Wychetts and the Thunderstone

by William Holley

  Clinging to each other, the children made it to the lounge door. The fish monsters followed, belching menacingly as they edged ever closer.

  “Inglenook!” Bryony screamed as they waded into the lounge. “We’re being attacked by monsters!”

  “Fish aliens,” cried Edwin. “It’s an invasion!”

  A flash of lightning lit up the carved wooden face above the hearth, but there was no response from the Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom.

  “I told you,” snarled Bryony. “He’s soundo.”

  “Inglenook never sleeps,” argued Edwin. “He…”

  The torch flickered.

  “Uh oh.” Edwin slapped the torch against the palm of his hand. “The batteries are dying.”

  The monsters belched in unison, as though sensing victory was close.

  “You must try and wake Inglenook.” Stubby crawled up onto Edwin’s shoulder to escape the rising water. “I fear he is under the magical influence of these creatures.”

  The children tried calling out to Inglenook, but the deepening water pressed against their lungs, and it was a struggle to even breathe.

  Then the torch died, and a terrible blackness enveloped Edwin and Bryony.

  “We have come for you,” gulped a voice from the gloom. “We have come for the Guardians of Wychetts.”

  There was splashing, and Bryony felt a clammy webbed hand on her shoulder.

  “Inglenook, we need you!” From somewhere Bryony found her voice again. “Wake up, wooden brains!”

  “Wake up!” Edwin wailed as a scaly arm wrapped around his waist. “Inglenook, please wake up!”

  Suddenly the room was bathed in light. Not a harsh flash of lightning, but a warm orange hue. A glowing ball emerged from the fireplace, a mini sun that shone brighter as it rose to the ceiling.

  The monsters screeched, raising webbed hands to cover their eyes, their wide jaws gnashing with fury.

  “Back,” bellowed Inglenook, his voice stern and commanding. “Back, creatures of the mire. How dare you enter the home of the Wise Ones without my bidding? Now state your purpose or be gone from this place.”

  The monsters dived into the water. Fearing another attack, Bryony and Edwin clung to each other, but the monsters did not reappear.

  The flood waters receded with a gentle gurgle.

  “They have gone,” said Inglenook. “Returned to where they came.”

  “You mean outer space?” Letting go of Bryony, Edwin turned to the fireplace. “Another planet, like Mars?”

  “Don’t be silly.” Stubby remained perched on Edwin’s shoulder. “It has been scientifically proven that Mars is just a barren orb devoid of intelligent life. A trait shared by many places in this solar system. Jupiter, Saturn. Your head.”

  “Those creatures are not alien,” said Inglenook. “They are very much from this earth. Or rather, the water.”

  “They’re disgusting.” Bryony found she couldn’t rid her nostrils of that fishy stink.

  “They have as much right to inhabit this world as humans,” replied Inglenook. “Perhaps more so, since they have been in existence far longer than your species.”

  “But what are they?” Edwin was slightly disappointed that he hadn’t had a close encounter with aliens after all. “They must have a name.”

  “I believe they are called the Nyx,” said Inglenook.

  “You believe?” Wringing out her nightdress, Bryony scowled at Inglenook. “You mean you don’t know for sure?”

  “I have never seen a Nyx in the flesh before, Young Mistress. They are normally shy and secretive beings, rarely straying from their natural habitat of river and bog.”

  Bryony snorted. “They didn’t seem shy and secretive to me.”

  “Indeed not,” mused Inglenook. “Which can only mean my suspicions are not unfounded.”

  “Suspicions?” Edwin glanced uneasily at Bryony before returning his gaze to the carved wooden face. “What suspicions?”

  “The storms are not natural,” declared Inglenook. “A magic power is at work. And I fear it is not for the good.”

  Chapter 6- Consumer Rights

  The foyer of Gutterly Great Gutters and Drainpipes Limited head office was exactly as Bill had described it. The pristine walls were a calming shade of magnolia, the spotless carpet was lush underfoot, and there was even a flat screen TV for the benefit of customers.

  “Looks like you found the right place.” Clutching the Wychetts Key in her right hand, Bryony gave Inglenook’s miniature face an appreciative nod as she walked towards the reception desk.

  “Naturally,” replied Inglenook. “You should be more trusting of Wychetts’ power, Young Mistress.”

  “I’d be more trusting if Wychetts’ power had stopped Dad and Jane getting kidnapped in the first place,” muttered Bryony. “Or at least if it could tell us where they’ve been taken.”

  “I am still searching,” Inglenook assured her. “But as I explained earlier, it would seem the Nyx have cast a magic shield around your parents to stop me tracking them.”

  It was now morning, although the veil of storm clouds made it difficult to judge the time of day. Luckily for Bryony, the journey from Wychetts had been conducted by magical transportation, so she had avoided another soaking. Her hair was still a little frizzy from the night before.

  Thanks to the warming heat of Inglenook’s mini sun, Wychetts had dried out in no time at all. But any relief the children felt at their escape from the Nyx had been dispelled after a frantic search of the cottage had revealed no sign of Bill and Jane. Inglenook had a grim theory to account for the grown up’s disappearance: they had been kidnapped by the Nyx.

  He deduced their intention had been to kidnap the whole family, but why remained a mystery. Whilst Inglenook had admitted he knew little about the Nyx, he was sure they were not an evil race, and had developed their magical shape shifting powers purely as a means of survival. Edwin had suggested the Nyx wanted to eat Bill and Jane, but Inglenook thought that unlikely; whilst they harboured no love for humans, he insisted the Nyx had never attacked or injured people, and were likely to be vegetarians. Bryony assumed that would explain all the burping.

  Whilst it was unclear if the Nyx’s actions had anything to do with the storms, Inglenook suspected there was a connection. It was decided that Bryony would track down Bill and Jane, whilst Edwin had been sent off to follow another line of enquiry.

  Edwin hadn’t been entirely happy with that arrangement, particularly when Inglenook had given the Wychetts Key to Bryony. But Bryony thought it made perfect sense: she was better at magic than her stepbrother, so it would be a waste giving him the Key.

  The plan was to rendezvous after Bryony had spoken to her father’s employers. She had reasoned that her dad must have been kidnapped before he came home from work, and that it was really a Nyx shape shifting imposter who had behaved so oddly at supper. She hoped finding out details of her father’s last sales appointment would help track him down.

  “Hello and welcome to Gutterly Great Gutters and Drainpipes Limited head office.” The lady at the desk greeted Bryony with a welcoming smile. She was quite pretty, with large grey eyes and wavy brown hair. But she spoke in a strange lispy voice, and her teeth looked a bit too large for her mouth.

  “My name is Marshia,” continued the lady. “How may I be of service to you?”

  “I’ve come about my dad.” Bryony leaned on the desk, but drew back when she caught a pungent aroma of cheap perfume and…

  “I apologise for the odour.” Marshia held up a scent bottle and sprayed the air in front of her. “We are currently experiencing issues with our drains, but are working to resolve the problem. Now how may I be of service?”

  “It’s my dad.” Bryony tried not to inhale too deeply. “He works for you. His name is Bill Platt.”

  Marshia frowned, her grey eyes narrowing. “You mean Mr Splatt?”

  “His name is Platt,” insisted Bryony, emphasising the ‘P’.

  “Th
ere is a Mr Splatt who joined our sales team three weeks ago,” lisped Marshia. “Nice chap, always jolly. Weird taste in shirts.”

  “That’s him.” Bryony realised they were talking about the same person. “I’m his daughter.”

  Marshia looked Bryony up and down. “You’re Browny.”

  “It’s Bryony,” said Bryony, emphasising the ‘Y’. “Do you know where my dad is? He didn’t come home last night and I’m worried something might have happened to him.”

  Obviously Bryony wasn’t going to mention that he’d been kidnapped by shape shifting fish monsters.

  “Let me check his schedule.” Marshia swivelled her chair and started tapping on a computer keyboard. Bryony noticed how long her nails were, almost like claws.

  “Well?” Bryony leaned over the reception desk to read the computer screen, but recoiled when she caught another whiff of that pungent odour. It was cheap perfume, mainly. But there was definitely a hint of something else…

  “Mr Splatt was assigned an emergency appointment late last evening.” Marshia’s grey eyes widened as she read the screen. “According to our database we have not heard from him since.”

  “Can you give me more info?” asked Bryony. “You must have an address.”

  “I’m afraid I cannot divulge that information,” lisped Marshia. “That is classified customer data.”

  “I need to know,” insisted Bryony. “It’s important.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t tell you.” Marshia was still smiling. “That is classified customer data.”

  “There is something wrong,” whispered Inglenook. “This lady is not what she seems.”

  “Leave this to me,” hissed Bryony. “I’ve watched enough TV consumer shows to know how to deal with difficult staff.”

  Marshia’s smile flickered, her large grey eyes swivelling to the Key in Bryony’s hand.

  “I want to speak to your manager.” Bryony folded her arms and treated Marshia to one of her fiercest scowls. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve spoken to your manager.”

  To Bryony’s surprise, Marshia was happy to oblige.

  “Of course. I’ll check if they’re available.”

  Marshia picked up the handset of her desk telephone. “Hello. Mr Splatt’s daughter is here to see you. Yes, young Browny.”

  “It’s Bryony,” growled Bryony, emphasising the ‘Y’. “And my surname is Platt, not…”

  “You can go through.” Marshia pointed a long nailed finger to a door in the corner of the foyer. “The management can’t wait to see you.”

  Bryony thanked Marshia, who responded by spraying more perfume at her.

  Stifling a cough, Bryony turned from the reception desk and headed for the manager’s office.

  “See,” she told Inglenook. “All you have to do is stand up for your consumer rights. That’s what the TV shows say.”

  But Inglenook was not so easily satisfied.

  “I sense danger, Young Mistress. There is something strange about that young lady.”

  “I know what you mean,” whispered Bryony. “Reckon she’s on some work experience scheme.”

  “More than that,” said Inglenook. “I sense there may be dark magic at work.”

  Bryony sighed as she reached the manager’s door. “Shame you didn’t spot that earlier last night. It should have been obvious something was wrong with my dad.”

  “If you recall, Young Mistress, I did voice my concern about your father’s safety.”

  “But you didn’t do anything about it. And you were having a nap whilst they carted off Jane. They would have nabbed us too if we hadn’t woken you up.”

  “The Nyx cast a spell to render me unconscious,” said Inglenook. “I would never have knowingly allowed them entry into Wychetts.”

  They had been through all this earlier, but Inglenook’s explanation still didn’t cut it for Bryony. How could a couple of scaly fish-faced creeps get the better of Wychetts’ magic? It could only mean that Wychetts’ magic wasn’t as powerful as she had thought. So how could she take his word about anything ever again?

  Bryony knocked on the manager’s door, which opened as her knuckles made contact.

  “Young Mistress, I must advise caution.”

  “Relax.” Bryony stepped through the doorway. “The manager will sort things out. I’m going to ask for a coffee. They’ll have to give me a coffee, that’s what the TV shows say. And then I’m going to insist on free mats. Or is that only when you’re buying a car? Anyway, if they don’t give me a coffee I’ll…”

  The words died on Bryony’s lips when she found herself in a dark empty chamber.

  “I fear something is amiss,” said Inglenook.

  “A carpet,” agreed Bryony, tapping a foot on the bare metal floor. “And a desk. And comfy chairs. I was expecting comfy chairs. We must have got the wrong door.”

  “There was only one door, Young Mistress.”

  “I’ll ask Marshia.” Bryony turned round, but the door shut in her face with a resounding thud. She fumbled for the handle, but there wasn’t one.

  “Marshia!” Bryony hammered on the door with her fists. “I’m stuck in this room. Can you hear me? Marshia!”

  Bryony listened, but all she heard was a distant rumble of thunder.

  “I fear we have been deceived,” said Inglenook. “There is dark magic at work.”

  “It’s only a locked door,” argued Bryony. “There’s nothing spooky about that.”

  There was a loud clang from above, and Bryony felt the whole room shudder.

  “OK,” she whispered. “That’s edging up slightly on the spooky scale.”

  The floor tilted, and Bryony was thrown off her feet. As she tried to stand, the room lurched again.

  “What’s happening?” She rolled around as the floor tilted this way and that.

  “It seems we are in transit,” advised Inglenook.

  “Transit? What do you…”

  Bryony had almost made it back to her feet when a hefty jolt shook the room. The walls fell away, revealing metal bars all around her.

  A chill wind blasted through the bars, and heavy rain lashed at Bryony’s face as she tried to work out what had happened.

  She was in some sort of cage. A cage that was moving…

  Moving upwards!

  Blinking back the rain, Bryony peered through the bars of the cage.

  Below she could see rooftops shrinking as the cage travelled higher. Above she could make out a thick metal chain rising far into the churning grey clouds, whilst all around was rain and streaks of lightning.

  Inglenook was right, she realised. There were dark powers at work. She had walked straight into a trap!

  Chapter 7- His Highness

  The valley stretched out below, a patchwork of sodden fields shrouded in a grey mist of rain. Thunder echoed angrily, and forks of lightning stabbed the ground with random spitefulness. A muddy river meandered across the landscape, its course blurred where its swollen brown waters bled into the adjoining meadows.

  Perched on the hillside, Edwin drew his anorak hood tighter to shield his face against the vicious weather. He was on the highest hill in the county, and here the storm seemed worse than ever. The driving rain was mixed with hail, and the wind had an icy bite to it. Many of the hillside trees had been uprooted, their twisted trunks split and blackened from repeated lightning strikes.

  To Edwin it seemed like he was standing in the middle of a battlefield.

  And he knew it would only get worse if the storms continued.

  “Let’s get this over with.” A shrill voice sounded from inside the top pocket of Edwin’s anorak. “I can’t think of a worse way to spend the morning.”

  Edwin glanced down at Stubby. “Yeah, we drew the short straw alright. Sent up to this barren place in the middle of a storm with no magic to help us. But at least we’ve got each other for company, huh?”

  Stubby twitched his whiskers. “That was actually what I meant.”

  Edw
in was used to Stubby’s jibes, but he couldn’t understand why Inglenook was now treating him like a second class citizen as well.

  There were two Guardians, but only one Wychetts Key. Edwin and Bryony had learned to share the Key between them, and Inglenook normally left it up to them to decide whose turn it was. But today he had presented it to Bryony without any discussion, as if she was more worthy than Edwin.