by James Nicol
‘If you attempt to use it you will fail, young lady,’ Estar continued. ‘Of that there is little doubt. Miss Gribble, it would seem, is unusual in being able to see and summon the quiet glyphs. As was Miss Delafield’s sister, my dear friend Euphemia.’ Estar glanced at Miss Delafield and smiled warmly.
‘Well, this is most irregular!’ Mayor Belcher huffed, and turned to Gimma. ‘Give Miss Delafield the piece of paper and come away,’ he said, quietly.
‘NO,’ Gimma said, her eyes flashing, her cheeks flushed.
‘Pity’s sake child, do as you’re told for once!’ the mayor roared.
‘I will not! I can do it. I’ll show you, I’ll show all of you!’ Without another word, Gimma turned and ran through the long grass towards the night ghast. It had just broken through Arianwyn’s first barrier spell and was heading for the second one.
‘Stop her, oh please, Miss Gribble!’ the mayor called.
Arianwyn ran after Gimma. Behind her, Miss Delafield threw more spell orbs, as fast as she could create them. Again and again, spell orbs, binding spells, blasts of fire and ice. But the night ghast seemed to cut through each spell like a blade.
A fleeting thought brushed Arianwyn’s mind as her feet pounded across the meadow. She could let Gimma try and use the glyph. It wouldn’t work, she knew that much. And she would be on hand to pick up the pieces as Gimma finally made the most colossal mess of the whole thing. And with an audience watching from across the meadow.
She let the thought play across her imagination for just a few seconds and then shook it away. What was she thinking? Gimma could be killed by the night ghast or this quiet glyph.
Whatever she’d done, she didn’t deserve that.
She was just a few paces away, and without thinking she threw herself forwards. Her arms wrapped tightly around Gimma and they both tumbled to the floor.
‘Boggin well get off me!’ Gimma spat, lashing out with her hands. She scratched at Arianwyn, screaming like a cat. She pulled on Arianwyn’s hair and tried desperately to break free from her grasp. But Arianwyn held on tighter and tighter in fear. ‘You don’t know what you’re doing, Gimma, please!’
‘Cuk cuk cuk’
There was a flash of light and a shower of sparks as the second barrier failed.
As they fell over again in the grass Arianwyn noticed the dark shape drawing ever closer, only a few metres away now. She released her grip and scrabbled to stand again, pulling Gimma with her. The night ghast towered over the two young witches, dark and twisted, its tentacles swirling around their boots.
A dry scream escaped Gimma’s mouth and she tried to back away. The night ghast shifted. It had detected her movement.
Arianwyn tried to shove Gimma to one side, but the night ghast was too fast. It swung one of its long sinewy scaled arms, sending Gimma soaring up and over its head. For a second it looked as though she was flying. But then her body twisted and plummeted down to the ground. She fell into a tumble of shattered tree stumps amid a thick patch of hex, where she lay worryingly still.
‘Gimma!’ Arianwyn screamed, terror ripping through her body in waves. She had to move fast before the ghast reached for her. She dodged past it and ran towards Gimma, skidding to a halt before she reached the hex. Gimma was out cold, but appeared to be breathing.
Arianwyn shook with fear, tears blurring her eyes.
The night ghast grew closer and closer.
The storm broke above the wood and meadow, rain pouring down through the branches, soaking everything around her, the ground beneath her feet quickly becoming slick and boggy. She turned, facing the night ghast.
She was ready to summon the shadow glyph and bring everything to an end, one way or another. She could see the glyph even through her tears. She could feel its power already. Maybe it would be different this time. She couldn’t let it overwhelm her: she had to control it somehow.
She shuddered, her heart raced in her chest. She thought it must be drowning out the noise of the storm, it was so loud. She took a quick breath, knelt on the damp ground and reached forwards.
Her arms outstretched and hands shifting in the dying light, she formed huge, wide, sweeping shapes in the air, drawing the shadow glyph before her as large and quickly as she could.
The glyph hung in the air for a moment, its snake-like curving shape bold and dark. Magic thrummed all around, pulsing and moving through earth and rock and air.
The spell formed so easily.
And as the glyph faded she could sense the cold creep of the shadows all around her, stretching, folding and tumbling from every direction.
The edge of her vision was a dark inky blur and as she got to her feet she felt the chill press of all the darkness in the wood. All foreboding and dread, heavy as stone and cold as ice, it draped itself around her like a thick blanket. She shuddered and slumped a little under the weight of magic. Mustn’t give in, she thought, as her feet slipped in the wet grass.
The night ghast stopped and watched her. She sensed that it could feel the strength of magic just as she could. It snarled its horrid, echoing grating sound, feeding on her doubt. But it came no closer.
‘Cuk cuk cuk’
Up close, Arianwyn could see its jagged mouth pulsate as it called. She looked away, frightened.
The darkness pressed in further around her, the shadows flowing like waves rushing at the shore. What was she doing? She had no chance against this creature – she would never be able to stop it. Tears ran down her cheeks, mingling with the rain.
She steadied herself, regained her balance, glared up at the night ghast. Fight it. Control the glyph. But still, the gloom continued to press towards her.
How is it so cold? she wondered. And it wasn’t just the cold, it was the dark sense of nothingness that washed against her every few seconds.
She peered through her hazy vision at the night ghast, but it was as motionless as before, its voided face like marble – as if it was watching, waiting for her to fail. Gimma’s still form lay to the right, just out of reach. Why doesn’t she get up?
She had been so stupid, she could see it now. What was she trying to prove? She had no idea what she was supposed to do next, and the spell was taking control again. Better just to let the darkness consume her. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. Gentle and quiet.
The night ghast hissed, a sound like ‘yessss’, as though it had read her thoughts. A darting black tongue emerged from its void of a mouth, tracing around its jagged lips.
‘NO!’ a strangled sob flew from her mouth but the shadows swirled about her closer and closer like a vortex.
‘You should let the shadows take you. I can feel your doubt, little girl. I can smell your fear. I can hear your loneliness!’ The voice was cold and bitter, Arianwyn wasn’t sure if it was the night ghast or the shadows or her own doubt that was speaking to her.
It was true: of course she was afraid. She had always been afraid. And she didn’t know if this spell would work, nobody did. It was a risk – a huge risk that seemed to be failing. And she was alone, here, face to face with the night ghast and these endless twisting shades. She glanced down at her hands and noticed that the darkness curled around her fingers . . . or do the shadows come from me? she wondered.
She detected a movement at her side; a warm hand slipped into her own and held tight. She glanced down and saw Estar beside her.
‘You are not alone.’ He smiled. ‘You have never been alone, look!’
She raised her eyes beyond the night ghast and the shadows, and saw Miss Delafield and Salle, even Mayor Belcher, their faces scared but hope lighting their eyes. And further back, Lull was lit by Grandmother’s protection spell and she could see all the people lining the walls. She felt them willing her on.
Smiling, warm and loving faces. Like stars, like beacons of hope.
Then she knew with certainty that the shadows were not from the spell.
They were from her.
The darkness was her own doubt, her own fear
and her own loneliness. To control the glyph, she had to control them.
She squeezed Estar’s hand and then turned back to the night ghast.
‘ENOUGH!’ Arianwyn shouted through the darkness and her voice was a triumphant roar. The shadows paused.
The doubt she had felt was slipping away, she could hear the shouts and calls of her friends. She was no longer alone. And she looked at the night ghast, her jaw clenched. She was no longer afraid of it. She was no longer afraid of her own abilities.
Arianwyn screwed her eyes up tight and thought of sipping hot chocolate in the Blue Ox with Salle, she could hear laughter and feel the warmth of the fire, and just for a second the shadows seemed to recede.
She thought of Colin and his piles of papers, his faith in her, she heard his gentle laughter.
She felt the warmth of Estar’s hand wrapped around hers.
She thought of her grandmother and a million happy times spent together and the words of her song ‘. . . deep within our true light shines and keeps us safe in darker times.’
Suddenly everything shifted.
The dark mist curling from her fingers was changing, lightening, glowing. Estar’s hand slipped from her own as she started to rise from the damp ground of the meadow, until she hovered several metres in the air. The shadows and now the light swirled around her.
They were under her command!
Arianwyn raised her arms towards the night ghast, the shadows and light surging forwards. Surrounding it, covering it.
There was a pause, as though the Great Wood held its breath. The night ghast, wrapped in shadow, struggled against the power of the spell. Only its head and that hideous mouth moved, twisted this way and that, fighting its own panic as it was consumed.
Then, all of sudden, light ripped from deep within the creature. Arianwyn raised her hand to shield her eyes. Blinding light fractured it, splitting its body into a million tiny fragments. A triumphant shredding noise filled the air, as if the sky was ripping in two.
After a few moment tiny wisps of light were the only reminder that anything had been there at all, and then these too drifted away in the wind and rain.
It felt to Arianwyn as if she had been holding her breath all this time. As the spell receded, the shadows became just normal shadows and the magical light dimmed away. She let out a long slow breath and felt herself float back to the ground. She saw Estar trying to pull Gimma clear of the tangle of tree and hex. She was horribly still.
Now a roaring sound filled her ears – was it the storm? Or some new terror awaiting them? She turned to see the people of Lull waving and cheering and calling out with delight as they raced across the meadow.
She had done it, she had really done it. She’d controlled the shadow glyph at last, there was nothing to be afraid of now. But then she remembered Gimma.
She tried to move forwards, to help Estar, but she suddenly felt so tired and her legs couldn’t hold her up any longer. She tumbled to the damp, muddy, churned-up ground of the meadow and everything went dark.
Some theories exist that the secondary and cardinal glyphs used by the modern witches of the Four Kingdoms were formed from fragments of an archaic and long-forgotten language. It is possible that the glyphs we now know so well are reductions or contractions of more complex and intricate spell formations, though no evidence of these ‘other spells’ has ever been found.
THE APPRENTICE WITCH’S HANDBOOK
Chapter 40
THE STAR
rianwyn stood at the edge of the Great Wood. A long yellow and black cord stretched from tree trunk to tree trunk as far as she could see. Every few metres a warning sign hung from it.
Out of bounds by Order of the Civil Witchcraft Authority. NO ENTRY!
‘Won’t we get in trouble, Wyn?’ Salle asked, anxiously, glancing around for the hundredth time since they had left town.
‘We’re not doing anything wrong,’ she replied. ‘We’re not going into the wood.’
‘That’s just me!’ Estar said, smiling at Salle and Arianwyn.
‘But is it safe?’ Salle sounded genuinely scared. Arianwyn reached out and squeezed her hand tightly. ‘It’s fine, Salle. I’ll keep you safe and then we’ll head straight back to town, I promise.’
Salle was unusually anxious and Arianwyn didn’t know why. It was a beautiful late summer’s day. The sky above was a hot blue, empty of clouds. The air was heavy and still. A little further along from where they stood was a gap in the thick never-ending line of the wood. It was a charred, blackened scar, the reminder of the evening two weeks before when Arianwyn had faced the night ghast, and triumphed.
Gimma had not fared so well. She had been bundled off to Kingsport the very next day to be tended by the best physicians.
‘Well, I shall say my goodbyes,’ Estar said interrupting Arianwyn’s sombre moment. ‘You will be OK without me,Arianwyn Gribble?’ he asked.
‘Are you sure you want to go back? You said it wasn’t safe in Erraldur for you.’
Estar looked off through the trees. The sound of birdsong and leaves rustling filled the silence.
‘I promised someone, someone very important, that I would go back. They risked much to help me. And they may know more about those unknown glyphs and the book that held the page originally.’
Arianwyn remembered what Miss Delafield had told her: how trying to use the shadow glyph had driven her sister mad. ‘The shadow glyph . . . why was I able to control it, but Effie wasn’t? Will I be able to control others?’
Estar chuckled and moved towards the trees. ‘I think you’ve had enough of mysterious glyphs for now, Arianwyn Gribble. I shall tell you more one day.’
‘So you will come back?’ Salle asked.
‘Of course, now I have dear friends to welcome me here!’ He reached out and patted Salle’s hand.
Arianwyn, unsure what to say, glanced back across to the town. She could feel tears forming as she contemplated saying goodbye to Estar. ‘We all owe you so many thanks,’ she said, her voice catching.
‘Yes, Mr Estar. Without you, the night ghast would have—’ Salle shuddered.
‘Just “Estar”, please. And it was all Arianwyn’s work really.’ His usually bright yellow eyes looked rather dim and watery.
‘Well, I had best be going.’ He reached out a long elegant hand to Arianwyn. ‘I wish you well, Arianwyn Gribble, I knew you were a great witch the moment I laid eyes on you.’
Arianwyn pulled the small blue creature into a tight embrace and let her tears flow freely as she said, ‘Thank you, Estar. Thank you!’
‘Now, now. That’s enough of that!’ He patted her gently and then stepped away, making a few shuffling half-steps towards the tree line, towards the Great Wood, towards Erraldur and home.
‘Take care!’Arianwyn called.
‘Goodbye Mr Estar!’ Salle shouted.
The small blue feyling moved beyond the first trees of the Great Wood, slipping beneath the cord. He turned, raised a hand briefly and then he was rising a few metres into the air. A brilliant blue light surrounded him in an azure aura.
After a few seconds it was too bright to see anything through it. Arianwyn could feel the strong pull of magic from Estar. There was a shimmering flash: once, twice. The blue light pulsed and there was a loud popping sound. And then he was gone.
Arianwyn wiped away a tear and sighed.
‘Are you OK?’ Salle asked. She frowned at Arianwyn, looking anxiously at her.
‘I’m fine, Salle. I’m just tired. Miss Delafield said it would take a while to get over using the shadow glyph.’
Salle continued to frown.
‘I really am fine! Come on, let’s go back to the Spellorium and have some tea. I made cake!’
Salle smiled and they wandered back through the long grass and bright flowers in the meadow. Lull stood before them, safe behind its high ancient walls.
‘Have you heard anything about how Gimma is?’ Salle asked.
‘Nothing,’ Arianw
yn said. ‘Miss Delafield tried calling her parents but they wouldn’t speak to her. I think she’s going to be in tons of trouble with the C. W. A.’ Arianwyn didn’t fancy the idea of being in trouble with the C. W. A. in any way, shape or form, even if Gimma had brought most of it on herself. She hadn’t deserved to be attacked by the night ghast, though.
They crossed the bridge in silence and passed through the East Gate into town, which seemed strangely quiet.
‘I’ve asked Miss Delafield if it would be OK to take some holiday to go and visit Grandmother in Kingsport,’ Arianwyn said as they wandered from Old Town Road into the town square. ‘Fancy coming along?’
Salle paused and stared at Arianwyn. ‘Really? Really, Wyn?’ She jumped on the spot. ‘I’ve always wanted to visit Kingsport, all those theatres!’
‘Is that a yes?’Arianwyn asked.
‘Absolutely yes!’ Salle said, pulling Arianwyn into a clumsy but heartfelt hug.
The town square was quieter than usual as well, although there did seem to be a lot of people gathered in Kettle Lane as Arianwyn and Salle turned into the narrow twisting street.
‘What on earth is going on?’ Arianwyn asked, standing on her tiptoes and trying to see over the heads in front of them.
Salle stayed quiet but beamed. Just then an old lady noticed Arianwyn; she nudged her neighbour and they both grinned broadly and started to clap.
A ripple of applause ran through the crowd in Kettle Lane and the people parted, forming a narrow path towards the Spellorium.
‘What’s all this?’ Arianwyn asked. Salle simply took her hand and led her along the lane as the applause rang about them.
As the Spellorium drew nearer, Arianwyn could see Miss Delafield, her leg encased in plaster and a large bruise still blooming across her cheek and around her left eye, and Mayor Belcher standing by the storefront. Miss Delafield beamed broadly and joined in with the applause.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Mayor Belcher called, bringing the applause to a close. ‘We are here today to celebrate and give thanks for our witch, Arianwyn Gribble.’
