WYCHETTS
and the
Dungeon of Dreams
The sixth book in the Wychetts series by
William Holley
Text and images copyright © 2015 William Holley
All Rights Reserved
Please note that Wychetts is a work of fiction and any similarity between characters in this story and any persons living or undead is purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Previously…
Prologue
1 Hurry Up, Dad!
2 I’d Sooner Talk to a Brick Wall
3 Always Trouble
4 In a Roundabout Way
5 Don’t You Trust Me?
6 Meet the Maddergrubs
7 Just Scream
8 Two Heads Are Better Than One
9 Think What Their Children Will Look Like
10 Just a Bit of Slunge
11 Magical Defences
12 Lucky Us
13 Minding the Toddlers
14 Pickle or Chutney
15 You Can’t Make Me Dance
16 Honoured Guest
17 Mummy Sing Me a Bedtime Song
18 Into the Dream Well
19 We Eat Magic
20 Surpri-ise!
21 What Are You Doing Here?
22 The Guvnor
23 Just a Dream?
Epilogue
Previously…
Wychetts (pronounced “Witch-etts”) is an old timber framed cottage that contains an amazing magic power…
Centuries ago the Wise Ones governed the Realm of Magic, and built Wychetts as a repository for their wisdom. But the forces of darkness plotted against them, and seized the cottage in a bid to use its magic for evil. Five hundred years passed since the last of the Wise Ones were vanquished by the Shadow Clan, then Bryony and her new stepbrother Edwin arrived to unwittingly awaken the ancient power and become the new Guardians of Wychetts.
At first the children wanted to use the magic of the Wise Ones to rid themselves of each other and go back to their old lives; but when the Shadow Clan returned to claim Wychetts’ power, Bryony and Edwin had to work together to save the cottage and the whole world from destruction (not to mention a worldwide shortage of ice-cream).
Since that fateful day the young Guardians have experienced a series of incredible adventures, guided by Inglenook, Keeper of the Ancient Wisdom. A wooden face carved into the living room fireplace, Inglenook controls the flow of Wychetts’ power and can communicate with the children through a magic key when they are away from the cottage.
Bryony and Edwin also rely on the quick-witted mouse Stubby to make it through their magical adventures.
And as they discover more about their powers, the children face their own different challenges…
Eager to use Wychetts’ magic for good, Edwin learns that brandishing the power of the Wise Ones carries huge responsibilities. At times he has doubted his own strength, but during his quest to retrieve the stolen Thunderstone Edwin discovered he could form a psychic link with Inglenook, something that few Guardians have ever been capable of.
Meanwhile, after an initial period of doubt, Bryony has become more self-assured in the use of magic. But she is haunted by foreboding about her absent mother: a scribbled note discovered in her old stuffed toy; an overheard whisper from plotting enemies; a vision of her own darkest fears conjured by an ancient field demon; the same mysterious words that even Inglenook cannot explain…
Despite her secret worries, Bryony has grown closer to Edwin in the weeks after their adventure with the Thunderstone. For his part, Edwin has found he enjoys having a stepsister after all.
But it doesn’t take much to shatter their fragile friendship…
Prologue
“There are many forms of magic, of varying degrees of power: white magic, black magic, magic of the air, of ice and of fire, of music and song, of love and hatred, joy and anger. But the most potent by far is the magic of dreams.”
The class remained silent as their tutor spoke; an imposingly tall man clad in a long white gown, with a shock of wiry grey hair, with a large nose like a hawk’s beak projecting from his gaunt, angular face.
“Dreams have been a subject of study throughout recorded history.” The tutor stood at the front of the classroom, his silver eyes holding each student’s gaze for a flickering heartbeat. “Early civilisations believed that dreams were messages from divine beings, or that they predicted future events. Witchdoctors used sleep inducing herbs to enter the realm of dreams to learn more of their mystic properties; but often with the gravest of consequences, for they did not understand what dreams are made of. So here’s a question: what are dreams?”
A forest of arms shot into the air, the pupils vying eagerly for the honour of answering the tutor’s question. All except one, a girl who sat alone at the back of the classroom.
“Dreams are nothing.” A boy answered keenly in response to a nod from the tutor. “Just a series of random thoughts and memories.”
“Wrong,” said the tutor, striding down the aisle between the rows of wooden desks. “Dreams are much more than that. Dreams are formed from our hopes and desires, and also by our darkest fears, our regrets and our guilt. This unstable mix of positive and negative power makes them a volatile source of magic.”
The tutor reached the back of the classroom, stopping next to the girl who had not raised her hand. She sat hunched over her desk, unaware of the tutor’s attention.
Leaning forwards, the tutor saw the girl was drawing a picture in her exercise book: a detailed study of some fantastical, fearsome creature.
“And the most dangerous dreams are daydreams.” The tutor took the girl’s pencil and eased it from her hand. The girl froze, keeping her head down to avoid his harsh silver gaze. “They can distract us from our studies, lead us from the path of learning. The tutor turned and retraced his steps to the front of the classroom. “Dreams can make prisoners of us. Magic from the dream realm can seep into our world, drawn by our hopes, our desires and expectations.”
The girl lifted her head and stared at his back, her right hand clenching into a fist.
“So be careful with your dreams.” The tutor wheeled round to face his class, raising the girl’s confiscated pencil as though to underline his point. “Dreams can be pleasant, yes. But they are made of dark things too. Things we can’t control. Things we might want to forget, that we locked away in a box a long time ago. And the magic power of dreams can turn them into reality. And not always the reality you may have hoped for. When practising magic it is therefore important…”
The tutor’s voice trailed off when he saw a floating dark blob materialising at the end of the classroom. He instinctively looked at the girl whose pencil he had taken, and saw her lips twisting into a smile. The pupils all looked round, their eyes widening when they glimpsed a shape forming in the heart of the growing dark blob.
And then there were screams, shrill cries of panic as something black and monstrous came flying from the darkness, its red eyes glowing, fanged jaw gnashing as it lunged at the tutor…
All around him is gloom, cold and impenetrable. He cannot remember the light, or how the warmth of the sun felt on his skin.
He has been in the darkness so long, there are many things he cannot remember: what it is to laugh, to cry, to taste fresh air and hear joyous birdsong on
a summer’s morning.
And yet a sound reaches him, a voice calling from far away, an echoing cry in the emptiness.
It could be from another world, yet he can hear it. He feels it too, resonating inside him like the tolling of a bell.
He hears, he feels, but he cannot respond. He has no voice, no means by which to answer the caller.
So all he can do is wait. Wait in the gloom as the cry grows louder.
Until one day the door opens.
The day of his release…
1 Hurry Up, Dad!
“Daaaaaad!” Bryony threw her head back and shouted. “The taxi’s here!”
“Coming,” came her father’s muffled voice from upstairs.
“I wish he’d get a move on.” Bryony rolled her eyes at Edwin, who stood next to her in the hallway by the opened front door. “We’ll miss the flight.”
“You’ve got loads of time.” Edwin tried his best, but his calming words had little effect on his stepsister. Bryony checked her wristwatch, puffed her cheeks, and then yelled again.
“Daaaaaad! Hurry uuuuuuup!”
Edwin winced as her shrill cry seared his eardrums. He had never known Bryony in such a state, but he could understand why.
It was a big day for her. A day she’d been dreaming about for years.
“Daaaaaaaaaaaaad!” Bryony stamped her right foot on the floor. “Get a move on!”
At last Bill Platt came galloping down the stairs, looking even more flustered than his daughter.
“You’ve got the flight tickets?” Bryony stared questioningly at her father.
Bill looked offended. “Of course I’ve got the flight tickets.”
Bryony’s dark eyebrows arched doubtfully. “Show me.”
“Um…” Bill checked his pockets. “They’re here somewhere.”
“You forgot these.” Bryony’s stepmother Jane approached waving two slips of printed card. “Your flight tickets.”
“See.” Bill took the tickets from Jane, smiling at Bryony. “Told you I had them.”
Bryony didn’t smile back. “Passports?”
“I’ve got our passports.” Bill searched his pockets again. “What sort of absent minded idiot do you think…”
Jane held up two crimson booklets. “You forgot these as well.”
“There they are.” Bill took the passports from Jane. “Knew I’d have them to hand.”
Bryony folded her arms and glared at Bill. “Brain?”
“Ooh, um…” Bill rummaged through his pockets again.
“Don’t look at me,” sighed Jane. “I didn’t know he had one.”
“Oi!” Finally Bill realised the joke. “That isn’t funny.”
“Sorry.” Jane gave her husband an apologetic smile. “Now you’d better get going.”
“OK,” agreed Bill. “If Bryony’s ready.”
“Ready?” Bryony spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ve been ready for the past two hours!”
Edwin suspected it was even longer than that. Bryony had started packing long before breakfast, within minutes of the letter turning up.
Bryony turned to go, but Jane took her arm.
“We’d like to give you something before you go.” Jane nodded at Edwin, who produced the little wrapped package from behind his back.
“It’s from all of us,” Jane explained to Bryony. “But Edwin chose it. Happy birthday, darling.”
“Happy birthday,” said Bill, patting Bryony’s shoulder.
Edwin smiled at his stepsister. “Happy b…”
From outside came the sound of a tooting car horn.
“We’ve got to go.” Bryony snatched the present from Edwin and stuffed it hurriedly into her holdall. “Come on, Dad. The taxi’s waiting.”
“Have a great time.” Jane leaned down and kissed Bryony’s cheek. “And give my regards to…”
There was another toot of the car horn.
Edwin went to say his farewell, but Bryony was already through the door and half way down the garden.
Jane gave Bill a hug. “Bye darling. Hope it goes OK. And try not to get too stressed.”
Bill hugged Jane back. “It’s not me I’m worried about. She’s waited so long for this.”
“Too long.” Jane bit her lip. “I hope she’s not disappointed.”
“Me too,” whispered Bill. “It just seems odd, that after all this time…”
“Daaaaaad!” Bryony’s anxious cry filtered into the cottage. “Hurry up, or we’ll miss the flight!”
Bill drew away from Jane, then gave Edwin a serious look. “Lad, you’re going to have to be man of the house while I’m away. Think you can handle my responsibilities?”
Edwin frowned as he tried to think of any. “You mean hogging the sofa, never cleaning the bath after use, and leaving dirty socks in random places?”
Bill slapped a hand on Edwin’s shoulder. “I know I can count on you.”
There was another impatient scream from Bryony. Bill nodded goodbye before answering his daughter’s strained summons.
“Coming!”
Edwin watched Bill sprint through the garden gate and join Bryony in the back of the taxi waiting in the lane.
“Bye!” Jane waved from the cottage door. “We’ll miss you!”
Edwin waved too. For a moment he thought Bryony was waving back at him, but then realised her furtive gestures were intended for the taxi driver. He couldn’t see anyone through the tinted front windows of the big black car, but there must have been someone at the wheel because seconds later the taxi moved off.
“Bye.” Edwin lowered his hand as the taxi sped off down the lane. “And happy birthday, Bryony.”
2 I’d Sooner Talk to a Brick Wall
The dining table was laid ready, plates stacked with a choice selection of morsels. There were sandwiches, sausage rolls, cold meats and salad, not to mention an array of accompanying dips and sauces. There were sweets, too: jam tarts, chocolate muffins, and pastries filled with cream. And of course there was the cake, a circular slab of succulent sponge decorated with intricate swirls of pink and white icing, an edible work of art that would have graced any birthday party. Edwin had made everything himself, with a little help from Mum here and there, and hadn’t used any magic at all (except to remove some dollops of raw pastry from the kitchen ceiling, and clean up the washing machine after he’d mistaken it for the oven).
Edwin stood at the dining room door, his despondent gaze following the string of gaudy homemade bunting hanging from the ceiling. Bill had helped him put that up, along with the painted sign on the wall that read ‘Happy Birthday Bryony’. The sign was a bit wonky, but the overall effect was quite pleasing.
It had taken all week to prepare, the food, bunting and banner, and was meant to have been a birthday surprise for Bryony. But the biggest surprise had been waiting for her on the doormat that morning. And now, just a few hours later, she had gone.
There was a time, not so long ago, when Edwin would have been glad to see the back of her. He’d never wanted a stepsister, and had made no bones about letting the rest of the world know it. But now she’d gone, he didn’t feel glad at all. It felt like something was missing: a part of his life, maybe. A part of him.
Edwin shook his head, trying to dislodge such dappy thoughts. He still found Bryony annoying. She was sulky, aloof, and quick to put him down at every opportunity. But in the last few weeks he’d seen another side to her...
It had all started that night after their adventure with the Thunderstone, when Bryony had finally opened up to him about how she’d felt when her mother walked out on her. It seemed like a corner had been turned, and ever since then things had been much better between them. For the first time in his life Edwin had found that he didn’t mind having a sister. In fact, he’d quite enjoyed it. And things wouldn’t be the same without her.
It was only supposed to be for five days, but Edwin had a feeling he might never see his stepsister again.
Still, it was what she wante
d. What she’d always wanted, from the moment they’d moved into the cottage together. She’d made no secret of the fact, and even after all their magical adventures Edwin knew she didn’t really care about Wychetts. Or care about him, for that matter. The only thing she cared about was her precious mum, and that had never been more obvious than this morning. She hadn’t even glanced at her present (on which Edwin had spent every last penny of his measly savings), and he suspected she’d forgotten about it already.
The more he thought about it, Edwin wondered why he’d bothered going to so much effort preparing for her stupid birthday party. And on the bright side, with no Bryony around it meant he had the whole weekend free to do whatever he liked.
Perhaps he could go out with Mum. It had been ages since they’d done anything together. In the old days, before Bryony and Bill had shown up, Edwin and his mother would always go out on a Saturday. Whether it had been for a walk in the park or a visit to the local museum, they’d always done stuff. Now they could do stuff again, just the two of them.
Edwin left the dining room and closed the door behind him. He found his mother in the kitchen at the table.
“So what are we going to do?” he asked, smiling expectantly.
Jane didn’t seem to hear the question. She was sitting as still as a statue, head cradled in her hands, face shrouded by locks of wavy auburn hair.
“Mum?” Edwin clicked his fingers close to Jane’s right ear. “Did you hear me?”
“What?” Jane’s head snapped up, her pale blue eyes blinking at Edwin. “Sorry dear, I didn’t see you there. I was just having a little nap.”
Edwin was confused. “At the kitchen table?”
“I don’t know what came over me.” Jane yawned again, wiping a hand across her face. “I suddenly came over all sleepy. Maybe it’s the weather.”
It was a muggy sort of day, and the air inside the cottage did seem a bit stifling. Edwin thought he’d better open a window, but was stopped in his tracks by a weird smell.
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