by Angie Sage
So Nicko and Boy 412 missed Jenna’s first Disappearance.
Marcia clapped her hands. “You did it!” she said.
“Did I? Have I?” Jenna’s voice came from out of the air.
“Hey, Jen, where are you?” asked Nicko, laughing.
Marcia looked at her timepiece. “Now don’t forget, the first time you do a spell it doesn’t last very long. You’ll Reappear in a minute or so. After that it should last as long as you want it to.”
Boy 412 watched Jenna’s blurred shape slowly Materialize out of the flickering shadows cast by Aunt Zelda’s candles. He stared openmouthed. He wanted to do that.
“Nicko,” said Marcia, “your turn.”
Boy 412 felt cross with himself. What had made him think Marcia would ask him? Of course she wouldn’t. He didn’t belong. He was just a Young Army Expendable.
“I’ve got my own Disappear, thanks,” said Nicko. “Don’t want to get it muddled up with this one.”
Nicko had a workmanlike approach to Magyk. He had no intention of becoming a Wizard, even though he was from a Magykal family and had been taught Basyk Magyk. Nicko didn’t see why he needed more than one of each kind of spell. Why clog your brain up with all that stuff? He reckoned he already had all the spells in his head that he would ever need. He’d rather use his brain space for useful things like tide times and sail rigging.
“Very well,” said Marcia, who knew better than to try and make Nicko do anything he wasn’t interested in, “but just remember that only those within the same Unseen can see each other. If you have a different one, Nicko, you will not be visible to anyone who has a different spell, even if they too are Unseen. All right?”
Nicko nodded vaguely. He didn’t really see why it mattered.
“Now, then”—Marcia turned to Boy 412—“it’s your turn.”
Boy 412 went pink. He stared at his feet. She had asked him. More than anything he wanted to try the spell, but he hated the way everyone was looking at him, and he was sure he was going to look stupid if he tried it.
“You really should have a go,” said Marcia. “I want you all to be able to do this.”
Boy 412 looked up, surprised. Did Marcia mean he was just as important as the two other kids? The two who belonged?
Aunt Zelda’s voice came from the other end of the room. “Of course he’ll have a go.”
Boy 412 stood up awkwardly. Marcia fished out another Charm from the book and gave it to him. “Now you Imprint it,” she told him.
Boy 412 held the Charm in his hand. Jenna and Nicko looked at him, curious to see what he would do now that it was his turn.
“Say the words,” Marcia prompted gently. Boy 412 said nothing, but the words to the spell whizzed around his brain and filled his head with a strange buzzing sensation. Underneath his red beanie hat, the stubbly hairs on the back of his head stood up. He could feel the Magyk tingling through his hand.
“He’s gone!” gasped Jenna.
Nicko gave a low whistle of admiration. “He doesn’t hang about, does he?”
Boy 412 felt cross. There was no need to make fun of him. And why was Marcia giving him such a weird look? Had he done something wrong?
“Come back now,” Marcia said very quietly. Something in Marcia’s voice made Boy 412 a little scared. What had happened?
Then an amazing thought crossed Boy 412’s mind. Very quietly he stepped over Bert, slipped past Jenna without touching her and wandered into the middle of the room. No one watched him go. They were all still staring at the space where he had just been standing.
A thrill of excitement ran through Boy 412. He could do it. He could do Magyk. He could Fade into the Aire! No one could see him. He was free!
Boy 412 gave a small hop of excitement. No one noticed. He put his arms in the air and waved them above his head. No one noticed. He put his thumbs in his ears and waggled his fingers. No one noticed. Then, silently, he skipped over to blow out a storm candle, caught his foot under a rug and crashed to the floor.
“There you are,” said Marcia crossly.
And there he was, sitting on the floor nursing a bruised knee and slowly Appearing to his impressed audience.
“You’re good,” said Jenna. “How did you do that so easily?”
Boy 412 shook his head. He had no idea how he had done it. It had just happened. But it felt great.
Marcia was in a strange mood. Boy 412 thought she would be pleased with him, but she seemed to be anything but.
“You shouldn’t Imprint a spell so fast. It can be dangerous. You might not have been able to come back properly.”
What Marcia didn’t say to Boy 412 was that she had never seen a first-timer master a spell so quickly. It unsettled her. And she felt even more unsettled when Boy 412 gave her back the Charm and she felt a buzz of Magyk, like a small click of static electricity, jump from his hand.
“No,” she said, giving it back to him, “you keep the Charm. And Jenna too. It’s best for beginners to keep the Charms for spells they might want to use.”
Boy 412 put the Charm in his trouser pocket. He felt confused. His head still swam with the excitement of the Magyk, and he knew he had done the spell perfectly. So why was Marcia cross? What had he done wrong? Maybe the Young Army was right. Maybe the ExtraOrdinary Wizard really was crazy—what was it they used to chant every morning in the Young Army before they went off to guard the Wizard Tower and spy on the comings and goings of all the Wizards, particularly the ExtraOrdinary Wizard?
Crazy as a cuttlefish,
Nasty as a RAT,
Put her in a pie dish,
Give her to the CAT!
But the rhyme didn’t make Boy 412 laugh anymore, and it didn’t seem to have much to do with Marcia at all. In fact, the more he thought about the Young Army, the more Boy 412 realized the truth.
The Young Army was crazy.
Marcia was Magyk.
23
WINGS
That night the easterly wind blew up into a gale. It rattled the shutters, shook the doors and unsettled the whole cottage. Every now and then a great gust of wind howled around the cottage, blowing the smoke back down the chimney and leaving the three occupants of the fireside quilts choking and spluttering.
Upstairs, Maxie had refused to leave his master’s bed and was snoring as loudly as ever, much to the irritation of Marcia and Aunt Zelda, neither of whom could sleep.
Aunt Zelda got up quietly and peered out of the window as she always did on stormy nights, ever since her younger brother Theo, a Shape-Shifter like her older brother, Benjamin Heap, had decided he had had enough of living his life below the clouds. Theo wanted to soar up through them into the sunlight forever. One winter’s day he had come to say good-bye to his sister, and at dawn the next day she had sat by the Mott and watched as he Shifted for the last time into his chosen Shape, a storm petrel. The last Aunt Zelda had seen of Theo was the powerful bird heading out over the Marram Marshes toward the sea. As she watched the bird go, she knew that she was unlikely to ever see her brother again, for storm petrels spend their lives flying over the oceans and rarely return to land, unless blown in by a storm. Aunt Zelda sighed and tiptoed back to bed.
Marcia had stuffed her pillow over her head in an effort to drown out the dog snores and the high-pitched howl of the wind as it swept over the marshes and, finding the cottage in its way, tried to batter its way through and out the other side. But it wasn’t just the noise that kept her awake. There was something else on her mind. Something she had seen that evening had given her some hope for the future. A future back at the Castle, free from Darke Magyk. She lay awake planning her next move.
Downstairs, Boy 412 couldn’t sleep at all. Ever since he had done the spell he felt odd, as if a swarm of bees was buzzing inside his head. He imagined little bits of Magyk left behind from the spell, spinning around and around. He wondered why Jenna, who was now sleeping soundly, wasn’t awake. Why wasn’t her head buzzing too? He slipped his ring on, and the g
olden glow lit up the room, giving Boy 412 an idea. It must be the ring. That was why his head was buzzing, and that was why he could do the spell so easily. He had found a Magyk ring.
Boy 412 started thinking about what had happened after he had done the spell. How he had sat with Jenna looking through the spell book until Marcia had noticed and made them put it away, saying that she didn’t want any more fooling around, thank you very much. Then, later in the evening, when no one else was about, Marcia had cornered him and told him she wanted to talk to him the next day. By himself. To Boy 412’s way of thinking, that could only mean trouble.
Boy 412 felt unhappy. He couldn’t think straight, so he decided to make a list. The Young Army Facts List. It had always worked before.
Fact One. No early morning roll call: GOOD.
Fact Two. Much better food: GOOD.
Fact Three. Aunt Zelda nice: GOOD.
Fact Four. Princess-girl friendly: GOOD.
Fact Five. Have Magyk ring: GOOD.
Fact Six. ExtraOrdinary Wizard cross: BAD.
Boy 412 was surprised. Never before in his life had the GOOD outnumbered the BAD. But somehow that made the one BAD even worse. Because, for the first time, Boy 412 felt he had something to lose. Eventually he fell into an uneasy sleep and woke early with the dawn.
The next morning the east wind had died down, and there was a general air of expectation in the cottage.
Aunt Zelda was out at dawn checking for storm petrels blown in after the windy night. There weren’t any, which was what she expected, although she always hoped otherwise.
Marcia was expecting Silas back with her KeepSafe.
Jenna and Nicko were expecting a message from Silas.
Maxie was expecting his breakfast.
Boy 412 was expecting trouble.
“Don’t you want your porridge chunks?” Aunt Zelda asked Boy 412 at breakfast. “You had two helpings yesterday, and you’ve hardly touched them today.”
Boy 412 shook his head.
Aunt Zelda looked concerned. “You’re looking a bit peaky,” she said. “Are you feeling all right?”
Boy 412 nodded, even though he wasn’t.
After breakfast, while Boy 412 was carefully folding his quilt as neatly as he had always folded his Army blankets every morning of his life, Jenna asked him if he wanted to come out in the Muriel Two with her and Nicko to watch for the Message Rat coming back. He shook his head. Jenna wasn’t surprised. She knew Boy 412 did not like boats.
“See you later, then,” she called out cheerily as she ran off to join Nicko in the canoe.
Boy 412 watched Nicko steer the canoe out along the Mott and into the marshes. The marshland looked bleak and cold that morning, as though the night’s east wind had rubbed it raw. He was glad he was staying in the cottage by the warm fire.
“Ah, there you are,” said Marcia behind him. Boy 412 jumped. “I’d like a word with you.”
Boy 412’s heart sank. Well, that was it, he thought. She’s going to send me away. Back to the Young Army. He should have realized it was all too good to last.
Marcia noticed how pale Boy 412 had suddenly become.
“Are you all right?” she asked him. “Was it the pig-foot pie last night? I found it a bit indigestible myself. Didn’t get much sleep either, especially with that awful east wind. And speaking of wind, I don’t see why that disgusting dog can’t sleep somewhere else.”
Boy 412 smiled. He for one was glad that Maxie slept upstairs.
“I thought you might like to show me the island,” Marcia continued. “I expect you already know your way around.”
Boy 412 looked at Marcia in alarm. What did she suspect? Did she know he’d found the tunnel?
“Don’t look so worried.” Marcia smiled. “Come on, why don’t you show me the Boggart patch? I’ve never seen where a Boggart lives.”
Regretfully leaving the warmth of the cottage behind, Boy 412 set off with Marcia to the Boggart patch.
Together they made a strange pair: Boy 412, ex–Young Army Expendable, a small, slight figure even in his bulky sheepskin jacket and baggy rolled-up sailor’s trousers, was made instantly visible by his bright red hat, which so far he had refused to take off, even for Aunt Zelda. Towering above him, Marcia Overstrand, ExtraOrdinary Wizard, strode along at a brisk pace, which Boy 412 had to occasionally break into a trot to keep up with. Her gold and platinum belt flashed in the weak winter sunlight, and her heavy silk and fur robes flowed out behind her in a rich purple stream.
They soon arrived at the Boggart patch.
“Is that it?” asked Marcia, a little shocked at how any creature could live in such a cold and muddy place.
Boy 412 nodded, proud that he could show Marcia something she didn’t already know.
“Well, well,” said Marcia. “You learn something every day. And yesterday,” she said, looking Boy 412 in the eye before he had a chance to look away. “Yesterday I learned something too. Something very interesting.”
Boy 412 shuffled his feet uneasily and looked away. He didn’t like the sound of this.
“I learned,” said Marcia in a low voice, “that you have a natural Magykal gift. You did that spell as easily as if you had been studying Magyk for years. But you’ve never been near a spell in your life, have you?”
Boy 412 shook his head and looked at his feet. He still felt as though he had done something wrong.
“Quite,” said Marcia. “I didn’t think so. I suppose you have been in the Young Army since you were, what…two and a half? That’s when they usually take them.”
Boy 412 had no idea how long he had been in the Young Army. He could remember nothing else in his life, so he supposed Marcia was right. He nodded again.
“Well, we all know that the Young Army is the last place you’d come up against any Magyk. And yet somehow you have your own Magykal energy. It gave me quite a shock when you handed me the Charm last night.”
Marcia took something small and shiny from a pocket in her belt and placed it in Boy 412’s hand. Boy 412 looked down and saw a tiny pair of silver wings nestling in his grubby palm. The wings shimmered in the light and looked to Boy 412 as though they might fly away at any moment. He peered closer and saw some minute letters set into each wing in a fine gold inlay. Boy 412 knew what that meant. He was holding a Charm, but this time it wasn’t just a piece of wood—it was a beautiful jewel.
“Some Charms for higher Magyk can be very beautiful,” said Marcia. “They’re not all pieces of soggy toast. I remember when Alther first showed this one to me. I thought it was one of the most simple and beautiful Charms I had ever seen. And I still do.”
Boy 412 gazed at the wings. On one beautiful silver wing were the words FLY FREE, and on the other wing were the words WITH ME.
Fly Free With Me, Boy 412 said to himself, loving how the words sounded inside his head. And then…
He couldn’t help it.
He didn’t really know he was doing it.
He just said the words to himself, his flying dream came into his head and…
“I knew you would do it!” exclaimed Marcia excitedly. “I just knew it!”
Boy 412 wondered what she meant. Until he realized that he seemed to be the same height as Marcia. Or even taller—in fact, he was floating above her. Boy 412 looked down in surprise, expecting Marcia to tell him off like she had done the evening before, to tell him to stop fooling around and come back down this minute, but to his relief she had a huge smile on her face and her green eyes flashed with excitement.
“It’s amazing!” Marcia shielded her eyes against the morning sun as she squinted up to look at Boy 412 floating over the Boggart patch. “This is advanced Magyk. This is stuff you don’t do for years. I just don’t believe it.”
Which was probably the wrong thing to say, because Boy 412 didn’t believe it either. Not really.
There was a huge splash as he landed in the middle of the Boggart patch.
“Oi! Can’t a poor Boggart have
no peace?” An indignant pair of black-button eyes blinked reproachfully out of the mud.
“Aaah…” gasped Boy 412, struggling to the surface and grabbing hold of the Boggart.
“I bin awake all yesterday,” the Boggart complained as he pulled the spluttering boy toward the edge of the mud patch. “Went all the way ter the river, sun in me eyes, rat yammering in me ear”—the Boggart pushed Boy 412 up onto the bank beside the mud patch—“an all I hope fer is a bit a sleep the next day. Don’t want no visitors. Just want ter sleep. Got it? You all right, lad?”
Boy 412 nodded, still spluttering.
Marcia had knelt down and was wiping Boy 412’s face with a rather fine purple silk handkerchief. The short-sighted Boggart looked taken aback.
“Oh, mornin’, Yer Majesty,” said the Boggart respectfully. “Didunt see you there.”
“Good Morning, Boggart. I’m so sorry we disturbed you. Thank you very much for your help. We’ll be off now and leave you in peace.”
“Think nothin’ of it. Bin a pleasure.”
With that the Boggart sank to the bottom of the mud patch, leaving nothing more than a few bubbles on the surface.
Marcia and Boy 412 slowly made their way back to the cottage. Marcia decided to ignore the fact that Boy 412 was covered from head to toe in mud. There was something she wanted to ask him. She had made up her mind, and she didn’t want to wait.
“I wonder,” she said, “if you would consider being my Apprentice?”
Boy 412 stopped in his tracks and stared at Marcia, the whites of his eyes shining out from his mud-covered face. What had she said?
“You would be my first one. I have never found anyone suitable before.”
Boy 412 just stared at Marcia in disbelief.
“What I mean is,” said Marcia, trying to explain, “that I have never found anyone with any Magykal spark before now, but you have it. I don’t know why you have it or how you got it, but you do. And with your power and mine together I think we can dispel the Darke, the Other side. Maybe forever. What do you say? Will you be my Apprentice?”
