Wychetts and the Thunderstone

by William Holley

  Edwin had protested, but Bryony, of course, had loved it. Edwin could still see her self satisfied smirk as she pocketed the Key. It should have been obvious, she had said: Inglenook had given her the Key because she was better at magic than Edwin.

  Inglenook hadn’t confirmed or denied Bryony’s claim, but his last words echoed in Edwin’s mind…

  “A true Guardian must face their responsibilities with or without the magic of the Wise Ones to guide them. Courage, faith and perseverance are just as powerful. And the most powerful is faith.”

  Standing on the storm lashed hillside, Edwin repeated the words to himself.

  Courage, faith and perseverance.

  And the most powerful is faith.

  Edwin’s simmering resentment cooled. Bryony might think herself better at magic, but they were both Guardians of Wychetts. Whatever the reason for Inglenook’s decision, he knew the Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom would never desert him.

  Edwin knew he had to focus on the job in hand. Mum and Bill had been kidnapped by the Nyx, and he had to play his part to help bring them home, with or without Wychetts’ power.

  “Let’s find this church,” he said, turning to gaze up the hillside.

  The top of the hill was hidden in cloud, but Edwin could discern the vague form of a building in the haze. Body bent against the driving hail, he picked his way up the desolate hillside until the vague form above solidified into a stone building with a with a tall tower at one end.

  The church.

  Edwin continued up the hill until he reached the base of the church tower. At the top of the steeple, so far above, he could make out a weather vane in the shape of a cockerel.

  “Guess that must be him.” Edwin tilted his head back and called out. “Hello Mr Weather Vane.”

  There was no response from the Weather Vane.

  “It’s no use,” said Stubby. “You’ll never make yourself heard above all this wind and thunder. We may as well wait until Inglenook and the girl arrive.”

  “They could be ages.” Edwin shook his head. “I’m not waiting here all day. My mum’s life could be in danger.”

  Determined to succeed in his mission, Edwin pondered the situation. He couldn’t make the Weather Vane hear him from down here, so he had to find a way of getting closer.

  He noticed a metal drainpipe running up the tower wall, all the way to the pointed spire roof.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Stubby emitted a shocked squeak as Edwin grabbed hold of the drainpipe.

  “I’m going to climb the tower.” Edwin pulled against the drainpipe. “Looks like this will take my weight.”

  “Ninety nine point nine per cent of which is from the neck down,” observed Stubby. “Have you lost your brain, or just lent it to someone as a doorstop?”

  “Inglenook said we need to talk to the Weather Vane,” Edwin reminded Stubby. “He speaks with the Four Winds, and might know what’s been causing the storms.”

  “Indeed,” said Stubby. “But it’s a long way up.”

  “That’s because you’re a mouse,” said Edwin. “Everything looks a long way up to you.”

  “A fair point,” conceded Stubby. “But in truth it’s the long way down that worries me more.”

  “We’ll be fine.” Edwin started clambering up the drainpipe. “Inglenook will look out for us.”

  “Inglenook is not here,” said Stubby. “And he can do nothing to help if you fall.”

  Edwin had only climbed a couple of feet, and stopped to consider Stubby’s warning.

  The mouse was right. Inglenook wasn’t here, so how could he protect them?

  But Edwin dismissed such concerns. Mum was in danger. Bill too. And for all he knew the whole world could be under threat from the Nyx.

  “We don’t have a choice.” Edwin started climbing again.

  “This is madness,” squeaked Stubby. “I’ve always thought you were one pickled egg short of a picnic hamper, but now I realise you’re missing the sandwiches as well. Not to mention the cutlery, crockery and actual picnic hamper. You’re climbing up a metal drainpipe in the middle of a thunder storm. It would be safer to share a bath with an irritated electric eel. And have you considered what would happen if you fell and hit your head? Who would pick up the pavement repair bill?”

  Edwin tried to ignore Stubby’s whingeing, but it wasn’t long before his own doubts returned. The climb would have been hard enough under normal conditions, but the raging storm presented its own set of problems. The metal pipe was slippery from the rain, icy hail peppered his face, and the strong wind threatened to hurl him to the ground.

  But Edwin knew he must go on. He had to complete his mission.

  Edwin’s arms began to ache, and his fingers turned numb from the cold. But on he went, blocking out the pain until he reached the top of the drainpipe.

  “You did it.” Stubby sounded incredulous. “What you lack in brains you more than make up for in foolhardy courage.”

  “Thanks,” said Edwin. “I think.”

  Grabbing hold of the iron gutter, Edwin hauled himself onto the edge of the steeple roof to get a better look at the Weather Vane.

  The cockerel figure was ornate, if somewhat rusty, and sat on a spindle. Four spokes protruded from its base, each tipped with a letter indicating a main compass point. If Inglenook was right, and Edwin didn’t doubt that for a second, this weathered old bird could hold crucial information to help solve the riddle of the storms and find Mum and Bill.

  “Hello,” Edwin called up to the Weather Vane. “Have you got a couple of minutes?”

  There was no reply from the Weather Vane.

  “Maybe he can’t speak after all,” wondered Edwin.

  “Oh he can speak alright,” said Stubby. “It’s well known that the Weather Vane is one of the biggest gossips going.”

  “Then maybe I’m doing something wrong.” Edwin chewed his bottom lip. “Is there a special way to address the Weather Vane?”

  “You can call him whatever you like,” said Stubby. “He’s only a…”

  “Your Highness,” said a haughty voice from above.

  “Huh?” Edwin looked up at the Weather Vane. “Did you just say something?”

  “Did you just say something Your Highness,” said the Weather Vane. “That is how you shall address me.”

  “You’re not a Highness,” sniffed Stubby. “You’re just a chunk of rusty metal.”

  “I am no such thing.” The Weather Vane stared down in a snooty manner. “I am the highest weather vane in all the land. Not to mention the most handsome and knowledgeable.”

  Stubby tutted. “Vane by name and vain by nature.”

  “You are not worthy to consult with me,” said the Weather Vane. “Now be gone from my presence, I have important work to do.”

  “Work?” Stubby shook his little mouse head. “All you do is sit there getting blown around all day. There are traffic lights that put in a harder shift.”

  “Please be quiet,” Edwin told Stubby. “He won’t help if you annoy him. Let’s try another tack.”

  Edwin cleared his throat, wiping raindrops from his cheek before he addressed the Weather Vane again.

  “Your Highness, we come humbly seeking advice, and would be most grateful if you could grant us an audience.”

  “That is better,” said the Weather Vane. “And because you have addressed me correctly, I shall consider your request.”

  Edwin smiled at Stubby. “See.” Then he cleared his throat again. “Your Highness, we are wondering if…”

  “I said I shall consider your request,” said the Weather Vane. “I did not say I had decided to grant you an audience.”

  “Oh.” Edwin’s smile fell. “When will you be able to do that?”

  “When I have time,” said the Weather Vane. “Between my more lofty responsibilities.”

  “This is hopeless,” muttered Stubby. “We’d get more sense out of a lamppost.”

  Edwin tended to agree, but had
come too far to abandon his mission.

  “We’ll have to keep trying,” he told Stubby. “Inglenook said the Weather Vane hears all.”

  “Inglenook?” The Weather Vane’s haughty tone wavered. “You refer to the Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom?”

  “I do,” said Edwin. “I’m a Guardian of Wychetts. My name is…”

  “You are Edwin,” said the Weather Vane.

  “You know me?” Edwin was impressed.

  “I have heard of you,” said the Weather Vane. “The Four Winds often speak of the new Guardians of Wychetts: a whiney ginger boy, and a black haired girl too mouthy for her own good.”

  “That’s them to a tee,” said Stubby. “And I suppose the Four Winds have a lot to say about me as well?”

  “Indeed they do,” said the Weather Vane. “You must be Stubby, their assistant.”

  “I am not their assistant.” Stubby emitted a horrified squeak. “My role is more high level management.”

  “So you know all about us.” At last Edwin felt he was getting somewhere with the Weather Vane. “Then you’ll speak to me? I mean, you’ll speak to me, your Highness?”

  “I may.” The haughtiness returned to the Weather Vane’s voice. “If you can prove your credentials by showing me the Wychetts Key.”

  “I don’t have it.” Edwin’s confidence wilted. “The Key is with Bryony, the other Guardian.”

  “So Inglenook sends a mere underling to seek my help?” The Weather Vane sounded outraged. “I shall speak to no one except the Guardian who bears the Key to Magic. Provided they address me in the correct manner, of course.”

  Edwin sighed, letting the rain trickle down his face as he pondered his failure.

  The Weather Vane would only speak to Bryony. There was no choice now but to admit defeat.

  Or was there? Edwin had an idea.

  “Inglenook says you speak with the Four Winds.” He smiled up at the Weather Vane. “Then you must know a lot of things, your Highness?”

  “I know everything there is to know,” agreed the Weather Vane.

  “Then you must know what’s causing this terrible weather,” continued Edwin. “These can’t be normal summer storms, right?”

  “There are rumours,” said the Weather Vane. “Whispers on the wind regarding the theft of an ancient relic.”

  “What relic?” Edwin was oblivious to the driving hail as he dragged himself further up the steeple roof. “And what’s it got to do with the storms?”

  “That is not for your ears.” There was a squeal as the Weather Vane turned away from Edwin. “I shall only speak of such things to the bearer of the Wychetts Key.”

  “Of course, your Highness.” Edwin hid his disappointment behind a gracious smile. “Such knowledge is too important for the likes of me. The fate of the whole world could depend on it. Or it could just be common gossip.”

  “Common gossip?” Outraged, the Weather Vane swung back to stare at Edwin. “A noble born cockerel such as I does not engage in common gossip.”

  “I am not accusing you of such, your Highness.” Edwin maintained his respectful bearing. “But can you trust the Four Winds to tell the truth?”

  “The Four Winds never lie,” insisted the Weather Vane. “Admittedly the West can exaggerate a little, and the East tends to over dramatise, but they would never gossip about something as important as the Thunderstone.”

  “Thunderstone?” As Edwin said the word, a clap of thunder sounded. “What is the Thunderstone?”

  “I can say no more.” The Weather Vane swung away from Edwin again. “You are too lowly to know such information.”

  “But it’s important.” Edwin’s deferential tone became more pleading. “My mother’s life could be at stake, the fate of the whole world too. You must tell me…”

  “I shall not.” The Weather Vane swung from side to side. “I have already divulged more information than is befitting a person of your lowly station. Now be gone from my presence, I have work to do.”

  “High level swivelling, eh?” Stubby twitched his whiskers.

  “I do not swivel,” said the Weather Vane, even though he was doing just that.

  And swivelling faster, Edwin noticed.

  “You are swivelling quite a bit,” he told the Weather Vane. “Are you OK?”

  “I am perfectly fine,” came the uppity reply. “You will now leave me in peace whilst I…”

  The Weather Vane’s voice became a scream as his swivelling accelerated into a high speed spin.

  “I don’t like this,” wailed the Weather Vane. “You must help me! You must stop the spinning!”

  Edwin raised an auburn eyebrow. “But surely I am too lowly to help such a grand person like you?”

  “You must help! Something is happening to me. It is not the wind. I fear it may be…”

  The Weather Vane screamed again as he became a spinning blur.

  “I’ll help,” said Edwin. “But in return you must tell me all you know about the Thunderstone.”

  “Very well,” cried the Weather Vane. “But hurry!”

  “I’m coming.” Edwin dragged his legs onto the spire roof.

  “More madness,” squeaked Stubby. “Can’t we just wait until the girl turns up with the Key?”

  “There might not be time.” Edwin scrambled up the spire, hands and feet slithering on the wet slate tiles. The wind blew his hood off, but he ignored the stinging hail as he hauled himself to the summit.

  Lightning flashed, a fork of pure white energy slicing the air close to Edwin’s head. He slipped, grabbing hold of the metal spindle at the base of the Weather Vane. The spindle bent under his weight, and suddenly Edwin felt himself sliding backwards.

  He held on to the Weather Vane, his feet kicking air as he dangled over the edge of the spire roof.

  “Well done,” said Stubby, clinging precariously to Edwin’s left shoulder. “That really helped.”

  Edwin scowled down at the mouse. “Would it kill you to stop being sarcastic for five seconds?”

  “Probably not,” agreed Stubby. “Seeing as you are likely to have killed us both in half that time.”

  The Weather Vane continued to spin, his cries mingling with the rumbling thunder and clattering hailstones.

  Then another sound cut through the din: a cross between a screech and a cackle.

  Edwin glimpsed a dark shape flying towards him through the curtain of hail. At first he thought it was some kind of bird, but as the shape came nearer he saw it looked more human…

  Well, almost.

  It was a female form clad in a tattered dark cloak, with scraggly grey hair streaming from its skull-like head. Tiny points of light shone from its sunken eye sockets, and its bony jaw gaped open to emit that ear splitting screech.

  “What is that thing?” Edwin’s eyes widened as they tracked the approaching creature.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” admitted Stubby. “But it’s safe to assume it hasn’t come here to present a weather forecast.”

  The creature pointed at Edwin, and lightning arced from its skeletal fingers.

  Twisting his body, Edwin yelped as the fork of electricity skimmed his arm.

  The creature wheeled away from the spire, cackling gleefully. Edwin was unharmed, but the lightning had left a scar of scorched fabric on his anorak sleeve.

  “That was a Storm Hag,” yelled the spinning Weather Vane. “They are deadly elemental beings.”

  Edwin saw more Storm Hags descending from the clouds. He tried counting them, but only made it to ten before their cackling leader dispatched a bolt of lightning straight at him.

  Again Edwin bent his body to evade the attack, and sparks flashed as the lightning bolt struck the church steeple.

  “There’s too many.” Edwin hung helplessly as the Storm Hags came at him. “Inglenook, help!”

  “Inglenook can’t hear you,” squealed Stubby. “We’re on our own now.”

  Edwin writhed like a worm on a hook, somehow avoiding another
barrage of zig-zagging lightning bolts. There were more sparks, then a cry from Edwin as he felt himself falling…

  Chapter 8- A Drop of Rain Won’t Hurt You

  Bryony clung grimly to the bars of the cage. They were still travelling upwards, but the land below had vanished beneath a cloak of broiling cloud, so it was impossible to tell how high they were.