Music and Misadventure Read online

  Music and Misadventure

  (Modern Magick, 6)

  by

  Charlotte E. English

  Copyright © 2018 by Charlotte E. English

  All rights reserved.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold.

  Preface

  Modern Magick is an ongoing web serial. You can also read online at: http://www.modernmagick.net

  1

  ‘So,’ said Jay. ‘Tell me again. What exactly are we doing here?’

  Here was a breezy, grassy plain adorned by craggy chunks of rock nicely arranged in a ring. Two rings, actually, one inside the other; swaying gently in the centre of both was me.

  ‘Visiting my mother,’ I said, swallowing nausea. I thought I was getting used to flying down the Winds of the Ways, but today…

  ‘Ves,’ said Jay, wearily. ‘Visiting one’s mother consists of popping by for tea and scones on a Saturday afternoon, and having a cosy chat. It does not consist of flying off to the other side of the country at a moment’s notice, with nothing but a set of co-ordinates to inform us as to her precise location, and after six years of total silence on both sides.’

  ‘All right,’ I said, venturing a step or two beyond the confines of the inner circle. ‘We are riding nobly to my mother’s side to afford her whatever assistance lies within our power.’

  ‘Six years, Ves.’

  ‘I heard you.’

  ‘There was a question in there.’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘Actually, there were several.’

  I had no answers for Jay, certainly none that would satisfy him, so I said nothing. He had brought us to a henge in Birkrigg, Cumbria, otherwise known as Druid’s Temple, and it proved, to my satisfaction, to be located very near the sea. I filled my lungs with fresh ocean air, turned my face (probably tinged with green) to the brisk wind, and indulged in a moment’s reflection.

  I need you to come here at once, Mother had said, having called me out of the blue. And bring those pipes of yours. She had not, of course, said why. Nor had I been able to prise an answer from Milady, as to why she had obligingly given my personal phone number to my mother.

  Mother dearest had also insisted upon Jay, equally without explanation. A few minutes after she had hung up on me, a text had arrived, containing nothing but a string of numbers: map co-ordinates.

  They’d led us, so far, to the Cumbrian coast.

  None of it made any sense.

  ‘If your mother asked for your help,’ I said, without turning around. ‘Wouldn’t you go running?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Jay. ‘But that’s—’

  He stopped, but I had a feeling he’d been planning to say, but that’s different. Maybe it was. He had, by all appearances, a close relationship with his family.

  Privately, I couldn’t fault him for a degree of indignation. Upon finding myself so peremptorily summoned across the country without so much as a Hi, daughter, how are you? I’d had to swallow a flicker of pure rage. How could she dare to— No, no thinking like that. At least it was communication, after so much silence. At least she wanted me for something.

  And then there was the fact of Milady’s interference. Was she just being neighbourly, and trying to put me on better terms with my family? Or did she know something about my mother’s purpose that I didn’t?

  Curse my insatiable curiosity, I had to find out.

  ‘She’s my mother,’ was all I could find to say to Jay, which had to be explanation enough. After all, I only had the one.

  Jay accepted this with a nod, though the frown did not clear from his brow. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘So. Sheep Island.’

  Mother’s co-ordinates proposed to land us in the middle of a tiny spit of land only fifteen acres across, populated with (despite the name) nothing but grass, and with (as far as we could find out) nothing whatsoever to recommend it to anybody’s notice. It had taken us some little time to plot a route. Waymastery to Druid’s Temple; take to the skies, and straight on to Sheep Island, taking great care not to fall into the sea en route.

  I summoned Adeline.

  ‘Do you know how to ride?’ I said to Jay, as I tucked my silver pipes back into their snug hiding nook.

  ‘We’ve had this conversation before. Answer’s still no.’ Jay shaded his eyes against the mid-morning sun as he watched Addie’s pale form descend from the skies. Her broad, beautiful wings sent gusts of air washing over both of us as she spiralled down and landed a few feet away, shaking her head with a whinny. Then he looked sideways at me. ‘Why do you ask? I’ve flown Air Unicorn a few times. Still breathing.’

  I took a moment to croon endearments into Addie’s ears before replying. I also fed her from the bag of fresh, still-warm chips I had in my pocket. We’d stopped off at a chippie before sailing away on the Winds, and I’d managed to resist the temptation to eat more than a few of them. I felt proud. ‘This time, we aren’t flying. Or, not yet.’

  ‘What? Why not?’

  ‘For one thing, it’s very windy up there. Did you see the way Addie was buffeted around on the descent?’ I swung myself up onto Addie’s broad back and took hold of the silvery rope she wore for my (I think) benefit.

  ‘We’ve flown on windy days before.’ Jay eyed Adeline uneasily.

  I smiled brightly down upon him. ‘For another thing, it’s a beautiful day for a ride. Come on.’ I patted Addie’s back, the bit right behind myself.

  ‘Nope.’ Jay stepped back, shaking his head.

  ‘Come on! You won’t die.’

  ‘People have died this way before.’

  ‘People have died in cars before, and you still drive. Hup.’

  Jay just stood there with a frozen look.

  ‘You know,’ I said conversationally, stroking Addie’s neck. ‘I heard a rumour from Home. Apparently somebody’s got a very nice, very shiny motorbike.’

  ‘And?’ Jay folded his arms, and did not budge a single inch.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘If you’ll drive and ride a motorbike, what’s wrong with a horse?’

  ‘Unicorn.’

  ‘Right.’

  Jay looked away. ‘I fell off a horse when I was eight. Broke some bones. I was lucky to be alive, so said the doc.’

  ‘Ah…’ I pictured a younger, smaller Jay, snapped like a bundle of twigs, and shuddered inwardly.

  ‘It was my first riding lesson.’

  ‘And you haven’t ridden horseback since.’

  ‘Only Air Unicorn, which was bloody terrifying, so thanks for that. But nobody died, and it’s… not quite the same. There’s no traffic up there, no cars — nothing that’s going to come roaring up behind your placid unicorn, blaring its horn and scaring the creature into bolting off with you.’

  I nodded slowly, and surveyed the surrounding countryside. Green. Deserted. ‘If we take a gentle run down the coast, keep away from the roads?’

  ‘Can’t we walk? I don’t mind walking.’

  ‘Try it for two minutes. Come on.’ I beamed encouragingly.

  Jay approached, with the caution of a man preparing to diffuse a bomb. He laid one hand warily upon Addie’s back.

  Addie nudged him with her velvety nose.

  ‘That’s a hi,’ I interpreted.

  ‘Hi, death trap,’ said Jay, but he gently patted her back, and received only a derisive snort by way of reply.

  Jay took a deep breath. ‘Right, then.’

  Three minutes later, Jay was up behind me with a death grip around my waist, and we were ambling along at a peaceful, and deadly dull, walk. ‘You okay back there?’ I called.

  ‘Fine,’ he said through gritted teeth, and I pretended not to notice that he was shakin
g.

  ‘You sure? Totally fine?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Okay! We’re going to canter.’

  ‘What’s a canter— argh,’ Jay said, as Addie sped up to a smooth, rolling pace just shy of a full-blown gallop. His arms tightened around my waist, but that was okay, I could manage without air if Jay could manage without sanity.

  ‘Isn’t this great!’ I shouted, lifting my face to the wind. I imagine I was grinning like an idiot. I do so love a ride along the cliffs, all that sea just over the way, shining in the sun and smelling amazing…

  Jay said something. I thought it was I hate you, but considering that my hair (current colour: amber) was streaming back into his face and he’d apparently received a mouthful of it, it was hard to be sure.

  Luckily for me, considering I’d cleverly disabled my navigator, Addie needed little direction. We cantered joyously (well, two of us did) all the way south down the Cumbria coast, and when we ran out of land Adeline beat her beautiful wings and up we soared. Vibrant green land and sparkling sea fell away beneath us. Jay, poor Jay who I’d soullessly abused, gave a great sigh and sagged against me like a sack of cement. ‘I hate you,’ he said, and there was no doubt about it this time.

  ‘I know, but I forgive you.’

  Jay snorted into my shoulder.

  The flight was but a short one, to my regret. I wanted to stay longer in the air. Was it only because I so much enjoyed the flying, or was I moved to procrastinate against whatever lay ahead? That lump of concrete swelling in my stomach was not dread. Not a bit of it.

  Too late now. A speck of green materialised among the waves; Adeline swooped gracefully down; within moments we were deposited upon a grassy sward presumably answering to the name of Sheep Island. The moment we were both restored to our own two feet, Addie snatched the remains of the chip bag from my pocket and took off at a thundering gallop, aiming for the sea. To my infinite surprise, she neither took off at the water’s edge nor ploughed into the water. She charged straight over the water, her silvery hoofs sending up clouds of sea-spray, and soon vanished into the distance.

  ‘Did you know she could do that?’ said Jay.

  ‘Nope.’ I looked him over carefully. ‘For a man recently emerged from an ordeal of terror, you look good.’

  Jay smoothed back his hair. His hands had almost stopped trembling. ‘Flatterer.’

  ‘I am shameless.’ I took a look around, turning in a full circle. Nothing met my eye but grass, waving gently in the wind, and beyond that, the grey-blue water of the sea. ‘Does it strike you that there’s a distinct lack of mothers about?’

  ‘Did we get the co-ordinates right?’ Jay stared at his phone, and began to type.

  I wandered off. Since my feet showed signs of wanting to trail feebly about with unbecoming reluctance, I made them adopt a fine, purposeful stride, and went off at a good clip.

  Two minutes later, I found Mother.

  ‘Jay?’ I called, winded, and stared dazedly up at the suddenly-distant blue sky above me. My body protested its recent treatment at my uncaring hands — loudly — and I groaned. I lay flat, at least ten feet beneath the surface, with the craggy walls of dug-out ground rising around me. I’d fallen face-first into a pile of rocks.

  ‘Ves?’ Jay’s voice was nowhere near distant enough.

  ‘Watch out for the—’ I yelled, and stopped. No point wasting breath on the rest.

  ‘Crap,’ wheezed Jay.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, with a big smile for my unhappy colleague.

  Jay, recumbent and wincing about three inches away, just looked at me.

  ‘Anything broken?’

  Jay shook his head — more in disbelief than in answer to my question, I thought — and pushed himself up onto his elbows. ‘This,’ he said distinctly, ‘is the worst mission ever and we’ve only just arrived.’

  ‘Then it can only get better, can’t it?’ I dragged myself to my feet and conducted a quick survey of our landing site. Dirt. Packed earth; recently turned earth; little pegs stuck into the ground and looped around with strings, marking out a grid… aha. Archaeological dig site.

  And along one side, farthest from the sea, an area of shadow. The ground there was dug deeper down — in fact, the wide mouth of a passage yawned there, its walls fitted with stone. It sloped, rapidly disappearing underground.

  Its entrance was occupied.

  ‘Hello, Mother,’ I said, with a feeble smile and an awkward wave.

  ‘Cordelia,’ said she.

  2

  When my mother said she’d given me the most beautiful name she could think of, it might be of interest to know that she was referring, more or less, to her own. Delia Vesper sat inside the mouth of the cave, propped against the dark rock wall, and shrouded in so much shadow that I could barely make out the details of her form.

  ‘Is that your Waymaster?’ said Delia from the darkness.

  ‘Yes, but we tend to call him Jay.’

  ‘Jay Patel,’ said Jay. ‘Hello, Mrs. Vesper.’ He was so polite, I’m sure he would have shaken hands with her if he could.

  Her voice, when it came again, was wry. ‘It’s Miss Vesper, but you may call me Delia.’

  Further questions bloomed in Jay’s mind, judging from the brief glance he made at me. I privately hoped I wouldn’t have to answer too many of them.

  It occurred to me that my mother hadn’t moved, and that seemed rude, even for her. All right, then. If she wouldn’t come out, I’d have to go in. ‘So,’ I said, and ducked into the mouth of the cave. ‘Why are we here?’ With a flick of my finger I summoned a tiny fireball, just enough to cast a light. It’s about as much as I am capable of in the fireball arena.

  My mother made a frightful sight. Her skin, always pale, was white as wax. Her shabby, old clothes and auburn hair were matted with dirt, the latter tangled, but these things were not so unusual for her.

  The blood, however, was.

  I fell to my knees beside her. ‘Mother,’ I said sharply. ‘You’re hurt.’ She was cradling one arm, her breath coming short; it must have cost her some effort to speak in such measured tones.

  ‘A bit.’ She eyed me with the same old challenging look: would I, dared I, imply that she could not fully take care of herself?

  The dried blood soaking her clothes — hell, my very presence on Sheep Island — proved that, this time, she could not. I wasn’t having it. ‘You should have told me,’ I hissed. ‘I’d have brought Rob. You need medical attention.’

  ‘I haven’t died yet, have I?’ She would have shrunk away from me, I think, if she had not been so hurt.

  I may have growled. ‘Mother,’ I said firmly. ‘Don’t be so damned difficult. You know you need help, or you would not have called us in. So. Tell us what happened, and then we can decide what to do for you.’

  Jay had joined us by this time. He hovered, as uncertain as I was as to what to do for my stubborn parent. He made some attempt at scrutiny, but with the dim light and his lack of medical knowledge, he was as powerless as I.

  We sat, and waited.

  Mother gave a short, harried sigh. ‘I came here a month ago with a team. We’d heard tell of a village that once existed upon one of these islands. Thought to be decimated by plague somewhere in the 1300s, and fallen into ruins. My kind of thing.’ She spared a brief smile.

  In case you hadn’t guessed, my mother’s an archaeologist. She specialises in the unearthing of lost magickal settlements, and the medieval era’s her speciality. I could well imagine that such a rumour would light her fire.

  ‘Well, we started here. At first we thought ourselves mistaken. You no doubt saw as you came in that the terrain here is largely flat and undisturbed. Buried villages tend to leave some lumps and bumps here and there, where earth and grass have grown over chunks of toppled buildings—’

  ‘We know that, mother,’ I interrupted. I would not normally be so impatient, but for heaven’s sake, the woman was bleeding. Judging from her face, she was lucky not to
have bled to death.

  ‘But,’ she said, as though I had not spoken. ‘Hank — you remember Hank? Reads every book ever written — Hank said that these islands had a strong gnome population around that era, and—’ Here she paused for breath, growing a shade or two paler. ‘—he was right. The village was below. We found it after three weeks, and, well…’ Unbelievably, she gave a tiny snort of laughter. ‘It wasn’t as deserted as we were hoping.’

  ‘What did you find?’ I prompted, when she fell silent. Surely, she did not mean that gnomes still lived down there. They weren’t known for violence.

  ‘Lindworm.’

  Lindworms are a species of dragon, the wingless kind. Vicious. Cave-dwelling. Sometimes treasure-guarding, but sometimes just mean. ‘Did anybody else make it out?’

  Silently, mother shook her head.

  I pushed thoughts of Hank from my mind — he’d been a sporadic but genial presence during my short childhood at home, and though I had never thought to see him again, the news of his death cost me a swift stab of pain.

  But mother was bleeding.

  ‘I’ve lost a hand,’ she said suddenly.

  ‘Shit. Mother, you — why didn’t you call for help?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘I don’t mean me! You need an ambulance!’

  ‘Cordelia.’ Unbelievably, my mother ceased clutching her wounded arm and instead fastened her one remaining hand around my wrist. ‘I couldn’t. You don’t know what else we found down there.’

  ‘Was it worth this much secrecy? You could’ve died waiting for us to arrive! Gods, maybe you still could—’

  ‘Stop fussing. If I was going to die I would have done it already. Listen. Look at this island. Does it not strike you that it is far too small to host a lindworm underneath?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It is not there now.’

  ‘What? How do you know?’

  ‘Why do you think I am still alive? It vanished. Vanished, Cordelia. And I saw how. There’s a gateway down there.’

  ‘A gateway.’

  ‘I don’t know where it goes, but we need to find out.’