by Lari Don
She felt a tiny tremor under her hand. “She’s not dead yet. Beth, come here. You’re a healer.”
“A healer of trees, not a healer of crows. Or spies. Or traitors.”
Molly stared at Beth. “You talk about dark magic and how bad it is, but I don’t think magic is dark or light, good or bad. It’s what you do with magic that counts. So get down here, on the floor, and do some good with your magic, Beth. Use whatever you have to save this girl. Now!”
Beth flushed and knelt beside Molly. She ran her hand down Snib’s body, and shook her head. “I can feel the life leaving her – much faster than it ever leaves a tree. But I can’t help her. It’s not like a broken branch or even a broken bone. I don’t have enough power.”
Molly frowned. “Theo, you have plenty of power. You and Beth could save her together, like you once joined mosaic fragments together, couldn’t you?”
Theo stepped away. “I have too much power. I can’t save her, I’d kill her and everyone else here.”
“Then just use a bit of your power, just one hair’s worth.”
“It doesn’t work like that. When I open up to the magic, I get it all. And I can’t control the quantity and strength of the power stored in my newly grown hair.”
“There must be a way to reduce the power you have!” Molly turned away from the dying crow-girl and saw the balls of wool in the corner.
She jumped up. “I have an idea. Beth, keep her alive. Think of her like a sapling. Innes, Atacama, sit Theo down in a chair and don’t let him get up.”
But no one did anything, everyone just stared at her, as she ran over to the knit your own underwear cupboard and grabbed a pair of scissors.
She ran back and shoved Theo into the nearest chair, so he didn’t tower over her. “Hold still.”
She grabbed a handful of black hair above his left ear and cut it off.
“Hey!” He jerked away.
“Stay still! Or I’ll take off an ear too.”
She cut more hair away, from above and behind his ear. She tried to be careful, gentle and precise. But she also tried to remove lots of hair as fast as possible, so it was extremely untidy, and she nicked his skin occasionally.
Molly muttered, “You have too much hair, too new, too thick, too strong, storing too much power. So, less hair means less power and safer magic. Yes?”
Theo whispered, “I’m not sure it will work like that. And I’m going to look awful!”
She moved round to the other side. Theo was sitting very still. As she chopped off more hair, Molly said, “Even if it doesn’t work, your hair will grow back. But this is Snib’s only chance. Beth, how is she?”
“Fading away.”
Molly stepped back. Theo’s feet were haloed with a ring of shiny hair. His head was spiky with hacked hair on both sides, but a narrow line of smooth untouched hair ran from above his forehead to the nape of his neck, like a horse’s mane.
“Right. That’s about one tenth of the hair you had before. Can you control that amount of power?”
Theo held his palms close together. A spark danced between them.
He grinned. “Yes!”
He scuffed through the circle of his own hair, ran to Beth and grabbed her hand. “Guide me. You understand life and cells. I work with atoms and energy. If you slow me down and keep me gentle, together we can save her.”
They knelt, Theo’s left hand and Beth’s right hand on Snib’s shoulders, their other hands joined above her heart.
Beth said, “Careful, careful,” then, “Slow down, those twigs are delicate.”
Theo laughed. “They’re not twigs, but I see what you mean.”
As Molly watched, a tinge of colour returned to Snib’s face, then her ribcage rose in a sudden gasp of breath.
Beth let go of Theo’s hand and backed away, banging into a desk. She looked at Molly. “Thank you for making me do that. I can’t believe I thought I had the right to refuse. I can’t believe I nearly didn’t even try.”
“I can’t thank you sincerely until I’ve looked in a mirror…” said Theo.
“So can you use your power now?” said Molly. “Not just for this, but to defend yourself?”
He smiled. “Yes. I can control it, so I can use it. I should have thought of cutting my hair before!”
“You didn’t think of it,” said Atacama, “because it’s made you look ridiculous.”
Innes grinned. “Oh, I don’t know. It’s got a sort of ancient warrior look to it…”
“Is she ok?” asked Molly. The crow-girl was breathing normally, though her eyes were still closed.
“She’s fine,” said Theo. “She’s alive and she’s free of the link to her curse. She might sleep for a while.”
“Now that we’ve kept her alive, but broken our promise to her,” said Innes, “let’s not make her bravery pointless. Let’s look in this box.”
The lid had risen a little, but they couldn’t see inside. Innes eased it all the way up. The flickering glow from the classroom’s fluorescent light shone on a white bird. A small skinny awkward white bird sprawled across the inside of the box.
“Is it dead?” Beth reached out to pick it up.
The bird jerked away from her hand and squawked weakly.
Under the bird, they saw fragments of white stone eggshell.
“It’s a curse-hatched,” said Theo.
“It’s not a crow,” said Atacama. “It’s not black.”
“It’s an albino crow,” said Beth. “Look at its pink eyes.”
“No wonder it was lonely, locked in a box with just its shell for company. How did it survive all those years?” asked Molly.
“We live on the power of our curses,” said Snib. “We don’t need to eat or drink, if our curse is strong.”
They looked round. Snib was sitting up, rubbing her arms. “You broke your promise to me. You didn’t leave me.”
“We never meant to keep the promise,” said Molly. “How could we leave you? Sorry I lied, but you said we didn’t have time to debate, so I just agreed.”
She helped Snib up. “Are you ok?”
“I think so. It feels strange, not being weighed down by a heavy curse.”
Snib lifted the little white bird out of the box. It snuggled into her hands and its right wing flopped open, showing the image of a pale flame glimmering on its feathers.
“Why did Mrs Sharpe lock this bird in a box?” asked Molly.
“Because witches do dark cruel things,” muttered Beth.
“No, I think Mrs Sharpe had a very good reason. Look,” Theo pointed at rows of tiny lines and triangles carved on the inside of the shell shards. “The bird has written her story.”
He used a fingertip to turn the delicate pieces of shell.
“This bird was inside the stone egg for centuries. She absorbed all the time that was burnt off the baby Promise Keeper, when Nan was keeping Estelle artificially young. Then she hatched when we stopped Nan’s nightly ceremony.”
Innes said, “Those shapes aren’t words.”
“Yes, they are. This is cuneiform, one of the earliest forms of writing, and fairly easy to do with a beak. The bird’s story says she contains all the time, learning and wisdom Estelle was never allowed.” He looked up, his eyes bright under his vicious hairstyle. “So that’s why Mrs Sharpe wanted us to find this bird! We don’t need to attack Estelle with the star iron. We need to give her this bird, to reunite her with her lost self: with all the growth her mind and character should have achieved along with her body. Instead of making her weaker, we need to make her stronger.”
Atacama said, “Is that sensible?”
“Reuniting her with the wisdom trapped in this bird will add to her power, but it should also make her less likely to misuse that power. Let’s get this bird to Stone Egg Wood, before Estelle starts to charge up curses for Corbie’s army rather than her own entertainment.”
“What’s our plan of attack?” asked Innes.
“We don’t need a pla
n of attack now – we have my power…” Theo shrugged and tried to look modest. “If Corbie won’t let me near her, I can probably destroy his little curse army. If the Promise Keeper resists taking this bird in her hand, I can probably force her. But I’ll do less damage with all of you there to keep the army out of my way, and to help me persuade Estelle rather than fight her. Who wants to come with me?”
“I’ll come,” said Innes. “To back you up and because I can’t keep running from my dad.”
“I’ll come,” said Molly. “To rescue all those curse victims and to face Mr Crottel.”
Atacama nodded. “I’d rather guard all of you, than guard the back door of a sweetie shop.”
Beth said, “I can’t come inside the wood, because the fossilised trees would turn me to stone, but I’ll stand sentry outside.”
Snib said, “I’ll come as well, to stop Corbie using my brothers and sisters as his soldiers, and to keep them out of the way of Theo’s attack.”
“So let’s all go to Stone Egg Wood,” said Theo.
“How?” asked Molly. “We’ve lost the bikes, walking will take too long, and we can’t all fit on Innes’s back.”
Theo smiled. “Let me organise transport.”
He scooped the drifts of hair up from the floor. “Never leave loose magic lying around.”
They walked out into the farmyard.
“Before we go, let’s put those witch’s wards back.” Theo flicked a finger and the shimmery curtain slid over the roof to surround the house again.
Then he waved his hands and a tissue of woven light emerged from the ground beneath their feet. They all rose a hands-breadth into the air.
“A flying carpet,” announced Theo.
“But we’re not standing on anything solid,” said Innes. “We’re only standing on light.”
“Only on light? This is pure energy. This is real strength and power. But I can conjure the image of a woolly rug if that would make you happier.”
Theo bent down and touched the edge of the see-through fabric, and it became an opaque red-and-gold pattern of fruit and leaves.
They sat cross-legged on the soft, fluffy, entirely nonexistent carpet.
And they flew over the moors, towards the wood where the rogue Promise Keeper and the curse army were gathering for a feast.
***
The ground far below was racing by at dizzying speed, so Molly decided to focus on something closer. She looked at the albino bird nestled in Snib’s hands.
“Will re-uniting this bird with Estelle hurt the bird?”
Theo said, “No, we’ll be reuniting Estelle with her lost years, bringing together two things that were ripped apart. It will be right for the bird, not wrong.”
Molly stroked the crow’s white head. She thought of the fluffy baby bird that she’d met last year, and the hare on his wing. Mickle, her own curse-hatched. “Have we harmed the curse-hatched, by breaking their links to the curses?”
“Absolutely not,” said Snib. “I feel much happier now I’m not tied to a curse. I’m sure all my brothers and sisters feel better too, but they probably don’t realise why. Once I tell them they’re free of curses forever, they might refuse to fight in Corbie’s army.”
“But he’ll still have all those curse-casters and curse-charged monsters,” said Innes. “And my dad. And Molly’s green dog.”
Beth looked at Molly. “You can now lift your curse without harming Snib’s brother. And we know where Mr Crottel is. So how are you going to tackle him?”
Atacama said, “To break her curse, Molly must defeat the caster herself, in magical combat.”
“Or I could just ask him nicely,” said Molly.
Even Beth laughed at that.
“You’ve tried everything else,” said Innes. “It’s time to use magic and win in combat.”
“I can’t do that,” said Molly. “I’m not a witch.”
Theo said, “Not yet, but you’re close. You have significant latent ability, enhanced by your expert manipulation of your curse and swift learning of boundary spells. You can become a strong witch, Molly. We don’t have much time before you meet your curse-caster again, so you’d have to skip the beginner’s guide to sparkly magic and go straight to the aggressive spells. I could teach you a few combat spells right now.”
Molly sighed. “I’d prefer to defeat him as myself, not as a witch.”
Innes said, “But Mr Crottel is a witch in his human form and a massive fanged deephound in his dog form. How can you possibly fight him, either as a girl or a hare? Or even as a goat or deer or anything else you’ve shifted into? You have to become a witch.”
Molly glanced at Beth.
The dryad grasped Molly’s hand. “You know I don’t want you to stay cursed, and I also don’t want you to choose this dark way to break your curse. I can’t decide which is worse. But… I’m your friend, Molly, and I’ll try to understand whatever you do.”
Molly squeezed Beth’s hand, then said quietly, “So, Theo, if I wanted to, how would I…?”
Theo smiled. “You already have plenty of magic you can use as a weapon. Think about the way you feel when you choose to become a hare, the way you feel when you place your power into a line, the way you felt when you knew exactly how to lift that witch’s ward off Atacama. I can teach you to use that magic to fight, to attack, to hurt, to destroy.”
Molly frowned at Theo. “To hurt? To destroy?”
He shrugged. “It’s magical combat. It’s not gentle or polite. I can show you how to grasp the magic within your reach and become a witch to defeat your curse-caster. But only if you want to, Molly. It’s your choice.”
Molly looked round at everyone sitting on the flying carpet. They were all staring at her.
This was her chance to choose. Not just whether and how to break her curse, but who and what she wanted to be. It was her choice…
Chapter Twenty-four
Molly remembered the pictures in The Witch’s Guide to Magical Combat and the faint noises of pain and fear she’d heard from the pages. She thought about Mrs Sharpe tangled in her own knitting curse. She thought about Beth’s wood, burnt and blighted by Molly’s own ancestor.
She looked at all her friends, sitting round her on the flying carpet, and she shook her head.
“I don’t want to be a witch. I’ve never felt like a witch. I feel like a hare, and I’m getting quite used to my mouse form, but I’ve never once felt like a witch. It seems daft to become something that I’m not, in order to stop being something that I am.”
“We can’t let you fight a deephound as a hare or a mouse,” said Innes. “Please let Theo teach you a fighting spell.”
“I probably don’t need spells. I have this.” She took out the collar.
Innes jerked away. “What is that? It feels cold and sharp and sickening.” He shivered. “It feels like the bridles humans used to make for enslaving kelpies.”
“Sorry.” She shoved it back in her pocket. “I found it in the cabinet of curiosities. The label said it could control a faery dog, and, Atacama, you said deephounds were also called faery dogs, so do you think it will work on Mr Crottel?”
Atacama nodded. “Oh yes. If you can pin down a monstrous dog on your own, and buckle that nasty artefact round his neck, then it will work. But I’m not sure how you’d manage all that without one of Theo’s spells.”
“We’re nearly there,” said Theo. “Do you want a quick guide to magical combat before we go in?”
Molly said firmly, “No thanks.”
The carpet floated down, then faded into the ground, and they were all sitting cross-legged on icy heather.
Theo stood up and unzipped the borrowed grey fleece. It turned into a golden linen cloak, over a gleaming white tunic. He smiled. “At least one of us should be dressed for a feast.”
They walked into a low peaty tunnel. Snib led the way, with Theo behind her and the rest straggling in a line after them. The dim air in the tunnel was warmer than the bright w
inter air outside.
Snib stopped at a curve in the tunnel and retreated two paces, setting off a domino reaction of squashed toes and banged noses. She whispered, “There are guards, but not proper crow guards. Those little squashy things.”
Beth pushed past and peered round the corner. “Manky, Minging and Mawkit.” She sighed. “They’ve given up the beauty of my living wood to be bouncers at the doors of Corbie’s fossilised Stone Egg Wood.”
Theo said, “I’ll deal with them.”
“No, don’t hurt them,” said Beth. “I want them to come home safe, because their fungus is part of our life cycle. Let me get them away from Corbie’s influence, before they do anything else dark, dangerous or daft.”
Beth stepped round the corner. “Greetings Manky, Minging and Mawkit.”
“She’s always politer to monsters than to her own friends,” muttered Innes.
Beth smiled. “I invite the three of you to return home.”
“We are home. We have new jobs here. Corbie promised that when his curse army destroy their enemies, his crows will get the eyes and our fungi will get the rest.”
“Corbie’s army won’t last long enough to destroy anyone, because you will let my friends through,” Beth waved the others to stand behind her, “and they will defeat the crows, then you will return to the leaf litter and fallen trees of our shared home.”
Molly saw the three small grey figures, with their plump arms folded, standing in front of the carved wooden doors. The fungus fairies looked lumpy and badly put together compared to the smooth shapes of the curving trees and writhing curse-victims cut into the doors.
“No,” said Manky. “We’re on guard and we won’t let anyone through. If you try to break in, we’ll warn Lord Corbie and he’ll—”
“Lord Corbie!” said Snib. “That’s ridiculous.”
“He’ll send out his charged-up curse monsters. We’ve seen them all, because we’ve been in charge of letting in the new recruits. But we can’t let you in, Beth of the Birches. You don’t smell of curses.”
“I’m not going in. But my friends are. The crow lives here. The girl is a curse victim. The kelpie cast a curse last year. The sphinx has just recovered from a curse. And the magician is a regular and unrepentant curse-caster. They’d all fit in fine with Corbie’s curse army.”
