by Cliff McNish
‘I offer myself,’ Serpantha said, his gaze steadily on her. ‘I have nothing more to give than that.’
Rachel felt like screaming. ‘Is this all we’re worth to you? The life of one Wizard? After all that’s happened, is that all we were ever worth to you?’
‘No. You deserve far more.’
‘Yes. We do!’ Rachel turned her back on Serpantha. ‘We do!’
The pack of Griddas had appeared overhead, their angular heads lowered. The mere sight of them appalled the sentinels, but they somehow kept their discipline, spreading out to shield Yemi on all sides. Rachel felt sharp nips on her flesh. It was the Essa: agitated, wondering what to do. They pulled at her cheeks. ‘Look!’ they cried.
The spectrum girl with red hair had left the sentinel unit. Carried by her thrill-seeker, she had set off to confront the Griddas.
‘She’s gone to negotiate,’ Rachel said hollowly. ‘That was Albertus Robertson’s last instruction to the spectrums. It must be happening everywhere.’
The girl rose into the clouds. The Griddas did not slow down. They headed straight for her. Rachel shook with the effort to control her anger, barely able to choke out the words. ‘See what that girl’s prepared to do!’ she yelled at Serpantha. ‘Where are the Wizards? Gultrathaca said you couldn’t care less about us. Have you just been using us all this time? Using us to expose the High Witches, then lure the Griddas to Orin Fen? I suppose the Wizards have set a trap there, so you can get rid of your last enemy.’
Serpantha looked intently at her. ‘Do you really believe that, Rachel?’
‘What else can I believe?’
‘There is no trap,’ Serpantha said. ‘The Griddas won’t find any Wizards on Orin Fen, or perhaps one, if my brother made it back. There have never been many Wizards, Rachel. Of those few born most died during the endless war against the Highs. The remainder were killed when Heebra unleashed the Griddas. Larpskendya hid that from you. I hid it from you. We had to. Only fear of us kept the Witches in check. If they had ever discovered the truth about how few Wizards there are, no world would have been safe.’ He put his hand against Rachel’s hot cheek. ‘That is why Larpskendya has been absent so often from Earth. Do you think he would ever have left your world exposed if he had any choice? Do you think I would have done? Rachel, the reason we are the only two who have visited your world is that there are no others. Larpskendya and I are the last of the Wizards.’
In the sky above, the red-haired girl waited for the Griddas. While she did so, she attempted to hold the nerve of her thrill-seeker by looking into his eyes. Finally, however, even he turned and fled. He knew that only by doing so could he save her life. He fled to the only place there was a chance of keeping her safe – back to the sentinel unit.
As the Gridda pack closed in they divided, approaching from several directions, choosing specific targets among the children. The sentinel unit’s leader flew along the line, keeping them steady.
Serpantha, with a sweep of his mind, tried to take in everyone. Rachel felt the start of an immense spell to shield the children – but the Wizard was still too weak to sustain it. Even if Serpantha possessed all his strength, Rachel realized, he could not have held back so many Griddas single-handedly. She prepared to use her own spells, knowing they were not adequate, either.
An initial ripple of attack spells came from the Griddas. The sentinels hastily erected a barrier, withstanding it – just.
‘Awake! Awake!’ murmured the Essa.
Yemi was rubbing his eyes, wiping away the sleepiness. The animals on the shore were also shaking themselves, stretching, flexing their limbs. Then, with a great clamour of wings, the bird flocks scattered.
Rachel gathered Yemi up in her arms. ‘Can you understand what’s happening?’ She tilted his face toward the Griddas.
Yemi saw them, gazed back at Rachel, showing no concern.
Fola shook his arm hard. ‘Stupid boy! Odé! Don’t you see?’ She peered up. ‘Look at the monsters there!’
Yemi smiled at his sister, kissed her.
‘We need to protect the children everywhere,’ Rachel said. ‘Yemi, try to understand. Please.’
The Essa raced over to a nearby seagull. They surrounded the bird and brought it back to Yemi. Rachel spread her hands to show they meant to protect everything. How could she make him understand?
‘Yemi,’ she said. ‘I can’t shift us. But we have to get everyone away from here.’
Overhead there was a groan – the sentinel unit’s defence had been breached.
Then more children arrived. From the west they came, firing spells: three more sentinel units, led by Heiki. The flank of the Gridda pack recoiled. They drew back, trying to recover. But Heiki had no intention of giving the Griddas time to recover. At her signal, the eyes of the sentinel children all turned black. Simultaneously they launched their death spells.
Rachel had never felt anything like the power of the combined deaths. Even the Gridda pack-leader quavered when she felt what was seeking her out. Just before the deaths reached the Griddas, Yemi glanced up. He placed a cordon around the Griddas. He protected them. The deaths struck uselessly against it.
‘What are you doing?’ Rachel screamed. ‘Yemi! Yemi! The children! Protect the children, not the Griddas!’
Yemi looked at her: an indescribable look. He closed his eyes. The animals on the shore did the same. And suddenly everyone – even the Griddas – felt themselves seized.
Yemi chuckled. He threw out his arms.
25
The Touch
of Witches
Witches. Skies of Witches. Witches everywhere. Millions upon millions, rising through the lucid air of Orin Fen.
As Eric cancelled the final layer of protection, that was what he saw.
But not High Witches – and not Griddas.
He squinted at the brightness of the planet, trying to understand. Beyond the Witches he saw oceans; he saw radiant cities; he saw mountains without snow.
Was this some kind of trick of Gultrathaca’s?
One glance at her shocked face showed otherwise. Eric probed into the magic of the new Witches. He realized they were related to the Highs. The fearsome Griddas were in some way also their more distant descendants.
How could that be?
As the Witches arrived, Eric tried to understand what faced him. The first thing he noticed was that the Witches were beautiful. They were beautiful in the same way that Larpskendya and Serpantha were beautiful. It was the colours. Eric thought he had seen all the shades of a Wizard’s eyes, but he was wrong. It took the light of a wilder sun to bring out every hue. Looking at these Witches, Eric saw them all.
It was a warm sun, an old sun, but these Witches seemed older. Eric could hardly bear to look at them, or to look away.
The Orin Fen Witches shared the same height and proportions as High Witches, though they were more slender, and clawless, with human faces – a single, modest jaw.
The true Witches, Eric realized. When a group of the females left all those millions of years ago, not all had left. The original Witches – these Witches – had stayed with the Wizards.
Slowly the Witches took up a position until they girdled the planet. They confronted the Gridda army. Then, together, they opened their arms.
An invitation? Gultrathaca reeled, baffled. She had expected a battering of Wizards, not this. Confused questions were being raised by her commanders. Where were the Wizards? Disguised? Had the Wizards sneaked behind somehow, while these creatures provided a distraction?
The Witches did nothing to alarm the Griddas. They were patient, waiting until the Griddas overcame their surprise. They made no sudden movements. They merely held out their arms.
Those imploring arms!
Gultrathaca shook herself, feeling an unaccountable urge. Part of her wanted to accept those arms, to be led towards the surface – away from the horror of the sun. Was a spell at work? No. It was something else, something extraordinary about the Witc
hes themselves.
Gultrathaca fought a yearning to go towards them.
All around her, the Gridda army felt similar emotions. The packs were primed for Wizards and death, not this welcome! Should they attack the strangers? Their bodies were ready to fight, but there was no aggression in the Witches to set them off. On the contrary, the Witches were all anxiousness of gaze – and not for themselves. They gazed at the Griddas, as if seeing torture and mutilation beyond belief in their features.
The infant Griddas responded first. For all their noisy bravado, the journey had been long, and they were tired; they wanted the refuge of a tunnel; they wanted these Witches. They started to drift towards them. Touching seemed the most natural thing. The infants touched, breathlessly exploring. Seeing the infants were discomforted by the light, the Witches diminished it. They darkened their own skies, until the cities fell into shade and the big eyes of the infants opened fully.
Pack-leaders restrained some of the infants, but they could not stop them all. Then a few of the maturer Griddas joined them. They slipped tentatively across the divide between themselves and the Witches. The lines began to merge. A leader glanced desperately at Gultrathaca for assistance as her entire pack deserted her. Witches and Griddas intermingled, touching and not touching, curious about their physical differences, repelled and attracted.
But not fighting! Not fighting! All around Gultrathaca could see the blood-lust of her Griddas cracking. Warlike instincts were being replaced by something she could not understand.
‘No! No!’ she raged. ‘It is a trick!’ She raced along the lines of her Griddas. ‘The Wizards are hiding! They are cowards! Find them on the world below! Find them!’
A few Griddas followed her order, but as soon as they reached the Witches their resolve faded. They slowed, came to a stop, joined the infants.
Gultrathaca saw that even her staunchest pack-leaders would no longer obey her.
She had almost forgotten Eric. He lay in her arms, staring with open mouth at what was happening. The prapsies stood on Eric’s shoulders, twitching excitedly.
Gultrathaca stared out over her forces. They were no longer an army. Griddas and Witches were flying openly together. Gultrathaca heard talk between them. She heard laughter. Even her own pack-sisters had left their defensive posts.
This was not a Wizard trick; Gultrathaca knew that. The Witches meant no harm. Indeed, Gultrathaca wanted nothing more than to be amongst them. How she wanted to! But the sight of something held her back. Jarius was no longer guarded. She flew freely with her sisters, her dishonour forgotten.
Gultrathaca could not allow that.
She summoned a death spell. Like all deaths, it gave her simple advice. It made choices easier. One of the Orin Fen Witches hovered close to her. Her smile was concerned, shy even.
Gultrathaca looked at her and loosed the death. It killed the Witch instantly. Seeing this, for the first time the nearest Witches raised their defences.
And that was enough. The Griddas reacted instinctively. More than instinctively: they reacted the way the High Witches had bred them to react. Their bodies pumped with blood; their claws enlarged. Gultrathaca rushed between the packs, instilling confidence. Contact between Griddas and Witches was broken.
Gultrathaca launched another death spell – or tried.
Eric prevented it – and Gultrathaca knew she had lost that favourite killer forever. It hardly mattered. Other Griddas had begun firing death spells. The Witches fell back, defending themselves. They started to fly away – towards the surface.
A chase!
It was a mistake. Gridda pursuit reflexes flickered alive at once. Suddenly pack on pack were descending the skies to get at the Witches.
‘Please don’t,’ whispered Eric. ‘Gultrathaca, you can still stop this.’
‘I could,’ Gultrathaca agreed.
She kicked him away.
Eric fell gasping, in explosive pain. There was no chance to collect his thoughts for any kind of anti-spell. The prapsies tumbled beside him, trying to stop his fall.
Jarius came for Eric. Griddas from her own pack tried to stop her, but she fought through them. Sweeping Eric and the prapsies up, she breathed life-giving oxygen back inside their lungs. They lay in her claws, only half-conscious.
The Orin Fen Witches were retreating to their cities. The Griddas followed. Now that a true fight had started, Jarius could tell that the Witches were not able to adequately defend themselves. They were more magical than the Griddas, but inferior fighters.
Jarius fled with all her speed, but there was no escaping the packs. Carrying Eric and the prapsies made her easy to catch, and several members of her own pack went after her.
Jarius had no choice any longer. With a final gasp of effort, wriggling from the grasp of an infant, she flew towards the planet. Where else could she go now? Where else?
Larpskendya watched it all, concealed by the corona of Orin Fen’s sun.
His spells were still recovering. For weeks he had been hounded across all space, never able to get away from the Gridda packs for long. Finally, his shifting spells had made a last great effort. They brought him home.
As Larpskendya saw what was taking place, he almost wished they had not.
He had deliberately hidden, knowing that if the Griddas glimpsed him they would attack without question.
And then he had seen the beautiful, open-souled Witches of Orin Fen try. Those arms! How could it work? Against the violence of the Griddas, it could never work – but it nearly had.
Larpskendya felt tears on his face. What use were they? What use were tears now? Over the centuries all the efforts of the last Wizards had gone into shrouding Orin Fen. Had they been wrong? How could they have anticipated Eric’s extraordinary talent? There had never been anything like him. If we had allowed the Witches to join in the endless war, Larpskendya realized, they might now be better prepared. The Witches had wished it. Always they had asked for it. We loved them too much, Larpskendya thought. We kept them apart from war – a terrible mistake.
And then Larpskendya had seen Jarius, and for a moment he had hope again. Here was a Gridda, defending Eric with all her heart.
When Jarius failed as well, rushing with Eric towards Orin Fen, Larpskendya knew it was time to show himself. There was no way to save the Witches, not against so many Griddas. Well, he would do what he could. He would at least give the Witches a chance to reach the cities, where they could defend themselves more effectively.
He flew towards the Griddas.
Gultrathaca recognized him before she saw him: how could she mistake that singular, awesome scent! She approached with the rest of her pack. As she did so, Larpskendya gave her a signal she thought only the Griddas knew.
‘No,’ she said, laughing. ‘Not a personal challenge. I won’t give you the satisfaction of that. I will decide the method of your death, Wizard.’
She ordered three packs forward.
On Orin Fen thousands of Witches turned around and started despairingly flying towards Larpskendya. The Griddas held them back.
‘There will be no help for you, Wizard,’ Gultrathaca said.
Larpskendya raised his defences. Even the three large Gridda packs sent against him wavered when they felt the authority of the spells. But not for long. The Wizard was alone, and they were many, and the battle-blood the Highs had bred in the Griddas would have driven them on now even if they had no chance of victory. Gultrathaca knew Larpskendya might slay all three packs. He could not, however, slay all the packs. Even the great Larpskendya lacked that strength.
As the packs closed in, Larpskendya was a solitary figure against the backdrop of space.
But the Griddas stopped before they reached him.
They stopped to look in amazement at butterflies and children.
26
The Fatal Gift
Every child of Earth was over Orin Fen.
Yemi had brought them all: the deepers, the thievers, the gangs; the gift
ed and ungifted; flyers, and those who could never fly; everyone. Many sentinels had been shifted in mid-battle. Spectrums joined them, held by their thrill-seekers. Yellow butterflies flapped, their wings in sunlight.
The youngest children congregated near Yemi. Their eyes followed his, wherever he gazed. Everywhere children were blinking, adjusting to the glory of Orin Fen’s sun.
‘What’s happening? What’s happening?’ the Essa asked, clutching Rachel. The dazzling world of Orin Fen beckoned to them, and Rachel felt it, too. Like them, for reasons she could not explain, she was transfixed. She wanted to fly towards the surface.
‘I’ve got to find Eric,’ she told Serpantha.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘And I must find my brother.’
Eric was not far. Jarius still held him. Rachel approached her warily.
‘I’m all right,’ Eric said. ‘Don’t be afraid of this Gridda, Rach. I don’t know her name, but she kept me and the prapsies safe. She kept us alive.’
Rachel gazed at Jarius’s harsh face. The Essa did so too, not trusting it. Jarius understood and turned instead to Rachel. ‘I will take care of Eric,’ she said. ‘It is Yemi you must go to. He may … he may try to do too much.’
‘Go on, Rach,’ Eric said. ‘Get to Yemi, but stay away from Gultrathaca. Watch out for her.’
Gultrathaca stared in disbelief at the reunion of Serpantha and Larpskendya taking place nearby. What had happened here? A Wizard who should be dead; children who could never have made such a journey; even the presence of Griddas, the ones sent to invade Earth. Surprised, jolted out of the glow of battle, those Griddas could not wait to continue – but who should they attack now?
Gultrathaca reassessed the balance of power. It had altered. She no longer had numerical superiority, not with all the children to aid the Orin Fen Witches.
If the Griddas fought, she realized, they would lose everything.
Floating close to Yemi, she expected the old infuriating smile. This time, however, Yemi had no smile for her – as if realizing at last that she could not stand it. As she turned away, Larpskendya and Serpantha approached.