A Brief Note: This post sees the first entry from our cover competition. It’s so exciting to have someone draw a character I’ve seen only in my head, and do such a good job as well! This one comes from Sheila Bacai.

Part One is here

The poem was still there, the URL the same, but the blank screen now had four posts, three pictures and a poem, set neatly across the top of her blog.

The pictures were OK. One was a horse, sort of white and grey, with big hair between its eyes. It looked kinda sad, like no one wanted to talk to it. She could relate. The next was a necklace, and actually, it was really lovely. It was gold, which wasn’t cool, but it was really simple, a red jewel in the shape of an eye, set on a fine chain.

The third was a book, which was just fine, one of the old leather bound ones that probably contained lots of unnecessary words, but some quite good stories.

So, a book, a necklace, and a horse. What was weird, was that none of them had any comments, like they’d been made and put straight on her blog. She was used enough to the world of magic that the actual act of someone else posting to her blog just wasn’t that freaky.

She moved to the poem, mentally clearing her throat:

The year is dying, fading fast,

The sun goes down on all you know

The end is coming, this one last,

No crops to reap from what you sow

The world beneath us, rising fast

Come to feast and slake their thirst

The year is over, time has passed,

What once was last is now the first.

Oh. Well, that was a bit…ordinary. Not much by way of beautiful, or mysterious. Well, sort of mysterious, but mostly creepy. And what was with all the rhyming, like, totally over the top?

This one had a comment:

On Christmas night, The Underworld will rise.

The Underworld was capitalised, as though the commenter knew what she did, knew about the world beneath the real one. She shook her head, abruptly shoving the computer away and folding her arms. She felt sick. She’d eaten dinner too fast.

She stood, and paced the room a couple of times. She needed Disney, this was all a bit too much. She chose Aladdin, just for the hot princess, and settled down to watch, closing the lid of the lap top absently, as though it wasn’t bothering her, as though it was watching, and might think it was bothering her. She grinned sheepishly at her room.

(c) Sheila Bacai

The genie was just transforming into some sort of power tool when she hit pause and yanked open her lap top. The posts were still there, and were, she now decided, definitely trying to tell her something.

Something was going to happen, at Christmas, something that involved the Underworld, and people ‘slaking their thirst’ which, had she known what slaking meant, would almost certainly have been a bad thing. What the pictures were about, she had no idea though, or why it had all appeared on her wall.

There was, probably, some kind of magical connection, so maybe that was it, but if the blogger was looking for some kind of help, they’d come to the wrong girl. She was an apprentice of five months training, and, yeah, she could float things now, and create gates, and even make fire, but the last one gave her a head ache, and made her want to wee, which didn’t really seem to be the stuff of magical legends.

She needed to talk to Martin. That was the simple truth she’d been skirting around for the last half hour. She sighed, and looked at the ceiling. Life was never simple. It was almost certainly someone’s fault, and definitely not hers, but there was nothing she could do about it, so she grabbed her spell book, jacket and oyster, sidled downstairs, and was out the front door before mum could spot her.

Up through the estate, in through the bin doors and she was standing outside Martin’s ‘door’. She knocked, and seconds later he hauled it open, as if he’d been waiting for her. She looked at him, eyebrows raised, and he returned the look, equally serious.

‘Um, hi?’

He replied with a nod, and stepped back, ushering her in. They’d tidied the place after the watchers trashed it. She’d got to know him better in that one afternoon than in all their lessons, as they talked about normal, non magic stuff. She’s wanted to ask about his wife, but hadn’t been able to summon up the courage.

Now it was back to being a familiar, comfortable mess, and she sunk into the sofa with a grateful sigh. He folded his arms, and stared down at her, until she squirmed. ‘Uh, yes?’

He shook his head. ‘It is normally customary to apologise when you’ve insulted someone.’

‘Well, go on then.’

He sniffed, and tapped one foot against the floor. They waited. This was boring. ‘OK, fine, I’m sorry, OK?’

He smiled, nodding. ‘Thank you. That wasn’t too hard now, was it?’

‘You know, I don’t think I should have to apologise if you actually are being a dick.’

He sat in his chair, still smiling, and leaned back, crossing his hands over his stomach. He’d neatened up a bit since the Council thing, though his hair was still a mess. She glanced around, letting out a breath, a smile playing across her face. She’d missed it here.

‘So, my apprentice, are you here for a lesson, or do you have some other matter you wish to discuss?’

‘How do you know that? Really, like, how do you know?’

He spread his hands apart, palms up. ‘I’m a magician, Scarlet, what do you expect?’

‘But it doesn’t work like that, I mean, you have to do spells and stuff, you don’t just know things.’

He laughed. ‘We are linked, you and I, as a master and apprentice should be. I know when your mood is not as it usually is. What is it?’

She told him about the Tumblr thing. It took a while as she had to explain what Tumblr was, then what a blog was, then what social media was. She thought she was going to have to go over what a computer was, when he finally got it, and let her go into the details.

When she pulled out her phone, and recited the poem, he shook his head, face going pale, and put his hands up as though she were pointing a gun at him.

‘What is it?’

‘The poem. Do you know who sent it?’

‘Um, no. Well, there’s a comment on it, so I could look at that person, but all I’d know is their Tumblr account, which could be anything.’

‘But isn’t it social media? So, you socialise with people?’

‘Well, yeah, but only through the computer.’

‘So is there a photo of them?’

Scarlet shrugged. ‘Could be, but who’s to say it’s actually them?’

Martin looked at her as though she had three heads, brows creased fiercely together. ‘I’m not sure I fully understand Tumblr.’

‘Yeah, or, like, anything in the world, at all.’

He sniffed, and turned to his table. She stared at his back for a moment. ‘So come on, what is it, what’s so wrong?’

He sighed. ‘The poem is ancient. The words have changed, been updated somewhat, but the meaning is still the same. Someone has discovered the grave of the Undying, and that means they intend to end the world.’

‘Huh?’

Next Instalment Friday 7th February

Part One can be found here

They hadn’t invited her back, but she knew how to find them. If Scarlet was desperate to join the Council, she could always head back down under the Gallery and bang on the door. She was fairly certain they’d remember her.

Mum had gone biccies, completely ballistic for a minute, or five, then hugged her and cried a bit, and made her some tea, and pizza, so that was alright. Martin had stayed, at least long enough for a shower and for mum to dig out some of dad’s old clothes, before sneaking out. He was remarkably good at that, for a big guy.

Now the computer screen was shining brightly in the dark of the room, her hands poised over the keys as she tried to find the words to describe what had turned out to be only twelve hours. She slept for another twelve, which made it the weekend. Tumblr time, yay.
Nothing. She couldn’t even think of where to start, let alone all the words that would come before the end. It was fine, maybe the world wasn’t supposed to know, but somehow, the Harry Potter pics and glorious poems felt just a little less important. How could something so amazing and frightening and crazy happen to her and she not tell everyone?
Martin had said she shouldn’t tell people about the magic. She’d seen enough to know he was right, completely right. Maybe, she could tell a story, like, pretend it wasn’t her. That would work.

It began when I got home from school and mum was missing…

That was as far as she got before her in-box pinged, and the little message appeared in the corner of the screen. She got maybe one email a year that didn’t come from Amazon, or a band mailing list, so she clicked on it, story forgotten.

“From: Martin
Subject: Why

Dear Scarlet
I am proud of you. We have spent little time together but already I see the makings of a powerful magician. Well done.”

God, he wrote even more awkwardly than he spoke. This must have been agony for him.

“I also need to thank you, properly. I thought perhaps I could begin to do that by telling you, truthfully, why I was down with the Council, and why they saw fit to torture me.”

She rubbed her hands together, eyes lighting up, then glanced guiltily around the room.

“I was married for seven years. We fell in love when we met, at the Council. Her name was Arpita, and she was everything.”

Scarlet took a deep breath, throat closing up.

“Three years ago, Arpita disappeared. I came home from my work at the Council, and she was gone. I searched. I talked to people, I did everything I could to find her, but there was nothing, no trace. After eighteen months, I gave up my main efforts. I hated myself for it, but it was destroying me. Instead, I dedicated myself to helping others. I left the Council and gave away everything, determined to strip away everything I had been, and focus only on what I could be.”

That explains the smelly homeless thing.

“But I couldn’t forget. I kept my ears and eyes open, and a few months ago, I heard a rumour that the Council had something to do with her disappearance. I broke in, and stole the minutes of their meetings, the information that would tell me. Within them, I found a discussion, in which Arpita was described as ‘dangerous’, and ‘potentially traitorous’.

Yours
Martin”

Scarlet leapt off the bed, dumping the computer to one side and grabbed her coat. She wasn’t ever going out without her coat, and wallet, and phone, and oyster, and maybe a knife of some sort, ever again. She scurried down stairs and pulled open the front door.
Two men were there, one broad and smiling, the other with a ratty face. She shrieked and slammed the door closed…

Part One can be found here

There were no other rules, they had promised her. She could do nothing that would get her a fail mark. The spell didn’t matter, really, except if she made the fire big enough, she’d get the all-important seconds she needed.

She stepped close to the apprentices, giving them all her biggest smile. They sneered, one and all, so she stared long enough for them to drop their eyes, and fidget. This was going to be so much fun. If it worked. If it didn’t, she was going to regret it more than anything else, like, ever.

She waited the requisite ten minutes, checking through the spell, ensuring she knew it as well as she could. It was short, and simple, and she barely looked at the book as she recited, loud and clear and bold.

Flames sprung up from the floor. They flickered as a thought ran through her mind. What if they countered with water? What if they just dumped loads of water on it? She wouldn’t have time to do anything.

Sweat broke across her brow, and she blinked as it trickled into the corners of her eyes. This was stupid, this was just the sort of thing she thought of, and did, and realised afterward how utterly stupid it was.

Then she felt it. The wind, building slowly as it blew through the hall. Yes! It swept her hair from her face, and dried the sweat and she side stepped, looking past the fire. Two of the apprentices were stood slightly back, staring at the other, who stood, hands held before him, (bloody amateur), face creased in concentration.

She watched him, the wind whipping at her clothes, and the fire. The flames were guttering, struggling to stay alight and she shook her head, making herself move. This was it, now or never.

She stepped forward, unseen for the moment. Everyone’s eyes were on the fire. She focused on it for a moment, head throbbing worse, so bad her eyes twitched, and she blinked, hard. She had to hold it, just for a few more seconds. She pushed, sighing in relief as the flames jumped up again, stronger and surer.

The wind reacted, so strong she staggered, planting her foot to stay upright. The row opposite her were watching through slitted eyes, hands over their faces to block out some of the wind. Time was up.

She took another three steps, coming to stand directly before the apprentice. He finally saw her, his look of fierce concentration slipping, for just a moment, before he gave her the smallest of smiles. Smug. That made it so much easier.

She hated violence. Always had. Oh well. She took a step back, wound up, and kicked him between the legs, as hard as she knew how. Truth was, she struggled to kick a ball that wasn’t moving, but his legs was braced apart, and for one reason or another, she was bang on target.

Like a switch had been flicked, the wind vanished, and the flames roared up, lapping against the ceiling. There was a group gasp of astonishment, but all Scarlet could look at was the face of the man on the floor in front of her, twisted in pain and surprise. His hands was clutching his bits, probably checking they were all still there.

The cymbals clashed for the third and final time, and she let the flames die. The voice was no different. ‘Joanna Slater, you have been victorious in the third conflict.’ A pause followed this statement, though anything else he might have said was lost as she shouted ‘YES!’ and ran over to Martin.

He was leaning back against the wall, the broadest smile on his face she’d ever seen. She slouched onto one leg, putting her hand on her hip. ‘Not bad, huh?’
He chuckled, wincing. ‘Not bad at all, apprentice. We need to work a little on your finesse, I think, but all in all, a very satisfactory outcome.’
‘A satisfactory outcome? That was amazing. That was godlike, bow before me oh puny mortal.’

She turned back to the room. The audience were talking again, too loud for anyone to be heard over the din, so she walked back across the circle, carefully sidestepping the still-prone apprentice.

The masters were staring at her. One was smiling, and trying not to. The other two were storm-faced, like a teacher just before they exploded. She gave them a beaming smile, feeling, for the first time since she’d left home, in control of things. ‘So, any chance of a lift home, please?’

Final Installment Monday 30th December

Part one can be found here

The inside was as impressive as the outside, a huge corridor that reminded her of Hogwarts, a ceiling high enough to play rugby under and more bizarre wooden carvings than she’d seen on a lifetime of exam desks. It also smelled, of money and expensive hotels. Probably. Neither of them were things she had much experience in. The place was silent. She stopped short of saying ‘as the grave’, but only just.

Scarlet tiptoed down the corridor, keeping to the edge, as if she wouldn’t be spotted. The scrape of her shoes on the wooden floor was horribly loud, and conspicuous, and she found herself kind of sliding along, a sort of swish-tap movement, that made probably as much noise, but might make anyone listening think they were being invaded by a crocodile.

Martin was here, somewhere, assuming the sisters had told her the truth. So where was he, and how was she going to get him out without being caught by the Council?
Alex and Rat man were still outside, ‘watching’ her, apparently, and waiting. She hoped Martin, if she found him, could deal with that. The corridor ended in a huge round room, doors leading off in every direction. She went to each in turn, pressing an ear against them.

From some, she heard the murmur of voices, from others, the clash of metal on metal. It was, she decided, sword fighting, which came pretty high on the list of cool things she should be able to do. Could Martin sword fight? Her mind was trying to replay what Alex had said to her outside, about Martin being dead, but she was ignoring it, much the same way she ignored maths, or any story that ended ‘and then she woke up…’

Plumping for one of the silent ones, Scarlet took the door handle, ignoring the slight shake in her hand, and pulled it open. The noise that assailed her as she pulled was loud enough that she thought she’d gone deaf, so intense was it and so utterly agonising.

She clapped her hands over her ears, dropping to her knees and burying her face in her lap. She barely felt the hands that grabbed her shoulders and hauled her upright. It was only the abrupt cessation of the noise that made her open her eyes and take in the three men stood before her.

They were tall, but then everyone was, compared to her. They were dressed in black, which was kinda cool. And they all looked very angry. She giggled. It was turning out to be the kind of night where nothing was scary anymore, just ‘cause she’d gone past the point. Once someone puts a knife to your eye, the presence of three guys with identical scowls and little badges on their arms, just isn’t that bad.

‘Um, hi, so I’m looking for the toilet, sorry, I think I took a wrong turn.’

They kept glaring. ‘Which one of you is Gerald? I was told to meet Gerald, but I just can’t find him anywhere.’

She giggled again, and the three of them exchanged looks. Finally, one stepped forward and took her arms. She shrugged him off, glaring at him. He was young, not much older than she was. She glanced at the others and realised they were all baby-faced.
‘You will come with us now.’

He was speaking in a very deep voice. She giggled, shaking her head. There was something to be said for a knife at the eye, if only so she knew proper bad when she saw it. Although, based on what just happened outside, she should have stuck with her first instinct. ‘Where are we going? Cos if they don’t got wifi, ah ain’t int’rested.’
She wagged her finger, her impression of a sassy black chick standing up even under such demanding circumstances. The man who had spoken tried again. ‘Our masters wish to see you, you will come with us.’

She raised an eyebrow, shaking her head again. ‘Look, I’ll come, cos I think I need to speak to them, but please, drop the voice, you just sound stupid.’

The guy blushed, grabbing her arm again and this time she let him guide her away from the door and through another. She was pulled down a corridor, and through a series of doors, each separated by a pointless, tiny little room, and finally into a large chamber, dark in the corners, and empty but for four chairs, each sat on a little platform.

She was, presumably, about to meet some of the Council. Should she curtsey, or bow maybe? She couldn’t stop laughing, which was probably due to sleep deprivation. She should probably stop that.

Another door opened, and a robed man stepped through. He was fiddling with a tie at the front and poking out the bottom were a pair of jeans, and slippers. He was rubbing at his face and yawning. Waking him up probably wasn’t the best start.

He slumped in the first chair he came to, and beckoned her forward. She almost refused, but again the thought of Martin got her feet moving.

‘You have entered somewhere you should not be, child. Who are you and why are you here.’
It felt like it had in hell, like the words were coming from somewhere, or someone, else. ‘My name is Joanna Slater, I am apprenticed to Martin, and demand the right to see him.’

The man sat up straighter, eyebrows raised as he stared down his nose at her. ‘So it’s true. He told us he had an apprentice, but it’s been so long, we didn’t believe him. What has he told you of his reasons for visiting us?’

Scarlet shook her head. ‘Nothing, not a bloody thing. I haven’t had my last two lessons, so I went looking for him.’ She blurted out the events of the last few hours, as quickly as she could, omitting the minutes. It would have been much easier if he had told her what was going on, she had no idea whether lying was the best policy. She figured if they knew she was lying, they’d have said something when she said her new name, but he hadn’t reacted at all.

When she finished, his eyebrows had risen a little, but nothing else had changed. He was silent and she waited, head cocked to one side. Had he fallen asleep? She had a cousin who slept with her eyes open, freakiest thing, like, ever. When he nodded, she thought he was going to fall forward out of the chair, but he didn’t.

‘You have had an interesting night, Miss Slater. I cannot help but be impressed that you are still standing and still searching for your master. Can I ask you once again, and remind you, or perhaps, inform you, that you stand before one of the four, the spiritual and practical masters of magic in England. We have considerable powers at our disposal, and your answer may have serious repercussions. Choosing to lie might not be a wise move. Do you understand?’

She swallowed, and nodded. She wasn’t laughing now. He wasn’t trying hard, like Alex, or the three boys who had quietly left the chamber once her interview began. He was calm, and matter of fact, and entirely confident. Even the little rabbits on the side of his slippers didn’t distract her from what he was saying.

‘So, are you sure you know nothing of why Martin has come here.’

She swallowed again. ‘All I know was what the guys who kidnapped me said, that he used to work here, then something happened and he left and made lots of people angry. Or maybe he made them angry first, and then left, I’m not sure.’

The member of the four waved his hand to silence her. ‘OK, fine, that’s enough. You may meet with Martin, but I should warn you that he isn’t going anywhere at this moment in time.’

He stood, kicking the robes out so as to not trip over them, and walked through another door, holding it open for her. She ran over to follow him and they walked side by side down another corridor.
He glanced down at her. ‘You met the sisters?’
‘Uh, yeah.’
‘Not many meet them. Was it a… useful meeting?’
She shrugged. ‘They told me he was here, so, I guess so. They were scary.’
He chuckled, nodding. ‘Yes they are. You are serious about your magic?’
The sudden change in subject made her blink, but she could handle that. She had, like, seventeen pinterest boards, this was nothing. ‘Yeah, yeah I am.’
He nodded again, impassive. ‘After this… affair is over, you might think about attending here. You have talent, you would be welcome here.’
‘Oh, thanks. Um, does it cost alot, cos, you know, my mum doesn’t work very much and that and—’
He flapped his hand at her again. ‘That is another conversation, for another time. Here.’

They came to another door, and he pushed it open, gesturing for her to step through. She took a step, and stopped, half in the room. Martin was there, on his knees, hands pulled above his head and tied with something to hoops in the wall. He was naked aside from a pair of pants and his face was bloody and bruised.

She turned back to the man, but he was gone. His voice floated down the corridor. ‘Martin will not be leaving right now, and neither will you.’
Something shoved her and she stumbled into the room, the door slamming behind her.

Next installment Monday 16th December