by Vance Huxley
Meanwhile Creepio had gone to Amanda, the young woman who’d just had her seed removed, inspecting her while speaking to the medic. “How is she?” His eyes drifted to the door leading to the front section. “Will we need the surgeons?”
“Stable for now, though we’ll want a full scan later. As far as I can tell she’s just sleeping. The other one we freed had started dying by now. Her heartbeat is erratic but strong, which under the circumstances I’d call a win. The life support can keep her stable unless the leech repairs fail.” The medic checked the equipment again. “We could probably let her wake up, but I’d rather get her to the convent for a scan first. We can get a better idea of exactly what we’ll have to deal with, especially if that leech will answer questions before it leaves.” He looked from Abel to Ferryl/Claris. “What will she,” he glanced defiantly at Creepio. “What will Amanda remember?” This medic believed that the rescued woman still had her soul.
“Everything. Sorry. In my experience, most of the period with a seed is confused, painful and terrifying, so she’ll wake up either crying or screaming. The really bad things happen once the seed is aware and takes full control.” Ferryl/Claris laid a hand on the young patient’s shoulder. “Amanda might not have the worst sort of memories but she’ll still have nightmares. What will happen to her?”
Creepio hesitated, then looked around the room and spoke the young woman’s name loud and clear. “Amanda will recover in a hospital, in a convent, with magically adept doctors to help her healing. She will stay there until she recovers, when she will probably turn to God and become a nun. That is the usual result, probably a combination of the environment and gratitude.” Creepio stopped, suddenly looking unsure and definitely confused. “When the church rescues people from magical harm, the experience usually awakens them to magic. The lack of magical creatures in a convent is reassuring.”
“But you’ve just remembered who actually saved Amanda.” Abel shot a warning look at Kelis, who looked just about ready to blow, and offered a compromise. “Once she is able to leave the hospital, tell Amanda exactly what happened then allow her to speak to one of us. If she still prefers the convent, that’s fair enough, but if not, we’ll find her a home.” He kept going right over Creepio’s attempts to interrupt. “Not to recruit as a sorceress. We’ve got adults who have handled seeing creatures all their lives without church help. They can reassure Amanda and teach her which are good and which are bad.” Behind Creepio, Abel could see Jenny fighting back a giggle, because there were no good magical creatures according to the church. She turned back to providing Jane Doe with bars of magic.
The vicar hesitated for a long time, struggling with his own belief that he’d be saving a soul. “You can’t expect me to turn over both women!”
“Don’t turn over either of them, just give them a free choice. The other one is confirmed and will probably take the nun option. She already believes in your God and is warded anyway, by the cross on her forehead.” The last part puzzled Abel. “I know those are at least as strong as carrying a wooden Tavern hex, so how did the Firstseed get past it to seed her?”
“Her protection should have repelled the compulsion, or at least reduced the effect enough to let her get away, but as you know it won’t stop determined creatures. We are more interested in finding out how it got past Father Curtis’s protection. That should have been as effective as your magical wards in repelling any attempt to seed him.” He glanced towards Jane Doe before continuing. “I agree, if your leech kills the other seed then both girls will be told the truth and given the option of meeting you or your friends. I also accept your leech is under control, or it would never have given up a healthier host. How soon before we can save the other one?”
Jane Doe opened her eyes. “This host needs help first. Please keep the machines working. More magic please.” Jenny quickly swapped the lead bars.
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Five bars-worth of magic later, the leech didn’t actually need the life support to keep Jane Doe alive but she stayed hooked up ready for the next attempt. The leech insisted the host needed rest before it left again to avoid too much strain so Abel collected the empty lead bars. He intended taking them to Castle House gardens, but Creepio took him into the churchyard. Abel stood back while the peripatetic archbishop had what looked like a vicious argument with a dryad, then beckoned Abel forward.
“The dryad has agreed. The churchyard trees will supply you with magic if the church is attacked, or if someone is seriously injured. The dryads remain sworn to the church so they will not power a barrier for you.” Creepio gestured to the huge Yew tree. “Fill your lead bars. Let it know when you are done so it can heal the glyph.”
“We always heal the trees, it seems fair.” Abel turned to the Elm, knowing that despite what Creepio said the Elm didn’t agree. It had been ordered to help, presumably with Creepio’s usual threats and no other options. “I thank you for your magic, dryad and tree.” Abel ignored the startled glance from Creepio and quickly cut the glyph to top up the little magic stores. Maybe the dryad’s feelings came through, because the Yew magic didn’t cheer Abel up the same as magic from other trees.
As he came back out the lychgate, Abel heard someone calling out. Mrs Turner, the local busybody, had come to find out what was happening. To Abel’s great relief, one of the alleged removal men went to meet her. When he mentioned it, Creepio assured Abel the workmen would tell any passersby that the church were clearing the building. Some of the men were carrying empty stretchers covered with a seeming of church pews out to the van to reinforce the deception.
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An hour later, the other seeded woman came out of the church on a stretcher, hidden under a seeming of a church pew. Abel realised one of the alleged workmen had to be an accomplished sorcerer, a bishop at least if he could cast that glyph. He knew that Ferryl would be frustrated, because she couldn’t inspect the magic and so far she hadn’t remembered how to cast a seeming on an object. He bit back a smile when Creepio asked everyone to step back so they couldn’t see what he did next. The vicar covered the girl’s forehead with a cloth and drew what must be a glyph beneath it, another one Ferryl didn’t know. The glyph overcame the patient’s church protection, because the leech climbed into her mouth without hesitation.
Creepio kept his mouth shut and coincidentally the seed didn’t release any toxins. As a result the victim needed less healing, which allowed the leech to get back to Jane Doe before she deteriorated as much. This time nobody hesitated before calling the rescued girl by name, Cecilia. Despite both his patients sleeping peacefully, Creepio kept his mobile hospital parked outside the church until the leech confirmed that Jane Doe was also stable. The medics, and a couple of doctors who appeared from the front of the vehicle, spent the time questioning the leech about the extent of the damage inside both young women.
The conclusions were encouraging. Despite the damage inflicted when the seed grew inside her, care and rest should leave Cecilia physically healthy. In Amanda’s case, however, the toxins had left her with liver and kidney damage. Despite that, if she took care, Amanda should live a relatively normal life. If she actively practiced magic, casting glyphs, that usually enhanced the body’s healing abilities so she might eventually make a full recovery. Unfortunately the leech couldn’t repair mental damage. The girls would be left with their memories and the mental scars left by blood leech possession.
Once the church workers carried Jane Doe back into the church, Creepio wanted to talk to all five teenagers. “I can never work out who is actually in charge here, so I’ll tell you all. The church is grateful for the help. Someone will let the local bishop know, and about the ungodly being resident in the church and graveyard.” As he spoke, his eyes drifted across several gargoyles. “In this case only a few, and they have been on the side of the angels. How have you driven the others, the smaller creatures such as hoplins, thornies and globhoblins, out of the village? I don’t see hexes on the houses or lamp posts, whi
ch is the usual way to clear a village. Except for the church way, but you haven’t enough magic to set up anything as powerful as a church cross or I would feel it blanketing the area.” He looked around again, trying to work it out. “Such an object would drive out goblins as well. There are even a few fae and faeries flying about.”
“We use wooden stakes with hexes. They are driven into the ground all around the village, and we walk round now and then and top up the magic.” Abel pointed to a gargoyle, actually a goblin under a seeming as the vicar must have realised. “The goblins and batlins catch anything that gets through, in return for the food from the rubbish bins and help if something larger comes into Brinsford. The fae and small creatures get past the posts when the residents drive home with some trapped in their car.”
“Brinsford is the best protected, because we have the goblins. Our friends are all trying to use the same method round their villages, but they have to hunt down anything that gets through.” Rob scowled at Creepio because the next part annoyed all the Taverners. “Those in town, in the estates, can’t put stakes in other people’s gardens so they are trying to put hexes on all the street signs and lamp posts. It’s better than leaving them overrun like the church does.”
Creepio didn’t try to defend the church, ignoring that part entirely. “True barriers would work better if you had a large source of magic, though you’ve come up with a clever way to get a similar effect.” The vicar’s gaze fastened on Abel and hardened. “Assaulting the door to Castle House wasn’t clever. That was downright foolish.” As he looked from one teenager to another, Creepio laughed at their expressions. “There are scorch marks on the stone doorstep. What did you try?”
“We opened the door without any problem at all. What we didn’t understand was that only one person can enter.” Abel held up a hand and waggled his fingers. “The house likes me, but attacked the second person in. The key detected a distant blood relationship to the missing sorcerer, which must be how I got into the gardens in the first place.” He watched understanding spread over Creepio’s face, then calculation. “But I only got into the entrance. I have an invitation to get further into the house, but want friends along with me and more information. It should be possible because I can get friends into the garden.”
For a moment, Creepio looked as if he would ask Abel to take him into the gardens. Not a good idea, because according to Ferryl, whatever lay at the heart of the house hated the church. “What sort of attack? Bound shades, guardians, traps?”
“All of them, but any sort would cause you a great deal of trouble. Your reinforcements won’t be able to throw glyphs from outside, even with the door open. Worse, the house closes the door to trap intruders inside one small room.” Abel shook his head. “So don’t get ideas or you’ll end up locked inside there with no backup. That’s if you even get that far. The door relocks when I leave and needs my blood link to open.”
“Very well. I must accept that.” The wry smile conceded he didn’t want to. “I can’t even get into the gardens without using enough force to wake up whatever sleeps in there.” A smug and thoroughly unpleasant smile spread over Creepio’s face. “On a brighter note the mystery leech-ridden sorcerer has disappeared, and coincidentally so has one of Pendragon’s apprentices. Apprentices can’t escape their sorcerer’s leash, so the miscreant must be conveniently dead. As a result, the church and Magical Council actually agreed for once. Pendragon has been creating protective hexes for leeches, so he is no longer allowed to place or power such hexes on any property in Stourton. That is a significant financial loss, and also humiliating.” Creepio raised a hand to stop Abel speaking, and had definitely guessed the question. “A number of people in Stourton will be looking for someone to recharge the hexes protecting their homes and businesses. You can take over the business if you wish, because Pendragon is not allowed to stop you. Losing part of his monopoly, being forced to allow another sorcerer to operate in Stourton, is a part of Pendragon’s punishment.”
“How will we know where to go?” Rob scowled as Creepio smiled. “That’s bleddering mean, because I’ll bet other sorcerers will know.”
“But other sorcerers won’t know the monopoly has been broken, not yet. As a thank you for your help today, young Abel will receive a list of customers that includes Pendragon’s charges. There aren’t many locations, but a moderate loss to Pendragon is a substantial income to others. Or it will be if you don’t jump in quickly.” With that he turned and walked away, leaving Kelis complaining, as usual, that she still had a million questions.
Though there wasn’t much of a discussion straight after the van drove away because Mrs Turner, several other villagers, and then Kelis’s mum wanted to know what the church had taken. Despite them wanting to discuss the mobile hospital, and the potential for a legitimate income, all five teenagers ended up answering Mrs Turner’s questions. By the time they’d persuaded the villagers that a charitable refuge wouldn’t mean Brinsford being invaded by drug dealers and violent husbands, the afternoon had flown by. Abel, for one, had to head home, sharpish. A text from his mum had threatened to feed his tea to their cat, Mrs Tabitha, unless he came home to eat it right now. Jenny had already left on her moped before her dad sent out a search party.
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Endgame
True to Creepio’s word, a list of names and addresses arrived midweek in a letter addressed to Abel. The prices alongside confirmed these were Pendragon’s contracts. Abel passed the list to the Taverners who lived in town, and the older ones made appointments to visit the potential customers at the weekend. Several Taverners asked what the money would be used for, sparking a round of quiet, hurried discussions at school. Eventually the majority agreed the income from filling hexes should go towards fixing Frederick’s large but run-down house. The fifty-three-year-old already had three Taverners as tenants, and had volunteered the place as a home for Stourton Refuge. Exactly what sort of refuge hadn’t been settled, though it would be either a place for battered wives or a retreat for people with mental problems caused by magic.
Eric thought of one big snag, exactly who should the customers pay? He didn’t want to put his own name on the receipts or the taxman would be chasing him. Jenny eventually came up with a workable solution, asking the customers to make charitable donations to Stourton Tavern Refuge. That way the drivers ferrying the glyph fillers round town could even claim back their expenses. Looking at the list of charges there’d eventually be enough money to fix Frederick’s house up properly, using professionals.
While the rest of the Tavern worked on getting a steady income, Ferryl continued with repairing Claris’s memories. She lifted her possession several times each night to wake up Claris’s mind for short periods, so she could gradually integrate doctored memories of the missing weeks. Sometimes Kelis helped her to keep the eighteen-year-old calm while Ferryl worked on leech memories. Unlike when she had been preparing to leave Jenny, Ferryl couldn’t keep Claris aware for very long in one session, because the schoolgirl’s mind always turned to memories of her leech possession. Although that always led to her breaking down, Ferryl needed her reactions to decide which memories should be wiped out completely. Despite the distress, Ferryl reported progress. Even after the seeds were killed Ferryl still pushed on as quickly as possible, because Jane Doe needed more help than the leech could provide.
Ferryl had another reason to hurry. Kelis’s parents might not be divorced yet, but the bank wanted the house Kelis and her mum lived in. If they became homeless so did their lodger, Claris, and her mother would want her back in Stourton. Ferryl wouldn’t allow that. She insisted on being close to Abel to guard him, as she’d promised, though she couldn’t say that publicly. The imminent eviction came up at a business meeting between Mr Forester, Jenny’s dad, and the three mothers. He suggested getting the divorce lawyer to contact the bank. Throwing an abused woman and her child onto the streets before she had her divorce settlement w
ouldn’t look good in the local news.
On the plus side, Mr Forester and Abel’s, Kelis’s and Rob’s mums were all really pleased that there might be some charitable donations. Income from the game itself would be even better. All four were directors in the company now trying to develop and sell Bonny’s Tavern, the game invented by Rob, Abel and Kelis. They agreed that even without giving the company direct income, a genuine charity supported by Bonny’s Tavern players and linked into the gameplay could provide invaluable media coverage. Mr Forester pushed that aspect the hardest; the teenagers just wanted to help a few people who needed a safe place or were having magical problems.
Jenny had a very practical interest in the game succeeding. Not only had her dad bought her a small stake by financing the development, but actually producing and marketing Bonny’s Tavern gave her invaluable Business Studies experience. At this rate she’d sail through her A-Level.
The three designers, with Ferryl/Claris and Jenny, worked hard on incorporating charity into the gameplay. They settled on a system where genuine proven charity work in ‘Low Earth,’ aka the real world, could be translated into extra health points during gameplay. Some Taverners, especially the younger ones led by fourteen-year-old Rachel, loved that idea. They were already on a real mission to clean up the school. Small groups were backing up anyone threatened by bullies, or picked on because of their colour or, in one case, her religion. The magically aware Taverners, hidden among the non-magical players, used invisible wind glyphs to confuse the aggressors or help the victims fight back.
The youngsters also found a bloke trying to give out drug samples near the gates. He had a really bad half-hour that he’d hopefully put down to a bad batch of whatever he used. If he came anywhere near Stourton Comprehensive again the dealer would get another session of falling down and ghostly hands pulling him about, and lose more stock down a drain.
