by Lari Don
The crows swooped down to attack again.
“Should we help it?” asked Beth.
“It might think we’re attacking too. We’re safer up here,” said Atacama.
“Why are they only attacking its left side?” asked Molly.
Innes frowned. “I think they’re trying to drive it back to the farm buildings. Why would they…?”
“They’re still trying to stop us!” said Atacama. “The curse is only permanently lifted if the wyrm leaves the farm’s land without knocking the buildings down again. So the crows are trying to make the wyrm knock a wall down, to stop us lifting the curse…”
“I’m not having those crows wreck our night’s work!” Innes shifted to his horse self and galloped downhill.
Beth said, “We have to guide the wyrm in the other direction.” She ran downhill too, swiftly followed by the sphinx.
So Molly scooped the toad up and ran downhill towards a dragon.
The wyrm was no longer heading away in a smooth wave pattern, it was rearing, striking and missing the acrobatic crows, its tail lashing dangerously close to the outhouse.
The crows were harrying and harassing the wyrm, driving it back towards the farm.
But now Innes and Beth were blocking the way to the buildings, waving their arms and shouting.
Molly ran past them, over the new ditch and between the farm buildings. She put the toad down, grabbed the pile of coats and scarves, and ran back.
“Like flags,” she said, as she threw them at the others’ feet.
“Or red rags to a bull,” said Innes.
They all waved the bright colours and yelled, “Get away, go south!”
Now the wyrm was being pecked on one side and yelled at on the other. It writhed and hissed.
The attacking crows kept flying away from its biting jaws, and the yelling children kept jumping away from its whipping tail.
The wyrm snapped at the crows, then whirled round and snapped at Innes. Innes leapt back, falling into the new ditch, and the head of the wyrm missed him by centimetres.
Then it rose up again and hissed at the crows, as its tail flicked nearer and nearer the newly rebuilt stone walls.
Innes, Beth and Atacama kept shouting, “Go away, go away!”
But Molly yelled, “This isn’t working. It’s scared and confused. Can it understand what we’re saying?”
Innes said, “It’s magical: it should understand speech.”
So Molly walked out in front of the wyrm and called up, “Wyrm, hello! Wyrm?”
The wyrm opened its huge fanged jaws right above her. Molly saw the dark depths of its mouth descending towards her.
For a cold shivering moment, she forgot why she was standing under this huge monstrous snake. She just watched the tooth-ringed cave open wider and wider.
Then she screamed, “NO! Stop! I’m trying to warn you! I’m trying to save you!”
The wyrm closed its jaws and stared at her.
“The crows want to force you to knock down the buildings, so you’ll be trapped under the earth again. Ignore them. Head for the mountains, like you wanted to.”
The crows dived down to attack Molly, but she used her fleece like a rotor blade, whirling it above her head to drive them off, and kept her gaze firmly on the wyrm, while it stared back at her with sharp thoughtful eyes.
“We’ve lifted your curse by rebuilding the farm. But the curse will fall on you again if you knock the walls down. I don’t know why these crows care, but they’re trying to stop us lifting the curse. Don’t let them bully you. Leave carefully and you’ll be free…”
The wyrm lowered and raised and lowered its head. Molly wondered if that was a nod.
It hissed once more at the crows, then made a gentle, careful, elegant bend around the outhouse, curved up the field and squeezed its head out through an open gate. It started to slide off into the hills, looking like a piece of land that had been varnished and polished, a perfect s-shaped sliver of Scotland.
The crows wailed.
“Molly, that was insane!” said Beth. “You don’t just talk to a wyrm!”
“Why not? You were yelling at it!”
Innes said, “And you certainly don’t look directly into a wyrm’s eyes!”
“Oh, don’t you? Thanks for telling me!”
“Do you feel alright?” asked Beth, putting her hand on Molly’s shoulder. “You don’t feel… hypnotised or enchanted or be-spelled or anything?”
“No, though I have got these strange voices in my head.”
“What voices?” said Innes.
“You lot! Constantly telling me I can’t do things when it turns out I can. ‘Only dryads can talk to wood’, ‘It’s not safe to look at a wyrm’s eyes’. Perhaps you should try breaking your world’s rules sometimes, and see what happens…”
There was a sudden silence. The crows had stopped screeching.
Molly looked up. Hundreds of crows were flying slowly in a wide black ring around one solitary crow, which was flapping frantically in the centre of the circle.
As the spiked serpent’s tail left the field, the crow in the centre stopped flapping.
The crow fell to the ground, like a black rag.
The other crows circled round once more, then flew off, silently, to the west.
Molly looked at the wyrm sliding off into the hills, then she looked at the dark feathery bundle lying on the grass beyond the ditch.
“At the risk of stating the obvious,” said Innes, “I don’t think those are ordinary crows.”
They crossed the ditch and crouched down by the fallen bird.
Beth reached out and stroked its glossy feathers. “Whether it was ordinary or not, it’s dead now. Poor thing.”
“Poor thing?” said Innes. “This bird or its friends tried to kill you, and they spent all night trying to stop us completing our task.”
“But we did complete our task, and it’s dead now. Did we kill it?” Beth laid her hands on the bird and gently stretched out its wings.
In the rising light of the sun, in the iridescent sheen on the black feathers of the crow’s right wing, they saw:
A wyrm.
The glistening image of a wyrm, shining purple and green on the feathers of the bird’s wing.
“What is that?” asked Molly.
“It’s a link,” said Atacama. “I don’t know how, but this crow was linked to that wyrm. When the wyrm was set free, the crow died.”
“Perhaps the link wasn’t to the wyrm, but to the wyrm’s curse?” said Beth.
“Is that why they didn’t want us to rebuild the farm?” asked Molly. “Because if the curse was lifted, this crow would die?”
“We’ve freed one creature and killed another,” said Beth. “Not as good a night’s work as we’d hoped.”
“But we’ve done what Mrs Sharpe asked,” said Innes, “so let’s go and tell her.”
And they all walked away, leaving the crow’s body lying crumpled on the ground.
Chapter 17
“I’m tempted to gallop back myself to tell Mrs Sharpe what a bit of kelpie work rate just achieved, but I suppose we should all take credit for this successful task,” said Innes as they walked back to the bikes. “Atacama and I will wait at the farm gate for you, so we can tell the witch together.” He shifted into a horse and galloped off, followed by the loping sphinx.
Beth coiled up the rope she’d made to harness Innes to the hurdle, put it in her bike basket and sat the toad on top. “Innes sharing credit with someone! That’s unusual.”
Molly said, “He couldn’t have done it without us though.”
She watched Beth fix the saggy gate with a few firm words, then the two girls cycled back, coasting down the hills. As the slopes flattened out and they reached the richer farmland near the town, Beth said, “Race you to that corner?”
And Molly was beaten again, by a tree riding a bike. She muttered, “I’d be quicker than you on my paws.”
Beth smiled. �
�Would you like me to find a dog and ask it to chase you?”
Molly shivered. “No thanks.”
Rounding the next corner, they saw the pale boy and the dark sphinx leaning against the gateposts of Skene Mains Farm as if they’d been waiting for hours.
“Slowcoaches.” Innes grinnned.
“We only just got here,” said Atacama. “We came the long way round. Innes wanted to stare at a few buildings on the way.”
Innes shrugged. “I enjoyed playing with full-sized stone Lego. Maybe we could build something else together after our curses are lifted. A den hut or a team headquarters or…”
“We could build a proper pyramid for Atacama to guard when he gets his riddle back,” suggested Beth, wheeling her bike up the lane.
“Or something with lots of fancy roofs for Beth to show off her skills,” said Molly. “A castle with towers and domes and pointy bits.”
Innes laughed. “That could be a palace for the toad when he turns back into a prince! Or she turns back into a princess…”
“The toad could build a palace himself or herself,” said Molly. “Remember the outhouse?”
Innes paused. “It doesn’t look like Mrs Sharpe is up. The shop’s closed and so are all the farmhouse curtains.”
“Let’s put the bikes away and have breakfast,” said Beth. “We’ll tell Mrs Sharpe about the wyrm once she’s opened the shop.”
The bike shed was locked, so they leant the bikes up against the wall and walked towards the bunkhouse.
“Shhh,” said Atacama. “I hear voices.” The sphinx led them on soft paws to the back corner of the furthest farm building.
Molly heard Mrs Sharpe’s voice, quiet, but clearly angry. “No, Corbie. That’s not what we agreed.”
All five of them sneaked forward and peered round the corner. They saw Mrs Sharpe talking to a tall man in a long black coat with ragged fingers of fabric dangling down from the sleeves’ cuffs and hems.
She said again, “That’s not what we agreed.”
The man spoke in a rough croaky voice. “We agreed you could lift one curse, witch. And one curse has been lifted, so close down this workshop now or my curse-hatched crows will close down your farm. We’ll steal your seed, poison your water and blight your land, just as we promised.”
Atacama whispered, “He smells like a crow. I think I’ve seen him… around. Is he a shapeshifter?”
No one answered. They were all listening to Mrs Sharpe.
“No, Corbie. You promised that I could hold one more workshop and I could lift one more curse if I promised to stop lifting curses forever after. And I, personally, have not yet lifted a curse this week.”
“Then why does one of my curse-hatched lie dead on the field of your old farm? Why is that serpent snaking through the hills? That curse was lifted as a direct result of your workshop, so that is the one curse we gave you as a concession.”
“I did not lift it. I have not left my farm all night.”
“But your pupils lifted it.”
“My pupils, not me. Anyway, you and I agreed that the Wyrm of Cut Rigg was the most suitable local curse to set as a task, because the pupils would probably find it too dangerous and difficult.”
“Apparently these cursed children are not put off by danger or difficulties.”
Mrs Sharpe shrugged. “How could we possibly have known that? You also informed me that if they did look likely to lift the curse, your army of curse-hatched crows could stop them. But your crows failed and my pupils succeeded. So the wyrm is free and the crow is dead. That wyrm will probably annoy someone else soon, then someone else will curse it, another crow will hatch out of your precious stone eggs with a wyrm on its wing and you will have your numbers again.
“But that curse was not my one curse. By our agreement, signed in blood, I have the right to lift one curse from one of the pupils attending my workshop. So I will do that. Then I will stop running curse-lifting workshops and your crows will stop flying over my land. That was our agreement. And if you don’t honour our agreement, we both know who will force you to keep your promise.”
The tall man stood silently for a moment, a breeze sliding over his short glossy black hair and ruffling the feathery fringes on his sleeves. Then he nodded. “One more curse. That’s it. But if you lift more than one curse, my winged army will destroy all your fertile land, so you can never raise another crop. That’s a promise, and we both know the Keeper prefers dark promises like curses to light fluffy promises like your guarantee to lift them.”
He raised his arms, the breeze lifted the tattered fringes on his coat, he shifted into a large black crow and flapped away.
Molly and the other four stepped back from the corner, and crowded together against the wall.
“One curse?” said Innes. “One curse! Did you all hear that?”
“But she guaranteed results…” whispered Molly.
“We need to read the small print,” said Atacama.
“We need to burn the small print,” muttered Innes.
“We need to discuss this calmly,” said Beth.
“There’s nothing to discuss.” Innes took a step away from the rest of them.
“Quiet!” murmured Atacama. “We should talk indoors.”
They walked across the farmyard and shoved the red door open. As they stepped into the cold classroom, Molly asked Atacama, “If he smelt like a crow, do I smell like a hare?”
The sphinx smiled. “A little. But it’s a nice smell.”
Beth closed the door behind them. “What are the curse-hatched? Were the crows that attacked us hatched out by curses?”
Atacama said, “I’ve never heard of the curse-hatched, but I have seen that man Corbie with small flocks of crows, at the… em… around town. But on the basis of what we just heard, I would speculate—”
“No speculating. Facts only,” snapped Innes. “And the fact is we all heard the witch say she would only lift one curse at the end of this workshop.”
Innes looked at each of his companions in turn, staring into their eyes. His own expression was hard and angry. “There are five of us, with five curses. All threatening our lives or our essential beings.”
“We can’t say that, Innes,” said Atacama, reasonably. “We still don’t know what the toad’s curse is—”
“We have five curses between us,” Innes yelled. “And that lying witch is only going to lift one!”
The red door slammed wide open.
“What lying witch?” asked Mrs Sharpe, as she strode in. “I’ve not been lying to you. Though if you will eavesdrop, you might hear unpleasant things, and if you want to get away with eavesdropping, you should hide your footprints and pawprints better and share your horrified questions more quietly. So. Sit down.”
No one moved.
“Sit down, all of you!”
Beth and Molly sat down next to each other and the toad squatted on the desk beside them. Atacama sat on the floor, dignified as always. But Innes didn’t sit down. He leant his weight on a desk at the front, still almost standing, staring right into the witch’s face.
Mrs Sharpe nodded. “Well done for last night’s task. I’ve felt bad about that wyrm for years. I’m sorry your reward for success was hearing my argument with Corbie. But you had to find out sometime.”
She took a deep breath and said calmly, “I will, indeed, only lift one curse at the end of this workshop.”
“One curse? Just one curse?” said Innes, in a slow cold voice. “What about your guarantee?”
“My guarantee is quite clear. And you don’t need to read the small print, Atacama, it’s on the flyer, in public view.”
She pulled a flyer from her cardigan and read, “Guaranteed result.” She held it out. “See? ‘Result.’ Singular. Not plural. One result. One curse lifted. It’s right there, in black and red.”
“But every other year, you’ve lifted everyone’s curses,” whispered Beth.
“Yes, but this year my farm is under threat from a
huge flock of crows. Curse-hatched crows need the energy of curses to survive. Every new curse hatches out one more crow, and that crow lives for as long as the curse lasts. Recently the leader of the curse-hatched crows, Corbie, realised that if he prevents curses being lifted, he can increase their numbers and strength.
“Corbie decided to threaten my farm, to force me to stop running my curse-lifting workshops. I must protect my land, because my power grows from the fertility of my earth. Therefore I agreed to stop running these workshops, because I couldn’t run them anyway without the power of my land to back them up, but I bargained for one more year and one more curse. So I will lift one curse. I wonder whose curse it will be?”
She looked round them all. They glanced suspiciously at each other.
Molly asked, “How will you decide?”
“One last task, of course. The first to complete it will get their curse lifted.”
“So, tell us, witch,” said Innes. “What is the last task?”
Mrs Sharpe pulled a roll of parchment from the cupboard and laid it on the desk. It unfurled, revealing several different sheets rolled up together.
“The last task is to steal a stone egg from those curse-hatched crows, then do a good deed with it and bring it to me. The first to arrive here carrying a stone egg charged with goodness rather than darkness will have their curse lifted, as promised. And the rest of you… I’m sorry I can’t do more, but perhaps you’ve learnt something useful from your days on my farm.”
“We’ve learnt never to trust a witch,” said Beth.
Mrs Sharpe pointed at the creamy sheets on the desk. “Here are five maps showing the location of the stone eggs, because perhaps you won’t want to share one map. The maps will last until Friday, then the ink will fade away. There will always be food and shelter in the bunkhouse. And I won’t even expect you to dig more fields, so you can concentrate on this task.” She looked up again. “I hope to see at least one of you back here before the end of the week.”
Mrs Sharpe turned and walked out, closing the door gently behind her.
Innes reached forward and picked up a map. He turned round and looked at them all. “Don’t get in my way.” Then he walked out.
