The Scent of Magic

by Cliff McNish

  ‘Is that why the Witches are interested in us?’ Heiki wondered.

  ‘Yes. They want you so much. And you are not a secret from them any longer.’

  Morpeth shivered. ‘For how long are we safe?’

  ‘I cannot answer that,’ Larpskendya said. ‘But the Witches will never leave you in peace now. They will regroup and return in larger numbers. The endless war against us is all they know, and they have seen how useful you can be. Yemi, especially, will tantalize them. Who knows what he will be capable of soon?’

  Rachel gently touched the deep claw marks still on Larpskendya’s neck, but they did not heal.

  ‘Leave them,’ Larpskendya said. ‘As a reminder of what I have unleashed.’ He turned sadly to address Morpeth, Eric and Rachel, Mum and Dad. ‘There is a new enemy now: the Griddas are loose. I knew Heebra was becoming desperate, but I never thought she would release their fury.’ He hung his head. ‘I pushed her too far, too quickly, these last years. That was a terrible mistake.’

  Over Rachel’s house two shining goal posts had appeared. Moonlit figures passed the football perfectly.

  ‘They don’t fear the arrival of the Griddas yet,’ Morpeth said gratefully. Whatever the future held, tonight his heart felt light, and he could barely follow all the children teeming amongst the night clouds. He wanted to join them.

  ‘That is true,’ Larpskendya said solemnly. ‘Why should they fear?’ And then, suddenly, in a deliberate, measured way he assessed all those children pressed so closely to him. Finally he gazed at Rachel, as if he saw in her a summary of all their worth. Her eyes, staring into his, were the colour of gladness.

  Larpskendya’s expression became almost desperately, achingly hopeful.

  ‘I want to show you something,’ he said. ‘You need to understand the great challenge ahead.’

  ‘Show us what?’ asked Dad suspiciously.

  ‘Another world. A precious world. For many lifetimes the Witches have wanted to crush its loveliness.’

  Eric blinked uncertainly. ‘Is it far?’

  ‘Far and near. Nowhere is too remote for you now. We can fly there.’

  ‘What? Tonight?’

  Larpskendya smiled. ‘Why not?’

  ‘What about the prapsies? I’m not going without them …’

  Larpskendya swept his arms, taking in the scope of the sky. ‘We’ll take everyone.’

  The prapsies chuckled haltingly, not sure what he meant.

  ‘What do you mean, everyone?’ Dad asked. ‘You mean all the youngsters here?’ He indicated the nearest children. ‘All these?’

  Larpskendya’s eyes shone. ‘No, you don’t understand. I mean everyone. I mean every child and adult on your world. All of them.’

  ‘Yes!’ Rachel cried. ‘Yes!’

  Larpskendya breathed in and suddenly Rachel felt a tightening inside her, as if millions of minds were being drawn together. When she looked up she saw children all around lifting their chins to the same constellation of stars in the western sky.

  Eric glanced at Mum and Dad, thinking they wouldn’t enjoy this one bit. But he was wrong.

  ‘Like this?’ Mum stretched her arms out timidly. ‘Well, am I doing it right?’

  Larpskendya laughed, a long and booming laugh that shook off any final fears he may have had. ‘Yes, that will do well enough,’ he said. He paused and gazed at Rachel, Morpeth and Eric. ‘Are you ready?’

  They nodded tightly.

  ‘Blimey, boys,’ muttered one of the prapsies. ‘What’s going on?’

  But there was no time for its companion to answer. From homes, from ships, from jets at thirty thousand feet and mines deeper still, and from the child-filled skies, everyone in the world raised their eyes.

  And, a moment later, only animals and plants breathed on this Earth.

  chapter 1

  The Wizard’s

  Promise

  Book Three of The Doomspell sequence

  1

  Schools Without

  Children

  As Rachel awoke, her information spells automatically swept the house for threats. They probed into each room, an extra set of senses watching out for her.

  Nothing out of the ordinary, they reported. Mum lay in her usual morning bath. Dad was in the study, trying to touch his toes. The information spells delved further out. In the garden, two froglets were wondering whether to make a break for it across the dangerous lawn. Next door’s dog hid behind a shed, thinking no one else knew about his juicy bone.

  Rachel smiled, peering out of her bedroom window. A flock of geese passed by, and, just for a moment, as she gazed up at those birds, and listened to the familiar sounds of home and garden, it was as if nothing had changed in the world.

  Then a group of under-fives cut across the sky.

  The youngsters flew in tight formation, led by a boy. Rachel guessed he might be three years old, probably less. The group travelled with arms pinned neatly to their sides, little heads thrust proudly ahead. Their eyes all shone some tint of blue, the distinctive colour of flying spells.

  The slower geese scattered nervously when the children crossed their path.

  Getting up, Rachel brushed out her long dark hair and strolled downstairs to the kitchen. Her younger brother, Eric, sat at the dining table. A bowl of cornflakes crackled satisfyingly in front of him.

  ‘You know, if I had magic,’ he said, tucking in, ‘I wouldn’t bother with flying or the other stuff. I’d just use a spell to keep the taste of cornflakes in my mouth forever.’

  ‘You’d soon get sick of it,’ Rachel answered.

  ‘No,’ Eric said earnestly. ‘I wouldn’t.’ He waved his spoon at the departing toddlers. ‘Those little ’uns are probably long-distance racers. Must be, practising like that. They’re so serious. At their age I was still happy just chucking things at you.’

  ‘Mm.’ Rachel glanced round, expecting to see the prapsies. The prapsies were a mischievous pair of creatures – feathered body of a crow, topped with a baby’s face – that had once served a Witch on another world. Usually Eric put them up to some prank when Rachel first came down in the morning.

  ‘Where are the boys then?’ she asked warily.

  ‘I let them out early for a change,’ Eric said. ‘Told them to find me a gift, something interesting.’

  ‘Did you send them far?’

  ‘China.’

  ‘Good.’

  Rachel stared up at the rooftops of the town. It was a typical morning, with children all over the sky. A few were up high and alone, practising dead-stops in the tricky April winds. Most children had simply gathered in their usual groups in the clouds, friends laughing and joking together. A few houses down Rachel saw a boy cooing. As he did so a dove, tempted from some thicket, rose to his hand. Further away a girl drifted casually across the sky, plucking cats from gardens. The cats trailed in a long line behind her, complaining mightily.

  ‘Hey look!’ Eric cried. ‘Lightning-finders!’

  Six teenagers were heading purposefully south, their arms raised like spikes.

  ‘It’s a brand new game started up by the thrill-seekers,’ Eric said. ‘You search for heavy weather, find the storms and dodge the lightning forks. Most competitions are held in the Tropics, where the really big storms are. I bet that’s where those kids are off to.’ He gazed wistfully after the teenagers, who had already disappeared over the horizon.

  ‘What happens if they get hit by the lightning?’

  ‘Bad things, I suppose,’ Eric said. ‘It’s risky, but that’s the whole point. Wouldn’t be exciting otherwise, would it?’

  Rachel shrugged. The new magical games didn’t interest her much. She was more interested in those children stationed in the air, watching the skies for Witches.

  Nearly a year had passed since the baby boy, Yemi, had released the magic of all the children on Earth. In that first glorious Awakening, there had been a superabundance of magic – enough for the Wizard leader, Larpskendya, to transport ever
y child and adult on Earth to Trin.

  When Rachel thought of that purple-skied, plant-filled world, it still hurt. The plants of Trin had a language of leaves so rich that even the Wizards could only guess the meaning of their graceful movements. But the plants were dying. The Witches had poisoned them. On a whim, they had contaminated Trin’s soils. And slowly, as their magic drained away, the Trin plants were losing their minds. Each year the great leaves waved ever more frantically in the breezes as they struggled to hear each other.

  It was not possible to stay on Trin for long. The special blossoming of magic following the Awakening soon faded, and the adults and children had to return home. But everyone understood: if the Witches could do this amount of damage to Trin, a world that meant nothing to them, what would happen if they returned to Earth? So everyone had prepared. For months children practised their defensive spells. Night and day they patrolled the skies, anticipating a massed attack of Witches that never came.

  Meanwhile, Ool – the Witch homeworld – wrapped itself in hush. A battle, the Wizards knew, was taking place: a battle for control, between the High Witches Rachel and other children had fought before, and the more ferocious warrior-breed, the terrifying Griddas. For a long time Ool had been silent.

  Larpskendya had no doubt the Griddas had won. It worried him because the Wizards knew so little about them. The Griddas had been bred by the High Witches, bred to be savage warriors, and kept underground. But the former High Witch leader, Heebra, had made the mistake of releasing them.

  And, having tasted freedom, the Griddas had turned on their makers.

  As Rachel gazed up at the sky, her slim freckled face perched on her hands, she wondered how ready the people of Earth were to face the Griddas. She also missed a friend.

  ‘I wonder,’ she said, half to herself, ‘how Morpeth’s doing? I miss him.’

  ‘He’s only been gone a few days,’ Eric protested.

  ‘I still miss him.’

  ‘Actually, so do I, but it’s his only visit back to Ithrea in ages. Larpskendya’s picking him up in a few weeks.’

  While Rachel thought fondly about Morpeth, three girls landed beside the garden pond. They walked across the lawn, waving hopefully through the glass doors of the patio.

  ‘Oh no, part of your fan club,’ groaned Eric. ‘Do they never leave off?’

  A few children always loitered near the house, curious to get a glimpse of Rachel. Her reputation drew them, and the sheer quality of her magic. Every child on Earth wanted to be closer to it.

  ‘I’ve seen those three before,’ Eric muttered. ‘Two nights ago. It was raining, pouring down, but did they care? Barmy nutters.’ He pulled a face, attempting to scare the girls away. ‘Clear off!’ he yelled. The girls smiled sweetly back. ‘They never flipping listen to me,’ Eric said. ‘Why don’t you give them a shock, Rach? You know, send them to the Arctic or something. It’ll take them at least an hour to fly back.’

  Two of the girls nudged each other forward, trying to get Rachel’s attention. The other one looked steadily at Eric.

  A little ruffled, he self-consciously smoothed out his baggy pyjamas.

  Rachel laughed. ‘I’m not the only one with admirers.’

  ‘Can’t you get rid of them?’

  ‘Oh, I think we should let that pretty-looking girl in,’ Rachel said. ‘I can tell she wants to talk to you.’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’

  The girls stood outside, hoping for a conversation. Rachel, however, had entertained too many admirers lately. She turned away from their stares, feeling a desire to get out of the house.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We’ll go for a walk.’

  ‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’ Eric said. ‘There’s no chance of slipping out quietly. The sky’s thick with kids.’

  ‘I’ll shift us, then.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Let’s find the prapsies. Creep up on them, give ’em a scare.’

  ‘Hey, nice idea. Just let me get dressed.’

  ‘I could dress you.’

  ‘No way,’ Eric snorted. ‘I’m not having your spells fiddling with my pyjamas.’

  He thumped up the stairs, colliding with Mum.

  ‘Careful,’ Mum groaned. Pinning back her wet hair, she smiled at Rachel. ‘Going out, love?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘You’ll need a disguise from the fans, then.’ She inspected her daughter critically. ‘How about an older look? Add three years on and lose the freckles. Blonde and fifteen?’

  Rachel smirked. ‘Blonde’s out, Mum. Hair fashion’s changing.’

  ‘What’s in vogue these days?’

  ‘Silver for boys, long and slicked back. With the girls, anything crazy.’

  Mum shrugged. Children regularly used magic to alter their appearance now. Nothing surprised her any more.

  ‘You want to come along with us, mum? I’ll take you wherever you like.’

  ‘No, you go off and enjoy yourselves. I’ll potter about here.’

  Eric reappeared, wearing jeans and his woolly parka coat.

  ‘Ready?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘I was born ready.’ Hoiking up his collar, Eric noticed her new round-cheeked face. ‘Good disguise,’ he said. ‘You look dumb. That’s realistic. Better hide your magic scent, too.’

  Rachel did so, kissed Mum lightly on the cheek – and shifted.

  Immediately, without any sensation of flight, she and Eric had travelled a few miles from the house. Rachel was one of the few children in the world who possessed this skill – the ability to move instantaneously from one place to another.

  They stood on the outskirts of town. Above them a boy flew by on some errand or other, his dad perched on his back. Rachel heard their laughter. Magic did not survive the passage to adulthood, but adults who wanted to fly could still enjoy that special thrill through children.

  Rachel and Eric tramped up a long path. It brought them to Rachel’s old nursery school.

  ‘Oh, it’s closed,’ Eric said. ‘I hadn’t heard.’

  A thick chain on the school gate barred the way inside. No notice of explanation was provided, or needed.

  ‘Same everywhere,’ Rachel said. ‘This was the last one. Closed last week. You know what little kids are like – just want to be out playing.’ She smiled. At first it had seemed an ominous development when children stopped turning up for school. But if you could fly, why sit in a classroom? The best teachers soon realized that traditional schooling offered nothing that could rival the fascination of magic. Why bother with textbook geography, with the world at your disposal? Children now went all over the world for their education, and teachers not afraid of flying in the arms of their students went with them.

  ‘It’s funny,’ Eric noted, as they walked away from the nursery. ‘A couple of kids from my old school took the Head of Maths out flying yesterday. Did I tell you? Wanted to know about vectors and something called thrust quotations. Reckoned it might help them manoeuvre better in high winds.’

  ‘Was he able to help them?’

  ‘Yeah. They were practising with him last night,’ Eric said.

  ‘What? They took him out in the dark?’

  ‘Sure. Why not. He was game for it, apparently. A true test for his theories, and all that. They say he enjoyed it, but it was a while before he could talk normally afterwards.’

  A couple of sprinters swerved around Rachel. They flew close to the ground, the wind from their passage messing her hair. Eric laughed – knowing they were deliberately trying to goad Rachel into following them.

  Flying games were the most popular new sports – fiercely competitive, fast and visible, with rules that were usually easy to master. Rachel could have won them all, and local teams were always trying to get her attention, but such displays didn’t interest her. She led Eric from the nursery lane into an adjoining field. There were some rusty swings here and a dilapidated rocking horse. It was the sort of desultory old-style playground only a few chil
dren still used.

  ‘Feebles,’ Eric said, seeing two children there.

  ‘Don’t call them that,’ Rachel snapped angrily. ‘I hate that word.’

  ‘It’s what they’re being called, Rach, whether you like it or not.’

  A young boy and girl, seven or eight years old, sat on the wooden horse. The boy wore shorts and a wind-cheater, and looked cold. The girl had a long white skirt. She had hitched it up over her knees to help her clamber onto the frame. They sat astride the horse, rocking each other back and forth as best they could.

  Eric sighed, glancing at Rachel. ‘You’re going to play with them, aren’t you?’

  ‘Just for a bit.’

  ‘That’s what you always say. Then it becomes hours.’

  Rachel grinned. ‘I like being with them. Anyway, these are new. I’m going to introduce myself. And don’t call them feebles.’

  The children on the rocking horse were the least talented children. Spell-gifts were not evenly distributed. After the initial rush of magic following the Awakening, it was discovered that a few children in each country had little magic – so little that it went virtually unnoticed. In a world where many children could fly effortlessly, others could still only dream of flying. None of these children could take part in the spell-games sprouting up all around, so Rachel had instead set up a programme where the most magical children spent time with them.

  In the clouds above a boy the same age as the little girl sped by, way out of her reach. She longingly followed him until he passed over some hills.

  ‘Hey, who are you two?’ Rachel asked, rushing over and putting the brother and sister at ease. The girl lifted her arms, wanting to be picked up. The boy hung back shyly.

  ‘Get on,’ Rachel said to them both, lowering her back so they could climb aboard. Then, gently, she rose skyward.

  ‘I’m not scared,’ the boy said fiercly.

  Rachel laughed. ‘I can see that!’

  “Up! Up!’ the little girl told her. ‘Go faster!’ As Rachel increased velocity, the girl cried out, ‘I’m falling. I’m falling off!’