by Vance Huxley
Abel turned away and started back home before he realised what had happened. Ferryl told him the second glyph, the one inscribed on the white pebble, had to be activated to get him back inside the garden. The barrier or enchantment didn’t physically stop anyone, just persuaded them they didn’t want to go in there. That made some sort of sense because Abel didn’t know anyone who’d ever trespassed. Yesterday he’d hesitated and decided against going over the fence until Henry hit him and Tyson threatened him with the dog. Abel took out the stone and pin before walking back towards the gate.
By the time he’d taken a few steps, Abel had decided the whole thing must be concussion, or maybe a trick to get his blood and then he’d be enchanted. Even as he turned away again Abel remembered that Ferryl had taken a lot more than a pinprick of blood yesterday, so that didn’t make sense. Before he could talk himself out of it again Abel stabbed his finger, sticking the pin safely back in the sleeve of his shirt before smudging blood on the stone. He stared, gobsmacked, when the innocent white pebble absorbed every trace of red.
Even while his mind tried to get round that, Abel looked up at a creaking noise to find a dead tree looking back! Two slits opened in the weathered trunk, and pale mauve orbs stared at Abel. The massive, gnarled, leafless tree sat on a bit of grass opposite Castle House, or it had because now it lurched forward, grass and dirt flying outwards as the roots ripped clear of the ground.
Abel might have stayed frozen too long, but a clod of grass smacked into his chest and with a startled squawk he turned, bolting through the gate towards Castle House. A look back showed a thick limb curved round and down, with the smaller branches at the end buried in the road where he’d been stood. As the last root came clear and the creature started across the road, Abel bounced off a tree onto his backside for a moment. Just a moment, panic drove him to his feet but this time he kept looking where he was going. Afterwards he would feel embarrassed, but at the time squealing and waving his arms in panic seemed perfectly reasonable.
“Ferryl, Ferryl, there’s a tree chasing me. Help! Ferryl!” Abel skidded to a halt on the slab, any worries about it collapsing thoroughly forgotten. “What can I do? Help me!”
“Did it come into the garden?” A crashing and splintering, not very far away, answered the question for him. “Did ye bring the glyph?”
“Yes, should I throw it at the tree?” Abel took out the striped pebble with trembling hands and poised the pin, any reluctance long gone.
“No! That one will not work on wood or flesh. I have been testing and you broke the sealing glyphs, so I can start to come out. The guardian is attracted to magical beings so it will awaken, and should attack this tree creature first. Activate the pebble just in case it doesn’t. Don’t let the glyph touch anything but your skin.”
“What do I do then?”
“Throw it at the guardian but only if it attacks you, then run away from the other one very fast. If you can get home it might be frightened off with a burning log from your hearth. Quickly!” Abel scuttled to the side and stabbed his finger, blood spurting onto the stone and immediately disappearing. A tree at the edge of the glade shuddered, then leant aside as a thick gnarled limb pushed it.
“It’s here!”
“Calm down. Is the guardian waking?”
Abel looked at the worn statue, only a little surprised when its eyes opened. Blue eyes this time, but they sort of flickered and sparked like lightning. “Its eyes are open.”
“I be going down deep again. Keep out of the way.” Abel didn’t answer because only a lunatic would get close to that tree. He watched transfixed as light blue scales appeared in a smooth ripple across the stone creature’s body, its claws and horns lengthened and sharpened, and its mouth opened to show an impressive set of fangs. The creature, definitely not a statue now, surged off its haunches and launched itself but not at Abel! With huge relief he saw it bite a second thick limb, the one reaching for Abel, tearing a huge bite out of the wood.
Not just wood because dark purple liquid bubbled out of the rent. A thin screech from the bushes heralded the arrival of the main trunk or body. A third limb clubbed the stone guardian and scales flew off, but claws and teeth struck back tearing more splinters and chunks away. Another limb smashed down, breaking off a horn while a dozen smaller branches stabbed at the guardian’s chest. Most shattered, but two penetrated and a bone-trembling rumble answered as thick white liquid oozed out.
Up until then, Abel had assumed a stone creature would beat a wooden one, but now he started to worry. “Ferryl? They’re fighting, but what happens if the tree thing wins?”
“You might run fast enough to find a fire, and fire might frighten it off. The best way to kill it would be to throw the glyph onto the stone over my hole, when it crosses over so it gets the full effect.” Ferryl sounded resigned, and Abel remembered why.
“You said breaking the stone would destroy the village.”
“Possibly. It will kill anything nearer. Probably. Maybe the Bound Shade will absorb everything, and we will live? Or maybe you would rather it caught you in your home?” Ferryl didn’t sound happy, but her words definitely stiffened Abel’s spine. He didn’t want either of these things crashing into the village and finding Mum, or Rob and Kelis. Meanwhile, the two beings stabbed and clubbed and tore and clawed at each other, spattering the whole glade with white and purple.
The creatures closed on each other, the guardian ripping at the main trunk while the branches curled around it, trying to pull it in and crush it. With a sharp crack one of the front limbs fell off the guardian, crumbling as it bounced on the grass, and again that deep grumble echoed right through Abel. The guardian surged forward and up, clinging to the main trunk while it bit and clawed and tried to dig in between the eyes. Both of those were weeping ruins, but neither fighter needed to see now. The remaining four thick tree limbs clamped around the guardian, crushing it closer, and dozens of smaller branches wove a mesh to hold it firmly.
As its limbs were constricted, the stone beast bit harder, but with another sharp crack the other horn fell free. Abel braced to run, because it looked all over, but the guardian’s tail started to stretch. He’d paid no attention to the tail, a stubby thing with one of those devil-style points, but now it stretched to about two metres, curled, and drove up beneath the guardian’s body! From the high screech and the thrashing, it also drove into the tree-thing.
Now the tree-creature wanted to let go, to free the guardian so it could pull the barb free but the guardian gripped on tight. No tearing now, the creature held on with its fangs and claws dug in deep. Thick boughs beat frantically at the stone body while smaller branches pulled or stabbed at the guardian’s limbs. Even as they did a flood of purple poured out onto the grass, some of it draining away under the round stone slab.
“That tastes disgusting!” Abel jumped as Ferryl’s voice broke into his concentration.
“Don’t knock it, I think it means the tree-thing is dying.” More scales flew from the guardian, and white splashed. “Maybe, because the guardian thing doesn’t look good.”
“Even crippled, either will try to kill you. Worse, either of them will heal in time and must feed now that they are active. Be ready.” Abel didn’t even ask what they’d feed on. It wouldn’t be grass which left him and the rest of the village. He doubted old Stan’s shotgun would even slow up the incredible rock-hulk or a rabid tree.
The guardian’s tail must have dug deep enough because the screeches from the tree-thing faltered. Its big limbs gripped the nearby real trees, trying to drag itself back towards the road but in vain. Another limb faltered and slumped with a last screech that set Abel’s teeth on edge the creature finally toppled. The trunk made one last attempt to roll over onto the guardian before the last branches and the final big limb stilled, one after the other. For long seconds after the main trunk lay still and silent the tail kept thrusting, until finally the weapon tore itself free.
Abel barely breathed, but the gua
rdian hadn’t forgotten him. It turned, ponderously on three legs but Abel could see a new, slimmer limb already sprouting. It limped forward, and the tail rose up above its head, pointing at Abel. He waited because as a lefty, a right-handed throw wouldn’t be accurate. In a moment of cold calculation he didn’t know he had in him, Abel waited until the creature stepped on the stone slab. If he missed, the pebble would break that and take them all out. The beast crouched to spring, haunches bunching, and Abel threw.
He’d never be sure if he hit the moving paw or the creature swatted at the pebble, but the two connected. Moments later Abel dropped down to sit like a puppet with the strings cut, trembling all over. The result was a complete anti-climax, when in a soft whoosh a cloud of white dust spread out from the pebble. Creature dust, because as it fell the guardian had completely disintegrated. “Good glyph, Ferryl.” Abel mumbled it but Ferryl caught the gist.
“It worked? Does that mean they are both dead?” She sounded cautious, ready for bad news.
“I thought they were both dead to start with!” Abel realised that came out a bit sharp. “Sorry.”
“Not quite dead. So I can come out now?” Ferryl suddenly sounded downright cheerful. “Did you decide on how much gold and how many women?”
Abel realised he hadn’t got a firm agreement! “Pungh Hmmshtfun, I command you to stay there!” He’d practiced the name for a while last night and this morning, alone in his room, and got it right first time. “You aren’t coming out until we have an agreement, one you’ve sworn to, that means I keep my own brains and body. I’ve thought about the usual options and want something a little bit different.” Abel took a deep breath. “I’ll still want the hundred year’s protection, but instead of the riches and women I want you to show me how to do magic, properly like you and without stabbing myself.”
The silence went on and on, but Abel let it because he knew how to make her answer if he had to. “I can, but there is danger. If you wish to learn how to use magic, you must obey me. Only work the glyphs I show you, when I show you, until you are strong enough to stand more.” Ferryl’s voice strengthened. “For this prize, there will be a price. You must let me ride with you for a while, inside you, until I gather strength.”
“Possession? Not a chance. Grand theft schoolboy? You get to drive my body around like a stolen car until you wreck it, then trade up? Think again.”
“I cannot possess anyone without their consent, not without mind damage that leaves them nearly useless. I usually cure them of something and agree to leave after a score of years.” The voice took on a wheedling tone. “I will leave your body in excellent condition? Much better than it is now?”
“I’m not handing my brain over to you.” Abel snorted. “Improving my body wouldn’t be hard.”
“I don’t have to be in control. Just like a rider on a horse.” Before Abel could respond, Ferryl spoke again. “You must exercise and strengthen your body anyway, to stand the strain of magic.”
“I might agree to a rider with no reins or spurs.” Abel tried to work out how that would feel. “No rooting through my brain and listening to thoughts?” He really didn’t want someone, even a something, eavesdropping in his head.
“That is possible. In return you must let me take magic from your blood when the time comes to leave, enough for me to survive the first transfer. Will your woman, wife, ask questions?”
“What! I’m fifteen! Magic from blood? Do you tie me to a stone slab and fill a mug?” Abel was horrified. First this thing about possession, then blood? He began to wonder just what was under the stone, while a part of him wondered if being under a stone for a hundred years had sent her crackers.
“It isn’t the blood, you young fool. It is the power in the blood, the magic that you have been soaking up and never used. Taken straight from a willing body, that is truly powerful. Too young at fifteen? How old must you be? You are not sworn to a church, are you?”
“Marriage is illegal until sixteen at least. In some places it’s eighteen. I haven’t even got a girlfriend, so forget that part.”
“Excellent. I will take what magic there is as I leave, in payment, though there may not be as much by then. If I am to teach you properly and protect you I must insist on a proper bond while I ride with you, to the bone. I must be able draw on your magic at will, because I have little of my own left.” Abel sighed, sat on the stone and set into another round of explanation and bargaining. At least Ferryl never mentioned blood again. After a last argument on the placement and maximum size of the tattoo, Abel took a deep breath.
“You, Pungh Hmmshtfun, now called Ferryl Shayde, will protect me to the best of your ability for ninety years. You will also teach me how to control magic, slowly and safely. If I refuse to obey you about the magic instruction, you are absolved of teaching me any further until I obey. In return I will help you escape from your prison, and allow you to live within the tattoo you provide. Once you are strong enough you will leave my body, taking the magic you need to survive, but leaving me unharmed. You will not have any control of my body or mind unless I permit it temporarily while learning magic, or to save me from serious harm when you will release me as soon as possible. You will be allowed to tap the magic I hold, but must never drain my levels dangerously low.” Abel reran it in his head. “Swear it on your true-name, spoken clearly.”
After a pause, Ferryl repeated everything and swore on her true-name, though she changed “if you help me escape” to “when you allow me to leave” which seemed fair. “It is done. Let me out. Please.”
“Pungh Hmmshtfun, you may leave your prison.” A cloud of guardian-dust rose from the stone slab and Abel turned away, covering his eyes and mouth.
“Greetings. What do you think of me?” The possibly human thing wore a loose woman’s dress, ragged, filthy, long-sleeved and down to the ground which might be a blessing. The hands and face were almost skeletal, covered in little more than leathery looking skin and when it looked at him Abel couldn’t see anything but black holes where its eyes should be. Long black hair, tangled and dusty, hung over its shoulders but as it looked down at itself the worst part showed. A huge hole gaped in the top of its skull, filled with black nothing. “I think this body is past repair.”
She started to move towards Abel and he flinched away, he couldn’t help it. That wanted to live inside him? “Hang on.”
“You wish to break our agreement?”
Abel almost nodded, but realised that would release this thing to grab a body, maybe his. Even if she didn’t, Ferryl could leave a certain schoolboy to be hammered by the Copples brothers. “No, but how does that, you, get in here?” He gestured to his upper arm, the agreed tattoo location.
“This body is the best I can manage as a temporary home. It will fall into dust when I leave.” She glided closer. “You are marked by a God, though it seems very weak. I cannot come in if you believe in its protection.” She touched her forehead.
“No problem, I don’t believe in all that anyway. The mark will be from my christening but I’ve only been to church once since then, to Grandad’s funeral. Christ, is God real?”
“All of them are, as long as one worshipper still lives. Nobody knows what happens then. Now, quickly before I lose control.” Abel pulled up his shirt sleeve and turned his left side towards her, shutting his eyes as the ruined face began to disintegrate.
A moment later Abel screamed, dropping to the floor holding his shoulder and rolling around in the dust. “What did you do?”
“Burned the magic connection into your bone, as you agreed. It will stop hurting soon.” True enough the pain receded quickly, though not as quickly as it arrived. “Do you like your tattoo?”
Abel realised that gruesome creature must now be a tattoo, yeuk. He looked at his arm, just above his bicep, and looked away again. “Christ, can you change it? Could she, it, have clothes or turn round or something? Mum will kill me if she sees that.” He gritted his teeth. “Change it, even if it hurts again.”
He’d never actually discussed the picture, and now Abel wondered what else the agreement had missed.
“Like that? It might be wise to stop calling on Gods if you are not sworn to them.”
Abel took a quick look at the tattoo. Not a cat despite the ears and tail, and the dappled fur covering her. A young woman in a furry onesie, maybe, now half-knelt, half-sat almost facing away with her tail curled around and over her leg. She turned her head further towards him and winked a big, green, decidedly cat-like eye. “Don’t let her, it, you, do that. Tattoos don’t move.” The tail waved and her whiskers moved when her definitely human face smiled.
“They do with sufficient muscle control. If I still had a body I could show you.” A giggle echoed in Abel’s head. “This is wonderful. I had almost forgotten the light, the colours, the scents. Ooh, flowers, smell the flowers!” Abel obliged, then made his slow way through the garden to the front smelling and touching every different plant and tree. He didn’t have to struggle through undergrowth because the tree-thing had smashed a wide, curving swathe through the smaller trees and shrubs.
Abel stood on the overgrown lawn for a while so that Ferryl could look at the house, then walked up to the front door and reached out to touch it. “Ow. I’m guessing that was magic.” Abel shook his hand, still stinging from the zap he got just before making contact with the wood.
“Yes, and shaped to repel anything even slightly magically active. A human who had never used magic might walk straight in if they had a key, except the garden boundary would stop them getting this far. Walk through the village now so that I can see it.”
“In a minute. Is there anything we can do about this?” Abel waved a hand at the hole smashed through the fence, the torn grass and trampled woodland. Outside the garden the tarmac road now had several gouges and grooves, and the patch of grass the other side had a big hole torn out of it. “That hole is where the dead tree, that wasn’t, used to stand.”
