Spellbound Chronicles – Blood Line

by Suzanne Maguire

  SPELLBOUND CHRONICLES

  Bloodline

  Suzanne and Eve Maguire

  Copyright © 2014 Suzanne Maguire and Eve Maguire

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study,

  or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents

  Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in

  any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the

  publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with

  the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries

  concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

  Matador®

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  ISBN 978 1783066 070

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

  Converted to eBook by EasyEPUB

  To ALL OUR READERS

  Friends and family

  And many others for not yawning through the umpteenth

  re-writes – you know who you are.

  Paul Horsman and team at Doncaster Waterstones. Thanks for your endless patience.

  Not forgetting Gordon Volke for his invaluable help and encouragement. We certainly needed you.

  To Professor Dame Pamela Shaw and team at SITran: for working tirelessly to find a cure for MND/ALS

  And finally, our thanks to Amy, Rosie and Jeremy

  at Troubador.

  Contents

  Cover

  ENDORSEMENT

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  ENDORSEMENT

  Henry Kingston

  I was given a copy of BLOODLINE, the first book in their SPELLBOUND CHRONICLES trilogy, by my friends Eve and Suzanne. I began reading it with interest and curiosity which soon turned to an overwhelming desire to find out what happens next. This is an extremely well-written story with a great deal of mystery and suspense, lots of exciting action and a setting that is totally believable despite being a fantasy adventure novel.

  The story concerns two teenagers, Larna and Aron Gorry, who visit their grandmother in Sherwood Forest. Almost immediately, they are drawn into an epic struggle between the forces of good and evil taking place in another time-zone. Making friends with a wizard called Balgaire and his family, they battle against the destructive forces of the warlock Mordrog and his sly assistant Edsel. Larna and Aron find themselves in a series of terrifying predicaments that tax their bravery and endurance to the limit.

  I found the good characters warm and sympathetic and the bad ones genuinely scary. The story has great pace and there are no slow sections or long passages of description. The action is gripping and has a number of clever twists and genuine surprises along the way. Eve and Suzanne are talented authors and I look forward to reading the other two books in the series when they are written.

  I would recommend BLOODLINE to anyone who likes inventive fantasy adventure stories or is just looking for a really good read.

  PROLOGUE

  To Larna and Aron,

  Time is running out for us and we desperately need your help.

  You are our link against the forces of evil,and our only hope.

  Trust Clement for guidance.

  We wait in time to meet

  you.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Larna Gorry had her recurring dream the night before her mum took her and her younger brother Aron to stay with their grandmother in her cottage deep in Sherwood Forest. She’d had these dreams since her last birthday in March. At first they were okay but a bit confusing. Then, last night, her dream had become more sinister.

  It always began with a boy of about her own age, 14, with piercing green eyes and blonde hair scraped back in a ponytail. There was something odd about him that meant he was not entirely human. Larna never felt threatened when the boy beckoned her into his world because she was always able to resist. Except this time. This time it was different. The urgency of the summons seemed desperate and Larna’s natural curiosity got the better of her. As she took a step towards him, the relief that registered on the boy’s face suddenly changed to fear directed at something over Larna’s shoulder. She snapped round to see a dense black shadow rushing towards her. She froze instantly. As she was about to be enveloped by the ‘thing’, she felt the same fear she saw reflected in the boy’s face.

  With a jolt, Larna woke up, choking. She began to shake. It was pitch black and deadly quiet, the middle of the night. Sitting bolt upright, she hugged her knees and began to rock. She knew she’d been dreaming, but it had felt so real, leaving her with a nasty feeling of dread. She reached for her half-read book on the bedside cabinet and settled back on the pillows in the hope that a good read would calm her down. She must have fallen asleep because it only seemed a few minutes before she heard her mother, Elizabeth, calling, “Larna! Aron! Time to get out of your pits. You don’t want to be late on the last day of term.”

  Half asleep, she realised it was morning. The light was still on and her book had fallen onto the floor. Kicking away the duvet, she crawled out of bed and made her way to the bathroom before her brother had a chance to hog it. After a quick shower, she knocked on twelve-year-old Aron’s door. The only response was a grunt. Par for the course.

  Back in her bedroom, Larna was starting to get dressed when she experienced a sudden flashback to last night’s nightmare. It sent shivers down her spine. Then, from the bottom of the stairs, her mum broke her dark train of thought and raised her spirits by saying breakfast was ready. Afterwards, once they’d eaten, she took the stairs two at a time, racing Aron back to the bathroom. She spat out the toothpaste and rinsed, then raised her head to inspect her face, making sure she hadn’t left any white residue around her mouth. The mirror had steamed up so she used the heel of her right hand to circle a clear patch.

  “What the… ” she gasped and sprang backwards, hitting the wall. Her heart rate beat at double time as she held onto the towel rail for support. The face in the mirror wasn’t hers! She had expected to see her green eyes, straight nose and mousy-brown shoulder-length hair tucked behind her ears. Instead she saw the boy in her nightmare extending his arm to make
contact.

  “Larna, wake up! Breakfast’s ready.” Aron was shaking her shoulder. “This is your final call.” Larna’s eyes sprang open and she was thankful to see her brother instead of the strange boy gazing at her. Relief flooded her mind as she realized it had still been a nightmare all along.

  * * *

  Back in her room she double-checked the contents of her backpack to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. “One torch, one notepad, one set of clues, dad’s GPS… I’m all set!”

  On their last holiday with their father he had introduced them to geocaching, an Americanised treasure hunting game. They’d used a GPS to locate the area where the cache box, full of goodies, lay hidden, but clues were essential to finding its exact position. If someone decided to remove an item from the container, it was common courtesy to replace it with something else. Larna always carried a school key ring, just in case. She and Aron were looking forward to playing this game again in Sherwood Forest during the holidays.

  A car backfiring reminded her that mum was waiting to drive them to school. Grabbing Aron’s sleeve she pulled him through the hall and out of the house, banging the door shut behind them. From the outside, Hayfield School was small and compact, but it was deceptive, much like the Tardis in Dr Who, Larna had always thought, because on the inside it was astoundingly large. Two floors of corridors led off in all directions to classrooms, study rooms, the library and the dining hall. Even now she still occasionally lost her bearings in the maze.

  The morning dragged until the lunch bell echoed through the building. With twenty minutes to kill before her sitting, Mr Waight, her chemistry teacher, suggested Larna should make good use of her time in the library revising part of the lesson she’d had difficulty with. Entering the large, oblong room, Larna realised she was alone. The only movements were particles of dust floating upwards in a shaft of sunlight and the big hand on the clock, as it ticked the seconds away. Locating the reference book, she grabbed it from the shelf and sat down at the nearest table.

  Totally immersed in the pages her eyes began to droop. She didn’t notice the sudden drop in temperature until an almighty shiver ran through her body and she caught sight of her breath on the cold air. The sun had vanished, plunging the room into semi-darkness which cast eerie shadows all around. Reaching across the table, she switched on the lamp and was immediately confronted by a dense black mass. Fear temporarily rooted her to the chair as she thought she recognised the spectre from her nightmare attempting to envelop her again. In a frantic scramble to escape, the chair flipped backwards taking Larna with it. Her head hit the floor with a terrific bang and she lost consciousness.

  She came round to someone, or something, tapping her face in none too gentle a fashion. Confused and disorientated, she opened her eyes and recognised Mr Waight.

  “Lie perfectly still, Larna, until I’ve checked you out. Whatever happened? You had me worried for a while.” Not waiting for a reply, he held up four fingers and asked Larna to count them. Then the school nurse arrived and took over. Within a few minutes she had her patient sitting up.

  “There doesn’t seem to be much wrong with you, but from the noise your stomach is making, I guess you missed your lunch.”

  Larna nodded dumbly.

  “That could be why you fainted.” She felt the back of Larna’s head and drew in a quick breath. “You’ll have a big lump there tomorrow, young lady. Go to the kitchen and have something to eat while I write a note for you to give to your mother.”

  Larna didn’t want to openly disagree with the woman’s diagnosis. She’d already concluded that she’d fallen asleep and plunged right back into her nightmare. Mr Waight helped her to her feet and escorted her to the canteen, sitting opposite while she ate, watching every move just to make sure she wasn’t suffering from concussion. Eating in silence and still feeling woozy, Larna wondered if her strange dreams were supposed to mean anything.

  During the final study period, the nurse gave her a letter for her mum, sealed, so she couldn’t read it. Instead of shoving it into her pocket she screwed it up into a tight ball and unobtrusively dropped it into the waste bin. There was no way she was going to worry her mother, or even tell Aron, as they’d only want all the details. For the rest of the afternoon Larna kept checking the classroom clock, desperately willing the hands to get a move on and the final bell to ring. When it did, she shot up, said a quick goodbye to her best friend Jonty and rushed for the door.

  “Don’t run!” yelled Mr Robertson, her English teacher.

  Larna took no notice. Backpack over her shoulder, she was out of the classroom like a bullet, heading for the car park and the great escape.

  Aron obviously had the same idea because they bumped into each other on the way out and raced up the path to the gates. Their mum’s car was rocking with her loud music blasting out. Much to Larna’s relief she turned the volume right down as soon as they slung their bags into the boot. They strapped themselves in whilst their mum neatly manoeuvred the car through the school traffic and they were on their way.

  Although there were hold-ups due to road works, they made good time and soon they were turning off the A1 onto Blyth Road, through the gates of Clumber Park and onto an avenue of massive lime trees. Their mum always found her way through this maze of trees and avenues into Sherwood Forest with ease. But this time they hadn’t travelled very far into the forest when they found their route blocked. The car skidded to a halt, narrowly missing a huge trunk. Everything that wasn’t wedged in or anchored down went flying. Their seat belts saved them from the same fate. Unbuckling, they all got out of the car and looked around. Debris lay in their path.

  “What the…?” their mum said. “The weather forecast never mentioned this.”

  “What are we going to do if we can’t get through?”

  “I’ll have to find another way, Aron. But… ”

  At that precise moment the three of them were startled by the sudden appearance of an elderly man with an unruly shock of red hair. Elizabeth gave a little squeal. Aron and Larna also jumped.

  “Whoa! Where did you come from?” Larna asked.

  The man pointed into the woods. “There’s my hut so, I expect that’s where I came from.” He took off his funny flat cap and held it humbly with both hands. Then he turned to their mum. “I’m sorry if I frightened you, Mrs.”

  “No harm done, Mr… ?”

  “Clem. Short for Clement – unlike the weather we’ve had of late, don’t ya know.” He smiled, showing two huge fangs which sent a shot of anxiety through Larna and Aron.

  “If you are going to Miss Neve’s, will you tell her… ” he turned his back on the youngsters before finishing.

  Half covering her mouth Larna whispered, “How does he know where we’re going?”

  Aron shrugged and pulled a face. “I don’t know.”

  While the grown-ups chatted, the two youngsters studied him. “Clem? That’s a peculiar name,” Aron commented, looking to his sister for confirmation of his observation.

  “Ssshh, he’ll hear.”

  Aron kicked the debris at his feet. “I’ve never seen hair that red before. Look how it sticks up.”

  “I’ve never seen a woodsman wearing green tights either,” Larna whispered back. “Do you think he realises we can see them under his long black mac?”

  “Don’t know. He’s a strange old bod. He reminds me of a sort of medieval vampire. He’d be right at home in one of those old movies.”

  Aron was right. He was ancient and slightly bent, as though not used to standing straight anymore. He was a funny-looking old man who appeared scary at first but who was obviously just trying to help. Elizabeth nodded to her children to get back into the car. She shook Clem’s hand, got in herself and buckled up, instructing them to do the same. Winding down the window she said, “Thank you, Clement, you’ve been most helpful. I promise I will pass your message on to my mother.” He gave an exaggerated salute with his right hand as he clutched his cap in his
left. “You’re very kind don’t ya know, Mrs.” He looked directly at Larna and Aron in the back and acknowledged them with a salute too. As their mum reversed the car, manoeuvring it onto another path, Larna turned and looked out of the window. Clem was still in the same spot, watching.

  “In all these years I didn’t know this path existed. You live and learn,” said their mum. Glancing through the rear window again a blink later, Larna found Clem and his hut had vanished. All that was left was a large black crow staring back at her.

  * * *

  Following the old man’s instructions to the letter, it didn’t take long to re-join their usual route into Sherwood. They’d only lost about twenty minutes by going round the fallen trees.

  “I can’t understand it,” said mum.

  “Me neither. It’s weird.” agreed Larna

  “What is?” Aron asked.

  “It looked as if that one spot has been hit by a tornado. Nowhere else. Very strange. Still, no harm done. We’re on the right road now.” She drove in silence after that.

  Relaxing into the corner of the car, Larna shut her eyes and let her thoughts drift. She realised this would be their first geocache without dad organising it. She hoped they wouldn’t make a mess of it. Glancing sideways at Aron, it struck her how much he looked like their father with his dark blonde curly hair and button nose, even though he possessed their mum’s sky-blue eyes. Aron’s cheeky grin though was all his own, and it had often got him into – and out of – trouble.