Nanna brought out a bag and a small hessian pouch. She opened the bag and spread out the contents.
Mark eyed the collection of stones and crystals. “Which one is a protection stone?”
“You could use tourmaline, but that’s more for warding. As we want to focus on sending signals, we’ll use haematite, which is that one.” Nanna pointed to a particular stone.
“Haematite.” Mark repeated the weird word.
“Good, now, in a moment you are going to put the herbs and the stone in the hessian pouch. Two important things – first, while you do this, you must concentrate on the person you want to connect with. Secondly, every small action you make matters. The spell wouldn’t work half as well if I gave you the ingredients; when you’re manipulating magic, your intention is very important.”
Mark frowned, not sure he really understood. “So do I have to say anything?”
Nanna shook her head. “Chanting is simply a way to train your thoughts in the right direction. It’s not necessary until more advanced spells. So, who is going to be your guinea pig – Harry?”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. Will he notice?” Mark asked.
“If you do it correctly, no, he shouldn’t. The connection should only travel one way.”
Mark closed his eyes and focussed on his best friend. It wasn’t hard to bring him up in his mind’s eye, he knew Harry better than anyone else. Trying not to let his concentration waver, he opened his eyes and followed Nanna’s instructions. He plucked the dry, crisp fennel leaves and thistle head, and pushed them into the small pouch. He picked up the dark-silver stone, which felt warm in his hand, and added it.
“Now what?”
“Hold it and focus on knowing that Harry is safe.” Nanna said quietly. “Then keep the pouch in your pocket to keep connected to the link for the next twenty-four hours.”
After he had finished, Mark looked up at his Nanna. “That was easy.”
“Well I’m not going to start you off on the hard stuff, am I?” Nanna retorted, moving the unused stones back into their bag.
“I dunno, I guess I was expecting fireworks or something. Anything to confirm that I’d just done something magical.”
Nanna smiled. “You’re connecting with magic – it’s something natural. The flashy stuff is usually a result of going against nature.”
Mark frowned a little as he took it all in. The pouch was warm and comfortable in his trouser pocket.
“Go on, bugger off home.” Nanna said, clearing the tea tray away. “Your parents will be upset if they find out you’ve been doing spells instead of chores.”
Giving one last stroke to Tigger, who snored gently by the Aga again, Mark made to move. “Thanks, Nanna.”
Chapter Five
That night, Mark’s sleep was interrupted. Something niggled at the edge of his consciousness, as faint as static, but wouldn’t let him rest peacefully. As his eyes opened again to see the red digits of his alarm clock reading 3am, he groaned. There should only be one 3 o’clock in the day!
The last time he’d felt like this was when he’d drank too many Red Bulls at a party. Mark pulled the duvet over his head and curled up. He thought about what could possibly have happened today to affect his sleep. Or technically, yesterday.
The only thing that stood out from his regular routine was the lesson in witchcraft with Nanna. Had he done it wrong? Was the connection faulty? Or did it pick up on mental distress as well as physical danger? Was Harry experiencing nightmares – or was he struggling to sleep, too?
Mark sighed, he’d have to ask his Nanna when everyone else woke up. He’d check in with Harry, too. In fact, he could probably do that now, if his best friend was awake. He blindly felt for his mobile and tapped out a quick message to Harry. There was no immediate reply, and Mark drifted to sleep with his phone in hand.
*****
When Mark next awoke, there was a soft glow behind the curtains. Even though the sun had yet to rise, the snow gave off a brightness of its own.
Making his way downstairs, he found his Dad frying bacon while his Mum set the coffee to brew.
“I got a text from school, it’s cancelled today.” His Mum said, smiling. “Lucky you!”
Mark helped himself to some orange juice and looked out of the window, there was a couple feet of snow in most places, with a higher drift up against the shed. The snow ploughs would get to work, and tomorrow everything would be back to normal; but today was freedom.
Well, almost freedom. You couldn’t really get anywhere, and nowhere was open, which meant being stuck at home.
“You look tired, are you alright?” His Dad asked, sliding some bacon onto his plate.
“Hmm? Oh, I didn’t sleep well.”
“You’re not coming down with something?” His Mum looked concerned. “I can get some of Nanna’s special tea.”
Mark shook his head. “No, I’m fine.”
His phone buzzed and he picked it up to see a text from Harry expressing his own glee at no school. Before Mark could reply, there was a second text, asking why he'd texted at stupid o’clock.
Mark looked up from his half-eaten breakfast, to his parents. “Sorry, I just need to ring Harry.” Before they could argue, he jumped up from the table.
“Yeah?” Harry eventually answered his phone.
“Hey, you OK?” Mark asked casually, while he worked out what to say.
“Hmm, good. Gone back to bed.”
“Look, random question, but did you sleep alright last night?”
“Like a log,” Harry answered, “why?”
“It’s a long story. You know I told you about Nanna training me in witchcraft? Well, she taught me a spell last night that’s supposed to tell me when my friends are in trouble. There was something happening last night, and I was worried… about you.” Mark finished awkwardly.
“Oh. I don’t know what to tell you, Mark. Everything’s fine.” Harry replied. “Maybe you did it wrong?”
“Yeah, maybe.” Mark echoed, not convinced. “OK, go back to sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Mark hung up and headed back into the kitchen.
“Everything alright with Harry?” His Mum asked.
“Yes.” Mark replied shortly, picking up his fork and poking at the cold bacon on his plate.
*****
Mark told his parents he had a lot of GSCE revision to do, but spent most of the morning idly surfing the internet. He’d managed to Google some Christmas ideas; and read the reviews for the films coming out at Tealford cinema.
He looked out of his window to see his Mum shovelling snow from the paths; while his Dad cleared the driveway with a small tractor borrowed from Mr Brown, the farmer next door. Mark helped Mr Brown at weekends and in the school holidays. He supposed if he got very bored this afternoon, he could drive the borrowed tractor back and see if Mr Brown needed any help today.
Seeing his parents hard at work, Mark headed downstairs to the kitchen, with an idea of making dinner for them. When he got there, he found Nanna already stoking the fire for the cooker.
“Hi Mark, how are you enjoying your day off?”
Mark shrugged and headed to the fridge. “It’s fine, a bit boring. I just came down to fix some dinner.”
“Oh, what are we having?”
Mark looked inside the almost-bare fridge and sighed. “I can probably knock together omelettes. Maybe some oven chips.”
“Sounds delicious.” Nanna replied, putting her feet up. “You look tired.”
Mark frowned, he’d been honest with his parents, but not entirely so. At least he could be completely open with Nanna. “I think there’s something wrong with the spell we did yesterday. It kept me up all night, niggling away. But I checked with Harry this morning, and he was fine.”
Nanna sat there, running over the possible reasons. “Maybe you lost your concentration. It’s fine, you can’t expect to g
et it perfect on your first try.”
“No, I was totally focussed on Harry. The whole time, I was… I was…” Mark broke off. His attention had expanded from just Harry, to thinking about school. For a moment Damian had crept to the edge of his thoughts. “I might have momentarily thought about the new guy.”
Nanna chuckled. “It’s good to see you behaving like a normal teenager, distracted by a pretty face?”
“Don’t you start.” Mark warned. “I’ve seen you flirting with the farrier at every opportunity, it’s disturbing.”
“I may be old, but I’m still allowed to enjoy my life.” Nanna replied proudly. “Besides, I challenge anyone not to get distracted by the farrier. That man has the body of-“
“I’m not hearing this!” Mark shouted, jumping up and making more noise than necessary in the pan cupboard.
Nanna laughed to herself, and picked up one of her daughter-in-law’s magazines.
“So what do I do in the meantime? About this faulty spell?” Mark asked as he tipped frozen chips into an oven tray.
“Huh?” Nanna looked up from reading celebrity gossip. “Oh, I wouldn’t bother doing anything. It will wear off in a few hours, so it shouldn’t bother you much longer.”
Mark frowned, that was not the answer he was looking for. He’d been hoping for a quick break from the spell.
*****
As the afternoon wore on, Mark sat watching the sports highlights with his Dad, when his heart leapt. Mark froze, feeling an intense worry grip his chest.
“Mark?” His Dad glanced over, confused by the worried look on his son’s face. “Relax, Leeds could still get some points against Derby next week.”
“I’m just going to see Nanna.” Mark muttered, jumping up from the sofa and leaving, before his Dad had a chance to quiz him.
Mark forewent the coat and jogged from their front door to Nanna’s. He let himself in and followed the sound of Radio 2 until he found Nanna. She was sitting in the small living room, her head in her newest trashy novel. She looked up at the unexpected entrance of her grandson.
“Is everything alright, Mark?”
Mark paced across the small room, trying to physically distract himself from the dull ache in his chest. “I wanted to ask about the peril spell. You mentioned that I’d be alerted – how?”
“Well, I… I imagine that it can vary between people.” Nanna replied, her warm brown eyes following him. “When your grandad was hurt, I felt as though everything had stopped. There was an overwhelming sense of something wrong, that didn’t fade until I acted on it.”
“Like a persistent ache in your chest, a weight on your heart?”
“Yes… why?”
Mark stopped pacing and faced Nanna. “I think the spell has worked, I think someone is in trouble.”
“Mark, you can’t be sure. We don’t know on what level the faulty spell worked – this someone might have just stubbed their toe!”
“But-“
“I mean, do you even know who this alert is from? Have you tried calling Harry and this new kid?”
Mark felt his anxiety rise, he began to pace again to try and settle it. He needed to move, to do something. “No, I… I spoke to Harry this morning, I can call him again. I don’t have Damian’s number – I don’t even know his aunt’s name.”
Nanna took one look at how upset Mark was, and put her book down. “Right, well you’re not going out in that heavy snow. We’ll talk to your parents, see if they know how to contact the new guy.”
Nanna marched out of her house and around to her son and daughter-in-law’s front door. Mark hurried to keep up with her.
As they re-entered his parent’s house, Mark paused. He didn’t want to go in, it was the wrong direction; he needed to move.
“You did what?” His father’s raised voice sounded above the TV.
Chapter Six
Mark knew a family argument was brewing and he didn’t want to get stuck in the middle of it right now. Mark saw his coat hanging within reach, and before he processed what he was doing, he had his thick coat on and he was walking through the snow. He turned his head east, gazing at the white horizon.
A thought occurred to him, and he looked down the driveway. He didn’t have a car licence, and a car wouldn’t get very far; but he could drive Mr Brown’s tractor.
Before he could change his mind, Mark jogged through the deep snow and climbed into the small red tractor. He pulled out the key that Mr Brown had given him a couple of summers ago, and fired it up. It took a few loud chugs to get the engine going, and Mark looked fearfully back at the house, in case his family heard it.
He put the tractor into gear, raised the bucket, and started slowly down to the road. Once there, he turned left. The road had been partially cleared of snow, but there were still no cars on the road – no one travelled unless absolutely necessary.
As the road veered to the right, Mark followed his instincts and took the next open gateway. The little tractor bobbed and rocked across the uneven ground of the snow-covered field. Mark switched the windscreen wiper on as the snow became thicker, half-blinding his route.
His heart pounded with the sheer stupidity of what he was doing, risking his life in a snowstorm just to pacify an urge. But he'd gone this far now, he knew there was no point turning back.
Mark kept the little tractor heading due east, only swerving off course to find gates between fields. Each time he stopped to open the gates, the snow came higher up his leg, sending a wave of panic.
"It's fine, it will be fine, it will be fine." Mark muttered to himself in time with the loud engine.
He drove on, getting closer to a dark smear on the horizon. A small wooded section that Mark couldn't recognise. Here.
Whoever had been drawing him on was close. Mark left the tractor engine running, fearing that he wouldn't be able to start it again; then he jumped out of the cab and pushed his way towards the trees.
"Hello!" He shouted, pausing to hear any reply or sign of life.
Here.
Mark trudged forwards, even in the relative shelter of the trees, the snow was a foot deep. "Hello!" He yelled again.
Mark thought he saw a dark shadow move, and headed towards one of the larger trees.
Here.
Mark's heart started to thud harder in his chest as he saw someone huddled against the base of the tree. Slowly, sleepily, he raised his head.
"Damian? Why are you here?"
Damian shivered, his blue lips struggling to part to form words.
Mark saw the signs – Damian was slipping towards hypothermia. He had to act now. Mark ducked down and grabbed Damian's arm. "Come on, I need to get you up."
Damian blinked, tears of pain springing to his eyes as his stiff joints were straightened. Mark felt a mild relief that he could still feel pain, that was good news. They didn't have time to waste, and Mark used all his strength to heft Damian to his feet. Damian stumbled, using the tree and Mark to try and stay upright.
Knowing that walking wasn't going to be an option, Mark pulled Damian up onto his shoulders in a fireman's lift. As he started the slow progress back to the tractor, he was thankful for all the years of farm work and hard-earned strength. He was still sweating by the time he reached the headlights' yellow light.
Mark put Damian down on his feet, so he could open the door to the cab. With some difficulty, and enough swearing to make his Nanna proud, Mark managed to push Damian up into the cab. He climbed up behind him, realising how tight and cramped this cab was with two grown lads inside.
Feeling like he was going to overheat at any moment, Mark unzipped his heavy coat. "You'll have more use for this."
With more than a bit of awkwardness, Mark helped Damian get out of his frozen coat, replacing it with Mark's much warmer one.
"Right." Mark took a deep breath. Behind the heavy clouds, the sun had already set, and the world was only going to get darker. Ma
rk suddenly felt more nervous about being able to drive home, than the outward adventure. "We can do this."
Mark revved the engine and started to turn the little tractor, he reasoned that if they just kept heading due west they'd eventually get back to somewhere he recognised.
"Hey, Damian, are you still with me?" Mark asked, careful not to take his eyes off the windscreen.
A groan came from behind him.
"What were you doing out here?"
"Not now." Damian said, so quietly he could hardly be heard above the tractor. "I just need to sleep."
"No!" Mark shouted, twisting in his seat so he could hit the curled-up boy. "You've got to stay awake, until we've got you home and checked out."
Damian grumbled something, too slurred for Mark to make out.
"Tell me... tell me something about you, about life." Mark demanded. "What did you do for fun, before you moved up here?"
"Nuthin' much. Played footie." Damian finally answered, trying to cooperate. "I was striker for the local team."
"Really? Were you any good?" Mark asked, leaning closer to the window, trying to make out anything in the blur of black and white, that would tell him they were on the right track.
"Yeah, not bad. I wasn't about to go pro, but I was the top scorer last year."
"Yes!" Mark shouted, then looked back at Damian. "Sorry, I found the first gate."
Once he'd manoeuvred through, Mark stopped the tractor and jumped down from the cab, pulling the gate closed behind him. The snow and bitter wind cut through his jumper, leaving him shivering as he rushed to climb back into the cab.
"So, football." Mark said as he started to drive again. "You should join our school team, they're absolutely dire and could do with someone on the team who knows which direction the goalposts are."
"You don't play?"
"I've got two left feet." Mark shrugged. "I'm not afraid to admit it."
As the tractor forced its way across the snow-laden fields the conversation turned to music and films and anything Mark could think of. Anything except family, and why Damian was out there in the first place.
Eventually lights blinked on the horizon – at first Mark thought he was imagining them, but soon they burnt bright and real. The white turned to red, as the car drove away from them on the road. Mark turned the tractor to the right, never more glad to see a road.