by James Nicol
‘We can rally the townspeople, Arianwyn. Don’t worry about that,’ Mayor Belcher offered calmly, stepping towards her. She could see his hands shaking a little. His face was white. ‘Just send a signal when you need our help. Go and rescue your grandmother . . .’ He gave her a warm smile and rested his hand on Arianwyn’s shoulder. ‘Help Gimma . . .’
Salle stepped forwards and adjusted Arianwyn’s scarf. ‘We’re all behind you,’ she said, and hugged her tight.
Arianwyn turned, the cold tears already swimming in her eyes, then she raced across the town square, following the well-trodden paths through the deep snow.
Her mind was fixed, clear. She didn’t even feel nervous about what she was about to do. She turned down Meadow Street. And ahead, through the high arch of the South Gate she could see the frozen lands beyond Lull. Where was the High Elder going now?
Her boots slipped a little on the packed snow that glinted beneath her. She saw the worried looks on people’s faces as she hurried past. As she reached the gate she could hear the urgent shouts of the mayor, ‘Miss Gribble requires our help now. All our help. Grab anything you can that might help in a fight and follow us.’
She felt a small smile spread across her face and dashed onwards through the gate. Her eyes flicked to the treeline of the Great Wood. Was Estar really there? With other feylings? They were well hidden if they were. A glimmer of hope shone through the darkness of the day, though her mind rumbled with questions that rolled like storm clouds.
She could see the High Elder now. Behind her, Gimma was forcing her grandmother along through the snow. The icy wind dragged across the meadow, tugging at coats and scarves and strands of hair.
‘STOP!’ Arianwyn shouted as loudly as she could as she ran, slipping and sliding after them.
She saw them pause. The High Elder glanced back across her shoulder. She was slightly ahead and separate from Gimma and Grandmother.
This was her chance. Arianwyn hurled a crackling spell orb in the direction of the High Elder. The snow before her exploded, sending her flying to one side with the force of the blast. For a second, everything was white as chunks of ice and billows of steam flew back across the meadow at Arianwyn.
Arianwyn quickly assessed the scene. The High Elder was on the ground a metre or so away, Gimma and Grandma off to one side on a slight slope. ‘Gimma, Grandma, run!’ Arianwyn shouted.
But Gimma stayed put, her hold on Grandma firm. She remained under Constance Braithwaite’s control. The High Elder was rising to her feet – but before there was time for her to attack, Arianwyn summoned ʘru and Årdra.
The spell flare that Grandmother had taught her was ready and she launched it skywards, praying it was enough and that everyone in Lull would spring into action. Though who knew what that action might be.
The High Elder shrank back from the bright spell as it shrieked upwards and flared high in the sky. She looked slightly frightened, and that made Arianwyn glad. Now you know how it feels, she thought.
But the High Elder quickly gathered her wits. Now she crouched low in the ice and snow covering the frozen river. She already held a crackling ball of angry energy in her right hand and her face was full of rage. Now it was Arianwyn’s turn to be afraid.
What was I thinking! I can’t hope to win in a fight against the High Elder!
Arianwyn bunched her hands into fists. She had made a right boggin’ mess out of this and no mistake, she was on really thin ice this time – but she wasn’t going to give up, not this time.
She hoped her friends were ready to fight too.
Chapter 35
FRACTURE
ou’re a fool, Arianwyn. I warned you. But you wouldn’t listen,’ the High Elder growled as she got to her feet, her spell orb, a dark green, crackling in her hand. She looked across at Gimma and Grandma, frozen like ice statues, watching everything unfold before them.
The High Elder made a simple hand gesture and Gimma began to move forwards as though the High Elder had pulled strings or turned a switch. But Gimma had only taken a few steps when a barrage of snowballs flew through the air, pelting the High Elder in the chest and face. As each ball of snow exploded, Arianwyn felt a tingle of magic.
These were the leftover snowballs she had spelled to chase away the maudants! Arianwyn turned to look up at the high walls of Lull. She could see Mayor Belcher, snowball in hand, leaning over the wall edge. There were other welcome faces too, including her father, Salle, Cyril Myddleton and Miss Prynce all armed with spelled snowballs. And amongst the familiar townspeople were different faces, faces covered in midnight-dark feathers, or pale as bone. Even one that was blue with lamp-like eyes that glowed, even in the morning light. They gave a loud cheer.
‘Estar!’ Arianwyn breathed; a wave of relief and hope rushed over her and an unexpected laugh escaped her at the sight. Her heart swelled with love and thanks for her friends and for Lull.
But it didn’t last long as the High Elder gave a loud screech of frustration and threw her pulsating green spell orb up at the wall and the people there.
‘NO!’ Arianwyn cried, but she needn’t have worried as the faces quickly vanished as the orb sailed high over the walls.
‘Your aim isn’t what it used to be, Constance,’ Grandmother said as more snowballs were launched by eager townspeople.
‘Do something!’ the High Elder screamed at Gimma, who released Grandma and then turned and unleashed a burst of black lightning that forked across the snow towards the walls of Lull. Arianwyn spun, sketching Ḁluna into the air. She sent the nearby snowbank shooting upwards like a high white wall. But Gimma’s spell was much stronger and the ice wall shattered into a spray of snow and water that covered them all. The cold made Arianwyn gasp, breathless for a few seconds.
The High Elder formed a new spell orb and aimed it straight at Grandma, who had collapsed, weakened from her ordeal, into the snow.
There was nothing Arianwyn could do; there was no time. But then there was a flash of bright blue light and Estar was suddenly beside Grandma. His hands moved quickly in the air as the High Elder’s spell surged forwards – and then it slammed into an invisible wall and evaporated into nothing more than sparks.
Arianwyn let out a gasp of relief and smiled in thanks at her feyling friend. There was another burst of blue light and both Estar and Grandma vanished.
Her grandmother was safe for now, Arianwyn thought, her heart racing with excitement. She was elated, light with relief! She turned back towards the High Elder and took a deep breath. It wasn’t over just yet.
‘Enough of this!’ the High Elder spat, scrabbling back to her feet. She reached under her coat, covered in snow from the attacks, and pulled out the notebook which she shook at Arianwyn. ‘You have caused this, Arianwyn. This is all your doing. All your fault!’ She flicked quickly through the pages and then paused, her eyes alight with danger.
‘NO – wait!’ Arianwyn called, a sick feeling rising in her stomach. She could sense the High Elder’s next move and it terrified her.
When the High Elder looked up again, her eyes briefly locked with Arianwyn’s before she glanced back at the book and then pressed her hand into the snow beside her. A look of cruel triumph spread across her face.
Arianwyn started to run towards her. ‘Stop!’ But the High Elder’s hand moved quickly, more quickly than Arianwyn could run in the snow and slush that pooled around her feet. As she drew nearer, she saw the High Elder’s eyes shining in the light of the glyph sketched into the snow between them.
The High Elder’s eyes widened, and a frightening grin spread across her face that was all teeth.
‘What have you done?’ Arianwyn asked, reaching out as though she might be able to undo the spell.
‘You have only yourself to blame.’ The High Elder’s grin widened.
Arianwyn stared down into the space in the snow where the High Elder had sketched the glyph. It flashed and flickered there, and Arianwyn felt her heart stop for a second and she rushed f
orwards in panic. ‘That’s . . . the glyph of destruction – you . . . idiot!’ she snapped.
‘I warned you. And now you will have to face the consequences. You and your friends in Lull. It could have been so different, Arianwyn – we could have worked together.’
The ground beneath them seemed to rumble and shake and it was difficult for Arianwyn to keep her balance. The glyph glowed brighter and brighter. She could just see the High Elder through the spell’s brilliance as she shifted, channelling the power of the glyph. But the magic wasn’t as Arianwyn had expected it to be – there was no darkness to it, though she could feel that it was there behind the spell, feel the High Elder’s intentions mingled with the magic.
The High Elder thrust her hands out, but not towards Arianwyn.
Towards the town.
Towards the high, safe, honey-coloured walls of Lull. Arianwyn’s home!
From where the High Elder stood, straight across the snowy ground a jagged tear opened. It zigzagged through the snow, splitting the earth below into a narrow ragged gap. As it reached the walls there was a sound of stone grating against stone. The break in the ground snaked its way up the wall and the grating sound grew louder and louder.
Then suddenly about halfway up the wall, two huge chunks of stone, almost as large as Beryl, tumbled out and fell into the snow. More stone collapsed inwards, but still the crack grew larger. A moment later another massive lump of stone fell, and by now Arianwyn could see through the gap into the town, the rooftops and walls of houses and buildings she knew well. Townspeople high on the tops of the wall cried out in fear and panic. She saw people and feylings rushing about, running away from where the wall was weakening.
She hoped they would be in time. But she could do nothing to help – all she could do was watch.
‘You have brought this all on yourselves!’ the High Elder shouted.
There was a loud pop and the familiar flash of blue light and Estar was next to her again.
‘What do we do?’ Arianwyn asked as they both stared up at the huge chasm in the walls. ‘She’s destroying Lull!’
‘Watch,’ Estar said, his yellow eyes glinting through the dust.
‘Estar—’ Arianwyn began.
‘Watch!’ he said, and again he gripped her shaking hand in his own. It was strangely warm on this cold day so full of fear and terror.
Where the ground was split something now moved, shifted.
It snaked along the ragged tear in the snow. And suddenly bursting through were thick green tendrils, shoots.
Something was growing in the midst of the destruction.
‘What is that?’ Arianwyn asked Estar.
He smiled. ‘The glyph!’
More shoots were springing out of the space in the town walls; they bulged and rippled, thickening in seconds, turning from bright green to dusky brown, casting out branches and leaves and more shoots.
‘TREES?’ the High Elder screeched.
Arianwyn turned, as surprised as the High Elder at what was unfolding before them.
‘What is this?’ the High Elder demanded.
‘The power of the glyph,’ Estar explained simply.
‘But it was supposed to be a spell of destruction,’ she spat angrily, stomping a little further forwards. ‘You said so in the notebook!’The High Elder glared at Arianwyn as though this were all her fault.
‘Indeed,’ Estar replied. ‘Ðraxen is a powerful glyph. It is a feyling word for destruction . . . but also for change and transformation. For to undergo our greatest transformation things sometimes must be destroyed, like a seed bursting open to form a shoot that grows into a mighty tree!’ He gestured back to where all along the route of the spell’s path trees were growing, twisting up through the snow and reaching for the high cloudy sky. ‘A seed bursting into a shoot might look like destruction to someone who knew no better.’ He grinned wide.
‘You tricked me!’ the High Elder spat.
Arianwyn could feel herself shaking; it was terror, but excitement as well. She glanced at Estar – he had known all along what the spell would do.
‘The feyling magic isn’t dark, High Elder. It’s only your intention that makes the spell that way. But even you cannot undo the ancient magic in the quiet glyphs.’
‘I will destroy Lull and everyone in the wretched town!’ the High Elder shouted.
But before she could say or do anything more, everything seemed to jolt to one side. The ground beneath them gave a terrible lurch and groaned, and Arianwyn was suddenly stumbling and sliding as the world pitched.
What was happening now?
All around them the frozen ground was shifting, huge lumps of ice breaking apart as though struck with a huge hammer. Cracks spread out in every direction. The spell was still at work, Arianwyn realized. It was causing some sort of earthquake. For a moment, there was stillness.
‘Enough!’ The High Elder was standing over her, her eyes wide. She grabbed Arianwyn’s coat and pulled her to her feet. ‘You’ve always been decidedly too tricky a witch for your own good, Arianwyn Gribble. Well, I won’t put up with it any longer.’The High Elder aimed a strong kick at Estar, sending him flying back across the fractured ground with a small cry.
And then there was a terrific cracking sound that filled the air around them. The High Elder’s grip was tight around Arianwyn’s uniform coat, but there was panic in the older witch’s eyes. It sounded as through the whole earth was splitting in two, lurching and shifting even worse than before, large chunks of the ground sliding over each other.
Arianwyn realized with a sickening feeling that it wasn’t the ground at all . . . She glanced around herself. The land rose up a little to her left. There was the East Gate bridge. That meant . . .
They were in the middle of the frozen River Torr. Except it wasn’t frozen any more!
As more of the ground – no, the ice – split open, steam rose up into the air around them, obscuring the view.
There was another lurch of the ice under her feet and Arianwyn stumbled backwards, out of the High Elder’s grip, and felt her head crack against a large solid something. A sharp pain spread out from the back of her head. Her vision blurred and was filled for a few moments with bright blasts and flashes of colour. The edges of her vision grew dark as she lay stunned, the coolness of the ice a relief against her back. But under her coat she could feel the ice moving. She tried to get up but her arms and legs felt too heavy. Any moment though, she knew she would slide through into the river below or the water would surge over the ice and claim her. It didn’t feel as terrifying as she had imagined it should, but perhaps that was because she had just whacked her head.
Sure enough, she could feel the chill pull of ice water running under and around her at last.
And then she felt hands on her arms and shoulders and she was being pulled, then dragged then lifted. The steam and snow flying about in the air kept everything shrouded in a veil of white. ‘It’s all right,’ said a raspy, dry voice near her ear. ‘It’s OK.’
She could feel herself being dragged away. Arianwyn had lost all sense of where she was, even though she tried to look about herself. Again the raspy voice said, ‘You’re safe now.’ She saw a grey hand move past her face and she quickly scrabbled to her feet. Gimma was standing before her, the High Elder’s charm ripped free from her wrist at last, her skin torn and sore. Estar was at her side.
‘Gimma?’ Arianwyn said, brushing ice and snow from her coat. ‘Estar?’
‘He removed the charms,’ Gimma said, her voice still dry and hushed.
Arianwyn could see the red raw marks on Estar’s hands, where the magic had worked against them both. It must hurt so much, she thought. ‘You should put some snow on that,’ she offered, still feeling a little muddled after the blow to her head.
But before she could say anything more there was another cracking, wrenching sound as more large chunks of ice were suddenly tipping up on end, cracking and slipping under the fast-flowing water. Arianwyn
moved forwards, searching for the High Elder. But Gimma reached out and held her back. ‘There’s nothing you can do, Wyn,’ she said quietly. ‘She’s gone.’
They watched the water surge past, tumbling the huge broken slabs of ice as though they were nothing more than leaves in a stream.
Chapter 36
HEALING
rianwyn hurried along the busy street towards the Civil Witchcraft Authority building. She weaved in and out of the people on the pavement as cars, buses and vans sped past on the road. A boy stood on the side of the road selling newspapers, thrusting them into the arms of passers-by as he called, ‘New Council of Elders to be elected today!’
As she neared the high black gates at the front of the C.W.A. building, Arianwyn realized that one of her shoelaces was undone. She’d have to stop to tie it up before she fell flat on her face. As she knelt, she heard a booming bright voice call out over the sound of the busy street, ‘Arianwyn, dear!’ Turning, she saw Miss Delafield striding across the road, oblivious to the traffic hurtling past and around her. Her coat flapped out behind her, arms wide in greeting. ‘Hello! Hello!’
‘Miss Delafield!’ Arianwyn leapt up from the pavement and straight into Miss Delafield’s open arms. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
They held each other tight for several long moments as the world whizzed around them. ‘So, what do you think is going on?’ Arianwyn asked as they walked, arms linked, towards the C.W.A. gates. ‘I had a call from Grandmother yesterday asking me to come straight away – my train only got in an hour ago.’
Miss Delafield grinned, twirling her satchel in a wide circle. ‘And I’ve been recalled from my posting out in Hagley Bottom.’ She laughed.
Arianwyn came to a halt and turned quickly. ‘Really? Are you coming back to Flaxsham?’
