Emerald Child (Kalika Magic Book 1) Read online

‘It’s no more than a children's rhyme but it’s part of our heritage and at least it is safe now. All the writings of Ballyndor are safe and most of the paintings. We couldn't save everything, of course. But we tried.’ He gazed at the books. ‘We feared our great civilisation would be lost, that there would be nothing left of her beauty, nothing of her promise. We used all the magic we could and brought everything here, deep within the earth. The sorcerer knows it is here, but he cannot break the ancient spells. So we are protected … for a time. And keeping it here does him no harm, I suppose. He is more afraid of those who try to find it, those who remember the glory of the city before the sorcerer came.’

  Indie sat forward on her cushion, her dinner forgotten. ‘Sorcerer?’ she said, her eyes shining. ‘There’s a sorcerer? That’s great! What happens next? Does he turn the king into a toad?’ She looked at Kai, but he wasn’t laughing.

  Uncle Paco picked up the cup beside him and took a small, considered sip. ‘There is a sorcerer. His name is Tenzel and he sits upon the throne of Ballyndor.’ He looked around the room with wary eyes. ‘They say …’ He leaned closer. ‘They say all who challenge him are turned into mice and eaten by his cat, Sheba.’

  ‘Oh, that’s so lame,’ Indie said, laughing. ‘Why wouldn’t he just wave his wand and turn them into ashes or dust or something?’

  The old man sighed. ‘It is not a story drummed up to spook children into good behaviour. The sorcerer is a terrible creature and Ballyndor is in very real danger.’ He was quiet for a moment, turning the cup round and round in his hands. ‘But I see now it has been too long. You really have forgotten.’

  He cleared his throat with a low harrumph. ‘Bring me that book from the shelf, Kai,’ he said, pointing. ‘The heavy one, bound in gold.’

  Chapter 4

  A Real Prince

  The old man put on a tiny pair of spectacles and began to read.

  Many years ago, an old king ruled the land of Gort on the shores of the Shining Sea. The king had one son, a flame-haired lad by the name of Eamon. Eamon was brave and adventurous, and he loved nothing more than to ride through the Kalika Forest on Canto, his thoroughbred.

  ‘I’d love to ride a horse,’ said Indie. ‘I’ve only ever see them in books.’

  The old man smiled. ‘Canto was a marvellous horse,’ he said. ‘You have never seen such a horse.’

  He turned back to the page.

  On one of these outings, the prince met a girl of the forest gathering herbs in the glen. Her name was Tala. She had dark brown skin and clear blue eyes, and she was as beautiful as the day is long.

  He stopped, looking closely at Indie. ‘She was my niece,’ he said. ‘My sister’s child.’

  Indie squirmed under his gaze. ‘What happened then?’ she asked.

  Prince Eamon fell in love with Tala and took her back to the castle of Ballyndor to be his bride.

  When the old king died, Eamon and Tala ruled the land of Gort, side by side. All was peaceful until the birth of their second child. He was sickly and weak, and the doctors said he would not last the winter.

  The king and queen called upon the healers of the forest. They summoned the doctors of the Inner Circle. But it was no use. Even Helki, the wisest of them all, held little hope for the boy.

  ‘Helki!’ cried Indie. ‘Do you mean Kai’s Grandma Helki?’

  ‘Stop interrupting,’ said Kai. ‘This is important.’

  ‘I was just asking – ’

  ‘If you’ve quite finished.’ The old man fixed them with a reproving look. ‘Now where was I? Oh yes, back at the castle.’

  One night, a strange man knocked at the castle gate. He spent three days with the young prince – murmuring incantations, burning incense, lighting candles. On the morning of the fourth day the child slept peacefully and the queen knew that he would live. The sorcerer, Tenzel, had saved her son.

  The old man closed the book. ‘After that neither the king nor the queen would make a decision without the sorcerer’s advice. I was the only one in the castle who didn’t like it. Yes, yes … the only one who did not trust this man.’

  ‘So what did you do?’ asked Indie leaning forward, her eyes wide.

  ‘I began to move as many of the books and works of art to the caves that I could. Secretly at first and then, when the sorcerer began urging people to burn their books – ’

  ‘Burn their books? But why? Didn't he like the stories?’

  ‘Books can be powerful. Art and music, too. All those precious ideas, handed down through the ages, were a threat to Tenzel. His plan was to rule the city and the whole country by making the people forget who they had been; where they had come from.’

  ‘But surely the king and queen could have stopped him? Why didn't they stop him?’

  ‘The king and queen were bewitched. Tenzel had saved their son, you see, and so they did whatever the sorcerer told them to do. On the day he appointed himself High General of the Royal Army I begged Tala to open her eyes. She wouldn’t listen.’

  The old man picked up his teacup, found it full of dregs and put it down with a sigh. ‘By this stage I had cleared the castle libraries and the city galleries, stealing the treasures out from under the sorcerer’s nose. He was not the brightest man. I guess he thought it had all been destroyed, as he had ordered. Finally, he announced the king and queen were taking a holiday and he would take over while they were away.’

  The silence in the cavern grew deeper. Millie had gone to bed. Indie guessed it was late, perhaps after midnight. ‘What happened to the king and queen?’ she whispered. ‘Did they ever come back?’

  The old man bowed his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘And Ballyndor has fallen into darkness without them.’

  Indie sat staring at the old man. It was a great story. The lost king and queen, the terrible sorcerer. But why was he telling her this? What did it have to do with her?

  Kai stood up. ‘Uncle Paco, I'm really tired. I'm going to bed.’

  The old man nodded, ‘Go. Though it would be better for you to hear the story again and again, until it is printed on your soul.’

  ‘But Uncle, I …’

  ‘You have much to do, Kai, and you will need to remember everything I tell you if you are to succeed.’

  ‘You blame me.’ Kai's voice was quiet. ‘You think it was my fault.’

  ‘You were a tiny baby, Kai. How could I blame you?’ The old man rubbed his eyes. ‘No, I do not blame you. I blame myself.’

  He stood up. ‘I am going to bed.’

  He turned to Indie. ‘I suggest you do the same, Indie. We have a long day ahead of us. I will call you when the sun rises.’

  *

  When they were alone in their room, lying on feather cushions, Kai said, ‘I'm sorry about my uncle. He used to live at the castle, you know. He was one of the king’s chief advisers. He’s never had much time for children.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry; his story was great,’ Indie said, yawning. ‘That stuff about Ballyndor isn’t true though, is it? I mean, about the sorcerer and everything?’

  ‘Yes,’ Kai whispered, pulling up the blankets. ‘It’s all true.’

  ‘But why should he blame you? What did you do?’

  Silence.

  ‘Kai? Are you still awake? Hey! Kai?’

  More silence, and then a whisper, almost too faint to hear: ‘He blames me because I was the baby prince. I was the one the sorcerer cured. The sorcerer became powerful because of me.’

  Indie stayed awake for a long time, gazing into the darkness. Kai was a prince? A real prince? This scruffy boy with his purple dress? It couldn’t be true.

  When sleep came, she dreamed of a city with domed roofs and golden spires. She dreamed of a castle set high on a hill and a stable of horses with proud eyes and tossing manes.

  And she dreamed of a garden filled with flowers, and a woman in a white dress, dancing … dancing with a blue-eyed baby in her arms.

  Chapter 5

  The Willow Stick

 
; the sun beat down on the grey-green sand, and the heat stretched its prickly fingers into every corner of the little island. At the bottom of the cliff, drenched in perspiration and feeling sure they would collapse at any moment, five women stood at the open chest, staring into the darkness.

  ‘Well, at least it’d be cooler down there,’ said Doli, wiping her forehead with a large black leaf.

  ‘There’s no way in this world I’m climbing down a great dirty hole to rescue that scallywag,’ said Chepi. ‘Anyway, she won’t get far. If I can’t cross the silver veil, there’ll be no way that she can. I’m going back to the huts to finish shucking the corn. If you have any sense, you'll come with me.’

  ‘Fine idea, I say,’ said Lulu, waddling across the sand on her pudgy old legs. ‘Let’s put the kettle on, shall we?’

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake,’ said Aunt Sofia. ‘I’m not suggesting we climb into the chest.’

  ‘Well what are you suggesting?’

  The women all looked at Aunt Sofia.

  ‘Yes, Sofia,’ said Doli, wiping her face again and huffing a little. ‘What are you suggesting?’

  ‘Isn't it obvious?’ Aunt Sofia put her hands on her hips. ‘Indie couldn’t open the chest herself, and if Grandma Helki had come for her, she would have taken us all back. No, I’d say the sorcerer is behind this.’

  ‘Oh no!’ gasped Doli. ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘Simple,’ said Aunt Sofia. We must go back to Gort. What else can we do?’

  ‘Gort! Good Lord, Sofia. We haven't been back in years.’ Doli looked shocked. ‘I've completely forgotten the way there and I'm sure you have too.’

  ‘I never forget anything, Doli, as you well know.’

  ‘That’s not quite true, Sofia dear. Why, just last year you forgot my birthday …’

  Aunt Sofia glared at her.

  Aunty Mai had broken away from the circle and was gazing out at the sea. ‘What do you think, Mai?’ asked Doli. ‘Should we go rushing back to Gort after all these years?’

  Aunty Mai turned, her face pale. ‘Poor Indie,’ she whispered. ‘We should have told her the truth.’

  Aunt Sofia frowned. ‘We couldn’t. Remember what Grandma Helki said? The best way to keep her hidden from the sorcerer was to make sure she knew nothing about Gort.’

  ‘We could have told her about her mother,’ said Aunty Mai.

  ‘What? And break her poor little heart? No, it’s better this way.’

  Aunty Mai turned back to the chest, peering into its depths. ‘I’ll go,’ she said.

  ‘No,’ said Aunt Sofia, a little too sharply. ‘You’re not well enough to make the journey. No, don’t frown at me, Mai. You’ve been so tired.’

  ‘Well, of all the – ’

  ‘Besides, it’s dangerous. The forest is burning. Tala and Eamon are missing. And Tenzel is a nasty piece of work, with his potions and his factory. But someone must go and using magic is the quickest way.’ She tapped the chest with her fingernails. ‘Do you think a willow stick is too old-fashioned, girls?’

  Reaching into the darkness, she pulled out a smooth willow branch, its leaves fresh and green.

  ‘Oh Sofia,’ whispered Doli. ‘You mean you've kept it all these years?’

  ‘And a good thing too,’ said Aunt Sofia, shaking off the cobwebs.

  ‘You’ll still have to cross the silver veil,’ said Aunty Mai quietly. ‘Even if you don’t go through the chest, you’d have to do that.’

  Aunt Sofia's smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘I keep telling you I’m just as powerful as Grandma Helki,’ she said. ‘I wish you’d believe that.’

  ‘It takes more than a magic spell to cross the silver veil. You have to have the magic inside you.’

  Aunt Sofia frowned. ‘Pass me my hat, Doli,’ she said, motioning toward the straw hat she’d left lying on the sand. It was a hideous hat, with a wide orange band and limp yellow petunias scattered around the brim.

  ‘Lulu! Call on the spirits of the four directions.’

  The women looked at each other.

  ‘Are you sure you'll be all right by yourself?’ asked Doli, passing Aunt Sofia the hat and watching Lulu, her three chins and wobbly bottom quivering, as she tried to summon the spirits.

  ‘I'll be fine,’ snapped Aunt Sofia. Her face seemed to be changing. As they watched, her hair grew darker and the wrinkles around her eyes disappeared.

  ‘Sofia,’ Aunty Mai did not like what was happening. ‘Sofia, I think perhaps we’d better talk about this a bit more.’

  ‘There's nothing to talk about,’ Aunt Sofia put on her hat and readied the willow stick. ‘I'll bring that girl back safe and sound. You just keep the circle strong while I'm away.’

  And with that, she whispered the secret words every woman knows but few are brave enough to use; tilted her head forward so the petunias danced wildly up and down; and shot out over the wide blue sea.

  ‘Oh dear.’ Doli crushed the leaf in her hands. ‘There's something not quite right …’

  ‘Stuff and nonsense,’ said Lulu, puffing her way up the hill. ‘She’ll be fine. Now, who wants a cup of tea?’

  Only Aunty Mai stayed behind. She walked over to the chest, tapped the lid three times, and watched it close. Then she stepped back and folded her arms, frowning as she watched her sister speed into the clouds and disappear from view.

  Chapter 6

  The Cave of Treasures

  when indie woke, it was impossible to tell what time it was or how long she’d been asleep. In the darkness of the caves it was always night. Only Uncle Paco, with his ticking silver watch and his impatient call to rise, seemed to recognise the morning.

  She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and thought how different this place was to the island, with the sun bursting through the trees and the coneflowers standing purple outside her door. She sat up as a thought struck her. Her aunts would be really worried. They would be searching for her everywhere.

  ‘Kai,’ she whispered to the boy lying on the other side of the cave. ‘I have to go back. I have to tell Aunty Mai.’

  Kai rolled over with a grunt. ‘She knows,’ he said, his eyes still closed.

  Indie stared at him. ‘How could she – ’

  ‘Good morning sleepyheads.’ Millie sang, bustling into the room. ‘It’s time for breakfast.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Mind you don't keep your uncle waiting. He has a terrible temper.’

  Kai went out to the spring to wash and change, while Indie pulled on the dress she found at the edge of her bed. It was long and white and it took forever to do up the buttons. Still, anything was better than the green pyjamas.

  ‘The hot springs are great, aren't they?’ Kai’s voice came floating from somewhere along the passage. ‘The water smells funny though – a bit like rotten eggs. I wonder if you can drink it.’

  ‘Don't you know?’ Indie said. ‘I thought you'd been here before.’

  Kai came into the cavern, looking uncomfortable in a crisp white shirt and black shorts with gold symbols embroidered on the hem.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Uncle Paco can't stand the sight of me. Grandma Helki brought me to visit once when I was four years old and he sent us away. He said it hurt too much to look at me.’

  ‘That’s horrible!’

  ‘He told Grandma Helki I reminded him too much of my mother.’ His voice tightened. ‘My mother. I wish I could remember her.’

  Somewhere deep in Indie’s mind a memory stirred. A lady in a blue dress, laughing, her hands fluttering around her face, her body swaying. No, not swaying, dancing. She was dancing.

  ‘I think breakfast is this way,’ Kai was already walking ahead, following the tunnel Millie had pointed to. It opened into another large cave. Stacked around the walls were bags of flour, sugar, salt and tea; strings of onions, garlic, apples and pears; and crates of root vegetables – potatoes, pumpkins, carrots and bumpy squash. It looked as if there was enough to last the whole summer and most of the winter too.

  In the ce
ntre of the cave was a table and around it four chairs of the same heavy wood. The table was set with a blue-checked cloth and Millie was laying out a feast of dried fruits, nuts and yoghurt; hunks of crusty bread and blue cheese; and pitchers of sweet orange juice.

  The old man sat down and asked how they’d slept. He didn’t seem so gruff and unapproachable to Indie now as he helped himself to the orange juice.

  ‘Oh, the things I am going to show you! Paintings the like of which you’ve never seen,’ he said, his voice rising with enthusiasm. ‘Tales of such daring, such beauty.’

  And so they were.

  ‘One history book will never tell you the whole story,’ the old man warned, as he read to them from a leather-bound journal. ‘You must read as much as you can, and try to read things written by people who were there. Although,’ he stared past them, frowning, and then shook his head and smiled, ‘sometimes, yes … yes … sometimes they are the stories you can trust least of all.’

  Days passed. To her surprise, Indie found she was eager to learn all the old man could teach her. It had been so different with Aunt Sofia. Aunt Sofia’s books were new, with stiff pages and bright covers; but the stories were black and white. Stories about faraway places and wonderful inventions. Marcos Dentos and his fire stick. Peter Von Tinkle and his clockwork toys. The Marvels of Modern Medicine.

  ‘The world has to change, Indie. It has to grow,’ Aunt Sofia said, over and over. ‘History is only useful if it serves a practical purpose.’

  Indie had spent most of her lessons gazing out through the trees.

  But here, sitting in a secret cavern, surrounded by sculptures and paintings and stories of battles and kings, she wanted to learn as much as she could.

  ‘Is Ballyndor a real place? Why haven’t I heard of it?’

  ‘It is not in your world,’ Uncle Paco said.

  ‘What do you mean, not in my world?’

  ‘Exactly what I said. No, don’t look at me like that. I am telling you the truth.’

  ‘The islands of Gort are strange and wonderful,’ the old man continued. ‘You cannot see them from the mainland. They blend into the sea. The only way to find them is by magic.’