Witching Games: The Fire Witch Chronicles 1

by R A Lindo

  “Maybe they’re annoyed we interrupted their little deal with Alice,” I add, offering a sarcastic smile to the female figure who looks like she’s in need of a shower — the greasy hair and dirty fingernails doing nothing for her appearance. I’ve met this kind before: a detached breed, enjoying the power they wield.

  They end up being harmless robots who carry out their duty of protecting the Society or, more rarely, gifted witches and wizards with dark dreams of dominance. I’m not sure where these two fit in but one thing’s for certain, they haven’t dropped by to play a game of Rucklz.

  “I think they’re here for us,” Conrad says, uttering ‘Comeuppance’ to ready his Vaspyl for transformation: morphing steel for malevs in waiting.

  The silent pair probably aren’t dangerous but nothing’s left to chance these days, so I call over the tired waiter and order a round of Jysyn Juice. It’s a Society remedy designed to provide courage to the more nervous in our circle. Courage isn’t required but patience is, so I flip the Vaspyl in my hand, waiting for the two Domitus to make their move.

  “We can’t have a staring contest all night,” Lucy says, her impatience getting the better of her. “The Domitus are famous for their silence so let’s break it — go over and say hello.”

  “Why?” Noah queries, wishing this was already over so he can persuade us to head to his favourite part of The Society Sphere, continuing and his endless pursuit of Zoe Tallis.

  “To find out if we need to track them or move on.”

  “I say move on,” Noah replies with a wink and a smile — an obvious attempt to abandon the cause. “If they were bad eggs, we’d know about it by now.”

  “We didn’t know about my mum until it was almost too late,” I counter, holding Noah’s gaze to shut him up. He’s being distracted by romantic leanings and as much as I get that, we’ve got a job to do. “We wait until they leave or make their move, whatever that’s going to be.”

  “It might just be them flexing their muscles,” Conrad suggests, tapping my arm in a gesture of pause. He’s worried I’m spoiling for a fight which I’m not, but I do want answers so we can establish the truth of Alice Aradel’s supposed fears.

  “Well, if we’re going to have a staring contest I think we’re going to need cake,” Noah says, rubbing his pot belly.

  “You can’t still be hungry,” Lucy comments, the faint flames of the Promesiun charm decorating her hands.

  Patting his belly, Noah adds, “It’s the night shift blues … always gets me.”

  “Then don’t do them.”

  “But then I wouldn’t see your lovely mug.”

  Lucy shakes her head, deciding to return her attention to the static pair who look upwards at nothing in particular, as if they’ve got a seventh sense to the creatures moving in The Society Sphere. It adds to the enigma they’re clearly working hard to maintain: a pathetic waste of energy if you ask me.

  At the end of the day, we’re all warriors fighting for the same cause. Well, that’s the theory, at least.

  11

  Shifting Winds

  As the rooms in Poridian Parlour begin to empty, Noah focuses on the cake as we sit out the first part of the evening, maintaining our silent stand-off with the emotionless pair. It’s difficult to judge whether they’re just miserable gits passing the time, or if there’s more to it.

  I shake my head when offered the final slice of cake — Noah and Conrad having demolished the rest — focusing my attention on the mood of the pair. If taking out a Nivrium wasn’t such an obvious move, I’d retrieve one from my Keepeasy and place it on the table. A glass of water poured into the water reader would activate the three silver lines, giving us more of a clue to the intentions of the emotionless pair.

  Jacob’s right when he says I can be paranoid but, then again, I was right on the very first day I met Kaira, sitting in Quandary Corner and watching adults come-and-go in the middle of the night. They, of course, weren’t paying attention to me sat alone on the ground floor of The Cendryll, not doing a very good job of disguising their movements.

  That little dance led to all sorts of madness, including being chased by Melackin and tracking a mysterious lady in white. The lady staring over at me isn’t dressed in white, silver-grey garments covering her body, and she isn’t trying to hide anything — but the lack of communication between the two of them has its own mystery, as if they want to stand out.

  “Odin Blin,” whispers Noah through a mouthful of cake.

  I can see why he’s got the pot belly now, being averse to anything nutritious.

  “Who’s the lucky girl?” I ask, gesturing towards the static lady with the dead eyes.

  “Neve Farraday,” Lucy adds, stirring her tea with a silver spoon. “They’re not the sort of people you see around here, normally stuck out in Drandok taming Silverbacks.”

  “A miserable place for miserable people,” Conrad adds, getting impatient with the status quo. “Look, we either go over and say something or move on. There’s no law against sitting in silence and staring at people — maybe that’s their thing.”

  “I say we introduce ourselves,” I suggest.

  “You would,” Noah comments, never one to want to ruffle feathers. “Let’s just get out of here and have some fun. Isn’t that the point of being a Night Ranger? The ability to go wherever you want, when you want.”

  “I’m with Guppy and Conrad,” Lucy adds, deactivating the Promesiun charm as she stands, indicating no desire for conflict.

  As she does this, the pair of Domitus stand from the table near the entrance, flicking a glimmer of light into the air … light courtesy of the Spintz charm … a signal for something waiting outside.

  “The Silverbacks,” I whisper. “Got to be. They’ve come to flex their muscles.”

  “Silverbacks out here?” Noah queries, suddenly losing his appetite.

  “Probably,” Conrad adds. “Ego and attitude; I’ve seen it all before. They’re obviously allowed to ride tame Silverbacks beyond Drandok: a little power play. Boring, if you ask me. Come on, let’s go and roam somewhere with a bit more fun.”

  The sudden shudder causes us to pause, studying the pair as they make their exit towards whatever’s waiting for them outside. It’s the Riadek: Silverbacks with an attitude. I mean, what else makes that kind of racket in the middle of the night?

  The old me would want to follow them to check out their training ground in Drandok, but that’s not my role now, maturity having mellowed me at some point. Instead, we head over to the window, catching sight of Odin and Neve Blin as the expected creatures descend from the sky, their huge wing span only rivalled by the Williynx.

  If there was ever a statement of intent, this is it, risking bringing their Silverbacks into a busy realm beyond The Society Sphere. It isn’t illegal but it definitely isn’t encouraged, and I don’t like the statement; I don’t like it at all.

  As Odin and Neve Blin climb onto their Silverbacks, they glance up at the window we’re stationed at: a strange smile touching Neve’s mouth.

  “I told you it was for us,” I state. “They want something from us.”

  “Like what?” Noah asks.

  “Like a duel in the sky to test who’s boss,” Conrad suggests, rubbing his fingers together: a sign he’s plotting something.

  “Well, we’ve got the best sky rider in the S.P.M.A.,” Lucy says, watching the figures as they roar through the sky, disappearing seconds later. “If they want a duel, let’s give them one.”

  “A duel with Silverbacks?” Noah queries, suddenly looking a little pale.

  On the surface, it looks like a strong breeze would blow him over, but his anxiety turns to measured fury when he’s tested. His quirky dress sense also gives the impression of a mild mannered wizard, but he’s far from it if you get on the wrong side of him. Chinos, T-shirts and waistcoats are his current look, never bothering with a coat unless the temperature falls below zero.

  “If they want a duel, they can have o
ne,” Conrad states with a look of defiance.

  Like me, he hates bullies and never backs down when faced with one. Odin and Neve are either bullies or have a fiercely competitive spirit, and there’s nothing wrong with the latter. In fact, the more I think about it, the more a duel in the sky between Silverbacks and Williynx sounds like fun.

  A gladiator battle without the killing. We’ve got remedies for minor injuries and can easily organise referees to oversee the friendly rivalry — the friendly part being a loose term. The Silverbacks have armour as a weapon and the Williynx have ice: ice that killed The Prince of the Underworld so I know who my money’s on.

  “Right, we’re out of cake and talking about crazy duels,” Noah says, watching the Silverbacks rise into the evening sky. “I say we get out of here before we agree on something I’m going to regret.”

  “Not The Singing Quarter unless you agree to the duel,” Conrad says with a mischievous smile.

  He knows how much Noah loves to be the centre of the attention, and The Singing Quarter is always full of life, humming until the early morning hours: a welcome break from Night Ranging.

  “I’m in,” Lucy says, nudging Noah as she walks past. “Come on, Sinatra. Clear your lungs and find your courage. You never know, mentioning the duel might get Zoe’s attention.”

  That perks Noah up — the thought of Zoe Tallis finally going on a date with him.

  “Only if I get to sing three songs and you sing along with me.”

  Conrad heads for the door at this request, realising he’s been out manoeuvred.

  “Did I hear a ‘yes’ from the sky-rider of the century?”

  Noah doesn’t get a yes, so it remains to be seen if Conrad’s willing to risk public ridicule to put The Domitus in their place.

  The Singing Quarter is situated on the south side of The Society Sphere. It’s the most boisterous of the four quarters, drawing high-spirited witches and wizards who like to shake off their Society duties with remedies and revelry. It’s hilarious to walk through a shop in the above ground section, maintaining its hum drum tones, before stepping through a Perium into a hidden world of magic and revelry.

  It got its name from a group of wizards who refused to stop singing until a law on opening hours changed. Apparently, the Society elders were more uptight in the past, thinking there should be a curfew on fun. The singing wizards got their way, mainly because they started singing between worlds, belting out their tunes above ground: a sight that brought unwanted attention to them.

  The tipping point was when the police arrived in Merrymopes, the famous milkshake and ice cream parlour, responding to complaints from above-ground residents. The singing wizards ran upstairs when they spotted the police, pretending to be terrified but knowing they were heading to a Perium on the top floor.

  Apparently, the two policemen waited for over an hour, insisting they come out, finally getting the key for the door only to find the room empty. DRUNKEN ASSAILANTS EVADE CAPTURE was the headline in the above-ground papers, leading to a reconsideration of the law on opening times in popular drinking establishments.

  The Singing Quarter isn’t decorated by perpetual snow like The Winter Quarter; its magic is more subtle. We appear by Rebel’s Rest with Conrad still mulling over Noah’s deal: a duet for a duel. I leave him to make up his own mind, knowing how embarrassed he gets at the thought of public displays.

  “I bet any money he gives in,” Noah whispers as we turn down the alleyway leading to Rebel’s Rest.

  “A thousand Kyals?” I say, offering to relieve him of the money he won from Taeia in Pat’s Caff.

  “A thousand? I thought we were friends?”

  “Sorry, I thought you were confident.”

  “Have you even got a thousand Kyals?”

  “I can get my hands on it.”

  “I bet money he doesn’t,” Lucy counters in reference to Conrad refusing the duet for a duel deal. “He’s too shy.”

  I could tell Lucy a few things but she’s weird about personal stuff.

  “Okay, the bet’s on. A thousand Kyals a piece,” Noah states with confidence, moments before Conrad bursts into song — a sight that even shocks me.

  The three of us watch Conrad do a ‘Singing in the Rain’ rendition, swinging around a lamp post as he activates a Spintz charm, sending showers of light above him, manipulating them so they fall like raindrops around him.

  “Is he drunk?” Lucy asks, mouth open at the sight.

  The strangest part is that Conrad can sing, bellowing out the notes in the most surprising event of the evening. Noah’s lost his bet and needs to focus on reaching Conrad’s heights: the thought of a duel with The Domitus hanging over him.

  I click my fingers for him to hand over the bag of Kyals — Society money — pocketing it in my Keepeasy stitched into the pocket of my leather trousers. Keepeasies make things disappear until you need them again, and I’m already thinking what artefact I can get my hands on with the money. It’s not a case of needing things but it’s fun to barter for things on the Trading Lane in Tallis & Crake.

  Noah grudgingly agrees to deliver Lucy’s thousand Kyals in the morning, reverting to his habitual sulk on facing losses. He’s a terrible loser but needs to get over himself if he’s going to woo Zoe Tallis with talk of a duel in the sky. With the bet decided and the noise reverberating from Rebel’s Rest, Conrad ends his spontaneous musical rendition, returning to my side.

  “You never do that for me,” I tease, taking his hand as we head towards the entrance, looking forward to an evening of remedy and revelry.

  “I’ve been waiting for the right moment,” he says with that smile.

  “Maybe you can do it again later.”

  “I’ll see how the throat feels,” he adds, putting his arm around my waist: the boy with more secret talents than I know what to do with.

  “So, should I drop the ‘duel’ thing in before or after my songs?” Noah asks, rubbing his hands in preparation.

  I want to say ‘before’ because he can’t sing to save his life, but as he’s lost the bet I go easy on him, eventually suggesting, “afterwards”.

  “Work your magic first,” Lucy suggests, finding the whole obsession with Zoe Tallis ridiculous. “Then by the time you get to the duel, she’ll be eating out of your hand.”

  “Or begging for mercy,” Conrad adds, darting through the door before Noah can grab him.

  A roar goes up as we enter, mainly from the group of friends we’ve formed here: not Night Rangers but faculty-based members who think sleep is a waste of time.

  “The Singing Magician!” Jalem shouts from the back of the strangely named ‘rest rooms’.

  The group pounce on Noah, ruffling his floppy dark hair out of affection. They’re pure fun with no hidden agenda, keen to hear of our exploits throughout The Society Sphere, but equally keen to have a good time: an ideal reminder to enjoy the universe of wonders we somehow found our way into.

  “What’s the song?” Harvey asks, handing us glasses of Liqin — a remedy designed to remove hallucinations but also effective at relaxing the mind: non-alcoholic of course.

  “I’m not sure,” Noah says, following Jalem’s lead, downing the first glass of Liqin. “Conrad’s just done a version of Singing in the Rain.”

  The jovial group pause in puzzlement, turning their attention to Conrad who’s easing away into the corner.

  “No way,” says Ilina. “Conrad sings?”

  “Like an angel,” Noah offers grudgingly.

  “Duet!” comes the expected cry: a request Conrad’s ready for, knowing the pain of performance will get him his duel with The Domitus.

  “One song,” he says, looking on edge, “then I’ve kept my side of the bargain.”

  “What bargain?” Jalem asks, a friend most easily described as all bones and angles.

  “A duet for a duel,” I say.

  “A duel? With who?”

  “The Domitus.”

  And with that, the rest roo
ms fall silent.

  12

  Duets & Duels

  Ilina breaks the silence as concerned gazes rest on us, mainly from Society elders who’ve got a habit of shaking their heads when young wizards are mentioned. There’s not a lot of head shaking at the moment — more expressions of annoyance at the rumour of a duel amongst comrades.

  “Who’s authorised a duel?” Ilina questions, maintaining her Gothic look complete with flowers in her hair.

  I wonder if she thinks she’s in a film, surrounded by a group of adoring men who do everything to protect her. Not that she’s a damsel in distress or anything; she just gives off that vibe. Ilina can hold her own in any crowd, her sharp wit putting many of her peers in their place. She’s wise, too, meaning the look on her face suggests she thinks the duel is a bad idea.

  “No one’s authorised it,” Conrad replies, sipping the Liqin in the knowledge the rumours are going to spread, meaning our Scribberals will be rattling when we return to The Cendryll.

  Scribberals are the communication device used in the Society. It’s a silver box with a small handle. You write your message and place it into the box. Once the lid is closed, you swipe the handle the side and whoosh — the message vanishes, appearing in the Scribberal belonging to the person you’re writing to seconds later.

  “No one will authorise it,” Jalem adds, stooping to avoid the lampshade above his head. “It’s the sort of thing that starts rivalries, and we all know where they lead.”

  “Relax, Jalem,” Conrad states as he gulps down the Liqin. “It’s just a bit of competition: one sky rider to another.”

  “I doubt The Orium Circle will see it that way,” Harvey adds, the opposite of Jalem with trousers that burst at the waist.

  Noah might have a pot belly but Harvey has an overall roundness: ‘genetics’ he likes to say. “No one’s going to allow you to duel with the Riadek. They rip through flesh.”