A Witch Come True

by James Nicol

  Arianwyn looked up, brushing her curls from her face. ‘Thank you, Colin,’ she said, regaining her balance and taking a deep breath. They stood staring at each other for the longest moment until they both seemed to become aware that they were holding on to each other and everyone in the dressing room seemed to be looking right at them. They both blushed and looked away before quietly mumbling, ‘Sorry.’ And, ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Well, hello everyone!’ Grandma called from behind Arianwyn. ‘I must say this is all very exciting indeed. Thank you so much for the tickets, Salle. I can’t remember the last time I came to the theatre. It’s so very kind of you.’ She gave Salle a quick hug.

  ‘I didn’t think you were coming?’ Arianwyn said to Colin. ‘Haven’t you been twice already?’ Her voice sounded sharp though she hadn’t meant it to and her face still felt warm.

  ‘It is a really good play.’ Colin smiled. ‘And Salle’s fantastic!’

  Salle laughed and swatted Colin on the arm, then turned away to fiddle with a brush on the dressing table in front of her.

  ‘I’m sure she is!’ Grandma agreed.

  Grandmother wandered off a little way to look at the rail of costumes. Salle leant towards Arianwyn. ‘Have you heard any more about Gimma?’ she asked in a hushed voice. ‘Colin said there was no news from the C.W.A.’

  Arianwyn shook her head. ‘No, nothing. I’m really worried.’ She looked at Colin. ‘The charms I made for her only last a few days, a week at most. If she doesn’t get a new one soon . . .’

  ‘I know,’ Colin said, taking a deep breath. ‘It’s really scary.’

  ‘There’s something else, but . . . I don’t have time to look into it. I have to go back to Lull the day after tomorrow.’ Arianwyn touched the strange photograph in her pocket. She’d kept it there since finding it. Once or twice she’d thought about showing her grandmother but she clearly had plenty on her plate at the moment. She wanted to know what her friends thought about it and whether they thought it linked to Gimma at all.

  ‘What have you found?’ Colin asked, but Arianwyn shook her head slightly.

  A quick look passed between the three friends that they all knew meant: not now, not here!

  ‘Well, I can’t wait to see the play,’ Arianwyn said, quickly changing the subject as Grandmother approached the threesome.

  ‘You might not be seeing it tonight, I’m afraid,’ a girl with wiry black hair that might have been a wig said from the seat next to Salle’s section of the dressing table.

  ‘Why? What’s going on?’ Colin asked.

  ‘There’s been a problem with the lighting for the stage,’ the wiry-haired girl said mournfully.

  ‘I heard it were snotlings chewed through the wires or something like that,’ another voice called from behind the rack of costumes.

  ‘Snotlings?’ Arianwyn asked. Not again, she thought, her heart sinking a little. Sometimes it felt like snotlings had a personal grudge against her!

  ‘Oh, Wyn. You could sort it out, couldn’t you?’ Salle’s pleading eyes looked up at her and Grandma – and so did the eyes of every other young performer in the dressing room.

  ‘I can’t see any snotlings on the stage anywhere!’ Arianwyn called into the dark theatre, just a little frustrated.

  ‘Well, there don’t appear to be any more snotlings in the auditorium either,’ Grandma called from the back of the theatre. ‘Apart from these two.’ She held two stunned snotlings by their ankles, lit up in the glow of Grandma’s light orb. ‘They’d started to build a nest under this last row of seats!’

  Stagehands and the gaggle of young performers who had been in the dressing room with Salle waited nearby holding torches, lanterns or candles. A faint light wobbled at the edge of the stage, occasionally revealing a glimpse of scenery, painted trees and hills and an ocean that was too blue to be real. A pretend pile of rocks stood in front of Arianwyn.

  ‘But there’s still no time to get the wiring fixed for tonight’s show.’ A tall and very slender man in a dark velvet suit hurried forwards clasping a clipboard to his chest like a shield. ‘And these lights will never do, not at all – why, you can barely see the set, let alone the cast!’

  ‘This is Mr Malcom, he’s the director,’ Salle said to Arianwyn quickly.

  ‘Do we have any more candles?’ Mr Malcom called back off the stage.

  ‘We’ve used all we have, Mr Malcom,’ a voice replied.

  The director sighed and sat on the pretend rock. ‘Botheration! The doors open in fifteen minutes and if we have to refund the tickets we won’t be able to pay anyone and . . . we might have to close the play early.’

  There were gasps of shock from the cast and crew. Arianwyn glanced at Salle, who looked like she might be about to cry.

  ‘Can’t you do something, Wyn?’ Salle asked quietly, nudging her in the ribs.

  Arianwyn looked as her grandmother made her way back towards the stage, the snotlings now banished. Her light orb still hovered beside her head.

  An idea began to unfurl in Arianwyn’s mind. ‘We could make some light orbs – that might help with the candles and everything else?’

  ‘Yes!’ Salle cried, grabbing Arianwyn’s arm and jumping up and down on the spot.

  Mr Malcom glanced round, his eyes wide and a little watery. ‘Oh, would – could you?’ he breathed, clutching the clipboard ever tighter.

  Arianwyn nodded and Mr Malcom gasped with delight. He gestured with a flourish to the centre of the stage and took a large step backwards. The chatter and babble of the stagehands and actors died away at once. And Arianwyn felt suddenly nervous. Even though light orb spells were the easiest to work, it would be a challenge to create them large enough to light the theatre. She knelt on the boards of the stage and stared to sketch ʘru, the light glyph.

  She let her senses reach out for a pocket of magic. There was a seam of magic far down, below the cellars and foundations of the theatre, deep within the earth. It connected with the glyph and flowed slowly towards Arianwyn. As the orb of light began to form, she shaped it, pulled it and turned it until the small light orb was like a huge lantern. Satisfied, she spread her arms wide and the light orb floated up into the high arch above the stage.

  By this point, Grandma had joined her and in a few minutes there were five large light orbs high over the stage casting a bright, magical light over everything.

  ‘Perfection!’ Mr Malcom called and he hurried forwards to shake Arianwyn and Grandma’s hands as they were treated to their very own round of applause.

  ‘Thank you, Wyn. I think you should take a bow!’ Salle laughed.

  But Arianwyn just blushed bright red and smiled.

  When the doors of the auditorium opened, the cast and stagehands scattered like rats in a barn. The huge red curtain was drawn quickly across the stage and Arianwyn and Grandmother were pointed down a flight of steps that took them back to the other side, to the auditorium and their seats.

  ‘See you all in a bit!’ Salle called brightly as she hurried away.

  Colin, Arianwyn and Grandma were walking to their seats, fighting against the flow of incoming theatregoers, when someone called, ‘Elder Stronelli! What a surprise to see you here.’

  Walking towards them were two women, displaying their silver-and-gold stars that marked them as members of the Council of Elders, like Grandma. Arianwyn had no reason to suspect it was one of these two witches that might somehow be involved or responsible for threatening Gimma and planting the hex in the Great Wood, placing Lull and her friends and indeed all of Hylund in great danger, but the thought crossed her mind all the same. After all, the council was made up of fifteen elder witches from all across Hylund. The traitor had likely used a glamour charm to disguise themselves, so finding the culprit was never going to be easy. It really could be any one of the council.

  As they exchanged pleasant chit-chat and council gossip with her grandmother, Arianwyn noticed how the two witches kept glancing towards her, as if they knew something.
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br />   ‘My granddaughter’s friend is in the play,’ Grandma said proudly.

  ‘Ah, how very exciting,’ the taller of the two elders remarked.

  The shorter witch, her hair in intricate braids, smiled at Arianwyn slightly. She felt a shiver run down her spine.

  ‘Have either of you seen Gimma Alverston recently?’ Arianwyn blurted. She was surprised to hear the words come out of her mouth and felt Grandma’s grip tighten on her wrist.

  ‘No, I haven’t seen Miss Alverston since . . . well . . . when would it have been, Ellynor?’ She turned to her colleague.

  ‘It must’ve been several weeks now,’ the other witch replied lightly, as though they were just discussing the weather or the price of bread. ‘Why?’

  Grandma quickly stepped slightly in front of Arianwyn, cutting her short as she was about to reply. ‘A family disagreement, it would appear. The girl’s mother was looking for her yesterday. I’m sure it will have all blown over by now.’

  The theatre bell’s bright but urgent call cut through the noise in the auditorium. ‘Well, we had best find our seats,’ the elder witch said. ‘So delightful to see you again, Miss Gribble, Elder Stronelli.’

  And with that the two elders moved past Arianwyn, Colin and Grandmother and off to their seats. ‘What did you do that for?’ Arianwyn asked as they settled down. ‘Do you think they—’

  ‘Now is not the time, Arianwyn,’ Grandmother warned.

  The hidden orchestra began to play and the huge red curtain swished back. Arianwyn and Grandmother’s light spells cast their magical glow across the stage. The audience gasped.

  And then very quietly Grandmother said, ‘But I don’t trust either one of them.’

  Chapter 5

  The PHOTOGRAPH

  alle, you were amazing!’ Arianwyn called as Salle stepped through the stage door. ‘Will you sign my programme?’

  Salle blushed and then beamed with delight as she signed her name in big curly handwriting across the front of the programme.

  ‘Yes, Salle. You really were marvellous,’ Grandma said. ‘Not that I’m in the least bit surprised.’

  Arianwyn, Grandma and Colin clapped with delight whilst Salle took several curtseys, two bows and one twirl to much cheering and laughing.

  ‘Now it’s getting late, my dears. We all ought to be getting home,’ Grandmother said.

  ‘It’s my day off tomorrow, shall we do something?’ Salle asked as they were gently guided towards the main road to find taxis to ferry them all home. Colin to his parents’ house in Longferry, a district in the east of Kingsport, Salle to her boarding house just a few streets away. And Grandmother and Arianwyn back to the bookshop.

  ‘I have to go and visit my dad in the afternoon. Do you fancy meeting me at the sanatorium at twelve?’ Arianwyn suggested. ‘We can go for lunch and then you can come and see my dad? I’m sure he’d love to meet you at last!’

  ‘Super!’ Salle beamed.

  ‘I’ll see if I can get away for a longer lunch break,’ Colin added.

  ‘That’s all settled then.’ Grandma ushered Salle and Colin into a taxi and Arianwyn watched as they sped off into the night. She could see them laughing and giggling through the window and it made her feel strange in her stomach, though she didn’t know why.

  At lunch the next day, Arianwyn, Salle and Colin were wedged into a booth in a small café just around the corner from St Morag’s. Three steaming mugs of hot chocolate sat on the table before them along with a plate of toasted sandwiches. ‘So what’s going on then?’ Colin asked.

  Arianwyn slipped the photograph out of her pocket and – glancing quickly around them – slid it on to the table. ‘I found this in my dad’s things. He’d told me about a Urisian witch in one of his letters. Do you see it, on his arms?’ she asked, peering at her friends as they in turn peered closely at the photograph. ‘And Dad said a witch from the council had been to see him, asking him about the Uris. Don’t you think that’s a bit fishy?’

  ‘What is that?’ Colin asked as he leant in for a better look.

  ‘Are those—’ Salle began and then stopped. ‘But they look like. No, it can’t be!’ She gave a small nervous laugh.

  ‘Hex?’ Colin asked hoarsely.

  ‘I think so,’ Arianwyn replied. ‘Almost like the markings on Gimma’s arms, don’t you think?’

  They fell silent as they all stared at the photograph.

  ‘Has Miss Newam found out anything more about the hex in the Great Wood?’ Arianwyn asked, turning to Colin.

  He shrugged. ‘Not really. The hex matches samples stored in the C.W.A. labs but we knew that much already. And so many people have access to the building. But she’ll want to know about this, I’m sure.’

  Arianwyn handed over the picture. ‘Then you’d best show her,’ she said.

  Once they’d eaten, the three friends crossed the road to St Morag’s – early visiting hours were nearly over so they raced inside, signing their names in the visitors’ book. As Arianwyn leant over the ledger, she spotted an entry for a few days earlier. There on the page was the name ‘Elder Tully’. Tully . . . she had been one of the witches at the theatre, one of the High Elder’s closest assistants. And the date was the same day Arianwyn had visited for the first time. It had to have been Elder Tully who quizzed her father – it was too much of a coincidence otherwise.

  Arianwyn pointed it out to Salle and Colin. ‘What do you think?’ she whispered.

  ‘She came outside of official visiting hours,’ Salle noted grimly. They all exchanged a glance. Perhaps Grandmother was right to be suspicious. And judging by what Dad had said last time, the elder had been asking about the Urisian witch. Arianwyn felt cold.

  ‘Do you think it could be the same witch who threatened Gimma and spread the hex?’ Colin asked.

  ‘It does seem likely,’ Arianwyn replied softly.

  A few minutes later they were all standing in Sergeant Gribble’s chilly and cheerless bedroom.

  Sergeant Gribble was sitting up in bed. He gave them all an appraising glance as though he was preparing a rather disappointing group of cadets for a parade. ‘And who do we have here?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, this is Salle Bowen. My friend from Lull,’ Arianwyn explained.

  ‘Of course. Salle. I’ve heard a lot about you in Arianwyn’s letters. The actress, yes?’

  Salle blushed and nodded.

  ‘And this is my other friend, Colin Twine. Colin works for the C.W.A.’

  Sergeant Gribble stared hard at Colin.

  ‘How d’you do . . . sir.’ Colin reached out a hand in greeting but Sergeant Gribble didn’t take it.

  Instead, he turned back to Arianwyn. ‘I’ve just seen my doctor and he says I’ll be out of here in time for Yule! Isn’t that great?’

  ‘That’s wonderful.’ Arianwyn hugged her father.

  ‘So you’ll be coming to Lull for the festivities then? How exciting.’ Salle beamed.

  But Sergeant Gribble didn’t reply straight away. He sat up a little straighter. ‘Well, I’m not sure about that yet. Perhaps we can celebrate here in Kingsport like we always used to?’

  Arianwyn couldn’t remember the last Yule she had spent with her father. She vaguely recalled a rushed celebration just before or after Yule about five or six years ago as her father had passed through Kingsport on his way to somewhere else. A hurried meal, hastily wrapped gifts. Nobody had enjoyed it then. She was looking forward to a proper family celebration this year, and she had pictured it in Lull, surrounded by everyone she loved. She saw that her father’s comments had surprised Salle and Colin as well. She cleared her throat nervously. ‘But . . . Dad, I have to go back to Lull tomorrow. There are things I have to do – and they’re going to need me there over Yule. I can’t leave Lull without a witch for long.’

  ‘But I’ll need some help while I’m here. Surely they can spare you for a bit? Blasted C.W.A.’ He glared at Colin as though this were entirely his fault.

  When Arianwyn repli
ed it was with a small voice. ‘I don’t think they can, Dad . . . I’m sorry. I have to get back to help move the qered from the meadow because of the flooding – and I’ll be so behind with the rest of my work too.’

  Everything was silent but for the sound of a bed being wheeled somewhere and the hurried footsteps of a nurse. ‘Well, I suppose if that’s how it is, then that’s how it is,’ her father said eventually with a small smile that made Arianwyn feel suddenly guilty.

  ‘I could come and check in on you, though,’ Salle offered, ‘once Wyn’s gone.’

  ‘But I wouldn’t want to be a bother to you, Salle,’ Sergeant Gribble said.

  ‘I really don’t mind.’ Salle smiled at Arianwyn. She was trying to help.

  ‘Thank you, Salle.’ Arianwyn squeezed her friend’s hand and smiled.

  ‘And you, me and Elder Stronelli can all travel back to Lull together when the play closes in a couple of weeks.’ Salle beamed, already pleased with her plan.

  ‘Oh, I could travel back with you then as well,’ Colin said, only to be met with another sour look from Sergeant Gribble.

  ‘You’re spending Yule in Lull as well, are you?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes . . . sir!’ Colin replied, almost standing to attention. ‘My parents are going to visit my aunt in Newbold for the holidays and there’s not really room there for all of us.’

  ‘Aunt Grace and Uncle Mat invited Colin to stay with us,’ Salle said, her cheeks going quite pink.

  ‘Lovely.’ Arianwyn’s dad groaned.

  ‘Stop being such a grump, Dad!’ Arianwyn laughed, but deep down she had a feeling this was not going to go smoothly at all.

  Why was her father being like that? Was it his injuries or was something else bothering him? Perhaps a rest and getting out of this gloomy hospital would help things to improve.

  Chapter 6

  MRS ALVERSTON

  he next day, early in the morning, Arianwyn was packed and dressed and reluctantly ready to return to Lull. She waited just inside the front door of the bookshop, her bags at her side, her coat pulled tight around as icy rain fell for the third day in a row.