by James Nicol
Arianwyn glanced over to where the mayor was watching, his earmuffs still in place, his mouth wide in shock. ‘Snotlings!’ she muttered under her breath.
She stared helplessly up at the gaping hole in the town wall. The shrieking ritts circled back over the wall. They swooped down to where the nest had been, then around and back again as though this might make the nest appear. After another few attempts they wheeled away, flying out across the meadow and then off over the tops of the Great Wood, the sound fading as they flew further on.
‘Well done, Miss Gribble,’ Mayor Belcher said, coming towards them and removing his earmuffs.
‘I’m sorry about the wall, Mayor Belcher. I—’
‘The wall can be repaired. Though I will bill the Spellorium for that, of course. I thought you’d said the nest couldn’t be destroyed?’ He glanced at Gimma.
‘The nest shouldn’t have been destroyed, Mayor Belcher,’ said Arianwyn. ‘And I didn’t mean to destroy it. The spell went wrong, I don’t know why.’ If Gimma hadn’t distracted her, perhaps it would have been all right.
Or perhaps she shouldn’t have tried to use the new glyph before she was ready?
For a moment she thought the mayor was reaching for his little black book, but his hand paused and he smiled. ‘Well now, they’re gone, and although that might not sit well with Miss Delafield, the result is peace and quiet, Miss Gribble. Thank you.’ The mayor glanced up at the new hole in the top of the town wall. Then he turned and strode off back towards the gate. ‘Come along, Gimma.’
Gimma glanced at Arianwyn. Her face was ashen, her lips dry and sore. She looked tired. ‘I’d better go,’ she mumbled, following her uncle.
‘Don’t forget about the charm-hanging later,’ Arianwyn called after her.
It wasn’t all Gimma’s fault, and Arianwyn knew it. She stared at the rubble and smashed nest at the foot of the wall. Why hadn’t the spell worked this time when it had been so pliable and obedient in the Spellorium?
Perhaps it wasn’t even the spell; perhaps it was her. Perhaps she had lost her knack for some reason. She was certain when the council heard about this and the stagget they would be asking for her star badge back pretty soon.
Chapter 28
THE TELEGRAM
s Arianwyn walked slowly along Kettle Lane, replaying the day’s events over in her mind she noticed someone waiting outside the Spellorium, even though it was nearly closing time. As she drew closer she saw that it was Jonas Attinger, the eldest son of Lull’s postmistress.
‘Oh, hello, Jonas. What can I do for you? Not brownies again, is it?’ Arianwyn smiled as she unlocked the Spellorium door and went inside, flicking on the lights. She dumped her satchel on the counter.
Jonas hovered by the door. ‘Er, no, miss . . .’ He looked down at the small piece of paper in his hand. ‘This came for you.’ He didn’t move any further forwards. ‘It’s a telegram.’ His hand shook a little.
‘Oh, it’s probably something from the High Elder,’ Arianwyn said, suddenly worried that it was to do with the stagget.
‘Sorry, Miss Gribble, but . . .’ He took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘It’s from the War Office.’ Jonas let her take the piece of paper, and suddenly Arianwyn’s own hands were shaking. She paused for a second. A million nightmarish things raced through her mind before she pulled the folded piece of paper open and stared down at the neatly typed letters:
(PRIORITY COMMUNICATION)
MISS ARIANWYN FLORA GRIBBLE, THE SPELLORIUM, 38 KETTLE LANE, LULL
THE SECRETARY OF WAR DESIRES ME TO EXPRESS HIS DEEPEST REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR FATHER SGT. OLIVER E. GRIBBLE S/KD6911779 HAS BEEN REPORTED MISSING IN ACTION ON WAR SERVICE SINCE OCTOBER 17TH IN NORTHERN VEERSLAND IF FURTHER DETAILS OR OTHER INFORMATION ARE RECEIVED YOU WILL BE PROMPTLY NOTIFIED
J.A. GREENFIELD ADJUTANT GENERAL
‘I am sorry, miss,’ Jonas offered quietly, his voice shaking. ‘Can I get you anything?’
Arianwyn looked up, but Jonas was just blobs of colour through her tears. ‘I . . .’ She didn’t know what to say. Fear and terror gripped her in a way she hadn’t thought possible. It felt as though the walls of the Spellorium were closing in on her now and her only thought was to run.
The telegram slipped from her hands as she dashed out of the door and ran down Kettle Lane, hoping that the whole world would collapse around her or at least stop whilst she tried to make sense of the words so efficiently typed on the telegram.
She ran and ran and ran.
Arianwyn sat on the grassy river bank, her face buried in her hands as though that could keep the news, everything, at bay. The river flowed past, careless of how Arianwyn’s world seemed to be ending.
She sobbed, but the river just murmured gently, and she could still hear the calls of the birds above and occasional sounds from Lull, safe behind its high walls. How could the world carry on as though nothing had changed, when everything had?
When she felt she could cry no more, when her throat was dry and her eyes sore, she glanced up to see that the sun had started to set and the walls of the town were bathed in a glorious warm pink light. But huge grey clouds were moving fast across the sky. A storm was coming.
She wiped at her face and slowly got to her feet, though she didn’t know where to go. Suddenly everywhere felt strange and alien to her. She wanted her grandmother but there was no easy way to reach her.
She had never felt so alone.
‘Arianwyn?’
She turned quickly, startled.
Colin was making his way towards her.
‘Miss Newam and I just went to the Spellorium to see you and . . . I’m so sorry, Arianwyn.’ He stopped where he was, the telegram in his hand.
‘I’m not sure I want to talk about it right now, Colin,’ Arianwyn said, turning back to the river.
Perhaps he would go away?
There was a rustling sound as he moved through the long dry grass and then he was at her side.
So, he wasn’t going away, then.
‘Are you here to check up on me?’ she snapped.
‘No, of course not—’
‘Because I’ve had enough of being told off by my friends recently.’
Colin sighed. ‘I wasn’t telling you off, but it’s just not like you to give up on something like that, Arianwyn.’
She swallowed hard.
‘I’m not angry with you, I’m still your friend,’ Colin said, ‘if you’re still mine?’
She nodded, but she didn’t feel she could look at him yet. If she saw a pitying look in his eyes she would burst into tears again.
‘I won’t talk about it then,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll only say, that if you want anything or want to talk then I’m here, OK?’
She nodded.
‘But it did only say he was missing, the telegram. So, don’t give up hope.’
They sat for a few more moments watching the water flow past. Large circles bloomed on the surface of the river as the rain arrived.
‘I should get back. I have to meet Gimma and Miss Delafield – we’re hanging the charms this evening,’ Arianwyn said, though the thought of returning to the Spellorium didn’t fill her with enthusiasm.
‘Don’t you think you should . . . I don’t know . . . rest? You’ve had a terrible shock, Arianwyn. I’ll tell Miss Delafield—’
‘No, Colin, please. I don’t want everyone to know. Not yet.’
He looked at the ground, his jumper darkening with spots of rain. ‘Are you sure?’
Arianwyn nodded. ‘At least with Gimma around I’ll have something to take my mind off things.’
‘Well, let me walk you back then?’
They headed along the bank, the calls of birds and the patter of rain the only sounds. Arianwyn was grateful that Colin didn’t mention the telegram any more. She saw him slip it into his back pocket and they walked to the Spellorium in companionable silence.
Dark magic is commanding: where it is prevalent within the world it has th
e power to bend and shape a witch’s spell in the most extraordinary and unexpected of ways. A poorly trained or inexperienced witch may struggle with basic spell craft if there is a large build-up of dark magic nearby. Whilst a small amount of dark magic is sometimes useful and indeed used, as with the banishing spell, too much of it will contaminate the purer magic a witch must seek to uphold. And if there is prolonged exposure it can sometimes affect the witch herself. Guard yourself against dark magic at all times.
A WITCH ALONE: A MANUAL FOR THE NEWLY QUALIFIED WITCH
Chapter 29
FIREFLY LIGHTS
ypical that it would rain this evening, isn’t isn’t it, dear?’ Miss Delafield said, wrestling her way into a long waxy rain mac in the Spellorium.
Arianwyn mumbled something in reply, not really listening as she pulled on her own matching C.W.A. mac, which was second-hand and far too big. She carefully folded the sleeves over several times, but the hem was only a few centimetres from the floor, like a cape. Whoever had owned it before must have been a giant.
‘Are you all right?’ Miss Delafield asked. She stopped and gave Arianwyn one of her appraising looks, as though she might sum up at once what was wrong with her.
For a second, Arianwyn decided to tell her about the telegram. But before she could, the door opened and, in a swirl of rain-laced wind, Gimma stepped into the Spellorium. Her rain mac was definitely not standard C.W.A. issue.
‘We’re not seriously doing this tonight, are we?’ she asked, looking at Miss Delafield and then at Arianwyn in disbelief.
Miss Delafield folded her arms across her chest. ‘We most certainly are! You girls have done wonders getting the charms ready so quickly; now we need to get them in place as soon as possible. No time like the present, you know.’
Gimma sighed and then, glancing at the stack of boxes by the counter, said, ‘We’re not carrying them all the way to the wood ourselves though, are we?’
‘No, dear. I’m going to nip down there with them in my car. You and Arianwyn will have to follow, I’m afraid! No room.’
‘Oh, joy!’ Gimma scowled.’ Can’t we go on Wyn’s broom then?’ She looked longingly at Arianwyn’s broomstick propped against the wall near the spellorium door.
‘I’m not flying in the rain.’ Arianwyn said quickly, pulling up her hood and tightening her satchel. She wasn’t even going to discuss it.
‘So then, all ready for the off, girls?’ Miss Delafield asked, tightening her own bag strap across her chest.
Arianwyn glanced through the window at the wet and wild evening. ‘I guess so!’ she replied.
But her eyes strayed to the bookshelf behind the counter. High on a shelf sat her copy of A Witch Alone, and trapped between its pages were the glyph of silence and now the telegram, which Arianwyn had reluctantly taken back from Colin once they’d returned from the river, neither of them saying a word.
Secrets and more secrets.
After Miss Delafield had zoomed along Kettle Lane, Arianwyn and Gimma walked in silence, each cocooned in their rain mac as the rain grew heavier and heavier. The occasional gust of wind blew icy needles into Arianwyn’s face, adding to her gloom. She imagined the charms – hours of hard work – chinking and rattling in Miss Delafield’s racing car, roads dampened by the rain, and hoped her supervisor was driving unusually carefully. Lull was dark and quiet: only the bright lights in the windows gave any indication the town was inhabited. As they passed through the town gates, Arianwyn and Gimma switched on their torches. They would need all their energy for spells later, so no light orbs this evening.
They met Miss Delafield at the edge of the Great Wood, just a few metres from the mayor’s cordon. The car’s headlights were turned on, and all along the edge of the wood the floor was strewn with blood-red leaves that glistened damply in the beams. The last chatter of the woodland birds sounded about them and the tang of woodsmoke from town drifted to them with the occasional whiff of cooking smells.
Miss Delafield had set the stack of boxes on the ground underneath a tree, but they still looked rather soggy. Rain dripped from the branches. Somewhere off across the meadow Arianwyn heard the call of the qered, low and mournful.
‘Well now, what’s the plan again?’ Miss Delafield asked, looking at Arianwyn.
Arianwyn took a deep breath and looked at Gimma and Miss Delafield. ‘If we hang a charm from a branch every ten metres or so along the border of the wood, and activate them with Årdra, they will hopefully stop the hex from spreading closer to town.’ The fire glyph, they all knew, had strong protective properties.
Gimma rolled her eyes as Miss Delafield said, ‘Bravo, dear!’ clapping her hands together. ‘Well, you girls go that way and I’ll head towards the river.’ She pointed off along the edge of the wood.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to help you, Miss Delafield?’ Arianwyn asked. Today of all days, she just wasn’t sure she could face spending more time with Gimma than was absolutely necessary.
‘No, dear – you girls stick together. I’ll be perfectly fine on my own. I’ll shout if I need anything.’
Arianwyn handed Gimma a box of charms and grabbed her own and they wandered off along the edge of the wood. After a few metres Arianwyn stopped, put her box down and lifted out the first charm. She glanced back along the treeline to where Miss Delafield was already absorbed with her own work.
‘What is it we have to do again?’ Gimma asked, stifling a yawn. She stood next to the box and didn’t move to help Arianwyn as she lifted the first charm free. The contents rattled inside the glass sphere.
‘Once we’ve hung them, they need activating, with Årdra,’ Arianwyn explained again.
‘And do you honestly think these will help?’ Gimma asked as she lifted a charm orb from the box. She held it in both hands and studied it carefully. The kartz stones gave off a faint glow, lighting the little feyling stone nestled at their side.
‘I can’t think of anything else,’ Arianwyn replied. If only we had the book, she thought. But then the glyph of silence was hardly a roaring success . . .
A bird cry rang out from the forest, startling Gimma. ‘I don’t know why I feel so nervous,’ she said. She glanced over at Arianwyn, and her eyes seemed to sparkle in the darkness. She smiled. Not her usual sneering smile, but something gentle and almost friendly. Arianwyn smiled back as she started to tie her charm orb to a secure and sturdy branch. She watched Gimma copy her with a tree a little way off. ‘Like this?’ Gimma called as she tied the cord in loops around the branch.
‘That’s it, and then you need to sketch Årdra on to the globe, to activate the charm.’
Arianwyn drew the glyph on to her charm globe and felt a tug of magic from nearby. The magic flowed straight towards her and, as it connected with the glyph, the charm unexpectedly began to glow brighter like a large but rather dim light bulb. It was such a surprise that she gasped and stepped backwards, watching for a second. The light seemed to pulse slowly, like a heartbeat. A gentle wave of heat rolled towards her. This has to be a good sign, surely?
‘Oh, is this right?’ Gimma asked.
Arianwyn turned and saw her charm globe was glowing in the same way. She smiled. Something had gone right for Gimma at last. ‘Well done, Gimma.’
‘It’s beautiful, Arianwyn.’ And suddenly Gimma laughed softly.
Arianwyn realized she had never heard Gimma genuinely laugh before. It was a sound of pure joy, and it threw Arianwyn completely off guard: she forgot her own worries for a moment, and instead found a happy smile spreading across her face.
After an hour, a string of charms looped across the edge of the Great Wood all the way around Lull, their faint pulsing light flickering like giant fireflies. Arianwyn, Miss Delafield and Gimma were soaked through but the charms had kept them surprisingly warm. Gimma came jogging towards Arianwyn after activating her last charm. Her pale blonde hair was plastered to her head in wet strands, but her cheeks were rosy and her eyes shone.
‘Are you OK
?’ Arianwyn asked, afraid Gimma had caught a chill.
But she smiled again, in that same way that had taken Arianwyn by surprise earlier. ‘I feel fine actually – I could do this all evening. I’ve not felt this good in—’
There was a loud cry from within the wood. It sounded like something in pain or frightened. ‘What was that?’ Gimma asked, switching on her torch and peering through the dark trunks and branches, the rain still splashing about them.
‘Probably just an animal or something,’ Arianwyn said hopefully, and started to turn back towards Lull. But, just then, a gust of cool, rain-flecked wind blew leaves around her ankles and, breathing in, she detected a rancid stench of dark magic on the air that hadn’t been there a moment before.
The cry sounded again, but this time she heard faint words: ‘HELP ME! Please!’
That was certainly no animal. She looked at Gimma, whose eyes were wide.
There was another undecipherable cry and Arianwyn was suddenly running into the forest, branches snatching at her mac. She allowed herself to be swallowed up by the trees. She heard Gimma following.
‘Go back, fetch Miss Delafield. It’s not safe!’ Arianwyn shouted over her shoulder.
But Gimma ignored her, drawing level with Arianwyn as she ran on.
Arianwyn wasn’t sure exactly how long they ran for, but there were no more cries for help. Had they imagined it? She stopped and stood still, trying to catch her breath. She glanced at Gimma who looked as confused as Arianwyn felt. But then Gimma’s hand flew up to her mouth.
‘Oh no – look!’ She pointed past Arianwyn into a thick snarl of vines and creepers.
There in the gloom of the Great Wood lay a small blue figure, yellow lamp-like eyes wide in terror.
‘Help!’ the blue thing croaked, its voice hoarse and cracked from shouting.
