‘Wait!’ Matthew bellowed. At once, the faeries bound to his will froze.
He looked up. Through breaks in the canopy, he could see the sky above the clearing remained a perfect, cloudless blue. Matthew allowed himself a smile of satisfaction. ‘Praise God,’ he whispered. Bone dry, there was no hint of moisture left in the trees to give them away, no telltale signs of smoke.
The witch will never know.
In an instant, the air churned and a torrent of flame engulfed the clearing.
THIRTY-ONE
New Forest, England, 1944
Miss Dorothy’s nose was pressed close to the glass. ‘It’s hard to believe France is just over there, isn’t it? And that beastly man is so close. Well, not literally, but you know what I mean.’
The sea raged, driven by the onslaught of a howling wind, its dark green crests slashed with foam. The panes of the window rattled, and above the noise, bells were tolling, calling worshippers for the evening service. Ellie watched as a group hurried along the footpath, clutching their hats, their shoulders hunched, their umbrellas braced against the downpour.
‘And no matter what the weather, the churches are full,’ continued Miss Dorothy. ‘Everybody is doing their bit for England. And the vicar is a lovely man, though a bit stuffy for my personal liking.’
‘You go to church?’ Ellie was surprised.
‘Of course I do, and why wouldn’t I?’ answered Miss Dorothy huffily.
Ellie turned from the window. At the other end of the room, Miss Gladys sat on a spindly, high back chair. She was leaning forward, deep in consultation with the tall, black-faced mirror. In the reflection, Ellie could see her face was ashen, her thin lips pressed and her face was drawn with tension.
‘We’re all the same,’ Miss Dorothy was saying airily, ‘and the Vicar knows it, we’re all on the side of good. It’s the ones who don't believe anything at all, I’d be suspicious of, especially nowadays. But then if you have a good heart who am I to doubt. You can’t judge a book from the outside –’
With an impatient frown, Ellie hushed the old lady quiet. Miss Gladys smoothed down her grey woollen skirt and straightened her grey blouse. Gravely, she turned her attention back to the room.
‘The mirror does not reject the idea,’ she rose slowly, giving Ellie a sharp look. ‘It must work. If it doesn't the success of the entire war could be at stake.’ She shook her head. ‘But I do not like it.’
‘But Gladys, we no longer have any choice.’ Miss Dorothy took the other woman by the hand and led her towards the sofa. ‘The weather is not clearing, and the moon is nearing full. It’s in Scorpio tonight, so you know there will be a treacherous flick in its tail.’
Gladys grimaced, and laid her face in her hands. ‘Dorothy we cannot fail, if we do, the mirror shows the people of England will suffer endless hardship under the yoke of that man. And so will we. We will suffer, those like us and everyone else who runs foul of them.’
Dorothy patted her shoulder. ‘My dear,’ she murmured gently, ‘that all may be so. However, you and I both know what we are doing is no longer strong enough.’
Miss Gladys looked back toward the mirror, then her pale grey eyes swept around the room before finally settling on Ellie. ‘It’s you,’ she said bitterly, giving her a long hard stare. ‘Before you came to us, the circle was working. Under my direction, we each did what we knew to do and the spirits obeyed us. But now it is all for nothing,’ she said bleakly. The windows shook. ‘The sky is not clear. The storms have come. We have failed, we are lost.’
‘No, we are not.’ Miss Dorothy reached into the pocket of her dress and took out her dark, smooth hag stone. She laid it on the sofa in front of her friend. ‘This will help us.’
‘That?’ Miss Gladys sniffed derisively. ‘We all have them in our families. The power left them when the Empire exceeded the covenant John Dee made with the sea god Mannanon. You know that.’
Ellie didn't know what the woman was talking about, but she too took her hag stone out of her pocket, and laid it on the sofa in front of Miss Gladys. ‘Yes,’ the older woman almost sneered, ‘am I to be impressed because you have one too?’
Dorothy sighed. ‘Gladys, stop it. Stop being such a woolly headed, obstinate Scotch woman. The mirror has not rejected young Ellie here; in fact it welcomed her. We both saw it. That we are in grave danger, we both know. You’re not the only one who can feel it, we all can. Please, it’s imperative.’
Miss Gladys said nothing. She closed her eyes and Ellie could feel a tremendous fight going on within the older woman, though she sat still, scarcely breathing. ‘Dorothy Clutterbuck,’ she murmured at last. ‘If you are wrong, I will hound you and your descendants for a hundred lifetimes.’
‘Oh, that's all right,’ Miss Dorothy sniffed. ‘You’d never be able to catch us.’
‘Hmmm, so you fervently hope,’ said Miss Gladys, arching an eyebrow. ‘What do we do?’ She turned crisply and faced Ellie with a pursed, expectant expression.
Gripping her own hag stone in her hand, Ellie gazed up at the two witches. ‘W-w-well...’ she began. Searching for the right words.
‘We need a different kind of magic,’ interrupted Miss Dorothy.
Ellie blinked in surprise, but the old lady ignored her.
‘It is quite simple, but very effective.’ Closing her eyes, Dorothy sang out a wavering, mid tone hum. It wobbled in the air. ‘Like that, my dear,’ she explained in a businesslike manner. ‘Form an intention of what you want, imagine it in your mind, and make a sound. It’s all in the connection.’
With a determined set to her shoulders, Miss Gladys opened her mouth, her brow furrowed with concentration.
They complemented each other, Ellie realised, watching them. The small, round, red-cheeked figure of Miss Dorothy and the taller, thinner Gladys trying as hard as she could. In only a few moments, their voices harmonised, forging a strong apex of power above their heads.
Quickly, Ellie placed her hag stone on the rug, and sent a note of her own towards the floor. At once, like flicking a light switch, the air crackled, and a pulse of light flared from its centre.
Miss Gladys didn't miss a beat; she stared at it, her eyes bulging in surprise.
Ellie reached for Miss Dorothy’s stone and glanced up, waiting for a nod of permission or something from the old lady, but Dorothy’s eyes were closed, her head was lowered.
Concentrating, Ellie held the old lady’s stone. It felt different - darker, smaller, and yet denser. It quivered almost like Miss Dorothy herself, the magic leaping bright and eager as though it held an impatient, quicksilver soul. Gripping it tightly, Ellie sang out a stream of sound. Her hand warmed and Miss Dorothy’s hag stone began to shine with a bright, intense heat.
It wasn't uncomfortable and it didn't burn - it was more like the idea of heat, or the hot passion of excitement. Ellie held onto it firmly, testing its strength, feeling how ready it was to be gone. Then, spinning the time ring into the palm of her hand, Ellie closed her eyes.
THIRTY-TWO
Blue Mountains, Australia, present day
She woke up with a jerk, hot and hungry in Ba Set’s cottage. Ellie jumped up from the sofa, her hair crackling wildly around her face as though surging with static electricity.
‘Ba Set,’ she cried, her teeth were almost chattering, ‘I need to leave this here.’ Holding Miss Dorothy’s stone, Ellie felt huge, towering over the tiny, oldest woman in the world. Ba Set didn’t respond. She remained still, sitting, with her eyes closed, at the end of the sofa.
Come on, Ellie pleaded silently. The muscles in her legs felt jumpy, as though she needed to run and not stop. She wrung her hands, desperate to get out, desperate to go.
Through the window, the setting sun was radiating long, golden slices of light that burned across the tips of the trees like fire. Ellie danced impatiently on her toes. Should she shake Ba Set awake, or something? Would that be too rude? Stifling an impatient sigh, Ellie dropped Miss Dorothy’s hag stone
onto the sofa.
Colours flared, radiating vividly from the centre - reds, blues, greens.
‘I need to leave this here,’ Ellie spoke loudly, as the stone burst a beam of brightness up into the room. It hit the ceiling and flashed out through the window outside. Ellie stared at it in shock. Miss Dorothy’s hag stone behaved differently than her own, and suddenly, her impatient, eagerness to be gone contracted into a spasm of fright.
What if I can’t get back? All at once, her courage shrank and Ellie felt very small, and very young. She groaned. Oh my God, what am I doing?
Ba Set stirred, and in a small, neat action, rubbed her hands down her neck, flexing her narrow shoulders as she did so. She shook them to the floor. ‘Do not waste your time with fear, Soul Flyer,’ she said. ‘The time for that has past. Fear is an indulgence, use your skills, do what you must.’ She opened her eyes and looked directly at Ellie. ‘We both need to eat, one never thinks clearly when one is depleted.’
Ba Set stood, her hands trembling a little as she steadied herself. Ellie could see the burn on the side of her face still looked angry and sore.
‘Are you all right?’ Ellie felt a jolt of fear. What if something happened to Ba Set? ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘Thank you for your concern.’ The old woman waved her away. ‘But it is not necessary. Decide what is important, and then act. But food first, Soul Flyer.’
‘I can’t, I don't know how long I have.’ Ellie jumped to her feet. ‘The moon will be full in a day or so, and Miss Dorothy said that will be the most powerful time. I need to be there.’ Quickly, she grasped for her teacher’s hand. ‘Ba Set please listen, if you are okay, take this hag stone, it’s Miss Dorothy’s. It’s been in her family for generations, it’s powerful, it has got something to do with some Manannan guy –’ Ellie shook her head; why was she rabbiting on like Miss Dorothy? ‘We hope this will form a gateway that is linked to mine … please, it has to be kept safe.’
Nodding, Ba Set took the stone and held it, breathing, balancing its weight in her hand.
‘We need to make a huge circle.’ Ellie continued, excitement rising in her voice, ‘Ba Set, the rain is coming. I think it’s going to work.’
‘I will call the others. But first, child,’ Ba Set was implacable, ‘you must sustain your body, or there will be no vessel for your soul to return to.’
Ba Set handed back the stone and left for the kitchen.
A few moments later, Ellie gobbled a couple of sandwiches as fast as she could and, she had to admit, after taking a swig of water, she felt better, calmer and the edge of desperation had eased.
Ellie hugged Ba Set and lay back down on the sofa. ‘I hope this works,’ she said. ‘I really hope it does.’ Taking a deep breath, Ellie twisted the ring, and then all was black.
Wrapping her cloak closer around her shoulders, Ba Set gazed down at the young body lying empty on the sofa. With her hair spread out around her, Ellie looked so vulnerable, so trusting, so like a child, and yet so much rested on her young shoulders.
Reverently, and taking care not to brush her hand against Ellie’s form, Ba Set placed the hag stone on the table beside the Soul Flyer’s head. She gestured to the black faeries. They stepped closer, the powerful beings flanking the young woman as she lay deeply entranced.
Stretching her arms out straight, Ba Set shook them, flexing the muscles in her hands and up into her forearms. She stepped outside. With her arms still extended, Ba Set rolled back her shoulders and, with her senses opening, she turned her gaze back to the cottage. She listened.
Silence.
The Soul Flyer lay safe, protected from prying eyes, and protected by the Watchers from even the most innocent of disturbances. Still Ba Set hesitated; no one - no human, no spirit, no creature must touch the Soul Flyer as she lay - for to do so could send vast ripples through the magic. And there was more. Ba Set remembered an ancient warning, scrawled on a tablet left deep within the desert. While the Soul Flyer lay empty, she must not be touched - for whosoever was unfortunate or foolish enough to lay a hand on an entranced Soul Flyer, their souls would be also wrenched free.
Ba Set shook her head. That would not happen. She was being fanciful to even consider it a possibility. Fear is an indulgence. Turning back she sent a piercing whistle out over the stricken forest and, crying a single, powerful word, the shapeshifter leapt into the air.
Far below, the fire was burning out of control.
✽✽✽
Hurrying over ground dotted with chips of stone and torn, broken sticks, Matthew’s bare feet were bleeding from a multitude of cuts. He didn’t stop, the pain only spurred him on. The end was close, his mother was near; he could feel her presence like a taut trill of energy.
‘Dad, my God, can you wait?’ Rosalind’s voice sounded fainter, and further away than he had hoped.
‘Hurry,’ he shouted, ‘we have to hurry.’
Soon the fire would consume all the fuel in the clearing, and be reaching out, ravenous for more. He could feel it in the panic trembling through the trees and in the fevered heat in the air.
‘Faster!’
And the faery beings ran on.
✽✽✽
The sun dropped and the great eagle banked high, catching the tide of slightly cooler air sweeping over the canopy. Her eyes flickered, focusing on the streaks of brightness soaring below, a multitude of incandescent faeries rising to meet her.
Ba Set dropped, her wingspan barely moving as she joined the mass of multifaceted beings. The air was convulsing, riven with heat, as another blaze of orange burst up out of the shadowed trees.
Her pinion feathers dipped, and she shrieked out a cry of anguish.
✽✽✽
Matthew froze, his eyes locked on the winged darkness rushing towards the setting sun. The call sounded again, a wretched, piercing note that faded away to silence. His heart constricted. That hateful sound; how it filled him with loathing.
Matthew checked back through the trees. Rosalind and Ben were a short distance behind. He could see them resting with their arms around the other, drinking in turns from the thermos of tea. Rosalind’s eyes were closed and she was leaning into her lover’s shoulder.
Before him, towered a cliff wall, an immense shadow, huge against the dusk streaked sky. Roots fringed its face, trailing from trees clinging foolishly to life.
Matthew bowed his head once more, praying for guidance. He looked up.
‘Onwards,’ he ordered.
His destination was near, and he could no longer wait.
The bound faeries recoiled, their eyes rolling in anguish, straining on the invisible leash to get away.
‘No.’ Matthew snapped it tight. ‘Go on, take me to her.’
Placing his foot on the first stone, Matthew began his ascent. The faeries climbed swiftly, not heeding the fallen branches or stones that lay scattered like marbles across their way. The steps themselves were carved directly out of the rock face. Each one was covered by a treacherous matting of lichen, and so roughly made the forces of nature could have sculpted them.
‘Climb slower,’ he spat the words at his unwilling guides. ‘Do not deviate, do not harm me, take me directly to her.’
The path ascended, criss-crossing up the steepest gradients, until Matthew was reduced to crouching on all fours like a beast.
It took an age, but just as a doubt began to bite into his heart, and the first stars brightened, Matthew saw, built high above the shadowed outline of the cliff, a small structure, leaning precariously out over the edge.
He allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.
At last.
Never again would he be that boy in the woods, lost and abandoned by a heartless mother.
✽✽✽
The moon shone through the window. Night had descended and Ba Set knelt to the floor. Gently, she hovered her hand over Ellie’s brow. The girl felt damp and hot. She lay on the sofa deeply entranced, her limbs still and breathing so slowly
it seemed as though she was barely breathing at all.
Ba Set reached for an electric fan from one of the lower shelves and turned it on. Keeping the Soul Flyer cool and safe, that was her most important task. No matter what or who was approaching
Settling back on her heels, she wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and closed her eyes. Ba Set, the ancient shapeshifter, waited with Dorothy Clutterbuck’s hag stone quivering in her hand. Bands of colour splashed against the shadowed ceiling. Energy was shifting. With a breath, Ba Set connected to the earth below.
The gateway was opening.
And the Watchers were outside, waiting.
✽✽✽
Matthew studied the cottage squatting in the gloom. Its weathered walls were partly obscured by a tangle of decrepit vines and a brace of ghost-grey trees. Branches hung low, scraping the ground and the faeries yearned towards them. Their elongated bodies arched, as though with a single reflexive movement they could spring clear of their captor.
‘No!’ Matthew roared. He slung them onwards with a curt snap. Take me to her.
A shadow lunged at him. A dog howled, its voice pitched high in terror. Before him, Matthew could see wide loops of energy, sharp, like blue-white smoke, circling the cottage. Matthew laughed. How pitiful. ‘Your puny attempts at distraction, Mother, are powerless against me!’
Stones dropped against wood as he stormed the stairs. On the landing, a web of hanging objects whistled and leapt for his eyes. He tore them aside without a thought. At the door stood the two Watchers, coal black, their great eyes gleaming red like embers, their bodies twisting into two tortuous shapes. They barred the entrance.
Matthew hesitated as light spilled through a crack beneath. The air sizzled with power. He shivered; he could feel it like a thousand pinpricks darting over his skin.
She was here.
Soul Flyer Page 27