Chapter 27- Home Sweet Home
“Home sweet home,” sighed Bryony, as she dragged her suitcase into the cottage. “I am soooo glad that holiday is over.”
“That’s not like you,” mused Bill, following his daughter through the hallway. “You normally hate coming back from holiday. Didn’t you enjoy yourself?”
Bryony wasn’t sure how to answer that question. “I’ve had more relaxing breaks. And I didn’t get much of a tan.”
“None of us seem to,” said Bill. “Except Jane, for some reason.”
Jane came through the door next. Her normally pale skin was a lovely golden brown, and her freckles had practically vanished. “Yes,” she agreed, inspecting her arms. “I’m not sure why that is.”
“I wish I could remember more of our holiday,” murmured Bill, rubbing his forehead. “It all seemed to pass so quickly.”
“That’s because we had such a great time.” Bryony winked at Edwin as he entered the cottage. Edwin winked back, and gave her a thumbs-up sign.
Neither Bill nor Jane could recall much about the holiday. Inglenook had explained that adults found things like magic difficult to understand. And so, with Bryony and Edwin’s agreement, he had erased their memories of the Isle of Lost Souls and replaced them with more pleasant thoughts. So now Bill and Jane had forgotten all about the spiders and the rats, and were convinced they’d just had the holiday of their lives.
“Shame it’s over,” said Bill. “But don’t worry. As we all had such a good time, I’ll book up to go there again next year.”
Bryony and Edwin gawped in horror. Jane clapped her hands with excitement. “Oh what a wonderful idea! I can’t wait!”
“Well I suppose we’d better unpack,” said Bill.
“I’ll help you,” said Jane.
“I can manage on my own,” insisted Bill, hoisting his suitcase up the stairs.
Jane picked up her own case, and winced. “My, this is heavy.”
“It’s because you packed so many headache tablets,” said Edwin.
Jane nodded. “I shouldn’t have worried. I don’t recall having a single headache all week.”
There was a thud from above, followed by a muffled cry. Then a suitcase came tumbling down the stairs, trailing an assortment of clothes behind it.
“But I think I’m getting one now,” sighed Jane, as she spotted a pair of flailing legs sticking out of the suitcase.
A giggling Bryony and Edwin slipped from the hallway as Jane helped extricate Bill from the suitcase. Inglenook’s carved wooden features came alive as the children entered the lounge.
“Welcome home, young Masters. I trust you had a nice hol…”
“You know we didn’t,” grumbled Bryony, folding her arms. “And I wish you’d stop asking us.”
“My apologies,” said Inglenook. “I did not mean to upset you.”
“We’re the ones who should be saying sorry,” said Edwin. “We almost lost the Key.”
“Yeah,” agreed Bryony. “And we nearly set an evil monster free.”
“It is no matter,” reflected Inglenook. “You are bound to make mistakes now and then, for you are still learning.”
“You call that learning?” Stubby emerged from Edwin’s pocket. “They could have destroyed the world between them. If you have any sense within that balsa brain of yours, you’d take that Key back and never again let it fall into their undeserving clutches.”
“They are Guardians,” said Inglenook. “The Key is theirs by right.”
Bryony shook her head. “But maybe we aren’t ready to use it. We think you should look after it for a while.”
“I shall do as you request,” said Inglenook, and the Wychetts Key rose from Edwin’s hand and disappeared up the chimney. “But some day you must use the Key again.”
“I hope that isn’t soon,” said Bryony.
“Fear not.” Inglenook smiled again. “Next time you will use the power more wisely. Now, is there anything else you require of me?”
Bryony nodded. “There’s a question that’s been bugging me. The Terrible Fang mentioned her master. Someone called the Lord of All Magic.”
“Yeah,” added Edwin. “We thought she meant the Dark One, but she laughed when we asked if she worked for the Shadow Clan. So who is her master?”
“I know,” said a voice that didn’t belong to Inglenook.
Bryony looked round in the direction of the voice. At first she didn’t see anyone, then she spotted something on the floor: a small animal with a long, reddish-brown body. And an eye-patch.
“Slinker!” Bryony couldn’t help but smile. “How did you get here?”
“Magic,” said Slinker. “Courtesy of old wooden chops over there.”
“Mr Slinker and I had an arrangement,” explained Inglenook. “He was working for me all along.”
“Not for you,” said Slinker, tetchily. “The arrangement was for our mutual benefit, if you recall.”
“Mr Slinker was recently convicted of a crime,” said Inglenook in response to Bryony’s questioning look. “And was sentenced to life imprisonment on the Isle of Lost Souls. I happened to know that he was innocent of this particular crime, but his previous bad record went against him. Not wishing to see an animal punished undeservedly, I made an arrangement with Mr Slinker. If he carried out a small task for me, I would see that he was released forthwith.”
“It wasn’t exactly a small task,” said Slinker.
“So what task was it?” asked Bryony, still staring curiously at Inglenook.
“Since my awakening at your hands, young Masters, I had become aware of some malevolent magical activity emanating from the Isle of Lost Souls, and so I employed Mr Slinker to identify the cause. I feared the Terrible Fang might be regaining her power, and I was proved to be correct.”
“You promised back-up,” snarled Slinker. “There I was expecting a legion of battle trained wizards, not the dim-twins and Little Lord Stumpy here.”
“The name is Stubby,” huffed Stubby. “And you will kindly not refer to my associates as the dim twins. It is my job to insult them, thank you.”
Suddenly it all made sense to Edwin. “So that’s how we ended up there. Bill didn’t make a mistake with the booking. It was all down to Inglenook. He took us to the Isle of Lost Souls.”
“I did not intend to place you in peril,” confessed Inglenook. “I thought you should come for some light training in the use of the Key. I planned to deal with the Terrible Fang myself, once I had made contact with Mr Slinker. But things got out of hand too quickly.”
“But you knew!” Bryony scowled at Inglenook. “The Wise Ones imprisoned the Terrible Fang, and you knew all along that Moll was the monster. So why did you use your magic to save her?”
Inglenook answered with his usual cheeriness. “I did as instructed by the young Master. For I am here to obey the will of the Guardians in all things.”
“Even if they’re wrong?” marvelled Stubby. “Even if it risks unleashing an evil destructive force on the world?”
“That was my fault,” admitted Edwin. “I didn’t listen to Inglenook. I ordered him to act without thinking of the consequences.”
“You were only trying to do the right thing,” said Bryony, smiling at her stepbrother. “In any case, Inglenook should have told us about this before we set foot on the island.”
“You are right,” acknowledged Inglenook. “But as I said, I intended to deal with the Terrible Fang myself. And besides, I did not want to trouble you on your holiday.”
Bryony laughed. “Some holiday it turned out to be. What a disaster of a week!”
“Not truly a disaster,” said Inglenook. “You helped the rats and the spiders find peace with each other, and together you defeated the Terrible Fang without the need of my magic.”
“They got lucky,” sneered Slinker. “Next time it might not turn out so nice. But that’s not my problem.” A window opened of its own accord, and the weasel jumped nimbly onto the sill. “So long, Your Ladysh
ip.”
“Wait,” called Bryony, as Slinker prepared to make his exit. “I wanted to say thanks, for saving my life. And I know the rats and spiders wanted to apologise for wrongly accusing you.”
Slinker chuckled. “An occupational hazard.”
“I mean it.” Bryony smiled. “You didn’t turn out so bad after all.”
Slinker stopped chuckling. “Now don’t you go getting any wrong ideas about me, Your Ladyship. I don’t make a habit of working for the likes of you people. I’m a badd’un, I am. Rotten to the core. And if we ever meet again, don’t count on me being on your side.”
“Hold up!” This time it was Edwin who stopped Slinker leaving. “You said you know who the Terrible Fang’s master was. So are you going to tell us?”
Slinker glanced at Inglenook, then smiled. “One day maybe.”
“He doesn’t really know,” snorted Stubby.
“Oh yeah?” Slinker’s single eye bored into Stubby. “We’ll see about that. One day, you’ll all know the truth. I just hope you don’t find out the hard way. But I’ll tell you something for free.” Slinker turned his attention back to Bryony. “Beware, Your Ladyship. There is a spy in your midst.”
Bryony and Edwin exchanged puzzled glances. By the time Bryony looked round again, Slinker had gone.
“A spy?” Edwin scratched his head. “What did he mean by that?”
“Pay no attention,” muttered Stubby. “Don’t believe a word that good for nothing weasel says. Forget about him, and forget about this Lord of All Magic.”
“What Stubby says is true,” agreed Inglenook. “He is of the past, you need not worry about him. For you, all that matters is the future. Your future as Guardians of Wychetts.”
“But we’ll never be proper Guardians,” sighed Edwin.
“Oh but you shall,” said Inglenook. “For you have taken another big step. For you have learned that you must work together, always. To put each other above all else. And that, my young masters, is the real Key to Magic.”
Epilogue
Bryony dumped her suitcase in the corner of her bedroom. She might have enjoyed packing for a holiday, but unpacking had never been her forte. Of course, she could use magic to help her, but somehow it didn’t seem right anymore. Besides, she’d had more than enough magic for a while.
It was a relief to be back to human size, but Bryony felt vast and clumsy, as though her body was way too big for her. Inglenook had assured her it was merely a side effect of being shrunk, and that the sensation would pass in a day or two, along with the involuntary nose twitching and a craving for cardboard.
Bryony flopped onto the bed and sighed, savouring the familiar comfort of her own mattress. It had been a gruelling few days. Inglenook might have healed her numerous cuts and bruises, but she felt mentally and physically drained, and was fit to sleep for a week.
It was dusk now, and through the window Bryony could see stars twinkling through the veil of darkening sky. For some reason, stars always reminded her of Mum. When she was very small, Mum had a bedtime routine of holding Bryony up to the window and showing her the night sky. And there was a song she would sing, but Bryony couldn’t remember how it went. It was something to do with the moon…
At the thought of her mother, Bryony’s hand slipped unconsciously beneath her pillow, and there her fingers touched something soft and slightly furry. It couldn’t be. Could it?
Hoping against hope, Bryony drew her hand from under the pillow, and with it came…
“Mr Cuddles!” Bryony exhaled a grateful sob, and clasped Mr Cuddles to her chest. “Thank you, Inglenook!”
Although Bryony hadn’t let on to Edwin, she had still been a bit upset at the thought of never seeing Mr Cuddles again. But now he was back with her. It didn’t matter that he’d been pecked quite a bit and was leaking stuffing from a hole in his stomach.
Bryony lovingly prodded the stuffing back into place. Then she saw something poking out of Mr Cuddles that wasn’t stuffing: at first she thought it was a bit of dried pasta, but on closer inspection discovered it was a rolled up piece of paper.
Curious, Bryony pulled the paper from Mr Cuddles’ stomach and unrolled it. There was writing on it. Her mother’s writing.
Bryony’s heart skipped a beat. It could, of course, be nothing. Just a scrap of old paper, maybe a shopping list, just any odd bit of junk lying about that Mum had used to stuff Mr Cuddles. But Bryony knew, she just knew this writing meant something…
Bryony read the words, her dark eyebrows furrowing as she struggled to make sense of their meaning. But that was impossible. The words had no meaning. They just didn’t make sense.
Bryony looked up and gazed through the window. She was surprised at how dark it had become, how quickly the hungry night had fallen. The stars were shining brighter now, but she scarcely noticed their brilliance as her black eyes focussed on that large silver crescent which seemed to dwarf everything else into insignificance.
And as Bryony sat staring at the night sky, the words on the paper repeated in her mind…
“Beware the Moon of Magister.”
THE END
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