by Vance Huxley
“Once you leave, you will find many reasons not to come back onto the grounds. You did well to manage it this time. Perhaps the boundary has faded.” The voice sounded truly desolate now.
“Henry and Tyson managed, so did Cooch.”
“Hunters on a blood trail are very hard to stop. You are the first to come, ever, since the sorcerer stopped using my skills. I cannot survive that long again, not on the whispers of power in worms and insects. I will fade.”
“Die?” Abel frowned. “How, I mean if you’ve been under here for a hundred years or whatever you’re dead already, yes?” Definitely blood loss, Abel thought, to even think that let alone say it.
“Let me out, please? I can reward you.”
Abel giggled; he had to. “Let me guess, I get three wishes. Eternal life, a palace full of gold and a harem full of women.”
A matching giggle answered him. “You have heard that tale as well. Not quite, but I will protect and serve you.”
“Then once you are out, you’ll laugh and drain my blood or rip out my soul before flying, galloping or slithering off.” Abel wasn’t giggling now. He’d started thinking properly and a being still alive after a hundred years under a rock wasn’t good news even if it was human.
“I will swear. I, Ferryl Shayde, swear to honour my promise and do you no harm.”
“Nice try. You can ignore that name, you said so. You said your true-name commands you, so tell me the truth, Pungh Hmmshtfun. What can you promise if I can get you out?” Abel didn’t like the idea of leaving this whatever under a stone until it faded. It had already served at least one life sentence, and had definitely helped him out of a really bad spot. On the other hand, even thinking of letting it out proved he must be concussed or off his rocker.
“I wish I had never told you that name. You caught me at a bad time.” From the resignation in her voice, Abel thought that must be true. “Gold, eternal life and women? I cannot promise eternal life, only that I will do my best to make sure you endure as long as I do.”
“I don’t like the sound of endure so I’ll settle for protection until I hit a hundred, if I last that long. Maybe, because none of it makes sense right now. I’ve got to think about this for a bit. If I go for it, how would I get you out?” Abel eyed up the stone slab. “A sledgehammer?”
“No! Breaking the stone will release enough power to destroy your village! The stone is a store, draining the magic from half the garden and storing the power. It has not been tapped for many, many years, and is straining the containment glyphs. Worse, you have already cracked one set of glyphs, the ones holding me in here.” Her voice suddenly perked up. “Is the guardian still there?”
Abel looked around, startled. “A guardian? Where?”
“A large stone creature. It will be set where it can sense if I break free, and will be strong enough to stop me.” Dust stirred briefly as Ferryl sighed. “You are fortunate that cracking the glyph did not rouse it. The guardian would have destroyed you and those who followed.”
Abel looked all around, but only one thing came close to the description. “There’s a big stone garden ornament, all claws and ugly expression, but I don’t think it will be dangerous. Even protected by that hollow in the cliff, most of the features have weathered away and the claws and horns are nearly gone.”
“That will not make any difference if it wakes. There is a glyph, magic stored deep inside that will not wear out.”
“I could hit it with the hammer, break it up? Will a glyph, whatever that is, break?” Though he’d have to wait until his hands felt better.
“You would not harm the guardian. Any attempt to seriously damage the stone will slide off or awaken it.” Unfortunately, in his present state of suspended belief, that made sense because Abel had slipped off when he tried to climb aboard. “A glyph is a symbol that directs magic and can only be released, not broken. You really will free me?”
The mixture of hope and real relief in her voice decided Abel. “Yes, if I can work out how to stop you from hurting me or the village afterwards.”
“I will swear whatever you ask, on my true-name, as long as it is not eternal slavery. I would not allow the sorcerer to bind me, which is why I am under here.” Abel heard distinct pride in that. “You will need two solid glyphs to free me, now that you have cracked the seal. Remember these so that you can inscribe them on two pebbles.” Dust shivered and moved then settled into two complicated designs. “The rounded glyph will allow you back into the gardens, the sharper edged glyph must be thrown at the guardian once it is awake. Not before.”
“Remember those? You are joking.” Abel searched the ruin of the library book and found a half-blank page without much mud. “I’ll draw them on here,” he sniggered as his nose dripped, “with blood which you should appreciate.”
“No! That will activate them. Do not scribe the whole glyph, just most of it and do not use blood.” Ferryl’s voice dropped, mumbling, “Typical young fool, straight into blood magic,” which Abel ignored. He spat into the dirt and drew with the mud and a bit of twig, careful to leave a break in a line so Ferryl didn’t bend his ear again. The drawing wasn’t exactly brilliant, due at least partly to the pain in his hand.
After a final round of instructions Abel came out of the gate and walked down the street in some sort of daze. He could have dismissed most of it as a nasty nightmare after Henry beat him unconscious, except for his shirt and jeans. Ferryl had somehow sucked the blood off them while he stood on the slab. Unfortunately, the mud remained so his mum would still give him earache, but they wouldn’t be ruined. Abel picked up the two library books laid on the road where Henry must have dropped them, so at least he’d only have to pay for one.
* * *
Half an hour later after an ear-bashing for the clothes, a hug because of his nose and hands, and some sort of mixture of proud and exasperated over how they happened, Abel sat in the car on the way to hospital. Mum couldn’t wait to get back and tell her friends that her boy had finally punched Henry Copples and his big brother. She always called him her boy when he’d done something she felt proud of, even if Abel cringed a bit at the version she’d give out. Abel daren’t mention things in holes under the ground, so his mum thought he’d beat the pair of them. Henry really would be looking for payback once it got around.
His mum babbled away while Abel tried to get his head straight. He couldn’t explain the library book or his mum would try to get in the garden for the evidence to confront Mr. Copples about his sons. Abel didn’t think a spell would deter Mum once she’d got wound up, but he did worry about what Ferryl might do. He certainly had no intention of mentioning Ferryl Shayde, but wanted to be really careful in how he freed her. A part of him still wondered if he should let her out, but She Who Must Not be Named had seemed downright cheerful when Abel left. It would be cruel to just leave her to fade.
The Accident and Emergency wasn’t too crowded on a Thursday afternoon, which Abel considered a blessing because his left hand really, really hurt now. His right hand had swelled, but not as much. The nurse took a look at his hands and nose and rolled her eyes, and his mum promptly launched into her version of how the hands were defensive injuries.
The x-rays that followed hurt all over again when Abel had to straighten his fingers. Abel had a cracked knuckle on his little finger and a clean crack across the bone in his ring finger, both on his left hand. Abel’s right hand would be a lovely colour as the bruising came out but wasn’t seriously damaged, and his nose wasn’t broken. He endured a lecture about learning how to box if he wanted to hit things, while wondering just how the doctor would deal with Henry. Eventually, Abel left outpatients with his ring and little finger strapped together, a list of instructions, and painkillers to tide him over.
On the way back Abel chewed over his next problem, how to scratch patterns on two pebbles with both hands swollen up like boxer’s mitts. One hand would be useable in days, but as a left-hander Abel didn’t want to risk proper drawing
with his right. While his mum fussed around and cooked tea, Abel sat with his right hand in a bowl of cold water and a bag of frozen peas on his left and thought about it. He could only come up with one solution, which meant involving someone else.
Abel managed to talk Mum out of spoon feeding him, then as she fussed around after the meal he took a deep breath. “I’ll just nip round and see Rob and Kelis for a bit if that’s all right, Mum?”
“You should rest those hands. Unless you want to brag a bit?” Her smile took the sting out of it, because two swollen hands and a swollen nose wasn’t much to brag about. “You’ll not be able to play computer games like that.”
“No, but you know we’ve been working on a new game, or a different way of playing an old board game anyway.” Abel smiled, hopefully innocently. “I’ve got a new idea and want to talk it through while it’s fresh.” He raised his hands. “I can’t text or write it down.”
“You’re round there or those two are here nearly every day and most nights anyway, even now you’re on holiday. I’m beginning to think you’ve got a girlfriend.” She grinned. “Or a boyfriend?”
Abel laughed. “Stop it. If I even looked sideways at a girl or boy the whole village would be hammering on the door to let you know.” The laughter hid a less palatable truth; few girls or boys were going to look twice at short, skinny Abel. Rob might have more luck once he reached sixteen. Kelis more or less ran away from any lad but Abel and Rob, founding members of the geek squeaks. Kelis, a tall, pale, skinny and intensely shy girl with long light brown hair, quickly became the third squeak after her family moved into the village a couple of years ago.
“Don’t be late. You’ll heal faster if you sleep properly.” Abel agreed, even though the doctor had told him three weeks and never mentioned sleep patterns, and got out sharpish. He had a good look down the street and then didn’t hang about because he really didn’t fancy meeting either of the Copples brothers. They lived four miles away, but would have had time to recover and decide on payback. Somehow, after today, the undergrowth on the riverbank at the end of the road seemed sort of threatening, maybe a bit creepy.
* * *
When he tapped on the back door of Rob’s house with his toe to save his hands, Abel braced himself. Sure enough, he had to endure cross-questioning about his injuries from Rob’s mum while his dad and two sisters, one nineteen and one thirteen, listened with interest. “You should have run away.” Abel agreed and let it wash over him until he could get upstairs to Rob’s bedroom. As usual, Kelis had beaten him to it; she seemed to spend most of her spare time at Rob’s or Abel’s house.
“Mum’s right, you should have run away.” Rob inspected Abel’s face. “No broken teeth? What did they do after you hit them?”
Abel grinned. “Fell over. Then they left me alone.”
“Hellfire.” Rob looked at Abel’s swollen hands. “I hope those heal up quick, or they’ll kill you next time.”
“Nah, they think I’ve learned Kung Fu or something like that. Though I did learn one thing, never hit someone on the head.”
“You needed a broken hand to learn that Henry’s head is solid rock?” Kelis inspected Abel’s bandaged and swollen digits and sighed. “You’ll not be able to work on the game tonight.”
“You two can and I’ve got an idea for it, for the magic part. How about casting runes for spells?” Abel pulled out the piece of paper, very gingerly with finger and thumb. “Like these but firm lines, not like I’ve drawn it.”
“What did you draw this with?” Kelis inspected the paper, careful to only touch the clean parts.
“Mud and a twig. I didn’t have a pencil.”
Rob laughed. “You, my man, are truly weird.”
“He’s a male, of course he’s weird.” Kelis smirked, then looked closer at the drawings. “What do they mean?”
“It doesn’t matter, we’ll make something up. I just wanted to try a couple to see how much work they’d be. I thought we could use something like pebbles if you can engrave them?” Abel eased the two pebbles out of his pocket. He’d rather have left it until his hands felt better, but he really didn’t like the idea of leaving Ferryl under the stone until then. He felt responsible, somehow, because he’d woken her up. “That’ll give us an idea of how long a set would take, and then we can design some more.”
“There’s already runes, with proper meanings. We can buy plastic sets.” Rob looked at the drawing. “Though I suppose we can make up our own. Let me get the file up on the computer and we’ll try to work out how many it’ll take for the spells we want.”
“Can you make these two first, to try it?” Abel shrugged, not trying to hide that he felt embarrassed at asking. “I’d ask to use your engraving kit, but I’d drop it. I just fancy seeing what they look like.”
Rob sighed. “I’d tell you to wait, but for the man who thumped both of the Copples?” He slapped Abel on the shoulder. “Freedom of the village tonight, buddy.” He glanced at Kelis. “Can you draw them on the pebbles for me, Kelis? You’re better at the arty stuff. At least this is a better use for that engraving kit than putting postcodes on TVs and kettles.”
“OK. I like the idea of putting them on pebbles, because then Saint Georgeous can carry spells or just draw on the nearest bit of rock.” Kelis smirked. “Butch Musclebound will be stuffed, there’s no room in that tee-shirt and jeans for anything but muscle. Can he write? Can he talk?” At the moment none of the game characters had set names, which meant all three of them kept changing the ones they’d started with.
“It’s leather and he’s the barbarian so he’s supposed to look like that. Hah, wait until you see the armour we design for your paladin.”
Kelis thumped Rob on the shoulder. “You are not putting Saint Georgeous in some sort of schoolboy fantasy armour.” Abel relaxed as the two bickered over character names and how they’d be dressed, because they were more interested in that than the glyphs.
* * *
A half hour later, the three of them inspected the result. “They’re pretty?” Kelis didn’t seem convinced.
“But complicated so by the time the hero,” Abel grinned at Kelis, “or heroine manage to draw one, the orc or slime monster will have started digesting them.”
“I still like the idea. Maybe we should go back to runes?” Rob turned back to the computer, and a few moments later the screen filled with angular characters. “Some of these look a bit complicated if time’s short.”
“They’ve already got meanings. We should make up our own symbols for each spell.” Kelis glanced from the pebbles to the screen. “Our characters can carry a limited number for immediate use, with a delay of one turn or a penalty if they need an extra spell to allow for drawing or scratching them. We’d better make the basic spells simple for Butch and the other males.”
“But with a little twirly bit for the girls?” Rob inspected the two pebbles again. “These were a waste of time.”
“Not really. I’ll keep them because I still like them, they’re just not practical.” Abel picked the pair up, wrapping each one in a tissue so they didn’t get scratched.
Kelis nudged him. “Ooh, is one of them a love spell? Is it for Jenny or Arabelle?”
“I do not fancy Jenny! Or Arabelle.”
“All the boys fancy all the Acro dancers, especially when they team up for those double throws.” Kelis did a quick impression of an Acro dancer, carefully so she didn’t thump anyone or hit the computer.
“You should join up, add a bit of class and double the collective brainpower.” The three of them reverted to insulting the mental capacities of the Acro dancers and the school rugby team. Completely unfairly as they all knew, especially the Acro dancers considering the effortless way the dancers, mainly girls, ran through their complicated routines. At other times, in a more forgiving mood, all three agreed the Acros would give any of those American cheerleaders a run for their money.
Nearly two hours later, Abel walked home well pleased with the
stones in his pocket, even if he doubted they were magic. The glyphs, as Ferryl called them, really were quite pretty, maybe just because he’d picked a white quartz pebble for one and a multi-coloured banded stone for the other. Despite being deep in thought, Abel checked the road for lurking Copples and almost trotted home. The day’s exertions or medication finally caught up with him so he called out goodnight to his mum and went to bed.
* * *
When he woke up Abel laid for a long time thinking about yesterday. His hands proved it had happened but the rest seemed unreal now. Something under a stone used his hands to thump the Copples? The swelling in his right hand had mostly gone down so at least getting dressed hurt less than getting his clothes off last night. Downstairs Abel found a short note. Mum had been called in for extra work again today and would be back this afternoon. His mum often made extra money from her part-time job in the summer, while the full-time staff were on holiday.
After a quick bowl of cereal, Abel took out the two pebbles and inspected them. He still wasn’t happy about the next bit even if Ferryl had explained it. Everyone had magic, they sort of sucked it out of the air just by walking about which Abel really wanted to ask more questions about. Unfortunately most people, including Abel, couldn’t use magic because they’d never been trained. Abel would need a drop of his blood on each stone to transfer some magic and activate them. All this blood stuff freaked Abel a bit so he wanted to check that part again, but just in case he rummaged in his mum’s sewing box and took a long pin.
A quick check showed that the street wasn’t full of vengeful Copples, so Abel set off for Castle House at a brisk pace. It didn’t take long to walk through Brinsford, even if the building lay on the outskirts. As he approached Castle House, Abel had second thoughts. After all, Ferryl had been in the hole for over a hundred years, so another couple of days didn’t matter. He should wait a bit, probably until his hands had healed.
