Spellfall (9 page)

“There was no point telling her! She’s a normal, happy little girl. She’s got friends, she goes to school. If you need proof, she can see in our world! She’ll hate Earthaven. I only wanted her to have a normal life.”

Mr Marlins seemed close to tears. If he hadn’t been so scared himself, Tim would have been embarrassed. He forced himself to stay calm and listen.

“What sort of life do you think she’ll have after the Casters have finished with her?” the Spell Lord was saying. “I agree it’s unusual she can see so well among you but that’s probably because she was born in your world. The important thing now is to get her out of the Casters’ hands before they do some irreparable damage. We’ll send K’tanaqui to find her. Meanwhile, you can distribute those spells you’ve been hoarding in your car before they die of old age. Better wait till after the Opening before you come up here again. We’re expecting trouble this year. As for your stepson... I’m sorry, but he’s seen too much.”

Tim’s blood chilled. It had been a struggle to follow the exchange, but he understood this last part only too well. He glared at Mr Marlins. “Do something!” he hissed.

His stepfather’s eyes slid away. He bowed to the Spell Lord, got into his car and drove away.

Tim stared after the vanishing tail lights in disbelief. “Coward!” he yelled.

*

After Mr Marlins had gone, the dog let go of Tim’s sleeve. But before he could make a run for it, two of the cloaked men detached themselves from the group around the truck and came to stand one each side of him. Tim glimpsed long knives glittering in their belts and changed his mind about running. He also changed his mind about hitching a ride. When the Spell Lord pointed to a fallen log and told him to sit, he had little choice but to obey.

While he waited, he turned his attention to the standing stone. It was about twice his height and twisted like the trunk of an ancient tree. With the fog drifting around its moss-clothed coils, it looked as if it had grown out of the earth itself. Shadows cast by the truck’s headlamps writhed around it. Just below eye level, a hole the size of a human head appeared to go right through the stone. The cloaked people were putting their sacks into this hole, yet strangely they didn’t come out the other side. Each time a sack disappeared, there was a green flare and a strange chill seeped out of the stone, penetrating Tim’s bones.

There had to be some kind of hidden mechanism, Tim decided, triggered by a lever inside the hole. Maybe the stone was hollow and the sacks were being stored inside it for collection later? What he really needed was a closer look. But every time he started to rise from the log, the dog growled and his two guards stiffened, causing the Spell Lord to glance his way. Tim sat down again and fiddled with the zips of his jacket.

“What’s in the sacks?” he asked his guards. “Why are you putting them in the stone?”

The two glanced at each other but didn’t answer.

“Are you Casters?” Tim asked curiously.

This got a reaction. One of his guards spat on the ground. “No we’re not! Casters aren’t allowed to live in Earthaven. They spend their whole lives squabbling over spells and casting silly little illusions at each other. Half of ’em can’t even do that properly. There’s a spellclave in some old lodge not half a mile from here but they never come near the Thrallstone, they’re too frightened of the Boundary spells. Pah!”

“Spells?” Tim said, starting to get interested. “That’s what Mr Marlins sells, isn’t it? What do they look like?”

“The live ones glitter—”

“Shh!” said the other guard with a nervous glance at the Spell Lord. “He’s not a thrall candidate.”

“So what? Won’t matter after, will it?”

But they shut up and wouldn’t say a word more. Tim went back to fiddling with his zips and watched the sacks more carefully, hoping someone would get careless and drop one. No one did.

It seemed to take forever for the truck to be emptied. But, finally, a driver climbed into the cab and the engine spluttered to life. Moving cautiously through the mud, the huge vehicle left. The Spell Lord approached Tim’s log, beckoned him to his feet and led the way to the Thrallstone. The rest of his people fell in behind and stood silently around the stone, waiting for something. By this time, Tim’s eyes had adjusted and he realized the sky wasn’t as dark as it had been. He must have been sitting on the log all night! No wonder he was so cold.

“How long have I been here?” he demanded. “My mother will go spare if I’m not back for breakfast.” His watch had definitely stopped but he made a show of peering at it anyway.

The Spell Lord frowned at him. “It’s no good looking at your timepiece. “We’ve powerful anti-technology spells all around the Boundary. I regret you had to wait so long, but I’m sure you understand we couldn’t risk someone stumbling on us unloading that lot. Don’t worry, you’ll be home soon enough if you cooperate.”

“Why can’t I go home now?” Tim said, glancing uneasily at his guards.

A sigh. “You’re hardly thrall material, so we’re going to cleanse your memories of us. Think of it as having a bad tooth extracted. It’s for your own good as well as ours. If you relax and let Oq do her work, it’ll be quicker.”

“Who’s Oq?” Tim whispered, shuddering. Cleanse his memories? Like those films where they turned people into vegetables? Not if he could help it.

In answer, the Spell Lord walked up to the stone and thrust his hands into the hole. Green light flared around his wrists and rippled up his arms, staining his hair. Tim stared in disbelief. The stone was
melting.
As the Spell Lord raised his arms, so the hole stretched and grew, revealing more trees and a drift of white flowers, ghostly in the dawn mist. The dog leapt through and vanished just as the sacks had done.

“All right,” the Spell Lord added to the cloaked men. “I can handle the boy now. You take those spells and bury them. We don’t want them lying around when the Boundary opens. When you’re done, keep clear of the Thrallstone so Oq can do her work.”

Mouth dry, Tim began to edge towards the trees. To distract the Spell Lord, he talked fast. “You don’t have to cleanse me, I never remember nothing. You ask my teachers! I’m always bottom in all the exams…” Another step.

The Spell Lord laughed. “Is that so? Then maybe they don’t teach you the right things. In my experience when people are interested enough, they learn just fine.”

Another step. “I’m not interested in Earthaven.”

“Really? For someone who isn’t interested, you ask an awful lot of questions. Stand still! Oq’s trying to reach you.”

The cloaked people had been hurrying through the hole in the stone and vanishing into the green light, but at this the ones who remained turned, hands on their knives. Tim frantically searched his pockets for something he could use as a weapon. His fingers touched his earring.

The Spell Lord whispered a soft word. There was a rustle on the other side of the stone. Then a golden tentacle as thick as Tim’s arm quested through the hole and wound itself tightly about his waist.

His blood turned to ice. Out came the Death Head earring. With a yell, he jabbed the hook as hard as he could into the thing. It recoiled with a sharp crackle and a whiff of burnt sugar. Tim took off towards the trees. Before he’d gone three strides, the Spell Lord shouted something. Willing hands grabbed Tim’s arms from behind. He struggled as hard as he could but the cloaked men dragged him back to the stone.

“Take him through,” the Spell Lord said coldly.

Tim shut his eyes as that green light surrounded him and black lightning began to flash inside his head.

My name is Timothy Lockley
, he repeated desperately, over and over.
Mr Marlins is a Thrall. He sells spells. I’m in a place called Earthaven, and my stepsister Nat is in the hands of the Casters... in the hands of the Casters... in the hands of the Casters...

Chapter 7

LORD HAWK

Thursday morning, October 29

~~*~~

Natalie spent an uneasy, sleepless night listening to the creaks and groans of the old house. It seemed morning would never come. But finally the shimmer outside her window took on colours – a shifting blur of bronzes, reds and golds. She made herself sit on the bed and wait. This might be her last chance. She mustn’t bungle it this time.

When she heard the footsteps in the corridor, she sat up straight, folded her hands in her lap and pasted a smile to her face. “All right,” she called meekly. “I’ll help you get your spells. What do you want me to do?”

Hawk was first through the door. Surprise flickered in the yellow eyes, quickly replaced by satisfaction. “See?” he said to the empty-eyed woman who had followed him in. “She only needed a little persuasion in the right place. You’re too soft, my Fish, that’s your trouble.”

He turned back to Natalie. “Good, I’m glad you’ve decided to be sensible, it’ll make this so much easier. First, I want you to clean yourself up. Then you’ll come with us.”

The woman laid a white dress on the bed, no more substantial than the shift Natalie was wearing. On top of the dress was a hairbrush.

Natalie glanced at them, then at the woman. “I’m not getting changed with
him
in here,” she said firmly.

Hawk chuckled. “You won’t be so shy after today, my little Spider.” But he left the attic and went downstairs while the woman helped her into the dress and rinsed her hair with water from the basin in the tiny bathroom. When Natalie’s damp silver curls had been brushed around her shoulders, the woman stood back to survey the result, then unexpectedly pressed a hand to Natalie’s cheek and stared at her in a most peculiar way.

Natalie shivered and glanced at the half open door. “What’s he going to do to me?” she whispered. “He’s crazy, isn’t he? If you help me escape, I’ll tell everyone you were kind to me—”

Immediately, the hand retreated and the blue eyes emptied again. “We have to go now,” the woman said. “Come on.”

They descended a shadowy staircase, its banisters decorated with huge wooden acorns. There was no carpet and Natalie could feel the roughness of the treads beneath her bare feet. Cobwebs floated in every corner, reminding her uncomfortably of Hawk’s threat of the night before.
Soon your little familiar will be meeting my goshawk and after that you won’t be identifying me to anyone.
Why had she said that about seeing his face? So stupid!

She tried to see into the rooms as they went but most of the doors were shut. In the ones she could see into, the light was bad. Those windows that weren’t boarded up were covered in thick dust through which the sunlight leaked the colour of syrup. She kept stubbing her toes in the gloom and bit her lip, determined not to cry. When they reached the first floor, a door opened a crack and frightened eyes peered out. She caught a glimpse of unruly red hair before the door shut again. The woman must have seen, but she said nothing, simply took Natalie’s hand and hurried her past.

The stairs ended in a long, narrow hallway where they found Hawk poking his stick into dark corners and behind heavy items of furniture. At the end of the hall was a heavy front door, bolted top and bottom. It had a large keyhole, but no visible key. Natalie twisted her head, getting her bearings. Yes, that door must lead to the gate she’d glimpsed from the attic window. If she could just—

The woman gave her elbow a warning squeeze and she abandoned the idea. Anyway, Merlin was right. Even if she could undo the bolts before someone caught her, she wouldn’t get very far in the woods without shoes.

She waited with the woman at the bottom of the staircase while Hawk’s explorations took him to the front door. He rattled the end of his stick in the keyhole, then bent and extracted something. He swung round, frowning, his eyes glittering dangerously in the shadows.

“Someone’s been messing with the illusion spells,” he said. “I put a new one in here just this morning and now it’s dead. Even the recycled rubbish the Thralls are bringing us these days lasts longer than that!”

Natalie squinted at the thing in his hand. Another of those stupid wrappers. He caught her looking, strode up and gripped her arm. He waved the spell before her nose. “Know something about this, do you?” Natalie quickly shook her head.

“How can she?” the woman said softly. “She’s been sleeping in the attic for four days. More likely someone’s tampered with it from the outside, maybe her family. I warned you they wouldn’t just sit back and do nothing.”

The yellow eyes narrowed. Hawk looked hard at Natalie, then grunted and dragged her to another heavy door, this one hidden in the shadows behind the stairs. “The Thralls can’t stop us now,” he muttered, taking a key from his belt and unlocking the door. “Come on, Spider. Let’s get you bonded, then it won’t matter if they do break in.”

The door opened on darkness. From below came a deep throbbing, like a giant’s heartbeat. Natalie eyed the steps going down and balked.

The grip tightened on her elbow and Hawk chuckled. “See how she resists me, my Fish? Remind you of anyone? Better get her glasses now. I don’t want her to miss anything.”