by R A Lindo
The seemingly perilous fall takes on balletic tones as we enact our hilarious sky dance, exaggerating each twirl and extension until the ground nears and our Williynx swoop down to our rescue, delivering us to snow-covered streets on the trail of a shifty figure engaging in secretive travel.
With our Williynx waiting outside, adapting their forms to perch on street lamps, I take out a vial of purple liquid and gulp it down in one go: Fillywiss for the senses, helping to restore equilibrium. Society crowds fill the snow-covered streets, decorated in a various array of clothing, some more elegant than others. The landscape of this winter wonderland is marked by a shimmering, sinking bridge — one of its unique features — the other being perpetual snow.
The bridge is for magical travel, allowing members swift access to different realms. It’s a different sort of Perium, offering a novel way of moving between various parts of the S.P.M.A.
The pub we’re heading to sits at the foot of the bridge — a raucous place full of lost souls and Society folk with little waiting for them at home. My weapons of choice won’t be needed on this visit which is basically assessing movements and interactions. There’s no threat of danger, and the ramshackle wizard in question is no warrior.
Joseph Flint is a gentle soul obsessed with Society facts. He can be normally found talking to himself inside The Chattering Tap, mumbling obscure magical facts to an invisible companion. Until now, Joseph has been gently mad, but his sudden visits to The Shallows via The Sinking Bridge suggest he’s formed a bond he’d prefer to keep secret.
We enter The Chattering Tap and make our way to an empty table, giving us a good view of Joseph. Familiar faces nod in greeting, forever grateful for all we did to win the war two years ago. It’s amazing what a battle with a bad wizard can do for your status, particularly when the concept of an underage wizard fighting in battle had previously been derided.
With our Williynx in view outside — smaller in stature to put the more nervous witches and wizards at ease — large glasses of multi-coloured liquid are slammed on the tables by the proprietors: a family of seven, including the pretty girl who always eyes Conrad when we’re here.
“Hey, handsome,” Lorina Lellant says in Conrad’s direction, followed by a flirtatious smile.
Conrad offers a forced smile in return, aware of how I feel about Lorina. They don’t call me The Fire Witch for nothing.
“Still popular then,” I tease, accepting the boy blessed with beauty and a warrior spirit is going to get female attention.
I ignore the stare Lorina gives me, glancing over at the group of wizards attempting to demonstrate the combined powers of certain magical powders. As the pink, yellow and red powders are blown from one wizard’s hand, the group stands back to wonder at the fizzing sphere of multi-coloured light forming above them — the beginnings of a new charm it seems.
That’s until it begins to spin out of control, causing the clientele to duck for cover. Conrad’s the first to stand on the table, whipping out the Weveris charm as he sends a web floating towards the erratic sphere of light. I step onto the table alongside him, uttering ‘Disira’ the moment Conrad’s web ensnares the fizzing force rebounding off the walls and windows.
It explodes as my disintegration charm makes contact, causing a shower of sparks to fall over the pub like confetti: our introductory act for the evening. After a light round of applause, we return to our seats only to find Joseph Flint has left his place at the bar.
I study the snow-covered streets outside, spotting his parked car … a battered contraption parked outside on the opposite side of the street. He’s obviously sensed the reason for our presence and made his exit, but not following his recent pattern via The Sinking Bridge.
“He’s gone above ground,” states Conrad, standing and buttoning his grey coat. “We can’t use magic there so will need to use Periums to track his location.”
I adjust the belt on my black leather trousers, having a good idea of the route Joseph is going to take. Any shifty movement is studied closely by wizards and witches on the ground, and a variety of creatures in the sky, including Williynx and sky urchins.
It’s in everyone’s interest to avoid another war: a unified Society more powerful than a fragmented one. Joseph isn’t likely to ignite a war any more than he’s likely to attempt an attack on his fellow wizards and witches. He is up to something, though, and his little escape plan only serves to reinforce this.
“You take the streets; I’ll take the sky,” suggests Conrad as we exit The Chattering Tap.
“Yep,” I agree, gesturing for my Williynx to reduce its form even further, ready to step through a different Society building and into the soft light decorating the above-ground section of The Winter Quarter. “See you in The Shallows,” I offer in a parting gesture to Conrad, along with a quick kiss. He always smells good and I’d like to stay close to his scent, but all good things …
Kneeling to signal his Williynx into action, Conrad adds, “I’ll meet on the other side of The Sinking Bridge, where Joseph will probably appear. Then I get my own revenge in our race back to The Cendryll.”
I step in closer, inhaling his scent for a little longer before reminding myself of the task at hand. “Injured pride?” I tease as he pulls me towards him.
“Something like that,” he offers, those green eyes working their own magic and then he’s off, bursting into the sky astride his turquoise companion — the single feather floating towards me always making me smile.
I spot Joseph Flint from the upper floor of Roeylin’s: a tall, narrow building crammed with toys. Like Wimples sweet shop, it’s a natural attraction for children who are awe struck by the unique toys on offer. Quite how they work doesn’t matter to them — magic, of course — and parents end up paying just to get their kids out of the shop, putting up with flying, buzzing, battery-powered devices that seem to have a life of their own.
The upper floor of Roeylin’s is a quieter affair, designated as Staff Only. The staff in question are Society members, as they are in all buildings within The Society Sphere. From here, I have sight of Joseph, able to close in on him via one of the doors situated in each corner of the room.
All four doors are black and decorated with a brass handle. Those in the know pull the door handle out and twist it until the desired destination appears in gold lettering. You need a penchant for this to work: an item of jewellery usually decorated by a gemstone.
The Grayling penchant stone is topaz blue; Conrad’s tanzanite. I step to the door nearest to the window and pull the brass handle back, feeling the usual spinning sensation as if I’m losing my footing. The feeling of dizziness passes and I study the gold letters appearing above the door handle, waiting for Babberley’s Barbers to appear.
It’s the shop nearest to Joseph’s current position, and the one he’s about to enter to get to The Shallows: a strange place located beyond The Society Sphere. He’s up to something there, recently making it a daily routine. No one needs to visit The Shallows every day unless they’re Night Rangers like me, checking in on shifty characters.
Joseph Flint isn’t a Night Ranger or, until now at least, not shifty in the slightest, but his usual mutterings to invisible companions in The Chattering Tap have increased in intensity, suggesting a wizard on the edge — caught up in things he shouldn’t be.
With my Williynx in the form of tiny bird, I step through the door when my location appears, pushing the brass door handle as I do, happy to see a familiar slide glittering in the colour of my penchant stone, leading me to my destination and the man about to be tracked to his mysterious contact in The Shallows.
3
The Shallows
I appear in a barber’s chair in a tiny room with only one distinguishing feature: a peephole on the white brickwork ahead of me. Looking into the peephole is the first step, causing the barber’s chair to edge closer. Once my right eye is pressed against the white bricks, I wait for wooden stairs to appear before the peephole expands a
nd I’m sucked through … my feet resting at the top of a staircase.
Most forms of magical travel aren’t as complicated as this, but some places in the S.P.M.A. have added security, mainly for particularly unique realms and those presenting a challenge. For example, the staircase I’m standing on now rises and twists into a formidable beast if it senses bad intentions. Challenge, by the way, is a euphemism for danger, Society elders preferring not to use the D word.
As blessed as our mercurial breed is, not all of us have the courage to match our magical gifts, meaning any whiff of danger usually triggers an exodus to gentler realms. The Shallows don’t fall into the ‘gentle’ category so I take precautions, retrieving a device from my leather trousers: a Follygrin.
Bound in leather, a Follygrin can track anyone at the mention of a few words: Ask and You Will Find. So I ask and the pages flick to the letter J … causing an intricate, moving illustration to form of the wizard in question … currently being lifted into the air by a carpet formed of white weeds.
Joseph Flint jumps from one moving object to another until he propels himself forwards, vanishing out of sight. I know where’s he’s headed now, making my way down the staircase towards a land of floating objects and shifting earth — on the track of an eccentric wizard seemingly up to no good.
With Laieya returning to a more majestic form, I reach the bottom of the steps and enter The Shallows, glancing up at the sky for any sign of Conrad. Many things move up above, including the carpets of white weeds, transporting the traveller onwards.
Conrad won’t be alone up there — the sky urchins an ever present force in all realms beyond The Society Sphere. Now an intrinsic part of the S.P.M.A., the scar-ravaged creatures are designed for battle, meaning whilst they view it as an honour to be welcomed into Society faculties, The Wenlands will always be their home.
I’m hoping the sky urchins won’t be needed this morning. The plan is to maintain subtle surveillance — the role of Night Rangers unless, of course, there’s more than mischief at work out here. Remaining invisible will help, so as I call a carpet of weeds towards me I whisper ‘Verum Veras’, the glittering curtain of light forming around me.
Conrad will hover high in the sky, out of sight, until I close in on Joseph which is when closer surveillance begins. With the glittering curtain of protection surrounding me, I get my balance as I step onto the floating platform, leading me towards the jump Joseph Flint made moments ago and the mystery figure whose company he’s so keen to keep.
With other floating forms gliding past me, I whistle to my Williynx before jumping into the swirling atmosphere of light … reappearing on the other side of a moving landscape. The land moves like a collection of rivers, the soil bending and twisting in various directions towards different parts of The Shallows.
Once you get to your destination, the earth dips into a steep incline, offering a panoramic view of the district you’ve arrived at. I’m guessing Joseph is headed to Poridian Parlour: a place where weary wizards and witches gather. There’s a certain someone said to be hiding out there— someone I’d love to reacquaint myself with: Alice Aradel aka the evening witch.
Alice Aradel picked the wrong side in the last war, leaving her crew to scatter far and wide, desperate to avoid a trip along Quibbs Causeway: the mind-altering path where the Mantzils live. The Mantzils are invisible creatures able to unhinge the mind: a slice of evil not vanquished with the defeat of Erent Koll: The Prince of the Underworld.
As my brother, Jacob, once said: it’s naïve to hope for a world without evil — even a magical one — which is why Night Rangers and Society soldiers will always be needed, even when everything seems calm on the surface. If my guess is right, Alice Aradel’s got a hold over Joseph, identifying his weaknesses and making him pay for it … or so she thinks.
At the sight of a faint shower of light above me — the signal of Conrad’s descent into action — I ready my weapons through the command of ‘Comeuppance’. Taking out two steel objects from my leather trouser pocket, I throw them into the air, imagining two silver swords, and they transform into just that … the handles falling gently into my hands. The artefact is a Vaspyl, better known as morphing steel.
Alice Aradel might be the evening witch, but I’m The Fire Witch and she’s about to meet an old foe, ready to transport her to the very place she fears: The Velynx. The Velynx is a place for bad things and bad people, Alice Aradel falling neatly into this category. Wanted for crimes including theft of rare artefacts and attempted kidnap (of me), she must be pretty desperate to have to call on Joseph Flint for help.
I blink to clear my vision after passing through the sphere of light, keen for Conrad to appear. The single turquoise feather signifies his arrival before he dismounts, walking alongside me with his own weapons at the ready … energy as opposed to mass in the form of fireballs spinning around his arms and wrists. It looks like Alice Aradel is in for the surprise of her life.
With his feathered companion joining mine, gliding in the air above us, Conrad fixes his gaze ahead. “Do you think it’s her?” he asks in reference to Alice Aradel.
“Possibly. Who else would have got into Joseph’s head?”
“He’s fragile,” Conrad adds, ever conscious of the mistake his deceased dad made: a mistake he made up for with a crushing sacrifice.
“He is,” I agree, enjoying the thrill of tracing danger. “Let’s just hope he hasn’t done anything stupid.”
“If he’s caught up with Alice Aradel, he would’ve been put up to it,” Conrad states. “She’s got a way of putting the frighteners on people.”
“Not on me.”
“Me neither, but Joseph isn’t built for battle; he’s never recovered from the death of his sister.”
I say nothing to this, familiar with the nature of grief. Conrad’s been taken to places I haven’t, though, having lost his mum and dad in the space of a few months. He’s right — Joseph Flint is broken and needs to be extracted from anything he’s caught up in, meaning whoever’s holding him to ransom is about to feel the heat of a witch’s fire.
Creating his own invisibility charm, Conrad allows his arms to fall by his side, allowing the fireballs swirling around his hands to fade to a temperate glow. Our weapons may or may not be needed, but no trained warrior steps beyond The Society Sphere unarmed. Peace might have returned to the S.P.M.A. but that still leaves Melackin, malevs and black market rats to keep an eye on: ‘the triad of trouble’ I like to call them.
Malev is short for malevolent (meaning malicious and spiteful) whilst Melackin are rehabilitated wizards: my mum falling into that category. Black market rats are the shifty group that survive by trading of harmless objects, like Sootherals that send children to sleep in seconds. Every above ground parent is after a Sootheral, travelling to Society Square from all over England in search of the precious device.
No magical artefact is supposed to end up in the hands of above-ground folk, but perfection doesn’t exist in any world: magical or otherwise. As long as the questionable ones among us aren’t putting the Society in danger, the elders don’t lose too much sleep over it. I should probably mention now that ‘the elders’ are the people who debate procedures, but it’s The Orium Circle who make all the laws.
Made up of six people, The Orium Circle are the most senior witches and wizards in the S.P.M.A. I know one of them particularly well — Weyen Lyell — the wizard with the wicked afro who survived a blistering war in The Saralin Sands.
As our Williynx spread out their vast wings, offering further protection, Conrad points to the figure entering Poridian Parlour.
“I doubt he’s travelling every day to have tea and cake,” he says, whistling for his Williynx to shape-shift into a smaller form: a necessary action in a space where peace and tranquility is the general rule.
The soil twists and turns in various directions, representing each traveller’s path. Each footprint has the S.P.M.A. logo emblazoned in the soil — one of the conditio
ns of Society members moving within and beyond The Society Sphere.
Anyone thinking of doing anything really stupid can be tracked via their footprint … the S.P.M.A. logo within the footprint carefully cut out of the soil and placed into a Nivrium — better known as a water reader.
If the intent is bad or unclear, surveillance is placed on the figure in question, which is where Night Rangers come in. Casper Renn - Kaira’s dad who still runs The Cendryll - has put a surveillance order on Joseph Flint.
‘Subtle surveillance’ was how he put it, knowing me too well, although subtlety isn’t my strong point. I mean, what’s the point of being The Fire Witch if you can’t have a little fun?
“So, fire for your entrance or something a little more low key?” Conrad asks with a smile: those eyes. He’s jokingly referring to my chosen mode of entrance, wondering if I’m going to appear from the invisibility charm or activate the Smekelin charm to burst through a wall of flames.
“That depends on who Joseph’s wining and dining, although fire always makes people spill the beans.”
“Well,” Conrad adds, “try not to burn the place down this time.”
“That was only once,” I counter, loving how my leather trousers complete my witchy look. Jacob tells me the handful of Society kids he’s teaching think I’m a vampire. Stories of me sleeping in the day and moving at impossible speed fill his classroom, making me want to drop by to release a flurry of Ameedis: vampiric birds to reinforce the myth. Jacob doesn’t think that’s a good idea; I tell him he’s lost his sense of humour
“We enter unseen and strike if necessary,” Conrad suggests, reigniting his balls of fire within the glittering curtain of protection, keeping us out of sight as we near the region resting in a quarry, buildings bursting out in every direction. Some of the buildings hang horizontally, rooted into the face of the quarry and suspended by magical forces.
