Ships. A great fleet. Sailing boundlessly, caught in the slipstream of time.
Square sailed. Huge and creaking, they swept across the universe, every detail, every texture etched in starlight.
Ellie dropped onto the deck of one, the first.
All was empty.
The wood creaked, the sails flexed, tugging on the ropes, holding the tension between flying free and flying forward.
On soundless feet, she entered the captain’s cabin.
Spinning, lit by the flame of a single candle, was a globe and a golden spiralling orrery. Each orb, each planet, complete in its own singular motion.
A lone figure stood with his back to her, a slim shape leaning out to sea.
But before Ellie could move, the figure turned.
‘Who are you?’ Said the young boy. He had the face of an angel, symmetrical, beautiful, perfect.
‘I am Ellie,’ said Ellie simply.
‘I am the Last Soul,’ replied the boy.
Ellie opened her hand.
In it the boy dropped a ring. Bulky and huge, it was set with an oversized green orb. It flashed brilliant white as it hit her palm.
‘Take this,’ he said, his eyes solemn and glinting.
With tears? Ellie wondered.
But the boy was talking still.
‘It opens time,’ he said. He turned the orb once.
Ellie dropped to earth, landing back on the sofa so hard that her body jerked, her jaw snapped, and the springs jumped and creaked beneath.
TWENTY-THREE
Ellie didn't want to open her eyes. She winced; a light source was nearby, but she feared if she opened her eyes it would stab without mercy. Groaning, she shifted her position and pain cramped the muscles of her back. What happened? Gingerly, she raised one hand and stopped, surprised as a hard round object clattered onto her chest and onto the floor. She opened one eye.
A large ring, with a clear, deep green stone, uncut, a perfect sphere set in beaten yellow gold, spun to a stop.
Dazed, Ellie raised her head. An ache throbbed at the base of her skull and dropped sickeningly down into her stomach. She swallowed.
‘Please,’ she croaked…
The room seemed empty. A chink of light pierced the curtain and she flinched, but Ba Set was nowhere to be seen.
Warily, Ellie scooped the ring into her hand and lay back onto the cushion. What just happened and why did she feel so horribly weak?
Footsteps hurried into the room and Ba Set appeared carrying a tray, with a fresh pot of steaming tea and a plate of fruit.
The scent of honey filled the air and Ellie ate and drank as though starved. All the while Ba Set studied the ring gripped tightly in Ellie’s hand. A pinprick of light pulsed deep from within its green centre. The old woman hesitated, a worried frown creasing her face.
‘Ellie,’ she said at last. ‘I have heard the faintest of whispers. I heard tales, tales told in the temple which were already ancient when I was a mere stripling of a child. You hold an object of power, unfathomable power, that much is certain.’
The ring felt heavy, and so hot it almost burned Ellie’s palm, and her arm trembled. Yet she couldn’t let it go. It felt so beautiful, and full of promise as though it held all the possibilities that could ever be imagined.
Ba Set’s eyes softened. ‘This is out of my knowledge. Go child. You have asked the hag stone for guidance and it has answered. Take the ring and go home.’
The old woman rose to her feet and stood by the open picture window, gazing down at the ocean of trees below. ‘Trust the hag stone and your own inner knowing, for I feel you will go on a journey that I cannot follow. But I will be here waiting, with help, when, and if you need it.’
✽✽✽
Her mind felt blank, and Ellie was scarcely aware of the long miles as she cycled. The cold bit into her flesh, hungry, ravenous, chasing her back to her family. At last, she rounded the corner to her street and pushed her bike past the wreckage of the fallen tree and up the driveway. Thankfully, no one was awake to witness her return, and once in the safety of her room, Ellie collapsed into bed.
Her chest and her head ached, and after some time her door creaked open and her mother entered with a bowl of steaming soup. But Ellie didn't hear; she slept on with one hand stretched beneath her pillow, her fingers wrapped around a bundle of cloth, with the hag stone and the ring hidden safe within.
✽✽✽
Later, a day, a week … Ellie wasn't too sure, she woke after what seemed to be a long, dreamless sleep. Stretching out her cramped legs, she tentatively opened her eyes. Light filtered in through the curtains and she flinched, waiting for the usual stab of pain, but none came. Warily, she took an experimental breath. The air was bitingly cold, but that was all; gone was the thick, soupy wheeze that had gripped her lungs.
What had happened? Ellie sat up, bewildered, her mind felt blank and empty. She shook her head trying to clear it, but it did no good.
Shivering, Ellie wrapped herself in her dressing gown, and shuffled down the cold hallway to the kitchen.
‘It was just a regular day’, seeped a voice, nasal and incredulous, ‘and suddenly for about 20 minutes there was just a white-out blizzard, you just couldn't see anywhere. And then 20 minutes later - sunshine…’
She opened the door. Sprawled around the table, her dad sat over a bowl of cereal with Ben beside him, listening to the radio with his spoon poised midair.
‘It’s not right, I tell you; the last few days have been really hot – 25 degrees yesterday when it should only be six or eight degrees, but now it’s way below freezing again.’
‘It’s happening,’ nodded Ben, banging the spoon hard on the table.
‘What is?’ At once Ellie wished the question away; she didn't want to know, she felt too lightheaded to deal with anything at all. Biting her lip, she edged past them both as inconspicuously as possible, and opened the fridge door.
‘Ellie.’ Her father pushed his bowl away. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Fine,’ she answered after a pause - and she was, she realised, turning around. ‘I’m feeling much better… thanks.’
‘Good, good, that’s good.’ Her father seemed on edge, his fingers tapped nervously on the top of the table, and his eyes were an intense green as they studied her. ‘Ellie, your mother and the twins are out shopping. I don't expect you to be too aware of what’s going on, especially while you’ve been so sick, but it’s been decided that the four of you will go up north to stay with your uncle.’ He paused. ‘It is for the best, just while things sort themselves out here.’
‘What?’ Shock jolted through her body.
‘As if they will,’ muttered Ben.
‘But Dad, I can’t go, I love it here.’ And much to her shame, tears welled up in her eyes.
‘Well love won’t make it safe, and your mother has decided.’ Her father said tersely. ‘Besides, there’s nothing for you here. The school has closed; the pipes have burst in the cold-’
‘Yeah, but Dad it’ll open again,’ Ellie interrupted. ‘And until it does, I can study online, that’s what everyone else will be doing. And besides, I have to stay here, who else would look after you and Ben?’ She flicked her brother a conspiratorial grin, then stopped, thinking of something else. ‘Hey have you seen Rose?’
Her brother didn’t answer; pushing his chair back, he grabbed his jacket and headed to the door.
‘Ben, wait, have you seen her?’ Ellie asked again, louder.
He stopped. ‘Yeah, I’ve seen her, at the meetings. There’s one tonight, and every night, if you care to come.’ The door banged behind him as he left. A moment later, Ellie heard the guttural sound of the truck as it roared down the road.
‘What’s all that about?’ Ellie tried to smile, but her eyes burned with sudden tears.
‘Ah Ellie,’ her father had moved and was standing by the window, looking up into the sky. ‘The prophecies are coming true, that much is certain. Your friend Rose is standing firm w
ith her father. And you need to decide where you stand.’ He paused. ‘Two weeks,’ he said firmly.
‘What?’ asked Ellie confused.
‘You have two weeks to regain your strength and then your mother will be back to get you.’
✽✽✽
Claire left with the twins the next day - Sunday morning. Their faces were smiling from the window as the weekly train disappeared beneath the flat, grey sky.
Two weeks, Ellie thought morosely. Just two weeks and I have to go too. It was still freezing cold, and her breath steamed as she opened the front door to the empty house. Inside, Ellie tossed her bag onto the sofa in the living room and cranked on the portable gas heater. The flame flared once in the grate, and sputtered out.
‘Damn,’ she muttered. ‘Dad must have forgotten to fill it before he left for church.’
Ellie shook her head. Her father had let her stay home and catch up on the schoolwork she’d missed, and she’d planned to curl up nice and warm in front of the fire. But now it was just way too cold.
Shivering, Ellie hurried down the hallway and into her room. There, she pulled on a pair of tracksuit pants and a long sleeved jumper and climbed back into bed. Through the window, she watched as a band of darker cloud gathered against the sky. The wind picked up, and a gust of icy air whipped in through the cracks beneath the glass. Ellie snuggled further beneath the covers. She could always read in bed, she supposed, but even with an extra blanket and the blankets pulled tight over her head, it was still stupidly, utterly, perishingly cold.
If only the wind would stop, Ellie thought miserably, rubbing her skin, hoping the simple friction would warm her up. If only it would stop being so cold ... if only the weather would just go back to normal.
The weather...
Ellie’s eyes flew open.
If only someone could just fix the weather.
Sitting bolt upright, she reached out behind her to her pillow. A tight bundle was hidden deep beneath the softness. Carefully, and with her heart thudding, Ellie unravelled the bound cloth. A single ring tumbled onto the bed beside her and after it, fell the smooth, grey shape of the hag stone.
Ellie gasped as the fog clouding her mind evaporated.
How could I have forgotten?
Ellie didn't wait. Slipping the ring onto her middle finger, she turned it so the emerald green orb was nestled, protected by her palm. With her other hand she reached for the hag stone.
Outside, the storm began to howl.
‘Weather workers,’ she whispered. Ellie brought both objects to the centre of her chest, close to her heart. ‘Please.’
Help us.
✽✽✽
Lightning flashed.
Flared, crashed, spat.
A whirling cacophony of blackness and noise.
‘I conjure thee!’ a dagger of light shot up into the night sky.
‘I command thee!’ a louder voice shrieked once.
Thunder rocked.
Beads of rain pelted the swaying forms down below.
‘Wind!’ Come to me!’
A stream of ice-cold air whizzed past Ellie where she hovered, somehow, in the sky. It surged down to the sodden earth below. Below her, Ellie caught a glimpse of sturdy boots, imperious eyes, and a couple of long dripping noses.
‘Earth, I stir thee, and I call thee forth!’
At once a force pushed Ellie right between the shoulder blades. She tried to resist, but it was useless. Against her will, she was propelled from the vantage point in the sky, her arms flailing, down towards the milling, black clad personages.
Inches above their heads, Ellie’s descent halted. Framed between her dangling feet, she saw a circlet of quizzical faces, turning up to her like the petals of an opening flower.
Rain lashed down.
A crackle of lightning burst past her cheek.
‘What is your name, spirit?’ queried a thin, but well modulated voice.
Ellie peered down in confusion. She opened her mouth, trying to think of the best way to respond, but before she could answer a figure bustled forward.
‘We do not know this entity!’ Cried a loud, regal tone.
With a firm flourish, Ellie was banished with two words.
‘Be gone!’
✽✽✽
She fell, squashed flat.
A shape, hard and lumpy pressed into her cheek, and her foot hurt where it had landed on something solid.
Groggily, she opened one eye.
Whiteness, and a dark hulking shape careened lopsidedly into view.
Oh God.
Blinking, Ellie shifted her head and tried awkwardly to sit up. Everything was spinning and her shoulder was shoved up hard against something cold and unmoveable. Frantically, she pushed against it, again, and then stopped, as a bolt of realisation brought her desk, cupboard, and bedroom into crystal clear focus.
It was a wall and she was back in her room.
‘Ha!’
Elation surged through Ellie’s being.
Grinning, she untangled her body from its position wedged at the foot of her bed and gazed down at the emerald ring. It had worked, unbelievably, it had actually, unbelievably worked. Tendrils of light drifted carelessly across its dark surface. Like clouds, Ellie thought, tracing her finger in wonder.
Across from her bed, the curtains were open, revealing a wide, grey cloudless day. It was still morning, and freezing.
Where, she wondered, looking out to the dry, frigid sky, exactly did I go?
Leaning back, Ellie closed her eyes. A minute ticked by, and she reached for the small, smooth shape lying beside her.
‘What were they doing?’ she asked, cradling the hag stone in her hands, those women with the proudly jutting bosoms, and long dripping noses? Smiling, she brushed the stone against her cheek. Whoever they were, they seemed right at home in the flashing lightning, yelling and commanding the thunder and wind.
Ellie gazed down into the centre of the hag stone. ‘Oh my God.’ she whispered. ‘I’ve found them.’
TWENTY-FOUR
New Forest, England, 1944
‘Over the wide churning sea
Comes the white Lady glory be
Calling a spirit with gold-red hair
A jewel, an emblem, a fine face free of care.’
The grey-haired lady sniffed, and pulling a dainty handkerchief from the front of her ample bosom, she carefully wiped her nose. ‘Queenie dear, what do you think,’ she asked, peering down at the page. ‘Should I change the last line?’
The fire crackled behind and before her companion could answer the old woman sneezed. ‘Oh dear…’ she muttered, reaching again for the hankie. ‘Kept out at all hours with that lot,’ she blew her nose delicately. ‘What a bother.’
As Dorothy Clutterbuck adjusted her reading glasses, a rumbling emerged out of the distance until, gaining in volume, it roared overhead, shaking the walls and swinging the pendants of the crystal chandelier as it passed. Dorothy took no notice; executing another small sniff, she squinted through her glasses and set back to work.
Only the nib of the pen scratching across the paper broke the quietness. Minutes passed, then she laid down her pen and cleared her throat.
‘Over the wide churning sea,
Came the white Lady glory be
Calling a spirit with gold-red hair,
Attempted contact … but none so fair.’
‘No, that isn’t right,’ she muttered. ‘It’s got more to do with ... hmmm…’ Pursing her lips, Dorothy picked up her pen.
A ring…?’
‘Ha! That's it!’
Without taking her eyes from the page, Dorothy Clutterbuck took a deep sure breath.
‘Over the wide churning sea,
Comes the white Lady glory be
Calling a spirit with gold-red hair,
A ring.
A stone.
And a face so fair!’
With a dramatic flourish, Dorothy cried the words out into the quiet of the
room. Lightning flashed, its remnant brightness arcing across the dark window. This was swiftly followed by a hiss of alarm from the cat, and a booming crack of thunder.
‘That’s it!’
The chandelier shook.
The old lady clapped her hands together in delight. ‘That sounds right. At last! How do you like it, Queenie dear?’
Dorothy turned with a triumphant smile, her bright blue eyes shining in her soft round face.
‘Oh!’ She gasped in shock. Her reading glasses slipped out of her hand, and clattered loudly to the floor. ‘Where did you come from?’
‘I-I-I-’ Ellie wobbled. Her throat felt scratchy, and her knees like jelly noodles. She wasn't quite sure how long she’d been standing there. From its position on the sofa an overfed white cat with wide orange eyes was studying her. Its tail twitched as it blinked and disdainfully looked away.
‘I asked, what is your name, spirit!’ Scooping her glasses up off the floor, the grey-haired old lady thrust her large bosom toward Ellie as though it was an armoured tank.
‘I-I-I-’ Ellie tried again, but the words were stuck fast in her throat.
In one hand she still held the hag stone, and in the other she could feel the icy coldness of the ring. The room was dim, the only light coming from a small fire glowing in the hearth, and the flame of a single gas lamp illuminated the glaring face of her inquisitor.
Ellie swallowed. It was hard to breathe. The air was thick with the sweet, damp smell of drying wool and lavender. Pegged out along a line by the fire, were a pair of tights and beneath them, filling a china bowl, were stems of budding purple flowers. A pair of black and white portraits glared down on the scene from the wall above.
It was just like the antique shop in town, Ellie thought, looking around - right down to the funny old sewing machine in the corner, and the pair of leather bellows lying by the fire. She stared. Why would you have something like that, all shiny brass and decorated, lying around on the floor? Shouldn’t it be on a shelf or something?
Ellie frowned. ‘Where am I exactly?’ She asked, as politely as she could.
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