The Threads of Magic

by Alison Croggon

  With every step she took, she felt more ashamed of herself.

  Georgette was so wrapped up in her own miserable thoughts that she wasn’t taking any notice of what was going on around her. When Pip halted suddenly, she cannoned straight into his back. He cursed, and that was when she saw the fear in his face. It was so stark that she went cold all the way through her body.

  At first she didn’t know why. There was nobody near by. They stood in a narrow, empty street lined with shuttered windows and locked doors, the afternoon sun shining on the cobbles. A street like hundreds of others in Clarel.

  And then a shadow swept over them, and she wasn’t in the street at all. She and Pip were in another place. She could hear someone crying as if their heart would break. She knew at once that it was the same boy she always heard in her dream, the dream where her mother sat on the throne in front of the stained-glass window. A little boy, weeping and afraid.

  Everything around them was shadowy and insubstantial, as if it weren’t quite real. It was like the street where they had been, only drained of life, as if they were surrounded by the ghosts of buildings. Pip alone seemed solid. Instinctively, Georgette grabbed his hand. He didn’t pull away. She could feel his pulse hammering under her fingers. Pip’s hand was the only warm thing in the whole world.

  “Did you really think that you could escape me?”

  The voice came from behind them. It was a beautiful voice, low and rich, rippling with amusement. Pip and Georgette whipped around, still clutching each other’s hands, but there was no one there.

  “I’m afraid that you underestimate me. Princess, you should have known better. You did know better.” A low laugh. “Yes, I saw how you cowered when you saw me. I know how afraid you are.”

  Clovis hiccupped and stopped crying, and for the first time Georgette could see him: a small boy, his shoulder-length hair the same colour as hers, crouched in a ball against Pip’s legs, like a small animal that was too afraid to move.

  As if the darkness coalesced, a form took shape in front of them. Georgette gripped Pip’s hand even more tightly. It was King Oswald, as she had last seen him, in the sober but expensive dress that he favoured.

  “Come, Princess,” he said. “Your pointless rebellion is now over.”

  Georgette stirred. “I won’t,” she said thickly.

  “Leave her alone,” said Pip.

  Oswald cast Pip a look of contempt. Pip felt a pressure on his throat, as if someone were resting their hands around his neck, wondering whether to strangle him. He gulped and steadied himself. “I told you, leave her be.”

  “I’ll be dealing with you in a moment,” said Oswald. He turned his attention back to Georgette. “Dear me. A girl of your lineage hobnobbing with a common thief. How low can a princess go? Imagine the scandal if anyone knew. In this one instance, I will overlook it, and allow you to retain your honour.” He smiled and reached out a white, ringless hand.

  Georgette recoiled in horror. “I’d rather die!”

  Oswald’s smile snapped out. “How disappointing you are,” he said. “You could make this so much easier for yourself. But I assure you that, although you will be severely punished for your disobedience, I will not permit you to die.”

  “I don’t care what you permit,” said Georgette, although even she could hear how hollow her defiance was. The assurance in Oswald’s voice was absolute: he knew she had no way of escaping him. He was just playing with them, a predator teasing his prey. She could see in his eyes what her future was going to be. It was worse than anything she had imagined back in the palace.

  Clovis scrambled to his feet.

  “You are the dishonourable ones,” said Clovis. The arrogant young prince was back. “You, and my father, and all of you. I condemn you all.”

  “And yet I prevail.” Oswald’s form was flickering now, unstable like the shadows around him. “And I shall prevail for ever.”

  A green shimmer began to lighten the darkness. Oswald laughed. “I’m very sorry, Your Highness,” he said. “But your magic is weak here. Just as you are weak.”

  “You will not hurt my friends. I won’t let you.”

  The glimmering grew in strength, throwing a livid light. Pip, battling a growing horror, suddenly felt a gleam of hope. Clovis had pulled them out of Oswald’s clutches before. Maybe he would do it again…

  But then Oswald snapped his fingers, and the green glimmer vanished as suddenly as a candle being snuffed. Clovis stumbled forward and cried out. Pip instinctively reached out and pulled him up with his free hand, putting his arm around Clovis’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” whispered Clovis. “He’s very strong.”

  “Never mind,” said Pip. “At least you tried.”

  “But not enough.”

  “Friends can only do their best…”

  Chapter Fifty-two

  IT SEEMED MUCH DARKER THAN BEFORE, AS IF THE shadows had thickened. The only light, a lifeless blueish illumination, came from Oswald. He was now in his Spectre form, and towered over them, the edges of the rippling cold flame drifting towards their faces.

  “Enough,” he said. “You try my patience.” He lifted his skeletal arms.

  Pip’s breast swelled with anger and grief. It wasn’t fair; he wasn’t ready to die. And he knew, deep inside, that what would happen to the Prince and Princess would be much worse than death.

  He let go of Georgette and Clovis and lunged at Oswald, his fists flying, and hailed him with punches. He didn’t really expect that it would have any effect. He just didn’t want to be killed without some kind of resistance. But Oswald, who hadn’t expected any such attack, fell backwards onto the ground.

  Pip had time to kick Oswald once more in his bony ribs. He could feel Georgette and Clovis behind him, coming up to join in. And then unseen hands closed about his throat again, squeezing tighter and tighter until he couldn’t breathe and a red mist rose in front of his eyes. Georgette shouted his name as he fell over and the thought crossed his mind that this was the last thing he would ever hear.

  “No!” It was Clovis.

  Pip wasn’t quite certain what happened next. It felt as if the whole world tilted and turned over. There was a brilliant flash of green lightning, which struck Oswald full in the face. For an instant it lit up the eye sockets in his skull. Looking into them, Pip felt dizzy, as if he were teetering over a cliff; there was no end to the depths inside them.

  The pressure lifted from his throat and he rolled over, gasping. Georgette grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet.

  Clovis stood in front of them, his arms upraised. He looked very tiny before the Spectre, whose form was shifting, swelling into a boiling black cloud shot through with red fires. Pip watched, his heart in his mouth, as the cloud expanded, pluming up before them until, with a terrifying rapidity, it had covered the entire sky. In the centre, just above their heads, it was pitch-black; no, it was darker than that, as dark as the void in the Spectre’s eyes.

  Out of that centre, a whirling funnel of cloud began to descend, twisting and bending like an evil whiplash, and strike out viciously at Clovis.

  Clovis staggered, but he was still standing. “I don’t care if you destroy me,” he said. His voice was very clear. He didn’t sound angry, just determined. “But you’re not going to hurt my friends.”

  The cloud laughed. It was the worst sound Pip had ever heard. It seemed to come from everywhere at once: inside his head and outside his head. The whole sky was laughing at them.

  “You think you have the power to defeat me?”

  “No,” said Clovis. “But I’m going to try anyway.”

  Pip’s heart suddenly lifted. The little Prince’s defiance made him feel reckless. He had nothing to lose.

  “Me too,” he said, and stepped up next to Clovis.

  Georgette drew in a sharp breath and put her arm around Clovis’s shoulder. “You’ll have to kill us all,” she said. “And then there won’t be any Spectre babies for your foul kin
gdom.”

  To Pip’s surprise, that seemed to give Oswald pause. The cloud boiled ominously, without doing anything. Perhaps Oswald was trying to figure out how to defeat Clovis without actually destroying him or Georgette.

  Georgette staggered and fell against Pip, who automatically clutched her and held her upright. Between them, where Clovis had been, there was now an empty space. Clovis had vanished.

  “Clovis!” Pip spun around wildly on his heel. “Clovis, where are you?”

  There was no answer. The strange, shadowy buildings that lined the street stared back at him with their blank windows. They were glowing dimly now, each brick and stone faintly outlined in silvery blue against the boiling sky. He thought the stone was rippling, like the walls in Clovis’s royal bedroom in the Rupture.

  Everything was absolutely silent. That was the most frightening thing of all.

  “It was too much for him,” Georgette whispered, taking Pip’s hand again. He could feel her trembling. “He’s only a little boy.”

  “It’s too much for me, too,” said Pip heavily. The rage and defiance that had briefly filled him was ebbing away.

  Despite everything, he had thought that Clovis might pull something out of the hat. He had thought that maybe they could outface the Spectre. He should have known better. His whole life had taught him to expect the worst.

  “I can’t blame him for running away,” he said. He felt his eyes prickle hot with tears of hopelessness.

  The sky was growing redder and redder, like a giant pit of embers. Pip was sure that Oswald was brewing some terrible new spell. He was absolutely sure that he was going to die. And he was equally sure that he didn’t want to. He wasn’t ready. Georgette started pulling him towards the buildings, instinctively looking for shelter.

  They had only gone a few feet when Pip dug in his heels and pointed. Georgette looked up and gasped. A white thread of light was zigzagging through the middle of the cloud, tiny but incredibly bright. As they watched, it swelled, forcing aside the red embers, and a golden cloud spilled out of the gap.

  And suddenly the sound was back. A huge roll of thunder made the ground vibrate beneath them.

  “It has to be Clovis,” said Georgette breathlessly.

  Pip didn’t feel any more hopeful about their prospects, but the fact that Clovis hadn’t abandoned them made him feel like cheering. Now there were two clouds, and a strange and terrible battle was taking place above their heads. The thunder was so loud Pip thought his eardrums would burst.

  It seemed at first that the golden cloud was dominant, perhaps because Clovis had taken Oswald by surprise. But gradually, inexorably, the black and red cloud began to swallow the other. Clovis wasn’t giving in without a fight, but there was less and less gold.

  All they could do was watch helplessly as the golden light grew smaller and smaller. As it shrank, it intensified, until it was so bright that Pip could barely look at it, and he allowed himself to feel a little hope: perhaps, even though the black cloud was swamping it, Clovis was becoming stronger?

  But just as he thought that, the golden light snapped out, plunging them into total darkness.

  Beside him, he heard Georgette moan with despair and Pip automatically reached out for her hand. It was all over. Maybe, he thought, this was what dying was like…

  Another flash of green lightning, much brighter than the first, threw everything into grotesque relief. It was so dazzling that he was blinded: all he could sense was a throbbing reddish-green afterimage, and warm tears running down his cheeks.

  “Pip.” Georgette was tugging his hand. “Pip!”

  He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision, panicking for a few moments that he had gone blind. But gradually his sight returned. The sky was empty, starless and dark, but the dim silvery light that seemed to come from the buildings showed they were still in the strange cobbled street.

  Clovis lay on the ground before them. He was horribly still, his face white as paper.

  Pip forgot everything else and ran to kneel beside him, his heart in his mouth, and put his arms around him. In this place, he could embrace him: here, he wasn’t merely a presence in his head. For the first time, he realized how very small Clovis was.

  Poor Clovis. He had tried so hard, and after all, he couldn’t help being a snotty prince. It wasn’t fair. He had suffered more than any child should. Yes, in his short life he never went hungry and always had somewhere to live, but then he was murdered and locked inside a tiny box all by himself for fifty years, with only a dreaming princess to hear his sobbing. Pip couldn’t imagine anything more lonely or more terrible.

  “He sacrificed himself for us,” said Georgette in a whisper. She was stroking his pale face, a tear rolling down her cheek.

  Pip sniffed. “He just wanted a friend. That’s all he wanted.”

  Georgette met his eyes. “I think he found one, in the end,” she said. “Maybe that makes up for the rest.”

  “Nothing makes up for it,” said Pip. He didn’t want to cry in front of the Princess, even in this terrible moment, but he could feel that his eyes were hot and damp.

  And then the little body stirred in his arms.

  “I did it,” Clovis whispered in his ear. His voice was very faint. “I undid the spell. You made me brave.”

  “Pip,” said Georgette. “Look.”

  Pip started. He had forgotten all about Oswald.

  He too was back in human form, writhing in front of them a little distance away, clutching at his face. He was an old man, a man Pip didn’t recognize. As Pip watched, he realized that the old man was becoming younger: his hair darkened, his body filled out, his wrinkles vanished. And then he began to shrink, until he was a child of about five years of age. At that point he convulsed, and he was old again, but a different old man, winding back to childhood. The process repeated over and over again. The Spectre’s mouth was open as if he were screaming, but no sound came out.

  It was horrible, and it seemed to continue for ever. Georgette made a sound as if she was going to be sick, but her eyes were fixed on Oswald in fascinated revulsion.

  “What did you do?”

  “It’s all the people he’s been,” said Clovis quietly. “All the souls he ate.”

  “There are so many of them…”

  Pip looked at Clovis. “Did you know you could do that?”

  Clovis shook his head. He looked exhausted, as if there was nothing left inside him. “Not until I did,” he said. “It was like something went click inside me and I just knew what to do.”

  “How did you know?” asked Georgette.

  “The spell is me. The old witch made it out of me. I was like … like a spring inside a watch, all wound up the wrong way. And all I had to do was unwind it. It was quite simple in the end. So I made everything run backwards.”

  “Can he do anything about it?”

  “Not now. None of the Spectres can.” Clovis was watching without any visible emotion. “He kind of wanted to do the opposite thing. He wanted to wind it all up so hard that it could never be undone.”

  He glanced across at Georgette, who was looking baffled. “It’s hard to explain. It’s because of what the witch did. If you push the spell the other way, the opposite happens. Instead of winding back to the beginning, until he was just a mortal man, like he was at the start, he could use me to multiply himself endlessly, into every body in the world… And it would all happen at once. Like in alchemy … when you add just one more tiny bit to a solution, and then, all of a sudden, it turns into crystals.”

  Georgette nodded. “I kind of see,” she said.

  “I don’t,” said Pip helplessly. Unlike Georgette and Clovis, Pip had never had alchemy lessons.

  “It means that he would instantly have power over everything. Even over the other Spectres. There would only ever be him. No one else. For ever.”

  “What’s the point of that?” asked Pip.

  “He’s the loneliest person there ever was. I thought
I was. But he’s even more lonely than that. Because he never understood that other people were real.”

  Georgette shuddered. “I don’t feel sorry for him,” she said.

  “I don’t either,” said Clovis.

  They watched until the end, until the final old man wound back through middle age and youth and childhood to babyhood, and then dwindled until there was nothing there at all.

  It took a long time.

  “What happened to all those souls, I wonder,” said Georgette.

  “They died,” said Clovis. “Like I will one day. I hope.”

  Pip wiped his brow with his sleeve. “I thought that was going to happen right now. But we didn’t die.” He looked down at Clovis and grinned. “You saved my life. That’s being a real friend.”

  Clovis blushed bright red. Pip looked away to save him embarrassment.

  “What now?” said Georgette, looking around at the shadows.

  “We go back to Clarel,” said Clovis. “That part is easy.” He took both of their hands in his, and then hesitated. “I won’t be there, though. Not like this, anyway.”

  “Does that mean you’ll be back in my head? It’s better being able to see you, like a proper person.”

  “Do you mind very much?” Clovis looked down at his feet, and his hands were twisting nervously. “It’s just that I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

  Pip looked doubtful. “What if I want to be on my own once in a while?” If there was always someone inside his head, it might be embarrassing.

  “I can go somewhere private, I promise. And I won’t argue too much. And I’m not a Spectre, I promise. Not a real Spectre. I won’t try to eat your soul or anything.”

  Pip thought about it. It was true that Clovis had nowhere to go, and Pip knew all too well what that felt like. It was weird, for sure, having another person inside his brain, but on the whole it was better than being dead. And Clovis had saved all their lives.

  “All right then,” he said. “Though we shouldn’t tell the witches. They won’t like it.”