Miss Dorothy, a blur of bright red, careened in and out, her short arms outstretched waving, while other figures, dark cloaks flapping behind, whirled about in directions of their own.
Voices shouted a fevered cacophony of commands, and somewhere someone banged a drum. Just above the witches’ heads, faeries were twisting, all different colours and shapes, their luminous forms weaving a tight pattern of light before fraying apart, and vanishing in the cold and biting wind.
Lightning cracked, and Miss Dorothy ground to a halt.
‘Come spirits of earth!’ She cried, her voice thin but sure.
Energy, like a sharp snap of electricity jolted Ellie in the centre of her back. It didn't hurt, but it was enough to drop her like a stone, halting a few feet above the ground. She sneezed.
‘Ellie!’ cried Miss Dorothy. ‘I knew you would come back. Welcome!’ At the invitation, Ellie’s height collapsed like a ruptured umbrella and she fell to the ground, just avoiding a figure spinning in the centre of the circle.
‘Water!’ The voice was high and undulating, the syllables long and strangely gurgling. ‘Water, heed my call.’
A stream of water sprites whirled in response and hovered lightly, their liquid forms flaring an iridescent blue. The voice called out again and Ellie saw it was Billy. He had his eyes closed and his hands raised in supplication.
Immediately, Ellie opened her mouth and copied him, seeking to match his high pitch. At the same time, she breathed out a quick strand of connection down into the earth. ‘Water, Water, hello.’
A hand grasped her own and Ellie turned to see Miss Dorothy beaming, encased in Ellie’s red raincoat. Its hood covered her hair, though it was too large, and below it her nose dripped.
Miss Dorothy sniffed. ‘Whatever you’re doing, I shall have a go too.’ Her eyes twinkled as she opened her mouth and exhaled a high, operatic note. It shot up into the air as though it was alive, and fell in graceful harmony over Billy’s wavering call.
Ellie joined in again. As Billy’s eyes were tightly shut, he seemed to be unaware of his singing companions. He raised his hands and threw his voice even higher into the heavens. A light flashed out of the night, and a stream of movement burst around him before abruptly vanishing.
‘Come spirits,’ sang out Ellie, her breath catching with hope. ‘Come liquid beings. Come dancers of the deep, of sweet summer rain.’
As Ellie, Miss Dorothy, and Billy called out and sang with their arms outstretched to the elemental beings, more faeries appeared. It was as though they condensed out of the very air itself, in all different sizes, shapes and densities. Some with a form like liquid silver, some insubstantial, others appeared cloaked in a mist so fine they refracted light - sparking shards of rainbow.
‘Come...’ Ellie sang in amazement, elongating the word so it stretched into a single, singing tone. Come...
In response, the beings seemed to solidify, building into a layer that swept over her upturned face, blowing into her eyes, and her hair. Shivering, Ellie kept calling, and the movement intensified. She could no longer see, but she could feel the faeries swirling faster and faster around the three of them.
‘Water,’ cried Billy in a sharper, more imperative tone, his eyes still closed. ‘‘Waaater!’
It was like a command. In a single surge, the faeries shot up into the sky, and the whirlwind vanished, the air sagging behind them as though a pressure system had abruptly eased.
A drum beat loudly, and individual voices called and cajoled behind her, but Ellie tuned them out. She could feel a great gap in the circle. The power that was water had completely vanished. Mystified, she stood staring up at the night sky. Miss Dorothy was still singing out in joyous abandon and Billy still cried out his repetitive singular word. But where were the water spirits? Ellie didn't understand it.
‘Water?’ she whispered. ‘Water...?’
Where have you gone?
She waited staring up into the night. Come to us. She sent the call out.
A finger of wind tugged at Ellie’s hair, she shivered, hugging her arms to herself in the cold.
Water?
Air gusted overhead, a tempest, bursting with flashes of a silvery liquid light.
No one else noticed.
Ellie didn't understand what she was seeing. On the tail of the wind, a vast, mirrored substance was moving, coming in swiftly from the west. It was following, or being pulled… The only hint of its immense size was the reflection and distortion in the sky as it moved.
Was that rain?
Hope surged through her being and Ellie focused on the sky. Streaming above the circle came countless spirits of water, dragging behind them an immense, trailing sheet of silvered currents.
Ellie threw back her head and shot her voice high above the circle. ‘Water, come, come, please come!’ She cried. The sky seemed to hold its breath.
‘Just what do you think you are doing?’ The outraged voice hit her like a slap. ‘Stop!’
Miss Dorothy gasped. Billy opened his eyes. At once the gigantic sheet collapsed and a torrent of water flooded out of the darkness.
Miss Gladys shrieked, her face a mask of fury. ‘Look what you’ve done!’ Shocked to silence, Ellie watched as figures, racing in sopping wet cloaks, tried to push away the streaming rain. Some whirling where they stood, some attempting to smack it, to beat it back with their hands. Billy, his face aghast, stood stunned as water and fierce wind surged out of his control.
‘You have broken the circle!’ Hissed Miss Gladys, her cloak flapping behind. ‘I don't know why you’re here, but…’ She pushed back her sodden hood, her protruding eyes fierce as she glared at Ellie. ‘The mirror wants you, that much is clear. But you are here to watch, and watch only. Do not interfere again or you will have me to reckon with!’
Storming back into the centre of the circle, Miss Gladys began to hurl commands up into the heart of the hammering rain. Lightning flashed and Billy, his face still bewildered, lifted his face into the night. ‘Water,’ he croaked. ‘Be gone!’
✽✽✽
You’re an idiot, you’re an idiot, you’re an idiot. The singsong voice looped taunting, poking, jabbing, around and around, in her mind. Ellie winced; she was drenched through and beginning to shiver. Overhead, branches creaked as another load of wind and rain splattered across the road.
‘It’s not your fault,’ repeated Miss Dorothy as her bicycle squeaked alongside. The old lady had wanted to walk, though her saturated shoes squelched with each step and her drenched skirt dragged along the road. But Dorothy didn't seem to mind at all; the rest of her was wrapped snugly inside Ellie’s raincoat.
‘Anyway, it’s been quite unsettled for weeks,’ she added dryly, peering at Ellie from within the hood. ‘The weather has its own mind, and don't we know it. For the last week, especially, even before you came, mind you – it’s been impossible to manage.’
Miss Dorothy’s words didn't make Ellie feel any better. Dejectedly, she brushed another dripping strand of hair from her face. Why, why, why had she interfered? With a sigh, she gazed up into the water drizzling through the trees. It fell onto her face, cold and wet and horrible. You might as well try and push it back with a net, or something else just as stupid. Ellie ached to kick a stone.
‘You can’t control it!’ she cried out. ‘It’s all stupid, how can anyone think they can actually control this?!’ Ellie flung her hand up to the dripping sky. ‘It’s crazy!’
‘Crazy, you say?’ Miss Dorothy looked up sharply. ‘It’s not the weather we control, dear, it’s the spirits; we each call our weather spirit and tell it what to do. It’s quite simple really, and not at all crazy.’ Her blue eyes twinkled as though quite unperturbed by Ellie’s outburst.
It didn't make sense. ‘But why would they obey you?’ Ellie hadn’t seen evidence of anything obeying anyone.
‘It’s in our families, they come with our families, some bring rain, some wind. It’s all very secret, but I know I can trust you not
to tell.’ Dropping her voice, Miss Dorothy glanced around and said very quietly. ‘We don’t usually work as a group, as you no doubt have gathered. We like to keep to ourselves. But for something like this we have to pull together.’ Miss Dorothy sighed. ‘It’s for the war, you know. The skies must be kept clear over the Channel, but it’s been very difficult.’
Ellie felt even more confused than ever. ‘What channel?’
‘Oh, the English Channel, of course.’
Ellie looked away, it didn't make any sense.
The two walked on saying nothing much for a while. Ellie dragged her feet. Rain dribbled down the back of her neck and the wind picked up strength, the sound pelting on the leaves.
Wearily, they pushed their bikes around the last bend to the village. From out of the night, lights shimmered, like a mirage emerging out of the gloom. Ellie hadn’t heard a thing, yet as the road straightened she saw the Burley village hall glowing in the darkness. Brightness spilled out from its windows and glinted over the rain soaked ground. Figures moved, sheltering between rows of canvas covered trucks and jeeps, cigarettes burning like hot pinpricks in the night.
A trumpet wailed over a quick muffled rhythm. Inside the hall, pairs of men and women were dancing. Ellie quickly pushed the bike towards the dark side of the road, closer to the bushes. She didn't want to be seen; the pink dress she’d borrowed from Miss Dorothy’s niece was drenched, it scratched her skin and her hair flapped wet and sopping down her back.
‘Come on,’ she whispered loudly.
But Miss Dorothy had stopped and was standing spot-lit in the rain, her red hood up, grey curls framing her face and droplets glistening in the wet. Starstruck, she looked like a little gnome bedazzled by the grandeur of fairyland.
Clapping her hands, Miss Dorothy hurried forward. A young man stood out from the others, about twenty years old, the buttons shining on his forest-green uniform. Following at a safe distance, Ellie noticed the word ‘Canada’ emblazoned on his shoulder.
‘Are you coming in, Miss?’ He tipped his maroon beret with a smile.
Miss Dorothy stepped forward, ‘Why yes we are, we would love to.’
‘Oh no,’ gasped Ellie, horrified. ‘I can’t. Really, I don't dance -'
‘It’s Saturday night.’ The young Canadian smiled and his eyes were a dark chocolate brown.
Ellie felt a small hard tug on her hand.
‘There’s a war on,’ Miss Dorothy whispered. ‘We all have to do our bit.’
✽✽✽
Ellie woke in the pink room to a loud purr. Queenie lay across her legs, his heavy weight warm and comfortable. Outside, the sky remained overcast and through the partly open window she could see leaves trembling, spattered by a crisp, light rain. Ellie closed her eyes again, lulled by the rhythm of the gentle sound and the soft, sweet smell.
‘Oh dear what dreadful weather,’ Miss Dorothy bustled in carrying a tray. She set it down on the table.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Ellie sadly. ‘At home it hasn’t rained for so long, I’ve forgotten what it’s like.’
‘Well, you’re welcome to it. What I would give for some lovely sunny days to dry my washing, and keep Gladys happy.’ The old lady sniffed.
‘Well it’s not fair!’ Ellie hit the bed with her hand. ‘Why can’t we just swap?’
Unperturbed, Miss Dorothy handed Ellie a piece of buttered toast. ‘No reason why we couldn’t.’
Ellie stared at her.
‘Now don’t get excited it might not work.’
‘What do you mean?’
Miss Dorothy busied herself with the teapot.
‘What do you mean?’ repeated Ellie, louder. She sat up. The old lady was up to something. Usually she would be talking a mile a minute by now, but Miss Dorothy was studiously avoiding Ellie’s eye.
‘You mustn’t laugh.’ She sat on the edge of the bed and handed Ellie a cup. ‘But I was musing about it last night while dancing with that nice young man. He’s here, in the UK, his family is back in Canada, but they still hear from him, every now and then, through letters and so on and I got to wondering - we could do that.’ She looked up with a pleased grin.
‘Right. Mail the rain.’ Ellie took a bite of toast.
‘No, not mail it exactly, my dear,’ Miss Dorothy huffed. ‘That would be silly. But…’ She smiled slyly. ‘When I was a girl, I was a clerk in the department store in Southampton. Wonderful it was. Great brass tubes ran across the ceilings, like tunnels, that connected us to the office. We would put the customer’s money in and whoosh, it would disappear and thirty seconds later the change would come whooshing back. It was like magic, great fun. Though some of the sillier young men would put their arms down it, all the way to their armpits and they would get stuck. I remember one, I think his name was Harold, he -‘
‘Miss Dorothy!’ cried Ellie exasperated, ‘Please, it sounds all very interesting, but what are you going on about?’
The little old lady blinked. ‘Oh, well, where was I?’ she pursed her lips. ‘Ah yes. That’s right. I was thinking we could, of course, try to do it again now. Create some kind of tunnel but using real magic, you know, like a great, invisible brass tunnel.’
Miss Dorothy leaned forward. ‘I have a feeling if we left one of my things in your time and one of your things here…’ She stopped, frowning. ‘But I’m not quite sure what we would need to leave? They’d need to be linked somehow…’ Miss Dorothy stood up. ‘If we could find a way, Ellie, I do believe it might just work.’
✽✽✽
Starlings erupted from the hedgerow as a convoy of trucks rattled along the back lane. Twittering in outrage, the birds wheeled high above the garden, hundreds of them, blackening the sky.
Secluded in the bottom corner, Ellie sat beneath the branches of an ancient beech. Cool air filtered though its leaves. She breathed quietly, her hag stone clenched in her hand, and a spot of rain fell on her upturned face.
‘Trees are such big beings, but people don't really pay them much attention,’ remarked Miss Dorothy, looking up. ‘If they were animals, we’d all be standing in awe, don't you think?’
Ellie didn't reply.
The damp ground beneath the rug was seeping into the woven fabric. The land felt different here, just as powerful, but not quite as ancient as home. It was like the song felt newer. Ellie shook her head. What was she going on about? Feeling self-conscious under Miss Dorothy’s quizzical gaze, Ellie gripped the hag stone tighter and strove for a deeper, slower breath.
‘Wait!’ The little old lady jumped to her feet and dashed up the length of lawn into the house.
Ellie gave up and opened her eyes.
Beyond the garden, a picket fence opened onto a patch of meadow covered with blue, bell-like flowers. They swayed, bright against the rain soaked green. A few steps further on and the actual forest began for real. Ellie felt a shiver dance up her spine. The earth may not be as ancient as home, but the woods here were full of dark, spreading shapes, watchful, and alive.
Ellie shifted her attention. Faeries. She could sense them, huge and gnarled, standing half in and out of the trees. The air shimmered as though they were waiting for her call.
Feeling a little unnerved, she closed her eyes.
Breathe. Connect with the earth.
Ba Set felt close, very close...
‘Here!’ Wheezing for breath, Miss Dorothy returned brandishing a smooth, grey object. ‘I’ve never used it,’ she admitted, easing herself down on the ground. ‘Oh that's hard, my poor old knees.’ Smiling, she placed the second hag stone on the rug between them. ‘It has just sat in that drawer for years. My father never used it either, but his mother, now she was very powerful. In the village she was known as the wise woman. They loved her but feared her, I -’
‘Miss Dorothy! Please, you can tell me later…’
The grass felt soft, the air moist and rich. Ellie tentatively breathed a low deep tone, holding her own hag stone tight in her grasp. ‘Breathe into the earth,�
� she instructed Miss Dorothy. ‘Breathe and sing and follow me.’
The rain held off, and in the hedges the birds settled once more, their excitable twittering fading into the morning. The wind shifted, fresh and sweet, carrying the gentle scent of the English summer. Softly it brushed against Ellie’s cheek and lifted the hair around her face, bringing before it a scent of something else. Something deeper, earthier, like freshly turned soil, damp bark, and the brown scent of mushrooms, all overlaid with the deeper scent of shadowed forest.
A scrape etched down along her spine and Ellie shivered. It wasn't sharp, it didn't hurt, but it felt defined, light, made with something hard and real.
Curious, Ellie opened her eyes.
The sky had vanished into darkness. It loomed overhead, created by a single, unimaginably huge being. Its face was a woody strip of trailing bark; its great limbs were gnarled and twisted. Very slowly, the enormous faery was inching itself out of the beech tree above them, its body crinkling. One of its fingers, stick thin - its joints elongated and rickety, jerked again along her back.
Ellie almost lost the song. Her heart thudded in shock, but still she sang out another wave of rising notes. A hard tremor hit her leg. Miss Dorothy had noticed the being, emerging joint by joint. The old lady shook, her chin quivered, and her blue eyes widened in astonishment, as the faery, slowly, and with much care, unfolded its strange, extended form from within the tree. At one point it leant forward as though resting, and without missing a note Miss Dorothy waved a delighted gesture of welcome.
All the while Ellie’s hag stone pulsed, sending a single coil of brightness through the covered darkness.
This wasn't the only faery responding to the song.
Wisp-thin small ones edged forward from the grass. Others - blue with tetchy frowns etched across their tiny faces, crept in from the meadow. These ones stopped just inside the fence as though they couldn’t bear to be away from their bluebell homes for long.
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