Spellfall (23 page)

“They’re even taking a picnic!” Tim said in an attempt to shake off his nerves. “There goes the coffee.”

Jo sighed. “Be serious. Tell me when it’s clear and I’ll go in and start looking for Nat. You’d better keep an eye on the kidnappers and warn me if they come back.”

Tim was reluctant to let her go into the house alone but it made sense. She couldn’t exactly keep an eye on people she couldn’t see, and if they both went inside they could easily get trapped and find themselves prisoners too. “Maybe you should just ring the police now?” he said. “They’re obviously up to something. It’d be safer.”

Jo gave him a scornful look. “Great! So how are they going to see the people they’re supposed to arrest? We’d end up in custody ourselves for wasting police time.” Then she touched his arm and her tone gentled. “I promise I’ll phone as soon as I find Nat or if there’s any trouble. Whichever comes first.” She patted the mobile in the pocket of her ski jacket.

Tim had a horrible feeling he knew which would come first but didn’t say anything. The blonde woman had vanished round the corner after the others, leaving the door open. Now all the lights were off an eerie purple glow could be seen flickering behind the house. They waited a few minutes to be certain no one was coming back then quietly scaled the gates. Jo gave him the thumbs-up, switched on her torch and disappeared into the lodge. Curious in spite of his fear, Tim crept towards that purple glow.

The Casters had assembled on an archery range a short distance from the house. They had set fire to some of their arrows, which they were holding aloft like huge sparklers. Tim crouched behind the nearest target and covered his nose. The flames were bright purple like something from a chemistry experiment and even from here the sickly odour of burnt sugar turned his stomach. As he watched, the spellclave formed a circle around the feathered man. Tim’s heart gave an uncomfortable lurch as he counted them.

Thirteen.

The feathered man was saying something, his words faint in the purple smoke. Tim worked his way closer, using the targets as cover.

“...priority is digging for roots...”

“...once the Raven’s safely at work, we can look for the runaways...”

“...Hunter’ll soon find them...”

“...teach that boy a lesson he’ll never forget...”

Then the blonde woman said something that sent uneasy mutters round the circle. In answer, the feathered man swung his stick and lashed her across the face. She fell to her knees with a little cry, and her fire-arrow went flying in an arc of purple sparks. The others ducked as it hissed over their heads and plunged into the grass where it started a small blaze.

The feathered man glared around the circle. “If the girl’s still with him, we’ll deal with her too. She might have opened the Thrallstone but she’s not yet come into her full powers, and thanks to Rabbit here our spellclave is complete at last.” He pointed his stick at one of the women, who gripped her fire-arrow tighter and gave him a nervous little smile. “Now, I don’t want to hear another word about failure. Never underestimate the Power of Thirteen!”

The blonde woman picked herself up and silently lit another arrow. The others pointedly ignored her. “Lord Hawk!” they cried as purple sparks spat into the night. “Long live Lord Hawk!”

*

Neck prickling, Tim retreated along the line of targets until he reached the trees, then hurried back to the Lodge.

“Jo!” he hissed, shining his torch into the shadows. He’d feared a long search but she was crouched behind the stairs, trying to pick a lock with a hairgrip. She sprang up, a fierce look in her eyes, a pair of broken rollerblades dangling from her hand. “I found Sarah’s skates upstairs! Nat’s definitely been here and this door’s locked. Looks like some sort of cellar. If they’ve got her down there—”

“She’s not in there,” Tim said. “They’re hunting her in the woods. Phone the police.
Now!
”

Jo stared at him in horror. “
Hunting
her?”

“She must have escaped. I heard them discussing her. Somehow, she got through the Thrallstone into Earthaven and now they’re going after her with bows and fire-arrows. Phone, Jo. Now! We can’t do this alone any more.” He made a grab for her mobile but she shrugged him off and put it to her ear. She shook her head.

“What’s wrong?”

“No signal. I’ll go outside.”

Tim had started to follow but heard footsteps crunch on the gravel outside. A shadow crossed the window of the room to their right. There was a shed on that side of the house he remembered. The path led past it to the front door. Jo was on the step, her back turned, frowning and punching numbers on her dad’s phone, shaking it in frustration. He hissed her name and waved frantically to attract her attention but she moved further outside, intent on the phone.

Tim hesitated a fraction of a second, then darted into the room and flung himself at the window. It had an old-fashioned catch, which opened with a rusty screech. The figure outside whirled in surprise, a huge hawk flapping for balance on its left wrist. Two sets of yellow eyes glared at Tim as Lord Hawk swung his stick round with a hiss. “Who are you?” he demanded. “What were you doing in there? How come you can see past the illusions?”

Tim looked desperately for Jo. She was out in the open, phone pressed to her ear, staring at him. No telling if she could see the hawk-man but he had to assume not. “
Go!
” he mouthed, then plunged into the brambles and fled for the little gate in the wall at the back of the garden. “Ya, Caster!” he yelled over his shoulder as he ran, sticking out his tongue. “Your stupid spells don’t work on me!”

As he’d hoped, the hawk-man came after him.

Tim darted through the gate and into the trees before he risked another look back. His pursuer had stopped just outside the wall, breathing hard, the hawk still on his wrist. “Can’t catch me!” Tim called and plunged into the wood, dodging the black trunks, crunching frosty leaves underfoot, biting his tongue every time he stumbled and knocked his blisters. There was no sound of pursuit. He began to worry the hawk-man had gone back to the lodge and caught Jo. Then a prickling sensation at the back of his neck made him glance up.

The hawk was coming straight for him, swift and low, its wings slicing the night like silent blades. Only just in time, Tim threw himself face down in the mud. The bird plummeted into the leaves beside his ear before flapping off,
caaa-ing
, into the night.

Cautiously, his heart still thudding, Tim regained his feet and brushed himself off. Hopefully, Jo would have the sense to get on her bike and pedal like mad. He’d detour until she’d had a chance to get clear then work his way back. Give her, say, ten minutes.

As he peered at his watch, the moon blurred. For a second, everything glittered as if a veil had been taken from his eyes. He had time to think,
midnight
. Then the most excruciating pain shot up his legs, pierced his spine, and exploded in his head. It took him a moment to realise what was happening. But he'd felt Oq touch his memories before, and the feeling was unmistakeable.

A scream escaped him. He heard a stick thrashing the undergrowth and quickly clamped his teeth into his lower lip. But that scream had already betrayed him. A boot swam into his vision. The stick prodded his cheek.

“Twist your ankle, did you?” Lord Hawk sounded amused. “How unfortunate, but that’s the Opening for you. There’ll be a lot of accidents tonight. Most humans put it down to the dark or bad weather but some of us know otherwise – don’t we?” The stick prodded harder. “Who sent you?”

Tim gritted his teeth. “No one,” he hissed, fighting the alien presence in his head. “I came to rescue Nat.”

Lord Hawk chuckled. “That’s what the Thrall said. Pity I haven’t time to question you properly just now but I’m sure you understand I’ve more important things to do tonight.”

The stick raised against the stars, reversed so its heavy handle hung above his head. Tim made an effort to get up but the agony came again, pouring out of the ground in black waves.

He didn’t feel the stick come down.

Chapter 16

THE OPENING

Midnight, Saturday October 31

~~*~~

The Opening roused Natalie from a nightmare in which she’d been turned inside-out and transported into the wall of the Lodge cellar, helplessly trapped as slimy creatures that lived between the stones crawled closer and closer.

It took her a moment to realize the wet warm thing sliming her face wasn’t some monstrous slug, but K’tanaqui’s anxious tongue. She had to push the magehound away so she could be sick. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, retrieved her glasses and looked around.

Moonlight cast stark shadows through interlaced branches. There was an unnatural silence as if the whole world were holding its breath. Then a sudden inrush of chill air, swirling her hair and spiralling leaves over her legs, which were buried in loose soil.

She kicked free with a shudder. “What happened, K’tanaqui? Where’s Merlin?” She had a sudden horrible thought. “That wasn’t… that wasn’t the Raven-weapon going off?”

Her magehound, apparently satisfied she was in one piece, stopped sniffing at her and blinked his amber eyes.
Not Rrraven, but Boundarrry open now. Enemies crrross, see everrrything until dawn. Mouse-pup safe. Much dangerrr to soultrrree.

Natalie picked herself up and brushed the dirt from her breeches, trying to think. “Merlin blew it again, didn’t he? Where are we, K’tanaqui?”

She wasn’t really surprised to learn they were still inside Earthaven, half a day’s walk from the Boundary. They had materialized on top of another cache of spells buried for recycling, though not as deep as usual.
Orrr pup would be burrried too,
K’tanaqui added, tongue lolling in his wet magehound laugh.

“That’s not funny,” Natalie said. “Now we’ll never reach the authorities in time to stop Lord Hawk! Merlin’s such an idiot. I should’ve taken that unicorn while I had the chance, I might have known he’d make a mess of things and now Mother’s going to die—” She choked and clenched her fists.

Mouse-pup trrried,
K’tanaqui said reprovingly, licking her hand.
At least we arrre alive and togetherrr.

She clutched his ruff and buried her face in his sweet-smelling coat. “You’re right,” she said, starting to think again. “If we can’t stop Hawk bringing the Raven into Earthaven, then we have to stop him using it when he gets here.” She took a deep breath. “Can you find the Casters, K’tanaqui?”

He flipped his ear.
Of courrrse. Casterrrs smell verrry strrrong.

“How close?”

The magehound sniffed the wind.
Maybe an hourrr. Casterrrs come this way, thirrrteen now. Arrrogant hawk comes too.
His lips drew back in a snarl. Then his voice took on a puzzled tone.
Also one human, no powerrr. Most strrrange.

“Have they used the Raven yet?”

Not yet.

Natalie straightened her shoulders and pushed her hair behind her ears. She drew a deep breath. “Take me to them.”

K’tanaqui gave her a steady look.
Pup brrrave, like motherrr
.

She flushed. “I’m not brave, I just haven’t any choice. Oq’s sealed the root system. We’re closest.”

Always choice. Pup make brrrave one.

K’tanaqui led the way at a good pace, his silver form threading silently between the dark trunks. Natalie followed, feeling very small and alone. She didn’t have the first idea what she was going to do when she found the spellclave. The very thought of seeing her kidnappers again turned her cold all over, so she blanked her mind and pushed herself to keep up. She didn’t allow herself to feel the chill of the night, nor the bruises on her feet, nor the dreadful danger, pretending instead that she was taking her dog for a walk through Unicorn Wood with nothing more to worry about than whether Julie had cooked chips for tea.

This worked so well that when K’tanaqui suddenly halted and growled softly, she almost tripped over him.

Pup bewarrre,
he said.
Casterrrs ahead with spellfirrre.

Natalie blinked at the purple glow flickering through the dark branches. Then she smelt it too. The same horrible smell that had filled the cellar when the goshawk ate Itsy.

Her heart started to race. “What are they doing?” she whispered.

Digging
, her magehound replied, full of scorn.
Casterrrs not verrry good at it.

“Digging? What for? Are they looking for spells?” She crept as close as she dared and parted the leaves.

Hawk’s back was turned, his attention on the activity in the clearing, but at the sight of him her skin tightened. She fought an overpowering urge to leap up and flee. The spellclave had assembled around a colony of moonflowers, flaming arrows held aloft. The spell smoke tainted the flowers’ scent, neutralizing its effect. As Natalie watched, Lord Hawk stepped forward and prodded the white petals with his stick. He nodded. Black-bearded Ferret and another man picked up spades and started to dig. Soon, two large mounds of soil devastated the moonflower colony. Ferret scraped with his spade, then reached quickly into the trench and gave a triumphant shout. The Casters crowded forward for a closer look, but fell back again as Hawk strode to the edge. Almost invisible in the branches of a nearby oak, the spellclave’s goshawk screeched.