The Scent of Magic

by Cliff McNish

  The remaining students had fallen silent. They stared nervously at the teacher.

  ‘It’s … it’s … seventeen thousand six hundred and forty-two.’ She winced, realizing the answer was wrong.

  Paul looked awkward. He glanced at his classmates for support, but there was none. Through their silence the teacher could be heard softly sobbing.

  ‘Hey, all right, I get the message,’ Paul said self-consciously, shrugging off the accusing glances of his classmates. ‘I’ll stop, then.’

  The teacher’s arm, still gripping the eraser, dropped to her side.

  Then, swiftly, it shot back up. In a frenzy she slammed the eraser into the whiteboard and effaced her whole body.

  Paul, looking frightened himself for the first time, hesitantly looked around the classroom. ‘No, Calen,’ he said. ‘This isn’t funny at all.’

  An icy voice boomed, blasting in all directions through the room. ‘Really? I think it is. Continue with the game.’

  Paul shook his head. ‘No. I’ve had enough, Calen. Really, I—’

  ‘Had enough?’ laughed the voice. The glasses, shoes and other objects on the desk were thrown at the walls. ‘You think this is enough?’

  Suddenly, a thick yellow snake curled about the teacher’s waist. She tried to squirm away, but her body was not under her own control.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ Eric fumed, and Rachel also glanced uncertainly at Morpeth.

  ‘Don’t lose your nerve,’ Morpeth said. ‘This is only meant to frighten. The Witch wants Paul to go further. Get ready to intervene only if we must.’

  Paul stared in disbelief at the snake. ‘Hey, what’s going on, Calen? This wasn’t part of the game we agreed.’

  ‘You stopped playing,’ said the voice. ‘Therefore, I changed the rules.’

  The snake wriggled up the teacher’s back. It slid down her neck and across her chest and knees. Touching the floor it extended its body cobra-fashion, raising its sleek yellowness fully up – and stared directly at Paul.

  ‘Finish the game,’ the snake said silkily.

  ‘No,’ Paul objected. ‘You said I could do what I wanted. This is just punishment. I want to stop.’

  ‘But I don’t want you to stop,’ said the snake. ‘And this is not punishment, Paul. Real punishment is fear, taken to the furthest degree. Take the teacher to that place.’ The snake moved smoothly forward until its head was inches from Paul’s nose. ‘Did you hear me? Or am I wasting my time with you? Perhaps I should punish you instead!’

  ‘No, please,’ Paul implored it. ‘Please don’t. I’ll do anything you want.’

  ‘Will you?’ The snake whispered a command.

  ‘I won’t do that,’ he whimpered. ‘No, I can’t. Don’t make me.’

  ‘You want to do it,’ said the snake seductively. ‘You told me that you dislike this teacher. Now show me how much!’

  Paul retreated from the snake. It followed him to the back of the classroom, close to where Rachel, Eric and Morpeth were hiding.

  ‘Don’t waste my time,’ the snake urged him. ‘Just do what I ask!’ Its voice became impatient. ‘Why can’t you enjoy this? What holds you back? You have a worthless adult at your mercy. Don’t waver, Paul. You’ve nearly finished. One more little step. It’s so easy.’

  ‘I … can’t,’ Paul said, his expression agonized. He could barely raise his head. ‘It’s what … I’m not …’ He began crying, not caring what his classmates thought.

  ‘Stop that!’ raged the snake.

  Paul could not hide his tears. They choked out of him.

  ‘You useless wretch!’

  A shiver passed through the snake’s coils. The next moment Calen, standing over seven feet tall, disdainfully surveyed the classroom. Nylo slithered in a close yellow spiral about her neck. The children were frozen in various postures, unable to move. Calen ignored them, striding angrily around the room, kicking over empty desks and chairs. She loomed over the teacher, releasing the spells that made her face the whiteboard. Shaking uncontrollably the teacher turned. When she saw Calen, her legs collapsed. Amused, Calen waited until the teacher had heaved herself back into her chair.

  ‘I despise you,’ Calen said. ‘All you have taught these children is respect for weakness.’

  Unsteadily the teacher sat up. For a few seconds she simply stared in terror at the creature above her. Then, with as much assurance as she could manage, she placed the tips of her fingers on the desk to limit their shaking and gazed directly into Calen’s tattooed eyes.

  ‘Leave. Nobody wants you here.’

  Calen appraised her. She walked to the whiteboard and dragged her claws, tearing the surface to shreds. ‘Do you know what I could do to you?’

  ‘I’ve seen enough to guess,’ said the teacher. Her blouse was ruffled, her eyes still red with tears, but her voice held steady. ‘Paul doesn’t want to follow you. Neither will the other children here, not willingly. Whatever you are, go back to the place you came from.’

  Calen punched her claw in frustration through the wall. ‘I would like nothing better!’ She glared angrily at Paul. ‘However, first this one must learn to do what he is told, when he is told, without argument.’ She swivelled back to the teacher. ‘Time to teach all your precious class a new kind of lesson.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Nothing complicated,’ said Calen. ‘Children only understand simple threats. Get up.’

  The teacher had no magic with which to fight back. She rose at once.

  ‘Walk to the window,’ ordered the Witch.

  Without hesitation the teacher pushed back her chair and strode towards the glass.

  ‘Leave her alone, Calen!’ warned Paul.

  ‘Ah, defiance,’ she cried. ‘At last! Stop me, then, if you can.’ To the teacher she said, ‘Open the window and get on the ledge.’

  The teacher obeyed. Releasing the locks, she pulled the window wide, staring down at the concrete playground over sixty feet below.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ Calen asked the teacher. She waved a claw impatiently. ‘I don’t want you in this class any longer.’

  ‘No, miss!’ Paul leapt forward. ‘Get away from the window!’ Closing his eyes, he used a spell to slam it shut.

  ‘Good,’ said Calen. ‘Resist me. Is this the way I have to teach you? Drag you every step of the way? Very well. Match my spells.’

  The teacher, with a strangled cry, opened the window again. She stepped through onto the narrow ledge.

  ‘Rachel!’ Eric exploded. ‘What are you doing? We must help her!’

  ‘Get ready,’ Morpeth said.

  The teacher bent her knees and leaned forward on her toes, ready to dive.

  ‘Jump,’ said the Witch.

  ‘No!’ screamed Paul, lunging for the teacher’s legs.

  He reached her in time, but the teacher, with tears in her eyes, kicked him off.

  And jumped.

  As the teacher fell from sight the children closed their eyes, waiting for the sound of the impact. When there was none, a few of those furthest from Calen craned their necks to look out of the window.

  And their teacher looked back up at them. She was unharmed. She stood in the playground, shakily feeling her arms and legs, unable to believe they were not pulverized.

  Paul numbly blinked. ‘I tried … did … did I do that?’

  ‘No,’ said Calen scornfully. ‘That would be too much to hope for.’ She shattered the spell concealing Rachel, Eric and Morpeth.

  Eric did not think. He simply ran past the desks of gasping children and jumped on Calen’s back, punching her face over and over. Calen did not bother to ward off the blows. Instead she allowed Eric to repeatedly strike her slashed nose and bony eye-ridges, interested in what the punches might feel like. Finally, as if he were a mildly irritating insect, she tossed Eric aside – but gently.

  Paul was dumbfounded. ‘Who saved the teacher? Him?’

  ‘Partly. The girl did th
e rest.’ Calen’s gaze slowly took in the whole of Rachel. ‘You helped destroy my sister,’ she said. ‘It is difficult to restrain myself from killing you.’

  Calen’s body shook – though not with fear. Everyone in the class could see that it shook with the effort not to fight – to hold back on Calen’s deep instinct to crush Rachel at once. Her body instinctively readied itself for combat. Blood oozed into her skin, brightening her red face. Her claws lengthened. The ligaments of her arms and legs swelled and hardened. Her eyes, the only vulnerable part of Calen’s head, became slit-like, retreating inside their bony covers. And her four mouths flew wide, the black teeth aching to taste Rachel’s flesh.

  But she held back.

  ‘How many of you are there?’ demanded Morpeth. ‘How many Witches?’

  ‘One is too many for you,’ laughed Calen. She stared at Rachel. ‘There is no Wizard this time to come to your rescue, child. And while you’ve dallied here, your baby friend has found a new home.’ She eased her broad shoulders through the window frame and vanished, taking Paul with her.

  ‘Yemi,’ Rachel whispered.

  Leaving Eric and Morpeth in the classroom she shifted in great leaps to his home. Arriving breathlessly, she looked through one of the open square windows of the hut. One half of the room was in total shade. Sobbing came from the darkness, from a figure on the floor. In the sunlit part of the house sat Fola, her arm reaching into the shade to comfort the figure.

  ‘He gone,’ Fola said to Rachel. ‘Taken. By this.’

  Fola bared her teeth, then searched for a way to make her meaning clear. Finally she placed both her wrists against her cheeks, pointed the fingers stiffly outwards and wriggled them.

  Rachel immediately sent out her information spells, searching for the distinctive scent of Yemi, Calen or anything that might represent a Witch. She found nothing. Shifting rashly, she had streamed across half the world before she realized something even more sinister: Yemi’s was not the only missing scent. There were no keen traces of magic left anywhere.

  All the children with the strongest magic had been abducted.

  10

  The Finest

  Child

  From paths and roads, from the doorways of their homes, from their beds, and from every place in the world children lived, the Witches stole them. Each continent yielded its number. The Witches carried some children away directly in their muscular arms; others, those who could quickly learn rudimentary flight, flew alongside their Witch, left to wonder where they were being taken. The smallest children, when they looked at the Witch on the journey, saw only another youngster, but more wild and free-spirited than any they knew – and more persuasive. Older children were rarely treated so delicately. The Witches did not bother to hide their true appearance, and these children either kept up or were dragged in terror to the north of the planet.

  Arriving at the Witch-base, they were greeted by the eye-towers. There were five, arranged in a wide circle, thrusting assuredly into the upper clouds. Each child was appointed a Witch trainer, and deposited within her tower. Here their original clothing was removed, and they were rebadged within a unisex emerald body-suit. In the youngest children it became difficult to tell boy from girl. Training began immediately in the simplest fledgling spells: flight; entrapment; concealment; basic aggression and defence tactics. Mostly the children were taught in an atmosphere of fear, but Calen had studied something of the interactions between adults and children, and for the youngest a little time was set aside for play, and enough for rest, and there were even attempts at encouragement and soft spoken commands.

  The Witches were learning.

  Finally Heebra herself inspected the seventy-eight children selected and prepared by her Witches.

  All the children stood in lines, completely motionless. They were at attention, undergoing an endurance test in the polar snows. In midsummer above the Arctic Circle the sun never quite sets. It shines day and night, and the children had been following its arcing journey up and half down the sky for a long time. Winds cold enough to freeze human blood battered them, but they were careful not to shiver or show the slightest trace of discomfort.

  ‘Are these the superior ones?’ Heebra asked.

  ‘Yes,’ answered Calen. ‘The most gifted from each country. The finest children.’

  Heebra flew between the tidily arranged lines, searching for weaknesses. ‘How long have they been standing?’

  ‘Over seventeen hours.’

  ‘Without food or rest?’

  ‘In most cases without even moving,’ Calen assured her. ‘

  What about this one?’ Heebra pointed at a dark-skinned baby boy.

  ‘Ah, that is Yemi. At least we think so. Yemi is the main word he uses, anyway. He’s the youngest of all.’

  Yemi sat happily packing snow around his feet. As Heebra observed him, several large yellow butterflies perched on his toes also observed her. Their wings were the size of his face.

  ‘He brought the insects with him from Africa,’ explained Calen. ‘They’re growing, changing. As Yemi learns to use his magic they also develop. Yesterday they were less than half that size.’

  Yemi held out his arms to be picked up by Heebra.

  ‘What does he want?’ she asked.

  ‘It is their peculiar way of seeking attention,’ said Calen, She bent down and gingerly lifted Yemi with one claw, holding him at arm’s length from her jaws. All four sets of teeth strained forward to reach him.

  Heebra grinned. ‘You make a poor human mother.’

  ‘His softness is appetizing,’ Calen admitted, retracting her teeth.

  Heebra sniffed the air, closely studying Yemi. ‘There is a magnificence about him. He could be dangerous.’

  ‘He’s too young to be a threat yet,’ said Calen. She showered Yemi with spiders from her jaws, dropping them between his legs. He picked them up admiringly and showed the largest spiders to his own Camberwell Beauties. ‘Our real appearance does not appal him,’ said Calen. ‘In fact, unlike the older children, nothing seems to frighten him.’

  Heebra examined Yemi’s trusting face. ‘It is the intensity of our magic that fascinates him. He is drawn to it. We must keep him close, train him separately from the other children, not allow them to influence the boy. Does he miss the mother?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Keep him near you,’ said Heebra. ‘Learn how to become a convincing replacement.’

  ‘You really think he’s so special?’

  ‘I have no doubt,’ said Heebra emphatically.

  Yemi tickled Calen’s ankle.

  ‘Later,’ she hushed him.

  Heebra looked amused. ‘What does he expect?’

  ‘He wants to play a game. It is how they learn.’

  ‘Show me.’

  Calen allowed Yemi to grip a gnarled foot-claw. Holding on firmly with both hands, he squeezed his eyes tight shut with expectation as Calen took flight. After a slow climb to a few hundred feet, she kicked him off. Yemi descended inexpertly, more like a paper aeroplane lost in the winds than real flight, but he landed softly enough. As soon as he touched the ground he held up his arms for another ride.

  ‘Yesterday he could not fly at all,’ said Calen. ‘Remarkable progress.’

  Heebra nodded, then returned her attention to the older children.

  ‘I take it they have all passed first-stage training?’

  ‘Some are advanced fliers already,’ said Calen. ‘And, as you see, the cold is no longer a problem.’

  ‘Yes, they’re disciplined enough,’ noted Heebra. ‘How can we obtain their loyalty?’

  ‘They fear us anyway,’ Calen answered. ‘For now we can use that to control them. Some are surprisingly unwilling to injure the adults, even when pushed.’ She glared at Paul. He stood in line with the rest, shoulders slumped, his spiky hair the only mark to distinguish him from the other taller children. ‘Some can be charmed,’ Calen said. ‘A few have had particular experiences we can ex
ploit.’ She smiled, pointing out Heiki, who gazed haughtily back. ‘That girl, for instance. I have lavished particular care on her. The rest need more work, but Heiki is dependable in every way. She could pass most intermediate student challenges on Ool.’

  ‘So confident?’ said Heebra. ‘Then I’ll test her. And if she fails it is you I’ll punish.’

  From her own place in the lines of children Heiki tried to follow the conversation between Calen and Heebra. They appeared to be discussing her. Good. Unlike the other children, she desired to be noticed. At first she had found all the Witches’ appearance repulsive; but the longer she spent with Calen the more captivated she became. Calen exuded an effortlessness of power, imposing her authority in a brash, offhand, way. And yet, Heiki saw, at the same time her gestures were lithely keen and smooth – almost graceful. And no one else seemed to notice how tenderly Calen spoke to her soul-snake, Nylo. He idolized her, wandering freely about her torso, mirroring her many moods.

  From the earliest days, Calen had paid Heiki special attention. Sometimes they stood together for hours, chatting like sisters, almost as if they were equals, discussing the merits of the other boys and girls. Heiki had already learned the names of the most impressive children – Siobhan, Paul, Veena, Xiao-hong, Marshall and, of course, that oddity Yemi. She didn’t care about the rest, and was still trying to decide if any of them could be trusted.

  Calen parted from Heebra and glided towards her.

  ‘Justify my faith in you,’ she said huskily. ‘Prove yourself the best, and your reward will be as I promised.’

  ‘I won’t fail,’ Heiki said. ‘Am I going to be tested? What will—’

  ‘You’ll see. Prepare yourself.’

  Without warning Heiki’s body was suddenly wrenched from the ground.

  She stood – alone – in a large field of virgin snow near the eye-towers. At the end of the field all the Witches gradually assembled, their black dresses swept back by the wind. Most stroked polar bears – the only pets hardy enough to take the scraping of a Witch’s claw. The rest of the children were bunched at the feet of the Witches responsible for their training.