by James Nicol
‘Oh, Gimma . . . I’m so sorry.’ The Spellorium was silent except for the crackle of the fire. ‘It was the hex in the meadow, wasn’t it?’ Arianwyn asked, creeping dread spreading along her spine like icy fingers. ‘When we fought the night ghast, back in the summer.’
She remembered Gimma lying in that patch of hex on the edge of the Great Wood. She remembered how she’d become paler and paler, as though she might disappear like a wisp of fog or mist. She had witnessed it all, and yet somehow missed it at the same time. A cold hard lump filled her stomach.
‘The Kingsport doctors my parents paid knew nothing about how to help.’ Gimma sniffed ‘And soon it spread from the small patch on my hand . . .’ She scratched at it, wincing in pain, her skin cracked and red around the hex.
Arianwyn bit down on her lips and looked away briefly.
‘And then she said she would help, said she’d find a way to cure the hex if . . . if I got her the book.’
‘What?’ Arianwyn asked. ‘Who?’
‘A witch. Some elder. She sent notes at first and then she came to our house in Kingsport when my parents were away, said she would help if I made sure she got the Book of Quiet Glyphs.’
‘Someone from the council?’ Arianwyn asked, confused. Another wave of nausea hit her, but not from the dark magic marking Gimma’s waxen skin. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Maybe. She looked different each time she came . . .’
‘Different?’ Arianwyn asked.
‘Her face was different, somehow – I don’t know!’ Gimma shouted.
It sounded to Arianwyn very much like a glamour spell or charm had been used. They were dangerous spells, the magic unstable and unreliable. They had all but been banned.
‘I think she’s here, in Lull,’ Gimma continued, ‘with those other witches. What if she’s come for the book? I don’t know what she’ll do if I don’t give it to her – perhaps she’ll just wait until the hex takes over me completely.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m begging you to help me, Arianwyn. Please give me the book.’
Fear drove Arianwyn to her feet; she paced back and forth across the Spellorium. What could she do? What could she say? The room felt suddenly chillier, despite the fire flickering away in the stove. Arianwyn swallowed and looked at Estar, who bowed his head.
‘We should tell her,’ he said softly.
‘Tell me what?’ Gimma asked.
Arianwyn was about to speak but Estar coughed, disturbing the heavy silence. ‘The book has been . . . damaged.’
Gimma’s head snapped round and she stared at the blue feyling. ‘What?’ she asked quickly, and then added, ‘You’re lying.’
Estar bowed his head. ‘I assure you, I am not. I am truly sorry. Fetch it, Arianwyn.’
Arianwyn took a deep shuddering breath and got to her feet, then went quickly up into the apartment and retrieved the black ashy remains of the Book of Quiet Glyphs.
She handed the book to Gimma, who took it in her shaking hands.
‘No,’ Gimma said sadly.
They were quiet for a while. Arianwyn stared at Gimma’s hand and the hex marking her arms. Now she remembered what it had made her think of: the letter from her father about the Urisian witch marked with ‘black tattoos’.
‘Oh, this is so boggin bad,’ Arianwyn breathed. ‘The hex is affecting your spells, isn’t it? That’s why your magic seems so much stronger than before?’
Gimma nodded her head and looked away. ‘I liked it at first,’ she said quietly. ‘I thought, this is what proper witches feel like. Strong and powerful. Like you could do anything.’
‘You are a proper witch,’ Arianwyn said.
‘Hardly . . . it was always a struggle for me. I’ve felt so alone, nobody to talk to. No one I could tell about what was happening.’ Her eyes flicked up to meet Arianwyn’s.
‘You should have told me or Miss Delafield, or your uncle, at least – somebody.’ And yet Arianwyn had kept all her own worries to herself as usual, hiding her fears and insecurities from the world.
Perhaps she and Gimma were not so different after all.
‘I thought the hex’s magic would make me stronger, and no one needed to know the power wasn’t exactly my own. But after a while, things changed . . . the hex, it’s . . .’ Gimma stared off into space.
‘What?’ Arianwyn asked, her skin prickling, her mind flashing to the sight of the stagget, the hex laced through its antlers, struggling against itself.
‘It’s like I can feel it. Like it’s waiting in the back of my mind,’ Gimma continued.
She’s making no sense, Arianwyn thought. ‘What do you mean, Gimma?’
Gimma’s eyes locked with Arianwyn’s, watery and wide with unspeakable terror. ‘The hex, it can feel. It can sense things.’
‘What? No. It’s just—’ Arianwyn’s mind flashed back to the stagget again, its too-dark eyes and heartrending cry.
‘The hex is alive,’ Gimma said slowly. ‘It can see. It can hear. And it can feel . . . everything.’
Cold dread crashed against Arianwyn. ‘But that’s not possible!’ she breathed, stepping away from Gimma.
‘It’s as real as you and me,’ Gimma said, tears falling down her dry grey cheeks. ‘And I can feel it twisting around me, tighter and tighter and tighter. Like it’s wrapped around my soul. There are moments when I can barely remember who I am. I don’t even remember coming here this evening.’ She coughed back a sob.
Could Gimma have somehow been responsible for spreading the Hex through the Great Wood? Arianwyn suddenly wondered. But something in Gimma’s terrified eyes told her that wasn’t possible.
‘I’ll help you stop it, of course I will,’ Arianwyn said quickly, though she hadn’t a clue where to even begin. She looked at Estar who only shrugged. ‘I could get Miss Delafield . . .’
‘No, Arianwyn, please.’
‘Well, who then? Perhaps the High Elder can—’
Arianwyn was suddenly flying back across the Spellorium as Gimma shoved her hard in the chest.
‘NO!’ Gimma roared, suddenly on her feet, an orb of dark crackling energy tumbling over and over in her palm. She cried out in frustration and fear, shaking the dark spell away. A dark film swirled across her eyes as they widened in terror.
Arianwyn understood. The hex was gaining control again.
What could she do?
‘Gimma, fight it,’ Arianwyn said, gripping Gimma’s hands in her own, ignoring the rough ridges of hex. A flash of inspiration burst into her mind. ‘Gimma, remember the pangorbak. Remember what Miss Delafield said. Turn away from it, ignore it. The more attention you offer it the more it will grow.’
She saw confusion rush over Gimma’s face before she nodded in agreement.
‘Will that actually work?’ Estar asked, leaning forward in his chair and watching Gimma carefully as her breathing started to slow, the effort clear on her face.
‘It’s all I can think of . . . unless you have another idea that might help?’ Arianwyn said. And then something caught her eye: glinting on the floor near the counter lay the feyling stone charm that Virean had given her.
She remembered the hex charms hanging in the trees at the edge of the Great Wood. Arianwyn thought back to that night, and how happy Gimma had been. She had even laughed. Had the charms helped her?
‘A charm . . .’ she breathed.
‘I don’t think this is the time—’ Estar began, but Arianwyn ignored him.
‘Hang on, Gimma!’ she shouted, scrabbling quickly to her feet. She moved behind the counter and started to pull open drawer after drawer, searching in the dark for the hex charm components. She pulled out a small glass sphere, placing it carefully on the countertop with trembling hands. Next, she reached into the drawer of small silver beads – and after that, a sliver of kartz stone that gave off the faintest glimmer of light. Her supplies of padora flower petals was low, but she added those next. ‘Estar, pass me the charm stone.’ Arianwyn pointed to the stone charm on the floor and
Estar handed it over, his face lighting as he caught on to her plan.
She glanced up to check on Gimma. Her eyes were shut and she seemed to be mumbling something to herself.
Arianwyn secured the lid on the charm and lifted it, the kartz stone emitting a soft glow.
‘Will it work?’ Estar asked.
‘I hope so.’
Arianwyn moved carefully towards Gimma and reached out to touch her gently on the shoulder. She jumped, her eyes opening quickly, the inky film still swirling across her irises. ‘I need to put this around your neck, Gimma.’ Arianwyn reached around her, fastening the charm. ‘Årdra,’ she said gently as she tried to activate the charm with the protective fire glyph, just as they had done for the charms round the Great Wood. She could feel magic flowing nearby, but she could also feel the hex, blocking it. She focused, held the glyph in her mind as the magic flowed around the dark energy of the hex and at last connected. There was a small flash of light and Arianwyn pressed the warm glowing glyph towards the new charm around Gimma’s neck.
There was a crackle of magic, sharp and sudden. Sparks flew in the air around the two girls as the charm worked against the dark magic of the hex. Arianwyn could feel the wild pulse of the spell beating in the air like the urgent wings of a sparrow.
And then all was still.
There were a few long minutes of near-silence, broken only by Gimma’s fast breathing and the quiet fizz of magic in the air. At last, her eyes fluttered open, and Arianwyn saw that the inky swirls had disappeared. Instead, Gimma’s cool, tear-filled eyes met her own. She gave a gasp, like someone who had emerged from deep underwater.
‘Well?’ Arianwyn asked.
Gimma’s breathing slowed and she felt for the charm around her neck with shaking hands. ‘I can still feel it, the hex. But it’s contained, trapped almost.’ Her lips formed the faintest smile. ‘You did it, Arianwyn.’
‘We have to tell the High Elder,’ Arianwyn said quickly.
‘No, Arianwyn, I can’t,’ Gimma said, rising unsteadily to her feet.
But Arianwyn was quicker. She grasped Gimma’s arms, gently, firmly, and stared into her red-rimmed eyes. ‘We have to, Gimma. She is the only one who can help us.’
Gimma shook her head, like an uncooperative child. ‘No. We can tell Miss Delafield, or your grandmother . . .’ Her voice was pleading, frightened.
‘Miss Delafield would just have to tell the High Elder herself, and my grandmother is still away travelling. I don’t know when she’ll be back. We can’t wait. I’m not entirely sure the charm will last that long.’
‘But you’ll make another one, won’t you?’ Gimma asked, clutching again at the charm.
‘Yes, Gimma. Of course,’ Arianwyn said calmly. ‘But we still need to speak to the High Elder. This is too big now. Too dangerous. And she needs to know one of the council threatened you. Who knows what else they might be planning, or doing?’ Arianwyn thought of the hex samples and Miss Newam’s test results.
Gimma was trembling as she gripped tightly to Arianwyn’s arms. ‘You’ll go with me?’ she asked.
‘Of course I will,’ Arianwyn replied.
Chapter 38
MEETING THE HIGH ELDER
ifteen minutes later, Arianwyn, Estar and Gimma waited near the huge empty fireplace in the main room of the Blue Ox. The clock on the mantelpiece read two o’clock – Arianwyn had had to hammer on the door for ages to wake Uncle Mat, who’d quickly left to summon the High Elder.
After a few moments, Salle appeared – Arianwyn was sure Uncle Mat would have woken her. ‘Oh my goodness, what’s happened? Are you all right, Gimma? Estar? Arianwyn? What’s going on?’
Before Arianwyn could answer, the High Elder appeared in the doorway, followed by Uncle Mat and Aunt Grace. The High Elder was wrapped in a thick dressing gown with bright blue bed socks peeking from underneath. Her hair lay in two thick plaits over her broad shoulders.
‘Miss Gribble?’ she said, yawning. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ She spotted Gimma. ‘Miss Alverston? What on earth has happened?’
Arianwyn was about to speak when Gimma, her hands shaking, slowly pulled off her gloves, revealing the thick ridges of hex.
Everyone gasped, knowing full well what they saw and how dangerous it was. Salle took a step backwards, but the High Elder did not. She stayed calm, stepped forwards and bent down to look at the hex before peering up at Gimma. ‘This will have been having some interesting effects on your spells, no doubt?’
Gimma nodded cautiously as tears streamed down her face again. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I’d best fetch the mayor,’ Uncle Mat mumbled quickly from the doorway before disappearing back through the corridor.
‘And I think we could all use some nice hot tea,’ said Aunt Grace brightly, walking through to the kitchen. Several lamps flickered on in the hallway, and Arianwyn heard the distant clatter of the kettle.
‘I used a charm,’ Arianwyn offered quickly, once the room was quiet. ‘Similar to the ones we used at the edge of the wood to try and stop the hex. Or at least slow it.’
Gimma pulled the charm free from under her long black coat, the glass catching the light.
The High Elder took the glass sphere in her fingers and moved it this way and that, examining the individual components inside. ‘My word,’ she breathed. ‘Is it working?’
Gimma nodded. ‘I can still feel the hex, but it’s not . . . in control any more.’
‘This is strong work, Miss Gribble,’ the High Elder said as she continued to study the charm. ‘It’s no mean feat to counteract the hex in this way.’ Then her attention turned to Estar. ‘You are the feyling who assisted Miss Gribble?’
‘I am Estar Sha-Vamirian, Alemar of the third Jalloon.’ Estar bowed low.
‘Does he have the book?’ the High Elder asked, ignoring Estar and looking at Arianwyn.
Arianwyn blushed indignantly – annoyed at the High Elder for her rudeness to Estar – but she pulled the charred remains of the book from her pocket and handed them over. Her eyes flicked to Salle, and she prayed some silent unspoken message would pass between them so Salle would know not to mention what Estar had said about the true nature of the Book of Quiet Glyphs.
‘All destroyed?’ the High Elder asked quietly as she tried to look at the few remaining pages that clung to the binding of the book. They were blackened and useless. ‘Nothing was salvaged?’ Her voice trembled. ‘Nothing at all?’ The High Elder’s voice rose sharply now. She swore and slammed the book down on to one of the nearby tables, smashing it against the wood with her large hand. Everyone jumped. Then she sank into a seat and stared at Arianwyn and Gimma. ‘Is it really all gone?’ she said more calmly.
‘We still have the original page that has the shadow glyph on it, but that’s it.’ Arianwyn hadn’t known that she would lie until she did, keeping the glyph of silence a secret. Miss Newam’s warnings sang in her mind. She wanted to help Gimma, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell the High Elder more than was completely necessary.
But the High Elder didn’t seem to be listening to her now, anyway; she was entirely distracted by Gimma, unable to look away from the markings of the hex on her hands and forearms.
‘I will need to return to Kingsport at once and discuss this with the full council,’ the High Elder said quickly. ‘You will have to return as well, Miss Alverston.’
Gimma looked at Arianwyn, her face carved with a look of terror. She shook her head and looked pleadingly at Arianwyn. ‘I can’t . . .’
‘What’s that?’ the High Elder asked.
Arianwyn took a deep breath and looked at the floor. ‘Gimma was . . . threatened.’
‘Threatened? By whom?’ The High Elder didn’t sound as though she entirely believed this.
‘By . . . an elder, she thinks,’ Arianwyn said quietly. ‘Possibly someone on the council.’ Arianwyn fixed her gaze on the High Elder. ‘We think they used a glamour spell to disguise themselves.’
Gimma look
ed away, and Arianwyn knew she was crying again.
‘What? Is this true, Miss Alverston?’
Gimma nodded.
‘And when did this all begin?’ The High Elder had folded her arms over her chest, standing a little straighter.
‘When I first went to Kingsport, after the summer.’
‘That is a very serious allegation, you do understand that?’
‘I think that’s why she hasn’t told anybody until now. The elder who threatened Gimma wanted her to try and steal the book,’ Arianwyn explained. ‘She said if she found it, she would cure Gimma of the hex.’
The High Elder looked away, off through the dark windows of the Blue Ox. ‘This is incredibly serious,’ she said. ‘If you are correct, then we have an enemy amongst us.’ She looked round at Estar, Gimma, Arianwyn and Salle. ‘That remains classified until I can investigate further and work out what my next move should be. You are to share it with no one at all, do you all understand?’ Her voice was a low growl.
Everyone nodded.
‘Miss Alverston, you had better remain here in Lull for your own safety for now, until I can discover what is going on and who can be trusted. I shall return to Kingsport first thing tomorrow.’
Mayor Belcher arrived soon afterwards. He was pale as he followed Uncle Mat into the room. Gimma rushed towards him at once and he caught her up in a tight hug. ‘My dear, whatever is the matter?’ he asked, looking around at the odd gathering in the Blue Ox. ‘What is going on here?’
Aunt Grace bustled in carrying a tray full of mugs of tea and, after a few minutes, the mayor was brought up to date with the worrying news about Gimma’s condition. His face had grown paler and paler, especially as he saw the thick ridges of hex on her hands. Arianwyn feared he might shove Gimma aside and run away. But he only clung to her tighter, and after the story was told he said bravely, ‘I won’t let anyone harm you, don’t you fear.’