A Witch Come True
Page 1
PRAISE FOR THE APPRENTICE WITCH SERIES
Full of adventure and excitement, but with real warmth and cosiness.
KATHERINE WOODFINE, AUTHOR OF THE MYSTERY OF THE CLOCKWORK SPARROW
The Apprentice Witch is entirely more charming, adventurous, and full of heart than a book has any right to be. Make no mistake: there’s magic afoot.
TRENTON LEE STEWART, AUTHOR OF THE MYSTERIOUS BENEDICT SOCIETY
A really lovely children’s book.
PETER BUNZL, AUTHOR OF COGHEART
[A] delightful, witty and vivid story . . . I absolutely loved Nicol’s deft characterisation and evocative settings – and it made me laugh out loud in parts!
KIRAN MILLWOOD HARGRAVE, AUTHOR OF THE GIRL OF INK & STARS
A charming tale of magic, bravery and friendship, reminiscent of Diana Wynne Jones.
THE GUARDIAN
[The Apprentice Witch] takes readers on a pleasant trip back to a simpler age . . . full of witches and spells and frightened villagers.
THE NEW YORK TIMES
It’s a treat to be back in Arianwyn’s world . . . Nicol has a really distinct brand of cosy, magical storytelling.
FIONA NOBLE, THE BOOKSELLER
. . . alongside the cosy feel (plenty of scones and tea by roaring hearthfires), this is very much a story with lots of magic and Cressida Cowell-style spirit creatures. Great fun.
BOOKTRUST
A MESSAGE FROM CHICKEN HOUSE
Hot chocolate at the ready? Excellent! If, like me, you’ve been longing to read this, you need to settle down for a real treat! I’m proud to introduce the final part (for now!) in James Nicol’s enchanting Apprentice Witch series. Our beloved Arianwyn is determined to discover the truth – and I want desperately to know what happens to all her friends, frenemies and rivals. I don’t think I’ll stop reading until I’ve found out! Get ready for the best witchy ending ever . . . (Afterwards, let’s start the whole trilogy all over again!)
BARRY CUNNINGHAM
Publisher
Chicken House
Contents
Maps
Chapter 1. St Morag’s Military Sanatorium
Chapter 2. War Stories
Chapter 3. Friends & Enemies
Chapter 4. A Night at the Theatre
Chapter 5. The Photograph
Chapter 6. Mrs Alverston
Chapter 7. The 11.30 to Stanbury Hill
Chapter 8. What an Afternoon
Chapter 9. Cinnamon Muffins
Chapter 10. Relocation
Chapter 11. Yule Preparations
Chapter 12. A Brief Spell
Chapter 13. Winterthorn & Miselberries
Chapter 14. Steam & Smoke
Chapter 15. The Frozen House
Chapter 16. Fire Gazing
Chapter 17. Tradition
Chapter 18. Research
Chapter 19. The Winterthorn Queen & the Yule Lord
Chapter 20. The Frost Phoenix
Chapter 21. The Feast
Chapter 22. Gifts from the Winterthorn Queen
Chapter 23. The Search
Chapter 24. The Storm
Chapter 25. After the Storm
Chapter 26. Demands
Chapter 27. Repercussions
Chapter 28. Shortages
Chapter 29. The Town Meeting
Chapter 30. Canticles
Chapter 31. Night-Time Walk
Chapter 32. Secure Channel 736
Chapter 33. Return to Lull
Chapter 34. Faith & Failure
Chapter 35. Fracture
Chapter 36. Healing
Chapter 37. The New Council
Chapter 38. A Strange Spell
Glossary of Glyphs
Spirit Creature Glossary
Copyright
In memory of my wonderful mum
Jennifer Rose Nicol
With all my love x
The Quiet Glyphs are ancient and powerful glyphs, once widely used by the witches of the Four Kingdoms. According to Estar the feyling they’re now all stored inside of me, waiting to reveal themselves. Estar has promised to help identify the quiet glyphs for me as I uncover them.
I’ll record all my discoveries in this notebook, a present from Colin and Salle. I’ll keep it with me always, just in case.
Skygɛ – The Shadow Glyph
Warning – this glyph is dangerous in the hands of anyone inexperienced (my grandmother made me write that!).
The shadow glyph which has the feyling name Skygɛ (which can mean shadow, darkness and fear but can also mean obscure and protect) is a quiet glyph of immense power and was the first quiet glyph I ever encountered. At first I assumed it had dark intentions, but the shadow glyph feeds off the doubt and fear that lives inside of us – the intention is whatever you make of it. And this is why you must hold your nerve when using this glyph: it is the fear and darkness within us that offers the glyph its power, and if you let them, these feelings can overwhelm you. Use it with caution and care. It is the only glyph (so far) that can defeat night ghasts.
THE NEW BOOK OF QUIET GLYPHS BY ARIANWYN GRIBBLE
Chapter 1
ST MORAG’S MILITARY SANATORIUM
ere you are, miss. This is St Morag’s.’ The taxi driver nodded as a church-like building came into view, squeezed between a department store and a motorcar showroom. ‘Who are you visiting then?’
‘My dad,’ Arianwyn replied quietly, glancing once more at her grandmother’s telegram.
She’d read it a hundred times on the various slow trains from Lull and at least twice in the taxi ride from Kingsport Station. The paper was all crumpled from where she had gripped it tightly. The taxi pulled alongside the pavement outside St Morag’s as she read it again:
MISS ARIANWYN FLORA GRIBBLE
THE SPELLORIUM,
38 KETTLE LANE, LULL
ARIANWYN, YOUR DAD RETURNING TO KINGSPORT TODAY COME SOON AS POSSIBLE. HE WILL BE AT ST MORAG’S MILITARY SANATORIUM, MARSHALL STREET, KINGSPORT.
GRANDMA XXX
‘Well, I hope he’s all right, miss. Seems to be good news now the fighting in the Uris is all over and done with anyway. That’ll be a shilling please.’
Arianwyn handed over the money and climbed out of the taxi. She glanced up at the high stone arches and castle-like turrets of St Morag’s. The sky above had grown cloudy. She stuffed the telegram into her coat pocket and tried to shake away her unease as she raced up the steps. In a few moments she would see her father for the first time in she couldn’t remember how long – shouldn’t she be excited?
She was excited, but her stomach wobbled nervously as she pulled open the huge door. She still wasn’t sure how badly he had been wounded or what his wounds even were. Would she recognize him? Would he recognize her? Would he look ill?
A sharp medicinal tang hit her as she entered the large atrium. Nurses and doctors hurried across the room into the several long corridors leading away from it, too busy to notice a young witch hesitating beside the door. ‘Excuse me, I’m looking for—’ Arianwyn tried quietly as a doctor approached. But he simply gave her a quick glance up and down and marched past.
Arianwyn sighed, wandering further inside. There were no signs anywhere. ‘Mind out of the way!’ a loud voice called and Arianwyn turned just in time to narrowly avoid being mown down by a nurse pushing a large wheeled bed.
‘Sorry!’ Arianwyn said, hopping to one side. ‘Oh, wait, can you tell me where I can find my dad please?’ she gabbled quickly. ‘He’s a patient here, Sergeant Gribble.’
The bed slowed and the nurse – all apple cheeks and starched apron – sighed gently. ‘Dearie, we’ve got about seventy patients here at the moment and it’s all sixes and sevens, I can tell you, what with all the
soldiers coming back from the fighting. Try down there. Most of the newly arrived gentlemen are in rooms down that corridor.’ She pointed down a long, whitewashed hallway.
‘Thanks,’ Arianwyn croaked. Her throat felt suddenly tight, as though she couldn’t catch her breath. The nurse was off again, the wheels of the bed squeaking as she hurried away. ‘Mind out the way, dearies!’ she called brightly.
The corridor was quiet, and the only sound was Arianwyn’s footsteps echoing on the high ceiling. As she drew near the first doorway, she heard a man coughing and the gentle babbling of a radio. ‘In further news, the High Elder of the Witches of Hylund today declared that with hostilities in the Uris drawing to a close she would be withdrawing the majority of her witches attached to military units by the end of the year . . .’
The door to the room stood ajar and inside a soldier sat on a bed, his face partly wrapped in clean white bandages. He had red hair, so it couldn’t be her father. ‘Sorry,’ Arianwyn mumbled as the man glanced up and caught her looking.
The next room was larger. Several long, arched windows overlooked a drab little courtyard and a ring of chairs had been arranged around a fireplace. The bars of a small electric fire glowed a cheerful orange.
A man dozed in one of the chairs, his right arm wrapped in tight bandages and strapped securely across his chest. Although he slept, it wasn’t a peaceful slumber: the small muscles of his mouth were twitching fitfully. His face was drawn and dark shadows lurked under his eyes. His sandy hair had been cropped close to his head.
‘Dad . . .’ Arianwyn said, her mouth suddenly as dry as a desert, her voice wavering and cracking as cool tears splashed down on to her cheeks.
His eyes fluttered open and widened briefly as he saw her waiting in the doorway. ‘Oh . . . Arianwyn?’ His voice was sleepy and unsure.
She nodded silently, unable to speak as her emotions got the better of her. And then she was hurrying across the room. The small space suddenly felt as wide as a universe between them. Her father tried to rise out of his chair but his bandaged arm prevented him. Arianwyn half fell, half collapsed on to him, her arms encircling his neck as she buried her face against the rough green wool of his uniform.
‘My little witch!’ Dad mumbled into her hair. ‘I’d started to think I might never see you again.’
There was so much Arianwyn wanted to say and yet she suddenly didn’t know where even to begin. The fear she had felt just a few short weeks ago – when the first telegram had arrived informing her that her father was missing – was all gone, as though that had all happened to someone else or in a story-book. And somehow this didn’t feel quite real yet, either.
She pulled away, keeping her arms wrapped around her father’s neck and blinking through her tears. ‘Is it really you?’ she asked.
Her father nodded, his grey eyes watery now. ‘It’s me.’ He smiled and kissed her gently on the forehead. ‘Look at you, you’re so tall!’
‘Now this is truly a sight to stir the soul!’
A familiar voice, warm and full, echoed in the sitting room. Arianwyn turned a little and saw her grandmother standing in the doorway, a bright yellow scarf draped over her shoulders and her silver- grey hair swept up under a broad-brimmed hat.
‘Gran!’ Arianwyn beamed, keeping her arms around her father.
Grandmother walked over to them, placing a gloved hand on Arianwyn’s curls, and leant forward to gently plant a kiss on Sergeant Gribble’s head. ‘It’s so good to see you safe and sound, Oliver,’ she said, with a contented sigh.
‘You too, Maria. Thank you . . .’ His voice faltered for a moment. ‘Thank you for taking care of Arianwyn so well. She looks beautiful.’
Grandmother smiled. ‘Oh, but you know it’s Arianwyn who is looking after all of us these days.’ Her eyes sparkled.
Sergeant Gribble gazed down at Arianwyn, his eyes shining with pride. But there was something else in his look, like he was trying to solve a puzzle or was seeing something properly for the first time.
Chapter 2
WAR STORIES
areful now, or I’ll pop my stitches!’ Dad cautioned, gently prising Arianwyn away. ‘Well, won’t you both have a seat?’ he asked, suddenly sounding a little formal.
Arianwyn dragged her seat right next to her father’s so she could keep a tight hold of his hand. She was afraid that he might vanish if she didn’t.
‘I can’t believe you’re back at last!’ she beamed.
‘I know. It feels a bit odd, I must say,’ her dad replied, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.
‘Is your arm bothering you?’ Arianwyn asked, rising to her feet.
‘A little, but it’s fine – don’t fuss.’
She sat down quickly and the room was quiet for a few seconds until Arianwyn jumped up again. ‘Oh, I made this for you – it’s an old medical charm for pain.’ She pulled a small glass orb on a long silver chain from her pocket. It danced in the air, catching the warm glow of the electric fire. ‘It has two topal stones and orenta flowers in it,’ she explained to her grandmother.
‘Oh yes, they used to be quite popular in my day. Orenta flowers are hard to come by – I hope you didn’t pay too much for them,’ Grandmother said kindly.
Arianwyn offered the charm to her father who eyed it rather suspiciously. Eventually, he reached for it but then stuffed it away in his pocket.
‘It won’t work as well in there,’ Arianwyn said quietly, a little hurt that he had dismissed the charm so casually – she’d hoped he’d be impressed.
But he didn’t say anything.
After a few moments of aching quiet Grandmother stood up and said, ‘I’ll go see about getting us some tea, shall I?’
‘Well, good luck,’ Dad replied sharply. ‘This is a military hospital, not the Royal Tea Rooms, Maria.’
Grandmother smiled, choosing to ignore his bad temper. ‘Not that anyone would ever be fooled otherwise, Oliver – but thank you for the reminder. Back in a tick!’
Arianwyn filled her dad in on the latest news from Lull. At first she felt awkward – her dad was so quiet – but soon enough she was telling him all about how the Myddletons had had yet another snotling infestation. By the time Grandmother returned, tea things in tow, he was laughing at how young Cyril Myddleton had decided to catch the snotlings with mousetraps!
When she’d set down the tea, Gran produced a sponge cake from her bag. ‘Just what’s needed, I think.’ She smiled.
‘Yum!’ Arianwyn cooed as her grandmother poured the tea and handed out the mugs – they were a little chipped and grubby but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t recall the last time they had all sat like this and eaten and drunk together. There was a spreading warmth in her chest and she settled back in her chair and sighed contentedly.
‘It is so good to be back home. The tea is much better, for one thing,’ Dad said, his eyes glinting in the light of the electric fire. For a second, Arianwyn glimpsed his old self: her mischievous and fun-loving father, the one from before the war. They sipped their tea quietly, safe and sound for the first time in years.
‘Was it very hard, being away this time?’ Grandmother asked eventually.
Sergeant Gribble took a deep gulp of his tea, his eyes darkening slightly. When he started to speak his voice was quiet and uncertain, as though he was afraid to say the wrong thing. ‘It was very hard a lot of the time and . . . strange.’ He took a deep breath and shifted in his seat, his face creasing in pain again. ‘There were days, weeks even, when it felt as though there was no war, no fighting going on at all. And then weeks where there was nothing else but fighting.’ He shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear it. ‘The Uris is a bizarre place, even at the best of times. There was a strange feeling everywhere. Everyone could sense it – or the lack of it, really. Because it felt as though some element to the world was missing.’
‘No magic,’ Grandmother explained, when Arianwyn shot her a questioning glance.
She nodded, remembering how a di
saster hundreds of years before had used up, or wiped out, all the natural magical energy within the Uris. There were no spirit creatures there now and no witches! But then Arianwyn frowned, remembering something her father had said in one of his letters.
‘But Dad, didn’t you say you had encountered someone who claimed they were a Urisian witch?’ Arianwyn asked.
Sergeant Gribble sighed. ‘That’s what he told us . . . but I’d rather not go into that now. I did describe it all to that witch who came this morning.’ He looked at Grandmother as though that might explain things.
‘Who was that?’ Grandmother asked; she tried to keep her voice sounding light and casual, but something made Arianwyn feel suddenly nervous.
‘Said she was from the council,’ Dad grumbled, shifting in his seat, his tone losing some of its warmth. ‘One of your lot. Don’t you know her, Maria?’
Arianwyn’s mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other. Who had been here to see her father? Who else even knew her father had returned? Why were they interested in the Urisian witch? The room suddenly felt a little less cosy. The fire only offered a fake orange glow to the room, hardly any warmth at all, and the chill was curling under her coat again, wrapping around her neck and ankles, tickling along her back. She shuddered.
Deep within the hospital a bell sounded out the hour, breaking the tense silence.
‘Goodness, it’s very late,’ Grandmother said.
A nurse appeared suddenly in the doorway and glared at them all. ‘What on earth is going on here?’ she demanded. ‘Visiting hours ended at six o’clock sharp.You can’t all be in here now.’
‘I’m sorry, we didn’t know—’ Arianwyn started to explain.
The nurse made a small grumbling, growling noise at the back of her throat. ‘Out!’
Grandmother flowed out of her chair gracefully, standing tall and statuesque in the middle of the room. ‘We were not informed of the visiting hours having ended, and we are causing no disturbance.’ She stepped towards the nurse. ‘My granddaughter has not seen her father for several years and recently thought he had died! I will not allow you to rush them in such a manner.’