and more at risk from the dark spirits coming through from the void.’
Arianwyn thought of the night ghast and the photos on the table of the skalk and the razlor. She felt herself go cold. Who knew what else might be out there? She looked out on to the street below. People busy with their own lives rushed from shops and offices, greeting friends for lunch outside cafés and restaurants. Car horns blared out and then above all the noises of the city came the high cry of a child and Arianwyn saw a small boy temporarily separated from his mother on the crowded street.
It was just a few seconds and then she was there, wrapping her arms around him, whispering soothing words into his ear and brushing hot tears from his eyes.
If only everything could be made right so easily, so simply.
If she went to find the book, she would see Estar, perhaps. Maybe even see Erraldur, the feyling city. And she couldn’t expect others to go in her place. She was the only one able to read from the book, so how could they hope someone else would be able to find it?
‘I’ll do it,’ she said quietly without turning, still mesmerized by the scene below.
‘What?’ the High Elder asked.
‘I said I’ll do it. I’ll find the book.’ Arianwyn turned back towards the High Elder and her grandmother, who now fidgeted nervously with the collar of her dress, her lips pursed in concern.
The High Elder brought her hands together as though she were about to pray, her fingers tucked under her chin. ‘Thank you, Arianwyn.’
‘The mission is to be kept a secret,’ the High Elder said as they all followed her into her small, almost bare office. ‘And I do mean SECRET!’
Arianwyn had imagined the High Elder’s office would be rather grand, but the reality was quite the opposite. There were no paintings on the wall and the furniture was sturdy and functional: a broad desk, a single chair, a small table by the window and a glass cabinet in the alcove by the fire that held a collection of jars, bottles and containers. That was it.
‘That looks like hex!’ Arianwyn said, peering into the cabinet.
‘Yes, some samples I was analysing along with a report on the outbreaks,’ the High Elder said, gesturing back towards the desk. ‘Nobody outside this room is to know of the plan – do I make myself clear? Not your friends, not your families, not even Miss Delafield! If even the idea of the book was to fall into the wrong hands, we could all be in very real danger, as could anyone else that knew about it!’
They all stood around the High Elder’s desk which was piled high with further charts and maps.
‘Now, the Great Wood is not well mapped,’ Colin explained, pulling some of the papers across the desk for everyone to see. ‘Despite there being quite a lot of them!’
There were some photographs and prints of paintings showing the wood, even a few with the walled town of Lull in the foreground. They were all very pretty and interesting, but Arianwyn wasn’t sure any of them would be of much practical use.
Colin lifted a large roll of thick-looking parchment or canvas. ‘The last official expedition into the heart of the Great Wood was about eighty years ago. It wasn’t a huge success, but the witch who le
d it did manage to map further than ever before.’
Colin unrolled the map and Arianwyn saw a never-ending swathe of green. But criss-crossing this way and that were lines and borders. Each section of the Great Wood had been divided up and named.
‘It’s amazing!’ Arianwyn sighed.
‘I know. Impressive, right?’ Colin secured the four corners of the map with two books, a mug and a large chunk of crystal. He ran his hands over the paper, smoothing out the wrinkles and creases.
Arianwyn peered closer to read some of the names on the map: South Copse, Lake Spinney and Down Wood. The Great Wood was really hundreds, possibly thousands of smaller woods! Also across the map wound the snaking shapes of rivers, rocky outcrops and canyons. Arianwyn had never thought the Great Wood was anything but trees, but she saw now how wrong she had been.
‘We think the old settlements of the feylings were somewhere . . . here!’ The High Elder stabbed a finger at the bottom of the map where the woods circled a huge lake.
‘Erraldur,’ Arianwyn murmured quietly.
‘What was that?’ the High Elder asked, her head whipping round, bright eyes locked on Arianwyn.
‘The feyling settlement. Estar said it was called Erraldur.’
‘And that is your destination.’ The High Elder smiled. ‘We will ensure you have copies of this map and all the other relevant detail on the Great Wood before you set off on your expedition.’
‘I should accompany Arianwyn,’ Grandmother suggested quickly. She looked at Arianwyn and smiled.
‘I suspected you might make that request, Maria.’ The High Elder’s brow furrowed more than usual.
‘Then let me go.’
Arianwyn looked at the High Elder; she felt certain the answer was going to be no.
‘Maria, I’m sorry, but I have need of you—’
‘Then I won’t allow you to send Arianwyn,’ Grandmother said, folding her arms across her chest.
‘That’s not your decision to make, Maria.’
Grandmother looked at Arianwyn, her eyes full of worry. Arianwyn moved to her grandmother’s side, reaching for her shaking hands. They looked at each other quickly, a hundred unsaid things held in that glance.
‘There is work I need you for, Maria, important work! At times like this I need all those I can trust as close to me as possible.’ The High Elder kept a steady gaze on Grandmother. ‘Arianwyn is the only witch that has been able to read or see these quiet glyphs, the only witch. . . so far.’
Grandmother eyed the High Elder suspiciously for a moment. ‘You think there might be others who can read from the book? Others like Arianwyn?’
‘Not many. But some, I am sure. Witches like Arianwyn. Wasn’t Lull’s previous witch also able to see the shadow glyph?’ She gave Arianwyn a meaningful look.
Miss Delafield’s sister! thought Arianwyn. Poor Effie had struggled with the ability. Arianwyn shuddered.
‘What is the connection between those two?’ the High Elder continued. ‘We need to find out and find those witches, bring them together. They are our best hope and yet probably too afraid to come forward, misunderstanding what gifts they hold.’
Arianwyn remembered her fear at seeing the shadow glyph for all those years, unsure what to do, who to turn to. Could there really be other witches in the world who might be able to read from the book? She felt a small thrill of excitement at the possibility.
‘Even so, she is not to go alone, Constance,’ Grandmother warned.
‘It’ll be all right, Grandma,’ Arianwyn said quickly. Her voice sounded far more confident than she felt.
‘You will of course have a small team to assist you. Mr Twine has already expressed interest.’
Arianwyn smiled shyly at Colin who blushed and looked quickly away.
‘I assume that will not be an issue!’ the High Elder added, with a smile of her own. ‘I also have my eye on someone from the Magical Research and Science Department. Someone who will not raise suspicion. And they will offer you a suitable excuse to enter the Great Wood, which is still out of bounds to the general public.’
‘What’s our cover story?’ asked Colin brightly.
‘The Magical Research and Science Department are in need of fresh samples of hex to see exactly how it develops. You will utilize that as your reason for going into the Great Wood. It’s not a complete fabrication.’ The High Elder reached for a pile of papers that were marked with various stamps and seals. She handed these to Arianwyn. ‘Your authorization from the C.W.A. for your team to pass into the Great Wood to gather the required hex samples.’
Arianwyn handed the papers to Colin, who smiled as he accepted them, sliding them into a small card file which was secured with a piece of thin cord. He held the file close.
‘For pity’s sake, Constance, young Mr Twine here and some . . . scientist – that’s all you’re sending with Arianwyn into the Great Wood?’ said Grandmother, her voice high and tight with concern.
‘We need to keep the party small, minimize the risk of anyone asking too many questions!’
There was a knock on the door.
‘I’m afraid that’s my next meeting,’ the High Elder said looking towards the door. ‘Are we all in agreement, then? Arianwyn?’
She nodded.
‘Mr Twine?’
Colin smiled across at Arianwyn.
‘Maria?’
The room fell uncomfortably quiet. Arianwyn glanced at her grandmother, who looked slightly defeated. Arianwyn reached out and took her grandmother’s hands. ‘Go and find the others like me, if they’re out there. They’ll need someone like you to help them.’
Grandmother offered a small smile. ‘All right, but you have to promise me you’ll take good care of yourself.’
Arianwyn nodded.
‘Well, if that’s all settled then, we will arrange for you to return to Lull tomorrow,’ the High Elder said, smiling across the office at Arianwyn.
She felt a small thrill of excitement. She was going to be leading an expedition into the Great Wood! Although . . . it was a shame she wouldn’t be able to tell Salle or anyone else anything about it. Despite her excitement, a feeling of unease curled in her stomach as she followed Colin and Grandmother out of the High Elder’s office.
Chapter 9
HOME TO LULL
ll change at Flaxsham please! ALL CHANGE!’ The train guard’s voice cut through Arianwyn’s dream, jolting her awake.
She straightened herself in her seat, yawning as the train came to a slow juddering stop. ‘I think I nodded off there for a second.’ She smiled at Salle.
They had been on the train to Flaxsham since first thing that morning and it was now early evening. And they still had to face the long drive back to Lull on the town bus, Beryl, which was possibly the most uncomfortable bus in the whole of Hylund.
‘I can’t wait to get home!’ Salle smiled. ‘Even though it was rather rotten of the council to cancel the rest of your holiday for . . . what did you say it was again?’ she asked, wrestling her suitcase off the luggage rack.
‘Hex samples,’ Arianwyn mumbled. She flushed and was thankful Salle wasn’t watching as she pulled her own luggage together in a rather flustered and clumsy way.
Arianwyn’s excitement about the mission to find the book was tempered by guilt about her lies to Salle. But it was for her own good. That was what the High Elder had said, wasn’t it? Arianwyn hopped down from the train and was hit at once by the driving rain. Salle was ahead, running along the platform, screaming at the top of her voice as the wind and rain swept her towards the station waiting room.
They found Mr Thorn in the waiting room, fast asleep beside the fire that popped and snapped in the grate. And curled on the floor by his feet was Arianwyn’s moon hare, Bob.
Salle had named the moon hare Bob as a temporary measure, but it seemed to have stuck. Its brilliant white body was snuggled into a tight bundle, long ears flat against its back, pearly scales shimmering in the light of the flames. Arianwyn
’s heart leapt with joy at the sight. She felt as though she might cry with happiness. Bob had become her faithful companion and she now couldn’t imagine life without the moon hare. She had missed the moon hare so much whilst in Kingsport, even though she was certain Aunt Grace and Uncle Mat would have taken the very best care of Bob. And Bob would have loved Aunt Grace’s cooking far more than Arianwyn’s! At the sound of the closing door, Bob and Mr Thorn both jumped awake.
‘Oh, Miss Gribble! Salle!’ Mr Thorn snorted, his little white moustache wobbling.
Bob dashed across the waiting room. Arianwyn knelt on the cold floor and let Bob happily nuzzle against her cheek, making small noises of excitement as Arianwyn scratched its ears, legs and back. ‘Must have nodded off for a second. Thought you’d be pleased to see Bob here. He’s a rare old thing, ain’t he?’
‘Not a he, Mr Thorn.’ Arianwyn shook her head as the moon hare washed her frantically with its rough tongue.
‘Eh?’ Mr Thorn looked puzzled.
‘Moon hares aren’t male or female, Mr Thorn,’ Salle explained. ‘Like a snail or a . . . worm!’
‘Oh, I see . . .’ Mr Thorn replied, scratching his head and staring quizzically at the moon hare who paused from its task and stared back at him, large grey-blue eyes blinking.
Just then, the door opened with another gust of wet wind and a small group of soggy people carrying suitcases walked in. ‘Do you happen to know where we can get a bus to Lull please?’ a gentleman asked, a smart leather camera case and a pair of binoculars hanging around his neck.
‘We’re headed for Lull.’ Arianwyn smiled. She didn’t recognize the man – and that was unusual. Lull was so small and ordinary, visitors were rare. She looked at Mr Thorn, an eyebrow raised.
‘Been like this for a few weeks,’ he said quietly. ‘Tourists from all over coming to ogle at the wood. Your aunt and uncle are doing a roaring trade, Salle.’ He picked up their luggage and headed for the door, the tourists following like a herd of sheep. ‘And did you both have lots of adventures in Kingsport then? Back sooner than planned, I hear, though?’