by Cliff McNish
The
Wizard’s Promise
Praise for The Doomspell sequence:
Part 1 – The Doomspell
‘High fantasy, richly imagined and refreshingly well-written . . . an excellent novel.’
Sunday Times
‘a great new voice in writing for children . . . an incredible world in which the reader will become totally absorbed.’
The Bookseller
‘gripping . . . racy . . . [children] have been fighting to borrow it.’
The Guardian
‘a vivid world of magical possibilities.’
The Times
‘brilliant, breathless and filled with action from page one.’
Kids Out
‘a thrilling and magical read . . . full of brilliant descriptions of events, characters and places.’
Library and Information Service for Schools
Part 2 – The Scent of Magic
‘McNish tells a rattling good tale, and his well-plotted narrative races through some excellent twists and turns to a spectacular climax.’
The Daily Telegraph
‘The language used is rich and evocative, full of visual and sensory imagery . . .’
School Librarian
‘The writing is atmospheric and the plot gripping, as the children battle against awesome forces.’
Good Book Guide
‘This is a children’s book full of inventive touches . . . great ideas, evocative descriptions, and page-turning pace.’
Vector
‘a spellbinding read full of excitement and suspense. A brilliant sequel to The Doomspell.’
Cool Reads
Part 3 – The Wizard’s Promise
‘A fast-paced, gripping read.’
Times Educational Supplement
‘this is breathtaking, swashbuckling stuff as the story relentlessly unfolds until it finally reaches its spectacular conclusion … the characters are believable; it is beautifully written, with page after page of powerful imagery . . . utterly compulsive and inventive.’
Birmingham Post
By Cliff McNish
The Doomspell Trilogy
The Doomspell
The Scent of Magic
The Wizard’s Promise
The Silver Sequence
The Silver Child
The Silver City
The Silver World
For older readers
The Hunting Ground
Savannah Grey
Breathe: A Ghost Story
Angel
For younger readers
Going Home
My Friend Twigs
The Winter Wolf
The
Wizard’s
Promise
Cliff McNish
Doomspell Books
For my mother – there for us all
The Wizard's Promise eBook
First published in Great Britain in 2002 by Orion Children’s Books.
This eBook first published in 2010 by Orion Children’s Books. Reissued in 2017 by Doomspell Books.
Text copyright © Cliff McNish 2002
Illustrations copyright © Geoff Taylor 2002
The right of Cliff McNish and Geoff Taylor to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the copyright, designs and patents act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This ebook produced by Jouve, France
www.cliffmcnish.com
Contents
Cover
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Praise for The Doomspell Sequence
Also by Cliff McNish
Map
1 Schools without Children
2 Griddas
3 Countries without Borders
4 Tokyo
5 Fire without Heat
6 Serpantha
7 Passion
8 Floating Koalas, and other Pretties
9 The Spectrums
10 The Gratitude of Spiders
11 Invitation
12 Trust
13 Homage
14 Parting
15 The Long Night of Ool
16 Storm-whirls
17 The Prison World
18 Tunnels
19 Plans
20 Freedom
21 Departure
22 The Preparation of the Sentinels
23 The Three Layers
24 Huang Hai
25 The Touch of Witches
26 The Fatal Gift
27 The Wizard’s Promise
1
Schools Without
Children
As Rachel awoke, her information spells automatically swept the house for threats. They probed into each room, an extra set of senses watching out for her.
Nothing out of the ordinary, they reported. Mum lay in her usual morning bath. Dad was in the study, trying to touch his toes. The information spells delved further out. In the garden, two froglets were wondering whether to make a break for it across the dangerous lawn. Next door’s dog hid behind a shed, thinking no one else knew about his juicy bone.
Rachel smiled, peering out of her bedroom window. A flock of geese passed by, and, just for a moment, as she gazed up at those birds, and listened to the familiar sounds of home and garden, it was as if nothing had changed in the world.
Then a group of under-fives cut across the sky.
The youngsters flew in tight formation, led by a boy. Rachel guessed he might be three years old, probably less. The group travelled with arms pinned neatly to their sides, little heads thrust proudly ahead. Their eyes all shone some tint of blue, the distinctive colour of flying spells.
The slower geese scattered nervously when the children crossed their path.
Getting up, Rachel brushed out her long dark hair and strolled downstairs to the kitchen. Her younger brother, Eric, sat at the dining table. A bowl of cornflakes crackled satisfyingly in front of him.
‘You know, if I had magic,’ he said, tucking in, ‘I wouldn’t bother with flying or the other stuff. I’d just use a spell to keep the taste of cornflakes in my mouth forever.’
‘You’d soon get sick of it,’ Rachel answered.
‘No,’ Eric said earnestly. ‘I wouldn’t.’ He waved his spoon at the departing toddlers. ‘Those little ’uns are probably long-distance racers. Must be, practising like that. They’re so serious. At their age I was still happy just chucking things at you.’
‘Mm.’ Rachel glanced round, expecting to see the prapsies. The prapsies were a mischievous pair of creatures – feathered body of a crow, topped with a baby’s face – that had once served a Witch on another world. Usually Eric put them up to some prank when Rachel first came down in the morning.
‘Where are the boys then?’ she asked warily.
‘I let them out early for a change,’ Eric said. ‘Told them to find me a gift, something interesting.’
‘Did you send them far?’
‘China.’
‘Good.’
Rachel stared up at the rooftops of the town. It was a typical morning, with children all over the sky. A few were up hi
gh and alone, practising dead-stops in the tricky April winds. Most children had simply gathered in their usual groups in the clouds, friends laughing and joking together. A few houses down Rachel saw a boy cooing. As he did so a pair of doves, tempted from some thicket, rose to his hand. Further away a girl drifted casually across the sky, plucking cats from gardens. The cats trailed in a long line behind her, complaining mightily.
‘Hey look!’ Eric cried. ‘Lightning-finders!’
Six teenagers were heading purposefully south, their arms raised like spikes.
‘It’s a brand new game started up by the thrill-seekers,’ Eric said. ‘You search for heavy weather, find the storms and dodge the lightning forks. Most competitions are held in the Tropics, where the really big storms are. I bet that’s where those kids are off to.’ He gazed wistfully after the teenagers, who had already disappeared over the horizon.
‘What happens if they get hit by the lightning?’
‘Bad things, I suppose,’ Eric said. ‘It’s risky, but that’s the whole point. Wouldn’t be exciting otherwise, would it?’
Rachel shrugged. The new magical games didn’t interest her much. She was more interested in those children stationed in the air, watching the skies for Witches.
Nearly a year had passed since the baby boy, Yemi, had released the magic of all the children on Earth. In that first glorious Awakening, there had been a superabundance of magic – enough for the Wizard leader, Larpskendya, to transport every child and adult on Earth to Trin.
When Rachel thought of that purple-skied, plant-filled world, it still hurt. The plants of Trin had a language of leaves so rich that even the Wizards could only guess the meaning of their graceful movements. But the plants were dying. The Witches had poisoned them. On a whim, they had contaminated Trin’s soils. And slowly, as their magic drained away, the Trin plants were losing their minds. Each year the great leaves waved ever more frantically in the breezes as they struggled to hear each other.
It was not possible to stay on Trin for long. The special blossoming of magic following the Awakening soon faded, and the adults and children had to return home. But everyone understood: if the Witches could do this amount of damage to Trin, a world that meant nothing to them, what would happen if they returned to Earth? So everyone had prepared. For months children practised their defensive spells. Night and day they patrolled the skies, anticipating a massed attack of Witches that never came.
Meanwhile, Ool – the Witch home world – wrapped itself in hush. A battle, the Wizards knew, was taking place: a battle for control, between the High Witches Rachel and other children had fought before, and the more ferocious warrior-breed, the terrifying Griddas. For a long time Ool had been silent.
Larpskendya had no doubt the Griddas had won. It worried him because the Wizards knew so little about them. The Griddas had been bred by the High Witches, bred to be savage warriors, and kept underground. But the former High Witch leader, Heebra, had made the mistake of releasing them.
And, having tasted freedom, the Griddas had turned on their makers.
As Rachel gazed up at the sky, her slim freckled face perched on her hands, she wondered how ready the people of Earth were to face the Griddas. She also missed a friend. ‘I wonder,’ she said, half to herself, ‘how Morpeth’s doing? I miss him.’
‘He’s only been gone a few days,’ Eric protested.
‘I still miss him.’
‘Actually, so do I, but it’s his only visit back to Ithrea in ages. Larpskendya’s picking him up in a few weeks.’
While Rachel thought fondly about Morpeth, three girls landed beside the garden pond. They walked across the lawn, waving hopefully through the glass doors of the patio.
‘Oh no, part of your fan club,’ groaned Eric. ‘Do they never leave off?’
A few children always loitered near the house, curious to get a glimpse of Rachel. Her reputation drew them, and the sheer quality of her magic. Every child on Earth wanted to be closer to it.
‘I’ve seen those three before,’ Eric muttered. ‘Two nights ago. It was raining, pouring down, but did they care? Barmy nutters.’ He pulled a face, attempting to scare the girls away. ‘Clear off!’ he yelled. The girls smiled sweetly back. ‘They never flipping listen to me,’ Eric said. ‘Why don’t you give them a shock, Rach? You know, send them to the Arctic or something. It’ll take them at least an hour to fly back.’
Two of the girls nudged each other forward, trying to get Rachel’s attention. The other one looked steadily at Eric.
A little ruffled, he self-consciously smoothed out his baggy pyjamas.
Rachel laughed. ‘I’m not the only one with admirers.’
‘Can’t you get rid of them?’
‘Oh, I think we should let that pretty-looking girl in,’ Rachel said. ‘I can tell she wants to talk to you.’
‘Don’t you dare!’
The girls stood outside, hoping for a conversation. Rachel, however, had entertained too many admirers lately. She turned away from their stares, feeling a desire to get out of the house.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We’ll go for a walk.’
‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’ Eric said. ‘There’s no chance of slipping out quietly. The sky’s thick with kids.’
‘I’ll shift us, then.’
‘Where to?’
‘Let’s find the prapsies. Creep up on them, give ’em a scare.’
‘Hey, nice idea. Just let me get dressed.’
‘I could dress you.’
‘No way,’ Eric snorted. ‘I’m not having your spells fiddling with my pyjamas.’
He thumped up the stairs, colliding with Mum.
‘Careful,’ Mum groaned. Pinning back her wet hair, she smiled at Rachel. ‘Going out, love?’
‘Yep.’
‘You’ll need a disguise from the fans, then.’ She inspected her daughter critically. ‘How about an older look? Add three years on and lose the freckles. Blonde and fifteen?’
Rachel smirked. ‘Blonde’s out, Mum. Hair fashion’s changing.’
‘What’s in vogue these days?’
‘Silver for boys, long and slicked back. With the girls, anything crazy.’
Mum shrugged. Children regularly used magic to alter their appearance now. Nothing surprised her any more.
‘You want to come along with us, Mum? I’ll take you wherever you like.’
‘No, you go off and enjoy yourselves. I’ll potter about here.’
Eric reappeared, wearing jeans and his woolly parka coat.
‘Ready?’ Rachel asked.
‘I was born ready.’ Hoiking up his collar, Eric noticed her new round-cheeked face. ‘Good disguise,’ he said. ‘You look dumb. That’s realistic. Better hide your magic scent, too.’
Rachel did so, kissed Mum lightly on the cheek – and shifted.
Immediately, without any sensation of flight, she and Eric had travelled a few miles from the house. Rachel was one of the few children in the world who possessed this skill – the ability to move instantaneously from one place to another.
They stood on the outskirts of town. Above them a boy flew by on some errand or other, his dad perched on his back. Rachel heard their laughter. Magic did not survive the passage to adulthood, but adults who wanted to fly could still enjoy that special thrill through children.
Rachel and Eric tramped up a long path. It brought them to Rachel’s old nursery school.
‘Oh, it’s closed,’ Eric said. ‘I hadn’t heard.’
A thick chain on the school gate barred the way inside. No notice of explanation was provided, or needed.
‘Same everywhere,’ Rachel said. ‘This was the last one. Closed last week. You know what little kids are like – just want to be out playing.’
At first it had seemed an ominous development when children stopped turning up for school. But if you could fly, why sit in a classroom? The best teachers soon realized that traditional schooling offered nothing that could rival the fascinati
on of magic. Why bother with textbook geography, with the world at your disposal? Children now went all over the world for their education, and teachers not afraid of flying in the arms of their students went with them.
‘It’s funny,’ Eric noted, as they walked away. ‘A couple of kids from my old school took the Head of Maths out flying yesterday. Did I tell you? Wanted to know about vectors and something called thrust quotations. Reckoned it might help them manoeuvre better in high winds.’
‘Was he able to help them?’
‘Yeah. They were practising with him last night,’ Eric said.
‘What? They took him out in the dark?’
‘Sure. Why not. He was game for it, apparently. A true test for his theories, and all that. They say he enjoyed it, but it was a while before he could talk normally afterwards.’
A couple of sprinters swerved around Rachel. They flew close to the ground, the wind from their passage messing her hair. Eric laughed – knowing they were deliberately trying to goad Rachel into following them.
Flying games were the most popular new sports – fiercely competitive, fast and visible, with rules that were usually easy to master. Rachel could have won them all, and local teams were always trying to get her attention, but such displays didn’t interest her. She led Eric from the nursery lane into an adjoining field. There were some rusty swings here and a dilapidated rocking horse. It was the sort of desultory old-style playground only a few children still used.
‘Feebles,’ Eric said, seeing two children there.
‘Don’t call them that,’ Rachel snapped angrily. ‘I hate that word.’
‘It’s what they’re being called, Rach, whether you like it or not.’
A young boy and girl, seven or eight years old, sat on the wooden horse. The boy wore shorts and a wind-cheater, and looked cold. The girl had a long white skirt. She had hitched it up over her knees to help her clamber onto the frame. They sat astride the horse, rocking each other back and forth as best they could.
Eric sighed, glancing at Rachel. ‘You’re going to play with them, aren’t you?’