Wizard's Guide to Wellington

by A. J. Ponder

  “Yes, thanks for that,” Alec said. “You really saved us there.” He sat down. “Still, what are we going to do now without Ike? This is a disaster.”

  “You’ll move,” the lift said as it beedle-beeped to a halt, “because whatever you do, you can’t stay here. Soon enough they’ll figure out how to call me back and there’ll be nothing I can do. Go on, I’ll lead them a good chase.”

  “But Ike!” Alec said. “We should go back.”

  “It’s too late for Ike,” Perrin said, dragging him out of the lift and onto Cuba Mall. “There’s nothing we can do for him now.” She pulled something out from her cloak. But look what I got. That taniwha book he was reading.”

  “What use is that without Ike?” Alec said.

  “Ike can look after himself, and so can we. ‘Sides, we’re trying to save Wellingtowne, remember? And yes,” Perrin muttered, “thank you so much, that was very quick thinking on my part. Very clever, thanks for saying so.”

  “Shut up. I don’t care. I just want to go home and have everything...normal.” Alec wasn’t sure how normal he wanted everything to be, but not like this, that was for sure.

  Perrin rolled her eyes. “So you don’t mind if we all die?”

  “Beedley beep.” The lift re-opened its doors. “More likely you’ll both get caught,” it hollered. “Get moving.”

  “Fine,” Alec said, chasing after Perrin who was already running headlong down the street.

  “Come on, you’re the one who wanted to do this in the first place.”

  “I don’t see how, not without Ike.”

  Perrin frowned. “What I don’t see is what Bignose wants Ike for. But I think we ought to find out.”

  “How?” Alec asked.

  “Right here,” Perrin said, veering towards what seemed to be a rather odd second-hand shop with “Old Fachtrichtes” painted in curlicue writing on the door. The bell above the door clanged as they rushed through.

  “Not you again,” a woman said, her spiky hair coloured every colour of the rainbow.

  “It’s important,” Perrin said. “Elsie, we have to have that wizard’s guide.”

  “Slight problem with that,” Elsie said.

  Perrin walked over to a large glass cabinet. “But, I just need to talk-” and she stopped. The cabinet was empty.

  “It was here,” Perrin said. “It was.”

  “A gentleman came with an awful lot of money for that guide. Couldn’t say no. Old Mr Fachtrichte would have had my guts for garters.”

  “Some librarian took ours,” Alec said. “Apparently Bignose wants them.”

  “Bignose, of the Coterie?” Elsie asked. “That was him exactly. How odd – how many wizard’s guides can one man possibly want?”

  Alec and Perrin looked at each other.

  “Can I help you with anything else?” Elsie asked. “It’s almost closing time.”

  “We, er, have this book on taniwhas,” Alec said. “And we...ah...want to find out if anyone knows anything more on, you know, the local history of taniwhas.”

  Elsie beamed. “The Coterie love local history. Maybe they could help.”

  “No!” Perrin and Alec said at once.

  “Never mind,” Elsie said. “I guess it can’t have been that important then. Oh look!” she pointed to the spine of the taniwha book. “I know him – Mister O’Kreafly is one of our customers.”

  “What, the guy who wrote this book?”

  “He’s part of the Literary Fellowship, 25 Tinakori Road, Thorndon. You could set up an appoint – ”

  “Thanks,” Perrin said. “You’re brilliant.” She ran out the door, ignoring Elsie’s protests that they should at least ring first.

  “We’ll need to hurry,” Perrin said, looking at the sky. “How about you see this writer and I’ll go back to the AMO before it closes. There’s someone there I’d like to talk to.”

  “All by yourself? Don’t be silly – ” Alec started.

  “Meet you by the mermaid lagoon in an hour,” Perrin called, taking off on her broomstick.

  “What?” Alec yelled, running after her, but she was gone. Which left him wondering what to do next. There was no way he could get there and back in an hour. If only he could do the simplest of magic then he could get there in an instant and be back to help Perrin before she got herself into too much trouble.

  He looked down the street, but had no idea where the lift had been. He was wondering if it would take so very long to walk there when he heard a noise. “Beedley Beep,” the lift said pleasantly, as if it was waiting for him.

  “Hi.” Alec stepped inside and peered at all the buttons. It was almost impossible to tell which one he should push. “Thanks for stopping. I hope you’re not in too much trouble.”

  “Stupid magic users,” the lift said. “They think lifts like me are just furniture so I act dumb. Works every time. So where would you like to go?”

  “I thought I had to press a button.”

  “Only people who aren’t polite,” said the lift.

  “Then twenty-five Tinakori Road, please.”

  The wall straps plummeted, and Alec was quick to hang on for dear life as the lift lurched around for about five minutes. “This is my last stop, literally,” the lift said as it shuddered to a halt. “Did you get the joke? Or do you think literarily would work better?”

  “Oh!” Alec forced a laugh. “No, it’s a very clever joke either way. I’m just a bit worried.”

  “Of course you are – you’re a human. They always seem to be worried,” the lift said. “Today especially. Some of them are quite hysterical. Very odd. Well, this is absolutely as far as I go, so good luck.”

  “Thanks awfully,” Alec said, trying not to clutch his stomach too obviously as he walked up to the door of the blue house and knocked.

  “Ow!” the door said, swinging open and ignoring Alec’s apologies with a hasty, “Never mind, down the corridor and first door to the left. And next time, for goodness’ sakes use the doorbell.”

  Alec went through into a cheery room where a dozen grey-clad academics lounged about on flower-print sofas. They were nibbling pens and hiding bug-eyed behind overlarge glasses and enormous pieces of curling paper, blinking owlishly and pretending he didn’t exist until at last a prim lady looked up with an angry frown.

  “And you would be?” she asked as her pen brutally slashed the paper beneath it.

  “I’m Alec. I’m, er...” Alec swallowed. “I’m looking for a Mr O’Kreafly.”

  “He’s out with friends for a couple of days,” she said, tearing the obviously offensive piece of paper into bits and scattering them about like confetti. The confetti turned into tiny birds that conveniently flew themselves into the wastepaper basket. “Now what did he say?”

  She hesitated before her voice deepened. “I’m going to be gone for a while, but if anyone should ask after me, you tell them there’s nothing from this age that can break the cord.”

  “What?” Alec said. It wasn’t exactly helpful.

  “That’s all. Nothing more. He always did have a weird sense of humour.

  “I guess you have to if you study taniwhas,” a wan gentleman opined.

  The others all nodded sagely.

  “And giant man-eating spiders,” the wan gentleman added with a giggle. “Exaggerated danger and humour go hand in hand.”

  “It’s not funny,” Alec said. “And it’s not exaggerated. The taniwha is about to be woken and somebody has to stop them.”

  “Stop whom?” the lady asked.

  “The Coterie – they’re planning to wake the Taniwha.” Alec said. “That’s why it’s important to break the cord. To stop the...um...”

  Alec trailed off – after all, he wasn’t sure exactly what would happen. Earthquakes and disaster for sure, but in this cosy room and with all the bemused faces looking at him and frowning from behind their over-large glasses his quest didn’t seem quite as urgent as before. Mostly because it didn’t seem quite sane.

&
nbsp; He pushed on anyway. “You have to believe me. They have my father, and-”

  “Look, kid,” the wan gentleman said, mopping his brow with the back of his hand, “we’re writers, so naturally we’re pleased you’ve got such an active imagination, but another time, huh? We’ve got a deadline to meet or we’re all toast. Truly, next week would be much better.”

  The grey lady half smiled and shuffled a stack of papers. “How about you drop by Monday? That’d be real nice. It’d make a great short story.”

  Alec found himself being propelled towards the front steps against his will. The door closed. The dusk outside gathered and deepened. Alec flinched; his mother would be purple with wrath at his being out so late and not calling. But he couldn’t stop now, even if he had reached a complete dead end and his only hope was that Perrin had done better.

  The problem was that when he finally got to their meeting place, Perrin was nowhere to be seen.

  PAPERWORK

  Perrin jumped off her broomstick and began to creep very slowly towards the AMO’s balcony, avoiding the patch of light floating out from the window. All the rest of the council buildings were dark, which prompted the question, who would be working so late?

  Heart thumping, she sidled a little closer before the door was thrown open.

  She scuttled into the shadowy entrance of an adjacent MO as a woman burst out the door, shrieking, “Where is he, Ian?”

  Perrin recognised the voice almost immediately. It was Milly, the Siren. She was searching the sky and clucking impatiently. “He’s late.”

  Someone else stomped outside. It was Ian, the bearded Magicom who had grabbed at her from that same balcony earlier in the day.

  Perrin shrank back further.

  Ian scowled and scanned the sky. “Better be here soon,” he muttered, and crammed sheaves of notes into a very unhappy briefcase. The briefcase moaned horribly and disgorged papers into the air with nasty choking coughing sounds almost as fast as Ian could stuff them in.

  Milly pointed.

  A silhouette of a flying car dropped down from the darkening sky. Ian and Milly stepped backwards hurriedly to let it land half on and half off the tiny AMO balcony. A very official looking black limousine, it couldn’t have been nearly as official as it looked because its little flag holder by the door was empty and the number plate had been shadowed with powerful magic.

  Nathaniel Nugget slid out the door. No surprise there, Perrin thought angrily as he disappeared inside the AMO with Ian. They came back dragging something small and weighty, and heaved it into the boot. The car juddered. And juddered again as Ian, Nathaniel and the Siren all clambered in and took off.

  Perrin stood trembling for long minutes until the car was out of sight. At last she swallowed her fear and coaxed her rather battered broomstick up to the porch.

  The door creaked alarmingly as it swung open – showing a ragged hole where the lock should have been.

  Another deep breath.

  Perrin peeked inside. The reception was even messier than her bedroom. Paper, machinery, kitchen appliances and even desks were smashed all over the floor.

  She needed to get on with it, before anyone saw her loitering by the door. Slowly, quietly, Perrin closed the door and picked her way through the debris for clues. Nothing.

  A shadow dropped from the ceiling, diving at her head. She ducked, a half scream dying on her lips as she realised her attacker was only a harmless bat. She tried to wave it away with one hand but it kept on attacking her until she found Mr Kettleson’s room – which fortunately had his name on the door – and she shut the bat outside.

  In contrast to the reception area, her uncle’s office was very, very tidy, and quite empty. As if no one worked there at all. Even the desk was gone. All that was left were the scuffmarks on the floor and a set of bare shelves.

  Perrin went back to the main office and began sifting through the scattered papers and wreckage that was the rest of the AMO, hoping to find some sort of a clue. The seismagicographs were all unplugged, and when she tried to plug one in lights began flashing, and a thin warning sound accompanied a jumping marker. She switched it off quickly.

  Surely someone must have known something was wrong? Of course – the gnome had. That’s why he’d sounded so funny, as if he’d been trying to tell her something. She looked in his office and it too was startlingly bare except for a wooden chair lying broken on the floor.

  With a sickening realisation Perrin suddenly knew what had been in that heavy sack – or more precisely who. The gnome had been kidnapped. But why? And if he knew so much, surely he’d have left some hint, some clue? He’d been too scared to say anything with Ian listening, apart from rambling on about cups of tea, but maybe he’d left a message? It was a long shot, but it’s what she would have done.

  Somewhere his attackers wouldn’t think to look. She started looking through the debris on the floor again – the papers, the wrecked machines, the bits of furniture – but that would take forever. No, he would leave it somewhere those others would never think to go.

  The kitchen! It had to be. She remembered so clearly, “If Oi don’t get my two lumps of sugarr ferr morrning tea,” and then he’d winked.

  Perrin rushed to the kitchen, grabbed the sugar container from the cupboard and tipped it upside down.

  Nothing. Except a lot of sugar spilt all over the bench.

  She peered into the container.

  Nothing.

  Thoughtfully, Perrin turned it over in her hands. It was definitely the sugar pot; the rumpled and rather dog-eared label said so. And it now held nothing. Nothing at all except a few crumbs of sugar.

  She was beat. Now she would have to tell Alec that not only had she hit a dead end, but his little adventure was getting more dangerous by the minute. If Bignose and his Coterie could kidnap an entire MO then two ‘zids could hardly stop them from doing the unthinkable and waking a taniwha.

  Perrin poked dispiritedly at the label. No magic there, but it did feel baggy. Like it had been peeled off and not quite stuck back on properly again.

  Her heart skipped a beat as she realised what that might mean. It skipped another beat when she peeled back the label. Sure enough, there was a message:

  Mr O’Kreafly, please be very careful. Someone here is using too much magic. I believe Nathaniel Nugget Scarbridge of the Coterie is covering it up. I believe your expertise is needed. And your discretion.

  Yours in all Sincerity,

  Noah Strongbridge

  THE COTERIE

  Alec sprinted around the council chambers, the wide courtyard, the library. Perrin was nowhere.

  He raced onto the waka-bridge, strung out over the motorway, to try to get a better view. He was searching the walkways below when Perrin dive-bombed him from above, a very large bat swooping after her and buffeting both of them angrily with its wings before flying off, screeching.

  “No luck with Mr O’Kreafly, then?” she said as if the bat was inconsequential.

  He shook his head.

  “I thought something must have happened.” She waved a scrappy bit of paper under his nose. “This was meant for him. But I don’t get it. We keep on hearing about this Coterie, but who are they?.”

  Alec grabbed the note and read it. “They’re a...um...a ritual something. I don’t know, but I remember there’s something on the waterfront – a quote or something – over by the museum.” Alec pointed down to the courtyard below. “That way, close to the theatre. I remember it because it gave me the shivers.”

  “Hop on,” Perrin said. “We don’t have much time.”

  Alec did and immediately regretted it, holding onto the broomstick for dear life as it lurched into the air.

  “Which way?” Perrin asked.

  Alec cautiously opened his eyes. He was flying, and yes, it was fast, but it wasn’t so different to riding a rollercoaster. “Just over there.” He pointed between Circa Theatre and the museum. “It’s somewhere there.”

  “Oops!
” Perrin said as the broomstick pitched sideways. “We got a bit close to the sea. Still, almost there. Here we go.”

  Alec closed his eyes, opening them again just in time to see the ground careening towards him. His legs jarred with the landing, but it wasn’t so bad. He was only a little unsteady as he stumbled away from the broomstick.

  “This way, the quote’s not far from here,” he said, and dashed across the courtyard to where a plaque set into the pavement held the quote.

  “Clever, isn’t it?” said a voice that for one happy moment he thought might be Ike’s. Or Perrin’s.

  It wasn’t. He turned. A man, black cloak rippling, his black teeth almost invisible in his cavernous mouth, shadowed by...that enormous nose.

  Perrin screamed, or maybe it was Alec himself. It was hard to tell, because he was too busy falling...

  Alec woke, head throbbing, the taste of burnt toffee gumming his mouth – and with the disconcerting feeling that the world was swaying.

  He looked down. His feet were moving along the lamp-lit path – quite of someone else’s accord. And staggering along beside him was Perrin, her eyes moving behind closed lids as if she were trapped in a bad dream.

  Feeling as if he also was stuck in some awful nightmare, Alec tried to pinch himself – but he couldn’t move his arms at all. He tried to fall over; he couldn’t do that either. His legs just marched on against his will right around a dirt path to where twelve wizards were sitting around a sundial in the dark. The world lurched alarmingly and suddenly Alec was sitting. It wasn’t exactly something he’d planned – and it hurt.

  “Look what I found,” Bignose said gesturing to Alec and Perrin. “Now do you lot have the librarian’s book?” he demanded, hand outstretched.

  “Yes, we have it,” an attractive young wizard interjected, pulling her long, windblown hair from her face. “But this one won’t talk either.”

  “It’s too late for talk now. After all, we are on the verge of the greatness, gentle-wizards. The eve of my finest hour – and, may I say, the greatest accomplishment of any wizard in the history of Wellingtowne. This very night I shall wake the taniwha.”