Authors: Peter Joison
Ember turned to Turner, a look of terror in her eyes. Through her hand on her mouth she said, ‘The Jag … Oh my God, Celeste is going to kill me.’
*
Ember thought she’d lost her phone with the car but Turner produced it from his pocket. He couldn’t remember how it had gotten there, but they were both too relieved to question it.
They rang home and waited a dozen feet away from the pit. If Turner didn’t look over his shoulder, he could imagine the world as a normal place, a pleasant world with the green rolling hills of the Midlands, a blue sky and a small country road. But every time a stray breeze blew the pit’s terrible stench over them, the little picture book he had constructed for himself tore itself up and fluttered away.
Before he saw or even heard the car, Turner knew it was coming. ‘Here she comes.’
‘Who?’ asked Ember. ‘Chloe?’
Turner couldn’t help himself; he turned and gave Ember a big grin. ‘No. Celeste.’
‘Oh shit,’ said Ember.
The Land Rover crested the rise and pulled to a halt beside the pair. Celeste jumped from the car and strode to the pit. She took one look and walked over to Turner and Ember. Turner expected fireworks. He didn’t expect to be pulled into a three-way embrace.
‘It’s going to be OK. Everything’s alright,’ said Celeste, her short blonde and blue hair against Turner’s cheek.
Ember pulled back. ‘You’re … you’re not mad?’
Celeste searched her sister’s face. ‘I’m just glad you’re alright, Em. And don’t worry about the car. Cars are replaceable. We have much bigger things to worry about.’
On the trip back to Wickerwell, Ember filled Celeste in on what had happened at Turner’s house, and on the fields.
‘Damn,’ said Celeste.
‘What?’ asked Ember.
Celeste turned the car into the manor’s driveway. ‘It seems to all tie in with what Mother Torhild has been talking about. She wants to meet Turner properly, and she has some … important things to share. So we’ll discuss it more when we get home.’
In the back seat, Turner leaned back and closed his eyes. Just hours ago he had woken up determined to get out of there and back to his normal life. Now normal life had been ripped away from him. His flat, Mr Holt, the car and those bloody Scathers; he’d asked for none of it. But it looked like he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He couldn’t run away now. He had powers for Christ’s sake! Real powers his sixteen-year-old self would have sold his soul, or at least his computer, for. And there was Ember—a beautiful sorceress, who, amazingly, seemed to be interested in him. He clenched his fists. Plus he was angry. He wanted something … justice … revenge?
Turner knew he had just made a big decision. He took a deep breath.
Back at Wickerwell they entered the Great Hall. Turner hadn’t been in the Hall before and felt as if he were stepping into a private part of the girls’ world. It was a mixture of a Goth’s inner sanctum and a medieval library, and smelled of old books and scented candles. In the centre of the room was a circle of old, mismatched chairs. Mother Torhild and Aunt Sigrid were there, as were Chloe, Brooke and Skye … and one other person.
‘Aunt Lani!’ said Ember. The girl’s Aunt was sitting in a large old easy chair, her legs covered in a crocheted rug. Ember crossed the room and gave her Aunt a strong hug. ‘I’m so glad you’re alright.’
‘Takes a lot to keep me down, dear,’ said Lani.
Turner stood just outside the circle of chairs. Skye gave him a little wave, but when Turner looked at Brooke, her eyes opened wide and she looked away quickly.
Aunt Lani looked beyond Ember and held out her hand. ‘Young man,’ she said.
Turner walked to the old woman’s side and took her hand. It was plump but felt small and frail in Turner’s hands.
‘Oh yes. Now you’re awake your strength just radiates from you. Mother Torhild has restored much of my vigour this afternoon, but I feel your power drumming through me. It’s marvellous.’
Mother Torhild coughed and held out her hand as well. When Turner took it, he felt a shock of power course through him. Images of misty moors, white tipped lakes and storms rushed through Turner’s mind. This was one amazing woman.
The feeling must have been mutual. ‘Incredible,’ said Mother Torhild, ‘simply incredible.’ Still holding Turner’s hand, she spoke to the room, ‘I’ve never before felt so much potential … so much capacity.’ Her gaze bore into Turner.
Turner was a bit uncomfortable with all this attention. Ember must have noticed as she patted the chair next to her. ‘Here, Turner, sit.’
Once seated, Turner looked around at all the faces, shifted in his seat and rubbed the back of his neck. A room full of women—and him.
Mother Torhild stood and faced the circle. ‘Let’s get started, shall we? I spoke at length with Celeste and Chloe. Celeste suggested it would be best … how did you put it, dear? It’s best if we all share the same page? At any rate, now we’re all here, I’ll try to be brief. It’s not good though I’m afraid. The news I’m about to impart is frightful, perhaps even world changing.’
‘I don’t like this,’ whispered Ember.
Turner was wondering once again what he’d gotten himself into.
‘As you know,’ Mother Torhild continued, ‘Turner there is a human Ring. I have only met one other human Ring before in my life. It was in France in the middle of World War Two.’ She looked at the young faces around her, and chuckled. ‘Yes, I’m that old. It seems human Rings only appear when the Earth is in dire straits, when the Dark Forces are about to spread evilness and sickness to a large proportion of the population, causing plagues and war.’
Mother Torhild sat down again and continued, speaking to Turner, ‘The Earth fights back, with the Vordenes of course. But in case of wars and plagues, the Vordenes need all the help they can get. One, maybe two Vordene are granted an Ellring, which is just an old way of saying ‘All-Ring’ or ‘Ring Lord.’ The Ring Lord is basically a protector spirit with incredible powers but in human form, so they can think and plan and act on those plans.’
Ember smiled at Turner. ‘Ellring. You’re the Ellring, Turner.’
Turner frowned, looked at Ember, but spoke to the room. ‘But I’m not. It can’t work like that. One day nothing, the next, all these powers? I’m just a guy.’
Mother Torhild spoke to Turner. ‘You were just ‘a guy’, young man. But no longer. Look within, you must feel yourself changing? To discover what you really are, you must first cast aside what the world expects you to be.’
Turner stared at his hands in his lap. Expectations. He could probably ignore the world’s expectations, but what about the women in this room? What of their expectations?
‘The Ellring,’ said Skye. ‘Why don’t we know about this? Shouldn’t this be something we learn about as we grow up?’
‘No,’ said Sigrid. ‘An Ellring could probably be summoned by a Vordene if they tried hard enough, with years of the right incantations. And what Vordene wouldn’t want a human Ring? But Ellrings are powerful beings which should only manifest in times of need. An Ellring in normal times could be a dangerous thing, their power unfocused, untamed and obvious to the outside world. Therefore, we try to keep the Ellring a secret. Even to other Vordene.’
Chloe asked, ‘Mother Torhild, why us? Why here?’
‘The Ellring usually appears where they will be needed most,’ said Mother Torhild. ‘So it looks like the Midlands are going to play host to some sort of apocalypse.’
‘Apocalypse? Such as?’ asked Brooke.
Sigrid pushed some of her red hair from her face. Turner suspected she was probably a fire elemental as well. ‘Well, we know in World War II there was a Scather gate a hundred feet wide in Germany. It spilled out Scathers for months. Millions of them. Of course the general populous though it was some sort of mining disaster.’
A couple of the girls scoffed. ‘That’d be right,’ said Brooke.
Sigrid continued, ‘The Scathers contaminated Europe with fear, illness and evilness until finally infecting the rest of the world. It took almost two hundred full Vordenes, from all over the world, to fight off the Scathers and close the gate. But they didn’t succeed until the Ellring of the Stuttgart Vordene joined the battle. And although they won in the end, many Vordene and many Rings perished, including the young Ellring.’
‘So what about us? What do we do?’ asked Brooke.
Celeste nodded at Mother Torhild and said, ‘Aunt Sigrid and Mother Torhild suggest we do the Binding as soon as possible. It makes the Vordene and Ellring stronger. A powerful whole.’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Turner, ‘the marriage.’
Most smiled and a couple of the girls laughed.
Brooke shook her head at Turner. ‘It better be a honking big diamond ring, because really, you’re not my type.’
Turner would have laughed, but Brooke wasn’t smiling.
‘Now,’ said Celeste, ‘tell them about your adventure to Wilby.’
Turner and Ember recounted their adventure. It garnered many gasps and ‘Oh my Gods’ from the circle of women. When Ember had finished speaking, Brooke stood. ‘I’ve got to … I’ll be back …’ she said, and darted out the door.
‘What’s gotten into her?’ asked Celeste.
For a few long seconds no one spoke. Skye broke the silence. ‘So we wait all our lives for a Ring, we hit the jackpot with an Ellring, and straight away somebody wants to take him from us.’
Mother Torhild broke the silence. ‘Yes, it sounds like someone or something wants the Ellring out of the way.’
Celeste leant forward in her chair. ‘But we all know Scathers don’t work like that. The Grimshade isn’t conscious is it? And Skorns are limited in their powers. Who or what has the power to do those things?’
Mother Torhild gripped the wooden arms of her chair. ‘I don’t know, dear. I wish I did, but I think it’s definitely tied to the impending calamity. I’m sorry to say, if there’s some sort of sentient supernatural being behind it, it’s beginning to feel a lot worse than a plague or a war. The most dangerous dark forest is that with a mind in it. I suggest we hurry the Binding along. Give us three days to prepare. In the meantime, be on your toes. Protect your Ellring.’
Turner once again shifted uncomfortably under the concentrated stare of seven powerful women.
*
It was now late afternoon. The circle had broken up into two groups. Ember stood to one side with Turner and Skye. The other group, ‘the oldies’ as Skye put it, consisted of Mother Torhild, Aunt Sigrid, Celeste and Chloe. They were huddled together on the chairs discussing Rings, catastrophes and Bindings.
Skye suggested that Ember, Turner and she head to the kitchen and start to prepare dinner.
The three filed out of the Great Hall, but Ember grabbed Turner’s hand and pulled him to the stairs.
‘Hey! Where are you two going?’ asked Skye.
Ember looked over the bannister her sister. ‘Just showing Turner my bedroom, we’ll be down to help in a mo.’
‘Cheeky thing,’ said Skye with a huge smirk.
‘I’m
just
showing him my bedroom.’ She took Turner’s hand again, ‘Come on.’
They met Brooke coming down the stairs.
‘You OK, Brooke?’ asked Ember.
Turner saw a range of expressions cross Brook’s face. ‘Look, I’m …’ She stopped, and crossed her arms. ‘Nothing. Don’t worry about it.’ She hurried down the stairs.
Ember stood watching her sister for a moment. She let out a deep sigh.
They continued up the stairs. Half way along the landing Ember opened the door to her room. She bit her lip. This was the first time in her life she had ever had a man in her room. She knew Turner didn’t really need to see her room, but Ember felt she wanted to share this with him.
Her
space.
Turner stepped into the room and looked around. Ember watched him take in the ancient wooden bookcases that lined the walls; they held hundreds of books.
‘Wow. You like reading, I see,’ he said.
Ember spread her hands. ‘The world is wondrous and weird … and I mean to find out why.’
Many of the books were old and well used, but Turner pointed to a fantasy trilogy. ‘Hey, I’ve read that. One of my all-time faves.’ He pointed to another. ‘And that, I’ve read that one too. Bit too heavy on the romance for my liking though.’
Ember gave a little laugh. ‘I wonder if you and I have ever read the same book at the same time. You in London, me up here …’
Turner cocked his head. ‘No wonder you like those romance books …’
They both laughed then.
A writing desk stood in front of a deep window, on which sat a small modern laptop. Ember’s large bed, unmade, took up most of the other side of the room.
‘It’s not what I expected,’ said Turner. ‘But in a good way. It’s like a cosy library. I was expecting lots of red I guess. Red walls, red bed, maybe some skulls …’
Ember placed her hands on her hips. ‘Skulls?’
‘Well, maybe some candles? Hanging from the ceiling, or in those medieval candelabra things?’
Ember stepped up to Turner. ‘Get this through your noggin,’ she tapped his forehead in time to her words. ‘We … are … not … witches.’
Turner gave her lopsided grin. ‘Sorcerous women using ancient magical powers. Not witches. Yeah, I know.’
Ember sat down on her bed and flopped back, her arms above her head. ‘Ugh. OK. If I’m a witch … that makes you a warlock, Mr Ellring.’
Turner stood at the end of the bed. ‘Touché.’ Ember was aware of his gaze.
He looked around again. ‘Plus you wouldn’t want candles in here. I’d hate to see your little library nook go up in flames. I like it. I really do.’
Ember sat up. ‘Thanks, Turner.’ She gestured towards a child’s drawing on the wall beside the desk. ‘Look.’
Turner took a step or two and looked at the picture, which had been framed and sat behind glass. It was a rough drawing of a girl with a stick arms and a triangle for a dress, standing next to what looked like a big cat with long, comical whiskers and a lightning bolt tail. The little girl’s arm stretched out to the cat.
Ember stepped close and leant into Turner’s back. She could feel the heat of him.
She pointed at the picture. ‘It’s me and our Ring. The jaguar. I drew it when I was about six or seven.’