by Vance Huxley
“For just a little honey I can tell you.” Kelis and Abel looked at the pot, now half empty.
“We should ask the main question first. The one we actually came for, if any of us remembers.” Both Kelis and Abel winced at the sarcasm.
“Sorry.” Abel gestured towards the tree. “Kelis?”
She chuckled. “You still trust me to ask? All right then.” Kelis took a deep breath. “Dryad Chestnut, if a sorcerer put a glyph on a tree without consulting the dryad, what would happen? I would like to know what the dryad would think of that, what the dryad would do about it, and if the glyph would work.”
“Please note none of us have tried this without asking you first.” Abel had seen the brown eyes narrowing as Kelis spoke. Now they relaxed again.
“Still polite. A very big answer?” Abel heaped the spoon. “The dryad would be angry. First it would try to drop a branch on the sorcerer before the glyph could be completed. Then the tree would be encouraged to reject the glyph. Removal could be difficult.” Branches rustled and a few leaves drifted down. “That might mean growing a short branch beneath the glyph to push it off the trunk, then allowing the limb to die and fall off. Depending on how strong the sorcerer were, and how deep the glyph had been anchored, this could take years. During that time the glyph would work, and take magic from the tree.” The brown eyes narrowed. “The sorcerer would not be safe walking under a local tree, ever.”
“Annoying many dryads is not a good idea.”
Abel sat thinking about it while the dryad slurped honey. He might have risked annoying one dryad to fill a gap in the boundary, but now he knew dryads corresponded or at least gathered news about the area. “Question for Ferryl and Kelis only. Do we have our answer? Shall we ask about fences?”
“Yes and yes, but I’ve got another one, about transferring baby dryads in potted trees.” Kelis pointed to the two small trees in pots outside one of the houses near the Green. “I sat looking at those, and wondered.”
“To keep them safe in transit? I wonder about a protection glyph on a young tree helping to protect the young dryad as they both grow.”
“Magic in cut wood could be useful elsewhere.”
“There is enough honey for answers.” Dryad Chestnut had run out of patience.
“Magic in cut wood, transport of young, protecting young and tree with protection glyph, all three would have to be answered.” Abel stirred the remaining honey a little.
“Yes, yes. Wood retains some magic when cut, though most is lost. The last dregs drain slowly, and once gone the wood rots but before then wood accepts magic very easily. The larger the piece the easier to put magic in, and the better it will be retained. Put magic in a fence post and then carve a healing glyph before leading that to the tree.” The odd creaking sounded again. “A very big answer as it will heal a young tree. I am becoming sentimental. Shorter answers now. A protection glyph on a strong, healthy young tree should work and will not harm it, but will slow the building of a magic reserve. I do not know about a young dryad travelling in a captive tree. It is possible but we must trust you more before we test that.” The shoot hung out, hopefully swaying back and forth.
“That is enough for now.”
“For me as well.” Kelis sighed. “Now I’ve got to persuade Mum to feed my sudden craving for honey.”
Abel laughed and put the pot on the grass near the tree. “All yours, Dryad Chestnut. I would be obliged if you could move enough for Kelis to see you, because she is curious, but too polite to ask.” The sharp intake of breath from Kelis meant she could now actually see the dryad’s shape. As soon as the shoot had polished the honey jar Abel stood up and all three of them said goodbye before he broke the veil. This time Abel had a good look round first so he didn’t surprise anyone.
* * *
The betas were impressed by the answer to their question, but preoccupied with Halloween and Guy Fawkes. Those living in the town were keener on Halloween, because trick and treat wasn’t as much fun in a village when everyone knew everyone else from birth. Privately, Kelis, Abel and Rob were unanimous. If there might be some truth to Halloween or Samhain, they were staying at home. Ferryl couldn’t be sure, because how dangerous that one night became varied from place to place and time to time.
“The old gods had the best festivals, and some really did walk among their followers.” They could all hear her humour through the mist links. “Many humans blamed their mischief on gods, of course.”
“Did you get up to mischief, Ferryl?” Rob’s half-smile had a good idea of the answer.
“Of course, but so do children now. Though mine might not have been childish mischief.” Abel’s right hand, under Ferryl’s control for the evening, sucked a fae out of the gloom into the streetlight, a reverse wind glyph. Abel nailed it with a fire glyph, using his left hand. The three of them, four with Ferryl, were braving the cold by sitting at Abel’s open bedroom window.
“My turn.” Kelis knocked a scuttling creature off the garden wall on the opposite side of the street. “Curses, I didn’t get it tight enough to squish the thing.” Kelis, Rob and Abel were trying to adopt Ferryl’s habit of saying curses instead of hell or similar sayings. Nobody liked Ferryl’s suggestion that their supposedly innocuous words could become something unpleasant.
“When can I do that?” Rob leant out, looking up and down the deserted street. “I could try? If it’s a bit sloppy nobody would notice.”
“It will be noticed if you blast a garden wall down, or smash in a car window. You must have better control.” Kelis sounded just a bit smug.
Though Rob didn’t sound convinced. “I want to squish a nasty. A thorny or a fae at least.”
“There is no sign of any of the larger, more dangerous creatures tonight. Maybe they truly are extinct, maybe the church really did destroy them all.” All three of the humans stared at the tattoo. “There is very little protection in Brinsford. If one were prowling, it would have been attracted by the tempting targets earlier. The young children and mothers.”
Kelis scowled. “I thought you just wanted to watch to learn about trick or treat?”
“I did, because nobody would have risked that before I went into that hole.” Ferryl’s voice cheered up. “Since nothing appeared, we can go out there and knock a few fae down for Rob to beat with a stick. Though magical creatures are hard to damage with non-magical weapons so Abel should cut a glyph into a big stick, a club.”
“Seriously? On Halloween, or Samhain, or whatever? What about gods wandering about?” Rob glanced out of the window, hopeful.
“Not for a long, long time. The church definitely stopped the gods. Though we should be disguised, just in case?” That had a lot of humour in, and the tattoo ran through a bewildering series of disguises that would have taken a team of makeup artists and a full theatrical wardrobe to produce.
“Roughly Hewn only needs jeans and a shirt, and his club of course.” Kelis giggled. “I could ask your mum if she’d lend me her slinky dressing gown Abel, that long one, the bath robe. Glyphmistress robe?” She looked Abel over. “We’ve got no costume for you.”
“How about this?” Rob and Kelis stared at him so Abel looked down at his suddenly furry hand. Striped fur?
“A male cat-sorcerer? Your jeans don’t look magical, but I like the ears.” Kelis frowned and reached out tentatively. “You don’t feel furry. Weird.”
“Just a seeming, a type of illusion.” The fur disappeared. “I will put it on again after we leave. Then the Tavern can hunt monsters, since I don’t think there are any.” Ferryl sounded really excited. “A real hunt! There has been no Wild Hunt for many long years, but this will suffice. We can drive the globhoblins and fae out of Brinsford, or many of them, because nobody will see them die in the dark.”
“Globhoblins, skurrits, gremlins, hoplins, thornies, fae and anything slimy. I don’t care if those are good or bad.” Kelis shuddered. “How can slimy be good?” She jumped up. “I’ll go and ask your mum, Abel.”
While she did, Abel looked in his wardrobe for his old rounders bat. “It’s a pity none of us took up baseball, then we’d have a decent sized club.”
Rob took the small stick and swung it, carefully in the small bedroom. “Good enough as long as I can get near enough.” Abel kept searching, and found elbow and knee protectors from when he’d tried roller skating. Rob took them with a big grin. “Brilliant, armour. Is there a helmet?” Once Abel found that, Rob rolled up his sleeves and jeans legs and considered himself a properly kitted out barbarian. “As long as we stay on the street or I’ll trip over.”
“Ferryl? Is it time?” Abel ignored Rob’s curious look.
“I believe so. We can’t have a barbarian falling all over the place.” Abel explained, Rob shut his eyes, and moments later tears trickled out from beneath the eyelids. Abel nipped to the bathroom, coming back with a wet flannel for Rob to ease the irritation. While they waited for the stinging to stop, he got back to arming Rob properly.
“What glyph do we put on the bat, Ferryl” Abel poised, a marker pen ready. “Do you want to draw it with my hand?”
Some of the excitement left Ferryl’s voice. “No, because I cannot remember the glyphs for enhancing weapons. They are in my wits, somewhere. We could use the Tavern hex, but that would work better cut into the wood. Why do none of you carry a knife?” Ferryl’s exasperation showed. “Then you could cut solid glyphs into wood instead of drawing on wood or pebbles. The result is much stronger.”
“I’ll nip down and get a kitchen knife, a little one, but you do the cutting. I’d end up with a glyph carved into my hand.” At the top of the stairs Abel had to wait for his mum and Kelis, coming up.
“I thought you weren’t going out?” She glanced at Kelis. “And no dragging this young lady anywhere muddy while she’s wearing my dressing gown. Glyphmistress? I don’t know where you come up with them.” Though Abel’s mum had a little smile as she wagged a finger. “Definitely no banging on doors and running away, or moving garden gates.”
“I only did it one year.” Abel sighed. “I promise.” While Kelis kept his mum occupied with robing the Glyphmistress he took a small, sharp knife from the kitchen, one with a plastic cover over the blade. Back upstairs Kelis drew the Tavern mark on the bat. Abel carefully cut it into the wood and then pushed magic into the carving because Ferryl insisted on his unaided hand.
When the three of them set off Abel wore his dressing gown over his shirt and jeans, a short terry towelling one. His clothes looked ridiculous, unlike the long, silky-looking white robe Kelis wore, but Ferryl promised to fix it. Sure enough, once outside Kelis and Rob started laughing. Abel glanced down at a long blue silky jacket, something like silky pyjama trousers, and two furry feet sticking out at the bottom.
* * *
By the time the three of had cleared Riverside Close and the end of Main Street nearest Castle House they were having a ball. Ferryl had sucked several fae, two thornies and eventually a globhoblin in reach of Rob’s bat, which worked perfectly. Better yet, all the gunk they spattered on the road and fences evaporated. Kelis and Abel worked as a team. She knocked them over or out of the air and he finished them with either a tight wind glyph or a small fire one. It gave Abel a great sense of satisfaction to really clear out part of the village and already magical creatures were fleeing out into the countryside as the trio approached.
“The Village Green next. If we’d brought honey Rob could have met the dryad. If they are out he will be able to see one through the veil now.” Kelis blew a fae against a house wall and it popped before bubbling away. “There’s more houses down there. Do you think they’ll notice the disappearing bodies?”
“The appearing bodies.” Rob waited a moment as a stunned fae tumbled downwards, then swung as if hitting a rounder’s ball. The mess flew across the road, dissolving before hitting the ground.
“They’ll think we are hitting plastic toys.” Abel hit a thorny with a fire glyph but it ran off smoking. “As long as we don’t set fire to a bush, or blow tiles off a roof.”
“We can stop if someone comes out to look, or carry on but just pretending.” A hoplin flew off a car and rolled down the street before hopping at full speed over a fence and heading for the fields. “Hah, precision, Kelis is thy name.”
“Time to start pretending, someone is coming.” Ferryl chuckled. “Though I had better keep up Abel’s seeming or he will look very silly.”
“Sillier than cat ears and whiskers, and wearing silk pyjamas?” Rob stopped suddenly. “Er, sorry Ferryl. Cat ears and whiskers aren’t silly on some people, well, not people.”
“Cat-sorceress, Glyphmistress and barbarian.” Kelis danced a few steps along the road, waving her hands about as four young kids with three mothers came out of Brinn’s Lane. “Zap, pow, die, creatures of darkness.”
The children looked startled but the mothers laughed. “What are you three idiots?”
“Hello Mrs. Turner. We’re on a quest. A Barbarian, a Sorceress and a Cat-wizard, dealing death and destruction to the evil beasts that roam on Halloween.” Kelis beamed.
“It’s certainly cheered you up.” Mrs. Tomlins looked them over. “Nice tail Abel.” From the laughs, Abel assumed he had a real tail.
“Try not to look surprised.” Abel’s right hand, Ferryl’s for tonight, glowed a bright emerald green and drew lines of light in the air that glowed for a few moments before disappearing. The four kids watched, entranced.
“All battery powered, Mrs. Turner.” Abel really hoped Mrs. Turner didn’t say anything to Mum. He couldn’t even talk to Ferryl with so many people here.
“Well I think that deserves some sweets.” Mrs. Turner took a few from each of the bags the children carried. “Come on kids. The magicians are keeping us safe tonight, so pay your protection money.” In a quiet voice she added, “A few less sweets might stop these four being sick.”
Everyone laughed, and the three of them thanked the mothers and headed off. As soon as the trick or treat group turned up towards Riverside Close, the Taverners swung into action again. “How will you explain that to your mum?” Kelis grinned. “You could blame your tattoo?”
Even though Ferryl found that amusing, Abel didn’t. “I’d rather not mention it to her, but that lot will be banging on Mum’s door demanding sweets in a few minutes.”
“Tell her you used a sparkler. They leave lines in the air, just for a moment.”
Kelis stared at Rob in feigned shock. “Oh no, a Barbarian with brains. The magical world will never recover.” She stopped laughing and whirled round at a voice from the trees on the Green.
“About time you got rid of some of those pests. You can’t expect us to do it.” Dryad Chestnut had stepped out from his tree, clearly visible. “I wondered if you really were a sorcerer, if your passenger had taught you anything or only made promises. Just be careful with fire near my leaves.”
“Always, Dryad Chestnut.”
“Dryad?” Rob looked from Kelis to Abel, his face dropping. “I know you said, but, well…” He sighed. “I still sort of hoped those old books and the internet were right, you know?” He looked at the other trees and all five of their dryads were clearly visible tonight, all of them gnarled, wrinkly, and definitely ugly.
“You mean all those pretty young tree-ladies?” Kelis sniggered. “You could get a tattoo.”
Dryad Chestnut inspected Rob. “Another one with some magic. Has he brought honey?”
“No.” Abel grinned. “That was a free answer. Will this do?” He unwrapped a humbug and threw it onto the grass near the dryad. “It is sweet?”
The mobile shoot came from almost directly between dryad’s eyes, and stroked the confectionery. “It is sweet enough. The children sometimes drop similar treats on the grass. Not honey, and I am old enough to prefer that.” Abel noticed the humbug shrinking, so it hadn’t been rejected. “If your friend wants to meet a dryad who is younger, cross the bridge to the young willows. They are less crinkled.”
“Are they women dryads?” Rob shrugged at the looks from the other two. “Just curious.”
“All dryads are what you would term female. We all create seedlings if there is an opportunity to find them homes.”
“Our thanks, Dryad Chestnut.” Kelis threw another unwrapped sweet. “For the answer. Come on Rob, let’s find you a willowy friend.”
“Really, I can talk to one?”
“Not if you eat all your sweets. You’ll need bribery.” Kelis sighed. “The trees at home still barely talk, even after scoffing pots of honey. They really do blame me for the iron spikes holding the lights and cameras, and the branches the gardener trimmed.” She shot out a glyph, catching a Hoplin against a wall and squishing it. “There, I feel better again. Onward, Taverneers. Taverners?”
“To the bridge. We haven’t cleared Brinn’s Lane yet, and you live along here so it’s only right.” Abel led the way. A score of creatures later the three of them stopped just short of the humpbacked bridge.
“Will there be a troll under here, Ferryl?” Rob hefted his bat. “I’m not exactly Billy-goat Gruff.”
“No, I checked when Abel crossed to try and create a barrier outside the village.” Ferryl sounded unworried, but she’d startled Abel because he’d never even thought of that.
“I think Rob was joking, Ferryl. Are there real trolls elsewhere?
“Yes, but usually cave trolls as far as I remember. I think most of the bridge trolls and water serpents were removed by the church or sorcerers. My wits would be more certain.”
Abel had started to think of Ferryl’s wits as some sort of memory storage, from the way she spoke about them. “Will that information be on the two we found?”
“I can’t tell unless I have a body. Then I can put them back into bone.” Her sigh rustled. “The sorcerer would put a wit back in when he wanted a skill, my knowledge, and I would try to remember when he took it away but the knowledge faded.” She sounded downright desolate now.
