“Hopefully, outside.” Chet sounded unsure, speaking to Larna over his shoulder.
“Eventually,” Larna added sarcastically, concentrating on not getting left behind. The corridor seemed never-ending.
A glint to the left caught Larna’s eye. When the next light flashed on, she saw huge portraits in chunky gold frames on both sides of the corridor, stretching as far as she could see. Each person was painted wearing a beautiful robe in dazzling colours. Larna slowed down to admire them. What struck her most was that they all held their heads high, proud and aristocratic. She thought the women may have been witches, each one with lovely flowing hair to their waist; blondes, brunettes, or fiery coppers. She also noticed that in every picture there was a small figure, not unlike Violet, in various poses alongside the main characters, just as colourful and proud.
The last portrait on the left showed a much younger Balgaire. He had a gentle smile on his face and looked the part, head high and shoulders back. Opposite was a large gold frame, with a blank canvas mounted inside. Larna assumed it was waiting for the next witch or wizard to be painted once Balgaire’s time was up. She shivered, not wanting to think of that. As she gazed into the empty mount, her own reflection looked back! She jumped, bumping into Tiblou who was just in front of her. She pointed at the picture, but when she looked at it again there was nothing, just a blank canvas under glass.
“Sorry, Tibs,” she said. “I’m seeing things now!”
At the end of the corridor, a flight of stairs became visible, going up to a tiny speck of light which seemed to be getting brighter and redder. Tiblou lead the way, urging everyone to move faster. A glowing red door appeared to be gliding down the stairs towards them as they climbed up to meet it. It silently opened outward and a blast of cool air rushed in. Tibs ushered them through the door which closed behind them then faded to a pinprick before vanishing into thin air like a puff of smoke.
Time had passed so quickly that day had turned to night. They hurried into the woods, hoping Edsel hadn’t seen them escape. The sky was filled with millions of stars, some bright enough to light their path through the trees. They tried hard not to make a noise, but it was an almost impossible task. Settling down, they walked at a fast pace, kicking up leaves each time they accidentally strayed from the path. The now-familiar scent from the foliage became stronger, reminding Larna of Mordrog and, by association, Aron. The thought of him made her quicken her pace, knowing they were getting closer to where her brother was being held captive. But the others couldn’t keep up. The party slowed to a snail’s pace because Annie was in some difficulty.
“I’m so sorry to hold everybody up.” She said, looking exhausted and pale. “Give me a few minutes to catch my breath. If you like, you three can go on ahead and I’ll catch you up.”
“No way!” exclaimed Larna.
“Of course not,” Tiblou agreed. “Besides, we’re very close now and must stick together at all costs. So no more nonsense mother, okay? It isn’t safe here for any of us.”
They moved on again. Suddenly, Larna tripped and fell hard, grazing her knees. As soon as she saw her own blood, her pulse began to race and she felt faint.
“Are you alright?” asked Chet, helping her gently to her feet. “I think Edsel may have found us. He can move remarkably fast for a deformed creature. We warned you, he enjoys playing cruel games and tricking people. He’s probably laughing at us right now.”
“Pack it in, Edsel!” Larna shouted out angrily. “I know all about you now.” She didn’t know if the creature had heard, but she didn’t fall down again.
Having tied a hanky round the gash in one of her knees, they carried on walking until they were met by what appeared to be a mini-tornado. Annie’s hair blew loose, whipping her face, and everyone’s clothes became plastered to their bodies. The group held hands again so they wouldn’t be separated or pulled into it. Then they saw where the wind was coming from. Larna’s jaw dropped at the scene in front of her.
* * *
Balgaire and Mordrog were standing two or three feet apart glaring at each other. Larna and the others approached as quietly as possible, creeping forwards until they were standing directly behind Balgaire. They let go of each other’s hands. Tibs nudged Larna’s arm and nodded towards a roofless wishing-well that stood in the centre of the clearing. When Larna’s eyes followed his pointing finger upwards, she thought her heart would stop beating. There was Aron! They had found him! The boy was floating on his back, arms to his sides on a cushion of air above the well, seemingly in a deep and peaceful sleep.
Before she could stop herself, Larna yelled “ARON!” at the top of her voice and charged towards Mordrog, screaming like a banshee. The warlock calmly waved his wand anti-clockwise and pointed it straight at the girl. A rush of freezing cold air hit Larna full force in the stomach, blasting her right off her feet. She sailed backwards through the air and hit the ground, doubled-up with pain. It was a full minute before her breath, and her sanity returned to normal. She realised she’d had a very lucky escape landing between two trees and guessed that Balgaire had intervened to assist her landing. She stood up, legs like jelly and teeth chattering like castanets. Seeing Mordrog laughing at her, Larna’s anger boiled up again but Annie grabbed her arm to prevent her trying any more stupid tricks.
“Leave it to Balgaire, dear. He’s the only one who can save your brother, I’m afraid.”
Larna knew she was right. If she caused any further trouble, Mordrog would only make things even more difficult for Aron.
At least Larna’s intervention had given Balgaire time to compose himself. He stepped forwards, ready to go on the attack, but his opponent reacted immediately and set about defending himself. Wizard and warlock simultaneously raised their wands and chanted, “MORTUNA MORS VOBIS!” Mordrog also yelled,“Die, old man! Die!” Both flung the point of their wands in the direction of the other. A huge bang was followed by thick purple smoke which caused the others to cough and waft the air with their hands. Larna’s eyes welled up, tears streamed down her cheeks and a foul-smelling luminous blue gunge oozed from her nostrils.
Eventually, her breathing became easier as the air began to clear. The tears stopped and she continuously blew her nose into an old hankie taken from her pocket. It glowed with the sticky, smelly mess. Looking around, she saw the others were also suffering the same fate. When her vision cleared sufficiently, she saw that Aron was still safely floating above the well and that Balgaire and Mordrog had cancelled each other out. They were still facing each other, shock and surprise on both their faces.
* * *
A pat on the back made Larna jump and look over her shoulder. Uncle Roger had arrived along with several customers from the café who were watching from the safety of the trees. Larna was certain Edsel was in there somewhere.
“We heard a loud bang and rushed to find out what had happened,” explained Roger. “Are you OK?”
“I’m not sure how to answer that. So many things are happening just now, I really don’t know.” She pointed to her brother, thankfully oblivious to his plight. “I’m more concerned about Aron’s safety.” Her brother seemed to have been forgotten as the two magicians fought to banish each other.
“Balgaire needs to be victorious if Aron is to be freed,” said Roger, wisely. “We must all will him to win.”
The battle raged on with first Balgaire getting the upper hand and then Mordrog. Just when it seemed they would cancel each other out and, drained of power, they would have to fight again another day, Mordrog launched one last offensive. A sudden mighty blast of force sent Balgaire flying backwards through the air. Larna watched in horror as the wizard’s body hurtled past them and hit a huge tree at such a speed that a protruding branch went straight through his back and came out of his chest. As he hung there, a trickle of blood ran down his chin and dropped onto his robe. The startled look in his eyes seemed to grow dim as he whispered his final words, “I’m so sorry… ” Then the light faded from his e
yes. His body went limp and heavy. The branch split and broke off. Balgaire slid down the tree and lay crumpled on the grass. He was gone. Forever.
Nobody moved. Silent shock. Until someone began to wail and gradually the air was filled with sorrowful cries. The reality of the situation hit and sank in. They had lost the only person who could have saved them. “What do we do now?” whispered Larna, burying her head in Uncle Roger’s shoulder. Tiblou ran to Balgaire’s side and cradled him in his arms.
“YOU ARE PURE EVIL!” Tiblou screamed. “This man took you in and looked after you like his own son. How could you do this to him? I HATE you!”
“Shut up, Tiblou, and get it out of my sight. Take the remains of your friend with you. NOW!”
The heartlessness of Mordrog’s words made Larna stiffen with fury. She tried to approach the warlock, but once again found her feet wouldn’t move. They felt as if they were set in a block of cement. Roger made a brave attempt to rescue Larna, but he too was stuck. Those closest tried to help as well, but found they had also suffered the same fate. They were all at his mercy.
Mordrog stood, hands on hips, studying Larna with mock concern on his face. “What have you started?” he chided, shaking his head. “Everything was running smoothly until you and your brother came along. Now, I realise you were given a great deal of help along the way by… ” he glanced in the direction of Tiblou and the lifeless Balgaire, “but they can’t help you now. The bottom line is, Larna dear, that you two represent a major threat to my plans for their future.” He hooked his thumb in the direction of the watching crowd and shrugged. “Well, truth to tell, the only threat now.”
Tiblou seemed to have regained some composure. From a sitting position by the tree, he called to Mordrog, “Let these two return to their world never to come back. Then they can’t be a threat of any sort to you and, you will have won.”
“Oh, it’s far too late for that, you fool. Don’t you understand? That’s a chance I’m not prepared to take anymore. I have to rid myself of these unwelcome visitors forever. It’s the only way I can be certain they won’t come back to haunt me. I’m just looking out for my interests and those of my friends and business partners, of course.” He beckoned his servant. All eyes turned to Edsel in the trees. He grinned back nervously. “Come here, my little friend. It’s time.”
Edsel scurried to the warlock’s side as fast as his crooked little legs would let him, leaving a pungent body odour in his wake. “I’m coming as fast as I can, master,” he called in his whiney voice. “What do you want of me? Is there something I can do for you?”
“Yes, my little friend.” He patted Edsel’s bald head. “Yes, there is. You can help rid me of these troublesome brats.”
The little creature gleefully rubbed his hands together. “For… ever?”
“Naturally. We’ll wipe them from the face of the earth.” Mordrog warmed to his subject. “Better still, I’ll erase all trace and memory of them from their world. They will never have existed. You can start by watching the lad up there and tell me when he wakes up.”
As Edsel hurried over to the well, Mordrog strode over to Larna. “Look carefully upon my face, my girl, as it will be the very last one you ever see – after you’ve witnessed the demise of your dear brother, of course.” Then, flinging up his arms, he waved the wand and began to chant, “IN CIRCULO VORTEX” over and over again. Larna watched in horror as Aron began to descend slowly towards the well. It was obvious he was heading for the darkness below and would never return. “Out of the arms of Morpheus, open your eyes and witness your demise,” yelled the warlock, almost mad with excitement. “I need to feel your terror.”
Edsel started jumping up and down. “He’s awake, master! He’s awake!” Aron opened his eyes and blinked rapidly. Only his head moved as he looked around. Not yet understanding the danger he was in, he tried to sit up and began to wobble about. In that instant his eyes registered horror as he started falling towards the well’s raging vortex.
“LARNA!” he screamed.
“NO!” she roared back, struggling to move her legs. There was nothing she could do to save her brother’s life. Next moment, Mordrog rounded on her, all laughter gone from his terrible face, and Larna knew that her time had come as well. She would be joining her brother inside the whirling vortex for the whole of eternity.
“IN CURCULO… ” he began, but stopped suddenly in mid-flow and stared over his right shoulder. His jaw went slack and dropped almost onto his chest. In the middle of raising his wand arm, Mordrog suddenly froze. Literally. Somebody had intervened and cast a spell on the warlock. Larna had no idea who was still alive with that kind of power. A great rush of wind followed and her legs were freed. Everyone else discovered they could move too and began to dash towards the well. Larna stood and gawped like an idiot at the scene playing out in front of her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A vision of gold with flowing blonde hair streaked past Larna heading for the well. Violet hovered above the opening, looking into its depths, and then the gold vision plunged down into the swirling vortex. She returned carrying Aron. He looked lifeless cradled in her arms. Then she gently laid him on the grass, stroked his forehead and bent down to blow life-giving air into his lungs.
Larna ran to his side and knelt on the grass. Taking her brother’s cold limp hand in hers, she tried rubbing some warmth back into it, whispering, “Don’t die on me, Aron. Please don’t die… ” Tears streamed down her cheeks and dropped off her chin onto their clasped hands just as Violet’s hair fell forward and covered them. A twitch was the first sign that Aron was going to be all right. Then a massive intake of breath followed by coughs and splutters as he spat out a stream of purple fluid. Larna laughed hysterically. “He’s back!” she shouted to everybody and nobody. “Aron’s ALIVE!”
Excitement rippled through the crowd around them and Larna raised her dirty face to thank the miracle worker. Violet pushed her hair back and gave her the biggest grin Larna had ever seen. An overwhelming sense of relief passed between them, but it only lasted a moment. Behind them, a cracking sound reminded them that Mordrog was still at large and managing to free himself from his frozen state.
“Well, well, well,” he sneered, ambling forward shaking shards of ice from his clothes. “If my eyes don’t deceive me, it’s the witch from the past who thinks she’s so much better than me.” He stood, hands on hips, with a haughty look on his angry face. “I knew you’d come to save the day. You took your time, though. I’m surprised you didn’t arrive sooner.”
Larna couldn’t believe her eyes. The witch standing defiantly in front of Mordrog had long blond hair, blue eyes and a very familiar face.
“Yaya, is that you?” she gasped.
“Shush, dear,” soothed her grandmother. “I’ve come to protect you from this… monster. He can’t hurt you now, I promise.” Facing the warlock, she spoke in a cold, calm voice they’d never heard before. It sent chills down Larna’s back. “You will never harm anyone again!”
Mordrog pulled himself up to his full height and looked down on her as if he was about to squash her under foot. “Much has changed since you were last here, Neve, and I am not alone now. See, I have my grotesque little servant.” He grabbed Edsel by the shoulder and pushing him forward roughly, oblivious to the hurt on the creature’s face. The warlock’s voice rose as his features changed to malice. “Some people never learn. Take Balgaire. The old fool is dead because he grossly underestimated me. I’ve grown in strength and in power.” His voice rose another notch, “NO ONE can defeat me now. And if you think you can, I challenge you to try!”
“I’m well aware of your increased powers,” replied Neve coolly, “but it doesn’t change anything. Someone has to stop you, so I accept your challenge. You made a grave mistake attempting to harm my grandchildren. Never underestimate the female of the species.”
“Oh, no mistake. My tactics worked like a charm. What you fail to realise is that women are so predictable in certain ci
rcumstances – even you, Neve. I knew you would come to me like an avenging angel if you felt your progeny were being threatened with the ultimate.”
“I see. Then I pity you.” Neve shook her head sadly from side to side. “Such a talent wasted. You threw away an incredible opportunity to work alongside Balgaire and no doubt walk in his shoes one day. I know he was training you for that very purpose. But you turned to the Dark Side instead and that will be your downfall in the end.”
“We’ll see about that,” he scoffed.
The two of them squared up to each other, the mighty warlock and the elderly white witch with a will of iron, ready to do battle. Moments later, the ground began to shake and a powerful force-field encircled the fighters, a howling wind driving everyone else away and making them to cling onto the surrounding trees to stop themselves being blown away. Standing about three feet apart, staring at each other, Mordrog and Neve both raised their wands and flung all manner of spells at each other, but Mordrog was a split-second quicker and sent the witch flying backwards in the same way he had Balgaire and Larna. It was his favourite spell and he used it all the time. But the moment the witch was blown away she returned, her hair a wild mess, a furious look on her face. Mordrog hadn’t expected her to return so fast and had let his guard slip. Neve took full advantage of his lapse in concentration and her spell sent him tumbling head-over-heels until he hit the wall of the force-field. Breath whooshed out of his body like a gigantic belch and he dropped like a stone.
“Ouch… that’s gotta hurt.” Larna chuckled. “Go on, Yaya, give him another one.”
“And one from me,” added Aron.
But their smiles froze on their faces as Mordrog pulled himself together and flew back into the fight. It was obvious by the crooked way he hovered that his back had been badly hurt, but his pride was wounded even more, being knocked out by a woman – and an elderly woman at that. The look on his face was murderous. Larna could tell that Mordrog had completely lost control and would battle to the death. Neve’s!
Spellbound Chronicles – Blood Line Page 9
