by James Nicol
Chapter 25
ALWAYS SOMETHING . . .
rianwyn glanced at the clock: it was a quarter to three. She had agreed to meet Salle at exactly three o’clock and walk with her to Dr Cadbury’s office for her interview. She was determined not to be late.
She was just finishing up one of the new giant charms they were planning to hang on the edge of the Great Wood – they’d collected the river stones during the full moon just a few nights ago, and she and Gimma had spent a long evening of awkward silence and half-started conversations carving the feyling markings into the stones’ surfaces. There was a small pile of the stones on the counter. Now she placed a handful of bright kartz stones inside the huge glass sphere and secured its stopper, placing the completed charm into the box alongside the others she had made that afternoon. She just had another two boxes to complete and then they would be ready to be hung. Gimma had made three so far, and one of those Arianwyn had had to remake.
She hoped her idea would work, at least in slowing down the spread of the hex, though she worried that it was a long shot.
She pulled on her coat and hurried to the door, ready to leave, just as Gimma barged through, nearly knocking Arianwyn off her feet. She was in floods of tears. ‘It wasn’t my fault!’ she snapped, slamming the door behind her.
‘What’s the matter now?’ Arianwyn asked.
‘That wretched woman screamed at me.’ Gimma pouted and flopped into the small armchair beside the stove.
‘Who? Not Mrs Myddleton?’ Arianwyn asked. She’d had her own run-in with Mrs Myddleton shortly after she had first arrived in Lull, when she was still just an apprentice witch. She knew how difficult she could be.
Gimma nodded. ‘Stupid old bag. She kept interfering and I was trying to activate the charm she ordered and . . . well, I just couldn’t do it.’ Gimma looked out of the huge window. ‘I suppose you’ll tell Miss Delafield and my uncle how useless I’m being?’
Arianwyn sighed. Well, you’re not helping yourself, she nearly said and then thought better of it. Gimma looked utterly miserable. ‘What happened?’ she asked with a sigh, moving closer. ‘Tell me exactly and I might be able to help.’ She glanced at the clock: she had ten minutes before she needed to meet Salle – enough time to run through a simple charm. ‘Why wouldn’t the charm activate? Did you follow my instructions?’
Gimma produced the charm recipe from her pocket. It was crumpled and had a gummy sweet stuck to it. ‘And have you got the charm you made?’ Arianwyn asked.
‘Oh, I dropped that,’ Gimma said, as though it really didn’t matter in the slightest.
‘OK, well why don’t you show me what you did?’ Arianwyn crossed to the counter. Without looking at the recipe, she quickly retrieved the components for the charm and a small glass orb. She placed them all on the counter and looked expectantly at Gimma.
‘Do I have to?’ Gimma groaned, sinking lower into the chair and fiddling with her hair.
‘Yes,’ Arianwyn said. ‘You’re never going to learn otherwise.’ She could hear her grandmother in the words and she half smiled to herself. She would have to tell her all about it when she next wrote to her.
Gimma moved slowly towards the counter and peered at the charm components and the recipe. She sighed heavily and looked at Arianwyn. ‘I can’t!’ she spat, brushing some of the components off the counter. She tried to move away, but Arianwyn blocked her path.
‘Let’s take this one step at a time shall we?’ Arianwyn said gently.
Over an hour later there were three smashed charms on the counter, evidence of Gimma’s foul mood. But she did hold one completed charm in her hand, evidence of Arianwyn’s perseverance.
‘I still just don’t understand the boggin thing!’ Gimma sighed. ‘But. Well . . . thanks, I guess,’ she mumbled.
The bell charm on the door jingled and Gimma glanced up, her eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, Salle,’ she said, sounding bored. ‘Wyn was helping me with some charms.’
Arianwyn felt her blood turn to ice as she turned and saw Salle standing frozen in the doorway. Her face was white, her eyes red-rimmed. She’d been crying. Arianwyn had totally forgotten about Salle’s interview with Doctor Cadbury! She glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was after four now.
Salle fixed Arianwyn with a hard stare. ‘I can see you’re busy. Sorry to interrupt.’ Her words were flat. She turned and walked away, leaving the door open.
‘Boil it!’ Arianwyn moaned and rushed to the door.
She stumbled to a halt. The postmistress, Mrs Attinger, was on the doorstep. ‘Post, Miss Gribble,’ she said, reaching into her delivery bag.
‘Just pop it inside, please!’ Arianwyn called, swerving around Mrs Attinger as she chased Salle along Kettle Lane. ‘Salle. Wait!’ Her feet pounded against the cobbles. She weaved in and out of shoppers and people going about their days. ‘Pardon me!’ she called as she ran.
Salle was just a few metres ahead, now. Arianwyn reached out and grasped the edge of her coat sleeve.
‘Salle! I’m sorry—’ she began to explain, slightly out of breath. ‘I didn’t forget, but Gimma needed some help with—’
‘It’s fine. No problem,’ Salle said with a small smile, and then she turned and carried on, sliding past Arianwyn.
It all seemed a little too easy.
‘Salle wait. Aren’t you mad at me? Because I totally understand if you are.’
Salle turned quickly now. ‘Mad at you? No. I’m not mad at you, Wyn, but I am hurt that you forgot about me.’
‘I didn’t forget, Salle. I just said I had to—’
‘Had to what? It’s always something, isn’t it? There’s always something that crops up that’s more important. Something for the mayor or, these days, for Gimma.’ Salle pulled a face.
‘I’m sorry, Salle, but I do have to do my job.’
‘And I said it’s fine.’ Salle stared at her, lips clamped tight. She didn’t blink or glance away.
‘So . . . how was it, then?’ Arianwyn asked. ‘Your meeting with Dr Cadbury?’ It all felt horribly forced and uncomfortable.
‘No idea really. I thought it would be like an audition, but it was a bit more complicated than that . . . I don’t think I did very well, actually,’ Salle replied.
‘Oh, I’m sure it was OK really.’ Arianwyn reached out to touch Salle’s arm, but she quickly pulled away. ‘Salle, I’m truly sorry . . . shall we go and get cake or something, my treat? Ice cream at Bandolli’s?’
Salle shook her head, staring at the floor. ‘No. I just want to go home. I’ll see you . . . sometime,’ she said. Her voice was full of sadness, and she didn’t seem to believe her own words. The usual bounce in her step was gone as she turned and walked away. Arianwyn waited, expecting her friend to turn around and wave as she often did. But Salle carried on straight along Kettle Lane without turning back once.
‘Snotlings!’ Arianwyn spat in frustration.
Chapter 26
HAPPY BIRTHDAY
rianwyn slammed the Spellorium door, the glass rattling in a satisfying way. The bell charms clattered, their usual bright song lost in the crash of metal on glass and wood. Bob came skittering across the floor towards her, ears flapping happily.
Thankfully Gimma had gone.
‘Oh, Bob!’ Arianwyn muttered, crouching down to rub the moon hare’s back. ‘I’ve made a right blooming pickle of it all today, I can tell you. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you for company.’ Her throat felt suddenly tight, as though she might cry. She let the moon hare lick her hands for a few moments and then she noticed the pile of letters on the floor.
A couple were in brightly coloured envelopes, the handwriting familiar and welcome on this cold afternoon. One was from her grandmother and the other, her father!
She flicked on the lights and quickly tore open the yellow envelope with her grandmother’s writing on. A jolly-looking card tumbled out on to the counter and for a moment Arianwyn’s heart stopped.
It was he
r birthday!
She clutched the card tightly for a moment. And looked at the calendar behind the Spellorium counter.
October 30th.
She had been so preoccupied with everything that she’d entirely forgotten her own birthday! She flipped open the card from her grandmother:
Happy Birthday, my Arianwyn.
Wishing you many happy returns!
With all my love
Grandma xxx
p.s. will call soon! Travelling in Grunnea,
Hope this reaches you in time x
So Grandma was in Grunnea, looking for other witches who might be able to read the quiet glyphs. Not that it mattered as they only had two so far! Arianwyn stood the card on the counter and smiled at it. ‘Happy Birthday to me,’ she said quietly, and her eyes were suddenly watery, her vision blurred.
She sniffed and turned to the other letter, the one with her father’s familiar writing. She tore open the envelope and pulled out the card: a basket of impossibly bright flowers shone out at her. She flipped it open and saw her father’s slanting bold writing:
October 10th
My Darling Girl, Happy Birthday!
Thank you for your letter. I can’t wait to visit Lull and meet all your new friends there. I don’t know when I will get back to Hylund next: some days it’s as if there is no war at all and then the fighting starts again. We have seen some strange sights here, creatures and weirdness that I can’t begin to fathom. But thankfully, now, we have three witches detailed to our platoon. T hey are very brave and hardworking and I keep telling them all about you – my clever little witch!
We even met a Urisian who called himself a witch – but we thought there was no magic in the Uris any more. He was a strange fellow, all covered in odd black markings like tattoos. I took a photo and I’ll show you when I am home. Well, I must go, our supper is nearly ready. Remember, I LOVE you and I am proud of you, so proud, my girl, and your mother would be too – you are so like her.
Take care of yourself.
DAD x x x
Her tears flowed freely then. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed, loneliness suddenly wrapping itself around her. Not even in the grip of the shadow glyph, or when her mother had died, had she felt this sad and alone.
She read the cards through twice more, her hands shaking so much that at times she could barely see the letters clearly. More tears came and the moon hare whined at her feet, sharing her sadness.
Her only family were now thousands of miles away. Colin was still avoiding her and now she had upset Salle too.
What’s more, she’d failed to find the book, and in the process she’d used two illegal spells on a spirit creature. Had the C.W.A. made a mistake in giving her the silver star of a qualified witch? Most days she still felt like an apprentice. Bob took the chance to leap on to her lap, soft ears tickling her cheek. She pulled Bob close, burying her face deep into the warm white fur and shimmering scales. She hugged the moon hare tight and let the tears flow.
She didn’t know what else she could do.
Chapter 27
SHRIEKING RITTS
rianwyn and Gimma were returning from a visit to Farmer Eames at Bridge Farm to check he’d had no returning harvest bogglins. Thankfully he hadn’t! As they drew nearer to Lull, the air was filled with a piercing, shrieking sound.
‘What is that?’ Gimma cried, her hands held tightly over her ears.
‘I don’t know!’ Arianwyn shouted back. But as she glanced up, she saw swift dark shapes swooping high over Lull.
As the North Gate came into view they saw Mayor Belcher, wearing not one but two pairs of earmuffs. He rushed towards them. ‘Oh, Miss Gribble. This terrible, awful noise.’ The mayor had to nearly scream to be heard. ‘I don’t think I can take it for a second longer. It’s that cocoon thing, by the South Gate. It’s been this way for nearly two hours. I’ve had complaints from just about every residence in Lull. You have to do something. Right now!’ He gave her a steely gaze which she knew meant the subject was not open for discussion.
They headed for the South Gate where the cocoon was still fixed high to the town walls, but as they emerged on to the meadow Arianwyn could see now it was not a cocoon at all: it was a nest! And a creature was crawling from an opening near the bottom.
Arianwyn rummaged in her satchel and thrust The Apprentice Witch’s Handbook and A Witch Alone into Gimma’s hands. ‘Look for anything you can on nests that are shaped like that, quickly, Gimma!’ Why hadn’t she thought to look for nests last time? What a daft mistake!
‘They can’t stay there. It’s driving the whole town to distraction,’ Mayor Belcher wailed, his hands now clamped over both sets of earmuffs.
Arianwyn moved further along the bottom of the wall, watching the nest as another creature emerged. Its body was small, about the size of a crow; but its wingspan, she guessed, was more than three metres wide. Its flight was strange: it looked more like a twisting scrap of dark cloth than a bird, and there was an oily rainbow glimmer to its dark skin.
Arianwyn pulled out the spirit lantern and, peering through the viewing aperture, she tried to focus on one of the creatures, but they moved so quickly it was nearly impossible. ‘Anything yet?’ she called back to Gimma, who was flicking furiously through both books. Just then she fixed on one as it landed and crawled back into the nest – and there was the unmistakable golden aura of a spirit creature.
‘It’s all right, they’re not dark spirits,’ Arianwyn shouted, turning back to the mayor. He didn’t seem entirely thrilled by that discovery, though.
‘Here!’ Gimma turned the copy of A Witch Alone round and pointed to a small entry at the bottom of the page, entitled: Velastamuri, commonly referred to as ‘shrieking ritts’.
‘Well, now you know what they are, get rid of them please!’ the mayor hollered at Arianwyn.
‘But they’re not dark spirits, Uncle,’ Gimma cried. ‘We can’t simply destroy—’
‘Spare me the details. Gimma – I think you’d best come with me before your eardrums burst.’ He clamped his second pair of earmuffs over her head. ‘Miss Gribble,’ he continued, ‘just . . . MAKE THE NOISE STOP!’
The mayor didn’t wait for a response, but turned and retreated back across to the South Gate, leading a protesting Gimma by the arm and leaving Arianwyn staring up at the shrieking ritts swooping around the nest. Well, at least she knew what they were now. Arianwyn glanced again at the book to see if the entry had any suggestions. It didn’t. Her head was starting to ache with all the noise.
If only there was a spell we could use to silence them, Arianwyn thought, and then realized there was: the new glyph.
Could she risk using it out here in the open? Nobody knew about it yet.
The shrieking grew ever louder, and it felt as though it might never be quiet again. Arianwyn thought she might go mad if it went on much longer. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and tried to still her mind, though it was almost impossible with all the noise. But somehow the glyph was there, waiting for her in the darkness behind her eyelids. And, for a second, everything was quiet.
With her eyes still closed, she raised her hand and began to sketch the new glyph before her. She felt the weight of magic from the Great Wood nearby, and as she drew the last curl of the glyph of silence she felt it rush towards her like a tide.
She could feel the glyph and the seam of magic connect. She opened her eyes and, hovering just off the ground of the meadow, was a clear, colourless and slightly rippling sphere, just like the one she’d summoned in the Spellorium.
But what to do with it now? Could she cover the nest with the orb? Would the creatures still be able to fly around? What if they flew further from their nest? Would the orb then be able to reach far enough to silence them? She hadn’t quite thought this through! She tried to send the orb forwards, twisting her hands to manipulate the spell, but the sphere wobbled, buckled and collapsed into a shower of sparks.
‘Boil it!’ Arianwyn mutter
ed to herself. Why didn’t that work?
She tried again, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the large sphere to move, or to increase further in size. To do anything, in fact. And after few seconds the spell either collapsed or wobbled and faded away.
‘Oh, come on!’ Arianwyn groaned.
The shrieking ritts’ nest was high on the wall; they were still circling it, screaming out across the meadow. The sound was almost unbearable.
She decided that all she needed to do was to get a small spell orb near to the nest and that would hopefully absorb enough of the noise. It had worked in the Spellorium with the radio!
She summoned the glyph of silence again. Sketching it in the air before her, she waited until she felt the pull of magic. She could feel the magic of the Great Wood, but now she could also feel it was tainted with dark magic from the hex. She slowed her breathing and waited, hoping there would be a closer seam of magic that she could use.
And there it was: a small pocket somewhere in the meadow. It connected with the glyph and, as before, a small colourless sphere formed in front of Arianwyn.
This time she didn’t try to make it so large: instead, she kept the bubble small and sent it drifting towards the nest, moving her hands slowly, carefully. It had just started gaining height and was about halfway up the wall when a hand grasped Arianwyn’s arm.
She jumped in surprise and immediately lost control of the sphere, turning towards the owner of the hand: it was Gimma!
‘What is it?’ Arianwyn cried.
Gimma looked upset. ‘I . . . just wondered if I could help . . .’
Arianwyn glanced back at the orb: instead of floating gently towards the nest, it was now hurtling fast, as if she had fired it from a cannon.
It was heading straight for the nest and the top of the town wall.
‘Watch out!’ Arianwyn shouted.
The girls jumped back as the orb exploded and the shrieking ritts took flight, screaming louder than ever. Chunks of nest and stone tumbled down the walls into a heap just a few metres in front of them.