by Cliff McNish
Where were they? Greenland? The Arctic? Morpeth urged his stiff neck muscles to move. Glancing across, he saw the group of children carrying Eric drop him onto the thick snow. Eric lay on his face, without moving. The prapsies, themselves shivering with cold, landed on his head, nipping his ears with their gums, trying to wake him. Moments later Morpeth himself was softly deposited nearby. He dragged his legs across the snow and felt for Eric’s pulse. There was a heartbeat – just. Severe frostbite had set about Eric’s lips and hands – Mum’s gloves had not been enough. Morpeth held Eric’s face away from the snow and peeled off the gloves, rubbing the finger joints and tendons.
‘Wake up!’ he bellowed, striking Eric hard. ‘You must wake up!’
The prapsies winged about Eric’s head, entreating Morpeth to hurry.
‘Eric has slept long enough!’
‘He is colder than bones!’
All the children who had been transporting Eric and Morpeth ascended to a point high in the sky. They hung there, solemnly observing, while the relentless Arctic winds thrashed their faces. Finally an argument broke out between Marshall, Paul and the children who had carried Morpeth.
‘Come down and see us!’ Morpeth shouted up, still struggling to wake Eric. ‘Come and see what you’ve done! Or are you afraid, Marshall?’
‘I’m not afraid.’
Hesitantly, Marshall descended with Paul to land. When Marshall saw Eric’s blistered skin, split lips and swollen, misshapen fingers, he turned away.
‘It’s not so easy to allow someone to die, is it?’ said Morpeth. ‘It takes a long time for a Witch to convince a child it enjoys that.’
Paul could not bear the sight of Eric. He stepped forward to help him.
‘Don’t touch, you idiot!’ cried Marshall. ‘You’ll get us all in trouble.’
‘We can’t just leave him this way. Look at his fingers!’
‘We’re not allowed to help him.’
‘You control the troupe,’ Morpeth said to Marshall. ‘What’s stopping you?’
Marshall glanced nervously upward. ‘Are you blind? I’m not in charge here.’
Morpeth followed his gaze and sensed what must be hidden in the sky: a Witch, too far away to see, but nevertheless there, watching the behaviour of each child. Fear, Morpeth thought, knowing from long experience what the mere presence of a Witch could make children do. Suddenly he thought of his old friends, and wondered if the Witches had also discovered Ithrea. No: he could not bear to consider that …
‘Only the strongest will survive,’ Paul said remotely. ‘That’s what Calen said.’
‘What have you been told to do?’ Morpeth asked Marshall. ‘Leave us here to die?’
‘No. Bring you both to the pole, if you can survive the journey. That’s what Heiki wants. She didn’t particularly care if you made it or not.’
Morpeth leant close to him, and whispered, ‘Is that what you want, Marshall? I expect you’re hoping the Witch who trained you will be satisfied with just our two little deaths. Let me tell you: she won’t be. This is just the beginning. She will make you kill again and again. She won’t leave you in peace. There will never be enough deaths to satisfy her.’
Above them a girl shouted down, ‘Hey, what’s going on?’
‘I’ve got to go,’ Marshall said. ‘I can’t be seen talking to you.’
‘Give me time to revive Eric!’ demanded Morpeth.
‘Too dangerous.’ Marshall’s eyes flitted upward. ‘He’ll have to travel as he is.’
‘Eric is just like you,’ Morpeth beseeched him. ‘Scared, trying to survive. Are you just going to let him die on the wind?’
Without answering Marshall kicked his feet from the snow, pulling Paul with him towards the other children.
‘You can fight back,’ Morpeth cried up to them. ‘Look at each other! Can’t you sense your own strength?’
If they heard neither boy replied, and Morpeth turned his attention back to Eric. He tried carving a hole to get them out of the wind, but after a few inches the snow was too compacted to dig through. So instead he took off his own coat, wrapped it around Eric and brought their bodies together for warmth.
Finally Eric half-opened his eyes. The prapsies squealed with joy, cooing like doves in his ears. Morpeth wiped the frost off his lips.
‘Only the strongest survive,’ Eric mumbled. ‘Isn’t that what Paul said?’
‘We’re the strongest,’ Morpeth told him.
Eric had lost all sensation in his toes. For some reason this frightened him more than anything else that had happened. ‘T-talk to me, old man.’
‘I’m here,’ Morpeth said. ‘I won’t leave you.’
‘Where are the prapsies?’
‘Breathing on your hands.’
Managing to sit up, Eric gazed affectionately at the child-birds. ‘I c-couldn’t feel you, boys.’ He coughed. ‘Hey, I don’t feel so good.’
‘It’s all right,’ Morpeth reassured him. ‘Rachel will be here soon.’
Eric nodded, trying to believe it, and peered at the glistening green uniforms of the children. ‘What are they w-waiting up there for? Why don’t they just finish us off ?’
‘Because they don’t want to,’ Morpeth said earnestly. ‘They want to stop.’
The quarrel above had gradually spread to the entire troupe, with Paul and the children who had listened to Morpeth arguing most passionately. When it ended all the children gazed down and Eric and Morpeth discerned a spell at work.
All the winds about them ceased, a warming breeze replaced the slicing wind.
‘No!’ screamed an enraged voice – and from her hidden location Calen streaked across the sky. She aimed straight for the troupe, her claws extended, and initially Morpeth thought she intended to tear them to pieces. But she restrained herself, and instead flew over each child, flinging out her scorn, promising punishments – and giving new orders.
Yet again the icy winds tore at Eric and Morpeth.
‘We’re not done yet, old man,’ Eric rasped. ‘I’m not waiting for Rachel.’ He held out his puffed-up fingers. ‘I’ve still got these. If the kids back home have done anything to Mum, they’ve done it already. I’m not just going to lie here till they decide to finish us off. Help me up.’
Morpeth hauled Eric into a seated position. Eric raised his numb hands.
‘Come on,’ he coaxed, blowing on the tips. ‘Don’t let me down now.’
Above, Calen hissed instructions to four children. Separating from the troupe, they sank fast down the sky.
Eric pointed his fingers – and the four fell helplessly. Lying in the snow, they called for the others, their flying skills gone.
‘Ignore them!’ Calen said. At another of her commands, half the troupe swooped down. This time they came from several directions at once, front and behind, zigzagging evasively.
Eric knocked two more from the air.
‘Quick!’ he barked. ‘Turn me round!’
But before Morpeth could swivel him, the rest of the attackers were on them. Morpeth sank his knuckles into the nose of the first, but the rest hit hard, sending Eric and Morpeth sprawling across the snow. Breaking off, the troupe members flew to higher regions where Eric’s powers could not reach.
Eric and Morpeth regrouped, sitting back to back, while the prapsies recklessly flung themselves between Eric and the troupe, hurling abuse.
‘What now?’ asked Eric, squinting up.
Stung by another order from Calen the troupe had drawn together. They were massed against the sun, and Eric could hear a few of the children weeping.
‘They’re going to come after us in one go,’ Eric realized. ‘All together. Wait. What’s that?’
It was Yemi.
From the cloud that had concealed Calen, he floated serenely towards the children. He was surrounded by his devoted butterflies. They were now enormous, the size of cats.
‘Go back!’ Calen shouted. ‘Go back!’
Yemi faltered, then came
on, drawn by the frightened noises within the troupe. His Camberwell Beauties surged forwards like a flock of immense slow yellow birds. They mingled with the children, touching those with tear-stained faces as if trying in some instinctive way to offer comfort. Unnerving and baffling, the butterflies milled in the sky, so big and so many that the troupe was virtually lost under their beating wings.
Finally Calen fought a path through to Yemi and yanked him away. The butterflies followed him reluctantly, their antennae bowed.
‘That must be the baby Rachel mentioned,’ marvelled Eric. ‘Did you sense his power?’
Morpeth nodded, watching in awe as Yemi twisted uncomfortably in Calen’s claws, unhappy about being carried away.
Once Calen had Yemi under control, she turned back to shriek at the children. This time they were too terrified to argue. The entire troupe clustered into the tightly knit shape of a fist. Together they dropped down, heading directly for Eric and Morpeth.
Eric closed his eyes. ‘What do we do now?’
‘Survive,’ said Morpeth, preparing to take the first blows.
The children descended on them like hail.
13
Battle
Rachel returned home with Heiki sagging in her arms.
On the way back Heiki deliberately slowed her down. Whenever Rachel tried to shift, she faked pain. Every time Rachel tried to fly fast she wept deliriously, pretending that the shock of the Witches’ attack had unhinged her mind. Rachel responded by holding her close, and flying gently, gently on the night winds.
During the journey Heiki shared some spells – nothing useful, just enough to gain Rachel’s trust. Rachel warily joined in, but Heiki could tell she was not revealing her most subtle weapons or defences. Fine, she thought, not wanting too easy a contest. She made certain the voyage back lasted long enough for the troupe with Morpeth and Eric to get safely away. The last few miles were difficult – Heiki could barely wait to see Rachel’s reaction to the surprise she had prepared.
A cool dawn wind blew through the broken windows of the house.
Mum was inside, talking with the boy and girl who had been left behind.
‘What are you doing?’ Heiki shouted at them. ‘What about the punishments? You were supposed to perform them as soon as Eric and Morpeth left!’
‘They changed their minds,’ said Mum thickly. Drawing the children close, she hurried across to Rachel, always keeping her gaze firmly on Heiki. The boy and girl shivered, trying to hide behind Mum’s back.
‘This is obviously Heiki,’ Mum said hastily. ‘I’ve been hearing all about her nastiness. Be careful, Rachel.’
Heiki grinned – and the curly ginger hair, freckles and endless weeping vanished, replaced by the washed-out blue eyes.
‘The girl from the graveyard,’ gasped Rachel. She turned to Mum. ‘Where are—’
‘Don’t take your eyes off her!’ Mum warned. ‘Morpeth and Eric were taken. These poor kids’ – she clenched the boy and girl – ‘don’t know where, but that one does.’ She glared at Heiki. ‘She planned it all.’
Rachel thundered at Heiki, ‘If you’ve harmed them …’
‘I have harmed them!’
Rachel sniffed the air. The scent-tag she had planted on Morpeth led from the kitchen, ending abruptly just above the house. ‘Tell me where they’ve been taken!’
‘Do you think I’m just going to give you that information?’ Heiki said scornfully. ‘You’ll have to fight me for it. Come on: a battle. Only us two girls. The finest children. No Witches, I promise.’
Rachel scanned the area. There were no Witches; Heiki was telling the truth about that. It showed how certain she was of success. She studied Heiki’s fierce, Witch-trained eyes and felt afraid.
‘Stop playing games,’ Rachel said. ‘I can’t believe you want any of this. The Witches are making you behave this way.’
‘That’s not true,’ Heiki replied. ‘The Witches want you dead, but I couldn’t wait to fight you anyway.’
‘Why?’ Rachel stared in disbelief. ‘What have I ever done to you?’
‘Nothing. I’ve just got to know which of us is the best.’
When Rachel looked confused, Heiki shook her head and said, ‘You’d better catch up, girl. The future’s a magic world. Forget grown-ups. Mums and teachers and grannies don’t matter any more. Calen told me the Witches are going to make all the kids battle each other anyway – only the best will be allowed to fight the Wizards.’
For a moment, staring at that excited angular face, Rachel had a picture of the future: adults probably killed outright, the weakest children pushed aside, the gifted honed into a Wizard-hating elite – led by a handful of the most ruthless children, like Heiki.
No, Rachel thought, thinking of Dad. That mustn’t happen.
‘Better get on with it,’ Heiki said. ‘Morpeth and Eric may still be alive, but they can’t last much longer.’
‘Tell me where they are!’
‘No.’
‘You will!’
‘Make me!’
Attack spells instantly offered themselves. Rachel ignored them. She had to get Heiki away from Mum and find Morpeth’s signal! Maybe his scent-tag could be picked up close to the house …
She glanced briefly, agonizingly, at Mum – and shifted.
Nothing happened, and seeing Rachel’s bewilderment Heiki laughed. Rachel tried again, suddenly becoming aware of a spell she had never experienced before. It was a counter-shifting spell. Heiki was holding her back.
Rachel switched to simpler flight spells and escaped through the kitchen window. She flew into the early dawn sky, swiftly, though not too swiftly until she was certain Heiki followed. Once they were safely past the streets of the town and over open countryside, Rachel decided to really test Heiki’s speed. Her fleetest spells took control, yet no matter how rapidly she travelled Heiki kept up effortlessly.
‘You don’t get away that easily,’ Heiki said, smiling. ‘I’ve got a particularly nasty spell I want to try out. It would be a pity not to use it, Rachel, because Calen and I created the spell especially for you. We call it a multi-signal-hunter-slug. See what you think.’
‘No. Don’t …’
Heiki parted her thin lips and blew the hunter at Rachel.
The hunter was alive. Slug-shaped, mottled and black, it wriggled in a methodical manner away from Heiki’s mouth. Rachel did not need to ask her spells for protection. They came forward immediately, a complex layering of defences. Frenetically, they sought combinations that might hold off the hunter’s threat.
‘You can’t stop it,’ said Heiki. ‘Not in time. What are you going to do, Rachel?’
Rachel’s information spells investigated the hunter. As it swam towards her head she realized she couldn’t evade this weapon, or retreat from it, or ever shift fast enough to avoid its bite. Only one choice, her spells told her: become nothing. A hunter needs a victim.
Become nothing? Rachel wondered. What did that mean? She was flesh and muscle; she breathed, sweated. How could she become nothing?
Flicking its tail the hunter came for her. It was close now.
Rachel – still with Heiki flying alongside – came to a dead-halt in the sky. Heiki and her weapon also stopped. All three were anchored against the mottled clouds, unmoving. For a moment the hunter was perplexed. Then it lunged at Rachel’s heart.
Hide! shrieked her spells.
Trying not to panic, Rachel masked the obvious signals. She scattered her magical scent. She disguised her panting frost-white breath. She bleached all colour from her body and even her clothing, until she was virtually transparent, the pale blue sky visible through her face.
Still the hunter came for her.
How can it detect me now? Rachel wondered – then realized how many alternative signs it had to choose from. Like her heart, her poor hammering heart. Rachel could not prevent the thudding, but she could suppress the tiny vibrations each beat made. She did that. The breeze ruffled her clothe
s and stirred her hair. Rachel held all the strands stiff, even the finest hair on her wrists. Her eyes were open, dry, needing to blink. She did not blink. Broken light patterns reflected on her eyes from passing clouds. Rachel froze the patterns.
Gradually the hunter slowed. It opened a hot mouth next to her left eye – and waited.
Utter stillness without movement or sound.
The hunter angled left and right, baffled. Where were its signals? Sensing warmth it turned. Here, behind it, was pigmented skin and moist breath and movement.
‘No!’ wailed Heiki, suddenly understanding.
The hunter was designed to strike without mercy, and Heiki’s cry only brought it on more speedily. Before she could fend it off the hunter sank through her legs. It ate deeply, burning through the flesh and bone until her thin ankles were fused together. By the time Heiki had called off its attack the entire lower half of her body was charred and smoking in the cold sky.
Rachel watched, appalled. Then she saw that incredibly Heiki already had the worst burning under control – soon she would be fit enough to continue her spell-making. Rachel quickly shifted, scurrying above the Arctic seas. Putting space between herself and Heiki, she extended her scent flaps, sniffing for any trace of Morpeth’s tag.
At last, she found it: a feeble signal – but enough to follow.
Rachel tracked it northwards, shifting over the deep waters of the ocean. If she could smell the trace, did that mean Morpeth was still alive? The signal would probably linger for a while, she realized, whether he was breathing or not. She thought of Eric – and an image of his face, pallid and dead, jumped into her mind. No!
She tore across the ocean.
Heiki was not far behind. While Rachel followed a weak scent, Heiki knew exactly where Morpeth and Eric had been taken. She outflanked her, cutting in giant precise shifts over the Norwegian Sea, and simply waited. She did not bother to hide.
Rachel almost flew into Heiki. Seeing her – just in time – she held a position above the waves and viewed her opponent. Heiki’s burnt legs still sizzled and cracked as they contracted in the cold air, but the injuries were mending rapidly. Heiki seemed at ease, strands of her thin white hair blown in all directions by the wind. She opened her palms and Rachel saw new weapons cradled there. Death-spells.
