by Vance Huxley
“I think she’s got some already, but you can explain alternatives.”
With the little mist tendrils Ferryl could talk to them on the bus. The other students stared at Kelis’s bruised face, but apart from saying hello didn’t speak and left the three of them alone. That seemed to be the general reaction at school. Everyone, including the teachers, obviously wanted to know the whole story but didn’t feel they should ask. Even Seraph seemed to be struck dumb, a definite improvement, and several of the seraphims said hello without the sneer.
Kelis decided that someone’s parent would know someone in Brinsford, and the whole village had seen her dad dragged off and her mum on a stretcher. Some sort of story would spread, so best to make it the truth and at lunchtime Kelis gave their table the gist. Dad hit Mum, police, Mum in hospital, Aunt visiting to look after Kelis. Everyone told her they were sorry, and Una offered her sword for if Kelis’s dad came back, once she’d got a sword. Kelis hadn’t said her dad hit her, but the bruises told the story.
Kelis’s Aunty Celia had been busy. By the time Kelis came home from school the glass had gone from the lawn, replaced by a skip full of broken furniture and at least a couple of splintered doors. Two cleaners, not the usual ones according to Kelis, were busy in the house and Abel could hear hammering from further inside. Once again Aunty Celia invited Rob and Abel inside for a few minutes, and thanked them before they left. Halfway home Abel felt his tattoo tingle, and sent a reply. “That has to stop.”
“You can fix it when Kelis’s life is fixed.”
“I am trying to work out how to.” That definitely gave Abel food for thought. Ferryl didn’t know how to stop the bond, or how to fix Kelis’s life?
* * *
The week dragged by with almost everyone being kind and Seraph still keeping quiet. Since she usually held Henry’s reins that kept him in check as well. Thursday evening Henry couldn’t keep quiet any longer, or maybe he’d just waited until nobody else could hear him because he caught the three of them in an empty corridor. “About time. Let’s hope it knocked some manners into you. What happened to this?” Henry raised a hand and waggled a finger, a sneer matching his mocking tone.
Both Rob and Abel took a step, but they were too late. Kelis lunged, her hand landed on Henry’s chest and Abel felt a tug through his flower. Henry slammed back against the wall, his breath leaving him in a whoosh and eyes wide in shock. Kelis had grown upwards even if she stayed really thin, and now she looked down at Henry and murmured something before turning on her heel and walking away, face serene.
“You can’t threaten me like that!” Henry lunged off the wall, his hand reaching for her and rage spreading across his face.
Abel snapped. His hand came up and a wind glyph, “Well controlled” a little voice complimented him, knocked Henry’s hand wide. Two more stopped Henry’s shoulders, so he lost balance as his legs kept going for a moment and then staggered backwards.
Abel followed, catching hold of the hand Henry had stretched out to catch Kelis. “Not a brick Henry, one finger.” Abel concentrated and launched the glyph from his palm into Henry’s hand, then let go.
“Really good control.” Ferryl sounded eager, almost savage and Abel realised she was poised, hoping Henry attacked.
Instead, Henry spun away, his face losing colour as he cradled his hand and stared down in disbelief at his ring finger and the completely un-natural kink in the bone. Abel followed, keeping his voice low because a small group of students had just come round the corner. “Enough, Henry. If you raise a hand to my friends again, I’ll do that to your elbows and knees. This costs you three weeks out of the rugby team, next time you’ll never play again.” Henry didn’t answer. He stared for a moment then staggered away, elbowing the group aside.
“I wish I’d brought my bat.” The other two looked at Rob and burst out laughing, but he looked indignant. “Well, there’s Glyphmistress throwing Henry about, then you snap a finger like a twig and threaten ruin. I feel a teensy bit useless.”
“So do I. I’m supposed to be the protection.”
“Ferryl is complaining as well.”
Rob looked at Abel’s shoulder and smiled, then frowned and turned to Kelis. “What did you say? He went crackers.”
Kelis had her serene smile back again. “I told him if he ever gave any of us any crap again, I would shove his ribs through to his spine and leave him to drown in his own blood. I’m done with taking that sort of thing from anyone.” It crossed Abel’s mind that letting Kelis discuss punishment with Ferryl might have been a mistake.
“I will talk to her.” Even as Abel relaxed a bit, an amused Ferryl continued. “That is too crude. A Glyphmistress should kill with style.” Abel kept quiet on the bus, then tried to explain restraint to both of them as they walked up the lane and Main Street. He wasn’t sure either Ferryl or Kelis were convinced, even with Rob pitching in, but both agreed to not dismember anyone without talking to Abel or Rob first.
Kelis’s parting shot, “Unless someone throws a punch,” didn’t sound encouraging. Aunty Celia came to the door and invited Rob and Abel in, which ended any discussion.
* * *
Henry stayed clear after that, and from the lack of reaction from Seraph probably never mentioned how he broke a finger. The pupils were more interested in Christmas than a broken finger. Abel, Rob and Kelis were invited to the Tavern party in town but declined. Kelis didn’t fancy going anywhere, her Aunt wasn’t keen on Kelis going anywhere, and now both Rob and Abel wanted to make the most of their time with her. According to Aunty Celia, Kelis’s mum would be best off selling the house once the divorce came through, and moving somewhere without bad memories.
Kelis didn’t want to leave, and now Abel and Rob found out she’d been moving all her life. After a year or two her dad would sell up and buy another house, usually in some remote village but within commuting range for his business. Now there were no secrets, Kelis admitted it probably happened whenever neighbours noticed the arguments, or black eyes.
Kelis definitely cheered up when she found out her mum would be home for Christmas, though Aunty Celia would be stopping for a while to look after her. Once Mrs. Ventner fully recovered, Kelis, Rob and Abel were at least half-convinced the “For Sale” signs would go up but kept hoping. Ferryl suggested keeping Mrs. Ventner too ill to move but all three vetoed that, and using a glyph to bind Kelis’s mum to the place, unable to leave. Though now she knew such a glyph could be made, Kelis wanted to know how. She fancied using one to keep Henry bound to the school toilets, but finally agreed that wasn’t fair to the other students. Abel wasn’t sure if Ferryl really couldn’t remember how without her wits, as she claimed, or just didn’t fancy letting Kelis loose with the knowledge.
* * *
Kelis’s mum, Jessica, or Jess as Aunty Celia called her, came home two days before Christmas. That evening Abel’s mum answered the phone, then called Abel downstairs. She looked baffled. “It’s Mrs. Ventner. She wants us round there at Christmas.” Her eyes went to the little freezer where the tiny Christmas turkey, or turkling as she’d christened it, waited to be defrosted. “For dinner, and some sort of party? Do you know about this? She’s asking Rob’s mum as well.”
“Kelis never mentioned it. We can have family Christmas if you want Mum, but it’ll save all the cooking.” Abel grinned. “They’ve got a dishwasher so it’ll save me some work as well.”
“If you’re sure? It’s not like we’re a big family now, you and me, and you’re a bit past Santa.” She put the phone back to her ear. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Ventner. This party, how are we supposed to dress?” Abel saw his mum relax, so nothing dramatic, then she laughed. “I’ll bring it.”
After some more listening his mum rang off and Abel grinned “Does she want the turkling?”
“No, my dressing gown, the bath robe Kelis wore at Halloween. She’d like to see it.” She shook her head, baffled. “She seems very happy, all things considered. Oh damn. A present. What can we take?”
“I suppose I can take the marzipan fruits?” She looked unhappy, but Abel knew Mum would be getting a box of hard centred chocolates Christmas morning and would be scoffing them.
“Just enough for one each from the sounds of it. Better than taking the Christmas cake.” Abel meant that. He’d offer Kelis and Rob some when they came round, but his mum made a really mean fruit cake and didn’t stint on icing or marzipan. Better yet, Mum didn’t eat much if he let her pinch some of the marzipan from his. “Otherwise I’d have to buy you another slab of marzipan for Christmas.”
“That’s what that present is? It had better not be. She said not to dress up, but we’d better posh up a bit.” Mum laughed. “We can’t posh up a lot. I’ll ask and see what Rob’s family are wearing.”
“We won’t need posh. Kelis reckoned her dad trashed the wardrobes when, you know, he went crackers.”
“How much did you know, before? You should have said.”
“We didn’t know, not that it was that bad, honest. Kelis wouldn’t talk.” Abel shrugged. “I offered her a settee if necessary. So did Rob.”
“Settee? She’d have got your room. You could have had the settee. I’m off to find out what on earth sort of party frock I’m supposed to wear.” Abel watched his mum heading down the road. From what Kelis had said, her mum might have to borrow a frock. Maybe Aunty Celia had sorted it out? He took out his mobile to ask Kelis.
“Don’t dress up! Mum doesn’t want posh, fancy, anything like that. She’s had enough of that.” Kelis sounded really happy, bubbly. “It’ll be great. This is to thank you for looking after me. She’s been laid in hospital planning and Aunty Celia must have been helping. There’s a caterer bringing in food by the truckload, and they’re taking over our kitchen Christmas morning. Mum can’t do much, but right now she’s poised to point and criticise while I get some more trimmings up.”
Abel dived in when she stopped for breath. “She’s all right then?”
“Her arm is in a pot and she’s on lots of tablets, but not as many… The doctors say there is probably some concussion working its way out, she’s still wobbly and sleeps or rests a lot. Don’t worry about Dad because he’s been lawyered even if the slime ball has got bail. If he turns up he gets HM lodgings.” Her voice hardened. “Or maybe a Glyphmistress.”
“She needs tuition. I could go and direct her?”
“Ferryl says wait until she gets there. As a Glyphmistress you should show restraint.”
“Restraint, hah!”
“Restraint? Finesse, yes, but a Glyphmistress under attack has no restraint.”
Abel still hoped he could avoid serious bloodshed, even if he knew he probably wouldn’t. “Call me first, right? You’ll see him coming.”
“OK, but he won’t get near Mum again.” Abel ignored the threat in that because it seemed fair enough. He managed to get Kelis back onto the coming meal, and her mum being home, until she rang off because Rob would be burning out his phone trying to ask the same questions.
* * *
Neither Rob nor Abel saw Kelis on Christmas Eve because she spent the day either running back and forth to town in the car with her mum and aunty, or preparing for Christmas Day. Her texts and phone calls were brief, but happy, which is what really mattered, and Abel kept in touch in a way through flower power tingle-phone. Ferryl didn’t object too much, probably because she could also feel the sheer joy coming through the contacts.
In the evening, while his mum caught up on watching her recorded TV programmes, Abel finished off his presents for Rob and Kelis. He’d made them plastic figurines of a Glyphmistress and a barbarian, or at least adapted them. No such figures existed, but once she knew Abel wanted something unique for his friends, Ferryl had come up with the idea. Originally she’d wanted to start with clay, but Abel knew his modelling limitations and a bit more about modern materials.
The two figures had started life as a model of the Hulk, and one of a sorceress or maybe elf that probably came from a chess set before ending up for sale on a market stall. Abel’s carefully hoarded cash had been just enough for the two decent-sized if battered figurines when his mum took him to Stourton for Christmas shopping. Abel thought they were done a couple of days ago, but Ferryl turned out to be a perfectionist. He started picturing the glyph, the old wooden lolly-stick poised in his other hand. “Careful. A tiny, tiny heat glyph, just enough to make it malleable without burning. Then the wooden tool and a tiny puff of air to cool it at the perfect moment, to look as if the wind caught the hem.” Ferryl and Abel considered the figure for a little while. “I believe that is enough. They look enough like your friends to show who it is, and yet like the characters in your game to show what they are. I still believe the sorceress should have a red and black robe.”
“That is such a cliché, and anyway Kelis looked terrific in that white dressing gown of Mum’s, like a real Glyphmistress.” Abel looked at the slim figure, arm raised to cast and hair blowing back, the cloak fluttering to show a light blue lining because Ferryl insisted it had to be different to the outside. “Kelis will be a good sorceress, not like the ones in stories.”
“But white shows bloodstains, it’s impractical. Imagine the state of that after dragging a troll out of her lair, or blasting a pack of hellhounds apart. Though you don’t have hellhounds now, not even enhanced war hounds.” Ferryl sniffed dismissively. “Kelis will be a true bloody-handed sorceress when she masters her glyphs.”
“No she won’t. She doesn’t like blood,” Abel sniggered, “or slime.” Though privately Abel did wonder, if something upset Kelis enough.
Ferryl must have thought the same. “I will drive your ribs through to your spine and leave you to drown in your own blood.”
“Good sorceress, in white. No point in encouraging her.”
“I wish I could be sure of the animating glyphs, but I just can’t remember. We could bind something small, a mouse or a Hoplin, and use it to animate them? One for each?” Ferryl sounded a bit too keen.
“Bound Shades? You want me to give my friends Bound Shades for Christmas?” Abel shook his head. “Not only that, but a miniature Glyphmistress and barbarian racing around the place would be hard to explain.” He put the wooden lolly stick down. “At least Kelis will be able to explain to her mum since she wants me to bring the whole game folder, drawings and everything.”
“If they are to remain statues, we are finished. May I wrap them, please? Your paper is beautiful.” Abel let her. Some trivial things, such as wrapping paper, really seemed to blow Ferryl away, whereas cars weren’t that wonderful except for the speed. While she wrapped, Abel watched with definite pride. The reshaping had been slow, delicate work with just heat, wind and a lolly stick. The colour had been another minor glyph Ferryl remembered, a useless one she pointed out. Abel finally mastered it, even getting the green out of the hulk plastic and hitting a decent skin tone. Abel wasn’t sure if being able to change the colour of more or less anything, permanently and without dye, would ever be useful but it certainly taught him control.
Despite the bit of sleet in the rain tonight, not reindeer and sleigh weather, Abel walked down to Castle House once he’d done to sit on the stone slab for a while. He’d used quite a lot of magic in the finicky work on the models, and didn’t want another sorceress catching him with his levels down. As Ferryl had noticed, he recovered faster sat on the slab while it seemed to make no difference to Rob and Kelis. Ferryl spent the times Abel visited the slab either checking the boundaries or dancing with the wind if the weather gave her plenty of gusts as partners. Sometimes Ferryl spent time inspecting the glyph on the bone from the sorceress, at a distance without touching. In her wind form she could do that without digging it up.
* * *
Abel and his mum opened presents from each other on Christmas morning, and she agreed that the chocolates meant the marzipan fruits were
n’t such a loss. Abel’s present, a pair of short boots “because if you will insist on wandering about outside in bad weather, trainers aren’t really weather-proof” would be perfect for a different reason. Abel could keep the little knife in one, because it really had come in handy that night.
Rob’s family knocked on the door and the two families went together, as arranged, all of them wondering exactly what was waiting. Rob and Abel weren’t worried, because Kelis sounded too happy for there to be anything that might cause a problem. Everyone began to wonder about their dress when a smart young woman took their coats and showed them through to the huge lounge, but the sight of Kelis in her usual holiday jeans and blouse soon relaxed them all. Her mum greeted them all with a big smile, sat in an armchair and wearing a fluffy dressing gown with one arm cut off for her plaster cast.
Mrs. Ventner, “Jessica, or call me Jess,” seemed delighted by the marzipan fruits. “We’ve been getting in lots of goodies, but we haven’t any of these. Somebody didn’t believe in wasting money on all this nonsense at Christmas, so we’re making up for it.” She waved her good arm around at the loops of decorations. “Kelis and Celia did their best, but I’m not up to it.” The tall, slim woman didn’t look up to much at all, very pale and shifting now and then in some sort of discomfort. She kept rubbing her arm above the cast, so that must bother her as well.
When everyone found a seat Kelis gave out her presents, and she’d bought Abel a folding penknife “because you never know when one might be useful.” Kelis must have been thinking about that night, because she’d bought one for Rob as well. The two little figurines for Kelis and Rob set the adults off, and they all wanted a look.
“Kelis has been talking about these. Did you bring the robe, Mrs. Conroy?”
“Christine, Chris usually. Yes, though it doesn’t look like that.” A flurry of less formal introductions led to all the Mr. and Mrs. being dropped.
Rob’s dad leant forward to inspect Rob’s barbarian. “I’ve seen a few pictures, but this is different. It even looks a bit like Rob, if he’d got muscles like one of the Copples. Is Roughly Hewn a description?” He looked at the other. “Kelis Glyphmistress is her actual name, so have you been rechristened Roughly?” He tried to glare at Rob but couldn’t keep the smile back. Before long all the pictures and game rules were being passed around and commented on. A blushing Kelis had to put on the dressing gown and pose dramatically, arm out to strike something or other down. She wouldn’t bring a hair drier to create a wind for her hair, in spite of Rob suggesting it.
