by James Nicol
Retracing her steps, Arianwyn crouched at the side of the road where she had been last night, where she had summoned the banishing glyph. She searched about, gazing into the shadow of the trees.
‘Can you see anything?’ the Mayor asked as he finally caught up with her. ‘My goodness,’ he panted. ‘What a mess.’
Everything was silent as she scanned the road and the edge of the trees for any sign of a rift. Mayor Belcher crouched at her side to peer as well. Then there was a rustling noise from close by and a small bush started to shake violently. Arianwyn moved forwards carefully. ‘What are you doing, Miss Gribble?’ Mayor Belcher gasped.
Arianwyn took a few more steps. The sound of chattering filled their ears. ‘Oh, good heavens, what is that?’ Mayor Belcher squeaked. ‘Is it that thing – that crawler?’ he shrieked.
‘I doubt it, Mayor Belcher.’ She parted the leaves of the bush and peered inside. A swarm of doris sprites scuttled over the branches of the bush, chattering madly as they went. They were tiny, each one no larger than a moth, their tiny bodies dark as tree bark but their small wings a blaze of blues and reds. Seeing Arianwyn, they paused for a moment before taking up their call again and moving at twice the speed.
‘It’s fine – it’s just sprites. Look.’
Arianwyn reached inside and a nearby sprite clambered happily on to her hand. She turned to reassure Mayor Belcher but he leapt back suddenly as though he was going to run away. ‘No, don’t let it near me, please Miss Gribble!’ He grabbed his cow charm and rattled it fiercely at Arianwyn and the sprite while staggering backwards. He wasn’t looking where he was going, though, and the mayor caught his foot on a twisted root and tripped.
He crashed down hard on the ground and gave a loud, sharp yelp of pain. Startled, the sprite flew from Arianwyn’s hand and disappeared back into the bushes.
‘Oh, Mayor Belcher, are you OK?’ Arianwyn dashed to help him to his feet.
‘I’m fine!’ he snapped, all manners and courtesy fled. He pulled his jacket straight. It was smeared with mud and grit. ‘I really think we should be heading back into town now, Miss Gribble. I have plenty to be getting on with today.’ He looked as if he might be about to cry.
‘Yes, of course.’ Arianwyn said quietly. She was happy to head back, although she wished it had been in better circumstances. It seemed she hadn’t opened a rift, after all – and the crawler was long gone, probably vanished deeper into the Great Wood.
They’d gone just a few metres when the mayor gave a loud shriek. ‘My ankle!’
‘Oh no, what is it?’ Arianwyn asked rushing forward to take his arm.
‘I think I’ve broken it!’ he growled through gritted teeth, hopping from foot to foot, dancing around in a wobbly circle.
‘Are you sure?’ Arianwyn asked. She didn’t know anything about broken ankles, but didn’t think you would be able to stand on one, let alone hop around like a mad chicken.
He glared at her again.
‘Here, let me help you.’ Arianwyn looped the mayor’s arm over her shoulder and very, very slowly helped him to limp back to Lull.
Chapter 10
KETTLE LANE
he walk back to town seemed to take for ever as the mayor seemed to need to stop and wince every few steps. The wind had risen and brought occasional flurries of rain and wet snow.
‘Oh, you’re just in time!’ Salle called out as they walked into the Blue Ox. It was bustling with shoppers and market vendors crowding in for the warm fire. ‘By the look of you, you’ve had an eventful morning,’ she said.
Arianwyn rolled her eyes.
The mayor groaned and slumped into the first chair he saw, alarming a lady in a very large hat whose minuscule dog yapped threateningly. ‘I’ll get Mayor Belcher something to eat; there’s someone on the telephone for you.’ Salle gestured to a narrow corridor half hidden behind a curtain.
‘Hello?’ Arianwyn said, lifting the heavy black receiver. The line crackled and hissed. ‘Hello?’
‘Miss Gribble? Is that you? Can you hear me?’ The muffled voice sounded familiar but distant. ‘It’s Colin. Colin Twine from the Civil Witchcraft Authority.’
‘Oh, hello!’Arianwyn replied, unable to mask the surprise in her voice.
‘I just wondered how your first morning had been. We’ve been asked to check on all the new witches on their first day.’
‘Really?’ Arianwyn asked.
‘Um, no. Not really. Look, the truth is there has been a report of a crawler spotted near Lull and we just wondered if you had seen it or not.’
‘Ah, I see.’ She felt a little deflated that Colin hadn’t called to check how she was. ‘Yes, I saw the crawler on my way into town yesterday. It attacked the bus I was on.’
‘Was anyone hurt?’ Colin asked quickly.
‘Just a few scrapes, thankfully,’Arianwyn said.
‘And what happened after that?’
Arianwyn could hear the scratch of a pencil on paper; Colin was obviously filling in a form.
‘It disappeared back into the Great Wood.’
‘Thank heavens you weren’t hurt, I mean no one was hurt. Everything else OK?’
‘Well, I don’t think the mayor likes me very much,’ Arianwyn said, and then laughed at the daftness of it. She realized it was the first time she had smiled that day.
‘Have you been to the Spellorium yet?’ Colin asked.
‘Not yet, the mayor . . . twisted his ankle on our walk and we had to come back early.’
‘Oh, sounds like you’ve been busy! Well, I’ve posted some forms and things to you there and also the spirit lantern should be arriving in the next few weeks, all being well. It’s the new model, with Doctor Bandora’s triple-aperture design . . . I just wanted to let you know.’
‘Thank you,’Arianwyn said quietly. It was so nice to hear a friendly voice.
She heard a muffled sound, like a shout, from the other end of the line and the noise of a hand quickly covering the receiver. ‘Hello?’ Arianwyn said, worried they had been disconnected.
‘Look, I have to go, Miss Newam’s on the warpath . . . again! Cheerio!’ Colin said.
‘Bye!’ Arianwyn said, but all she heard was a click and then the line was dead.
The inn was still bustling as Arianwyn emerged. The warm cosy smell of stew mingled in the air with the soft woodsmoke from the fire. Salle was just placing a large steaming bowl in front of the mayor. Arianwyn’s stomach rumbled. ‘What did your chum want?’ Salle asked, her eyes twinkling.
‘He works for the C.W.A.,’ Arianwyn explained. She raised her voice to be heard over the hubbub. ‘He just wanted to check some details about the crawler we saw last night.’
‘About what?’ Salle asked distractedly, handing out two more bowls of yummy-smelling stew.
‘The crawler!’ Arianwyn said louder, without thinking.
The inn fell miraculously quiet at just that moment, of course, except for the clattering of someone’s fork against the tabletop. Everyone turned and looked at Arianwyn. The mayor scowled.
‘There’s a crawler in the wood?’ someone asked.
‘Will it attack the town?’ another worried voice called. Nervous chatter spread round the inn.
The mayor pursed his lips. He dropped his spoon into his bowl with an angry clank and got to his feet. When he spoke his voice was full and commanding. ‘Ladies and gentlemen. Miss Gribble did indeed encounter a crawler last night on her way into town.’
The chatter intensified and everyone was asking questions at once.
The mayor held his hand up for silence. ‘But Miss Gribble has just been in communication with the Civil Witchcraft Authority in Kingsport, and there is no need for alarm. The curfew will remain in place for a further two weeks and it would be advisable for nobody to venture into the Great Wood unaccompanied until further notice.’
Arianwyn was impressed. Everyone seemed happy with the mayor’s explanation, even though it wasn’t exactly true. They all slowly returned t
o their food and conversation, though Arianwyn noticed a few furtive glances in their direction.
‘Sorry,’ she whispered to the mayor.
A look of displeasure clouded his face again. He turned to Salle. ‘Miss Bowen, I have a very busy afternoon, on top of which I now also need to see the doctor about my injury.’ He pointed to his ankle. ‘I wonder if you would be so kind as to take Miss Gribble and show her the Spellorium.’
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a large brass key, handing it to Arianwyn. It was dull with age, a battered label tied to it. ‘It has been years since the last witch occupied it; I’m not sure what state you will find it in.’
‘Thank you.’ Arianwyn said quietly and slipped the heavy key into her own coat pocket.
‘It’s not far, just down Kettle Lane,’ Salle reassured her when they set out a while later. Arianwyn had eaten a bowl of stew and dumplings and felt revived and warmed after the morning’s escapades. They crossed the town square and turned into a bright, twisting lane that was crammed with shops and cottages. People glanced curiously in their direction. Salle greeted a few of them as they passed, while Arianwyn smiled shyly and hurried to keep up.
‘There it is!’ Salle said and pointed to a narrow building tucked in and slightly back from the lane. It was taller than its neighbours, an empty-looking house to its right and a boutique on the left, its window full of bright hats that looked like bouquets of exotic blooms.
The Spellorium had a huge bow window that took up most of the front of the ground floor, the glass thick and smudged with grime and age. A sign hung over the door, squeaking rhythmically in the wintry wind that whistled along the lane. The paint, which must once have been brilliant, was faded and peeling. The silver star was nothing more than a ghostly outline.
Arianwyn mounted the three steep steps leading to the door and fished out the heavy key from her pocket.
Her hand shook slightly as she slid the key into the lock. She paused and took a deep steadying breath. The key clicked loudly in the lock and Arianwyn pushed the door wide.
The Spellorium seemed to heave a dusty sigh of relief as though it had been holding its breath, waiting for this moment.
Chapter 11
THE SPELLORIUM
rianwyn took a few hesitant steps into the room, not wanting to disturb anything, trying to hold the moment in her mind and take it all in.
Everything was painted white, except for the dark floorboards, the curving wooden counter which swept out from the wall into the middle of the room and a small round pot-bellied stove. There was a warm musty smell, a bit like a shed or a greenhouse. Tumbles of thick dust whispered across the floor.
Arianwyn ran her hand over the shelves that took up the wall on the left of the room. They were full of charms and potion bottles – their contents dried and useless – and stacked with books and pieces of equipment. All hidden under layers of grey cobwebs and dust.
Salle peered through the long glass doors at the back of the room, rubbing at one of the crusted panes of glass with her gloved hand.
Arianwyn moved behind the counter. She saw row upon row of tiny drawers, each with a brass handle and faded label. Inside the first row she found collections of tiny feathers, pebbles and curls of paper. Below those were leaves and small flowers (mostly now dry and brittle). Another row contained beads of glass and stone and hoops of silver, iron and gold.
Everything she needed for preparing charms.
She smiled.
Arianwyn knew charms; she had inherited her grandmother’s skill, she could construct them with her eyes closed. She sat staring happily into the drawers for a while, lost in thought, letting items fall through her fingers. She loved the way her mind became totally absorbed in the task. The work was delicate and precise, selecting the perfect small glass holder, adding the right collection of objects and spells to create a host of charms for all eventualities. Charms to ward off dark spirits or offer inspiration or comfort, charms to help find a lost object or protect a ship on a voyage, even to protect you from an angry herd of cows!
‘What’s through here, do you think?’ Salle called, pushing against the door at the back of the room. It gave way noisily, revealing nothing more than a dark storeroom with a wooden bench and large stone sink, complete with rusty dripping tap.
‘Can we look upstairs now?’ Salle asked, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. Arianwyn nodded and they raced up the twisting metal stairs that wobbled a little too enthusiastically. They emerged into another large whitewashed room full of light.
Two long windows looked out on Kettle Lane and Arianwyn could just see over the rooftops of the buildings opposite and into the town square beyond. Another wood-burning stove stood against one wall with two neat but worn-looking armchairs in front of it. Over one of them lay a faded yellow dress, beautiful but rather old-fashioned, as though the wearer had only just placed it there and might return any moment.
A deep alcove housed a large metal-framed bed piled high with flowery duvets and blankets, and there was a huge wardrobe against the wall.
‘Oh look!’ Salle gasped, pulling open the wardrobe door, revealing a rail of long formal dresses and a much older style of witch’s uniform. As Salle rummaged she dislodged something in the bottom of the wardrobe and a pile of papers tumbled on to the floor.
A photograph caught Arianwyn’s eye and she bent down to pick it up. It showed a young witch, probably slightly older than Arianwyn, standing proudly in her uniform, her hair pinned up in a style she recognized from old photos of Grandmother. Beside her was a much younger girl, about seven or eight years old. She was rather gangly, as though she had just had a sudden growth spurt, her hair in two thick plaits. She gazed adoringly at the witch. Arianwyn felt certain they must be related – sisters, perhaps?
She shuddered suddenly. She felt as though she was intruding and yet at the same time it felt as if she had been here before. She gathered the papers and placed them carefully back into the wardrobe, moving on to explore the rest of the apartment.
Near the tall windows were another stone sink and a rickety kitchen cupboard next to it. A round table, set for tea, with three mismatching chairs stood close by.
The only other room revealed a claw-footed bath that looked as if it would need several spells to remove the rusty ginger stain from its bottom. It smelt bad and Salle quickly threw open the sash window to let in some fresh air. It was Arianwyn’s first glimpse of a small yard below, where large clay pots mostly lay empty and some old cane furniture was stacked in a corner.
‘Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you, Wyn!’ Salle said as they made their way back downstairs. ‘Are you OK? You’re very quiet.’
Arianwyn turned slowly, taking in the room again. ‘It’s odd. Everything looks as though she just went out moments ago, but I don’t feel anything of her here, no residual magic or lingering spell work . . . it’s as if it’s been abandoned for centuries . . . it’s a bit creepy.’
She suddenly remembered a small parcel her grandmother had forced into her hand at the train station in Kingsport. ‘Don’t open it until you arrive at your new home!’ she had said.
Pulling it free from her bag, Arianwyn tore open the paper.
It was the old door charm from the bookstore. It had been packed carefully, so that the tiny brass bells were silent. Arianwyn lifted it free of its wrapping and the six bells rang brightly in the quiet store.
‘How beautiful!’ Salle said.
Arianwyn reached up and hung it on to a small hook on the door, so that it would sing out just as it had done in the bookstore in Kingsport. She felt a sudden longing to see her grandmother. It had only been a day, but she missed her so much. They had been together every day for all those years and now she wouldn’t see her for months.
‘I’ll help you clear out all the old stuff if you like. We’ll soon get it feeling like home for you!’ Salle offered gently.
‘Thanks,’Arianwyn said, smiling.
&nb
sp; A few minutes later, Arianwyn had locked the front door and was tucking the key safely in her pocket. She stared up at the building.
‘Hello, Miss Gribble,’ a bright voice called. A large woman dressed in a frothy pink outfit smiled and waved at them from next door. The sign above the window read ‘Caruthers’ Boutique’ – it was the hat shop she’d spotted earlier.
Arianwyn smiled and raised a hand in greeting.
‘Getting all settled in are you? I’m Millicent Caruthers. Just you pop round if there is anything you need, anything at all.’
‘Thank you.’ Arianwyn smiled.
‘I’ve just had in a new shipment of hats from Kingsport, Salle. All the latest fashions! Want to pop in and have a look?’
Salle nodded. ‘Oh, yes please. You coming too, Wyn?’
‘No, you go ahead, I’m going to have a look further down the lane,’Arianwyn replied.
Salle went into the boutique and Arianwyn turned once more to look at the Spellorium.
This was her new home, the place where she would prove herself as a witch. She looked at her moon badge. The crawler, Mayor Belcher and the evaluation gauge flashed through her mind. She felt a pang of hopelessness. She really didn’t know what she was doing. She’d not got off to the best start, but things were going to change from now, she decided.
There was a sudden noise from behind her, the clatter of an overturned bin. She turned quickly. Kettle Lane was empty. But then she saw movement in the shadowy alleyway opposite.
‘Hello?’ she called, taking a step forwards. There was a sound of hurried shuffling footsteps and then nothing.
Suddenly she didn’t want to be alone outside any more. She crossed the lane again towards the boutique, glancing at the Spellorium on her way.
‘Cast the protection spell!’ she heard grandmother’s warning words in her head.
For years, witches had cast protection spells over their homes or places of work. Protection for themselves, and for those who lived or worked nearby. Checking the street was still empty, Arianwyn raised her hand, feeling for the flow of magic around her. It was strong, but clustered at the far end of the lane, around a tree.
