by Cliff McNish
‘Leave him,’ Heebra told Calen, when it was obvious her daughter could never again catch Yemi unless he wished it. ‘Just don’t antagonize the boy.’ She stretched up to her full height, looking down on Rachel. ‘Are you ready to defend yourself?’
Rachel did not reply, She stared at Larpskendya. And the Great Wizard stared back. He was burning for her to notice him.
‘No use expecting assistance there,’ gloated Heebra. ‘Bound with spell-thread, he is as powerless as one of your own adults.’
Rachel looked into Larpskendya’s many-coloured eyes. Inside them she saw a picture: Yemi. A movement showed Rachel what Larpskendya wanted her to do. She blinked. No. That couldn’t be correct. She must have misunderstood. She narrowed her eyes, peering more closely.
‘No!’ Rachel yelled. ‘I won’t do it!’
Larpskendya’s eyes overflowed with tears. But they were also hard, insistent, willing Rachel to trust him.
On Heebra’s signal the Witches designated to kill Rachel opened their jaws. Death-spells streamed from their connected mouths.
Eric had time to destroy the first two, but the shock wave of the third threw him and Heiki into the air. They landed several feet away and lay in the snow, still. Moments later the stunned prapsies tumbled like stones from Eric’s pockets.
Morpeth pushed Rachel down and spread his body across hers, trying to take the impact of as many blows as he could. But the death-spells merely knocked him savagely aside – and sank into Rachel.
The instant the first spell struck her Rachel wept, but not from the pain. She felt no pain. As soon as the spell touched her body she deflected its aim.
Without taking her eyes from Larpskendya she turned all the attacks of the Witches – every lethal one of them – on Yemi.
18
The Butterfly
Child
At the first touch of the death-spells Yemi’s butterflies transformed.
The same dainty yellow wings that a moment earlier had been idly flapping became a hardened shield. Across his entire body they spread: he felt nothing.
Most of the Witches immediately stopped their attacks. Two did not stop. They had waited a long time for a fight, any fight, and hardly cared whether it was Yemi or Rachel they dispatched. Then one was thrown backwards. Howling, she pressed her smoking eyes into the snow. The second Witch fell to her knees, one of her lungs punctured.
‘Leave him, you fools!’ ordered Heebra. ‘Can’t you see what the boy’s doing?’
Calen stared in amazement. ‘He’s throwing their own spells back at them!’
The attacks ended and everyone gazed at the space containing Yemi.
For a while he could not be seen. Steam from the snow boiled by the death-spells rose all about him. When the haze lifted everyone saw that he had no wounds. The attacks had not even dented Yemi’s mood. With simple curiosity he grasped at the rising tendrils of warm air. His yellow shield had vanished, separated once again into the many and delicate butterflies. A few of these had scorched wings, nothing worse.
Most of the Witches, seeing their two injured sisters, expected Heebra to approve a renewed assault.
‘Wait!’ she said. ‘Don’t touch the baby!’ No Witch was dead, she realized with relief. Only a blind Witch, humiliated, but too badly injured to launch any more attacks. ‘There has been no sister killed,’ Heebra called out. ‘Contain yourselves. I will destroy anyone who attempts a spell against Yemi or Rachel!’
Her Witches obeyed restively, whispering in murderous tones.
‘What kind of organism is he, Mother?’ asked Calen, flying across. She kept her distance from Yemi. ‘Is he something of Larpskendya’s making? Not human, surely.’
‘Human, yes.’ Heebra answered. ‘An exceptional evolution of magic. He must be unique – a rogue – even in this species.’ She glanced warily up at Larpskendya. Even spellbound, she knew he had somehow managed to summon the boy. What else was he planning? She saw a look pass between him and Rachel.
‘Cover the Wizard’s eyes!’ she raged at the nearest Witches. ‘Bind him completely and press his face to the floor!’
Larpskendya’s head was pushed below the window. Rachel shivered, not knowing what to do next – he had not had time to show her. Hearing her own laboured breathing, she realized how quiet it had become. Yemi’s baby voice could be heard grumbling at Calen – an eerie noise in this place filled with so much despair. The only other sound was the rustle of dresses. It came from hundreds of Witches circling almost silently overhead, watching her.
Eric and Heiki lay stunned and scattered across the snow. The prapsies, half-senseless themselves, twitched beside Eric’s neck, trying to console him with their babble. Morpeth was closer. Instinctively, Rachel made her way towards him.
Heebra saw this, but was more interested in Yemi. Calen’s attempts to charm him into her arms had failed. At one point she did manage to pluck a butterfly from his nose – but Yemi snatched it back, scowling at her.
‘He no longer appears to like me,’ Calen said.
‘He never liked you,’ Heebra replied. ‘It was your magic that interested him. It seems that he is no longer impressed.’
Calen peered uncertainly at the Camberwell Beauties. ‘What are these strange insects, Mother?’
‘Merely butterflies, nothing more,’ said Heebra. ‘Yemi’s magic changes them into what he likes or needs.’
‘But he’s only a baby. How can he do this?’
‘His magic is far more advanced than his human understanding,’ said Heebra. ‘The baby mind of Yemi senses no threat, but his magic recognizes it. I want you to take him away from here, Calen. There is a bond between Yemi and Rachel that could be dangerous, and some sisters still want to harm him. Let’s remove that temptation.’
Calen nodded and reached out for Yemi. Expertly, he shifted a short distance away.
‘Stop grasping at him,’ Heebra told her. ‘You know he craves human-type gestures. Offer him the simple affections he wants. Behave more like a mother. Caress him. Put your lips on his cheek.’
‘A kiss?’
‘Yes, as nearly as you can.’
It was a painful spectacle. Calen’s mouths were not made for such tender gestures. As she pressed them closer to Yemi’s face, the jaws reached out alarmingly – his warm smell and touch, mixed with their own juices, driving them wild.
‘Get on with it,’ Heebra said. ‘I want to finish Rachel off.’
Yemi pushed the teeth away in disgust. Thrusting back from Calen, he started to drift hesitantly towards Rachel. He gave her his best smile, but she ignored him. Why? Confused, he continued to send out hopeful magical inquiries for her company, entreating her to be his friend.
Only by steadfastly not looking at Yemi could Rachel manage to keep up her spiky rejections. All she wanted to do was take him far, far from this dreadful place, but that was not possible.
Reaching Morpeth, she felt for his injuries. Gently, with the utmost care, she probed his back. His spinal column was severed in several places, her spells told her. I could repair the damage, she thought bitterly, but the Witches will never allow me to complete the task. Realizing this, her tears fell on Morpeth’s face. As they did so he opened his bright eyes.
‘We’re not finished yet,’ he rasped. ‘I’m not finished, and neither are you. Pull me up.’
‘I can’t,’ Rachel murmured. ‘Your spine is broken.’ Keeping still, trying not to attract the attention of the Witches, she used her magic to make him feel slightly more comfortable.
‘Don’t do that,’ Morpeth said. ‘I need to remain conscious. The pain helps. Tell me what happened.’ She explained the way Yemi’s butterflies had responded to the death-spells.
‘Of course,’ he said, a spasm rocking him. Furiously he fought to stay conscious, his body shaking with the effort. ‘Keep up the Witch attacks on Yemi,’ he urged. ‘Make them continue. It’s a chance.’
‘I can’t,’ Rachel protested. ‘Morpeth, don’t you
understand? Heebra’s called her Witches off. They won’t touch him now.’
Morpeth stared at the sky. The main force of the Witches stared back at him, wheeling above his head like flocks of colossal birds. Most simply kept watch over him, but a few swooped lower, shouting insults and slashing their claws above his face.
‘They’re impatient to continue the fight,’ Morpeth said, his voice barely audible now. ‘Good. That is what we want. Come closer to me.’ Rachel put her ear to his lips. Moments later, when she lifted her hair from his cheeks, he was unconscious.
Rachel did not try to wake him. She rose immediately and headed towards Eric. On the way she paused briefly by Heiki and did her best to ease her breathing – that would have to do.
Eric’s body had fallen into a small hollow. He should have been covered with falling snow, but the recovering prapsies had kept the flakes off him. As Rachel approached they were busy licking his face and butting him with their plump chins, trying to nuzzle him into wakefulness.
Rachel gently nudged them aside – and used a fast-healing spell to rouse Eric.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked, reaching straight for the prapsies to reassure himself they were safe.
‘It’s all right,’ Rachel whispered. ‘Listen, we haven’t got much time …’
While Eric levered himself sorely up, Rachel tried to harden her heart to Yemi. It was the only way . . .
‘Are you ready?’ she asked.
Eric nodded.
Nearby, Heebra watched her daughter still trying to interest Yemi. He would no longer let Calen close. The boy’s magic has already outgrown her, Heebra realized. From now onward, she would need to train Yemi herself, using—
Suddenly, behind, she sensed a death-spell being prepared.
She turned. It was the blinded Witch. Tottering in the snow, she sniffed for Yemi, trying to identify his smell over the stench of her own burnt skin. With every moment her strength improved.
Rachel’s doing, Heebra sensed at once. Rachel is healing her.
The blinded Witch opened her four mouths in a single penetrating attack.
‘Stop!’ Heebra cried, forming a spell to kill her own Witch.
‘Now!’ Rachel called.
Eric lifted his finger – and Heebra’s spell evaporated. She tried to remake it – and could not. Never having faced this situation before Heebra, just for a moment, was confused.
The blinded Witch launched her spell.
It never reached Yemi. This time his butterflies were ready. One swallowed the spell. Another sent it back to the blinded Witch. She fell dead instantly.
Six blood-related sisters of the dead Witch came after him at once. None of the other Witches interfered. This was now a clear retribution kill, and they had every right to revenge the death. The sisters unsheathed their teeth and drew together, flying vertically down the sky.
Heebra hastily placed a shield around Yemi that no spells could penetrate.
Again, Eric destroyed it.
The sisters descended on Yemi. As they approached they altered formation. Splitting the pack, they came after him in twos – a classical triangular attack. The eldest sister led them, an experienced fighter, patiently withholding the decision about what death-spell to use until the last possible moment. Finally, her soul-snake named it – and the mouths of all the sisters simultaneously filled with flame.
Instantly those flames tore down their own throats. All the other Witches stared in disbelief as the entire family of sisters fell soundlessly from the air, their black dresses burning like rags in the wind.
There was silence, absolute silence. And then, from the remaining Witch packs, there came an outraged pouring forth of wrath. Heebra saw all her Witches preparing to join the fight against Yemi. With so many dead sisters now strewn across the snow, nothing could hold them back.
‘Step aside,’ she said to Calen, striding across. ‘Yemi is too dangerous to leave alive. I will dispose of him myself.’ She exuded all her magical power to attract Yemi. ‘Come boy,’ Heebra said, smiling. ‘I know you want to.’
‘No!’ screamed a voice.
It was Paul. With a great cry he flew across the snow. He did not come alone. He came with Marshall and all the other children in one tremendous line of fast flight. The guarding Witches restrained a few, but most bridged the short gap to Heebra.
Paul arrived first. He threw himself at her face. Heebra swatted him aside, but she could not stop all of them. The children surged into her, driving her back from Yemi. For a few moments Heebra lay under their small hands, feeling the irritation of clawless fingers and simplistic spells.
Then, in one easy move, she threw everyone off, made a final lunge for Yemi – and breathed into his mouth.
The words went into his body.
‘Oh no,’ said Eric.
Yemi wailed. It was a high-pitched cry, followed by dozens more: his Camberwell Beauties. Yemi clutched at them in despair. He coughed, sagged, held his throat. Something hurt inside. He reached for Heebra’s dress, not understanding that she was the cause. Heebra kicked him off and walked away.
‘Why didn’t you stop the spell?’ Rachel railed at Eric. ‘Yemi’s no match for Heebra! Why didn’t you stop it? Why, Eric?’
‘I didn’t see it,’ he murmured. ‘She … she … disguised her spell from me.’
Yemi crawled a few yards after Heebra. Then he fell on his face. At the same time his butterflies shrank back to their normal size – in his pain Yemi had forgotten them. The Camberwell Beauties had lost their magical properties. A cloud of yellow, they rose.
Abandoning him.
‘No!’ wailed Rachel.
Racing across the snow, she swept Yemi up, placed him in her lap and cradled his head. Gently opening his mouth, she sent her information spells into his body to discover the kind of weapon Heebra had used. And then she felt it – deep inside Yemi – an extraordinary spell of his own trying to form. She bent her face towards his, and his mouth opened wider.
Heebra saw the danger. ‘Kill Rachel!’ she ordered her Witches. ‘The boy can do nothing without her now.’
Yemi’s breath was only a murmur. Rachel pressed her lips to his. The new spell struggled up his throat, trying to reach her, to live. She drew it out, holding it in her mouth.
‘Stop her!’ shrieked Heebra.
As Rachel blew the spell outwards, Heebra flew across the snow, trying to capture it. But the spell slipped through her claws. In a rippling circle, on a thrilling breeze, it flowed in all directions away from the Pole.
Rachel stared wildly at Eric. ‘What kind of spell is it?’
‘Some kind of awakening,’ he cried. ‘And I think I know what it’s looking for.’
‘What?’
Eric’s eyes shone. ‘Children, Rachel. It’s looking for children!’
19
Awakening
Yemi’s spell left the Pole, expanding rapidly across the ice and snow.
The first children it reached lived in the Norwegian fishing town of Hammerfest, in the far north of the world. It was late here, after midnight, but the summer sun shone as it always did at this latitude on the warm sleeping children. Like a sigh the awakening spell entered the open windows. Where windows were closed it swept down a chimney. Where there was no chimney it squeezed between the smallest cracks in timber or brickwork. Nothing could stop it.
It passed across beds; a light touch – only a breath – but children awoke at once. Youngsters in dozens of homes clenched their toys. Babies rattled their cots together to the same rhythm. Older children leapt from their mattresses and ran to windows as the magic they had always possessed was released.
The spell gathered pace. There was no time to waste. Spreading in a great ring over the Arctic seas, it pushed out: across Baffin Bay into Canada, over the Kara Sea into the West Siberian Plain, down northern Finland, following the smell of children to Ivalo and beyond. And, from their rooms, in countries hundreds of miles apart, children who had ne
ver met suddenly sensed each other.
The spell moved on. It flowed with the Mackenzie river down to Fort Good Hope, Alaska. It slashed by the Canadian-American great lakes: Michigan, Ontario, Erie. But Yemi needed more. So he sent the spell into the dark portion of the northern hemisphere. In Naples, Italy, it found two boys stealing car tyres; they changed their minds. It blew across children dreaming in Tashkent and Toulouse. When their eyes opened, they glimmered silver.
The spell crossed the equator. It delved in attics, school yards, shanty huts. It followed kids playing truant in Peru and caught them. It found girls skipping in Australia and made them trip. It sought underground, into filthy sweat shops and inhuman places where child-slaves perpetually dwell. Here children dropped their tools and held hands, knowing nothing would ever be the same again.
Into deep Africa the spell travelled, to a special destination: Fiditi. There it discovered Fola, and woke her. From her mat she wept when she recognized the voice of her brother.
The spell gushed across the entire globe. It did not stop and it did not pause or slow down until every child in the whole wide day-and-night world felt its radiant touch.
But – at the pole – Rachel knelt in the snows, with Yemi trembling in her arms.
He was barely alive now. Heebra’s death-spell gripped and gripped him in its savage joy, and Rachel’s own magic could only slow down its biting attack. Yemi’s warm brown eyes were vacant, almost shut.
But he still commanded his awakening spell. He changed it. No more gentleness. Yemi had never intended just to awaken the magic in children. He needed their magic. It was the only way he knew to fight Heebra’s death-spell.
His awakening spell became a feeding spell.
Only the children at the Pole were spared. Without warning, Yemi felt for the new magic of all other children – and took it. There was no time to be kind. Yemi knew only his pain, his terrible need. So he ripped away the magic of each child on Earth – left them nothing – and pulled it like a great tide towards his aching body.
