Behind the Sorcerer's Cloak

by Andrea Spalding

  The children’s hands stilled as they listened.

  The cat twisted out of Chantel’s arms, leapt back up the wall and melted through the window slit.

  The song continued. It sobbed its way into the children’s hearts. Tears pooled in their eyes.

  Holly sensed that the song was trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t grasp the words.

  “How awful, having no one remember your name,” said Chantel with a sigh. She sniffed.

  The others stared at her.

  “What on earth are you talking about?” said Holly.

  “The singer who has no name,” said Chantel in surprise.

  Holly grabbed her arm. “You mean you understand the song?”

  “Sure, don’t you?”

  “No, I just hear sad sounds,” said Holly.

  “That’s all I hear,” said Owen, “so how could you hear words? You’re making it up.”

  Chantel flushed. “Get lost, Owen. You never believe me. You’re as bad as Adam.” The thought of Adam brought more tears to her eyes. She turned away.

  Mr. Smythe, Myrddin and Mr. Cubbon emerged one by one up the harbor steps. Chantel ran back to them.

  “Idiot,” said Holly to Owen. “Now look what you’ve done. I know she’s only seven, but she’s got magic we don’t have. Equus said Chantel was the Singer, remember? She might be hearing something we can’t, and now she’s mad at us.”

  Owen kicked a broken scallop shell. “Sorry,” he muttered. “But she’s getting more fanciful since Adam disappeared. I’m trying to keep her grounded.” He sighed. “I’ll apologize. She’ll get over it.”

  “She’d better,” said Holly. “Something tells me I really need to understand that song.” She turned and followed Chantel.

  Chantel reached Mr. Smythe as he stood catching his breath.

  Holly and Owen saw her gesturing toward the castle.

  The men turned their heads to look.

  Holly speeded up to join them. “Mr. Cubbon, do you know who’s singing?” she panted.

  “Singing? It’s more like sobbing,” said Owen, coming up behind.

  “What singing?” Mr. Smythe tilted his head to listen. He shrugged. “I don’t hear a thing.”

  The children looked baffled. The song was faint but still clear.

  Mr. Cubbon said nothing. He stared hard at each child from under his shaggy brows.

  Myrddin looked mysterious.

  Holly opened her mouth as if to say more, but Owen nudged her. “Shhhh. If no one else hears it, it must be magic music,” he whispered and indicated Mr. Cubbon.

  Holly snapped her mouth shut.

  A fierce gust of wind whooshed in from the sea, bobbing and tossing boats at their moorings. It carried a frantic galloping of hooves.

  A portal, Manannan. We pray you a portal, and your help.

  The urgent mindspeak startled everyone.

  All four children’s heads whipped around. Mr. Smythe, Myrddin and Mr. Cubbon also turned.

  The flag above the gatehouse leapt and billowed, then dropped and lay idle again as the gust passed.

  The strange wind gusted across the causeway, up the headland and into the hills beyond. The hoofbeats faded.

  “It’s Equus,” cried Chantel. “He’s in trouble.”

  “Not him…Ava,” said Owen grimly. He turned to Mr. Smythe. “We’ve got to help them. Sir.”

  No one argued. The blast of mindspeak was full of dread and foreboding.

  Another buffet of wind followed.

  The mist boiled and closed in again, but not before strange shadows raced over the water, along the harbor and across the headland.

  Everyone shivered as the shadows passed.

  “Oh, for my staff, my staff,” muttered Myrddin under his breath.

  Chantel overheard. She slipped her hand in his and squeezed.

  “Aye, strange doings. Magical doings,” murmured Mr. Cubbon as threads of mist swirled around and between them again. “Manannan’s drawin’ his cloak around his island. Summat’s threatening his kingdom.”

  The entire group stared in surprise at the old fisherman.

  It was Chantel who got straight to the heart of the matter. She touched Mr. Cubbon’s arm. “You heard Equus, didn’t you?” she said.

  Mr. Cubbon nodded. “The White Horse, aye.”

  “…and the magic song?”

  Mr. Cubbon nodded again.

  “Did you understand the words?”

  “Aye. ’Twas the old story of the spirit whose name is lost. She cannot rest till someone remembers it.”

  Holly sucked in her breath.

  “Told ya,” sang out Chantel. She turned back to Mr. Cubbon. “Were you a Magic Child?” she asked.

  Mr. Cubbon’s face broke into a delighted smile. “No one ever called me that, me dear. But me Magic Ear was wondrous when I was a child. And ’tis wondrous again of late. I’m thinking we should get you set up at Castleview Inn. Then if I was you, I’d head to Barrule.”

  “Barrule?” the children murmured.

  “Aye, the mountain where Manannan lives. The direction yon White Horse was galloping. Seems like you have urgent need of Manannan. Come along now. I borrowed the fishmonger’s van to carry the luggage.” Mr. Cubbon began to haul a couple of backpacks toward a white minivan, parked farther down the quay, barely visible through the now dense fog.

  He didn’t notice a strange dark shadow following him.

  The Shade sent out a cry to other shades. “Humans sspeak of magic. I will sstay sstay, and lissten lissten.”

  It shadowed Mr. Cubbon, puddling beneath his feet as he climbed into the driver’s seat of the van.

  Mr. Cubbon shivered and pulled down the sleeves of his sweater as the temperature around him plummeted.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ________________________________

  MAGICAL SECRETS

  It was a short drive to the Castleview Inn, one of the old buildings Owen had spotted on the other side of the harbor.

  Built from stone like the castle, but whitewashed and brightly painted with red trim, the inn rambled unevenly alongside the estuary of the river Nebb.

  Despite the foggy gloom, flower baskets on either side of the door made for a cheery mood.

  Holly entered the room she was sharing with Chantel, dumped her backpack on the bed and ran to the windows. She gave a sigh of relief. She could just see the castle across the estuary. The walls floated fairy-like through the mist. She pushed open the window and listened. The magical singing had ceased.

  “Brrr,” said Chantel pointedly and pulled on a sweater.

  Holly shut the window. “Chantel,” she said, “this place oozes magic. I think we should try to use it.”

  Chantel stopped unpacking. She stared at Holly. “How?”

  “Well, we all mindspeak with the Wise Ones, but have you ever tried to mindspeak with one of us when we are not doing magic?” Holly asked.

  Chantel shook her head. Her eyes widened. “No. I never thought of it.”

  “Me neither,” said Holly. “But I’ve been thinking—what if we can? We’re Magic Children in the most magical place on earth. We are challenging the Dark Being, and it would be really useful to mindspeak or mind read among ourselves.”

  Chantel nodded and sat crosslegged on the bed. “Okay, let’s try.”

  Holly perched on the radiator. “I’ll think about an object, and you tell me what it is.” She closed her eyes.

  Chantel closed hers and concentrated, frowning with the effort.

  “Err…a ball…a bead. Are you thinking about the black bead?” she asked, bouncing in her excitement.

  Holly grinned and nodded. “Your turn.”

  Both girls closed their eyes.

  Holly was quicker. “You’re thinking about the cat,” she said.

  Chantel’s eyes shone. “Wow! Let’s try mindspeak.”

  They both took deep breaths and closed their eyes.

  Are you there, Chantel?

&n
bsp; I’m here.

  What’s black and white and read all over?

  Chantel giggled. That’s an old one. A newspaper. She opened her eyes. “Brilliant, Holly. Let’s see if we can do it with Owen.”

  “And Adam,” said Holly quietly.

  Chantel gasped.

  “But don’t get your hopes up. We need to check it out. Maybe we can only do it when we’re both concentrating.” Holly laughed. “And we should find out how to block it. I don’t want you knowing my innermost secrets.”

  Chantel shot her a wicked look. “Me neither.”

  “We’ll check with Myrddin before trying to reach Adam. I don’t fancy talking to the Dark Being!” Holly slid off the radiator. “But I need to sort out Mr. Smythe first.”

  Chantel frowned.

  “I don’t care what he thinks, he can’t stop us talking to Myrddin, and I can’t mess around going to Barrule. It’s daft.” She rummaged in her backpack, found her fanny pack, checked for money and clipped the pack around her waist. “I’m going to the castle. Coming, Chantel?”

  Without waiting for an answer Holly strode out to tackle Mr. Smythe.

  Chantel stayed on the bed, staring at the door. “Please don’t fight with Mr. Smythe, Holly,” she murmured. “I hate it when people fight.”

  Mr. Smythe and Myrddin stood beside the table, looking down at a map of the Isle of Man. They were arguing.

  “There is the mountain Barrule.” Myrddin tapped his finger on the map. “It’s Manannan’s home and where we’ll find Equus and Ava. Of course I’ll use magic.”

  “No magic. It’s unnecessary,” insisted Mr. Smythe. “I’ll hire a car and drive you.”

  Holly marched up to them.

  Mr. Smythe looked up. “Ah, Holly, you’re ready.”

  Holly shook her head.

  “Not me. Sorry Mr. Smythe, I’m going to the castle,” she said firmly. “And I need to talk to Myrddin first.”

  Mr. Smythe’s face froze.

  Holly tried to soften her tone. “I know you’re trying to protect us, but it’s impossible.”

  “That’s what I said,” snorted Myrddin.

  “I did magic while you were on the phone this morning, Mr. Smythe,” continued Holly. “Now I need to talk to Myrddin about it, because if I don’t ask his advice I might do something dangerous. We all need to talk. We mustn’t keep any more secrets from each other.”

  She turned to Myrddin while Mr. Smythe struggled for words.

  “I had a vision, Myrddin,” said Holly urgently. “I saw someone being buried, and her grave is calling to me. It’s in the castle. I need to find it.”

  Myrddin was transfixed. “You witnessed a burial on Pheric’s Isle?”

  Holly nodded. “Yes, a woman called Breesha.” She pulled the black bead out of her pocket. “This belongs to her.”

  Myrddin paled. He put his hands behind his back and retreated. “You’re right, Holly. We should have discussed this earlier…If that is what I think it is…” Myrddin seemed lost for words. “Put it away. Handle it as little as possible.” He waited until Holly had tucked the bead back in her pocket. “How is it in your possession?”

  “Breesha had a necklace…it was fabulous…with all different beads, turquoise, and amber…”

  “And jet,” said Myrddin. His voice was strained.

  “Yes. This jet bead was on it. The necklace was broken by accident at the burial, and the beads scattered…”

  Myrddin grew even paler and sat down with a bump at the table. “This explains everything. Go on, child. What happened to the beads?”

  “The women gathered them up and replaced them, propping them back around Breesha’s neck. They tried to put them in the right order, but this one had rolled and they missed it. I found it after the burial was complete and everyone had left.”

  “One little bead. That was all it took. One little bead of immense importance. It is the Dark Being’s bead. This is how she has grown so powerful. She is no longer influenced by the necklace. And the broken string no longer binds the magic of the worlds together.” Myrddin’s head sank into his hands. His muffled voice was full of sadness.

  “Was…was Breesha the Lady?” asked Holly fearfully.

  “That was a name given to her when she last visited Gaia clothed in an earthly body,” said Myrddin heavily. “Just as I have taken a human form and go by the name Mervin Green in my current life on Gaia.”

  “Bu…but, then is the Lady…really dead?” whispered Holly.

  Myrddin roused himself. “No…no, she isn’t dead,” he said. “Her earthly body died, but instead of becoming a Wise One again, she chose to become the Sleeper, ready to wake when needed. But she didn’t know her necklace would break. She cannot wake while the necklace is broken and incomplete.”

  Holly stared at him in horror, her hand clamped over her pocket. “We must fix it! Can you do it?”

  Myrddin shook his head. He was still slumped at the table. “Everything is in jeopardy because that tiny bead was lost…,” he whispered. A long moment passed before he straightened, his jaw set. “Holly, once again Earth Magic is seeking you out. You are right. You must go to the castle and follow your instincts. Keep the bead safe, my child. Repair the necklace.”

  “How?” cried Holly. “It was buried with Breesha.”

  “Trust in Earth Magic. One bead has already come your way.” Myrddin turned to Mr. Smythe.

  “Let her go, Smythe. Earth Magic has chosen. Without the Lady’s necklace the entire universe is lost.”

  Mr. Smythe fidgeted. He ignored Myrddin. “It’s dangerous,” he said to Holly. “I’ll accompany you.”

  Myrddin’s eyes flashed.

  Holly drew herself up. “Mr. Smythe, I’m not a kid. I’m nearly twelve years old. I do lots of things on my own, and right now I have to go to that castle. Even if you were with me, you couldn’t do anything. You’re not a Magic Child, and you can’t stop the magic! And I’m sorry, because this sounds rude…but you might get in the way.”

  “That’s what I’ve told him,” said Myrddin.

  Mr. Smythe’s voice was desperate. “I must look after you. I have to answer to your parents. I’m responsible for you.”

  His words hung in the air. Both Myrddin and Holly knew the unspoken words were, “You must not disappear like Adam.”

  Holly’s back softened. Her anger left her. “It’s not your fault. You can’t stop the magic,” she repeated softly. “No one can stop it now.”

  “She’s right,” said Myrddin.

  Mr. Smythe glared.

  Holly smiled patiently, suddenly seeming older and wiser than her years. “Mr. Smythe, please understand. We’re not disobeying you. We’re compelled to follow the magic. Ask Myrddin. He’ll tell you.”

  “I’ve told him, a dozen times,” muttered Myrddin.

  Holly touched Mr. Smythe’s arm. “I think there’s a reason why you’re with us, Mr. Smythe. I think Earth Magic has a job for you. You helped us find the Red Mare in the first adventure, and you taught us about the Spiral Labyrinth at Glastonbury in the last adventure. I think we’ll need your skills again.”

  Mr. Smythe gave a small smile. His eyes were tired. “Thank you, Holly. You know I’ll help with anything I can.” He ran his hands through his hair.

  “Then help us now by accepting Myrddin’s magic. You’ve been afraid to let us alone with him. But we need him, his magic and his advice,” Holly said urgently.

  There was a long silence.

  “Myrddin, will Holly be safe in the castle on her own?” said Mr. Smythe.

  Myrddin’s eyebrows shot together. “She’ll be safe going to the castle. She’ll be safe looking around. But you’re asking me if she will be safe from magic…Of course not. None of them will. They’re Magic Children,” he roared.

  Holly chuckled.

  Mr. Smythe gave in. “Holly, I apologize. I can’t stop the magic, and of course you need Myrddin’s advice.”

  Holly and Myrddin exchanged smiles.


  “Thank you, Mr. Smythe,” said Holly.

  Mr. Smythe stretched wearily and looked around. “Where are Chantel and Owen?”

  “Chantel’s in the bedroom, and Owen’s in the cellar,” said Holly. “While you were registering, the landlord and Mr. Cubbon told him about smugglers’ passages that run under Peel. There’s supposed to be one hidden in the Castleview Inn’s cellar. Owen’s trying to find it.”

  Mr. Smythe threw up his hands. “I give up. There’s always something. I’ll go and find him while you talk with Myrddin.”

  Mr. Smythe opened the door and walked down the corridor. “Owen…Owen, where are you?”

  Chantel heard the raised voices within seconds of Holly leaving the bedroom. She flung herself across the bed and pulled the pillow over her ears. “I hate arguing. Hate it, hate it, hate it!” she muttered into the quilt.

  She felt sick. Sick of worrying about Adam. Sick of being yelled at by her mother. Sick of Holly and Owen not believing what she was seeing or hearing. Chantel lifted one side of the pillow. She could still hear arguments. She muffled her ears again, wishing she had a magic wand to make everything all right. They needed Myrddin’s wand, his magic staff. If they found that it would help everyone. Myrddin would have his full powers back.

  Chantel rolled on her back and gazed up at the ceiling.

  Here she was in the Isle of Man. So was Myrddin’s staff; he’d said so. Adam couldn’t get it because he was captured. What if she could find it? Then Myrddin could magic everything all right.

  Chantel closed her eyes tight and tried out her new skill at mindspeak. Er…Manannan…are you there? It’s me…Chantel…I’m Adam’s sister. I’m a Magic Child too. She held her breath.

  Welcome, Chantel. Manannan hears you.

  Chantel received a similar mind picture to the one she’d seen on the plane. A white-haired old man stood listening on the heather-clad slopes of a mountain she now knew was Barrule.

  She sat up and tried to gather her thoughts.

  Manannan, we need help.

  I know child. The Darkness deepens. Even the people of Mann grow restless and irritable.

  We need Myrddin’s staff. I think you know where it is.