Aliens In My Garden

by Jude Gwynaire

  No-one—but no-one, stalks like a witch. When a witch decides to stalk instead of walking, it’s almost as though the universe—walls, trees, people, dragons—decides to get out of their way, without necessarily knowing why they’re doing it. All it knows is that it’s a really, really good idea.

  Alditha stalked through the cottage, a curious Celeste following a little behind and to the side of her, in case she was actually powered by spaceship fuel. She went from the kitchen to the hallway, to the bedroom, to a bookcase, then she waved a hand and kept going—through the bookcase, down another corridor that, according to Celeste’s bleeping box, didn’t really exist, and through yet another door which she didn’t bother to open either. Celeste hopped through after her, before whatever effect Alditha was creating stopped happening.

  The two found themselves in a round, wooden room, like being inside the trunk of a tree. It had more bookcases stuck to its round walls, well-stuffed, cushion-covered sofas, and a handful of tables with large pots or bits of odd equipment on them. Alditha stalked her way over to a bookcase, opened a small, unremarkable box and took out a type of spinning top made of rough twigs held together with silver twine. It was only when she turned around to stalk back in the other direction that she realized Celeste was still with her.

  ‘Oh, you’re here, are you?’

  Celeste smiled.

  ‘Well, good, I suppose.’ She showed her the crude, wooden spinning top. ‘Not just you that has-’ she shrugged. ‘- oojamaflips.’

  She walked to a point on the floor, then licked a finger and stuck it in the air. She frowned at it and took two quick steps to the left. ‘Come stand by me,’ she said, and Celeste did, obeying the command in her voice. ‘I’m going to count to three,’ said Alditha. ‘Then you and me together are going to spin around and stamp once, with our left foot. Can you do that?’

  Celeste frowned and nodded.

  ‘You’re sure?’

  She nodded again.

  ‘Alright then,’ said Alditha, pulling her hat firmly onto her head. ‘One. Two. You’re absolutely sure?’

  Celeste sighed. ‘On three, we spin and stamp, yes.’

  ‘Which foot?’

  ‘The left.’

  ‘Hmm. Good. Just checking. I don’t tend to let people see me do this, you know. It’s a bit...’

  ‘Over-complicated?’ suggested Celeste. ‘Exasperating?’

  Alditha sniffed. ‘I was going to say “magical,” but please yourself. Right then—One. Twooooo. Three.’

  Alditha threw the spinning top into the air. They both spun around, stamped their left foot on the ground, and Celeste’s violet eyes grew wide with astonishment. The spinning top was turning slowly in mid-air, but a tiny dancing shoot had sprouted out of its uppermost twig, and pale, waxy white roots were growing quickly out of the bottom. As she watched, the roots reached down to the floor, and shoots and leaves zipped out at greater and greater speed. Soon it didn’t look like one plant at all, but lots, all around them, circling them, building something. The twigs of the spinning top glowed golden.

  Alditha smirked a little. ‘Magical,’ she said again as whatever it was that was being built was built. ‘Oh, hang on-

  Past and present, future dark,

  Sing to me through root and bark.

  Bring the stars, come joy or pain,

  Build my Tarot Wheel again.’

  Celeste giggled. She couldn’t help herself. ‘What was that?’

  ‘That was the spell. Got to give it a spell, so it knows what to make. What shape you want it to take.’

  ‘You really don’t,’ said Celeste. ‘You just have to direct the sigma energy field with the focus of your mind.’

  Alditha folded her arms. ‘Oh you do, do you? That’s all you have to do, is it? And what would you know about magic, missy?’

  ‘It’s not magic,’ explained Celeste. ‘Don’t you know what you have here?’

  ‘It’s magic if I say it is,’ said Alditha firmly. ‘And I do. So it is. Are we clear on that?’

  ‘I say it’s an oojamaflip.’ Celeste grinned up at the witch. ‘But we can call it magic if it makes you feel better.’

  ‘It does,’ said Alditha, ‘yes.’

  Celeste giggled again, then looked at the thing that the spinning top had built around them. It seemed to just be a circle of wood with twelve branches sticking up at even points all around the circle. ‘Erm,’ she said. ‘Impressive, this magic of yours.’

  ‘Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet,’ said Alditha. ‘I haven’t done the best bit yet.’

  ‘The best bit?’

  ‘This.’ Alditha snapped her fingers sharply, and all the lights in the room went out. It was suddenly pitch black, but all around them in the circle there were stars. Stars and star systems, multi-coloured planets like balls of ruby and emerald and pearl. A comet shot past Celeste’s left ear, and she gasped.

  ‘This is my Tarot Wheel,’ explained Alditha, and her voice sounded huge, like she could take dust and make a world of it just for fun if she wanted to.

  ‘This is the twelve-dimensional mapping interface from an interstellar starship, that’s what this is, but I will admit one thing,’ said Celeste. ‘It certainly is the best bit.’

  ‘Still not the best bit,’ said Alditha. ‘This is the best bit. See, every spoke of the zodiac corresponds to a sign, and every sign corresponds to suits or players. Cups, wands, pentacles, the fool, the hanged man, the tower, all that.’

  Celeste blinked.

  Alditha rolled her eyes. ‘Everything that can be known, you can find out through the tarot. You just have to do-’ She tapped a star and it flared, tapped another and dragged it to another part of the circle, where it formed a bright red line of connection. She pinched two stars between her thumb and forefinger and pushed them apart, so they formed a triangle with a third. Then she sent the whole universe of stars spinning around them anticlockwise. ‘-this,’ she said. ‘How long do you reckon those Sleepers of yours have been missing?’

  ‘6.8 thousand years,’ said Celeste as she watched the stars spin by.

  Alditha sighed and gave them another kick of speed, then slowed them, adjusted, peered at the stars that were in front of her then. ‘By the will of Ven Tao, the Great Gardener, show me,’ she commanded, and the universe around them changed perspective, flooded with light and colour. There were tall men and women in close-fitting suits that seemed like they had been made for comfort—they had a puffy, quilted look. The people had long hair in a range of colours—browns and reds and golds and whites. There were six of them, and as Alditha and Celeste watched, they seemed to be in a panic, running back to a large, round, shiny metal disc with a dome in the middle of it—a thing Alditha didn’t recognise.

  A thing Celeste knew as the lost scout ship of the Sleepers.

  __________

  ‘Oh, that,’ said Odiz, managing a grin beneath his beard. ‘Oh, I know what that is.’

  ‘Goooood,’ said Skoros. He waited. ‘Well?’

  ‘Well what?’

  ‘Well what is it then?’

  ‘Are you daft, man? ’s’a star with wings on.’

  ‘I know it’s a star with wings on,’ spluttered Skoros. ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘What does it meeeean?’ asked Odiz, imitating the young wizard. ‘Well, who knows what it meeeeeans? Maybe it’s a phoenix too dim to take its eggshell off. Maybe it’s a fireball that thinks it’s a butterfly. Maybe it’s a beautiful red sun that likes to swan about the skies making all the yellow suns feel jealous, how should I know?’

  ‘Ohhhh you know, old man. I can sense the knowledge in you. What’s more, I’ve seen it before. Somewhere in the back of my head, I’ve seen it before. I just can’t get it out. Can’t remember. So do you know what I did? I read every book in my family’s house. Every single one. You know my family?’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Odiz, darkly. ‘Stark, raving bonkers, most of ’em. They’d be proud to see you carrying on the family traditio
n.’

  ‘We go back a long way,’ said Skoros, ignoring the insult. ‘We have a lot of books.’

  ‘Bet there are none on how to grow beards.’

  ‘And not one of them—not a single one—has this symbol in it. But it’s in my head, somewhere, just forever out of reach. I knew it the moment I first saw it, but...but I...’

  Odiz made a face. ‘Where’ve you seen it?’ he asked, like he was coaxing a bird off a branch. ‘Recently, I mean? What made you start thinking of it in the first place, old chap?’

  ‘Ha,’ Skoros snapped himself back together. ‘You won’t get round me like that. I know you know. I mean, if I know what it is, somewhere in the back of my head, then you must know too, because you’re Odiz, and you’re the most powerful mage in the Garden.’

  ‘And what good is that to you when I’m trussed up here in Blackheart Bindweed?’

  ‘Ahahaha—I’ll make you remember what it means, and you can tell me.’

  Odiz coughed politely. ‘I highly doubt that, young man. You can’t even make yourself remember it, and you already want to help me? How do you propose to make someone else remember it if you can’t make yourself? Especially when you go about it by killing their housekeeper and draggin’ them off in the middle of a perfectly good afternoon kip and sticking Blackheart Bindweed in their hair? I mean, it’s hardly conducive to the memory, is it, all this? You’ve not really thought this through, have you lad? Are you sure this evil wizarding’s really the game for you? Maybe you’d be better suited to quantity surveying. Or dentistry. Not tried it myself, but they tell me dentistry’s all the rage.’

  ‘Shut up,’ yelled Skoros. ‘You know what it means. I know you do.’

  Odiz sniffed. ‘Might do. Thing is though, the more you try and make me remember and tell you, the more I’m going to try and forget.’

  ‘Why?’ Skoros asked, his patience failing.

  ‘Because,’ said Odiz. ‘Just because of all the shepherd’s pies I’ll never get to eat, thanks to your horrible bully boy tactics.’

  ‘But you have to. You have to tell me,’ Skoros sneered. Then, moving close to the mage, added, ‘I’m being patient with you Odiz. Just remember, I can make you suffer.’

  Odiz’ beard formed itself into a point and cleaned out one of his ears. ‘Yes,’ said Odiz, ‘but that’s about all you can do to me. Well, that and kill me, I suppose, but then you’d never know if I know what you want to know. Would you?’

  Skoros turned on his heel and fumed. The light-image abruptly died on the end of his wand.

  ‘Of course, one thing you haven’t considered,’ said Odiz, making Skoros spin back to face him again, ‘is that maybe it’s not human knowledge you need after all. Maybe it’s demon knowledge. Try getting Big Red in here with your little ball of doohickeys, see what he has to say about being tangled up in Blackheart Bindweed. I’d enjoy watching you try and explain that one—briefly. Maybe it’s dragon knowledge you need—go threaten Sagar with your ball of pretty lights, see how singed you get. Maybe it’s witch knowledge. Pay Alditha a visit, see if she calls you a wet blanket again, eh?’

  Skoros’ patience snapped. ‘Bindweed. Hear your master. Tighten your grip every half an hour till I return. Pull this old fool’s arms and legs off, inch by inch. We’ll see who’s a wet blanket then.’

  One of the other things Skoros had never been terribly good at was his evil laugh. It was pretty much part of the entrance requirement to his family to have a big, terrifying evil laugh. It was like the family birthmark. Skoros had only ever been able to conjure a watery, nasal snicker, but some moments in the life of an evil wizard absolutely demanded a big evil laugh, and this was one of them. He took a deep breath and tried his best.

  ‘Wahhheeehaaaahhhhheeeurrgh.’

  Then he coughed and spluttered and spat out snot.

  ‘Dear oh dear, are you coming down with something?’ asked Odiz as the bindweed slithered tight around his wrists.

  Skoros stomped away, followed by his orb.

  Razor stayed behind. He coughed. ‘Erm. Sorry about him,’ said the raven. ‘He gets a bit...well, y’know?’

  ‘Barking mad at times?’ suggested Odiz. ‘Yes, I know.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Run along little bird, before the Maze decides it’s peckish.’

  Razor nodded and flew off after his furious master.

  __________

  Alditha and Celeste watched as the Sleepers silently ran about, bringing samples from different directions to load into the ship.

  Celeste frowned. ‘Why can’t we hear what they’re saying?’

  Alditha rolled her eyes. ‘It’s magical, isn’t? Mystical. Visionary. No sound, ever.’

  Celeste looked at her, then rubbed the end of her nose. ‘Sound,’ she said, loud and firm. A green bar appeared in the corner of their vision.

  ‘Volume, up thirty percent,’ said Celeste, and as though it were water pouring into a paper bag, the sound of the scene pushed softly into their ears.

  Alditha ground her teeth.

  ‘You never turned the sound on,’ said Celeste simply, as though to say that anyone could have made the same mistake. There was a note in her voice though that seemed to add that anyone who did would be a bit dim.

  ‘Bit of a witch yourself, aren’t you? On the quiet?’ said Alditha, through teeth that were still pretty gritted.

  Celeste smiled up at her. ‘If you think that was good, this is going to blow your magic socks off,’ she said, then added ‘Change aspect ratio to full immersive.’

  The scene spun around them, and Alditha nearly lost her footing as somebody ran past her. She blinked to see the size of the scout ship up ahead—it was about the size of...

  She tried to think of a space as big as the ship, and decided it was as about as big as the main crossroads in the Garden, the one with Stone Hedge in it.

  ‘Peridot,’ said a boy with hair the colour of conkers, ‘where’s Ven? Quarka says we have only about thirty slipaways before the gate opens. I swear, that brother of yours is going to get us all killed.’

  A slightly taller girl with a pronounced nose and a bob of hair like Celeste’s, only green as summer grass and with eyes to match, smiled at him. ‘Don’t worry. You know what he’s like, “Oh, there’s plenty of time yet, and look at this, and that, and the other thing.” He’s still collecting flora samples to take home.’

  ‘The idea is that this is supposed to be home. Tell him to leave it all and get to his pruning, or I’ll use his shears myself.’

  Peridot sighed, put down the box of mineral deposits she was carrying and strode off behind the ship.

  ‘POV Character-Peridot,’ said Celeste out loud, and the world spun around them again.

  ‘Will you cut that out, ya meddling child,’ demanded Alditha, making sure her hat was still on. Without moving, they seemed to have gone into Peridot, to be seeing what she saw as she walked around the ship and into the dense trees.

  Peridot found him easily—it unnerved Alditha to suddenly know that she’d always found it easy to find her little brother.

  ‘What’s going on?’ demanded the witch. ‘’s’like she’s inside my head. I don’t allow anyone to go barging in there without wiping their feet. How do I know what she’s thinking?’

  ‘It’s actually more like you’re inside her head,’ explained Celeste. ‘I’m getting it, too—it’s nothing but a sense memory. She always used to win at games of hide and find—but you know that, too.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Alditha, her lip twitching as she received the memory. ‘I do. This is a...witchy way of doing things.’

  ‘Then you should be happy, shouldn’t you?’

  Alditha opened her mouth to say ‘But you’re doing it, and that’s not at all the same thing as me doing it. In fact, that means it’s getting done and I’m not doing it, which is worse than it not being done in the first place.’ She looked across at Celeste, remembering her joy when she’d discovered bread and jam. Then Alditha closed her mouth, defeate
d, and watched the scene in front of her. She couldn’t be cruel to the girl.

  There was a boy who looked younger, and if anything blonder than Celeste, his hair more unruly, his robe-like uniform covered in smears of mud and green and grey and white. He had a tear in his uniform across his right knee.

  ‘Zirca is getting anxious about you,’ said Peridot to the boy—and in the room, Alditha and Celeste both said it too. ‘What have you found now?’

  The boy looked up, and his concentration broke into a gleaming smile at his sister.

  ‘Worms,’ he said warmly. ‘It’s quite hypnotic to watch them, Peri. Look how they move.’

  He pointed to a dip he’d made in the earth, where pinkish-brown earthworms scurried to burrow back into the dark.

  ‘Interesting,’ Peridot, Alditha and Celeste agreed, ‘but not interesting enough to risk the wrath of the mission commander, little brother. Everything in its due proportion.’

  The boy rolled his almond-shaped, amethyst-coloured eyes at his sister.

  ‘I don’t know why you people go anywhere,’ he chuckled. ‘As soon as you get there, all you want to do is turn right round and go straight home.’

  ‘Fifty years is hardly turning right round, Ven,’ said Peridot, joining in with the banter, despite her brother’s impatience.

  ‘Feels like it,’ he said. ‘I think I could watch these worms for fifty years and never get bored.’

  ‘Ha. You get bored more easily than anyone else I know,’ said Peridot, swooping down suddenly to tickle him. ‘Look up, little brother, there are birds you haven’t seen yet. Look over there, a clump of mushrooms. Ooh look, a new tree.’

  She was mocking him, but only with the special license that sisters have. And besides, it came with a tickle, and Ven had always been helpless against the power of tickling.

  He fought to get his breath between laughs. ‘Alright, alright, enough.’

  She let him be, and he looked back at his wriggling hollow of worms. ‘I’m just going to miss everything, that’s all. How do you not miss everything, Peri?’