by R A Lindo
Families live in the buildings and walk around in the rooms as they would any house … the only difference being when they leave through the front door, they need a flight charm to stop them crashing to their death. There’s a charm for everything in the S.P.M.A. and if you know the incantation, you can make a flower attach to your arm, spinning like a propellor to guide you safely to your destination.
As Society families go about their business, floating to and from their houses, Conrad and I stick to more traditional travel, walking through the busy region towards a place the weary and wise frequent: Poridian Parlour. It’s a big, white building that’s shaped like a palace, dominating the quarry
Each room draws a different crowd: one for tea and cake and another for the more competitive minded immersed in board games. The grandest room is for private gatherings, full of professors obsessing over formulas for new charms. Joseph is likely to be in the tea rooms, drawn to his mysterious contact once more, probably engaged in a game with the odds stacked against him.
We step through the busy entrance of Poridian Parlour, heading for the tea rooms and a potential duel with the evening witch.
4
Unfinished Business
We spot Joseph in the furthest corner of the tearooms, sitting with his back to us — reinforcing the sense he doesn’t want to be seen. The busy room, decorated by tables full of tempting cakes, makes it hard to work out who his companion is, but I’m already sure it’s Alice Aradel. Our Williynx maintain their tiny forms, fluttering through the air nearby.
As we ease our way past the crowded tables of witches and wizard, I spot the disfigured face keeping Joseph company. Disfigurement is a common trick used by Society members who want to go unnoticed. The combination of two Society remedies — Laudlum and Srynx Serum — causes purple veins to bulge in your neck and face, making you almost unrecognisable.
The disfigurement charm doesn’t disguise Alice Aradel well enough, the evening witch sensing her chosen meeting point isn’t as safe as she originally thought. Her thin, pale hands are a giveaway along with the heavy red lipstick she always wears. Thinner than I remember, she still emanates menace — the very vindictiveness that’s caught a harmless wizard like Joseph in her web.
“It’s her,” Conrad whispers as we near, the glittering interior of our invisibility charm deactivated just at the right moment … close enough to be in striking range whilst narrowing Alice Aradel’s potential escape routes. She notices our presence too late, engrossed in whatever Joseph has brought for her to view … magical artefacts probably unlikely to be of the harmless kind.
Whatever she’s put Joseph up to is about to be revealed before an evening witch gets her comeuppance. The steel artefacts on the circular table are gathered up by Joseph at the sight of Alice Aradel’s changing expression. He pulls his worn, black cloak tighter in a sign of unease, turning to face two familiar figures staring closing in on him.
“Morning, Joseph,” Conrad offers, ensuring the blue fireballs swirling around his hands are in full view.
The eccentric wizard grips his leather satchel closer to his body, stuttering a nervous response. “Morning, Master Kusp. A pleasant surprise to bump into you.”
Some older wizards keep up the ‘Master’ / ‘Miss’ greeting for some reason, probably their passive-aggressive way of hinting their dislike of under age members in the Society. Tough I say, because these two underage wizards saved their universe from destruction while they were scrambling for cover.
“You seemed in a bit of hurry this morning,” I add, keeping Alice Aradel in my peripheral vision. She’s clearly reaching for something in the pocket of her red coat. Hopefully, it’s not a move to activate a charm — the one false move I need to render her powerless and on the way to a slime-covered cell in The Velynx.
“I … I was in a hurry, Miss Grayling,” Joseph offers in reply, his thinning black hair and ripped black gown reminding me of how fragile he is. I keep this in mind as Conrad lifts his right hand in a warning shot to Alice Aradel.
“We were just wondering what your sudden interest in The Shallows is, Joseph?” I add, my all-black attire of leather trousers and cropped top designed to show the war wounds marking my arms and stomach — fine scars acting as a reminder of my skill in tracking down malevs. Alice Aradel knows this only too well, once siding with a wizard with designs on destruction: Erent Koll.
Koll and his army came up against a significant Society force, including thousands of sleeping soldiers, sky urchins and giants from Sad Souls. As well as endless magic, the S.P.M.A. has might, crushing Koll and his evil army to keep things on an evil keel.
Since then, things have been fairly smooth in our secret universe, but there are always those drawn to the darker side of things and Alice Aradel is one of these people.
“I’ll have whatever’s in that satchel of yours, Joseph,” I add with a glimmer of a smile. I don’t like scaring people unnecessarily, particularly vulnerable wizards, but need to make the point that Night Rangers are always present … always tracking those who start acting shiftily, reminding them of the consequences of betrayal.
“Of course, Miss Grayling,” Joseph replies, nervously handing me his satchel. “Just common Society artefacts,” he adds.
I already know this, but also know that some common artefacts have uncommon magical powers like a Zombul, for example -- the first thing I take out of the leather satchel. A Zombul is a small silver artefact with tiny holes puncturing the top: a defensive device allowing the release of any creature under your control.
A quick look inside tells me no real crime has been committed; it’s just a simple trade with a witch skilled in the art of uneasy bargaining: a malev born with bad intentions. Alice Aradel is too weak and slow to overwhelm Conrad and me, which doesn’t stop her trying. Removing her right hand from her pocket, the flash of her penchant stone signals an attack in the form of a blast of colour and light streaking towards Conrad.
Conrad is also marked by war … far more conditioned for fire and fury than our weakened witch, uttering ‘DISIRA’ to extinguish Alice Aradel’s fire before adding ‘Fixilia’ to add a different tone to things … the sight of the evening witch grimacing at every movement causing Joseph to wring his hands in fear.
The eccentric wizard tries to back away from the mild carnage, almost falling off his chair and knocking over the petite woman bringing tea and cake to the table. I utter ‘Magneia’ to stop Joseph’s fall, mildly amused when he pauses mid collapse, his chair hovering on two legs.
“Easy, Joseph,” I say, putting the leather satchel over my shoulder. “We haven’t got to the tea and cake yet.”
With Joseph nodding in compliance, I deactivate the Magneia charm and help him back to the table. The Magneia charm is a simple magnetic force used to establish who’s in control. Jacob knows who’s in charge, and as Alice Aradel’s disfigured face turns a shade of red I think she’s getting the message too.
The petite waitress shuffles between the strange scene, keen to place the tea and cake on the table without getting caught up in our polite battle. As the waitress steps out of harm’s way, returning to the counter, Conrad deactivates the Fixilia charm and reaches for a cake, silver tray — popping it into his mouth in one go.
“You can lose the disguise now,” he says to Alice Aradel who glares in our direction, rubbing the back of her neck strained in a failed attempt to escape capture. When you’ve battled with colossal, fire-breathing beasts, vampiric birds and invisible, mind-bending monsters, an ageing witch is the least of your worries.
The only thing left to do now is join Conrad at the table, piling into the cakes and reaching for the tea. After all, a girl’s got to eat. We sit together like this for a few minutes, taking in the old-fashioned glamour of the tea rooms. The standout feature is the vaulted roof made of stained glass, the S.P.M.A. logo decorating the centre. It’s cool, all right, and with the mild drama of the morning under control, we get to the question of judgement.
Conrad and I sit between Joseph and Alice Aradel, ensuring neither of them attempt any sly moves. We carry our power lightly, I think, squeezing out as much fun as we can as we roam through the streets and skies, checking on shady figures whose movements are tracked on surveillance devices.
There are different types of tracking devices, small and large. The most user-friendly one is a Follygrin: a small, circular, leather-bound notebook you can carry around in your pocket. It’s the thing I used in the barber’s chair, watching Joseph Flint jump through the air on carpets made of white weeds, towards the place we’re sitting in now.
Panorilums are hidden in a normal-sized book, unfolding into a massive piece of parchment, allowing the user to track multiple people at once. The other surveillance device, and also the biggest, is a Tabulal, only found in The Orium where senior Society figures track gathering forces — forces with the potential to form war lines.
The Tabulals have been quiet in recent times, and our job is to keep it that way. With Conrad getting his fill of cake and tea, I turn my attention to Alice Aradel whose disguise is falling away. The purple veins bulging on her face fade, revealing the familiar vision underneath … of a fallen witch without the tribe who once protected her, hoping for mercy from the girl she once tried to kidnap: a girl with a habit of holding a grudge.
“Long time no see, Alice,” I begin, the two swords acting as my weapons resting on my lap. Joseph sits perfectly still alongside me, jolting every time I reach for more cake.
All work and no play isn’t the life of a Night Ranger, so I stuff another cake in my mouth and think of the flight back to The Cendryll. We’ll rise high into the sky once more … Conrad by my side … the boy with piercing green eyes and a taste for battle.
“Save the sarcasm, Grayling,” the evening witch offers in reply — we never were close.
Referring to me as ‘Grayling’ gives her a false sense of superiority, but she lost that edge a long time ago. Even before I fought in war, she wasn’t the sharpest witch or even the fiercest. Like all bullies, she targeted vulnerable wizards like Joseph who asks if it’s okay to have the last cake, making me feel guilty for stretching out this intervention. Joseph is innocent of wrong doing beyond offering a few common artefacts to a bad egg.
Does he know Alice Aradel is still in hiding because of her association with a dead, dark wizard? Does it matter? Not really because Aradel isn’t on the wanted list, so it’s more my issue than anyone else’s. In a nutshell, her plot failed, leaving the S.P.M.A. to live on and her sort to hide in the shadows.
“You’ve aged,” I say, sipping my tea whilst Conrad readies his counter move, sensing that Aradel might have one last trick up her sleeve.
“And you’re still a child,” she replies with a humourless smile. Her thin, gaunt face isn’t improved by the heavy, red lipstick.
“A child tasked with flushing out bad eggs, like you.”
“And taking them where, may I ask?” she prompts, looking up at the stained-glass roof as she does.
“The place for bad things and bad people,” Conrad adds in indirect reference to The Velynx — a statement that causes Joseph to whimper in fear.
“I’ve survived this long in the wild,” the evening witch states, rising out of her chair, “and I imagine I can survive a little longer.” She reveals her last move, attempting to flick open a Zombul to release a flurry of fury, but Conrad is one step ahead of her, whispering ‘Weveris’ to form a flying web which smothers the blast of vampiric birds attempting to burst free.
The sudden screech sends a wave of panic through the tea rooms, wizards and witches standing in defensive positions as swathes of light and energy burst into view … rising and circling towards the enemy force … a force many are just realising is the evening witch herself.
With Conrad muting Alice Aradel’s attack, the only option she has left is to flee, but the crowds have vacated their tables, merging their beams of multi-coloured light towards her, gesturing for Conrad, Joseph and I to step back from the table: an army of sleeping soldiers stepping into the fore once more.
“Not quite the morning I had in mind,” comes the voice of Elin Farraday: a kind, portly wizard related to a Society legend and friend.
I offer Elin a smile as I step back, realising my two swords won’t be needed. “An old foe trying to slither her way back in.”
“Well,” says Elin as he whips his charm towards the trapped figure of Alice Aradel, “it looks like she’ll be slithering her way to The Velynx. We can take it from here, Guppy.”
With a nod, Conrad and I whistle for our Williynx to return to a more majestic form which they do with elegance and ease — a vision of turquoise and powder blue gliding through the arcs of light and energy which have brought a fallen witch to her knees.
“I take it Joseph requires no attention?” Elin asks as we climb onto our feathered companions.
I leave the reply to Conrad who, after glancing at me, replies, “He’s fine. In the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Elin and Joseph exchanged a knowing glance as our Williynx take to the air, rising towards the vaulted, stained-glass roof.
“Jysyn Juice on you this evening, Joseph,” I say to ease the eccentric wizard’s nerves. It’s also a way of letting him know he’s not entirely off the hook.
With the evening witch dealt with, my powder-blue companion blows out a flume of white air — air that turns the stained-glass roof to liquid moments before we blast out of sight.
5
A Changing Cendryll
We glide through the sky, the cold air of the winter morning rushing by. The evening witch will be restricted by various charms before being questioned. Based on what she’s been up to, she’ll either be released with a clear warning or escorted to The Velynx where a slimy cell awaits her.
I doubt she’ll be there for long because her crimes don’t extend beyond illegal black market trading, and the alleged kidnap plot of young wizards who are now immersed in Society life. Only a select few know about Alice Aradel’s plan to kidnap us when the flames of war were at their highest.
Her dark deeds faded into insignificance when the dust settled, though, the collective trauma of hundreds dead, colossal creatures killed and a terrifying artefact destroyed dominating the memory.
Malevs ran for cover when wanted lists were compiled: the main figures on the list being the captors most loyal to Erent Koll: the evil wizard who perished under a blizzard of ice bullets and heroic sky urchins. The people in question continue to hide in places like The Shallows, but the realms beyond The Society Sphere are endless, and it would take an entire Society army to track them down.
The decision has been to rely on a loyal group of Night Rangers, leaving sleeping soldiers to recover from the trauma of war. Witches and wizards drawn to darkness always slither out of the shadows eventually, and when they do, I’ll be ready to re-introduce myself. The sight of swirling snow tells us we’re approaching The Winter Quarter — the hidden, magical part, at least — igniting Conrad’s desire to equal the scores in the sky.
“I gave you a head start earlier,” he says with a wry smile. “You know, always the gentleman.”
Erivan, his turquoise Williynx, morphs into a larger form, spreading its wings in expectation of a sudden surge of speed, and I brush my brown hair away from my face in preparation for round two.
I hate losing and Conrad knows it, tapping his legs against his Williynx to kick start the second race of the morning, sneaking a head start to trigger my anger: the very thing he wants to ensure the race is as fiercely contested as possible.
I race through the sky on the back of Laieya, closing in on Conrad who instructs his Williynx to release a blast of feathers: a simple trick to limit my vision, but this is easily navigated, a simple drop and spinning motion below the cloud of feathers, bringing the snow-covered streets of The Winter Quarter into view.
If only Kaira could see me now … racing through the sky with
snow touching my skin, releasing my own cloud of powder-blue feathers to add another layer of colour to a picturesque sky: proof that the bad times in the Society are over for now.
Conrad puts his unique skill as a sky rider into action, wanting this moment to last as he enacts a sudden, vertical ascent, climbing ever higher until I struggle to maintain his direction of flight. Then he releases a white web courtesy of the Weveris charm … a web that opens as it falls, leaving only one thing to do … spin off the Williynx and fall towards it, knowing this is what Conrad had planned all along.
Unlike our fall towards the snow-covered streets, there’s no shifty wizard to track and no mission to complete, so I let out a laugh as I fall, hearing Conrad’s yelp of joy behind me as we hit the web at the same time, grabbing onto each other as it wraps itself around us. The Weveris charm has a multitude of powers …. often used against the enemy, but also able to morph into protective forms like the romantic blanket around us now, cocooning us from the snow as we fall.
“You smell good,” I say as I hold on to Conrad, running my hand along the scar on his neck. He never likes me touching it, the scar reminding him of his dad’s tragic death, but Theodore died a hero and, as I keep reminding the boy I love, heroes deserve to be remembered.
“You don’t smell so bad yourself,” he quips as we fall at exhilarating speed, the white web tightening as if it senses our need for intimacy.
With a kiss, I run my hand through Conrad’s copper-blonde hair, the surge of warmth flooding through me as it always does. “So, ice or flight?” he asks in reference to how we’re going to enter another familiar realm.
