‘I forgot! It works... both... ways...’
Then she fell to the floor, unconscious. Granny Annie and Emily rushed to her side and lifted her limp body to a sitting position. Annie gently slapped her face, but she was gone to another place.
‘That spell amplifier. I knew it would get her into trouble some day.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s hard to explain, but as well as sending spells, thoughts and potions out, it also picks them up out there and brings them back. She must’ve taken a hit from that big sleep bomb just as it got Malcolm and Roger.’
‘So what do we do now?’
‘We have to stay with her. Look, you stay on the telescope. If we can’t do anything, let’s at least keep up to speed on what’s happening. Clues, Emily. Get me some clues.’
Emily returned to the telescope and peered at the cave entrance. All she could see was a cloud of yellow smoke. The only sound was of slow, heavy footsteps. Her anxiety was increasing by the second. She asked if there was any good news from the coven.
‘Yes, news. Good news. There, there, darling. You’re all right now,’ she fanned a cool breeze across the All-Seeing Eye’s expressionless face. ‘They know who he is. Called Mad Seamus. Wanted all over Europe, apparently. He’s our man, likes to snatch children.’
‘Oh my God!’
‘Not to worry, dearie. The word is now officially out on this fellah. His days are numbered and his card is marked. We’ve a rough idea where he is and some of the sisters are flying toward the cave right now. They’ll stop him.’
‘I thought you said...’
‘That witches can’t fly? I know dear. We were just afraid that if we told you too much in one go... well, your little mortal’s brain mightn’t be able to cope, that’s all.’
‘I understand, I suppose.’
‘That’s the girl. Now, we can fly, and on broomsticks, but only when conditions are right.’
‘What kind of conditions?’
‘Well, for one, there has to be a full moon.’
‘Like tonight?’
‘Yes, we’re lucky this awful thing happened tonight. And the moon will be full for another couple of nights yet. Then there’s the wind. If it’s too windy, we can’t fly, simple as that. We’d be blown into a mountain or electricity wires or something. Very dangerous. You should hear the stories!’
‘And what’s the third thing?’
‘For a witch to fly, she must use her magic to make herself as light as the clouds. But if a witch has a heavy heart, whether through evil or sadness, she will not be able to fly. I’ll wager that your Granny Smith isn’t flying out with the girls now, her heart would be just too heavy from worrying about Malcolm.’
‘Wow. This is so interesting. And where do you get your broomsticks?’
‘You mean, where’s the broomstick showroom, with all its fancy broomsticks in different colours and styles? There isn’t one, I’m afraid. All witches make their own broomsticks, normally from hazel branches. Doesn’t matter, really. The broom isn’t magic in itself, y’see, it’s just a vehicle for the rider’s magic. In most of what we do, witches are self-sufficient. Children today wouldn’t appreciate it, they’re so used to throwing perfectly good things away and buying something new whenever they feel like it. So much stuff around these days, most of it pure junk.’
‘I think I see them now!’ exclaimed Emily. The telescope swiftly panned to the left, then began to slowly track six shifting shapes that flew silently above the trees, cloaks flowing like smoke, absorbing the light of the cold moon.
Chapter 23: WITCHES TO THE RESCUE
They swooped low over the trees. It was exhilarating, flying like this, among the night birds who also navigated by the stars. Your heels would clip the topmost branches as the broomstick rose and fell to hug the contour of the surface below. Witches couldn’t normally just fly up into the empty sky. Their magic was more like a power to travel a set distance above objects. When a witch flew, she followed the lie of the land, up, down, up, down.
The lead witch, Rachel, called that the cave was in sight. She was over a mighty oak and had an excellent view of the route ahead. Then down she plummeted, crossing the ploughed field where Malcolm had twisted his ankle. Sarah, who was just behind Rachel, used her seconds of height over the oak to glance through her wind glass. She could see the green residues of the deer smell in the distance and, much closer, the lingering yellow cloud from the sleep bomb.
‘Sleep gas, girls. Best hold your breaths!’ she called out.
Each witch inhaled deeply, then switched off her internal breathing reflex, the one that makes the body breath automatically. Witches have great control over their bodies and can survive for many, many minutes without air. So, breaths held, they shot across the field to the cave.
The six witches stopped in a circle outside the cave entrance and made a pile on the ground with their broomsticks. They scanned the location for signs of movement, but could hear or see nothing. The two bravest witches ventured into the cave while the others searched the immediate area. Inside the cave, there was a sad sight; in the light of a lantern, little Roger’s backpack sat on a rock, its contents spilled out on the ground. A little further into the cave, the broken jars from the sleep bomb were strewn about, shards of sharp glass littering the darkness. No sign of the boys, none at all.
‘They’re gone. Gone,’ said Sarah, emerging from the cave. ‘I found this,’ she said, holding up Roger’s backpack, ‘and Rachel’s getting a sample of the sleep bomb.’
‘There’s no sign of tracks out here. Just back and forth from the trees there to the cave. But nothing like an escape route.’
‘If he was carrying the two boys, his footprints would be deeper.’
‘True. He must have gone over the mountain. Brooms, girls. Let’s head up and find his trail.’
They mounted their broomsticks and whooshed up the mountain, finally able to inhale again. As they ascended, hugging the rough mountain surface, with its many outcrops and depressions, they split up. Two went over the top, two went left and two went right. Rachel and Sarah reached the top of mountain without seeing anything unusual. At the peak, they paused for a second to admire the view and wave across at the All-Seeing Eye’s mountain, correctly assuming that they were being watched. Then down, down, down, at an incredible pace. Though their eyes were bleary, with tears streaming out from the fast-moving air, they could spot the other pairs of witches approaching the bottom of the mountain from either side. They met at the bottom.
‘Anything?’ asked Rachel, breathless from her exciting ride down the mountain.
‘I think I saw something over there,’ said Tara, pointing towards the nearest patch of dense undergrowth.
‘What?’
‘Movement, that’s all. Could’ve been a deer.’
‘Or a man. Let’s take a look.’
They flew slowly across the rocky ground. Rachel pulled up her broom and pointed to the ground. They could see a series of depressions in the fine gravel. Footsteps! Heavy footsteps from the mountain to the undergrowth. Rachel’s phone beeped twice. Incoming message.
‘It’s from Annie. She says we’re on the right track. They spotted him coming this way, carrying a big sack.’
‘The boys!’
‘Let’s go, girls!’
They sped into the shadows. A trail opened up in the undergrowth, like a hunters’ trail or one made by deer. Tree branches whipped the witches as they followed the path, down through denser forest and, suddenly, into an open, rocky area. They stopped, but not by choice, as their broomsticks fell to the ground.
‘What?’ said Rachel as she sat on the stony ground, rubbing her head gingerly.
‘Bad magic,’ said Tara. ‘Look.’
She pointed to a tree stump bore them. Like the many stumps around the clearing, it had once been a mighty tree. But now its roughly chopped remains held a dark secret. The centre of the stump had been hollowed out and a round gla
ss ball sat in it. The ball contained a swirling cloud of black and red. Tara took a step closer and the ball glowed. She hesitated, then took a step backwards. She turned to the others, who saw that she was sweating and pale.
‘It’s a witch repellent,’ she said weakly.
The witches gave a collective sigh. This was a very troubling development. Not only could they not rescue the boys, or even find out where they had been taken. Now they would have to face down the terrifying prospect of an evil presence on their patch, one that had the power and the cunning to defeat them. They took some samples of the stony ground and nearby bushes, as well as the air.
‘Before we give up, let’s see if there are any more of these horrid devices,’ suggested Rachel.
All together, for none would travel alone with such malevolence in their midst, they flew slowly to the left. There were more of the balls, each placed in tree stump just like the first. An oak, a beech, a horse chestnut. They reached the shores of the lake, then returned the way they’d come. They passed the first ball then continued on. Again, witch repellent balls at regular intervals until they came again to the black, lifeless lake.
Armed with this useful information and a quickly sketched map, they turned and headed for home, sending messages to both Granny Annie and Granny Smith.
Chapter 24: COMFORTABLY NUMB
Granny Annie wasn’t able to revive the All-Seeing Eye and there wasn’t much else to be seen. Emily was in shock at Malcolm and Roger’s abduction, so Annie gave her a pinch of relaxant which helped a little.
‘Come on, dear. I need your help. Even though there isn’t a pick of her there, those are tricky, winding stairs.’
‘Where are we going to put her?’
‘We can’t leave her here. Not in this state and not with so much badness about. She’s coming with us.’
They carefully carried the sleeping body downstairs. There were a few bruised elbows all round bore they reached the car. The heavy door to the viewing platform had closed automatically after them, sensing that the All-Seeing Eye had lt. The front door to the house closed by itself too, but Granny Annie put a quick protection spell on it to keep any nosey parkers away.
They drove back to the house at breakneck speed. Granny Annie muttered her way down the hidden driveway, cursing at the trees that jumped out in front of them, while Emily sat in the back, holding tight to the All-Seeing Eye.
They reached home with a screech of brakes. The flying witches touched down in the back yard at the same time. The All-Seeing Eye was brought into the house and put into a big, soft armchair, while Granny Smith fussed in the kitchen, making tea and ham sandwiches. After a few hours, dawn broke and the sleeping gas wore off.
Nobody else’d had a wink.
Chapter 25: THE PITS
Malcolm rubbed his eyes, but it made no difference. There was nothing to see, just pitch blackness. He was confused, light headed, scared. Was he still in the cave?
‘Roger! Roger! Hello! Farmer Blue!’
No reply.
‘Help! Help!’
He tried to stand up, but his ankle gave way with a sharp dart of pain that ran straight to his brain. He sat slumped against a wall, which he felt with his back was damp and cold.
‘I am still in the cave,’ he said to himself.
Then the memory of the explosion came to him. A loud bang, yellow smoke, a horrible stink. Did that happen? His eyes grew accustomed to the dark, their pupils widening to the size of pennies to let as much precious light in as possible. Slowly, a picture of his surroundings began to form. He was in some sort of cave all right. A small square of pale light was visible far above. Morning had arrived. Was this really the cave? A bundle of rags lay beside him. He poked it with his good foot, in case it harboured rats or other unmentionables. He was startled when the bundle said "Ow!"
‘Roger! Is that you?’
‘Yeah, yeah. What’s going on? Did you kick me?’
‘Yeah, sorry. I genuinely don’t have a clue what’s going on, I’m afraid. I think we’re still in the cave. We must have fallen asleep or something.’
Roger sat up and looked around.
‘No, this isn’t the cave. This looks like one of the mineshafts over by the Dead Lake.’
‘The what?’
‘The Dead Lake. It’s behind the mountain where we were hunting. It used to be a gold mine. There was a tiny bit of gold found there in the 1890s, so a load of miners came in and dug the whole place up, deep shafts everywhere. Then, because they use poison cyanide to extract the gold from the rocks, the whole lake was killed off. And all for a handful of metal.’
‘That’s awful.’
‘Too right. My dad says the lake used to be one of the best trout lakes in the country.’
‘So why are we here?’
‘That, Malcolm, is the million Euro question. I don’t like this.’
At that, there came a sound from above, a horrible squeaking. They looked up and saw a dark shape framed by the brightening patch of sky. The shape came closer and closer until it hit the ground between them, almost crushing Malcolm’s bad foot. It was a huge bucket and it was attached to a heavy, rusty chain.
‘Get in the bucket. Now!’ boomed a deep, cruel voice.
A shape could be seen at the top of the hole, their kidnapper!
‘Who the hell are you?’ called Malcolm. ‘What are you doing to us?’
‘Get in the bucket. Now!’
‘No we won’t,’ said Malcolm, feeling braver because of Roger’s strong voice.
‘Very well,’ said the voice, ‘I’ll just fill the hole with water and ye’ll float up to me. Hang on until I get the big hose.’
Malcolm and Roger looked at each other. They were scared. They had no idea who this man was, but they wordlessly agreed that drowning would be no answer to their problems.
‘Wait! We’re coming up!’ shouted Roger.
The man reappeared at the top of the hole and watched as the boys clambered into the bucket. When they were both squeezed into its wood and iron embrace, the chain went taut and they began to rise. Slowly they ascended, the chain making horrific screeching sounds, which echoed all around them. As the shaft brightened, Malcolm could see the marks left by ancient shovels and picks. He even saw some graffiti scratched into the wall, which read "Tom Clancy, 1892, No Gold Here - Gone home to Clare".
They neared the top of the pit and the light flooded in. This made Malcolm feel a little brighter inside, though he trembled at the thoughts of what lay in store for them. They reached the top and the chain stopped pulling. The bucket swung slowly as it dangled over the deep hole. Malcolm’s eyes followed the chain to a winch a little bit away. The man stood at the winch, secured the chain, then walked over to them as they sat petrified in the bucket, a rusty chain all there was between an uncertain future and certain death.
‘Well, my boys. Did ye sleep well?’ asked the man. He was big, heavy, ugly. Malcolm immediately recognised him as the weird man from the train. There, he had twine tied around his waist. Him, for sure. But he didn’t let on anything.
‘What happened? Why did you put us down there?’ ventured Roger.
‘You’ll have to learn, boys, that I ask the questions around here. Now, I’ll let you off today, young man, as this is your first day. But take this as your final warning.’
‘First day of what?’
‘This is your first day in Big Seamus’s School For Brats Who Don’t Even Deserve A Decent Education. I’m sure ye’ll get on grand here. And if ye don’t, there’s always the pit. Or the lake. Oh, by the way, don’t bother bringing me apples, ‘cos I don’t like ‘em.’ He laughed a heartless laugh. ‘I hates ‘em!’
Chapter 26: THE RESCUE
As Malcolm and Roger endured their first day in Big Seamus’s School For Brats Who Don’t Even Deserve A Decent Education, Emily and the witches schemed a way to bring them home. All the witches stayed in the grannies’ house all through the night and into the next day. It was agr
eed unanimously that farmer Blue would also be invited to help in the rescue mission. He appeared at the house just after dawn had broken. He was apologetic and upset and tried to explain to the witches what had happened. Of course, they knew much more than he. Granny Smith took him aside and explained that the boys had been abducted by an evil man who used magic and other unspeakable tricks to control children. Farmer Blue said that he must be stopped for good. Granny Smith agreed. Farmer Blue said that he could get twenty men with guns ready for a rescue and Granny Smith said grand, do it.
After Farmer Blue left to round up his posse, the witches gathered, knowing that they had to find a means of defeating Big Seamus’s black magic. Emily suggested the Witches’ World Wide Web, WWWW, and she was asked to do a search. She used ‘witch repellent cures’ as her keywords and got 3,454 results. The first turned out to be the best. It told of how the spherical witch repellents used by the evil schoolmaster were made from anthracite, a type of coal, mixed with tiny bits of diamonds. Why they worked was unknown, something to do with the carbon balance of life. The way to combat them was to neutralise the carbon. Quite simple, really. Heat it and it burns. Problem solved.
‘I’ve got it!’ exclaimed Emily.
‘Good girl,’ said Granny Annie. ‘Now what have you got, exactly?’
‘I know how we can deal with the witch repellents around the mine!’
‘How?’
‘We just have to heat them up and release the carbon.’
‘You what?’
‘They’re made out of coal. We just have to burn them.’
‘Is it to do with carbon?’ asked Granny Annie.
‘Exactly!’ exclaimed Emily. ‘Coal is made from carbon, so are diamonds, so are all human beings, well, carbon mixed with other things like hydrogen and oxygen. Even the so-called lead in pencils is actually carbon, mixed with clay.’
‘They say that carbon is the most important chemical in the world.’
‘You’re right! It says here that carbon really is the most important chemical. Without it we couldn’t exist. Even our food is made out of it. You know carbohydrates? They’re made out of carbon, oxygen and hydrogen. We live on carbon’