by Cliff McNish
‘I’m not sure what to believe yet,’ Morpeth said. He turned to Rachel. ‘Send out your information spells. If Witches are attacking or have recently attacked anyone there should be some clear evidence.’
Rachel did so, and distantly sensed powerful spells being used. Some were from a child, a child raising all its defensive spells against massive forces.
‘Two Witches,’ Rachel breathed. ‘Two Witches against one child. They’re fighting now. She won’t stand a chance.’
‘How far away?’ Eric asked.
‘Hundreds of miles.’
Eric thumped the table. ‘If I could get close, I could destroy the spells.’ He gazed at Rachel. ‘Can you get there in time to help her?’
‘I’m needed here. I can’t leave you!’
‘Please,’ pleaded one of the girls. ‘You mustn’t leave Ciara to fight on her own!’
Far off Rachel could sense Ciara’s pain. She was torn: leave a poor, unknown girl to fight alone, or leave Mum with only Eric and Morpeth to defend her against the magic of the favourites.
‘Morpeth,’ she said bluntly. ‘Tell me: what should I do?’
‘Go,’ he told her. ‘Ciara can’t survive long. We can defend this house for a while, I’m certain. Trust me: if there are five Witches out there who want us dead, even with you here we won’t be able to stop them. Get to that girl, before it’s too late.’
Rachel glanced at Mum who half-nodded, half-shook her terrified face.
‘Wait!’ Morpeth whispered in Rachel’s ear. ‘Can you put a scent-tag on me? A trace you could follow?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘Do it.’
Rachel quickly completed the spell, and made the scent-tag difficult to detect.
Then, a long way off, she felt a child’s defences suddenly shatter.
With a final agonized glance at everyone, she shifted.
As soon as Rachel left Paul buried his face in his hands.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘So sorry.’
‘Pretty nicely done,’ said another, older, pale-skinned boy, slapping Paul’s back. So far this boy had been silent throughout. ‘Heiki reckoned you would be the best to convince them,’ he said. ‘She was right. I thought you’d mess it up, actually.’
Paul half-raised his head. ‘Marshall, no one here gets hurt. That’s what we agreed.’
‘Whatever,’ said Marshall, dismissively.
He waved to the children outside. At this signal they swarmed towards the house, some calling out the names of friends inside.
‘How could you do that?’ Eric raged at Paul. ‘How could you!’
Tears poured down Paul’s face. ‘I couldn’t … I—’
‘Oh, shut up,’ said Marshall, brushing him aside.
Morpeth drew Eric and Mum close, furiously trying to decide how he could protect them.
‘I suppose that Witch Calen is with you,’ Eric snarled at Marshall. ‘You don’t have the guts to be doing this on your own.’
‘We don’t need her help with Rachel out of the way,’ Marshall said.
Eric raised his hands. ‘Do you think I’m just going to let you do what you want? I’ll snuff out all your spells.’
‘Will you, now.’ Two children, strength boosted by their magic, grasped Mum’s arms and legs. ‘We’ve been taught all about your weird gift,’ Marshall said to Eric. ‘So this is what’s going to happen. You and Morpeth come with us. Mum stays here. If you interfere with any of our spells we have orders to kill Morpeth on the journey. And just in case either of you try anything funny we’re leaving some kids behind to take care of Mumsy.’
‘Don’t you dare harm her!’ raged Eric.
‘We’ll do what we want.’
‘Your performance isn’t very polished,’ Morpeth said, gazing levelly at Marshall. ‘You’re under orders, aren’t you? Whose orders? What have you been told to do with Eric’s mother?’
‘What do you care?’ Marshall said. ‘Heiki doesn’t mind much what happens to her, or you for that matter. It’s Eric she’s got special plans for.’
Paul glanced up. ‘Their mum wasn’t part of the deal. And what are these plans for Eric? I don’t remember anything about them.’
‘Heiki didn’t trust you with everything,’ Marshall said.
‘Marshall,’ Mum tried, her eyes pleading with him. ‘Look, I know … you’re not impressed by me … adults generally. I suppose without magic we just seem—’
‘A hindrance,’ finished Marshall. ‘That’s right. Parents are worthless now.’
‘Says who?’ asked Eric angrily.
‘Heiki.’
‘Who’s that? A Witch?’
‘A girl. You’ll find out.’
‘It sounds like she scares you!’ Eric said scornfully.
‘Maybe she does,’ Marshall muttered.
Behind them, came two panted breaths.
A girl stooped to look. ‘Hey, what are these?’
The prapsies shivered in the doorway. They had crept from Eric’s bed and had been fearfully watching, ready to fly at anyone who tried to touch him.
‘We are biters!’ one cried, opening its gummy, toothless mouth.
‘Oh, they talk,’ the girl gasped. ‘I want one!’
There was a flurry as many of the children reached out, but the prapsies were too fast – and dodged away.
‘Leave them alone!’ Eric blasted at Marshall. ‘Fight me, you coward. Or are you scared?’
‘I’m not scared of you,’ growled Marshall.
‘You are,’ Morpeth said, in a voice he made sure all the children would hear. ‘All this brave talk. There’s nothing behind it except fear of the Witches and what they’ll do. Are you on trial yourself, Marshall?’ He saw Marshall’s eyes widen slightly. ‘This task is a test you’ve been set, isn’t it?’ Morpeth said. ‘Your behaviour …is being watched.’
Marshall glanced nervously out of one of the windows, then regained his composure. He sniffed the air surrounding Morpeth.
‘No magic,’ he said sarcastically. ‘And I hear you’re an old man in a boy’s body. That’s a curious thing.’
‘Perhaps,’ replied Morpeth. ‘But I am what I am. What are you, Marshall?’
Marshall shrugged. At a signal from him the two children holding Mum gripped her tightly, while the remainder started to pull Eric and Morpeth towards the broken windows.
Eric peered at the street chimneys. ‘Where are you taking us?’
‘On a nice trip,’ Marshall said, as if he was announcing the start of a picnic.
‘Where?’
‘You don’t want to hear. A long, cold journey.’
‘Then you’d better clothe us better than this,’ Morpeth said, indicating Eric’s pyjamas and his own lightweight clothes. Without waiting for an answer from Marshall, he strode into the spare room. Mum joined him, her hands shaking as she helped to look for trousers and shoes. She found a coat that fitted Morpeth, and pushed past a few children to go upstairs to get one thick enough for Eric.
‘You’ve had enough time,’ Marshall said to her, when she returned empty-handed.
‘But I can’t find anything!’ she shouted. ‘How dare … no, look, let me check under the stairs, please … I think …’
‘Just get on with it,’ Marshall hissed.
Morpeth took his time getting dressed, all the while looking steadily at Marshall. ‘You weren’t told what to do if you got any opposition, were you? What was the instruction from your Witch or Heiki? – just do away with me or Mum if we got difficult? Well, go on, then. Are you going to kill us for putting on a few clothes?’
Marshall said nothing, and Mum, discovering Dad’s duffel coat at last, flung it around Eric’s shoulders. She fumblingly pulled some of her own gloves – the only ones she could find – over his fingers, trying to find a reassuring smile.
‘Let’s go!’ Marshall blasted finally. ‘Come on!’
‘Not yet,’ Morpeth said. ‘These clothes won’t be enough if we’r
e flying far. We’ll need magic to keep us warm as well.’
‘You’ll get no special protection from me,’ sneered Marshall. ‘I’ve listened to you for long enough.’ He gazed at the other children. ‘You know what Heiki and the Witches will do to us if we fail,’ he said. ‘Get them to the windows!’ The galvanized children dragged Eric and Morpeth across the room, while the two with Mum struggled to hold her back.
Morpeth caught her terrified gaze. This time he felt that he could make no promises. ‘I won’t let them harm Eric,’ he said anyway. ‘Trust that.’
The children finished hauling Eric and Morpeth to the window. At Marshall’s signal they flew up the walls of the house and over the peaked roof, into the chilly night air. The prapsies followed a short way behind. They wanted to stay near Eric, but the children swiped at them whenever they hovered too close, so they stayed as near as they dared, shouting insults at the children holding his arms and legs.
While Eric could still be heard by Mum he craned his neck, calling hoarsely, ‘Wait for Rachel! She’ll be back soon.’
Marshall swept alongside him. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘Heiki has her now.’
Rachel arrived breathlessly over a dense oak wood.
Sensing the two departing Witches, she swooped down, searching in the undergrowth. Was she too late?
A girl lay on her face, draped across the roots of a tree. Her hair was ginger, curly, and smeared with blood – yet somehow she was alive. Rachel knelt beside her. Drawing on her healing spells she knitted the skin on the girl’s back where it had been slashed by the Witches. She set the femur of her broken leg. She lowered the swelling where a claw had fastened about the girl’s throat. Any doubts Rachel had about being lured into a trap were removed by the piteous state of her injuries.
Eventually the girl sat up. She swayed, seemingly dazed.
‘You’re safe,’ Rachel said softly. ‘Don’t be afraid, Ciara.’
‘Where have the Witches gone?’
‘I’m not sure, but they’re not close. I can’t sense their presence.’ She smiled. ‘I’m Rachel.’
‘We’ve heard all about you. The child who defeated a Witch! Wow!’
‘I had help,’ Rachel said distractedly. Her information spells scanned for any approaching danger. ‘Why didn’t the Witches finish you off? They had time.’
‘Who knows?’ the girl said. Her eyes glinted. ‘Did you know the Witches are training a bad girl to get you? I’ve met her. Scary thing. Bite your head off.’
Rachel nodded. ‘Where have the Witches been keeping the children all this time?’
‘Mostly at the equator. That’s where they train them.’
The equator? An odd choice, Rachel thought. And she wondered about this strange girl. She had not asked about Paul or the reject kids once. Was she in shock from the Witches’ attack? Possibly, though she also appeared so composed. That was it, Rachel realized. This girl looked poised, as if ready for anything.
‘We must get back to my house,’ Rachel said urgently, explaining what had happened. ‘Can you fly?’
‘Of course.’ The girl rose stiffly. ‘I’m your greatest admirer, by the way. You’ll murder that Heiki girl!’
Rachel sent her information spells after the scent-tag she had left on Morpeth. For some reason he had moved away from the house. ‘Something’s wrong,’ she said. ‘Let’s hurry.’
‘On the way I will teach you all my spells,’ the girl said eagerly. ‘And you?’
‘We’ll see.’
The girl clapped her hands in delight. ‘Two friends! That’s what we are!’
Rachel flew rapidly towards home. The girl matched her speed.
‘You’re very good,’ Rachel complimented.
‘I’m hopeless. Can’t do shape-shifting like you, or anything.’ As Rachel prepared to shift, the girl screamed. ‘Sorry, that hurts so much. Please don’t.’
‘But we have to get back. It’ll take over an hour if we can only fly!’
‘No please,’ begged the girl, sagging into her arms. ‘Hold me! I’m still feeling so weak.’
Rachel embraced her tightly and flew as fast as she could, waiting for the girl to recover.
Heiki smiled to herself. Perhaps this was going to be too simple. Rachel was impressive, but easily fooled, like all the others. Far too trusting. Of course, she had gone to great lengths to be absolutely sure to convince her. Relying on Rachel’s ability to heal injuries, she had allowed the Witches to really damage her badly before they left.
That’s the difference between me and you, Rachel, thought Heiki. I’ll go through any amount of pain to get what I want. How much pain can you endure?
‘Please go more slowly,’ she implored Rachel in a feeble voice, as they sliced through scattered, wispy cloud. ‘I’m so very frightened.’
12
Ocean
Morpeth counted a troupe of twenty-seven children.
Ten carried him and Eric by the arms and legs, keeping them separated. The rest formed a guarding ring. Marshall was up front, the obvious leader. Paul flew alongside him, occasionally glancing apprehensively back to Eric. There was no sign of a Witch – and no sign of Rachel.
For a while they travelled eastwards, soaring over crop-laden fields, lit by stars and the waning moon. Then Marshall turned the troupe towards the Arctic. Leaving land behind, they headed off over the churning waves of the North Sea. Intensely cold, blustery air now carved into the children. The troupe had magic to ward off the severe winds, but Eric’s and Morpeth’s only protection were jumpers, gloves and coats. Morpeth knew from Ithrea how to keep his limbs moving constantly to ward off frostbite, but Eric had no such knowledge. Against the raw wind Dad’s big heavy coat wasn’t enough. Within minutes Morpeth sensed Eric starting to fade. Was this the fate Heiki had planned for Eric, he wondered – to kill him slowly during the flight?
Not while I live, thought Morpeth.
‘Eric needs more protection!’ he roared over the winds.
Marshall heard him, but said nothing.
‘I expect Heiki wants her cargo delivered alive,’ Morpeth called out. ‘If you botch it, Marshall, if we die of exposure on the journey, she won’t be happy.’
‘I’ll insulate them,’ he heard Paul say to Marshall. ‘Leave it to me.’
Marshall wavered, then said angrily, ‘The minimum of warmth for Eric. Just enough to make sure he doesn’t freeze. As for Morpeth, he gets nothing. Do you hear? Nothing.’
Paul extended a thin warm blanket of air around Eric’s face and neck. His gaze lingered on Morpeth, but he was clearly too nervous to ignore Marshall’s warning.
Left utterly exposed, Morpeth gritted his teeth and bore the pain as best he could. He flexed and unflexed his fingers, trying to hold the image of Rachel in his mind while he turned his attention to the children carrying him. They were uneasy. It was obvious to him that Heiki and the Witches must have presented this task as some sort of brazen game or adventure. Most were not fooled. Morpeth spoke to them. As they flew higher into ever colder air he asked the children questions about families and friends, to remind them what they had left behind. They did not answer, clearly under orders, but their grip loosened, and their bodies moved slightly closer to guard him from the howling winds. Soon they were bending low to hear his rough voice.
Paul’s layer of warmth kept Eric alive, but his body was still pierced by the cutting gusts. As time went by he fell in and out of consciousness. The prapsies stayed close, trying to convince themselves that Eric was well, tears freezing against their cheeks.
‘Wake up, you precious wonder!’
‘Oh wake, will you!’
‘I’m scared, boys. Eric is ill.’
‘No, he is sleeping.’
‘Is he? Is he just sleeping?’
They kept trying to wrap their wings around Eric’s exposed cheeks, but the children transporting Eric always attempted to grab them. The prapsies could never get close enough to touch him.
; At one point Eric briefly awakened.
‘Go away, boys!’ he rasped. ‘You can fly faster than these kids. Hide. They won’t find you.’
The prapsies shook stubborn heads, and continued to wilfully follow, blinking and twitching and flying into the wind, trying to use their own bodies to buffer Eric from the worst of it.
Most of the time Morpeth and Eric were kept too far apart to speak. Once the groups holding them drifted close enough to exchange a few brief words.
‘Where are they taking us?’ Eric managed to whisper.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Where’s Rachel?’
‘Not far behind, I’m sure. She will come. Stay alert, and keep moving your hands.’
Eric looked up fiercely. ‘Morpeth, don’t let them hurt the prapsies! Promise me!’
‘I …’ Morpeth couldn’t find any words. He knew that if these children wanted to harm the prapsies, he couldn’t prevent them.
At a growled order from Marshall the groups split apart again. For another hour they flew purposefully northwards. Morpeth began to feel desperately tired, wanting so much to sleep. He understood what that meant – on Ithrea he had seen thousands of children succumb to a last blissful drowsiness shortly before they froze to death in the snow.
He sensed the pity of those children carrying him. They obviously wanted to help, but were afraid. Afraid of who? Not Marshall. Morpeth had seen him looking increasingly troubled at the head of the troupe. Someone else. Morpeth glanced at the roof of the sky, but saw nothing.
At some point he heard Paul wail, ‘Let’s at least take them lower, into calmer air!’ The children holding him all raised their voices in agreement, but there was only a stony silence from Marshall.
Gradually Morpeth’s strength faded. His face sank lower and lower, until his eyes were fixed only on the silver and black waves. Without bringing warmth, dawn broke at last, tingeing the surf pink. For a while, Morpeth had no idea how long, the children descended. Then he smelt the tang of salt, and heard the bleak, persistent call of gulls. A blinding whiteness cut across his eyes.
They had crossed land.
Ahead, a gigantic continent of snow stretched as far as he could see.
